Free Rose Bride by Elizabeth Moss

you?’ She frowned, taking a few steps towards her pursuer, whom she was sure she had seen about the court recently. ‘Wait . . . You are Lady Wolf’s young sister, are you not?’
    ‘Yes.’ The young woman straightened, her air defiant now she had been discovered. ‘My name is Susannah Tyrell. My father is Sir John Tyrell. And who are you ?’
    Margerie looked at her more closely, and could see no malice or ill will in the girl’s pretty, heart-shaped face. She pushed back her hood and smiled, wondering why Lady Wolf’s sister should have been following her. This was a case of mistaken identity, surely. Margerie decided to proceed cautiously though. Not only was Susannah Tyrell allied to the Wolf family, but there had been rumours about the young maid ever since she arrived at court. She had been a runaway bride, or some such nonsense, dressed as a man! And there had been whispers about the king’s interest in her . . .
    She did not wish to be dragged into some foolhardy venture by this girl, not tonight of all nights.
    ‘Me?’ she said drily. ‘Oh, I am nobody.’
    But Susannah Tyrell was not satisfied. ‘Do you have a name? And why were you so deep in conversation with Master Hugh Beaufort?’
    ‘My name is Margerie. But as for your other question, I am afraid that I am not at liberty to discuss that matter. You must forgive me, Mistress Tyrell.’ Margerie curtseyed, then very deliberately turned her back on the girl. ‘I am late for my bed.’
    ‘Wait, I must know!’
    Margerie glanced back at her, her eyes narrowed at that impulsive command, then suddenly understood. Susannah Tyrell had been watching her with Hugh Beaufort, the gentleman who had brought her back to court after her wild escapade.
    ‘He means something to you, Master Beaufort?’
    Susannah’s eyes widened. ‘Not particularly, no. I just wondered if he meant anything to you .’
    It was hard not to smile at such naivety. The girl was so very young and in love. Yet who could blame her?
    ‘Master Beaufort is a handsome gentleman, is he not?’ Margerie felt a twinge of sympathy as she tested the girl, noting how her gaze wavered, her cheeks tinged with a most revealing blush. ‘Those broad shoulders, that narrow waist . . .’
    Susannah’s hurt shone out of her face. The girl bit her lip, saying nothing, but there were tears in her eyes.
    Margerie looked at her, stung by remorse. Had there not been a recent scandal about Susannah Tyrell and King Henry? She recalled some whispered conversation between the other seamstresses. This girl on the king’s lap, and stern Thomas Cromwell interrupting their love play . . .
    Seeing this pretty creature, the story made sense. She was everything the king desired, and perhaps still a virgin, for all the tales about her.
    Margerie sighed, and closed the gap between them. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to hurt you. May I speak plainly?’ She placed a hand on Susannah’s arm. ‘I have heard certain tales about you and His Majesty. No listen, I do not condemn you, for I know what it is to be in a man’s power. And an offer from the King of England is not easily refused by any woman, let alone one who has left the safety of her father’s protection as you have done. Oh, I can tell by your face that you think yourself free to do whatever you choose and live however you wish. But you must be careful, child. You are so very young.’
    ‘I am eighteen,’ she said proudly, meeting her gaze without flinching. The girl had courage, that was for sure. ‘That is hardly young.’
    ‘So bold, such a firebrand.’ Margerie smiled, though in truth she felt suddenly sad. ‘When I was young, I made a terrible mistake over a man because I thought myself in love. It was only a moment’s error, but it ruined my life. Do not, I beg you, take any more false steps that might lead you away from your good reputation. Or you may live to regret it, as I have done. Now please stop following me. I have given you my