Curan didn’t flinch. He stood tall and straight, refusing to be intimidated.

“Good afternoon, my Lord Chancellor. You will have to pardon my lack of clothing. We are very newly arrived and newly wed. You must be Lord Oswald.”

“I shall not pardon it. The girl is not yours.”

It was Lord Oswald who fired the accusation at Curan, but the chancellor sent his hand cutting through the air to silence the man. He shut his mouth instantly, sickening her. What a dog. He was everything Curan was not. A sniveling coward who waited for scraps to be tossed to him by his master. The man sported a soft, round belly that further confirmed just how much he liked to pamper himself.

“Not mine? Bridget is very much mine, sir. We took the church’s blessing three years ago. Henry was there.”

Curan sounded mocking and arrogant. More than one of the guards’ lips twitched in response. The guards held their position, yet it was clear that they did not respect the men they were escorting. Curan reached behind him and patted Bridget’s bottom. She gasped at the boldness of the action.

“Had you arrived a few moments earlier, you would have witnessed exactly how much she is mine.” Curan stepped over to where his pants were and pulled them on, still without any outward sign that he was embarrassed to be seen nude. “But your informants had yet to leave, hadn’t they? I believe they remained until we finished, so I will trust that they told you that Bridget is, in fact, very much my wife.” Curan aimed a look at the two maids who were now lingering behind Lord Oswald.

Lord Oswald turned red. He pressed his lips together and sputtered. “You had no right to touch her.”

Curan shrugged into his shirt. “I could not disagree more, gentlemen. I had the blessing of the church and the seal from her father’s ring to confirm that I had every right to plant my seed in her belly.”

Bridget gasped again, the blunt comments shocking her. Curan turned and offered her only a softened look before he pointed to the bedchamber.

“Perhaps you should see if those maids know how to do anything save carry information.” He shrugged, clearly uncaring. “At least change your dress, wife. It is wet.”

Bridget lowered herself before quitting the room. She discovered that her legs were shaking by the time she made it to the bedchamber. There was a snap from her husband’s fingers, and she heard the maids following her. For all of Curan’s valor, the chancellor was a powerful man.

“Make way for the king!”

More footfalls echoed around the outer chamber. Bridget peeked out of the open door and felt her eyes go wide. Henry Tudor arrived wearing a coat that was far richer than the chancellor’s. He was a large man who limped a little. Everyone lowered themselves, and his escort placed a chair behind him when he stopped.

“My leg pains me these days.” He sounded gruff and frustrated by the toll age was extracting on his body, but sank down into the chair, stretching his leg out with a soft intake of breath to betray how painful it was.

“Hurry, miss, they will be calling for you shortly.”

The two maids pulled her away from the door, reaching for her wet dress with quick hands.

Calling for me …

That was exactly what she dreaded. Tension twisted through her, but she was not afraid. Suddenly, she felt determination rising up inside her so strongly she understood why her husband was willing to behave so lowly and fondle her bottom in front of others. The reason was, when dealing with men of low quality, you had to make your argument in a fashion they would understand. Chancellor Wriothesley was a man driven by his own greed for power. He would never hear any argument that pitted honor against gaining what he desired.

Which was her. The chancellor would give her to his dog like a scrap of meat, happily doing so because he had taken the scrap from someone else and need not give his hound anything of his own.

It sickened her.

Lord Oswald began sputtering in the outer room, and the maids increased their speed.

“You’d best hurry, mistress. Lord Oswald does not like to be kept waiting, and he is sure to be cross with you for having known another man before him.”

“He’ll likely strike you, but better keep your chin steady if you want to earn his forgiveness.”

“He won’t want me now.”

The maids both froze, but it was the look of pity in their eyes that convinced her that they knew of what they spoke.

“He will, and he will punish you for not coming to him a virgin.”

The maids kept their voices low, to be heard only in the bedchamber. Their familiarity with Lord Oswald’s expectations set Bridget’s spine straight.

There would be no simpering to that hound, and maybe she needed to follow her husband’s example and fight the man in the manner that he would understand. She cast a glance behind her at the door that was still slightly open. Just a finger width, yet ‘twas enough for her needs.

“Ah! You clumsy fool! You pinched me. Awhhh …”

Bridget raised her voice just enough so that it would filter past the door.

“Look at my skin! It is pink! And it hurts! You must be the worst maids in all of Whitehall Palace!”

She added a few more wails that gained her wide-eyed looks from the maids. But she felt no pity for them.

“Pardon, mistress.”

“Mistress? You dare to call me mistress? I am a lady! Are you so simple that you do not know who your betters are?” Bridget made sure that her voice was whiny and irritating. She reached for a silver pitcher that was sitting on the side table and threw it against the wall with every bit of strength she might muster. It hit with an explosive sound, the water in it splattering across the wall before it fell to the floor with another loud clang.

“I am a lady. A lady! Do you hear me? You had better make sure every stupid maid that you call friend here knows not to forget who I am. I am set to be Lord Oswald’s wife. His wife. He is the very best friend of Chancellor Wriothesley who is a member of the king’s privy council. By tonight I will have a much better set of chambers, with a grand bed and the finest sheets. By tomorrow I will be a lady of the queen’s privy chamber, I tell you! And I deserve it …”

She stomped her feet and blew out large huffing sounds beneath her breath.

“Now get me dressed this moment. If you even know how to serve someone of my station, that is. Did you get promoted from the fields this very morning?”

“No, my lady.”

“I do wonder. You are so slow and clumsy … Completely lacking in any skill worthy of nobility … Your mothers must have cleaned privies to earn their bread …”


Curan lost his focus.

He gritted his teeth with frustration, for only Bridget could steal his attention so easily and completely. Her words drifted through the closed door with just enough volume to be understandable. He wanted to chuckle at how contrary she was behaving to her true nature.

Yet part of him was furious that she was not allowing him to fight for her. He turned his attention back to the men in front of him and watched Lord Oswald turning pale.

“You said she was country raised and meek.”

Something hit the wall, filling the room with noise. Chancellor Wriothesley looked disgusted.

“I read most of her letters when they passed through on their way to France. The girl seemed sweet enough. There was no hint of greed in her words.”

“You read my letters?” Curan growled through his teeth, his temper nearly proving too much to control. His hands itched to wrap around the chancellor’s throat and choke the life out of him.

“I find that a most interesting bit of information myself.” Henry Tudor eyed his chancellor with growing unhappiness.

Chancellor Wriothesley laid a hand over his chest and stared at his monarch. “I read every dispatch that went on to Your Majesty. It was a precaution against spies passing false information to your Grace.”

Bridget was still having her fit, berating the maids and wailing behind the door. Lord Oswald was turning redder, and the man looked as though he had forgotten how to draw breath. When she began to use his name to berate the servants, his eyes bugged from his head.

“I’ll not have that brat for my wife. Absolutely not. I will select someone else.” He offered a wide reverence to the king before turning a swirl of his richly decorated coat, and departed, a few of the guards following behind him.

The chancellor lifted one hand that was sporting several large gold rings and began stroking his beard while he stared at Curan. “Interesting. I never perceived the girl to be anything but sweet tempered from her writings.”

For all his pompous dressing, Chancellor Wriothesley was no fool. His mind was sharp, and he did not like losing.

The king suddenly cleared his throat. “The nature of a woman is not easy for a man to judge. I have learned that lesson.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Henry shared a glance with Wriothesley that was very serious. “Perhaps you should take Lord Oswald over to York Place. I hear there are some newly arrived faces there. Ones I have not even seen myself.”

The chancellor reverenced his king, lowering his head in submission, but when he resumed standing there was a look of satisfaction on his face.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Your concern for your humble servant is most treasured indeed.”

“As I treasured your sure hand directing my affairs while I was away in France.”

Chancellor Wriothesley’s lips rose into the smallest of smiles before he departed, taking more of the guards away. The ones who remained were the personal escort of the king.

“He has a keen wit and runs the country better than anyone else I have given the authority to.” The king slid a glance over to Curan. “Removing him would not be my first choice. Edward is too young to rule.”