He was right and more perceptive than I had given him credit for. His manner was gentle, full of concern and we were close together in the twilight of the mews. I had spent so many years keeping my feelings to myself, disguising them from the world and above all from him. His face was inches from mine, his soft, full lips curved in a half-smile and his bright blue eyes wide with enquiry. Arid years of unfulfilled longing rushed in on me and my control snapped.

‘No, it has nothing to do with hawking. It is simply this.’ Impulsively I went on tiptoe to kiss him. I felt his instinctive, startled surprise at the sudden contact change gradually to eager acceptance and there was a long moment of spine-tingling pleasure while our lips remained fused and I believed my heart might burst. Then I felt his withdrawal, not with a sudden jerk but with a reluctant, almost apologetic removal of consent.

We broke apart and for several silent moments we gazed at each other, the space between us filled with unspoken questions and then his sandy lashes dropped over his eyes. ‘No, Jane, this cannot be,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I am sorry.’

I had no intention of begging but nevertheless I could hear the agonized pleading in my response. ‘Why can it not be? We are not such close cousins that it is forbidden, we are both free and I have loved you since the first time you came to Tŷ Cerrig. You cannot deny that you find me attractive and you know that you can never have Lady Margaret.’ His eyes flashed at the mention of her name and I continued hurriedly. ‘I do not mind if you do not love me now. Later you will. We would be happy together, I know it.’

He rubbed his forehead distractedly and then bent to take both my hands in his. This time he did not allow his gaze to leave mine. ‘I do love you, in my fashion. But this has nothing to do with love, Jane. It has to do with honour – and dishonour. Marriage between us is impossible. My brother the king would never permit it.’

‘Why would he never permit it?’ I knew I sounded desperate and I hated myself for it but, regardless, I had to scratch at the wound that was already bleeding. ‘I am of common stock I know, but that same stock was good enough for King Henry’s mother – your mother – and she was a queen. Why should he deny you what he allowed her?’

‘He did not allow her – she married without permission and it is only because King Henry is a forgiving monarch and our mother is dead that he has overlooked her transgression. He would not do the same for me. Besides I owe him my loyalty and compliance, simply because he has chosen to recognize me as his brother.’