I need to get home. That’s my number one priority. My only priority. No—I also need to fit in, avoid suspicion, and not get my head cut off from my body. I need to accomplish all these things, but if I’m going to accomplish any of them, then I need to understand the rules. Knowledge is power, always.
I pause by the window, watching as the sun begins to set. My hand twitches. I want to check my phone to see the time. I want to look up everything I can about Catherine Howard so I can figure out what to do. Whatnotto do. If I learn from her mistakes, then I can do better, and I canget out of here with my head intact. I need to be calm. I need to be strategic. And Ineedto get back to the Haunted Gallery.
My white nightgown brushes the bed as I continue to pace, and a soft knock sounds at my door. A no-nonsense-looking woman in a simple dress enters, telling she’s here to dress me. I don’t know which of us is less excited.
Thirty minutes later, I’m sewn into what feels like an inflexible scuba suit on top and multiple parkas on the bottom. The dress itself is beautiful, emerald green with touches of gold. I try to carry it gracefully, but I’m pretty sure I look like Bigfoot who just got spotted in the wild. I stay at Bessie’s side as we make our way to the king’s rooms, and I feel jumpier with every matching step we take.
“What do you think about my relationship with the king?” I prompt her. I want to ask for specific details. How did it begin? How far has it gone? But open-ended questions and active listening will enable me to learn the most.
Bessie looks at me with an inquisitive upturn to her eyebrow before glancing forward. “It’s an honor, of course. The king adores you, and you have certainly benefited from his attention.”
I stay quiet, hoping she’ll want to fill the silence. A second later, she does.
“I know you said that you know what you’re doing, but do you truly, Catherine? Being the king’s favorite is thrilling, to be sure, but four queens have already sat on the throne, only to be plucked back off again in some way or another.”
Well, I’m glad old Catherine knew what she was doing, because I sure as hell don’t. We stop at a pair of heavily armed doors, and Bessie studies them before turning back to me. “I’m sure you’re right, though. What you have with the king is different.”
Famous last words.
A knock comes from inside the room, and one of the four guards swings a door open.
“I will visit you later,” Bessie whispers. “Have fun.”
She touches her arm to mine and leaves the same way we came. As she does, a group of men exit the king’s rooms, all in fancy Tudor attire. They greet me with cordial nods as they file past. Only the last one stops, and he’s the only one I recognize.
I look up to meet his warm green eyes just before he gives me a little bow. “Simon?”
He stands up tall. His gaze lingers on mine as a shadow of a smile crosses his face. “Lady Catherine. I’m glad to see you well.”
I give an awkwardDownton Abbeycurtsy in response before straightening back up, tugging on the cuff of my sleeve as I do. “As well as one can be, given the circumstances.”
Simon rests his hands behind his back, and I can’t help but notice how broad his arms are as they jut out to the side, even through the thick shirt he’s wearing. “What are the circumstances?” he asks.
Oh, you know.I’m in the wrong era. I’m in the wrong body. I’m the next historical bachelorette who’s going to be murdered in a crime of passion.
“It’s just been a long day,” I opt to answer.
Simon’s mouth pulls in a way that says he doesn’t entirely believe me. “And are you restored to your usual self?” His gaze is calm, but I also see the underlying curiosity. Whatever I said to him this morning was un-Catherine-like enough for him to notice. I need to keep a close watch on him, which shouldn’t be too hard since I have yet to peel my eyes away from him.
“I was... confused. From my fall. Sorry if I seemed off. And for yelling at you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I rather enjoyed it.” I angle my head at his response. I don’t hate the thought of his enjoying our interaction, but I also can’t focus on that now. Simon ducks hischin, like he’s trying to hide the laughter pulling at his lips as a silence falls between us. “What I meant was, I liked talking to you. That’s all.”
His admission catches me in a way I wish it didn’t. Our eyes hold until he glances back into the king’s rooms, and his posture stiffens as he turns his gaze back to mine. “I should get on,” he says. But he doesn’t get on. He stays rooted in place, drawing me into the stillness with a look that’s charged with something I don’t quite understand. My breath slows. I’m wondering if I should step closer or back when he suddenly gives me a small nod, like he’s regaining control, and bows. “Good evening, Lady Catherine.”
He straightens and walks past me. I’m determined not to say anything but can’t help the uneven “Bye, Simon” that slips out of my mouth when he’s a few feet away.
He looks back at me over his shoulder with the faintest curve of his lips and my stomach instinctively tightens. As he disappears down an adjoining corridor, I have to mentally shake myself to remember the very real danger that I’m now in. Still, no one in this murder castle should have such a devastating smile.
With Simon out of view, I turn back to the doors but make no move to step forward. Several seconds pass, and the guard holding the door open gives me a confused get-in-there look. I take a bracing breath and step inside. I’m entering the lion’s den, but at least I know that I am. I wonder if Henry’s other lady loves knew what they were walking into.
As I cross the threshold, my step falters as I take in the candlelit room. I was expecting a medieval sex dungeon, but this feels more homey than anything else. A breeze sweeps through the lavish stone space from the casement windows, and the logs snapping in the fireplace serve as a soundtrack. A dining table is set on the far side of the room, and a smaller round table is on the side where I’m standing. Two high-backed wooden chairs are positioned across from eachother, and sitting in the one facing me is the king. When his eyes meet mine, he smiles like he means it.
“Catherine. Praise God you’re well.” He stands to greet me, wearing a thick velvet brocade of red and silver. It has huge padded sleeves, and he’s sporting thickly tailored britches. I notice that his beard is on the thinner side as he takes my hand in both of his, once again kissing my knuckles as he steers me toward the small table.
“Come. Sit, my sweet, and tell me how you are.” I ease into my chair as he slides into the one across from me. “Would you like something to eat? Perhaps some wine? Just tell me what your heart desires and it will be yours. I care for nothing so much as your happiness.”
His attentive blue eyes stay on mine as I swivel to the left, trying to sit comfortably. “Thank you. I’m fine for now.”
