God help him, did he have to deal with that horse’s arse Pomeroy as well?
Although he and Pomeroy did their best to avoid each other, the circle of noblemen around the Lancaster royals was small. Consequently, Jamie had seen Pomeroy several times both here and in France. But he had not been in the same room with both Pomeroy and Linnet since—
Since that day in Paris when Pomeroy found the two of them in bed.
Jamie glanced at Linnet. She had gone deathly pale. Sir Guy strode to the center of the room and swept a low bow before the high table. After greeting the royals, he turned and dipped his head to Linnet. Linnet’s mouth tightened; she did not return the courtesy.
While everyone was watching Pomeroy take his seat at the high table, Linnet got quietly to her feet and left the hall. Edmund Beaufort did not go with her.
With Linnet gone, Jamie thought he could relax and concentrate on his food. But the queen’s lady on his right—Joan? Joanna?—kept touching his arm and giggling in his ear. Then the other one began to rub her foot up his leg. He began to sweat.
A short time later, Francois appeared at his side. Francois did not say a word, but jerked his head toward the door.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Jamie said and got up at once to follow Francois out. As he passed the table where Martin sat with several other squires, he caught Martin’s eye and nodded.
As soon as Jamie and Francois were away from the prying ears of the hall, Francois said, “Pomeroy just left the hall. I fear he followed my sister.”
“Then we must find her first.” Jamie turned and waved to Martin to follow them.
“I told her not to do it, but she would not listen,” Francois said as they started down one of the long, dark corridors. “ ’Twas like stepping on a venomous snake and then poking a stick at it.”
Apparently Linnet had done something to Pomeroy in addition to arranging for him to discover her in bed with Jamie. “How did she poke a stick at him?”
“You did not know?” Francois turned cornflower-blue eyes on him that were the exact same shade as Linnet’s.
Damn, it was unnerving how much the two looked alike.
“Linnet married Pomeroy’s uncle. His great-uncle.” Jamie’s stomach went sour imagining an old man’s hands on her.
“She had Pomeroy sweating every moment for fear his uncle would get her with child.” With a sideways glance, Francois added, “You see, Pomeroy was his heir.”
“I swear, your sister walks into trouble every chance she gets,” Jamie said, picking up his pace to a trot.
“The worst part is that she believes she can handle trouble alone,” Francois said.
“Go straight,” Jamie said as they came to an intersecting corridor. “I’ll take Martin and look down this one.”
As Jamie moved down the dim corridor, opening doors, he told himself he was lucky Linnet had refused him five years ago. If she were his wife, he would be an old man by now.
With her heart pounding in her chest, Linnet walked as quickly as she could without running outright. She turned down a corridor, though she had no idea where it led. She was not even sure which part of the palace she was in now. Her only plan was to put as much distance as possible between her and Pomeroy.
As she came to another corner, she glanced over her shoulder. No one was behind her, praise God! She blew her breath out as she rounded the corner.
And then she ran headlong into Pomeroy.
In an instant, his arm was locked around her waist and his hand was over her mouth. She kicked and tried to bite him as he backed through the nearest door. When his hand slipped from her mouth, she drew in a deep breath to scream. Before she could get it out, a knife was at her throat.
Panic pounded through her veins.
“Can I not have a private word with you without all this fuss?” Pomeroy said next to her ear.
He smelled of onions and dank sweat covered by a heavy, sweet scent that made her gag.
“Can I?” he said, and she felt the sting of the blade against her throat.
She nodded.
He dragged her across the room to the far wall, next to three tall windows. Rain and wind beat against the windows, like the storm raging inside her. Gripping her chin, Pomeroy studied her in the dim light, as if taking in every curve and shadow.