Read Online All the Sweet Tomorrows by Bertrice Small - Free Book Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
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profit.” She smiled almost grimly. “It’s all I have left, Dame Cecily. The children, and making a fortune.”
“You will love again, my dear.”
“Not this time,” Skye said. “If I can insinuate myself back into the Queen’s good graces I shall not need a man to protect me.”
“Remember, Skye, that it was the Queen who caused you to need a husband’s protection the last time,” Dame Cecily reminded Skye.
“But the Queen knows that should she do to me again what she did last time, I shall revenge myself on her once more as I did before. Even if she couldn’t prove that it was me pirating her ships, she knew.”
“Make no hasty decisions now, my child,” Dame Cecily chided. “Wait until you have spoken with Lord Burghley. He may be the Queen’s man, but he is a fair man for all of it.”
“Aye,” Skye replied. “He is an honorable man.”
She kept that thought in her mind as she prepared the castle for Lord Burghley’s brief visit. With its young lord away at court, and herself on her estates in Ireland, Lynmouth had been like a sleeping prince. Its mistress back, however, the servants polished and scrubbed, dusted and swept every corner of the castle. Great porcelain bowls of spring flowers began to appear in the main hall, and in the bedrooms herb-scented sheets and comforters appeared on the beds. When William Cecil and Sir Richard de Grenville and their train arrived two afternoons later they rode slowly up the raked gravel drive, admiring the well-manicured green lawns and brightly colored gardens around the castle. The moat round Lynmouth had been filled in in Geoffrey’s father’s time.
Skye greeted her guests in the Great Hall, noting as she came forward that all the men in the party were most admiring of her. She had chosen to wear a black velvet gown, its very low neckline exposing her creamy chest and the soft swelling of her small breasts. Her neck wisk, a standing, fan-shaped wire collar, was of silver lace, as were the ribbons on her leg-of-mutton sleeves and her underskirt. About her neck was a necklace of silver and Persian blue lapis. Her dark and luxuriant hair was tucked beneath a fetching little silver lace cap.
Curtseying prettily, she said, “Welcome, my lords! Welcome to Lynmouth!”
“Christ’s bones, Skye,” Sir Richard de Grenville said, “you don’t look any older than when we first met, and I hear you’ve finally given the old MacWilliam his long-awaited heir.” Hekissed her loudly on both cheeks, and then sobered. “I was sorry to hear about Niall,” he finished awkwardly.
“It was a bad end to a good man,” William Cecil observed. “Good day to you, madam. I am happy to see you once more in England.”
“If I am in England then I cannot be fomenting rebellion in Ireland,” Skye chuckled devilishly.
The Queen’s man gave a dry bark of a laugh. “As always, Lady Burke, we understand each other,” he said. “Now how may I be of service to you?”
“May we speak in private, sir?”
He nodded.
“Dickon,” she said to de Grenville. “Will you lead your gentlemen into the hall and avail yourselves of the refreshments my servants have laid out? I know it has been a dusty ride for you all.” She turned again to William Cecil. “I have some rare Burgundy in my library, my lord.” He followed her from the Great Hall and down a corridor through great double oak doors into a fine book-lined room with a beautiful aureole window. The sun pouring through the window at that moment made the room warm and inviting. Skye gestured. “Will you be seated, my lord?”
He sat himself in a large, comfortable chair and gratefully accepted the silver goblet of fragrant wine that she poured him.
After pouring herself one, Skye raised her goblet. “The Queen,” she said.
“The Queen!” he answered.
They both drank, and then Skye leaned forward and said, “The old MacWilliam is dead, and my infant son is now the new Lord Burke.”
“I had not
“You will love again, my dear.”
“Not this time,” Skye said. “If I can insinuate myself back into the Queen’s good graces I shall not need a man to protect me.”
“Remember, Skye, that it was the Queen who caused you to need a husband’s protection the last time,” Dame Cecily reminded Skye.
“But the Queen knows that should she do to me again what she did last time, I shall revenge myself on her once more as I did before. Even if she couldn’t prove that it was me pirating her ships, she knew.”
“Make no hasty decisions now, my child,” Dame Cecily chided. “Wait until you have spoken with Lord Burghley. He may be the Queen’s man, but he is a fair man for all of it.”
“Aye,” Skye replied. “He is an honorable man.”
She kept that thought in her mind as she prepared the castle for Lord Burghley’s brief visit. With its young lord away at court, and herself on her estates in Ireland, Lynmouth had been like a sleeping prince. Its mistress back, however, the servants polished and scrubbed, dusted and swept every corner of the castle. Great porcelain bowls of spring flowers began to appear in the main hall, and in the bedrooms herb-scented sheets and comforters appeared on the beds. When William Cecil and Sir Richard de Grenville and their train arrived two afternoons later they rode slowly up the raked gravel drive, admiring the well-manicured green lawns and brightly colored gardens around the castle. The moat round Lynmouth had been filled in in Geoffrey’s father’s time.
Skye greeted her guests in the Great Hall, noting as she came forward that all the men in the party were most admiring of her. She had chosen to wear a black velvet gown, its very low neckline exposing her creamy chest and the soft swelling of her small breasts. Her neck wisk, a standing, fan-shaped wire collar, was of silver lace, as were the ribbons on her leg-of-mutton sleeves and her underskirt. About her neck was a necklace of silver and Persian blue lapis. Her dark and luxuriant hair was tucked beneath a fetching little silver lace cap.
Curtseying prettily, she said, “Welcome, my lords! Welcome to Lynmouth!”
“Christ’s bones, Skye,” Sir Richard de Grenville said, “you don’t look any older than when we first met, and I hear you’ve finally given the old MacWilliam his long-awaited heir.” Hekissed her loudly on both cheeks, and then sobered. “I was sorry to hear about Niall,” he finished awkwardly.
“It was a bad end to a good man,” William Cecil observed. “Good day to you, madam. I am happy to see you once more in England.”
“If I am in England then I cannot be fomenting rebellion in Ireland,” Skye chuckled devilishly.
The Queen’s man gave a dry bark of a laugh. “As always, Lady Burke, we understand each other,” he said. “Now how may I be of service to you?”
“May we speak in private, sir?”
He nodded.
“Dickon,” she said to de Grenville. “Will you lead your gentlemen into the hall and avail yourselves of the refreshments my servants have laid out? I know it has been a dusty ride for you all.” She turned again to William Cecil. “I have some rare Burgundy in my library, my lord.” He followed her from the Great Hall and down a corridor through great double oak doors into a fine book-lined room with a beautiful aureole window. The sun pouring through the window at that moment made the room warm and inviting. Skye gestured. “Will you be seated, my lord?”
He sat himself in a large, comfortable chair and gratefully accepted the silver goblet of fragrant wine that she poured him.
After pouring herself one, Skye raised her goblet. “The Queen,” she said.
“The Queen!” he answered.
They both drank, and then Skye leaned forward and said, “The old MacWilliam is dead, and my infant son is now the new Lord Burke.”
“I had not
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