The Last Boleyn(79)

“Mary. Is the child all right? Are you coming out here? There are several things we must discuss before we face your father. I will not have him badgering me.”

She went out immediately. And what about his badgering me, my protector husband, she wanted to demand. “You will wake Catherine if you do not keep your voice down,” she said only.

Neither of the men moved at her words. Staff and Will sat at the large oaken table, Will slumped over it, Staff leaning back with his long legs stretched out under the table. Will’s back was to her. She took the chair that Staff offered her without rising. He sloshed red wine in her cup, and she drank it straight down.

“Maybe we should all be drunk when he arrives,” Will observed impassively. Staff grunted. He poured Mary another cupful.

“I wish we could go to Hever,” she said quietly.

“Home to mother,” Will jibed. Then he added, “That is out, totally out. We are about to become personae non gratae with your father as well as the king, just as though we had never been the Bullens’ bread and butter for these past five years.”

Mary no longer felt the urge to argue such accusations. “I know we cannot go to Hever, Will. I just said I wished we could.”

“And,” Staff put in, reaching his arm for more wine for himself, “it is very likely that His Grace may pursue Anne there, and it would hardly do for the lovely sister and ex-mistress to be under foot.”

“He will never pursue Anne further,” Will countered. “Did you not see the livid look on his face and the hatred in his eyes this morning when she stood up to him? When Thomas Bullen figures it out, he will probably hope that Mary can win back His Grace despite our banishment. The little ice goddess Anne will have none of her king in bed, and His Grace knows it. He will glut his prideful, lusty maw with the first pretty face and body he sees tomorrow, mark my words.”

“Perhaps, Will, but when he slakes his thirst that way, what then? Boredom sets in. You know him. He is a hunter and relishes a challenge, even the distant danger of defeat. That is the only reason he puts up with me on the tennis court or at the butts. Unlike some, he gets truly bored with sweetness and compliance.” He gave Mary a warm glance when he saw Will staring down into his goblet. “Unlike some men, he may be entranced by the little witch, for to some, stormy days are more loved than clear, golden ones.” He moved his muscular thigh gently against Mary’s leg under the table, a tiny caress, then took it back. His face was impassive when Will looked up from his cup.

“Will you tell Lord Bullen of your thoughts, Staff?”

“Only if he asks directly or threatens to dangle Mary in front of the royal nose again. She has had enough and is well out of it, Will.”

“But suppose it is necessary, Stafford,” Will said, his voice taking on a new edge. “Your family position is not involved. That is fine for you to say. Or,” his fingers drummed loudly on the table, “do you have other interests in this? You are not the only one who observes the behavior of other men, you know.”

Mary’s fingers tightened around the metal stem of her goblet. Surely Will had never seen them alone together. They had never been alone enough for Will to suspect, and there had been no consummation of their love.

“I have an interest in this, Will. For a friend I have had for years and of his wife, whom I care for too.” They stared long at each other across the narrow table, and Mary held her breath.

“I am sorry, Staff. It is all getting to me. That damned George asked me to stay close to him and Anne today without telling me why and it was me, not him, His Grace shoved out of the way when his temper snapped. It is a hard thing, to work so hard for favor, and have it ruined through no fault of one’s own. Eleanor and I had such hopes.”

Mary drained her wine cup and put it down hard on the table. Staff said slowly, “You care too much, Will. Do not let His Grace’s quicksilver moods ruin your chances for happiness.”

“And you, friend Stafford, do you care for nothing? Is it so easy for you to let go of a dream?”

Mary’s eyes filled with tears, and as she poured herself more wine, she interrupted shakily. “I only want you to promise me one thing, Will, please.”

Will swung his eyes from Staff’s calm face to her impassioned one, hardly guessing the real cause of her tearful look.

“I want you to promise me that you will not allow my father to use our son as a bribe or wedge on His Grace. Keep little Harry out of it.”

“And you, madam, do you wish to be kept out of it, if your father insists?” he probed.

“I can try to fend for myself against him, Will. Our son Harry cannot.”

“When have you ever fended against your father, golden Mary?” Will asked coldly. “We shall see.”

“I think we shall see now, Will,” Staff interrupted and rose quickly to his feet. Hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor and a fist rapped twice on the door.

Will stood slowly and Staff retreated, with his cup, to a chair along the wall. Mary swung open the door and curtseyed.

Her father and Uncle Norfolk burst into the room bringing a draft of chill air, as though they had come straight from outside. “Well, the rumors are at Wolsey’s door already, and I am certain the grand cardinal was pleased to think that the upstart Bullens could fall through the foolishness of a mere girl. I brought your uncle. This mess may take more than my head to put right.” His still-gloved hand lifted in the direction of Staff. “I see you are here with them, Stafford. I sometimes think you have observed His Gracious Majesty as well as I. You may stay. Perhaps I can get straight answers out of you if my own family is as wayward as usual.”