Lady in Waiting. Anne Herries

poor man was doing his best to entertain us.’

      ‘And making a poor show of it.’

      ‘You and your friends did not make his task easier, sir, for you taunted him dreadfully.’

      ‘Nay! I beg you acquit me of the charge, Mistress Catherine. I am guilty of many things, but I am not so ill-mannered—though I admit to being amused by their jesting. He did take so very long over his dying. You must admit it was overlong?’

      ‘Yes, I shall not deny that,’ Catherine said. His tone was teasing and his eyes were full of gentle mockery, and she responded in kind. ‘But I saw you laughing and calling out insults to that poor man—though I do not believe you threw anything at him.’

      ‘Nor was I a part of the company who did,’ Nick said, his smile warm with merriment. ‘But I will admit that I was not kind to the poor fellow—and I did not know that I was being watched by a lady of your tender heart.’

      Catherine’s cheeks were on fire as she met his look. Was he flirting with her? She was confused and yet pleased by his teasing looks, her heart fluttering like a dove in a cage.

      ‘Do you claim you would have behaved less unkindly if you had?’

      ‘To win your approval? Indeed, I should have beaten off those who taunted him. I was a fool else, Mistress Catherine, for a lady of your beauty and sweet nature is seldom met with.’

      ‘My nature is not always sweet,’ Catherine said, pouting at him. ‘I have claws, sir, and may use them when minded to do so.’

      ‘Ah, I might have known such a rose would have its thorns,’ Nick said wickedly. ‘But a scratch from thorns that adorn thee, sweet rose, would be sweeter than a kiss to me…’

      ‘Are you a poet, Sir Nicholas?’ Catherine laughed at his words, which were clearly designed to flatter and cajole. ‘You have a way with you, sir. None could deny it in truth. But despite your silver tongue, I still think you are a rogue.’

      ‘Every man must have a silver tongue at Gloriana’s court,’ Nick replied. ‘And it is as well to be able to pen a few lines to the mistress you would court. A true troubadour never lets the sun go down without a poem for his love.’

      ‘I dare say your flattery goes well with the ladies of the court,’ Catherine said, standing up to take a turn about the room. His looks and words had brought a flame to her cheeks and she felt a little giddy with excitement. For the first time she was aware that she was flirting with danger by entertaining a gentleman alone. Did he think her fast—would he attempt to seduce her? Indeed, he was succeeding without trying too hard, for her foolish heart was beating like a drum. ‘But I am…’

      She turned and discovered that he had come up behind her and was standing close to her, his eyes intent on her face, burning her with their heat, setting her whole body aflame. His mouth was soft and somehow tempting to her, and her lips parted on a sighing breath as something stirred within her—some desire or longing she had never felt until this moment.

      ‘You are lovely, perfect…’ Nick said huskily. ‘I vow you have bewitched me, Mistress Catherine. I languished all night for thinking of you.’

      His words were true enough, for he had forgone his tryst with Annette because he could not get a picture of Catherine Moor out of his head, and he had lain sleepless in his bed thinking of her. The glimpse of her white breasts above the revealing neckline of her gown had set him to wondering about the softness of her skin and the gentle curves of her lovely flesh. How sweet it would be to lie with her!

      ‘Fie on you, sir!’ Catherine laughed. ‘You flatter me but I…’ She caught her breath as he moved towards her, certain that he meant to kiss her and not sure what she would do then, but even as she trembled inwardly she heard her aunt’s voice calling in the hallway and knew that she was saved. ‘Ah, my good aunt is home. She will be delighted to see you, sir.’

      ‘And I to see her, of course,’ Nick replied but looked so disappointed that Catherine could not hold back her laughter.

      She was laughing as Lady Stamford swept into the room, her eyes sparkling like precious jewels as she turned to greet her.

      ‘Sir Nicholas called to inquire after my father. Was that not kind of him, Aunt?’

      ‘Exceeding kind,’ Lady Stamford said. ‘I hurried home lest you were fretting, Catherine, but now I see you have been well entertained.’

      ‘Mistress Catherine was good enough to see me in your absence,’ Nick said coming smoothly to her rescue. ‘And we laughed over Her Majesty’s comments last even. Now, I must come to the second purpose of my visit, ma’am. My mother Lady Fineden begs that you will bear her company at a picnic tomorrow by the river—if such a pastime is agreeable to you?’

      ‘Thank your mother for her kindness,’ Lady Stamford replied looking pleased. ‘We shall be delighted to come, sir.’

      ‘Then I shall take my leave of you, sweet ladies.’ Nick’s eyes dwelt on Catherine for a moment. ‘I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, and shall send an escort for you so that you may easily find the appointed place.’

      ‘We shall look forward to seeing you, sir,’ Catherine replied, a little flush of pleasure in her cheeks.

      Catherine’s aunt gave her an odd look but said no more as Nick bowed and went out, merely remarking a little later that it was a kind thought on Lady Fineden’s part to invite them to a picnic.

      ‘I have heard that her home has a splendid garden that leads down to the river,’ Lady Stamford said. ‘I imagine we shall be somewhere nearby.’

      ‘We must hope the weather keeps fine.’

      ‘Yes, indeed,’ her aunt replied. ‘And now I must go up and see how William is, for it would be a shame if he were not able to accompany us tomorrow.’

      ‘Father would not wish us to give up our pleasure, even if he did not feel able to come with us.’

      Lady Stamford looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then inclined her head. ‘I am sure you are right, Catherine.’

      ‘Besides, we have promised to go.’ Catherine’s cheeks flushed as her aunt was silent.

      ‘I know a little of the family,’ she said at last. ‘Lady Fineden is a woman of some influence, as is her husband, and Sir Nicholas comes from an old family. I shall say no more, Catherine, but he has a reputation for being a charmer…’

      The morning dawned fine and bright as Catherine had hoped, but though her father came down to the small parlour when she and her aunt were being served some coddled eggs and fresh muffins with butter and honey, he told his daughter that he preferred to stay at home and rest for another day.

      ‘If you feel unwell I shall stay with you,’ Catherine offered, though her heart sank at the prospect of missing the promised treat.

      ‘You have already suffered a loss of pleasure because of my foolishness,’ Sir William said smiling at her. ‘I shall not ask another sacrifice of you, Catherine. You must go to your picnic and Helen must accompany you. I shall do well enough here with a book of poems to keep me company. If it is fine I may sit in the garden for a while.’

      Catherine kissed her father and thanked him for his thoughtfulness on her behalf, for which she received an affectionate pat on the cheek.

      She spent some time sitting with him in the best parlour until their escort arrived. Within minutes they were ready to leave, setting out with Thomas walking beside their chairs as well as the escort Sir Nicholas had sent to show them the way. Despite seeing a few beggars standing or lying at the street corners, they met with no trouble and were eventually taken to a pretty spot on the riverbank.

      Lady Fineden’s was a handsome house situated down river from the Palace of Whitehall, and sat on the opposite bank in a pleasant spot that had not yet been encroached on by the press of building that was springing up all around