both if it became well known, yes? And don’t think that I won’t use what I know if you thwart me, your highness.” Lady Rich smiled and moved closer towards me, smoothing the crumpled ruff at her wrist. “There is no reason that we shouldn’t befriends. You see,” she purred, “I’ve not called the grooms, even though you have mauled me most unmercifully.”
“What is it you wish of me, my lady?” I asked tonelessly, standing perfectly still as she flowed up against me.
“Only what you have given so freely to others! Libby told such tales of you that I thought to sample your marvels for myself. Kiss me!” She was Lettice Knollys’ true daughter, with her mother’s sensual nature as well as her lack of morals, both in full measure. She turned her face up to mine, her painted mouth redder than blood on snow, and closed her eyes. I wondered idly what Sir Philip Sidney would think of his Stella, had he lived to see her now, as I caught both of her hands in one of mine, crushing her against the paneling. I lowered my lips to her throat, piercing the blue vein throbbing there and tasting of her, pulling her blood into my mouth and letting my pleasure spill into her for only a few seconds before pushing away from her. She stared up at me, her eyes languid, a moan of protest welling in her throat as she tried to move back closer. I caught her chin in my hand and forced her to look into my face, pinning her with my gaze. I murmured to her and her eyes glazed as she nodded to my words, then I pushed her against the paneling again, lowering her gently to the floor as her knees gave away. I knelt beside her, and slapped her smartly on the cheek, and she snapped awake, glaring about her in confusion. “What do you mean, slapping me!”
“Forgive me, my lady, but your emotions overcame you, and you fainted. I meant only to bring you out of your swoon.”
“Call the footman, or someone, you barbarian!” she snapped, holding a hand to her insulted cheek.
“An it please you, my lady,” I answered indifferently, but with inward satisfaction, as she was unmistakably acting upon my suggestion that she found me unappealing.
“Wait, I pray you, your Highness. You must forgive my ill temper; I am half distracted with fear for my brother. I do not even remember the subject on which we spoke.”
“Your brother, my lady,” I began but was interrupted by the door slamming back as Libby tripped into the room.
“Are you in here, Penny? Oh, there you are—Kryštof! What are you doing here? Did he try to ravish you, Penny? I should advise you let him!” As I helped Lady Rich to her feet, Libby collapsed giggling on the settle, and I realized that she was drunk. “I am glad that you are here! I have been longing to see you. Stay with me tonight: I am so afraid of being alone,” and she burst into tears. Penelope sat beside her, drawing her into her arms and letting her cry, completing the ruin of the open ruff she wore. I dropped to one knee before them, taking one of Libby’s hands and holding it until she looked at me.
“You are not alone, Elizabeth. You have an older friend here than I, and I cannot stay. I will see the Queen, and try to persuade her to be lenient with him, but do not hope too much.” Libby nodded and tears still dropped to her gown as I leant forward and softly kissed her brow. “And you, my lady, I fear should not hope at all, though I do promise you that I shall do nothing to your brother’s hurt.” Lady Rich turned her dark eyes on me; she made no reply but looked at me thoughtfully as I rose and left the room.
It was too late to go to the Queen that night and I returned to Chelsey, and sat until dawn in Richard’s room, watching the boy’s sleep deepen into the day trance before seeking my own rest.
The Queen was at Whitehall, and granted me an audience when I sent her the talismanic ring. She was in a foul temper, and glared from the mask of paint she wore like a stage Medusa as I knelt before her to plead for my friend. Her mouth, set in a grim line, turned down