Page 33 of Love, Remember Me

"No, I have not," Nyssa said with a small smile. "I have been so busy attending to my duties for the queen, I have had no time at all to seriously look the gentlemen over. But then few of them have even approached me. Perhaps they don't find me eligible enough."

"Oh, Nyssa, you are such a goose!" Cat Howard told her. "Have you not seen how my cousin, Varian de Winter, looks at you?"

"He is sooo handsome," Kate Carey sighed.

"My aunt, and her friend, Lady Marlowe, say he is a rogue, and that no respectable girl should associate with him," Nyssa said.

"Villains are far more fun than saints," Cat replied, and the others giggled at her witticism.

"Such happy maidens," Lady Rochford said as she entered the chamber, carrying a decanter and some small cordial glasses upon a tray. "What are you making merry about, or is it a secret?" She smiled, and Nyssa thought she looked like a ferret.

"We are speaking about the gentlemen," Cat said boldly.

Jane Rochford raised a slender eyebrow. "What naughty girls you all are," she said with an indulgent little smile. She looked about the room. "Where are the others?" she asked.

"The Bassetts are visiting their aunt overnight," Kate Carey volunteered. "Maria and Helga are sleeping in the queen's chamber this night. It is their turn. Her grace was sad this evening."

"Good," Lady Rochford purred. "Then there is no one to tell on me. Poor darlings! You strive so hard, and are all so good, and have so little amusement, I know. I have brought you all a little treat. Sweet cherry cordial, just made from French cherries, newly imported." She poured them each a small glass and offered her tray around. "Help yourselves, my maids."

"Are you not having any, Lady Rochford?" Bessie asked.

"Oh, child, I've already had two small glasses," Lady Rochford confided with a small hiccough. "If I drink any more, I shall be quite tipsy. It is really most delicious, is it not?"

They all agreed with her, eagerly sipping the fruit-flavored liqueur.

"It is late," Lady Rochford noted, "and you have all gossiped long enough. Ready yourselves for bed while you finish your cordial. I must take all the evidence of our treat away lest old Mother Lowe or Lady Browne come upon it and scold me for indulging you so." She smiled again. "It is rare for you to have such a quiet evening. You will want to catch up on your sleep, unless, of course, some of you are planning to slip out and meet your lovers?" She peered closely at them, and they burst into good-natured laughter at her teasing.

"Ohh, Lady Rochford," Kate said, "who among us has a lover, do you think? None, I fear!"

"Do not be so certain." Lady Rochford chuckled. "It is always the one you least expect, sweet Kate. Perhaps it is you!"

"Nay! Nay! Though I wish it were so, madame," the girl replied, laughing.

"Let me have a tad more of that cherry cordial," Bessie said. "Neither Lady Browne, who has gone to spend the night with her husband, nor Mother Lowe, who stays with the queen, is here to catch us."

Lady Rochford frowned. "Certainly not, Elizabeth FitzGerald," she said sternly. " 'Twas a treat, and you will be tipsy if you drink more. Now, be off with you, my maids." Lady Rochford shooed them to their beds saying, "There is no need to double up tonight, is there, with four gone? How nice to have a bed to one's self, even for a night."

Nyssa, who thought the cordial too sweet, had surreptitiously pushed her glass over to Bessie, who grinned conspiratorially. Nyssa had to agree with Lady Rochford about the sleeping arrangements. She could not get used to having to share a bed with another girl. She had always had her own bed her entire life. The others did not seem to mind, or if they did, they said nothing. Cat Howard had been raised in a dormitory for young girls at her grandmother Howard's house. Bessie had spent most of her life at court as the king's ward, and Kate Carey had a sister. Nyssa yawned. She was suddenly very sleepy, and so, it appeared, were the others. She drew the coverlet up over herself, her eyes closing even as she did so.

Lady Jane Rochford settled herself into a chair by the fire and waited, growing a bit sleepy herself with the warmth from the fire toasting her toes. An hour passed, and the girls were sleeping soundly. She arose and checked each of them individually. It was time. Taking a taper, she went to the chamber window that faced the courtyard and slowly waved the candlestick back and forth several times. Then she sat back down again in her chair to wait. Several minutes later she heard a soft scratching at the chamber door. Moving quickly, she opened the door and led the two men who entered to where Nyssa lay.

"That is the girl," she said softly. "Quickly now!"

One of the men picked up the slumbering girl, coverlet and all, and hurried from the Maidens' Chamber, the other going swiftly before him to be certain that no one saw them. Behind them Lady Rochford quickly closed the door. The two men moved swiftly through the dimly lit palace corridors, taking a roundabout route that was less likely to be patrolled by the king's guards, who would most certainly ask questions that they could not answer.

Nyssa's abductors were two of the most trusted of the Duke of Norfolk's men. They had been ordered to bring this girl to the Earl of March's bedchamber in secret. They had no idea what was afoot, nor would they have ever considered asking. They were servants, and servants, even those of long-standing, did not question their masters. Upon reaching their destination, they entered and deposited the girl upon the bed, as they had been ordered. There appeared to be no one else in the room, but the two men had completed their assignment, and so they left.

When the door closed behind them, Varian de Winter stepped from the shadows and walked over to the bed to look down at Nyssa. She was going to hate him, and he did not want her to hate him. He had wanted to court her, and win her honestly. He had wanted her family to consider him worthy of their daughter, but it was not to be. They would accept him because they would have no other choice. He would have to win them over. If only he could convince Nyssa not to hate him. Perhaps she would never love him, but he desperately did not want her to despise him.

She was wrapped in the coverlet that had obviously been on her bed. Carefully he untangled it from around her, and folding it up, hid it in the carved cabinet on the wall to the left of his bed. Opposite the bed a small fire burned in a tiled fireplace. The earl laid another log upon the fire, then drew off his velvet robe, throwing it over a chair. The flames played upon his long, lean body. Several of the women who had been his lovers claimed that he was like a piece of beautiful sculpture come to life. It both flattered and amused him.

Walking back over to the bed, he did what had to be done to make this charade convincing to Henry Tudor. He pulled the pink silk ribbons of Nyssa's chemise open, raised the girl halfway up and began to draw it off of her. She stirred restlessly. The flimsy little garment was soft. It slid easily down her delicate frame. He set her back to lie against the pillows. He struggled not to look too closely at her, but he had not the strength to resist. She was lovelier than any woman he had ever possessed. She had a long torso, and pretty, shapely legs. Her breasts were small but pert, and her skin looked as soft as the garment he had just divested her of a moment before. Her dark hair against her fair, fair skin made her look so vulnerable. If his conscience had plagued him before, it certainly ate at him now, but it was much too late to turn back. God help us all, he thought; me, and Nyssa Wyndham, and my poor cousin Catherine. No man is safe from the ambition of another man, and Thomas Howard is more ambitious than most.

Lifting her again, he slid her beneath the down coverlet and climbed into the bed next to her. She stirred once more, this time murmuring restlessly. The Duke of Norfolk would certainly be here at any moment with the king to discover Nyssa Wyndham lost in a moment of unbridled passion with the Earl of March. He raised himself on one elbow and gazed down upon his innocent victim. To his great surprise, Nyssa opened her violet-blue eyes. Her look was one of total confusion as she looked up at the velvet bed hangings and then at him.

"Am I dreaming?" she whispered, her heart beginning to hammer with fright.

"I wish I could say you were, sweetheart," he answered low.

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