The Queen's Mistake Read Online Free PDF

slightly sweet and vaguely seductive.
    “It was you, was it not?” she said, still looking into his glassy eyes above a small, weak mouth. “Spiteful little thing that she is, Mistress Lassells told you, and you, hoping to gain favor, told Grandmother where I was last night, didn’t you?”
    He tipped his head, not denying the accusation, still gazing at her with the adoration that had begun to make her feel slightly ill.
    “Shall we begin our lesson?”
    Catherine moved nearer, glancing back at the open door to make certain no servant was listening this time.
    “How could you do that to me? You knew she would flog me for it.”
    “Sadly, the path of last resort is sometimes the only means of making youth see the error of their ways.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “It was not an error of my ways when it was you touching me, was it, Master Manox?”
    “Dereham is beneath you, Catherine,” he declared in a pleading whisper as his eyes narrowed slightly. “He is just like all of the others. I am different.”
    Light footfalls beyond the open door silenced them both for a moment until they passed. Catherine drew nearer, sank onto a stool and took up her lute. The pleading never left his dark eyes.
    “How could you have done that to me?” she asked again as she began to strum, entirely unable to play an actual tune for her anger at how she had been betrayed by a man she had trusted.
    “Do you not realize how unfavorably you are being used by nearly everyone? How you are bound to be hurt by their ambitions?”

    She stopped and really looked at him for the first time since she had come into the music room. “Not if it is by my choice, Master Manox.”
    “I am told you are troth-plighted now with Dereham.”
    Again there were footfalls beyond the open door outside in the corridor. It was now clear that someone meant to listen to their exchange. In this place she had grown accustomed to the notion of having no privacy, only judgment and punishment.
    “Is it the truth then?”
    Catherine felt herself tense even more, plucking at random strings only to make a bit of noise and maintain the impression of a true lesson between them. The nearness of Manox was almost repugnant to her now. He did not understand her need for adventure and excitement, here where there was nothing other than monotony and loneliness. He certainly did not understand her . Catherine had been a young girl of fourteen with Henry Manox, one with a girl’s longing and a naive perspective. But that was her no longer.
    There was no one here she could trust. She was glad to be leaving. Glad the decision about her betrothal to Francis had been made for her as well and she had not needed to break his heart.
    It came to her then, as Manox sat beside her, piqued with expectation, that he was a man whom she had once believed for a moment in time she might love, just as she had later believed she might love Francis. But now he was a man who could ruin things for her out of jealousy, as pious Mary Lassells was trying to do out of envy. Mary may have seemed like an innocent servant, but she could not have been more different from the others.
    “Mary is an evil, envious girl,” she blurted out.
    “Take care, Cat. That is all I am saying. I have tried only to protect you.”
    “I wish you would not be angry with me,” she replied sheepishly,
honing her skills at manipulating men for the pleasure she found in it. Henry was taken aback by her sudden shift in tone.
    “I wish more things than you could ever count,” he said, softly, walking toward her. “I still have the cap with our initials that you made for me.” He reached for her hand.
    Catherine took it, forcing a strained smile. “I’m glad. I would not want you ever to forget me completely,” she said, knowing he’d hear more in her words than she intended. Yet she enjoyed watching him believe her. It was part of the game she was learning, and it was good practice.
    After he had gone, Catherine felt