“Women’s chatter,” I hint dismissively, and see her approving nod. “And she dined with us most nights because she wanted the company. She is accustomed to having many people around her. She is used to a court and now she has no one.”

“Under her own cloth of state!” she exclaims.

“When you first put her into my keeping you ordered me to treat her as a reigning queen,” I observe as mildly as I can. I must keep my temper; it would be death even to raise my voice. “I must have written to you and to Cecil a dozen times asking if I could reduce her household.”

“But you never did so! She is served by hundreds!”

“They always come back,” I say. “I send them away and tell her she must have fewer servants and companions but they never leave. They wait for a few days and then come back.”

“Oh? Do they love her so very much? Is she so beloved? Do her servants adore her, that they serve her for nothing?”

This is another trap. “Perhaps they have nowhere else to go. Perhaps they are poor servants who cannot find another master. I don’t know.”

She nods at that. “Very well. But why did you let her meet with the Northern lords?”

“Your Grace, they came upon us by accident when we were out riding. I did not think any harm would come of it. They rode with us for a few moments; they did not meet with her in private. I had no idea what they were planning. You saw how I took her away from danger the minute that their army was raised. Every word I had from Cecil I obeyed to the letter. Even he will tell you that. I had her in Coventry within three days. I kept her away from them and I guarded her closely. They did not come for her; we were too quick for them. I kept her safe for you. If they had come for her; we would have been undone, but I took her away too quickly for them.”

She nods. “And this ridiculous betrothal?”

“Norfolk wrote of it to me, and I passed on his letter to the queen,” I say honestly. “My wife warned Cecil at once.” I do not say that she did so without telling me. That I would never have read a private letter and copied it. That I am as ashamed of Bess being Cecil’s spy as I am of the shadow of suspicion on me. Bess, as Cecil’s spy, will save me from the shadow of suspicion. But I am demeaned either way.

“Cecil said nothing of it to me.”

I look the liar straight in the face. His expression is one of urbane interest. He inclines forward as if to hear my reply the better.