A Dangerous Inheritance by Alison Weir

was still being brought into the house. Kate climbed down behind Anne, leaving John to bring up the rear, and they ascended the stairs. And there, at the top, flanked by his chief household officers, Richard himself appeared, waiting to greet them.
    Kate’s joy at seeing her father was slightly marred by the sight of his tense, drawn, unsmiling face. She watched as he raised the duchess from her curtsey, took her in his arms, and kissed her full on the mouth.
    “My lady, it does me good to see you,” he said. “And my children! It has been too long.” So saying, he beckoned Kate and John forward and embraced them in turn as they rose from their obseisances. Yet it was a formal embrace, Kate noted, as if her father, conscious of his new office, was standing on ceremony. He seemed unusually distant—he, who had normally been so warm to his children. Poor man, he must have a lot on his mind, she told herself.
    “Come within!” the duke invited. “You shall see that I have found us a fine house. You might even say it is fit for a king!”
    Kate could only agree when she walked into the soaring hall and looked up at the red-and-gold-timbered ceiling arching far above her head. It was a magnificent room, lit by a tall, elegant oriel and a row of high clerestory windows, and its white walls were hung with the most intricate tapestries shot with gold. She saw that Anne and John too were impressed by the splendor of their new residence.
    “Is this one of the King’s houses?” John asked.
    “No, my son, it was built by an Italian merchant, and enlarged by Sir John Crosby, from whom I lease it,” the duke explained. “There is no finer residence in the City, apart from Baynard’s Castle.” By all accounts that too was a palatial building, so Kate wondered why he had removed here.
    Richard indicated that Anne should seat herself in one of the carved chairs set on either side of the vast stone fireplace. Stools had been set for Kate and John, and a groom was sent to command wine and comfits from the kitchens. “I know you like them,” the duke smiled, sounding more like his old self. “I have ordered a feast for tonight, to celebrate your arrival. My lady, how is our son?”
    “He was well when last I heard, thanks be to God,” Anne said. “But my lord, I am more concerned about you. You are looking tired.”
    “The last weeks have been especially challenging,” the duke replied. “You know most of what has been going on, but there is more. Tell me, what was the mood of the people when you traveled through London?”
    “I did detect hostility, but there was also some cheering,” Anne recalled.
    “Good,” the duke said briskly. “Generally I am popular in the City. These merchants and men of business foresaw only instability with the government in the hands of a child and the grasping Wydevilles.”
    “We saw men in armor,” John piped up.
    Their father frowned. “These are uncertain times. Some fear that these tensions might lead to war. The Queen’s supporters have the ear of some of the councillors. My motives have been questioned.” His expression was grim.
    “Your motives? I don’t understand.” Anne was bewildered.
    The duke’s eyes met hers. “They say I have meant all along to take the throne myself.”
    Kate’s gasp was audible. John stared at his father incredulously. The duchess had gone very pale.
    “But you have never given them cause to think that!” she protested. “What of all the things you have done to ensure the King’s peacefulsuccession? Your care and deference for him, your nurturing of him for kingship?”
    “That all counts for little beside the gossip,” the duke retorted bitterly. “Which assuredly you will hear, I warn you. That is why I have prepared you.”
    “Have you spoken out in your defense?” The sharpness in Anne’s voice betrayed her distress.
    “I have indeed.” He got up and started pacing up and down the marble floor. “Why do you think I have