A Rose for the Crown (72 page)

“As long as I am not entertaining here as extravagantly as the king, no one will care. I shall, of course, tell Anne of you and the children. I do not want to begin our married life with deception. As for George, I have promised not to make public his treatment of Anne in exchange for his silence about you. ’Twas a stroke of pure genius. Once I begin to really fight for Anne against George—we have to prepare arguments to present to the king and court after the Yule season—he will not have you as a weapon against me, because I can swear I shall not see you again,” he said triumphantly.

Richard had not meant to sound so callous, and he dropped his head onto his knees as Kate’s body tensed against his. “I am sorry, sweetheart.”

“Never again?” Kate whispered.

“Not as lovers, Kate. Though no one will fault me for seeing you as the mother of my children when the need arises.” He took her hand and kissed it. “And we must take precautions so that in the next fortnight I do not get you with child.”

R
ICHARD WAS AS GOOD
as his word on all accounts. Kate’s excitement about being in London for the season allowed her to put on a show of enjoying herself. Deep down she was grieving. Those nights when Richard was at court, she would lock herself in her room and cry herself to sleep. She did not allow the children to see her sadness, and indeed, when she was with them, she threw herself into their games with exuberance. Her favorite times were when she and Richard were alone with the children in the nursery. Richard spent hours reading to Katherine from his books. Katherine did not understand many of the words, but she sat quietly on his lap, winding a strand of hair around the finger of one hand, the thumb of the other lodged firmly in her mouth. His voice was clear and quiet. Kate marveled at how calm Katherine became around her father, and she had come to admire the similar effect he had on his entire household.

After feasting, Katherine was permitted to stay and watch the mummers act out their plays, and she sat on a chair piled high with cushions
between her parents, clapping and laughing. Martin was a frequent visitor, and Richard asked him many questions about Haute Manor. In a strange twist of fate, King Edward had granted Richard the attainted earl of Oxford’s lands in Suffolk, which included the parish of Chelsworth. Richard and Martin laughed heartily over it.

One evening in Richard’s solar, when Kate had gone to the nursery to say good night to the children, Richard thanked Martin graciously for his part in the children’s lives and asked Martin how he could be repaid.

“Repaid, my lord? ’Tis enough that I can enjoy their sweet company when I am at home. I still feel I am their grandsire,” Martin said, then added hurriedly, “if that does not offend your grace.”

“Nay, Martin. They need the guidance of a grandparent, and I am proud you think on them thus. Remember, if there is anything I can do for you, you have only to ask.”

Kate returned to hear the last remark. She looked at her father-in-law fondly. He was aging quickly, and she knew his wound still gave him pain. “Father would never ask this himself, Richard. But he has expressed a longing to stay at home and take care of his estate. His duty to the queen is onerous to him, in truth.” Kate caught Richard smirking behind his hand. She had learned that Richard still believed Elizabeth had bewitched Edward and compromised his ability to make a more suitable royal marriage. He longed to disappear up to his old Yorkshire haunts around Middleham, and Kate had no doubt this is what he would do once he secured Anne’s hand. “If you would put in a word for Father with her grace . . .”

“Kate! I would not ask such a favor of the Lord Richard!” Martin exclaimed. “Forgive her, my lord, and know my duty is paramount. I did not ask this of Kate, I swear.”

“But is what Kate says true, sir? Would you prefer to be at Chelsworth and be relieved of your duties as usher? ’Tis easily done. Kate tells me your shoulder has never healed aright. Besides, Elizabeth owes me a favor.”

Martin looked embarrassed at first, but relief spread over his face. “’Tis more than I deserve, my lord. You are too kind. In truth, I do not feel as well as I used to, and the quiet country air does appeal to me after a lifetime of soldiering.”

Richard rose to signal that he wished to be alone with Kate. “I shall speak to the queen tomorrow. I trust my steward has seen to your needs.”

“Aye, my lord. My chamber is most comfortable. I thank you for it and for speaking on my behalf. Good night to you. Kate.” He bowed to Richard, kissed Kate and left the room.

Wrapping her arms around Richard’s neck and pressing herself invitingly against him, Kate whispered, “Thank you, my love.”

“How can I refuse you anything, Kate. You have me as much under your spell as that Woodville wench had Edward, I swear.” He ran his hands up and down her body. “Now, where is Robert, or shall we undress each other tonight?”

R
ICHARD SPENT
the next two hours pleasuring Kate until she thought the ceiling had opened and expelled her into a bright heaven of shooting stars. She was as limp as wet straw by the end and was certain she would never again have feeling in her toes. The fire was still glowing, and Kate watched Richard pull on his bedrobe and pour them both wine. He handed her a cup and sat down with his back to the fire so that she could not see his expression.

“I have been thinking, Kate,” he began in what Kate recognized as his earnest voice. “Your welfare is weighing on me, and I find I cannot abandon you without knowing you will be happy and protected.”

“Happy? I shall never be happy without you. And Martin will protect me.”

“Nay. Your father-in-law is a good man, but you should have the protection of a husband, Kate.”

“Pah! George could not have protected a flea, least of all me.”

“Ah, yes, George. But he was not a wise choice of husband. I cannot order you to marry someone I may propose, but I would expect you to consider him carefully.”

Kate was shocked. “Richard! How long have you had my ‘welfare’ in mind? And pray who is my intended? I shall be in seclusion at Haute Manor, raising our children and looking after Father. I have no need of a husband.”

“Please, Kate. You must think on it. The children will need a father, and I shall choose carefully. I do not have anyone in mind at present, but
when I do, I shall want you to consider him. Promise me you will.” A determined note superseded the earnest. This was the quiet voice of authority that had persuaded the king to reverse his position on a marriage with Anne Neville.

“Richard, do not ask me to promise this, I beg of you. I will think on it in the next months, but I will not be commanded to marry against my will.”

Richard, in his turn, heard the note of determination and replied, “I have said my piece, and now all I wish for is to sleep in your arms. Am I welcome, love?”

In answer, Kate reached out and pulled him to her.

A
LL TOO SOON
Kate’s time with Richard drew to a close. He had been commanded to spend Twelfth Night with his family at Westminster, but first he took her to mass with him at St. Helen’s Priory just over the garden wall from Crosby Place. Kate hung back from Richard as he greeted neighbors and merchants, who stood aside to allow him, Rob and Francis the front pew. Kate slid into one behind him with several other members of the household. The nuns’ voices rose in a chorus to the glory of God and in celebration of the Epiphany, which moved Kate to tears. She stared steadfastly at the figure of the Virgin set on a pedestal close to the altar and prayed fervently that something would happen to prevent Richard from marrying Anne. She observed Richard’s profile from her seat and committed to memory the strong nose, jutting chin, long upper lip and fine cheekbones. At one point during the service, he felt her watching him and turned slightly to send her a quick smile. She almost choked with love for him.

Later, Richard sent his squire from the room and instructed him to let no one in. Kate stood facing the window, her face as sad as the January day outside. Richard came to her and rested his head on her back, cupping her breasts in his hands.

“Let us not be sad today, my rose. Let us remember how happy we have been. Then we can cry.”

She gave a little sob and raised her hand to caress his head. “Aye, love, I shall try.”

Her back was irresistible, and he rubbed himself along it, feeling the
pressure mount in his codpiece. “I want you, Kate. I will always want you,” he whispered. “And I really want you
now.”

“Oh, Richard,” she cried and turned into his arms. He kissed her hair, her eyes, her nose and finally her lips. As if he were drowning, he lost himself in her sweet mouth. He pulled up her skirts, and his fingers found her sweet spot, now wet with anticipation, and he aroused her to moans of pleasure. And as though reliving their first encounter at Tendring, they began to discard their clothes all over the room in their impatience to make love. Like then, he carried her to the bed, her hair tumbling out of her cap. This time, however, there was a desperation to their loving, a need to make it last forever, a need to savor every inch of each other and every sensation together.

Later she helped bathe and clothe him herself. She sponged his body with rosemary water as if she were tending a precious piece of sculpture. He watched her every movement, and neither said a word. Occasionally, he sighed with pleasure. Kate did not trust herself to shave him, and so she called for Robert. The squire wielded the knife with dexterity, and Kate stroked the smooth skin afterwards and gave it her approval.

She dried him with fine linen and fingered the French coin he still wore around his neck. Coyly she asked, “What will you tell Anne Neville of this?”

“That it is a keepsake and a talisman from a dear friend, and I shall wear it always,” he said, raising her fingers to his lips. “It accompanied me through Barnet and Tewkesbury and kept me safe. It must be lucky.”

“I thank you, Richard,” she said simply, and hung the wet towels on the chair.

Despite his usual cautiousness on other matters, Richard spared no expense on his wardrobe. All three York brothers took pleasure in fine clothes, taking advantage of their looks and the rich materials available to them as royal princes. For the gathering at Westminster, Richard donned a short doublet of blue cloth of silver sewn all over with seed pearls, its wide sleeves slashed to reveal a silver-and-black-striped satin undershirt. Kate stood in front of him and counted off the thirty pearl buttons as she fastened them. Each was the size of a large pea, and the price of one would have gone a long way to feeding a peasant for a year. She helped him on with his azure hose and tied all the points neatly. He
bent his head down to her, and she placed a gold collar on his shoulders. The White Rose of York at the center of it was encrusted with rubies and pearls. She brushed a stray strand of hair back from his face, her fingers lingering on his cheek. He took them and kissed each tip. Then he sat on the chair to pull on immaculate thigh-high boots of brushed leather and turned down the tops to show the white silk lining. Kate took the jeweled garter with the cross of St. George from its special box and fastened it around his thigh just above the boot. When he was ready, Kate stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“In truth, you are a prince, my love. You will outshine even the king, I have no doubt. ’Tis as well I cannot go with you, for I would be fighting every woman there for a chance to be noticed by you.” Kate smiled at him. How she longed to ride with him, to walk into that magnificent hall on his arm, to be acknowledged as his. But she had made her decision a long time ago. She sighed. “Here are your gloves and hat. Robert is fetching your warmest cloak. It will be cold on the river today. Now, let us show the children their splendid father.”

Richard took her in his arms and kissed her long and hard. “I shall miss you, Kate. Sweet Jesu, with all my heart.”

She forced a smile for him and muttered, “Fiddle-faddle.”

Then it was Richard’s turn to weep as he bade farewell to his children. Katherine sensed her father’s sadness and lavished kisses on him during their final hour together in the nursery. John stomped over to him and chattered incomprehensibly, knowing exactly what he was saying but leaving the adults bewildered. It made them laugh, and Richard chose the happy moment to rise and leave his family.

“I will provide for the children, Kate. John shall receive the same annuity as Katherine, and when you think they are ready, I am determined to have them come to me. I shall do right by them, please believe me.”

“I do, Richard. I shall wait until John is six. Let me enjoy them until then. But,” she said awkwardly, “how do you know that Anne will accept them?”

He was confident. “I shall not force them upon her, but I think she has a fondness for me and will not deny me.”

“Hmmm” was the skeptical response.

“Tant le desirée
—for so long I have desired it,” Richard said absently. Kate could not tell if he was practicing a future conversation with the
Neville woman or was referring to his continued determination to wed her. She decided not to ask.

During their last private moments together, Richard gave Kate a velvet pouch that contained a rolled scroll confined in a gold ring of exquisite filigree. He drew the ring off and showed her the inscription carved on the inside.