“Walk slowly,” I say passionately. Already, we are approaching the first gateway into the palace and at any moment someone will come and take him away from me. “For God’s sake, let us have a moment...”

“The Howards insisted that she came to court,” he says. “They made me promise I would put her in your rooms. I couldn’t think why they would want that, unless to have her spy on you. I doubted their honesty, and she would hardly speak to me. She was furious about something. Clearly, she was coerced. She was very angry.”

“So you’re still a free man,” I say longingly.

Gently he presses my hand that rests on his arm. “I will have to marry,” he warns me. “We need an alliance at court. We are losing our influence with the king, we need a greater presence here. I need a wife who will speak for me to him.”

“I can’t speak for you but I would—”

“No. Never. I never want you to say one word for me. But I need a wife here who can take care of my interests.”

I feel as sick as if I have indeed inhaled pestilential airs from the river. “You are still going to marry?”

“I have to.”

I nod. Of course, he has to. “Have you chosen a bride?”

“Only if you give your permission.”

“I would be very wrong to refuse it. I know that you need a wife; I understand about court. I’ll come to your wedding and smile.”

“This is not my desire,” he stipulates.

“Nor mine, but I’ll dance at your wedding feast.”

We are nearly at the doorway. The guards salute and open the doors. He will have to go to the king’s rooms and I will not see him until dinner. And then at dinner I will not be able to look at him. And then in a month, within weeks, he will be married.

“Who is your choice? Tell me quickly.”

“Princess Elizabeth.”

I whirl around and look at my stepdaughter, where she follows us at the head of my ladies, as if I am seeing her for the first time, not as a child but as a young woman. She is twelve years old, old enough to be betrothed. In a few years she will be old enough to marry. In one quick glance I imagine her as Thomas Seymour’s bride, on her wedding day, as his young wife, as mother to his children. I imagine how she will take to lovemaking and how she will flaunt her happiness. “Elizabeth!”

“Hush,” he says. “The king would have to agree, but if he does, then I become his son-in-law. It’s a brilliant match for us.”