Game Of Seduction

Chapter 17

Sir Francis's quarters, Afternoon

Sir Francis is at his desk opening his latest batch of despatches from home. Brad sits opposite him scanning the letters as Sir Francis passes them to him.

'A letter from Lord Burghley.' He says breaking the seal. 'What can this be about?'

Sir Francis makes a scornful noise under his breath, audibly losing patience with the contents of his missive. "Her Grace sticking her beak in."

'Already? We've barely even settled in.' Brad stretches his long legs under the table, feeling restless.

Sir Francis frowns as he scans the letter again. Whatever it is, it isn't good news.

'Any News from home for the team?' asks Brad, watching his boss's face."What did she wants, sir?"

'Orders from her Majesty. I suppose you'd better read them yourself, Brad.' he pushes the offending over the table for Brad to read for himself.

Brad scans the royal imperious scrawl. He notices the neat clever notes from Lord Burghley in the margins.

'That woman will give me grey hairs, I swear. Have you read this?'

Brad doesn't know how involved he wants to get with this. His boss's clashes with Elizabeth are legendary within the department.

'Not only is she moaning about the cost of the investigation-'

'But, sir, it hasn't even started yet. How can she be complaining about the cost? She approved the mission with Lord Burghley.'

'Exactly-'

'She's encouraging Alençon in his attentions. Even though I know for a fact there is no way she will ever actually marry him if she's got any sense? So you must excuse me if I'm exasperated when she writes and I quote: 'We must not antagonise my future family in law.'

"Does she really want to marry into this family?"

Sir Francis sighs. "Who knows what the woman wants, Brad? She is perfectly capable of changing her mind five times in one day if it suits her."

Walsingham closes the door and indicates for Walt to sit.

"Sir Walt, we must talk. Confidentially, of course." He sees a momentary flinch, but Walt is good at his job and doesn't give things away easily, like a good recon operative should.

"Sir?"

"You really have a made an impression at court here. Come to the notice of quite a few important people. You've done very well, Sir Walt. Well done."

"Important people?" Walt pricks up his ears.

"The king, his redoubtable mother and Princess Margot all seem to adore you."

Right now, Walt doesn't know whether this is a good or bad thing.

"I think you should encourage this flirtation, this thing you have with Margot. It would be good for the team, for the moment. The perfect way in ."

Walt hadn't expected this from his boss, not at all. "Sir Francis?"

"She seems to like you very much." He muses. "There's great chemistry there. "What I find intriguing is that you engaged her emotions as well as her body. I say you capitalise on this, and encourage her attentions. That night where you danced the Volta together. Sheer physical dynamite. It was good between you, wasn't it? That night in the tavern? You swived her most thoroughly?"

Walt blushes.

"Lord Hasser?" Walsingham prompts.

"Yes, it was good." he mutters, utterly mortified.

"Considering her youth, she's quite experienced in the bedroom by all accounts. I don't want her to get bored after a couple of weeks of sleeping with you. I suggest that you study these fine volumes, cover to cover-". He hands Walt a couple of leather bound books, and as he leafs through one, the flush deepens on his face.

"Sir!"

"Is there a problem, Sir Walt?" Sir Francis enquires with a raised eyebrow.

"Aretino, Sir? Really?"

"I don't want her to get bored." He insists.

"Are you going to be testing me, my Lord Walsingham?"

For a moment, Walt believes Sir Francis is actually considering it."I don't doubt your own amorous skills, but it's vitally important she doesn't get bored and drift back to de Guise, at least until the wedding. We've got to break his hold over her, and you are the key."

"But, sir-"

"At least until the wedding takes place. Divert her away from de Guise. Queen Catherine thinks it's a marvellous idea and so does the King." He cracks a grim smile. "In fact, it was they who suggested this plot to me."

Walt definitely doesn't like the sound of this. Catherine de' Medici gives him the creeps. Those dark hooded eyes staring at a man, as if trying to probe his secrets.

Walsingham frowns at him. "I sense a certain amount of reluctance on your part, Sir Walt."

"I don't like the idea of it, to be honest, Sir." he admits, meeting his superior's eyes with his usual frankness.

Sir Francis remains steely-eyed. "I want you to put aside your personal inclinations, and I want you to take one for the team, Lord Hasser. You woo the lady, keep her occupied and satisfied in bed and away from de Guise. Do you understand me?"

Meeting his eyes, Walt knows this is a battle he cannot win. Sir Francis Walsingham is a ruthless man. He is perfectly capable of sacrificing anyone, even a member of his team for 'the greater good'.

"Yes, Sir." He says reluctantly.

'We meet with Henri de Navarre and his retinue in the evening. Needless to say, we must gain his trust so the negotiations go as smoothly as possible. He knows we have been working on his behalf, so-'

'What's the prince like?' asks Brad.

Walsingham considers the question. 'He's a decent man. Young for a prince, but with the potential to be a great man one day-'

Walt looks down quietly, aghast at having to befriend a man when he has already slept with his wife-to-be. Every time he thinks of their frantic coupling in the tavern that night, he flushes in a mixture of shame and lust.

'If he lives that long?' Brad suggests with a wry curve of his mouth. Nothing would surprise him about this court any more.

Sir Francis acknowledges his quip. 'It's true to say he is somewhat ill-equipped to thrive in an environment like this. He needs guidance, which we will provide.'

'What about his retinue? He isn't coming alone, is he?' Walt asks.

'No.' Sir Francis says. 'I almost wish he were-'

'You anticipate trouble, Sir?' Brad says calmly.

'Gaspard de Coligny is a great influence on the young king and I'm sure it's no secret that he strongly disapproves of the union. If anyone could dissuade Henri from the match, it's him. We will have to make our case to him. Then there's Armagnac and the Prince de Condé, ardent Protestants both of them. The thought of getting into bed politically with the likes of De Guise and Catherine de' Medici will be utter anathema. They will do everything possible to disrupt the wedding and make sure Henri never marries Margot.'

'Nobody wants this wedding, not even the bride. Why are they so intent on it?' Ray observes.

Walsingham's thin mouth quirks rather cynically. 'Catherine wants peace after the civil wars. She will pay any price to achieve it. This is why when we first arrived I wanted to know whether she knew that Margot was seeking lovers in the city at night. Was she intending to give Henri de Navarre a rotten bargain? In some respects I almost pity the princess in that regard. It seems to be the only method of defiance she has.' He turns to Brad. 'I know you do not approve of her and her antics-'

'I have no opinion, sir.' replies Brad. 'She is a Princess of the Blood. What does my opinion of the lady matter?'

Walsingham looks at the set of Brad's chin. He knows his team leader doesn't approve of Catherine's stratagem to distract Margot by encouraging Walt to be her lover for a while.

'Lord Colbert-' he chides.

Brad says nothing, but the thin line of his mouth says more than any rant could.

-0-

'You wished to see me, Lord Walsingham?' he asks, polite as ever as he leans in the doorway. Sir Francis can feel the froideur from where he sits.

'I am concerned you are letting your negative opinions of the court and its players colour your response to it. Come sit, Brad. Let's talk.'

He's stung by his boss's subtle rebuke. 'I am always professional whilst on assignment, Sir Francis. I fail to see why whatever opinion I may hold –'

'-your professionalism is not under question here, Lord Colbert!'

Brad just looks at him stonily.

'Brad, don't be angry at me. I would be pleased to hear your concerns regarding the case. Indeed, you may be surprised to hear that I personally share a lot of your misgivings. But you are the head of my team and I need you supporting me, not resisting me at every turn. I know you don't approve about Walt and Margot. To be honest, I don't either. But you cannot deny it has helped us. '

Brad nods begrudgingly.

''Tis only a temporary move until she marries Henri. Just so she doesn't fall any further under de Guise's spell. Need I remind you that a powerful de Guise is something we must avoid at all costs? If he decides that he has all the aces in his hands, he will probably try to launch another attack on our mistress. It is in our interests that the de Guise fortunes wane and I think we are seeing signs of this. Ah well, I forget you are a soldier at heart. You have little taste for this kind of cloak and dagger politics, do you?'

Sir Francis steeples his hands in front of him. "Talk to me, Sir Brad. Man to Man. What concerns do you have about the case and how can I alleviate them as your master?"

Brad doesn't know how much good it will do, but he has to try.'I personally don't trust these people, any of them. I fear we as a team will get enmeshed in their intrigues and lose our focus which should be finding the conspirators. Proving the de Guise connection beyond all reasonable doubt.'

'You don't really like this court, do you?'

'Not at all.' Brad says shortly. 'I don't like courts in general, and this one least of all.'

'You wouldn't stain them all with the same brush, would you?' Sir Francis asks. 'You don't believe there can be one honourable man in Gomorrah, like Lot ?'

'In all honesty, I don't see how you could stay in this place and fail to be affected by its corrupting influence.'

'Even Nate?' Walsingham observes, keenly as ever. 'Do you not trust him either?'

To be truthful, Brad isn't exactly sure how he feels about Nate. Sure, he has a grudging respect for the intelligence he provides on the court and the ability he's shown so far in evading the slightest hint of detection. The other feelings he has; well he's not sure at the moment whether he's willing to face that quite yet.

'How do you know you can trust him? You were so confident he is your man through and through. You say he has lived here at this court since boyhood and managed to attain the position of court favourite. How do you know he will not betray us?'

'That's what concerns you.' He muses. 'Well, as far as Master Fick's loyalty to us, that is between him and myself. Suffice to say, I have as much confidence in his loyalty to me as I have in yours. I have never once had cause to doubt you.'

The party from Navarre greet Sir Francis and his team with a barely concealed wariness. Condé and Armagnac hang back from the others; muttering darkly about sold-out principles and foreign interference.

Henri on the other hand is an awkward, yet well-meaning young man plainly dressed but with a face of such infectious good humour one can't help but like him. He greets Sir Francis, familiarly shaking his hand. He turns to the rest of the team.

'Welcome. I have heard many great things about you. I am so glad you are willing to work on my behalf.'

Brad cannot help an ironic look at the two sulking aristocrats in the corner.

'Oh never mind them.' Henri says lightly. 'They're just angry I find myself obliged to marry a Catholic Princess. I fancy they feel themselves personally slighted by such a thing.'

'Will they cause trouble?' Sir Francis asks, brows drawn together shrewdly.

Henri gives a typically Gallic shrug. 'I don't know. They'd be fools to oppose Catherine and Charles so openly on their home ground, but then they are so much radical and extreme Huguenots than I. 'Live and let live' is a far more sensible doctrine. At least for someone who wants to keep his hide in one piece!'

Brad remembers the rumours about Jeanne d'Albret and her death by Poison. He understands Henri and his motto of tolerance far better.

'Come, we will dine and talk further my lords. I am eager to hear the news from abroad and from court. I understand you have all settled in there.

'I realize you're Lord Hasser. I've heard many stories of your valour. The word is you've been fighting the good fight in the Netherlands. Coligny spoke with great admiration of your team's exploits.'

Walt feels his face flaring up. He looks down, unwilling to meet Henri's eyes.

Brad prods him. 'Act natural, for the love of God! He's going to get suspicious if you keep acting like a guilty maiden.'

'I'm f*****g his wife-to-be, in case you've forgotten.' He hisses back. 'How can I make friends with a man when I am cuckolding him behind his back every single night? What if he finds out? Someone's bound to talk. We'll be screwed.'

The last thing Brad needs right now is for Walt to lose his composure due to guilt. It's by no means an ideal situation, but they're just going to have to make the best of it.

'No, I haven't forgotten but you'll have to make the best of it. For now.'

Walt is having a bad day. If one more person comes up to him asking inappropriate questions about his and Margot's love life, or giving unwanted advice he thinks he'll scream .

"She keeping you up at night, is she, Lord Hasser? She's an insatiable little minx that one." Henri, Chevalier d'Angôuleme remarks while they pass the time playing quoits outside.

"Is it true she had you and another member of your team that night? At the same time? Dirty wench!" Louis Du Guast laughs with another swig of wine .

"Why doesn't that surprise me in the slightest?"

"I wouldn't have said 'No', look at her." Du Guast looks round to see that none of her brothers are in the offing. "That is one desirable little poulet right there-"

"Despite the fact she won't have you!" Vielleville mocks him with an affectionate cuff to the head.

He's unperturbed by his friend's scorn. "Matter of time, m'dear."

"If you haven't managed it by now, Du Guast-"

"I wouldn't say it in front of Nate. You know how he gets about his mistress." They chuckle almost sympathetically.

"What man wants to hear that-" Angoulême muses.

"Shush!" Du Guast gives him a scandalised nudge and Angoulême shuts up.

Walt briefly wonders why his new acquaintance shut down that avenue of enquiry, but he has plenty of time to find out.

"What did I say?"

"Lord Hasser, are you listening to us?"

"Off in a dream world, no doubt." Vielleville says with another ribald laugh. "Poor cunt-struck bastard!"

He's uptight, and she's bound to notice his head's not in the game. There's no way he can be convincing enough to fool the court. Sir Francis hovers near them. Probably waiting for a status update so he can inform Queen Catherine of the success of their plot.

How the hell did I get involved in all this? He thinks to himself wearily. I'm a soldier. A man of the land; a yeoman at home, loving nothing better than the crops growing in the fields. The good honest work of bringing in the harvest. I'm not cut out for the thrust and dazzle of court. This is an entirely different world, full of snares and traps I can't even see.

He sighs as he walks across the courtyard, the gravel crunching under his dark tan leather boots.

"Lord Hasser?"

Walt turns, his shoulders sagging with relief as he realises it's only Nate. He wonder whether he should confide in him since they are alone right now.

"You seem troubled, Lord Hasser. D'ye want to talk?"

Walt sighs. "I don't know where to start, Nate. I really don't."

"Can I ask you a question?" Nate asks with a bluntness that surprises him.

"Ask away, Nate."

Nate squares his shoulders. "Do you actually like Margot? For herself? You care for her?"

With a sting of annoyance Walt wonders what business it is of Nate's. He remembers that day in the garden, that blank insolent gaze on the back of the neck. Perhaps he's just a concerned friend, trying to look out for his mistress. Or maybe, just maybe something else, something way more complicated is going on underneath the surface.

"Yes, I do."

"You wouldn't hurt her?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? I wouldn't hurt her. Of course not! I'm not a beast. She's perfectly safe with me. I care for her as a friend even though she'd drive a saint to drink."

"You sleep with her." There's an edge to Nate's voice which Walt wonders at. If he didn't know better he would say it was resentment or jealousy. "You let her kiss you in public, during the Volta."

Surely not? Surely Nate isn't jealous of his relationship with the princess? Even as he thinks it, he remembers the two of them in the garden, her at his feet harmonising together. The lyrics of their shared song, something about forbidden courtly love. Her head resting on his knee. Has he stumbled into something beyond his understanding?

"Look, it isn't love. We both know what this is. s*x, and the queen mother's desire to deflect de Guise." Walt says honestly. "I don't know what your relationship with her is, but I assure I am no threat."

The tension seems to leak out of Nate.

"You may be surprised, but I know exactly how you feel." Nate says, sounding a bit more mollified by Walt's frankness.

"You do?"

"Oh yes, believe me, I do."

"Why does she have to know every secret of her daughter's life? When did my private life become public currency? I just don't want to get trapped in the coils of this place."

Nate gives hims sympathetic look as if he has realised that Walt has no idea of the way court works. How can he hope to play the courtly game when he does not even know the rules? "She's always been like that, ever since I can remember. She hides in corners, spying on all and sundry. I remember once, I was with a –" Nate looks down, slightly embarrassed.

"With a what?" Walt is genuinely curious about this.

Nate's blush deepens. "With a lover. She made it perfectly clear she was spying on us and she wouldn't allow the relationship to continue unless she knew all about every thing we did. Every kiss, every innocent word of love reported and distorted by her. And it poisoned everything-" he finishes, his voice trailing away.

"Why?"

"It's all about power." Nate says simply. "Having knowledge over a person, so she can wield it over you like a weapon. You just have to live with it. But you... you don't have to do this. You don't have to let them manipulate you like this."

"You think?" Walt retorts with a flash of cynicism which doesn't suit him. "Do you think I'd agree to any of this if Sir Francis hadn't left me orders to woo her?"

"You don't have to let them manipulate you like this. Walt, you are free to do as you please-"

"And you are not?"

Nate looks down, lashes shadowing his cheeks in a dark gold fan. Walt understands all too clearly. Sir Francis has his fingerprints all over this too.

"I don't know how you can."

"No one ever said I had to like it." Nate replies. Walt fancies he hears a bitter cynical edge to his voice. "If you thought too deeply about it, it would make you angry. I can't do my job in those circumstances, which is gather information for Sir Francis and his mistress. So I must endure the trials of this court as best I can."

"How can you be so detached about it? So involved with them and yet separate?" Walt marvels.

"It's part of my role. I tell myself that every day."

Walt can't help wondering how long Nate can keep up the façade. He's only human, after all.

Brad is pleased to see Signor Reyes at last. For all his eccentricities his instincts are spot on and perhaps his clear eyes are just what the team needs to focus.

"Lord Colbert-" Rudy greets him with a flourish as he embarks off the boat. Brad smiles to see that Pappy has managed to take the time off to join him. Two of the most levelheaded members of the team at his back. Perhaps this assignment isn't going completely down the gutter.

"Rudy, Shawn-"

"We got the message to come out here, so we dropped everything." Rudy says earnestly.

"We'll talk further once we get back to Sir Henry Norreys's house."

"What is this all about? Lord Burghley was very sparing with the details." Pappy asks.

"We're on the trail of a plot, so we must needs spend our time at court mining out secrets. We are to be courtiers here." By the dry irony in Brad's voice they look at each other, able to tell right away that this assignment is far less to Brad's taste than some good honest spying or breaking and entering.

The group sit at the table eating and catching up on news. Once Sir Francis has read the dispatches Rudy had brought with him, he leans back and steeples his hands in front of him.

"I suppose you're wondering why I called you out here, Signor Reyes." he starts pleasantly.

"I don't question orders. I just assumed that you required our help, so here we are at your service."

"We're currently attending the court of the Valois while I am officially negotiating a royal treaty. Lord Colbert here has a different mission. I want you to assist him, while keeping the men on their toes. I don't want losing them their physical edge while out here."

"Certainly, Sir."

The Palace Gardens, later afternoon

Anjou pulls off his jacket and unsheathes his sword in the late afternoon sun. The light gleams off the polished steel. "I'll try a bout with Guy. That will take the edge of things." His eyes settle on Brad, who gives him a frosty stare back. "I must say if you managed to beat Monsieur de Nançay in a fair fight, you must have no mean amount of skill. He's one of our best."

There's something going on between them, Brad realises with a short sharp shock. Anjou is flirting with him right under our noses. So why was Nançay so keen to visit us at Sir Henry Norreys's house? Why was he so keen to bury the hatchet and co-operate with them despite the duel? Are the team already under suspicion?

Sir Francis nudges Brad and Rudy who observe the match with a keen eye. "Let's see how good he is."

"Or is he all mouth and no breeches?"

Rudy watches the match, taking mental notes as the two fighters thrust and parry across the bois. They're evenly matched, Guy's brute strength and persistence against the Prince's practiced elegant moves. Anjou has a grace and supple strength that belies his languid foppish manner. It would be hard to credit that this is the same languid lazy young man perched at his mother's side like an indulged pedigree kitten.

"We underestimate him at our peril." Brad notes. "None of these royals are as they seem, are they Lord Walsingham?"

Watching him in combat he can well believe the tales of his victories in the civil wars.

Rudy's still watching the fighters keenly. Right now his attention is on Nançay .

"Persistence of a mastiff, but he definitely favours his left side. I wonder whether it might be an injury. Worth finding out, wouldn't it?"

Brad is instantly alert as they approach Walt's quarters. He keeps his hand close to his concealed poignard, ready to strike if necessary.

'There's someone in your room waiting for you.' He says quietly to the team. 'I'm going to check it out.'

He notices the door is open by just a c***k and the light from the fire is leaking out. He can hear a female voice humming softly, some bawdy little Parisian voix de ville off the streets. He slips into the room, ready for combat or confrontation.

He's rather surprised by who he finds languidly reclined on the bed reading a leather bound volume and making notes in the margin.

'My Lady Margot.'

She looks up at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Brad can see why Walt finds her a bit of a handful. Irresistible, provoking, gorgeous, but a definite handful.

'Lord Colbert, I wasn't expecting Walt to have company.' She clutches the book to her body which is naked. The volume in no way covers her charms.

'Walt, you have company-' Brad says, deadpan as usual.

'Company? I'm not expecting anyone-' Walt comes to the door and stops abruptly at the sight of Margot sprawled invitingly on his bed.

'What are you doing here, My Lady?'

She gives him a beguiling smirk as the others come into the room.

'Hi, Ray!' she smiles, giving him a cheery wave. He bounds over and gives her an affectionate peck on the cheek. Walt can't help feeling a bit cross at that, in all honesty.

I'm not being unreasonable about this. What the hell is she doing here? And how did she get into the room? The door was locked!

Trombley's eyes look like they are about to fall out of his head, he's staring at her body so much.

'You don't mind Walt, do you?' she says in a voice of sheer honey. '-it's just that everyone's off hunting, and I didn't know when we'd get another chance-' she gives him a sultry look from underneath her lashes.

'What have you got yourself involved in, Walt?' Brad mutters. He notices how she and Nate barely acknowledge each other, considering how good friends they are, to all accounts. He catches a look at his face. Nate looks almost disappointed in her.

'What are you reading, Margot?' Walt asks trying to keep his temper in the face of her provocation. Even though she is being a minx right in front of his friends, he still wants her. This is altogether too complicated for me, he thinks.

'Your copy of Aretino'sI Modi, darling.'

Trombley is amazed. 'Aretino?'

'-You know if you wanted to read my edition of Aretino, you should have just said. My copy has far better illustrations. Why, you can barely see the positions in this one.'

Trombley makes a sound as if he's about to choke.

Margot doesn't seem to notice. 'I did like the comments in the margins. Shows a book well loved and in use. Although I felt some of them lacked a woman's perspective.'

'Comments?' Walt hadn't noticed any comments when he'd flicked briefly through the book when he'd received it from Sir Francis. He'd been too occupied by the explicitness of the engravings, which frankly was bad enough.

'Give me that!' he says crossly, reaching for the book.

'Don't lose my page!' she protests. 'I don't know what's got into you, but I imagined you'd be pleased to see me.'

Walt looks down and groans. 'I'm going to bloody kill him. And her. Both of them-' he mutters.

Ray has obviously got hold of the book behind his back and gifted him with some choice comments in the margins. These are as lewd as Walt would imagine them to be, maybe even worse. Walt notices her comments written in a clear flowing script are in English. It takes him a couple of seconds to register that she is perfectly capable of understanding their native talk. How could they have been so complacent? Catherine was bound to be suspicious of their arrival at court, but would she have set her daughter on them to infiltrate the group and spy on them?

He needs to talk to Brad, discuss just how dangerous this girl truly is. He knows now he has to break it off. Who knows what havoc she might cause for sheer sport? Walt shudders at having to return the book to Sir Francis. I'm not annoyed he tells himself, knowing it to be a lie.

He goes to get a robe to cover herself, irritated that they are all staring at her naked body, and she is totally unself-conscious, not attempting to cover up.

'Wear that.' He says tersely, throwing her a robe. She wraps the thin green silk round herself.

'Walt? You're not angry at me?' She asks.

'No.'

'You are, aren't you?'

'We're not going to talk about this now.' Walt says, managing by some feat of patience not to snap at her.

'Fine, I'll go, since no one seems to want me here. Perhaps-" Her voice takes on a sarcastic edge. 'I'll consult with Lord Walsingham as to when would be a convenient time to make an assignation with you, Walter?'

'Great, now you've gone and pissed her off.' mutters Ray. "Well done, Walt."

'I'll take you back to your rooms, my lady.' Nate says.

Nate looks down at her breasts, and he would swear that he lets out a gasp. She gives him one of her seductive little looks from underneath her lashes, one to make a man hard in his breeches and he turns away abruptly, exhaling sharply through his nose.

'There's no need, Nate. I think I know my way round the palace?'

'I think there is. Don't you, my lady?' Walt is somewhat surprised at the steel running through his voice. Those green eyes glare at her coldly. Yet Walt can't help but notice his eyes are drawn back to her body and she makes no attempt to shield herself, even casually dropping the thin silk robe to reveal a pearly white shapely shoulder and the upper curve of one rounded pert breast. There's a flash of something strange, almost possessive in his gaze. Like she belongs to him.

The group are even more surprised to see that is Margot who drops her gaze first, her cheeks stained pink with embarrassment.

'Get dressed.' He says, terse as a whiplash, his fist clenched by his side. 'Now, Margot!'

She pouts, but obeys him without another word.

"What?" Nate still sounds a bit cross, as soon as the princess leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. "Why are you all staring at me like I've just grown another head?"

'How on Earth did you do that?' asks Walt in undisguised amazement, staring at Nate. "She never listens to me, let alone obeys me. What did you do that I couldn't?"

Nate shrugs. 'It seems part of my extensive duties at court is keeping Princess Marguerite out of trouble. For my sins, and my father's-'

'Let's hope that you're better at it than Monsieur de Nançay.' remarks Ray.

Brad beckons Ray to him. "Ray, I want you to do something for me. But quietly. Absolute discretion, you understand?"

"What?"

Brad lowers his voice."They haven't quite left yet. They're talking in the hallway, I can hear them." He inclines his head towards the door where Margot and Nate left. "Go and listen closely to their conversation, and report back to me."

"You don't trust him, do you? Despite the fact Sir Francis told us he was our man?"

It's disconcerting just how on the mark Ray is sometimes.

"I'm just keeping an eye on the situation like any team leader should. Something is going on between the two of them. I want to know what it is."

Ray's shaking his head, thinking that much as he'd count Brad as a friend, he has some serious trust problems, when he gets to the door and listens to Margot and Nate's whispered conversation. It's more like a whispered argument, to be honest as the flow of words is almost too fast for Ray to keep up with. Occasionally one of them forgets they are meant to be whispering and raises their voice in anger.

"What is your problem, Nate? Can't any of you take a joke? And you didn't have to be so rude to me in there either."

"What am I meant to think when I come in to find you in Walt's room. Not a stitch on!"

"Why are you angry with me? Are you jealous?"

"No. I'm not!"

She makes a scornful noise. "You could have fooled me."

Ray's surprised. Nate sounds annoyed, even angry. This really does not sound like a mistress and servant relationship. Maybe Brad is actually right. Something is going on between them.

"Nate-"

"Why are you sleeping with Lord Hasser?" he says wearily, obviously trying for patience. "Is the Duc de Guise no longer enough for you?"

"It's just s*x, plain and simple. Just scratching an itch. Don't tell me you don't get urges as well. Seeing as you refuse-"

"Enough, My lady." He interrupts.

Ray isn't surprised to hear her express herself like this. He remembers the single minded way she pursued him at the tavern. Making it more than clear she wanted to screw him.

"It's nothing to do with love. He doesn't love me and I don't love him, not in that way, not in the way I've always loved you."

Stop! Ray thinks, not sure if he heard right. Loved you? I'm going to take a peek and see what the hell is going on. He's never heard her speak of love before.

"What do I care for all those other lovers, Nate? When you and I know that my heart belongs to you and always will, no matter who I sleep with."

"How convenient for you, my lady."

"What harm does it do if it keeps mother happy? You know if I was exclusive to you alone, Mother would try and involve you in her sick games. The other men divert her attention."

"You're doing this on her say-so?" Ray can hear the disbelief in his voice as he pulls back from her embrace. "Jesus Christ, Margot, you are impossible! Why not join your mother's esquadron and be done with it?"

"You have no right to be angry with me!" She snaps back, outraged. "How dare you? Do you think this is easy for me as well?"

'No, I don't, do I?' He says bitterly. 'Thank you for reminding me that I have your heart but have no claim on you. You give me your heart but what worth does it have if you bestow your favours on all and sundry-'

She gives a shocked little gasp. "That's unfair, Nate. Take it back!"

He shakes his head and starts to walk away down the corridor.

"Nate? Come back-"

Ray's curiosity gets the better of him and he opens the door a c***k to see what is going on.

She seizes his wrist, forcing him to look at her. "I hurt you?"

He doesn't answer.

'Don't be like this. So cold and distant.' She sounds coaxing, but he doesn't seem to be responding so far. 'Nate, I'm sorry, really I am-'

'I must go, my lady, before someone misses me-' Ray fancies he's starting to thaw.

'I know you're disappointed with me. I'm weak and reckless. Don't go yet.'

"Daisy-"

'I'm sorry.' She says, kissing him over and over again, her arms winding round his neck. 'Please forgive me, Nate. I was thoughtless. I didn't think you'd be hurt by my behaviour. I was wrong. Forgive me, my love. Forgive me-'

He can see the moment Nate relents, his hands slipping round her waist to pull her close. Ray just thanks his stars Brad isn't here to see this. He wouldn't be very happy, frankly. He's a bit funny about Nate, and Ray wonders what's at the bottom of it.

'We agreed we wouldn't do this any more. It's too dangerous-' he says in between kisses. 'Daisy, we're playing with fire-'

'I know-' she coaxes, tenderly stroking his hair. '-But I can't help it. No matter how hard I try, I can't give you up. You're an addiction-'

As Margot pulls away, Ray recognises that lascivious sensual smile on her face.

'Nate-' her voice is a low and sultry whisper. "Show me how much you love me."

'No, we won't. We can't-' He says, trying to convince himself. Observing, Ray isn't convinced he has the strength to walk away, not now. Margot has him exactly where she wants him.

'Please? I just want to show you how sorry I am. How much I want you. I can't bear it when we fight. When we can't be together-'

'You know we mustn't do this, Daisy. If we get caught-'

"If we're quick, no-one will ever know." She retorts. "Just one little caress. Please, Nate-"

He slides the heavy folds of her skirt up her bare legs which fall apart at his touch.

"Yes, that's it. Touch me-" she breathes. She squirms as he slides his hand between her thighs, stroking her in a swift intent rhythm which has her bucking her hips and writhing under his touch. Her head falls back against the stone wall, her eyes fluttering closed until the fringe of her long dark lashes shadows her cheeks. "Oh God, I want you. No one ever makes me feel like you do."

He puts his other hand over her mouth, smothering her sigh. "Daisy. Jesus Christ, I need you-"

Just six simple words but his voice is full of desire and affection for her. From this vantage spot Ray senses the truth of it at once. For all their arguing and fighting he honestly seems to adore her. Whether she really feels the same way is up for debate.

Her hands quickly unhook the front of her gown pulling at the fine chemise until her breasts are exposed Nate bends his head and takes one dark pink n****e into his mouth until she gasps, pressing his head closer. Her fingers sliding through the red gold of his shoulder length hair."Do it Nate, please-" she almost begs, her voice edged with desperation.

"Daisy, I'm serious. We just can't." He at least tries to protest even as his voice is heavy with desire for her.

"Please, you can't just leave me here. Wanting you with no release-"

She's pinned up against the wall by his body, his leg in between her thighs, grinding and writhing against each other seeking release. Her hands cup his arse pulling him into her body, wanting more of that sweet friction.

"I want you. Inside me. Please...Give me what I crave. Oh Nate-" She gasps. Her cheeks are flushed with pleasure. "Talk dirty to me, you know I need it."

Ray can't make out exactly what he says into her ear, but it appears to be doing the job very well. She tenses and arches under his body, a cry escaping from her parted lips. He covers her mouth with his own, kissing her with renewed passion.

"Don't be cruel, Daisy." He begs. "Please-"

She sinks to her knees and undoes his breeches, almost ripping them in her impatience. He lets out a hiss as her mouth tentatively teases his prick, closing round the head of his shaft. Ray can see by the flush of his face, he's so damned close. The shameful needy sounds spilling from his mouth as she lavishes all her attention on his prick.

Ray doesn't even know what to think anymore as he turns away from their illicit passion. This isn't just s*x for her or him, like with Walt or himself. The two of them are emotionally involved with each other, bound together by some strange s****l alchemy. He has to at least talk to Nate, hear his side of the story before he tells Brad. It's only fair.

She presses one last kiss to his jawline."I must go, Nate. Before our luck runs out and we're discovered."

He lets go of her waist almost reluctantly, the amorous spell broken.

"Do you forgive me now?" There's a hint of triumph in her voice as if she already knows the answer, she just likes to hear him say it. To submit to her will.

"Yes-" Nate's voice sounds defeated like he knows he's weakened and failed to stand firm.

She gives him a sultry look from underneath her lashes. She tilts her face for one last passion filled kiss. "Good. Come to me tonight. Henriette will get you. She'll cover for us all night if I ask her. We can do this properly." She presses his wrist to her mouth leaving a faint mark of carmine on it. "I've missed you, Nate. So much-"

Nate leans against the stone wall, eyes closed. He can feel the beginning of a tension headache coming on. He hates fighting with Margot, maddening as she is. Even more, he hates the guilt of succumbing to her wiles as frankly irresistible as he finds her.

I'm too emotionally involved to deal with this the way I should.

He sees Ray watching him from the doorway and strides over decisively.

'Can we talk? Further down the hallway?'

'Nate?'

'I assume you heard what the princess and I were talking about.' He says dealing with the problem directly as they walk.

'Look, I don't know what your deal with her is.' Ray says hastily, hurrying to match Nate's long loping stride. 'In truth, it's none of my business. You're a grown man, you can make your own decisions. How long has this been going on for? Months?'

Nate shakes his head.

'Years?' Despite himself, he can't help being amused. 'Jesus Christ, you are in trouble, ain't you?'

'Look, I know I don't have the right to ask you but, please don't say anything to Sir Brad yet.'

'You do realise Brad asked me to listen to your conversation, don't you?'

Nate bites his lip. 'He doesn't trust me, does he?'

He sounds so oddly plaintive that Ray has to agree. 'Not really.'

'It's over, I mean…' he sighs. 'We were just friends now. Nothing is going on.'

'Didn't appear that way to me-'

'-And then I got angry with her, seeing her in Sir Walt's room, deliberately provoking trouble. We ended up arguing and then things got a bit out of control when we were making up. They always do-'

'You seemed to be having quite a fight there. I'm surprised she let you shout at her.'

Nate sighs. 'We are best friends and have been since childhood, but that has a flip side. We both know how to wind each other up terribly. Margot and I have a bit of a fiery relationship. When it's good we're close, but when we fight-'

'Cats and Dogs…I can imagine.'

'I'm not blaming you, Nate. I know what she's like. I slept with her myself. That night I met her. In all honesty, it's my fault Walt's in this position in the first place. If he hadn't followed Margot and I to make sure I wasn't getting into trouble-'

"You know Walt's a good man. He won't hurt her you know." Ray feels impelled to say.

Nate seems to heave a sigh of relief. "I promise I will tell Lord Colbert everything, when the time is right. But not now."

"What about Sir Francis? Does he know about your relationship and just how far it's gone? Does he know that you love her?"

Nate gives him a rueful smile. He leans close so only Ray can hear him. "Of course he does. Who do you think started all this in the first place?"

As Ray is still trying to process this, Nate disappears down the corridor.

Brad drops in on Ray while he's working.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Ray makes a face. "Factchecking. Boring as hell. You can help me if you like."

Brad sits down with a pile of papers, runs a cursory eye over them. "What did you find out about our boy wonder then? What were he and the princess arguing about in the corridor?"

Ray hesitates, and Brad knows surer than ever that something is up. Why on earth would Ray keep a secret for Nate? It just doesn't make sense. Something here just doesn't add up.

"You did manage to hear what they were talking about, didn't you? As I ordered you to?"

"They were fighting about her antics, that's all. He told her exactly what he thought of her. Man, there's another side to the sweet troubadour. I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of that one. Would you believe she actually apologised to him?"

Brad knows there's something else that Ray isn't saying. He should know by now, it's impossible to keep things from him. Brad knows him far too well for Ray to deceive him for long.

"You were there for a long time. He must have said something else."

"It was an argument. They tend to get a bit repetitive with time. You know: 'You said this' and 'You said that'; 'How dare you say this?'" he imitates their voices in an almost pitch perfect fashion. Normally Brad would be amused by his vocal dexterity, but he isn't now. "What more do you want to know, Brad?"

A lot more, thinks Brad darkly.

His suspicions whetted by Ray's mysterious cover up, Brad decides to do some fact checking of his own. He wants to know more about Nate, to discover whether the agent has his own secret agenda.

Brad decides to ply the ladies in waiting for information on Nate. Someone here must know something. He's lived here for years, he's one of them, isn't that what Sir Francis always says?

There's nothing worse than listening to inane feminine gossip, but this is an emergency. He needs to know.

He works out his best bet is Henriette de Nevers and Gillone de Goyon, two ladies in waiting who are not only relatively friendly but incorrigible gossipers. Just give them enough to run their pretty little mouths off.

Sure enough the fabulously indiscreet Henriette doesn't let him down.

"So you're curious about our lovely troubadour, are you Lord Colbert?" she says with a cheeky gleam.

"I adore him. So talented and sweet-natured, just like his mother." Gillone adds, taking another marchpane sweetmeat from the box. "So easy to talk to, I feel I could tell him anything."

Henriette gives her a disapproving look and snatches the box away."You had to eat all the good ones, didn't you Mlle de Thorigny?"

"I did not!" protests Gillone with a hard-done by pout. "You said you didn't like the almond ones!"

"You'll have to excuse me, I am a foreigner and not familiar with the ins and outs of family ties at court." Brad says, playing dumb for the moment, while guiding them subtly back to the matter at hand. Trying to glean information from them was like herding cats. "You were talking of Nate's mother?"

"Of course, how thoughtless of me! You wouldn't know about Genevieve de Tournelles, would you?"

The name seems familiar as if he'd seen it briefly somewhere on a piece of parchment connected with the mission.

"Nate's mother. Such a lovely down to earth woman. A wonderfully talented musician in her own right. No airs and graces unlike her de Guise kin. It was so terribly sad that she died so young and left him to be brought up at court."

Henriette nods fervently, her fiery curls quivering almost as if they were alive. "Don't get me wrong, I love court and wouldn't be anywhere else but 'tis no place for a child."

Brad is brought up short. That's where he'd seen it. His memory hadn't let him down. The team had carefully studied the de Guise family tree when they first arrived in France, and sure enough she was there; a mere footnote on the page. He privately kicks himself he hadn't delved into it further at time but it's too late for recriminations now."De Guise Kin? Nate is a de Guise?"

"Not strictly speaking. More like a distant poor relation. Henri de Lorraine, Louis de Nevers and Anne-Marie have always been positively horrid to him. Just because Genevieve was only a cousin and married for love instead of furthering the de Guise interests ." Gillone confides. Brad pays attention; she might be young and giddy, but her father is Marechâl de France. Little Gillone here is probably the best connected lady-in–waiting at court. No wonder Nate's plying her for information.

"Well, you know that the de Guise clan are terrible snobs, worse than the Rochechouarts. And I can say that as Louis's wife." Henriette runs on most garrulously. "You know the saying : The Rochechouarts talk only to themselves and God? Well, the de Guise family are even worse. There was a time when they were grander than the Valois themselves."

"And they would have realised their ambitions had François II lived, Father always said-" agreed Gillone, nodding fervently. "The worst turn of fortune it was for the de Guise clan when Charles grew old enough to take the throne and keep it despite the odds."

He's one of them? Nate has de Guise blood running through his veins, however diluted. This is crazy. How can they investigate the de Guise family and their intrigues using an agent with family connections? Whatever his intentions, there is always going to be a conflict of interests. Sir Francis must know about this. I doubt either he or Ferrando would have let something so important slip.

Nate sits by the lake feeding the swans. Every so often he will cast a crust onto the calm still waters and watch the birds clamour for food. It isn't making him feel any better, his thoughts revolving incessantly over Margot and Sir Francis's newcomers. To be more exact, running on Brad Colbert.

I've got to stop this. He doesn't trust me. Maybe he doesn't even like me. It's so hard to tell when he gives nothing away.

"Penny for your thoughts." a familiar voice says right behind him.

He drops his bag of crusts, privately cursing himself for being so clumsy in the presence of Brad.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Brad sit down next to him and take up the bag.

"You seems troubled, Nate." He says calmly, stretching out those endlessly long legs in front of him. "Anything you want to talk about? Get off your chest?"

"What makes you think I am troubled?" he says noticing how defensive he sounds.

Brad merely looks amused at how flustered Nate is by his presence. "By the way you're sitting out here by the lake all alone staring out at the swans as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Maybe I just crave the peace and quiet." He spars back with a good-natured smile.

Brad gives him a charming smile back. "If that was the case you would have made it obvious you wanted to be alone. So far you haven't."

Brad does have a point here.

"I don't blame you, you know. Things are pretty crazy at the palace. And you have to deal with that every day."

"It's not so bad. I have assistance from my deputies. Stafford and Christeson are young but they're learning swiftly. As soon as they're up to speed I'll introduce them to the group ."

"There was something that I wanted to ask you. Something that came up."

"Ask away." Nate asks placidly. "I told you it's important we start to trust each other, Lord Colbert."

"I was just asking round and I was rather intrigued to hear about your family background." Brad's eyes are fixed on him.

Nate doesn't realise he was holding his breath until he feels the exhale. "My mother?"

"Genevieve de Tournelles. I had no idea she was a de Guise by birth."

Nate looks at him sharply. "I have nothing to do with them. Nothing. Is this why you have problems trusting me? You think that my loyalties are going to be divided? That I won't be able to investigate them and bring them to justice as I ought?"

"With all due respect, Nate I never said that."

"You thought it, though. Let me make things perfectly clear to you, Lord Colbert. I owe them nothing. They have done nothing for me. What loyalty should I owe them?"

"You sound bitter, Nate."

"Maybe I am. Maybe you would be too if you'd spent all your life being looked down upon and bullied because of your mother and her links to that illustrious family. It seems that some de Guises are more worthy than others."

"Is that what this is? Rebellion and resentment?" Brad asks. He knows he's pushing Nate's buttons, but something inside him wants to see how far he can.

"Why do you think I do this for Sir Francis and his mistress?" Nate shakes his head. "I see that Sir Francis and Godfather don't tell you everything. How like them to keep their cards close to their chests even with their own men."

"They don't tell me everything?"

"As my father worked for them until his death, so do I. I carry on his work. I shoulder his burden. I do what I have to, in order to survive. So, you should not question my loyalty to the cause. Ever."

Looking at him Brad can tell he's hit a nerve. If there's one thing Nate is serious about is his loyalty to the cause.

"I'm glad we've cleared that misunderstanding up like gentlemen." Nate says crisply.

"No hard feelings?"

Nate's mouth quirks up at the corner. "Of course not. You had your concerns about the team and you had to address them as team leader. I understand I have to earn your trust."

Brad nods to show he understands him.

"Some of the things I and my own team have to do may be questionable, but all is done in Elizabeth's and Lord Walsingham's service."

Brad has to wonder what exactly does Godfather and Lord Francis have Nate doing at court.

"Questionable, Nate?" he says with a raise of one fair eyebrow.

"I am a spy by profession. I don't have the luxury of being a moral man, Lord Colbert."

Sir Francis and Godfather are in a meeting when Brad reaches them.

"We have to talk, Sirs."

Sir Francis looks up, pleased to see his team leader. "How can I help you, Brad? You seem a tad agitated?"

"We need to discuss Nate Fick and his role in our investigations." Brad says firmly, determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Nate? What's the problem with Nate?" Sir Francis says coolly. "Aren't you satisfied with the quality of his dispatches so far?"

"You know about his family ties? His de Guise blood?"

"Do you take us for fools, Lord Colbert? Of course we know about his birth. Why do you think we chose him as our agent?" Godfather rasps impatiently.

"I have no idea." Brad says tersely. "You tell me, Sir-"

"I think it is about time we took Lord Colbert into our confidence, don't you?" Sir Francis says smoothly. "I can understand why he has trouble trusting our agent if he knows nothing about his circumstances and motives. I'm sure you can keep this in confidence. We have no wish for this to become common knowledge, do we?"

"I can keep a secret."

"Nate works for Sir Francis and myself out of loyalty and obligation. He's worked for us since he was a child. We trained him to be our perfect agent and so far he has not disappointed us in any way."

"Out of 'Obligation'?" he asks with deceptive calmness.

"Nate's father was involved in a plot to kidnap and harm Elizabeth. He saw the error of his ways and gave us information to help us foil the plot. In return for showing him mercy, Sir Francis and I elected to employ him as a spy at court."

So Nate was right. All this time he'd had to take on his father's burden. Take on his guilt. Had he ever had a chance at a normal life and what effect had living in such a poisonous yet rareified world had on him?

Brad is not surprised that Lord Ferrando and Sir Francis would act this way. What he is surprised about is that Nate would allow himself to be used by these two ruthless operators. What have they got on him?

"We used Nate as he was close to the royal children. He has that close bond with the princess and her loyalty to him has been invaluable. And I have to say, he has an innate talent for this kind of work. He's clever, charming enough to elicit information from targets almost without them realising what he's up to. Intelligent enough to understand the nuances and implications of what he gives us. And of course it helps that he appears so alluring, so deceptively innocent and virtuous that no one would ever suspect him of spying for us."

"You look disapproving, Lord Colbert?" Godfather says sharply. "Surely you do not question our methods? Especially when they have given us an undeniable edge?"

Brad cannot believe the depth of his ruthlessness. Has he no human feeling for Nate at all? Or is he just a means to an end?

"Nate was a child when you got to him. Do you really think that guilt and obligation are enough to keep him on the team?"

When Godfather smiles complacently, Brad fights an urge to shake him. "You know that Jesuit saying : 'Give me a man until the age of six and you will have him for a lifetime?' I'll say this for the miliatis ecclesiae, they know human nature better than any of our opponents. Can you blame me for seeing an opportunity to use their own methods against them?"

Brad is disgusted. "You're using Nate as an experiment?"

"Nate is perfect for my strategy by birth and by nature. Yes, he is a Guise by birth. That gives him a entry however slight into this court. And yet they have done nothing for him."

Sir Francis joins in. "All his life they looked down on him. Bullied him for his abilities and royal patronage. What loyalty does he owe them?"

"Nate is a human being, not an automaton!"

"Why do you care, Lord Colbert?" Godfather says icily. "You don't even trust him, you never did."

"You cannot force him to work for us through obligation. My team rely on his information and analysis. If he has another agenda, then we need to know!"

"Who cares why he spies for us as long as he delivers the goods consistently?" The blunt callousness in Godfather's voice is infuriating. He at least cares nothing for Nate. "Nate is reliable and intelligent. He knows the score. He is no innocent."

"How can you stand aside and accept this, Sir Francis?" Brad asks as soon as Godfather leaves.

"He isn't treated badly, Lord Colbert. He lives at court, which is all he knows. I treat him like my own son. I and Ursula at least care about his welfare."

"Does Lord Ferrando?" Brad asks brusquely, "-care about Nate's welfare?"

Sir Francis has the grace to look embarrassed by his probing. Perhaps he knows full well that Lord Ferrando cares only for himself. "Brad, you know Lord Ferrando is a driven man. He wants results, and Nate delivers. We have trained him well. He is the best agent we have."

"So you keep saying-"

"We've never had an inside man so close to the throne. Do you understand what a coup this is for the team? He was brought up with the royal children. He's known them from the schoolroom, even before that in all truth. This is a close knit community. Bloodlines and birth are everything here. Nate has infiltrated the inner sanctum. His patronage of us will help us be accepted at court. Do you know how Catherine thinks of this young man?

"The Queen Mother?" For some reason Brad doesn't like the thought of Catherine de' Medici anywhere near Nate.

She told his father when she made him ward of Court she thinks of him as one of her own. He is the envy of every noble in France."

Brad has to accept Sir Francis's explanations, though he doesn't have to like them.

Brad and Stafford are on their way to meet with Sir Francis and Nate.

"What's Nate like to work for? He told me he was training you and Christeson as his deputies."

Stafford gives him a shrewd look. Brad wonders if he already knows about his interest in the agent.

"He's a decent man, even though he has to involve himself in the deceptions of court. Me and Christeson couldn't ask for a better boss. He looks after us-"

Brad is interested in this. Nate seems to have the gift of inspiring loyalty in others. Perhaps it's his integrity which inspires people to co-operate with him. He can see how that would work with courtiers like Nançay and Gillone.

But how does that square with his illicit relationship with the princess? How can Nate live a lie so readily?

Amboise, 1557

Seamus opens his eyes and lifts his head from the board. It's stained with the remains of the wine and brandy he'd drunk last night. At least, he thinks it's last night. Since Jenny's illness has got worse and he started to drink to forget the pain, most of the days have blended into one intoxicated haze.

He sees his son looking at him from the doorway. Despite his youth, there's an indescribable look in those enigmatic green eyes so like Jenny's it hurts him afresh to look at the boy. Seamus feels a stab of guilt that his son should see him in this state. He's still so drunk he knows it's impossible to stand.

"Papa?" Nate asks, coming towards him in all innocence."What's wrong? Are you ill?"

"Go back! Leave me!"

Nate's little face is hurt at his father's unaccustomed harshness. He flees, closing the door with a slam.

Sorcha stands at the bottom of the stairs. He can tell by the severe look on her face that she heard everything, and she definitely didn't approve.

"Why the devil are ye shouting?" she says crossly. "You lock yourself in your room for days on end, and when you do come out, you're hollering and bellowing like the savage you are."

"Nothing." He says tersely. "Leave me be."

Sorcha will not pander to his weakness. "Why are you shouting at Nate? What has he done to you? We've all been tip-toeing round you for weeks."

Seamus already feels guilty he took his bad mood out on his son. He shouldn't have shouted at him. The lad was probably worried about him.

"Well, Seamus?" she walks up to him, her snub freckled nose wrinkling in disgust. She prods him with one long slim finger stained with ink. "You are as drunk as a sow, Seamus Fick. Deny it if you can!"

"Well, right now what you need to do is go up there and apologise to your son. Right now."

Even in his inebriated state Seamus knows better than to cross his sister. Sorcha's temper is as fiery as her red-gold hair and is legendary within the family when crossed.

"Nate?"

There's no answer as Seamus knocks on his son's door.

"Nate, please open the door."

"No." He hears his son say stubbornly.

What have I done? Seamus tells himself. Normally Nate loves and adores his father. Has he made a terrible mistake and made his son afraid of him? If only I could turn back time, and take back my cross words.

"I won't push you, my son. I just wanted to say-"

To say what? To say, I'm sorry I'm a lousy father who gets drunk instead of dealing with his problems? I'm sorry I took my anger and frustration out on you, when you are struggling as much as I am with the loss of Jenny?

"I wanted to say...Well, I'm sorry."

The door stays firmly closed. Seamus tries the lock. Nate has locked himself in.

"Well, did you apologise?" Sorcha asks as soon as he gets back downstairs.

Seamus feels weighed in the balance and being found wanting."I tried. Nate locked his door against me. He never does that."

"I'm not surprised." She says rather snippily. Seamus can tell she's dying to put the boot in.

"I know that you are struggling with Jenny's illness. We all are, Seamus. But you have a young son. A little boy who needs you badly, no matter what is happening. Please don't push him away when he needs you more than ever."

"What kind of a father can I be to him now? When everything is falling apart?" Seamus says helplessly.

"You're not even prepared to try? You'd rather drown your sorrows and spend your nights with disreputable men? Then maybe you're not the man I believed you were."

There's no arguing with Sorcha, especially when she directs her forensic logic on him. He feels like a salmon on the end of a hook, being pitilessly examined in the morning light.

"Of course I love the boy. I always will. He's my son."

"Well then start acting like it then. I know you're hurting Seamus, but it's time for you to stop moping over things you cannot change. If Jenny can accept her fate, why can't you? Be a man for your son. That lost boy who just wants your love."

"Thank you, Sorcha." he says briefly.

"What ever for?"

Seamus cracks the ghost of a smile for the first time in what seems like forever."For being tough on me, and busting my stones when I need it."

"Any time, brother."

Sorcha blames herself for not noticing how badly Seamus was coping with Jenny's illness. She knows that in times of stress, she retreats to what she knows and loves: her books. Seamus has always relied upon her and Jenny to keep him on an even keel. He's intelligent but sometimes without a firm sensible hand on the tiller, he drifts into self-destructive behaviour, falling in with the wrong crowd.

She decides to wait until after dinner when she's put Nate to bed to tackle her brother. To start keeping an eye on him more. I owe it to him. To Jenny.

She waits until he's left the house and withdraws a hairpin from her bun. Alright, she has a twinge of conscience breaking and entering into his room, but needs must. I'm concerned about him. Last night she happened to be hovering in her new drive to pay attention to him and she noticed his drinking buddies talking in low conspiratorial voices. Her sharp ears were able to catch only snippets, but what she heard was more than enough to alarm her.

Plots? Arquebuses? Armed men breaking into palaces? Whatever Seamus has managed to get involved in now, he has to be stopped. Nate needs his father around and if he's messing around with dangerous men like this, it's very possible he won't be.

The pin turns in the lock and Sorcha lets herself in. She can't help tutting at the dust that has built up in his study. She's not the houseproud type, but how anyone can bear to work in a room like this defies belief.

She looks over his desk, and her sharp eye is caught by a paper in English. Almost despite herself, she picks it up and starts to read.

"Oh Seamus, you great big eejit." She heaves a great sigh. It was exactly as she had suspected. He's only gone and got himself in a plot to kidnap Elizabeth! To try and snatch her while she goes hunting and demand a ransom. What crazy harebrained idiots would think this was a good idea?

She has to speak to him and as soon as possible. He cannot be allowed to go through with it.

When Seamus gets in that night, Sorcha draws him aside. "May I talk to you?"

"Of course, what is it, Sorcha?" he says removing his cloak with a flourish.

"Not in front of Nate!" she hisses.

He shrugs and takes her out into the garden.

"What's this all about?" Seamus asks as soon as they get outside.

Sorcha is practically trembling with anger. He sees the signs and realises that when she explodes this is going to be epic.

"How could you be so goddamned irresponsible, Seamus?" she hisses.

His face falls as he realises that somehow she's found out. Keeping a secret from Sorcha is impossible. She's far too nosy frankly not to let things lie.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Her eyes flash with rage as she pokes him fiercely in the chest. "Don't give me that tripe, Seamus Fick. D'ye think I was born yesterday?"

"We talked about how you need to be there for your family. How you were struggling to cope with Jenny's troubles. And if I thought that you were stupid enough to endanger all that by running around with a bunch of reprobates planning –"

"Keep your voice down!" he says, grabbing her arm.

"Tell me you aren't that stupid, brother! That you've at least thought about this?"

Seamus looks down. Sorcha looks at him and realises that he's lost. Out of his depth.

"How on earth did you get involved, Seamus. A person like that-" she's careful not to name names for fear someone may overhear them talking. "-Is bound to have security. It's not worth the risk, and you've never been a fanatic. What's brought this on?"

"They were kind to me. They listened while I drowned my sorrows. I started to believe that they wanted to be my friends. When they started to tell me about their scheme, it troubled me to hear their plots but I was too deep in their plans to decently withdraw."

"They are serious about their plot? This isn't just idle chat?" Sorcha asks.

"They've invested funds in the enterprise, so yes, I would say they were, Sorcha."

She's frightened by what he's just told her about the plot, grey eyes wide with revelation but one thing that Sorcha Fick is, is brave.

"There's only one thing that you can do. You must go to the authorities and tell them what you know. Perhaps if they see you have repented of your folly, it may be enough to save us all."

"Us all?"

She sighs in exasperation. How can he not have thought of the consequences?

"Think, Seamus! If you were caught by the authorities, do you think they would stop at wrecking their vengeance on you? They would harm you, me, even Nate. Would they even spare Jenny, as ill as she is?"

"No! Not my son!"

"You need to make things right." Sorcha insists. "Go and report this to the authorities. What allegiance do you owe these conspirators? When their actions endanger the throne, and those you love? Do the right thing, Seamus."

Seamus has never been so terrified as when he made the appointment to see Sir Francis Walsingham. His reputation as Elizabeth's close councillors and head of national security make him a formidable man to butt heads with. Who knows how the lord will react? Perhaps he'll throw me in prison as soon as I reveal my guilt. He knows that Sorcha was right.

There's no way he could ever be involved with this plot against Elizabeth. He was a fool to get implicated with them.

Sir Francis sits behind his desk, a stern yet impassive look on that foxily inquisitive face. He is joined by a distinguished man in his middle age, with silvering dark hair and penetrating blue eyes, like pitiless rays piercing into his soul. He leans on the desk, arrogance written in his stance.

"How may I help you?" Sir Francis asks politely, shuffling his papers."'Tis Seamus Fick of Ballykirlan, is it not?"

Seamus gulps but stiffens his spine. He has to do this. For Sorcha, for poor Jenny, and for his beloved son Nate. His sister was right as usual. He needs their mercy.

"I come to you with information about a plot on her Majesty's life, Sirs."

Seamus looks at Sir Francis Walsingham, but the canny bastard is giving nothing away as he regards the guilty man in front of him. There's nothing he can do. He's made the gamble to tell them the truth about the conspiracy, now it's up to them.

"You may have wondered why I have summoned you back here." Walsingham remarks, with a cordial smile on his face. Seamus doesn't know quite how to take this. He fidgets under their gaze.

Seamus is on tenterhooks waiting for the great man's decision, but he knows enough to be silent. Lord Walsingham and Lord Ferrando hold all the aces and they know it. Come on, put me out of my misery. What is your decision? He thinks with a stab of impatience.

"In truth Lord Ferrando was of the mind that you should receive the punishment you so clearly deserve. He doesn't believe that you deserve any clemency at all."

Ferrando's eyes bore into him. There's no escaping that pitiless gaze. "To put it coldly, Sir, you are a traitor to your monarch and your country. There are some that would regard the information you gave us as positively treasonous."

"Treasonous?" Seamus squeaks, despite himself. He envisages himself stretched on the rack as they try to squeeze that last little bit of information from his miserable suffering body. Broken on the wheel...seeing his guts pulled out of his body as the flames burn. A terrible death. I would spare Nate the pain of seeing me like that. I have to accept the offer, even if it means selling my soul in the process.

"My lord, I know I was a fool to get involved with these men. But I have endeavoured to make things right-"

"I haven't quite finished speaking." Sir Francis gently reminds Seamus. He wonders miserably if the Englishman merely enjoys toying with his food.

"In mitigation, you did come to us, at great risk to yourself to warn us. That's something that I feel should be taken into account."

"What will you do to me. And my family?" asks Seamus, bowing his head and resigning himself to his fate.

"I believe that we should utilise your talents for gathering information in a more positive fashion. You and your son work for us, gleaning information from the French court, and we will overlook your past indiscretions against the English Crown."

At first Seamus is relieved that against the odds Lord Walsingham has extended mercy to him for his mistake. But as the lord's words sink in, he realises his ordeal isn't quite over yet.

"My son?" he falters.

"Yes. I believe his name is Nathaniel, is it not? We want you to train him to work alongside you gathering intel."

"He's just a lad. He's barely out of skirts, my lord. And you want him to spy for you?" Seamus protests.

"May I remind you that the boy is ideally placed in the royal family to assist you? He is loved by them. He has immense musical talent and intelligence, which they laud and recognise. We could maintain his professional studies while allowing him to earn his way passing information."

Despite his instinctive visceral horror at the thought of Sir Francis weaving his boy into their dangerous scheme, Seamus can't help being slightly tempted by the offer. Nate is very talented, and I do want him to make the best of his gifts. Perhaps-

What was he thinking to succumb to such lures? He tells himself. Nate would be in immense danger for most of his days. He is only a boy, and yet Sir Francis is demanding that Nate be trained to a man's job. What should happen if he fails?

"I am willing to do whatever I can to atone for my mistake. But my son-"

Godfather leans forward, clearly losing patience. "We will not strike bargains here."

"You ask me to put my lad in greatest danger for my mistake. Surely you can see my misgivings, Sires."

"No boy, no deal." Lord Ferrando says, unruffled by Seamus's plea for mercy. "Those are the terms of your mercy. Take them or leave them."

Seamus knows what he must do, although his conscience sorely troubles him. He sinks to his knees and kisses the rings on Sir Francis's hands.

"A word of advice, Fick?"

Seamus is so relieved, he'll accept anything these two lords say. They have the power of life and death over him and his young son. Their lives depend on Walsingham and Ferrando's whims. "Yes. my lord, anything!"

"If the lad serves his little mistress well, his fortune will be made. So you'd better impress on him the importance of keeping Margot on side. As long as he has her protection, there's not a man at court nor the entire kingdom of France who can touch him."

-0-

Present day, Margot's chambers, evening

The Ladies in waiting are idly conversing as they congregate in Margot's chambers as they prepare her gown for the lavish exclusive supper party for members of the royal family plus their favoured guests. Gillone fusses over the fine wine-red velvet, thickly embroidered with gold thread and seed pearls in an ornate sumptuous pattern.

"You heard about poor Eugenie Chiasson de Beauharnais. A sad business, it was. Taken by gunpoint at night from her own father's chateau and imprisoned until she agreed to marry that wretch. And look how badly he treated her afterwards once he got what he most desired." said Elise, passing on the latest gossip.

"He didn't love her, he loved her gold. It's not remotely the same thing." A young girl sat by the window, nose down in a book.

"Oh, the mouse has a tongue in her head?" remarks Anne-Marie de Guise with a spiteful edge to her voice. "I'd started to think you lost the use of your voice, Madeleine?"

"I don't concern myself with gossip, my lady." she said in reply, going back to her tome.

"Did he force her?" Margot says suddenly. The ladies in waiting get to their feet and sink into curtseys, taken completely by surprise by her approach.

"Where the hell did she spring from? She must have been listening behind the door!" hissed Charlotte, straightening her skirts to sinks into a dutiful curtsey.

"My Lady?"

"Ma'am." the girls all bob respectfully.

"What were you all conversing about so intently before I came in?" Margot asks.

The girls shift and fidget uncomfortably.

"We were talking about Eugenie." Henriette says with barely concealed reluctance. "But you mustn't dwell on such unpleasant matters, ma cherie."

"Did he force her? Take her against her will? He must have done. Why else would she have felt obliged to marry him afterwards? These men! These arrogant bastards. Poor Eugenie, I liked her, such a lovely girl. I'll send her a message and some gold if I can."

The women look at each other with dubious little glances and discreet whispers behind fans.

She's getting distressed again. Somebody distract her. She's brooding on bad things.

Gillone tries to guide her mistress away from dangerous waters. "Come, my lady, you mustn't think of such things. Shall I brush your hair for you, and we have selected a marvellous gown for the supper? You will look like an angel!"

Margot allows herself to be led away by her maidservant.

"That was a close shave!" one of the maids says as soon as they leave.

Henriette looks disapprovingly at the rest of the girls. "A little too close to home, don't you think girls? Really, you must guard your tongues better."

"D'ye really think Monsieur de Guise is crazy enough to try and abduct a princesse? Did we throw out enough of a hint?" Elise Blondet et Gallais says, anxiety lacing her voice."You know we could not speak of it openly."

"Margot is an intelligent girl. And I have plans in hand. De Guise shall not get his own way, not in this case. 'Twould be suicidal to allow him to take such a path, when the king mislikes him so. You leave this to me, ladies."

"It just goes to show you must be so careful if you are fortunate enough to be in receipt of a fortune. There are fortune hunters everywhere, eager to take advantage in unsettled times.

"Abduct yourself an heiress and gain yourself an ill-gotten fortune." Elise remarks.

"It's not like you to be so cynical, Elise? That's at least one good thing the king has done. Make it illegal to marry clandestinely without the consent of the parents." Henriette says comfortably, "- and God willing it will not happen here."

"Can't you speak to him? Persuade de Guise from this rash scheme. Surely he cannot believe he will succeed?"

Henriette laughs. "D'ye think he listens to me? I'm only his sister in law! What sway do you think I have with him?"

"We know the rules of the game. We know our duty as aristocratic ladies. We have to marry and well. We have to carry on the great dynasties. That is our duty, as much it is our brother's duty to command troops and defend the faith, to govern the country."

"What about love. Does no one care about matters of the heart?" says one of the younger maids wistfully.

Henriette gives a worldly little laugh. "Take your happiness now with both hands and worry about the future when it is time. Isn't that our motto?"

Margot fidgets, not able to concentrate on anything for very long. She picks up her volume of Ovid's poems and notices with a frown that she's creased the spine again. Nate will be mad. She knows he hates it when she accidentally damages one of his books and he's bound to be cross when he notices she's bent the spine again. She swiftly looks at the frontispiece. Yes, it's one of his.

Nate's changed. He's more distant, he smiles at her less. His aloofness leads her to become more and more outrageous in a quest for his attention. Sometimes he's busy and she feels that she shouldn't be taking up his time, which is ridiculous. He's my friend, my musician, my lover.

She trails her fingertips over the soft flesh of her inner arm remembering his touch on her skin. Whatever else happens, he still physically desires her as much as she does him. That at least hasn't changed. And yet sometimes I wonder whether I can ever please him. She ponders their argument in the alcove where she literally had to grab him by the wrist to make him stay with her. The bitterness and annoyance in his voice as they fought over her appearance in Lord Hasser's bedroom.

I don't see what the problem was. 'Twas only a jest! Maman and Charles want me to sleep with Lord Hasser, and discomfit the arrogant de Guise. Turning up in his bedroom was an efficient way to achieve that. By now half the court will have heard of her boldness and dismissed it as her usual licentious behaviour.

I have no idea what's going on. It isn't as if he doesn't still want me because he does.

This is a nightmare. I do love him, but we both know that we have to give each other up. Once I am married to Henri de Navarre I can hardly carry on my affair with Nate. She recoils at the thought of leaving Nate.

No! I love him too much to give him up willingly!

Perhaps I am a bit thoughtless, flaunting Lord Hasser in front of him. She remembers Nate's reluctant admission of jealousy.

Maybe I should do something for him, buy him a present or something. Margot cheers up at the thought of indulging in some retail therapy. Just the thing to get her out of the claustrophobic royal palace.

I will. I'll go into the city incognito again and get him something he'll enjoy. I just want us to be happy for the little time we have left to us. Is that so wrong?

The Gardens of Fontainebleau

De Guise leans close to the wall of yew, hiding until he hears the light feminine step approaching .

At last she's here, he thinks to himself, and she's managed to come alone. Good girl.

He grasps her wrist and pulls her close, finding her poignard drawn close to his throat."Peace, mon ange, 'tis me."

The blade doesn't drop. The point drags across the skin of his neck almost lazily.

"Drop it, Margot. It's me. De Guise."

She makes no move to remove her mask, but there's no mistaking her.

"What did you want with me?" she says, a petulant note in her voice. "I had quite a job getting away from everyone else. Really, you are most inconvenient, Monsieur de Guise-"

"I'm surprised Nate let you out of his sight, let alone Lord Hasser. How can you bear him being so clingy?" His lip curls in scorn at the mere thought of his rival, "Constantly at your side, languishing like a lovelorn puppy. Don't you get bored of his cloying attentions?"

"Well, if you're going to be like that, Henri, I'll go. I don't have to listen to this." she snaps tartly, pulling her hand away from his possessive grasp.

"Stop, Margot, wait! I didn't mean it. I know it upsets you if I talk of him."

"Well, don't then! If you can't be civil-"

"Come, Let's talk. It's been so long since we have talked." He lets his voice fall low and seductive, knowing the effect it has on her.

"You know Charles doesn't like me associating with you and neither does Maman. I don't wish to provoke either of them since they are so set on my marriage to that bumpkin Henri de Navarre." Margot says primly.

"Have you changed your mind, dearest? Do you no longer care for me?"

A cynical smile curves her mouth, even as she allows him to lavish fervent kisses on her wrists and bare forearms.

"Now, Henri, anyone would think you were all lovelorn at the thought of me. You can't expect me to believe that?"

"Why is it so hard for you to believe me that I love you?" he declares.

Margot withdraws her hand languidly. "If I were a simple woman, not a princess at all, would you love me then? Would you love me at all?"

"That's not fair, Margot-" He starts.

A smile of malicious triumph hovers around her mouth as the barb hits home. "No, Henri, I didn't think so."

"You are cruel, Marguerite. Fair, yet cruel. You know how I burn for you. How I can't stand the thought of you with other men. That's why you're toying with Lord Hasser. To teach me a lesson, that you belong to no man, least of all me-"

Margot has the cheek to look faintly amused from behind her mask. Her mouth quirks up into that ironic smile he knows so well. "It's not always about you, you know. Did it never occur to you that I might actually like Lord Hasser? He's a handsome man, kind, generous and giving in bed, why wouldn't I desire him ?"

"If you were so blissfully happy with him, then why did you try and lose him to meet me tonight? Why do you sigh and tremble at my touch? Face it, Margot he's a pretty little diversion. When you get bored of his innocence you'll come back to me where you belong."

He spots the flush on the bottom half of her face in the half-light and feels a surge of triumph. She cannot help herself. She's addicted to the danger and the thrill of being with me.

"We belong together, my lady." He whispers into her ear. "Two gorgeous rogues, eager to grasp all life has to offer them."

She extricates herself from his embrace. "Ah, such fine words-" she says with an effort. "Have you been taking poetry lessons from Ronsard? And I believe your new wife might have something to say about your declaration of love?"

"Since when have you ever given a damn about my wife Catherine?"

"So you would throw my own weakness back in my face? Now who's being cruel?" she fires right back at him.

"Always you delight to mock me for your own amusement. Parading your lovers in front of me. Yet, we both know you cannot resist me-"

"You presume too much, Henri." She says, even as she shudders and gasps under his calculated amorous assault.

"I know you, Marguerite. You are a woman of fierce and unbridled passions. You need and crave me as much as you deny yourself and mock me."

"Henri, stop this. Someone might see us at any moment. My brother would be furious if he knew I was alone with you-"

"Does he make you feel this way?" he persists, nipping her just behind her ear and making her gasp. "Make you long and burn for him like this?"

"He? I don't know who you mean?" she says. There's an edge to her voice. De Guise would almost believe it to be guilt.

His grip on her tightens, betraying his jealousy. "Nathaniel. I know you still allow that callow youth into your bed out of sheer pity. How does he make you feel this way about him?"

She pulls away from him instantly, drawing down an emotional barrier that even de Guise can sense. She rubs her reddened wrists, scowling at his show of force.

"What did I say? Why do you withdraw from me, Marguerite?"

"You crossed the line, Monsieur de Guise." She says icily, haughty as the princess she is.

"About Nate?" he says as if he can't believe she would take offence on his behalf. "You can't be angry with me about him?"

"I warned you not to disparage Nate ever to me, but you simply won't listen."

"You defend him? Why? What is he to you?"

"He's my best friend. I trust him as I trust no other. If you were wise and if you really loved me as you claim, you would cultivate his good favour."

De Guise makes a sound of sheer scorn at that."He would be nothing without your patronage. One drop of questionable de Guise blood, and he thinks he is good enough to associate himself with kings and princes."

"Stop it!" she snaps.

"You cannot truly care for him. Maybe you pity him. He's pretty as a picture and all your girls dote on him, I see that. He makes himself indispensable to them. But you cannot tell me you feel for him a tenth of what you feel for me."

She turns on him, angered by de Guise's sheer arrogance about Nate. "Don't you get it, Henri? If you think I'm with Nate out of pity you couldn't be more mistaken."

His face is white with suppressed rage. He grips her to him so tightly she protests."Henri, let me go! What is wrong with you?" she kicks out at him, catching him on the shin.

"Do you sleep with him?"

She bites her lip and averts her eyes. He's so furious with her as the truth dawns on him, he seizes her by the shoulder and shakes her.

"Tell me you're jesting. You want Nate? Instead of me? How could you?"

She pushes him away."You shouldn't have asked me, Henri."

"You shouldn't have lied to me, Marguerite."

"I never lied to you. I didn't tell you the truth Henri, but I didn't lie to you either-"

De Guise makes a noise of scorn at that one.

"You knew the rules of the game when we started this. Why are you changing on me now?-" she says, her voice has a shrill defensive overtone that tells him she knows she is in the wrong here.

De Guise is infuriated at the thought of his rival. "Him? Why the hell would you choose him over me?"

"Because he loves me."

He cannot believe she would dare to say that to his face. That Nate would dare to love her? That she would encourage him? That she would sleep with him over the great de Guise? "I love you, you can't deny that-"

"Do you?" she asks in that disconcerting candid way that went straight to the heart of the matter. Exactly like her brother the king, that same wide-eyed direct manner that disarms opponents and leads them to stumble into truth.

"You have to break it off. You have to leave him. Dismiss him from your service. I will not tolerate him making a fool of me-"

Her eyes flash from behind the mask at his high handed manner. Too late, he remembers how stubborn she can be when crossed. Her attachment to that blasted lad, despite the odds. "I will do no such thing, de Guise, and you are in no position to decree to me. We aren't married and we never will be. So how dare you dictate to me! I will be friends with whoever I please."

"You won't even consider it?"

"I will not give up my best friend because you cannot be mature about it. He is nothing but polite to you, you know."

"You told your mother you wanted to marry me!" he protests.

"Oh come, de Guise. We both know why I wanted to marry you. Because of your noble blood."

She's far too good at finding the exact phrase to hurt. The tender spot to infuriate a man."You cannot mean this!"

"It's my game, and it's my rules. If you don't like them, then you go back to your new wife Catherine and leave me alone." She lashes out with more than a hint of cruelty.

"You don't mean that!" he cries out, envisaging her slipping out of his grasp. "Margot, think about what you're saying. Don't turn your back on me. Not when we have such chemistry-"

"Goodbye, Henri. Perhaps my brother Charles is right. We shouldn't keep meeting like this." She says coolly, looking over her shoulder at him.

Before he can say anything else, she disappears around the yew hedge.

De Guise broods as he stalks out, mulling over her revelations, roiling in his anger about Nate and his place in Margot's affections. How dare he? He is nothing compared to me. A mere musician. He would be nothing, if not for his mother's distant link to the de Guise family. And yet she seems to be infatuated with him. Why? What does he have that I do not?

He's not looking where he's going and nearly collides into them coming the other way. At the sight of her hand clasped in his, his arm around her waist as they walk de Guise's stomach clenches in fury.

They're not even paying attention. Lost in their own world and each other. Away from the scrutiny of the court, it's obvious and he wonders how he didn't see it before. Margot looks up at Nate adoringly as if she cannot bear to tear her eyes from that face for even a moment.

"My Lord de Guise-" Nate says politely.

He grunts rudely in reply. Margot frowns at him, but he takes no notice.

"I wonder you do not get bored of feminine company?" snipes de Guise. "I suppose everyone must find their own level, Nathaniel."

It's been a long time since de Guise has been able to bully Nate. He merely gives him a faintly insolent smirk instead. De Guise clenches his fists in an attempt not to punch him.

"Can't you see we are busy, Monsieur de Guise?" she says in her haughtiest tone. The dismissal is clear.

"But-"

She turns her back on him, devoting her attention elsewhere. "What were you saying before we were so rudely interrupted, Nate?"

Even though he knows it will hurt him, he watches them that night at dinner. Jealousy surging in his gut as she sings with Nate, their voices blending in the air de cœur almost like two facets of the same glorious voice. Light and dark. Innocence and experience. She's on brilliant form that night, cruel hard and pitiless like a cut diamond sparkling in the light.

She rises, her eyes shining with mischief. "Let's dance, Nathaniel."

"They're such a beautiful couple." De Guise hears one of the ladies-in–waiting say idly as Nate dances with his mistress. "His golden beauty and she is fair as the morning star, everyone says it."

"And how he looks at her. With such adoration in his eyes. I wish a man would look at me like that. She has no idea how lucky she is."

De Guise never thought that he would agree with Lord Colbert in a thousand years, but right now he can see the annoyance he feels mirrored on the English Lord's face. The little jade is doing it on purpose. She cannot truly love him? Humble Nathaniel Fick. Little more than a servant compared to the great Duc de Lorraine? All this time she's sleeping with him. Granting him the favours she refuses to give to him.

She raises her skirts as she passes, showing off her neat footwork. Margot's always enjoyed dancing with her swains. The physical intimacy of that the dance allows and displays.

Now that he knows what to look for, it's all he sees. The way she moves into his arms, as if she knows full well she belongs there. Her satisfied smile as he touches her. Her hand splayed possessively on the small of his back, drawing him closer.

De Guise crushes the glass in his fist, not noticing the pain until the shards cut his palm open.

"Oh, My Lord, Look what you've done!" cries Catherine de Porcian, his new and unwanted wife.

Her simple concern angers him, even as he knows it's not her fault he lashes out at her. "Leave me, you bird-brained wench. Always fussing over nothing-"

Catherine de Porcian's eyes fill with tears at his harsh voice. The music scrapes to a stop.

"Is there any need for you to be so boorish? If you can't be civil to my attendants then perhaps you should leave and have a serious think about your behaviour." Margot says, voice cold as frost.

He stumbles out, shamed by her cruel mocking laughter. He turns to see her take Nate's hand to lead back into the dance and a twist of murderous rage fills his mouth with bile.

I will have my revenge on him, I swear it. Teach him not to presume to take what is mine