Read Online The Tudor Secret by C. W. Gortner - Free Book Online Page A

softly. “I would remember it.”
    “Well, you obviously haven’t remembered your manners,” snapped Guilford. “Go find something to serve us this instant, before I have you flogged.”
    As I feared, his belligerence alerted the others. Elizabeth rose from her chair and retreated to the hearth. Her disdain was secondary, however, to Lady Dudley’s inexorable passage. My chest constricted. I had no excuse to offer, save that I searched for Robert, which sounded contrived even to me. As I bowed low, I feared it was the end of whatever illusions I had of furthering myself in the Dudley service.
    “Is something amiss, my dear?” Lady Dudley asked Jane. I imagined her chill green-blue eyes passing over me in utter disregard. “I trust this manservant of ours isn’t troubling you. He’s obviously misinformed as to his proper place.”
    “Yes,” said Guilford gleefully. “Mother, see to it he doesn’t disturb us again.”
    I peeked up, saw Jane’s gaze shift from Guilford to her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and back again. She gnawed her lip. I had the distinct impression she wanted nothing more than to disappear.
    “He, he…”
    “Yes?” prompted Lady Dudley. “Speak up, dear.”
    Jane crumpled. Darting an apologetic look in my direction she muttered, “I thought I knew him. I was mistaken. Forgive me.”
    “There’s nothing to forgive. Your eyes must be tired from all that reading you do. You really must try to study less. It can’t be good for you. Now please excuse me a moment.”
    I almost gasped aloud as I felt Lady Dudley’s fingers like blades, digging into my sleeve. She steered me a short distance away. Without a slip of that rigid smile, she said, “Where, pray tell, is Robert?”
    My mouth went dry as bone. “I thought Lord Robert might…”
    It was useless. I could barely talk to her, much less lie. It had always been like this. I often wondered why she’d taken me in, when it was clear she couldn’t abide me. I lowered my gaze, bracing for an ignominious end to my short-lived career at court. She’d not forgive my breach of etiquette. I’d be lucky if I spent the rest of my days scrubbing her kennels.
    Before she could speak, a strident voice boomed, “Why the fuss over there?” And the ringed hand gripping the cane banged it twice, hard, on the floor. “I would know this instant!”
    I recoiled. Lady Dudley went perfectly still. Then a peculiar smile tilted her lips. She motioned to me. “Well, then. It seems Her Grace of Suffolk would meet you.”
    The Tudor Secret

Chapter Seven
    With a knot in my throat, I followed her. As we neared, Elizabeth glanced at me from her stance at the hearth. There wasn’t a hint of recognition in her cool amber gaze.
    “Kneel,” Lady Dudley hissed in my ear. “The duchess of Suffolk is of royal blood, daughter of the younger sister of our late King Henry the Eighth. You must show her your respect.”
    I dropped to one knee. I caught a glimpse of a spaniel huddled on a massive lap, its red leather collar encrusted in diamonds. The dog yipped.
    I slowly lifted my gaze. Ensconced on a mound of cushions, constrained by a gem-encrusted bodice and galleon-sail nectarine skirts, was a monster.
    “Her Grace Frances Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk,” lilted Lady Dudley. “Your Grace, may I present Squire Prescott? He’s newly come to court to serve as a squire to my son.”
    “Squire?” The civility in the duchess’s high voice was brittle as piecrust. “Well, I can’t see the churl bowed over like that. On your feet, boy. Let us have a look at you.”
    I did as she bade. Metallic eyes bore into me. She must have been handsome once, before inactivity and overindulgence at the table had taken their toll. The phantom of a once-robust beauty could still be discerned in the tarnished auburn hair coiled under her enormous jeweled headdress, in the strong line of her aquiline nose, and in the pampered translucence of her skin, which was taut and white,