Mistress to the Crown by Isolde Martyn Read Free Book Online Page A

disgusted with himself.
    ‘No,’ I lied, picking up his book. ‘But should I not come here? I could creep through the postern like a thief before curfew.’
    ‘No, Gerrard’s will preserve your reputation and my privacy. And now, I’m afraid, I must ask you to leave.’ Oh, he was allinstructions and purpose now, other business tugging at his thoughts, but how could I resent that?
    My fingers stroked the leather cover.
    ‘My lord?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘The others? Are they always married women?’
    He nodded, glad, I daresay, not to look into my face as he took the book from me and pressed the clasp closed. ‘Elizabeth, if you change your mind – and you well might – send word here. Tell your servant to say, “Master Shore seeks an audience”.’
    ‘And if you change yours, my lord?’
    He drew a deep breath. Clearly, the prospect of lying with me still bothered him, but as he kissed my hand, he smiled down at me.
    ‘I promise you I won’t.’

V
    Basing Lane was off Bread Street, near St Mildred’s, two streets south of West Cheap. I decided to go there now on my way home, inspect the battlefield, so to speak.
    The respectability of the gates at Gerrard’s Hall was daunting. The house was not one of those timber and daub hostelries like those along Knightrider Street, but a turreted building discreetly tucked away behind a high wall and a beautifully carved archway of Caen stone. I had always assumed it was a nobleman’s dwelling.
    The porter’s room was inside the gate. What if he did not let me in straight away? What if an acquaintance recognised me as I stood a-knocking? I should just have to keep my veil from blowing about and try not to look furtive.
    And how long would be required? Shore always expected me to have a supper ready for him at four o’clock. If lying had to be done, it must be done well – in both senses. I laughed aloud. Lord Hastings was right. I still had too much respectability strapped to my spine. Well, a murrain on that! Tomorrow could not come soon enough.
    I do not know how I managed to stay calm through the repast with Shore next day. He brought one of his friends up to dine with us. Ralph Josselyn the younger, who decided to show me his latest samples for striped bed hangings. I was not pleased; Ralph’s eagerness for showing me things in the past had not been confined to drapery and I was in no mood for the ‘I’ll give you a good price’ and nudge of foot beneath the table. His presence prolonged the meal and then Shore wanted to discuss cobblers. How can you sanely suggest who can repair your husband’s shoes when your soul is ripe for the Devil’s taking?
    As soon as they had gone back down to the shop, I hastened upstairs and abandoned my house gown. Because it was one of those rare early summer’s days when you can wrap the warm air in your arms, I took off my chemise and drew on a petticote of soft fine cotton. I was going to wear my best damask because it was a butterfly blue that made me feel at my best. It had tight fitting sleeves with embroidered cuffs. For modesty, I’d loosely stitched a triangle of silvery silk into the ‘v’ of the collar to cover the lower part of my cleavage. I pulled on my best headdress and hoped the wires would not bend under the extra dark lawn veil I needed to hide my face. It seemed to hold up. Finally I tried on my light, tawny cloak, which tied snugly at the throat. There! I held up my small hand mirror and a mysterious veiled creature stared back at me. Most excellent!
    If I was Salome, the lascivious dancer of King Herod’s Court, how would I lift my veil and remove my cloak? I practised taking my outer garments off. Then I looked into the mirror again and bit my lips to make them red. Should I have plucked my eyebrows and drawn high arches like noble women did? No, that was not for me. Friends would remark upon it. So would Shore.
    Betrayal versus fulfilment. Treason versus seduction. My hands were a-tremble with wicked