Grasso, Patricia Read Online Free Page A

secret desire is so incredibly easy. For example, most serving girls yearn to be treated like a lady, while most of the noblewomen I know—like Lady Sarah—yearn to be ravished like common wenches. Follow that one simple rule, my friend, and the gender sex will adore you."
    Willis grinned and folded his arms across his chest. "What happens when you finally meet an unreadable woman?"
    Richard shrugged. "I'll probably marry her and make her my countess."
    "What if she's a commoner?"
    Richard cocked a copper brow at him. "England's wealthiest earl can marry whomever he pleases."
    "With the queen's permission, of course."
    "Never fear. I can handle Elizabeth."
    "Is there a chance the servants jump to do your bidding because they know your purse is fat?" Willis asked, his voice tinged with envy.
    Richard smiled at the other man's tone and tossed him a full bag of coins. "Try both approaches," he suggested. "Let me know the outcome."
    "Do not deny the queen loves you because your business ventures fill her coffers with gold," Willis said, irritated that his wealthy friend could afford to toss a bag of coins away with cavalier disregard for what others needed.
    Feigning surprise and dismay, Richard replied, "I thought Elizabeth loved me for my devilish good looks and dashing charm."
    Willis burst out laughing. He stood then and crossed the chamber, saying, "I'm off. I'll see you later." Before he could get out the door, two serving girls rushed past him. One carried a pan of warmed water while the other offered the earl a platter piled high with food. Casting his friend a bemused glance, Willis Smythe shook his head and quit their chamber.

    Two hours later, the Earl of Basildon, dressed severely in black except for the white lawn ruff around his neck, emerged from his chamber and headed for Dudley's study, where he'd been summoned to attend the queen. He knocked on the door and entered at the sound of the answering call. Robert Cecil, Lord Burghley, sat alone at the desk.
    "So you've finally arrived—and only six weeks late," Burghley said by way of a greeting. "If you'd delayed any longer, you could have met us at the gates of London."
    "Is she very angry?" Richard asked, sitting down in the chair opposite him and placing a small package on the desk. "I have good news, and an idea that will make the three of us richer than the pope."
    "Putting business before pleasure is a respectable habit," Cecil remarked. "She'll forgive you for that."
    "I acquired that habit from England's finest," Richard replied, referring to the years he'd been fostered in the other man's household.
    Burghley nodded at the compliment. With a smile he said, "I suppose Dudley gave you the worst chamber possible."
    "No, Dudley gave Smythe the worst chamber," Richard replied. "He saved none for me."
    Burghley frowned at the mention of the baron's name. "I thought I'd advised you to terminate your friendship with Smythe," he said.
    "Why do you dislike him?" Richard asked. "Willis fostered in your household too. Is it because he hasn't a gold piece to his name?"
    "We've had this conversation a hundred times before," Burghley replied. "My reasons have nothing to do with his lack of funds. I believe Smythe is untrustworthy, and I harbor suspicions about his involvement in his father's and his brother's deaths. You know that, Richard."
    "I cannot believe Will murdered his family to inherit that piddling title."
    "Greedy men murder for less. Do not forget that he squandered the inheritance that—"
    The door opened suddenly. The two men shot to their feet and bowed as the queen entered.
    Tall and slim and red-haired, Elizabeth Tudor was still a stunningly handsome woman at the ripe age of forty-two. She wore a low-cut gown in lady blush silk that bore a fortune in gold braiding and pearl embroidery. Spectacular diamonds glittered from her throat, fingers, and hair. When she moved, Elizabeth sparkled as brilliantly as a dancing sunbeam.
    The queen made herself