Free The Other Countess by Eve Edwards

glittering match, had lavished money on her for the purpose, but she had lost her relish for conquest.
    And why? Only yesterday she had contemplated her image in the glass and promised herself to win the marriage game; today, she looked about her and found she wanted no one because no one wanted her for herself. Ralegh was part of the problem, with his knowing looks reminding her of her shortcomings every time she turned around. But it had really struck home when the charming but insincere young Earl of Dorset had showered her with pretty compliments. Not once had he actually looked at her properly, his eyes skimming her face only briefly, not meeting her eyes. He was not alone: every gentleman spoke to her in the same way, affecting an interest when their mind was on other things, usually the size of her dowry. She’d felt so depressed by the end of the day that she had even tried to explain it to her maid, but Nell had merely stared at her as if she were mad. She had been foolish to speak her mind so frankly as she knew her maid had no liking for her. There was little sympathy to be had from someone so far beneath her rank. Any loyalty she got was paid for.
    ‘Why the long face, Janie?’ asked Henry. He held his right arm in a sling, having sprained it falling from his horse that afternoon. ‘You’ll curdle the milk. You should be pleased with yourself. So far you’ve been a great success.’
    ‘Thank you.’ Jane didn’t bother to confide her thoughts toher brother, knowing he would dismiss her complaints as girlish nonsense.
    ‘Father will be pleased to hear the Queen spoke to you.’
    It had been to approve the quiet colour of her gown. The Percevals knew better than to risk the Queen’s ire by setting their daughter up as a rival. The Countess of Leicester had had her ears boxed for that offence and been dismissed from court.
    ‘Midnight blue becomes you.’
    Jane hadn’t wanted to wear this gown but it had been specially commissioned for the banquet and too expensive to waste.
    ‘I’m glad you think so.’
    ‘Ralegh wore that colour last evening.’ Henry gave his sister a speculative glance. There was something between her and his friend and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what.
    ‘Then I pray he won’t wear it again tonight. We wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a match.’
    ‘He has good prospects. You could do worse.’
    ‘I could do better.’
    They turned into the antechamber to the dining hall, pausing to rinse their hands in the silver basins prepared for the purpose. Servants carried food in from the outdoor kitchens to the servery: sizzling sides of beef, joints of pork, pies and roast chickens. Carvers lined up ready to set to work once the signal was given that the Queen was on her way.
    Jane wished the evening were already over. ‘We had better take our places; she’ll be here anon.’
    But her brother had spotted someone he knew. He stopped before a black-robed man and a pretty dark-haired girl standing by the entrance as if uncertain of their welcome beyond.
    ‘Sir Arthur, I hear you’ve been setting the castle on fire,’ Henry said jovially.
    The alchemist shook his head. ‘An exaggeration, sir. Merely a little accident soon mended.’
    Jane stared in horrified fascination at the shiny burns on the back of the scholar’s hands. A little accident?
    ‘I hope you were nowhere near the conflagration, Lady Eleanor,’ her brother continued, turning his full charm on the girl.
    ‘Not near enough to account it worth mentioning,’ the girl said, retreating a step as if she was well aware of Henry’s interest and wished to run.
    Yes, thought Jane, she would be the sort to attract Henry: sultry brown eyes, complexion more golden than a fashionable white, but attractive nonetheless, a mass of raven curls inexpertly braided so that locks spilled free, teasing her neck, and doubtless driving her brother wild. Had the girl done this on purpose? Jane frowned. If she had, then she