There was no response. Northumberland studied the knots in the floor at his feet.

“And finally, my lords. My wife was tried as femme sole, a woman alone, and in her own unwed name.” How uncompromising his stance before the assembled lords. He did not speak loudly, and yet it seemed to me that his voice rang from the stone arches. Yet the thud of my heart in my ears almost drowned it out.

“That should not have happened, my lords, as you are aware. You chose to take advantage of a woman alone. But Alice de Windsor is my wife and thus not without protection. By law, her property is mine. Whatever the judgment against her, Parliament had no right to confiscate her property, since, to put it simply, my lords, it was no longer hers to be confiscated.” I could taste the disdain in his condemnation. “The property is mine, my lords, and I demand its return. Immediately. As I demand a pardon for a judgment against Lady de Windsor that should never have been given.”

Oh, it was masterly. But would they bend before such erudition? I saw Windsor’s hands tighten infinitesimally on the folds of the hat he held.

“If you will give my arguments due consideration, my lords, and uphold the rights of my wife in this case, I will consider the post you offer me. Otherwise…”

The pause lengthened. Windsor made no attempt to fill it. The covert threat hung in the air.

We were asked to wait as they deliberated. Whilst I fretted and fussed, Windsor sat in silent contemplation of some distant scene, his shoulders against the wall, his booted ankles crossed. Only when we were resummoned did he take my hand and squeeze it hard.

And he led me in.

Neither of us sat. Their conclusion was stated within the time it took for the sun’s rays to crawl, snail-like, the width of a fingernail across the floor. The Lords, cowards that they were but with ludicrous dignity, deferred any decision on their trampling of the legal niceties of my case until the meeting of the next Parliament. A striking example of how to avoid the issue. I felt my courage draining away again.

You’ve lost, Will. It’s a hopeless cause to get them to recognize my innocence. I admire you for it. I love you for it. But you should never have taken them on. You’ll lose your chance of promotion.…Oh, Will! Why did you risk it?

“But you do admit to the validity of my arguments,” Windsor pressed them, unaware of my premonition of disaster.

“We think that the new Parliament will consider the force of your argument, Sir William,” Northumberland intoned.

“Excellent. Then I will consider the post of Governor of Cherbourg.”

“Ah—we trust you will do more than consider, Sir William.…”

“That, Lord Henry, might all depend.…”

They understood each other very well.

The audience was at an end.

Windsor waved my doubts away. “I’ll get it. And you’ll get your pardon.”

“They’ll keep the banishment hanging over me until the day I take my last breath.…”

“They won’t, you know.”

“And my manors are lost to me forever, most of them, I suspect, in Gaunt’s devious hands!”

“I’ll be the new Governor of Cherbourg before the month is out. Just for once, Alice, accept that you’re wrong!”

“Do you want this back?” I asked crossly, trying to work the ring over my knuckle without success. “Now that there’s no further need for me to keep it. If I can get it off! You might have to take a sword blade to it.…”

“Keep it!” He watched my efforts with amusement until he closed a hand on mine to stop me. “You played your wifely part magnificently. Besides”—he kissed my palm, and then my much-abused finger joint—“I should have given you this years ago. It’s of no great value. It was my mother’s. I don’t think she would have approved of you, but still…”

“I’m not good enough for you, I suppose.” I scowled to hide my pleasure at the simple little ring. It was of inestimable value to me.

“No. But she didn’t have a very high opinion of me either.…”

Was he never serious? I hissed my irritation. Windsor kissed me until I stopped. And he was right, of course.

“Will you really reject the preferment?” I asked. “If you don’t get your own way?” Who could know what this complex, enigmatic man might do?

His face was fierce with his achievement. “They’ll never know. And nor will you.”



Epilogue



Windsor went off to Cherbourg, looking every inch the puissant governor, with his weapons polished, his horse’s coat gleaming, and a new tunic and boots to mark the preeminence of the position. A port and fortified town, Cherbourg had been obtained by England on excellent terms from Charles of Navarre, and now promised to be a lucrative as well as a prestigious post for its new official. As I watched his wagons and pack animals plod steadily into the distance, I knew that he would enjoy the challenge of bringing Cherbourg firmly under English dominion, and of raising the revenues from the merchants there. In past days he had positively shimmered with energy. Life had been tedious for him since the end of his Irish sojourn. Windsor was meant for rural isolation as little as I.

As for our domestic bliss together, would we live into our dotage with love embracing us?

Never. The love was true. My heart was healed by it. But we were each too independent to rest entirely on the other.

“Come with me!” he urged, even at the eleventh hour, when the horses were stamping and sidling at the delay. “Pack your bags and come to Cherbourg.”

His stare urged me; his tone was imperative. His hands were strong around my wrists. By the Virgin, I was tempted. But…

“And do what? Sit in my parlor and stitch altar cloths whilst you play the great man?”

“You could entertain the merchants and their wives, seduce them into tossing gold into English coffers.”

I raised my brows.

“You could buy up property in and around Cherbourg.”

I shook my head.

“You could dress in silks and emeralds and play Lady de Windsor to your heart’s content.”

“I have already dressed in silk and emeralds. In another life.”

“Other women find it satisfying.” Impatient though he was, he pressed his lips hard against my temple, my mouth, and almost seduced me.

“I am not other women.”

“No, you are not.” His smile was a little twisted. “And I love you for that alone. Then stay and hold my manors for me.” He kissed me again, then scooped up Jane and held her high above his head. “Look after your lady mother for me. Don’t allow her to become too combative if her position as lady of the manor is undermined.”

Jane laughed and squirmed, uncomprehending. Joanne hung back, suddenly shy, behind my skirts. Braveheart joined her.

“Farewell, my Alice.”

“Farewell, Will. Keep safe.”

And then he was gone.

I wept. In the privacy of my chamber. In the far reaches of the great barn where no one would hear me as I howled out my misery. How could I be capable of shedding so many worthless tears over one ungrateful man? I missed him. Oh, how I missed him. I should have gone with him, I told myself—there would be no hindrance to my living across the Channel. My banishment might still exist before the law, to be enforced at any time—the new Parliament had not met to find its way to reconsider it—but Windsor was certain it would be revoked, and that as long as I lived under his roof no harm would come to me. So what if I had little to do in France other than order the household and ply a needle and gossip with merchants’ wives? I would be with Windsor.

He has gone! He has left me! How can I live my life without him? Who will comfort me? What will I do if he forgets me…?

What a miserable excuse for a sensible woman you are!

How will it be if one day I cannot recall his face, the fall of his hair against his neck?

You survived his absence well enough when he was in Ireland. Stop whining!

So I set myself to work, a time-honored distraction. I had made my decision. Much as I enjoyed Windsor’s company, much as he had become strangely essential to my happiness, life as the Governor’s wife in Cherbourg held no attraction for me, and the pull of my beleaguered property, still under confiscation, was strong. So I remained at Gaines with my two growing girls and Braveheart—gray muzzled now but still prepared to chase the coneys from the orchard—and wrote Windsor long, informative letters. And sometimes, when he had the time, he wrote back.

His visits home were sweet with reconciliation. It was not so difficult a journey for him, but they were rarely frequent enough for me.

“Alice!” He was exuberant as ever. “Come and welcome your lord and master.”

“I see no lord and master.” I looked askance at him, much as I had when we first met, this time from my superior position on horseback. My heart was thudding so hard I could have fallen at his feet. “Do I know you?”

His growl of laughter stirred my belly to hot desire.

I had ridden home to Gaines, after settling a dispute regarding a boundary between two of Windsor’s recalcitrant tenants, to find the usual chaos of arrival. There in the midst of all, directing horses and baggage, was Windsor, now striding toward me. His face was alight with the same saturnine smile that had piqued my curiosity so long ago at Edward’s Court.

“I hear you’ve been wielding a heavy stick for me against my tenants.” He held out his arms as I slid down from my horse. “My love, my dear, my impossibly belligerent one.”

Not caring that we had an interested audience, I leaned into his embrace. He had returned. His clasp was all-encompassing, his lips warm and gratifyingly familiar on mine. All the futile emptiness in my chest dissolved as his arms tightened around me as if he would never let me go, although I knew he would when the time came.