Impatiently Amber interrupted him. “I’m no mercer, my lord, to let you run on tick. My payment must be cash. But maybe we can strike up a bargain. I’ll tell, you part of what I know now and if you pay me tomorrow I’ll take care the plot miscarries. If you don’t—” Lightly she shrugged, and the implication was that some very unpleasant misfortune would befall him.
“That sounds a reasonable piece of thinking for a woman.”
“Someone intends to murder your Lordship—I know when and how. If you pay me I can spoil the plot—”
Arlington remained imperturbable. He had more enemies than he knew, and he knew a great many—but this seemed to him transparent.
“I think I can spoil the plot myself, madame, and save five thousand pound.”
“How!”
“If I made an accusation—”
“You don’t dare, and you know it!”
She was right, for if he so much as hinted his suspicions to the King, Buckingham would be upon him and drag it out into the open. And the Duke was still too powerful, had too much interest outside Court in quarters where the King desperately needed what support he could get. If Arlington were to accuse him of plotting his murder the Duke could ruin him politically even quicker than he could end his life by poison. Perhaps that, after all, was what he wanted—perhaps that was why he had brought her into the plot. Arlington regarded this as another instance of a woman meddling to make his life more difficult—and expensive.
“For all I know,” he said, “this may be only a plot of yours to get money. I don’t think anyone would dare poison his Majesty’s Secretary of State.”
The bluff did not impress Amber. She smiled at him. “But if someone does dare, my lord, next week or next month you’ll be as dead as herring—”
“Suppose I give you the money. How do I know you won’t let the plot—if there is one—go through anyway?”
“You must trust me for that, sir.”
The Baron was now looking very ill-tempered. He knew that she had caught him and could see no way to save both his life and his money. For he dared not take the chance. Buckingham was, he knew, at certain times and in certain moods capable of engineering his murder without a qualm. Or if not Buckingham, some lesser enemy—But blast this woman! Why should she get five thousand pound from him! The King’s wenches came by their money at scant trouble to themselves—but it would take him months of hard work to replace that much. He had never felt such a bitter dislike of all females, but most particularly of the Duchess of Ravenspur.
“I’ll see the money is delivered into your hands tomorrow. Good-night, madame. And thank you.”
“By no means, my lord. Your life is too valuable to England. Thank you.”
Buckingham’s plot was simple. The next day he brought to her a handsome fifteen-year-old boy from the Baron’s household, John Newmarch, whom Amber was to persuade to poison his master for the sake of King and country. When Arlington was dead Buckingham intended to give the boy one hundred pounds, have him declared dead of small-pox, and send him abroad to live. But the Duke had told him nothing of all this —only that the Duchess of Ravenspur had seen and admired him and wanted to make his acquaintance. With the precocious sophistication induced by the Court John came eagerly, convinced he knew what she wanted. He was wrong.
Amber plied her charms and John Newmarch agreed to the plan. But having received Arlington’s five thousand, she gave him only a harmless sleeping-potion to stir into the Baron’s sack-posset. Buckingham stopped her the next morning as she was on her way to the Queen’s apartments, and he looked both anxious and angry.
“What did you do!” he demanded. “He’s with the King at this moment!”
Amber paused and stood face to face with him. “
“Yes, isn’t it!” he repeated sarcastically. “John says he didn’t so much as touch the posset—and he drinks ’em every night! I know that, for I’ve had his habits watched. Answer me, you bitch! What’ve you done?”
They stood staring at each other, and neither could pretend any longer. There was frank detestation on both their faces. When Amber answered him the words came out slowly between her clenched teeth.
“If you ever dare speak to me like that again, George Villiers, I tell you to your teeth the King’s going to hear some things you don’t want him to know!”
She did not wait for him to answer but turned and walked away. He hesitated a moment longer, looking after her, then spun about on his heel and strode off in the opposite direction. Nan watched him, her eyes wide, and then catching up her skirts she ran after Amber.
“Lord, mam! You should’ve seen his face! I vow he’s a devil!”
“A devil with the pox to him! I’m not afraid of that officious sot! I’ve a mighty good mind to—”
