In a Treacherous Court
Read In a Treacherous Court Online
Authors: Michelle Diener
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #General
I
N A
T
REACHEROUS
C
OURT
 | Gallery Books A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com |
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Michelle Diener
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
First Gallery Books trade paperback edition August 2011
GALLERY BOOKS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at
www.simonspeakers.com
.
Designed by Jaime Putorti
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Diener, Michelle.
In a Treacherous Court / Michelle Diener.—1st Gallery Books trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
1. Henry VIII, King of England, 1491–1547—Fiction. 2. Courts and courtiers—Fiction. 3. Great Britain—History—Henry VIII, 1509–1547—Fiction. I. Title.
PR9619.4.D54I45 2011
823′.92—dc22
2010045543
ISBN 978-1-4391-9708-0
ISBN 978-1-4391-9710-3 (ebook)
This is my first published work and there have been many, many people along the way who have contributed to this moment. I offer apologies in advance for anyone I may forget.
First, I wish to thank my editor, Micki Nuding; her editorial assistant, Danielle Poiesz; and the rest of the team at Gallery Books, as well as my amazing agent, Marlene Stringer, for their enthusiasm and belief in this book. Thanks to them, this was all possible.
My critique partners, Edie Ramer and Liz Kreger, encouraged me, supported me, and told me when things needed to be cut or changed and when things were wonderful. I can only say thank you, although it doesn’t seem enough.
My sister, Jo, has been my avid beta reader for years, and her enthusiasm and suggestions helped make this book better. Thank you.
From my original writing group, Allison Brennan, Karin Tabke, Maya Banks, Amy Knupp, Janette Kenny, and La-Donna Paulette gave me advice, help, and encouragement back when I was just starting to write seriously. Thank you for all your support.
I would also like to thank Julia Dekenah, Inge Tessendorf, Bridget Ryan, Frieda Lloyd, Amanda wilson, Tabitha Yngstrom, Anna Suggitt, Kim Foster, and Fiona Cadogan for their support, enthusiasm, and encouragement of my writing journey. You are all good friends who lent me an ear when I needed it.
Thanks also to my book groups in Vredendal, Cape Town, and Australia. You were always supportive and encouraging. Thank you.
Thanks also to Mom, Dean, Lorna, Grant, and Shannon for their love and support of my dreams and goals through the years.
There have been many other people who have helped me on my journey, from my writing associations and from other walks of life. I can’t mention you all, but thank you.
To my husband, who supported me and never once thought I wouldn’t achieve my dreams, and to my children, who have learned to repeat themselves with good grace when their mother is so deep in her work she doesn’t hear them the first time.
I
N A
T
REACHEROUS
C
OURT
The Chiefe Conditions and Qualities in a Courtier:
To be well borne and of a good stocke.
Of the Chief Conditions and Qualityes in a Waytyng Gentylwoman:
To be well born and of a good house.
—The Courtyer of Count Baldessar Castilio divided into foure bookes. Very necessary and profitatable for yonge Gentilmen and Gentilwomen abiding in Court, Palaice or Place, done into Englyshe by Thomas Hoby.
FEBRUARY 1525
I
am the Keeper of Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell.” John Parker spoke through gritted teeth.
The shipping clerk who’d questioned his right to be on the quay backed away, stammering, and Parker got a grip on his annoyance. He wasn’t used to being challenged these days. He’d forgotten it brought out his temper.
His anger would have been hotter had the clerk let him through unquestioned, though. The King’s goods needed ample protection.
The clerk sidled off and disappeared into the thick mist.
Still irritated, Parker scuffed his boot against a wharf pole and reflected that no good deed went unpunished.
The fog pressed all around, obscuring the merchants waiting along with him for the ship from the Netherlands. Their voices rose and fell in the swirling white, in tandem with the waves against the pier.
This was what arse-licking brought you: a fog-shrouded evening freezing your balls off, waiting to meet some nancy painter who would probably smell of garlic and pick his nose all the way back to London.
He thought of the Italian crossbows he’d taken delivery of earlier, the real reason for his business here, and felt an almost physical pang at being unable to unpack the beauties tonight.
The tread of a heavy boot thudded close by, muffled in the thick fog, and Parker turned toward it, his hand going under his cloak to his sword. He kept silent, listening intently when the footsteps stopped. His senses sharpened, honed from years of watching his own and the King’s back, and he crept forward, soundless as the swirling fog.
A face loomed out of the white and Parker closed the distance, the rush of adrenaline in his blood.
“Ahhh.” The man started back in terror, his cry of fear harsh and loud. His empty hands rose in surrender, and Parker relaxed, sliding the sword he didn’t remember drawing back into its scabbard.
“Yes?”
It was another clerk, a black-robed, poxy-looking fellow. He rubbed shaking hands against his cloak. “Are you the King’s man?”
“Aye.” He was the King’s man, all right. God help him.
“I have news of the ship from the Netherlands.” The shipping clerk paused a moment, and to speed him up, Parker began drawing his sword again. “It put in northeast of here, at Deal,” the man gasped. “There has been some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
The clerk shrugged. “Don’t know.”
Parker supposed he should be grateful the captain had the sense to keep whatever trouble plagued the King’s ship away from the prying eyes and gossiping tongues here at Dover.
He faced northward and caught a glimpse of a lantern farther along the shore, a weak beacon in the bitter-cold dusk. He reached deep within for the strength to care enough to do the King’s business.
“I’ll fetch my horse.”