Virginia Henley by The Raven, the Rose Page B

the subject of their daughter before the first course was served.
    “Sir Neville, I formally request your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
    Sir Neville, ignorant of the day’s details and the week’s events, gave his wife a congratulatory look and wondered how she had pulled it off.
    Utterly surprised but nonetheless delighted with the turn of events, Joanna picked up her goblet and raised it to Ravenspur. “My lord, let me be the first to congratulate you. I offer a toast to Roger and Roseanna.”
    If Ravenspur noticed that two young knights sitting farther down the table did not respond to the toast, he gave no sign of it. Joanna rapidly calculated when the best time would be for the marriage to take place. Harvest was almost upon them; since Roseanna was stubbornly opposed to the match, she would need time to be brought around. Christmas was a festive time of the year when everyone was free to celebrate and indulge; if the wedding were then, the months between would give them time to sew Roseanna a spectacular trousseau.
    “I think Christmastide is lovely for a wedding, my lord.”
    Ravenspur frowned. “The betrothal has already been overlong.”
    Joanna hastened to suggest November eleventh. “Martinmas, then?”
    His frown deepened. “I thought next week, but perhaps I am precipitate. Let’s say the first day of Autumn.”
    “But September twenty-first is less than a month away,” she pointed out. When she saw his brow slant like the wing of a raven, however, she acquiesced. “We will be hard pressed, but I will see that all is ready.”
    “Sir Neville, Lady Joanna, please don’t think I am being difficult, but it will be impossible to have the wedding here. The King wants me in the North, where there is unrest,” he explained shortly.
    Joanna’s eyes went quickly to his. “There’s trouble between Edward and Warwick, isn’t there? Men’s ambitions! I told Edward he would make a mortal enemy of Warwick if he offered Warwick’s daughters husbands from the hated Woodville tribe.”
    Since Joanna seemed to know the King’s business, Roger was free to speak of it. “I suppose that is at thebottom of it. Warwick wants no less than both the King’s brothers to marry his daughters.”
    She replied, “It is a great wonder to me that Edward refused him; he is too easygoing.”
    “Easygoing, perhaps, but a fool he is not. If Warwick got George for his son-in-law, the kingmaker would be at it again.”
    Sir Neville was aghast. “You mean he would pull Edward from the throne and set up George as King?”
    “Let us not even speak of treason,” warned Ravenspur.
    “Warwick holds the North in the palm of his hand,” worried Joanna.
    “That’s why I go north, madame. I have three strongholds. Ravenglass in the west, Ravensworth in the center, and Ravenscar in the east.”
    “You wish the wedding that far north?” asked Joanna.
    “Nay. The King goes to York shortly. I think York would be best,” he decided.
    Joanna smiled complacently. York, Edward, and the King’s Court. How fitting!
    Ravenspur turned to Sir Neville. “Allow yourself at least three days for the journey to York. I know you have ample men-at-arms, sir, but I will send thirty of my own men to assure safe escort.”
        Ravenspur departed at dawn, so when Roseanna came downstairs to break her fast, he and his men were long gone. She let her mother and her women, including Alice and Kate, chatter on incessantly about the wedding details. An air of such urgency had befallen the household that they even seemed to speak more rapidly; their brains were even ahead of their tongues as they planned for the wedding.
    Roseanna was totally unconcerned with it all, for she had no intention of going through with these particular nuptials. She cast Sir Bryan a devastating smile and knew he would follow her out into the orchard.
    “Sweetheart, I’ve been nearly mad. Jeffrey has kept me informed as best he could, but last night when I had to