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“Majesty, I meant no disrespect,” Richard said.

“We know exactly what you meant,” the king replied genially. “Such remarks are to be expected from such as you. We enjoyed your play immensely. Your talent has been much missed in London, and we are delighted you have returned, and with your lovely wife, too. It was only that Lady Castlemaine’s necklace went astray.”

“That’s what I said,” Will offered shyly from behind Elissa.

“Who speaks?”

“Your Majesty, this is my son, William Longbourne,” Elissa said, guiding her son around to stand before the king. Will bowed and his action was so like Richard’s, she had to smile.

“So, young Master Longbourne, how do you like the step-papa I chose for you?” Charles demanded.

“I like him very much, Your Majesty,” Will replied. “But of course, he is not so fine as you.”

“Odd’s fish!” Charles declared, vastly pleased. “What a clever little man. He has the makings of a courtier already.” He bent down so that his face was level with Will’s and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Tell me, Master Longbourne, what did you think of the play?”

Will blushed. “I was looking at you, Your Majesty.”

“High praise indeed!”

“Sometimes I watched the girls with the oranges,” he confessed, his tone as secretive as the king’s.

“Ah! Which one did you like the best?”

Will turned and pointed at the pretty girl Richard recognized as the one Foz had complained about.

“She is rather pretty.” The king looked at Richard. “Who is she?”

“Nell Gwyn, sire.”

“A name to remember,” Charles replied. Then he turned his attention back to Will. “When you are a man, young Master Longbourne, will you come to our court and serve us?”

“If my mama will let me,” Will answered gravely.

Chuckling, the king straightened. “Oh, we think she will, since she seems to have discovered that a king may indeed know what is best for his subjects.” He glanced sharply at Richard. “Would you not agree, my lord?”

“Majesty, Solomon himself couldn’t have made a better match.”

“And like Solomon, we undertake legal decisions, too,” the king replied, growing more grave. “We have heard some disturbing news about you and a certain Sedgemore.”

“Majesty, I can explain—”

Charles waved his hand dismissively. “Have no fear, Blythe. What happened today will not cause you any further trouble. We understand what happened.”

“Thank you, Majesty.”

“We are determined that we shall not be deprived of your clever plays again. And we would not wish to deprive your very beautiful wife of her husband, or your child a father.”

He smiled at Richard’s surprised expression. “We know all about that, too, and we think if you should have a son, the least you could do would be to name him Charles.”

“I would be delighted to, Majesty,” Richard replied with another bow. Then his dark eyes got a mischievous gleam of their own. “If it should be a girl, what should we call her?”

The king smiled at Elissa in such a way that she could understand why women found him so attractive. “She should be named for her lovely mother, of course.”

Richard moved closer to Elissa and she stifled a smile at what was undoubtedly a possessive gesture. The king wasn’t blind to it, either, but he merely smiled more. “Are we to assume you intend to stay in London? Has the countryside lost its charm for you, after all?”

“No, Majesty,” Richard answered, his hand finding Elissa’s. “We are to return to Blythe Hall as soon as possible.”

“But you will keep writing?”

“Yes, Majesty. I confess I cannot help it.”

“Excellent!” Charles cried. He looked at the smiling couple before him, and the fine little boy with them. “We wish all our subjects could be as happy as you.” His voice dropped to a confidential whisper as a wistful look came to his pleasant face. “Odd’s fish, we wish
we
could be as happy as you. But”—his voice rose as he turned toward the lady and courtiers waiting for him outside the box—”we shall have to make do. Come, Lady Castlemaine, to Whitehall! I am famished.”

With that declaration, the king sauntered
from the box. Will hurried after him and stared at the departing group.

Richard took advantage of Will’s distraction to kiss Elissa. It was a brief—much too brief—kiss, yet her response enflamed him and reminded him of delights yet to come.

“What did he mean about a baby?” Will demanded when he turned back to face them. “Are we getting a baby?”

Elissa knelt in front of her son. She would have preferred to tell him in some place less public, but the king had forced her hand. “Will, you are going to have a little brother or sister in a few months’ time.”

“Why?”

“Because that is often what happens when a man and woman marry,” Richard replied before Elissa could answer.

Will stared at his feet. “Oh.”

Richard bent down and Will glanced up at him. “Of course, whether it proves to be a little girl or a little boy, a helpless, squealing infant is not very good company for a man like me. And a younger sibling will need the protection of an older brother. I will have to teach you how to wrestle, and shoot, too.”

“Really?” Will cried, grinning with delight.

“As long as you both promise to be very, very careful,” Elissa warned.

“My lady, I swear by yon—” Richard began.

“Just tell me you will be careful, and that
will be enough for me,” Elissa interrupted Richard, smiling. “I trust you.”

“I can think of no greater compliment,” he said, sincerity shining in his dark eyes. “I promise not to disappoint you. In anything.”

“I’m hungry!” Will declared.

“I agree it is time we dined,” Richard remarked to his blushing wife as a smile of both joy and desire lit his features. “I do not want to retire late tonight.”

“Neither do I,” Elissa agreed.

Then she looked at the two men in her life, and sighed with happiness.

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Copyright © 2000 by Margaret Moore Wilkins
Published by arrangement with the author
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-95334
ISBN: 0-380-80268-6
www.harpercollins.com

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2010 ISBN: 978-0-062-03072-6

First Avon Books Printing: February 2000

AVON TRADEMARK REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. AND IN OTHER COUNTRIES, MARCA REGISTRADA, HECHO EN U.S.A.

WCD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

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BOOK: Margaret Moore
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