The Virgin’s Lover. Philippa Gregory

      Catherine Knollys might be certain in her preference for the young Earl of Arran, but at the end of February another suitor appeared at Elizabeth’s court: the Austrian ambassador, Count von Helfenstein, pressing the claims of the Hapsburg archdukes, Charles and Ferdinand.

      ‘You are a flower pestered by butterflies,’ Robert Dudley smiled, as they walked in the cold gardens of Whitehall Palace, two of Elizabeth’s new guards following them at a discreet distance.

      ‘Indeed, I must be, for I do nothing to attract.’

      ‘Nothing?’ he asked her, one dark eyebrow raised.

      She paused to peep up at him from under the brim of her hat. ‘I invite no attention,’ she claimed.

      ‘Not the way that you walk?’

      ‘For sure, I go from one place to another.’

      ‘The way you dance?’

      ‘In the Italian manner, as most ladies do.’

      ‘Oh, Elizabeth!’

      ‘You may not call me Elizabeth.’

      ‘Well, you may not lie to me.’

      ‘What rule is this?’

      ‘One for your benefit. Now, to return to the subject. You attract suitors in the way that you speak.’

      ‘I am bound to be polite to visiting diplomats.’

      ‘You are more than polite, you are …’

      ‘What?’ she said with a giggle of laughter in her voice.

      ‘Promising.’

      ‘Ah, I promise nothing!’ she said at once. ‘I never promise.’

      ‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘That is the very snare of you. You sound promising, but you promise nothing.’

      She laughed aloud in her happiness. ‘It’s true,’ she confessed. ‘But to be honest, sweet Robin, I have to play this game, it is not just my own pleasure.’

      ‘You would never marry a Frenchman for the safety of England?’

      ‘I would never turn one down,’ she said. ‘Any suitor of mine is an ally for England. It is more like playing chess than a courtship.’

      ‘And does no man make your heart beat a little faster?’ he asked, in a sudden swoop to intimacy.

      Elizabeth looked up at him, her gaze straight, her expression devoid of coquetry, absolutely honest. ‘Not a one,’ she said simply.

      For a moment he was utterly taken aback.

      She crowed with laughter. ‘Got you!’ She pointed at him. ‘You vain dog! And you thought you had caught me!’

      He caught the hand and carried it to his mouth. ‘I think I will never catch you,’ he said. ‘But I should be a happy man to spend my life in trying.’

      She tried to laugh, but at his drawing closer, the laugh was caught in her throat. ‘Ah, Robert …’

      ‘Elizabeth?’

      She would have pulled her hand away, but he held it close.

      ‘I will have to marry a prince,’ she said unsteadily. ‘It is a game to see where the dice best falls, but I know that I cannot rule alone and I must have a son to come after me.’

      ‘You have to marry a man who can serve your interests, and serve the interests of the country,’ he said steadily. ‘And you would be wise to choose a man that you would like to bed.’

      She gave a little gasp of shock. ‘You’re very free, Sir Robert.’

      His confidence was quite unshaken, he still held her hand in his warm grip. ‘I am very sure,’ he said softly. ‘You are a young woman as well as a queen. You have a heart as well as a crown. And you should choose a man for your desires as well as for your country. You’re not a woman for a cold bed, Elizabeth. You’re not a woman that can marry for policy alone. You want a man you can love and trust. I know this. I know you.’