her eyes; they were large, limpid and somewhat sad. “But you will have seen so many who are prettier. What of the clever people whom you meet in your father’s house?”
“You are prettier than any.”
“How can that be?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Do not ask me. I am not God. I did not make you all.”
That sent Amy into titters of shocked laughter. It sounded like blasphemy, but it was so amusing. Robert was always amusing. She deemed him as clever and handsome as he considered himself to be. She reflected his own pride in himself. He was sure in that moment that he could be happy at Siderstern for the rest of his life. He dazzled her; he dazzled them all; and he was determined to dazzle them more than ever before.
“Amy,” he said, “I love you.”
She was a little frightened. What did he mean by that? Surely not marriage! He was the son of the man who was shortly to become—so she had heard her father say—Protector of England. No, Amy could never hope for marriage with a man such as Robert Dudley, even though she was the heiress of her father’s considerable fortune. What then? Seduction? What else? And how could she say No? How could she resist his overpowering charm?
She stared at the crimson-tipped daisies because she dared not look at him, but all the same she was seeing his face—those bold eyes, the dark curling hair.
She had heard the servants talk of him; Anne and Frances whispered together concerning Robert. They had never seen any so handsome. As yet, they said, he did not know his power, but that would come.
Had it come? And was Amy to be its first victim?
“Why do you not answer me?” he said; and the answer she gave pleased him more than any could: “I … I dare not.”
He felt powerful. He was, after all, a Dudley. In him was the love of power which had raised his grandfather from a humble lawyer to be the extortioner-in-chief of King Henry VII, the same love of power which had induced his father to step along the road which had led from Tower Hill to the Council Chamber and would take him before long to the Protectorate. He felt very tender toward her; he took her trembling hand and kissed it.
“You are afraid, Amy. Afraid of me!”
“I … I think I should return to the house.”
“Nay,” he said firmly, “you shall not.”
He sensed the ready obedience in her and it delighted him. He wanted now to repay her for the pleasure she gave him. He said on impulse: “I will marry you, Amy.”
“Oh … but how could you! Your father would never allow it.”
She saw his lips tighten. “If I chose to marry I would do so,” he said sharply.
“My father is rich and important, but that is here in Norfolk. We have our house and our estates, and one day they are to be mine. But … what of your father in London? He visits the King himself, and they say that even the King must do as he wishes.”
“The King may do what my father wishes,” said Robert boastfully, “but I shall do what I wish.”
“But it could not be.” She was too innocent to know that her attitude was stiffening his determination to have his own way.
“If I will it, it shall come to pass,” he said.
Then suddenly he had taken both her hands, was drawing her toward him and kissing her.
“Robert …” she began.
“Your skin smells like buttermilk and your hair like hay,” he said.
“We shall be seen.”
“And do we care for that?”
“They will think you are a shepherd with your love.”
He released her. He did not care that Robert Dudley should be mistaken for a shepherd.
They walked slowly back to the house.
She said sadly: “It is like a dream that will never come to pass in reality.”
“We will make it come true.”
“But I know your father will never consent. It is wrong therefore to hope.”
“I tell you I will do as I please.”
“But you have forgotten who you are and the grand schemes your father will have for you. You have forgotten that although I am my father’s heiress and he is considered rich in these parts, you are Robert Dudley, the son of the most important man in England.”
“There is something you have forgotten. It is this: When I say I love, I love; and when I say I will marry, I will do so. No one