They set out at midmorning the next day, after taking formal leave of Cousin Mary in the parlor. Their little procession made its way through the hall into the screens passage and across the yard to the entry where a liveried servant waited to open the gate to the street. He dipped his head as Nan and Kate went through. Heedless of pedestrians and horses alike, Nan set off at a brisk pace. She wanted to see everything at once.

It was the smell of London that slowed her down. Fumbling for the decorative pomander ball that hung from her waist, she pressed it firmly to her nose so that, after a moment, the most unpalatable odors—she refused to try to identify any of them!—weakened in intensity. Filtered through the soothing scent of hartshorn, they became endurable.

Nan felt a trifle foolish. She should have remembered how London stank. Still, some things were worth putting up with, so long as the reward was great enough. Linking her arm through Kate’s, she marched on, determined to make the most of her hours of freedom. Constance trailed behind with the two burly grooms Cousin Mary insisted they take with them.

Nan made frequent use of her pomander ball at first, but before long she became accustomed to the stench and could manage with only an occasional restorative sniff. They stopped to view the Great Conduit in Cheapside and the Eleanor Cross, the latter erected to commemorate the passing of the funeral cortege of a long-ago queen. Nan wondered if King Henry planned any such memorials for Queen Jane. If he did, she had not heard about them.

Some streets were cobbled. Others were paved. Some merely had a layer of gravel over hard-packed dirt. Nan suspected the latter turned into quagmires every spring. All the roads and byways were crowded with persons of every sort, from rough farmers in town to sell their produce to expensively dressed gallants on richly caparisoned horses. Nan wished she had been at court long enough to recognize individuals in the latter group. After all, it would do her no good to attract the attention of some scoundrel who was deep in debt or, worse, already had a wife.

The noise of the city made conversation difficult. Hawkers shouting out inducements to buy their wares competed with the clop of horses’ hooves and the clatter of wheeled carts and wagons. Church bells in dozens of churches rang out the time, adding to the din. Everywhere there was bustle and confusion.

Nan was happier than she had been in weeks. After two hours of walking, however, even she began to flag, and Cousin Kate had been limping for the past quarter hour. Nan looked around, thinking to find a respectable hostelry in the vicinity. A tavern or an alehouse would not do, but inns that catered to travelers had rooms for hire where a gentlewoman could sit down for a bit and even order food and drink.

There were no inns in sight, but there was something familiar about Nan’s surroundings. She looked more carefully at the buildings and realized that one of them was Master Husee’s house. The tall, narrow structure rising cheek by jowl with its neighbors was not distinctive in any way, but Nan remembered it from her last visit. She and Cat and Ned had stopped at Husee’s lodgings to break the journey from Dover to Hampton Court.

Sheer chance that she had ended up here, Nan told herself. She had not intended to search out familiar landmarks. But fate had taken a hand, and here was a place to rest awhile, just when they needed it.

If Husee had been in residence, Nan might have continued to search for an inn, but he was still in Calais. That made her decision a foregone conclusion. “We must stop for a bit before we return to Sussex House,” she announced, “and here is just the place to do it. If Master Corbett is not at home, then Master Husee’s servants will make us welcome.”

“Master Corbett?” Kate’s dark eyes widened in surprise. “How … fortuitous.”

“I have always been lucky,” Nan agreed.

As for Ned, he seemed delighted to find two young gentlewomen on his doorstep and obligingly offered them refreshments and the chance to rest their feet. At the first opportunity, he bent to whisper in Nan’s ear, “Clever girl to find this place again.”

A teasing smile played across Nan’s lips as she inhaled his fresh, clean scent. “I hoped you would welcome me.”

His eyes gleamed and his voice turned husky. “I’d have given you an even warmer welcome, Nan, had you arrived without an escort.”

They both looked at Kate. Nan’s cousin was watching them with gimlet-eyed intensity, her suspicion that Nan had arranged this meeting with Ned as obvious as if she had lettered it on a sign.

“I would such a thing were possible,” Nan murmured as she stepped away, depriving him of the opportunity to say more.

Her intent had been to match Ned’s lighthearted flirtation. But the moment she spoke those words, it came to Nan that she’d meant them. The epiphany stunned her.

She stared hard at Ned, now bantering with Cousin Kate. She told herself that Ned’s brown hair and blue eyes were unremarkable. And hundreds of men had a physique as excellent. He was penniless. That was what she had to remember. And she must not lose sight of her goal. She had left Calais to set her traps for a man who possessed both wealth and a title.

Ned Corbett had neither.


… by the report of all the gentlewomen, Mrs. Anne is clearly altered, and in manner no fault can be found in her. So that I doubt not but that the worst is past, and from henceforth she will use herself as demurely and discreetly as the best of her fellows. My Lady Sussex willeth me to make her a gown of lion tawny satin, turned up with velvet of the same colour, and also to buy her a standard for her gowns, which shall be done, God willing, against Christmas. And there is no doubt, whensoever the time shall come, she shall enjoy her accustomed place …

—John Husee to Lady Lisle, 14 December 1537

4

A few dull days in the exclusive company of women, embroidering baby clothes and making plans for a quiet Yuletide, made Nan restless. She proposed another shopping expedition, but this time Cousin Kate had no interest in such a venture.

“Why go out?” Kate asked without looking up from her needlework. “London is noisy, crowded, filthy, and smelly and we have only to express an interest and Cousin Mary will ask tradesmen to bring their wares here for us to examine. Cloth. Ribbons. Even jewelry. Not that either of us can afford to buy much.” She frowned over a stitch. “Does this look straight to you?”

With barely a glance, Nan told her it was perfect.

“We both know why you want to go out,” Kate said.

Nan went still, suddenly wary. “Do we?”

“It is only an excuse to visit Master Corbett again. I can understand the desire. He is a well-made man and clever with words, as well.” She took several more careful stitches in the sleeve she was embroidering with tiny rosebuds. “But I see no advantage to myself in venturing out into London so that you can dally with your stepfather’s man.”

“You are mistaken,” Nan lied. “I have no interest in Master Corbett. And I would not dream of disturbing your work by asking you to accompany me.” She walked stiffly away, annoyed with her cousin and even more annoyed with herself. She had dreamed of Ned the previous night, a dream filled with longing … and fulfillment. But she had not thought her interest in Ned was so obvious to others.

Next Nan tried to persuade Jane Arundell to accompany her, but Jane, too, preferred to remain indoors, as did Isabel Staynings. Since Nan would lack the company of another gentlewoman, Cousin Mary refused her request for a second outing.

Frustrated, Nan brooded for the rest of the day and was still in ill humor by the time Constance appeared to help her get ready for bed. Kate was already sound asleep and snoring lightly. She had also appropriated all of the blankets, wrapping herself in a cocoon of wool. When Nan climbed into bed beside her, she’d have a struggle to free enough of the fabric to cover herself.

“I vow,” Nan grumbled, “I shall soon die of boredom. Then they will be sorry they kept me confined!”

Constance paused in the act of untying the points that held Nan’s sleeves to her bodice. “Are you a prisoner, mistress?”

“I might as well be!”

“Even prisoners in the Tower of London are allowed to walk on the leads for fresh air.” Constance’s voice was muffled as she fought a knot in the laces holding bodice to kirtle.

“Are they? Who told you that?”

“John Browne did, mistress. He knows all sorts of things. He says more than men are locked up in the Tower. There are beasts, too. Lions and—”

“John Browne? Who is he?”

“Why, he is Master Corbett’s man, mistress. His servant.”

Nan had a vague recollection of a manservant in Calais and at Master Husee’s lodgings, but she had not paid any attention to him. Big and brawny, she thought. Had he been on the boat from Calais with them? She supposed he must have been. And it appeared he’d entertained her maid while his master had been occupied with Constance’s mistress.

As Constance finished undressing her, the first glimmer of an idea formed in Nan’s mind.

THEY LEFT SUSSEX House through the garden. Since it was broad daylight, Nan expected to be caught at any moment, but luck was on her side. She and Constance reached the lych-gate unnoticed and stepped out into a narrow alley. All the way from Sussex House to Master Husee’s dwelling, Nan was certain she would be challenged, or robbed, or assaulted. The potential for danger made the adventure all the more exciting.

“Slow your steps, mistress,” Constance hissed, scurrying to keep up with her, “lest you draw unwelcome attention to yourself.”

Seeing the sense in her advice, Nan forced herself to walk at a sedate pace. Head held high, she pretended she had every right to be out on the streets of London with her maid. Fortunately, no one they passed could see how her hands were trembling inside her muff.

Forewarned by John Browne, Ned was expecting them. If he had any qualms about entertaining Nan without the presence of Cousin Kate and the two Sussex grooms, he hid them well. Indeed, it seemed to Nan that he regarded her clandestine visit as a great lark. They spent a pleasant hour sharing stories about their childhoods and laughing over Nan’s mother’s latest unsuccessful effort to secure the services of a waiting gentlewoman.

“She sent an enameled pomander containing cinnamon balls to Lady Wallop to sweeten her,” Ned said with a chuckle. “Lady Wallop has a niece of the right age and disposition.”

“Lady Wallop is fond of my mother. They met when her husband was the English ambassador to France. Never tell me that she failed to deliver the girl.”

“Worse than that.” He waited a beat, then slid closer to her on the window seat they shared. “The clasp on the pomander was faulty. It broke, scattering the cinnamon and quite ruining Lady Wallop’s favorite damask gown.”

Nan’s fingers flew to her mouth, but it was too late to hold back the explosion of mirth. “I can just imagine the expression on her face,” Nan sputtered when she could catch enough breath to speak. Lady Wallop affronted would be a comical sight even without cinnamon spilling down her ample bosom.

Ned’s laughter mingled with her own. His hand came to rest on Nan’s shoulder, as if to steady himself. Or her.

The touch, light as it was, sparked a conflagration. Nan’s cheeks warmed. Her heart raced. She leaned closer to Ned, face lifting until their eyes locked.

She recognized an answering heat in Ned’s gaze. And then she saw no more because he’d closed the distance between them and was kissing her. His lips settled over hers, warm and sure. His soft beard and mustache brushed her skin, sensitizing it almost beyond bearing. She heard someone moan and realized with a sense of wonder that she had made the small sound of arousal.

All too soon for Nan’s liking, Ned pulled away from her. “You had best return to Sussex House before someone notices you are missing.”

She struggled to get her breath back and to adjust to the sudden loss of Ned’s embrace. “I pled a headache,” she blurted out. “They think I am lying down with the bed hangings closed to keep out the light and with a poultice of banewort leaves on my brow.”

“And if Lady Sussex should decide to offer comfort to her dear young cousin?”

Nan turned away from him, suddenly chilled. She knew he was right. To stay away too long was to court discovery.

An hour later, having collected Constance from John Browne’s bedchamber, she returned to Sussex House the same way she had left.