“That is best, yes, for children. I am glad to hear they are well.”
They turned, parted and briefly paired with another, according to the steps. Thomasin found herself dancing with Compton, while Ellen was with Carey. The king, Brandon and their partners were making a mirror image of the same move.
“Good evening, mistress,” Compton smiled. “You are merry tonight?” His breath smelled of wine.
“Merry enough, I thank you.”
He squeezed her arm. “And looking most beauteous with it.”
Thomasin blushed in surprise, but the dance had already moved on, and she returned to Carey.
“The king is in good spirits,” he said. “And the queen, too. It is a rare thing to see, this jollity, that has been brought about by these strange times.”
Thomasin wondered at his allegiances. “It is not difficult for you to see? Is it not counter to your cause?”
He looked at her for a moment, with wide eyes. “Oh, Anne’s cause. My sister-in-law’s cause, you mean. And you associate it with mine.”
“My apologies, am I incorrect? Is it not also your wife’s cause?”
“It is indeed. But there is no offence taken. My wife has many causes of her own, some which are known to me, others which are not.”
They turned, joined arms and circled again. Thomasin recalled rumours she had heard that the Careys’ children, a red-headed girl and boy, had been fathered by the king before his infatuation with Anne.
“I serve the king in all things,” Carey continued, “and seek to help him bring about his wishes. It is not for me to question what he chooses, or what is inevitable.”
“That is very pragmatic of you.”
He looped his arm through hers and they began the circular walk again. “I am sure, Mistress Marwood, you have had enough experience at court now to know that it is a fast, unforgiving place. Who am I to urge my wishes, my preferences, if they do not coincide with those of the king who feeds and shelters me, who holds my very life in his hands?”
“The king is fond of you. I have seen so myself.”
“Perhaps. He is fond of anyone who agrees with him.”
As they turned, Thomasin saw Henry pass round and then come to face her, at a distance. Meeting her eyes, he inclined his head in greeting. She wondered what other emotions were contained; they were difficult to read.
“Most people do not realise,” added Carey, making the final steps, “that it is all a game, just as men might play at chess. It requires careful moves made with a cool head. And a prayer that this is enough.”
The dance came to a close. Thomasin met Carey’s bow with a curtsey, but he still kept hold of her hand.
“Be wary, my Lady,” he whispered. “Take advice from one who has lived through this; keep your wits about you. I will be your friend, should you ever need one.”
One look at his wide eyes convinced her he was sincere. There was only time for her to whisper “thank you” before the next dance was commencing.
To everyone’s surprise, least of all her own, Henry turned to Catherine and offered her his hand. Catherine’s face lit up, making her seem years younger, and she gladly, almost girlishly accepted.
“Might I have this dance?”
Thomasin turned to find that Hugh Truegood had appeared on the other side. With a little flush from the wine and pleasure, she smiled and put her hand into his.
His palm was wide, his fingers long as they curled warmly and firmly about hers. There was something calming, some confidence in his energy as he led her into position. Standing opposite him, she dared to look up into his face, noticing the broad cheekbones and square jaw, the rose-pink skin freckled by the sun and the heat in those amber eyes that now caught hers.
She went towards him with a subdued smile. She had noticed it before, but when faced with him at such close quarters, she was struck by how he was built on a larger scale than most men she had known; his height, the length of his limbs, the long hands, the broad chest. Beside him, Thomasin felt small, dainty.
“Good evening.” He bowed his head down to hers and smiled.
“Good evening, my Lord.”
They took their positions side by side for this dance, as part of a wider circle. On her right, Thomasin was conscious that William Hatton stood beside her, partnering Maria, but she recoiled from him, keeping herself focused on her partner. The chords struck and she followed Truegood’s lead.
