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Cleves knows no English,” the duke was saying as I brought forward a wide wooden platter of venison. “Nor any French nor Latin. She will need clever girls in her household.”
    “To help her adjust,” the duchess agreed.
    “To make her path smooth,” the duke said.
    I studiously avoided looking at the duke’s new usher. It was a great honor to be a maid-in-waiting, or a lady-in-waiting, to the queen. Noblewomen climbed over and clawed each other to get a place. With the help of male relatives, of course. My only hope was the duke. And he certainly wouldn’t help me if I were caught flirting over his shoulder at dinner.
    “If we are not careful,” the duke continued, spearing a piece of venison with his knife and beginning to gnaw upon it immediately, “the new men appointed to nobility by the king willtake over the court and run it like a brothel, salting the queen’s apartments with the freshest and most desirable female flesh. We must take the opportunity to bring truly loyal blood to court.”
    “We have the Lady Rochford,” the duchess said.
    The misfortune-plagued Jane Boleyn. Once married to George Boleyn, brother to the king’s second wife, Anne. Court gossip said that Jane was instrumental in getting Queen Anne beheaded by accusing her of adultery. And incest. George was executed, too.
    I turned to take the platter to one of the lower tables, but the duke reached for my sleeve. I stopped, hardly daring to breathe.
    “We need a girl,” the duke said. “Virginity is temptation, and temptation will bring promotion to the house of Howard.”
    I felt sick. I didn’t dare to look into his ferrety little eyes. The duke despised the idea of the queen’s household being a “brothel,” except when it was he who stocked it with whores of his own choosing.
    Not bothering with a knife this time, he pulled a fatty piece of thigh meat from the bone with his thumb and forefinger and dismissed me without once looking at my face.
    “That one,” I heard him say, and I turned back to see him pointing with a lazy flick of his greasy finger. He indicated the girl with the pink cheeks and shining eyes, the glossy auburn curls and perfect curves. The girl who could make a man shudderwith desire by throwing her hair carelessly over her shoulder. I left the platter on a side table and slipped invisibly back to my place amongst the unchosen.
    “Catherine Howard,” the dowager duchess called. “How would you like to go to court?”

“ Y OU COULD BE A LITTLE BIT HAPPY FOR ME ,” C AT SAID .
    “I am happy for you,” I said, stretching a smile across my face.
    Knowing that I wouldn’t be picked to go to court and actually not being picked were two different things. Before the duke chose Cat, at least I had hope, if only a thin sliver of it. And not until the candles guttered and the duke fell asleep in his chair had hope left me completely. He only needed one girl, and that girl was Cat.
    “No, you’re not,” she said. “Not really. You’re disappointed that you weren’t picked, and that makes you feel guilty.”
    It could be unnerving, Cat’s ability to read my thoughts. But often, it was like being wrapped in a heavy winter cloak to shut out a storm. Comforting to know I wasn’t alone.
    “Also, you’re going to miss me.” Cat crept over to put an arm around me. “We’ve never been apart. I don’t know what I’ll do without you. But don’t worry, I shall find a way to get you to court, too.”
    “Now who’s being silly?” I managed before my throat closedagain. Because she was right. It wasn’t just jealousy that I felt. It was bereavement, as well.
    “I will,” she said. “I promise. Just you wait and see.”
    Her childish voice made her enthusiasm all the more appealing and lit again the hope that she was right. Because court was the only place either of us really wanted to be. If anyone could find a way to get me there, Cat Howard could.
    I squeezed her back. “I’m very glad you will