I follow his calculating gaze over to Bessie and Richard. They’re laughing and whispering back and forth to each other. If my uncle wasn’t here, I’d smile.
“Young ladies are drawn to a handsome face,” he goes on to say, “but that is why men must handle their affairs. I wonder if Lady Elizabeth might not secure a more advantageous match? A friend of mine, though he’s advanced in years, is just now looking for a bride. His first two wives died before they could give him heirs—perhaps his hand was too heavy with them—not that itmatters. But he grows impatient to secure his line. I’d wager that little Bessie would be an excellent candidate for him. I will suggest it to the king. With his blessing on the match, I’m sure the union would happen in all possible haste.”
I can hear his threat. My shoulders tense. “Do you think so?” I ask.
The duke looks down and over at me. “Just stay in line, Catherine. Heed my advice and all will be well.”
I nod at his words and move to his side to look back out at the festivities.
“The thing is,” I tell him, “I don’t think the king will bless the match. Especially since he’s already approved the match between Bessie and Richard. I wrote to him last week through a private messenger and received word yesterday that he immediately granted my request. Henry is soveryeager to please me.” I lean in a bit toward the duke, making sure that he can hear me. “Just stay in line, uncle. Heed my advice and all will be well.”
I give his arm a squeeze and walk back into the crowd. I’m so high on satisfaction that when I see Mistress Marshall standing along the inner wall, I feel brave enough to approach her. I take a glass of wine from a servant’s tray as they pass me, and when I stop to stand in front of the glowering woman, I hold it up between us.
“It’s a peace offering,” I tell her.
She waits a while but eventually takes the cup. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
I adjust my stance to stand beside her, partly because she’s too intimidating to make solid eye contact with and partly because watching the dancers makes the silence between us feel less tangible.
“Are you having a good time?” I ask.
She takes a sip from her cup, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her eat or drink anything before. “I don’t particularly enjoy social events.” She stretches her shoulder blades, seeming out of sync with her body as she tries to relax. “I’m usually more occupied, seeing to my girls, but I’ve had a fair bit of free time to contend with of late.”
She’s not looking at me, but if she was, I’m sure I would see the hurt in her eyes. I take a breath and angle myself to face her.
“About that,” I say. “I want to apologize for how I treated you the last time I saw you. Tensions were high that night, and I think I took my reaction too far. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Mistress Marshall shakes her head. “No, it was deserved. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in such a manner. I’m not very... skilled, when dealing with people.” She flashes me the most minuscule smile, but it feels like a tremendous victory.
“I can forgive and forget if you can,” I tell her.
She turns her gaze to the ground, then briefly looks at me before turning back to the dancing. “I’d like that,” she says quietly. “Perhaps I could do with a bit of a change.”
My head juts back in surprise. She’s still watching the partygoers, but this time I pick up on the small hint of longing. “In that case, you should get out there and dance.”
A laugh snaps out of her, and she covers her mouth with her hand until it’s gone. “I can’t change that much,” she says sternly.
I nod in acceptance. “Fair enough.”
Quitting while I’m ahead, I move from her side and continue to mix through the crowd. I’m in a more isolated part of the great hall when I feel a featherlight touch on my hand—a touch that I’d know anywhere.
I stop walking and look up. Simon gazes down at me, then pivots so that we’re standing side by side. “You’re not dancing, Lord Gainsford?”
He’s close beside me, but not so close that people would think anything of it if they saw us. “Alas, I’m not sure I’d survive the dance floor this evening.”
Following his chin that he nudges forward, I see that my girls are still tearing it up. They’re dancing and jumping and spinning and having the times of their lives despite everyone looking at them with more than moderate concern.
“That might be my fault,” I admit.
“They’re enjoying themselves,” Simon replies. “That’s all that matters.”
He might be the only person here to think so. I let my hand fall to my side, and when our fingers touch, he doesn’t move. He only leans closer.
“Would you allow me to give you something?” he asks.
I’m too taken off guard to answer as Simon lifts my hand up and discreetly slips a bracelet onto my wrist. I keep my hand low while I bring it closer to my stomach. It takes a moment, but I recognize the bracelet. It’s the sea green one from the revels. The one I looked at while we were walking together.
“How did you get this?” I ask a little breathlessly.
