Free Court of Traitors (Bridget Manning #2) by V.E. Lynne

reached up and tore the French hood from atop Bridget’s head, taking pins, a portion of the strap and a handful of hair with her. Bridget cried out at the sudden assault and tried in vain to fend it off, but she was too late. Lady Rochford had easily got the upper hand and quickly achieved her objective. Flushed with pride, she headed back to her mistress’s side with a smile, Bridget’s headwear clutched victoriously in her hands.
     
    “Madam, what is the meaning of—” Bridget exclaimed in shock, but the queen would not entertain another word from her.
    “We do not wear that style of hood anymore, Lady de Brett, as Mistress Bassett found out to her and her mother’s cost.” She shot a hard look at the discomfited maid. “I do not care for French styles, French customs or French manners. I am the Queen of England; I will not have foreign fashions holding sway at my court. We are Englishwomen and therefore we will dress as Englishwomen. I do not expect to see you wearing this,” she pointed at the formerly elegant hood, now sadly tattered, “again.”
     
    Bridget, her heart beating wildly against her ribs, murmured, “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
    The queen held her gaze for a long moment, her eyes jubilant, before she said, “I am glad you understand. Now you may go.”
    Bridget exited the chamber as quickly as she decently could and leant breathlessly against the door as she shut it behind her. Through the heavy wood, she could clearly hear the sound of delighted chatter break out.
    “Did you see the look on her face ?” she heard Lady Rochford crow. “She was so scared I thought we were going to have to pick her up from the floor! At least now we have wiped that smug expression of hers away. She now knows her proper place.”
    “ Oh, yes, Lady Rochford,” the queen drawled. “I think she received that message in no uncertain terms, she will not need to be told twice. You made sure of that.”
    Bridget reached up and touched the side of her head ; she felt there was now a small bald patch where a clump of hair had been ripped out and she ran her fingers over it slowly. When she drew her hand away there were spots of blood on her fingers and she sighed as she contemplated them. Not even at court for a week, and once more, courtesy of a queen, she had blood on her hands.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    When Bridget told her husband of her audience with the queen and her decree that she attend on her at Windsor, he could not have been more pleased with the news. His campaign of silence ceased at once and his nocturnal attentions resumed. It seemed that, in his mind, if the queen wanted Bridget around her it meant that the king’s interest in his young spouse was purely a platonic one. Surely Queen Jane, or any woman at that, would not willingly admit a potential rival into her midst. It would be madness to do so.
     
    And yet, perhaps it made perfect sense, Bridget reasoned. If Queen Jane did indeed see her as a possible competitor for the king’s affections, and Bridget prayed that was not truly the case, then why not keep her where she could see her, where any threat she might pose could easily be neutralised? An added bonus, from the queen’s point of view, must surely be that whilst she was keeping an eye on Bridget, she could also use the opportunity to heap humiliation on her head and show her who was mistress now. The incident with the French hood demonstrated that Queen Jane wanted to put her firmly in her place and that could just have been her opening salvo. Bridget frowned at the prospect. She did not look forward to whatever awaited her at Windsor.
     
    “Something vexes you, my lady? I cannot imagine what it could be. After all, here you sit in the glorious Greenwich sunshine, young and beautiful, watching our king dazzle us with his prowess at the butts. Even your husband shows us his skills. I would have thought that would cause you to smile like a proud wife and not scowl like