A CRY WENT UP FROM THE GARDEN. The galleries filled with the sound of running slippers and pounding boots. I had never seen the elder members of the household move so quickly. Even the duchess exerted herself enough for pink to rise beneath the white lead on her cheeks. We fell into line outside the great door of the house, a welcoming committee of flouncing skirts and adjusting doublets. The duke’s men waited at the landing. I could see William’s head amongst them. The duke had insinuated himself and supplanted the dowager duchess as head of Norfolk House. He’d marched through the rooms and galleries, sniffing out the ugly and inconstant with his powerful nose. He tolerated no idling. And no flirting. I hadn’t seen William for three days. “There it is!” Alice whispered. We all craned our necks to look. The royal barge appeared, painted in scarlet and gold, with detailed filigree and intricate designs. The canopy of cloth of gold was embroidered with the initials of the king.
