her that.
Linnet started when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find Queen Katherine standing beside her.
“ ’Tis dull without them, is it not?”
“Without whom?” Linnet asked, though she knew perfectly well who her friend meant.
The queen gave a light, lilting laugh. “Come, Linnet, I see you in conversation with that handsome Sir James Rayburn every
time I look.”
Linnet bit her lip. Was she using her concern for the queen as an excuse to spend time with Jamie? ’Twas a dangerous business,
that, and she suspected he was doing the same.
“Do not attempt to tell me I am imagining what I see between you,” the queen said.
Linnet pressed her lips together.
“Pray, do not deny it. The air is so hot between you, I fear you will singe the tapestries. They are quite valuable.”
“I admit there is a base attraction between us,” Linnet said in a tight voice, “but nothing more.”
Queen Katherine squeezed Linnet’s shoulder. “It would be such a delight to plan a wedding.”
A wedding?
“Your Highness, I fear I must disappoint you.”
“You never disappoint, Linnet.”
Linnet put a hand over the queen’s. “You are too kind to me. But I assure you, there is nothing between Jamie and me now,
nor will there be.”
“Would you care to make a wager on that?” the queen asked, her eyes twinkling.
Linnet said nothing; she was far too good with money to lay a wager she might lose.
“I knew it,” the queen said with a wink.
Something might happen again between her and Jamie Rayburn, but it would not be a wedding.
“Now, I have something to divert you until our favorite men return.” The queen held out two sealed parchments. “Your letters.
A servant just brought them up.”
“Thank you,” Linnet said, breaking into a wide smile. If she did not count the time she spent with Jamie—
which she certainly did not
—the favorite part of her day was reading Master Woodley’s daily missive sent up from London.
“Reading your clerk’s letters seems dull work to me,” the queen said, patting her arm. “I shall sit with my ladies for some
needlework and gossip.”
Linnet hurried to her chamber to read her letters in private. As soon as she saw her brother’s familiar script on one of them,
she missed him. She was too anxious to take the time to light the lamp. Instead, she stood by the narrow window, where she
had to strain to read in the stormy afternoon light.
She read the letter from her clerk first. What a good man Master Woodley was. He had sold most of the prized Flanders cloth
she had brought to London—and at a very fine price. As she expected, he had made little progress on his other assignment.
After so many years, tracing where her grandfather’s property had gone—and into whose hands—was a difficult task.
She set his letter aside and took up Francois’s.
My dearest Linnet,
Your ancient Master Woodley hounds me without mercy. I beg you, dear sister, return at once to rescue me from him and these
damned accounts.
Locating the persons you asked me to find was no challenge for a man of my talent. I must warnyou, however, that speaking with them will prove considerably more difficult. I shall explain when I see you. Is that sufficiently
tantalizing to bring you back to London?
I cannot be answerable if you do not soon relieve me of the relentless Master Woodley.
With great affection,
Your most devoted brother,
Francois
Poor Master Woodley. She hoped Francois was not exhausting him with his antics. She stared at the sheets of rain outside the
window as she tried to guess at the meaning of Francois’s intentionally mysterious message.
Clearly, Francois had found Leggett and Higham, two men she hoped could help unravel the mystery of what happened to her grandfather’s
profitable business ten years ago. Leggett was the one merchant in London she knew she could trust. When her grandfather’s
creditors were closing in, he came
Linnet started when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find Queen Katherine standing beside her.
“ ’Tis dull without them, is it not?”
“Without whom?” Linnet asked, though she knew perfectly well who her friend meant.
The queen gave a light, lilting laugh. “Come, Linnet, I see you in conversation with that handsome Sir James Rayburn every
time I look.”
Linnet bit her lip. Was she using her concern for the queen as an excuse to spend time with Jamie? ’Twas a dangerous business,
that, and she suspected he was doing the same.
“Do not attempt to tell me I am imagining what I see between you,” the queen said.
Linnet pressed her lips together.
“Pray, do not deny it. The air is so hot between you, I fear you will singe the tapestries. They are quite valuable.”
“I admit there is a base attraction between us,” Linnet said in a tight voice, “but nothing more.”
Queen Katherine squeezed Linnet’s shoulder. “It would be such a delight to plan a wedding.”
A wedding?
“Your Highness, I fear I must disappoint you.”
“You never disappoint, Linnet.”
Linnet put a hand over the queen’s. “You are too kind to me. But I assure you, there is nothing between Jamie and me now,
nor will there be.”
“Would you care to make a wager on that?” the queen asked, her eyes twinkling.
Linnet said nothing; she was far too good with money to lay a wager she might lose.
“I knew it,” the queen said with a wink.
Something might happen again between her and Jamie Rayburn, but it would not be a wedding.
“Now, I have something to divert you until our favorite men return.” The queen held out two sealed parchments. “Your letters.
A servant just brought them up.”
“Thank you,” Linnet said, breaking into a wide smile. If she did not count the time she spent with Jamie—
which she certainly did not
—the favorite part of her day was reading Master Woodley’s daily missive sent up from London.
“Reading your clerk’s letters seems dull work to me,” the queen said, patting her arm. “I shall sit with my ladies for some
needlework and gossip.”
Linnet hurried to her chamber to read her letters in private. As soon as she saw her brother’s familiar script on one of them,
she missed him. She was too anxious to take the time to light the lamp. Instead, she stood by the narrow window, where she
had to strain to read in the stormy afternoon light.
She read the letter from her clerk first. What a good man Master Woodley was. He had sold most of the prized Flanders cloth
she had brought to London—and at a very fine price. As she expected, he had made little progress on his other assignment.
After so many years, tracing where her grandfather’s property had gone—and into whose hands—was a difficult task.
She set his letter aside and took up Francois’s.
My dearest Linnet,
Your ancient Master Woodley hounds me without mercy. I beg you, dear sister, return at once to rescue me from him and these
damned accounts.
Locating the persons you asked me to find was no challenge for a man of my talent. I must warnyou, however, that speaking with them will prove considerably more difficult. I shall explain when I see you. Is that sufficiently
tantalizing to bring you back to London?
I cannot be answerable if you do not soon relieve me of the relentless Master Woodley.
With great affection,
Your most devoted brother,
Francois
Poor Master Woodley. She hoped Francois was not exhausting him with his antics. She stared at the sheets of rain outside the
window as she tried to guess at the meaning of Francois’s intentionally mysterious message.
Clearly, Francois had found Leggett and Higham, two men she hoped could help unravel the mystery of what happened to her grandfather’s
profitable business ten years ago. Leggett was the one merchant in London she knew she could trust. When her grandfather’s
creditors were closing in, he came
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