The Last Boleyn(60)

He jerked his head away first, staring wide-eyed into the fire, then downing his cider in several huge gulps. “I have to leave now, Mary, before I do something very, very foolish. And, considering with whom you sleep when you are not with Will, damned dangerous, too.”

“Must you go?” she had said before she could stop herself.

He looked at her again, the firelight edging his rugged profile and dusting his black velvet shoulders with a rosy glow. “Yes, Mary, I really must. The time is not ripe yet, as they say, though heaven knows I would almost hazard it all for one sweet—”

She leaned forward, entranced by his words, unaware of how lovely and vulnerable she looked in the golden glow of firelight. “For one what, Staff?”

He rose and moved away from her, walking around the backs of the three chairs facing the hearth as if he were afraid of being near her. “For more than one kiss, that is certain, love. This little game you and I play is a serious one and do not ever make a mistake about that, Mary. Let us just say I would almost risk it all for one sweet, little—more than you are willing to give me right now. I think you know how I feel and what I want from you, lass. Goodnight, then.”

The door had closed on him and disappointment instantly overwhelmed her. Why did he have to run like that when they had some quiet time together? Did he fear the king’s spies as he had mentioned once? But his last earnest words echoed in her mind: she did know what he wanted, and the prospect thrilled her. Suddenly, the delicious sweet cider had turned very sour and the firelit room had gone very cold.

She no longer feared Staff would do anything to hurt her. Besides, she was well protected by her relationship with her husband, who was one of Staff’s best friends, and by the king whom he served. He had not touched her for an entire fourteen months, but to take her arm, since that foolish Robin Hood masque. He knew his place now, so she could usually relax and genuinely enjoy the time he spent with her and Will. At least he had had the kindness to fob that vine-like Emily Fitzgerald off on Edward Courtenay and not drag her over here.

Ignoring Anne Basset’s eager gaze, he bent over Mary’s shoulder from behind her. “Will you walk with me briefly? His Grace will not mind. He is winning and we will tell him you did not feel well. You do not, do you? Come on. Excuse me, Anne,” he added to the Basset girl.

“Oh yes,” she breathed, smiling up at him. “Shall I come too? I would be pleased to help if Lady Mary does not feel well.”

“Thank you, but she only needs a bit of fresh air,” he answered.

The girl’s breathy sigh greatly irritated Mary. She rose to join Staff. “Has she been in your bed, too, Staff?” she inquired more icily than she had intended.

“Too, Mary? I am sorry you cannot mean in addition to yourself, so to whom are you referring?”

Her head was beginning to hurt and he was intentionally annoying her when she needed his support. If she could only tell him of the baby. He had been around the court enough, and knew the king well. At least she could listen to his advice and take it into consideration.

“Lady Fitzgerald, of course,” she answered after a long pause. “And, no doubt, others.”

“You cannot expect me to live like a monk while I am waiting for the king to toss you out and for you to realize you love me, Mary.” He turned his head and looked straight at her. His brown eyes were suddenly flecked with tiny shards of gold. It frightened her how much she loved to have him talk so foolishly. She lowered her eyes to her hand resting on his blue velvet arm.

“This is a surprise. Silence and smokey stares have become your favorite weapons against me, but never when I speak of loving you. No tart words? Let us face the truth, sweetheart. You have two men at your beck and call, so why should I be celibate?”

“Why do you not marry then?”

“The truth? I cannot afford it and I cannot hope that His Grace would see fit to drench me in revenues and lands as he does my fortunate friend Will Carey. And why should I wed someone I cannot tolerate when it is so easy to bed others I can?”

Mary could feel the color mount to her cheeks at his words. She had heard others speak and jest bawdily at court, but the truth, plainly spoken from Staff, often embarrassed her. They were almost to the privet maze. She had not realized they had come so far from the tennis court. Surely he would not take her into the lover’s maze in broad daylight.

“Imagine a lover’s maze shaped like a cardinal’s hat, Mary? Well, the esteemed Cardinal Wolsey has had lovers and a wife, so I should not be so surprised at it. Do not balk. I am not foolish enough to take you in, although there is little I would like better right now. Neither of us needs to be banished from court, at least not now.”

They sat outside the maze on a turf seat encircled by a bed of orange marigolds and yellow chrysanthemums. The shouts from the tennis area were distant and she suddenly felt tired and drowsy. The river glinted silver through the distant golden beeches and tall ashes.

“It is lovely here,” she said to break the silence.

“Does it remind you of Hever?”

“Yes. Some, but it is so peaceful there and here it is usually so busy and confusing.”

“I know. Mazes. Masks hiding masks, all more intricate than the crazy hedges in this cardinal’s hat.” He fingered a loose strand of hair on her shoulder and took his hand swiftly back. “Will and your father should return today, I would guess. Whom will you tell first, Mary? Your father, Will, or the king?”