Page 76 of Love, Remember Me

He laughed. "Aye, Tom and I are old friends, madame, but if you have set your sights in that direction, turn away. Culpeper has a most jealous mistress, I fear."

"Thomas Culpeper is of no interest to me," Nyssa told him. "I am a married woman, sir."

"So you have said, madame, on a previous occasion. Is it truly so, or do you say it to convince yourself?" He grinned mockingly at her. Reaching out, he entwined an errant lock of her hair about his finger.

"You are a wicked man, I am told," Nyssa said softly, looking seductively up at him. She was rather enjoying her little flirtation with him. He was outrageously handsome and he was going to kiss her. Oddly, she was not afraid. She was frankly curious, having never been kissed by any man but Varian. She should feel guilty, she knew, for such naughty thoughts, but it would only be a little kiss.

With his hand, he cupped her face, and lowering his own, he brushed his lips lightly across hers. "You are delicious," he said low. "I want to make love to you, madame. Here and now upon the grass beneath these walls. Think of the ghosts of the long dead monks observing us in our passion, and unable to fulfill their own." Releasing her head, he clasped his arm about her supple waist, his other hand fumbling at her breasts.

Nyssa pulled quickly away. "Fie, sir! You move too quickly to take liberties. I am not some shepherdess to be tumbled in the open. Look, the rain has stopped. We must get back lest we are missed." Without even asking for his assistance, she pulled herself into her saddle. "Are you coming, my lord?" she asked him, and then without waiting for an answer, kicked her mare into a trot.

Watching her hurry off, he smiled to himself. For all her protests of a husband, she was hot for loving. There would be time.

The progress moved on to Newcastle, visited the town officially, and turned south again for Pontefract Castle, reaching it toward the end of August. They would remain at Pontefract for a week.

On a rainy afternoon, as the queen and her women sat playing cards in her apartments, Lady Rochford came to tell Cat that there was a gentleman seeking an audience with her. He waited just outside the queen's anteroom.

"Who is he?" the queen asked Lady Rochford.

"He says his name is Francis Dereham, Your Grace. The dowager duchess, your grandmother, has sent him to you, and requests that you offer him a place as secretary in your household."

Catherine grew pale, and for a moment it appeared as if she would swoon, but then she said, "I will see Master Dereham in my privy chamber, Rochford. If my grandmother has sent him, then I must be kind." She arose and went into her private rooms. Her heart was hammering violently.What did he want? Was this to be another incident like those with Joan Bulmer and the others who had come to her requesting positions in her household, wondering if the queen remembered them and the dear old days they had all spent together at Lambeth Palace? Catherine had made them chamberwomen, and their service was faultless, but she resented the way in which she had been coerced, for their reminders of their time together at Lambeth had just stopped short of blackmail. Nowhehad come to request her favor.

The door opened and Lady Rochford escorted a man into the room. "Master Dereham, Your Grace," she said.

He doffed his cap to her, bowing elegantly as only he knew how. "I am honored, Your Grace, and bring greetings from the lady Agnes."

"You may leave us," Catherine told Lady Rochford, who withdrew. The queen glared at the man before her. She had remembered him as being more handsome. He was swarthy, with an elegant, tailored black beard, black hair, and black eyes that were dancing devilishly. There was a gold earring in his ear. "What do you want of me?" she demanded coldly. There was no welcome in her voice.

"What, little wife? No words of joy upon my return from Ireland?" he said, smiling toothily at her. His even white teeth had always been among his best features.

"Are you mad?" Catherine said angrily. "How dare you address me in such a manner, Master Dereham!What do you want?"

"Why, merely to share in your good fortune, Cat," he told her. "Should not a husband share in his wife's good fortune?"

"We are not man and wife," she said tightly.

"What, Catherine, have you so easily forgotten that we pledged our troth to one another at Lambeth just three years back? I have not forgotten," Francis Dereham told her.

"I was fourteen then," Catherine responded, "and nothing was formally settled. It was the silliness of an innocent girl. You can prove nothing, and should you attempt to cause a scandal, you will find yourself facing the headsman's ax, Master Dereham. The king dotes upon me, and will not be interfered with."

"Our troth was no secret, Cat," he replied. "Everyone at Lambeth then knew of it. I understand that Joan Bulmer and the other girls are now in your service. It was kind of you to find a place for them. I am certain that you can find a place for me as well. The dowager duchess, dear lady she is, thought I might suit you as a secretary."

"My household is full," she said stubbornly.

"Make a place then," he answered her threateningly.

"I must ask the king," she said. "Without his approval, I cannot appoint you. He is not an easy master."

"But he dotes upon you, my beauty. You have said so yourself," Francis Dereham said.

She hated him now with the same dark passion that she had once loved him. She was beaten, and he knew it. "You may lodge with the gentlemen ushers of my household temporarily until I have spoken with his grace," she said coldly. "You may go now, Dereham." She turned her back on him and waited tensely until she heard the door close behind him. Then Catherine Howard's fingers closed upon the nearest item she could find, and with a shriek she flung it against the stone wall. "Nyssa!" she shouted. "Come to me at once!"

The ladies in the queen's outer rooms heard her shout, and startled, looked at one another. The queen had never before shouted. Nyssa arose quickly and hurried to answer her friend's call.

"What is it, Cat?" she asked as she closed the door behind her.

The queen began to sob hysterically. Nyssa quickly poured her a goblet of strong red wine from the tray on the sideboard. She forced her friend to drink. When Catherine Howard had calmed a bit, Nyssa repeated her question.

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