She raised her face to him and he thought, as he had thought a hundred times or more, that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Tonight when he left her he would visit a sweet young whore of his acquaintance, but on the long nights at sea it would be Skye he thought of, not little Sally. It would be Skye’s face that he would easily recall to mind, the young prostitute’s fading from memory within an hour of their parting.
“You understand what I’m saying to you, Skye?” He looked anxiously into her wet sapphire eyes. “You understand that in all likelihood it’s finished with Southwood.”
She sighed. “I am carrying his child, Robbie. In six months’ time, more or less, I shall present the seventh Earl of Lynmouth with a child, and I pray God it’s a son! And I also pray that his rich, new wife does precisely what his last rich wife did—deliver girls!”
“Marry me, Skye.”
“You are prejudiced, Robbie,” she smiled wanly. “Take me backinside and I’ll bid de Grenville goodnight. What time do you sail tomorrow?”
“We catch the midday tide. I’ll come in the morning to bid you farewell.”
They walked back through the garden and into the house. De Grenville had fallen asleep in his chair.
“Il est un cochon,”muttered Marie.
“No,” said Skye.
“He hurt you,mignon.”
Skye shrugged. “Better I heard it from him than from a stranger, Marie. Alas, our good wine does not agree with him.”
Suddenly the small dining-room door was flung open and Skye’s bargeman stumbled into the room beside her majordomo, Walters, who gasped, “Madam, the Queen comes!”
“What!?”
The bargeman spoke up. “The Queen, mistress! She’s almost here! She sent a messenger ahead of her on the river.”
“My God, I’m not dressed properly to receive her! Quick, Marie!” And she raced upstairs to her own apartment, calling to Daisy as she ran. “Fetch the burgundy-colored silk with the gold-and-cream-stripped underskirt. The rubies! My gold ribbons! Marie, go back downstairs and have Walters clear the dining room. I’ll want ham, cheeses, fruits, thin sugar wafers, and wines. Have them set on the sideboards in the banquet room. Wake de Grenville and have Robbie sober him!”
Marie turned and ran from the room while the maids fluttered about Skye. She quickly changed her clothes. “Hawise, watch the window! Sing out the second you see the Queen’s barge!”
A few minutes later, as Skye smoothed the wrinkles from the elegant silk gown, Hawise called, “The Queen’s barge is rounding the bend, ma’am!” Skye flew from the room and down the stairs. Catching Robbie and de Grenville by the hands, the trio sped across the terrace, down another garden, and reached the barge, landing moments before the Queen’s boat bumped it. The two men stepped forward to aid Elizabeth as she disembarked, while Skye swept the monarch a magnificent curtsey, her wine-colored skirts billowing gracefully, her dark head lowered in perfect submission.
The young Queen eyed her hostess approvingly. “Rise, Mistress Goya del Fuentes. ‘Pon my soul, you make the most elegant and graceful curtsey I’ve ever seen!”
Standing, Skye thanked the Queen with a smile and Elizabethsaid, “We hope you’ll forgive us this unorthodox visit, but it was brought to our attention that Sir Robert sails tomorrow. We could not allow him to leave on such a lengthy voyage without giving him our good wishes.”
Robbie flushed with obvious pleasure. “Majesty, I am overwhelmed by your kindness.”
“Madam,” said Skye, “will you take refreshment?”
“Thank you, mistress. Sir Robert, de Grenville, you may escort me. Southwood, take Mistress Goya del Fuentes and Mistress Knollys.”
The Queen moved off, leaving Skye stricken. Here was Geoffrey stepping up from the Queen’s barge, handing out a ravishing lovely red-headed girl.
“Skye, may I present the Queen’s cousin Lettice, this is Mistress Goya del Fuentes.”
Lettice Knollys smiled in a friendly fashion, her pale skin glowing and youthful. “We’re of an age,” she said. “May I call you Skye, and you call me Lettice?”
“But of course,” Skye answered. God in Heaven, was this girl the rich match the Queen proposed for Geoffrey?
“It’s good to see you, Skye,” the Earl of Lynmouth murmured softly as he escorted both women up the garden to the house. Behind them the other half-dozen barges that had escorted the Queen were unloading their passengers.
“What a charming house you have,” remarked Lettice. “I have always wanted a small house on the Strand. You do not come to Court, do you?”
“There is no need. And besides, I am not of the nobility. If the Queen invited me, however, I would, of course, obey.”
They had reached the house now, and as they entered, Southwood said quietly, “Lettice, I must speak with Skye. Keep the Queen occupied for me.” Before Skye had time to protest he had whisked her into the library and shut the door firmly.
