Читать книгу Lady in Waiting - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 9

‘S o you have come back to us, Nicholas.’ Lady Fineden looked at her son with approval. She was a woman long past the bloom of her youth, though still considered handsome. ‘I hope you found Sarah well?’

‘Blooming and as lovely as ever,’ Nick said, giving his mother a smile warm with affection. He kissed the hand she offered gallantly, saluting her as both mother and friend. Although into the autumn of her life, she was a healthy, energetic woman who had married again after his father’s death to a gentleman of the court. Sir John Fineden was one of Sir William Cecil’s staff and a very busy man who seldom had the leisure to entertain his wife, expecting her to make her own pleasures, which she was very able to do having a large circle of friends at court. ‘It is good to see you looking well, Mother.’

‘By that you mean stout,’ she replied, pulling a wry face. ‘But I feel well and I am always entertaining so must keep up a good table. Sir John has been away again, but I am expecting him home soon. He asked in his last letter when you would return and will be pleased to see you, I make no doubt.’

‘As I shall to see him. I have something of importance to tell him.’

Lady Fineden nodded, her grey eyes studying the clean-shaven, handsome features of a man who seemed to have grown in stature in the matter of a few months. Her son had been a careless, seemingly light-hearted fellow given to the pursuit of pleasure when he set off on his travels, but had returned a confident man with the maturity of his nine-and-twenty years upon him. The change was marked and she wondered what had brought it about, though to be fair to him she knew he had not travelled merely for his own pleasure. She alone of her immediate family was privy through her husband’s trust to her son’s mission.

‘No doubt you will be summoned shortly—but we shall say no more of that. I have you here for a while at least, and you will do me the kindness of escorting me to court tomorrow evening, I hope?’

‘It would be a pleasure, dearest Mama,’ Nick assured her. ‘But I pray you will excuse me this evening? It is a while since I was here and I have people I must see.’

‘You must do what pleases you, Nick. I am content with your promise for the morrow. Now I must tell you about your sister Agatha. She joins me in town next month, and I believe she is hoping for another addition to her family, for her daughter is with child.’

‘Sarah was asking after her, but I had no news. She will be glad to hear that Agatha does well.’

‘I shall be writing to Sarah soon. But you may be more interested in something I heard at court the other evening…’

Apparently listening as Lady Fineden recounted some of the latest gossip from court, Nick’s mind was elsewhere. His detour to the estate of Oliver Woodville had been unnecessary because the man he sought was in town, and he must waste no time in speaking with him, for Nick was once again certain he had been followed. This time he had caught sight of the fellow several times, and knew it was not the man of shadows he had seen so briefly in Paris but another, clumsier fellow who had possibly been paid to watch him.

There was always the chance of an attempt at assassination, for these were dangerous times and a man such as he who worked in secret ways was liable to meet a violent end. He had known it when he took on the work, but his life had seemed an empty charade, with nothing for an able mind to discover but pleasure, and that palled after a while. He had been at the point of deciding to leave London and return to his estates when he was offered the chance to broaden his mind and serve Queen and country in one.

His travels in Italy had not been only for the purpose of discovering the beauty of which he had spoken so compellingly to his sister and her guests, but for another, more important.

His Holiness the Pope considered Elizabeth of England a usurper, and there were many of that faith who spoke openly of excommunication and of sweeping the impostor from the throne. He had been asked to discover as much as he could about the mood in Rome and to report to Walsingham in Paris, and this he had done, but he could bring no good news. Though other foreign rulers were inclined to treat with England’s queen, the Pope seemed set in his determination to damn her.

Nick had been kept constantly on the move as a courier for Walsingham these many months, returning in secret to England for an interview with Her Majesty before setting out again. It was at this meeting that he had been knighted for services to Elizabeth, though the reason he had given his family for the honour was very different from the truth.

Nick’s face was grim as he recalled his last conversation with Walsingham, who was presently in Paris as the Queen’s ambassador. It was a position Francis had not desired, for he felt he was needed here in England at such a tense moment, but his own mission had been placed upon him by his masters and was an important one. Walsingham’s thankless task was to arrange a marriage if he could with the Duc d’Anjou, but he had confided to Nick that he doubted either party could be brought to the match. However, his diplomatic skills were such that his very presence in France at this moment might prevent an alliance between Her Majesty’s most dangerous enemies.

The situation was to say the least fraught with tension, for the mood here in England was uneasy, Norfolk having many supporters who might rise to help an invasion if it came. When questioned, Norfolk had naturally denied any desire to marry Mary Queen of Scots, saying that his earlier plans had been a passing fancy that he had never intended to carry to a conclusion. But such an alliance might still be popular with those who would see England returned to Rome and the Catholic faith.

Cecil and Walsingham believed that the throne would be safer if Elizabeth had a husband by her side, but convincing the Queen was not an easy task. She was skilful at avoiding the subject, and at turning the tables on those who opposed her.

The Queen’s marriage was indeed a thorny problem, but for the present Nick had other matters in mind…

‘You have been away overlong, Nick.’ Annette Wiltord gave him a speaking look from eyes that had been described as being like sapphires. Her pretty mouth was pouting as she waved her fan of painted chicken skin with its handle of polished horn embellished with silver. ‘More than eighteen months I have languished for sight of you—and now you come to me and say only that you need to find Oliver Woodville. Now is that the behaviour of a lover, sir?’ Her tone was teasing but her eyes showed that she was annoyed.

‘Forgive me, Annette,’ Nick kissed the hand she offered, smiling at her in the way that had always melted the ladies’ hearts and made them his easy conquests. Annette was a widow of some means and had been his mistress before he left on his travels. He had assumed their affair was at an end and that she would have replaced him. Indeed, he was certain that she had not lain in an empty bed these many months pining for him, but the look in her eyes told him that she was prepared to continue their relationship now, should he wish it. ‘Perhaps another evening we may spend some time together? However, I would be grateful if you could tell me where I might find Oliver. I was told he had come to London but having tried his house and found it closed I am at a loss and unsure where else to look.’

‘I believe he stays in lodgings, having come only for a brief visit—and you may already have missed him, for he did not wish to be long parted from his wife.’ The look in her eyes suggested that she had tried to tempt his friend, but he knew Oliver too well. Having settled for marriage he would not lightly betray his love.

‘Then if you would give me the direction of his lodgings I may hasten there and hope to catch him before he departs.’

Annette pouted again. ‘Only if I have your promise that you will give me your attention soon, Nick.’

‘Tomorrow after the masque,’ Nick promised, moving to take her in his arms and kiss her full ripe lips so competently that she was near to swooning when he let her go. ‘I escort my mother, but later I shall come to you—if you wish?’

‘You know I wish it, devil that you are,’ Annette said and ran her finger down his cheek. ‘No one makes me feel as you do, Nick. The others are merely diversions, to fill the empty hours you refuse to spend with me. No other man can satisfy me as you do.’

‘No one man would ever satisfy you,’ Nick said a smile on his lips, as he pressed her against him so that she could feel the burn of his arousal. ‘But you are a lusty wench and I have been away a long time, and it would be no hardship to lie with you, Annette.’

‘Then stay…come to bed,’ she said, her eyes willing him to give her the satisfaction she craved. ‘Surely your business can wait a little longer?’

‘You tempt me mightily,’ Nick told her. ‘But if I should miss Oliver it will mean a trip into the country. Let me go now, my hot wench, and I shall please you another night.’

With that she had to be satisfied, though she pulled a wry face as he left her with indecent haste once she had supplied the direction he needed. He had never been easy to manage, though often through indolence rather than indifference in the past, but she was aware that something had changed. There was a new purpose, an alertness and eagerness that she had not noticed before…a certain hardness of character that she found fascinating.

In the past Annette had been content with the time Nick was willing to give her, but now she found that she wanted more…much more.

‘I vow that you will be the most beautiful of all the ladies at court this night,’ Sir William Moor said to his daughter as she twirled for his benefit just before they left for the masque. ‘That gown becomes you well, Catherine.’

It was beautifully fashioned in the latest style, with a heavy damask overskirt of white embroidered with gold and sewn with tiny seed pearls. The petticoat was of a pale rose, the hue of which matched a tiny ruff of lace about her neck, and the sleeves had little pink silk rosebuds pinned to them where the shoulders puffed out in the exaggerated style now so popular with the courtiers. From beneath the skirts of her gown, the toes of her tiny satin slippers were just visible; fashioned of white, they had rosettes of pink silk that complemented her toilette.

Around her neck she had twisted a long string of freshwater pearls, which had been coiled twice and then allowed to fall to her waist just above the V of her stomacher. Her hair was dressed in curls across her forehead, but the heavy mass of it tumbled down her back in soft waves that had taken much brushing and pomade to straighten them from their usual unruly state. She wore only a thin net of gold wire encrusted with pearls over her hair, the colour of which rivalled burnished copper that night.

‘You flatter me, dearest Father,’ Catherine said and kissed his cheek. ‘I thank you for it, though I dare say there will be other more beautiful ladies present at court.’

‘Not in my eyes,’ he assured her. Then, seeing the footman at the parlour door. ‘Are the chairs here, Simon?’

‘Yes, sir. I summoned them as you ordered…’ He hesitated uncertainly. ‘Thomas wondered if you wished him to accompany you, Sir William?’

‘No, no, I think not,’ he replied. ‘I accompany the ladies, that should be sufficient, I believe.’ He touched the sword at his side confidently.

‘Why not let Thomas come with us?’ Lady Stamford asked with a little frown as the footman bowed and went out. ‘I vow the streets have grown worse these past few years, brother. You have not been to London in an age and the number of beggars and rogues has vastly increased of late.’

‘I dare say I can manage a beggar or two,’ Sir William replied, stubbornly refusing to listen to his sister’s advice. ‘Are you ready, Catherine?’

‘Yes, Father.’ Catherine looked at her aunt’s dubious face and wondered if she ought to endorse Lady Stamford’s warning. There were many beggars on the street, their limbs encrusted with sores, dressed in rags and often quite wretched creatures. She and Lady Stamford had witnessed more than one attempt at robbery in broad daylight since coming to town, and been glad of Thomas’s stout arm, never leaving the house without at least two footmen to accompany them. However, her father was wearing a sword and the presence of a gentleman with such a weapon must surely be protection enough. She smiled at him. ‘Yes, quite ready.’

Catherine took her father’s arm, Lady Stamford following behind them. Catherine noticed that her aunt stopped to speak with her footman before leaving the house, but no one followed them outside so she imagined that Lady Stamford had decided to be content with her brother’s escort.

Catherine was feeling excited by the prospect of her first visit to the court of which she had heard so much. She was also a little nervous, because despite her father’s compliments she was certain that there would be more beautiful ladies, who were far more worldly and clever than she could ever hope to be, and she prayed they would not laugh at her for her country ways. However, she knew that her education at her father’s hands was second to none, for he had encouraged her to read widely and helped her with her studies himself.

Her aunt had schooled her in the manners expected of her at court, and she knew how to curtsey to the Queen, should that great lady deign to look at her. Lady Stamford was hoping that Her Majesty would do much more than merely speak to her in passing, but Catherine was sure she would not be noticed amongst so many.

Wherever the court chanced to be, in one of the London palaces, at various great houses about the country or at Windsor Castle, where Queen Elizabeth had taken her stand when the uprising was expected, men and women flocked to the royal presence in the hope of being noticed. Why should Catherine Moor be favoured above so many others?

Catherine’s thoughts fluttered nervously from one thing to the other as she wondered if Sir Nicholas Grantly might be at the masque that evening. Lady Stamford had told her he was bidden to London but she had seen no sign of…her thoughts were abruptly suspended as she heard a cry from her father. As the chair came to a shuddering halt, she glanced out from behind the curtains that sheltered her from the elements to see that several rough-looking individuals, who appeared to be demanding money, surrounded them.

Sir William had drawn his sword and was facing them fearlessly, clearly intending to fight rather than surrender his family’s jewels to these ruffians. The chairmen had put down their burdens, but had made no move to aid Sir William, and it looked to Catherine as if they might take flight at any moment.

‘Cowardly dogs!’ Sir William lunged at the ruffian nearest to him. ‘I’ll teach you to attack my family.’

‘Give over yer gold and we’ll let the women pass…’ One of the men, who appeared to be the rogues’ leader, seemed undecided whether to rush at Sir William and glanced about uneasily, as though wondering if the chairmen would fight. ‘If yer gives us any trouble we’ll crack yer ’ead open!’

‘Be damned to you, sir. I’ll see you in hell first!’

Sir William lunged at him again, nicking his arm with his sword blade and causing him to back off. The man swore fiercely as he caught at the wound, which was bleeding profusely.

‘Get ’im!’ He yelled his orders and three more of the ruffians advanced on Sir William, who stood his ground, striking out to left and right boldly. But there were more of them than he could manage alone and one of them struck him a blow to his sword arm with a heavy cudgel that made him cry out with pain and drop his weapon.

‘Help him,’ Catherine cried to one of the chairmen, but from the look on the man’s face she could see that it was hopeless to apply for assistance. The two men who had been carrying her aunt’s chair had already retreated to a safe distance. Angered at their cowardice, Catherine scrambled from the chair and threw herself into the fray, beating at the back of one of the ruffians with her fists and then hanging on his arm in an attempt to even the odds for her beleaguered father. ‘Help us! Someone please come to our aid! Will you not help us?’ she screamed desperately. ‘In God’s name help us or they will kill my father…’

The ruffian she had attacked whirled on her, knocking her backwards with such force that she staggered and fell. It was at that moment, when she lay gasping for breath in the gutter, that she heard shouting from just behind them. Even as she began to recover her breath and look about her, several men came charging up, laying about the ruffians with cudgels and sending them scattering into the night. Catherine glanced up as a helping hand was extended to her and her heart caught as she recognised the gentleman who had come to her rescue. This was the second time he had done so within a month!

‘Mistress Moor?’ Nick’s look of surprise was echoed by his tone. ‘Forgive me. I believe we were tardy in coming to your aid and you have suffered some harm.’

‘You came in time for me, sir,’ she said as he helped her to rise. ‘But my father…’

‘I am well, Catherine.’ Sir William came to them, rubbing at his arm where he had been struck a heavy blow. ‘It is mightily sore but not broken, I thank God. We were fortunate that this gentleman brought his fellows to our aid.’

‘They are my mother’s servants,’ Sir Nicholas said. ‘She never travels abroad in the evening with less than three footmen, even though I was her escort on this occasion. I think it wise in these dangerous times to employ a stout arm to aid you, sir.’

‘As my sister warned me,’ Sir William frowned as he saw Lady Stamford’s man Thomas standing close by his sister’s chair as if to protect it, and realised she must have given orders for the fellow to follow them. ‘I thought myself sufficient but now I see the folly of my ways.’

Catherine had become aware that debris was clinging to the skirt of her gown and glanced down at herself in dismay. Her rescuer was elegantly dressed in black slashed with silver on the court breeches, a ruff of silver lace about his throat, and a black cloak slung across one shoulder. A diamond pin nestled in the folds of his lace, and he wore sapphire and ruby rings on his left hand, though she saw that his sword hand was unadorned, as if ready for action.

‘I fear your gown is ruined, Mistress Catherine,’ Sir Nicholas said as she brushed ineffectively at the skirt. ‘It is stained where you were knocked to the ground and the mark will not brush off, I fear.’

‘You were foolish to get out of the chair, but very brave.’ Catherine’s father looked at her in concern. ‘Will you not introduce me to this gentleman, daughter, since you appear to know him?’

‘This is Sir Nicholas Grantly, of whom my aunt has told you,’ Catherine said, with a little blush at being reminded of her manners. ‘And this is the second time he has come to our rescue, for he came to our aid when my aunt’s carriage suffered an accident on the road.’

‘Ah yes, my sister has spoken warmly of you,’ Sir William said and offered his hand at once. ‘I thank you for your good offices, Sir Nicholas—not just for what you did this evening but your earlier kindness to my sister and daughter.’

‘It was my pleasure on both occasions…’ Nick was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Stamford’s servant, who coughed and looked awkwardly at the ground. ‘Yes—you wish to speak to us?’

‘My mistress asks if Sir William and Mistress Catherine intend to continue to court?’

‘It is not possible this evening. I feel too shaken and Catherine’s gown is ruined,’ Sir William replied. ‘I will have a word with your aunt, Cat. We must not rob her of this evening’s pleasure. I shall take you home and she may continue on her way and make our apologies to the Queen.’

‘If I may offer Lady Stamford the safety of joining our party this man may see you safely home, Sir William. I would escort you both myself, but my mother has need of me this evening.’

‘You are kind to offer your protection to my sister, sir. I am sure she will accept. And since our chairmen have decided to return now that the danger is over, there is nothing to delay her once I have advised her of our plans.’

Catherine glanced shyly at Sir Nicholas as her father walked off and they were left alone together for a moment. ‘I must thank you for what you have done this night,’ she said. ‘Had you not come when you did, sir, I fear my father might have been murdered.’

Nick looked at her but said nothing. Her father’s murder might not have been the least of it if he had not come this way, and he blessed his mother for her habit of never going about the city without sufficient escort.

‘It is fortunate that we were here,’ he said at last. ‘I am sorry that your evening has been so rudely spoiled, Mistress Catherine. And it is a shame that beautiful gown has been ruined by your fall. It is most becoming for a lady of your rare colouring; the court will be the poorer for your absence this evening.’

‘A gown is neither here nor there, sir,’ Catherine replied with a toss of her head, her cheeks warmed by his compliment as her heart beat faster. She breathed deeply, her breasts rising as she fought her agitation, aware that his eyes moved over her and rested for a moment on the creamy mounds partially exposed by the dipping neckline of her gown. ‘It may clean and if it does not I shall not repine—for my father’s safety is of far more consequence.’

‘Indeed.’ He smiled over her flash of spirit. ‘But ’tis always a shame to despoil beauty. Forgive me, I believe my mother summons me to her. I must leave you and tell her of our altered plans…’

‘Yes, of course. I thank you again for your kindness.’

Catherine watched as he walked away, feeling the disappointment sweep over her. Had her gown not been ruined they might have spent some time together at the masque that evening. It was an opportunity lost and she did not know when the chance might come again.

She had climbed into her chair once more by the time her father returned to her. ‘Your aunt is most annoyed with me, Catherine,’ he told her. ‘And indeed she is right. Had we been better protected I think this incident would not have happened. I apologise to you for the loss of your enjoyment this evening, daughter.’

‘Oh, Father,’ Catherine said gently. ‘Please do not blame yourself for what happened. Had I not been so impulsive my gown would not have been spoiled.’

‘And perhaps your friend might have been too late to help me. Your brave effort undoubtedly caused those villains pause, Catherine. I dare say your aunt will scold you for it on the morrow, but I can only thank you for what you tried to do.’

‘My concern is only for you, Father. I fear you must be in pain. Let us go home so that I may bathe your arm and rub a healing unguent into it or you will not be able to use it by the morning.’

‘Yes, child. We shall go home, for I must confess that I feel sore and shaken by what has happened.’

Catherine was glad of her aunt’s servant walking beside them on the way home. He was a large, burly man and she knew that her father was not feeling well, though he had not said it in as many words. For him to admit that he was shaken was enough to tell her that he was not his usual self, and she was not surprised when he went straight to his bedchamber.

‘Do not trouble yourself, Catherine,’ he said when she asked if he would let her tend his arm. ‘My man will do whatever is necessary. Forgive me for deserting you. I promise that you shall have a treat another day to make up for your disappointment this evening.’

She shook her head at him, kissing his cheek and assuring him that it was nothing to her, but later, when she was alone in her own bedchamber, she could not help but regret the loss of what might have proved an entertaining evening.

Sitting in the little window embrasure, looking down at the street below, Catherine heard the watch calling the hour.

Why could she not put Sir Nicholas from her thoughts? Catherine wondered. It was not just that he was an attractive man, but there was something about him that touched a chord within her.

She shook her head, mocking herself for allowing her thoughts to become so foolish. Her first sighting of Sir Nicholas had convinced her that he was a rogue and she would do better not to forget it.

In the morning Sir William sent word that he had decided to spend the day in his chamber, resting. When Catherine hurried to his side, he smiled at her and repeated that she was not to worry, giving her his hand as she sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him anxiously.

‘I am not a young man, Catherine,’ Sir William said. ‘My foolish pride made me think I could protect my family without help, but I shall know better in future. However, this incident has made me aware of my vulnerability. I am well enough for the moment but there cannot be so many years left to me, dearest child, and your aunt is right concerning your marriage—as she is about so many things. If I were to die and leave you unprotected…’

‘No, Father!’ Catherine’s voice held a tremor as she interrupted him. ‘I pray you will not talk so. You feel a little unwell this morning but you are still young and I would not have you speak of dying. I pray that we shall have many long and happy years together.’

‘No, Catherine,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘We must face the truth, daughter. I am not yet failing but my health is not what it once was. We must hope that a suitable marriage presents itself. I shall not force you to a match you cannot like, my word is given on that—but I shall pray most earnestly that a man you could be happy with is moved to offer for you.’

‘Let us not quarrel over it, Father,’ she said. ‘I shall marry if I meet a man I can love as I love you.’

‘You may meet someone you could love far more,’ her father said and smiled gently. ‘When he comes along, Cat, you will know it. Believe me, you will know—and you will glory in his love, for you are very like your dear mother and she was a woman made for love.’

‘You loved her very much, Father.’

‘So much that no other could ever take her place when I lost her.’ There was sadness in his face as she carried his hand to her cheek and she felt the sting of tears. Elizabeth Moor was much missed by them both. ‘Go to your aunt now, my dear, and see what plans she has for you today.’

Catherine was thoughtful as she went in search of Lady Stamford. She had never considered marriage until her aunt had insisted that it was her duty to marry, and that had made her rebel against the idea, but her father’s words had softened her heart. Perhaps she might want to marry one day if she found a man she could like well enough. After all, her parents had been truly happy, why should she not be as fortunate?

If there was another reason for the softening of Catherine’s heart, she was not yet prepared to admit it, but her memory of a man’s smile might just have something to do with it.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Lady Stamford said as she went into the back parlour and found her aunt labouring over her accounts. ‘I trust William is being sensible and keeping to his bed this morning?’

‘Yes, Aunt. My father feels a little shaken after what happened.’

‘The foolish man…’ Lady Stamford began, but subsided as she saw Catherine’s look. ‘Well, well, I shall not scold. We were fortunate that Sir Nicholas happened along. I do hope you thanked him properly for his kindness, Catherine?’

‘Yes, of course, Aunt. I could not but be grateful for what he did last evening. Without his timely arrival my father might have been fatally hurt.’

‘Yes, indeed. We must thank God for it,’ Lady Stamford said. ‘Now I must apologise to you, my dear. I had thought your father would take you out today and have made prior arrangements to meet a friend—a very old and wearisome friend whom you would find quite tiring. It was not my intention to ask you to accompany me, though you may if you wish?’

‘I think I would rather stay here, Aunt—if you will forgive me? You have been good to take me everywhere these past two weeks and a day spent quietly at home will not hurt me. Besides, I would rather be here if my father should need me. He says he is feeling better, but I am still a little concerned.’

‘You are a good girl,’ Lady Stamford said. ‘It was a shame that your gown was ruined last evening. I have sent it to my seamstress and asked her to take out the panel that was spoiled and replace it if she can so you may yet be able to wear it again. However, your other gowns will be ready soon and Her Majesty understands why you were unable to attend. She commended your courage and said that if she has as brave men about her she can count herself fortunate.’

‘Did Her Majesty truly say that, Aunt?’

‘I believe she found the tale diverting,’ Lady Stamford said, looking thoughtful. ‘I naturally apologised for your absence, for a royal invitation is a command, Catherine, and I believed she might be angered, but not so. You will I am sure be commanded to her presence again soon.’

‘I thank you for your good offices on my behalf, Aunt.’

‘You repay me with good manners, Catherine. Remember them should Sir Nicholas or his mother call on you. Lady Fineden did say she would ask us to dine another night, but we shall see…’

Left to herself after her aunt had gone out, Catherine spent half an hour or so at her needlework but found that it palled and laid it down, venturing into the small courtyard at the back of the house to take a turn about it in the sunshine. Her inactivity irked her, for she had been told that her father was sleeping and she had nothing to do but wait for her aunt’s return.

It was as she was about to return to the parlour that she turned to see one of the footmen waiting to see her.

‘Your pardon, Mistress Moor—but there is a visitor. A gentleman has called to inquire after Sir William’s health.’

‘A gentleman?’ Catherine stared at him, her heart racing frantically. ‘What name did he give?’

‘Sir Nicholas Grantly, mistress. I asked him to wait in the small parlour but Sir William’s man has given orders that he is not to be disturbed.’

‘I shall come at once,’ Catherine said. ‘The gentleman is known to me. I shall receive him myself. Please request Mistress Pike to bring refreshments to the parlour—some wine and biscuits I think.’

‘Yes, of course.’

The footman bowed and went away. Catherine took a deep breath before walking into the parlour. Sir Nicholas was standing by the small window, looking out at the street, his back towards her, but he swung round as she entered, a slow smile spreading across his mouth—a mouth that could only be described as sensuous—and into those grey eyes. Oh, what that smile did to her foolish heart. It was beating so fast that she was sure he must see her agitation.

‘Mistress Moor. Forgive me if I intrude? But I came to inquire after your father. He seemed much shaken last evening. My mother was most concerned and scolded me for not accompanying you both home myself. And indeed, I regret that I did not do so, for your need was surely the greater.’

‘You do not intrude, sir. I thank you and Lady Fineden for your concern on my father’s behalf. He was indeed much shaken by what happened, and I believe his arm pains him a good deal though he denies it. He is resting in his chamber today and may not be disturbed, but I shall tell him of your kindness in coming to inquire.’ Catherine smiled as she took a seat in a chair by the fire and gestured to its pair at the other side of the hearth. ‘Will you not sit down? I have ordered refreshments, as I am certain my aunt would wish to return the hospitality that was shown us at your good sister’s house.’

Nick did not hesitate, sitting at his ease in the chair she indicated, his long shapely legs stretched out in front of him. She noticed that he was again dressed in black that morning, his white shirt showing through the slashing of his handsome velvet doublet. As on the previous evening, his clothes were much finer than he had worn when they had met on the road and at his sister’s house, and he looked every inch a courtier of some degree. But there was more than that about him, some indefinable quality that Catherine could not name, but which she found fascinating.

‘I hope your father’s health will not be long impaired? It would be a shame if we were not to have your company at court, Mistress Catherine. Her Majesty was pleased to ask me for the truth concerning your absence last night, and much entertained when I told her you were as fierce as any bear in defence of its young, hanging on to the ruffian’s arm until he threw you off by superior strength. I told her that a lady of your beauty and courage must be brought to court, for we should all be the poorer for the lack. You must know that Gloriana admires spirit more than anything, and she was intrigued by the story.’

‘My aunt assured me that Her Majesty would invite me to attend her again, but I feared I might have offended. I am glad that it was not so.’ Catherine blushed as she met his look, which seemed almost to burn her with its heat. Why did she find her eyes drawn to his mouth so often! She looked down, feeling slightly breathless, and was a little relieved when the housekeeper brought in their wine. ‘Ah, thank you, Mistress Pike. You will take a glass of wine, Sir Nicholas?’

‘I thank you, Mistress Catherine.’ Nick bestowed his warm smile on the housekeeper. ‘Did you make those delicious-looking biscuits yourself, ma’am?’

‘Why yes, sir.’ The woman dimpled at him and placed the dish of almond comfits on a small board set on a stand close to his hand. ‘Should you need anything else, Mistress Catherine, you have only to ask…’

‘I have never seen Mistress Pike dimple before,’ Catherine said after the door was safely closed behind her. She smiled, her green eyes unconsciously alight with teasing laughter. ‘I think you are a rogue, Sir Nicholas. Do you charm all the ladies so?’

Nicholas chuckled softly in his throat, amused by her show of spirit. He had been trying to charm her and she knew it—no fool then, the little Moor. Yet he would swear Matthew was right and there was fire beneath the ice. Indeed, the ice had already begun to melt several degrees.

‘How is it that you have found me out so swiftly, Mistress Catherine?’

‘I saw you on the way to London—you were watching a play with those ruffians who caused the trouble…’ She broke off and frowned at him. ‘That was not well done of you, sir. The poor man was doing his best to entertain us.’

‘And making a poor show of it.’

‘You and your friends did not make his task easier, sir, for you taunted him dreadfully.’

‘Nay! I beg you acquit me of the charge, Mistress Catherine. I am guilty of many things, but I am not so ill-mannered—though I admit to being amused by their jesting. He did take so very long over his dying. You must admit it was overlong?’

‘Yes, I shall not deny that,’ Catherine said. His tone was teasing and his eyes were full of gentle mockery, and she responded in kind. ‘But I saw you laughing and calling out insults to that poor man—though I do not believe you threw anything at him.’

‘Nor was I a part of the company who did,’ Nick said, his smile warm with merriment. ‘But I will admit that I was not kind to the poor fellow—and I did not know that I was being watched by a lady of your tender heart.’

Catherine’s cheeks were on fire as she met his look. Was he flirting with her? She was confused and yet pleased by his teasing looks, her heart fluttering like a dove in a cage.

‘Do you claim you would have behaved less unkindly if you had?’

‘To win your approval? Indeed, I should have beaten off those who taunted him. I was a fool else, Mistress Catherine, for a lady of your beauty and sweet nature is seldom met with.’

‘My nature is not always sweet,’ Catherine said, pouting at him. ‘I have claws, sir, and may use them when minded to do so.’

‘Ah, I might have known such a rose would have its thorns,’ Nick said wickedly. ‘But a scratch from thorns that adorn thee, sweet rose, would be sweeter than a kiss to me…’

‘Are you a poet, Sir Nicholas?’ Catherine laughed at his words, which were clearly designed to flatter and cajole. ‘You have a way with you, sir. None could deny it in truth. But despite your silver tongue, I still think you are a rogue.’

‘Every man must have a silver tongue at Gloriana’s court,’ Nick replied. ‘And it is as well to be able to pen a few lines to the mistress you would court. A true troubadour never lets the sun go down without a poem for his love.’

‘I dare say your flattery goes well with the ladies of the court,’ Catherine said, standing up to take a turn about the room. His looks and words had brought a flame to her cheeks and she felt a little giddy with excitement. For the first time she was aware that she was flirting with danger by entertaining a gentleman alone. Did he think her fast—would he attempt to seduce her? Indeed, he was succeeding without trying too hard, for her foolish heart was beating like a drum. ‘But I am…’

She turned and discovered that he had come up behind her and was standing close to her, his eyes intent on her face, burning her with their heat, setting her whole body aflame. His mouth was soft and somehow tempting to her, and her lips parted on a sighing breath as something stirred within her—some desire or longing she had never felt until this moment.

‘You are lovely, perfect…’ Nick said huskily. ‘I vow you have bewitched me, Mistress Catherine. I languished all night for thinking of you.’

His words were true enough, for he had forgone his tryst with Annette because he could not get a picture of Catherine Moor out of his head, and he had lain sleepless in his bed thinking of her. The glimpse of her white breasts above the revealing neckline of her gown had set him to wondering about the softness of her skin and the gentle curves of her lovely flesh. How sweet it would be to lie with her!

‘Fie on you, sir!’ Catherine laughed. ‘You flatter me but I…’ She caught her breath as he moved towards her, certain that he meant to kiss her and not sure what she would do then, but even as she trembled inwardly she heard her aunt’s voice calling in the hallway and knew that she was saved. ‘Ah, my good aunt is home. She will be delighted to see you, sir.’

‘And I to see her, of course,’ Nick replied but looked so disappointed that Catherine could not hold back her laughter.

She was laughing as Lady Stamford swept into the room, her eyes sparkling like precious jewels as she turned to greet her.

‘Sir Nicholas called to inquire after my father. Was that not kind of him, Aunt?’

‘Exceeding kind,’ Lady Stamford said. ‘I hurried home lest you were fretting, Catherine, but now I see you have been well entertained.’

‘Mistress Catherine was good enough to see me in your absence,’ Nick said coming smoothly to her rescue. ‘And we laughed over Her Majesty’s comments last even. Now, I must come to the second purpose of my visit, ma’am. My mother Lady Fineden begs that you will bear her company at a picnic tomorrow by the river—if such a pastime is agreeable to you?’

‘Thank your mother for her kindness,’ Lady Stamford replied looking pleased. ‘We shall be delighted to come, sir.’

‘Then I shall take my leave of you, sweet ladies.’ Nick’s eyes dwelt on Catherine for a moment. ‘I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, and shall send an escort for you so that you may easily find the appointed place.’

‘We shall look forward to seeing you, sir,’ Catherine replied, a little flush of pleasure in her cheeks.

Catherine’s aunt gave her an odd look but said no more as Nick bowed and went out, merely remarking a little later that it was a kind thought on Lady Fineden’s part to invite them to a picnic.

‘I have heard that her home has a splendid garden that leads down to the river,’ Lady Stamford said. ‘I imagine we shall be somewhere nearby.’

‘We must hope the weather keeps fine.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ her aunt replied. ‘And now I must go up and see how William is, for it would be a shame if he were not able to accompany us tomorrow.’

‘Father would not wish us to give up our pleasure, even if he did not feel able to come with us.’

Lady Stamford looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then inclined her head. ‘I am sure you are right, Catherine.’

‘Besides, we have promised to go.’ Catherine’s cheeks flushed as her aunt was silent.

‘I know a little of the family,’ she said at last. ‘Lady Fineden is a woman of some influence, as is her husband, and Sir Nicholas comes from an old family. I shall say no more, Catherine, but he has a reputation for being a charmer…’

The morning dawned fine and bright as Catherine had hoped, but though her father came down to the small parlour when she and her aunt were being served some coddled eggs and fresh muffins with butter and honey, he told his daughter that he preferred to stay at home and rest for another day.

‘If you feel unwell I shall stay with you,’ Catherine offered, though her heart sank at the prospect of missing the promised treat.

‘You have already suffered a loss of pleasure because of my foolishness,’ Sir William said smiling at her. ‘I shall not ask another sacrifice of you, Catherine. You must go to your picnic and Helen must accompany you. I shall do well enough here with a book of poems to keep me company. If it is fine I may sit in the garden for a while.’

Catherine kissed her father and thanked him for his thoughtfulness on her behalf, for which she received an affectionate pat on the cheek.

She spent some time sitting with him in the best parlour until their escort arrived. Within minutes they were ready to leave, setting out with Thomas walking beside their chairs as well as the escort Sir Nicholas had sent to show them the way. Despite seeing a few beggars standing or lying at the street corners, they met with no trouble and were eventually taken to a pretty spot on the riverbank.

Lady Fineden’s was a handsome house situated down river from the Palace of Whitehall, and sat on the opposite bank in a pleasant spot that had not yet been encroached on by the press of building that was springing up all around the city.

However, they did not enter the house itself and were taken through the gardens to where a picnic had been set out a little distance from the water’s edge.

Sir Nicholas had clearly been awaiting their arrival, for he immediately left a group of ladies and gentlemen with whom he had been conversing, and came to welcome them, taking Catherine by the hand to introduce her to his mother.

Lady Stamford was already slightly acquainted with her hostess and many of the guests, but they were all unknown to Catherine and the first half an hour or so was taken up with meeting and greeting strangers. She was asked her opinion of London, and whether or not she had been to court, but after a while the conversation became more general. Most of the ladies seemed to prefer gossip from the court, but there was also some talk of politics amongst the men.

In February of that year the Pope had excommunicated Elizabeth by means of the Bull Regnans in Excelsis, by which he hoped to see the Queen deposed and Mary of Scots raised to Queen in her place. This had given cause for fears amongst those loyal to Elizabeth that the Catholics would see this as a reason to rebel, though with the failure of the uprising the previous year others thought it unlikely.

The talk of politics held no interest for Catherine, who, once left to herself, was more than content to look about her and enjoy the sunshine. She sat on large soft cushions while Lady Fineden’s servants served the meal, tasting the delicious cold fowl, pies and pastries, which were accompanied by wine cooled in the river. It was after the food had been consumed that everyone began to stroll about the gardens, admiring the splendid view.

Catherine stood up and went down to the water’s edge, where a pair of swans and five signets were leisurely swimming by. A dragonfly skimmed over the surface of the river, and swallows were swooping on the warm current to catch their food.

‘I have often thought this a pleasant spot,’ Nick said, coming to stand by her side. ‘Especially on such a day as this.’

‘Yes, almost idyllic,’ Catherine replied, turning her head to look at him. ‘One would hardly think the city is all around us.’

‘Building goes on apace,’ Nick said. ‘I dare say much of this open land will be eaten up in years to come.’