After the concert finale, the duke hung out near the Great Hall’s exit like a security guard, bowing to my ladies and me as we passed.
“Mistress Grace, it must please you to have a maiden so accomplished as Mistress Parker join your household,” he said, his sky-blue eyes giving away none of his dislike for me.
Fortunately, I’d had a few acting lessons in my day. “Oh, I haven’t thanked you yet for bringing Mistress Parker to court,” I said to him, offering Lucinda my sweetest smile. Hers was so freaking gorgeous that it nearly blinded me. “I’m delighted to have her in my service.”
Lucinda fidgeted with her jeweled belt, blushing at me. She dipped her head at Norfolk. “My lord, I am most thankful for your petition to bring me here. I owe you my gratitude for allowing me to provide for my dear daughter.”
My forehead pinched. I hadn’t been aware that Lucinda’s employment at Hampton Court was helpful to her baby.
“I am certain you shall find a most worthy husband,” said Norfolk, ignoring the mention of the bastard child. “You are so fine a lady that there is no man in England who would not desire to court you.”
No man in England who would not desire you—including its king. Another strike aimed at me. I made sure that Norfolk heard my bored exhale as I swept the girls away without so much as a polite farewell.
As the days dragged on, I tried not to think about Nick at sea—or in the vicinity of the polished Princess Henriette—while my ladies and I strolled through the privy gardens, continued my lessons, sewed in my chambers, read poems, and attended performances.
“So many merriments even without the king’s presence,” Alice commented during yet another masque. She smirked at me. “His Majesty is showing the court how important you are.”
The sparkle in her eye caught me. I’d never considered Alice much of a romantic, but she was becoming more flushed by the day over my courtship with King Nick. It was reassuring to have her blessing, even though she still had no idea who I really was or where I came from.
The masque concluded with a ceremonial dance, before the Great Hall transformed into a feast of pepper eel, honeyed pigeon, and roasted swan devoured to the bones. While the courtiers danced up a storm, I kept an eye on the arched entrance to the Great Watching Chamber. Alice skillfully averted Lord Wharton’s advances, her eyes also glancing toward the king’s doorway every so often. It struck me that I wasn’t the only one waiting for a cute boy with blue blood to stride through the archway. Francis Beaumont had also been away from court for an awfully long time.
That night I lay awake, cursing myself for eating rich foods to the point of bursting, when images of my mom’s kitchen drifted into my restless vision. I’d been so distracted by improving my Tudor skills that I’d stopped thinking about my life in the modern world. It reminded me of when my dad left and I’d started to forget about him—almost like he’d died. I could see that happening to my other life now: having it slip into nothingness like it never even existed. I swallowed the heavy thought and focused on counting how many days Nick had been away: seventeen.
It felt like seventeen years.
Seventeen long nights turned into thirty-four—feeling like thirty-four years of waiting—until a blast of trumpets on an otherwise routine Wednesday morning declared that the King of England was finally home.
I escaped the chair where Bridget had been pinning my hood and dashed to the window, pressing my face to the grimy pane between the lattice frames. Alice appeared beside me, but all our looking was pointless because we couldn’t see the river from here.
“I think he’s back,” I said.
“Which means Francis, too,” she added, biting away a smile.
We fell back from the window and grinned at each other, nearly laughing. “I knew I should have washed my hair this day last,” Alice said with a moan.
“Goodness, and I,” called Bridget, still in her nightcap. Beyond the windows, distant murmurs of activity reached us from the adjacent servants’ section of court.
“Shall I have a maidservant pour a bath?” said Lucinda she glanced up from her pallet bed. “There is certainly much time until His Majesty will wish to see the ladies of the court. He may not call for us until supper.”
I didn’t think she meant any offense, but Alice stepped forward. “The queen’s ladies are capable of running our baths, Mistress Parker. We need not trouble the maidservants. Furthermore, His Majesty will wish to see his betrothed in haste, and Mistress Grace must be made ready for the king. Two attendants should suffice.” Alice grabbed Bridget’s arm and yanked her toward my dressing room.
“Thanks, Alice,” I said quickly. “But I could use Lucinda’s help, too.”
I’d never called Lucinda by her first name before. Her eyes softened with gratitude. I appreciated Alice’s militant protection of me, but I was determined not to freeze out Lucinda Parker because she’d once dated Nick. Even if she had slept with him.
The atmosphere relaxed over a fashion parade of gown options and a bowl of fresh strawberries soaked in sweet wine. By the time we were appropriately blinged up, the three of us were in fits of giggles over one of Bridget’s gossipy stories involving an earl and a pair of slippers. The temperature was above average for late summer, and I lugged open the oak doors to let in some fresh air.
I gasped, nearly falling backward. Nick Tudor stood on the front step, taller than I remembered, more tanned—and more beautiful, if that was even possible. For a moment, we both froze with shock before his lips curled into a half-smile. I just about lost my legs. We were being watched, so I sank into a quivery bow.
“Dear God, Emmie.” The emotional words escaped his breath as he pulled me close, a stunning whiff of roses enveloping me through his tight hug. A sheathed sword swinging from his waist knocked against my thigh.
“You’re back,” I said into his freshly washed hair. I could see the claret-colored shoulder of one of the guards behind him, hear the shuffle of Alice’s footsteps beside me, but everything drew me to Nick, and I clung tightly.
The muscles in his back tightened as he pulled away, his eyes locked on something behind me. “Good God, it is Lucy,” he said, a little breathless.
Lucy?
I swiveled, my heart rising to choke my throat as Nick strode past me to offer Lucinda Parker his hand. She fell to one knee and kissed his bronzed skin. When she rose again, her eyes shone, her body language mimicking his. It was as if I could feel the tight braid that tethered Nick and I snap free and begin frantically unraveling.
“May I inquire after your daughter?” Nick said to her, his voice like ripples of silk.
She beamed. “Elinor is well, Your Grace. We call her Ellie. She is presently lodging with her grandmother, undoubtedly already learning her way around a card table.”
Nick chuckled. “Your mother is a dear lady. I miss her on occasion.”
The ground felt like it shook beneath me, and I jerked backward, colliding with Alice’s bundle of skirts. Regardless of etiquette—or even sanity—I couldn’t be in the room one more second. Lucy? Really?
“I’m finding it warm in here, so I’m going to head out for a bit,” I blurted, sounding hollow. “The lavender is so pretty at the moment, especially with those white butterflies. You guys have seen them, right?” OMG, Emmie, you mumbling fool!