The King's Grace Read Online Free PDF Page A

can one have discourse with”—he eyed her tall headdress with contempt—“a hennin?” Grace giggled and raised her eyes to his. “God have mercy, but you are bold, Lady Grace. But I am glad you have heeded our conversation of yesterday. Good girl.”
    Grace thought she would faint with pleasure. From the moment she had set eyes on the handsome John of Gloucester at Westminster earlier that year, she had given him her young, impressionable heart. Why could he not see how much she loved him? She noticed that many other young ladies at Sheriff Hutton also favored him, and she had seen him kiss one behind the buttery. Why wasn’t she older, she railed in her daydreams. Why wasn’t she prettier?
    “If that is how you like me, cousin, then I shall be bold,” she countered, blushing at her own audacity.
    John was serious. “Nay, Grace. I like you just the way you are. You must not change for me, little coz, nor for any man. I only meant you must not allow others to walk on you as though you were a Turkey carpet—especially not your sisters. Having spirit can get a person into trouble. I should know; I am the product of a most spirited lady.”
    “Your mother, John?” The music came to an end, as did the conversation.
    “Aye, my mother,” he replied as a warm smile suffused his face. “Remind me to tell you about her one day.”
    The grinding sound of the portcullis being raised on the other side of the bailey startled the dancers in the large solar. John and Tom climbed the steep steps up into the window embrasure to peer out.
    “A dozen horsemen,” John reported, “wearing the crescent argent of Percy, I think. If they come so late, it could be news from Nottingham. Sweet Jesu, can the Tudor have landed?”
    John sprang down from his perch and, without an apology to the girls, ran from the room followed by his friends. The door banged shut behind them, leaving the women stunned by the possibility John might be right.
    “Quiet, Jason!” Bess snapped at Tom’s dog that was left whining on the wrong side of the door. The lurcher turned sad brown eyes on her and slunk off to lie down.
    “Your future husband is coming to claim you, Bess,” Cecily teased,breaking the tension. “I wonder how he is? Short, fat and ugly, I dare say,” and her tinkling laugh put Grace in mind of Dame Elizabeth.
    Lady Gower was too preoccupied with discussing the possible invasion with the older ladies to upbraid Cecily, but Grace saw the look of fear that crossed Bess’s beautiful face and sidled close to slip her hand in her sister’s. Bess looked down at the girl and managed a grateful smile.
    “Sweet Jesu,” Cecily sighed. “Can you not see I was only jesting? John may have been mistaken about the visitors. ’Tis almost dark, and they may simply be travelers seeking shelter for the night.” Grace felt Bess’s hand relax in hers and heard her murmured acquiescence.
    But Cecily persisted with her original thread. “You know well and good that we must all marry where we are told, so why not see the amusing side, sister dear.”
    “Bess, Cecily, I beg of you, don’t fight…” Grace’s attempts to interrupt fell on deaf ears and she knew she had been forgotten yet again.
    “Do not mock me, sister dear ,” Bess snapped, loosing Grace’s hand and taking a step towards Cecily. “Uncle Richard found you a husband whom you abhor.” Cecily tossed her head but did not disagree. “And that’s why you chose to come up here with me, instead of becoming a loving wife to Ralph Scrope,” Bess declared. “It was only because you begged me to ask for your company that our uncle let you come. You were fortunate, too; the contract was arranged during Lent, so you could not be married. But you cannot put it off forever. Your husband may come and claim you any day,” she finished triumphantly. “Therefore, pray cast your stones elsewhere, and not at me.” Enjoying seeing her sister’s mulish pout, she added: “You are too