A Stolen Crown Jewel and an Enigmatic Portrait - Blog Tour and Book Excerpt for "The Queen's Tears"

BOOK EXCERPT

The Queen’s Tears

Barbara, Chapter 2

Call upon me Buckingham does, the next day, for he is never one to leave money on the table or jewels in a casket. George is the King’s favourite. He wants for nothing, yet still he craves more.

“So you were there with Queen Anna in her last moments on this earth.” What is it about the timbre of his voice that makes me quiver? Such sweet tones, such steel beneath. “At my invitation, you were there. How loyal you are, Barbara, how you always think of me . . . and our family . . . first.”

Ned is still at Westminster. I am alone. Not since that one fevered encounter on my wedding day have I trusted this man, and yet, as a fly to a web, I am coerced by George’s silk and satin and sandalwood scent and never can quite escape.

“I was there as a friend to the Queen,” I reply with the line he has written for me. “We were praying together. I kept her company.”

He steps closer. I stand still, my eyes drawn to the open collar of his black lacework linen shirt, the hint of warm fair skin. “You dismissed the other servants, barred the door to her court, leaving only Pierre and Anika.” He takes a breath, and his chest rises, broadens, strains the lacing. “And then she died.”

“All she desired was peace. The Queen wanted only trusted friends by her, not fawning courtiers. She was going to die anytime.” I turn away, my cheeks flushed that he should interrogate me so. Are we rehearsing, or are his questions real? His manners are gentle, and yet I know the sharpness of his mind, how effortlessly he melds courtier truth and lies.

“How alluring you are when your spirit is raised, Barbara. You may not have Lucy’s beauty, but you have a passion that is infinitely more attractive than your sister’s.” He clasps my shoulders, turns me to face him again. His voice drops to a whisper, making his innuendo all the more poisonous. “Queen Anna died on your watch. And Anika’s father is an apothecary versed in magic . . .”

“You were there. You saw her death.” I toss it back to him.

“Not quite. But near enough that I could placate her courtiers.” He strokes an elegant finger across my throat, pausing where my pulse throbs rapidly, his lips inches away as he murmurs, “Dear, dear. I wonder when they will miss the jewels.”

“No one would suspect me,” I say, placing my finger on his lips, warning caution.

He clasps it and strokes his cheek. The trace of a beard recently grown tingles fragrantly. “And yet you are an accessory to the theft of Queen Anna’s jewels.”

“And you are the instigator.” Reacting to his charm with direct coolness usually calms his spleen and liver, governs his humours.

Buckingham steps back, our intimacy broken as he returns to his real reason for being here. I know him only too well. “Did you store the pouches safely? I will transport them when I am ready. There is more than Ned might mingle into the Mint’s business. Are they well hidden until I arrange for their carriage?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In Lucy’s house. No one would dream the Lieutenant of the Tower would hide Queen Anna’s stolen jewels.” I do not tell him how upset my sister is with me for walking into her fine home early this morning and demanding she concoct a poultice for my aching back, refusing to leave until she did as I wished. I reminded her only dew-drenched comfrey flowers, plucked at sunrise, could make the curative as I shooed her outside. Ever since we were little, I have always been able to order her to my will, and it is particularly helpful now. She may protest and say she has other priorities, but I always win our arguments and always will.

While Lucy was in her garden, I slipped into the Coeur de Lion chamber across from the stillroom and hid the pouches. It is a room used for storage and old furniture and is a rat’s nest of forgotten belongings abandoned by dead prisoners. Who would think of looking there for the Queen’s jewels?