Page 68 of The King's Man
‘I’m keen to impress him.’ Lucy looked up with a small, smug smile on her lips.
‘What about Lovell?’
Lucy gave a careless shrug, dismissing her lover.
‘He’s been away for two weeks without a word. A woman can get lonely in that time.’ She looked at Thamsine through narrowed eyes. ‘Why? Do you miss him?’
‘Why would I miss him?’ Thamsine replied with studied carelessness.
Every Friday she dispatched a note, dutifully signed “John Grey”, and waited for Kit Lovell to walk through the door of The Ship Inn. Without him, she felt adrift. His absence from London and from her life left a void that the cheerful company at The Ship Inn failed to fill.
The music lessons at the French Ambassador’s continued in Kit’s absence. Mary Skippon’s little talent had improved, to the evident delight of her lover. Thamsine had not seen De Baas since the night of his planned seduction, and she had little to report to John Thurloe.
She sighed and forced her attention back to her present pupil. Unlike poor Mary Skippon, Lucy Talbot had some natural talent and was a fast learner. However, she was easily distracted and this afternoon seemed worse than usual.
Lucy returned to her seat and picked up the lute. She bent her head to the task, awkwardly feeling for the notes of the simple melody Thamsine had found for her.
A firm knock at the front door made them both start. Lucy jumped to her feet, the neck of the lute clasped firmly in her hands. Thamsine had never seen her so on edge.
She heard footsteps on the stairs and the ill-tempered maid, Mag, flung the door open to admit Lucy’s visitor. The blood in Thamsine’s veins froze as a tall, dark-haired man stepped into the room.
Ambrose Morton stood framed by the door, savouring the silence.
‘Thamsine,’ he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. ‘You have led me a pretty dance.’
‘Ambrose,’ she breathed his name in one long aspiration.
‘Is this the girl?’ Lucy said. ‘Was I right?’
Ambrose crossed the floor to where Thamsine stood rooted to the spot. He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look up into his eyes.
‘Oh yes, Lucy my dear, this is the girl. My betrothed. Do you know she tried to kill me?’ Ambrose curled a lock of her hair around his finger. As he did so he touched his head, just above the right ear. ‘You did no more than knock me out. Unfortunately, by the time I had regained my senses you were long gone.’
Thamsine struck his hand away and backed away, her eyes searching for a way out, but Ambrose stood between her and the door. The windows were at least twelve feet from the ground and firmly fastened against the cold, damp spring day.
Ambrose smiled. ‘It’s pointless looking for an escape, Thamsine. You don’t think for a moment I’m letting you go after I have spent months combing the streets of London for you. You’ve been most elusive, my dear. I thought I had you cornered that day at the Lord Protector’s parade. I really must commend you on your ability to disappear.’
‘Lucy!’ Thamsine turned in appeal to the woman who had betrayed her. ‘How do you know this man?’
Lucy smiled a cold, hard smile and moved beside Ambrose, tucking her arm into his.
‘Kit Lovell introduced us.’ She looked up at Ambrose Morton’s handsome face. ‘How could I resist? Ambrose had told me all about you, long before I met you. Of course, as soon as I saw you,I knew who you were. Ambrose was so pleased when I told him that you were Kit’s little pet.’
Ambrose Morton patted Lucy’s dainty little hand.
‘Your friend, Lovell, seems curiously protective of you, so we have bided our time until he was out of the way, in Norfolk or wherever he is in reality. Does he know the truth about you, Thamsine?’
Thamsine said nothing.
‘He doesn’t! You haven’t told him,’ Lucy declared.
Thamsine turned to Lucy. ‘Lucy! You have no idea what this man has done. What he is capable of!’
Lucy shook her head. ‘You are legally betrothed to him—’
‘A betrothal I broke off ten years ago.’
Ambrose smiled and waved a hand. ‘Idle promises made in our youth. What matters is that your father formally contracted our betrothal before his death, Thamsine.’
