“Of course! It is not whether he will marry me, but when. Arthur has an estate in Shropshire worth fifteen hundred a year and is carver to Prince Henry and steward to Baron Ellesmere. He suffers only the usual financial difficulties of any man at Court. There is little difference in social standing between us,” I said, fanning my face with my mask. Forman’s raised eyebrow tugged every line and wrinkle in his face.

“Admit all that worries you, Anne, or how can I help you?”

After some hesitation, during which I realized I wanted his help as much for myself as for Frankie, I conceded: “He is younger than me by eight years, currently stands in better credit and, before I was widowed, I made him valuable clothes.”

Forman rubbed the fantail of his red beard, producing a sound that made me flinch. How did his wife suffer him?

“Sir Arthur has little reason to marry you. You bring no title or wealth, you have six children to support, and you can no longer offer him costly gifts.”

“He promised George!” I said, hearing how ridiculous the words sounded as they filled the space between us.

“Even so,” said Forman, clearing his throat as though embarrassed by my naivete, “Pisces will be ascendant over Leo, feet over heart. His tendency will be to run from obligation.”

“His tendency? His duty is to provide for his children and their mother!” I said, furious because I was afraid that Forman was right to question Arthur’s honor.

“His reluctance is a common ailment among men of fortune and good looks in whom the humors are out of balance through various forms of dissipation,” said Forman, smiling. “Do not be vexed. There are ways to encourage such men.”

I was too cross and embarrassed to sit still and could not look at Frankie for fear of what she was thinking of me. She had certainly guessed that my youngest three children were Arthur’s, but she had not known that I gave him gifts. I walked about, tinkering with strange items on tables, remembering the six occasions Forman had correctly predicted the sex of the child I was carrying. His accuracy now frightened me. Frankie sat in the window gazing out, her expression peaceful.

The room had grown dark. By the light of the candles on his desk Forman drew two astrological figures and consulted a volume as thick as three bricks before writing tiny symbols into the figures. He was still but for his left hand twitching across the figures, pecking them with ink. Eventually he sat back and stretched his arms above his head.