“I ask your pardon if I offended you,” Phoebe said frankly. “But Meg is my friend and you insulted her by ignoring her.”
“It is not my custom to engage in social intercourse with villagers,” he stated. “But I have some things I wish to discuss with you, so we’ll put it behind us.”
Pompous was hardly an adequate description, Phoebe decided. But she merely offered a vague smile as she said, “Please do show me the drawings. I’m most eager to see them.”
Brian handed them to her, saying as he did so, “There is another matter… one of great delicacy. I fear all is not well with your husband.”
“What do you mean?” Phoebe demanded sharply, looking up from her perusal of Brian’s sketches. All interest in playing games with the man had vanished. “What has happened? Has he returned from headquarters?”
“No, not as yet.” Brian laid a hand on her arm. “But I’ve heard some disturbing information.”
“What?” Phoebe looked at him in alarm.
Brian looked around, up and down the passage. “As I said, it’s a matter of great delicacy. Where can we talk in strict privacy?”
“I was going to the stillroom to mix an infusion for Meg. No one will disturb us there.” Phoebe hurried down the corridor, Brian on her heels.
In the aromatic quiet of the stillroom, where the late morning sun fell in a great golden swath from a round window high up in the wall over the orderly shelves of lavender-strewn linens, Phoebe said without preamble, “So, what is it? What have you to tell me?”
Brian looked concerned. “I’ve heard that Lord Granville is facing difficulties among the high command… there are serious questions of his loyalty.”
“Oh, what nonsense!” Phoebe exclaimed, her eyes flaring with indignation. “Who could have told you such a thing?”
“I have many sources of information,” Brian told her gravely. “Believe me, I know much that goes on in both headquarters.”
“You mean spying?” Phoebe’s nose wrinkled unconsciously. “How could you possibly have spies in Parliament’s camp? You’re a Royalist.”
“Was,” Brian reminded her gently. “But believe me, Phoebe, my work has always been one of digging for information. Distasteful, you may think it, but it’s a vital part of warfare. But then, a woman couldn’t possibly be expected to understand,” he added with a smile that was meant to be kind but that appeared as flagrantly patronizing.
“Oh, pah!” Phoebe said. “You sound just like Cato. I fail to see the male mystery involved in killing and being killed.”
“Well, perhaps we men like to think of it as our preserve,” Brian said pacifically. “Historically it always has been.”
Phoebe’s expression seemed to indicate that she was unimpressed with historical precedent.
He continued. “But in truth, Phoebe, Cato is in difficulties and I would like to help him, to prove my loyalty to him.”
“Why don’t you talk to him about it, then?”
“Because he won’t listen to me! God knows, I’ve tried, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. And he still doesn’t trust me, I’m certain of it, despite all the information I’ve given him.”
“What is it exactly that you’ve heard?” Phoebe turned from him and began to select jars from the shelf behind her. She was trying to hide the keenness of her interest. Perhaps this was her opportunity to prove herself to Cato.
“I know that Cato has come under suspicion by his party’s high command. Cromwell has questioned his commitment. It’s a very dangerous situation and the king’s escape yesterday has only made it worse. It looks as if he might have allowed him to slip away.”
“How do you know this?” Phoebe realized she was holding her breath.
“There was a skirmish several weeks ago and the king’s men took several prisoners. They became quite voluble…” Brian shrugged and left Phoebe to come to her own conclusions as to the means by which they became so.
“It’s also been reliably said that Lord Granville has questioned Cromwell’s motives in waging this war. That’s not an accusation to make lightly.”
That was a master stroke, Brian reckoned. He’d heard two troopers discussing the rumor the previous evening, when tongues were running loose over jugs of ale around the brazier in the stable yard. It might or might not be true, but it was still powerful fuel to the fire he was building here.
Phoebe measured herbs into the mortar and took up the pestle. She said nothing as she worked, and the rich aroma of crushed juniper, thyme, and lovage filled the stillroom. Brian’s words had the ring of truth, but she was mindful of Meg’s warning and determined to tread lightly.
“Do you think your husband would listen to you?” Brian asked into the fragrant silence.
“No. He considers his affairs to be solely his preserve.”
Brian nodded in silent satisfaction as he heard the disgruntled note. He was on the right track. “Perhaps there’s a way around that,” he mused, watching her profile from beneath lowered lids.
“What way?”
“Well, if Lord Granville refuses to see any need to convince his own party of his loyalty, perhaps his true friends should convince them for him.”
Phoebe turned slowly, the pestle still in her hand. “What do you mean?”
Brian appeared to ponder the question for a minute, then he said consideringly, “I’m thinking that if someone sent a document to Parliament under the Granville seal… something that proves Cato’s loyalty conclusively. That would be one way. But one would need access to his seal, of course…”
Phoebe frowned. “What kind of a document?”
“A piece of information from the king’s camp,” Brian said promptly.
“And where would we get that?”
“I would supply it.” Brian pursed his lips. “The king is going to seek help from the Scots. But to get it, he must make certain promises. I have conclusive proof that he’ll not keep those promises. If the Scots knew that, then they’d hand the king over to Parliament. If Cato provides Parliament with that information, his loyalty and commitment would go unquestioned.”
Phoebe shook her head. This was too much to take in. She felt utterly out of her depth. She knew that Brian had been supplying Parliament with information from the king’s camp, but how could he know so much about Parliament’s affairs? But then, he was right. What did she know of the devious workings of a spy?
One issue, however, seemed simple enough. “But why don’t you give this information to Cato yourself? Then he can put to rest any suspicions himself.”
“You really aren’t much of a conspirator, are you?” Brian’s smile was almost pitying. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let us be a little more devious here, Phoebe. I had thought to kill two birds with one stone. You feel excluded from his life, don’t you?” His little eyes gazed intently into her own.
“I know how difficult that is, because I know how he holds himself apart from those who love him. He did it with my mother, and he’s always done it with me. I would help you change that. If he once sees how capable you are, and how ready and willing to help him, to partner him, then he might change the habits that hurt so many people. Think about it.”
Every word he spoke was true. It was what Meg had said too. She had to show Cato what she could do.
“You have this document? This proof of the king’s intentions?” she asked slowly.
Brian nodded. “Of course, I could simply take it to Parliament myself and thus prove my own loyalty beyond question, but it hurts that Cato won’t trust me. I’m his heir, after all.”
He looked closely at her as he said this, and noticed the faint color blooming on her cheekbones, a slight quiver of her full mouth.
“Until, of course, you give him a son,” he added with a tiny smile. “Forgive the indelicacy, but it is a matter of some interest to me.”
“Yes,” Phoebe agreed. “I suppose it is.”
Brian waited a heartbeat to see if she would say anything else, give him some clue as to whether she was carrying a child already, but she did not and he continued as if the previous exchange had never occurred. “So from my own point of view, this rather more devious approach might give him a reason to be grateful to me as well as to you.”