Read Online The Last Boleyn by Karen Harper - Free Book Online Page A

mistress.
    Both Mary and Jeanne sought to educate the wide-eyed Anne as to who were the important people, but many were too distant across the field in the facing royal gallery and some sat well ahead of them, their fine coiffures or plumed hats the only way of identifying them.
    â€œThat fine and beautiful lady there, the lively one now chatting with the king’s own mother, is she not Francoise du Foix, his mistress?” asked the girl excitedly.
    â€œNo, indeed,
ma petite,
” cut in Jeanne’s voice as Mary began to answer, “that is the king’s beloved sister Marguerite, his
‘mignonne,’
he calls her. The jeweled lady seated over there is Francoise, for she is not a favorite with the king’s mother and sister, though he listens well to them in all else.”
    To be Francoise du Foix or any other lady he gazes on with love, thought Mary solemnly, how wonderful. Better that than to be his queen, fat and white-faced and always swollen with child and only bedded when another nursery cradle was to be filled. Everyone knew Francoise de Foix was his third official mistress, but she was so stunning and so gay, surely this affair would last on and on.
    â€œI said, Marie, Rene de Brosse stares with lovesick eyes at you as he did in the gardens last week.” Jeanne elbowed her gently and looked in the opposite direction. “Do not look that way now, silly, or he will know we have noticed.”
    Mary felt herself blush slightly, but, with difficulty, she kept her expression unconcerned. “I favor him not, Jeanne du Lac. I swear he is but fifteen and he still has pimples. I would much rather have his older brother Guillaume take note of me!”
    Jeanne’s silver laugh floated to Mary’s ears. “Guillaume,
ma Anglaise charmante,
is two years wed. Though that has stopped few dalliances of other men, with that bridegroom, the word is that he is faithful to her still.”
    â€œMarie, he is making his way over here. You are right—he is very awkward,” Jeanne went on. She patted her beautifully wrapped reddish tresses. “Shall Anne and I start on ahead? I would introduce her to my sister Louise.”
    Mary rose with them stubbornly. She did not like the way Jeanne assumed charge of her little sister, nor did she care to be deserted with the gangly Rene.
    â€œDo not be such a goose, Marie,” scolded Jeanne. “You are a ravishing maid—all the ladies say so—and it would do your reputation and experience no harm to be escorted by a courtier from a fine family, pimples or not. Maybe you can convince him to introduce you to his brother.” Her green eyes tilted up as she smiled at Mary.
    â€œOh, do, Mary. I shall be fine with
ma bonne amie,
Jeanne,” added Anne as they turned and threaded their way through the courtiers.
    Mary felt like a stranded boat on a rainbow sea of silks only momentarily, for Rene soon approached and doffed his lavender-plumed hat. His gangly body was encased in pale purple silk and even the slightly-padded, ornate doublet and the deep-cut, white velvet-lined second sleeves could not make his thin shoulders look masculine, nor could the bulky tied and jeweled garters on his lean legs develop his calves or the swells a man’s legs should have. Her eyes darted behind him for anyone she might know; then she smiled and nodded and listened as he took her arm and guided her from the stands. She had not even set eyes on Francois, so the day was nearly ruined anyway. What could a walk with Rene add or detract to the once beautiful day now?
    â€œHow does our Queen Claude after the birth of the Dauphin?” the tall lad was asking. He bent solicitously close for her answer.
    â€œSomewhat weak and sickly still,
monsieur,
” she responded, wishing he did not lean so near as he brushed against her. She was suddenly angry with herself that they had left the tournament early. She could still hear the clash of lance