Page 33 of The King’s Man (Guardians of the Crown #2)

K it stared into his ale. The French did not know how to make good ale. He took a swig of the tasteless beverage and set the pot down, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the handle.

Henshaw, Fitzjames and Gerard appeared to be turning in ever-decreasing circles, meeting first with one party and then another.

No decisions, no promises of help. The King remained obdurate.

He would not countenance a move on Cromwell without the support of the Sealed Knot.

The delay frustrated Kit beyond measure.

The Sealed Knot – the Sealed Knot seemed aptly named. The composition of this mysterious committee was one of the few well-kept secrets in the court. He had nothing to take back to Thurloe.

He hated every moment spent in Paris and realised that for the first time in his life he wanted a home and hearth and a good woman. A good woman, not the likes of Lucy Talbot.

He took a deep draught of his ale as he dismissed that thought. Experience had taught him that women were nothing but trouble, a distraction he did not need.

So why, then, did thoughts of Thamsine Granville keep him awake at night? In the dark hours, he imagined the tilt of her chin, the warm, brown eyes, the humorous lift of her mouth. He missed her intelligent companionship and her high-handed disrespect for him.

‘Deep in thought, Lovell?’

Kit looked up. He knew and disliked the man who sat down unbidden at his table.

Colonel Bampfield was known to turn his coat with the frequency of his linen.

Despite having executed a daring rescue of the young Duke of York from under Parliament’s nose some eight years previously, he enjoyed a worse reputation than Henshaw for suspect loyalty.

‘Colonel Bampfield. The air in here has suddenly grown rather pungent,’ Kit snarled.

‘My dear Captain Lovell, you are hardly one to start throwing stones, are you?’

‘What do you mean?’

Bampfield leaned towards him and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, ‘I mean that I know that you and I serve the same master.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Kit set the empty pot down with a thump. ‘If you are calling my loyalty to the King into question then I should call you out here and now.’

‘You could do that, but I know you won’t. I have some letters for delivery to London,’ Bampfield continued in the same low voice. ‘Call them love letters to someone I care for deeply. I could send them in the usual manner but I would rather they went in safe hands.’

‘That is all you ask of me?’

‘Of course. I am not asking you to confess your dirty little secrets to me. Merely act as my courier.’

Kit bridled. ‘I have no dirty little secrets, Bampfield. However, if you insist, I will take your papers.’

Bampfield rose to his feet. ‘You are a gentleman, sir.’ He handed Kit a small packet of papers. ‘To your safekeeping.’

Kit thrust the papers into his jacket. ‘I hope our paths do not cross again, Bampfield.’

‘I am sure we can avoid that.’

As Bampfield rose to leave, Fitzjames, Henshaw and the younger Gerard entered the inn. Bampfield stood still, forcing Kit to introductions. He wondered if any of them had seen the letters pass from Bampfield to himself. If they had, nothing in their faces betrayed any suspicion.

Kit looked up at Bampfield. ‘It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Colonel.’

Bampfield bowed. ‘And yours. Be sure to give my regards to my friends in London. Gentlemen.’

It was evident that Fitz and Gerard had news. They sat down, their faces taut with expectation. Fitz waited until Bampfield had left the room before leaning forward, his face alive with the news he had to impart.

‘We have reached an agreement, Lovell.’

‘At last,’ Kit said, with genuine relief in his voice.

‘We have spoken with the Queen and Prince Rupert and we are agreed that we will continue with our plan,’ Gerard said. ‘You and Fitzjames are to leave now for London to start the arrangements.’

‘And you?’

‘We have some business still to do here but we will follow by week’s end.’

‘Rupert wants an army of ten thousand,’ Henshaw said.

Kit looked at him in disbelief. ‘In England? We’ve just been through this. We can’t raise an army of ten!’

Jack Gerard’s eyes burned. ‘Scotland, Lovell. The Queen believes that if my uncle were to take the Duke of York and Rupert to Scotland, we will get the support.’

‘We did that in ’50, Gerard, and look what became of that venture!’ He looked at Fitz. ‘We were lucky to escape with our lives.’

‘This time it will be different. If our plan goes well, Cromwell will be dead and the army in disarray. England will fall.’

Young Gerard’s eyes burned with a passion Kit remembered only too well from his youth: the absolute certainty of the rightness of a cause. However, he kept his peace and forced himself to recall that it was not his place to argue against the plan but to go along with it.

He nodded. ‘And the King?’

‘To remain on the Continent until such time as his kingdom is secure,’ Gerard concluded.

Kit looked at Fitz. ‘So we leave now?’

‘I suggest the morning. A hard ride to Calais to catch the evening tide,’ Fitz said.

Kit nodded with relief. There was nothing he wanted more than to be back in England.