Virginia Henley by Insatiable Read Free Book Online

designing a new concept for a ruff, Your Majesty. It is fan-shaped, to be worn with low-cut gowns. It stands upright to frame the back of the head, rather than encircling the neck. I thought it would show off your lovely hair, madam, to say nothing of your magnificent collection of jewels.”
    “I like it! I warrant the French have nothing like this. Take it along to your mother. My Mistress of the Wardrobe will know which needlewomen to trust with this intricate design.”
    “Thank you, Your Gracious Majesty.”
    Cat found her mother in the Queen’s Wardrobe, where she supervised a staff of thirty seamstresses plus a dozen females who did nothing but clean and refurbish Elizabeth’s lavish garments. The chambers occupied an entire upper floor of Whitehall, with separate rooms for gowns, shoes, wigs and jewelry.
    “I hope you didn’t offend Her Majesty in any way, Catherine.” Isobel could never hide the fact that the queen was the center of her universe and her daughter’s well-being came a distant second.
    No, Mother, I didn’t fall down laughing at her flaming orange wig nor tell her that her skin is as wrinkled as an elephant’s scrotum. “Her Majesty seemed delighted with my designs, and she has complete trust in your judgment to choose the right needlewomen for the job.”
    Isobel preened. “Did she truly say such a thing?”
    “She did indeed, Mother. Her Majesty sang your praises and informed me that she could not manage without you.”
    In the afternoon, Cat joined her friend Arbella for a stroll that took them past the cockpit and the archery butts to Whitehall’s tennis courts. The warm spring weather had brought most of the courtiers outdoors. Some of the gentlemen who were athletically inclined enjoyed playing sports and had gathered a female audience, but for the most part it was a fashion parade where secret assignations were made.
    “Good afternoon, ladies.” William Seymour, wearing a jaunty short cape and satin breeches, winked at Cat, then doffed his feathered hat and in doing so managed to pass Arbella a note. The two ladies kept on walking until they came to the tiltyard, where they sat down in the empty stands.
    “Is it a poem? Hal Somerset wrote one for me after the play.”
    “No, Cat, it isn’t poetry. Will is asking me to meet him secretly one night next week ... alone,” she confided breathlessly.
    “Oh, Bella, you will refuse him, of course?”
    “Refuse him? I don’t want to be an old maid. I’m older than you, Cat. Someday William will be the Earl of Hertford. We are certainly well matched, since we are both in line for the throne.”
    Arbella Stuart had royal blood. Her late father was the greatgrandson of King Henry VII.
    “If you do meet him alone, you must be very careful to keep it secret, Bella. The queen must never learn of it.” The danger involved stirred Cat’s excitement.
    “I shall need a plausible excuse to be away from Court.”
    Eager to help, Cat said, “I go to Richmond for two days early next week. You can say that I have invited you to join me. It’s no lie, since I invite you this very minute.”
    Arbella sighed with relief. “You are such a good friend, Cat. Your thoughtful invitation solves my dilemma.”
    Patrick was grateful that Hunsdon Hall would be fully staffed with servants; it eliminated the necessity of bringing his own. He had, however, brought a steward to buy cargo for the return voyage. Patrick had decided on hops for the brewery and a supply of golden Rhenish wine, favored by King James. He knew he would make a tidy profit when he resold the wine to Holyrood Palace.
    The morning after the Hepburn Rose docked, the horses were unloaded and taken to a livestock auction house near the London docks. Robert accompanied Patrick to the sale.
    “I understand you breed horses at Crichton. Did you keep any of the mounts you took from your prisoners?” Robert asked.
    “No, I find English horses don’t tolerate our harsh climate well. I