The Traitor's Daughter

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

A week after the incident with the king, Elizabeth laid in bed with a terrible migraine, or rather, pretended to have one. She had managed to convince both Mary and Jane for the entire week that the migraine was bothering her and that she couldn't get out of bed. The king had even sent his personal physician to make sure that Elizabeth was okay.

In truth, she couldn't – or didn't want to – face anyone from court, especially the king and queen. She knew that the news of her supper with the king had likely spread around court, and she didn't want to have to see the queen's disappointed expression whenever she looked at her. And then there was the king. Elizabeth didn't want to see the lust that filled his eyes whenever he looked at her. She didn't want to have to kiss him again.

She sighed and burrowed her head deeper under the covers on her bed, then brought her fingers up to her temples and rubbed them gently. She didn't have a migraine, but all the thoughts in her head were driving her crazy, but she could do nothing to stop them. What bothered her even more was the fact that she had taken a week away from court to try and get her thoughts together, and yet, she was more confused than she had been before.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts for a second. Her maid, Jane, was out attending to something that Mary needed help with, so Elizabeth was left to do things herself.

“Come in,” She called out with annoyance, knowing that it would likely be Jane Westfeld or another one of the queen's ladies who were constantly came to check on her.

The door creaked open and heavy footsteps entered the room, then stopped.

“Lady Elizabeth?” A deep voice called out. It was the Duke of Reddon.

Elizabeth immediately froze, trying to think of what to do next. She popped out of the covers, thankful that the bed curtains surrounding her bed kept her hidden.

“One moment!” She called out.

The duke looked at the bed where he had heard the voice come from, then immediately began to head towards the door.

“I can come back later!” He called out, suddenly feeling sorry for interrupting the lady while she was indecent.

“No, no. Give me just a second,” Elizabeth said back, feeling embarrassed.

Henry saw a hand reach out and pull a lacy robe off of one of the bedposts, and heard her moving about as she put the article of clothing on. He looked down at his boots and cleared his throat, now feeling even more uncomfortable.

Elizabeth tied her robe tightly over her nightgown, then immediately got out of the bed on the side that faced away from the door. She put on her bed slippers, then ran a hand over her hair, immediately wishing she had bathed. It was too late now.

She rounded the corner, where she found Henry still looking down at his boots. He noticed the cream color of her nightgown, and immediately looked up at her disheveled appearance and smiled.

She curtsied, grateful that the curtsy hid the blush that had formed on her face.

“You're sure you don't want me to come back?”

Elizabeth fought the urge to say 'yes', and instead shook her head. She motioned to the chairs by the fireplace, and Henry immediately walked to them and sat down.

“Ale?” She asked.

He shook his head, so she sat down across from him. She tucked her hands into the long sleeves of her robe, and fought the urge to play with the lone thread that had come loose on the lace that edged the sleeves.