The Queen Man

15

LONDON

February 1193

No!" Justin slammed his cup down with such force that ale sloshed over onto the table. "Have you lost your senses, Nell? I'd not let you get within a mile of Gilbert the Fleming, not even if he were six months dead and six feet deep!"

Nell arched a brow. "Need I remind you that you are not my husband? For certes, you are not my father. So unless you are one of the Almighty's own angels in disguise, what right have you to forbid me to do anything?"

Justin frowned, but her argument was incontrovertible. "No right," he conceded. "But I am not meddling in your life, Nell, merely trying to save it! I do not think you realize how dangerous a man the Fleming is — "

'"No? And who patched you up after your own encounter with the Fleming?" Arms akimbo, Nell glowered at Justin. Almost at once, though, she relented. "I know you mean well, Justin. But you need not fret on my behalf. I'll not be matching wits with the Fleming, or even crossing paths with him. It is his whore I seek to cozen, and I fully expect all of you to be close at hand."

"You can rely upon that, lass," Luke said, so heartily that Justin realized he'd embraced Nell's idea as his own. As for Jonas, Justin never doubted that he'd be one for staking out a lamb to catch a wolf. Finding himself outnumbered and outvoted, Justin could only say grimly, "I like it not," while vowing silently not to let Nell out of his sight, come what may.

Gunter was no less dismayed than Justin, troubled enough to forsake his usual reticence. "I have no say in this. But I must voice my misgivings, nonetheless. Nell, I urge you to think again. This Fleming is an evil, godless man, who kills for the sport of it. Why ever would you take such a risk?"

"For the money, of course." Nell smiled patiently at Gunter. "They pay informants, after all. They even offer rewards for the capture of some felons. Is that not so?" she demanded of Jonas and Luke, her eyes narrowing until they both nodded. "So you see, Gunter, it will be a profitable partnership for us all. They get what they want — to see Gilbert the Fleming hanged — and I get the money I need for my Lucy. Can there be a more worthy aim than that?"

Gunter shook his head somberly. "Any good mother wants what is best for her child. But what if this plan goes awry? What if you find yourself facing down the Fleming? What would happen to Lucy then?"

Despite her iron-edged resolve, Nell was chilled by his words. What if evil did befall her? An orphan's lot was not an easy one. Could her cousin be relied upon to do right by Lucy? For a moment or so, Nell wavered, and then turned a deliberately deaf ear to these insidious eleventh-hour qualms.

"I'll not deny there is some risk. But risk is as much a part of life as the air we breathe. I could step on a rusty nail this very night, have it fester, and be dead ere the week was out. I trust these men to see to my safety. Is that trust misplaced?" she challenged, and got the response she expected, immediate assurances from Justin and Luke and even Jonas that her faith in them was utterly justified.

Luke then went on to promise recklessly that she'd be in no danger whatsoever. But neither Justin nor Jonas echoed his avowal, for the former could not shake off a sense of foreboding and the latter knew that even the most heartfelt of promises could be reduced to tatters by the slashings of a sharp knife.

~~

During those hours when Masses were not being said, St Paul's Cathedral was used for more secular activities. Known as Paul's Walk, the nave was a favorite gathering place for citizens in search of bargains, gossip, and respite from the bitter winter weather. Although it was frowned upon by Church officials, who made sporadic attempts to discourage people from displaying their wares for sale and trade, on this bleak Tuesday morn in late February, the cathedral was crowded with peddlers and their customers. By the "serving man's pillar," bored youths were loitering in hopes of finding employment. Nearby, lawyers conferred with prospective clients, while boisterous youngsters played tag in the aisles, trailed by the vexed curses of their irritated elders.

Justin's gaze kept straying toward the west end of the nave, where scribes sat at small wooden tables, hiring out their quill pens as soldiers did their swords. Had he not blundered into that killing on the Alresford Road, he could have been at one of those tables, too, laboring to earn his bread by writing letters and wills.

"I feel I've got blinders on," Luke complained, but he kept his hood prudently in place, shadowing his face. Glancing at Justin's equally shrouded profile, he gibed, "I hate to say this, de Quincy, but you look like you escaped from a lazar house."

Justin agreed with him, for the only hooded cloak he could find on such short notice was a drab, over-sized garment of rough burrell, coarse and scratchy. "You're one to talk," he retorted, "for you look like you ought to be prowling about cemeteries after midnight." Scanning the nave again, he shook his head in frustration. "Where the devil is Jonas? What if he does not get here in time?"

"If need be, we'll set it up for another day. But I do not think it'll go wrong. We were lucky that Aldred overheard Nora say she'd be at St Paul's this morn. I think we'll be lucky again. You ought to — "

Luke broke off in midsentence. "I see Jonas," he announced. "Over there… coming in the Si Quis door." But then he swore softly. "Damnation, he's alone!"

Swathed in a dark cloak of his own, Jonas elbowed his way toward them, responding to their anxious queries with composure. "I sent word that he was to meet me at St Paul's. He'll be here."

Justin did not share his confidence. "I ought to have locked Nell in the root cellar and have done with it," he muttered, glancing gloomily across the nave toward Nell, who was bargaining zestfully with a peddler over a bolt of linen. She was not ten feet from their target, but Justin had not caught her stealing so much as a glance at Nora. He had to admit that Nell was better at this than he'd dared hope.

His eyes kept coming back to Nora, for she was not at all what he had expected. He'd envisioned a woman whose appearance brazenly proclaimed her profession, overly lush and voluptuous and heavily rouged and powdered, like a fruit ripened past its prime. Instead, she was as Aldred had described: quite pretty, with fashionable fair coloring and dimples. Justin would never have taken her for a Southwark whore. Still less could he imagine her coupling with the brutal, ice-blooded Fleming. It would be like matching a snake and a summer songbird.

Luke was looking admiringly toward Nora, too. "I never thought that the Fleming and I could fancy the same sort of woman. I was sure he'd be one for rutting in pigsties!" Turning back to Jonas, he said dubiously, "This man of yours, Jonas… are you sure he'll not botch it?"

"Philip the Fox is the best cutpurse I've ever seen. Nimble fingered enough to pluck any pigeon clean without leaving so much as a telltale feather, and sharp witted enough to see that his skill was like to get him hanged sooner or later. These days he rides in the Friday races out at Smithfield and wins often enough to be in demand. If he strays from time to time, I've yet to catch him at it. When he gets an itch, I daresay he scratches it across the river in Southwark, where the sheriff's writ does not run."

"A pity all of London's felons could not be so accommodating," Luke said dryly, and Jonas shrugged.

"You've heard it said that a bird does not foul its own nest? Well, Philip the Fox is wise enough not to foul mine. And speaking of Philip, here he comes, just as I said. By now you both ought to know that I never promise what I cannot deliver."

For a fleeting moment, Justin felt as if he were watching an unlikely ghost flit across the nave toward them, for Philip the Fox had the same ginger coloring and slight build as the double-crossing informant, Pepper Clem. But as Philip drew closer, he saw that any resemblance was superficial at best. Philip was much younger than Clem, possibly even younger than Justin himself. Although small in stature like Clem, he had none of the little thief's slackness, nor the drooping, flaccid posture of one accustomed to defeat. Philip was lean and fit, as alert and agile as the woodland creature whose name he bore. His tumbled thatch of reddish hair resembled a fox's plumed tail, and his eyes — a light golden brown, slanted at the corners — were oddly compelling, intent and unwavering. If the hapless, slow-witted Clem had been nature's prey, this wiry, watchful youth was unmistakably a predator.

Justin was impressed when Philip made none of the uneasy protestations of innocence that a summons from Jonas would be likely to unleash, confining himself to a wary "You wanted to see me?"

Jonas jerked his head and Philip followed them toward the greater privacy of the closest bay. "This is Luke de Marston, the under-sheriff of Hampshire." Glancing toward Justin, Jonas added, with the trace of a smile, "And Justin de Quincy, who answers only to the queen and God. I want you both to meet Philip of Aldgate, also known as Philip the Fox, London's best cutpurse."

"Not anymore," Philip demurred calmly. "I'm a law-abiding citizen these days."

"As glad as I am to hear that, it would still be a pity to let your skills rust from lack of use. So I suggest you ply them on behalf of the Crown. You see that woman yonder, the one in the blue mantle? I want you to steal her money purse."

Justin suspected that Philip wasn't easily startled, but Jonas had managed it. Those golden eyes opened wide. "You are jesting… right?"

"Am I noted for my humor? When she moves, you can see the money pouch swinging from her belt. After you filch it, I want you to give it to that young woman over there."

Philip's gaze swept from face to face. Satisfying himself that they were in earnest, he was quiet for several moments. "It is very kind of you to want to include me in this interesting enterprise of yours. But I think I'd rather not join in the fun."

"Think again," Jonas said coolly. "Do this for me and I'll owe you a favor. Do you truly want to turn that down?"

Philip smiled faintly. "No, I suppose I do not." When he looked over at Nora again, it was with a calculating, professional eye. "You want only the purse?"

When Jonas nodded, Philip turned to go. Luke quickly caught his arm. "Do you not want one of us to cause a distraction?"

"That will not be necessary," Philip said, too politely for Justin and Luke's liking, for they detected the hidden amusement in his voice, the utter assurance that was so closely akin to arrogance. As they watched, he strolled across the nave toward Nora. Justin expected that he'd bump into her, then make his move in the ensuing confusion. But they seemed barely to brush, their contact so brief and inconsequential that no apologies were even required. Justin felt a stinging sense of disappointment. Philip had bungled his first try. How many tries did he get ere he aroused Nora's suspicions?

"He shied away like a spooked horse," Luke hissed. "This is your master thief, Jonas?"

"Indeed he is," Jonas said complacently, and as Justin and Luke looked on in astonishment, Philip ambled over to Nell, squeezed past her, and moved on. He looked back once, grinning triumphantly, and then vanished into the crowd, leaving them to

marvel at a sleight-of-hand so deft that they'd neither seen it done nor were able to explain exactly how it had been accomplished, even though they'd been watching him as intently as cats at a mouse hole.

Neither Justin nor Luke had seen Philip pass the purse to Nell, either. But now she bent down, straightening up with the pouch in her hand and a puzzled look on her face. She glanced about at the people closest to her and then approached Nora. For the men, it was like watching a play without dialogue. But it was easy to follow the plot.

At sight of the proffered purse, Nora gasped, hastily fumbling under her mantle. Nell gestured toward the spot where she'd purportedly found the pouch. Within moments, they were both smiling, both talking, with considerable animation. And when Nora at last turned back to the impatient peddler, she held out his cloth for Nell's inspection. Nell shook her head emphatically, pointing toward a bolt of russet wool. For a moment, she looked in the men's direction. Although he could not be sure, Justin thought she winked.

~~

They flipped a coin to see who'd follow Nell and Nora. Luke won, and Jonas went off to tend to other duties. Justin eventually went back to Gracechurch Street. Gunter was keeping an eye on Lucy and Shadow, and Justin passed a restless hour in their company, eventually wandering over to the alehouse to await word.

Nell returned in late afternoon, flushed with cold and excitement. She'd already shared all she'd learned with Luke, but she was quite happy to recount it for Justin's benefit. The alehouse was crowded, but instead of taking over from the harried Ellis, she ordered ale and then launched enthusiastically into her narration.

She and Nora had spent the afternoon together, browsing in the shops along Cheapside, stopping for a meal at the cookshop down by the river. They'd gotten along right well, she reported jubilantly, and had agreed to meet again in two days. No, of course she'd learned nothing yet of the Fleming. What did Justin expect of her — miracles? She must tread cautiously at first, do nothing to stir up Nora's suspicions. For that much she had learned this day: Nora was no fool.

"Aldred was right. This is a woman with secrets. She was most grateful that I'd recovered her purse and did not seem to be weighing her words with me. Nevertheless, she told me very little about herself. It will take time to gain her trust."

That was not what Luke wanted to hear, for it seemed to him as if his London days were slipping by like the sand in an hourglass. "You say she told you nothing useful. But from what I could see, the two of you never ran out of words, chattering away like magpies. Just what did you find to talk about, then?"

"We talked mainly about men, God love them, about what fools they can be." Nell smiled at them then, so blandly that they could not be sure if she'd been joking or not.

~~

The days that followed were a severe test of patience for Luke and Justin. They took turns trailing after Nell, as she and Nora explored the city and the perimeters of their newfound friendship. In Nora's free time, the women met for dinner at the cookshop, watched the Friday horse races at Smithfield, visited the Eastcheap market, even a cockfight. And they began, with exasperating slowness, to exchange confidences.

Nell had been forthright from the first in talking about the life she'd concocted for herself, with the help of her male partners. "Bella" claimed to be the wife of an overbearing, older man, a well-to-do chandler who supplied candles to half the churches in London. It was not a happy match; she'd dropped enough hints to make sure Nora picked up on her discontent. Unfortunately for Nell and her fellow conspirators, Nora was much more sparing with intimate details of her own life. It was fully a week before Nell learned anything at all of the other woman's past.

"She has not had an easy time of it," Nell related to a very attentive audience. "At fifteen, she was seduced by an English merchant in Dublin on business. When he returned home, he took her with him to London. He'd promised to marry her, but he'd neglected to mention that he already had a wife. So he set Nora up in a cottage, whilst she sought to convince herself that in time, he'd leave his wife for her. Instead, she got with child, and he stopped paying the rent. Cast out into the streets, she miscarried of the babe. She did not tell me the rest of it. In fact, she has yet to admit she whores for a living."

Justin found himself feeling great sympathy for that young Irish girl, on her own in a foreign city, with neither kin nor friends to turn to for help. "That poor lass," he said. "Little wonder she became a whore. What else did she have to barter except her body?"

"And then she had to get herself entangled in that hellspawn Fleming's web." Luke shook his head. "If not for bad luck, she'd have no luck at all, would she?"

Nell leaned back in her seat, regarding them with bright, mocking eyes. "Are the two of you always so tender toward whores? Or just the ones with flaxen hair and fluttering eyelashes?"

Luke and Justin exchanged puzzled glances. "You said yourself, Nell," Justin protested, "that Nora has had a hard time. It surprises me, in truth, that you seem to have so little pity for the lass."

"Well, it does not surprise me that you have so much pity to spare, Justin. But I did not expect you to be so trusting, Luke. I know many men retain a touching belief in whores with hearts of gold. I'd not have thought to find a sheriff's deputy amongst them, though. Can it be that some of these fabled creatures can truly be found in Winchester?"

Jonas gave a guffaw of laughter, nearly choking on his ale. But Justin and Luke both bristled, Luke denying vehemently that he was "trusting," and Justin demanding to know why Nell was so lacking in charity. "The woman had been badly used. How can you be so unmoved by her story?"

"Mayhap because I did not take it as gospel."

The two men traded looks again. "You think it was all a lie?"

"No… not all of it. She might well have been abandoned by her London lover. But even at fifteen, I doubt that she was the utter innocent she claims to've been. And if she miscarried of her babe, I think it's probably because she found a midwife who knew which herbs can end a pregnancy. As for being cast out penniless, I doubt that, too. Our Nora could teach a cat about landing on her feet."

"Why do you judge the girl so harshly, Nell? Do you truly find whoring to be such an unforgivable sin?"

"No, I do not," she insisted. "For too many women, there is no other way to feed themselves and their children. Justin, you are usually so quick. So why are you so slow now to grasp what I am saying? I do not mistrust Nora because she is a Southwark whore. I'd not trust her were she the mayor's wife. When I said she'd not had an easy time, I meant it. But rain falls on the good and the ungodly alike, does it not?"

"And Nora is one of the ungodly?"

"Yes," she said firmly, "I believe she is. She may have an angelic smile and a soft, honeyed voice, but she has flint where her heart ought to be. After a week in her company, I can tell you this about your 'poor lass,' that she puts Nora first and

foremost. Remember how we were guessing why she'd take up with a killer like the Fleming? Well, I'd say it is for whatever she can get from him."

Justin lapsed into a troubled silence. If Nell was right about Nora's selfish, unscrupulous nature, that meant her danger was twofold: from both the Fleming and his whore.

~~

Justin arrived at the alehouse in midmorning, for Nell had agreed to meet Nora at the Westcheap market at noon. He would accompany her partway, then follow the women at a circumspect distance, muffled in one of the nondescript hooded cloaks he'd bought for their surveillance.

Justin was in better spirits this morn, for Nell's reconnaissance finally seemed to be paying off. Nora had begun to mention a mysterious, as yet unnamed lover, bragging about his generous gifts, boasting that he doted on her every whim. He was away on business, she claimed, but she hoped he'd soon be returning.

Jonas had stopped the official hunt for Gilbert. No longer did his men roust the ale-keepers and stew-masters in search of the Fleming, and he'd put the rumor out on the streets that they believed Gilbert had fled London. They were heartened, therefore, by Nora's offhand remarks about her lover's return. Did this mean their ruse had worked? Did the Fleming now think it was safe to venture out and about again?

At sight of Nell, Justin's mouth dropped open. "Good God, what happened to you?"

"It looks dreadful, does it not?" Nell lifted a candle up to give him a better look at her blackened eye. "You'd swear a man's fist did the damage," she said proudly. "Do you want to know how I did it? First I smudged kohl around my eye, and then I smeared on cinders, ever so lightly. Lastly, I powdered it over heavily, the way a woman would do to try to hide it."

"Very convincing," Justin agreed. "But we never talked of this, Nell. What are you up to?"

"I've grown weary of the waiting, too. When I stumbled on the stairs yesterday and bruised my wrist, it gave me an idea. Now that we've found the fishing hole, it is time we baited the hook."

~~

Nell and Nora were sitting at a trestle table in a tavern just off Watling Street. It was poorly lit by pungent tallow candles, its once whitewashed walls smoke blackened, its matted floor rushes filthy with mud and mouse droppings. Nora had suggested it, though, because they served meals. The women had ordered a hot eel pie with their wine, and the aroma was appealing. But Nell was too nervous to have much of an appetite, and Nora was absorbed in her scrutiny of Nell's blackened eye and bruised wrist.

"Your husband did this?"

Nell nodded, averting her eyes. For an unsettling moment, she could not recall what his name was supposed to be. Justin had chosen the name, that of a tightfisted miller back in Winchester. Adam? No… Abel. "He can be foul tempered when he's drinking," she mumbled, taking a deep swallow of her wine. Should she say more? No, she'd done enough complaining already about his sour nature and miserly ways. Let the bruises speak for themselves.

Nora was frowning, on the verge of speech. But they were interrupted again by another customer, this one shy, not brash, clutching his woolen cap between work-roughened hands as he offered diffidently to buy them more wine. While it was not unusual for women to frequent their neighborhood alehouses and taverns, Nora and Nell were too young and attractive not to draw unwanted attention. Nora now sent the man away with a stinging, expletive-laden dismissal. For all that she looked as demure as any virgin bride, she had a command of invective that even fishmongers or sailors might well envy. As the man slunk off in embarrassment, Nell could not help feeling sorry for him. But at least they'd not be bothered again; Nora's scornful tongue-lashing had echoed throughout the tavern.

"Does this happen often, Bella?"

Nell shrugged. "Abel likes his ale, and he's hard enough to please even when he's sober…" For the first time, she felt vaguely uncomfortable about feigning friendship like this; Nora's sympathy seemed quite genuine. "The worst of it," she said, "is that he maltreats me in front of others, calling me 'slut' and 'dull-witted cow,' not caring at all if the servants or Joel can hear."

"Joel? You've not mentioned him before."

"Oh… did I not?" Nell fiddled with her napkin. "Joel is Abel's journeyman. Lord knows why he stays, for Abel pays him only a pittance and takes out his vile temper on Joel, too. A pity, for Joel would do right well for himself, if only he had the means. It was his idea to add perfume to the French soap. I did tell you Abel sells soap as well as candles? Well, French soap is made by boiling mutton fat with wood ash and caustic soda. After Joel talked Abel into scenting it with rosewater, sales went much better… I'll try to remember to bring you some when we next meet."

"Thank you," Nora said absently. The blue eyes Justin and Luke had so admired were too shrewd and knowing for Nell's liking, and she continued to stare down at the warped tabletop. "Is he young… this Joel?" When Nell nodded, a cynical smile played about Nora's mouth. "So you fancy him, do you?"

Nell raised her head. "What if I do?"

"Smooth your feathers, girl. I am not blaming you for having a wayward eye. What woman would not prefer a young ram to an old goat? But what do you mean to do about it?"

"What can I do? I cannot run away with Joel, for we'd both starve. On the days that Abel goes to his guild, we steal some time together in his shop, in the back room. We make do with what we can. But if Abel ever caught us…" It was easy enough to fake a shiver. Nell had always had an overly active imagination, and she could even summon up a dash of pity for poor, foolish Bella, trapped in a miserable marriage and about to leap from the frying pan into the fire.

"So why wait for the roof to fall in on you?"

"I already told you why we cannot run away together, Nora! Or are you one of those fools who think people can live on love?"

Nora laughed. "When it rains pea soup! It seems to me that Abel is your problem. Get rid of him and your problem is solved, as simple as that."

Nell drew her mantle more closely around her shoulders, for she suddenly felt chilled to the bone. She thought she'd taken Nora's measure, but she still hadn't expected the other woman to suggest murder as casually as if she were ordering more wine. "And how do I do that, Nora?" she said, with all the sarcasm she could muster. "Smother him with a pillow whilst he sleeps?"

Nora reached for her wine cup. "I think we can do better than that."

Nell's pulse was racing. "Nora… you're no serious?"

Nora sipped her wine, smiling. "That depends. Do you want me to be?"

"I… I might. If I did, could you help me?"

"No. But I know someone who can. Giles is very good at solving problems like Abel. But you'd have to make it worth his while. Can you do that, Bella?"

Nell cast her eyes down hastily, lest Nora see their exultant gleam. Giles, was it? Just as she'd deliberately chosen a name very like her own, so had Nora. Snatching at her napkin, she brought it up to conceal her smile. "I think I could," she said slowly. "As I told you, Abel does a profitable trade, and hoards nigh on every penny he earns. But this is happening too fast for me. I need to know more."

Nora's smile was cold enough to cause frostbite. "All you need to know," she said, "is that Giles can do for you what you dare not do yourself — if you're willing to pay his price. Are you, Bella?"

Nell drew a deep breath. "Yes," she said, "I am."

~~

"She took the bait!" Nell flung her arms around Justin's neck, hugging him joyfully. "She proposed murder, right over the eel pie!"

Although Justin had waited until Nora was long out of sight before approaching Nell, he was still uneasy about her acknowledging him so openly in public. Catching her arm, he drew her into the shelter of a nearby alley. "She mentioned Gilbert by name?"

"She called him 'Giles,' but who else could it be? How many killers on the run is the woman sharing her bed with, after all!"

"She knows where he is, then?"

Some of Nell's elation faded. "Alas, she does not. She explained that he has been 'lying low, waiting for the storm to blow over,' and so she has not seen him for several weeks. But he got word to her that he thought 'the pot was no longer on the boil,' so she expects he'll soon be seeking her out."

Nell paused for breath. "So it would indeed have been a mistake for Jonas and Luke to arrest her. I'll try to resist the temptation to say I told them so, but I can make no promises!"

"Did she reveal how he got a message to her, Nell?"

"No, she did not, and I thought it would've seemed suspicious had I asked. I suspect that he sent a man to the bawdyhouse. But she'd not be likely to tell me that, for she's led me to believe she is Giles's kept woman. I daresay that is why she's never invited me home. You said she shares it with three other whores, hardly the lavish love nest she's been bragging about But I think that prideful lie of hers worked to our advantage Since she had something to hide, too, mayhap that's why she did not question my excuse for not inviting her to my own home: that my husband is so jealous he begrudges me even women friends and sets his servants to spying on me."

"What happens now?"

"She says she'll talk to Giles on my behalf, see if he is willing to 'help' me. We agreed to meet again on Sunday at that same tavern. If he is still in hiding, all we can do is set up another meeting. After that…" She shrugged, and Justin finished the thought for her.

"We wait," he said. "God help us, we wait."

~~

Nell's Sunday meeting with Nora proved to be an exercise in futility, for Nora had not been contacted by her fugitive lover. They fumed in vain, and Luke sent a second letter to Winchester, putting off his departure from London, hoping that he'd convinced the sheriff and Aldith of the need for another delay. Nora and Nell agreed to meet again on Wednesday afternoon, this time at Paul's Cross in the churchyard of the great cathedral.

~~

That Wednesday morning, Justin rode to the Tower, welcoming Eleanor back from the Great Council meeting at Oxford and luring Claudine into the keep stairwell for some sweet, stolen kisses. He'd missed her much more than he'd expected — or wanted. His clandestine love affair with Claudine had given him greater pleasure — in bed and out — than he'd experienced with any other woman. But he never let himself forget that for lovers with no future, time was the enemy.

After leaving the Tower, Justin headed for the alehouse. Jonas had drawn Nell's bodyguard duty, so he passed the time with Luke, playing tables and draughts and arm wrestling, growing more and more restless as the hours dragged by. Luke was in a pessimistic mood, and he wagered Justin an extravagant sum that this, too, would prove to be a dry well. The deputy had never been so happy, though, to lose a bet as when Nell and Jonas returned at dusk, triumphant.

Steering Nell toward an empty table, they hovered over her so eagerly that she complained they put her in mind of hungry vultures ready to pounce. "Sit," she insisted, so adamantly that Shadow promptly did. "I promise to tell you all, to leave nothing out. The Fleming has emerged from his burrow. Nora found him in her house when she got home yesterday from the market."

She quickly held up her hand, fending off any interruptions. "I just want to say that I know Aldred botched it, for he was supposed to be watching Nora's house. But I hope you'll help me convince Jonas that it was not entirely his fault. Gilbert had a key and — "

"The Devil take Aldred!" Luke leaned across the table. "What did Gilbert say?"

Nell sighed, abandoning Aldred to his fate. "Nora says she told him about my 'problem,' and he thinks he can help me out — his words, not mine." She glanced covertly at Justin, knowing he'd not like what would be coming next. "He has agreed to meet with me on Friday, at the Smithfield horse fair."

"No! That was never part of the deal. I'll not let you get within range of the Fleming's knife!"

To Justin's surprise, he got some unexpected support now from Luke. "I'd have misgivings about that, too," the deputy confessed. "The risk is too great, Nell. There has to be another way."

"There is not," Jonas said flatly. "Nell can lure him out into the open. This may be our only chance. Nell understands that and is willing to take the risk."

Nell had been secretly hoping that Justin or Luke could come up with another plan, one that would keep her far away from the Fleming and his well-honed blade. But her pride prevented her from backing out, and when Jonas looked toward her for confirmation, she nodded slowly. "I do not see what choice we have."

Neither did the men. Justin was not yet ready to acknowledge that, though. "Why does Nell have to be the one to meet him? What if we could find someone else to play the role of Bella? Jonas, do you not know a youth small enough to pass for a woman?"

"I might, but you're forgetting how wary the Fleming is. Nora is to accompany Nell to Smithfield. So unless you can suggest a way to fool Nora, too, with this substitute Bella, I say we have to go with the genuine article."

Justin's silence was a concession of defeat. Luke turned sideways and hit him on the arm. "We'll stay closer to the lass than her own shadow," he vowed. "Between us and Jonas, I daresay we could keep her safe from the Devil himself!"

Justin reached across the table and caught hold of Nell's hand. "Are you sure you want to do this, lass?"

"Yes," she lied, "very sure."

"We'd best start making plans, then," Luke pointed out, "for Friday is just a day away. That hellspawn would pick the horse market. Half of London is likely to be there. Where exactly are you to meet him, Nell?"

"By the horse pool, Whilst the races are being run. He'll be leading a bay gelding and I'm to pretend I want to buy…" Nell stopped, for she'd caught the look of dismay that flashed between Justin and Luke. "What is it? I've a right to know!"

"You do," Justin agreed, "and we'll keep nothing from you. That crafty whoreson is as slick as a greased pig and about as hard to corner. The crowds will have thinned out by then, with most people watching the races. And there he'll be at the horse pool, holding the reins of a fast horse, ready to bolt if he sees anything at all suspicious. Damn him to Hell and back!"

Nell bit her lower lip. "Will you be able to get close enough to seize him?"

"If we cannot," Justin said, "we're not letting you anywhere near the horse pool."

Luke nodded, his eyes meeting Justin's across the table. They had one day and two nights to come up with a strategy to outwit a man who'd so far seemed blessed with the Devil's own luck, or once again, he'd slip through their snare.

~~

Justin awoke with a start. The room was unfamiliar and it took him a moment to remember where he was. Beside him, Claudine slept peacefully, her hair cascading over them both like a sable mantle. This was the first full night they'd had together, all Claudine's doing. She'd fabricated an excuse to explain her absence to the queen, then engaged a room in a secluded riverside inn on the outskirts of London. With their trap for the Fleming to be sprung on the morrow, Justin had tried to beg off. But she had persisted and when she confided that she wanted to be able to fall asleep in his arms at least once, he could think only of how much he wanted that, too.

Although he'd taken care not to disturb Claudine, when he lay back, her eyes opened, dark and drowsy. Stifling a yawn, she snuggled closer. "You're having a very restless night, love."

"Sorry," he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "It probably would have been better for us to do this on another night. For certes, you'd have gotten more sleep."

"I'm not complaining. But it would have been easier if we'd been able to spend the night at your cottage. Will that friend of yours be staying with you much longer?"

"That depends," he said, "on what happens tomorrow."

She rolled over in his arms, looking up searchingly into his face. "What was it you said the other day, Justin — that my curiosity would put a cat to shame? And you were right. I am too inquisitive for my own good, I love to discover secrets, and I like to gossip. Whereas you, my darling, are as closemouthed as a clam!"

"I'm not as bad as all that," he protested, and she reached up, tracing the curve of his mouth with the tip of her finger.

"Oh, indeed you are. There is much I would like to know about you. Where you were born. If you have brothers or sisters. How you got this scar on your shoulder. Your favorite food, your favorite color. Why you are so evasive about your past. But I have never asked you — not once — how you came to be the queen's man or what you've been doing on her behalf. Have I?"

"No… you have not."

"Nor am I going to ask now. But I know you are involved in something dangerous. Justin, I fear for you. I cannot help myself, I do."

He'd never had someone to worry about him before, and his arms tightened, drawing her into a more intimate embrace. "On the morrow," he said, "we are going to catch a killer. I cannot tell you more than that, Claudine, not yet. But the danger will not be all that great, at least not for me."

"I hope you are telling me the truth," she said, and never had he heard her sound so serious. "But if you will not be at risk tomorrow, what is stealing your sleep tonight?

Whom are you fretting about, if not yourself?"

"A woman."

"A woman?" she echoed. "Justin de Quincy, are you cheating on me so soon? You're not supposed to develop a roving eye until much later in the love affair!"

"You need not worry, lass. Whatever the game, I always abide by the rules."

His heart was not in his banter, though, and it showed. Turning her head, she kissed his chest. "I ought not to have been teasing you," she said contritely, "not when you're so troubled. Tell me about this woman, love. Why are you afraid for her?"

"She is a friend," he said softly, "who wanted to help us trap a killer. But to do that, she must be the bait. And if harm comes to her, Claudine, I'll never forgive myself."