Traitor's Kiss Read Online Free

Seymour, as she never had for my father. “ Ira furor brevis est .”
    â€œAnger is…” Jane began.
    â€œâ€¦a brief madness,” I finished.
    â€œYes, remember that – it takes away reason,” Lady Catherine said. “Jane, we do not gossip in this palace. Elizabeth, we do not use physical punishment in this palace.” Then she laughed and made us kiss her. “I’ve always dreamed of such a family, for such squabbles are the stuff of life. They show there is strong affection.”
    As I kissed Lady Catherine’s sweet-smelling cheek and murmured my apology, I suddenly ached for my own mother. “Why is everything different today?” I asked. “Why is everybody talking about my mother, when I have scarcely heard her name spoken these last years?”
    She stroked my face. “Perhaps you notice it more because this is the day when you think of her more. But nothing can bring her back, Bess.”
    â€œI am fourteen years old, madam, and I still do not know what she did wrong. I used to let the maids pet me so that I could listen to their gossip. I wished I hadn’t. If I were to believe them, her face was smothered with warts and moles and she had an extra nipple where the devil came to suck… But I did not expect to hear her cursed here , by my own cousin.”
    â€œI am sorry for what I said,” Jane replied.
    â€œAnd so am I,” I said, ashamed. “I know that I have much to learn about people, for I have only lived with nurses and maids dedicated to keeping me in a state of happiness. Yet not one of them realized how unhappy I was.”
    â€œLet us pray to God that He can wipe out the bad memories for you,” Lady Catherine said. “Jane, give Bess your gift.”
    Jane handed me a small parcel wrapped in green velvet. I unfolded the cloth, which released a vile fragrance, like the smell of a fox or a cat. It came from a pair of dark green velvet gloves.
    â€œLady Catherine helped me to choose them,” Jane said. “Perfumed gloves are the latest fashion in France.”
    â€œThink, Elizabeth,” my stepmother said. “Perfume reminds us of people more than anything else. When you are an old lady like me, these gloves will remind you of the day we celebrated your birthday together. Put them on.”
    They fitted my elegant hands to perfection. And so I started my fifteenth year reeking like an animal.
    My stepmother was wearing the brooch that my father had given her on their wedding day: three pearl teardrops gleamed against the bodice of her scarlet damask dress.
    I asked, “Is your husband not jealous when you wear my father’s brooch?”
    â€œNo. He insists that I wear it, especially when his brother, Edward, comes to dine, as he will tonight. Tom wants everybody to remember that I was once the Queen of England. It makes him feel powerful. Tom is not a happy man these days, Bess, as you know. His brother has all the power as the young King’s Protector, and he is jealous. This brooch says, ‘Look! I have the former Queen of England as my wife, and the King’s sister as my stepdaughter.’”
    â€œSo you are his trophy?”
    â€œYes, but I do not mind, Bess. I love him.”
    And I blushed with shame as I remembered my stepfather’s beard brushing my neck. If he loved her as much as she loved him, he should not have come to my bedchamber.
    Lady Catherine’s gift to me was a book that she had written. It was called Lamentation of a Sinner . I inhaled the scent of its green leather and ink, fresh from the printing press, as I skimmed its pages. “ A wife must always obey her husband, whatever he chooses to do ,” I read aloud. “Must she obey him even if he chooses to murder her?” I asked.
    â€œYour mother was tried according to the laws of our land,” Lady Catherine said.
    â€œThen the laws must be changed,” I cried. I was on the brink