The Silver Rose Read Free

was suddenly petulant. She was tired of the silence.
    “I do not believe, madam, that either Lord Hawkesmoor or myself would presume to bring our private quarrels into Your Majesty’s presence,” Ranulf said with a stiff bow.
    “So, my lords, how do you answer my scheme to bring harmony to your families and to my council chamber?” Her Majesty repeated. It was a trick she had perfected. She would resolutely ignore any response that didn’t suit her, merely repeating herself until she heard what she wanted to hear.
    “For my part, Your Majesty, I would be honored to agree to your proposal.” Simon spoke in his melodious voice, a ripple of amusement running beneath the smooth words. “Since I am compelled to retire from the battlefield, I could do much worse than take a wife and tend to my lands.” He nodded across the table at Ranulf, the ironical smile still in his eyes. “And I am more than prepared to resolve an old quarrel so evenhandedly.”
    Ranulf’s dark eyes were unreadable. He was convinced that only death would end Simon Hawkesmoor’s hatred and need for vengeance, as it would end his own. The land was nothing. The blood and dishonor were everything. So what lay behind this cool acquiescence to the impossible?
    “I would discuss this in greater detail with Lord Hawkesmoor, madam,” he said neutrally.
    “Very well.” Her Majesty sounded displeased. “I trust you will soon put matters in hand for the wedding. I would gift the bride with some trifle.” She drank again. “And now to other matters. Lord Godolphin . . .?” She gestured to her chief minister.
    Half an hour later the men rose, bowing low as the queen tottered painfully from the chamber. The minute she was gone, Ranulf’s chair scraped angrily on the oak boards as he thrust it aside and stalked from the room without so much as a glance in the direction of Simon Hawkesmoor, who calmly sat down again, remaining in his chair until the council chamber was empty.
    “I trust our enterprise went well, my lord.” The tapestry curtain behind the throne chair was pushed aside to admit a tall red-haired woman in a gown of scarlet silk.
    “So far so good, Sarah.” Simon reached for the ivory-topped cane beside his chair and with its help rose to his feet again, offering the duchess of Marlborough a courteous bow. “But I think a little more pressure on the queen may be necessary. Ravenspeare may need a hint of coercion.”
    The duchess came over to him. “My husband was most insistent that I do everything to help you, Simon.” She leaned against the edge of the table, her green eyes curious. “Do you play some deep game?”
    The earl of Hawkesmoor laughed softly. “Deep enough, my dear ma’am.”
    “John says he stands much in your debt.”
    The earl shrugged. “No more than one man on a battlefield stands in the debt of his neighbor.”
    “You saved his life, then?”
    Another shrug. “As he saved mine on many an occasion.”
    “You are modest, sir. But I know when my husband feels an extraordinary debt.” She stood upright. “My influence over the queen remains firm, despite . . .” Her lips tightened. “Despite Mrs. Masham’s attempts to supplant me. Have no fear. The queen will offer such inducements . . . or threats . . . that will persuade the earl of Ravenspeare to agree to the marriage.”
    “I don’t doubt your influence, Sarah.” Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “And don’t you ever doubt your husband’s love.” He smiled. “A message I was charged to deliver personally.”
    The duchess’s responding smile lit up her pale face. “I could wish you were returning to his side to deliver my answer personally. For I own I miss him most dreadfully.” She added with a deep sigh, “It’s hard for a woman in her prime to be without the . . . the pleasures and satisfactions of marriage.”
    Most women, when deprived of their husband’s attentions, sought satisfaction in other arms. Not so the