Page 111 of The Favourite

“A nap?” Jane went up on one elbow. “Is it possible you have forgotten we have a supper to attend this evening?”

“I have forgotten nothing. We will be fashionably late.”

“I have always prided myself on my punctuality,” Jane tutted, even as she shuffled closer toward him.

“Of course, you have,” he yawned, slipping an arm about her shoulders. “I encourage you to lay the blame firmly at my door.”

“Oh, I intend to!”

“Is there some reason you are withholding your own embrace?”

Jane glanced up at him. “You mean—?” Hesitantly, she placed her arm about his waist.

“That’s better.”

Jane lowered her head to his shoulder, her face certainly red again. This felt shockingly intimate. Practically as intimate as the act they had just performed together. Somehow, she had never imagined Lord Bardulf indulging in such things as sleepy embraces with his bedfellows. This surely was Alisander de Balon she was sharing the bed with right now.

24

In all, life at court as a married lady was a vastly different experience to the life Jane had led previously as a single courtier. For one, of course, she was no longer the Queen’s favorite. Despite Alisander’s optimism about her reclaiming that crown, she was starting to think it would never again be hers.

Strange to say, she did not feel as devastated about that fact as she once would. Instead, she tried to focus on other areas of life at court. Building stronger relationships with her fellow ladies-in-waiting, for one thing.

She still found it so difficult to cultivate friendships, for her reserve was strong. Fortunately, Osanna and Patience, to a slightly lesser extent, seemed to have finally accepted this was her nature and not just her being sadly stand-offish.

They would link arms with her and prattle away, even when Jane found herself struggling to respond in a fitting manner to their chatter. This helped her to relax more in their society and even think of a few topics of conversation, which were met with differing measures of success.

She soon found that they were fascinated by any mention of her marriage, however fleeting. Despite showing huge curiosity about the baby, when Jane arranged for them to meet Celestia, they speedily ran out of interest once they had passed her to one another and exclaimed over every tiny feature.

“She does not really look like anyone yet, does she?” Patience had commented sounding disappointed.

“Not really,” Jane concurred. “Though I, too, had dark hair as a baby.”

“She must take after you, then,” Patience had concluded with a shrug, and Jane had been hugely grateful that neither of them so much as mentioned King Wymer in connection with the child. It strengthened her resolution to be a true friend to them.

“How long before she starts crawling or doing anything of note?” Osanna asked, passing the baby back to Jane.

“I’m not really sure,” Jane confessed, “but I should probably return her to her nurse now.”

“Yes, do,” Osanna agreed cheerfully, “and we can have a nice cozy discussion about Penelope Culmington and the way she has been carrying on with Sir Symond Chevenix! And him practically betrothed!”

“Ooh yes!” Patience squealed. “Do hurry, Jane. I have much to impart, for I have learned all the latest gossip from Margaret Pryor and, you know, she has quite the inside knowledge, for she is from the wretched girl’s home county.”

It was not until a full three days later, at about three o’clock, that the Queen finally sent for Jane to join her in her inner sanctum. By this point, Jane had all but given up waiting for such a summons. She had been sat with Frances Lessimore, discussing a tapestry project they had agreed to share, when she received the directive from an obliging page.

After excusing herself, Jane made her way into the Privy Chamber, expecting to find Queen Armenal sat there with a few attendants, but to her surprise, there was no sign of the Queen or her current favorite, Mistress Bartree. Seeing her glance about, Piers Winstanley stepped forward. “The Queen is in her bedchamber, my lady. Lord Bardulf is already there. Please walk through and join them; they are expecting you.”

The Queen frequently received her closest advisors in her bedchamber. It was considered quite an honor, so Jane was not altogether surprised to hear her husband was attending there. The funny thing was, that on entering, she was inordinately pleased to see the bored expression on his handsome face.

He was lolling in a window seat, an open book resting on his knee. When he visibly brightened on her entrance, it gave Jane the strangest sensation of tingling which spread right through her breast. “Your Majesty,” she said aloud, ignoring her husband and sinking into a graceful curtsey. The Queen was sat before her looking glass, rifling through her jewelry boxes.

“Ah Jane,” she greeted her. “There you are at last. I vow you have been neglecting me. Come and help me choose the right adornment for a quiet supper this evening. The good Bathilde is failing fast now,” she said matter-of-factly, “and the King cannot face the banqueting hall.”

Jane joined her at once and, after glancing at the Queen’s crimson gown, picked out one or two possible pieces at random.

“Not that one, Jane,” the Queen said dismissively, waving off a pearl-encrusted brooch. “Pass me the ruby.”

Alisander glanced up from his book with a critical frown, and the Queen hesitated. “You think too much red?” she said, holding the ruby to her bosom.