can’t guarantee how much longer Mr. Crofts can say the same—unless he answers my questions.”
“I mean neither of you harm, I swear it,” Crofts said. All the color had leached from his face, leaving it deathly pale. “I’ve been seeking both of you to warn you that you’re in terrible danger.”
“An aristocrat like you wants to help the daughter of a supposed regicide like me?” I asked. “If you think I’ll believe this hearth tale, then either you have too high an opinion of your storytelling abilities or too low an opinion of my intellect.”
Beside me, Antonio snorted out a laugh. Crofts shot him a startled look. “Is she always this bold?”
Antonio grinned. “I only made her acquaintance two days ago, but based on what I’ve seen so far—yes.”
“Instead of discussing my character, perhaps we could return to more important matters.” I moved back slightly, keeping my weapon a few inches distant from Crofts’s neck. “How do you know about us?”
He sat up. “A few days ago at court, we received word that a Florentine had come to London seeking John Milton. Buckingham left at once for Chalfont St. Giles, and I followed on my own. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived Mr. Milton’s household had disappeared. The villagers thought they had tired of country life and returned to London.”
Crofts hesitated. “They all seemed so inclined to believe the lie, I myself was tempted to. Until I spoke to Mr. Francis Sutton. Once I parted with some coins, he was happy to tell me your destination, and to draw me a map of the route he had advised you to take.”
“A pretty story,” Antonio said. “You still haven’t told us why the king would care that I came to London in search of Mr. Milton.”
“I don’t know.”
Antonio and I looked at each other. As one, we moved closer to Crofts, our faces hard. His eyes darted back and forth between the two of us, and he held up his hands in surrender.
“I swear it, I don’t know!” A faint sheen of sweat gleamed on Crofts’s forehead. “The king became wild with fear when we were told a Florentine had been looking for Mr. Milton.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickled. The king’s fear had to be tied into the secret my father had hidden thirty years ago. But how had the king found out about it in the first place? And how had he learned of my father’s connection to any Italians?
“So why did you journey to Chalfont?” Antonio asked, touching the hilt of his sword, his ring clinking against the metal.
“After the old king was executed, the present king languished in exile for eleven years. Ever since he claimed the throne, he’s been desperate to keep it.” Crofts’s face was grim, his voice steady. “Such men are too dangerous. Only a few slippery steps and they become tyrants. It wasn’t too long ago that the king’s dead father tried to assume absolute control over England, and all we got was a civil war and thousands of dead. I care too much about this country to let our rulers bully their subjects again. Even though I don’t know you, I’ll help you, if it means stopping the king. England can’t survive another despot.”
He held out his hands in a placating gesture. “As you see, I came alone at considerable expense and trouble to myself. Let me help you.”
“Just a moment.” I jerked my head at Antonio, then walked a short distance away. Even with my back turned to Crofts, I felt his eyes digging into my spine. “What do you think?” I whispered.
Antonio, looking thoughtful, rubbed the back of his neck. “IfCrofts was on the king’s side, he would have ridden to Chalfont with Buckingham. As he’s come all this way on his own, he must believe the king’s intentions are wrong.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Crofts. He had gotten to his feet. Even as I watched, he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“His weapon!” I whispered.
But he didn’t draw it. He stood waiting, his head bowed. Antonio
“I mean neither of you harm, I swear it,” Crofts said. All the color had leached from his face, leaving it deathly pale. “I’ve been seeking both of you to warn you that you’re in terrible danger.”
“An aristocrat like you wants to help the daughter of a supposed regicide like me?” I asked. “If you think I’ll believe this hearth tale, then either you have too high an opinion of your storytelling abilities or too low an opinion of my intellect.”
Beside me, Antonio snorted out a laugh. Crofts shot him a startled look. “Is she always this bold?”
Antonio grinned. “I only made her acquaintance two days ago, but based on what I’ve seen so far—yes.”
“Instead of discussing my character, perhaps we could return to more important matters.” I moved back slightly, keeping my weapon a few inches distant from Crofts’s neck. “How do you know about us?”
He sat up. “A few days ago at court, we received word that a Florentine had come to London seeking John Milton. Buckingham left at once for Chalfont St. Giles, and I followed on my own. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived Mr. Milton’s household had disappeared. The villagers thought they had tired of country life and returned to London.”
Crofts hesitated. “They all seemed so inclined to believe the lie, I myself was tempted to. Until I spoke to Mr. Francis Sutton. Once I parted with some coins, he was happy to tell me your destination, and to draw me a map of the route he had advised you to take.”
“A pretty story,” Antonio said. “You still haven’t told us why the king would care that I came to London in search of Mr. Milton.”
“I don’t know.”
Antonio and I looked at each other. As one, we moved closer to Crofts, our faces hard. His eyes darted back and forth between the two of us, and he held up his hands in surrender.
“I swear it, I don’t know!” A faint sheen of sweat gleamed on Crofts’s forehead. “The king became wild with fear when we were told a Florentine had been looking for Mr. Milton.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickled. The king’s fear had to be tied into the secret my father had hidden thirty years ago. But how had the king found out about it in the first place? And how had he learned of my father’s connection to any Italians?
“So why did you journey to Chalfont?” Antonio asked, touching the hilt of his sword, his ring clinking against the metal.
“After the old king was executed, the present king languished in exile for eleven years. Ever since he claimed the throne, he’s been desperate to keep it.” Crofts’s face was grim, his voice steady. “Such men are too dangerous. Only a few slippery steps and they become tyrants. It wasn’t too long ago that the king’s dead father tried to assume absolute control over England, and all we got was a civil war and thousands of dead. I care too much about this country to let our rulers bully their subjects again. Even though I don’t know you, I’ll help you, if it means stopping the king. England can’t survive another despot.”
He held out his hands in a placating gesture. “As you see, I came alone at considerable expense and trouble to myself. Let me help you.”
“Just a moment.” I jerked my head at Antonio, then walked a short distance away. Even with my back turned to Crofts, I felt his eyes digging into my spine. “What do you think?” I whispered.
Antonio, looking thoughtful, rubbed the back of his neck. “IfCrofts was on the king’s side, he would have ridden to Chalfont with Buckingham. As he’s come all this way on his own, he must believe the king’s intentions are wrong.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Crofts. He had gotten to his feet. Even as I watched, he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“His weapon!” I whispered.
But he didn’t draw it. He stood waiting, his head bowed. Antonio
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