“How fares your wife?” she asked politely.
“She is at Hever, the best place for her health. She will be glad to hear you have asked after her.”
Lady Elizabeth Boleyn had become rather fond of Thomasin, despite disliking the court and what seemed to be the start of some confusion in her mind. The last time Thomasin had seen her, she had been looking lost and troubled, so it was reassuring to picture her at home, walking among her gardens.
“Please send her my best wishes.”
“I am sure she would be pleased to hear a few lines from you, if you can spare the time.”
Thomasin was surprised. “Yes, of course. I shall write to her.”
Sir Thomas turned her around to the left, in time with the music, so that the dancers whirled about her.
“My daughter looks well tonight,” he said proudly. “I have never seen her more beautiful, more alluring, don’t you think?”
Thomasin wanted to laugh. Was he really expecting her to offer some praise for Anne?
But Sir Thomas hadn’t finished. He leaned closer to her ear, so she could feel his hot breath, adding, “She languishes with the waiting. Her best years are withering away; her freshness willsoon fade, as it does for all women. The sooner this matter is resolved, the better it will be for us all.”
Thomasin knew what he meant about women withering and losing their freshness, especially when it came to fertility, but his tone annoyed her. Even Anne was worth more than that.
“Don’t you agree?” he asked, when she made no reply.
“I cannot disagree with you,” said Thomasin carefully.
“As a woman, you must see her predicament, as it is your own, too.”
“Please do not give my predicament another thought,” she replied pertly, “as I intend to find a husband whose understanding of my worth far exceeds my freshness.”
“Ha!” Sir Thomas laughed. “Anyone in mind, in particular?”
“Not that I wish to divulge. Excuse me.”
She turned her back on him in a slightly more exaggerated manner than the dance required, and moved back into the final line.
When the dance ended, Sir Thomas bowed low. Thomasin prolonged her curtsey to allow him enough time to leave before she had to rise again, then turned away in relief. Perhaps she might find Ellen now. Henry and Anne were surrounded by a ring of admirers, complimenting their dancing.
“Thomasin! I was glad to see you across the room.” Giles was before her, his smile lighting up his eyes. “I had not thought to find you here.”
“The queen is abed already, so I have a brief respite.”
“Well, I am glad of it. You had better make the most of it and dance with me.”
Thomasin saw Ellen was still attached to Lord Letchmere, waiting for the next dance to begin, so she offered Giles her hand. His company was far more amenable than that of another partner from the Boleyn faction.
“Play a French dance!” Anne’s voice rang out over the heads of the assembly. “A brangle, with the dancers in two lines. Strike it up!”
She waved her hands to direct those near her into position. Thomasin and Giles fell into line, with Ellen and Letchmere ending up opposite them. Ellen gave her cousin a shy smile and Thomasin couldn’t help noticing that Letchmere seemed to be livelier, even warmer, tonight.
It was a lively tune. Thomasin had seen it danced before, among those in the Boleyn circle, but had never learned the steps herself. Now she followed Giles’s lead, keeping one eye on Anne, and managed passably well with the little jumps and steps, and even the funny little turn at the end of the line.
“That’s it, you’ve got it,” said Giles, who had somehow intuited that she was guessing as she went along.
“Was I that obvious?”
“Not at all, except to someone like me who happens to be a connoisseur of every new dance move,” he joked. “No, really, it’s a rare dance. You covered it well. Now turn to your right.”
Thomasin turned away as instructed, followed the circle behind Ellen and redoubled to face Giles again.
