4 A Plague of Angels: A Sir Robert Carey Mystery by P. F. Chisholm Read Free Book Online

‘Sir?’
    ‘Surely you met the lady?’
    Heneage had come closer, had taken Dodd’s elbow in a proprietorial fashion. ‘Come, Dodd, we can deal together,’ he said softly. ‘Do you know who I am?’
    ‘Ay, sir,’ said Dodd, wishing to flick Heneage’s importunate fingers off his arm but controlling himself. ‘Ye’re the Queen’s Vice Chamberlain.’
    ‘One of my offices is to thoroughly investigate all potential… ah…foreign problems. You can be sure I ask my questions with good reason.’
    ‘Ay, sir.’ Was there some kind of threat in Heneage’s silky confiding manner? Did he expect Dodd to be frightened or flattered? The plump fingers were nipping quite hard now, they were stronger than they looked. Dodd’s eyes narrowed and he could feel anger starting to wash up the back of his neck. Was the fat courtier trying to bully him? Him ?
    ‘I have other sources regarding Signora Bonnetti,’ breathed Heneage. ‘You needn’t fear that you will tell me anything I don’t already know about your master. I am only looking for confirmation.’
    Carey was standing over by a tree next to his father. Their eyes met briefly and Dodd could have sworn the Courtier winked knowingly at him. Dodd had never been so angry in his life without he punched somebody, but Carey steadied him. He took a deep shaky breath.
    ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I cannae help ye, for I never met the lady.’
    ‘Surely you saw her, for she danced with Sir Robert.’ Jesus, would Heneage never let up?
    ‘Ay, she did, sir, but I niver spoke to her.’
    ‘Sir Robert was friendly with her? Hm?’
    ‘She’s a fair lady,’ said Dodd, not bothering to keep his voice as low as Heneage’s. ‘I never saw Sir Robert but he was friendly to a good-looking woman.’
    Heneage chuckled softly. ‘Did they deal together?’
    Much more of this, thought Dodd, and I surely will punch the bugger. Once again Carey caught his eye, still speaking to his father. Looking very amused, the Courtier shook his head infinitesimally.
    Dodd felt as if he was drowning. What did Carey want him to do? Lie? But he didn’t know what to say.
    ‘Ah’m sorry, sir,’ he said to Heneage at last when he was sure his voice wouldn’t shake. ‘But I cannae help ye as ye think I can. I’m no’ Sir Robert’s servant, I’m nobbut a Sergeant o’ the Carlisle garrison.’
    At last Heneage let go of him, leaving tingling prints on Dodd’s elbow. He didn’t seem dissuaded, only calculating. ‘Perhaps we can talk at some other time. Perhaps I should invite you to my residence at Chelsea.’
    Even Dodd could hear that there was a threat in the man’s voice, though the words seemed harmless enough.
    ‘That’s kind of ye, sir,’ he said, struggling to be urbane.
    Heneage frowned as if Dodd had insulted him. ‘Don’t under-estimate me, Dodd.’
    What the hell had he said that was wrong? ‘I dinna follow ye, sir.’
    ‘No? Perhaps you should ask your Captain to elucidate.’
    ‘Ay, sir,’ said Dodd, taking refuge in stolidity again.
    Heneage sighed and shook his head. ‘Was there nothing at all that struck you about the Scottish court?’
    Dodd took a deep breath. ‘They was an awfy lot of buggers there, sir. Ah didnae take to it mesen.’
    Heneage’s brow wrinkled as he tried to make out what Dodd was saying.
    ‘I’m afraid Sergeant Dodd thoroughly disapproved of the Scots court and the whole proceedings generally, didn’t you, Sergeant?’ translated Sir Robert who had finally drifted over to them. His father was still under the apple tree, poking with his staff at the green apples weighing the branches.
    ‘Ay, sir. I’m no’ a courtier, sir.’
    Both men heard the compressed distaste in his voice. Heneage smiled; Carey’s eyebrows went up quizzically.
    ‘Well, each to his own,’ he said comfortably. ‘Eh, Mr Vice Chamberlain? Good thing not everyone is desperate for the court, or the place would be even more infernally crowded than it is now. How are the