“Wow. I don’t know what to say, which, as you know, is unheard of.” I squeezed him tighter.
Nick’s efforts had subdued some of the tightening pressure between us, but we still hadn’t agreed on what to do with the blue-diamond ring. He hadn’t asked for it back, and for now, it was living inside my locked jewelry coffer. As the king, he could have the ring snatched from my bedchamber and destroyed with a single command, and I tried not to think too much about that possibility.
“I must take my leave,” he said, breaking from me and straightening his collar. “I have made time this day to prepare for your investiture ceremony.”
I rested against the edge of a wooden table. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be here. And if I’m not…nah, I’ll be here.”
His sparkling eyes held mine as he backed through the doorway, looking so hot with his naturally ruffled hair that he made my stomach twist. “Your new cloth should also be at hand this day,” he added, before rolling around the doorframe to disappear.
“My new cloth?” I called after him.
“For the harvest feast of Michelmas,” he replied. “This year, I much desire a masquerade. We must also honor your new title.”
His voice faded, and I sat there, processing the news. I had to appear at another royal ball with the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Wharton, and the rest of the sullen aristocrats—this time as a new member of their exclusive nobility club. But perhaps this is what it’d take for them to finally accept me. I was going to become the Marquess of Pembroke, followed by Queen Emmeline Tudor…yikes! Do or die, this was happening.
Deep in my gut, questions still wriggled about the blue-diamond ring and Nick’s desire to destroy it. King Henry the Eighth’s first wife, Queen Katherine of Aragon, may have chosen not to sail back to Spain, but she presumably had the option. I was willfully marrying a Tudor king who I adored with every bone in my body, but I was still a twenty-first-century American girl. Freedom was the one thing I wasn’t prepared to give up without a fight.
Mercifully, only a handful of Privy Council members attended my investiture ceremony in the Presence Chamber the following morning. My plush ceremonial robes sank into the woven matting as I knelt before the king, and a sacred coronet as freezing as an ice sculpture was placed over my head. As the letters patent were read out, and King Nick formally granted me the title of Marquess of Pembroke, a tremor quaked through me. I could barely look at Nick in this state without feeling like I was making eyes with a living angel. The jewels in his crown splashed prismatic colors across the candlelit wall, and despite my modern viewpoints, I couldn’t deny that every inch of him radiated power and glory from within his scarlet robes.
When Alice was washing my hair in the bath afterward, she told me that all the Privy Council members usually attended the investiture ceremonies. There should’ve been plenty more people there. I swallowed the discomfort that brought. If I continued freaking out about every little thing—needing every person in the realm to like me—my life here would be a misery. I was trying the best I could.
You're the Marquess of freaking Pembroke! I reminded myself as I began dressing for the masquerade feast. Truthfully, I had little idea what a female marquess even was, how she ranked, or what she was supposed to do. I knew I could ask Alice, but I’d have to be careful about sounding like I’d barely heard of the title. At least it would be swallowed up by ‘Queen of England’ before long, and I was pretty clear how that one stacked.
My anxiety over the Michelmas feast was borderline paralyzing, but the dress that arrived for me from the Royal Wardrobe sweetened the deal a little. The sleeves and gown of scarlet-red satin were draped open to reveal a white kirtle threaded with triangular patterns of white diamonds centered with rose-shaped ruby brooches. Behind me, Bridget and Lucinda chatted at length about the eligible men who’d be at the feast while weaving my hair into elaborate braids. It was a shame that their efforts were entirely concealed by a magnificent ruby-encrusted hood. I usually hated having all my hair covered, but Alice’s makeup had turned me into a magazine ad for glowing skin, and she’d accented my lips with the perfect shade of creamy red.
I swiveled from left to right in the mirror, glittering like I was tangled in fairy lights. The ensemble was comically swanky for Emmie Grace from Hampshire County, but at least I looked the part of my new title. I could nod and wave like a real queen-to-be and not have to say much to anyone. I wished I had useful contributions to make, but I’d have to rely on a dignified silence to get me through until I learned enough in this century to be able to offer something worthwhile...if my position even allowed that.
I repressed another pang of longing for my time period.
Alice and I were unhooking our masquerade masks from their storage pouches when a messenger arrived with a letter for Lucinda Parker.
“It is from my mother,” she said, hurriedly snapping open the wax seal. “She brings news of my daughter, Ellie.” She read a few words before slumping into the table. “Dear God.”
Bridget finished clipping on her jeweled belt and dashed to her. “What is it?”
We all gathered around Lucinda. “Ellie has taken ill,” she breathed. “My mother believes it to be consumption.”
My chest leaped. “You should go to her.” I was pretty sure that consumption was what the Tudors called tuberculosis.
“Mistress Parker cannot travel alone,” said Bridget. “I will go with her.” She threw me a nervous glance.
“Of course,” I agreed. “Alice and I will look after each other, won’t we, Alice?”
Alice nodded, giving Lucinda’s arm a compassionate rub. Lucinda’s pendant necklace tinkled as she fell into a chair, finishing the letter. “Mother complains here of the costs,” she said. “The king has raised taxes, and now she cannot afford to buy remedies for Ellie.”
“For what has His Majesty raised taxes?” Alice griped, like Nick was her frustrating older brother.
Lucinda folded the letter in her lap. “It says here that taxes have been raised to pay for the coronation of the new queen.”
I felt my jaw hang. “I can’t believe that—I’d never agree to that; I’m so sorry.”
Lucinda’s silvery-blue eyes were free of judgment as she looked at me. “I shall remain at court. I must petition the king for some course of aid for my household.”
“But I can do that,” I said. “You should be with Ellie.”
Lucinda rose to smooth her skirts. “You are most kind, my lady. However, I would not ask you to do my bidding. In any case, I fear that His Majesty will be less favorable if I do not make mine own case for my daughter.”
“The king may not like Mistress Parker leaving court without his permission,” Alice explained to me as though she knew I was confused. “She is to become a lady to the queen.”
I took Lucinda’s clammy hands. “Ask the king tonight then. Apart from the fact that time is clearly of the freaking essence, it’s usually when he’s in his best mood. And if he doesn’t help you, I will.” I had income from my lands now, even though I had no idea where my lands were.
Lucinda didn’t want to write to her mom until she’d spoken to the king, so we tied on each other’s shimmery, feathered masks and left for the king’s Privy Garden. It was a chilly evening for an outdoor shindig, but that’s what the king wanted, so it was happening.