Mary could not bear to look at William now. If he smiled at her she turned her head, if he reached for her, she pulled away. She felt no jealousy when he would dance with other women. All the feelings she once had for him were gone, they had disappeared in a moment. She almost wished that he would begin a serious flirtation with another woman so he would ignore her completely.

How could he talk about obtaining his knighthood if she became Henry's mistress? Was that how he saw her now, she merely a means for him to advance at court? She had felt betrayed by her family when she realized that they meant to push her at the king, but now she felt betrayed by him, too. She thought she had a husband who loved her, she thought that she had found love and now she felt abandoned by the man who had pledged his love to her.

She was expected to appear in his company and present the picture of a modest and contented married couple. She appeared at court on his arm, the false smile of a courtier on her face. Uncle Norfolk informed her that for the sake of her relationship with the king, there must be no inclination that she and William had become distant from one another.

The king! Henry had not yet made a move toward her, but his interest was every day implied. He would send her a delicacy from his table, and if he was walking with his courtiers, he would pluck a flower and present it to her with a smile. He was not too obvious for he did not wish to arouse the jealousy of the queen, but it was plain to any who would see that the king was smitten with the lovely Mary Boleyn. Sooner or later she would be in the king's bed, whether it was as an acknowledged mistress or if he chose discretion and hid it from the queen.

Henry was not like his father, he found the work associated with being a monarch boring-he would rather seek out ways to amuse himself and leave the hard work to Wolsey who gladly took it off his hands. With the business of the kingdom in the care of the capable cardinal, Henry was free to pursue his favorite pastimes of hunting, tennis, dancing, and parties.

Henry had been watching the lovely Mary and noticed she looked wan and unhappy, so he decided that a hunt in the fresh spring air was the thing to cheer her. The obliging Wolsey organized the hunt, including the king's favorites as his companions for the day.

There would be a picnic after the hunt where they would possibly be joined by the queen. Catherine of Aragon was feeling poorly after losing yet another child, a much hoped-for boy. Her ladies were whispering that this was the last child she would bear and held no hope that she would remain in the king's affections for long. He had always favored her, and been devoted but since Bessie Blount had born him a son, things had changed.

The courtiers gathered in the courtyard on their mounts, the ladies like flowers in their colorful riding habits. The whippers-in had gathered the hounds that stood around impatiently waiting to be let loose. The company was waiting for Henry to join them, wondering why they had been summoned and if their monarch was going to join them. Why were they dallying in the courtyard when the day was so fair?

Had they been at the stables they would have found their answer. A groom was helping Mary onto her dapple-grey mare, a long-legged hunter that had been a gift from William when they first married. How far away she felt now from that naïve girl who had joyfully wedded her handsome husband. She patted her mare's neck and looked up to see the king riding to her side.

"That is a handsome mare you ride, Mistress Carey, how are her gaits?" He smiled at her, and she could not help but smile back.

"Her horse's gaits are so smooth that anyone could ride comfortably on her. The mare is also fast enough to be a racehorse, I've lost to Mary more than once and found myself losing the money I wagered. My wife is an excellent rider and never falls behind." William rode up behind the king, startling him.

"Then, Mistress Carey," said the king, "It would be my pleasure to have you ride beside me if William would permit."

She glared at William then turned to the king and said sweetly, "I would be delighted to ride with you, your majesty." She rode away with the king without a backward glance for her husband who kept close to the king and his wife.

What was William thinking? It was almost like he was presenting her to Henry. Mary was tired of all of them, William, her family, the simpering courtiers whose only thought was to please the king. She wished she had become pregnant, she would gladly retire to Hever and be rid of all of them.

Now that Henry had joined them, the party was ready to ride out. The hounds master led the way, and the eager dogs put their noses to the ground, restless to find the scent of any game they could. The riders followed, the king leading the way with Mary at his side, keeping pace with him on her grey hunter. William followed them at a discreet distance, never far from his wife but giving some space to her and the king.

The party's horses broke into a canter as the hounds quickened their pace. Soon the hounds began braying as their keen noses picked up the scent of a deer. The scent grew stronger and they began to run and the party behind them urged their horses into a gallop.

The king's stallion was fast, but Mary's horse was just as fast, and she kept up easily. The Boleyn siblings were excellent horsemen and she enjoyed the heady sense of freedom she felt that came naturally to her every time she rode. She smiled at the king as they rode neck and neck, feeling truly happy for the first time in days.

The party halted when a stag was spotted and grew quiet as the king was handed his bow and a quiver of arrows. The hunting party held their breath as Henry drew an arrow from the quiver, then nocked it to the bow. He pulled it back then there was an audible hiss as he released it—and waited.

The arrow found its mark just behind the shoulder of the buck, and the stag fell. Everyone applauded Henry's aim, knowing that someone would have fired another if he missed, but that didn't matter.

"Congratulations, your majesty," said Mary, "That was a masterful shot, and now you have fresh meat for your table."

"You flatter me, Mistress Carey. We will hold a feast as soon as it is skinned and dressed. No doubt your presence brought me luck!"

She laughed prettily and smiled at him. Henry was doing his best to put her at ease and she felt a debt of gratitude.

The hunting party rode back in good spirits, thankful that their monarch's efforts had been successful. Henry was known to sulk if things did not go his way and it was his court's duty to keep their king happy and entertained. Things had gone so well it might even take the king's mind off the fact that the queen had lost another child.

When they came to the location chosen for the picnic, the queen was there to greet them along with some of her ladies, and Henry's musicians. Quilts were spread on the ground, along with cushions for the guests to sit upon. Soon the guests were devouring the treats that had been prepared and wine and ale were flowing freely.

Henry sat near her his wife, but Mary and William had been seated nearby so that he could look at her without arousing the queen's displeasure. He wondered what it would be like to strip Mary of her riding habit, how her skin would look in the candlelight, with her light brown hair flowing loose over her shoulders. He did not take many mistresses, and when he did it was with women he thought he perhaps could become fond of. It would not be hard with the lovely Mary, he told himself, she was beauty and sweetness combined.

I must have this woman, he thought, Carey is clearly not treating her as she deserves and that is a thing I would like to put to right.

Mary saw Anne coming towards her. She had not participated in the hunt but had stayed behind with the queen. She was not in the mood to be interrogated by Anne on behalf of the family. Sooner or later she would have to tell Uncle Norfolk and Father what happened during the hunt, but she was in no mood now to answer questions from anyone.

She stood up and excused herself and tried to hurry away before Anne could catch up to her. It took all of her self-control not to run but instead walk away in the dignified manner which she had been taught.

She found a tree and hid behind it, taking in the fragrance of new spring leaves. She covered her eyes with her hands and began to weep softly. All the stress and anxiety she was feeling washed over her and she felt helpless, like a pawn in someone's game, but whose?

"My lady, what is wrong?" she looked up and saw the king staring at her, "I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you, but you looked as if you were going to cry so I followed you. And here you are, weeping, did you not enjoy the hunt?"

"I did enjoy it, your majesty," she answered and searched for her handkerchief but Henry had already handed her his. "I was so hoping it would take my mind off my worries and my..."

"And your husband?" he answered gently, "I heard, madame, what he did to you, and I am sorry that so trusted a friend would treat you that way. You did not deserve it, you are a kind and lovely lady and you deserve better."

"So, there are no secrets at court then? How ever did you find out, sire?"

"Servants, madame, you should know they like to gossip. Either your maid said something out of sympathy, or a servant passing in the hall heard what was going on in your bedchamber and told someone. Either way, I have taken steps to suppress the rumor and forbidden anyone to discuss the subject."

Hearing this, Mary started crying again and Henry took her in his arms saying, "There, there, we will make it right. I will tell William he is not to abuse you on pain of earning my displeasure. Will you not smile for me, Mary Carey?"

She pulled away and looked at him, gently touching his face with her fingers. "How are we to avoid gossip if you make me your mistress, sire? I have already heard there is talk. How do we avoid the queen knowing? I am one of her ladies, how could I face her if she knew?"

"We will proceed with discretion, I promise. Mary, I would not have you be unhappy. I know your family is a nest of vipers, but there are some very able politicians amongst them, and I need them. I will look out for you, I promise."

"Thank you," she said softly, and Henry lifted her chin and found her lips with his. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and where before she had felt threatened, she now felt safe.

She pulled away gently, "I must be going, sire, I do not stir gossip. Let me leave now and maybe no one will guess what happened." He let her go and watched her walk away.

"What did the king say to you?" Anne hissed and Mary replied, "Leave me alone."

"You'll have to talk about it eventually," Anne called after her, but Mary ignored her and made her way back to the picnic.