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Not the best chaperones...; Mags, Francois, Mary :D oh my!
Topic Started: Dec 18 2011, 08:06 PM (190 Views)
William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
Late December 1512

The closer they came to Christmas, the more William Spencer felt like a truly blessed man. He felt that he had done all his duties to the very best of his ability and dealt with each trial sent my his maker in an admirable, Christian way. For a man who was hard on himself, this was a period of rejoicing indeed. With the French at court, he found himself able to enjoy the best of both worlds, of all worlds.

A man who had been raised at court and in the households of powerful men, William was at contented ease with his good fortune. He carried himself well and sought to avoid as much of the backstabbing nature of ruthless endeavors from lesser men. Wilmington was a man who did not crave more, who was not blinded by ambition, but rather illuminated by calculation. He knew what was his and was happy to bide his time, as his father had always said, for the moment when his actions and words would count. Until then, William's 'purpose' of this season was to facilitate the transactions with the French and to see to their pleasure in the name of King Henry. It was a duty that brought him much satisfaction as well, because he had many relations and friends among the French. This peace was mutually beneficial, and William found it easy enough to broker with the betrayal of the Spanish hastening it along.

Tonight, he had arranged dinner and some musical entertainment in his apartments for his lovely wife and his dear cousins, the soon to be betrothed royals. It was a change of scenery. He was quite aware that both would have grown tired of large groups of onlookers hawking them in either the Princesses' receiving rooms or the Prince's. William thought this to be more intimate. Besides, he knew that Francois would not do anything unseemly.

He came up behind his wife as they were moving to another room and put his arms around her middle, lowering his lips to her neck momentarily.

"Do you think our cousins long for time to be alone as much as we did?" he asked in her ear, cheekily, in French. "Their Highnesses certainly seem to...like...each other well enough." He chuckled a bit against her skin. If the other two noticed, they would hardly think it odd that he would whisper sweet, or not so sweet, nothings into Lady Wilmington's ear. "I doubt I should suggest a primo game where we bet our clothing?" He ran his left hand up the angled front of her dress and then ran a finger over the top of her breasts, "Perhaps we shall later?"

His most intimate receiving room which was adjacent to his bedchambers were decorated lavishly mostly in the way that pleased his young wife. There was more than one area to sit. In front of the fire or by the window were the two most predominant, each with a selection of places to relax from chaises to armchairs. He allowed the royal couple to precede them and Francois had no problem sitting down in a chaise and patting the space next to him for the princess.

"Thomas will wait on us and play for us. He plays the lute and viol very well, as I have no talents for it, I have invested much in his tutelage." The seventeen year old was not only his most trusted and dedicated servant but also his cousin, the eldest of Sir John; a boy who had certainly protected his life while at war. There was nothing to fear in front of Thomas.

"Request a genre of song from him if it pleases you, mon princesse, while he fills us some Rousillon."

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Margaret Spencer
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This was the first time that they had entertained guests since she had redecorated her husband's apartments so that it would reflect both of their styles rather than just his. Margaret was proud of the way she had merged their personal preferences together and Princess Mary had exclaimed over the beauty of it when she had first arrived. Her cousin was straightforward in her opinions and not given to pretense. If she had thought their rooms gaudy or otherwise off-putting, she would have said so.

Not that she really needed anyone's opinion but her Guy's, and he seemed quite pleased with the changes. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with everything she did. They'd not had one disagreement in their nearly two months of marriage, which according to her married friends, was quite unusual. Then again, their very marriage was unusual, as they had married for love rather than for political advantage ... even though their union was politically advantageous in many ways. It seemed to Margaret as if God had made the two of them expressly for the other, for it seemed to her that they were perfect for each other in every way.

Her gaze turned to the their two guests. Mary had been complaining for weeks that she was tired of always being gawked at when she was with Francois, that she wished they could speak together without a crowd of courtiers straining to hear every word that passed through their lips. Perhaps the French prince had mentioned the same thing to Guy, or … knowing her husband … he had simply surmised that they might want some time alone … or at least as alone as they were able to be. Here they were still chaperoned, but away from prying eyes and only in the company of family.

And the two royals did look happy to be away from their perpetual onlookers. Although they kept a proper distance between them, their bodies seemed to naturally lean toward each other, as if they wished they could be much closer. Mary practically glowed and could not help stealing glances at the extremely tall Frenchman. Francois was more subtle, but he was older and more experienced and better able to keep his feelings in check. Sometimes Margaret wondered if he was only pretending to fancy the princess for the sake of the alliance he wanted with England. Would he marry her, take her to France and then ignore her when he wasn't trying to get a child on her? Yet he had grown up with Guy and there was a lot of similarities in personality between the two, so perhaps he did not have it in him to be so callous. Mary deserved the kind of happiness that she herself had found, and that is what Margaret wished for her friend. Perhaps they would never fall in love, but happiness came in many forms.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Guy came up silently behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned against him and sighed in pleasure as he kissed her sensitive neck, lifting her head to give him better access. “I know the princess does. She has told me often enough,” she whispered back a bit breathlessly as his hand moved up her bodice and he softly stroked the swell of her breasts peeking enticingly from the top of it. He could most likely feel her trembling slightly. His touch always sent little thrills of delight racing down her spine and she could not help thinking of the night to come, once their royal guests were gone.

“I don't know if a game of primo is a good idea, even in private,” she teased as she captured his hand and brought it to her lips, a fleeting kiss brushing over his knuckles. “Considering how awful we both are at cards, we would probably wind up keeping all of our clothing on. And what fun would that be?”

As they entered their more intimate receiving room, she watched with a soft smile as Francois sat down on a chaise and patted the place beside him. The princess practically bounced next to him and Margaret laughed softly as she sat down next to Guy, waiting for Thomas to pour the wine. She had become accustomed to the her husband's cousin, who helped him with many things and was generally quiet and obedient. She also knew how musically talented he was, as he had played for the two of them many times. One of her ladies could sing beautifully, and sometimes sang while he played. Yet he would have to sing alone tonight, for her ladies had been dismissed for the evening. She did not need their help in the evenings to undress her anymore, as Guy preferred to do that job himself.

“They look so cute together, do they not?” she whispered as she took the chalice of wine Thomas offered her. “He is so tall that she looks like a doll next to him.” Sometimes Margaret felt like a little doll next to Guy, and he wasn't nearly as tall as Francois. “And it does look as if they wish to be alone. Look at the way they unknowingly lean toward each other. I wonder … did we do that too?”
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Francois de Valois
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Francois, duc de Valois and heir presumptive to the throne of France, was accustomed to getting his way about much of everything in the social realm. He was not used to not being able to do as he pleased with whom he pleased. Nobody could criticize that he performed all of his required duties as a prince. It was frustrating for him that he could not be away from public eyes with the princess, His Majesty's sister, his own future wife.

He had grown up with his previous wife, having been betrothed to her nearly from birth. They had kissed since they were children. He was not much used to such distance being required of him. Even with proper ladies, his rank dictated he be allowed to get close, if not completely to the purpose. Despite what others might think, Francois did know when to stop with a certain caliber of lady; he was a God-fearing man, being heir to the 'Most Christian' Kingdom.

That said, he was immeasurably pleased when Guillaume suggested that he would host the royal couple for dinner, as they were all, assuredly, family. There was no harm in such a thing. Although he was certain Guillaume would not be a priestly chaperone. He also knew from their mutual upbringing that Guillaume would have servants who would not speak of anything.

His intentions were far from base, but he wished to converse with the young lady in freedom, without concern over who might be listening or reading lips and watching them critically. By now, it was quite evident that the alliance would go forward. There were mere details to be worked out, and he would leave here a betrothed man. She would be his, and he saw no harm in wishing some privacy.

Of course, the dinner had been exquisite. Guy did not spare any expense, and Francois would not forget. He did not doubt his cousin's loyalty despite all of this; Francois needed a friend to France in England, and he was not ignorant enough to think there would not be sacrifices in that. He complimented the man and his beautiful, royal wife, as the grand-daughter of a king was always still a princess in France, and truly meant the compliment for once. Francois was unapologetically vain with the highest of tastes and expectations.

He took little notice of the couple behind them as they entered the other room before them. Gracefully, he seated himself on the chaise, and looked only slightly up at the princess.

"Now, I find I like this very much," he said, smiling, speaking in French. His lips quirked more. "Indeed, mon princesse, what should you like to hear played. The boy is, definitively, a talented musician. I sent the instrument, myself, to Guillaume at his request." He enjoyed being known as a great patron of arts. He enjoyed such beauty surrounding him. Beauty of all varieties.

Accepting the chalice of wine without a look, as if it had not even occurred, Francois again said, "You are an extravagant host which suits my extravagant tastes, as you well know. I should wish we could do this more often..."

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Mary Tudor
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It was a bit odd to be in the same room with Francois without a crowd watching their every move. For months now the two of them had had to endure a constant audience whenever they were together. It was difficult to carry on an intelligent conversation when you had to consider carefully every word you said so that there was no chance that it could be misinterpreted in a way that would have the rumormongers tittering for weeks. And the background noise was certainly not conducive to a pleasant interlude. No matter how hard they tried, the musicians who always played for them could not drown out the sounds of clearing throats, coughing, whispered discussions, the shuffling of feet, and … worst of all … farting. Mary fervently wished that certain courtiers would pay attention to what they ate before coming to gawk at the royal couple.

She understood why the entire court was interested in their relationship. This wasn't just a union between two people but between two countries. There were as many courtiers against such an alliance as there were for it, and all of them were intrigued to see how the relationship between she and Francois progressed. She was their cherished princess, whom they had watched grow up from a tiny red-headed newborn in her mother's arms, to a stubborn, temperamental, arrogant child, and finally to the well-behaved and sophisticated young lady that she was today. They cared about her and did not want her to go into a marriage that would not please her … even though she had no choice and she had been trained to give the people what they wanted. If she had found the French Duke to be ugly and repulsive, she would still have acted as if he were the most fascinating man in the world … for that was what was expected of her and Harry would accept no less from his beloved baby sister.

In truth, she found Francois far from repulsive. Mary was completely smitten by him … both by his appearance and his personality, the latter which reminded her quite a bit of her brother. Yet that was to be expected, for kings ... and future kings ... were supposed to be pompous and arrogant. She had never really analyzed her feelings for him, but she felt far more than infatuation yet considerably less than love. Compared to the affection she harbored for the tall prince, the “love” she had once felt for Charles Brandon seemed as no more than a childish crush. How silly and immature she had been back then.

What she found herself wishing for was a physical closeness that was not possible in a large group of people. They never touched except when dancing … which they did quite frequently … and they had certainly never kissed. Their flirtations, cloaked in clever but sometimes wicked double-entendre, left her longing for what she knew she could not have, yet she would settle for just a taste of what would transpire when they were finally husband and wife.

Even here, in the beautifully decorated apartments of Lord and Lady Wilmington, she doubted that those whims would be indulged. But at least she could converse with Francois in relative privacy compared to what they usually had to endure. And it was very pleasant to share a dinner with her cousin and her husband, for she was fond of them both and they definitely knew how to entertain. Mary had thought that she would barely be able to eat, but she had dug into the culinary delights that had been prepared for them as if she were a starving beggar who had not been fed for a week.

Now they had retired to another lovely room, and the young princess nearly bounced onto the chaise beside Francois. She did not sit too close, but it was closer than they were usually allowed. Margaret and Lord Wilmington would not be too strict as chaperones, she was certain. Only recently married themselves, they probably knew how the two royals felt. Mary rather doubted they would leave the two of them alone, but this was much better than being surrounded by strangers.

The princess tilted her head to the side, and she was close enough to Francois that an errant red curl swung lightly against his arm. Giving the servant a cursory glance as Francois praised his musical skills, she accepted a chalice of wine from him without any further acknowledgment. “I am certain that he is excellent if he pleases your discerning tastes,” she smiled up at the prince and then turned her attention to her host. ““Does he sing as well?” she asked. “I wish to hear a song that tells a story. The genre matters not as much as the tale that it conveys.” If they were going to be entertained, it might as well be with a good story. Mary loved stories of all kinds, whether spoken or sung.

“And yes, I agree.” Again her gaze moved up to meet her future husband's eyes, and her smile was both mischievous and sultry, “we should definitely do this more often.”
[align=center]Mary's Bio >^..^< Plottage [/align]
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William Spencer
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
William's lips were almost always curling up around his wife, and she always lit his face up with her covert ministrations like the ones across his knuckles.

"Or take it off at much the same rate," he teased back at her, a soft chuckle as they followed their royal guests into the other room. "And I believe I shall get you naked either way." His knowing look and haughty pleasure at that fact was rather evident on his expressive face.

She was his wife. Of course he would have her naked and have his way with her, and she would love it.

"Indeed, I am having rather comical imaginings that I cannot possibly own up to for a plethora of reasons, propriety first among them," he whispered, his lips pressed together to prevent any audible chuckles coming out and drawing attention to them. He would not want to offend anyone; Francois, he knew would laugh heartily about it, if it weren't for the company of a female persuasion. His wife, though, would know precisely what he was thinking.

As she pondered whether or not they had been like that, he nodded and then paused. His lips quirked again and a light of mischief went off in his eyes.

"Well, we were worse," he confessed, looking over her appreciatively as if to illustrate how bad they were. "Passionate kisses with your brother in the other room..." Came his whispered baritone in her ear. "And when we were betrothed, you drove me to need to relieve myself I was in such pain." He chuckled softly, turning his attention back to those they were talking about.

He nodded graciously as Francois said it was to his liking, squeezing his wife's hand as he sat with her.

"Indeed, he does sing as well, ma chère princesse."

How cute she was eying Francois! Such a budding woman! It was hard to remember that his wife was only two years older than her cousin and the William was five years more than that!

"Thank you, mon cousin," he said to Francois with another nod and a smile. "And we shall before you leave if you wish it...and God willing there shall soon be a reason for us to travel to France." He took his own chalice of wine and took a sip. "I should like an excuse to show Margaret some of my estates, to meet my mother, and to meet her distant Courtenay relatives. That is a much greater thing to look forward to than spending the pleasant summers at war everywhere."

As Thomas took up his instrument and started to sing softly, William turned his attention more back to his wife. "Do you think they will whisper to each other while he sings?" William let out a quiet chuckle and turned his light blue eyes on the potential pair.

;)
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Margaret Spencer
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A soft little thrill meandered down her spine when he said he would have her naked either way. There was no doubt about that. They had not spent a night apart since their marriage and Margaret wouldn't have it any other way. Their pleasurable pursuits in the bedchamber were a source of joy for both of them, and while she was enjoying the company of their royal guests, she looked forward to being alone with her husband once they had gone.

“I can't even imagine what you're thinking,” she teased, even though she had a pretty good idea where his mind was wandering. She loved his playfulness and his creativity as she knew he loved hers as well. Favoring him with a sultry wink over the rim of her chalice, she added: “But I can't wait to find out.”

His breath whispered softly in her ear, and she shivered in delight. Ahh yes. She remembered well their stolen kisses while Henry sat in the adjoining room, presumably to watch over them. Now that she thought about it, her brother had probably known exactly what was going on and had chosen to ignore it, as he had practically pushed them together to begin with. And he would have known that they had needed that time with each other, as that was the last time she had seen him before he had gone off to war.

His other comment quite surprised her. Margaret recalled that day in the garden at his estate when they had teased each other unmercifully and she had felt … for the first time … his manhood pressing against her. He had excused himself for a few moments and returned to the manor. She had thought he'd had some business to take care of, and she supposed he had, although it was not the type of business she had imagined. If he had wanted, he could have had her easily … she had practically begged him to take her that day … but he had wisely refused. She had found no relief from her own desire, as she had never considered the possibility of pleasuring herself until he had shown her on their wedding night.

Her eyes narrowed as she gazed up at him. “So that is what you did when you left me painting your portrait?” There was a hint of both laughter and allure in her rich alto voice. “You could have asked me to help you, you know. It would probably have been a bit more pleasurable.” She would have done anything for him then, just as she would do anything for him now.

Her attention turned back to their guests as the prince expressed his pleasure with the evening and the princess asked for a song that told a story. “Even then, we had more freedom than they did,” she said. “We did not have crowds watching our every move and analyzing everything we said. Of course, they have been in the public eye since they were born and are probably accustomed to such attention, but I can imagine that they get tired of it and wish they could be alone.”

Margaret was not advocating leaving them completely by themselves, but if Guy wished to do so, then she would trust his judgment. And he did mention the possibility when he spoke again to the French Duke. Hopefully, if they were left alone, Francois would exercise the same restraint that Guy had used with her and would not take advantage of her naïve young cousin.

“I believe I should enjoy visiting France very much,” she said, favoring their guests with a smile and squeezing Guy's hand in return. “My dear husband has told me so many stories about it that I am very curious as to what it is like there. So I do hope that there will soon be a reason for us to visit. And I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world.”

Once Thomas began to sing, she moved a bit closer to her Guy and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Oh they probably will, although Mary does like her stories, whether spoken or sung. She says that you tell the best ones … and it's true. You do.” Raising her head, she winked at him again, another little thrill shimmering down her spine. “But there are other things that you do much much better.”
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Isabel Leigh
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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[align=center]Mistress Leigh

Isabel is in 8 threads and can has more!
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