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“They all know he's about to become a widower, and they see that he has already chosen someone to be the next Lady Cavendish, who is capable of becoming his social and intellectual equal. All are impressed and immensely relieved.”
Cavendish, accompanied by the Earl of Shrewsbury, joined them. “I shall take my leave of you lovely ladies, and thank you for the invitation, Lady Frances,” the earl said. “I cannot remember when I had a more stimulating dinner partner. Cavendish, I shall see you at Whitehall next week.”
Bess rewarded the earl with a radiant smile and a curtsy. Suddenly she felt someone staring at her and lifted her eyes to meet George Talbot's. For a brief moment his gaze was predatory, as if given the chance he would devour her. Then he smiled as if the two of them shared a secret. “It was my pleasure to find you here at Suffolk House, mistress. Perhaps our paths will cross again in the near future.”
Not if I can help it!Bess returned his smile. “None of us knows what the future holds.”
“May fortune follow you.” His tone was far too intimate.
Bess lowered her lashes. “And you, my lord.”
Before the Talbots were barely out of earshot, Frances commented, “Did you see that whey-faced Gertrude was wearing a rope of the famous Talbot pearls? Young Talbot soon got his mare in foal once he got her to bed.”
“She has such a haughty air, her face would crack if she smiled. I feel sorry for her,” Bess murmured.
“You must be mad. When Shrewsbury sticks his spoon in the wall, Gertrude will become a countess and her husband will inherit a king's ransom. The Talbots have ten times the wealth of the Tudors, to say nothing of at least eight more ropes of priceless pearls in their jewel coffers.”
“I much prefer my amethysts,” Bess declared, suddenly glad that the highest in the land linked her with William. This time she saw the hunger in Cavendish's eyes and loved the strange sexual power it made her feel.
One by one the guests began to take their leave. A gentleman approached Bess and bowed elegantly. “Permit me to introduce myself, madam. I am St. Loe, captain of the guard to the Lady Elizabeth. I am afraid I cannot find her, and the royal barge is ready to depart.”
Bess smiled at him. “She has given you the slip.”
“Yes, madam. Something she delights in doing.”
“Perhaps you should guard her more carefully,” Bess hinted with concern.
“Lady Elizabeth hates being monitored with a passion. She has little freedom and even less privacy. I try to guard her without being intrusive.”
“I think I know where she might be, my lord. I will relay your message to Her Grace.”
Bess hurried through the grand salon and up the staircase that led to her own private suite. As the door swung open, Elizabeth and Thomas Seymour sprang apart.
“You intrude!”
“Forgive me,” Bess declared, trying to mask the shock that must have registered on her face. “Your captain of the guard asked me to inform you that the royal barge is ready to depart.”
“Then let it depart!” Elizabeth looked ready to defy the world. “The admiral will escort me safely home aboard his own barge.”
The golden god opened his mouth to admonish the princess, who was his niece by marriage. “Elizabeth, that would not be wise.” He stroked her hair with a possessive hand. “Be a good girl.” Tom Seymour looked Bess directly in the eye, then gave her a suggestive wink of conspiracy. “We are all friends here, who know the value of discretion.”
Seymour departed, and the two young women faced each other like protagonists ready to fight. Elizabeth, who had the palest of skins, was flushed and her eyes were fever-bright. Suddenly, the blood left her cheeks and her haughty stare became beseeching.
“Can I truly trust you, Bess Hardwick?”
She supposed to Elizabeth she would always be Bess Hardwick. In that moment Bess's heart went out to her. Elizabeth Tudor had no one in the world in whom she could place her trust. Bess sank to the carpet, her skirts forming a pool of deep purple.
“Your Grace, you can trust me with your life —no matter what !”
Elizabeth sagged with relief and came forward with outstretched hands. As their fingers clasped tightly, she said, “Someday I shall repay your loyalty to me. I have never forgotten that you were the one to warn me of Catherine Parr's ambition to become queen.”
“Is she a dreadful stepmother?” Bess asked with compassion.
“She would be, had I not learned to manipulate her. We have learned to give each other what we need. She lets me stay at Court, and in return I make her look like a devoted stepmother. I translate French into English for her and English prayers into Latin, making her look both educated and pious. In return she has made it possible for me to have my own tutors. She is working on my father to have my sister, Mary, and me declared legitimate again, so she has her uses.”
“Does she exercise great influence over the king?”
“Yes, but not by sexual congress, as she thought before they were wed. She is more nurse than lover these days; my father's temper is intolerable. He is a selfish, monstrous tyrant, and Catherine has aged ten years in as many months trying to appease him. Like all his other wives, she is afraid of him.”
“You cannot appease a tyrant,” Bess said quietly.
“Exactly! Thank God I don't need to.” A wild peal of laughter escaped Elizabeth. “I have Catherine to do it for me!”
