“Have you been long in the queen’s household?”
“Since last November, but the winter and this pestilence makes it feel longer.”
“I am sure it does.”
They took the steps forward, careful and close, as this dance required. Thomasin noticed that Truegood did not follow easily. Perhaps it was his strength and size, or lack of familiarity with the dance, but here, unlike in sport, he did not move with a natural grace, as she recalled that Rafe or even Nico had. There was a power to him, an intensity of physicality, that made him too self-conscious when it came to dancing. As they turned, and he drew her back to him, she wished he could soften his body a little, so taut and wooden he felt.
“Have you been much at court yourself?” she asked, trying to help him relax.
“Barely. Does this count?”
“You have been more concerned with business, I understand?”
“Yes,” he replied, then paused to allow another pairing to pass. When they came back together, he caught her eyes and beamed down into them. “This is another world.”
“That’s what I found when I first arrived. I had no idea how things would be.”
He nodded and moved alongside her. She waited for his reply, but none came.
Eventually, as they turned together, she asked, “How do you find it?”
“Oh,” he replied, “I suppose this is not typical of court life, shut away here?”
“It is not, no. If you ever go to Westminster, you will find things quite different.”
They continued to dance. Their feet moved through the motions, but the words fell stilted between them.
“So, do you think you will ever go to Westminster?” Thomasin tried again.
“I shall do what the king requires of me.”
It was a closed response. She stepped to the side as Hatton and Maria passed them by. As Truegood came back, face to face, he beamed his broad smile again, before moving slowly and deliberately through the steps.
“What is it like in Antwerp?” she asked, after a time.
“My time there was very productive.”
“And you were welcomed there?”
“Very much.”
She waited for him to tell her more: the people, the places, the colours, the smells in the street, the strange customs, even his work with rippling silks, dyed cloth, intricate lace. She would have settled for knowing what it was like to take a ship across the waters from one country to another, or to ride under foreign skies, to taste foreign food. But he did not expand.
Thomasin concluded the dance with mixed feelings. It was flattering to think Truegood was interested in her, and with his auburn hair and warm eyes, his powerful build and strength, he cut an imposing figure. He had lived an exciting life of travel, and had prospects, and must have had experiences to share. Yet his words were clipped and tight as buds before spring. She wondered at the reason why. Perhaps he was simply unused to company, unused to opening up and sharing. Perhaps it was his character to give little away.
He bowed low, showing her his full, gleaming head of beautiful red hair. “Thank you, my Lady. May I?” He offered his hand and led her back to the table, where Ellen was waiting, brimming with expectation. She waited until Truegood had moved out of earshot.
“He is so handsome!” Ellen whispered, as Truegood sat down beside Brandon.
Thomasin could not disagree. “But he can’t hold a conversation.”
“Nor dance,” added Ellen. “I did notice that, which is a surprise. He did not hit the target, then?”
“Not this time, no.”
Ellen sighed. “It’s a shame. Perhaps he will improve upon acquaintance.”
“Perhaps.”
