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thoughtless gifts, she will not thank you for it.”
    Elizabeth felt her brother draw into himself, channeling irritation into arrogance. “She is nearly as much my sister as you are. I cannot control people’s opinions, but I can control the expression of them. If anyone is fool enough to hint at anything improper between us, they’ll have severe cause to repent it.”
    He bowed haughtily to his sister and swept out, taking some of the pleasure of the day with him. Unsettled, Elizabeth waved off her attendants to a far corner of the room and perched on the window seat.
    She amused herself for a time watching people pass below her in Clock Court. There were the Dukes of Norfolk and Northumberland clearly arguing with each other. The Catholic Howards and the Protestant Dudleys were long enemies—both personally and religiously—and the two lords did not often agree on anything. Elizabeth wondered what this particular disagreement was about. If she was lucky, Northumberland was protesting her betrothal to the French Catholic prince.
    Several of the younger men of the court were grouped around a figure in one corner, whom it took her a moment to identify as Giles Howard. He was worked up about something—he kept gesturing violently. Elizabeth stifled a laugh when she realized he was moving as though he held a sword and fought an unseen opponent. No doubt he was embellishing some tale of his mediocre abilities.
    In the circle around Howard, she found at last what she had not admitted looking for—a young man standing toward the back, disdain writ clearly in the slouching lines of his body. Robert Dudley did not care much for Giles Howard. Then again, Robert Dudley did not care much for most anyone.
    As she studied him, Robert lifted his head. Whether he identified her by the brightness of her hair or simply knew which window was hers, Elizabeth did not know, but he saluted her with a nod of his head and a quirk of his lips that made her heart beat faster than it should have. She drew away from the window and willed herself to composure.
    Her marriage was a matter of state, not of liking. She had known that since she was old enough to talk. Kings may indulge their desires apart from marriage—but she was a woman, not a king. Her reputation was even more delicate than Minuette’s, and she could not afford to tarnish it with a man she could not marry. Robert was Northumberland’s fifth son, not a promising prospect for any woman of ambition and certainly not for a royal princess.
    But for all that, Elizabeth knew she might have been severely tempted to plead with her brother to consider such an uneven match—if not for the simple fact that Robert was already married.
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     
     
    “HER MAJESTY, QUEEN Anne, presents the Three Graces. Long may they shed their light on England and our king.” Applause rippled through the great hall as the steward retreated and three white-robed maidens took his place. Though this particular pageant was his mother’s birthday gift to him, William let his mind wander as a poet declaimed on the wonders of his reign and the glories still to come.
    Elizabeth sat straight-backed, head held high in a manner he knew was unconscious. His eyes flicked from his sister to his mother, sitting next to him, and back to Elizabeth. Though their colouring could not be more different, he had always seen a great similarity in the two. Something about the set of the chin and the expression of the eyes—and, as intelligent as their father had been, William thought Elizabeth’s mind owed more to Anne’s quicksilver wit than to Henry’s stubborn shrewdness.
    As he watched his sister, Elizabeth smiled at one of the dancers and William followed her eyes. He had not realized Minuette was part of this pageant. She was draped in white, arms bare and honey-coloured hair worn loose, and she moved with an assurance that surprised William—he was more used to seeing her jump off walls and scramble up