“I was under a spell,” Will said after a long, tense moment. “Dorothy used her woman’s wiles on me until I could no longer remember my own name.”
I looked at him askance. “When you first met her, she was a girl younger than I am now, and you had long since attained your majority. You were no green lad to—”
“She was never as innocent as you are, Bess.”
I bit my lip to keep from blurting out that I was no innocent. He would misunderstand. I was innocent in the way he meant. I had never lain with a man, never been the recipient of any greater attention from one than a few enthusiastic kisses. But I knew what men and women did in private when they yielded to lust. Both Mother and Aunt Elizabeth had described the act of coupling to me in frank terms, warning me that I must not give myself to any man before marriage, no matter how much I might want to.
“You wrote love letters to Dorothy,” I said.
“One or two,” he admitted.
“She said—”
“What? That I promised her marriage? How could I?”
“But you came to Cowling Castle to see her.”
“I came to solicit your father’s support in Parliament. I did not even know she was there until after I arrived.”
My hand clenched so hard on Prancer’s reins that the horse shied. Will turned his mount so that we were facing each other. Everything he felt was there for me to see in his face. When he spoke again, I could no longer doubt his sincerity.
“I want to marry you, Bess. Why does that so surprise you?”
“We can count on one hand the number of occasions we have spoken together.” I tried to urge Prancer forward, out of the clearing, but she was skittish, sensing the conflicted emotions of her rider. “And how can you marry me? You are not free to marry anyone.”
Once again he caught hold of the pommel. “Is the idea so repulsive to you?” His teasing smile told me that he knew it was not.
“Have you forgotten that you already have a wife?” This time my attempt at coldness failed utterly. My voice shook.
“That marriage was declared invalid by a special act of Parliament.”
“But your wife is still alive. You cannot wed again as long as she lives. I hope you do not plan to murder the poor woman.” I made the suggestion without thinking, but in the next instant I realized how simple a matter it would be to do away with an unwanted spouse. “You must not even consider such a thing! If any harm came to her because of me, I should never forgive myself.”
His smile turned into a scowl. “She betrayed me with another man!”
“And you betrayed your marriage vows with Dorothy. And no doubt with others, too.” A man as well favored as Will Parr had never lived celibate at court.
“I will not lie to you, Bess. I wish Anne were dead.” At last he released the pommel. “But I will do nothing to hasten her end. I swear it.”
Now it was my turn to reach out to him. An overwhelming need to know more had me touching his forearm with my fingers. “Will you tell me about her?”
“You . . . you want to know about Anne Bourchier?”
I nodded. How else could I understand Will?
His reluctance was palpable, but so was my determination. Resigned, he dismounted and lifted me from my saddle. The clearing contained a large, flat-topped boulder, just the right height to serve as a bench. In the distance I heard the occasional shout, but the hawking party had moved on.
Will spread his cloak over the boulder to protect us from the chill of the stone. Just his nearness was enough to warm me. And his willingness to share his past did more to convince me of his sincerity than any of his pretty words of love.
“My mother was ambitious for her children,” he began when we were settled side by side on the hard surface of the rock. “She was widowed young, but she was one of Queen Catherine of Aragon’s ladies. Thus she was able to arrange a match for me with the only child of the old Earl of Essex. The expectation was that I would be granted his title when he died. I married Anne Bourchier when we were both children. She was barely ten years old. I was fifteen.”
I nodded. I’d learned that much from listening at the peephole in Cowling Castle.
“After the wedding, I did not see her again for twelve years. In the interim I served in the household of the king’s bastard, Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond, God rest his soul. There I was surrounded by great music, and the art of the finest painters and sculptors, and books of every kind. Anne knew nothing of such pleasures. She had been given little education of any sort. We had nothing to say to each other when I finally went to live with her in her father’s house.”
“Many couples lack common interests,” I murmured.
Will’s voice, normally so deep and melodious, lapsed into a monotone. “We lived together as man and wife, but even in bed we found no joy in each other. There was no spark between us. Anne is pretty enough, in a whey-faced, bone-thin fashion, but she is delicate. She did not care for what she called my rough ways.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “No one else has ever complained. I must assume the fault lies with her.”
And yet, I thought, she took a lover. I might be physically attracted to Will Parr, but I had not entirely lost my common sense. “Men never take the blame in such matters.”
Where another man would have taken offense, my comment made Will laugh. “Do you reproach me for my lack of sympathy? I assure you, Bess, I did my best. I was tender with her. After all, a man needs an heir.”
He shifted on the rock until we were pressed together at hip and thigh. I eased away. I was certain he was a talented lover, but I was not fool enough to allow him to demonstrate his skills. Should he get a child on me, the babe would not be his heir, but only his bastard.
Resuming his story, Will stared into the surrounding woods. “She did not conceive, and by the time I was called away to court, I was glad to go. We’ve lived apart ever since, and when the old earl died, to add insult to injury, the king bestowed the Essex title upon Lord Cromwell.”
“And you remained at court and took my aunt as your mistress. Dorothy thought you intended to marry her.”
“I want to remarry.” Will caught both my hands in his. A wave of heat flowed up my arms. “I want to marry you, Bess. It is not impossible. I have taken steps to repudiate my wife. Parliament granted me a legal separation on the grounds of her adultery. The children Anne has borne have been barred from succeeding to her inheritance.”
“Her inheritance?” For a moment, I thought I’d misunderstood. It made sense that children who were not Will’s be prevented from inheriting his estates. But a wife, even an unfaithful one, was supposed to be protected from penury by the grant of her dower rights. I could not help but remember the way Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder had treated Aunt Elizabeth. “Do you mean to leave her impoverished?”
Will did not seem to understand my objection. “Anne ran off with another man. The prior of St. James in Tandridge, in Surrey. She had children by him.”
“Have you left your wife destitute?” I asked again.
“She has enough to live on. She will not starve.”
“An earl’s daughter? She must have been accustomed to luxury.”
“You cannot think I did wrong to disown her bastards!”
The anguish in Will’s voice made my heart stutter in my breast. My feelings for him were so intense, so overwhelming, so complex that I found myself unable to condemn him. “I wonder if she is happy with her choice,” I said instead, “for she cannot remarry any more than you can.”
“A royal decree will free me to wed again. My sister has promised her help. And the Essex earldom, in abeyance since Cromwell’s execution, will also be mine. The investiture ceremony is set for the twenty-third day of this month.”