Strangely, Isabel’s flirting no longer excited her cousin; it had not done so since Anne had told him about Warwick’s plans for George and her sister. He had been surprised, and a little dismayed, how swiftly he had been able to relegate the lovely, buxom young woman of his wet dreams to the rank of friend. Is it that easy to fall in and out of love, he had mused, sadly.

Unwilling to side with either sister, he diplomatically replied: “I could not say. I like both castles for different reasons.” Both girls looked crestfallen, and the countess sighed to herself. She thought Richard a nice young man but enigmatic. Too serious and secretive were words she had used to her husband, and Warwick had laughed: “Nay, Richard is old beyond his years. He just thinks too much.”

Richard was also perplexed by the earl’s command to move, and later, as he and Rob walked the ramparts in the late evening sun, he shared this news with his friend.

“In truth, I should enjoy a change of scenery,” Rob said. He had been disappointed the earl had not taken him to France with him, Warwick having told Rob that his training was nearly at an end and he could soon relinquish the title of squire and become a fully fledged knight. “Do you think the move is significant?”

Richard shrugged. “Countess Anne said they have always remained here in the summer.”

“Perhaps it is the plague. I heard the court had removed to Windsor because of it. Sheriff Hutton is farther north.”

Richard shook his head. “Nay, it is as though he is retreating farther from the king’s reach. It causes me to wonder if the earl’s embassy to France went awry. Or, more seriously, that Ned sent him on a fool’s errand, and they have quarreled again.” Richard pulled at his ring and stared over the treetops far below them in the Forest of Galtres. Should I be sharing such thoughts with Rob? He was a Percy after all, although not of the Northumberland Percies who favored Lancaster, but distant kin nonetheless. He looked at his friend who was busy pretending to pull back an arrow in an imaginary bow and letting it loose. Richard’s hesitation made Rob look back at him, and he saw the question in Richard’s gray eyes.

“Christ’s nails, Richard, can you still not trust me after three years?” Swiftly unsheathing his dagger, he held the point at Richard’s throat before laughing and taking the hilt to his lips and kissing the cross. “Dolt! You will always have my bond, my lord of Gloucester.”