Her own tone must have conveyed her annoyance, because her sister suddenly looked chagrined. Impulsively, Genith snuggled closer, like a child seeking comfort. The clutching embrace touched Nesta, and nostalgia squeezed her heart. They might have been back in their father’s home again, ten years earlier, when Genith had truly been a child and Nesta had filled the role of mother. She laid her head against the silken hair tucked to her neck.

“I do not want to talk of husbands,” Genith muttered. “Since this marriage to Sir Marcus will not happen, it does not matter that I did not find him agreeable. It will not be the same when I meet the man I am expected to marry instead, I promise. I will find something to favor in him, as you did when you went to Scotland.”

Nesta heard resignation mixed with the acceptance. Aye, faced with the inevitable, a woman either finds something to favor or lives in hell. This conversation made her melancholy, and evoked memories of being where her sister was now, dealing with the realities of duty being forced on her.

She had decided to make the best of her marriage, but the best could be a far cry from the dreams of youth, spun while the world is still fresh and new and full of sparkling light. Sometimes she mourned the smiling innocence of those uncomplicated days, and their bright, vivid emotions. Already Genith’s world was dimming too, and that saddened her so much that her throat burned.

She gently rocked with her sister in her arms, soothing the fading child. “It will be all right,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to Genith’s head. It was a motherly gesture and tone, but she admitted that she had really been speaking to herself.

She was letting maudlin emotions overwhelm her, and she forced them under control. It would be all right, but mainly because Genith understood her duty. That superseded everything, most of all the wistful dreams in a girl’s heart.

Nesta guiltily acknowledged that a part of her was relieved that Genith was growing up, and accepting the ways of the world. Because if a dream should reach out its hand to Genith, Nesta herself would have to prevent her sister from grabbing it.

CHAPTER 3

So the King’s whore has come to London.” Archbishop Stratford received the news with a resigned shake of the head. His deep sigh exhaled enough breath that a curled parchment began a sleepy roll to his writing table’s edge.