Chapter Three
And as he pranced before, still seeking for a make,
As who would say, 'There is none here, I believe, will me forsake.’
~Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
Whitsunday, June 4, 1536
“Ambassador.”
Candlelight filtered throughout the great hall, casting shadows in the corners. Musicians played a merry tune. Courtiers and ladies crowded the room in celebration of Jane being proclaimed Queen of England. Glasses clinked, laughter resounded. Jane was at the height of her happiness. The king appeared completely smitten. A new realm was upon us. Energy fairly burst from the seams of the room.
By the king, I saw his bastard son, The Duke of Richmond, had been invited to court. The man, young and sprite, just coming into his own. A vibrant, first-rate image of his father. Nice turn of leg, broad strong chest, firm jaw, thick reddish hair, and a small beard on his chin. He was a handsome boy. Beside him was his wife, Lady Mary Richmond—formerly Mary Howard, cousin to Anne Boleyn.
Chapuys turned toward me, his brow cocked, perhaps surprised I would seek him out and address him.
“My lady.” He bowed, his features schooled into a mask of non-emotion. A perfect courtier.
“Would you be so kind as to have a word with me?”
“Certainly, my lady.” He offered me his arm, and we strolled about the great hall, other eyes following each step we took.
I did not want to waste any time in getting to my point with the man, and I also did not want to chance an interruption before I had said my piece. “I have heard certain things about our new queen.” I glanced at Chapuys out of the corner of my eye. Had his skin suddenly paled a shade? His brows knitted together in concentration, although no other outward signs of concern showed. “Rumor has it you’ve made comments about Her Majesty’s virtue.”
At my forwardness, the ambassador stopped his promenade and turned toward me. My hand, which had rested on his arm, now lay limp against my side. Several people surrounding us stopped their chattering, hoping to catch a whisper of our conversation. No doubt on the morrow rumors would escalate as to the subject of our tête-à-tête. I glared fiercely at those who so openly eavesdropped, and several returned to their own business. Others, including Lady Rochford, were not so receptive.
“Do you deny it?” I asked, my voice hushed, my face blank of feeling—for which I prided myself on. It took great practice to keep emotions from one’s face.
A glint came into his eye, and his mouth twitched into a slight smile.
“I see Queen Jane has a champion in you. Your relationship as her sister-by-marriage no doubt excuses your boldness. However, in future please, my lady, know that Her Majesty has my full support, and I would never wish ill fortune upon her. I have heard from her own lips she supports my Lady Mary.”
He cleverly avoided answering my question and instead sought to quell my ire at his past transgressions. His words could have been taken as an apology for having offended Jane and our family. I decided that was the stance I would take, and in so doing could possibly count the ambassador as an ally—which we could use more of in droves, being the new faction in court and the Howards even now plotting to regain their status. Even still, he was now warned that we would be watching him and that further sullying of her name would not be tolerated.
“As do I.” I lifted my chin, showing him his rebuke of my speech would not have me cowed, and with my words also imparted an alliance of sorts.
“Good to know. Friends at court, and in such impressionable positions as yourself, are always beneficial.”
So, he understood. I offered him a smile. “Indeed, sir.”
“I bid you good evening, my lady.”
He bowed, and I curtsied in turn, trying to brush off the sting of dismissal. To replace the sting, I soothed myself with the thought that now it would be known about court that I hadn’t the timidity of most courtly ladies and I would indeed fight for me and mine.
“Lady Anne.” The voice of King Henry behind me surprised me so greatly I jolted, nearly bumping into the couples dancing close to where Chapuys and I had been speaking.
I turned slowly, my head bowed, and curtsied, ready for him to call the guards, fearful he’d overheard my conversation with the ambassador. Whatever Jane’s plans and support may have been, offering my own so openly for Mary was a dangerous business. Henry was extremely angry with his daughter, wanting her imprisoned for her insolence in denying that his marriage to her mother was null and void, although Edward had convinced him otherwise. Word had it that Henry had even sent the Duke of Norfolk out to threaten her, and threaten her he had, telling her he’d have smashed his daughter’s head against the wall until it was as soft as baked apples had she treated him thusly. But how could a father force a daughter to conclude he’d never been married to her mother when, in fact, he had? Not that I could voice such, as it went entirely against the Seymour family’s allegiance.
Would my own head be crushed into a quivering, bloody mass if King Henry—or my husband—found out I held affection for his daughter Mary?
“I see you’ve acquainted yourself with Ambassador Chapuys.” He leaned in toward me, his eyes searching mine.
Inside I shook, and I desperately wanted to search out the crowd for Edward, for the comfort of his strong body beside me gave me courage. But instead I forced myself to meet his crystal-blue gaze.
“Yes, Majesty.”
“An interesting conversation you had?” His eyes sparkled, and a smile touched his lips.
Was I mistaken? Had he not heard? Or had he, and he approved?
“Rather droll, actually.” I chanced a smile and was rewarded when his grew.
“I often find the man a bit stiff with conversing myself. Would you care to dance?”
I slowly and silently blew out a deep breath, relieved at not having to explain my words with Chapuys and not being a crushed baked apple beneath his boot.
“With pleasure, Your Majesty.” Although pleasure was not exactly how I felt in his arms, more like a sense of dread and unease.
June 5, 1536
Court had been making merry, and I was now a viscountess! Just this morning, His Majesty had bestowed the title Viscount Beauchamp on Edward. Jane not married a week and already we had been elevated. I had to keep my practiced cool, even though I’d wished to clap and sing and spin in circles.
“My lady.” A footman bowed in my direction.
I set down my sewing and glanced at the other ladies, who tittered and laughed as we completed our embroidery in the queen’s chambers. Although I myself was not Lady of the Queen’s Bedchamber, Jane insisted I sit beside her daily. Our conversations about her wifely duties to the king continued, and she’d even asked my advice on pleasuring a man. An apt pupil she appeared to be.
“Yes?”
“Lord Beauchamp requests your presence in his library.”
I turned to Jane. “Would you excuse me, Your Majesty?”
Jane inclined her head and smiled. I was so proud of her regal bearing. She had the makings of a great queen.
I walked swiftly to our apartments, wondering what had happened to cause Edward to summon me. He was seated behind his desk, sifting through letters and other various documents. He looked up as I entered.
“My lady wife.”
His smile broadened as he stood from his desk and came toward me, waving the footman from the room, who quietly backed out and shut the door behind him. When he reached me he did not stop but pulled me into his arms, his warm lips pressing to mine. It was not a chaste kiss, but one meant to garner a reaction. I sighed into his arms, tasting some sort of sweet fruit on his lips.
He pulled his mouth away but kept his arms around me. “Are you enjoying your time with the queen?” His fingers danced circles up my spine.
“I am, indeed, my Lord Beauchamp.” I smiled winningly, knowing how much he enjoyed hearing his new title upon my lips.
“I have just come from a meeting with the Privy Council. There will be a new Act of Succession placing Jane’s children as first in line for the throne. And in just a few days’ time, Jane will enter London in state. Her coronation is planned for this October.”
“Oh, Edward, this is marvelous news.” It was hard to tamp down my excitement with all that was going so well for us.
He kissed me again, this time deeper, and warmed me all the way to my core. I was becoming dizzy with excitement, even in broad daylight. Would he take me to bed? Had he changed his mind and decided we should now start a family? I quelled my fear of such a request. As we were becoming elevated, we would have need of an heir.
“There is more good news,” he said, his lips moving toward my neck, and then up to the shell of my ear.
I murmured something, I do not know what, as I was completely melting in his embrace.
“The king has hinted to me that once Jane has been through her coronation, I will be awarded with an earldom.” At this, the backs of his fingertips danced along my chest, teasing the tops of my breasts.
“An earldom?” I gasped, half in shocked surprise and half with desire seeping through my pores.
“Yes. You will be a countess.” He tugged the front of my bodice down, exposing one nipple. “We’ll amass a fortune, lands, homes, and titles for our children that, God willing, you deliver safely.”
“The thought brings me pleasure.” He’d mentioned children, and how cleverly, too, knowing I would do whatever it took to see that my children advanced in the realm. My children would have all that and more. They would be powerful, left with a legacy that Edward and I had built of our own two hands.
“As it does to me.” He teased my nipple with his teeth and tongue until I writhed against him, my hands clutching the hair on the back of his head.
His lips sought mine again, and then he lifted me in the air, settling me on his desk. Our mouths were frantic, kissing lips, cheeks, necks, ears. His hands were everywhere at once, on my breasts, lifting my skirts. My hands were on him, pulling his shirt from his breeches, reaching toward the thing I sought most.
When we joined, it was rapid, it was furious, filled with pent-up desire, our bodies rocking the desk back and forth, our moans filling the air.
So filled with pleasure was I, I hardly noticed how unseemly our behavior was—coupling in the middle of the day on his office desk, my bottom crinkling whatever documents were placed there. I took what he gave and gave back in return. We joined for pleasure, for celebration at our elevated status, for the fact that he’d saved me from ruin, and I was forever grateful to the fact.
When it was over, I lay back on his desk, sated and still mildly delirious. He kissed my nose and pulled my skirts back down over my legs before righting himself.
“You please me much, my lady.”
I smiled lazily. “As is my duty, and I do it with pleasure.”
He circled back around his desk and took a seat. I stood and fixed my honey-hued hair and headdress in the mirror that hung over the hearth.
“How goes things with Jane?” he asked.
“Very well. She has employed the tricks I taught her, and the king seems like a very pleased man. I suspect she will be with child soon.”
“The court seems taken with her.”
“Yes, I think just about everyone is. She is so regal, so good.”
Edward smiled. “Keep an eye on her. You will be her conscience and my ears.”
“My lord.” I curtsied to my husband and left the room, nearly bumping into a tall, muscled form.
“Pardon me, my lady.” His voice was smooth, sensual, sending a thrill of unexpected excitement along my skin.
I looked into the eyes of a courtier whose name I was not familiar with, but whose dark gaze had haunted my dreams since I first saw him on Jane’s wedding day. Him. His dark hair was pulled back in a queue. A devilish dimple appeared in one cheek when he smiled, and smoldering eyes gazed into mine. Again, that sense we’d met before, but where, I could not dredge up from memory.
My gaze was riveted to his mouth, wondering briefly what it would be like to kiss those full lips. Shame filled me. Had I not just been within Edward’s embrace? But when I was with Edward it was because he’d saved me. Because it was my duty. Not because I felt… I refused to succumb to these forbidden feelings. Feelings that would force me to betray everything I knew to be holy and good. From the way the courtier lustily gazed at me, my blood already pumped a wanton dance through my limbs. My fingernails bit angrily into my palms. For shame, Anne! You’ve just made love to your husband!
The chastisement of my conscience served as a good reprimand, and my blood ran cold. This courtier stood against everything I valued in myself.
He turned a well-muscled leg and bowed. “Sir Anthony Browne, at your service.”
I gulped, feeling panic well in my belly. I had to escape this room, before I melted into the floor or hurled myself through the window.