The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(95)

Every time she saw Brandon Dudley, she was struck by his distinctively dark good looks. If he truly resembled his late uncle, then no wonder her mother still thought fondly on Robert Dudley. There had been a time Anabel had thought her mother might force a match between the two of them, but since making Brandon the Earl of Leicester, Elizabeth had dropped the idea.

Anabel knew she should think of him as Lord Leicester, but she had known him too well when they were young. “Brandon!” she said as he made his courtly bow. “It’s a pleasure to see you. What have you been doing all these months since last you were at court?”

“Seeing to my estates, Your Highness. The queen has been very generous, and I would not take lightly my responsibilities. Though of course, that has kept me away from the two most beautiful women in England.”

She had always thought Brandon Dudley too charming by half, but today his compliments had a slightly forced air and she could see the same signs Madalena had reported. The tension of his hands, the wariness of his eyes…He did look a little desperate.

Taking pity on him, she decided to skip the pleasantries. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Brought to the point, he did not hesitate. “Yes, Your Highness. I would like you to bring Nora Percy into your private household.”

Of any request he might have made of her, this was the most unexpected. Anabel tipped her head curiously. “Why? Not that Nora is not always welcome, but she has no need of my household. She is a king’s daughter, recognized as such, and although she may not be wealthy, she has enough to set up her own household as she likes.”

“But it is not as she likes, Your Highness—it is as her mother likes.”

Anabel leaned back in her seat. “Ah, the formidable Eleanor Percy. But Nora is—what? Twenty-eight years old? Surely she can hold her own against her mother.”

“That proves how little you know Eleanor,” Brandon said grimly.

“Why you?” Anabel queried. “If Nora wants aid in achieving her independence, why does she not ask me herself? We are cousins, after all.”

“Because Nora is the most gentle and unassuming of women, Your Highness. She does not believe herself worthy of any position, and thus will not exploit it. Her friends must do it for her.”

“Her friends?” Anabel asked shrewdly. “Is that what you are?”

That dark skin of his could still show colour. “I am honoured to be her friend.”

So Brandon Dudley was in love with Nora Percy. And apparently her mother did not approve. Sharply, Anabel asked, “This isn’t merely your attempt to spirit Nora away into an impulsive marriage, is it? I would not like to be so used.”

“Considering my birth, I am hardly likely to make that mistake, am I?”

For Brandon was the child of a reckless, secret marriage—between Guildford Dudley and Margaret Clifford. Not particularly troublesome, except that Margaret was of Tudor birth and her royal connections meant she could not be married without permission. Brandon’s father had paid for the marriage with his life. His mother had been married off again to a much older man, and then died unhappily some years later.

Anabel spoke gently. “But you do love her?” When Brandon looked prepared to protest, she added, “I warn you, I will only help if I am convinced I am being told the truth.”

He stared at the floor for a long minute, and when he raised his head he hardly needed to speak. For all his good looks and surface arrogance, there was something genuine at heart about Brandon Dudley. “I love her, Your Highness. Of course I hope that one day we can marry. But if not, I will still do all I can to ensure her happiness. And she is more likely to have that in your household than with her mother.”

How could she possibly resist that plea? With her own heart so precariously happy for the moment, of course she wished to ensure that for others. “I shall be glad to have Nora with me. She is a skilled musician, I know. I will gladly make use of her talents if she is willing to share them.”

Relief brightened Brandon’s eyes. “Thank you, Your Highness. You will not regret it.”

I might, though, she realized. I’m not sure my mother will approve of me interfering with her royal niece.

—

Elizabeth drew a deep breath—not quite of satisfaction—when informed that Stephen Courtenay and Oliver Dane had safely landed on English shores.

“They came without protest?”

“Without requiring undue violence, at least. So Ormond reports.” Burghley and Walsingham were both with her—Walsingham making his report first. The court had temporarily moved to Richmond, but were planning a quick return to London. For now, Elizabeth enjoyed the crisp autumn air as she walked with her two favourites in her privy garden full of the roses Minuette had always been so fond of. There were still a few blooms among the hardier varieties.

“My dear Black Tom,” Elizabeth said fondly. “At least, out of all this mess, it will give me pleasure to see him again.” She looked at Burghley. “Dominic and Minuette have arrived?”

“In London, yes. They have leased a house in the Strand.”

“They refuse our gracious hospitality?”

Burghley knew how discontented she was and phrased his reply with care. “I think they do not wish to be a burden at a politically sensitive time.”