Sir Robert Carr bowed. The skin around Lord Northampton’s nostrils wrinkled in what was, perhaps, a smile.

Before Carr could kiss Frankie’s hand, a strange creature approached, somewhat like a lion but delicate and spotted, accompanied by a strong odor of decaying offal. As it drew near, it was clear that the stench emanated from its keeper and not the beast.

Taking advantage of this diversion, Robert Carr moved so that he stood close to Frankie. They did not speak, but the stillness of both revealed that they were aware only of the place at which their arms touched. Arthur, called by members of the Prince’s household, whispered his love for me into my ear, then slipped away.

“Goodman,” said Lord Northampton to the keeper, “tell us more of this beast.” Carr took Frankie’s hand, unobserved except by me, and entwined his fingers in hers. She kept her head still but glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He stroked her wrist and began to probe a finger under the lace of her cuff to feel the nakedness beneath. I looked around to see who would notice but none did, not even Sir Thomas, who was watching Lord Northampton. Seeing the gentleness in Carr’s attentions to Frankie, I could no longer suspect that his plan was to ruin her, even if that was Overbury’s aim.

The keeper, used to tourists and the coins they gave him, spoke immediately: “Noble gentlemen and ladies,” he declaimed, as if addressing a multitude, “this wondrous Leo-pard from the Orient runs at such speed that the spots on its coat vanish. It is fifty years old but that is no great age as a Leo-pard can live to one hundred and fifty years or more. She was a gift to His Majesty from the King of France just before his murder, God rest his soul.” I immediately pictured not the dead King, but the assassin, ripped apart by horses in the Place de Grève. The keeper encouraged us to stroke the nervous creature and observe the patterns in her shivering pelt. Whenever she growled, she was struck on the haunches with a stick. Frankie studied the delicate head of the animal and I wondered if she saw misery in the beast’s golden eyes as I did.

“Do they remain loyal to one mate, like the swan?” asked Sir Thomas Overbury, looking directly at Frankie. She disentangled her fingers from Carr’s. The pleasant mood among our party turned immediately tense. Robert Carr did not hush his friend but frowned deeply.

“They mate with whatever male is available when they are on heat,” said the keeper. Sir Thomas Overbury smirked at this answer.

“Can they be trained to attack unwanted persons, like a guard dog?” asked Frankie, looking at Overbury. Robert Carr laughed and I confess I could not hide a smile; even Lord Northampton appeared delighted by Frankie’s riposte.