Excerpt from Dark Aemilia by Sally O'Reilly, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

'How dare you speak like that to me?'

He waits, as if expecting me to say more, but I do not oblige him.

'Silent again?'

'I have nothing to say to you.'

'And yet, I can see you thinking.'

'Oh, surely! My thoughts are there for all to look upon, because my head is made of glass.'

'I believe that you say very little, compared to what is in your mind.'

'You have no idea how much I talk, or what I say. You don't know who I am, or what I know. But, as your play showed us, if she is to prosper, a woman sometimes needs to act the mouse. Wasn't that your message? Better a pliant mouse than a wicked shrew?'

'Are you such a one? A secret, wicked shrew?'

I breathe deeply, wondering that my heart is beating so loudly, my face burns and yet I shiver with rage. And then the words pour out.

'I wish that you had killed poor Katherine! I'd rather you had abused her in the Roman style, and made her eat her own children baked inside a pie! Why give her fine and dazzling speeches, only to gag her and make her drab?'

He boggles at me in disbelief. 'I … what do you say?'

'There's not a scene in your bloody Titus that made my heart weep as did this dreadful tale! Shame on you, for humbling that brave soul!'

'What?'

'Shame on you. Your play is cruel, and beast-like, sir.'

He smiles slowly. Then he turns and strides away. When he reaches the door, he calls out over his shoulder, 'You are the most beautiful woman at Court. But I expect you know that. There's no one else comes near you.'

My head reels, my guts are water, but I gather myself, right the stool and say, 'That poisonous play is what passes for poetry, is it? If you are in the company of Men and strut in hose?'

He stops, one hand on the door handle and turns to look at me.

I know I have said too much already, but it seems I can only carry on. 'Some lame tale of witless, vile humiliation? A woman-hater's boorish jape? I could do better myself, I swear.'

He forces a sort of laugh. It is a strange noise, almost like a sob. Then he comes back and stands in front of me. He is slightly too close. His eyes are angry, but for a moment he says nothing. Then he says, 'I wish you joy of Hunsdon and your perfumed palace bed.'

'Thank you, sir. In that, I shall oblige you.'

He hesitates once more, then says, 'You're his mouse, but I would that I could make you my shrew.'

Before I can find the words to answer, he has gone.

Excerpted from Dark Aemilia by Sally O'Reilly. Copyright © 2014 by Sally O'Reilly. Excerpted by permission of Picador. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.