Charles V and also with the pope, who has made my divorce such a difficult business. King Francois claims that his sympathies lie with me, and indeed he has promised to meet with the pope to plead my case. Unfortunately this was not accomplished as swiftly as I had hoped. I could wait no longer to make the Marquess of Pembroke my wife. You understand, I'll warrant, being eager to wed Madame Tevoulere?"
"Naturally, sire." Andrew sipped his wine to hide a smile. No mention was made, of course, of Anne Boleyn's obvious pregnancy—the real reason for their sudden secret wedding in January.
"I wish that you would do a great service for your king, Sandhurst. There are not many men I would trust to execute such a plan, but I have always admired your intelligence and ingenuity. Hearing of your masquerade at the French court, I am newly convinced that you could carry off the most delicate of missions."
"You flatter me, sire."
Henry's little eyes grew penetrating. "I would like you to return to France after you and Madame Tevoulere are married. I understand that she is a great favorite of King Francois, and once it becomes known that you are indeed the Marquess of Sandhurst, no doubt the two of you would be the toast of that court. I would have you cultivate the king's friendship, so that you might win his confidence... and travel with him when he meets with Pope Clement. There is much that you could learn through your various connections in the French court, and this service would earn you my sincere gratitude. As you know, I am quite generous with those who serve me well."
A muscle clenched in Sandhurst's jaw. Setting down his goblet, he met the king's stare unflinchingly. "I appreciate the compliment that you pay me, sire, but I am afraid that I must decline your request. My first concern at the moment is Micheline, and the new life we are embarking on together. You know my family, and I am sure you will understand that they, combined with her adjustment to a new country, culture, and title, constitute a challenge that demands all our attention for the moment. I'm afraid that right now we cannot consider returning to France, and I trust that you, newly married yourself, will appreciate my need to put Micheline's needs first."
Sandhurst didn't add that, in any case, he would never spy on King Francois, nor did he care for whatever forms of gratitude Henry might care to show.
"What other Englishman would dare refuse his king?" Henry wondered in a voice that betrayed anger and grudging admiration. "I hardly know how to react! This time I'll let your rebelliousness pass, since you have, after all, done my bidding by agreeing to marry Madame Tevoulere. In the future, though..."
"Your Majesty has a benevolent spirit," Sandhurst assured the king as humbly as he was able, adding his most engaging smile for good measure. "Ascribe my foolishness to Cupid! No doubt his arrow has affected my reason! Let's away to the tennis courts, sire. Once you've beaten me soundly, your humor will improve."
* * *
Downstairs Micheline followed the page into a wing that was peopled with servants wearing blue and purple livery. Embroidered on the doublets was the legend "La Plus Heureuse." This made Micheline bristle before she ever met the future queen. How dare she proclaim herself "the most happy"—in French, no less!—when she was married to that pompous, corpulent man upstairs? Obviously the woman had no idea what happiness could be!
Gradually it began to occur to Micheline that she and Anne Boleyn might have different conceptions of the word. When she entered the bedchamber of the marquess, after being announced by a properly liveried page, Micheline found herself in a setting even grander than the one upstairs. All the wood was gilded, and carved with lover's knots that featured the initials H and A entwined. Golden vases filled with red and white roses reposed on every piece of valuable furniture, and the enormous, elaborately carved bed was hung with tissue of gold. In the midst of all this a young woman stood in a chemise, corset, and shakefold, surrounded by what Micheline assumed were dressmakers. Fabulous gowns that defied description were draped over chairs while Anne Boleyn chose from dozens of furs that were held up for her inspection.
When the page announced Micheline, Anne turned to greet her with a smile.
"Ah! You must be Sandhurst's little French girl! Do you