Richard gave a low whistle and replenished Cecily’s cup. “Isabel. Of course. So he believes, if he disposes of Ned, he can rule through his daughter and thus through her husband—George.” It suddenly occurred to Richard that Warwick had been planning this coup for a long time. “How blind Ned was—I was,” he admitted. “I have known about the plan to have George wed Isabel for more than a year. I kept turning a blind eye.” True to his nature, Richard took the blame. “I should have warned Ned sooner, but I trusted the earl.”

Cecily patted his hand. “Your loyalty to your lord was admirable, Richard. But ’tis good that you now know where those loyalties lie. Your father would be proud,” she told him, “as am I, my dear boy. But for the present, I shall send you both to your bed. Sir Robert…Rob, I bid you a goodnight. I would have a last word in private with my son.”

Richard cocked an eyebrow. “What is it, Mother?” he asked as Rob took his leave.

Cecily came around to where he sat slouched on the bench. She gently put her hand exactly on the rib protrusion, and he froze. “Since when have you had this affliction? I am your mother; did you think I would not see?”

Richard moved away from her touch, ashamed, but he knew her concern was genuine. He rose and walked to the window. It would be a relief to talk about it, perhaps. Kate knew, but she had not questioned him. When he was with her he forgot about it. Now, he took a deep breath: “For a year or more I have felt something was amiss. Rob noticed one day after our exercise, but it was when I needed harness before last yuletide that I became concerned. The armorer told me it would have to be bespoke due to the slight curve.” He turned, stricken. “I fear God has forsaken me, Mother,” he admitted suddenly. “I have tried to be righteous, I have attended to my prayers and the scriptures, but there is no doubt that I am crooked. Is the Devil in me?”

He was unprepared for his mother’s fierce embrace and gave in to its remembered comfort.