Court of Traitors (Bridget Manning #2) by V.E. Lynne Read Free Book Online Page A

of other, much grander, aristocratic attention. Sir Nicholas Carew, Henry Courtenay, Marquess of Exeter and Sir Edward Neville came marching up to them, and Sir Richard leapt immediately to his feet. He greeted them with stutters of delight and bowed as obsequiously as he could.
     
    Carew smiled superciliously at the sight, then grasped Sir Richard firmly by the hand. “De Brett, how marvellous it is to see you!” he began. “I had almost given you up for dead it has been so long! Do you remember that I attended your wedding to Eleanor, God rest her soul, in the chapel at Thorns all those years ago? Must be at least twenty years ago now. Our families had much to do with one another in those days. My father thought very highly of yours.” Sir Richard nodded happily in agreement, although his eyes had dimmed a little at the mention of his second wife. “And now you have wed for a third time to this beauteous, young lady here, and I must offer my felicitations to you both. My lady.”
     
    He bowed to her, as did Exeter and Neville, and Bridget accepted their compliments with grace. As she did so, she assessed the three gentlemen standing before her. Sir Edward was an older gentleman, in his sixties Bridget would guess, who had been at court a long time. Renowned as a supporter of Katherine of Aragon, he had enjoyed less favour with the king in more recent years. His cousin Exeter was younger and a fairly handsome man, with even features, a full beard and deep brown eyes. He was a grandson of King Edward IV, and therefore the blood of the Plantagenets coursed through him like a torrent. A very important landowner, he should have, by right, been a close confidant of the king but reputedly was not. Carew, on the other hand, at over forty, was much of an age with the king, with whom he had been friends from childhood. Famous as an exponent of the joust, he had long enjoyed the status of a favourite at court. He had been one of the foremost supporters of Jane Seymour, which had put him, naturally enough, amongst the ranks of those who had hated Anne Boleyn. Bridget wondered whether he recalled that they had had an encounter before, on the day that Anne had bundled up her daughter in her arms and traipsed the galleries and passageways of the palace in search of the king. If he did recollect it, he did not show it. His long visage was as bland and benign as any courtier’s, the perfect imitation of disinterestedness.
     
    Sir Richard, far from disinterested, gladly accepted Carew’s blessings and offered to fetch both him and Exeter and Neville cups of wine. They all charmingly assented. Once he had departed, the mask of neutrality that Carew had worn so expertly slipped away and his features turned hard. He addressed Bridget directly. “I remember you. You were one of that Boleyn woman’s maids, attended her in the Tower, on the scaffold even. I suppose, given that history, you deserve some credit for having the stomach to come back here. But I warn you that if you have done so because you seek to emulate your old mistress’s ways and obtain advancement by climbing into the king’s bed, then you should turn around and leave now else you will end the same way she did.”
    “ Now, steady on, Carew,” Exeter chimed in. “I am sure Lady de Brett has no such intentions. Jane is our queen, and the king openly adores her. She carries his son and heir in her belly. No one will allow anything, or anyone, to upset that.” Neville murmured his agreement and they both looked encouragingly at her, but Carew did not join them.
    Bridget was am azed at the bluntness of their speech, most especially Carew’s, and at first could not formulate an adequate response. When she finally did, it was equally direct. “Let me be perfectly clear, gentlemen, so that I may put your obviously fevered minds at rest. The king summoned my husband and myself to court. As I am sure you realise, such a summons may not be denied. I obeyed as a true