“Is there anything you need, my lord?”

“Aside from the king’s pardon?” He managed a small smile.

“Aside from that.” As a last resort, she would plead with His Grace for her stepfather’s life. She would ask for a pardon for him and for the release of her family in Calais. But, for the moment, all her kin seemed safe enough. Ned Corbett was another matter.

“I have creature comforts,” Lord Lisle said. “And I am allowed to walk on the leads for exercise. In time, I may be granted what they call ‘the liberty of the Tower’—the freedom to wander anywhere in the precinct.”

Nan spent the full hour with her stepfather. By the time Sir William came for her, she knew considerably more about daily life in the Tower of London. She also knew that Ned, as a gentleman, had a cell to himself, and that his manservant, Browne, had been allowed to move in with him to see to his needs. The plan she’d conceived at Richmond could work. Its success or failure now depended upon the character of the constable.

The bell in the Bell Tower began to ring as she and Sir William crossed Tower Green. “That is the signal that it is five o’clock and time for all the gates to be shut and locked for the night,” he said. “All prisoners are required to withdraw into their chambers. Have you a place to stay in London?”

“I thought perhaps an inn …”

The rules of hospitality obligated Sir William to invite her to spend the night in his lodgings. Over supper, Nan flattered her host by asking questions about his duties and listening carefully to his answers. But she waited until Lady Kingston excused herself to use the privy to broach the subject of the men who had been released from prison following Lord Cromwell’s death.

“I have heard that His Grace took pity on them, even though they had been exempted from the general pardon.”

Sir William discarded a well-gnawed chicken bone. Relaxed by good food and wine and relishing the attention of a pretty maid of honor, he had no qualms about trying to impress her with his special knowledge of the matter. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Nan sent him an eager look. “About those men from Calais?”

The constable nodded. “The king did not order their release. The lord chancellor took it upon himself to let them go. They were misguided in matters of religion, but not guilty of doing any real harm.”

“And there was no trouble over it?” Sir William’s attitude was unexpected but most welcome—if he meant what he said. Nan chewed and swallowed but had no idea what she was eating.

Sir William chuckled. “The king was, and is, preoccupied.”

“Yes. He is. I wonder … if you had someone in your charge who had done no real harm, might you be inclined to extend the same mercy to him?”

A look of alarm raced across his face. “I cannot free your stepfather. His absence would be noticed.”

“I can see that. He is too important.”

“Yes. A nobleman. I could no more let him go free than I could release the old Countess of Salisbury.”

Nan had forgotten that Lord Montagu’s mother was still a prisoner in the Tower. She’d been charged with treason for nothing more than corresponding with another of her sons. Unfortunately for her, that son was Reginald, Cardinal Pole.

Nan bit delicately into a piece of manchet bread. “What if the prisoner were someone of no importance?”

He chuckled indulgently. Clearly, he did not think she was seriously proposing that he do such a thing. “I suppose it would depend upon the crime, and upon the man.”

“And whether anyone would notice he was gone?”

“Indeed.”

Nan hesitated. There would be no going back once she mentioned Ned’s name. On the other hand, what she’d already said was probably enough to condemn her, even if the constable did think she was jesting.

“Sir William, I am in earnest. If you truly believe a man innocent, and if no one would notice he’d gone, then surely—”

“Who would you have me release?” His voice hardened but he made no move to call the guards.

At the last moment, Nan lost her nerve. “There is a servant. A man named Browne. He is unimportant, save to my tiring maid. Constance has an attachment to the fellow.”

“Ned Corbett’s man?”

“Yes. I know Browne was exempted from the king’s pardon, but so were those men in the Fleet.” Nan took a deep breath and added, “So was Master Corbett himself.” Her heart was in her throat but she managed a little trill of laughter. “He is not very important, either.”

Sir William ran a finger under his collar, as if it suddenly felt too tight. “I agree that neither man deserves to die. I’ve read their depositions. Corbett did nothing more than assist a friend, but that friend turned out to be a foul traitor.”

“So he knew nothing of the plot to overthrow Calais?”

“So he says, but that will not save him. He’ll be executed along with the rest of the conspirators.”

Except for Sir Gregory Botolph, Nan thought bitterly. The king’s men had found no trace of him. Aloud, but softly, she said, “Corbett and Browne need not die. You could save them.”

“Not without considerable risk to myself.” He picked another piece of chicken off the platter.

With Lady Kingston likely to return at any moment, Nan proceeded with the plan she’d conceived before leaving Richmond Palace. It might have a better chance of success than she’d originally thought, given Sir William’s avowed sympathy for Ned.

“Would clear title to Painswick Manor make the risk more bearable?”

Sir William froze with a chicken leg halfway to his mouth. “Painswick? I already own it. I purchased the property from Lord Cromwell after he obtained it from your mother and stepfather. True, the transaction was only half complete at the time of Cromwell’s arrest, and his lands were forfeit to the Crown, but I have sued out a special grant. I expect to have clear title to the property any day now.”

“Painswick,” Nan said, telling the bold lie without a flicker of hesitation, “was not my mother’s to sell. It belongs to my brother John Bassett, who is not attainted and is therefore free to challenge your ownership.”

“But Painswick cost me fourteen hundred pounds.”

Nan said nothing for several minutes, letting Sir William jump to the conclusion that he would never get his money back if John pressed his claim and won.

“Sir William,” Nan said softly when she thought he’d stewed long enough, “Ned Corbett and my brother are great friends. If Corbett and his man Browne are released, John will leave matters as they are with regard to Painswick.”

Nan’s fate, as well as Ned’s, hung in the balance while Sir William considered what she’d said. She thanked God he was already inclined to help, that he’d approved of the lord chancellor’s action at the Fleet. She only hoped that her threat—or perhaps it was a bribe—would be enough to convince him to do as she asked.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the constable’s eyes narrowed. Had he seen through her fabrication? Was he about to arrest her?

“Have a boat waiting in the shallows of St. Katherine’s Dock at midnight tomorrow.”

Nan had only enough time to nod before Lady Kingston entered the room.

NAN AND CONSTANCE left the Tower early the next morning.

“Do you think he will let them go?” Constance’s anxiety echoed Nan’s.

“I pray he will, but it is up to us to procure a small boat.”

“I can steal one,” Constance offered as they fought their way through the usual crowds that clogged London’s streets.

“Can you also steal a ship bound for foreign parts? They will need to leave England as soon as possible. Otherwise, they could be arrested again, and us along with them.”

Ned was too well known among Lord Lisle’s acquaintances. All it would take would be for one of them to see him and there would be an inquiry into his release from the Tower. Even if Ned tried to shield her, Nan had no illusions about Sir William Kingston. He’d throw her to the wolves to save himself.

“This is Master Husee’s house,” Constance said in surprise when Nan stopped before the familiar edifice.

“It is,” Nan agreed, and marched up to the door.

Ten minutes later, she was alone with John Husee in his counting house, what had once been a parlor. “I left Lord Lisle’s employ some time ago,” he reminded her.

“Why?”

“To serve other clients in the same manner but for better profit. I have turned part of this house into business premises.”

“Did you know of Botolph’s plot? Is that why you abandoned my stepfather?”

Husee could not meet her eyes. “I was uneasy about the fellow,” he admitted, “and I was … advised to look elsewhere for employment.”

Nan’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “Someone warned you? Who?”

“I … I would rather not say.”

Nan leaned across Husee’s worktable, staring at him until he looked up. “I did not come here to cause you trouble, Master Husee. But I could. If you had suspicions of Sir Gregory Botolph, it was remiss of you not to warn Lord Lisle.”

Husee sent her a rueful look. “An unfortunate oversight. Is there some small way I can make it up to you, Mistress Nan?”

“You can arrange passage for two men on a ship bound for the Continent. It should sail on tomorrow’s tide.”

“Do these men have passports to travel out of England?”

“Passports? I did not need one when I left England for Calais.”

“That is because you were a member of the lord deputy’s family. Everyone else requires the proper documents to travel abroad.”

Dismayed, Nan soldiered on. “How … who issues such papers?”

“Any number of people.” Husee regarded her steadily for a long moment. His fingers drummed on the tabletop in front of him. “I might be able to obtain something that will do, without going through the usual channels, but it will be expensive.”

Forged documents would be better than nothing. Nan tugged off her glove and removed the ruby ring from her finger. “The king himself gave me this. I do not know its value, but it should be worth enough to cover your expenses.”

By the way Husee’s eyes widened, Nan guessed the ring would sell for enough to leave him with a profit. “It will do. I need your friends’ names.”

Nan thought quickly. “John Browne.” His name was too common to present any problems, but there was no way Ned could travel as himself. “And Martin Rogers.” She chose the alias on the spur of the moment, but it was a good, steady, English name.

“Where can I find you when I have made the arrangements?”

“I will wait here.”

Husee looked as if he wanted to object. Then he opened his hand and took another look at the ruby. “I will return in a few hours. Make yourself at home.”

NED CORBETT’S CELL was in the Beauchamp Tower on the western curtain wall. Three floors high with a lead roof, brick floors, and whitewashed walls, it was used to hold prisoners of middling status who had been accused of treason. There were seven men currently lodged on the middle floor.

The conditions of Ned’s captivity had improved since he’d first been brought to the Tower. After he’d been allowed to send to the London goldsmith who held his money for him, he had paid to be unshackled and for a camp bed, bedding, candles, food, and drink. There had been no need to buy firewood or coals for a brazier. This was the hottest summer anyone could remember and it was warm, if damp, even within the thick stone walls of the Tower.

He was rousted from his bed in the middle of the night when the door to his cell was suddenly flung open. A man entered, carrying a lantern. It took Ned a moment to recognize him as the constable of the Tower.

On his pallet on the floor, John Browne grunted and sat up. He blinked warily at Sir William Kingston, then looked to his employer for guidance.

Kingston cleared his throat. “Get up, dress, gather your belongings, and come with me. You are both to be released at the king’s pleasure.”

Ned opened his mouth, then closed it again, sensing that there was something peculiar about this turn of events but reluctant to miss a chance at freedom. The feeling of wrongness increased when he stepped out of the cell. There were no guards in sight, nor did he see any as Kingston led them down the stairs and out of the Beauchamp Tower. As soon as they were through the outer door, Kingston closed the lantern and relied on the moon and the light from nearby buildings to guide them.

They followed the wall south toward the lord lieutenant’s lodgings. Ned recognized that building as the place where he had been questioned when he was first brought to the Tower. The kitchens there provided food for all the prisoners. Those with sufficient rank were sometimes invited to dine with Sir Edward Walsingham, the lord lieutenant. A few were even lodged in his house.