‘I do.’ I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. This was not a conversation to make available to eavesdroppers. ‘I see Richard with Robert de Vere. I see you clasping hands with my father and brother. I too am of use, as a pawn in your own particular game. Farewell, Sir John. It was a most enjoyable experience. You have extended my education in the value of a woman of my bloodline. And the heady delights of flirtation, of course, which I expect to find efficacious in the future. But not with you, Sir John.’

I gripped my reins, to urge my mare forward, dropping one of my gloves as she tossed her head, instantly furious with my clumsiness in doing so. Sir John retrieved it, brushing the dust from the embroidered gauntlet while I held out my hand imperiously, for fear he thought I had done it with purpose. Which I had not, although once it might have crossed my mind.

‘I was maladroit.’

‘I think I will keep it.’ He did not seem to have much pleasure in the thought.

‘What is the use of a single glove?’

‘None at all. Give me the other.’ He held out his hand.

‘Not I!’

And then the smile had returned, that disarming gleam that swept away all his anger at the same time as it threatened to undermine my irritation with him.

‘Perhaps one day you will. Or I will return this to you. For now I will keep it, in memory of a pleasant interlude. Brief but unforgettable.’

He tucked it into his belt.

‘What is the point of that?’

‘I don’t know yet. But one day I will.’

‘You will forget me as soon as I am out of sight, Sir John.’

‘I will not forget you. Nor will you forget me.’

‘I will try very hard.’

‘I’ll not allow it.’ The gleam had vanished, the temper returned twofold. It was like conversing with the Roman two-faced Janus, lurching from one emotion to another.

‘And how can you prevent it?’

‘Elizabeth, you know as well as I that our thoughts are destined to run in tandem.’

‘No, they are not!’

Hopelessly I kicked my mare to walk towards where Constanza was seated in her litter, yet could not resist looking back, and asking; ‘Was I only a pleasant interlude?’

A show of puerile weakness I instantly regretted. Sir John applauded. I scowled.

‘What is that?’ I demanded, as cross as he, as the slap of palm against palm echoed off the walls.

‘My congratulations. How well schooled you have been by the Duke to see only ill in me.’

‘You misjudge me.’

‘You misjudge me, madam. If you think that I courted you simply to pass the long hours at court, you might as well leave.’

‘How would I know?’

‘How would you not, if your emotions were truly engaged? You were the least compliant woman of my extensive acquaintance. It took me much time and effort to win your regard, and I thought it well spent. I see I wasted my time. Go then!’ He bowed with exaggerated depth, the jaunty feather in his cap sweeping the dust in saturnine mockery. ‘Good day to you, Countess. I wish you well in your chosen life.’

Which made me lift my head in hurt pride, presenting my back to him, furious with his rejection and with my weakness in stepping into the trap. And then behind me I could hear Jonty’s voice raised in some exchange, followed by Sir John’s replying to him, a reply that made Jonty guffaw with laughter. That was my future. Jonty. Not John Holland.

My heart sank along with my spirits.

I would see him again. Of course I would. Of necessity our paths would cross, but I would greet him as an acquaintance. The magic was gone. He would make his way in the world, one way or another, and I would have no part in it other than as a mildly interested member of the court. I had lost him. My floundering heart was sore indeed.

I looked around me at the Westminster scene I was leaving. What was there for me now? My father’s words of disapproval, his sharp lesson in court politics, hammered into me and I knew I must concur. I would do what Philippa would do in my shoes. I would be what she would be. I would go with Constanza and Jonty and transform myself into an exemplary daughter, wife, sister. Until the day when I would fulfil my role and become an exemplary mother to the Pembroke heir.

Meanwhile I would rage against the unfairness of life, that the man who stirred my senses like the ingredients of a stock pot, had his eye set on some far distant goal that did not encompass me. And had reprimanded me for my lack of compliance.

Well, I would not comply.

And then Jonty was there, grinning, at my side.

‘Are we ready?’ he asked, manner disgustingly bright.

‘For the past half hour.’

We rode out together.

‘I like John Holland,’ he said. ‘Do you?’

‘Once I did.’

‘Oh. Have you quarrelled?’

‘No. I don’t quarrel.’ I caught his stare. ‘Well, sometimes.’

‘You’ve lost a glove.’

‘So I have.’

‘I’ll buy you another. It’s the sort of thing a lord gives to his lady.’

‘So it is.’

In the end, against my intentions, I looked back.

He was not there. Of course he was not. He would be gone to plot some other means to place himself at the centre of power. The quick blaze of his anger had surprised me, but did I not have more right to anger than he?



Chapter Five

Was there ever a man who kept his word? I did not think so.

I was settled at Hertford in stifling luxury, far from the glamour of Westminster and the questionable allure of John Holland’s personality, and decidedly unhappy. Men, I decided, were the source of much heartache for women.

At court, John Holland had become a necessity for my happiness. Now that I had rejected him and his campaign for self-aggrandisement, there was no place for him in my existence. This was my life, Countess of Pembroke, waiting for her lord to reach maturity, while Jonty, running wild with the other lads of our household whenever the Master of Arms took his eye off him, showed little sign of arriving there.

I hoped the Duke was satisfied with the sacrifice I had made in the name of family alliances, for I was buried in impossible boredom and exasperation. Moreover I felt that I had been dispatched here in disgrace, although my father had been more circumspect in his wording. Still it rankled.

John Holland had promised that he would never allow me to forget him. The silence from that quarter was shrieking in my head.

The Duke, as a placatory gesture, had offered to take me with him to Calais. I was not invited.