He never failed to be astonished by Elizabeth’s beauty. At forty, she had weathered two marriages and seven children well—and the Grey brothers were already adults. He was not to know, as he pondered this, that Elizabeth was in fact carrying her eighth child. He inclined his head and asked, “You wished to talk to me, Your Grace?”

“Call me Elizabeth, Richard. You are always so formal.” Her famous laugh again disarmed him, and he smiled. “There, that’s better. You are quite handsome when you smile.”

What do you want, Richard wondered. The last time they had met, she had shocked him by remarking, “I must say, your tailor does admirable work hiding your hump,” before scooping up her little dog and gliding from the room. He had not even disclosed his problem to Edward, but, with all the comings and goings in the many castles he visited, he guessed a servant or two must have gossiped. Not his servants; he could trust them, even Signore Vicente, Middleham’s master armorer, who had had to make him a new bespoke harness for the France enterprise. Elizabeth’s remark had made him self-conscious for the next few months, however, causing him to always stand or sit against something, and he took to wearing a short mantle to change his silhouette. Today, however, Elizabeth was being warm and friendly, which made him wary. He waited.

“I do not trust Clarence, do you?” the queen eventually asked as casually as she could. Where is she going with this? Richard asked himself as Elizabeth continued: “He preens around the court for all he is heir to the crown and fawns on Edward, who is still foolishly blinded by his charm. It does not fool me, and I detest him. I warned Edward not to forgive him the first time he rebelled, or the second when he murdered my father and brother, but he believes George’s ambition died with Warwick at Barnet. I do not.” Elizabeth was leaning so close, Richard could smell the rosemary in her hair. “I am watching for him to put a foot wrong, which I wager he will do e’er long. What do you think, Brother? I know there is enmity between you and want you to know I share your suspicions.” She placed her delicate hand on his, and he was trapped. He felt the threat in her touch; she was out to avenge her family’s deaths and would use him, but Richard was not to be used again for dark deeds—especially not by Elizabeth Woodville.

He wanted to get away, but he patted her hand indulgently. “Dare I say you have an overactive imagination, my dear Sister. Despite his bravado, George is chastened I assure you. Besides you now have two healthy sons in anyone’s path to the throne. You should not worry yourself any further about George.”