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As an elderly nobleman approached Bess, Henry Grey bowed formally. “Allow me to present—”
“The lady and I need no introduction, Dorset; we are already acquainted.”
Bess sank down in a graceful curtsy, stunned that the powerful earl had recognized her. “Lord Shrewsbury, I owe you a great debt of gratitude.”
Shrewsbury's shrewd eyes twinkled. “I take it the legal matter was settled in your favor, Mistress Barlow?”
“Indeed it was, my lord, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
The Fifth Earl of Shrewsbury raised Bess up and gallantly kissed her fingers. “It was my pleasure. It's not often a man of my age can serve a beautiful young woman and make her happy.”
The double entendre showed a ribald wit, and Bess's low, sultry laugh told him she appreciated it. “I believe we are dinner partners tonight, my lord, so once again you will make me happy,” Bess said, taking his arm.
“Then I warrant I'll be the envy of every red-blooded male in the room. This is my daughter-in-law, Lady Gertrude Talbot, and my son, whom I believe you've already met.”
Startled, Bess looked up into George Talbot's ice blue eyes and found them undressing her. He wore an expensive black velvet tunic and a heavy gold chain studded with Persian sapphires that matched his eyes. His dark hair curled about his collar, longer than the current fashion set by the king. She looked away quickly to keep herself from uttering a biting retort that would perhaps alienate the powerful Earl of Shrewsbury. Her glance fell on Talbot's wife, and she immediately saw that the plain-faced girl was breeding. Bess blushed as Robin Dudley's words from years ago rushed back to her: He'll be an old man by the time he gets some!
She glanced quickly at the tall, dark, arrogant Talbot and saw that he had read her mind. The corner of his sensual mouth quirked, and Bess's blush deepened.
“We meet again, Mistress Elizabeth Barlow.” He used her widowed name. “How are you faring?”
“I am well, my lord.”
His appreciative glance lifted from her gown to her face, lingering on her mouth, then her eyes. “Blooming, in fact. London suits you, mistress. It is a place that rewards ambition.”
To cover her embarrassment Bess spoke to Gertrude. “I am delighted to meet you. The Lady Elizabeth has always spoken so highly of you, my lady.” The princess had done no such thing, of course. She said they had shackled George to the wealthy Earl of Rutland's daughter, Gertrude, to safeguard the Talbot fortune! Bess examined the young woman closely. She had such a petulant look on her face that Bess felt sorry for the child she was carrying.
After dinner Lady Frances encouraged the guests to talk and wander freely about Suffolk House. There was to be no masque or entertainment to distract those invited, but she provided strolling musicians and card tables, since many a deal had been struck while gambling.
Bess found Frances and Cavendish conversing with Henry Grey and William Parr. “The dinner seemed to be a great success. Is all going well?”
“I believe it's in the bag, darling. The only one we couldn't manipulate was Shrewsbury, but you are such a clever girl, you have him eating out of your hand.”
“I think he's attracted to me,” Bess confided in a whisper. Each of the three men ran appreciative eyes over her low-cut gown and luscious perfumed breasts, then exchanged knowing glances.
“I wonder why?” asked the queen's brother with a perfectly straight face.
Bess gasped as a pair of strong arms slipped about her waist and she was pulled back against a hard male body.
“Trust you three to monopolize the most seductive woman in the room. I insist you share her; isn't that what friends are for?”
Bess swiftly extracted herself from the admiral's bold embrace and instinctively moved closer to Cavendish.
“A friend doesn't poach on a man's private preserve, Thomas,” Cavendish warned.
Bess was suddenly furious. She was no man's private preserve, and the moment she was alone with Cavendish she would tell him so.
“Of course he does,” Tom Seymour said, laughing. “In the hunt all partridge are fair game.”
Fury almost choked Bess. She guarded her virtue scrupulously, yet here was Tom Seymour speaking as if she were a strumpet. “Not all quarry are easy game, my lord.”
Seymour bowed his golden head gallantly. “Forgive me? There is just something about vivid redheads that makes other women seem colorless drabs.”
“Curse you for a damned knave, Thomas!” Lady Frances struck him with her fan, pretending to take offense, and everyone laughed as the moment's tension melted away.
Thomas became serious, something he seldom did. “I'll use my influence with the king to appoint you to the privy council, William, if in return you use your influence with the other members to get me appointed also.”
Bess listened intently to the methods these courtiers used to further their ambition. She soaked up everything like a sponge, sensing that the lessons she was learning would prove invaluable. When she glanced across the room and intercepted the Lady Elizabeth's signal, all seemed unreal for a moment. Was she actually here, a lady-in-waiting to the king's niece, rubbing shoulders with the queen's brother, fending off advances from the king's brother-in-law, and secretly conspiring with a royal princess?
