Destiny Lies Waiting (6 page)

He was tempted to probe his prudish friend with, "Oh, please, Richard, you need explain exactly how," just to indulge in a moment of light amusement at his flustered reaction to the question.

But the conversation was catching his fancy right enough as it was.

"So, the niece—what are her major flaws? Besides the taint of her name and lack of fortune, that is."

Richard paced back and forth between two ornate tombstones and shook his head. "There's naught about her that actually puts me off. Unlike her pomp-gobbling relatives, she prefers religious devotion and the more quiet pleasures of the countryside. Court life holds no allure for her.

"Yet while we have become close enough with me as an uncle by marriage only, I relish her company, but naught else, Val. My humors, if you will, lie stagnant as pond scum when she's near. I feel no..." Richard's head tilted thoughtfully and he raised a finger to his chin, tapping it rhythmically.

"Desire?"

Richard shrugged.

"Passion?"

He looked away and yanked on a blade of grass.

"Rapture?"

"Something like that," he muttered, with a toss of his head, his hair casting a glow of auburn as it shone in the sun. "How do you know about those things, Val? Have you ever felt the intensity of any of those emotions you mentioned? Or are you drawing on what you witnessed at the French court?"

"Oh, I've been smitten in my day, but it wasn't the deep-seated emotional pangs of a man for a woman, the way my father and mother enjoyed. When I was barely old enough to talk, I sensed the
amour
they had for each other."

Richard grimaced. "Well, I certainly don't feel anything French when I'm with her. 'Twould be like marrying my sister. Now I've barely seven days to escape the travesty."

"There must be another way to duck this marriage." Valentine held up a finger. "Aha! Tell the Queen you prefer the company of men."

Richard looked at him and frowned, the lines deepening between his brows. "What bloody good would that do? She knows I prefer the company of men. I'm a military man, I—"

"Nay, Richard—" Valentine shook his head. "I mean, you know..." He gave Richard a wink. "—one of them."

"You mean—" Richard flicked his wrist.

"Aye! She wouldn't want her niece wed to a poufter now, would she?"

Richard thought a moment and shook his head. "Nah. Wouldn't work. I'd have to act the part, and swishing round court would get me into more trouble than I'm in now." He brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve and crossed his arms over his chest against a sudden puff of wintry December wind.

"Besides, I doubt it would even stop her. She'd see that and try to marry me off to one of her whoopsie brothers," he mumbled.

Valentine nodded. "Hmm. Well, take sacred vows then."

Richard exhaled loudly. "I've no inclination to be a priest, Valentine. God will have me for the rest of eternity. As long as I'm alive, the kingdom needs me more. No, I must find Anne and get her out of blasted Warwick's clutches. Or else I must find—"

Suddenly Richard's eyes lit up and fairly sparkled. "Val." He reached out and laid his hand gently on his friend's arm. "You and I are closer than most brothers, and as such I must discuss something with you. About, er, female response, to put it delicately."

"Pray tell why you chose a graveyard to bring up the subject. Do females play dead when you make your advances?" Valentine, chuckled, rather pleased with his friendly taunt. Mocking each other good naturedly was one of their favorite pastimes.

"Would you do one thing for me?" Richard asked. "Since you're capable and seem more than willing and, er, experienced in this area than I am."

"What one thing is that?" Valentine asked in an offhand manner, eying the picnic basket and hoping it wasn't completely empty.

"Seduce Elizabeth's niece for me."

Valentine's hand froze on the way to the basket. "For you? You mean pretend to be you and sneak into her chambers after the candles are snuffed out? I daresay she would notice the difference after a stroke or two."

Richard's face flamed. "Nay, I mean, instead of me! I mean, God's truth, you know what I mean. That was my contingency scheme, in case our other plots fell through. She wants someone right out of a King Arthur tale. Care to have a go at it, Lancelot?"

"Oh, grand. So now I'm a scheme." Valentine spread his hands and shook his head in disbelief. "When I said I'd do anything for you, I didn't mean steal your betrothed from under your nose!"

"We're hardly betrothed and 'twould not be stealing. One of her plans was to flee the court in disguise. I couldn't have her wandering the realm—'tis much too dangerous, and as I've said, the girl is decent enough, well reared by the Duchess of Scarborough until she died."

"Not by the Queen?"

Richard shook his head. "Most of the time, no. They are like oil and vinegar, and we both know who the vinegar is. So since she is insisting we marry forthwith, and I can't find Anne, you are the contingency plan."

"Thank you, no. Really, I want to help, but seducing a virgin—"

"But I tell you, she is a good woman, but also, well, curious, You fit her description of a courtly—oh, what did she call it—her fancy one—handsome, virile, and some such—"

Valentine couldn't help smiling. He tried to hide it by rummaging through the picnic basket for more bread and cheese.

"You've inherited your father's title. You possess lands and plate," Richard carried on. "You are just what she fancies. You would be perfect together! Just make her acquaintance, will you not?"

Valentine shook his head. In truth, the more Richard spoke, the more intrigued he became, but the fact of the matter was, he did not treat women lightly, nor was he a deceiver of virgins. He was stunned that his friend would even suggest such a thing. His own niece by marriage, no less.

But it also showed just how desperate he was where the willful Queen was concerned…

With as much diplomacy as he could muster, he said quietly, "Dickon, you know how much I value your friendship, but I also value my head on my shoulders. I would never want to create a rift in your family. You are assuming the Queen would approve. You assume the niece will swoon at my feet. You assume a great deal here."

"The Queen will know naught. Now is not the time for doubts, Val. You should have no trouble capturing her heart. Look at you. You are tall, charming and an excellent soldier. You're everything I'm not." He spread his hands wide to indicate his own slight frame.

Then he began to slap Valentine's hand away from the picnic basket and grabbed the last chunk of honey-cured ham.

"Now, I agree with almost everything you've said, my friend. But you are the true soldier," Valentine countered, glad to change the subject.

"That is because 'tis expected of me. Just as statesmanship and diplomacy are your talents. But the kingdom will always need a military genius at the helm. Couple that with the art of diplomacy, and you've got one invincible kingdom!"

Valentine cast a sideways glance at his tireless friend. "Are you suggesting that should you ever become king, I would make a fitting chief councilor?"

"Mayhap. I certainly hope you would consider the appointment," Richard replied casually, as if this were all going to happen tomorrow.

Glancing inside the picnic basket once again, Valentine wondered if Richard ever entertained the possibility of being king one day. But with Edward now siring heirs, Richard's claim to the throne was becoming farther removed with every new child born, and there as still the Lancastrian line to worry about…

Richard continued, "Mind you, were we king and chief councilor, matters of state would invariably take precedence over matters of your stomach."

"An army of half-starved soldiers never effectively defended a kingdom, Dickon. I've had barely a morsel of this repast." He slid a stewed lamprey into his mouth and savored its sumptuous texture.

"Any extra weight would throw you off balance," Richard said.

Valentine fixed him with a disbelieving look, as if to say such a thing was a complete impossibility. "You eat like a bird most of the time, so I can see how upset you are by the way you're eating that ham hock. Usually you never have an appetite for any pleasures, except ghoulish ones, like picnicking in graveyards in the dead of winter. How can you spend so much time in bone orchards like this?"

"'Tis the only place one can be truly alone. There is no better sanctuary. You must admit, 'tis rather peaceful here. Its dwellers are unlikely to pop up for a chat."

"You don't fear ghosts rising from these ancient graves?" Valentine's voice took on a mock sepulchral tone as he wiggled his fingers in a gesture of eeriness.

"Bah! Ghosts. I've never seen one, nor do I expect to. They simply do not exist."

"But you do believe Elizabeth Woodville is a witch?" Valentine cocked a brow, tilting his head.

Richard's lips compressed into a thin line and he turned away. "We were discussing not the queen of the witches, but her niece."

"I was hoping you'd forgotten," Valentine muttered. "Why have I never met her?"

"Elizabeth sent her to live with the Duke and Duchess of Scarborough up north when she was but a child, and she returned only last year, whilst you were in France."

"Lucky me."

"So, shall I arrange for you to make her acquaintance, or not?"

Valentine was sorely tempted to just meet her, but he didn't want his friend to get his hopes up. In the end he shook his head. "Dickon, I couldn't take advantage of this waif's good nature, especially since I met a most enchanting lass recently, and although we merely traded pleasantries, I'm on a campaign to find her again."

"Then until that momentous event takes place, offer Dove your companionship. Do that much for me. You'll be arriving at court on the morrow. If she repulses you that much, then you can say you've tried. It can be practice for you, if nothing else. By God, you may find yourselves carried away on the very wings of Pegasus!"

Valentine's eyes grew wide. He'd never known Richard to allude to mythology before. He must be desperate.

"She would cherish the flowers you'd bestow upon her, and would memorize every line of your ardent poetry," Richard continued in an eager pitch.

"Poetry? In French, I expect."

"Her French is so flawless, she practically sings it!" Richard assured him, before looking in the basket once more for some olives, which he popped into his mouth happily.

"So what of her looks, then? Is she beautiful?" Valentine asked, pulling one of his rings on and off in a telltale gesture that Richard knew all too well.
He had hooked the fish, now he just had to reel him in.

He had to admit she was beginning to sound rather intriguing, if she liked French poetry. Mayhap he could introduce her to other French delights.

"I never noticed. I suppose she's..." Richard shrugged, stumbling over his words, his eyes wandering. "...normal, I reckon."

Valentine leaned forward impatiently. "A garden slug is normal, Richard...to another garden slug. What color is her hair? Her eyes? What of her stature?"

"Well, she's...her hair is...now, let me see, what color is her hair? It's an ordinary color, I suppose. Her eyes are rather...well, have you ever seen bat guano?"

"She sounds a right atrocity!" Valentine shook his head. Suddenly the stewed lampreys didn't seem so appetizing.

"What do you want me to say? That is how I see her! I see her like my own dear sisters, whom I do not think of as women. They're sisters! You must see for yourself. Meet her on the morrow. 'Tis the only way."

Bloody hell
, he thought. If she looks anything like Richard's sisters..."I think not, Dickon, we just... We don't sound at all compatible."

He gripped him by the shoulder as he took the basket and began to head back home. "I wouldn't have asked you to meet her if I hadn't thought you'd be compatible. I need to explore every possible solution here, Val, should I be unable to rescue Anne."

Richard's unblinking stare burned through Valentine. "This is a very special favor I'm asking of you, my dearest friend. I know you would not hurt the girl, and I know no harm will befall you."

"Oh, God's truth, Dickon—" He couldn't refuse Richard. After all, she was merely a wench.