Court of Traitors (Bridget Manning #2) by V.E. Lynne Read Free Book Online

summers, judging by the lines on his forehead at least. Nothing compared to Master Will Redcliff! Now there is a handsome, young man. Weren’t you fond of him once? He would have made a fine, vigorous husband. But never mind. Beggars, as I am sure you have discovered, cannot be choosers.”
     
    Happy to have at last discomposed Bridget, Lady Rochford smiled winningly at her, then went and re-joined the circle surrounding the queen. Bridget barely had time to collect herself and digest the encounter before she felt her husband’s touch upon her arm.
    He was flushed with excitement and could hardly contain himself. “Wife, our cause progresses with great speed! The king could not have shown me more favour. Why, he spoke to me for upwards of five minutes and has expressed a desire for us to accompany him when the court removes to Windsor. I have also had much talk with Lord Cromwell—what a charming fellow he is, so different from how he has been described to me! He assures me he will do all he can to smooth my path with His Majesty. There may be a position in all this for me and for you, too. Cromwell said he would recommend you to the queen; she is in need of more ladies apparently. Is this not wonderful news, my dear?”
     
    Bridget swallowed against the dryness in her throat and summoned up a smile for her husband’s benefit. He did not notice, as he never did, that it failed to reach her eyes. Across the chamber from them, Thomas Cromwell was involved in a discussion with Will. He allowed his gaze to drift from him and lock onto Bridget’s. He inclined his head to her, as though they were allies acknowledging one another, and Bridget clenched her jaw before she pragmatically decided to return the gesture. Against her breastbone she could feel the sharpness of the garnet ring that lay hidden beneath her bodice, the coldness of the stone pressing into her flesh like ice.
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
    That night, they dined in the Great Hall. Sir Richard was still full of excitement over his encounter with the king, and thus was more than willing to speak to anyone and everyone about it. Bridget listened with half an ear to him chatter on and on but she could not hide for long that she was in a pensive mood. She hardly touched any of the feast that was laid before her. Her appetite was non-existent. The figures of the king, Cromwell, the Lady Mary, Lady Rochford and Will rotated without cease in her mind. She could not stop herself from thinking about them, they spun around in her mind like a weathercock in a February breeze. Especially Will.
     
    He was not in the hall; he was probably eating with the king in his privy chamber, where His Majesty preferred to dine these days. Even though he was absent, she could still feel his eyes upon her, so full of hurt and recrimination, as though she had committed some dreadful, never-to-be-forgiven crime against him. As though she was the one who had lied and dissembled and tortured poor, doomed Mark Smeaton with her own hands. A remembrance of the young musician ascending onto the scaffold, stepping through the blood of four men as he did so, rose up before her. She shuddered and took a deep draught of spiced wine.
     
    As she put down her cup and glanced upwards she saw that Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire, was staring at her. Her spirits sank even further, and she had to make a conscious effort to prevent the wine from coming back up her throat. She had no desire to speak with him and hoped that he had no intention of speaking with her. Fortunately, he did not. He merely raised his goblet and performed a mock little toast, as though he was congratulating her on her return to court. Instead of replying with a like gesture, she gazed down at the table and wished he would go away, the taste of wine in her gullet almost overpowering now. The Earl did move away but he was not the only person in the Great Hall who was showing interest in the de Bretts. They had become the object