Royal Inheritance by Kate Emerson Page B

of this sum. King Henry must have been very grateful indeed to Anne of Cleves for allowing him to put her aside without protest.
    “Lady Anne’s gift to the king,” Lady Richmond continued, “was also very fine—two splendid horses caparisoned in purple velvet.”
    I scarce heard her. That man was watching me again. He had an intense, disconcerting gaze. His heavy-lidded eyes shifted as Imoved, leaving me with the uneasy feeling that he had some special reason for wanting to examine me so closely. Unable to imagine what it was, I fixed my attention on my stitches and attempted to ignore him, but I found no true relief until the earl and his gentlemen took their leave of us.
    “Who was that older man?” I asked. “The one who stared at me so boldly.”
    “Sir Richard Southwell.” Mary’s lips pursed as she spoke his name, as if saying it left a bad taste in her mouth.
    “He is one of my father’s retainers,” the Duchess of Richmond said.
    I looked from one woman to the other, puzzled by their reticence. Only the strength of my own reaction to the man persuaded me to pursue the matter. “Neither of you cares for the fellow. What has he done to make you so dislike him?”
    Mary’s derisive snort spoke volumes, but did not clarify matters for me.
    “What has he not done?” The Duchess of Richmond made a moue of distaste. “Some seven or eight years ago, he and several accomplices pursued a man into sanctuary at Westminster and slew him.”
    I gasped. Murder was a heinous crime, but to violate sanctuary made it a hundred times worse.
    “There was no doubt of his guilt,” Lady Richmond continued, “but my father the duke did not wish to do without his services. He persuaded the king to grant Sir Richard a pardon. The villain was fined a thousand pounds, but he kept his life, his property, and his freedom.”
    “And he did not even have to pay the entire fine,” Mary put in. “He gave the king two of his manors in Essex to make up the difference, and after that it was as if nothing untoward had everhappened. He has been at court ever since, regularly collecting honors and new grants of land.”
    “Why was he so interested in me?” I asked.
    “No doubt because you are new to our circle,” the duchess said.
    Mary snorted. “Say rather because she is young and innocent of the ways of men. And her looks are . . . pleasing.”
    I had the oddest sense that she’d meant to say something quite different, but I did not pursue that point. An alarming possibility had occurred to me. “Is he looking for a wife?”
    Mary laughed. “Oh, he has one of those already, and one in waiting, too. A mistress,” she clarified when I failed to comprehend her meaning. “But he’s not the sort of man to be faithful.”
    She set aside her needlework to stare into the past.
    “I was newly at court at the time of his pardon, young and foolish, though not so young as you are. My sister and I thought him fascinating—an outlaw like Robin Hood rather than the vicious killer he really was. Sir Richard can be courtly when he chooses. He was on his best behavior with us . . . in public. In private he took liberties he should not have.”
    She resumed embroidering with a vengeance, jabbing needle into cloth with unnecessary force.
    “Then I found out about his wife . . . and his mistress. I accused him of deceiving me, and when he realized that I had thought he was courting me, intending marriage, he laughed at me.”
    This time when the needle struck, it drew blood. Mary raised her wounded finger to her mouth with a sound of annoyance.
    “It is not such an unusual thing,” the duchess remarked. “Married men often prey on innocent young women. The practice is not limited to the court, either.”
    “My sister Margaret had more than one married suitor,” Mary said.
    “So did you,” the duchess murmured.
    “Not Master Clere!” Horrified by my outburst, I started to apologize, but Mary cut me off.
    “Not Tom.