“Look! He is blushing!” Livia cooed. “We must not embarrass him.Caro figlio—is everything going well? The ship is loading? You can take our bags for safekeeping?”
“I’ll store them at the warehouse,” he said. “They’ll be safe there. If there’s anything of value, I will lock it in our cashbox.”
“And when will the ship sail?” the queen asked.
Matthew bowed again. “On an ebb tide, next week,” he told her. “When it is loaded. I will tell my… I will tell my mother, the Nobildonna, when it is ready to sail.”
Mary Beatrice gave him her hand and Matthew kissed it. “I am grateful,” she said. “I will see that you are rewarded for your service. I am grateful to your mother—who I love very dearly—and to you.”
Livia gestured to the four bags at the door. “This one has her jewels,” she said quietly. “Keep it safe, for God’s sake.”
“I will,” he said fervently. “Do I go now?”
“You go now, discreetly.” She kissed him on both cheeks, watched him load himself with the bags, and opened the door for him. She closed it behind him with a triumphant smile and came to the queen and took her hands. “Did I not say we would be safe with him?”
“Such a charming boy! So young to be so trustworthy?”
Livia shrugged. “It’s breeding, is it not?” she asked. “Well bred, and well raised. The pity is that he does not have the place in the world that his breeding and his education deserve.”
“But why not?” the queen asked. “I thought he was at Lincoln’s Inn?”
“He has no inheritance,” Livia explained glibly. “My husband’s lands are entailed away from him. My poor boy is the son of my first husband, a Venetian prince, so he inherits no English land. He is studying to be a lawyer, but how will he advance in this world without his own property? My own fortune, of course, is all in my husband’s hands.”
“He has no English lands?”
“No—as it happens. I would like him to have lands in Sussex—his foster family used to own a manor in the tidelands, near to Chichester, in Sussex.”
“Who owns it now?”
“Why, I believe they are royal lands!” Livia exclaimed in surprise. “The last lord of the manor died without an heir—Sir William Peachey—and all his lands reverted to the crown.”
“Then surely I should be able to give them to you! I will ask—” The queen broke off. “I cannot ask now. Everything is so difficult now.”
“But that’s why you should reward Matteo,” Livia pointed out. “Because he is loyal in difficult times. If the times were not dangerous, you would have no need of him.”
“That’s true. I will ask my chamberlain.”
“Oh, don’t ask him!” Livia objected. “He will ask you why, and what Matteo has done for you, and how you met him, and our secret will be out. Ask the king for the manor and the lands, as if you wanted them for yourself, and then give me the deeds? The exchequer and your chamberlain will have nothing to say about it. They won’t even know till it’s done.”
The queen hesitated for a moment.
“After all, it’s not much to ask for,” Livia remarked. “His Majesty gave Catherine Sedley that great house in St. James’s Square that overlooks your garden. And she flaunts herself in her stupid banqueting house every time you walk past.”
“Yes,” the queen said resentfully. “I will ask for it as a country house for me. He cannot deny me that.”
LYME REGIS COAST, SUMMER 1685
The evening sky was a cool pale blue, the sea colorless as a looking glass, reflecting the long tresses of gray clouds, as the waves moved the ships, rolling their deep backs under the wooden keels. Ned, like most of the men, was leaning on the rail, looking towards the dark gray-blue cliffs, the color of slate facing the sea in a forbidding wall, as the captain gave the order to drop anchor, outside the tiny fishing port.
Thomas Dare clapped Ned on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in London,” he said. “I’ll buy you a bottle of wine to drink to our victory.”
“You’re going ashore?”
“Going to call out the west country men, going to my hometown, Taunton. Andrew Fletcher’s coming with me. I’m going to requisition some horses for his cavalry regiment, see if any of these fishermen can ride! I’m proud—” He broke off and grinned at his emotion. “Proud to be the first ashore. God bless the duke and Godspeed.”
“Godspeed,” Ned replied. “And good luck, Thomas Dare!”
The sailors lowered a dinghy into the water and Thomas went down the rope ladder, followed awkwardly by Andrew Fletcher in his high leather riding boots. Rowan joined Ned at the ship’srail and watched as the little boat pulled away and rowed steadily into the bay.