Read Royal Mistress for Free Online

her unhappiness to Bella, who had no complaints about their father.
    Aye, she had no regrets about leaving the Lambert hearth, she decided. She saw her marriage as an escape from her uncomfortablefamilial relationship and into the freedom of her own household. Growing up on the streets of England’s largest city, she was wiser than her counterparts living pampered but lonely lives behind the high, thick walls of their fathers’ castles. She had thwarted many a youth intent on claiming her maidenhead, and had done it with a swift kick and clever retort, followed by a sympathetic smile. She had witnessed cutpurses run off with their prizes and drunkards brawl outside a tavern; pelted unfortunates at the pillory who had cheated on their customers; twice escaped the humiliation of the cucking chair for her ready tongue; had felt compassion for the grotesquely formed beggars vying for every prominent street corner; and she had seen her fair share of death, both young and old. Aye, Jane was no innocent, and she now idly wondered why she had guarded her virginity so vehemently. Sophie was married these past seven years, and Jane had eked out as much confidential information as her friend was willing to divulge about marriage and the business of bedding. Jane had been envious of Sophie’s wifely status, but her friend had also confided that her duty between the sheets was nothing more than that: a duty, to be borne whenever her husband desired. The only good thing about it, she had told Jane, were the children that followed; in truth, it was Sophie’s motherhood that Jane envied the most.
    Listening to the bells for matins ring out, she watched as people more faithful than she hurried up the street to St. Mary-le-Bow on the corner. Up until four months ago, she was resigned to being a spinster of the parish, and at twenty-two, she was older than most brides, but now she was about to embark on a new life.
    Tom Grey’s face intruded on her thoughts again, and she felt the familiar tugging in her heart as she had every day since she had met him. “I did not say I could not love you, Jane.” She heard his words running through her mind for the thousandth time. Aye, Tom, but you dissembled.
    A few days after the disastrous tryst at St. Paul’s, she had receivedanother message, this time delivered by the apprentice Matthew, who gave it to her upon his return to Hosier Lane, where he shared a room under the eaves with two other of John’s apprentices.
    The Swan at Newgate, Monday at four o’clock , Tom had written, and Jane’s spirits had soared. He has come to his senses, she had congratulated herself on that chilly February day. She remembered slipping out of the house as the late-winter sun hung low in front of her on her way along Watling Street, having once again invented a visit to Sophie as the reason for her absence.
    The Swan was an imposing inn hard by the Newgate, and she shivered when she looked up at that part of the city wall and the gate that housed a gaol, imagining the poor creatures huddled for warmth behind the barred windows. The tavern door stood open, and a welcoming light from the fire in the wide hearth had cheered her as she walked boldly through into the large taproom, the smell of ale and roasting meat making her mouth water. She had immediately seen Tom sitting alone at a small table, and he rose to greet her, his face serious but his words kind.
    “Mistress Lambert, I am pleased to see you come. I was afraid you would not.” He led her to the table and called for a cup of ale for her. He pulled up another stool opposite and asked about her health. Jane had noticed he had not touched her, not even taken her hand to kiss or to help her onto the stool. Being impatient to hear what he had to say, she had dismissed the omission and leaned in, anticipating a declaration of love, or at least of affection.
    “I have not stopped thinking about you since our meeting,” he began, and Jane’s pulse had