Page 52 of The King's Man
Thamsine stared at him in disbelief. ‘All your professions of loyalty to the King’s cause and all the time you take Cromwell’s shilling?’
He returned her gaze, his green eyes flashing. ‘Before you start throwing stones, Thamsine Granville, may I remind you that you have sold your soul to the same Devil?’
‘I … ’ she began but realised she couldn’t deny it. ‘I had no choice.’
‘Well, neither did I!’
‘Why? What does Thurloe hold over you, Lovell? What possible reason could you have other than the money? Tired of scraping a living in exile so you returned to trade your friends’ confidences for Cromwell’s shilling?’
She had hurt him. She could see the pain in his eyes. ‘My reasons are my own,’ he said in a low, flat tone.
‘I suppose it was you who betrayed The Ship Inn Plotters?’
He swallowed. ‘Yes.’
Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. ‘And me? You betrayed me?’
His momentary silence was all she needed. She rose to her feet and struck him across the face with all the force she could muster.
‘Tais-toi!’ Kit grasped her wrist and pulled her downwards. ‘Sit down and stop making a spectacle of yourself,’ he continued in French. ‘You have to trust me. You have no choice.’
She recognised the tone of command in his voice and sank to her seat, glowering at him. The man she had thought had saved her had thrown her into the Tower of London for his own reasons, and now he wanted her to trust him?
‘You hypocrite. All those solicitations, all that concern for my wellbeing. I was just a prize to be handed over to Thurloe when the time was right,’ she said in a low, angry voice.
Kit rubbed his stinging face, his eyes flashing. ‘I am not going to deny it. Now,’ he said, his mouth a thin, angry line, ‘put the slanging to one side, Thamsine. We have work to do.’
She glared at him. ‘What work?’
‘I am your contact. Is there anything I need to know?’
She looked away, fighting back the stinging tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes. The first rush of anger slipped away, to be replaced by hurt and betrayal.
‘I thought you were my friend,’ Thamsine said in a low, uneven voice. She looked up at him, searching for the man she thought she knew, the man she had thought of every day since they had met.
‘I don’t have friends,’ he said.
She looked into the face of a man who had commanded men, men who would have followed him to Hell if he had asked. They were both bound for Hell, and she had no choice but to follow him.
‘How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’ she asked, summoning the last edge of defiance.
He shook his head. ‘You have no reason to trust me, but ask yourself – how would I know that you are in Thurloe’s employ unless he had told me?’
She lowered her head. ‘I am repaying a debt.’ She looked up at him. ‘But you were always a King’s man. What has Thurloe got over you?’
A muscle in Kit’s cheek twitched as his mouth tightened. After a long moment, he said, ‘I owe you the truth. I’ve already told you I was wounded and taken prisoner after Worcester. The choice Thurloe offered me was simple – take his coin or I died in a stinking hellhole.’ He looked away and she sensed that she had not heard the whole story, but before she could question him further, he brought his hands down on the table. ‘Enough idle chatter, Mistress Granville. It is of no matter to me whether you hate me or not. The fact remains we must work together on this. Thurloe has placed you inside Bordeaux’s house for a reason.’
‘He wants to know about the man de Baas.’
Kit nodded. ‘And what can you tell me about him?’
‘Nothing!’ She looked up at him, hoping he could see the hurt in her eyes. ‘I have met him once and all I can tell you is that he has just returned from France, a fact your Master Thurloe is probably well aware of.’
There was a moment of profound silence, while Kit took a sip from the cup. He set it down and looked at her, a humourless smile on his lips. ‘That wasn’t so very hard, was it, Mistress Granville?’
She looked down at her cup. ‘He talked of steps being taken to restore Charles Stuart.’
‘Names? Dates? Plans?’
