Cecil.
The Secretary of State was not beyond humor, and he chuckled with dry mirth. 'Quite so, madam. Quite so!'
'Be patient, my lord, I have two others. One should hopefully prove to be more like her mother.'
'We can but wait, madam,' he replied.
Skye swept Cecil a generous curtsey, dipping low enough to offer him a fine view of her bosom which, she noted, he was not loath to admire, for all his talk of virtue. Men, she thought, were ever thus. 'I shall save a dance for you, m'lord,' she said mischievously, and then taking her husband's arm, Skye, Adam, and Conn exited the room.
The Queen was sitting down to dinner in the banqueting hall, and though it was crowded, they quickly found places with Lettice Knollys, who couldn't wait to make room for Conn O'Malley.
'D'you think she'll devour him whole?' Skye whispered to Adam.
'Nay, Lettice may be greedy, but she's wise. She'll eat Conn up in little bites,' he chuckled.
The hall was decorated with garlands of greenery, the fireplaces banked above with masses of pine and holly that gave the room an unusually fragrant scent. The tables were laid with white damask linen cloths, and by each place was that rarity invented in Florence only a few years before, the fork. It was gold as were the spoons and graceful knives with their Sheffield blades. The plates used to set Her Majesty's table were silver, as were the goblets, each one engraved with Elizabeth Tudor's own crest. Conn never batted an eye. His sister had taught him to use forks, explaining that the high nobility, and royalty in particular, no longer liked to see daggers at their tables. There was always the chance that the dagger could be turned on one's own self or one's guests instead of the meat.
A servant hurried up to fill his goblet with a heady red wine. Conn raised the goblet, sniffed appreciatively, and took a healthy draught. Skye had warned him not to swill his wine lest his manners be considered boorish, for the Queen prized exquisite manners. The food was bounteous, including shellfish and every other kind of fish he'd ever heard of; poultry and game birds; beef, lamb, boar, ham, venison, pies with flaky crusts containing lark, sparrow, and rabbit, bowls of carrots and cabbage, artichokes in wine, cress, breads and tubs of butter. He was unable to resist such delights, but although he ate heartily, he ate with delicacy.
'I like a man who enjoys his food,' Lettice murmured, and her hand strayed beneath the cloth to squeeze his thigh.
'One healthy appetite is merely indication of another,' he grinned lazily at her.
'Meet me after the banquet,' Lettice suggested eagerly.
'Madam, you tempt me sorely,' Conn replied with honest regret in both his gray-green eyes and on his handsome face, 'but you must remember that I need your royal cousin's favor. Were we caught, my fortunes would be destroyed. Surely you wouldn't want that?'
Lettice pouted. 'You men newly come to court are all so serious in your intent to please Bess.'
'She is the sun which rises and sets upon our world, my beauty.'
'My God,' Lettice said drily, 'with a silver tongue like yours, Conn O'Malley, you'll have Bess behaving like a schoolgirl!'
'I can only hope,' Conn murmured softly, and Lettice Knollys laughed in genuine amusement.
“Tell me, Conn O'Malley,' she asked, 'do you make love as well as you talk?'
'Better!' he grinned, 'for it takes me less effort and thought.'
Lettice Knollys's amber eyes narrowed in contemplation. 'Methinks you know well the ways of a man and woman, Conn O'Malley, but I suspect that you need some schooling in the refinements. Come and see me when you've gotten what you want from my cousin, the Queen. It would be my pleasure to instruct you thoroughly in
'M'lady will never have a more willing pupil, I can assure you,' Conn proclaimed, and then he let his eyes drop to her bosom. Slowly he feasted himself upon the lush display of ripe flesh, and then taking her hand, he kissed the palm and the pulse.
Lettice shivered with delight. 'Devil!' she hissed.
Elizabeth Tudor had indeed finished her meal, and left the table to sit in a comfortable chair that gave her a full view of the room. In the minstrels' gallery above, the musicians were beginning to tune their instruments, and many of the guests had also left the tables to stroll about the floor greeting each other while the servants cleared the tables and moved them away.
Lord and Lady de Marisco, Conn O'Malley safely in tow, moved across the floor and stood before Elizabeth Tudor, awaiting her acknowledgment. The Queen did not keep them standing long. With a quick word to the courtier to whom she had been speaking, she turned and smiled brilliantly at Skye and Adam. Her sharp gaze flicked to Conn, and obviously liking what she saw, she favored him with a smile also.
'Majesty,' Adam said, 'may I present to you my wife's brother, Master Conn O'Malley.'
Elizabeth nodded to Conn pleasantly. 'You are most welcome at our court, Master O'Malley,' she said.
Conn's look was one of intense admiration. Kneeling, he caught at the hem of the Queen's skirt and kissed it. 'In Ireland,' he said in his soft, lilting voice, 'they say ye are the Divil's own daughter, madam, but having seen yer Majesty I must disagree. Thou art Gloriana herself, and I worship willingly at yer feet.'
Elizabeth's mouth twitched at the corners with suppressed mirth. She was not so foolish as to believe his outrageous compliment was totally sincere and from the heart, but nonetheless she was flattered. 'Rise, Conn O'Malley,' she said. 'I want a better look at you.' He rose gracefully, and the Queen assessed him frankly. A very handsome lad, she thought, pleased, and quite eager to be in her good graces. A sharp Irish wit and tongue, she had not a doubt. Ah, how she loved such rogues! 'Do you dance, Conn O'Malley?'
'Aye, Gloriana,' he answered her boldly.
'Then you'll open the ball with me this night, Conn O'Malley,' Elizabeth Tudor said, standing up and taking his quickly offered arm as at once the musicians began to play.
Sir Christopher Hatton looked crestfallen, for he had fully expected to dance the first dance with the Queen. The lad was no clod on his feet either, he observed, although he was not worried about losing his place to this young Irish upstart.
'They come and they go, the dancing masters,' murmured a satisfied voice in his ear. 'I wonder how long the bog trotter will last.'
'It's been a while since she's confined all her attention to you also, Dudley,' Sir Christopher returned. 'The Queen, being a woman of intellect and refinement, likes choice and variety in those about her. You bored her to death long ago.'
“They're worse than jealous women,' Adam said low to Skye.
'She plays them off against each other so none will ever gain ascendancy over her,' Skye said softly.
'An astute judgment, madam,' said William Cecil, who without their knowing it had come up behind them.
'Dammit, m'lord, you walk like a cat!' Skye said irritably.
Lord Burghley gave a dry chuckle. 'A talent that has stood me in good stead on many an occasion. You need have no fear, madam, as long as your intentions toward England are honorable.' He gently took her arm. 'Will you both come with me?' he asked. 'I have something to say to you that requires privacy.'
They walked with him from the room where the revels were being held, and out into the deserted corridor. 'What is it you have to tell us, my lord?' Skye said.
William Cecil stopped, and looking around to ascertain that they would not be overheard, he spoke. 'The Queen wishes you to know that should she find your brother worthy of her trust, Lady de Marisco, then the patents that he desires for your family will be forthcoming in a few months. For now, her Majesty wishes Conn O'Malley to remain with the court so she may judge his worth. After Twelfth Night, however, you and Lord de Marisco arc to be excused from court to go to your new home at Queen's Malvern. You are forbidden for the next few months from traveling to France. Is that understood?'
Skye nodded. 'May I tell my brother, my lord?'
'No. It is better he not know for now.'
