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He smiled, his brows raised and his cheeks flushed. “And look how you’re dressed. Are you helping with the Christmastide merriment?” He pressed a hand against his heart. “Seeking to replace this merry fool?”
“Not at all, Master Whitby. The role is firmly yours. I was but visiting Simmons at Cranfield House to make sure the orphans residing there had plenty to eat on this cold night.”
“Your heart is large, and luckily your pocket is full enough to help.”
“But I could get in trouble sneaking out.” She held a finger to her lips. “No telling anyone.”
He bowed low. “I am at your service and discretion, milady.”
Richard walked on, leaning every so often on his cane, and Lucy began hurrying once again toward her room. Greer hadn’t said a word to the man and kept his silence until they maneuvered through the hallways to her bedchamber.
She turned her key in the lock, her door swinging inward. The fire she’d banked cast a glow about the comfortable room. Smoothed bed, chairs by the fire, wardrobe, trunk, and a privacy screen. All exactly how she’d left them.
Greer stood in the open doorway. “What do ye know of the jester?” he asked.
She peeked behind the screen like she usually did, but no one hid there. “Richard Whitby has worked for the court for several years. He likes to tell jests, so the queen chose him to play the Lord of Misrule this season. His antics will start tomorrow, but he’s been planning the pageants to entertain the court for weeks.”
“How does he know your butler at Cranfield House?” Greer asked.
The splashes of warm color from the hearth cut across the Highlander’s serious features, making them almost look menacing. Lucy’s heart squeezed. He’d noticed Richard’s flushed cheeks, evidence of him hurrying through a cold night. “They might be acquaintances, perhaps friends,” she said. “Richard Whitby used to help with the entertainment at Cranfield House on occasion. Why?”
Greer met her gaze. “Because Richard Whitby was definitely one of the three who hurried out tonight when we arrived.”
Chapter Four
“Elizabeth needed a long time to get ready each day. She would line her eyes with charcoal and her face, hands and neck were then painted with a mixture of white lead and vinegar. And, of course, like many ladies of the time, she wore a wig every day. What’s more, Elizabeth was always determined to be the most eye-catching woman in the room. She would always dress in colorful gowns made from rich materials, while she would insist that her ladies-in-waiting would only wear plain black or whitegowns.”
History Collection.com
Greer watched Lucy’sface tighten. With confusion or guilt? She met his gaze without blinking, so it was hard to decipher. Could she be playing the innocent while her butler and Whitby were creating a way for them to get close to the queen?
“Are you certain?” she whispered. “It was dark.”
“That wrapped walking stick was what he used to keep Percy away from him.”
Her mouth dropped open and then closed. “We will ask Simmons in the morning.”
“And Lord Walsingham?” Greer asked.
“And reveal that we were out in the night, witnessing a possible meeting of traitors at my own house where I’m harboring two liberated pups? We need more evidence of wrongdoing before I condemn both of them to the Tower and torture.” Her words came fast and succinct, once again full of conviction.
He stared at her, trying to ignore how her braid had fallen from her cap to lay across one slender shoulder. Even in lad’s clothing, the lass was beautiful. Her cheeks were rosy from their walk in the cold night, and the escaped curls around her face were tousled and free as if a Highland breeze had teased them out of the braid.
“Then we will return to question your butler first thing in the morn,” he said and glanced about her spacious chamber, but he saw no one lurking. It was full of luxuries, like her home on St. Martins Lane. Even though she mingled with the poor, she’d never known the feel of hunger or cold.
“’Tis Christmas. I will have to accompany Her Majesty to church services and then be part of any festivities at Whitehall. I’d think you’d like to remain close to her.”
He huffed softly. “The next day then.”
He stepped backward into the dark corridor, and she walked to the door. Rich white gloves encased her long fingers. They wrapped around the edge of the door, slowly closing it, but her gaze remained connected to his until the crack became too narrow.Click. The door shut, and he remained, listening to Lucy Cranfield turn the key in her lock. Was she totally innocent? Of mischief? Nay. Of planned treason? He frowned as he stared at the door. “Possibly,” he murmured.
*
“Lucy? Wake up.’Tis Christmas morning.” Cordelia’s voice penetrated Lucy’s bedchamber door.Tap. Tap. Tap.“We must follow the queen to the cathedral. Lucy?”
The incessant rapping on her door pulled Lucy from the lurid dream she’d been having. She’d been standing naked before the fire with a fully dressed Greer Buchanan. Even though he didn’t touch her with his hands, she’d felt his gaze like a caress.
Lucy ran a hand under the warm blankets, touching her sensitive nipples that were raised through her smock. She ached below and ran a hand down to press it away.
