Although more troops and supplies arrived during the last two weeks of June, Edward was disappointed he had not been joined yet by the earls of Pembroke and Devon. He moved out of Fotheringhay and rode unhurried to Nottingham castle, where he dug in and waited for news.

Edward blanched, reeled backwards and collapsed into a chair when he read the missive that he now crumpled in his clenched fist.

“What is it?’ Richard and Hastings asked in unison. Elizabeth quickly poured some wine and offered him the cup.

Edward downed the contents in one long swallow. All eyes were on him as he handed back the cup to Elizabeth, who was now kneeling by his side. “What is it, my dear lord?” she asked.

“The worst of news,” Edward’s flat monotone belied the words, but all could see he was in shock. “Not only is my cousin of Warwick preparing to turn his coat, but it would seem my brother George has done the same.”

It was not a complete surprise to anyone in the room, but all gasped just the same. Richard felt the bile in his throat as all the years of friction and suffering at George’s hands rose to sour his senses. He could not speak he was so overcome with a heady variety of emotions: anger, disappointment, scorn, sadness, deliverance, and loss.

“’Tis said Warwick has not only promised Isabel to George but my crown into the bargain,” Edward growled, rising and pacing about the room.

“The crown?” Earl Rivers shouted. “Has the man gone mad? ’Tis not his to give. It is time for you to cut off his haughty head, Your Grace,” he counseled Edward, who turned his back and stared silently out of the window. It was clear to Richard that Ned was in no mood for discussion.

Richard seized a moment of silence and faced the handsome patriarch of the Woodville family, who was decidedly overstepping his bounds albeit he was Edward’s father-in-law. “My brother and I wish to be alone, if it please you, my lord. I pray you, take no offense, but George’s defection is a family matter, and we would be grateful for time to discuss it between ourselves.”

“I am Edward’s wife,” Elizabeth objected. “I should stay.”

Richard smiled and, in a rare gesture for him, went to Elizabeth and lifted her hand to his lips. “He will be with you shortly, Sister, I promise. Just allow us this moment, I beg of you.” What he wanted to say was: Much of what ails us is your family’s fault. You have all set yourselves up above those who are far nobler than you. Your influence with the king has repelled those who would give experienced counsel—including Warwick, hence distancing himself from good governance. Instead, he simply opened the door.