Richard was dumbfounded. Perhaps he had never fully comprehended his mother’s intelligence and power all these years, yet he had observed before her strength and wisdom in a crisis. Cecily’s ploy was a master stroke, but he could not help being angered by it. “Well played, Mother,” he said, wearily, “It would seem you have me by the….”

“…short and curlies, my boy,” Cecily finished, approaching him and taking his stiffened shoulders. “Do the right thing, Richard. If you do not want to do it for yourself, do it for Bess. Don’t let this rumor fester so that it ruins her life. Say nothing, and no one knows for sure and people’s salacious imaginations will see you in bed with her.” Richard sagged, and she caressed his cheek. “You are grieving still, and in that state, one says and does things without fully considering the consequences.” She sighed. “I should know. Believe me, the Dickon I know who braved Ludlow, stood up to the great Warwick, and stayed loyal to Edward throughout his short life would have done the right thing.”

Richard had long awaited such words from his mother, and now they consoled him somewhat. However, his guilty conscience knew he did not deserve all this praise. He gently extricated himself from her hold and turned away. “I have done things, Mother, terrible things…” he began.

Cecily waved him off. “I do not want a litany of sins, my boy. We have all done things we regret, but it doesn’t make us evil. I know you are a good person, Richard, and God knows it, too.” She changed the subject. “I apologize for not coming to you sooner after Anne’s tragic death. I am much moved by how devoted you have been to her. I see it in your face, heard it in your voice. I have been too wrapped in my Berkhamsted cocoon to care about my life—or anyone’s—much anymore. I am seventy years old next week, and I have lived through more upheaval and unhappiness than most people, and I needed to withdraw from the world. But I should have been here to support you in those demanding times after Edward’s death.” She went to the window to let in some air, her figure still elegant if a little stooped, Richard noted. “I tried to help Edward at the beginning, but he was headstrong and we quarreled. Then I did not want to interfere when it seemed you were handling everything so well.”

Richard harrumphed. “If only you knew, Mother. In truth, I would have been glad of your counsel, but events happened so fast, I did not think to consult you—especially during those first weeks of upheaval.”