Maid of Deception Read Online Free Page A

a schemer, and he’d liked the young Elizabeth far too much. She’d thought it was her beauty that entranced him; I thought otherwise. But either way, the scandal that erupted in Elizabeth’s young world nearly destroyed the princess when the details later came to light.
    Who had been there to see it all happen? I had. Who had helped save Elizabeth’s misbegotten skin when the questioners had come? I had. She’d defended herself brilliantly . . . and I had defended her as well.
    But there was the truth Elizabeth had told her questioners, and then there was the truth we alone both knew. She could never forgive me for knowing her secrets, nor ever overtly destroy me. For I was no fool. Even at a young age, I’d ensured that my secrets were not solely locked in my own head. And Elizabeth had no way of knowing what information might come out, were I to meet a bad end.
    But that didn’t mean she had to treat me with kindness. She’d raised me to the highest position at her court that I could attain, true. And she made me pay for it daily.
    So now we were squaring off yet again under the watchful and almost reproachful eyes of her advisors. The conservative, tight-lipped Sir William Cecil was the titular head of our small select group of spies, but the darker, more audacious Sir Francis Walsingham, the Queen’s spymaster, was never far from our midst. I suspected Sir Francis and Sir William rather hated our corps of maids, and we certainly held no affection for them. However, our group had not been assembled by them but by the Queen. And in this (as in many things), she brooked no opposition.
    “You may approach!” At the Queen’s haughty command, I swept forward and dropped into a low curtsy, straightening only after she bade me rise. I’d learned to time my responses to a fine art, but I didn’t play such games when I was alone with the Queen. No need to stokethe fire that was always banked low, waiting to flare to life.
    Now Elizabeth looked at me, assessing, clearly trying to decide between the roles of benevolent dictator and horrible shrew. I could almost see when she landed just to the side of benevolence, and I let out the tiniest of sighs. She was still my Queen, and I was her pawn. As much as it grated, I dared not ever forget that.
    “We are most distressed to command you to put off your wedded state, Beatrice, but the demands of the Crown know no season,” she said, her words almost pious. It was all I could do not to throw up.
    “Of course, Your Grace,” I said, keeping my voice even. “How may I serve you?”
    “Your betrothed, Lord Cavanaugh, will doubtless be . . . sorely distressed at the postponement of your wedding night.” Elizabeth went on as if I hadn’t spoken, and I stifled a groan. Apparently the Queen wasn’t quite ready to let my humiliation pass. “True enow, he is a well-regarded courtier, his family without compare. But he is still a man, and as such ever sensitive to the comments and knowing glances of the court around him. You must endeavor to set his mind at ease, to let him know that naught is amiss with your love of him.”
    I nodded, forcing myself not to furrow a brow at the woman. What did she mean, my love? I was not the one who’d delayed the wedding.
    “There is also the matter of his manly . . . requirements,” Elizabeth went on. And now I did furrow my brow. This area in particular was none of her concern. “You know I absolutely forbid any interaction between my maids and the menof the court,” she said sternly. She looked at me as if awaiting a response.
    “Of course not, Your Grace. Your court is devoted to reflecting your virtue.” I framed my words with a completely guileless tone, not missing her sharp look. Elizabeth’s court was a debauch, make no mistake. My fellow Maids of Honor and I were chaste, but that happy state did not fully extend to her entire retinue of maids and ladies-in-waiting. Still, one thing was certain: If Elizabeth caught