“Do stop your swordplay, Richard,” nineteen-year-old Margaret complained, shutting her book with a snap. “I cannot talk to you when you are cavorting like that.” She may have sounded like an irritated older sister, but secretly she was impressed by his graceful movements and his confidence. This was no longer the mewling boy she remembered from the nursery, and she was glad; the past few days had revealed a Richard more willing to laugh, as he was doing now watching Fortunata’s antics. “Fortunata,” she called, “I pray you behave yourself. Go, fetch us some ale instead.” She knew she indulged her beloved servant far too much, but the little Italian was clever, entertaining, and fiercely protective.

“Si, madonna,” the diminutive Fortunata replied, untucking her skirts from her belt and hurrying towards the house.

Richard sat down on the grassy exedra next to his sister and plucked a tiny daisy from it. “Now that we are alone, are you going to answer my question about Ned’s wife?”

How much should she divulge, Margaret wondered. She had at first been on Elizabeth’s side once her brother had taken her into his confidence and asked that Margaret be a friend to his secret wife. Indeed, Margaret was one of only a few who had known of the marriage. Later, he begged his dear Meggie to accompany Elizabeth to Reading, where he had revealed his clandestine marriage to the world and set the cat among the pigeons. Elizabeth had seemed humble enough and pleasant to Margaret and George, but now Margaret was beginning to suspect the woman was proving a negative influence on Ned.

Margaret stroked the smooth leather of her book pensively. “I should like to give her the benefit of the doubt, because Ned loves her so, and…” she tailed off, a tiny blush creeping into her cheeks. Richard did not need to know that she was in love with Elizabeth’s handsome brother, Anthony. That was now her secret.

“…And what?”

“And nothing!” she exclaimed, and rose from the grassy seat. “You ask too many questions, brother.”

Richard grinned. “That is what my lord of Warwick says, too.” He twirled the pink-tipped daisy between his fingers as the next question came to him. “What did Mother say when she found out about Elizabeth? I wish I could have been a flea on Ambergris and heard her.” He chuckled. “You know, I think even Ned is afeared of Mother.”

Margaret stopped brushing down her skirts and with a wry smile confided, “George heard her recriminations all the way from the royal apartments to his own. She left Ned’s side for Berkhamsted not long after without even a bow or bend at the knee, threatening never to return.” The brother and sister shared a laugh, imagining their imperious mother stalking out of Edward’s presence.