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“I have no idea,” Robin said, “but I warrant he'll be up on the dais with the king. Let's go and look.”
Bess saw with amusement that the Lady Mary was dressed as a simple shepherdess. How Frances would mock her! Suddenly, like a play being acted out for the audience, the shepherdess lost control of her long crook. She made a grab for it that resulted in its hooking the Sultan of Baghdad's turban. The sultan cursed and, when he reached to retrieve it, inadvertently jabbed the other end of the crook into his bad leg.
Henry Tudor roared with pain, and the shepherdess began to cry. Queen Catherine Parr, wearing a medieval wimple, rushed forward to assess the damage. She received the brunt of Henry's rage and bore it with great fortitude. It was decided that the king would retire from the revels, and Lord John Dudley and Lord Edward Seymour helped the wounded monarch to bed.
Within minutes of her father's departure, Elizabeth put in her appearance. It took Bess awhile to realize that the half-clad female in the blond wig was indeed the princess.
“Don't you recognize me? I'm Circe, who transformed men into beasts.”
Bess looked from the girl wearing only a golden wisp of material, which exposed the nipples on her small, high breasts, to the grinning Dudley brothers.
“Your Grace, you are courting scandal,” Bess said in a low voice.
“We can't all be nuns! Besides, no one will recognize me.”
“Irecognize you.” The Lady Mary looked outraged. “I am ashamed to call you sister. Your mother wore that costume when she was my father's concubine!”
“You bitch—my mother was his queen !”
Mary Tudor's poisonous glance fell on Bess. “How dare you mock me and the Catholic Church with your blasphemous attire? The king shall hear of this.”
“At this moment my poor wounded father wishes you in hell alongside your mother!” Elizabeth spat.
Robin Dudley grabbed Elizabeth around the waist and forcibly moved her away.
Bess was upset. Elizabeth was acting recklessly, and she herself should have had more good sense than to dress up in religious attire. Her cheeks were burning, the room was overheated, and her novitiate's habit was stifling. Bess needed fresh air and made her way toward the doors that led to a balcony.
With relief she saw the man clad in black riding leathers coming toward her. The only concession to a costume that he wore was a slouch hat and a black eye mask.
“Rogue, where have you been? I need some air.”
He took her hand and led her out onto the balcony. “What's amiss, my little nun?”
“Lud, I should never have worn this novitiate's robe. I thought I was being clever, showing you I would remain chaste, but I have outraged Princess Mary.”
“Hush.” He cupped her face in his hands and bent his head to capture her lips.
Bess yielded her mouth and melted against him, feeling secure in the circle of his powerful arms. “Oh, I wish you weren't wed to another.”
“So do I,” he murmured against her lips.
Bess began to shiver. The winter night was extremely cold, and after the warmth of the crowded rooms, she was suddenly covered with gooseflesh. “I'm freezing,” she said, taking his hand and drawing him back through the French doors.
Across the Long Gallery Bess caught sight of another man in black riding leathers. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she recognized that it was William Cavendish. In dismay she swung around to look at her escort. Now she realized that he was taller than William and had wider shoulders. “Who the devil are you?” she demanded furiously.
He grinned down at her. “Don't worry, Vixen, even I wouldn't violate a nun.” Then he walked away.
Cavendish saw her and cut through the crowd. “Was that George Talbot in riding leathers?”
“Yes! He makes me want to spew!” Bess said passionately.
“Don't swallow your rosary beads, sweetheart. Whatever has upset you?”
“Oh, Rogue, please take me home. I'm having a miserable time.”
“Come on, then. It isn't yet midnight, and I want to give you your New Year's gift.” He put his arm about her to keep her warm as they ran across the courtyard to his carriage. He lifted her inside, climbed in after her, then drew her back into his arms. Her lips were cold as ice when he kissed her, but his mouth soon warmed them.
“I know what will make you hot,” he whispered.
