‘She wants to know what Count Feria was doing here,’ I said simply. ‘Is he here?’

‘Left yesterday.’

‘What did he want?’

‘He brought a message from the king. Queen Mary’s own beloved husband. A faithless dog, isn’t he, the randy old Spaniard?’

‘Why d’you say that?’

‘Mistress Boy, I have a wife who does me no service, and shows me no kindness, but not even I would court her own sister under her nose and shame her while she was still living.’

I swayed in my seat and took hold of his hand which was still playing with the flower. ‘He is courting Elizabeth?’

‘The Pope has been approached to give permission for their marriage,’ he said flatly. ‘How is that for Spanish punctilio for you? If the queen lives then it’s my guess that Philip will apply for an annulment of their marriage and marry Elizabeth. If the queen dies, then Elizabeth is heir to the throne and an even richer plum for the picking. He will snap her up within the year.’

I looked at him, my face quite blank with horror. ‘This cannot be,’ I said, appalled. ‘It’s a betrayal. It’s the worst thing he could do to her. The worst thing he could do to her in all the world.’

‘It’s an unexpected move,’ he said. ‘Disagreeable for a loving wife.’

‘The queen would die of grief and shame. To be put aside, as her mother was put aside? And for Anne Boleyn’s daughter?’

He nodded. ‘As I said, a faithless Spanish dog.’

‘And Elizabeth?’

He glanced over my shoulder and he rose to his feet. ‘You can ask her yourself.’

I slid into a curtsey, and then came up. Elizabeth’s black eyes snapped at me. She did not like to see me seated beside Robert Dudley with him stroking my neck with honeysuckle flowers.

‘Princess.’

‘I heard you were back. My lord said that you had become a woman. I did not expect to see you quite so . . .’

I waited.

‘Fat,’ she said.

Instead of being insulted, as she intended, I giggled out loud at the childish jealous rudeness of her.

At once her eyes danced too. Elizabeth never sulked.

‘Whereas you, Princess, are more beautiful than ever,’ I said smoothly.

‘I hope so. And what were you talking about with your heads so close together?’

‘About you,’ I said simply. ‘The queen sent me to find out how you did. And I was glad to come and see you.’

‘I warned you not to leave it too late,’ she said, her gesture taking in the waiting women, the lounging handsome men, the courtiers from London who saw me recognise them and looked a little abashed. A couple of members of the queen’s council stepped back from my scrutiny; with them was an envoy of France, and a minor prince or two.

‘I see your ladyship keeps a merry court,’ I said evenly. ‘As you should. And I cannot join you, even if you would condescend to have me. I have to serve your sister. She does not have a merry court, she has few friends. I would not leave her now.’