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but I now see you are a woman of virtue, and I will bother you no further. I am not worthy of you.” It was feeble, but it was the best he could do, and he hoped he had quelled the unfortunate subject of marriage.
    He expected tears and indeed her face was wet, but her eyes were defiant, and he saw the tears were simply raindrops. By now Jane was on her feet, repeatedly clenching her fists. “Not worthy of me? What is meant by that, pray tell? I can see by the cut of your cloth you are worthy of John Lambert’s daughter. I was so certain we both felt love on that first day we met. You only wished to bed and not woo me? In that case, ’tis I you thought unworthy, is it not?” Her accusations came at him like annoying houseflies, and when he turned up his hands wondering how to respond, she backed away from him. “Farewell, Tom Grey,” she told him. “I hope you know you have broken my heart this day. You are fortunate I did not break your nose.”
    It took every inch of will not to laugh. Instead Tom honored her by kneeling in the muddy grass, and, finding one of her cold hands, he held it to his cheek. “I did not say I could not love you, Jane. I said I must not. God go with you.” She snatched the hand away, and he watched her run along the church wall and around the corner before he picked up his soggy bonnet and wanderedback to his mother’s house, hoping to avoid one of her lectures. He was in no mood for her censure, too. For the first time in his life, he understood he had hurt someone, and he did not care for the feeling one bit.
    He could not know that Jane had only reached the other side of the cathedral before she had given way to sobbing. After thumping the ancient stone of a buttress several times, her sobs began to subside; her pride would not allow her to be seen in such distress, and so she used her wet cloak to clean her face before turning toward home. She could not stop thinking back on the scene and Tom’s sudden change of heart. She heard again his words: “I did not say I could not love you; I said I must not.” What could he mean? It was possible he was promised to another, but perhaps he did not love his betrothed and would return to her. A tiny ray of hope crept into her heart. Perhaps all is not lost, she thought; perhaps he needs time.
    Jane’s head went up as her confidence increased, and she did not see a fat hen in her path until it ran squawking from underfoot. “The chicken!” she suddenly exclaimed, turning back and hurrying toward the poulterer. “I almost forgot the chicken.”

TWO

L ONDON , S UMMER 1475
    J ane flung open the shutters of the bedchamber she shared with Bella and willed the day to dawn. The moon was retreating, and as the first shaft of the June sunrise shimmered off the towering spire of St. Paul’s, she looked out at the familiar view with a mixture of regret and excitement. What would her eye fall upon this time tomorrow, she wondered, feeling her heart beat a little faster while her fingers clutched the windowsill. She did not want to leave the safety of the house on Hosier Lane, but she wanted to be free of the twenty-two stifling years under her authoritarian father’s roof. And today she would get her wish.
    It was her wedding day, and as the dawn’s rays turned the sky from purple to ruby rose and orange, she quoted: “ Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning. Oh no, we shall have rain before long.” She raised her eyes heavenward, hoping it was not a portent. The thought of rain sent her thoughts back to the damp day and Tom Grey, and she could not help letting out a moan of pleasure when she again imagined his mouth on hers.
    Disturbed by the noise, Bella turned in her sleep, but she settled back without waking, and Jane looked at her in their shared bed with a modicum of guilt. Certes, she would miss her mother and probably Bella for a little while, but she would not miss her sister’s jealous nature. Jane had never been able to confide