Nick inclined his head slightly. “I hope to be replacing it almost at once.”

Bet smiled. “I’ve no doubt you will. But you must keep a tighter rein on that partner of yours.”

Nick frowned. There were taut lines of strain around his eyes. He looked pale and tired. “It was bad luck, Bet. No more.”

“There’s no room for bad luck in this game, Nick. You know that as well as I do. Tell me.” She changed the subject almost too abruptly. “How is Jo?”

She was watching him closely but his expression gave nothing away. He raised his glass slowly. “As far as I know she is well.”

“Some time ago you asked me to suppress an article she wanted to write.”

Nick swallowed his drink and put the glass down, fitting it meticulously into the wet ring it had left on the table. He smiled coldly. “A request you saw fit to ignore.”

“I am Jo’s editor, Nick. Not her wet nurse. If she wants to write something and I think it is good, I’ll publish it. It is good. Damn good. And you know it.”

“Good for the circulation of W I A maybe.” Nick’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and, meeting his gaze, Bet felt herself shiver. “You’re a selfish bitch, Bet Gunning,” Nick went on. There was no venom in his voice, but nevertheless she shifted uneasily in her seat.

“No. I’m a damn good editor.”

“Maybe. I’m glad I’m not one of your writers.”

“You could be.” She held his gaze steadily. “Your version of what’s happening to Jo.”

For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her. His eyes seemed to be looking straight through her, then abruptly he beckoned the bartender. He ordered new drinks for them both.

“Where is Jo?” he said at last.

She drew her new glass toward her. “Out of London.”

“Did she tell you what happened?”

“Between you? Yes.”

“And you believed her, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to tell me where she is?”

“No.”

“I’ll try to find her, you know.”

“She’s working, Nick. Give her a break. She’s a first-rate journalist and her work is important to her. So is finding out about this Lady Matilda. You can’t stop her. She is going to the top and either you’ve got to learn to live with it, or you’ve got to find yourself another woman.”

Nick was watching her thoughtfully. “And you are available?”

She smiled. “I could be.”

“What about Tim Heacham? I thought you and he were living together.”

She shook her head. “I’ve cooked him Saturday supper and Sunday lunch from time to time. It amused us both, but he’s got other arrangements at the moment.” She smiled knowingly. Then she leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. “Shall I cook you dinner this evening?”

“Not this evening, Bet.” He smiled faintly. “I’m flattered and of course I’m tempted, but just at the moment I have other plans. And they involve Jo.”

Bet moved away from him slightly. “So. Do you love her?”

He didn’t reply immediately.

“She’s with Tim. But of course you’d guessed that,” she said softly. She watched for his reaction through narrowed eyes.

He gave a half smile. “She’s not interested in Tim. If he’s with her it’s for work. Are they in Hay?”

“You’re not thinking of going down there?” Bet was watching his eyes. The harshness had returned and it made her uneasy.

“I may.” He pushed away his glass. The drink was barely touched. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He stood up. Gently he put his hand on Bet’s wrist as she toyed with the stem of her glass. “I nearly killed Jo the other night. Did she tell you that, Ms. Gunning? We weren’t playing your sophisticated games. She wasn’t enjoying what I did to her, but she had mocked me. She slept around, then taunted me with what she had done. She’s playing a dangerous game. So if you see her before I do, you had better warn her of the fact.” He turned toward the door, then he stopped and looked back at her. “Did she tell you she had been playing the field?”

Bet shook her head. “She hasn’t, Nick, I’m sure-”

“You’re sure?” He took a step back toward her. “You’ve sent her off with Tim Heacham, knowing he’d give his right arm to sleep with her.”

Bet kept a tight rein on her anger. “Jo doesn’t sleep around and you know it.”

“She told me about it, Bet.” He gave her a look of withering contempt. “She bragged about it.”

Bet stared at him. “Who is it?” she whispered.

His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists. “Richard,” he said softly. “His name is Richard.”

She stared after him as he turned away out of the gilded swinging doors. Already the seat next to hers had been taken and someone was hovering waiting for hers. “Richard?” she repeated in a whisper. “Christ Almighty, Nick! Richard is a ghost!”

She took a cab back to the office, paying the driver with shaking hands, then she caught the elevator up to her office, not even hearing the cheerful banter of one of her colleagues as he got in beside her.

In her office she slammed the door and reached for the phone. The number Jo had given her was scribbled in the back of her address binder.

She bit her lip as the phone rang, hitching herself up onto the desk. “Mrs. Griffiths?” she said at last as the number was answered. “Please, I must speak to Miss Clifford. Is she there?”

“I’m sorry. She and the gentleman have left.” The Welsh voice rang out loud and clear in the quiet office. “Going on to Raglan, they were.”

“Raglan?” After putting down the receiver, Bet stared at it blankly. “Dear God, I hope it’s a long way away.”

She stood up and walked across to the window, gnawing her thumbnail as she stared down at the broad glitter of the Thames. In spite of the heat of the afternoon she was feeling very cold.


***

Tim was gazing up at the massive gray ruins of Raglan Castle. “I’m glad your friend Pugh told us to come here,” he said in awe. “It’s magnificent.” Then he glanced at her sideways. “But you don’t have to tell me. It’s not your castle.”

Jo laughed softly. “It was too long ago, Tim. Of course everything has changed. Let’s stay out here on the grass-just for now.”

He looked longingly over his shoulder at the castle. “Why don’t I go away? I could leave you to it, while I explore.”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

He looked down at her fondly as she knelt on the mossy grass, then, camera in hand, he turned away and strode up the steep bank toward the enormous walls.

Jo closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking slightly as she tried deliberately to empty her mind. The castle grounds were silent. The air was heavy, the sky soft with deep black cloud. It was very hot. She forced her eyes open slowly, staring down at the grass, feeling the heat and her exhaustion overtake her, suddenly fighting sleep.

Tim was coming back. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him walking toward her, tall, loose-limbed. She frowned. It was too soon; it should have taken him hours to go around the castle and she wasn’t ready. Behind him she saw a flicker of lightning dance for a moment behind the majestic walls of the castle, lighting up the windows as though candles still burned there against the black of the sky. Then she heard the music of a harp.

24

Matilda was standing resting her hand on the stones of the new high wall of Radnor Castle. It seemed strange that she could look out at the Welsh tents all around the castle, a sight she dreamed of with dread for so long, and yet know them to be friends. The red prancing lion flag of Prince Rhys flew gaily in the cold wind near them, as she looked down at her small daughter, who stood shivering at her side, her fur-lined mantle whipped open by the wind.

“Well.” She smiled. “To think my little girl is to be a princess.”

Tilly uncharacteristically groped for her mother’s hand, giving rather than seeking comfort. “I like Lord Rhys. He sent me a necklace of crystals.” The child gazed out toward the tents and pavilions encamped around them in the valley, her eyes shining. “And I’m to have a white pony with scarlet harness and John Spang, the prince’s fool, has promised me two puppies from his own bitch. I like him.”

Matilda was staring at the heavy cloud that hung over the encircling mountains, her heart heavy as Tilly prattled on. Then she stooped and kissed the top of her little girl’s head. “You’ll be happy in your new home, Tilda. Lord Rhys will be a kind father.” Her voice broke at the word, and she fiercely blinked back her tears, turning her face away.

“Can I go and play with ’Sbel and Margaret now?” The child was itching to run off, uncomfortable as she sensed her mother’s tightly controlled misery, not understanding.

Matilda forced herself to smile. “Of course, darling. Run along. I’ll come and kiss you good night later.”

She did not let herself watch the small head as it darted from her side and ran down the stairs inside the thick wall. Instead she turned back to watching the bleak hills beneath the threatening sky.

It was not until very late that she took a candle and climbed slowly, her heavy blue kirtle gathered in her hand, to the little girls’ bedroom high beneath the stone roof of the main keep. Tilly was already asleep, worn out with excitement, in the big bed that she shared with her sisters. Matilda tiptoed toward the bed and saw Eleanor, the children’s nurse, sitting in the shadows beside the dying fire. The girl was sobbing quietly into her apron.

Matilda stopped, her heart beating fast. “What is it, girl? Why are you crying?” Her voice was sharper than she intended.

Eleanor jumped and raised a reddened face from her lap. “Oh, my lady!” She screwed up her kerchief and rubbed her eyes with it. “My lady. I don’t want to leave you all and go to them heathens.” She hugged herself as the tears began to fall again.