Read Online The Tudor Vendetta by C. W. Gortner - Free Book Online Page A

Gaining control of her better judgment, Elizabeth thrust out her hand. “I will open his gift and judge for myself whether Philip of Spain can impress.”
    Dudley froze. It was only a fraction of a second, but I saw the rage flicker across his expression as he proceeded to her, bowing with flourish before presenting her with the box.
    “Have some wine,” Elizabeth suggested, and as he stomped to the board in the alcove and the decanter, my breathing inexplicably turned shallow.
    Elizabeth plucked at the embossed wax seal, which bound a ribbon around the box and held the lid in place. Leaving the other women, Kate hastened to take a jeweled letter-opener from the table and went to assist the queen, the spaniels scampering at her heels. Elizabeth smiled—“How thoughtful of you, Mistress Stafford”—and Kate said softly, “Allow me, Your Majesty,” swiveling the box in the queen’s lap toward her, kneeling down to slide the blade under the seal.
    I did not know that I had moved toward her until Cecil said, “What are you doing?” His rebuke brought me to a precipitous halt. In rapid succession, the seal on the box cracked apart and Kate rocked back with a little cry of surprise. The lid fell off. Elizabeth tried to hold on to the box as it slipped from her lap, tumbling its contents to the floor—a mess of gilded tissue, wrapped about something leathery.
    Kate scrambled up, making a grab for the bundled article. But one of the spaniels dove at the same time and clamped the gift between its jaws, shredding the tissue, worrying it as if it were a rat.
    Elizabeth gazed at the dog as it tore apart the king of Spain’s gift. “Are those … gloves?” she asked, bemused. Her tone indicated that Philip had indeed failed to impress.
    I didn’t hear Kate’s response, however, deafened by a warning roar I did not realize was in my head, as I remembered another broken seal on an unexpected letter, the curiosity on Peregrine’s face as he held it, then his gasp as he lifted fingertips already singed from—
    The women shrieked as I leapt forth, pushing them aside. Elizabeth recoiled in her chair. From the alcove, where he had been drowning his humiliation in wine, Dudley flung aside his goblet and barreled at me. I scarcely felt the bone-jarring impact of his body nor the fist he slammed into my gut, quenching my breath as he cried, “Now, I’ve got you, mongrel!” Twisting sideways to evade his yanking me to the floor—a maneuver learned through Walsingham’s tests of endurance—I rammed my own fist under his jaw as hard as I could.
    Blood dripped from his cut lip. He hunched his powerful shoulders; as I prepared for his full onslaught, Cecil cried, “Stop it! Stop this instant!” and Dudley snarled, showing me bloodstained teeth. He might have charged again had Elizabeth’s frightened voice not shattered our confrontation: “God save us, what—what is wrong with it?”
    I whirled about. Horror flooded me.
    Kate stood as if paralyzed. At her feet, black foam bubbling from its snout, the spaniel thrashed, one gnawed glove still clenched between its teeth.
    The other glove dangled from her hand.

 
     
    Chapter Six
    “Do not touch anything,” I said and I had to force back a surge of panic, drawing a steadying breath as I stepped to her.
    The chamber’s stunned hush was broken only by the spaniel’s death throes, as if it were being disemboweled from within. Arching its spine, the dog released a vile stream of spew, choked, and went still. The other spaniel whimpered but did not try to approach.
    Her color drained to an ashen hue, Kate dropped the glove and started to turn to Elizabeth. I heard Dudley shout, “No! Do not approach the queen!” and a stiff rustle of petticoats as he pulled Elizabeth bodily off her chair.
    Kate lifted wide eyes to me. “Am I…?” she whispered. She knew this was how Peregrine must have died, intoxicated by poison smeared on a letter’s seal.
    I made myself look at her