When the song ended, Lord and Lady Ascot were the next couple to dance, followed by Lord and Lady Snell, who were clearly keen to upstage them before the king. Nick and I stood aside with his arm curled around me, politely watching the dances unfold. I glanced over at Alice and Francis. They both sat at the head table like statues, neither looking at the other.
Oh, FFS.
“The Earl of Warwick and Mistress Alice Grey!” I cried out, enlivened by the wine I’d had. Alice’s mouth dropped open, and Francis shot to his feet, his olive skin turning pink.
“Naughty girl,” Nick chuckled in my ear as Francis led Alice off the dais and into the dance zone. She shot me a ‘you’re in trouble’ look as they passed by, but she couldn’t hide her smile. Francis and Alice laced their fingers and hopped together before he grasped her waist and spun her high in the air. Each time they repeated the move, their bodies pressed closer together, their dark eyes fusing. I leaned closer into Nick, and he rubbed his jaw against my hair. Love was blooming, and it wasn’t just ours.
The song ended too soon, and Francis folded into an elegant bow like Alice was the new queen. I adored every second of it. Nick announced a change to a more subdued tune, and the harpist took over. The metallic glitter was the perfect backdrop to gentle chatter as Nick pulled out his pocket watch. I could tell he was getting tired.
When we all returned to our seats to formally conclude the night, Francis leaned close to Nick. “Majesty, may I share a short speech?” he said softly. Nick frowned, and Francis dropped his voice to a level I couldn’t hear.
When Nick whispered his response, the earl rose and stood before Alice, speaking quietly. “Mistress Grey, may I inquire whether you are in need of the privy at present?”
Privy was the Tudor word for bathroom, and the question was weird. Why would he ask her that in public?
“I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice taking on an edge.
“The privy…a lesson on how to hunt without every error under the sun…another sudden departure to God-knows-where…I mean to know if I may have your full attention for a moment?”
Alice glanced at me, jaw open. “Lord Warwick, does taking no heed of your tedious questions pass as an activity?”
Francis just laughed, looking more than handsome as he strutted to the center of the barge, rubbing the heels of his palms together.
“Gentlemen and ladies of the court, the King’s Majesty has agreed that I may have your attention on a matter of great importance!”
Nick snorted lightly beside me.
“Good God, what is he doing?” said Alice.
Francis wavered on his feet, tipsy but coherent. “This night, I wish to honor a lady of true eminence.” Every guest on the barge glanced over at me. “I believe it makes me more of a man, and not less, to say that there are certain ladies I cannot bear to live without. This day, we celebrate the Queens of England!” The guests cheered and raised their glasses. I could feel Alice beaming at me. Nick placed a hand over mine and squeezed my fingers.
Francis kept going, his natural charisma holding the barge’s attention. “For me, the queen of my person—and my heart—may be slow to believe, but I beseech her to understand why my mouth can be so shy to speak when my heart is in such a roar. Our gracious Majesty has awarded me his blessing to speak it now, so I may show mercy on my soul and share what I can no longer burden with the weight of silence.”
When Francis approached Alice and dropped to one knee, we all gasped, Alice loudest of all.
He gazed up at her, his pitch-black eyes soft at the edges. “Mistress Alice Grey, I cannot pleasure in anything anymore without the hope of your love. For you have mine—above all things—you have my love. Dearest lady, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I beseech you, for my heart can hide no longer from what is plainly true.”
A rush of whispers broke out; it was unthinkable to steal the king’s glory at such an event. But Nick looked anything but bent out of shape and threw his best mate a supportive smirk. I wasn’t sure I was breathing.
Time slowed as Alice Grey stared down at Francis Beaumont, his eyes blinking up into hers. The electricity between them could’ve powered a kingdom.
In one swift step she stood up and came to my side, crouching to whisper in my ear. “Emmie, may I have your permission to accept? It would mean I could remain in your service, which would greatly please me.”
I wanted to shake her but in a good way. Silence swept the barge as I replied under my breath. “First of all—hell yes! Secondly, you’ll never have to ask my permission for anything that makes you happy…ever. Got it?”
Her moist eyes gleamed at mine before she hitched her skirts so she could descend the dais to the trembling Francis. Alice pressed a petite hand to the cherry-colored lining of his gray coat—a scandalous but exhilarating move in Tudor England—and slid her palm up to his ruffled collar, sinking her fingers into the black curls of his hair to cup the back of his neck. Francis sighed as Alice pulled him close and kissed him with a conservative sweetness before the king, but one fueled by visible longing.
When their lips separated, Alice whispered in Francis’s ear. His smile was teary.
“The lady agrees!” he cried, and the barge roared with cheers. The love scene before me blurred through the tears that skimmed my cheeks. Nick flicked a hand to cue the harpist again, and a hum of contented chatter fell over the barge. The boats behind us glittered with lit candles, none of them able to return to shore before the king.
Nick let Francis and Alice share some time alone in the secluded cabin before he commanded to have us returned to the palace. We climbed aboard the royal barge, which made a sluggish turn toward shore, commencing its glide. I hugged Alice with a squeal. Francis stood back with the Lord Chancellor, still on duty as the king’s right hand, but he couldn’t stop smiling despite the chancellor’s dull tone. I hoped that maybe the genuine love between Nick and I had inspired Francis in some way, despite his early reservations about us.
Our barge rocked as the tip grazed the water gate. Nick gripped my elbow to keep me steady.
“His Majesty, the King!” cried a guard on the platform. Nick and I took a step forward, and a whiz of wind exploded past my ear.
I grabbed the soft folds of skin there. “What was that?” I said, but was cut off by loud yells.
“Duck! Save the king!”
A sudden force tackled me to the ground. I screamed in shock, my chin banging against planks of wood. Fingers clawed at me to roll me over, and I spun into Nick’s shaking arms. Shouts and screams tore through the air above me.
“We are being ambushed,” Nick hissed as my eyes searched through the wall of black-leather boots surrounding us.
“Stay back!” a guard shouted above us. “Protect the king!”
Two more whizzes sounded, followed by a thud. A woman screamed, and a heavy weight dropped onto my leg, nearly crushing it. I cried out, but my calf was pinned.
“Every man down!” another guard cried, and bunches of fabric sank over boots and heels as people crouched all around us. Nick kept my torso pressed tightly to his. His heart hammered like a bass drum where our bodies pressed together.
The barge fell silent, amplifying the sloshing of waves against the side as our boat rocked in the water. Male voices bellowed in the distance. Footsteps rushed toward us and then stilled before the thwicks of releasing arrows began in fast sequence. Nick gripped me tighter.