The dance was picking up pace. The couples were moving closer, then parting, back and forth, with claps of the hands. Thomasin knew what was coming next: a passionate moment where the usual restraint was put aside and the pair would spin each other off their feet. In some cases, it had led to dancers falling over, even injuring themselves. As the key changed, all eyes were upon Henry and Cecilia, as he put his arm about her waist and began to spin. Faster and faster they turned, until, predictably, Cecilia staggered. Henry stepped in to save her balance, pulling her close against him. His face was near to hers.
“Oh,” Thomasin muttered, “I just can’t look.”
“I know what you mean,” Ellen agreed. “It’s painful.”
“I really think that I should inform Father about this. He would be furious if he learned of it, and I had not told him.”
“True, but remember the queen demanded our secrecy. If your father is at court, and she carries on this way, he will learn of it soon enough.”
“Well, he is present at the moment, engaged in the Astons’ case, so I suppose it is only a matter of time.”
“What would he do? Take her back to the country?”
“He can’t if the queen forbids it.”
Then, as the dance dropped down to a more sedate pace, Thomasin noticed movement. “Look, Suffolk is leaving. I’ll go to the right and head him off by the door. You go to Hugh and get him to dance to the next tune with you.”
They parted, picking their way around the side of the hall. With relief, Thomasin saw her cousin reach Hugh Truegood, who stood and bowed to her in greeting. Now all she needed to do was catch up with the swift-moving Charles Brandon.
She had only gone so far when Baron Mountjoy crossed her path, blocking her exit.
“Your sister,” he whispered tersely, “is making a spectacle of herself. This is not the approach we advised. You must speak with her.”
“Me?”
“Who else?”
“Just because we are sisters, it does not mean she will listen to me. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Mountjoy ignored this. “She must be spoken to. She is drawing too much attention. The plan will be over before it has begun. Do it, please.”
It was a direct order that Thomasin dared not disobey.
She gave a nod and turned back to the hall. Brandon was already out of sight.
The dance was drawing to an end. Henry was leading Cecilia through the final steps with a look of amusement on his face. Thomasin saw that Mountjoy was right. Cecilia was in danger of making herself seem too available, too eager, when she should have whetted his appetite and then withdrawn, to preserve an air of mystery.
She positioned herself close to the dais, where they were likely to pass.
Cecilia was laughing, head thrown back, following Henry.
“Sister, will you come?” Thomasin asked as they passed by.
“Not now,” she hissed, and nodded towards the king. “See?”
“Do come. It’s by order.”
Cecilia looked at her sharply.
“I mean it,” Thomasin insisted. “You must come. You’ve done enough for now.”
Henry had reached his seat and turned to watch them. Thomasin dropped a curtsey and extended her hand to Cecilia. For a moment, she thought her sister was going to defy her, but under the king’s gaze, she complied with only a little visible reluctance, sulkily taking Thomasin’s hand and following her down the hall.
“What are you doing? Whose orders?” Cecilia fired at Thomasin as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Mine,” said Mountjoy, approaching them. “That is enough for tonight. Withdraw now and you leave him wanting more. You must not overplay your hand.”
Cecilia could not argue with Catherine’s chamberlain. No matter how little she liked it, she bowed her head in acceptance. “Can I not stay and dine?”
