The Last Boleyn(51)
Mary rolled a ten and her streak was broken. “I would appreciate it if you would not repeat George’s problems, Sir Francis.” She looked up at the tall, handsome man. “It is painful to love elsewhere from where one must wed. But it is not an uncommon pain, and George should not have spoken of it.” She suddenly had the oddest feeling that Weston would make a cutting remark of some kind to her. He seemed to hesitate. Would he accuse her of marrying one man and loving the king? Surely, he would not dare. Besides, he would be wrong, though she could not tell him so.
“My apologies, lady,” he said, and his green eyes searched her face briefly. She was annoyed that Will paid so little attention to her conversation. George was his brother-in-law. It would hurt his Carey pride to come to her aid.
Weston, Norris and their ladies moved to the other table and George, with Jane Rochford in tow, drifted toward the Careys. George had one hand on his sword and drummed his other fingers on the table edge as Will Carey cast his dice.
“Damn, Will, you are as ill-fortuned as I tonight. Where is His Grace anyway? He is usually in the thick of the action by now. He will not be pleased when he finds some of us are already down too many coins to take him on tonight.”
Mary answered George before Will could respond. “He is with a messenger from the queen at Beaulieu, George. Why do you not wager smaller amounts? It is still early. Here, but do not risk everything on one foolish throw.” She extended her palm to George, and he sheepishly took the little pile of copper coins.
“My dear, you should keep your winnings,” Will chided at her side. “When the king comes, you know he likes large wagers and you are his favorite partner.”
Mary blushed at the scolding and George noticed. “After all, the game is called Hazard,” George said with an edge on his voice. “You have to take risks and hazard a win—as in life, Will.”
Before Mary could change the subject, Jane Rochford’s light voice interrupted. “I think it is all tremendous fun, and George usually does very well. He studies so hard at Lincoln’s Inn, it is no wonder he likes to have a little fun sometimes.” She smiled sweetly at George, who chose to ignore her support as he headed toward the other table.
“He is bent on winning back the money he just lost to that handsome Will Stafford,” Jane explained over her shoulder as she followed him. “I just love to see the two of them bluff each other.”
“I wish George would dice with someone trustworthy,” Mary muttered to Will under her breath.
“If you mean Staff, Mary, he is one of the most trustworthy men I have ever known. Besides, your brother is old enough to take care of himself. He is a full year older than you, so let him be.”
“He does not act it,” she countered testily. “And I thought Stafford was a traitor.”
“Has His Grace spoken to you of Staff? No? Then you should remember that the way of it, with both Staff and the Careys, is that we pay for something our elders did—our dead elders. His Grace likes and respects Staff and me, or he would never have us about and in trusted positions. If he says otherwise, it is just bluff talk.” He took Mary’s arm and guided her away from the table. “As for your dear George, your father will settle him soon enough when he returns from France.”
Mary thought of many things to say in reproach of his lecture to her, but she held her tongue. All he thought of was the precious Careys earning their way back. He had no right to look down on George and the Bullens the way he did, and as some of his friends did too. He looked on her every night with eyes full of passion, but he was always so inwardly controlled whenever he touched her or spoke to her that she was not sure if red English blood flowed in his veins or not.
To make her temper worse, there stood that foolish Jane Rochford gazing up at Staff’s smiling face. There was always some woman trailing after him or on his arm. She should have known he would be a skirt chaser in addition to everything else. Will was wrong. His Grace would never trust such a man. She would ask him herself what he really thought of William Stafford when she got the chance.
Edward Guildford, Henry Clifford, and a few others were slowly vacating the Hazard tables to conserve their purses until His Grace appeared. Mary tapped her foot in impatience. Why did Will have to make her so upset tonight when she had been having such a fine time? Maybe she was used to having Henry around to cheer her and keep the court hounds at bay from their rude remarks and Will from his scolding lectures. Now, if only George had the sense to quit gambling with Stafford and await the king’s arrival!
Henry Tudor swept in at last, looking grand and huge as usual. He clapped his hands and summoned them all around him like a pack of spaniels.
“Wonderful news! We are to have a revel, and I have just been planning the entire thing myself. We have not had a fine one since May Day and this will be the most fantastic yet.” His narrow eyes glowed and he looked so confident. Mary felt better already for his mere presence.
“The setting will be Sherwood forest. We will have a marvelous Nottingham Castle, and we shall all wear masks. Mister Cornish who helped me with the idea will teach you the knight and lady parts tonight. We have no time for gambling tonight. The masque is tomorrow!”
The rapt audience murmured at the news. A pleasant diversion indeed, and Mary was thrilled. She had seen such elaborate masques at Francois’s court, but had only taken a small part while Francoise du Foix was given the exciting roles with the king.