his attentions.
‘Well now, my lord, I have looked for you every day since our honours were announced. It was remiss of you not to send word of your arrival – or that of your enchanting daughter. I would have welcomed you with a feast or a masque at the very least.’
‘You are very kind, Sir George,’ the earl replied, ‘but I did not wish to trouble you.’
Villiers affected a serious expression. ‘I cannot deny that the King has been greatly preoccupied of late – and therefore I, too,’ he added pompously. ‘This sorry business of Lord and Lady Somerset has shaken us all.’
‘I had heard that their trial was under way,’ Rutland remarked.
Villiers gave a heavy sigh. ‘I am riding over to Westminster now. His Grace is most anxious for news of the proceedings.’ He glanced around the yard. ‘Where is Tyringham?’ he muttered irritably.
At that moment, Thomas emerged from the stables with a fine dappled grey mare. He gave a tight bow to Villiers but did not quicken his pace.
‘Fetch me my horse,’ Villiers barked, as his master of the buckhounds drew level with them.
Frances was gratified when her husband did not immediately respond but took his time tethering the mare to the mounting block. She knew it was dangerous to antagonise the man but had no wish to see Thomas so demeaned.
‘Be quick about it,’ Villiers said, his voice rising with impatience. ‘The King’s business will brook no delay.’
Thomas gave a small nod, then walked steadily back to the stables.
Katherine’s face had paled and her fingers were worrying at the seam of her dress.
‘Please, let me help you, Lady Katherine,’ Frances said gently, holding out her hand.
Katherine hesitated and looked up at her father, who smiled his reassurance. The young girl’s hand felt cold and clammy as she placed it lightly on Frances’s, but she mounted the horse with practised ease and leaned forward to pat its neck while she waited for her companion.
‘We will be back before dinner, my lord,’ Frances said, as she climbed onto her own saddle. Her husband was leading Villiers’s horse from the stables. Their eyes met and she saw his apprehension, whether for her or his rival, she could not tell.
She tapped her heels into the horse’s sides and its hoofs clattered on the cobblestones as she and Lady Katherine made their way out of the yard. They had just passed under the Holbein Gate when Villiers thundered past them. He pulled sharply on the reins and his horse reared. A less experienced horseman would have been thrown from the saddle but he appeared completely at ease, flashing them a smile as he leaned back, his head edging closer to the ground. Katherine was gazing at him open-mouthed and Frances, too, was unable to look away, though she despised his arrogant showmanship. After several moments, he loosened his grip on the reins and the horse lowered its front legs, whinnying as if with relief. Villiers doffed his hat to Katherine, then rode off at speed, his laughter echoing along the street.
Later, looking out beyond the parkland, the sunlight glinting off the river, a bead of sweat trickled between Frances’s shoulder blades as she rested back on her elbows. It had been an exhilarating ride and her companion had proved as excellent a horsewoman as her proud father had boasted. Frances had been hard-pressed to keep pace with her as they had reached the open expanse of Greenwich Park.
‘It is a fine view, is it not, Lady Katherine?’ she said, still a little breathless.
‘Kate – please,’ her companion said shyly, then followed Frances’s gaze. ‘I did not think that anything could rival the park at Belvoir but this is beautiful. I hope we might come here again.’
‘I would like that very much,’ Frances replied. ‘You are well acquainted with Sir George’s family, I understand?’
The young woman drew in a breath. ‘Yes – that is, their estate borders my father’s. Lady Villiers visits Belvoir often. She and the coun— my lady mother have become close acquaintances. There was talk of her travelling to London with my father when she comes for her son’s ennoblement,’ she added, ‘but my father thought she would not be comfortable in our carriage, with so little room.’
Frances suppressed a smile. From what she had heard of Villiers’s mother, she did not wonder that the earl had persuaded her to make her own way to London. ‘I will look forward to making her acquaintance . . . Her son clearly