“Did I fail to mention that I have known the king since childhood? He trusts my judgment in many matters, as he knows I am his most loyal of subjects.”
She’s literally radiating an after-sex glow. That’s how happy Mistress Marshall is right now.
“No, you never told me that,” I murmur.
She tsks me under her breath. “How forgetful of me. In any case, I’m glad to be telling you now.” She steps in close to me and takes my hands. “Consider it a peace offering.”
An unforgiving chill settles through my fingers as I pull my hands away. Lady Rochford appears at the door, looking more than ready to pull Mistress Marshall out by her pointy gable hood.
“Take care, Your Majesty,” the woman says quietly. “I will see to it that the king is illuminated to all your misdoings—pastas well as present.” She turns and leaves after that, and she and Lady Rochford bump shoulders in the process.
I say nothing when it’s just the two of us left, and before I know what’s happening, Lady Rochford places her hand on the small of my back and ushers me from the room.
Back in the privacy of my bedchamber, Lady Rochford is the first to speak. “Let us remain calm. That is the most important thing.”
I snap out of my stupor, moving to my dressing table and grabbing three bottles of Bessie’s sleeping draft that I hid away in a drawer.
“I have to kill him,” I tell her, the bottles jingling in my shaking hands. “I have to kill him before he kills me.”
Lady Rochford actually goes pale. “Mother Mary, I need to sit down.” She moves to sit on the edge of my bed, rubbing her fingers into her forehead as Theo sniffs her waist.
“He knows.” My voice is trembling, but I’m resolute. I have to do this. “Did you see how he was acting? There’s no way that he doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what?” she asks, looking up. Then she shakes her head. “Don’t answer that.” She stands from the bed, following me as I begin pacing around the room. “He could be tired, Catherine. His leg could be ailing him, and his mood is foul.”
I’ve never known Lady Rochford to be naïve. “There’s more to it than that. And you heard Mistress Marshall, she’s going to tell him everything.” I’m still holding the bottles—so tightly that I’m a little nervous they could break.
“What will she tell him? As far as that witch knows, all you and we have been doing is drinking and dancing more than we should. That’s poor decision-making, not a crime.”
I stop pacing to face her with agitated eyes. “I’m pretty sure poor decision-making is a crime here.”
There’s a knock on the door, and Lady Rochford rips the bottles from my hands as the Dowager Duchess steps inside. “Good evening, Your Grace,” she says, curtsying to the older woman.
The Dowager looks us over, taking both of us in before she speaks. “Well, I’m glad I won’t be the one to ruin the evening. From the looks on your faces, it seems like it’s already been lost to hellfire.”
Her statement is ominous, but I don’t know what could possibly be more ominous than my current situation.
“Why would you ruin the night?” I ask.
She closes the door behind her and pushes down on her cane as she walks farther into the room. “The letters that Dereham was after. The love letters where he wrote that you two were as good as married—they’ve been stolen from my rooms.”
And my situation just got more ominous. I look to Lady Rochford, but she only shakes her head.
“It wasn’t me,” she says.
It feels like the room is tilting. My stomach lurches as I come to realize the truth. “It must have been Mistress Marshall.” No one else says anything, and I go on, my voice surprisingly steady. “She told me that she knew about my past. She was so confident. And she’s meeting with the king right now.”
The room is quiet. No one tells me that I’m wrong. No one mentions an alternate possibility.
“I’m sorry, Catherine,” the Dowager says. “I should have given them to you when I had the chance.”
I swallow past the nerves in my throat as I look over at her. “It’s all right. You couldn’t have known.”
Seconds tick by in silence until the Dowager speaks again. “From here on out, I will help you in any way I can, as will everyone at Lambeth.” She makes her way to the door and is just beginning to leave when she turns and looks at me one more time. “Good luck, my girl.”
She closes the door, and no sooner does the latch fall than it suddenly lifts and opens again. A royal messenger walks in, scanning the room until he sees me. “The king requires your presence immediately.”
Lady Rochford moves toward him before I can even clock her location. “Enter this room without permission again, and I’ll see you bound and beaten.” She moves closer still, lowering her voice. “And not in the way that you like.”
