“Good evening, Mistress Turner,” said Harry Howard, with a low bow. Although long-married and many times a mother, I still felt like a young girl before these peacocks of the Court; their clever quips, polish and perfume, snared one. Harry was two years younger than Frankie and the glow of his skin made me want to stroke him. I did my best to curtsy.

“None of that!” he cried, pulling me up and kissing my cheeks and Mary’s head. “My sister is outside.” Barbara came to the parlor door and Harry gazed at her. I would not introduce them, for he was not to be trusted with pretty girls.

“Does Frankie require me?” I said, shifting Mary’s weight in my arms.

“Require you, no, she thought you might be as bored as are we. Though that cannot be the case in such company.” He lunged for Barbara’s hand, caught and kissed it. “Bring your cloak and pattens,” he said, as if to her, “nothing else is needed.”

“Barbara,” I said, “Richard Weston is in the kitchen and your father will be home around midnight. Sleep in my place and give Mary one spoonful of the syrup if she wakes with coughing. No more than three spoons before morning. Lay her against the warming pan, she must not get cold.”

Barbara nodded, took Mary from me and climbed the stairs without looking back at Harry. I was proud of her dignity.

I called old Maggie to bring my best cloak and overshoes and to take the other two children to bed. After several weeks of careful domesticity, I was ready to breathe some different air. Harry handed me into the carriage, although two footmen stood ready to do so. Frankie was asleep in one corner while two of her elder brothers, Theophilus and Thomas, dozed opposite.

“We’ve had a long afternoon at the tables,” explained Harry, talkative for a young man of seventeen or eighteen, “but we won more than we lost, which I believe is a first for us all. We are celebrating.”

Frankie roused, saw me beside her and opened her arms. “Dearest Anne, I wake and you are here like magic.”

We embraced and I settled beside her as the coach jolted into motion. At times, our friendship had the ease of loving siblings.

“Where are you taking me?” I said.

“Ah…” she said, holding a finger to her lips. “My brothers think I need to learn new tricks to win over my husband.” She put her head on my shoulder and fell asleep immediately, the smell of wine strong on her breath.

“The King held a game yesterday,” continued Harry as if there had been no interruption, “that only those with three hundred pounds on their persons could attend. Lord Salisbury lost five hundred at least. You can buy a decent house with that! He must wish the King had not made it a fashion to lose money to him at Christmas.”