Gilt
VIKING
An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
VIKING
Published by Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published in 2012 by Viking, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © Katherine Longshore, 2012
All rights reserved
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Longshore, Katherine.
Gilt / by Katherine Longshore.
p. cm.
Summary: In 1539, Kitty Tylney and her best friend Cat Howard—the audacious, self-proclaimed “Queen of Misrule”—both servants to the Duchess of Norfolk, move to the court of King Henry VIII, who fancies Cat, and when Cat becomes queen Kitty must learn to navigate the complexities and dangers of the royal court.
ISBN: 978-1-101-57201-6
1. Catharine Howard, Queen, consort of Henry VIII, King of England, d. 1542—Juvenile fiction. [1. Catharine Howard, Queen, consort of Henry VIII, King of England, d. 1542—Fiction. 2. Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction. 3. Court and courtiers—Fiction. 4. Henry VIII, King of England, 1491–1547—Fiction. 5. Great Britain—History—Henry VIII, 1509–1547—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.L864Gi 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2011028214
Printed in U.S.A. Set in ITC Legacy Serif Std Book design by Kate Renner
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ALWAYS LEARNING
PEARSON
For my dad, who never let me feel unloved
“
Y
OU’RE NOT GOING TO STEAL ANYTHING.”
I left the question—
Are you?—
off the end of the sentence. But Cat heard it anyway.
“Of course not.” She paused to look at me, shadows eclipsing half her face, blue eyes glittering in the moonlight from the tall, narrow windows of the upper gallery. “I could be flogged. Or pilloried. Or have a hand cut off.”
A drunken roar of laughter vented up through the beams of the great hall below us.
“Or executed,” I muttered.
“We’re just going to look. They can’t hang us for that,” she said, pulling me into a room congested with luxury. Arras tapestries mantled the walls, depicting knights on horseback charging to distant crusades. A silver goblet sat on a table by the fire between two chairs that were cushioned in velvet and tassled in gold.
“Consider it inventory,” Cat explained, trailing her finger along the gold thread in a tapestry. “We’re doing the duchess a favor.”
“Right,” I said. “Explain to me how Agnes Howard, née Tylney, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, most esteemed
noblewoman in England, will think it a favor when she discovers two of her protégées riffling through her clothes.”
“The duchess has gowns and furs and rings and pendants that she only wears on state occasions, and God knows we haven’t had one of those since Queen Jane died. Someone has to appreciate her things.”
“Without her realizing it.”
“She’s downstairs,” Cat said. “Feasting with the duke. Nothing interrupts her when her stepson comes to visit. They closet themselves away and scheme until dawn.”
She sat and laid her childlike hands over the lions’ heads on the arms of the chair.
“Not like our wobbly old stools,” she said, caressing the golden mane.
“Or splintery benches,” I agreed, risking a seat in the other chair. I stretched my ragged slippers toward the fire.
