Mistress to the Crown (18 page)

Ned bestowed a public smile on them. Miraculously no one recognised the flash of white teeth.

I was ashamed that his daughters had witnessed this unpleasantness. Dear God, my nerves were still a jangle. Could he forgive me?

‘You are not angry?’

‘Not unless this rabble expect me to buy a round,’ he muttered stingily.

‘You
are
going to invade France on their money,’ I pointed out, my confidence returning.

‘And
they’ve
just invaded my privacy. By the way,’ he muttered, with a little boy look. ‘I never carry a purse. Are you paying?’

‘I certainly am,’ I promised, hoping desperately I had sufficient. ‘Knight errants like you are worth a score of pies.’

His hand slid stealthily between my legs. ‘I’ll expect interest as well, mercer’s daughter.’

Before the city gates closed for the night, I took the reins for the ride back to Westminster. A contented, pie-filled lover hummed at my side.

Yes, I thought, it need not all be between the sheets. But while Ned was kissing his daughters goodnight and bidding them keep our adventure a secret, a furious Master Myddelton hauled me over the coals.

‘You put their graces’ lives in danger, Mistress Shore!’ A just chastisement. Yet a risk that had paid well. That night I took another – I bound Ned’s wrists to the bedposts and let my tongue and fingers rouse him until he was cursing me to hell. Only then did I slide down upon his prick and ride him until he roared with release.

V

If I licked my finger at the end of that week, I could have drawn five strokes on Ned’s bedchamber window. From famine to feast. Five nights of lovemaking. My mind was hazy from lack of sleep and my body felt tender. To be with the King was exhilarating, like dancing high on wine at a wondrous merrymaking, yet outside the sunlight of his presence, the world was shadows and I was stumbling to find where I belonged. I was not his wife but I was as dependent on him as I had been with Shore, and infinitely vulnerable.

Make him laugh
. Mama’s counsel held truth. I needed to become Ned’s trusted friend as well as his concubine. Once I had my own dwelling, my strategy would be to send my menservants to harvest jests from the alehouses. To cheer, amuse and surprise Ned would become my creed.

At first I felt sorry for the Queen, the Yorkist milk-cow, forever calving. No wonder the King strayed into other pastures. Did she care? I think she did and her solution for dispensing with me was an oblique form of warfare through her son, Dorset. Several times the marquis ambushed me, trying to have me in his embrace where Ned might discover us. After his third attempt, I complained to the King.

‘Does my lord of Dorset have to goose me as though I am some tapster’s Jill? No wonder Lord Hastings is loath to have him as a son-in—’ I froze; Ned’s indulgent expression had turned frosty.

‘Is that what Lord Hastings is saying, Jane?’

‘No, no, that’s only my opinion,’ I said quickly. ‘I should not want a hellhound like Dorset for my daughter.’

‘He’s the Queen’s son.’ My lover’s voice was chill.

‘Well, I wish “the Queen’s son” would stop try to put his hand up my skirts. Why is he doing it? To provoke you or to make me seem faithless?’

He ignored my point. ‘I will have this marriage between Dorset and Cecily Bonville whether Will Hastings likes it or not, and you would be wise not to express any opinion. I need to have a powerful landholder whom I can rely on in every shire. That girl owns half the West Country so I’ll be damned if I’m letting her go to one of the other Devon families just because they’re offering Will a better bargain.’

Time for sackcloth and a snatch of ashes?

‘Forgive me, my gracious lord. What I am struggling to say is that it will be for Cecily Bonville’s good as well as my peace of mind if you would kindly ask Lord Dorset to keep his hands to himself.’

Appeased, Ned sucked in his cheeks. ‘So you don’t prefer a younger dog?’ He slid a possessive hand round my neck.

‘Do you wish me to prove it?’ I purred, kissing him.

His lips caressed mine, but he was not quite done with the scolding. ‘Look, my darling, I know all too well that my barons see the Queen’s family as upstarts but, God be thanked, her kin are loyal to me, and it’s through their marriages I have established a greater hold on the kingdom. I haven’t given them a choice either in who they marry. Young Tom can be a pest but he’ll grow out of it.’

So the Greys and the Woodvilles, like the mosquitoes and midges of the world, were there to be endured.

‘Well then, amen, Ned. I shall just have to keep slapping the marquis away.’

Unfortunately, Dorset believed in perseverance. He once more intercepted me on my way to Ned’s apartments. I tried to pass him, but he halted with a jingle of spurs and adventured his hands about my waist. The passageway, usually so bustling, was cursedly deserted.

I pushed against his chest. ‘His grace the King is waiting, my lord.’

‘So am I.’ He stroked his third finger over the satin that covered my left nipple. ‘So firm. How you rouse my blood, sweet Mistress Shore.’

‘As long as I don’t rouse anything else,’ I snapped.

He pouted, his face so close to mine I could smell wine upon his breath. ‘Ah, can you not find it in your heart to yield a teensy-weensy, seeing there’s no one around to notice?’

‘Have you no loyalty to the King, my lord?’ I chided, holding my ground.

‘Oh, but we play these games, he and I. He stole a wench from me only last week.’ He read the astonishment in my face. ‘Did you think
him
faithful?’ The tip of the riding crop teased down my bosom and belly to poke the cleft between my thighs. ‘What green, green wood you are, Mistress Shore.’

I pushed him away. ‘Oh, go back in the Ark!’ I snapped.

Somehow that bolt penetrated his armour of conceit. ‘That is not very kind of you,’ he growled. ‘I think you need to remember your lowly place, peddler’s girl.’

Before I might defend myself, he had me pinioned against the wall with the whip-stock across my throat. His grey-blue eyes were as cold as an adder’s. Malevolently, he held my gaze while his other hand groped too freely upon my bodice. ‘Now you stay still
and hushed like an obedient mare. What’s here, such pretty silk! Bought at a bargain from your father? Let me feel.’ As he tried to unhook the fent triangle, I struggled anew and the whoreson jammed the cruel crop so hard he was almost choking me. ‘Maybe I can talk Ned into being more generous,’ he murmured, peeling back the fent. ‘I’d love a threesome.’

I’d have spat in Dorset’s accursed face and damn the consequences, but we were no longer alone and there came a curt voice from behind his shoulder.

‘Do you have to fornicate in the passageway, Grey?’

The pressure on my throat instantly eased. Dorset swung round with a swagger to confront the speaker, leaving me exposed to disdainful scrutiny. Two young men were standing there. The shorter one, who was closest, glared at me with so pure a contempt I had to defend myself.

‘I have no plans to fornicate with Lord Dorset anywhere!’ I ground out, furiously mending my appearance.

I had never seen this stranger before yet somehow his face was familiar. Spurred riding boots and the expensive, studded leather brigandine proclaimed he must be one of Ned’s bannerets, newly arrived from some distant shire. His younger companion, a tall stripling with a freckled complexion and long hair the colour of gingerbread, was clad in a short doublet of quality brocade that had seen much wear.

‘Oh, good day to you too, your grace,’ purred Dorset, with a mocking half bow. He grabbed my arm and jerked me forwards, ‘You have not met your brother’s latest concubine. May I present Mistress Shore.’

‘No, you may not!’ There was a dab of Yorkshire in the stranger’s voice.

Your brother
? Oh no! This must be Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who ruled the north for Ned. I hastily made a deep curtsy. He ignored me.

‘Some things never change,’ he observed in a voice that could saw through marble.

Before I could defend myself further, a young girl’s shriek of ‘Uncle Richard!’ burst from the end of the corridor and a bright bundle of blue that was Princess Bess hurtled towards us.

In an instant, Gloucester’s harsh expression melted to delight.

‘Hey, Mischief!’ he yelled and we were forgotten as he gathered Bess into his arms and carried her away down the corridor, both of them laughing.

Dorset jabbed up a two-finger insult at Gloucester, raised his eyebrows in disdain at the duke’s companion, and, damn him, sauntered off in the opposite direction, leaving me with my skirts precariously spread.

There was no emotion in the slate blue eyes that stared down at me; nevertheless Gloucester’s companion held out a hand to help me to my feet.

‘Thank you, sir,’ I replied gratefully, shaking out my skirts and casting a furious glare in Dorset’s direction.

His voice was just as contemptuous but not towards me. ‘You should take care, Mistress Shore. The palace is full of foxes and rabbit-suckers – creatures who do not know their place.’ One side of the patrician mouth curved into a sneer as he watched Dorset’s retreating back.

‘Then I may trust you are neither, sir,’ I murmured, securing the gauze that edged my collar.

‘Trust?’ The cool stare came back to me. ‘Trust is a very old fangled word, Mistress Shore. I haven’t come across it of late.’ He held out his wrist. ‘May I escort you to the King’s grace?’

The Painted Chamber was deserted – just like a confessor’s prie-dieu on May Day morning. Ned must be still at the royal council.
My escort bowed and left me and I hastened across to Master Myddleton, who was on duty.

‘Pray, can you tell me who that gentleman was?’

‘What, the lord who was with you, mistress? Harry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham.’

‘You jest!’ I gasped.

‘Do not trouble yourself about him,’ Myddelton murmured and added behind his hand, ‘He may be a Plantagenet but the King’s grace doesn’t care for him overmuch. His family always fought for Lancaster.’

Jesu mercy! Walking through this palace was like blundering into tacky threads, everywhere these covert factions. Did that mean Buckingham was to be avoided?

I tucked myself in a corner, fretting whether Gloucester might convince Ned to get rid of me. My fears increased when he and the King came in together. I tried to stay unobtrusive and slip through the peacock tail of councillors who had trailed after them, but Ned had seen me. He dismissed the entourage and, slinging an arm around Gloucester’s uneven shoulders, nodded to me to follow them into his inner sanctum. When I shook my head, I was mortified to see him let go of the duke and come back to speak with me.

‘What’s the matter with you today, my darling dear?’

‘Pray give me leave, sire,’ I replied, curtsying. ‘I am sure his grace your brother would enjoy spending some time with you on your own.’

He frowned. ‘So he shall. Now come and serve us.’

‘I do not think—’

‘Oh, come on, he won’t bite you.’

Tugged through the doorway, I was certainly glad of my hand secure in Ned’s as Gloucester looked round at us. He did not hide his scowl.

‘Richard, do you remember hearing of John Lambard, the mercer who lent money to our father? Expelled from the Council of Aldermen, too, for speaking up for us when Warwick and George marched into London? Well, here’s his daughter, Elizabeth, but I call her Jane to avoid confusion. I hope you will like each other. She has bewitched me utterly.’

‘We’ve already met.’ Gloucester’s tone was ironic, dismissive.

But I was resolved to show I had a backbone. ‘His grace interrupted another of Lord Dorset’s assaults upon me, Ned.’

‘Oh ho, playing Galahad, little brother?’ Ned let go my hand. As he strode across to the wine flagon, he playfully shoved Gloucester’s cap over his eyes.

‘Must you still do that?’ Irritation flickered fiercely in the duke’s voice and I could not blame him. There might be ten years between them, but Gloucester was already in his twenties.

Ned shrugged and stood by the flagon for me to serve them. I performed the task reluctantly. Had Gloucester been friendlier, I might have told him of how my older brothers had tormented me, but instead I held my tongue.

‘To victory in France, Richard!’

‘Amen.’ Gloucester’s brown hair was already trimmed for war.

Watching them clink goblets, I found it hard to believe them brothers. The duke scarcely topped Ned’s shoulder. On further observation, it could be seen that the scaffolding of face, shape of head, even the cleft in chin betrayed a kindred blood. Gloucester’s mouth was wider and thinner, his jaw more resolute. That surprised me.

‘To the future King of France,
Edouard le Premier
.’ Then he turned and looked my way. ‘Mistress Lambard, you may have cast your spell over my brother, but I am sure even you would yawn at battle stratagems so I suggest you take your leave.’

Before Ned could argue, I replied swiftly: ‘Phew, your grace,
I am most relieved,’ and I offered a thankful smile. Almost against his will, a wholesome humour flared in his eyes, but he quickly gave his attention back to Ned.

I backed out of their presence only to have a little page plucking at my sleeve tippet, bidding me to attend Lord Hastings. It made me uncomfortable. We had avoided each other these past weeks. Was he angry that I had mentioned Dorset’s wedding to Ned? Oh dear God, maybe I should have stayed a housewife.

The Lord Chamberlain’s rookery at the palace proved similar to my father’s accounting room save it was spacious with a high vaulted ceiling. Rookery? Its threshold resembled the drawbridge to a beehive, utterly buzzing with messengers and marshals. The alarm went up. A woman!
In here
? Every jack goggled at me as though I had three tails and a pair of flippers before their stares skewed to my cleavage. I kept my gaze downward like a modest maid as my little escort bowed me into an inner chamber.

Lord Hastings was seated at a table going through a list with two of his fellow army captains: Lord Howard, who turned and winked at me, and Sir Ralph Hastings, my lord’s brother, who gave me a cursory nod.