Heart of Gold by May McGoldrick

her. These were the same hungry men who—in their present condition, at least—equated women to meat. Lad!
    Shaking off the thought that was edging into her brain, Elizabeth turned her attention back to the confrontation that lay ahead. Dread flooded through her at what she thought might be her father’s reaction. But what other choice had she left? Elizabeth stared at the attendant nodding beside the open entrance of the tent. The English soldier lifted his head and looked at her blankly. Not finding her stance a threat, the man nodded back to sleep.
    Elizabeth took a deep breath and started for the opening. The die was cast; she must carry this through. Noiselessly, she slipped past the guard into the tent.
    Sir Thomas sat at his table, a lamp flickering at his elbow. A few papers were spread before him, but nearly everything else had been packed up and stacked near the door for his departure the next day. Standing in the deep shadows, Elizabeth studied her father for a moment. Whatever her mother had seen in him, those many years ago, nothing remained that Elizabeth could discern. Though he now lacked any semblance of gentleness or feeling, she knew he once must have been different.
    Sir Thomas was the younger son of a wealthy country squire. Hardly noble and in no position to inherit, he learned early that a man needed to use every resource at his disposal to get ahead in life.
    Apparently a man of great knowledge and charm at his younger years, Sir Thomas had used his father’s connections to enter King Henry VIII’s service. Knowledgeable in several languages, Sir Thomas had taken his first diplomatic mission in France, where he’d met and perhaps loved the young and beautiful Catherine Valmont.
    The noble lady’s lineage was long and impressive, and her parents’ horror at the thought of a penniless young Englishman in the family had forced their ultimatum: If she chose to marry him, she would forfeit all claim to her rank and wealth. Catherine had accepted the condition without a moment’s hesitation. After all, she loved him, and that was all that mattered.
    Then, to almost no one’s surprise, Sir Thomas had walked away from Catherine, but not before he had planted his seed.
    Catherine Valmont, cast out by her own family, was left alone, bereft and with child. Nine months later Elizabeth had been born.
    For Sir Thomas, love was a condition that could not be allowed in the way of his own upward mobility. Marriage was a contract that allowed the committed parties the ability to improve their social position. Without her family, Catherine had nothing to offer him. So Thomas caught hold of a daughter in the noble English family of Howard. And by that union he attained the Earldom of Ormonde, a title far above anything he’d ever dreamed possible.
    Marriage had been a joyless state, but it had produced the results Thomas had sought: wealth, position, and power.
    Despite the glamour, Elizabeth knew that her father had paid the price. He had never been loved by his young bride as he’d been loved by Catherine. And after his wife’s death in childbirth, the Howard family had made certain he knew he was an outsider. He didn’t belong.
    From what Elizabeth could gather, it was then that her father had set his course with the king. This grim man standing before her had shut out everything in life besides his mission as a diplomat and a servant to his king. It was all he had left. They were words that defined him, for he never seemed to exist beyond that. Diplomat and servant. Outside of the presence of King Henry, Sir Thomas Boleyn became a hollow, miserable, bad-tempered old man who seemed to take very little pleasure in life.
    Her father’s hands rested flat on the table, his attention focused on a moth fluttering about the base of the lamp. Elizabeth could read no expression on his pale face. His eyes were black and empty.
    Without warning, the man’s hand flashed in the lamplight, and his wide palm smashed