Reasons for her having sent the ring raced through Richard’s mind as he waited for her. Did she need money for Dickon? He doubted it for he had been true to his promise to Geoffrey Bywood to send a generous stipend to cover the boy’s provisions. Perhaps she had found a suitable husband? But why would she need his permission? Perhaps a relative had been unjustly accused and she was seeking his intercession?

The rap on the door startled him, and he dropped the ring in the rushes. When Kate came in, he was down on one knee searching for it, and she could clearly see the outline of his crooked back through his doublet. She felt a pang of sympathy; the last time she had seen him he had hidden that side from her. The protrusion was far more visible after all these years, she observed sadly.

As soon as Richard looked up and saw her, his spirits lifted, and he could not help smiling. Francis, who had stayed long enough to usher Kate through the door, hurried out with relief.

Kate curtsied as Richard, having retrieved the ring, stood up, but her face fell when she saw the reddened eyes, the shadows of grief, and new deep lines of worry etched on his face. She went to him then and, cradling his head between her hands, kissed him tenderly on both cheeks. “How truly sorry I am, Richard,” she said, “about Anne.”

Tears pricked, but Richard allowed himself to be gentled into a chair. She knelt on the floor beside him as she had done so many times. Although he would not touch her, he experienced a calmness he had not felt since Anne’s healthy days.

“Is that why you came, Kate?” he finally asked, toying with the ring in his palm. “Did you think I would not receive your condolence unless you sent the ring?”

“Oh, no, Richard, it was not that at all. I could have sent you a letter if I had only wanted to express my sympathies.” She rose, agitated now, as her mission was far more sensitive. “I came because I hear you have been somewhat…um…contrary of late. ’Tis hard to gain an audience with you, I’ve been told, and then it’s not pleasant. In truth, I should be flattered you agreed to see me.”

Richard looked surprised but then gave a reluctant grin. “Is that what they say? I suppose ’tis true.” He motioned her to sit on a stool. She listened quietly as he spoke of his grief and, hard though it was for her to hear, of his love for Anne. “But after all my many sins—and there have been some heinous ones, including wishing for your arms about me more times than I care to admit—I truly believe God has forsaken me. He took Ned, he has taken Anne, and soon Henry Tudor will take England from me. I know it.”