‘And my affair?’ I remind him. ‘You said that you were thinking of a husband for me?’

The duke smiles. ‘I have written to the French count. How would you like to be Madame la Comtesse?’

‘Oh,’ I breathe. ‘He has replied?’

‘He has indicated an interest. There will be your dowry to be considered and any settlement on your children. But I can promise you this, if you can get that girl with child by the end of the summer then I shall kiss your hand as Madame la Comtesse by winter.’

I am almost panting in my eagerness. ‘And is he a young man?’

‘He is about your age, and with a good fortune. But he would not insist on you living in France, I have already asked. He would be happy that you remain as lady in waiting to the queen and would only ask that you have a house in both England and France.’

‘He has a chateau?’

‘All but a palace.’

‘Have I met him? Do I know him? Oh, who is he?’

He pats my hand. ‘Be patient, my most useful of all the Boleyn girls. Do your work and you shall have your reward. We have an agreement, do we not?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We do. I shall keep my side of the bargain.’ I look at him expectantly.

‘And I shall keep mine, of course.’

KATHERINE, LINCOLN CASTLE,

AUGUST 1541

I had feared it would be terribly dull, travelling round the country while people turn out to stare and offer us loyal addresses at every market cross, and the king sits in state in every town hall in the country and I grit my teeth to stop myself yawning while fat aldermen in gowns address him in Latin—at least I suppose it’s Latin, Thomas is very naughty and swears it is Ethiopian because we have got lost and are in Africa—but actually, it’s tremendous fun. The speeches are very dull indeed, but as soon as they are over there’s a masque or a dance or an entertainment or a picnic or something of the sort, and it is much more fun being the queen on progress than being the queen at court because every few days we move to another castle or house, and I have no time to get bored.

Here at Lincoln the king commanded that I and all my ladies should dress in Lincoln green and it was like a masque when we entered the town. The king himself was in dark green with a bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder and a rakish bonnet with a feather.

‘Is he Robin Hood, or is he Sherwood Forest?’ Thomas Culpepper whispered to me and I had to put my gloves to my mouth to smother a laugh.

Everywhere we have gone there has been Tom Culpepper, catching my eye and making me giggle so even the most tedious loyal address is a moment when I can feel his eyes on me. And the king is much better in both health and temper, which is a relief for all of us. He was very irritated by the rebellion in the North, but that seems to be defeated now, and of course he beheaded the poor Countess of Salisbury, which upset me very much at the time, but now all the wicked people are defeated or dead and we can sleep easily in our beds again, he tells me. He has made an alliance with the emperor against the King of France that will defend us from France, he tells me—they are our enemies now, voilà!—and this is a good thing too.