At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) (11 page)

King Henry’s booming laugh drew the attention of every courtier in the garden. His hand landed on Will’s shoulder with a hearty smack. “Who said that I meant to remain celibate?”

The king left Will’s side and headed straight toward Lady Anne. She appeared to be delighted by the attention and George smiled, too. Only Lady Anne’s sister, Lady Elizabeth, watching from the shade of a rose arbor, seemed to read anything ominous into the king’s sudden show of interest.

W
ith a sigh of pleasure, Lady Anne relaxed under her tiring maid’s ministrations. They were in the inner chamber of her lodgings at court, finished at last with a long day in the queen’s service. Anne had bathed and washed her hair. She’d dried it over a brazier and now Meriall was brushing the long, dark brown strands. Anne felt deliciously lazy. Her cheeks were still slightly warm from having been so close to the glowing coals. She let her velvet nightgown fall open to cool her flushed skin.

The creak of the outer door opening in the other room startled both mistress and maid. Anne glanced at the little clock on the table. George had left some hours earlier for the nearby village of Greenwich. His stepfather, Richard Sacheverell, was there, staying in an inn for a day or two. Anne did not expect her husband to return for many hours yet. He’d planned to spend the evening gambling with Sacheverell and other gentlemen of his acquaintance.

“See who has come in,” she instructed Meriall, and retied the sash of her robe with a secure knot.

The little maid clutched the hairbrush in one hand, as if she thought to use it as a weapon, and crept to the door that stood open between the inner and outer rooms of Anne’s lodgings. There she stopped
and stood stock still and staring for a long moment before she spoke. The look she slanted at her mistress contained both worry and confusion. “It is Master Compton, my lady.”

Anne frowned. What was Will Compton doing here at this hour? The logical answer was that he’d been sent to find George. The king must want her husband for some reason. She was about to rise and go out to talk to him when the man himself brushed past Meriall and entered the inner chamber uninvited.

Compton had come back to court hale and hearty once he’d recovered from that fall in the tournament. He’d laughed off his injuries, claiming that the worst of it was the broken nose. He now had a slight bump in an appendage that had previously been perfectly shaped.

“Forgive the intrusion, my lady.” He doffed his bonnet and bowed to her.

In the candlelight, he cut a fine figure. Anne felt a little flutter of excitement low in her belly and quickly adjusted the collar of her night robe. She decided not to stand up. Doing so might reveal an unseemly length of leg, for she was naked beneath the soft dark blue velvet.

“It is late, Master Compton. Why are you here?” She was pleased to hear that her voice was steady, even though she was all aquiver inside.

“I require a word with you in private.” He sent a pointed glance in Meriall’s direction.

Anne frowned, but she knew that Will Compton would not have come to her chamber at this late hour if the matter were not important. “Has something happened to George?” she asked.

Even as she voiced the question, she knew that was not the reason. If Compton had come to deliver bad news, he’d have wanted Meriall to stay.

“George has naught to do with this,” he said when they were alone. “The king sent me.”

“Why?”

“You truly have no notion, do you?” Looking exasperated, he came closer, and she saw that he’d twisted his bonnet into a knot. “Dearest Anne, His Grace desires you. So do I, but I have not the power to command your love.”

“Is this some tasteless jest?” Even as she asked, the pained look in Compton’s eyes told her it was not.

“I wish it were,” he muttered.

“The king. . .
wants
me?”

He nodded.

“But. . . but he loves the queen. You know he does.”

“His Grace believes he is being noble,” Compton said. “He would spare the queen his attentions while she carries his child. And during that time. . .” His voice trailed off. Clearly, he did not care for the king’s plan any more than she did.

“Let him find someone else!”

“His Grace seems set upon having you. If you mean to refuse him—”

“If? There is no question of
if
. And does he think my husband will sit idly by and let me go to another man’s bed, even the king’s? Does he think my
brother
will?”

Compton’s expression turned grim. “I do not believe His Grace has thought past the pleasure of coupling with you.”

His words sent a spike of fear through her. She willed herself to be calm, to think clearly. “I will never be his mistress. You must tell His Grace that.”

“It would be best if you told him yourself.”

Now it was her turn to show exasperation. “Are you afraid of the king, Will Compton?” she taunted him.

“At times, His Grace terrifies me. I doubt that you have seen it, my lady, but King Henry has a temper when he is thwarted and has since he was a boy.”

There was such honesty in the simple statement that Anne felt a moment’s sympathy for him. Compton served at the king’s pleasure and had no powerful kin to protect him from his master’s wrath should he refuse to obey a command.

“There may be a way out,” she said slowly. “For both of us. You did say that the king is loath to do anything that might harm a woman who is with child?”

Compton nodded.

“Then he will not wish to meddle with me any more than he does with the queen.”

His gaze darted to her belly.

“It is early days yet, but I am all but certain that I am with child.” Her breasts were tender. For the last week, she had felt a little ill in the morning. She had not yet told anyone, not even George. She had wanted to wait until she was sure. “Will my condition dissuade the king from his pursuit?”

“I have no doubt of it.” Compton started to smile.

Relief washed over her. The king would not take offense at her refusal to become his mistress. Not in these circumstances. And as soon as George returned from his visit to Richard Sacheverell, she would inform him that in six or seven months he would be a father.

“Will you be bold enough to inform the king?” she asked, rising carefully to her feet, her robe snugly wrapped and covering all but her bare feet. “Or must I slay my own dragon?”

His smile turned into a grin. “Never fear, my lady. In this instance, I am prepared to fulfill the duties of a chivalrous knight.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I thought for a moment there that you expected me to don armor and enter the lists.”

“Now there is a sight I would like to see!”

They were laughing together when the door to the outer room slammed open with a resounding crash. Anne’s brother stormed into her bedchamber, closely followed by their sister.

The Duke of Buckingham stopped short when he caught sight of Anne standing so close to Will Compton. “I did not believe it!” he roared. “I told Elizabeth she must be mistaken. But now I see that she was not. Whore! You bring shame on the good name of Stafford.”

Elizabeth’s smug expression removed any need for words from her.

Compton rounded on the duke. “My lord, you have no cause to revile Lady Anne.”

Anne placed one hand on his sleeve to stop him from saying more. “What is it, my lord brother, that you
think
you see?” She had her own
full share of Stafford pride. She drew herself up straighter and met Edward glare for glare. She might be wearing nothing but a velvet night robe, but she would not oblige her officious older brother by showing any sign of shame. She had done nothing to warrant his anger.

Edward clearly thought otherwise. “What is he doing here in the middle of the night? Have you no pride, Anne? He is a commoner. A nobody.”

Will made matters worse by laughing aloud. “Ah, I see,” he said. “It would be acceptable, then, for your sister to become a nobleman’s mistress? Or perhaps the king’s?”

Edward’s face turned an ugly shade of red.

“I told you the king was sniffing around her!” Elizabeth said, her voice triumphant. “I tried to warn you, Edward.”

“There is nothing untoward in my connection to His Grace,” Anne protested.

“Then why is
he
here?” Elizabeth demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Compton. “If not for himself, then there is only one other for whom he’d solicit your favors.”

Anne sent her sister a withering glance but, before she could answer, Compton did.

“I came to read the lady a poem I wrote to her left eyebrow. It is a poor piece, but mine own. Shall I recite it for you?”

“Can you never be serious?” Anne scolded him. “He is jesting, Edward.” Her brother looked as if he were about to explode.

Compton opened his mouth to say more, but Anne silenced him with a look. He was incorrigible. Under other circumstances, she might have found his quick wit amusing, but not when her brother’s anger was rapidly building into rage.

“Staffords are no game for Comptons,” Edward said with a supercilious sneer, “nor for Tudors, neither.”

“Am I a hind to be hunted?” Anne felt her own temper spike.

Neither man answered her. They were too intent on scowling at each other. Edward’s hand rested, ominously, on the pommel of his sword.

“Upstart!” he flung the word at Compton like a curse.

“Fool!” Compton lobbed back.

Before they could draw weapons or come to blows, both treasonable offenses at court, Anne launched herself between them and gave her brother a hard shove. Taken off guard by the sudden movement, he staggered back a few steps, giving her enough room to round on Compton.

“Leave my lodgings at once, sirrah. You are not welcome here.”

He started to protest, but when he got a good look at her face, he sketched a bow instead. “As my lady wishes. But perhaps we might speak tomorrow, properly chaperoned, that I may assure you of the outcome of certain matters we discussed tonight?”

“She’ll not be speaking to you ever again, Compton!” Edward bellowed. “At first light tomorrow she’ll be on her way to a nunnery!”

“Edward!”

“Silence! You have played the wanton and you must suffer for it. It is my duty as your brother to protect you and, failing that, to correct you.”

“The king shall hear of this,” Compton vowed, and on that promise he turned on his heel and left the chamber.

Anne took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain control of her emotions. Only when she was calmer did she turn to her brother and speak to him through gritted teeth. “You are being unreasonable. And you have no right to send me anywhere, least of all a nunnery.”

“We will see about that. I’ve sent a man to fetch your husband.”

“I have done nothing to warrant your condemnation, or his.”

“Liar! Women are weak vessels. Those who succumb to the lure of the flesh must be chastised. Consider yourself fortunate that I do not insist that your adultery be punished by public penance.”

“I have not committed adultery, Edward.” Anne enunciated each word carefully, but he was not listening to her.

“How could you be so disloyal to Queen Catherine?” Elizabeth chimed in. “Her Grace will be most distressed when she hears of this.”

“And you will no doubt delight in telling her!” Disgusted, Anne turned her back on them both.

Edward and Elizabeth continued to revile her for another quarter of an hour, but when she refused to acknowledge them they finally gave
up. Unfortunately, they did not go far. Announcing that he would wait in the outer chamber until George returned, Edward slammed out of the inner room.

Anne heard the key turn in the lock and had to fight an overwhelming urge to attack the thick wooden panels with her fists. She stood very still instead, arms wrapped around herself to contain the shaking. George would set things right. He would never believe Elizabeth’s slurs or pay heed to Edward’s ranting. She would tell him the truth and all would be well—or as well as it could be when George learned that his king had tried to cuckold him.

A very long time passed before she heard any sound from the other side of the door. Then there were voices, speaking too low for her to understand the words. The conversation seemed to go on forever before the key was once again turned in her lock. Anne held her breath, letting it out with a whoosh when George entered the chamber alone.

She had taken only a few steps toward him before she caught sight of the expression on his face and froze. She had never seen him so angry. He was furious. . . at her.

“Was Compton in this chamber?” he asked.

She took a step back. “Yes, but—”

“Alone with you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Enough! You have shamed me, Anne.” He turned to shout at Meriall, who hovered in the doorway. “Pack all your mistress’s belongings. We leave at first light.”

“Leave? I cannot leave the court without the queen’s permission.”

“Her Grace will be glad to be rid of you.”

Anne did not trust herself to speak. She’d rail like a fishwife if she gave voice to everything she felt at this moment. And then it was too late to say anything. George had stormed out of the room, once again locking the door.

He would come to his senses by morning, she told herself. Or the king would intervene. While Meriall quietly began to pack, Anne climbed into bed and closed the hangings around her. She kept back
a scream of frustration only by holding her clenched fist to her mouth. Then the tears came.

Wisely, George did not try to join her in their bed that night, but she could hear his voice in the outer room from time to time, and Edward’s, too. She did not think she would sleep, but eventually exhaustion claimed her.

George woke her with a rough shake. He stood over her, glowering, a candle held in one hand. For a moment, Anne could not think why he was so wroth with her. Then everything that had happened the previous evening rushed back. She gathered herself, determined to set the record straight, but he gave her no opportunity to explain. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off.