‘That is not a great skill if you are playing alone,’ I say aloud, and to myself I say: and that’s not very witty.

‘I win at dice and I win at cards but I am hopeless at love,’ he says very quietly.

I glance behind me, Katherine Tylney has stopped to talk to the Duke of Hertford’s kinsman and is not listening, for once. Catherine Carey is at a discreet distance, looking out of the window.

‘You are in love?’ I ask.

‘You must know it,’ he says in a whisper.

I hardly dare think. He must mean me, he must be about to declare his love for me. But I swear if he is talking about someone else I shall just die. I can’t bear him to want someone else. But I keep my voice light.

‘Why should I know it?’

‘You must know who I love,’ he says. ‘You, of all people in the world.’

This conversation is so delicious I can feel my toes curling up inside my new slippers. I feel hot, I am certain I am blushing and he will be able to see.

‘Must I?’

‘The king will see you now,’ announces the idiot Dr Butt and I jump and start away from Thomas Culpepper, for I had utterly forgotten that I was there to see the king and to make him love me again. ‘I’ll come in a minute,’ I say over my shoulder.

Thomas gives a little snort of laughter, and I have to clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself giggling too. ‘No, you must go,’ he reminds me quietly. ‘You can’t keep the king waiting. I’ll be here when you come out.’

‘Of course I am going at once,’ I say, remembering that I have to seem upset at the king’s neglect, and I turn away from him in a hurry and dash into the king’s room, where he is lying on his bed like a great ship stranded in dry dock, his leg stuck up into the air on embroidered cushions and his big round face all wan and self-pitiful; and I walk slowly towards his big bed and try to look anxious for his love.

JANE BOLEYN, HAMPTON COURT,

MARCH 1541

The king is sliding into some kind of melancholy, he insists on being alone, shut away like some old dying smelly dog, and Katherine’s attempts to make him turn to her are doomed since she cannot sustain an interest in anyone but herself for more than half a day. She has gone to his room again but this time he would not even let her in, and instead of showing concern, she tossed her pretty head and said that if he would not let her in she would not visit again.

But she lingered long enough to meet Thomas Culpepper and he took her walking in the garden. I sent Catherine Carey after her with a shawl and another well-behaved maid to give them the appearance of decorum, but from the way the queen was holding his arm, and chattering and laughing, anybody could see that she was happy in his company and had forgotten all about her husband lying in silence in a darkened room.