Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) by Diana Rubino

excited now to sleep, she dug out of her coffer the original
     family tree she'd obtained at court and traced the branch to which
     King Henry VI belonged.

He had come down from the Gaunt lineage, while Richard and Uncle
     Ned had been descended from both the second and fourth sons of
     Edward III, thus giving the Yorkists the better claim to the
     throne.

They had finally been victories after years of fighting, and the
     old king and his only son were no more. Ned had triumphed, and had
     an heir of his own. Surely there was nothing to fear….

She traced Henry VI's line carefully, noting that he had had two
     half-brothers, Edmund and Jasper Tudor, Welshmen. She knew Edmund
     was long dead.

Jasper could possibly lead her to success, although he harbored
     one mark against him—he was married to Catherine Woodville,
     Elizabeth's cousin.

She didn't think she could trust any of Elizabeth's relatives any
     more than she could trust the Grey Mare herself. But this was a
     risk she was willing to take. Now where to locate Catherine
     Woodville, and attain a Welsh escort to guide her there?

She thought of Richard, but she dare not even ask. She knew he
     would be willing to help, but she did not wish to take him away
     from Anne when she was recovering and he was still mourning the
     loss of his stillborn child.

Valentine? Nay, he had so many duties…. And certainly would not
     want to escort her across the country on an errand he did not
     believe in, even were she willing to trust him.

No, she had no choice but to turn to the only person who would
     help her, whom she trusted with her life. Uncle Ned.

She wrote quickly, giving as little detail as possible but
     impressing him with her urgency in the matter. Her letter to him
     ended with her name smudged in tears at the closing.

These days, she couldn't think of Uncle Ned without crying. How
     she longed for him, the dimpled smile, the warm embrace, that wink
     of reassurance. She knew he would escort her to Wales personally
     had he the time.

She re-read the letter out loud now, to help her feel as if he
     were sitting across from her. Oh, Uncle Ned, she sighed, closing
     her eyes and hearing his hearty laugh. How she longed for those
     days again. To think she had taken them for granted, and now,
     well, now she felt she might never laugh again.

His reply came so quickly she knew he must have employed a series
     of couriers to reach her, just as they did during war time, in
     order to convey urgent messages.

As she had hoped, he did not let her down. Not only did he provide
     Catherine Woodville and Jasper Tudor's whereabouts, at a manor
     home called Talyllyn, he was providing a Welsh escort as well,
     expected to arrive forthwith behind the speedy messengers.

He'd ended his note, "You're forever my little Dove. Love always,
     Uncle Ned."

She laughed and cried at the same time, folding the letter
     lovingly, kissing the royal seal.

Her heart swelling with excitement, she now wrote to Catherine and
     Jasper Tudor on the pretense that she was going to be in Wales,
     and would like to pay her kinsmen a visit now that she was newly
     married.

She didn't mention the real reason yet. She was taking no chances
     that anyone might throw any more obstacles in her way to finding
     her true identity.

Now if she could only slip away when Valentine was occupied with
     his many pressing concerns….

She called her maid to give her letter to the messengers to take
     to Wales, hugged the letter to her from Uncle Ned once more, and
     then began to start packing.

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Valentine was inspecting some tenant cottages the day Denys'
     escort arrived to take her to Wales to visit her possible
     relatives.

Owen Gwynne was at the head of the trio His Highness the King had
     sent to guide and accompany her. Denys took an immediate liking to
     him. His hair was whiter than snow and his cheeks were a ruddy
     brick-red. Aside from being the tallest, he was about