Royal Courtship

  ROYAL COURTSHIP

  BY

  MARINA OLIVER

  Bella is terrified when the gross Henry VIII begins to pay her attentions. He is looking for a sixth wife who can give him sons. Bella's brother Thomas can see only the advantages as potential Regent for a future boy king, and her Spanish cousin Pedro, who wants to marry her, thinks only of the advantages for Spain with a half-Spanish Queen on the throne.

  She flees from the Court, with her unhappy friend Amy, but is pursued by the handsome French Comte de Nerac, who offers to help her. Can she trust him? Will he betray her to Henry's vengeance and the men the King has sent after her?

  Royal Courtship

  By Marina Oliver

  Copyright © 2011 Marina Oliver

  Smashwords Edition

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Cover Design by Debbie Oliver

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Previously published as Escape to Love with My Weekly Story Collection, by Livvy West, and as Royal Courtship by Linford large print.

  See details of other books by Marina Oliver at http://www.marina-oliver.net

  ***

  Author note.

  Though many of my historical novels are set in the seventeenth century, I enjoy writing about other periods too. The King's reputation was such that many women dreaded the idea of marriage to him. I began to wonder how a girl he favoured might escape his attentions, and this novella was born.

  ROYAL COURTSHIP

  BY

  MARINA OLIVER

  Chapter 1

  'Would that I could dance with you, Mistress Davenport! But I fear this leg of mine is troublesome. I shall give myself the pleasure of watching, however, the loveliest young lady at Court. Now let me see – boy!'

  Isabella Davenport gave way to treasonable thoughts. What horrid misfortune was it that had brought her to the notice of this gross mountain of a man now sitting on the throne of England?

  King Henry was, luckily for Bella, unaware of her opinion, or the glance of desperation she cast towards a dark, olive-skinned, raven-haired man standing a few feet away.

  'More music!' the King called, then turned back to her. 'After you have danced the measure, I will talk with you. I would know you better, Mistress Bella.'

  If a king could be said to leer, Bella thought, Henry Tudor was a champion, as he had in his youth been a champion in the tournaments and jousts.

  'As you will, my lord,' she murmured submissively.

  There were a few moments of silence, during which the King smiled complacently at Bella, and she willed herself not to reveal her fear and hatred. When she thought she could bear it no longer, the King grunted in satisfaction.

  'My dear, you will dance with the Comte de Nerac. Charles, I know I can depend on you to take care of the lovely Mistress Davenport. I shall be watching with interest.'

  Bella raised her eyes to the man bowing before her, and drew in her breath swiftly and almost forgot the peril she stood in because of the King's interest. He was a stranger, she had never before seen him, but in a Court overflowing with handsome young men he was outstanding.

  Tall above the average, as dark haired as she was auburn, his eyes were almost black. He sported a small black beard, and wore a piratical jewel, a brilliant sapphire, in one ear. His doublet was of the same blue, the sleeves narrowing at the wrist, and the trunk hose slashed with a deeper shade of velvet.

  There was a slight smile on his lips, firm, determined, red lips, Bella saw, as he took her hand and led her out on to the floor where a set was forming.

  'I believe the King feels that our costumes match,' he said softly, and Bella realised her gown of rich, blue satin was indeed the same shade as his hose.

  His voice was deep, and there was a slight, French accent.

  'About as good a reason for constraining two people to dance together as any other, I suppose,' she replied sharply, and then gasped as he gripped her hand tightly.

  'If you prefer not to dance with me, Mistress Davenport,' he said, 'we need not. I will make our excuses to the King so that he will blame me, not you. But I would be exceedingly sorry. I've been wondering for an hour past what pretext I could employ to become acquainted with the most beautiful girl in the room.'

  Bella frowned impatiently. Why did men keep talking about beauty, when it was but a snare, an unsought device to enslave a king? Many times these last few days she'd wished with all her heart she had been born ugly and misshapen.

  'I could wish I were plain and marked with the smallpox,' she murmured now under her breath, and then glanced guiltily up at the Comte as his fingers tightened on hers. Had he heard her, she wondered in sudden confusion.

  But he was not looking at her, and she relaxed, letting her thoughts return to ponder on whether ugliness would have saved her the King's attentions.

  Even the ill-favoured Anne of Cleves, rejected by a capricious Henry when the reality did not match the flattering portrait Mr Holbein had made of her, was not concerned. Plain as she was, she worried the King might be turning his eyes towards her again.

  He had been heard to proclaim his desire for an older, more sensible wife. If his fancy alighted on his 'good sister,' as he called her, she would have to abandon her happy retirement.

  For some time now the King, with only the sickly Prince Edward as his acknowledged heir, had been searching for yet another wife and more sons. Both his daughters had been declared illegitimate, although Mary had been restored to the succession, but in any case no queen had ever reigned on England's throne.

  The ladies of his Court, as well as European princesses, were wary. They remembered the two discarded wives, the one dead in childbed, and most of all, the two Henry had called traitors and beheaded.

  Besides, Henry was an unattractive bridegroom. He was no longer the handsome, vibrant Prince who rode and hunted and danced better than other men. He was old, fat, ill and hasty tempered. Even the prospect of an influence on political matters did not outweigh the disadvantages of such a marriage.

  Bella's musings were interrupted as the Comte spoke.

  'I have not seen you at Court before,' he was saying.

  'I have only recently arrived. I am with the Lady Mary's household,' Bella explained. 'You, my lord, are French?'

  'I am.'

  He said no more of his reason for being there, but Bella was well aware negotiations had been started for a marriage between her mistress, the Lady Mary, the King's eldest daughter, and Charles of Orleans, a younger son of the French King Francis. The Comte must be attached to the French embassy.

  Instead he talked easily of the magnificent palace, the paintings and tapestries which now adorned it, and the journey up-river from London he had made some days before.

  He spoke so interestingly Bella almost forgot the apprehension which gripped her. When the dance finished and he led her back to the stool beside Henry, she recalled with a frisson of fear that now she would be obliged to smile sweetly at her liege lord and agree dutifully with his remarks.

  Once more she glanced towards the dark-haired man
, but he was talking animatedly to a small group of courtiers, and did not look in her direction. Bella sighed, but recognised his wisdom. If he gave her sign of their attachment the King would wreak some revenge. No man dared poach on royal preserves.

  At last the King grew tired and went to bed. Bella, once she was certain he had gone, moved slowly down the room, exchanging a word here and there with others until she reached the group round the dark-haired man.

  'You look as beautiful as ever, cousin,' he said and smiled at her in the way that made her tremble with excitement.

  'The King agrees with you, Pedro,' another of the group commented. 'Are we soon to have a Queen Isabella?'

  Bella shuddered, and another girl put a comforting arm about her shoulders.

  'It would sound rude if I said he would soon lose interest,' she said with a laugh, 'but I sincerely hope he does, Bella!'

  'Indeed, Amy, so do I!' another girl said suddenly, and Bella glanced over her shoulder. The King's daughter was taking the first opportunity to depart for her own rooms now her royal father was gone, and as women of the bedchamber, attending the Lady Mary, Bella and Amy must accompany her.

  As they turned to follow, Pedro grasped Bella's hand and held her back.

  'Tomorrow morning, the usual place?' he murmured softly, and she nodded, smiled tremulously, and as he released her turned away to rejoin Amy.

  Unaccustomed to Court life, the King's oldest daughter was drooping with fatigue. She spoke little as her ladies prepared her for bed, and finally Bella escaped to her own small room which she and Amy shared.

  'Bella, do not look so miserable,' Amy said as they prepared for bed. 'You do not really think the King will want to marry you, do you?'

  'I pray not, but I am afraid!' Bella replied, as she untied the strings of her petticoats.

  'If he does mean it, you shall have to run away with Pedro.'

  'Pedro? But, Amy, what – '

  Amy broke in impatiently. 'Do not pretend, Bella! He is your cousin, he is rich and handsome, and he shows a decided preference for you. It would not be strange if you were a little in love with him!'

  Confused, Bella turned away to hide her burning cheeks.

  'I like him,' she admitted slowly, 'but I am not at all sure I love him. How can one tell?'

  'When you fall in love, you will not have to ask anyone else's opinion about your feelings,' Amy said slowly, and Bella turned to glance at her friend.

  Amy was unusually serious, and for a second Bella caught a look of pain and despair on her friend's face. This was so odd for the carefree Amy she did not know what to say, and was thankful when Amy blew out the candle and wished her a sleepy, 'Good night.'

  Bella's sleep was far from peaceful. There was the puzzle of Amy's unexpected unhappiness to keep her awake, for never before had she suspected her friend was in love, and, it seemed, hopelessly. After she finally slept, images of Henry and Pedro and the Comte de Nerac whirled about her dreams, and when she rose and slipped from the room without waking Amy, she was heavy-eyed. Her step was light, however, for she was going to meet Pedro, and they would steal a few precious moments together.

  Pedro was waiting for her in a secluded spot near the river, and pulled her to him possessively, kissing her hungrily.

  'I do not know how I refrained from murdering that obscene lump of lard last night,' he murmured into her hair. 'I wanted to kill that vain Frenchman, too, when he was commanded to dance with you and all I could do was watch and be jealous it was he, not I, holding your hand.'

  Bella laughed a trifle breathlessly. Pedro's fierce declarations when they were alone both thrilled and frightened her. No one else affected her in this way, no one else seemed so passionately resentful if another man paid attention to her. Yet she had met him, this Spanish cousin, only a week ago, and in her innermost being she doubted whether anyone could fall in love so suddenly as it appeared Pedro had.

  'Let us walk along the river bank,' she suggested. Pedro took her arm and they turned away from the palace. 'The Comte was only doing as the King commanded,' she said lightly. 'I mean nothing to him, but I am afraid of Henry!'

  'You do not wish to be Queen?' Pedro demanded.

  'Of course not! Who could possibly want to be married to an old man with a reputation for killing off his wives?' she demanded indignantly. 'They still speak of it, those who were here,' she went on, shuddering. 'Some say they can still hear poor Catherine Howard's screams as she ran along the gallery and tried to get to the King to plead with him for mercy while he was in the chapel. He did not hear, and they dragged her back to her apartments. Within months she was dead! No other lady wishes to end up on the block at Tower Green!'

  'Don't worry,' Pedro said reassuringly. 'If the King grows more serious we will flee to Spain, you and I. He cannot follow us there, and we will live safely and happily ever after.'

  Bella nodded, but the prospect of leaving her own country and facing life in Spain dismayed her a little. It was her mother's country, and she would be with Pedro, but she loved her home in the gentle, rolling hills of the Cotswolds, and she had heard disturbing accounts of the rigid Spanish etiquette.

  Henry's Court was not nearly so stiff and formal, and at home she was given a great deal of freedom, for her brother was away at Court and her grandmother old and indulgent.

  Pedro was speaking again.

  'I have to leave early this morning, to go back to London. I will return in a week or so, but I had to say a private farewell to my lovely Bella! Remember you are mine, and no one else, not even the great King Henry, shall have you! Now kiss me, pretty cousin! Give me a token I can remember while I am engaged in tedious business in London.'

  After he left in the barge which was to take him down-river to London, Bella went to sit on a fallen tree trunk in a secluded part of the park overlooking the wide, smooth bend in the river. Perhaps the fresh air would dispel the sluggishness she felt after a disturbed night, and help resolve her tumultuous thoughts.

  She was unsure whether dreams of the fearful fate which awaited Henry's next bride, the prospect of life far away in a strange country, even though it would be with Pedro, who loved her, or insistent memories of the Comte's handsome face and musical voice troubled her most.

  She was not left long for peaceful contemplation.

  'Bella! What are you doing here? I have searched the entire palace for you!'

  'I trust you did not invade the King's private apartments!' Bella retorted, turning with a sigh to face the man walking rapidly towards her.

  He was tall and slender, with reddish hair, handsome in a gentle, almost effeminate way.

  He ignored her bitterness and a gratified smile kept appearing on his face as he talked.

  'Bella, the King is enchanted with you! He was talking about you last night and again this morning. He was praising both your beauty and your good sense.'

  'Since it would be rather obvious if I were to disfigure myself, I shall have to indulge in foolishness!'

  'Bella, my dear sister, you must not be frightened. Think what a marvellous chance it would be to our family if the King favoured you!

  'Surely you could not agree?' she whispered, aghast.

  'How could either of us object?' he replied impatiently. 'We have to do as the King commands, but you may be sure I will obtain the best bargain I can, and if by some misfortune Henry insists on waiting to see whether you are prompt to conceive, I will be in a good position to demand a very good settlement.'

  For a moment Bella was speechless, then she leaped to her feet and burst into a furious tirade.

  'So, Thomas. You propose to sell me to the King as his paramour? I thought even you would have more pride, more sense of the duty you owe to your family, the memory of our parents, than to sink to such depths! What man would want me once I had been discarded, even with your bribe?'

  'Be quiet, someone might hear! You talk nonsense! Of course I would insist on marriage, if at all possible, but you must see King Henry's
point of view,' he added in a persuasive tone. 'After so many disappointments he needs reassurance that any new wife will be able to give him a healthy heir.'

  'Has he ever considered the possibility he might now be incapable of fathering a child?'

  Her brother chuckled. 'If that's the truth, there are ways of deceiving him! Catherine Howard was too indiscreet. Bella, just think what a wonderful advantage this could be for the Davenports!'

  'You call false allegations and execution an advantage?' Bella demanded furiously, her voice rising. 'No, my dear Thomas, you may be ten years older than I and my guardian, but I'll never agree to marry that bloated, monstrous, crazy freak of a man – '

  'Hush, you fool!' Sir Thomas Davenport cried, seizing Bella and clamping his hand over her mouth as he looked round fearfully. 'Have you no more sense than to speak treason, and get us all beheaded!'

  'Rather now than after being seduced by that monster!' Bella muttered rebelliously, but quietly. She was well aware of the King's sudden, unpredictable rages. She knew many eyes and ears pried incessantly, ready to report any word or act which might advance the spy and damage the spied upon.

  'Bella, be sensible,' Sir Thomas pleaded as he spread out his cloak and pulled her down again to sit beside him on, the log. 'Let us discuss this calmly. The King has taken a fancy to you, and he needs another wife. It would be the surest way to advance our family. We might become as great as the Howards and Seymours.'

  'We do not have an endless supply of sacrificial brides,' Bella pointed out. 'We are alone, without influential relatives. And most of the Howards are at present in the Tower. It is so overcrowded with Howards some have to lodge in the City. I do not call that a great future, even were I to escape the block!'

  For some time he argued, but she was firm in her refusal to do anything to promote herself in the King's favour.

  'I mean to ask the Lady Mary if I may be excused. I wish to go to Grandmother's.'

  'He cannot live long, they say,' her brother continued, ignoring her.