Free Lady of the Roses by Sandra Worth

as we stood arm in arm, the water lapping gently about the privy stairs. Ursula nodded and squeezed my hand.
    A haughty voice interrupted our reverie. “My lady Isobel. What a pleasant surprise.”
    I turned to find Henry Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, staring at me with a rakish expression. A warning spasm of alarm erupted within me. “My lord Somerset,” I said, suppressing my aversion and dropping into a curtsey. I had not forgiven Somerset for the way he had assessed me when we first met, and since then I’d learned much about him that I did not like. Here before me stood a degenerate young man from whom the world withheld nothing, breeding in him few scruples, little integrity, and a robust appetite for the sins of the flesh. No doubt he had vanquished many women in his career, for he had good looks and a certain charm that came from the power he wielded.
    Somerset dismissed his entourage with a wave. Then, with a flourish of the hand, he indicated that we should stroll together. Ursula stepped aside.
    “I am pleased to have such delightful company on an evening as fine as this. How do you find court, my lady Isobel?”
    “Quite different from the abbey, my lord.”
    He gave a loud laugh that sounded almost like a snort. “Indeed, indeed…That is an ambiguous reply worthy of a statesman, my lady. But what does it mean? Does it bode well or bode ill? That is the question.”
    I threw him a smile. “It bodes whatever pleases you, Your Grace.”
    “Aha! Another statesmanlike answer to confound me. You are a clever one.”
    We strolled in silence for a while. Then he halted abruptly and turned to face me. “I should be gratified if you would sup with me in my private apartment tomorrow evening,” he said.
    I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Clearly accustomed to overly easy conquests, he was propositioning me like a common harlot! “I would have to first obtain the queen’s permission. As you may recall, I am her ward.”
    It was his turn to color, but he recovered quickly. “Then perhaps you will join me for song and a cup of wine at the fountain instead?”
    “My lord Somerset, you know that is not possible.”
    “Anything is possible…if you will it.”
    “My lord, that is indeed true for you, powerful as you are. But for me it must be by the queen’s will, not mine,” I said.
    A silence fell. He took my hand into his own. “’Tis a harmless thing, to sing together. You do not need the queen’s permission for that. Will you not relent?”
    I looked down at the hand that gripped mine. It was broad of palm and short in the fingers, and I found it crude and unattractive. “Only if the queen commands it, Your Grace.”
    Something in my tone must have betrayed my inner feelings, for his eyes took on a dark glint. After an interval he said stiffly, “You are indeed unversed in the ways of court, or you would know not to trifle with me. I always have my way…in the end.” He turned his back and strode angrily toward his waiting retinue on the riverbank.
    I was about to call out that, according to rumor, he certainly had his way with the queen. But I caught myself just in time. Unnerved by the challenge I had nearly uttered, I watched his receding back on an unsteady breath, my nurse’s words echoing in my head: She’s a wild thing, and reckless; she must be tamed for her own good. I had to do what I could to avoid Somerset in the future. He was a complex man, and a dangerous one. The power and rage I sensed in him made for a lethal mix, and I dared not trust myself to play the demure damsel.
     
    A FEW DAYS AFTER MY MEETING WITH SOMERSET, great whisperings ebbed and flowed through the halls and passageways as giant waves sweep an ocean, but neither Ursula nor I could make any sense of the fragments we overheard. Then, with a leap of the heart, I caught the names of the Duke of York and the Earl of Salisbury. Realization struck me. Bursting with excitement, I seized Ursula from among a group of ladies in an