She smiled. “I am greatly pleased that my father has retired. His mind is calmer now. He has taken to caring for hawks and raising bloodhounds for hunting. It was not a simple decision for me to remain at court without him, but I fear that if I return to Northamptonshire, I may miss word of my vanished mother. Such news would likely reach the king first.”
I swallowed the beginnings of a lump in my throat. Alice had no idea that her mom had been a traitor conspiring with Mathew Fox and Mary, Queen of Scots to bring down King Nick. Another Titanic-sized lie between Alice and me.
She twisted toward Lord Mayberry and huffed. “Shall we begin, my lord?”
He glided across the squeaky floorboards like that was a dance move in itself, his slender fingers pressed together. “My ladies, I bid you forgive me for the delay. Mine instruction partner will surely arrive here at any moment.”
“I am to serve as an instruction partner,” Alice corrected.
“You may assist,” Mayberry replied with an anxious smile. “A lord of the Privy Council has advised that Mistress Grace’s new lady of the bedchamber has presently arrived at court and is accomplished in all the dances…one of the finest ladies in the realm.”
Alice’s brow puckered. “What does a member of the king’s council care about dancing?”
We jolted at the thump of the oak doors swinging open, a tall, feminine figure striding toward us. I thought I’d seen beautiful with Princess Henriette of France, but this was another level.
“Heavens,” whispered Alice.
The Victoria’s Secret model curtsied at me, her honey-colored skirts rippling with silk cleverly embroidered to catch the light. Her hairstyle belonged in an art museum: the wheat-colored curls styled diagonally across her scalp and topped with a stylish French hood.
“Hi, I’m Emmie Grace,” I blurted, my supremely un-elegant voice echoing off the paneled walls.
She dipped her heart-shaped face at me, the letters ‘LP’ swinging from her pearl choker. “Good morrow to you, madam. I am–”
“Mistress Lucinda Parker,” Alice finished, her voice barely above a breath.
Their eyes met in a steely stare, and my mind tore backward. I’d heard the name Lucinda Parker before. She was Nick’s former mistress before I came along…the one who’d been in his bed the way I hadn’t. Rumored to have had a child with him. Pain shot through me like a lightning bolt.
“Shall we begin with the volta?” Lucinda offered, smiling playfully at the mention of the seductive dance. “His Majesty always took such pleasure in it.”
My head swarmed like a shaken beehive. When Norfolk said I wasn’t the only pretty girl in England like it was a threat, this must have been his plan. He wanted Nick to fall back into the arms of his former girlfriend, Lucinda Parker, who was elegance on steroids.
It wasn’t just Spain that the Duke of Norfolk wanted a war with, it was also me. And he’d just fired the first shot.
5
Did Nick know that Lucinda Parker was at Hampton Court? Did he want her here? The questions pecked at me like pigeons as I watched Lucinda frolic through dances like a gazelle while I did my best to copy her with my trademark clumsiness. When the torture-fest ended, Alice suggested the three of us return to my chambers so Lucinda could become acquainted with “all manner of our promised queen’s needs and wishes.” It was a pointed remark to drum into Lucinda that I was the king’s girlfriend now.
I slipped Alice a look of appreciation as we wandered back to my chambers, but Lucinda’s statuesque shadow trailing us left me a little flat. It’d never been in my nature to be catty or to make a girl feel unwelcome. I’d been a new girl out of my depth enough times to know how lonely it felt. But that didn’t mean it was easy to watch Lucinda flooding my drawing-room with her perfume and intimate knowledge of Nick’s body. The thought hollowed my stomach.
We introduced Bridget to Lucinda, and the four of us chatted with tedious politeness over mini cheesecakes before Lucinda excused herself to use the privy.
“Mistress Parker is so pretty,” Bridget gushed to Alice and me like that was all that mattered. “I do wonder if she has a handsome brother. For no other man shall look twice at any other maiden as long as Mistress Parker is present.”
Alice shot Bridget a look.
Our dear king has a known weakness for pretty girls.
Norfolk’s cruel words crashed back into me. Before Lucinda returned from the washroom, I filled Alice and Bridget in on my uncomfortable conversation with him.
“Should I tell the king?” I asked them. I shuddered to think what Nick might do to him in retaliation, and I didn’t fancy antagonizing the duke any further, but Alice and Bridget were quick to school me on the power of Norfolk. Even the king had to be careful about offending the most influential duke in the land. It wasn’t exactly music to my ears.
Alice pressed a slender hand over mine. “Norfolk is a pillock and has always been. However, I caution you to trouble the king not with the matters of women. His Majesty is likely to think ill of such things, and we should handle this with discretion.”
I nodded through my disappointment, but I knew that Alice was right. Nick wasn’t the boy next door. He was a sixteenth-century King of England. He had bigger issues to deal with than any insecurity I might feel over his ex.
“I pray you are not vexed, my lady,” Bridget said to me. Her rust-colored eyes radiated awe. “For it is you His Majesty has chosen to marry, and you are quite extraordinary.” Her gaze brushed over my tweezed eyebrows, my teeth that had been straightened by metal braces, my hair recently softened by a sample from Walgreens.
I squared my shoulders at them both. Damn straight. Lucinda Parker may have the demeanor of a Tudor princess, but I had four hundred years of human evolution on my side. I could take her.
Alice smirked at me, reading me like a book the way only Alice Grey could.
It was a relief to discover that Lucinda Parker was easy to get along with and a decent lady of the bedchamber. What bothered me was that she was so freaking good at everything. Her accomplished presence judged me through my attempts at memorizing the strait-laced almain dance, the bumbling beginnings of my French lessons, and my first wobbly tune on the virginals. She embroidered better than me, danced me under the table, played the lute like the Tudor version of Eric Clapton, and never once looked at me like she was jealous of my relationship with the king. My imagination wasn’t nearly as restrained. Without effort, I could see Nick kissing her, whispering in her ear, gripping her tiny waist with his perfect hands. The thought of it hardened my stomach to rock, chased by an urge to barf. When he returned, surely he would see that she was a thousand times better suited to a queen’s role than I was.
At least Lord Mayberry had arranged countless amusements to keep us all distracted, and my ladies and I were treated to dance concerts, masques, plays, acrobatic displays, and a four-hour organ recital that was more sleep-inducing than any opiate.
One Saturday after dinner, the choristers of the chapel royal staged a special performance for the peers of the court. The Duke of Norfolk stood at the back, rudely chattering to Lord Wharton through a breathtaking solo sung by a nine-year-old boy. It hit me that Alice Grey hadn’t spent much time with Lord Wharton since my arrival feast. I didn’t know if it was what I’d said about Francis Beaumont crushing on her, but I didn’t dare bring it up. The last thing I wanted was to encourage her back into Wharton’s arms, who was about as affable as Norfolk.