Infamous by Virginia Henley Page A

you will have to bear my disrespect, Mother. Tomorrow I shall rule my own household at Clerkenwell. It is the only advantage I perceive in marrying Gilbert de Clare.”
    Jory blushed for her royal friend’s ungracious words.
    â€œLady Marjory, I leave the matter in your capable hands. Get Joanna to the chapel without further delay,” the queen ordered.
    When Her Majesty departed, Jory resorted to blatant manipulation. “I believe it is clouding up outside. Perhaps it won’t dare rain on such a lovely bride, but the sunshine will make your diamonds and sapphires glitter so brilliantly, you’ll dazzle the eyes of those hoping for a glimpse of their royal princess.”
    â€œHurry up, Maud, Blanche…I don’t want to get wet. All four of you must carefully carry my train so that it doesn’t drag on the ground. Where is that damn page boy with my kneeling cushion?”
    A great cheer arose from the crowd as Princess Joanna emerged, and in spite of her studied arrogance, it brought a smile to her lips. Jory, too, beamed with delight when applause broke out as the procession of beautiful noble ladies walked with slow measured steps toward the Horseshoe Cloister that led into the Lower Ward.
    There was not room enough for all the invited guests in Windsor’s Royal Chapel and a crowd of nobles stood beneath the stone arcading outside the entrance to the chapel. Six little girls of noble birth awaited the bride’s arrival in the vestry, and they walked down the aisle before Joanna, strewing rose petals, myrtle, and mint, an ancient custom that verily bestowed love, happiness, and fertility upon the couple.
    Focusing her attention on holding up Joanna’s train, Jory did not see Warwick, who was standing at the back of the chapel in the last pew. Guy de Beauchamp, however, saw Marjory de Warenne in all her youthful innocence.
    When the bride and her attendants reached the front of the chapel, Jory and the other three came to a halt at the altar steps and watched Joanna ascend to stand beside Gilbert de Clare, who was attended by King Edward and Archbishop Winchelsey. Jory bent to whisper instructions to the page boy, who then quickly set the velvet kneeling cushion before the bride. When the Earl of Gloucester went down upon his knees, the regal princess slowly followed suit, and the archbishop made the sign of the cross and began the Solemnization of Matrimony.
    Jory did not understand the words of the Latin prayer, and her mind began to wander. Her eyes focused on the candle flames of the tall tapers that adorned the altar and in her imagination Jory replaced Joanna as the bride. As she knelt beside Guy de Beauchamp, he took her small hand in his and squeezed it. Her heart overflowed with joy and happiness.
    When King Edward Plantagenet stepped forward to give his daughter in marriage to Gilbert de Clare, Jory’s attention came back to the royal ceremony. She smelled the incense and heard the muffled noises of the nobles who packed the pews behind her.
    Though she felt a great compulsion to turn around and seek out Warwick, she resisted the temptation and smiled as she imagined she could feel his dark, possessive eyes riveted upon her.
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    Though not often given to introspection, the sight of Jory gave Warwick pause. Her extreme youth and angelic innocence had a profound impact on the earl that was almost akin to a blow in the solar plexus. What the hellfire am I doing contemplating marriage with a girl of eighteen? Such an act could be deemed the height of arrogance and self-indulgence and rightly so!
    As the ceremony advanced and the couple exchanged their vows, Warwick’s mind flew back to the vows he had pledged on two separate occasions. His inner voice spoke again, this time more insistently. Neither marriage was successful. Are you sure you are ready to risk committing a third disastrous mistake? The answer came back a resounding yes. He was perfectly willing to take