Rose Bride (41 page)

‘I spoke with Lord Munro before I left court, my love. He told me some rather interesting things about my wife, the
wanton
.’

‘Oh.’

He smiled at the catch in her breath.

‘I wanted to tell you the truth, Virgil, but—’

‘Hush,’ he interrupted, wrapping an arm about her comfortably broad girth. ‘It was entirely my fault. I sensed there was something you had not told me, but was so afraid it would be some confession of your love for Munro, I dared not let you voice it.’

‘You? Afraid?’

She had sounded incredulous.

‘Margerie, I may be a man and find it hard to speak my heart. But that does not mean I do not
have
a heart, nor that my feelings are not as strong as yours.’ He sighed. ‘A man has fears just as a woman does, believe me.’

‘Well, you need not be afraid any longer. I love you, and care for no one else. You are my husband, and your child is inside me. Nothing more is needed to complete me.’

‘Now that is a shame,’ he said lightly.

She stilled, staring at him. Her voice was small, as though he had hurt her. ‘How so?’

He pressed his lips to her warm skin, drowning in the feminine scent of her, like roses, like full summer. ‘I have a belated wedding gift for you, my love. But if you need nothing else to complete you . . .’

‘Don’t tease,’ she said accusingly, pouting, then snuggled into him, one hand trailing down his spine, making him growl softly under his breath. ‘What is this gift?’

‘Blackthorn Hall in Sussex. Thirty-odd acres and a large house fit for a fine lady and her entourage. Lord Munro’s fee for your, erm,
services
.’ He laughed as she pinched him. ‘Ah, cruel. But I shall not hold that against you, any more than I shall ever chastise you again for your past. It was before you consented to be my bride. Besides, I like that you have thorns, my love. It would be dull for one’s wife to be all soft petals and no sharpness.’

She embraced him, and he took comfort in the generosity of her love, wrapped in her softly yielding warmth and power, the kind of strength only a woman could possess. ‘I accept your gift. A home of my own. Will you live with me there?’

‘If you wish it. I do love this old place, but perhaps it is time for a change. And with such bounty, I would not need to remain at court unless the king insisted.’

‘What, I may keep my husband in my bed more than a sennight at a time? Now I am indeed complete.’ She sighed. ‘Well, maybe one thing more would make my life perfect.’

He raised his brows. ‘Your life is not perfect, my love?’

Margerie raised her head and kissed him lingeringly. ‘I would like another babe after this one,’ she whispered, and set his hand on the top of her belly.

‘Oh, I think we can probably manage . . .’

At that instant, Virgil felt a violent thump under his palm, almost strong enough to dislodge his hand, and stopped abruptly.

He sat up and stared at her belly. ‘That was . . . What was that . . .?’

‘Your child.’

‘Good God,’ he said blankly. Then put his hand back on the top of her belly. ‘Again, please.’

EPILOGUE

Hampton Court Palace, Spring 1539

It was a glorious spring day, and the breeze off the river was rippling the pennants on the towers of Hampton Court Palace. A bell was tolling somewhere, signalling the noon hour, and suddenly there was a lady in the palace gateway, beautiful and stately in soft blue silks. Margerie rose from wiping a smudge of dirt from Jack’s chubby face, and waited for Kate to reach her, both women smiling, arms outstretched.

‘Oh, Kate, how good it is to see you again, my dear friend. I have missed you!’

‘It looks like it,’ Kate exclaimed, laughing and holding her out at arms’ length. ‘But let me look at you. How long to go before this one is born?’

Margerie felt herself blush. ‘Another six months. We thought it best not to wait, for life is so uncertain, is it not? But look at Jack. He was only a tiny baby when you came into Kent for the christening. But see he can walk now.’ She bit her lip as her young son stumbled, ending up on his bottom in the grass, his blue smock not quite hiding his sturdy legs. ‘Well, he is learning.’

Kate’s eyes narrowed on the necklace about her throat. ‘That pretty bauble does become you well, Margerie. If only one of the wealthy lords who flatter me with such lavish attentions would offer me a gift as beautiful as that.’ Her gaze lifted to Margerie’s face. ‘I am surprised your husband allows you to wear it though. Considering who gave it to you.’

‘Oh, that is all forgotten now.’ Margerie put a hand to the golden rose with its single emerald heart, and smiled. ‘Or forgiven, at least. We are none of us perfect.’

‘And where is your doting husband?’

‘Virgil is with my grandfather,’ she said, pointing along the riverbank to where Virgil stood in conversation with her elderly grandfather, whose health had improved startlingly since their visit last year. Indeed old Thomas Croft looked almost ten years younger. ‘I don’t know what medicaments Virgil has been giving him, but my grandfather looks well on it.’

‘The king has demanded his return to court. Has he told you?’

Margerie nodded. ‘They are saying King Henry will marry this foreigner, what was her name?’

‘Anne of Cleves.’

‘
Another
Anne?’ She sighed, remembering another queen of that name. Her cruel execution had darkened the court for months. Even now her name was never mentioned, as though to do so would be unlucky. ‘It does not seem very auspicious.’

Kate met her eyes. ‘It has been quiet at court since Queen Jane’s death. The king has been subdued, and not cast his eyes about much for a new bride.’

‘Poor Queen Jane. I was so horrified when I heard she had died. And her dear little son, left without a mother.’ She shivered. ‘I find it hard to believe that King Henry has mended his ways though. He is such a lustful man, he must always have someone to warm his royal bed, even if the lady is unwilling.’

‘I believe His Majesty did fix his attention on young Kat Howard, but Cromwell scotched that one. He will not stand to see a Howard rise too high at court. So Anne of Cleves is to be petitioned for her hand.’ She shrugged. ‘Besides, Kat Howard is far too young for a man of his age. She is barely out of the nursery.’

‘Hush, have a care what you say!’

Kate smiled, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Never fear for me. I have a charmed life. But it is so good to see you back at court. How long will you stay?’

‘Not long, I fear, so we have little time together. Though I am content enough to go, I assure you. This life at court is no longer for me, not when I have found such happiness beyond it. The king has said he will do my grandfather some honour at the feast tonight for his long service, then in a few days I shall travel into Sussex with Jack and my grandfather.’ She sighed. ‘Virgil must stay on at court, alas. But he will come down for the summer, to see how I am refurnishing the place. Blackthorn Hall will look very fine when I have finished. You must come and visit too. And bring Master Langley.’

‘Bring my old husband? Must I?’ Kate pretended to look pained, then laughed, holding out her hand as Virgil approached. ‘Master Elton, I am so glad you have brought your wife back to court. We have just been talking of old times.’

‘Have you indeed, Mistress Langley? Then I am glad to have interrupted you before too much mischief was done.’ Virgil bowed over her hand, then turned politely to Margerie’s grandfather. ‘Master Croft, permit me to introduce Mistress Langley. This lady is wife to the king’s chief clerk, and your granddaughter’s dearest friend at court.’

Her silver-haired grandfather, looking rather sprightly in his best black doublet, bowed and doffed his cap to both ladies. He took Kate’s hand and kissed it gallantly, then winked. ‘I trust your husband will not mind if I lead you out in the dance tonight, Mistress Langley?’

She laughed merrily, glancing sideways at Margerie. ‘Oh call me Kate, sir. And I’m sure my husband will neither notice nor mind. But come, Master Croft, let us walk back inside together. For I believe your granddaughter wishes to speak alone with her husband.’

Kate and Master Croft walked slowly through the narrow riverside gateway into the palace, and were soon lost to sight.

Virgil scooped up his dark-haired son in his arms, hoisting him to his shoulder so he might kiss the boy. ‘How now, Jack?’

‘So tell me, my love,’ Margerie murmured tenderly, watching her son and husband together. Their two heads turned to look at her as one: the same dark ironic eyes, the same mobile brow, both raised as if in query. ‘What kind of treatment have you been giving my grandfather since he came to stay?’

Virgil’s mouth twitched. ‘A tonic.’

‘This would not happen to be the same “tonic” you administered to His Majesty King Henry when he was in need of a male heir? The same I suspect you gave to Lord Munro, now a proud father of twin daughters?’

‘It might be something similar, yes,’ he admitted wryly, then dodged away when she came crossly towards him. ‘Come, it was only the odd drop in his wine. It will do your grandfather no harm. And see, he is already back on his feet. Dancing, no less!’

‘I only pray he does not dance with Kate tonight and drop dead of an apoplexy!’

‘She is a
very
beautiful lady,’ he conceded, then grinned at her expression. ‘
Pax
, my love. You are the only woman for me, and well you know it.’

She smiled, then looked over his shoulder at the lonely figure further along the riverbank, her dark gown blowing in the breeze, head bent as she stared into the fast-flowing current.

‘Perhaps there is another woman for you, Virgil.’

He turned, understanding her at once. ‘Yes, my mother is ill at ease, I know, and has not been sleeping well. She is still haunted by her past mistakes, though I have told her what’s done is done. The only pleasure she seems to take in life is looking after Jack, and Christina’s newborn babe. Indeed, I fear she has been missing the younger Delacours and their noisy household ever since we left Kent. Are you sure it was wise to invite my mother on this visit to court?’

‘She lives in our house, Virgil, and yet we hardly speak to each other: she is forever in Christina’s company these days.’

He shrugged. ‘My mother does dote on babies, as you have discovered, and Christina and Humphrey have produced two children rather quicker than us.’

‘I’m doing my best!’ she protested.

‘Pray do not hurry on my account. I must admit to preferring a little space between the arrival of our offspring,’ he said drily, kissing her hand. He raised his gaze to hers, then lowered it meaningfully to her mouth, then to the gold and emerald necklace about her throat. ‘I rather like it when the two of us can be private together, my love. I am privileged to know your skills in the bedchamber, you see, unlike other men.’

Her cheeks warmed under that bold look, but she continued doggedly, ‘Well, this is a perfect time for us to bring your mother into the family. Your mother
and
my grandfather. For when we all move together to Blackthorn Hall, I will need her more than ever.’ He frowned at that, and she watched him with sudden compassion, knowing how difficult he still found it to talk to his mother about the past. ‘Someone must be there for little Jack when it is time for my confinement, to comfort him and play with him. You are so often at court, after all.’

He put Jack down and watched the little boy toddle precariously towards his grandmother, calling out to her in his piping voice. Mistress Tulkey turned at once, her face breaking into a smile, and bent to speak to the child.

‘I will be there for the birth, Margerie,’ Virgil promised her, ‘even if I have to drug the king to escape his royal demands.’ He took her in his arms. ‘I was there for Jack’s birth, and I will be there for this child’s too. I am your physician and I swear it.’

Oh, but she loved him so much. Her heart ached with love, she was overflowing with it. ‘Then if you have sworn to it, I believe you
will
be there,’ she said simply.

He looked at her mouth, and hunger was there in his eyes, undiminished by time and her thickening waistline. His hands slipped up from her waist to rest just below her breasts, and she caught her breath, wanting him again. The silken threads of her bodice were so thin, she could feel the warmth of his fingers there, pressing into her.

‘Do you think there might be time,’ Virgil murmured, smiling lazily into her eyes, ‘later this afternoon, for us to slip away together before the feast?’

She was breathing hard, her gaze locked with his. ‘If not, I shall have to make time.’

‘You make time as well as you make babies, my love,’ he commented idly. Cupping her full breasts through the silken bodice, he rubbed his thumbs over both nipples at once. Her nipples tautened, clearly visible through the silk, and his eyes narrowed on them, suddenly intent. ‘My beautiful Margerie. You are at your best when you are with child. But how I miss your old bouts of sleep-walking. If only you had not been cured of that strange disorder. How did I manage that, by the way?’