The Marriage Game Read Online Free

her by the waist and turned her to face him. The feel of his strong hands through the thick stuff of her gown and corset came as a shock to her. They stood there, close together, their eyes locked, for a moment too long—until Robert let her go. She did not reprove him.
    Dark and handsome, his fine features aligned to a dazzling smile, Count de Feria, the Spanish ambassador, stood before the Queen. His master, King Philip, had sent him to London when Queen Mary lay dying. Mary had been Philip’s wife, but in forsaking England when it became clear that she was barren, he had broken her heart. Before then he had championed Elizabeth, even betrayed a less than brotherly interest in her, which only inflamed Mary’s well-rooted jealousy of her sister. But Philip was a devout Catholic, Elizabeth an enlightened Protestant; there could never be any common meeting ground between them.
    Feria, his blue eyes warm, offered his congratulations to the Queen on her accession. “Your Majesty is no doubt grateful that King Philip’s influence has brought you a crown,” he purred.
    “My gratitude is due solely to my people,” Elizabeth said crisply, “but I thank my good brother for his kind words.” She must not alienate Philip, for she needed his friendship. Danger threatened her—from France, from Scotland, from Spain, from Rome, from every Catholic in Christendom. Already the King of France had proclaimed his daughter-in-law, Elizabeth’s cousin Mary, Queen of Scots, as the true Queen of England; Mary was married to the Dauphin, heir to the French throne, and, with the might of France behind her, represented the most chilling threat. But Elizabeth was confident that she could steer her ship of state carefully through the stormy seas of European diplomacy. She knew she needed to take on board all the friends she could cozen, and she meant to keep them sweet by promises. She might as well begin now by making overtures to Spain, France’s great enemy!
    “Your Majesty,” Feria ventured, “I have come to discuss a delicate matter, that of Your Majesty’s marriage.”
    Elizabeth frowned. This was an unlooked-for complication. She did not want to think of marriage. There came unbidden the memory of a pair of dark, lascivious eyes, long dulled in death …“Pray speak,” she said, a trifle sharply.
    Feria cleared his throat, wondering why he suddenly felt so nervous in the face of this young woman. “Naturally Your Majesty could not contemplate ruling alone, without a husband to guide and support you, and be a father to your children. Maybe you will give some thought to a suitable choice. My master, King Philip, is happy to advise you.”
    No, thought Elizabeth, and no again. I need no advice, and I will not be Philip’s puppet. “I am not contemplating marriage just now,” she said, as pleasantly as she could. “It may suit me better to remain unwed. I have too much work to do in this kingdom to think of wedding.” And, ignoring the astonishment on Feria’s face, she swept on briskly to the subject of the aggravating French, their mutual enemy.
    Alone with Kat in her chamber, she gave vent to her fury. “There is a strong idea in the world that a woman cannot live unless she is married!”
    Kat, who knew better than most why Elizabeth did not want to marry, said soothingly, “None can force you to wed.” Heaven knew they had tried in Queen Mary’s day. Elizabeth had felt buried alive under the pressure to take first this Catholic prince, then that one, or even another.
    “I will never marry!” she declared. She had been saying it since she was eight years old, and said it again later, when Cecil proposed raising the matter of the succession in council. “Your Majesty must look to the future security of yourself and the realm,” he reminded her, a touch severely, as if he thought she was being frivolous.
    “Must?” she echoed. “Do you say must to me, William?”
    “Madam, marriage is your only surety. That