He turned back to face her, those bright blue eyes focused. “Is this the time for opening past wounds? While the king takes his pleasure?”
Thomasin cast her eyes about the room. Most of the others were on the balcony. Save for Ellen and Gertrude, they were alone. For a rare moment, she had the chance to speak freely. “You do not get to choose your time, given that you have already taken your pleasure.”
His lip curled. “Your sister was a willing participant in all; she pursued me, she begged me to run away with her.”
“But she never would have done so if you had not dallied with her. With a woman engaged to be married.”
“Then she should have behaved like a woman engaged to be married!”
The words cut deep. Thomasin recalled Anne Boleyn’s own comments on the day that was supposed to have been Cecilia’s wedding; that she had brought this upon herself.
“So, was it just sport for you? We welcomed you as a guest and friend, we thought you an honourable man. Was it only a game for you?”
Hatton spread his arms in protest. “A game your sister willingly played. There is always a cost. She knew the risks and yet she still indulged.”
“And what have the costs been to you, William Hatton? How have you suffered? A few weeks away from court and then back at the king’s side?”
He picked up an apple and headed to the balcony, throwing a line back over his shoulder. “Some of us play better than others.”
“Snake,” she hissed after him. She was sure he had heard, but he did not turn.
Alone for a moment, Thomasin felt as if her blood was about to boil. She longed to launch herself upon him, claw at his hair, scratch his eyes out of his face, but that was the swiftest way to be removed from the queen’s service. Her parents did not need another Marwood daughter returning home in disgrace.
“You do look angry.”
Gertrude was by her side.
“I am angry. I am struggling not to let it show. That is the man who ruined my sister.”
“Will Hatton?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. His reputation precedes him. I am sorry to hear about your sister, but she is not the first woman to fall victim to his charms.”
“Really?” Thomasin narrowed her eyes as Hatton strolled over to converse with the king.
“I heard of at least one case before. But the king always takes him back, brags about it in private, and the number of women whose hearts they have broken.”
The two men suddenly burst out laughing, the king roaring from his belly at something Hatton had said. Thomasin reddened.
Gertrude put her hand upon her friend’s arm. “Do not show your feelings. Such men will receive their just rewards.”
“That’s what Ellen said. If only I could believe it were true,” Thomasin whispered, as the king clapped his hand upon Hatton’s shoulder and the pair strolled out together, towards the gallery. It would only take one moment, one slip upon the wet wood, for Hatton to plunge over the edge. She could picture it now. Or else, if someone should come up behind him, unexpectedly, trip and clutch at him, a little too hard. A fall from the first floor might not kill him, but it would do enough damage. It would wipe that mocking smile clean off his face.
She stopped herself, grateful that her thoughts were private, as Catherine appeared in the doorway.
“What is this gossiping? Come, attend me in the gallery.”
The edge to her voice made them hurry. Catherine went to join Henry, overlooking the scene, and they hurried to take their places behind her.
Below, in the clearing, William Carey and Charles Brandon were preparing the horses. Two other gentlemen were assisting them: a tall sturdy man with hair the colour of autumn and his short, lean companion in a jewelled cap, whose beard was greying.
“These other gentlemen?” Catherine asked, surveying them with critical eyes.
“Newly come to court from their business in the Low Countries, Charles Cotton and Sir Hugh Truegood. They have been entertaining me with tales of the emperor.”
“They have seen the emperor?” Catherine asked in a quiet voice. “How does my nephew fare?”
