The Scandalous Duchess. Anne O'Brien

an hour or two.’

      ‘Perhaps she will become less demanding when the Duke arrives. It will be good to see him.’

      I lay on my bed, the hangings drawn back to allow even a breath of air. I wished with all my heart that the Duke would come.

      ‘I present to you your daughter, my lord.’

      The Duke had arrived at Hertford.

      But I did not want this. I did not want to be in this formal audience chamber with the newest royal child in my arms, under the combined eyes of a nursemaid, a servant, a liveried page and William de Burgh, the chaplain, but the office had been given to me. Since Constanza remained secluded in her chambers until she was churched, it was decided that I should be the one to present Katalina, now two weeks old, to her father.

      I did not want to do this at all.

      I had once shivered at that brutal word hypocrisy. Here it stared me in the face, that I, the mistress, should present the child of the legitimate wife to her lover.

      My excuses were ignored, rolled over like a charge of cavalry, my suggestions for one of the Castilian damsels to have the honour swatted away. Mistress Elyot declared herself too busy. And at least, she added, with a jaundiced eye to the damsels, I could speak good French when I conversed with my lord, which was more than…