‘Yes.’
‘But Sylvie said something about a manor?’
‘Queen Elizabeth made me lord of a village called Wigleigh, not far from Kingsbridge. It’s a small place, but it has a manor house, where I stay two or three times a year.’
‘In France we would call youSieur de Wigleigh.’
‘Yes.’ The name was difficult for French people to pronounce, like Willard.
‘You and your brother have recovered well from your father’s misfortune. You’re an important diplomat, and Barney owns a ship.’
Ned must have realized that Isabelle was establishing his social and financial status, Sylvie thought, but he did not appear to mind; in fact, he seemed eager to prove his respectability. All the same, Sylvie was embarrassed. Ned might think he was expected to marry her. To bring the interrogation to an end she said: ‘We have to open the shop.’
Isabelle stood up. ‘I’ll do that. You two sit and talk for a few more minutes. I’ll call you if I need you, Sylvie.’ She went out.
Sylvie said: ‘I’m sorry about her prying like that.’
‘Don’t apologize.’ Ned grinned. ‘A mother is entitled to know all about a young man who becomes friendly with her daughter.’
‘That’s nice of you.’
‘I can’t possibly be the first man who has been questioned by her in that way.’
Sylvie knew that she had to tell him her story, sooner or later. ‘There was someone, a long time ago. It was my father who questioned him.’
‘May I ask what went wrong?’
‘The man was Pierre Aumande.’
‘Good God! Was he a Protestant then?’
‘No, but he deceived us in order to spy on the congregation. An hour after the wedding we were all arrested.’
Ned reached across the table and took her hand. ‘How cruel.’
‘He broke my heart.’
‘I found out about his background, you know. His father’s a country priest, an illegitimate child of one of the Guise men. Pierre’s mother is the priest’s housekeeper.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The marchioness of Nîmes told me.’
‘Louise? She’s in our congregation – but she’s never told me this.’
‘Perhaps she’s afraid to embarrass you by talking about him.’
‘Pierre told me so many lies. That’s probably why I haven’t trusted anyone since then . . .’
Ned gave her an enquiring look. She knew it meant:What about me?But she was not yet ready to answer that question.
He waited a few moments, then realized she was not going to say any more. He said: ‘Well, that was a lovely dinner – thank you.’
She got up to say goodbye. He looked crestfallen, and her heart leaped in sympathy. On impulse, she went around the table and kissed him.
She intended it to be a friendly peck, but it did not work out that way. Somehow she found herself kissing his lips. It was like sweet food: one taste made her desperate for more. She put her hand behind his head and pressed her mouth to his hungrily.
He needed no more encouragement. He put both arms around her and hugged her to him. She was swept by a sensation she had forgotten, the joy of loving someone else’s body. She kept telling herself she would stop in another second.