Page 94 of Almost a Bride
“Then there is no proof.” Roselyn felt as bereft and cold as if Spencer were already dead.
“What did you say the name of the traitor is?”
“Rodney Shaw,” she whispered, then half heartedly looked at where Lady Thornton pointed.
Though the curling handwriting made it hard to see, at the end of a sentence was the word “Shaw,” is if the writer had addressed his cohort by name.
“That’s it!” she breathed, grinning at the viscountess. She gave the older woman a hug, then blushed as she quickly pulled back. “Forgive my impertinence, my lady.”
“It is not impertinent when you are trying to help my son,” Lady Thornton said with a smile.
“But what if we’re too late? What if—”
“The queen will want to deal with Spencer herself—he was a great favorite of hers. But she will most likely let him languish and contemplate his sins for a while.”
“Then I will send her a missive asking for an audience, to show her the proof of Spencer’s innocence.”
“You can try,querida—but she might make you wait as well.”
Chapter 28
When Spencer was shown to his quarters in the Beauchamp Tower within the Tower of London garrison, he could not believe such a spacious, well-windowed room was a prison. But when he looked out of the windows, to the east he could see the White Tower, where they could rack him in their search for answers; to the northwest he could see Tower Hill, where they could remove his head if they weren’t satisfied with his replies.
And he could still see the Thames, where the barge had carried him beneath Traitor’s Gate, which had dropped down behind him with a finality that would ruin many a night’s sleep.
But for two days no one came to question him. He was provided with ample food and a feather mattress and blankets for his bed; he could even talk to Alex through a loose floorboard—when Alex would speak to him. Such lax treatment of a prisoner made no sense.
And gave him too much time to dwell on Roselyn.
He imagined her riding Angel, bound for the island, safe at last from the dangerous politics he had swirled about her.
But part of Spencer worried that she wouldn’t flee, that she’d think she could help. In the past few short weeks, she’d become a woman who took foolish risks just for him—and he didn’t know what to make of it. It contradicted everything he ever believed a woman could mean to him.
So he continued to pace, pondering Rose and his love for her and the impossibility of it all, until Alex pounded on the floor beneath him to make him stop.
~oOo~
After sending a missive to Queen Elizabeth asking for an audience, Roselyn waited two days for a reply. Each hour of each day made her more and more certain that Spencer was being tortured for information, that the soldiers were looking for any excuse to have him killed and the problem of his treason finished.
She couldn’t sleep; she could barely eat—and then only when Lady Thornton personally watched each mouthful that passed her lips.
“If only I could see him,” Roselyn said yearningly as she broke her fast on the third day of Spencer’s imprisonment.
“You know I cannot allow that,” Lady Thornton said.
“But with the proper bribe, I know the guards will allow me to see Spencer. I have heard of such things.”
“Perhaps, but my son would not wish you to place yourself in danger. You must trust Her Majesty in this matter.”
“Trust?” she said, coming to her feet. “How can I trust—”
There was a discreet knock on the door, and Lady Thornton called for the visitor to enter. The steward, Allbright, opened the door and bowed.
“My lady, there is a message from Whitehall. Her Majesty intends to formally accuse Lord Thornton of treason this afternoon.” He paused for only a moment. “I have ordered your barge prepared.”
Lady Thornton and Roselyn almost collided in their haste to leave the dining parlor.
“Change your gown, Roselyn,” Lady Thornton said breathlessly as they ascended the stairs to the second floor. “We must look our best for the queen.”
