‘We can assist him,’ he suggests.

‘How can we do more?’ I demand. ‘Our girl already does every trick that a Smithfield whore might do. She works him as if he were a drunken captain in a brothel. She does everything a woman can do, and all he can do is lie on his back and moan: “Oh, Katherine, oh my rose!” There is no vigour left in him. I am not surprised there is no baby coming from him. What are we to do?’

‘We could hire some,’ he says, as sly as any pander.

‘What?’

‘We could hire some vigour,’ he suggests.

‘You mean?’

‘I mean that if there were a young man, perhaps someone we know that we can trust, who would be glad of a discreet affair, we might allow him to meet her, we might encourage her to treat him kindly, they might give each other a little pleasure, and we might have a child to put into the Tudor cradle and no man any the wiser.’

I am horrified. ‘You would never do this again,’ I say flatly.

His look is as cold as winter. ‘I have never done it before,’ he specifies carefully. ‘Not I.’

‘It is to put her head on the block.’

‘Not if it is carefully done.’

‘She would never be safe.’

‘If she were carefully guided, and chaperoned. If you were to be with her, every step of the way, if you were ready to swear to her honour. Who would disbelieve you, who have been such a reliable witness for the king so many times?’

‘Exactly. I have always borne witness for the king,’ I say, my throat dry with fear. ‘I give evidence for the hangman. I am always on the winning side. I have never offered evidence for the defence.’

‘You have always borne witness for our side,’ he corrects me. ‘And you would still be on the winning side, in safety. And you would be kinswoman to the next King of England. A Howard-Tudor boy.’

‘But the man?’ I am almost panting with fear. ‘There is no-one we could trust with such a secret.’

He nods. ‘Ah yes, the man. I think we would have to ensure that he was gone when he had done his duty, don’t you? An accident of some sort, or a sword fight? Or set upon by thieves? Certainly he would have to be removed. We could not risk another . . .’ The duke pauses for the word. ‘Scandal.’

I close my eyes at the thought of it. For a moment, against the darkness of my eyelids I can see my husband’s face turned towards me, his expression quite incredulous as he saw me come into court and take my seat before the panel of judges. A moment of hope as he thought I was coming to save him. Then slowly, his dawning horror at what I was prepared to say.

I shake my head. ‘These are terrible thoughts,’ I say. ‘And terrible thoughts to be shared by you with me. We, who have already seen such things and done such things . . .’ I break off. I cannot speak for terror at what he will bring me to do.