Read Online Keeper of the King's Secrets by Michelle Diener - Free Book Online

the cart man as if they shared a secret. “My father does not understand how large London is, and he has a friend living somewhere near here. I heard a fellow countryman was in this house, and thought perhaps it was the man my father is urging me to visit.”
    The man shifted, wary, but before he could answer her the door opened, and two men wrestled a heavy chest down the steps.
    Harry drew in a surprised breath, and she could feel his body tense.
    “That is the last one.” One of the men stood back, brushing his doublet and breathing deeply. He was better dressed than the other two, and his hair and hands looked well tended.
    He gave a startled shout when he caught sight of Susanna and tried to cover it, placing a hand to his heart.
    “My apologies, my lady. I did not realize I had visitors.”
    “I am sorry to startle you.” Susanna curtsied deeply. “I am from Ghent and—”
    “A fellow countrywoman.” He laughed, the sound too wild, too full of relief. “As you see, we are on our way home, and very busy.”
    “I apologize for disturbing you, sir. Had I known you were leaving, I would of course have come sooner, but I was told someone in this house was perhaps a friend of my father, and that I should visit you—”
    “Someone mentioned me by name?” He spoke as if there were hands around his throat, squeezing.
    “No. Someone at court—”
    “Who?” He reached out, grabbing her arm in a tight grip, but even as Harry stepped forward a hand shot out from the street, squeezing the man’s arm so hard, Susanna saw his face go pale.
    Parker.
    The man slid his gaze left. “Unhand me, sir.” He spoke in Flemish, but his meaning was clear.
    “Not until you unhand my lady.”
    Susanna winced. Parker was speaking through gritted teeth.
    “What’s this?” The cart man took a step toward them, but Parker’s gaze did not leave her assailant’s face.
    Harry’s hand slid to his boot.
    There was a pause, the threat of violence hanging clear in the air, then the grip on her arm was suddenly gone. She tooka step back, rubbing the spot. There would be a bruise. Something for Parker to grumble about later, she was sure.
    “That was swift indeed, my lord.” She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “I sent Eric to find you not twenty minutes ago.”
    “Did you? I must have missed him.” He spoke as if his jaws were locked together, and suddenly Susanna wanted to laugh. She realized if they were alone, he would quite cheerfully be strangling her.
    “Who do you seek, my lady?” The gentleman edged closer to his door.
    Susanna lifted her gaze to his. “I seek one of my father’s close friends. Jens of Antwerp.”
    The man stumbled on the steps, then he spun to the doorway and ran through it.

13

    For injuries ought to be done all at one time, so that, being tasted less, they offend less; benefits ought to be given little by little, so that the flavour of them may last longer.
    —Machiavelli , The Prince, chapter 8
    P arker watched the merchant run into his hole, a hole with no escape. The door of the house stood open and he hauled Susanna with him up the stairs and into the entrance hall. Harry was right on his heels and as soon as he was in, Parker slammed the door shut and locked it.
    He ignored the shouts and hammering from the street.
    He turned and eyed the two of them with annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
    “I followed the cart driver from Norfolk’s to this house earlier.” Harry avoided his stare. “He gave a note to a boy to deliver to the Duke, and stayed to make sure it was. Upset the Duke mightily, it did.”
    “Mmmm.”
    “I saw they were packing up, came to find you, but you weren’t home.” Harry concentrated on pulling his knife from his boot.
    Susanna put a hand on his arm. “I suggested sending Eric to get you. When Harry told me they were from the Low Countries, I thought I might be able to delay them.” She smiled at him, serene and beautiful, as perplexing as a