she was uncomfortable discussing personal matters. Finally, Jane said in a rush, “It is rumoured that Lord Exeter’s mother remains devoted to Rome. What are his own religious inclinations, do you know?”
Minuette felt nearly incapable of speech. It was one thing to be quizzed about William—but Dominic? She looked at the fair, slender Jane with her pretty eyes and submissive manner and, in that moment, hated her nearly as much as she was used to hating Eleanor Percy. “So it is Duchess of Exeter your mother aims for, is it?” She could not moderate the sharpness of her words.
“The only other possibility is the Duke of Norfolk, and Lord Exeter is far closer to the king.”
“And what is your preference?”
“I want a husband who will respect my convictions and share them, so that our children may be raised in an honourable and honest home. Will Lord Exeter allow me that freedom of conscience?”
Minuette had to subdue the urge to slap that righteous concern from Jane Grey’s face. In fact, the force of her violent reaction rather startled her. She managed to keep a level tone through sheerforce of will. “I do not know what sort of husband he would make you. I suppose you shall have to decide that for yourself.” Minuette stood up in dismissal, though she was by far the lesser-ranked. “I’m sorry to be abrupt, but I have an appointment with the king.”
Jane did not appear to take offense, though her expression was thoughtful and Minuette remembered that often the most dangerous people were those on the edges whom everyone tended to overlook. “Whatever my mother’s opinion,” Jane offered, “I think you are very good for my cousin. You make him happy, and that is never to be taken lightly. I wish you well, whatever difficulties lie ahead.”
“Thank you.”
Despite feeling ashamed at Jane’s generosity, Minuette could not trust herself to say more. Was she going to have to watch Lady Suffolk bear down upon Dominic as she had spent years doing to William, dragging Jane in her wake and thrusting her into his way with single-minded determination? She remembered Aimée at the French court last year, coming out of Dominic’s chamber in the middle of the night. Jane was not quite so bad as the voluptuous Frenchwoman. But that didn’t mean Minuette wanted to watch while any woman angled for Dominic’s attention.
She had to get this business of Rochford straightened out, then put paid to any French invasion plans, so that she and Dominic could cut through their tangled responsibilities and be free.
When Dominic and Elizabeth entered William’s privy chamber, Minuette was already, as usual, at her ease with the king. She wore a gown of dark blue that echoed the damask doublet of the king, and Dominic had a sudden vision of her with a crown on her golden hair. How lovely she would look, dressed as a queen.
He blinked and nodded once to his wife, trying to clear his headof that disturbing image. She looked as though she carried unpleasant images of her own, for her hazel eyes were troubled and did not linger over him.
The king’s privy chamber at Greenwich retained the furniture and décor of Henry VIII’s reign. Although it was May, it was chilly and gray outside and a fire blazed in the wide hearth. Candles added a bit more light to the weak daylight that came through the windows but the whole effect was one of gloomy oppression.
William sat at his ease in a carved and cushioned chair, Minuette in a matching one at his side. The king’s expression was more alive than Dominic had seen in months. He instantly realized that was not, at this moment, a good thing. William’s mouth was set and squared-off, his keen blue eyes alive with irritation. And when he spoke, the very flatness of his tone announced his fury.
“So, you have come at last to tell me about Robert Dudley’s accusations against Lord Rochford.”
Dominic caught Elizabeth’s sideways glance and supposed she was as little
Minuette felt nearly incapable of speech. It was one thing to be quizzed about William—but Dominic? She looked at the fair, slender Jane with her pretty eyes and submissive manner and, in that moment, hated her nearly as much as she was used to hating Eleanor Percy. “So it is Duchess of Exeter your mother aims for, is it?” She could not moderate the sharpness of her words.
“The only other possibility is the Duke of Norfolk, and Lord Exeter is far closer to the king.”
“And what is your preference?”
“I want a husband who will respect my convictions and share them, so that our children may be raised in an honourable and honest home. Will Lord Exeter allow me that freedom of conscience?”
Minuette had to subdue the urge to slap that righteous concern from Jane Grey’s face. In fact, the force of her violent reaction rather startled her. She managed to keep a level tone through sheerforce of will. “I do not know what sort of husband he would make you. I suppose you shall have to decide that for yourself.” Minuette stood up in dismissal, though she was by far the lesser-ranked. “I’m sorry to be abrupt, but I have an appointment with the king.”
Jane did not appear to take offense, though her expression was thoughtful and Minuette remembered that often the most dangerous people were those on the edges whom everyone tended to overlook. “Whatever my mother’s opinion,” Jane offered, “I think you are very good for my cousin. You make him happy, and that is never to be taken lightly. I wish you well, whatever difficulties lie ahead.”
“Thank you.”
Despite feeling ashamed at Jane’s generosity, Minuette could not trust herself to say more. Was she going to have to watch Lady Suffolk bear down upon Dominic as she had spent years doing to William, dragging Jane in her wake and thrusting her into his way with single-minded determination? She remembered Aimée at the French court last year, coming out of Dominic’s chamber in the middle of the night. Jane was not quite so bad as the voluptuous Frenchwoman. But that didn’t mean Minuette wanted to watch while any woman angled for Dominic’s attention.
She had to get this business of Rochford straightened out, then put paid to any French invasion plans, so that she and Dominic could cut through their tangled responsibilities and be free.
When Dominic and Elizabeth entered William’s privy chamber, Minuette was already, as usual, at her ease with the king. She wore a gown of dark blue that echoed the damask doublet of the king, and Dominic had a sudden vision of her with a crown on her golden hair. How lovely she would look, dressed as a queen.
He blinked and nodded once to his wife, trying to clear his headof that disturbing image. She looked as though she carried unpleasant images of her own, for her hazel eyes were troubled and did not linger over him.
The king’s privy chamber at Greenwich retained the furniture and décor of Henry VIII’s reign. Although it was May, it was chilly and gray outside and a fire blazed in the wide hearth. Candles added a bit more light to the weak daylight that came through the windows but the whole effect was one of gloomy oppression.
William sat at his ease in a carved and cushioned chair, Minuette in a matching one at his side. The king’s expression was more alive than Dominic had seen in months. He instantly realized that was not, at this moment, a good thing. William’s mouth was set and squared-off, his keen blue eyes alive with irritation. And when he spoke, the very flatness of his tone announced his fury.
“So, you have come at last to tell me about Robert Dudley’s accusations against Lord Rochford.”
Dominic caught Elizabeth’s sideways glance and supposed she was as little
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