However as we made our way back into the warmth of the house, it was not of a future grandchild that I was thinking, but of Thomas’s involvement in the lives of my son and daughter-in-law. And sure enough, when it came to dinner, there he was. I heard his voice, his easy laughter ringing out in the gallery as he chatted to William. That in itself annoyed me; the fact that William liked him, that he could not see, as I could, that Thomas was devious and used people. How many men had been taken in by his charm and believed in the generosity of his spirit? And yet I knew that was unfair; Thomas was generous, a complex man who could be both kindly and yet provocative in the same person.

As for why I disliked him so much, I knew the reason for that and it made me dislike myself equally as much. Thomas was connected to my past in a way I would rather forget but his constant presence made that impossible. He saw me now and his eyes lit with a smile that was private to me. I refused to return it.

“Thomas,” I said. “Here you are again.”

“Whereas I believe this is your first visit to Knightstone Manor,” he said smoothly. He took my hand. The smile in his eyes deepened as I snatched it back. “How do you find the place?” he asked. “It is quite delightful, is it not?”

I was aware of Catherine hovering near us, unwilling to interrupt our conversation but desperate for approval. In truth I found the house dark, poky and old-fashioned, but then, so was Ashby because we had had no money to spend improving it as a result of endless fines and Robert’s extravagance.

“The garden promises to be remarkable,” I said truthfully. “Catherine—” I drew her into the conversation as I had no desire to keep Thomas all to myself “—tells me that it is a winter garden, conceived in the darkness of the year but born to give hope.”

Catherine blushed prettily, all the more so as Robert chose that moment to come up and give her a swift kiss on the cheek. He was looking particularly handsome that evening in dark red velvet and pristine white lace.

“How very biblical you make my ideas sound,” Thomas murmured in my ear as Robert slid an arm about his wife’s waist and steered her over to chat with William in the window alcove.

“Surely that was what you intended,” I said, “with your allegories and octagram design? Really, Thomas.” I could not keep the exasperation from my tone. “Did you have to flaunt the Hospitallers’ symbol here? I do not doubt that the queen’s spies keep all of us under their eye; what will they make of such a blatant provocation?”

“They will fine me more money and think me a misguided fool,” Thomas said cheerfully, “as they do already.”

“It is not you who will be fined,” I said, “but Robert and Catherine. How dare you involve them into your games? I promised Catherine’s mother that she should be free of Catholic taint in this marriage and now you are deliberately drawing her into danger.”