“I am to attend her majesty the Princess Mary.”
“Ah ...” He boldly reached out and trailed one finger across the surface of her partlet. Beneath it, the swell of her breast felt his touch, and she fought the urge to cringe.
“That would explain you covering up such delightful treats.”
He was daring her to show her true temper and abandon her meekness. Justina brushed by de Canis but not before she heard him chuckle. The man had a habit of decorating his lovers with expensive jewelry, proving that in spite of his common birth, he was a man of means.
He wasn’t the only one walking the halls of Whitehall Palace. There were new men of means who owed their fortunes to the sacking of the monasteries and cathedrals. King Henry Tudor handed out the riches to those who aided him in driving the last of the Catholic Church from England, but he took much of that money back when those common men came to him to buy titles.
It was a petty circle, one fueled by greed, and now that King Henry Tudor was dying, the fighting over what was left was growing more frantic. The King’s only son, Edward, was a boy of nine. True power would be held by the men named in the King’s will to govern for the young prince whom King Henry had spent so much effort trying to have.
Justina turned a corner and discovered the Princess Mary strolling on the green with her half sister, the Princess Elizabeth. The weather was cold now and the grass more brown than green, but the two sisters walked side by side while surrounded by onlookers.
Justina had to force a lump down her throat before she could walk any further. The onlookers sickened her with their sly glares and whispers. Mary Tudor was a grown woman now, but her father had never seen her wed. Both sisters had spent many years labeled as bastards while the King married again and again in pursuit of more sons. Only now, at the end of his life, was Henry Tudor spending time with his daughters. It was Queen Catherine Parr who urged her husband to do so but Justina couldn’t do anything save pity the two princesses for the rough road both had been given by life.
“The Lady Justina, Dowager Baroness Wincott.”
The chamberlain announced her and struck the stone walkway with his white staff while Justina lowered herself. Neither princess even looked at her, but several heads turned in her direction as she joined the crowd. Newly arrived daughters stood in their fine dresses near their mothers or guardians while they hoped to be noticed by someone important. Justina moved through the crowd, offering curtsies to many but avoiding engaging in true conversations. People were pressed almost too close in their quest to be near the royals, everyone talking in hushed tones while they tried to think of ways to gain whatever they wanted. Justina moved through them, intent on the same thing, to gain enough of the princesses’ attention to satisfy Biddeford.
“Lady Wincott.” Another chamberlain struck the stone walkways, startling her.
Justina faltered for a moment because she had not expected her name to be called so soon. She recovered quickly, hurrying to the man wearing the tabard of the King. She lowered herself and waited for the princesses to raise her, but it was an older woman who spoke.
Queen Catherine Parr was much younger than her husband, and she sat beneath a canopy with her ladies. In fact, there was not a single gentleman beneath the fabric, the chamberlain standing a full twenty feet away.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
The Queen set her embroidery aside, looking disgusted by it. She changed her expression quickly, as though she had made a great error in allowing any emotion to show. A smooth expression appeared on her face as she looked at Justina.
“It is said that you have returned from the high country.”
“Yes, I have.”
The Queen folded her hands perfectly and sat them in her lap. “Perhaps you might sit and offer us a bit of entertainment with details of your travels.”
“Of course. Is there something in particular Your Majesty would like to hear about?”
The Queen tried to sound happy but there was a hint of boredom in her tone. Justina nodded and stepped forward while a chill went down the back of her neck. There was a tension beneath the canopy she had not felt from the Queen before. Her ladies cut quick glances between one another before they all folded their hands and adopted the same posture that the Queen did. Each looked like a doll that had been carefully dressed and posed by its owner. The rest of the court pressed forward but were kept behind the chamberlain so that no one was near the Queen. Not one of her ladies moved or spoke, they simply waited. The Queen kept her hands folded and seemed to search for a question.
“Were the flowers and clover in bloom?”
It was quite a benign topic and one that stunned Justina. Catherine Parr was well known for her love of books and study. It was one of the reasons Henry the Eighth enjoyed her company. It was known that she often debated theology with the King when they were in privy. She had been heard to say that such debates took his mind off his leg wound and that she was happy to be able to ease his pain.
And today she asked about flowers and clover ...
There was a hint of fear in the Queen’s eyes and a pinched look around her lips. Justina felt the tension wrap around her and she clasped her hands together, just as sedately as Catherine Parr was doing.
“The clover was indeed quite lovely during the summer. . .”
Justina didn’t know why, but she could feel the anxiety in the air, so she spoke of springtime foolishness, and noted with unease that the Queen seemed to listen intently.
The Queen retired early, taking her ladies and the princesses with her. Justina forced her expression to be smooth while she walked the distance to her rooms. Being housed in the palace was the doing of Biddeford, but for the moment she was pleased to not need to travel to a townhome for the night. That would have required her to either ride or take a carriage. She might wait quite some time for her carriage or mare to be brought up from the stables because they were an entire city block from the main palace. The only way to ensure her mare was brought forward soon would be to press some silver into the groom’s hand.
Her chambers were very nice, if a bit small. She had two windows and they were a very nice luxury for they allowed the rooms to be aired out. Many of the interior rooms had the scent of smoke lingering halfway down their walls from the fires that had kept their inhabitants warm during the winter months.
But her chambers were not as private as she might have liked. The viscount sat at the table in the front room, sipping expensive French wine from a glass goblet. His manservant stood silently behind him which was a reminder to her that Biddeford considered himself worthy of service at all times of the day.
“Do you like it?” He held one of the glass goblets up so that the candlelight shone through it. The wine in the glass was visible, and he tilted the glass back and forth to display its translucent ability.
“A gift from the King.” Smug satisfaction coated his voice while he took another sip from the delicate glass. Justina stood and waited while he set the goblet down. There was a flicker of his eyelashes, indicating that he knew she waited on him, but he did not grant her permission to sit. The heels were digging into her feet now and the skirt of the gown had begun making her lower back ache hours ago, but she could not sit in the presence of her better without his leave.
“How did you find our Queen?” There was thicker smugness in his voice now and a satisfied gleam in his eyes as well.
“Her Majesty was very welcoming.”
“You mean she was boring and meek.” Biddeford chuckled. “Yes, our dear Queen almost found herself in the tower like so many of her predecessors.”
Justina failed to smother her gasp of horror. The viscount tapped the table while smiling at her.
“Chancellor Wriothesley had the arrest warrant penned and the guard marching