My steps slowed when I was faced with a yeoman of the guard clad in brilliant scarlet livery and holding a halberd. There was one problem with my escape plan. Whitehall was a maze of rooms and corridors so vast that I did not think I could find my way back to my parents’ lodgings on my own. With Nan Bassett gone, I knew only one other person at the banquet—Dorothy Bray. She was family, I told myself. If I asked for her help, she’d be obliged to give it.
As I searched for my young aunt, the musicians struck up a lively tune and the dancing began. Ladies partnered each other for the king’s entertainment, but Dorothy was not among them. The chamber was crowded, making it difficult to find anyone, and I was beginning to despair of ever making my escape when I passed a shadowy alcove. A bit of dark blue brocade protruded from it, the same color and fabric as Dorothy’s gown. Without stopping to think that she might not be alone, I stepped closer.
A man was kissing Dorothy with enthusiastic abandon. By his dress—a green velvet doublet with slashed and puffed sleeves and a jewel the size of a fist pinned to his bonnet—he was a member of the king’s household. One hand rested on Dorothy’s waist. The other was hidden from sight in the vicinity of her breast.
At the sound of my startled gasp, they sprang apart, exposing a good deal of Dorothy’s bosom. Abashed, I started to back away.
“Stay,” the man ordered in a low-pitched growl, and stepped out of the shadows.
I obeyed. Then I simply stared at him.
He was one of the most toothsome gentlemen I had ever seen. Tall and well built, his superb physical condition suggested that he participated in tournaments. I had never attended one, but I had heard that such events were a fixture of court life. Gentlemen vied with each other to show off their prowess with lance and sword. A man who looked this athletic was certain to be a champion jouster. His face, too, was perfection, with regular features, close-cropped auburn hair, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.
His eyes were light brown and full of annoyance as his gaze swept over me, from the top of my French hood to the toes of my new embroidered slippers and back up again. By the time they met mine for the second time, approval had replaced irritation.
Sheltered by her companion’s much larger body, Dorothy put her bodice to rights. Still tucking loose strands of dark brown hair into place beneath her headdress, she shoved him aside. Temper contorted her features into an ugly mask. “Begone, Bess!” she hissed. “Have you nothing better to do than spy on me?”
“I did not invade your privacy out of malice. I only wish to retire to my lodgings before His Grace notices me again and I do not know the way.”
The man chuckled. His mouth crinkled at the corners when he smiled at me, making him even more attractive. He doffed his bejeweled bonnet and bowed. “Will Parr at your service, mistress.”
Dorothy slammed the back of her hand into his velvet-clad chest the moment he straightened, preventing him from stepping closer to me. It was no gentle love tap, and if the look she turned my way could have set a fire, I’d have burst into flames on the spot. “That is Baron Parr of Kendal to you, niece.”
I was unimpressed by his title. My father was a baron, too, and so was my uncle, Dorothy’s younger brother. “Lord Parr,” I said, bobbing a brief curtsy in acknowledgment of his courtesy bow, as if we were about to be partners in a dance.
Our eyes met for the third time. I recognized a spark of male interest in his gaze, along with a twinkle of wry amusement. Without warning, butterflies took wing in my stomach. It was the most peculiar sensation, and one I had never experienced before. For a moment my mind went blank. I continued to stare at him, transfixed, my heart racing much too fast.
“If you truly wish to return to your mother,” Dorothy said with some asperity, “then do so. No one here will stop you.”
Her cold voice and harsh words broke the spell. I forced myself to look away from Lord Parr. Although I could not help but be pleased that such a handsome man found me attractive, I knew I should be annoyed with him on Dorothy’s behalf. “How am I to find my way there on my own?” I asked in a small, plaintive voice.
Dorothy’s fingers curled, as if she would like to claw me, but Lord Parr at once offered me his arm. “Allow me to escort you, Mistress Brooke. Brigands haunt the palace at night, you know, men who might be tempted to pluck a pretty flower like you if they found her alone in a dark passageway.”
I looked up at him and smiled. He was just a head taller than I.
“We will both accompany you.” Dorothy clamped a possessive hand on Lord Parr’s other arm with enough force to make him wince. We left the king’s great watching chamber with Lord Parr between us and walked the first little way in silence.
Dorothy’s anger disturbed me. She’d resented the few minutes His Grace had spent talking to me. And now she wanted to keep Lord Parr all to herself. But I was not her rival. And even if I was, I would be gone from court in another day or two.
My steps faltered as comprehension dawned. Dorothy would not be staying much longer either. There was no place at court for maids of honor or ladies of the privy chamber or even chamberers when the king lacked a queen. Dorothy would have to return to her mother—my grandmother Jane at Eaton Bray in Bedfordshire—until the king remarried. What I had interrupted must have been her farewell to her lover.
I glanced her way. Poor Dorothy. It might be many months before she saw Lord Parr again, and I had deprived her of an opportunity, rare at court, for a few moments of privacy.
Worse, although I had not intended it, I had caught Will Parr’s interest. I rushed into speech, uncomfortable with my memory of the profound effect he’d had on me. “Do you think the king has someone in mind to marry?”
“He paid particular attention to you.” Dorothy’s voice dripped venom. She walked a little faster along the torch-lit corridor, forcing us to match her pace.
A wicked thought came into my head. If the king made me his queen and Dorothy were my maid of honor, she’d be obliged to obey my slightest whim. I felt my lips twitch, but I sobered quickly when I remembered that in order to be queen, I’d first have to marry old King Henry. Nothing could make that sacrifice worthwhile!
“I wager Mistress Bassett has the lead,” Lord Parr said in a conversational tone, ignoring Dorothy’s simmering temper.
“Do you think so? Nan has caught His Grace’s eye in the past and nothing came of it.” Dorothy had reined in her emotions with the skill of a trained courtier.
They bandied about a few more names, but none that I recognized. I practiced prudence and held my tongue as we made our way through the maze of corridors and finally stopped before a door identical to dozens of others we’d passed.
“We have arrived,” Dorothy announced with an unmistakable note of relief in her voice. “Here are your lodgings, Bess. We’ll leave you to—”
The door abruptly opened to reveal my father, a big, barrel-chested man with a square face set off by a short, forked beard. His eyebrows lifted when he recognized Dorothy and Lord Parr. “Come in,” he said. “Have a cup of wine.” He fixed Dorothy with a stern look when she tried to excuse herself. “Your sister has been expecting a visit from you ever since we arrived at court.”
Father, Mother, and I had been assigned a double lodging—two large rooms with a fireplace in each and our own lavatory. The outer room was warm and smelled of spiced wine heating on a brazier. Somehow, in only a day, Mother had made the place her own. She’d brought tapestries from Cowling Castle to hang on the walls, including my favorite, showing the story of Paris and Helen of Troy. Our own servants had come with us to make sure we received food and drink in good time and that there was an adequate supply of wood for the fireplaces and coal for the braziers.