The Greatest Lover in All England (26 page)

“How old is your son?”

Frantically, he tried to discern a trap, but saw none. “He has twenty-two years.”

“How long has your son played a woman's role?”

“Since he followed in my footsteps and became an actor. You see, the younger men always play the ladies' roles because their youthful appearance makes them more believable.” He flushed and faltered when she tossed him a scornful smile. She knew that. Of course she knew that. He wished she'd stop walking so fast. After the month in prison, he could scarcely keep up, but never could he admit it to Queen Elizabeth. Not to Gloriana herself.

“At what age did you play only men's roles?”

Panting, he pressed his hand to the stitch in his side. “At eighteen, madam. 'Tis the most likely age.” Then he perceived the trap, and babbled, “But Rosie—”

“Rosie is a woman's name.”

“Rosencrantz—”

“Rosencrantz is a stupid name.” She stopped so suddenly he tripped on the train of her skirt. “Sir Danny, is there something you wish to tell your queen about your child?”

The queen's sharp tone brooked no defiance, and Sir Danny's unexpected frail defenses failed. “She's a woman. I dressed her up like a lad and she played the women's parts.”

Queen Elizabeth rapped him across his knuckles with her fan. “You're a bold one, Sir Danny Plympton.”

“A foolish one, more like, but what other choice had I? I found her orphaned and had no one to care for her.” And he cringed as he remembered Lord Sadler's instructions.
Take the child to Queen Elizabeth
, Lord Sadler had said. This muddle was the result of Sir Danny's disobedience and ignorance, and if—nay, when—the queen discovered, she'd do more than stretch
his neck. She'd have him drawn and quartered, too.

He trod on thin ice, and knew not how to extricate himself without betraying Rosie, or himself, or both. He tried to remember the tale Tony's sisters had conceived to make her upbringing credible. “Rosie wasn't always with me. A kind lady helped me by raising her in perfect gentility.”

“The lady's name?” Queen Elizabeth rapped.

“Lady Honora, dowager duchess of Burnham and baroness of Rowse.” He almost rolled his eyes at the clumsy lie, but Queen Elizabeth rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“Lady Honora was at one time my lady-in-waiting. I'll have to inquire about this.”

Fond of Lady Honora as he was, he was under no illusion about her ability to manufacture a tale which coincided with his. In desperation, he said, “It might have been one of her aunts.”

“You don't know the identity of the woman who raised your adopted daughter?” She sounded incredulous.

When in doubt, he decided, bluff. “Virile men care nothing about such things.”

Queen Elizabeth faced him, chin up, nostrils flaring in disdain. “You disappoint me, Sir Danny Plympton. I had not thought you were one of those ‘virile men.'”

She made it sound like a curse, and he realized with a sinking heart he had destroyed something fragile between them. Was it the masculine histrionics of Essex that soured her on such posings, or was it something older, something that reached into the depths of her past? He longed to ask, to offer the comfort and understanding which had won him so many women's hearts, but they had reached the tennis court.

Stiff and dimissive, Elizabeth sank onto a spectator's
stone seat. “At this moment, Sir Danny, your life hangs in the balance. Perhaps it depends upon your daughter's performance tomorrow. Perhaps it depends on the proof that she loves you. You may leave me now. I won't require your services any further this day.”

Unhappy, frustrated, and almost in tears—his weakness embarrassed him greatly—Sir Danny fell to his knees before the queen. From that abject position he bowed, and when she waved her hand, he scrambled to his feet and backed away. He backed and backed until the flock of panting ladies-in-waiting passed him and surrounded her. Then he turned and dragged himself back to the palace, not seeing the lurking figure that watched him from the shadows.

Lady Honora, Ann, and Jean
found the queen sitting by the tennis courts, staring at the courts as if she watched some long-vanished players participate in a rousing game. Her ladies-in-waiting stood shivering in the sun not far away, and after making the proper obeisance to the queen, Lady Honora said, “Let me send the girls inside, Your Majesty. They're cold, and I will attend you if you should need anything.”

Queen Elizabeth looked up as if just noticing them. “Lady Jean, Lady Ann, Lady Honora, how good to see you. Aye, send the silly baggages back to the palace. I'll be happier with you.” The maidens fled while the queen demanded, “Lady Honora, what marred your face?”

Self-conscious, Lady Honora touched the still pink scar. “Is it very ugly?”

“Nay, nay.” Queen Elizabeth waved a dismissing hand. “What difference does it make? You're not some young girl wanting to attract every man, and I'm not some young girl who cries at a cruel word.” She stared at the packed grass with its poles for the nets. “Do any of you remember the king, my father?”

The queen's melancholy tone worried the women, and they exchanged glances. Lady Honora answered, although the answer was the same for all of them. “Glorious though King Henry's monarchy was, madam, I have lived all my life in the sunshine of your reign.”

Queen Elizabeth still didn't look at them. “You don't remember my sister's reign, in which I almost lost my life? Or the brief reign of Lady Jane Grey? You don't remember my brother Edward, and, therefore, you're certainly too young to remember my father and the manner of his dealings with me.”

“I didn't remember personally,” Jean said, “but our mother was at King Henry's court.”

“I remember your mother.” The pinched look on Elizabeth's face relaxed a little. “In fact, your mother was one of my ladies when I was only the lady Elizabeth, and not the queen.”

“She spoke of it often, madam.”

Ann's gentle voice made it sound as if their mother recounted it a pleasant memory, when in fact she had not. Both Jean and Ann remembered what their mother had told them of King Henry's dealings with his daughters. A colder despot had never existed, conceiving children—two daughters—then rejecting them for their gender. Dealing kindly with them if they behaved exactly as he liked, and banishing them when they didn't. The lady Elizabeth had herself been banished from court for most of her twelfth year. During that time, she had often been cold and hungry, without ade
quate clothing, and in fear of her life, for she knew what happened to women who displeased King Henry.

Elizabeth's mother had been beheaded for displeasing King Henry.

Aye, King Henry's dealings with his daughters were indeed a good reason for melancholy.

“Sometimes you look at a man and glimpse what you think is a heart and a soul dedicated to kindness. The light of pride and anxiety twinkled in his eyes when he spoke of his daughter, and I thought he loved me not only because I was the queen, but because I was a woman.” Queen Elizabeth cackled, an unpleasant, disconsolate noise. “Because he liked all women. But I'm afraid he proved me wrong.”

Obviously bewildered, Ann asked, “King Henry?”

Startled, Queen Elizabeth laughed, this time with amusement. “Nay, dear, not King Henry. A nobody who deserves my mercy for all he has done and my contempt for the way he has treated his daughter.”

“I found my father always indifferent to my wishes.” Lady Honora looked into the past, remembering her first two husbands and their weaknesses.

“Aye, your father cared nothing for you.” Queen Elizabeth was brutal in her honesty. “Are all men cool to their daughters?”

“You know they are not,” Jean said. “Our father was most generous with his affection to us.”

Ann nodded. “And our brother adores his daughters.”

“Tony loves women, and will be a like father.” Jean decided to brave the stormy waters and prepare the queen for the resurrection of the Sadler heiress—if they ever found her again. “You remember how Lord Sadler was with his tiny daughter, Rosalyn? He adored her every manner.”

“Aye.” The queen nodded. “I do indeed remember Lord Sadler. A finer lord never lived, and there's a rumor afloat his heir had been found.” Glancing at them sharply, she asked, “What do you know about it?”

Lady Honora answered. “She
is
alive. My maiden aunt found the child on the road and, recognizing her quality, took her in and raised her as a lady.” She might claim she didn't know how to lie, but when she got started, she proved steady as a rock. “Unfortunately, I didn't realize her identity until recently, when I took her to Odyssey Manor.”

“Odyssey Manor?” Queen Elizabeth played with the long strand of pearls around her neck. “Why would you take her there rather than bring her to me?”

“Forgive me, madam, but I felt I needed to return her to her original setting before I could in all certainty say she was the lost child.”

“And what convinced you?” the queen asked sharply.

In her high, piping voice, Ann said, “The ghosts haunted her.”

Queen Elizabeth began to speak, but held her tongue out of liking for the scatter-witted Ann.

“What Ann means,” Jean said, “is that Rosie—”

“Rosie?” Queen Elizabeth bent a scowl on Jean. “You call her Rosie?”

Discomfited by Her Majesty's keen query, Jean said, “'Tis only a pet name for Lady Rosalyn.”

“A pet name I've heard recently.” Queen Elizabeth looked at each of the ladies as if divining their subterfuge. “The morning, which began so inauspiciously, grows more interesting.” She smiled at their thinly concealed horror. “Sit down. You make me nervous when you hover.”

What else could they do? Jean sat on the bench in front of the queen, and Lady Honora and Ann joined her,
lined up like children before a stern taskmaster. Their uneasiness seemed to entertain the queen. She pointed at Jean and ordered, “Tell me more about Rosie's ghosts.”

Obediently, Jean said, “Lady Rosalyn found she knew her way through the manor, as well as knowing how the manor had been arranged during Lord Brewer's time. In addition, some of the older servants claimed they remembered her.”

“Did she remember her father?” she asked.

Looking sad and lost, Ann whispered, “That was the ghost.”

Jean tried to explain, but Queen Elizabeth waved Jean to silence. “It's more interesting when your sister tells it.” To Ann, she asked, “Does Edward walk?”

“In Rosie's mind,” Ann said. “Rosie says she doesn't remember, but the whole horrible tale is there, lurking in the sadness in her eyes.”

Dissatisfied with such intangible details, Queen Elizabeth asked, “What kind of woman is Rosie?”

“Oh, she's lovely.” The cloud which hung over Ann vanished, replaced by vivacious pleasure. “She's modest and kind, and learned quickly everything we taught her. She's beautiful and talented, with a lovely smile and big amber eyes.”

“Talented?”

Queen Elizabeth's question seemed innocent enough, and it drew the truth from Ann like a poultice drew evil humors. “She's a wonderful actress.”

Jean elbowed Ann so hard she fell off the end of the bench. In the flurry of apologies and assistance, the subject was dismissed, although Jean noted a glow of satisfaction about the queen.

“So it was Rosie's familiarity with the manor which convinced you of her identity?”

The queen played skepticism like bait on a string,
and she caught Lady Honora. “There was a letter from Lord Sadler.”

Queen Elizabeth's skepticism failed with her genuine eagerness. “Did it have the seal? The mark of the ring I gave him?”

“It did not.”

Jean said, “The ring was lost, we suspect, when the thief stripped Lord Sadler's traveling coach.”

The queen pressed her gloved fingers to her eyes. “I trow 'tis true, always I have hoped to see that ring once more. It would have refreshed my memories of dear Edward.” She looked up again, and her sentimentality vanished. “What did the letter say?”

Lady Honora got a rather pinched expression on her face, and Jean sympathized with her friend's dilemma. She couldn't lie about the contents of the letter, for the queen could, and would, ask to see it. Reluctantly, Lady Honora said, “It instructed the bearer to bring the child to you for proper placement.”

“Why didn't your maiden aunt do as the letter instructed?” Queen Elizabeth asked.

Reluctantly, Lady Honora said, “She is a very old aunt.”

“I've met every peer in the country,” Queen Elizabeth said, “and I don't remember your aunt.”

“You don't remember Lady Honora's aunt?” A bold audacious voice spoke. “But Your Majesty, that is because, compared to Lady Honora, no one in her family bears remembering.”

“Tony!” Jean ran to her brother with Ann on her heels. “Your presence fair graces my senses.”

He looked as fair, as handsome, as elegant as ever he had been when he leaned down as if to kiss her cheek and murmured close against her ear, “Her Majesty has you trapped, doesn't she?”

“Aye,” Jean murmured back, “and I want you to distract her.”

“God's blood!” Queen Elizabeth put her hand to her forehead and groaned. “If the Sadler heir has returned, what are we going to do about Sir Anthony and Odyssey Manor?”

“Am I not clever at distraction?” Tony congratulated himself as if the success were his, but he was well aware of the traps which hid in every turn of the maze. “Your Majesty”—with a flourish, he knelt before her while his sisters and Lady Honora arranged themselves behind—“I thank you for your generosity in returning me to my duties. If I could not serve Your Majesty, I would languish in the darkest cell of the darkest prison of my mind, longing always for the sunshine of your presence. In future, disregard my foolish tongue, I beg, and allow this poor, rough soldier to guard you from the knaves who envy you.”

Her fingers pinched the ear she'd previously boxed. “Aye, aye. But how will we resolve this quandary? You hold Odyssey Manor—”

“By your grace,” Tony interjected.

“—and the Sadler heir has returned!” She put her face down to his. “What shall we do?”

Not even for Rosie could he give up his claim. “Odyssey Manor is mine.”

“But the Sadler heir?”

“I'll marry the silly wench if necessary.”

He flinched when Queen Elizabeth crooned, “Silly wench? Your sisters and Lady Honora have been singing her praises.”

“She is as naught compared with you,” he said, wondering what else his sisters and Lady Honora had revealed.

“Then you've met her?”

“Certes, Your Majesty,” Jean said. “'Twas his home she visited. Tony was most gracious, indeed, marvelously gracious, until he realized her true identity.”

“I am still gracious,” Tony snapped.

“You were like a bull, charging at every rival,” Jean corrected. To the queen, she said, “He liked not this threat to what he perceived as his.”

She meant Rosie, Tony realized, but it sounded as if she meant the property. God bless Jean.

Queen Elizabeth tilted his head in her hand so she could look into his eyes. “Did you kiss her, Sir Anthony?”

“Madam, you know I did.” Tony tossed his blond locks off his forehead. “I kiss them all, but no kiss is as resplendent as the one I press upon this fair hand.” He caught her free hand and bussed it.

With a faint smile, Queen Elizabeth watched his performance. “You remind me of someone I just met. Full of himself, and full of…”

“Of?” He cocked a brow.

“Kindness,” she said unexpectedly. “Did I not hear Lady Honora had plans to wed you?”

A gust of fury rocked him back on his heels, but Lady Honora seemed equally dismayed when she said, “I have decided that won't do.”

“Forsooth, why not?” The queen looked from one to the other, assessing them as potential mates.

“Without Odyssey Manor, he has no wealth,” Lady Honora said.

“I'll give him a dowry,” Queen Elizabeth answered.

Tony realized the true weight of Lady Honora's feelings for Sir Danny when she folded her hands together in a silent plea to him. Rescue me, her gesture said, but how was he supposed to do that?

Had the queen caught wind of his scheme to wed a young woman and start a dynasty? Or had she with the
mention of Rosie's name detected the constantly burning incense of his passion? In either case, she feared to lose one of her favorite courtiers.

Obviously, she thought he would never desert her for Lady Honora. Obviously, she was right.

Leering, he leaned close to Queen Elizabeth. “A dowry? You'll put a value on my precious carcass?”

Amused at his audacity, the queen tapped his head with her fur muff. “A value of my setting, Sir Anthony.”

“A value on my success in begetting,” he rhymed outrageously.

Queen Elizabeth shrieked with laughter, but Lady Honora winced.

Dammit, she'd placed them in this predicament. She should get them out.

Then he sighed. If it were up to unimaginative Lady Honora, they'd be trapped in holy matrimony before spring had cracked the earth with the first hint of green.

Donning a sober mien, Tony said, “I adore Lady Honora, and when she came to me with her proposal to wed, I thought it would be a most appropriate union.”

Behind Her Majesty, Jean and Ann rolled their eyes. Lady Honora winced.

“But I see no solution to this quandary with the Sadler heir except to wed her so I may keep Odyssey Manor. Odyssey is mine, and I'll not give it up for a wisp of a girl with a long-unpressed claim.”

Queen Elizabeth lost her pleasant facade. “
I
gave you Odyssey Manor.”

“Aye, madam, you gave it to me, and you can take it away.” He wanted Rosie, and he wanted his lands, and he didn't even know which he was fighting for now. “When you gave it to me, everyone assumed I would continue to call it Sadler Manor. Everyone assumed I
would seek some link between that family and mine, or change my name, or somehow lay claim to the nobility of that ancient family. Instead I changed the name of the estate, and do you know why?”