AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He was sitting before the roaring fire, and she climbed into his lap. “William, don't you dare to breathe a word of it!”
His hand slipped to her belly, which was hardly mounded in spite of her being in her sixth month. “But I'm so damned proud of it. I want to exercise my bragging rights.”
“I'll tell them at New Year's,” she said loftily.
But when New Year's came, Bess changed her mind. They had been invited to spend the revels at Chelsea, where Thomas Seymour was determined to entertain the king and Court with a lavish celebration, complete with the traditional masked costume ball. When the crowds were at their greatest, the admiral announced that his new wife, Dowager Queen Catherine, was with child.
Princess Elizabeth, standing next to Bess, clenched her fists so tightly, her nails cut into her palms. “That's disgusting! Men love nothing better than to shout their virility to the world. Strutting about, displaying their codpieces like cocksure, cock-proud boys!”
Her words wrung Bess's heart. Elizabeth had idolized and loved Tom Seymour since she was a little girl and would no doubt have given her soul to be wed to him.
Elizabeth's envious eyes swept over Bess's costumed figure. “Next it will be you who is swollen with child, displaying your belly like a symbol of womanhood.”
Bess knew she could not tell her. She would not add to her friend's misery for all the Crown jewels.
Finally, in mid-February, when she and William were dining at Suffolk House, Bess took great delight in telling Frances and Henry that she was going to have a baby.
Frances raised her glass to William. “Well, that didn't take long, you randy devil.”
William's eyes danced with amusement. Frances had no idea.
“How far along are you?” Frances inquired, her speculative eyes roaming over Bess's expanding midsection.
“I'm not really sure,” Bess said vaguely. “Perhaps five months.”
William choked on his wine. The little minx had conceived seven and a half months ago. Henry clapped him on the back and offered his heartiest congratulations.
“You wretch, why didn't you tell me sooner?” Frances demanded.
“Well, I was going to tell you at New Year's, but when the admiral made his grandiose announcement, I found it rather vulgar and William thought we should be more discreet.”
Cavendish choked once more.
“You look absolutely blooming.”
“I've never felt better.” It was the first truthful statement she'd uttered since she sat down to dinner.
“From what her sister tells me, Catherine Parr is suffering for her sins. She's sick every day; in fact she's been ill since the moment of conception.”
Bess had such a tender heart when someone was ill. She invariably felt guilty because she enjoyed robust health. “Poor lady. Having a baby should be a happy time.”
“The woman is crowding forty; she's far too old to be having her first child.”
Henry changed the subject. He knew Frances would never utter a kind word for the woman who had usurped Chelsea. “Would you like a girl or a boy?”
“A girl,” William said without hesitation, “a little redhead exactly like Bess.”
“Whoever would have thought the dissolute Rogue Cavendish would turn into a fatuous fool?” Frances drawled.
The corners of Bess's mouth went up. “If it's a girl we shall call her Frances, and if it's a boy we'll name him Henry.”
“You don't have to do that,” Henry protested, though he was highly flattered.
“Speak for yourself, Henry. My goddaughter should certainly be called Frances,” his wife hinted broadly.
“Now who's being a fatuous fool?” her husband teased.
***
