Read Online His Dark Lady by Victoria Lamb - Free Book Online Page A

shuttered against the rain, but he knew the place was open. He could hear the hubbub from inside, and had seen several men staggering away in the rain as he approached, their faces red from too much ale.
    Goodluck pushed his way through the smoky taproom. There were several tables still empty. He pulled up a chair and began to remove his sodden cloak and hat.
    ‘Sir?’
    Goodluck smiled up at the plump serving girl who had stopped to clean his table. Businesslike, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, she wiped up a spillage of ale with her coarse, dirty apron, and straightened a fallen chair, all the while sizing him up, as though trying to decide how much money he might be carrying in the purse that hung from his belt.
    He leaned back in his chair and met her look openly. No doubt there was more to buy from this girl than ale and a pie, but she was out of luck. He was not in the mood for a girl tonight, however comfortable her ample breasts and belly.
    ‘A tankard of ale,’ he ordered briefly. ‘And a bite to eat. Something hot and simple will do me well enough.’
    ‘Bread and hot pottage, master? Or salt pork with beans?’
    He shrugged. ‘Whatever is cheapest and to hand.’
    The girl turned away, clearly disappointed, and disappeared into the back kitchen with his order.
    Goodluck waited in silence, discreetly examining the men in the taproom. He knew a few faces, but most were unfamiliar. John Twist was not among them. So he had maybe half an hour to kill before the meeting.
    Lucy had not always been so wary of men, he thought, remembering the caution in her face when he had called after her in the street. She had fallen in love with that boy at Kenilworth, and what had happened? The young fool had got himself killed defending the Queen. Small wonder Lucy preferred to keep herself aloof these days.
    Though that was not all the story, surely?
    Goodluck suspected that, despite her striking beauty, Lucy had found it hard to catch the eye of an honest man at court. Her black skin and outlandish hair must set her apart from the other women in Elizabeth’s service, making it harder for any courtier to pursue her without drawing both the Queen’s attention and displeasure.
    He frowned, wondering if she had already had trouble of that sort. Fond though he was of Lucy, Goodluck knew that if a man of noble birth ever looked sideways at Lucy’s fascinating black skin and high breasts, it would be for reasons other than marriage. She had neither fortune nor title to tempt an ambitious man, and ambitious men were the only sort who lived off the court. Yet they would be interested, and try to persuade her into their beds.
    ‘Didn’t expect to see you here, Master Goodluck,’ said a soft voice at his elbow.
    Goodluck turned to see who had come in from the rain. It was Master Parry, one of London’s most slippery businessmen, a man who was well-known for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person, and yet who always seemed to end up on top. He was in company tonight with a young, curly-haired man Goodluck did not recognize, though by his swagger he perhaps ought to have done.
    Goodluck stood and shook hands with Parry. ‘Nor I you, Master Parry. You are in good health, I trust?’
    ‘I can’t complain, though I could do without the rain.’ Parry wiped his face and beard dry with the underside of his cloak. ‘God, this weather is appalling. But at least there’s a good fire in here, and better company than we had in the Fighting Cocks. May we share your table, Goodluck?’ He nodded over his shoulder. ‘This is Kit Marlowe, by the way, a young friend of mine just down from Cambridge.’
    Goodluck shook the lad’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Master Marlowe.’
    ‘Kit,’ the young man insisted, and smiled, not showing his teeth.
    By the look of his pointed beard and slashed velvet doublet, Marlowe was not one of Parry’s business associates. He did not look like a poor student either, but more like