By His Majesty's Grace (31 page)
“You are concerned for him.” He gazed down at her, studying her features with care.
“Concerned, yes, but that is all. Is that what you wished to hear? I believe he requires to be told I don’t hold him accountable in the death of my stepbrother, will never blame him for it.”
“I’ll see to it.”
She looked deep into his eyes, her own steady as she braved the silvery darkness there. He not only understood her misgivings and unspoken apologies, she thought, but also her remorse that David must have Graydon’s death upon his conscience, her regret that her stepbrother had not been a better man, that matters could not have been resolved with less hatred and greed for power. “I knew you would,” she said quietly.
“You know a good deal too much about me, I think, including the fact that I loved you before I took you to wife.”
“Did you?” she asked, the words not quite steady.
“Oh, aye. I wanted only you from the moment I saw you in Westminster’s great hall, dancing with firelight in your hair and such passionate joy in your eyes that I longed to share it.”
“So you never feared the curse of the Graces, as you had fulfilled its requirement? Or is it that you never believed there to be one?”
“I had no fear.”
He would not mock her fabrication, for that might be to remove whatever protection remained in it for Cate and Marguerite. This further evidence of his care for the concerns of her heart brought the rise of tears behind her eyes. “My sisters…” she began.
“Will be sent for at once, to come to Braesford. Henry will not forbid it, I think, not while his gratitude lasts. They will be safe there. Well, as safe as they want to be.”
She allowed her gaze to move over the strong angles and planes of his face while a smile trembled across her lips. “Thank you, Rand. You are kindness itself.”
His gaze on the liquid that rimmed her eyes, he allowed a scowl to narrow his eyes, shielding their softness. “And is that all you have to say to a declaration from your husband for how he broke this curse of yours? Have you no interest in my affection, my lady, nothing you would say to it in return?”
“If you want my love, you have it,” she said, her tone lilting as wild joy beat up inside her, engulfing her heart, her chest, her whole body.
He halted again, turned toward her. “Oh, I want it, Lady Isabel of Braesford, and would show you how much if you were not encumbered at the moment by a baby in swaddling. Yes, and with the likely addition soon of a wet nurse, a goat, an opinionated serving woman, two sisters still accursed and a knight in training who looks like an angel and worships the ground on which you tread. As do I, my lady. Aye, as do I.”
She reached to catch the strip of ragged white silk tied still to his arm, wrapping its length slowly around her hand to draw him to her while gladness blazed in her eyes. “Show me, anyway, my brave and most favored lord of a husband,” she murmured against his lips, “for I would see exactly how broken is this curse.”
Thoroughly, merrily, it was shattered then, for the eldest Grace of Graydon.
Merrily, and forever.
Author’s Note
For those who may be curious about where history ends and fiction begins, the incident of the murdered newborn depicted in
By His Majesty’s Grace
was never connected with Henry VII. This story from the sixteenth century, recorded as the “Littlecote Scandal,” was taken from
Albion, A Guide to Legendary Britain
by Jennifer Westwood. Nevertheless, it is a fact that Henry VII brought a mistress with him from France when he arrived in England for the invasion of 1485. What became of the woman afterward is lost in time. Nothing more is heard of her after Henry’s marriage to Elizabeth of York on January 18, 1486.
The disappearance of the two young sons of Edward IV from the Tower of London is a mystery that has never been satisfactorily explained. In the past few decades, it has become popular to second-guess the histories compiled in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, which indict Richard III, uncle to the boys, in their deaths. Many modern writers absolve him of ordering the deed, despite the fact that the princes were last seen in public shortly after he declared them illegitimate in order to seize the throne, and that rumors of their deaths were extant at that time. The confession to the crime by Sir James Tyrell fifteen years later, during the reign of Henry VII, has been dismissed as a political move to prevent false claims to the throne in the boys’ names. My own conviction concerning this tragedy, developed after studying a multitude of both ancient and modern histories and numerous biographies of the principal players, is that Shakespeare got it right: Richard III was indeed the villain in the crime.
Arthur, the eldest son of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, was born as described, at Winchester Priory on September 19, 1486. A studious and conscientious youth, he was betrothed to Catherine of Aragon as a child and married her at age fifteen on November 14, 1501. He was in Ludlow Castle on the Welsh border with his bride five months later when he apparently contracted a fever and died on April 2, 1502, at age sixteen. Had he lived to take the throne, Britain and the world would be far different today. Instead, it was Henry, third son of Henry VII, who put his own spin on history after becoming the infamous Henry VIII.
Jennifer Blake
November 24, 2010
Acknowledgments
First, thanks beyond thanks to Bertrice Small, Roberta Gellis and the other authors and romance readers who greeted the beginning pages of this story with such enthusiasm when they were read for a workshop at the Romantic Times Convention in 2008. Without that grand reception, I might never have embarked upon this medieval tale.
My sincere appreciation to my editor, Susan Swinwood, for her attention to detail, unfailing support and lovely tact. To all the great people at MIRA Books, many thanks for wonderful covers and book expertise in the past, and especially for the inspired suggestion that I make the transition from my usual Victorian-era United States to medieval England.
Many thanks, as well, to my agent, Richard Curtis, for his faith in my ability, his support for this project and his constant effort to make my career the best it can be.
A thousand expressions of appreciation to all those online entities that were sources for special research books and historical details, including free Google eBooks, Project Gutenberg, Amazon.com, the Sony eBook Store, Melissa Snell at About.com: Medieval History, http://tudorhistory.org, Wikipedia, http://englishhistory.net/tudor.html and many others.
Finally, a special thank-you to my daughters Delinda Corbin and Katharine Faucheux, for acting as my first readers and making super suggestions that provided story enrichment, to my husband, Jerry, for unflagging interest and patience, and to all the rest of my grand family for simply being there.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0886-5
BY HIS MAJESTY’S GRACE
Copyright © 2011 by Patricia Maxwell
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