At the King's Pleasure (Secrets of the Tudor Court) by Kate Emerson

moment of startled silence, he laughed aloud. Then he slid his arm around her shoulders and eased close enough to kiss her.
    Their first coupling was a trifle awkward but George was not, as Anne had briefly feared, inexperienced. Neither was he a practiced seducer, and that pleased her. She had heard lurid tales about some of the king’s boon companions, especially Neville and Compton and that dark-haired devil, Brandon.
    In the end, George proved both lusty and kind, and Anne did not believe that was only because he’d drunk deeply of the nuptial posset. The physical side of marriage was even more satisfying than she’d remembered. Edward had chosen well for her, she decided as she drifted toward well-sated sleep. George Hastings was an excellent choice for a husband.

8
Westminster Palace, December 6, 1509
    W estminster Palace was situated between the river Thames and Westminster Abbey. It was a sprawling place surrounded by the shops and tenements built up on land leased from the monks. When the entire court moved there three days after their wedding, Anne and George were allocated a single small, cramped chamber. They might have lived in their own house in London instead, but as it was December and a cold journey, whether by boat or on horseback, Anne much preferred to remain in one place and George was inclined to humor her. He spent his days in attendance on the king while she enjoyed the convivial ambiance of the queen’s apartments.
    The outer rooms were open to everyone. Even when she was not on duty, Anne customarily joined the other ladies in the presence chamber. Some of them held appointments like her own. Others were the wives and daughters of members of King Henry’s household.
    On their first full day at Westminster, Anne sought out her friend Bess Boleyn. She found her hard at work on a complex design of bright blue forget-me-nots on a pair of black velvet sleeves that were to be Bess’s New Year’s gift to the queen.
    Bess’s stitches slowed, then stopped altogether when Anne joined her on a long, backless bench drawn up close to one of the charcoalbraziers that provided extra heat to the cavernous room. “Does married life suit you as well as you’d hoped?” Bess asked.
    “What a question!” Anne took out her own needlework, a shirt she was decorating with geometric designs. “I am well content to be Lady Hastings.”
    “And yet you have rarely been seen with your husband since your wedding day, not at Greenwich and not here.”
    “We each have our separate duties,” Anne protested.
    “But I had hoped for better for you,” Bess said with a sigh. “George is in love with you. Anyone can see that.”
    “And so I must therefore fall madly in love with him?” Astonished, Anne stared at her friend. “Love is scarcely a necessity in marriage. We have liking between us. That is more important.”
    “Is there at least attraction?”
    Anne felt her cheeks warm. “We are both well pleased with each other in bed. And well pleasured, too.”
    “He loves you,” Bess said again.
    Anne did not know how to reply. She had never considered her marriage in terms of the kind of love the poets wrote of. It was a business arrangement, arrived at for the benefit of both parties and their families. Her brother had overseen the marriage settlement she’d signed, looking after her interests and making certain that she would have her dower rights should she again be left a widow. She was fond of George. She would gladly bear his children. But love?
    “I am not sure I know what love is,” she murmured after a moment.
    “You will know what it is when you have children,” Bess predicted. “A mother cannot help but love her babies.”
    Anne chuckled. “I do not believe that is quite the same thing as love for a man.”
    “Perhaps not,” Bess agreed. “And motherhood has its own frustrations, especially when the children must be left behind with nurses and tutors in order for one to dance attendance