Mary was swept through the next few days at the royal court on a wave of frothing excitement. She strolled, she danced, she smiled and laughed in a sea of new faces. The king took the newlyweds hunting in the blue-green forests of Kentish Eltham. She watched His Grace and his closest circle of comrades tilt, bowl on the green, and shoot at butts. The king taught Mary to gamble at Primero and Gleek and to dice for coins and kisses at the Hazard tables. The whirl of fun and flirtations from Henry Tudor went on and on. Mary was content to ride the wave of the royal affections forever.
Her entire first week at court, Mary never once saw the queen, who summered with her young daughter, Mary, at Beaulieu for several weeks of respite and contemplation. It was whispered that Spanish Catherine was most pious and beloved by the people of her realm, though Mary caught the undercurrent of gossip against her from some courtiers. Though they said she used to display a winning smile and fine sense of humor, the past two years, since the sixth stillborn child she had delivered to His Grace, she had grown heavy and wore out-of-date gowns, crucifixes, and top-weighty jeweled headresses. Jane Rochford had even whispered that the poor, sad queen wore a haircloth of the Third Order of Saint Francis under her opulent clothes, even in the hot summer months. Beyond such chatter, the distant life of Henry’s queen touched the laughing Mary Carey not at all.
Will Carey was kind and attentive when the king was not about, and that other Will—everyone called him Staff, and he seemed to be vastly popular—seldom bothered her. He appeared to be a fast friend to her husband, so she steeled herself to be kinder to him, since she would no doubt see him much. He was right about one thing, the rogue. She would have to hide her contempt for his outrageous actions now that she lived at such a civilized court. At first it had amazed her that King Henry wanted such a cynical man from a dangerous family around him all the time. But the more she studied Stafford, the more she understood. Staff was witty, an excellent horseman and sporter, and what better place for a king to put someone he did not trust than next to him at butts, or as the opponent on the other side of the tennis net? As far as Mary could tell, Staff was the only man who had the nerve or the stupidity to always tell the king what he thought and beat him at bowls too. She would follow her clever king’s lead: they would allow Staff near, but never trust him.
Even now Staff leaned against a gilded gaming table, rakishly at ease, his eyes alternately on her and his casts of his ivory dice. Mary leaned lightly against her husband’s arm as she threw her dice. A lucky seven! She laughed and scooped the coppery coins from the little painted Hazard circle.
“Will, you have the only lady I know who can make money living at court instead of losing it,” Henry Norris gibed. Several others laughed, but Will Carey’s mouth only forced a tight smile. “It is time the Carey fortunes shot upward, gentlemen.”
“I do not worry about my husband’s family’s stakes at the game, Sir Henry,” Mary shook her dice violently and blew on them for luck as the king had taught her. “It is my brother George I would keep out of the poor house, before our father returns and strings him from The Tower for his foolhardiness at the tables.”
Francis Weston’s voice came teasingly over the clicks of dice, “I would not be too hard on him, Lady Carey. I would drink and gamble the evenings away too, if I had a little magpie forever chattering in my ear. Besides, he told me when I helped him back to his room last night that he favors Thomas Wyatt’s sister, Margot.”
Mary rolled a ten and her streak was broken. “I would appreciate it if you would not repeat George’s problems, Sir Francis.” She looked up at the tall, handsome man. “It is painful to love elsewhere from where one must wed. But it is not an uncommon pain, and George should not have spoken of it.” She suddenly had the oddest feeling that Weston would make a cutting remark of some kind to her. He seemed to hesitate. Would he accuse her of marrying one man and loving the king? Surely, he would not dare. Besides, he would be wrong, though she could not tell him so.
“My apologies, lady,” he said, and his green eyes searched her face briefly. She was annoyed that Will paid so little attention to her conversation. George was his brother-in-law. It would hurt his Carey pride to come to her aid.
Weston, Norris and their ladies moved to the other table and George, with Jane Rochford in tow, drifted toward the Careys. George had one hand on his sword and drummed his other fingers on the table edge as Will Carey cast his dice.
“Damn, Will, you are as ill-fortuned as I tonight. Where is His Grace anyway? He is usually in the thick of the action by now. He will not be pleased when he finds some of us are already down too many coins to take him on tonight.”
Mary answered George before Will could respond. “He is with a messenger from the queen at Beaulieu, George. Why do you not wager smaller amounts? It is still early. Here, but do not risk everything on one foolish throw.” She extended her palm to George, and he sheepishly took the little pile of copper coins.
“My dear, you should keep your winnings,” Will chided at her side. “When the king comes, you know he likes large wagers and you are his favorite partner.”