Virginia Henley Read Online Free

“God in Heaven! What on earth possessed you to do such a reckless, shocking thing? You must have been mad! The whim of a moment has indelibly marked you for a lifetime!” As the lasting consequences of her action sank in, she stopped speaking in the third person. “Marked me for a lifetime.”
    She rubbed her fingertips over the tattoo, but the pert little cat sat immovable. “I shall be able to keep it hidden from Mother, but what about Maggie?” Her despair deepened. “She has eyes like a hawk. I’ve never been able to keep a secret from her for more than a day.” Maggie was the serving woman her mother had brought from Seton when she left Scotland to marry Lord Spencer. The Scotswoman had been Baby Catherine’s nurse, mothering her far more than Isobel had ever been inclined to do. Maggie was a formidable force to be dealt with. Because Cat loved and respected her, she also feared her disapproval.
    “What’s this of secrets?” Maggie entered the bedchamber carrying a garment she’d just finished stitching.
    Catherine snatched up her petticoat and backed up to the mirror. “Maggie, I thought you’d be at dinner!”
    “Well, ye thought wrong. I wanted to finish yer costume for the masque. Seeing ye’re undressed, ye might as well try it on.”
    “No, no. I’ll try it later.”
    Maggie eyed her curiously. “What’s this of secrets?”
    “I have no secrets from you,” Catherine denied.
    “Well, ye’re right there. I know ye and yer bold-faced friend, Arbella Stuart, went into London yesterday.”
    “Oh, Maggie, how did you know?” Cat whispered.
    “This wretched old palace has only one advantage—its proximity to London. I know the city draws ye like a lodestone.”
    “We went to see a play,” Cat confessed. “It was wonderful!”
    “I warrant ye didn’t attend unescorted, either.”
    “Well ... no. Henry Somerset and Will Seymour offered us their protection. There; now I’ve confessed everything.”
    “No’ quite everything, Mistress Impulsive. What the hell is that black thing on yer arse?”
    She spun around and realized Maggie had seen her naked back in the mirror. “Oh, Maggie, it’s a tattoo! What am I to do? I’ve ruined my body and spoiled any chance I had of a noble husband.”
    Not if I know aught of men. It will make ye more desirable. “Come now, my wee lass, there’s no point in weeping, wailing and gnashing yer teeth. What’s done can’t be undone. It hasn’t ruined ye for marriage. Ye’re beautiful and ye’re an heiress. The highest in the land will seek ye for their bride. Come, slip on this costume ye designed and we’ll see how it fits.”
    Obediently Cat raised her arms, and Maggie lifted the silvery costume of Cynthia the Moon Goddess over her head. “Ye don’t really wish to marry a foppish courtier, do ye, love?”
    “Of course I wish to marry a courtier. I would never see him otherwise. I don’t want a marriage like Mother had. They lived apart because Father had no interest in Queen Elizabeth’s Court, which was, and still is, Mother’s whole existence.”
    Isobel Spencer had become Mistress of the Queen’s Wardrobe and had instilled such a love of fashion in her daughter it had inspired Catherine to try her hand at designing dresses, gowns and costumes. It did not take long for Her Majesty to notice her lovely creations and demand that she design exclusively for the queen’s person, with the exception of her own wardrobe, of course.
    “But I don’t want it to become your whole existence. This isn’t the real world; it’s make-believe. Ye should be learning how to become an efficient chatelaine and run a great household, not pretending to be a moon goddess.”
    “Maggie, the Tudor Court is the hub of the kingdom’s affairs. The queen is a magnet who attracts the greatest men of our time to her service. Ministers of state, senior officials of her household and peers of the realm gather about Elizabeth, making the Court the center of