The Sinner (Assassins Guild Book 4) Page 2

  "Now what?" she asked him.

  "Now we both have our own business to conduct."

  She caught his arm before he walked off. His jaw hardened and his lips pinched tighter as he jerked free. "You promised to point out the eligible gentlemen," she said. "Please, Slade. Please help me." She hated to beg, but she didn't have a choice. She knew not a soul. Slade had at least some familiarity, albeit limited. As the second son of a minor baron, he'd been to court a few times in recent years. It was a few more times than Cat.

  "I can spare you only a moment," he muttered under his breath. He nodded at the stairs leading to the balcony that overlooked the Presence Chamber. "Come with me."

  He led the way up to the balcony where a number of lords and ladies stood in small groups. None paid Slade and Cat any attention as they found a position that gave them a good view over the audience below.

  "That gentleman with the gray hair, wearing the green doublet," Slade said, indicating a fellow leaning against a pillar. "That's Sir Henry Hamilton. He's in need of a new wife and mother to his eight children."

  "Eight!" Cat peered down at the portly figure. "He looks quite aged."

  "He's in his fifth decade."

  "That's much too old."

  "The man in black and crimson beside him is the baron of Purcell. He's currently out of favor with Her Majesty, but you shouldn't let that put you off."

  "Why is he out of favor?"

  "He's Catholic."

  "But I'm not Catholic."

  "Convert. A good wife believes what her husband believes."

  "My husband cannot force me to believe the same as he," she scoffed.

  Slade snorted through his nose. "An attitude like that will not help you, Cat. Not here. Do you see the other young ladies?" He swept his hand in an arc to encompass the giggling girls nearby, the more accomplished ones down below, all of them richly adorned and beautiful. "They are your competition. Do you think a headstrong widow of no fortune and nothing to recommend her has a hope of securing a husband with them around?" He answered his own question with another derisive snort. "Pay attention." He turned back to the balcony and continued to point out unmarried gentlemen. It took only a moment more.

  "That's all of them," he announced, turning away, impatient to be off.

  "But there are so few!" Cat protested. And all of them were either aged, infirm, or both.

  "That's all of the ones here," he said with bored indifference. "There will be others who don't come to court. If you ask about, I'm sure you'll learn who they are."

  She glanced at the girls huddled together as if sharing a secret. None took any notice of Cat or Slade. "Can you introduce me to some ladies of your acquaintance then?"

  He cast his eye over the audience below. "I know no ladies here."

  She couldn't tell from his tone whether that troubled him or not. After all, he must also be in search of a wife, now that he'd gained the title. She was about to ask him if that were so when he moved away.

  "My lord, wait!" She clutched his arm again but let go upon seeing the anger brewing in his dark eyes. "Where shall I meet you when it comes time to leave?"

  "Make your own way back to the house. I don't know how late I'll be."

  "My own way! But I have no escort."

  "You're hardly an innocent girl in need of protection. Besides, it's not far."

  Indeed it wasn't. Hislop had secured rooms for them in a house fronting Charing Cross, since the palace was full and Slade wasn't important enough to warrant accommodations within its walls. Still, a woman walking alone even that short distance at night was courting danger. Slade ought to have more care for her. She might not be legally under his protection, but he had a moral responsibility at the very least.

  "I cannot believe your callousness," she hissed. Her own rage had begun to build. She had largely suppressed it since Stephen's death, not wishing to upset the man upon whose good will she relied upon, but there was only so much indignity she could endure. "Where is your gentlemanly honor? Your duty to your brother?"

  But Slade wasn't looking at her. His attention was fixed on something down below in the Presence Chamber. Cat followed his gaze to a gentleman standing near the entrance, hands arrogantly on hips, a sapphire blue cape around his shoulders and a hat that wouldn't have looked out of place in a birdcage, it sported so many long feathers shooting from the crown. The hat obscured his face, but not his figure. Even from a distance, Cat could see he was leaner than most of the men there, and considerably younger. Indeed, he moved into the Presence Chamber with an assured swagger and an air of superiority that only a youth possessed, and an important one at that.

  Everyone seemed to know him. Gentlemen clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, ladies curtsied low or offered up simpering smiles. One of the more brazen ones stepped into his path and thrust out her considerable chest. He made a great show of bowing over her hand before kissing it. She cast a conceited smile at those around her and glowed with satisfaction.

  Slowly conversations fell silent around him as he moved through the crowd to the queen. Even the girls near Cat stopped their giggling long enough to gasp and whisper.

  "Lord Oxley is here," one said, breathy.

  "Look at his fine legs," said her friend, giggling into her hand.

  "I hear there are other fine things about him," said another, leaning over the balcony to get a better look. "Things only a lover would know."

  That set off her friends again and they collapsed into snickers that would have had their mothers scolding them for unladylike behavior.

  "Who is he?" Cat asked Slade.

  "The Earl of Oxley."

  "And why is he such a curiosity?" The silver-gray feathers on Oxley's hat, unlike any she'd seen before, shivered with each step, far above the heads of everyone else. "Aside from his flamboyant hat, that is."

  "He's a favorite of the queen, but he rarely attends court by all accounts."

  "I wonder why he's here now."

  "A matter of business? To look for a wife? I don't care."

  "He's not married or betrothed? A man in his position?" How odd.

  "He's eccentric by all accounts and hasn't chosen a bride yet. Don't get your hopes up, Cat. He can command a bride worth a hundred times more than you."

  At least he hadn't mentioned Cat's plain looks again. It would seem her financial difficulty was more of an impediment in the marriage stakes.

  "And a thousand times prettier."

  Or perhaps not.

  The earl removed his cape with a spectacular flourish that seemed to amuse the queen. He threw the cape at her slippered feet and bowed down on one knee. Cat couldn't hear their exchange, but it was clear that he was making a gift of the cape.

  "What would Her Majesty do with a gentleman's cape?" she asked.

  "Do you not see the fastenings at the collar?" Slade asked. As he said it, the two large button-like fastenings flashed in the torchlight.

  "Sapphires," she said on a gasp.

  "Oxley is as wealthy as the queen herself. Those baubles are probably spare ones he had lying about."

  Her Majesty leaned forward, her head slightly bent, listening to whatever Oxley was saying. She seemed to be hanging on his every word. Then she fell back, giggling behind her hands like a girl. Oxley bowed low once more and backed away. Cat tracked his movement to a group of overdressed dandies nearby and watched as he fell into raucous conversation with them.

  "Oh do look up here," pleaded one of the girls peering down at Oxley. "I want to see that divine face."

  As if he'd heard her, the earl tilted his head back and looked up. He scanned the scattering of people on the balcony, nodding at some and bowing elaborately to the group of girls which set their giggles off again. His gaze continued and slipped over Slade and Cat before flicking back again. Even from a distance Cat could see he wasn't as young as she'd first thought. He had a strong jaw and finely chiseled nose and cheeks. His skin was browner than she expected, the hair blonde
r. The contrast had a warm, handsome effect. Even more mesmerizing was his mouth. It was full without being womanly, and curved into a wicked bow. When first he'd skimmed over them, he'd sported an arrogant smile, but it vanished upon the second inspection. Then there were his eyes. She may not have been able to see them well, but she'd wager they were a remarkable shade of blue. A man as beautiful as the earl of Oxley simply must have blue eyes. Whatever color, they were staring directly at her with an intensity that warmed her belly and further south. No man of such beauty had ever looked at her like that. Like he could see into her. Like he knew her.

  He suddenly looked away, the inspection over. It had been as brief as it had been powerful. The effects of it, however, lingered long after he moved on. Cat's heart beat strong in her chest, having momentarily stopped beneath his scrutiny. Her face heated, her limbs too. Indeed, she felt hot all over.

  "He seemed to take an interest in you." Slade sounded surprised, or perhaps just disbelieving. He frowned down at Oxley, now in conversation with the gentlemen and ladies crowding around him. "Come on." He grabbed Cat's elbow.

  "Where are we going?" she asked, struggling to walk casually alongside him and not draw attention to the fact he was gripping her much too hard.

  "To strike while the iron is hot and before the dozens of other desperate wenches get in before you."

  "My lord?"

  They passed the girls who were now openly watching Cat with sneers on their painted mouths. "We're going to meet the earl of Oxley, and you are going to charm him."

  Cat felt sick.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lord Oxley wasn't an easy man to pin down. Whenever Cat, dragged along by Slade, got close, he would spy another friend and move off in that direction. It was almost as if he were avoiding them. Of course, that couldn't be true. He didn't even know them.

  They finally intercepted him in the shadowy perimeter of the Presence Chamber as he made his way toward the exit. If he were aiming to be stealthy, he failed. Bright yellow silk breeches and a hat of impressive proportions were not the most ideal disguise for blending in. Besides which, the man was tall. There were few taller than he in the audience and none whose shoulders were so broad. Surely his doublet must be bombasted to create the effect.

  "Let me go, my lord," Cat said to Slade as his bony fingers dug into the flesh at her elbow. "You're hurting me."

  "It's for your own good. Ah, excuse me, my lord!" he called out to their quarry ahead of them. "My Lord Oxley!" he said again when Oxley didn't stop. "I have a matter of great importance I need to discuss with you."

  "That's overstating it a little," Cat muttered.

  But it did the trick. Oxley stopped. He didn't turn immediately, however. There was a brief pause in which those manly shoulders hunched a little and his head lowered, as if he were resigning himself to enduring an arduous task. Perhaps he knew Slade by reputation if not in person. Cat certainly found her brother-in-law a test of endurance most of the time.

  Finally Oxley turned to face them, his eyes flat, bored, and his mouth stretched into an unconvincing smile. "Who are you?" he drawled. "And what is it you want with me?"

  Oh dear. They'd managed to annoy the nobleman already. Slade's plan was in danger of failing and he hadn't even presented Cat yet.

  Slade bowed low. "Good evening, Lord Oxley. Forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to introduce myself. I am Lord Slade of Slade Hall, Sussex. I have been admiring your…hat, sir." He glanced up at the extraordinary piece. "It's very…tall."

  Oxley seemed to change then. The boredom vanished from his eyes and the smile became genuine. He whipped off the hat and presented it to Slade with an elaborate bow. "Then you may have it, my good man."

  "But my lord, it's your hat! I couldn't possibly—"

  "Take it. I have another just like it at home. Indeed, I have several and I see that you're in need of good headwear." He drew Slade's brown fur hat off his head between thumb and forefinger as if he'd picked up a rat by its tail. "I can give you the name of my milliner if you like."

  Slade cleared his throat and watched desperately as his hat was flung into the corner. "I am humbly grateful for your generosity, my lord."

  Oxley leaned closer, conspiratorial. "A hint, Slade, if you will permit me to aid you. Her Majesty likes to see her gentlemen wearing a little color. Dung is not her favorite shade, even when dressed up with shiny buttons." He flicked the top button of Slade's doublet. As Slade looked down, Oxley tapped him on the chin and laughed. It was a child's diversionary trick, but Oxley made it seem fresh and amusing. Or perhaps that was more because Slade was trying very hard to hide his indignity at being the butt of such a simple joke.

  Cat pressed her lips together to suppress her smile. She wasn't yet sure what to make of Oxley, and she planned on remaining quiet to observe him for as long as possible.

  Unfortunately, Oxley had a different plan. He thrust out his hip and placed his hands at his waist, studying her. "And who is this jewel? What lovely skin! And those eyes! I am in the presence of a goddess."

  Slade snorted, but quickly covered it with a cough. "This is my sister-in-law, Catherine, Lady Slade. She's in mourning for my brother, hence the drab attire."

  "Drab? Not at all! Not on such a slender, leonine figure." Oxley bowed, sweeping his arm across the front of his body in an arc. "I am your servant, my lady."

  Cat rolled her eyes before he straightened, and managed to give him a return smile as she curtseyed. "My lord is too generous with his praise."

  "Indeed not," Oxley said. He waggled his fingers at her face. "Your eyes are quite the most interesting shade of blue."

  Her eyes were a dull slate blue-gray. She had no illusions that this man saw her as anything other than a plain, smallish woman. Oxley's eyes, however, were something to behold. She'd been right. They were blue, but not the striking deep color of the sky. They were pale, almost colorless. More like a lake in winter, covered in a thin layer of ice. Lakes in wintertime could be dangerous, unpredictable places, but there was nothing dangerous about this man. He seemed as predictable and harmless as a peacock. Cat matched his smile with one of her own.

  "You are quite the flatterer, my lord," Slade said. "But there's no need. Cat is not used to it and doesn't expect it. Her tastes are simple. Her thoughts even simpler."

  Cat bristled. It was one thing to have Slade belittle her when it was just the two of them, but quite another in front of others. Particularly when Lord Oxley could help her get away from Slade Hall. He may be too far above her to be a candidate for husband number two, but he seemed extremely well connected. A recommendation from him could serve her well. Time to curb the damage before Slade caused more.

  "What my brother-in-law is trying to say is that our conversations rarely cover topics of interest to us both. Lord Slade prefers to read his ledgers while I prefer the wonders of Homer. Slade thinks the theater not fit for a lady, but I am of the opinion that all ladies should experience it. With an appropriate escort, of course."

  She hoped she'd judged Oxley correctly. He seemed like the sort of man who enjoyed wit and cultural amusements over talk of wool bales and crop yields. The plethora of ladies who had vied for his attention ever since his arrival wouldn't be so eager if he were as boorish as Slade.

  Oxley's eyes sparkled and he seemed to appraise her anew. "You've been to the theater, Lady Slade? You enjoy such pastimes?"

  "I've only seen the traveling troupes in summertime near Slade Hall. I do long to visit one of the magnificent theaters in Bankside, though. I hear the new Globe is quite a sight to behold."

  "It is," he said with warm enthusiasm. "If one doesn't mind the occasional drunkard lolling on the doorstep. And you must be sure not to leave your pouch in clear sight. The cutpurses at Bankside take that as an invitation."

  "As they should," she said with mock seriousness. "If a person is foolish enough to flash their coin about, they ought to be relieved of it. Clearly they have too much."

  He grinned.
"You seem like a worldly sort of lady, unlike many here." Did she catch the hint of a sigh? The sense of ennui in his drollness?

  She must be mistaken. He'd not seemed at all bored with the ladies as they'd crowded around him earlier. Indeed, he seemed to enjoy their attentions very much.

  "It's true that I spend far too much time in the village near Slade Hall," she said.

  Slade nodded soberly. "Far too much time."

  She rolled her eyes and Oxley grinned. "Although I wouldn't call myself worldly," she went on. "The village is a great leveler, however, if one ventures beyond the main road. We too have drunkards lolling in doorways, and more besides."

  Oxley gave her a look of horror and pressed his hand to his breast. A large oval-cut sapphire ring winked in the candlelight. "It doesn't sound like the sort of place such a poised lady as yourself should endure. Where was Lord Slade? Protecting you, I hope."

  She laughed. "My late husband was too busy hunting. The current Lord Slade was too occupied."

  "With his ledgers?" Oxley winked. "I'm glad to see you've survived unscathed, dear lady."

  She leaned closer and whispered loudly. "Or have I?"

  She wasn't sure what she was saying, or why she was saying it in that breathy voice. Something about this man with his cool eyes that weren't icy after all, and his easy humor made her feel light headed and quite brazen. When he laughed or smiled, as he seemed to do often, warmth spread through her body to her extremities. It set her alight in places she'd thought dormant. Feminine places.

  "You could take her, my lord!" Slade cried.

  "What?" Cat blurted out. She blinked at him, not sure whether to be horrified, ashamed or amused.

  "Er, I mean, you could take Cat to the theater." Slade had a silly look of contrition on his face. It was quite out of place. How had Cat not seen him as the fool he was before? He'd always seemed so stern to her, so composed and in control, but Oxley reduced him to a bumbling idiot by his mere presence.