Anne’s devotion to him and the gallant way in which he had sought her out led her to assume that Richard returned her feelings. She never considered the young man’s understandable ambition to marry into the wealthiest family in England, and, just as her sister had been for George, Anne Neville was the best match for a brother of the king. But for Anne, she wanted only to wed the man she loved.

Three steps lay in Richard’s path to the altar, and only two were legal obstacles: George’s sanction and the Pope’s dispensation. The third was a task Richard dreaded: bidding Kate farewell.

She arrived with the two children at Crosby Hall during advent. As well as delighting in being a father, Richard’s passion for his beautiful mistress kept him away from Westminster night after night while he imprinted on his mind the image of her naked body rising above him, lying beside him, or thrilling him with every caress—memories that he hoped to carry with him forever. How he wished he could take her to court, show her off, and introduce his family to three-year-old Katherine and baby John. But Kate had begged to remain anonymous, high-born gossiping a real fear. “I would embarrass you,” was her excuse, and so Richard had kept his promise to her. Later he would also keep his promise to acknowledge the children by placing them in noble houses. “Let them never forget they have a royal father,” he begged of her, “and one who loves them.”

“This is farewell, is it not?” she whispered into the dark, fingering the écu talisman she had given him and that was always about his neck. “Can I guess? You are to be married? Is it…will it be…soon?”

“’Tis not settled yet, love. I have Edward’s permission at last, but my brother, George, is opposed, and there is much dissension between us. You see, I hope to marry his sister-in-law…”

“…Anne Neville.” Kate’s tone made Richard wince, but he would not flinch from his duty.

“Aye, ’tis Anne and no surprise. You must know that I marry for other reasons than love.”

He explained as much as she needed to know about the obstacles he faced and the intricacies of why Anne was the right consort for him, but he hastily promised his tearful mistress: “It has nothing to do with my heart. You have that, I swear. How could I ever forget our precious times together. You have taught me what true love is by loving me despite my having to forsake you now. But to honor both you and Anne, I must foreswear our liaison. One day, I promise, Anne will know of my love for you—and our children—and she will have to accept that I have a divided heart.”

“I think I understand,” Kate answered, sadly. “But I cannot help hoping my part of your heart will be the larger.”