Richard relaxed. “My pardon, Rob. Aye, I trust you—although thousands wouldn’t!” Grinning, he dodged a feigned blow from his friend. “I will confide that my lord of Warwick told me before he left that he was enjoying Ned’s friendship again. I was much relieved. It is true that Warwick favors the French alliance and the king, Burgundy’s, but I cannot believe Ned would have sent Warwick to France for nothing. And yet…”

Rob answered with a raised eyebrow. “Who knows? If you are right and Warwick lost his temper…” He grinned as Richard mimed their lord’s propensity for throwing things.

“Then I would expect our patron needs to remove himself from court for a while,” Richard finished for him. “Et bien, we shall know soon enough, I suppose.”

Richard’s logic had stumbled on the very reason for Warwick’s retreat north. The king had used the earl’s absence to forge ahead with his own diplomatic alliances without interference.

Within a week, the earl was greeting his family in the courtyard of Sheriff Hutton, pretending he had not a care in the world. But new furrows along the earl’s brow and dark shadows under the piercing eyes told a different tale. The division between the kingmaker and his king had deepened.

Richard eyed with interest a youth quietly standing behind Warwick waiting to be presented. Richly garbed, an ostrich feather bobbing from a jewel in his velvet bonnet, his demeanor at once told of a confidence that could only come from his nobility. In truth, as Richard was to discover, the lad was rather shy.

“My lady, this is Sir Francis Lovell, or more formally Baron Lovell,” Warwick informed his wife, bringing the boy forward. “He will join our household and train for knighthood with the others. The king has graciously given me charge of him.”

Francis bowed and kissed the countess’s hand. “My lady.”

“You are right welcome, Francis. These are our daughters, Isabel and Anne.” The countess watched as the dark-haired youth bowed to both girls before adding, “and this is our cousin, Richard…” she broke off amused as Francis eagerly finished the salutation.

“…of Gloucester. Your brother, His Grace the King, told me to seek you out particularly.”

The warm smile and enthusiastic greeting made Richard like Francis immediately, and he grasped the boy’s outstretched hand. “My brother was right to advise you thus, my lord. You will find a fine welcome in Yorkshire. The Lady Anne is kindness itself.” He saw the recipient of his compliment smile and demur. “How did you leave my brother?” he asked.