Free Reluctant Queen: Tudor Historical Novel About Mary Rose Tudor, the Defiant Little Sister of King Henry VIII by Geraldine Evans Page A

gold, made a shimmering spectacle in the candlelight. And as the flames flickered over the fire and ice of rubies and diamonds Mary was glad Lady Guildford had made her replace the simple necklet. The scene brought a poignant reminder to Mary of her last nights in England, but she forced such thoughts aside. She couldn’t lose herself in memories tonight. She came to herself just as Francis led her up to yet another dazzling courtier. She smiled as she recognised San Severino who had accompanied Francis when he had met her on the road. San Severino’s costume of cloth of gold lined with superb sables outshone everyone in the room. He told her of the difficulties such elegance had put him through. The material had only arrived from Florence the day before, he explained. The tailors had had to toil all night to finish, but he had been so determined to impress her that he had begged, pleaded and finally bullied the tailors till it was ready.
    Mary laughed at his delight and knew she had gained another admirer. She finally came to the end of the long line of courtiers. Francis led her to the top of the hall to the king. Seated on a great chair of state, he greeted Mary warmly before signalling for the musicians to strike up. The crowd moved to the edges of the room as Francis led Mary on to the floor to start the ball. Louis led Claude and soon the room was filled with colourful dancing figures.
    Francis, as Mary had expected, danced with ease and grace. She couldn’t help but compare him with Louis, whose dancing days were over, even though he stepped out bravely enough with his daughter, as eager to shine in her eyes as any even though his gouty limbs made him ill-equipped for the task. Bravely, masking whatever pain he felt, he took to the floor twice with Mary. But it was quickly apparent what this exercise cost him. She was thankful, for his sake, when with a pretended unwillingness, he gave leave to his young nobles to claim her hand so that he could retire to his chair to rest.
    Mary had felt it kinder to dance very sedately with Louis out of consideration for his gouty limbs. But she loved to dance and once her hand was claimed by one after another of Louis’ young nobles, she began to enjoy herself. Francis claimed many dances, whispering compliments all the while. The hall was hot and Mary had drunk more wine than usual in an attempt to drown the thought that on the morrow she would be wedded and bedded with Louis. The hateful thought made her reckless. She smiled at Francis’ compliments, laughed gaily at his risqué sallies and danced more dances with him than a modest bride should. But tonight, she didn’t care. She ignored her Mother Guildford’s admonishing eye. Determined to forget what awaited her, if only for one night, she responded flirtatiously to Francis’ blandishments.
    Encouraged by Mary’s wine-heady gaiety, Francis became bolder, touching her whenever he had occasion during the dance, searing her with heated glances from his glittering dark eyes all the while. Mary, her head turned by all the admiration she had received, far from home and separated from the man she loved, was filled with an even greater recklessness and encouraged Francis’ attentions all the more. Why shouldn’t she enjoy herself before Louis claimed her for himself? she thought. Francis was young, like her, outrageous and amusing. He took her mind off the many things she did not wish to think about. She felt drunk not only with the wine, but also with the many conquests she knew she had made that night.
    She was conscious of her aged bridegroom; his dull, yellowed eyes watched her all the while. She shivered and flung herself with even more abandon into dancing and enjoying herself, ignoring the tiny voice of caution that warned she might pay for her recklessness. Tonight she didn’t care. She didn’t care, either, to remember Lady Guildford’s advice that she should be careful of Francis. He might be only twenty, she had