“ ’Tis certain they’ll notice you, Uncle.”
“Only doing my duty,” Stephen said with a wink. “Now, you be sure to get out of here fast if there’s trouble.”
“Trouble?” Jamie asked. “You mean when the ladies start to fight over you?”
Stephen laughed and put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder.
“The worst they will do is hold me for ransom,” he said in a hushed voice as they walked outside together. “If I do not return or send word before nightfall tomorrow, ride hard for Caen. Wait no longer, or they may come to the monastery and take you, as well.”
“I shall do what needs be done,” Jamie said.
“I know it. You always make me proud.”
Stephen did not think the good citizens of Rouen would throw him over the wall and set him afire. But they might. So he embraced his nephew, not caring if he embarrassed him before the other men. Ready now, he mounted Lightning and rode down to the city’s main gate.
He arrived just as the bells of the city churches rang for Sext, the agreed-upon hour. An escort of two dozen knights met him at the gate and accompanied him the short distance to the Palais de Justice. At the Palais, he was received with all the tedious protocol due the English king’s representative.
It was better than throwing his lifeless body over the wall. But they could always do that later.
After the welcome, he was taken to a room in the Palais and left there “to rest from his journey.” Since the ride from the monastery was no more than half a mile, this meant the important men of the city were not yet agreed on what to do with him.
News of the arrival of King Henry’s envoy would have spread to every corner of the city by now. If de Roche was still the king’s man, he should find a way to have a private word with Stephen. Stephen did not expect him.
Since de Roche was a man of influence here, Stephen needed to settle the king’s business before his own. De Roche must not suspect Isobel was leaving with Stephen before the city gave its formal reply. Better still if de Roche did not learn of her departure until they were a good half day’s ride away.
There was little Stephen could do now but pace. After an hour or two, a servant appeared at his door to advise him there would be a reception in his honor that evening.
De Roche was bound to attend with the other local notables. Which meant Isobel would be there, too. Stephen had to find a way to speak to her alone so they could make their plan.
Isobel stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in her green silk gown with silver trim and matching slippers and headdress. She smoothed the skirt one last time. Then, with trepidation in her heart, she went down the stairs.
Last night she’d been so sure de Roche would come to her that she sent Linnet to sleep with the kitchen maids. She lay awake for hours listening for the scrape of the door. Near dawn, she heard voices below. When the house grew silent again, she finally drifted off to sleep.
This morning, Linnet woke her with the news that de Roche had already left the house “to commit more treachery.” François came later to tell them the city was rife with rumor that the envoy was locked up or murdered in the Palais.
All day she was tense, waiting for de Roche’s return. Finally, an hour ago, de Roche sent a servant to tell her to dress for a grand reception at the Palais. That must mean the envoy was at the Palais—but alive and well.
The reception would be her best—perhaps her only—opportunity to give a message to the king’s envoy. If de Roche was involved in some treachery against King Henry, she must try to learn what it was before they arrived at the Palais.
De Roche was waiting for her in the front entry. His eyes widened when he saw her.
“I would much rather stay home with you this evening,” he said as he took her arm. “But the reception is for King Henry’s envoy, and he will expect to see you.”
“Who is the envoy?” she asked. “Do I know him?”
He shrugged. “I did not hear the name. Come, the carriage is waiting. We are late.”
She had so little time! What would be the best approach? Flattery? Pouting? She was off playing with swords when the other girls learned these useful skills.
“ ’Tis a shame,” she said once they were settled in the carriage, “you could not even come to greet me after being gone a week.”
De Roche’s teeth flashed in the dim light. “You missed me.”
She looked up at him through her lashes and nodded. In sooth, his almost constant absence was all that gave her hope of surviving this marriage.
She turned her head away and gave a sniff. “I hope you had good reason to neglect me.”
He put his hand on her thigh. “I told you the men here are hardheaded,” he said, leaning closer. “It takes much effort to persuade them to the right course.”