‘She writes to remind you of this gentleman, Francis Dereham, who served in her household when you were there.’

I have to admire the mask of her face, which is now absolutely without expression, given that she knows what Francis was to me and I to him, for I told her all about him when I was nothing more than a maid in waiting and she a far grander lady in waiting to Queen Anne. And, now I come to think of it, since half my ladies in waiting were my friends and companions in those days too they all know that Francis and I, facing each other so politely, used to be naked bedmates on every night he could sneak into the girls’ bedchamber. Agnes Restwold gives a smothered little giggle and I shoot her a look which tells her to keep her stupid mouth shut. Joan Bulmer, who had him before I did, is utterly transfixed.

‘Oh, yes,’ I say, taking my cue from Lady Rochford, and I turn and smile at Francis as if we were long-standing acquaintances. I can feel Thomas Culpepper’s eyes flicking on me and around at the others and I think that I’m going to have to explain this to him later, and he won’t like it.

‘She recommends him to your service and asks you to take him as a private secretary.’

‘Yes,’ I say, I can’t think what to do. ‘Of course.’

I turn to Francis. ‘My lady grandmother recommends you to me.’ I really cannot think why she would interest herself in putting him into my household. And I can’t understand why she would put him in a position so close to me, when she herself boxed my ears and called me a lustful slut for letting him into the bedchamber when I was a girl in her household. ‘You are indebted to her.’

‘I am,’ he says.

I lean towards Lady Rochford. ‘Appoint him,’ she says briefly in my ear. ‘Your grandmother says so.’

‘So to oblige my grandmother, I am pleased to welcome you to my court,’ I finish.

He rises to his feet. He is such a handsome young man. I really cannot blame myself for loving him when I was a girl. He turns his head and smiles at me as if he were shy of me now. ‘I thank you, Your Grace,’ he says. ‘I will serve you loyally. Heart and soul.’

I give him my hand to kiss and when he comes close I can smell the scent of his skin, that familiar, sexy smell that I once knew so well. That was the scent of my first lover, he meant everything to me. Why, I kept his shirt under my pillow so that I could bury my face in it when I went to sleep and dream of him. I adored Francis Dereham then, I only wish to God I didn’t have to meet him again now.

He bends over my hand and his lips on my fingertips are as soft and as yielding as I remember them on my mouth. I lean forwards. ‘You will have to be very discreet in my service,’ I say. ‘I am the queen now and there must be no gossip about me, not about now, and not about the old days.’