A Rose for the Crown (49 page)

Kate felt herself blushing and was furious for the weakness.

“I thank you, my lord,” Martin replied. “As you say, I am indeed fortunate, but I am wondering why she is here.” He gave Kate a quizzical smile. “I thought she was safe at home with my lady wife.”

Margaret stepped in, explaining Kate’s presence, and Martin seemed satisfied.

“Ah, well. There is no gainsaying Lady Margaret. Kate, I wish you an agreeable few days. Lord Hastings, might I speak with you about a matter concerning her grace, the queen. ’Tis of some importance.”

He manoeuvred Hastings away from Kate and Margaret. Hastings went affably enough, his wife clinging to his sleeve, but he cast one more admiring glance at Kate as he left.

“Dame Katherine, well met.” Richard’s voice was low and full of warmth.

Kate spun around and faced him. He smiled at her, and all her fears vanished. He was the same Richard who had held her, confided in her and cherished her during those few days at Tendring. Margaret looked about her, flustered, for the attraction between the two young people was so plain to her that others might be suspicious. Richard bent over Kate’s hand and surreptitiously twisted his ring on her finger in a silent signal. Kate swept a low curtsy.

“My lord,” she murmured.

Their charade was abruptly interrupted.

“And who is this, Dickon? Will you not present me to the lady?” Edward towered over his young brother, and Richard grinned up at him. It was the affectionate, grateful grin of a brother.

“Aye, Ned,” Richard replied innocently. “I made her acquaintance at the Howards at Stoke at few months ago. May I present Dame Katherine Haute?”

“Your grace.” Kate swept another low curtsy and stayed down as long as her trembling knees would allow.

Margaret, too, was close to the floor when she whispered, “Have a care, Kate. Remember what I told you.”

When she stood again, Kate found her eyes reached only the golden lion of March swinging from Edward’s glittering collar. She raised them to his face and observed the small, almost cherubic mouth below a straight nose, wide blue eyes and high brow. He was handsome, she admitted, but she preferred Richard’s stronger chin, deeper eyes and lighter build. As was customary, she waited for the king to speak.

“Haute did you say? Are you of the Kent family, madam? I do not believe we have seen you at court before.” Edward took her hand between his two massive ones and smiled down at her. “Tell me your connection.”

Kate felt Edward’s thumb stroking her palm in a most suggestive manner, and she glanced at Richard for help. He was unaware of his brother’s action, but he caught the look of pleading in Kate’s eyes.

“She is married to George Haute, knight apprentice at Framlingham, Ned. Her guardian is Richard Haute of Ightham, kinsman to Elizabeth.”

“Ah, Richard Haute. He is a good man and here somewhere, I am certain. Where is your husband, madam? I should be glad to know what manner of man snagged such a prize.” Edward smiled and promptly let Kate’s hand drop.

Kate regained her composure. “By your leave, sir, my husband is not here.” She bowed her head in Margaret’s direction. “I am come as companion to Lady Howard. But if my cousin of Ightham is here, I shall be glad to see him again,” she exclaimed happily. “It has been close on a year since we parted and I was married.”

Edward had completely ignored the older and nobler lady and now turned to remedy his lapse in etiquette. “Forgive me, madam. ’Tis a pleasure to see you in London once more. You are too much the stranger, and Jack seems loath to leave his home now that you are there. We have trouble keeping him by our side, and I fear you are to blame.”

Kate was relieved that Edward’s attention was now on Margaret, and she instinctively moved a step closer to Richard and out of Edward’s peripheral vision. Richard’s fingers found hers in the folds of her skirt, and she squeezed them lightly.

Edward’s eye was caught by the entry of a new group headed by a tiny
figure in a magnificent purple gown, cut low to reveal her generous bosom, sparkling with so many jewels that she eclipsed the bright summer-night sky outside.

“Ah, Elizabeth,” he said, and Kate saw his mouth curl in a knowing, sensuous smile. He bowed to Margaret and then to Kate. “Take care of these ladies, Dickon. Forgive me, I must greet my beloved wife and our young bride.”

Like a retreating wave, the guests melted out of his path as he strode forward to take the queen’s outstretched hand. Kate was riveted by Elizabeth’s beauty, so pale and ethereal and yet earthy: her alabaster skin flawless, her large eyes set in a perfectly heart-shaped face, her mouth full and lightly tinged with red.

“My dear sister-in-law, Kate,” Richard murmured. “The most beautiful bitch in the land.”

“My lord!” Kate reacted to the venom in his voice. Margaret had moved on to find Jack, and within the crowd of a hundred or so present, they were alone. “Why bitch?”

“I shall tell you why, Kate. She bewitched Edward into marrying her and then used her influence with him to elevate every one of her scheming, lowborn family. Poor Harry—my cousin Harry Stafford of Buckingham—was landed with one of her awful sisters. Edward refused her nothing. All because he wanted her so badly she made him marry her first.”

“I think it is quite romantic, my lord, but perhaps not politic for a king.”

Kate wondered if Richard was thinking of their own situation, but they had made a pact, and she knew Richard would not let his heart rule his head.

“Is that other lady your sister Margaret?” She stood on tiptoe to get a better view of the next duchess of Burgundy. “She has beautiful eyes, like yours!” she said, and Richard grinned.

“Aye, that’s Meg. She has not the striking beauty of our sister-in-law, but she has wit and humor that lights a room. ’Tis rumored she and Anthony—” He stopped and glanced around. A few curious looks were being cast in their direction. Kate, who had no intention of being the subject of one of the rumors that were rife at court, stepped away from Richard’s side, saying under her breath that she would see him later.

“Aye, my love. Until then.” He offered his arm and escorted her back to the Howards, who were conversing with a handsome man with a gentle smile. “Anthony, Lord Scales. Elizabeth’s brother,” Richard growled under his breath, and Kate was surprised again by his vehemence. The object of his disdain did not appear mean-spirited and she wondered if this was the Anthony Richard had linked to his sister. But before she could question him, Richard bowed to the group and made his way to Edward’s side just as a fanfare announced that supper was served.

Kate stood aside to watch the royal family process through the room. Edward escorted his sister, the guest of honor, who at twenty-two had a strong will of her own and was ready to play a political role. Margaret’s aquiline nose, rounded chin and small, bowed mouth were the feminine equivalent of Edward’s. Fair-haired, tall, graceful and dressed in cloth of gold, her beauty was the sun to Elizabeth’s moon. George of Clarence, a step behind Edward, was the queen’s escort. Kate remembered Clarence from the coronation feast. A man now, he was handsome in a more flamboyant way than Edward. Richard escorted another of his sisters, the duchess of Suffolk, and they talked animatedly together as they made their way through the throng, an unmistakable bond between them.

The dinner was to be held in the chapter house, a high-vaulted room adjoining the main monastery with central pillars spreading their supporting fingers across the ceiling. The usually bare walls had been hung with tapestries brought from the palace at Greenwich for the occasion, and the floor was spread with white rose petals—white for the House of York and its daughter being given in marriage to Burgundy. Their perfume mingled with the tempting odors of the foods spread on long tables, with more being brought in at a run by pages and lackeys.

Kate was beginning to feel the effects of a sleepless night and two-day ride, but her stomach was also crying out for nourishment. She sat down with Margaret Howard in eager anticipation. She looked curiously at the dais on which sat Edward, Elizabeth and Margaret of York. This was the royal family of her dreams. How could one not pledge allegiance to such magnificence and beauty? Clarence headed a table to their right, and Richard was seated at another table to Edward’s left. She noticed that the hawk-nosed man was placed next to Clarence and the two talked earnestly together. Edward also had his eye on them, and Kate was not
surprised to learn that the other man was the high and mighty Richard Neville, earl of Warwick. Richard’s guardian, Kate thought, and looked at him with keen interest.

Jack had the honor of serving the king that night, and he appeared to enjoy the king’s good graces, for they exchanged many pleasantries and loud laughter. She searched the room for Richard Haute but gave up when fatigue made all the faces swim together. As a piece of meat was set down on her trencher, Kate felt the fluttering in her belly again. She drew in a sharp breath, and Margaret looked at her anxiously.

Kate smiled reassurance and shook her head. “’Tis the baby, Margaret,” she whispered. “I felt it move.”

On their journey, Kate had decided to tell Margaret her news. Though Margaret was concerned that Kate had become pregnant within such a tiny window of opportunity, she was amused by Kate’s scheme to pass the child off as George’s and agreed it was the best policy under the circumstances. “I have no doubt the duke will provide for the child, Kate. He seems a moral young man, unlike his big brother,” Margaret pronounced.

Just before the last course, wafers and hippocras wine, Kate slipped from the table, murmuring the excuse of exhaustion to her neighbors. She passed unnoticed through the archway and back to the refectory. There the musicians were tuning their instruments and practicing for the dancing that was to follow. She hoped she would not be asleep when Richard joined her; the anticipation of their reunion had consumed her these past few days. The staircase and corridor were lit with torches, and she found her room without delay, passing a guard who was pissing in a corner.

Agnes and Rose were nowhere to be seen, presumably enjoying a feast of their own with the other gentlewomen and retainers. Using a taper kindled from a torch in the hallway, she lit the candles on the priedieu, which gave the stark room a pleasant glow. She did not like the way the light underneath the crucifix caused the Christ figure to grow to an enormous shadow on the wall above, but she turned her back on it and prepared herself for bed as best she could on her own. She was struggling with her heavy gown when she felt a pair of hands unhook her belt and draw the material over her head.

“Who is that?” Her voice was muffled by yards of silk. She was not afraid; she was sure it was Agnes or Rose who had chanced by the room. She need not have asked. The hands had gently found their way to her belly and were tenderly spread across it as if to protect its precious cargo.

“Richard!” she cried as the last of the cumbersome gown came over her head and fell to the floor. “Oh, Richard, I am so glad you came! I am so happy I have come! Oh, I am so happy!”

She pitched forward into his arms, and he held her close, kissing her mouth, her cheeks and her eyes. He pulled the pin holding her hair in its neat knot and let it loose. She stood there in her underdress, the candlelight flickering on her face, while he held her arm’s length and drank her in.

“Richard, say something! Are you pleased to see me? Are you angry about the child? Oh, Richard, I felt it move tonight at supper. Here, maybe it will move again now its father is nigh.” She prattled on, taking his hand and putting it once more on her tight belly. “Please, love, say something.”

But Richard remained speechless. He had never been so happy in his life. This beautiful creature appeared to love him and was proudly carrying his child. He just gazed at her—at all of her. A slow smile spread over his usually serious face, and then he flung his arms in the air and whooped like a schoolboy let off his studies.

“Happy? You ask if I am happy? How could I not be, you silly goose?”

He drew her to him and down onto the bed. He began to kiss her again, but Kate was not satisfied with his response.

“So, you are not angry? And you do not mind that I am pretending it is George’s? I thought it was for the best, but I did not know. Oh, Richard, you should have answered my letter. It has been
months,”
she admonished him, sitting up abruptly.

Richard reluctantly sat up with her and hung his head. “Aye, I know, Kate. ’Twas remiss of me not to acknowledge the babe. But I was fearful the letter would fall into the wrong hands. I knew that you wished to be discreet in this affair. And then Edward sent me to Wales, so I had no way of getting a private letter to Jack Howard. I am sorry,
ma belle.
But I hoped you would know all was well when you received the summons from Margaret to meet me. I thought the message would ring clear.
Certes, I am not angry. I am delighted. And I will provide for the child, I swear to you.”

Kate took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly, her tongue lightly playing about his lips. He responded with more passion, while his hands unhooked his jacket, unlaced his doublet and his hose. They lay entwined on the bed in their chemises, kissing and fondling until Richard’s need became too great. He gently mounted her, and they moved together in a loving union that rocked the bed and brought Kate tears of joy.