Page 6 of The King's Man
‘You have some colour in your cheeks again. Do you feel better?’ Kit remarked, refilling her cup.
She nodded. ‘Better than I have for months. Thank you, Master Lovell, or is that Captain Lovell?’
He waved his hand. ‘Kit. I think after what you and I have been through today, we can dispense with formalities. May I call you Thamsine? That is your name?’
She hesitated for a moment and nodded. ‘It is.’
He leaned forward. ‘Well, Thamsine Granville, as I have saved your life twice today, I think it is time to claim some form of reward.’
Her eyes widened and her cheeks coloured. Her lips parted slightly and she swallowed. ‘Do you have a room we could go to? I have no wish to try another alley and no coin to pay you.’
Kit stared at her. Did she think that after everything she had been through that day, he wanted her body? The idea was preposterous. Anyway, why would he want this scrawny, dirty scrap of womanhood when Lucy waited for him in her warm, comfortable house in Holborn?
Without thinking, he laughed out loud. ‘My dear Thamsine, did you think I meant that sort of payment?’
The colour in her cheeks darkened and she looked away. ‘I have nothing else.’
His smile faded at the misery on her face. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m not so mean-minded as to demand such a recompense.’ The smile crept back onto his face. ‘Anyway, I prefer my women with a bit more meat on them. No, Mistress Granville, all I request by way of reward is your story.’
She looked at him, her eyes widening. ‘My story?’
He nodded. ‘I would like to know how the gently born Thamsine Granville came to be trying her hand at whoring in the streets of London. Oh yes – with a bit of attempted assassination on the side.’
‘How do you know I was gently born?’
Your voice, your demeanour, everything about you.
‘A guess, nothing more. Let us start with a simple question. Where are you from?’
She took a deep breath, her gaze flitting to a space above his head. ‘You’ve been very good to me, Master Lovell, but you owe me no more kindness. You must have a wife and a home to go to.’
‘Neither. I told you I am like you, flotsam adrift on the streets of London. I have all night to hear your tale if that’s what it takes.’
He refilled both their cups and sat back, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs as if in anticipation of the tale that would follow.
Thamsine’s eyes darted around the crowded taproom. Was she seeking inspiration or an escape route?
Kit tried again. ‘All I wish to know, Thamsine Granville, is what has brought you to this impasse?’
‘Captain Lovell.’ She returned her gaze to him. This time her eyes were steady. ‘What has brought me to my present position is of no interest or concern to you. I have no wish to confide my story in anyone, whatever the debt I owe them. Suffice to say that I have lost everything in the world I hold dear and what little I brought with me to London has been either stolen or sold. I have nothing of interest or value.’
‘So you’re reduced to selling yourself?’
The blunt words caused a flush to rise again to her pale cheeks. She looked away, resting her chin on her hand and he thought he could detect the glint of tears on her eyelashes.
He tried again. ‘What did you hope to achieve by killing the Lord Protector?’
This time what little colour she had drained from her cheeks as she stared at him. ‘Kill the Lord Protector? I didn’t mean … I would never … ’
She recollected herself and looked down at her cup and this time a tear dropped from her lashes into the dregs of the ale.
Kit leaned forward. ‘Whatever your intention, you only missed him by inches. You could hang if they caught you. If you are intent on assassinating Cromwell, you won’t kill him with brickbats, Mistress Granville.’ He lowered his voice, ‘There are better ways to kill a king.’
She looked up. ‘Is that what brings you to London?’
He laughed and sat back, taking a draught of ale. ‘Me? No, Thamsine. All that brings me to London is the pretty face of my mistress and the promise of some lucrative games of cards. I’m done with soldiering and conspiracies. As far as I’m concerned Cromwell is welcome to England.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. ‘Like you, I’ve lost everything. Some would say that the only thing I have left is my honour and, believe me, even that is a poor commodity.’
She tilted her head, her gaze scrutinising his face. ‘And Where are you from, Captain Lovell?’
