Her Last Assassin Read Online Free Page B

for she knew the mere sight of their queen in armour would imbue in these common soldiers a stronger sense of loyalty than half a dozen speeches ever could, however stirring.
    Lucy Morgan dabbed at her hot forehead with a cool cloth. ‘Better, Your Majesty?’ she murmured.
    ‘I thank you, yes,’ Elizabeth agreed, and favoured her African lady-in-waiting with a smile. ‘I heard you had been ill. I am glad to see you back on your feet. A summer chill?’
    ‘Yes, Your Majesty. I am quite recovered, thank you.’
    Lucy poured a fresh cup of ale from the flagon on the table, and handed it to her with a low curtsey, quiet and respectful as ever in her presence.
    She could not fault the woman in manners, Elizabeth thought, for all she had shown other faults in the past. Faults that irked her still. Yet whatever whispers she might occasionally have heard of Lucy’s lack of chastity, there had never been any proof to bring her to book. And she was Robert’s little pet; there could be no doubt of his favouritism where Lucy Morgan was concerned. Indeed, she had only been permitted to return to court after her last disgrace at Robert’s express request. Accused of being unchaste, banished from court, married without permission after some indiscretion, according to Sir Francis Walsingham – another of her senior courtiers who took an oddly keen interest in Mistress Morgan’s activities – and now widowed, and back in Elizabeth’s service. Well, a widow was respectable enough. Helena was a widow too, and had never looked at another man since her beloved husband died. But there was something unsettling about Lucy Morgan, something not quite respectable … Elizabeth could not put her finger on what it was about the woman that made her uncomfortable at times. Was it the colour of her skin? Black as the devil, some of the crueller girls whispered behind her back, though Lucy Morgan had shown herself to be a good and diligent servant since returning to court.
    Having unlaced the silver cuirass, Helena handed the heavy breastplate to Lucy, then hurried to the tent entrance at some unseen signal. She returned with a smile. ‘His lordship the Earl of Leicester is outside, Your Majesty, and would have luncheon served. Will you admit him?’
    ‘Of course,’ she agreed impatiently, and settled herself at the table. Lucy knelt to straighten the folds of her silver and white gown, which had become entangled, then stepped back out of the way, hands meekly by her side.
    Yes, Lucy was a strange and unsettling creature, and not quite the same as Elizabeth’s other women. Yet it could not be denied that she had served both queen and country well since entering service at court. Sometimes it was best not to question a servant’s character when their loyalty had proved useful to the throne.
    But Robert! She smiled up at him, and saw the answering smile in his eyes. ‘How was it?’
    Her favourite knelt and kissed her hand as though for the first time, his upward glance one of admiration. ‘You were magnificent. My men saw a great prince today, Your Majesty, at the height of her powers.’
    ‘ Your men?’
    Robert gave a little chuckle. ‘Forgive me, I forget sometimes who I’m speaking to.’ He rose, then nodded to the men in the doorway to enter. ‘Are you hungry? I have arranged for us to take a light meal. I must admit to being famished, will you permit me to sit and eat with you?’ Without waiting for her nod, her general drew out the chair opposite and threw himself into it, all legs, his lazy smile for her alone as he dragged off his dusty gloves. ‘I was up before dawn, preparing this place for your arrival, with no time to take a bite except the merest crust.’ He smiled at the steaming dishes being laid out for her inspection, then nodded to the taster. ‘I take the precaution of having all my food tasted now, do you mind? Since we are so openly at war, one cannot be too careful. I know you have your own man, under Sir