“Louis of France is a cunning bastard,” Will broke into Richard’s musing. Taking off his bonnet and scratching his thinning scalp, Edward’s chamberlain commented: “He is shoring up Margaret’s support by offering her Warwick’s in case Henry should again sit on the throne. He thinks Warwick will not forsake the Lancastrians now and betray his son-in-law. He’s clever—even for a two-faced Frenchie.”

“Devilishly,” Edward agreed. “Is there any other tidbit you have left out, Master Pomfrey?” he demanded, drumming his fingers on the table.

“I know not if you were told the news, Your Grace, but when Warwick was denied entry to Calais in April and was forced to put back to sea in a storm, the duchess of Clarence was in childbirth. So great was her discomfort and labor, the babe did not survive.”

“Poor lady,” Richard sympathized, crossing himself, “what she has suffered at her husband’s and her father’s hands is pitiful.” He could not bring himself to feel sympathy for George, who he believed had put Isabel in mortal danger. He does not deserve to be a father, Richard adjudged. He conveniently chose to ignore his own shortcomings in that regard. His and Kate’s son, John, had duly been born in March, and Richard had not yet set eyes on the child.

“So Master Pomfrey, it stands to reason we should expect an invading army sometime soon, if Louis holds his two pawns’ feet to the fire. Am I right?” Once again, Edward’s temper had died as quickly as it has risen, and he sat down, steepling his fingers and training his watchful blue eyes on the man.

Master Pomfrey nodded vigorously, happy to see his king calm again and back on his chair. “The fleet is victualing at La Hogue, I believe. I returned here through Calais as soon as I could. But if I may be bold enough to say, my lord, an invasion would be nigh impossible because, as you have commanded, our own fleet, together with Burgundy’s, is keeping the French pinned in their harbors all along the coast.”

“Ah, I knew I could count on Jack Howard,” Edward said to Will. “He does like riding the waves, in truth.”

“’Tis good to know our brother-in-law Charles is also keeping his end of the bargain, Lancastrian lover though he is,” Richard commented.

“With Meg at his side, he could hardly not help us, could he?” Edward allowed himself a pat on the back. “I was right to forge that marriage alliance. Well, Master Pomfrey, you may retire and know your task is well done.”

“Christ’s nails! But this is a holy mess,” Richard cried as soon as the door closed. “Just when we thought all had settled. What will you do, Ned?”