The Greatest Lover in All England (30 page)

Queen Elizabeth looked at the crowd which squeezed
into the chamber and seemed to understand their fascination. “So you love Lady Honora as much as she loves you?”

“I…” Sir Danny looked at Lady Honora. “She…”

Lady Honora looked back at him with her heart in her gaze. Rosie realized how arid Lady Honora's life must have been, to find the attentions of Sir Danny enthralling enough to sink her reputation and her code of conduct to marry him. To marry an
actor
.

Sir Danny must have realized the same thing, and if his affections were not involved as Lady Honora's, he still wanted her, and loved her as much as every woman he'd ever loved. Taking both her hands in his, he looked into her eyes. “You have made me the happiest man in all Christendom. I am in love, a love I thought secret until this day. My ear is enamored of my lady's voice, my eye is enamored of my lady's countenance, my heart is enamored of my lady's soul, and I find this love which consumes me is consecrated by the love returned by my goddess! Forgive my momentary hesitation. 'Twas nothing more than astonishment at the reward which God hath given me, a reward so great it should be conferred on a lord of the blood, or a hero of mythical proportions.”

Rosie empathized with Sir Danny's dilemma, understanding more than anyone else in the room what he surrendered—the long days on the road, the great moments on the boards.

“Lady Rosalyn, you have such an expression on your face,” Lady Honora said. “Do you not approve of this marriage?”

Rosie understood she was seeking Rosie's blessing, for Rosie was the nearest thing to family for Sir Danny, and Rosie saw the chance to help her beloved guardian. “I could never have imagined such a turn of events.” She
certainly wasn't lying. “It fulfills my greatest dreams for Sir Danny, yet I wonder, will he miss his acting?”

Lady Honora's eyes lit with zeal. “We'll have revels,” she promised. “He'll star in them.”

“Or mayhap he could sponsor a theater company,” Rosie suggested. “That was my plan.”

“Aye.” Lady Honora clasped her hands. “A theater company of his own, like the Chamberlain's Men. I believe I might be some assistance in organizing and directing such a company, for I am an orderly person.”

Orderly? Rosie almost laughed. Orderly Lady Honora loved ramshackle Sir Danny, and what the result would be, Rosie couldn't imagine.

Slumped against the wall, Tony drawled a challenge. “I understood, Lady Honora, you were seeking the finest stud in England to father your children. I must assume you've given that up.”

The ladies-in-waiting were so overcome with laughter Queen Elizabeth ordered them to one corner of the study.

Sir Danny strode to Tony and flipped him under the chin. “Lady Honora now
has
the finest stud in England to father her children.”

Tony straightened and towered over Sir Danny. “She's abandoned the finest stud in England for you, my man, and left me without a bride.”

“Accept her judgment and cease your whining.”

Queen Elizabeth rose and said hastily, “I must rest now.”

She wanted to avoid this confrontation, but if she slipped away now, it might be months before Tony could pin her down again, and in those months Rosie could bear his child alone, without the benefit of his name, a hanger-on at court awaiting justice. Moving to intercept the queen, he said, “A man's not complete until he's married, madam.”

“And then he's finished,” Queen Elizabeth said sourly. “You cannot marry.”

“Madam, like Solomon, you are wise, and you must see there is no other fair conclusion to Lady Rosalyn Bellot, heir to Odyssey manor, or to myself, except marriage between us.”

“I
must
see? Your queen must not
see
anything.” As if her rancor rode her like a burr beneath the saddle, Queen Elizabeth shook her finger in his face. “When men marry, they forget their duties, and I can't lose my master of the guard. You're too important to the kingdom. You've just proved it by defeating Essex. Trust me. I'll find the Sadler heiress a husband, and you a wife, if you really want one.”

He stared, stunned at his tactlessness. He knew Queen Elizabeth hated to see her courtiers fall in love and lavish devotion on one another. He knew she preferred polite, formal marriages to those based on passion. Yet he had fallen to his knees when he saw Rosie, argued for their wedding with obvious desire, and all but ordered Her Majesty to do his bidding. What should he do?

But Rosie stepped up to the queen and curtsied deeply. “I have always heard Your Majesty is the fount of wisdom, and you have just proved it.”

Tony stared at Rosie as she stood, hands demurely folded before her. Had she gone mad? Had she lost her affection for him?

Or had she a plan?

Queen Elizabeth half turned her head. “Lady Rosalyn, what is your meaning?”

“It has weighed heavy on me that I should marry Sir Anthony when he so obviously loves another.” Rosie slumped as if a great weight oppressed her.

The queen looked at her fully. “He loves another? Who so commands his affections?”

“Madam, he ever speaks of her, and while he cannot have her, I think he would be happiest with one who resembles her.”

“Who?” Queen Elizabeth struck a table with her fist. “Tell me, I command you.”

“The lady whom you choose as his wife should be fair and white, with crimson hair like unto the sunset. She should have long fingers and hands that, when weighed with rings, overshadow the finest jewels with their beauty.”

Queen Elizabeth touched her red wig with her long fingers.

Rosie continued, “Sir Anthony's wife should be straight and tall, and be light of foot when dancing and clever of mind when conversing. She should speak many languages fluently, and have fine gray eyes.”

Rosie batted her own amber eyes, and Tony almost fainted with relief. His Rosie was a clever minx. He needed to remember he could depend on her in a pinch. He needed to remember her intelligence, too, when marriage pitted them against one another.

“The lady whom Tony weds should wear fine clothes, yet be so elegant the clothes wear not her.”

Queen Elizabeth straightened the pearls that looped around her neck, and fluffed the silk that puffed from the slashing in her sleeves.

“She should ride to the hounds and never tire, dance all night and never falter. She should, in fact, be a likeness of Your Majesty, and that is the wife Sir Anthony should wed. Not I, who am so drab and ignorant.” Dressed in Ophelia's tattered, white dress, with a garland hanging over one eye and the marks of tears still on her face, Rosie fit none of her own description, and her plea sounded all the more pathetic for her appearance. “Please, madam, out of
kindness for me, find him a wife as beautiful as yourself.”

Elizabeth extended her hand to Tony. “Is what she says true, my dearest courtier?”

He was overcome with admiration for Rosie, but not so overcome he didn't recognize his cue. He knelt at Queen Elizabeth's feet. “Madam, I have told you so often enough. 'Tis you who hold my heart, and all others pale in comparison.”

Elizabeth basked in his admiration as a cat basks in the warmth of the sun.

Assuming a contrite attitude, he said, “Forgive me for appearing to doubt your judgment. I simply thought that if Lady Rosalyn and I were to wed, it would save you much money.”

“Save?” Queen Elizabeth said cautiously. “Money?”

“Aye, madam, there is the matter of payment to Lady Rosalyn for the loss of her estate.”

If horror had a face, Queen Elizabeth wore it. “I owe Lady Rosalyn nothing for the loss of her estate.”

“Surely you don't think
I
can afford to recompense her.” His indignation might have earned him a place in the Chamberlain's Men. “Of course, you'll be providing her with a dowry suitable for the earl of Sadler's daughter, which will repay the loss of her estate.”

Queen Elizabeth developed that faraway look, the one she wore when budget problems troubled her. “If you married her, there wouldn't be any dowry to be paid.”

“Madam, if I married her, she would still be a brown drab of a girl.” Tony glanced at Rosie and lowered his voice. “Would a red wig improve her, do you think?”

The queen looked at Rosie and sagged. Tony felt the wind of change whistle through the chamber. The long day, the anxiety about the rebellion, and the changes
which every day taxed an old woman seemed to catch up with her, and she tossed her head and said petulantly, “Do as you like. Marry the girl if you wish. I wash my hands of the matter.” Standing, she drew a breath. “But don't come to me for a dowry, and don't come crying if she looks like a doxie in a red wig.”

Tony had learned his lesson, and showed no enthusiasm. “Nay, madam, I won't. Not the dowry, nor the wig.”

“And don't think you're shamming me, either.” Queen Elizabeth glared at Rosie. “You really wish to wed her.”

Tony nodded as if penitent. “I could not sham you, madam. I do wish to wed her. I wish to start my dynasty, and she's the kind of wife every man wants. She has no other place to go, so she'll be obedient.” He hoped lightning didn't strike him. “She's plain, so I know the children born in our bed will be mine.” She was beautiful, and he'd be a jealous husband. “And most important, my people at Odyssey Manor believe the lands belong to her. She will seal my claim to the manor, and that's all that matters to me.”

Queen Elizabeth understood dynastic matters, and his explanation soothed her. “Marry her, then, but I need my master of the Queen's Guard by my side.”

“I live to serve you.”

She swept from the room on his assurance and her ladies dragged out with many a backward glance. Tony rose to his feet and shut the door. Silence reigned as he looked at Jean and Ann, Lady Honora and Sir Danny, and finally at Rosie. They stood frozen in place, then slowly, their paralysis melted. Jean laughed softly and with relish. Ann rushed from Rosie to Tony to Lady Honora to Sir Danny, hugging each one. Lady Honora clung to Sir Danny as if she couldn't believe her good
fortune. Sir Danny clung to Lady Honora as if not sure he could stand by himself.

And Tony stared at Rosie and wondered how many years it had been since he'd held her. He wanted to lift her onto this desk and find out if it was sturdy enough to hold two bodies. He wanted to sweep her away to his bedchamber and bar the door. He wanted to take her to Odyssey Manor and be with her in every way a man could be with a woman.

But the time they'd spent apart, the things he wanted to say, the frustration, the fury, the desire, kept him from saying anything at all. The greatest lover in all England
—and
the finest stud—had no plan and no words.

Jean snatched at Ann when she floated by on her rounds, and said loudly, “Sister, we have much to do.”

“Oh, nothing we need to do could be as important as this.” Ann waved a hand at the loving couples. “We've got to help them plan their nuptials. Have you no romance in your soul?”

“
I
do.” Jean dragged Ann toward the door. “And so do they.” On the way, she pecked Rosie on the cheek, pecked Tony on the cheek. “Once for me, Tony.”

Tony didn't remember the last time he'd blushed, but he did it now, and he prayed Rosie hadn't noticed.

Trying to cover his embarrassment, he asked, “Why are you clucking like that, Lady Honora?”

Lady Honora had her hand on Sir Danny's forehead. “My little lambkin is warm. I think he's just overwhelmed with his good fortune, but I'm going to take him to Rowse Manor and help him adjust.”

As she led Sir Danny from the room, Tony caught the look in Sir Danny's eyes. Half-smug, half-panicked, and all anticipation.

Tony knew how he felt.

“Plain and obedient, eh?”

He jumped and turned, and there stood Rosie right behind him. He grinned feebly. “I was just trying to convince Her Majesty that I didn't want to wed you. I mean”—he closed his eyes—“I do want to wed you, but if Her Majesty thinks I do, 'twill never happen.”

“Aye, so I gathered.” She wandered toward the door. “She's a jealous, possessive woman, and she thinks you're charming and handsome.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Verily, 'tis a valid concept.”

He stood transfixed until she disappeared through the door, then he rushed after her. “You think I'm charming and handsome?”

She chuckled. “You don't need me to feed your vanity.”

He stopped, and after she'd walked on a few steps, she stopped as well. “In sooth, you're the only woman I need feeding my vanity.”

They looked at each other across the width of the hall. Really looked at each other for the first time in too long, and it all came back to them. The familiarity, the friendship, the passion, the laughter.

Cotzooks, how he loved this woman! In a sudden hurry, he began opening doors up and down the hallway. Most doors opened onto fine chambers, empty but ready for occupancy, but in one a lady screamed, and he exclaimed, “Wrong room.”

“What are you looking for?” Rosie asked.

“There's a storage room along here somewhere.” One door opened into darkness, and he exclaimed in delight. Taking a branch of candles from the table in the hall, he waved her inside.

She came cautiously, but she came. “Privacy,” he explained. “It's long and narrow, a scrap of the palace, so the servants use it for storage. I'd heard”—he wiggled his eyebrows—“they also use it for assignations.”

He placed the candles on the floor. They illuminated
the undersides of the shelves piled with linens and blankets and cast elongated shadows along the narrow ceiling. Their light barely reached all the way back where a clutter of broken furniture waved uneven limbs.

Rosie backed up against the shelves, and he followed, eager now, excitement bubbling in him. That gown she wore would be difficult to get her out of, but when were gowns ever easy? The touch of her bare flesh against his would heal every wound, body and soul, this last month had inflicted. He leaned his elbow close to her head, then leaned his head close to her face. “Now tell me again about my charm and good looks.”