“Yes, of course.”
Keely gave the somber Burghley a grateful look.
“Why were you absent from mass today?” the queen asked, unwilling to let the girl off the hook. She wondered when Devereux would leap to his wife’s defense.
“I suffered from the morning sickness.”
“Feeling better, dearest?” Richard asked, his gaze softening on her.
Keely nodded and managed a nervous smile.
“Congratulations,” Elizabeth said. “Will you give my dear Midas an heir?”
Keely shook her head. “I carry a girl.”
Elizabeth chuckled at the ridiculous notion that Keely could possibly know what her husband had planted inside her. Burghley smiled. Except for the twitch that returned to his cheek, Richard kept his face expressionless.
“Follow this path to the end,” Elizabeth instructed Keely. “’Twill bring you to my apartments, where several of the ladies already gather.”
Keely curtsied, lifted her tapestry bag off the ground, and started down the garden path. Though she felt three pairs of eyes watching her, she never looked back.
The queen’s female entourage consisted of sixteen women: four chamberers who slept at the foot of her bed and performed the duties of tiringwomen, six married ladies who acted as official companions, and six unmarried maids of honor. Because the official companions and maids of honor had very few duties, they passed an inordinate amount of time in gossiping, flirting, and spreading rumors. Dim and stuffy, the queen’s privy chamber sported only one small window. Adornment smothered the room.
Keely’s spirits sagged when she walked into the chamber. The only ladies present were Morgana, Sarah, and Jane.
Their reactions to her unexpected arrival varied. Morgana lifted her nose into the air and made an exaggerated show of turning away, which made Sarah giggle. Jane inspected her rival for the earl’s affection, starting at the top of her uncovered ebony mane and ending at the tips of her slippered feet.
“Sit down,” Lady Jane invited her.
“Thank you.” Keely managed a polite smile. Holy stones, she felt conspicuous. Keely opened her tapestry bag, removed one of her husband’s handkerchiefs as well as a needle and thread, and began embroidering his initials on one of its comers.
“I cannot believe I am forced to sit with this Welsh bastard,” Morgana grumbled, loud enough for all to hear.
Keely pretended deafness. How could she defend herself against the truth? At least, neither her husband nor the queen was present to witness her humiliation.
“I wonder how England’s premier earl could have been tricked into marrying an ignorant taffy,” Sarah remarked, taking her cue from the other girl’s attitude.
Keely said nothing but lifted her gaze to look at the other girl. Jealousy rules her tongue, she told herself. All the slurs in the world could never change the fact that the earl had desired her above these three women. That thought gave her the patient courage to endure whatever they would fling at her.
Keely felt somewhat encouraged when Jane deigned to smile at her. “What a beautiful necklace.”
“Thank you,” Jane purred, fingering the double strand of pearls.
“’Twas Devereux’s last New Year’s gift to her,” Sarah piped up.
Keely felt her heart sink to her stomach. Apparently, the earl and the brunette had been on very friendly terms.
“My husband is a generous man,” Keely said.
It was then the brunette went in for the kill. “Basildon is generous in more ways than you know,” Jane told her. “What do you think of his freckle? Is it not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Keely’s composure crashed. The English blood that surged through her body screamed at her to throttle the slut. Before she could act upon that impulse, the voice of reason sounded from the doorway.
“Everyone at court knows where Devereux carries a freckle,” Lady Dawn said, walking with two companions into the chamber. “Even those who never bedded the man speak about that distinguishing mark.”
Keely relaxed. The three vampires sitting across from her wouldn’t dare draw blood while Cheshire remained within their midst.
“Keely, darling. I present Lady Blair and Lady Tessie,” Cheshire drawled.
Keely smiled at them. Lady Blair was short, dark-haired, and moderately pregnant. Lady Tessie was short, blond, and exceedingly pregnant.
“You cannot believe how aggravated I am with Pines,” Tessie complained.
Lady Dawn leaned close to Keely and whispered, “Lord Pines is her husband.”
“I asked Pines if he would watch me model my two new gowns because I wasn’t certain which I should wear today,” Tessie went on. “Both looked horrible, but I desperately needed to know which gown looked less horrible. Pines said, ‘I have no wish to commit matrimonial suicide,’ and bolted out of our chamber.”
“Husbands can be so unhelpful,” Lady Dawn commiserated with her friend. She flicked a glance at the two unmarrieds. “Poor Morgana and Sarah wouldn’t know about that, though.”
Sarah blushed. Morgana curled her lip at her new stepmother and muttered something unintelligible.
Lady Dawn turned to Lady Blair. “How is dear Horatio?”
“Vastly improved,” the other woman answered. “He’s even gained some weight.”
“Horatio is your husband, my lady?” Keely asked.
Morgana, Sarah, and Jane burst out laughing. Keely blushed, though she didn’t actually understand why they were laughing at her.
“Horatio is a pig,” Blair told her. “Though I do love him like a son.”
“I see.” The whole damn English race was insane. The vile lot of them were vicious or eccentric or seducers.
“When is your baby due?” Keely asked Lady Blair.
“April.”
“Mine arrives in February,” Tessie spoke up.
Keely flicked a glance at Lady Dawn. “I am due in August.”
Six ladies gaped at her in surprise. Lady Dawn recovered first.
She bolted out of her chair and hugged her stepdaughter.
“I’m much too young to become a grandmother. What will Ludlow do when he realizes he’s married someone’s grandmother?”
Everyone laughed. Even Morgana managed a smile.
“I’m quite certain I carry a boy,” Lady Blair joked. “I was on the top when it happened.”
“I carry a girl,” Keely said, falling in with the woman’s merriment. “I was on the bottom.”
“Oh, God! I do believe I’m carrying a puppy,” Tessie cried.
Dawn, Blair, and Jane burst out laughing. Keely, Morgana, and Sarah looked confused.
“I don’t understand,” Keely admitted.
Lady Dawn leaned close and whispered in her ear. Blushing, Keely dissolved into giggles.
“Tell Sarah and me what the joke is,” Morgana said. “We want to know too.”
Forgetting the enmity that existed between them, Keely said, “’Tis unseemly for a maiden to listen to such vulgar talk.”
“How dare a common bastard speak to me in that haughty tone,” Morgana snapped. “Why, you’re no real lady at all. Do you even know if Devereux sired your brat?”
Keely paled. Lady Dawn opened her mouth to defend her, but another voice spoke. “Morgana Talbot, control that ugly spite,” Queen Elizabeth ordered, marching into the room.
All seven ladies leaped out of their chairs and curtsied to the queen. They stood in uncomfortable silence, awaiting her signal to sit.
“Cast no aspersions on Devereux’s heir,” Queen Elizabeth said. “Apologize at once.”
“’Tis unnecessary,” Keely said.
That sharp gray-eyed gaze slid to Keely. “’Tis, We say.”
Morgana turned to Keely. “I beg your pardon.”
Uncertain of how to respond without making her sister even angrier, Keely nodded her acceptance of the girl’s frigid apology. Everyone in the chamber, including the queen, knew the blonde’s apolog
y was insincere.
“I refuse to be bothered by bickering bitches,” Elizabeth said. “All of you get out.” The seven of them started to leave, but the queen changed her mind. “Lady Devereux, remain with me.”
Six surprised expressions turned to Keely. No one felt more surprised than she.
“Sit here,” Elizabeth ordered when the others had gone. “I would become acquainted with my dear Midas’s wife.”
Keely sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Never in her wildest imaginings had she ever thought she’d be sitting across from the Queen of England.
“Lady Devereux, tell me about the spirit in my gallery,” Elizabeth bade her.
“You may call me Keely, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Keely,” the queen said dryly. “Now, about that spirit?”
“You believe me, Your Majesty?” Keely asked.
“Are you lying?” Elizabeth asked.
Keely shook her head vigorously. “No, but my husband—”
“Piss on Devereux,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Men are fools who think only with their pricks.”
Keely felt her cheeks heating with a blush. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined a queen would speak. Though, she’d never actually spoken with a queen before now.
“The ghost in my gallery?” Elizabeth prodded.
“Did a Cat Howard once live here?” Keely asked.
“Cat Howard?”
Keely nodded. “You knew her?”
“My father’s fifth wife,” Elizabeth said, staring off into space.
Cat Howard had been arrested in the Long Gallery and, screaming like a madwoman, had tried desperately to reach the king in the Chapel Royal. Poor, beautiful Cat Howard cut down in her youth. Like my own mother.
“’Tis an unpleasant memory?” Keely whispered.
Elizabeth looked at her and changed the subject. “So, Keely. Will you give Devereux his heir?”
“I carry a daughter.”
“How do you know?”
“My mother told me.”
“Cheshire?” Elizabeth said. “Cheshire knows less than nothing about babies.”
“I meant, my real mother.”
The queen’s gray gaze narrowed on her. “I understood that your mother was deceased.”
“Megan spoke to me in a dream,” Keely said.
“You believe in such premonitions?” Elizabeth asked.
“Well,” Keely hedged. “I do if you do.”
Queen Elizabeth burst out laughing. “You have inherited your father’s courtier’s wit.”
Keely breathed a sigh of relief. She wondered how long she’d be required to sit with the queen. Each minute seemed like an hour, and she longed to be safely away.
“Tell me why you are unhappy here,” Elizabeth said.
“How did you know?”
“I know everything about everyone at my court.”
“I miss my brother,” Keely told her. “I did write Rhys a letter but have received no reply yet.”
“And?”
Keely fixed her gaze on the floor. “I feel out of place whenever I am in the company of your courtiers. I can never be as the other ladies.”
“Many a courtier has come and gone,” the queen told her. “The ones who are the most successful develop an attitude and accentuate what makes them different in order to gain attention.”
“I don’t think my husband wants me to be different,” Keely said, “but I cannot change what I am. Everyone at court knows my origins, and I am too shy to mingle effectively.”
“You are noble enough to have attracted Devereux,” Elizabeth said.
“I do not believe my nobility attracted the earl,” Keely said, “but you are kind to say so.”
“I am never kind,” Elizabeth said. “If Devereux constantly worries about you, his mind will wander from my personal finances, and that inattention could cost me a great deal of gold.”
“I would never want that to happen.”
“We are in accord,” Elizabeth said. “You shall make my dear Midas happy, and he shall make me happy by fattening my purse with gold. Take this advice: Whenever you feel vulnerable, imagine all those nobles without any clothing.”
“You mean, picture them naked in my mind?”
“Precisely.”
Unconsciously, Keely dropped her gaze to the queen’s body.
“Except me,” Elizabeth qualified.
Keely snapped her gaze back to the queen’s.
“Picturing them naked will give you the confidence you need to mingle successfully,” Elizabeth said. “Many years ago, I gave your husband the same advice.”
That surprised Keely. “My lord had trouble mingling?”
“Devereux was only a boy at the time,” Elizabeth admitted. “He’d come to court one season to act as a page.”
“Your advice helped him?”
Queen Elizabeth smiled with the remembrance. “More than a few ladies slapped his face. You see, Richard insisted on picturing only the females naked. To make matters worse, he told them what he was doing and even insisted that I’d ordered him to do so. Of course, when he grew up, the ladies dropped like ripened apples into his arms.” Abruptly, the queen added, “I have work to do. ’Tis time for your departure.”
Keely stood and curtsied. “I am honored to have been invited to sit with you, Your Majesty.”
“Run along, child.”
Keely backed out of the chamber and closed the door behind her. Turning around, she realized she stood at the entrance to the Long Gallery. She’d forgotten about returning through it. She couldn’t very well knock on the queen’s door and ask permission to leap over that wall again.
Mustering her courage, Keely stepped into the gallery and stopped short. Her husband stood there. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” he answered, sauntering toward her. “Cheshire told me you were alone with Elizabeth, and I knew walking through the Long Gallery would frighten you.”
Richard held his hand out, and Keely accepted it. Without warning, he scooped her into his arms. “I run faster than you.”
Keely entwined her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes and hid her face against his chest as he sprinted through the chamber.
A minute later, Richard said, “You can open your eyes, dearest. We’ve left the gallery.”
Keely opened her eyes and looked at him. “I can walk back to our chamber.”
“Carrying you gives me pleasure.” With his wife in his arms, Richard marched past dozens of amused courtiers and servants. He nodded at each one and ordered his giggling wife to give them the royal wave.
Reaching their chamber, Richard set Keely on her feet. Before she could turn away, he yanked her into his arms, and his lips captured hers in a lingering kiss.
“Now that we have the kiss out of the way”—his smile vanished—”what the hell possessed you to climb the wall into the privy garden?”
“Like I said—”
“I don’t give a blasted damn what your reason was,” Richard snapped. “Do you realize you might have injured our babe? Do you? I’d just delivered good news to the queen—but what if Elizabeth had been suffering a foul mood? What would have happened then?”
“She did invite—”
“Elizabeth invited you to walk through the door,” Richard said, his voice rising with his anger. His wife’s foolishness frightened him, and that made him even angrier.
“There’s no need to shout.”
“Speak to me in a respectful tone,” Richard ordered. Then: “You promised you’d refrain from flaunting those beliefs of yours.”
“The queen believes me.”
Richard cocked a copper brow at her. “What exactly did Elizabeth and you discuss?”
“The queen believes the ghost is Cat Howard.”
“Elizabeth believes Cat Howard haunts the Long Gallery?” Richard echoed, shocked.
Keely nodded. She lifted her nose into
the air and turned her back on him.
“Good Christ. You silly women are all alike.” Richard marched across the chamber but paused at the door. “I’m warning you, Keely. Keep quiet about what you believe. Or I promise, you will regret it.”
Richard left the chamber and slammed the door behind him.
Keely whirled around, lifted her tapestry bag, and threw it at the door. “Embroider your own handkerchiefs.”
Marching across the chamber, Keely dropped into the chair in front of the hearth. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she brushed them away. She refused to shed tears for the insensitive lout she’d married.
Anger made her stomach churn. She took several calming breaths.
Extreme agitation could mark the babe. Remaining placid was of utmost importance. She refused to chance injuring her daughter.
Keely leaned back, closed her eyes, and thought of her husband. Richard was a heretic who believed in the Here and Now and worshipped gold. Arrogance and ignorance had been bred in him. His attitude was not completely his fault.
And he feared for their daughter’s safety. That thought warmed her heart.
Keely rose from the chair and retrieved her tapestry bag from the floor. She sat down again and began to embroider his handkerchiefs.
Dealing with simpletons or loved ones required patience. The earl filled the bill on both accounts. Richard refused to see beyond the horizon, but she loved him in spite of that gigantic flaw.
She loved him. She’d fallen in love with her exasperating English husband.
Too bad her husband didn’t love her.
Chapter 15
Slipping out of her husband‘s embrace, Keely rose from the bed and stared down at him. Sleep softened his features and gave him a boyish appearance. That he hadn’t harbored his anger surprised Keely and filled her with hope. She’d always assumed that all men cherished their grudges as her stepfather had, but Richard had returned to their chamber the previous evening and behaved as though they hadn’t exchanged angry words.
Keely pulled the coverlet up to his shoulders and then padded on bare feet across the chamber to the window. The day had dawned dark and cheerless. A forbidding overcast threatened snow, usual fare for the twenty-first day of December.
Keely’s heart hummed with the song of her Druid ancestors. Today marked the winter solstice, Alban Arthuan, the festival of light, when the sun vanquished the world’s darkness and the days grew steadily longer.
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