He hadn’t seen Alys. A blessing and a curse. He’d become far too fond of her, and in so short a time, too! She’d fairly captured his heart. To ease the distress of leaving her behind, he reminded himself of the physical comforts that awaited him on his estate in Shropshire. How he missed the hills! This eastern country was far too flat, and a field of corn held less interest than one of cattle or sheep.
At home, he would sleep on a flock-filled mattress with a down pillow beneath his head. There would be drapes around the bedstead to keep out drafts, and a bottle of fine wine to his hand, whenever he wished for it. And when he was officially permitted to return to court, there’d be congenial company, enjoyable exercise, and lively dances. Perhaps he should think seriously about a wife when life returned to normal—every minute would have greater meaning if there was someone with whom to share it.
All was quiet around the house. From habit, he peered into the stables to see who was at home and who was not. Kate’s mount, as well as those of Avery and Kirlham, remained inside. Perhaps they’d made the excuse that they didn’t want to leave their hostess when she was unwell.
It looked increasingly likely the two men were the traitors he’d been sent to uncover.
There were too many times when they just seemed to vanish from the face of the earth, even though their horses were still in the stables. Mistress Aspinall must be guilty, too, through harboring them—Walsingham’s suspicions about Selwood must have been based on excellent information.
Kit hefted his bundle over his shoulder and turned his back on the house, marching determinedly across the moat bridge and down towards the highway. He would not look back. He would not think of Alys. But what would become of her when the authorities moved in? Would she automatically become mistress of Selwood, once her cousin was executed? Or would the estate be attainted?
A pox upon it! He must come back as soon as he could, to make sure she was all right.
Having made this promise to himself, his conscience sat a little easier as he set his chin towards Cheyneham and strode on. He must hurry—they’d be coming back from church soon, and he didn’t want to be caught absconding. God’s teeth! He had missed so many services himself in order to spy on his prey that his own soul was probably now in danger. Wryly, he wondered if that had not, in fact, been the case for many a long year. Perhaps he’d learned his lesson now and could become a good and dutiful Christian, and servant of his queen.
He was a few hundred yards down the road and about to round the bend when a dark-clad figure stepped out of the hedgerow onto the road and glanced around. With lightning speed, Kit threw himself into the ditch before the stranger caught sight of him. After a few seconds, he raised his head, but the man was hurrying down the highway ahead. Peering between the stems of grass and cow parsley, Kit saw the cloaked figure glance behind him again, affording him a glimpse of a round face, with a swarthy olive complexion.
Seemingly satisfied he wasn’t being followed, the man then continued at an easier pace, his body more relaxed, so Kit clambered out of the ditch and followed at a distance, trying to look as nonchalant as his quarry. Any stranger was of interest to him, particularly one wearing a long cloak on a summer’s morning, who appeared out of nowhere and did not wish to be observed. When he reached the place where the fellow had emerged from the hedge, he heaped up some loose pebbles to mark the spot, then continued stalking his prey.
The stranger came to an abrupt halt. Kit immediately stepped off the road onto the plank bridge adjoining a field gate. Wondering what had made the fellow nervous again, he peeped ahead and saw a sight that made his breath catch in his throat.
Alys, on horseback, was coming back from church. Hannah Shawcross, and some of Avery’s friends, trotted their mounts some distance behind her, ahead of the group of servants walking back to the manor.
The cloaked stranger continued towards them, but before he reached Alys, something small fell from him and tumbled onto the road. Instantly, he was on hands and knees, scrabbling around in the sun-hardened potholes for whatever it was he had dropped. As Alys came level with him, the man stood up smartly, brushed himself down, and exchanged greetings with her. Kit was too far away to hear what actually passed between them.
After a few moments, the pair went their separate ways. Kit hid behind the young hazel trees that bordered the field gate, unprepared for a meeting with Alys. Looking through the yellowy-green leaves, he saw her rein in her horse, slide down, and pick something up from the roadway. She gazed after the strange man—had she picked up a coin? Was it his purse that had fallen? But instead of calling after him, she secreted the object in her hanging pocket.
Something untoward was going on. Had he been wrong about Alys after all? As soon as she came level with him, he grabbed the horse’s bridle and dragged the animal off the highway and into the field.
Chapter Nineteen
Alys gasped as Kit pulled her from her mount and behind a stand of trees. “Kit! What are you about? You’re hurting me.”
The powerful hands that bit into her upper arms, holding her fast, relented slightly. He gave her a tiny shake.
“Who was that man you were talking to?” Why did he sound so enraged?
“He told me he
