Free Murder at Whitehall by Amanda Carmack Page B

“Won’t you come in and join us?”
    â€œThat is Mistress Haywood, one of the queen’s musicians,” Mary Howard said.
    â€œAh, then you definitely must join us,” Senor Gomez said, his smile sparkling. “I am very curious about your English style of music. I want to collect some new songs to take with me back to Madrid.”
    Kate smiled in return. Music was something she
could
talk about, while courtly flirtation was still something she could not quite master.
    â€œI can show you an English song or two, senor,” she said, making her way into the room. She could sense some of the others watching her curiously, but she could only see that intriguing instrument. “If in returnyou will tell me about that song you were playing. It was beautiful. It took me away from the cold winter day entirely.”
    â€œThen it has done its job, I think. It is by Luis de Milán, one of our finest Spanish composers.”
    â€œI have a book of his compositions, but I don’t think it includes that song.” Kate sat down on the stool next to his, studying the guitarlike instrument in his hands, its fine inlaid decorations of strange, pale woods.
    He held it out to her. “Have you played a vihuela before?”
    Kate shook her head. “A guitar once or twice, but this appears different.”
    â€œIt is, a bit. Here, I will show you.”
    Senor Gomez leaned close to show her the inlaid frets, the double-strung strings. Up close, he was even more handsome, despite his somber Spanish fashions. He smelled sweetly of cloves and orange, just like the atmosphere of his song. If Lady Catherine was trying to distract herself from the capriciousness of Lord Hertford, she could certainly choose worse. But Kate found herself oddly distanced from him, that feeling of observing a painting growing even stronger.
    The vihuela, though, was fascinating. She ran her fingers experimentally over the strings and tried a chord. She got lost in the song.
    When she glanced up, she was surprised to see that the light beyond the room’s window had turned brighter. Some of the ladies had drifted away. Senor Gomez’s friend, the other secretary, Senor Vasquez, sat near that window, his head bent over a book. Despitethe music and chatter around him, he seemed completely absorbed by whatever he read.
    â€œDoes your friend not enjoy music, too, Senor Gomez?” she asked.
    He laughed. “He is my cousin, senora; our mothers were sisters. But I fear he inherited a tone deafness from his father.”
    She studied Senor Vasquez, whose face looked like an austere, thinner, paler version of his cousin’s. He seemed very withdrawn from everything around him. “I am sure London must be very different from Madrid. But can he find nothing to distract him here?”
    Senor Gomez leaned closer to say quietly, “I did think perhaps he had found a fair lady to distract him. I saw him walking with a woman by the river. He had a disappointment in romance at home, I fear.”
    Kate smiled. If either of the Spanish cousins looked likely to find an English romance, it was this man. But she had learned at court that everyone could have a secret. “Queen Elizabeth does like to keep a young, lively court around her.”
    Senor Gomez smiled. “So I have found, much to my delight. And when I saw Jeronimo with a lady. . . .”
    â€œOne of the queen’s ladies?” Kate whispered. She thought of Lady Catherine Grey, and the queen’s suspicions that her cousin kept too much Spanish company.
    â€œA very pretty red-haired lady.”
    Not the blond Lady Catherine? “Red like the queen?”
    â€œNay, darker red than your queen. Queen Elizabethis like a dawn, I think; this young lady was like a deep, rich wine. Changeable, as if someone could be lost in the depths of the color.”
    â€œYou sound as if you write music yourself, senor.”
    â€œI do, once in a