‘Katherine.’

That was all he said. It was all he needed to say to restore the bond that held us after a full year of separation. His eyes, full of light, full of love, rested on my face.

‘John,’ I replied in kind, pressing my palm against his shoulder, then moving quietly to pour ale. He drank deeply from the cup, before placing it on the hearth, stretching out his legs to cross his ankles before the fire. His boots steamed, so did his travelling clothes, filling the room with the pungency of horse and leather and wet wool.

‘It’s good to be still for more than two minutes together.’

I sank to a cushion on the settle opposite, prepared to wait.

Briefly his eyes closed, his face such a mask of weariness that my hands clenched hard around my own cup. It was easy to forget how the years passed and added to our tally of age, but that was all forgotten when he opened his eyes and smiled at me. They were keen and bright, not weary at all. The austere lines of his face softened into the handsome man I knew so well.

‘Well?’ I asked in response to his smile, returning it. I had missed him so very much. Everything in my world tilted back to normality.

John leaned forward, arms braced on his thighs, looking across to me. ‘Do you know what I most admire in you?’

‘My intelligence?’ I responded promptly. My hands relaxed in my lap. This was certainly the man I knew.

‘Your intelligence is unsurpassed—but no, not that.’

‘My hair.’

‘Not that either. Nor can I see it since it’s covered with that little padded creation that I understand has become the rage. I like the beads. You look like a Twelfth Night gift.’ Those eyes gleamed as they had done in the past, dispelling for ever the image of age and death. ‘I’ll take pleasure in winding your hair round my wrist later and show you how much I admire it.’

I remained suitably stern. ‘Then it must be that you admire my way with land drainage and poor crops and tenant squabbles.’

He laughed. ‘Never! You’ll never solve the drainage problems.’

‘Then you’ll have to tell me.’

‘It is your ineffable patience. And your generosity of spirit.’

I tilted my head against the high back of the settle. If only he knew. How often had I run to my window, drawn by the sound of hooves? How often had I buried myself in a frenzy of paperwork to drive him from my mind when he could not be with me?

‘I’ve been back a month and could not come to you. You never complain.’

‘Agnes would not agree with you,’ I remarked drily.

‘Which makes your even temper even more marvellous. I was summoned to present myself at court by our illustrious King.’

‘What now?’

‘Ruffled feathers all round. Richard wanted my support.’ The taut line of his jaw suggested that there was something else, apart from Richard’s obtuse refusal to see the dangers that surrounded him. ‘He wants a French alliance,’ he continued. ‘A French bride perhaps.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘I think that what I think no longer matters. My brother Gloucester abhors any such suggestion. Richard hopes I can persuade him, or at least hold the balance between the pair of them. They were at each other’s throats like rabid alaunts when I got there.’

‘Will he listen to you?’

‘Richard or Gloucester? Who’s to say? We all parted amicably enough, but I think my days of holding any influence over Richard are well and truly numbered. And then I went to Canterbury. A prayer before St Thomas never goes amiss.’

I watched his expression carefully, trying to read what he was not saying. ‘A prayer for what, exactly?’

Which he ignored. ‘Come here, my beloved.’

I knelt at his feet, as I had done so often before, expecting him to take my hands in his as a prelude to our seeking some privacy for the rest of the day, but instead he reached within the breast of his tunic and withdrew a document. I opened the single sheet without a cover as he dropped it into my hand. A letter. Or rather a copy of a letter, since it had no seals, but the signature was John’s own although the script was that of his clerk. Then I saw the superscription…I saw the crucial, particular word. Carefully I folded the sheet closed again, looked up into his face and governed my voice.

‘I knew it would happen, of course. I hoped it would not be so soon. I should be pleased for you.’ My smile felt all wrong on my mouth but I fought to keep it in place. ‘You know I will not make a fuss.’ My whole body felt full of unshed tears. It was a request for a papal dispensation to allow a marriage. ‘Richard holds you in a higher regard than you think,’ I continued. ‘Who is she?’

It would be some puissant lady from Burgundy or Aragon. Perhaps a connection of the powerful Valois family. A princess was not beyond his sights. Even an English lady whose family Richard wished to shackle to the Crown. Who was important enough for John of Lancaster, King’s son, Duke of Aquitaine?

I considered. No, it was not unexpected, but that did not mean that it did not tear at me with sharp incisors. I held out the request, to return it to him. I should be gratified that he had ridden so far to tell me of it, for of course he could not refuse if Richard insisted.

Instead of taking it, The Duke leaned forward, surprising me by closing my hand over it, holding my fingers tight closed.

‘Katherine, my dearest love.’

‘It’s all right, you know. You are too powerful to remain unwed. I have lived as your mistress for more years than I can count. You must know that a new wife will make no difference to my love for you. Has the Pope allowed it?’ If he needed a dispensation, she must be close to him in blood line. I could not think who. I sighed. I had hoped for a little respite from marital upheavals. Jealousy was no respecter of age or experience. ‘Do I know her?’

‘Katherine, my dearest love,’ he repeated. ‘My dearest and most obtuse love. It is for you.’

I searched his face for enlightenment. I did not understand.

‘It’s a request for a papal dispensation…’ he explained slowly and solemnly as if I were a want-wit. ‘For us, Katherine. To allow us to marry.’

‘For me?’ My voice squeaked. My eyes blurred with tears so that I could barely see the tenderness of his smile. I swallowed and tried again. ‘Why would you wed me?’

It was all I could think to say since, before God, it made no sense to me.

‘I would wed you,’ the Duke stated, choosing the words with care, ‘because I can think of nothing in life I would rather do. I need please no one but myself. Surely I am of an age to follow my own heart.’

I simply stared at him.

‘But why would we need a dispensation? I am no blood of yours.’

‘Because we have been more than close for too many years, even before you came to my bed. I’ll give no man the opportunity to claim that our marriage is without legality. Read it if you will.’

I read what had concerned him: the stages in our lives together that had given him pause for thought in his search for legality, primarily when he had stood godfather to my daughter Blanche, even before he had been in an adulterous union with me when he was still wed to Constanza. There were some who would question the closeness of such a long relationship. The Duke had asked that all such past impediments should be removed and papal permission granted.

Yet I could barely comprehend it. Permission to marry me, a woman no longer in the full flush of youth? A woman with no status, no standing of any importance? I looked up from the request, beyond words. He held my heart in his hands, as he knew. Why would he see the need to wed me? Princes did not marry their mistresses. Princes did not marry women of such social inequality as ours. Already I could hear the mass of voices at the royal court raised in condemnation of such an outrageously unacceptable step.

The Duke of Lancaster did not marry his daughters’ governess.

‘But you must not,’ I heard myself say.

‘Why not? I want to wed you.’

‘Are you sure?’ It was all I could manage.

The Duke huffed a breath as he cupped my face in his hands and planted a kiss on my lips. ‘Now that has to be the most foolish question I have ever heard you ask, Lady de Swynford. Of course I’m not sure. I might change my mind any minute. You’d better hurry up and take me before I renege on any promise.’

I could not laugh. ‘What did His Holiness say?’

‘Yes. He said yes.’

‘Show me,’ I said, still sifting through his astonishing statement. A papal dispensation for me to wed the Duke of Lancaster.

‘I cannot, faithless one. It was not written, but sent by word of mouth, delivered by papal courier in full regalia and jewels.’

‘Is it legal?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Does the King know?’

‘Yes. He sanctioned it.’

‘He did?’

‘He did. A little cool perhaps but I did not have to harangue him.’ With a soft laugh the Duke dropped his hands to mine again and raised my imprisoned fingers to his lips. ‘There is no legal reason for you not to agree. Only your own inclination can dictate your choice. Of course, if you decide that you cannot tolerate me after all these years. Or if you have given your wayward heart to one of my squires…’

I sat there with the letter on my lap, tears on my cheeks, even as I smiled at last.

‘I thought you would wed a lady of foreign consequence.’

‘I know you did.’

‘If you wed me, there are those who will rail against us. They’ll detest it, as degrading to your lineage.’

‘I know that too. Are we not equal to them? Will we let such judgemental minds dictate what we will do with the rest of our lives?’ He lifted me so that we stood together, the damp of his garments spreading to mine. ‘Katherine, my love. Will you wed me? I am no longer a young man—’