The Widow's Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Help me unlace, Tilly.” She turned her back for Tilly's deft fingers at the laces of her stomacher.

    Hugh looked around the large well-appointed apartments in the west wing. The window shutters were fastened back and the scent of roses wafted up from the garden below.
    Robin was kneeling upon the window seat. “There's a wonderful topiary garden, sir. Peacocks and serpents and stags. I have never seen its like.”
    Hugh came to stand behind his son, his hand resting on the boy's shoulder. Beyond the topiary garden could be seen the river, flowing gently through a meadow dotted with grazing sheep. Everything about Mallory Hall was prosperous and orderly.
    “Why do we lay claim to Lady Mallory's land, sir?” Robin looked up at his father, his blue eyes perfect mirrors of Hugh's. “If she has the deeds, I mean.”
    “She has the deeds, but she has no right to them, my son. The land was not Roger Needham's to will away. It belonged to his first wife, a distant cousin of ours. Lady Mallory contrived with some legal juggling to persuade Needham to cede the land to her at his death. But it was not his to will away. It belonged to his first wife's family and should by rights have been returned to them.”
    He moved away from Robin back into the chamber. “The land in dispute is particularly rich in lead. Lady Mallory understandably is loath to give it up, since shehas been mining it very lucratively for years. It will form the foundation of a considerable fortune for you, Robin.”
    Robin got off the window seat. “Will it be easy to get it back?”
    Hugh gave a short laugh, remembering the expression Privy Seal had used. “From what I’ve seen of Lady Mallory, very difficult, I should imagine. But there's more than one way to skin a cat.” He opened the wooden, iron-bound chest that had been brought up for him. “Now, what finery shall we choose to honor Pen's feast?”
    “She's very pretty,” Robin said. “Don’t you think she is?”
    “Who, Pen?” Hugh looked up with a smile.
    “Yes … yes, she is, but I was thinking of Lady Mallory.”
    “Ah.” Hugh nodded and returned to the contents of the chest.
“Pretty
is not the word I would have chosen for her ladyship. Will you wear the blue doublet with the silver gown? Or the yellow and red?”
    “The blue.” Robin took the garments his father passed to him and shrugged out of the serviceable short woolen gown and linen doublet he’d worn for riding. “What will you wear?”
    “I haven’t decided as yet.” Hugh stripped off his doublet, shirt, and hose. He strode to the washstand and splashed water over his face. “You will need to change your shirt and hose, too.”
    Robin examined his shirt doubtfully. “ ’Tis not overly soiled. I changed it but a week ago.”
    “And you have been riding hard every day since,” Hugh pointed out. “You reek, my son, and if you wish to make an impression on young ladies, ’tis best to make a sweet-smelling one. A good wash won’t hurt you.” He tossed a wet towel to the boy.
    Blushing, Robin caught it.
    Hugh laughed and sat down on the bed to put on clean hose. Whenever he was not on some military mission for the king he had been deeply involved in his son's care since the boy was five. Robin's mother had died giving birth to a stillborn baby and Hugh had buried his grief in caring for their son. Robin was so like his mother; sometimes an expression, a gesture, reminded Hugh so vividly of Sarah that it would take his breath away and the grief at her loss would be as sharp and poignant as it had ever been.
    Now that the lad had almost reached maturity, he could accompany his father on his campaigns. This long journey into Derbyshire had been the first they had taken together and it had brought them even closer.
    He fastened jeweled garters at the knee, covertly watching his son's own preparations. He had sensed that Guinevere felt for her daughters the same passionate love he had for Robin. Did they too remind