“Your instincts have always proven reliable before,” Rosamund said. “We will wait.”


The following day the court decamped Westminster Palace and London for Windsor, where the king was looking forward to a summer of hunting in his green park. They rode with the royal progress, Lucy, Tom’s man, and the cart with their belongings mixed in with the baggage train and their own men-at-arms. Philippa rode with her friend Cecily FitzHugh and Rosamund and Tom with the Earl and Countess of Renfrew.

The earl was a large man with gray eyes and sandy-colored hair. His wife was petite and dark-haired with fine blue eyes.

“I remember your late husband, Sir Owein,” Ned told Rosamund as they traveled. “He was an honorable man and a devoted servant to the House of Tudor. I, too, have Welsh blood.”

“Owein barely remembered the place of his birth, my lord. He went into service as Jasper Tudor’s page when he was but six,” Rosamund told her companion.

“My wife and I spend more time at court now than in the marches,” the earl admitted. “Our son and his wife need to learn how to manage the family estates. It will be theirs one day. Tom tells me you have a large holding in the north.”

“Friarsgate,” Rosamund said. “My parents and brother perished when I was three. I became the heiress to Friarsgate. Philippa is my heiress. I have land, cattle, and many sheep, my lord. Now Tom and I have begun a new venture, exporting my fine woolen cloth. We are building our own ship, for the cloth must be transported carefully.”

“And your daughter will inherit all of it one day,” the earl said.

“Aye,” Rosamund replied. “Her second sister, Banon, will inherit Otterly from Tom. As for my youngest daughter, Elizabeth, she will be given a very large dower portion. I seek a title for her.”

The Earl of Renfrew nodded, understanding completely. Family connections were very important. “My second son, Giles-” he began.

Rosamund interrupted him. “Philippa is too young, my lord, for me even to consider it yet, but I thank you. When she is old enough, in another three years, perhaps your son will still be available, and we may speak.”

“You are a good mother,” the earl told Rosamund.


They reached Windsor, where Tom had provided them with an entire floor of a fashionable inn. He had even arranged housing for the men-at-arms, telling them if they wished to earn extra coin they might hire themselves out. They must, however, be prepared to depart Windsor in late July, when Rosamund wished to return home. They hardly saw Philippa, for she and her new friend were part of a group of young girls of good families following the progress. They rode to the hunt during the day and spent part of the evening dancing and playing games. Philippa had never known such a life existed, but she liked the court far better than her mother ever had and said so.

“It will be so dull to return to Friarsgate,” she said one morning as she prepared to depart for the day’s hunt.

“Nonetheless, it is where you belong for now, my daughter,” Rosamund replied.

“Oh, mama! You treat me like a child, and I am no longer a child!” Philippa cried.

“You are ten years of age,” Rosamund said stiffly, “and a long way from being grown, whatever you may believe.”

Philippa rolled her eyes at her mother and emitted a deep sigh.

“We cannot go home too soon,” she told Tom after she had repeated the conversation to him. “I see Philippa has a stubborn streak in her that must be controlled.”

“I wonder where she has gotten that,” he murmured, casting his eyes heavenwards.

“Tom! I always did my duty when I was her age,” Rosamund protested.

“I cannot say, dear girl, for we were not acquainted then,” he told her with a grin.

“Edmund will tell you it is so,” Rosamund said heatedly.

“We are departing in another few days, cousin,” he soothed. “Let her have her fun. Soon enough she will be back in the hall studying with her sisters and Father Mata.”

“And the sooner, the better,” Rosamund muttered. Philippa was suddenly making her feel very old.

Windsor Castle was a most impressive castle. It sat upon a hilltop overlooking green meadows and lush woodlands, the Thames River below it. The castle had been begun by the Normans in the year 1080. It was one in a nexus of nine castles being built to encircle and protect London. In the beginning it was no more than a wooden keep used as a hunting lodge by its Norman kings. The first of the Plantagenet kings, Henry II, rebuilt the castle in stone. Runnymede Meadow, where King John had signed the Magna Carta, was nearby. In the year 1216 Windsor had withstood a great siege. Henry III, John’s son, had the damage repaired and enlarged the royal apartments as well. A fire in 1296 destroyed much of Henry’s rebuilding.

Edward III, born at Windsor, loved the castle and did much to add to its beauty and its use. Silver-gray stone from a nearby quarry at Bagshot was used in the new walls and buildings. Edward IV began building a magnificent chapel he dedicated to St. George, but it was not finished in his reign. His grandson, Henry VIII, was now in the process of completing the chapel. Henry Tudor loved Windsor for its great forest where he might hunt at his leisure all day.

While Rosamund found the castle an impressive edifice, she thought Greenwich fairer. Windsor had no gardens or walks to enjoy. Philippa didn’t care. She was out a-horse with Cecily FitzHugh almost every day. And when the two girls were not hunting, they were with the queen, who might or might not be with child again. Katherine called Rosamund to her the day before the lady of Friarsgate planned to depart.

The queen did not ask, she simply said, “I will want Philippa sent to me when she turns twelve, Rosamund. I have decided to have her as one of my maids of honor. Young Cecily FitzHugh will also be one of my maids. You know I will keep your daughter safe and chaste while she is with me.”

Rosamund was not pleased. Philippa had taken too easily to court life, and if she were ever to remain at court, what would to happen to Friarsgate? Still, one did not argue with a queen. She curtsied to Katherine and said, “This is a great honor, your highness, and I know that Philippa will be thrilled to have received it. Am I to tell her, or will you?”

“I have already spoken with her and with the Earl of Renfrew’s daughter, as well,” the queen replied.

Rosamund curtsied again. “With your highness’ permission, I will withdraw now. We are departing in the morning for Friarsgate.”

“You are eager.” Katherine smiled. “You have always loved your home, Rosamund. Go, then, and travel safely with God. I will pray for you.”

“And I will pray for your highness,” Rosamund replied as she backed from the queen’s presence.

When she told her cousin of the queen’s words, Lord Cambridge was delighted. “The trip has been a great success, dear girl. You are back in favor, and Philippa is to be a maid of honor in two years’ time. Wonderful!”

They were seated in the small private dining room of the inn, having their main meal of the day as they spoke.

“Philippa likes the court too well for my peace of mind,” Rosamund said. “If she becomes involved in the life surrounding the king, she will neglect Friarsgate. I do not like it, but there is nothing I can do about it.”

“It is but a phase she is going through,” Tom said. “Philippa has extraordinary common sense and will not allow herself to be lured by the pleasures the court can offer her.”

“I was not like that at her age,” Rosamund said.

“Nay, you were a dutiful chatelaine with an ancient husband at ten,” Tom reminded her. “The weight of Friarsgate was heavy on your shoulders, cousin, but Philippa is not you. It is a different time in which she lives. Besides, at court she is safer from Henry the younger.”

“I wish we would go back to learn he has been hung,” Rosamund said darkly. “I do not relish the next two years, if he survives. Keeping Philippa from him will not be easy, Tom, but as God is my witness, I will do it!”

“I know you will, dear girl. Why, you frighten me half to death when you get that look in your eye,” he teased her.

“Are the men-at-arms gathered together now?” she asked him.

“We will depart as early on the morrow as you can arise, cousin,” he said.

“I am most eager to get back,” Rosamund said.

“To Friarsgate or to your brazen Scot?” he asked, a single eyebrow cocked.

“To Friarsgate, of course!” she said immediately. “I do not know what is to happen with Logan Hepburn and myself. We shall see.”

Tom did not pursue the subject further with Rosamund. He knew what was going to happen even if she didn’t. She was going to marry the laird of Claven’s Carn, and damned well about time, he thought. He didn’t know how Logan would bring off this miracle, but it would happen. The Scotsman loved his cousin deeply, even if she was too stubborn to see it. They had both been through much in their lives, but now it was time for them. And Lord Cambridge intended to see it happen. He knew that Edmund and Maybel were in agreement with him on this. It was just a matter of making Rosamund see reason. It amazed him that his cousin, an intelligent and clever woman where Friarsgate was concerned, could be so foolish in the matter of her own emotions. He did not doubt for a moment that Patrick Leslie would always be in her heart, even if she spoke little of him anymore. But there had to be room in her heart for another love, as well. For the first time in a long while, Tom prayed.

A knock at the chamber’s door opened to reveal the same page who had escorted Rosamund to the king at Westminster. The lad bowed smartly, saying as he did, “His majesty wishes to see the lady of Friarsgate before she departs. Please come with me.”