glance over her shoulder at Patience, the twisting of her features saying she didn’t think much of servants who corrected their betters. “Is this your maid?”
“My governess, set upon me by my grandsire,” Anne replied. “I fear she finds immorality in my every movement.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have a care with what you say near her. She’s also my grandsire’s spy.”
Mary choked back a quick laugh then her face came to life with the need to do mischief. “Shall we give her something to report? Faster, cousin,” she urged, stretching her legs as they started down the gallery.
Anne laughed and kept pace, leaving Patience to trail ever farther behind them. It was good to have a friend in this strange place, but even better to know an insider.
“Mary, I wonder if you noticed my grandfather's reaction to Lady Montmercy when the lady made her suggestion.”
“Ugh,” Mary replied, her mouth pursed in disgust. “Now, there’s a woman in need of your Patience. Lady Elisabetta is as immoral as they come.”
This startled Anne. “Then why does our royal mistress tolerate her presence as a lady-in-waiting?”
Mary offered an arch smile. “Why keep friends close, when it’s your enemies who bear watching? Our gracious lady keeps them close so they have less opportunity to do her harm.”
Anne frowned at that. “It cannot be easy for our queen to live so.”
Her kinswoman nodded. “Perhaps not easier, but far safer. As for your grandsire’s reaction, I cannot say I saw anything unusual since everything he does seems so odd. What do you think you saw?”
Their pace had slowed as they talked. Anne glanced behind her to see if Patience could overhear. Patience glowered at her, Amyas’s spy yet several yards behind them. Anne shrugged as if she were helpless to prevent Mary from dragging her along then turned her attention back to her kinswoman.
“Her presence seemed to overwhelm him as if he feared her. My grandsire has no regard for the weaker sex. That any woman should affect him so, well, the mystery of it is more than I can bear.”
The joy of prying into others’ secrets came to life in Mary’s face. “If there’s a mystery to be solved, I can help, doing so for your sake as much as to scheme against Lady Elisabetta.”
Anne laughed. “There’s nothing weak-kneed about your opinions, is there? Aye,” she said with a nod, “I’d welcome your assistance as I know nothing and no one at court.”
“You will soon enough,” Mary laughed, then glanced behind her and gasped. “Look, your Patience is catching us. Hie, cousin,” she cried, and once more dragged a laughing Anne down the passageway.
It was a glorious spring day made all the sweeter by the memory of last winter’s unusual cold. Kit drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with air spiced with the tang of the Thames. Gulls soared overhead, bird song rose from every copse and thicket. The sun warmed his leather riding jerkin, while beneath him, his gelding strained at the bit, begging to be allowed to run.
Aye, it was a fine day for a ride, even if his duty had him riding with the some three hundred wagons that followed the queen to Greenwich.
Kit grinned to himself. Last night’s dream had his spirits soaring. Rather than his persistent nightmare it was Mistress Blanchemain who had visited him in his sleep. With a sigh he savored the imaginary and wondrous sensations her dream form made in him. Even remembered, the things they’d done left him breathless.
If only he hadn’t drawn baggage duty for the day. Kit stared up the road. Men on horseback filled the narrow throughway. The farthest he could see was the hundred gentlemen who rode with Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. He only recognized them because the sun gleamed off their velvet attire. Mistress Anne rode ahead of them, in the maids’ company and protected by the queen’s lifeguard.
“Huh, just as well she cannot see you now,” Bertie Babthorpe
“My governess, set upon me by my grandsire,” Anne replied. “I fear she finds immorality in my every movement.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have a care with what you say near her. She’s also my grandsire’s spy.”
Mary choked back a quick laugh then her face came to life with the need to do mischief. “Shall we give her something to report? Faster, cousin,” she urged, stretching her legs as they started down the gallery.
Anne laughed and kept pace, leaving Patience to trail ever farther behind them. It was good to have a friend in this strange place, but even better to know an insider.
“Mary, I wonder if you noticed my grandfather's reaction to Lady Montmercy when the lady made her suggestion.”
“Ugh,” Mary replied, her mouth pursed in disgust. “Now, there’s a woman in need of your Patience. Lady Elisabetta is as immoral as they come.”
This startled Anne. “Then why does our royal mistress tolerate her presence as a lady-in-waiting?”
Mary offered an arch smile. “Why keep friends close, when it’s your enemies who bear watching? Our gracious lady keeps them close so they have less opportunity to do her harm.”
Anne frowned at that. “It cannot be easy for our queen to live so.”
Her kinswoman nodded. “Perhaps not easier, but far safer. As for your grandsire’s reaction, I cannot say I saw anything unusual since everything he does seems so odd. What do you think you saw?”
Their pace had slowed as they talked. Anne glanced behind her to see if Patience could overhear. Patience glowered at her, Amyas’s spy yet several yards behind them. Anne shrugged as if she were helpless to prevent Mary from dragging her along then turned her attention back to her kinswoman.
“Her presence seemed to overwhelm him as if he feared her. My grandsire has no regard for the weaker sex. That any woman should affect him so, well, the mystery of it is more than I can bear.”
The joy of prying into others’ secrets came to life in Mary’s face. “If there’s a mystery to be solved, I can help, doing so for your sake as much as to scheme against Lady Elisabetta.”
Anne laughed. “There’s nothing weak-kneed about your opinions, is there? Aye,” she said with a nod, “I’d welcome your assistance as I know nothing and no one at court.”
“You will soon enough,” Mary laughed, then glanced behind her and gasped. “Look, your Patience is catching us. Hie, cousin,” she cried, and once more dragged a laughing Anne down the passageway.
It was a glorious spring day made all the sweeter by the memory of last winter’s unusual cold. Kit drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with air spiced with the tang of the Thames. Gulls soared overhead, bird song rose from every copse and thicket. The sun warmed his leather riding jerkin, while beneath him, his gelding strained at the bit, begging to be allowed to run.
Aye, it was a fine day for a ride, even if his duty had him riding with the some three hundred wagons that followed the queen to Greenwich.
Kit grinned to himself. Last night’s dream had his spirits soaring. Rather than his persistent nightmare it was Mistress Blanchemain who had visited him in his sleep. With a sigh he savored the imaginary and wondrous sensations her dream form made in him. Even remembered, the things they’d done left him breathless.
If only he hadn’t drawn baggage duty for the day. Kit stared up the road. Men on horseback filled the narrow throughway. The farthest he could see was the hundred gentlemen who rode with Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. He only recognized them because the sun gleamed off their velvet attire. Mistress Anne rode ahead of them, in the maids’ company and protected by the queen’s lifeguard.
“Huh, just as well she cannot see you now,” Bertie Babthorpe
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