Steenie.’
The two men’s sniggers sounded in Frances’s ears as she steered her son away from the dais. ‘Would you fetch me a glass of wine, George? My throat is quite parched.’
She saw him cast a glance towards the royal party before obeying her request.
‘The duke seems very pleased with the new arrival,’ she murmured to Thomas, who nodded grimly.
‘Whatever fresh scheme this is, we can be sure it will bring him some advantage. French gold is as good as Spanish, after all.’
‘And King Louis’s sister is as devout a Catholic as the infanta – for that at least we should be grateful. Oh, thank you, George,’ she said quickly, hoping her son had not heard any of their conversation. He was looking at the dais now.
‘His Majesty is fortunate to have such a servant as the duke, is he not?’ George did not seem to notice their silence as he stared at Buckingham in open admiration. ‘So full of grace and accomplishments, and nothing escapes his notice – even a lowly subject such as myself.’
Frances turned sharply to him.
‘To think that he should invite me to dine with him tomorrow, when he might have kings, princes and ambassadors for company,’ her son continued, his eyes alight with joy.
Frances stared at her husband in alarm. She had told him of Lady Vaux’s visit. He knew as well as she the danger it might carry.
‘It is an honour indeed,’ Thomas agreed, ‘but you are leaving for Cambridge in the morning.’
‘It is worth delaying my departure for, Papa – God knows I would sacrifice a great deal more for such an invitation.’
‘But everything has been arranged and there is no time to send word to your master now.’
‘He will hardly object, when he knows the reason, Mother.’ The excitement faded from his eyes as he looked from one to the other. ‘It is as if you are anxious to be rid of me.’
Frances forced a bright smile. ‘You know that isn’t true, George. I would keep you by my side for ever if I could. But you are a man now and must make your own way in the world. Once in Cambridge . . .’
Her son’s face brightened at once. ‘I knew you would understand. If I win favour with the duke, he might recommend me for the King’s service when my studies are completed.’ He bent to kiss his mother’s hand, then gave Thomas’s arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘Who knows where else this meeting might lead?’
Frances shielded her eyes against the sinking sun as she gazed across Hyde Park. Buckingham would have to come this way – there was only one gate on the south side and it led directly to the road he would take back to Whitehall. She had heard of the duke’s excursion from Thomas, who had been glad of an afternoon to undertake his duties in the stables unimpeded. He did not know she had left the palace to find Buckingham. He would hardly approve of the idea. The duke had taken great delight in rebuffing his own attempts to persuade him to revoke his invitation to George. Frances could hope for little more success, but she had at least to try.
A distant rumble carried on the wind. Frances peered at the horizon again and saw the outline of a rider. The ground at her feet vibrated as he thundered towards her. He must have seen her by now, but he dug his heels into the horse’s sides, urging it on. She forced herself to stand perfectly still, though she might be trampled underfoot. Only at the last did Buckingham pull back sharply on the reins, causing his horse to snort loudly, its front legs rearing so high that Frances was sure the duke would fall.
‘Lady Tyringham,’ he said, when his horse had lowered its hoofs. ‘Do you always happen upon gentlemen in such a fashion?’
She did not reply but waited for him to dismount. He did so slowly, then tethered the beast to a nearby tree and patted its glistening neck.
‘How may I serve you, my lady?’ His breath felt hot on her hand as he bent to kiss it.
‘I wish to speak to you about my son,’ she said, knowing it was pointless to dissemble. ‘Your invitation for him to dine with you was an honour as great as it was unlooked for. But I regret that he will not be able to attend. He leaves for Cambridge tomorrow.’
The duke’s mouth twitched. ‘What trouble you