Francis’s mouth was agape. “Tell me everything.”
I invited him inside the warmth of my chambers, but he politely refused. Any man who hung out behind closed doors with the king’s fiancée had a death wish. Instead, I asked Bridget to pass me a shawl and sat on the front step beside Francis, filling him in on everything I could reveal about Alice’s mom. Nick’s name didn’t come up again until Francis mentioned that the uprising near Lancashire had been quelled for now. I’d been too scared to ask, so I was grateful that he’d volunteered the news.
“Where is the king now?” My voice was a nervous puff of smoke in the frosty air.
Francis rose to his feet and knocked a boot against the step. “That is why I am here, my lady. His Majesty received word that you had returned from Sussex in haste. He desires to speak with you on a great matter but wishes to do so in private.”
“What great matter?”
Francis rubbed his lips together like he was ill at ease. “The King’s Majesty is expecting your person without delay at Robin House.”
“Robin House?” I said with confusion. The humble manor in the countryside with the thatched roof was the king’s most private place that most people didn’t even know about. Nick clearly had something to tell me that required secrecy, and anxiety slid into my stomach. Perhaps he’d decided the opposite of what I had these past few weeks: that our engagement was a mistake and the smartest thing for him to do would be to marry Princess Henriette of France after all. Wouldn’t that solve all his problems?
Francis surely knew what the deal was, and I tried to read his face, but it was concealed by winter darkness.
“You will consider this matter not to be delayed and will make ready to leave, my lady,” he advised briskly. “You may bring your ladies.” He bowed and marched away before I could press him on the topic any further. The earl was clearly keeping any opinions on this mysterious matter to himself—perhaps by order of the king.
I rubbed my clammy palms up and down my thighs, my mouth dry. Not only was Nick’s great matter urgent, but it came after our unspoken agreement to reconsider our engagement. I felt like I might be sick on the damp cobblestones.
After all the troubles we’d already been through—Norfolk, Lucinda, Agnes Nightingale—what did he have to say to me that was so important? I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
14
Heavy rains made the roads dangerous for travel that night, so I slept at Hampton Court Palace with my mind in overdrive. What was Nick’s ‘great matter’ that prevented him from riding to Hampton Court to face me in public? At first light, I yanked the shutters open, gaping with trepidation at the clear sky through the diamond-crossed panes. Was this the day that I would find out that he wanted us to go our separate ways after all? The thought stole any appetite I might’ve had for breakfast.
Bridget gnawed her fingertips for most of the slushy coach ride through the mud to the king’s secret hideaway—thrilled for another adventure—while Lucinda gazed silently through the open window. Did she know about Robin House? Had Nick taken her there for a cheeky couple’s weekend during their fling? I pushed the jagged thoughts away.
The moment our coach swung onto the stone pathway leading to Robin House, I watched for Nick through the window, my stomach a tropical storm of butterflies. I wasn’t ready to go through what could be the most heartbreaking day of my life.
The modest manor’s front yard looked desolate except for a couple of discreet guards in plain clothes. The main house with the thatched roof was even smaller than I remembered—perhaps because Hampton Court Palace had become the benchmark by which I now measured all royal residences.
A stocky guard with strong hands helped me to the ground. “His Majesty will see you inside, my lady,” he said as our short procession of carts and horses clopped toward the stables. A gust of wind bit my neck as I approached the house. I inhaled a steadying breath and pushed through the thick wooden door.
The sight was so unexpected that it sent me back a step. Around the modest dining table sat Alice’s dad Sir Thomas Grey, the wrinkled Bishop of Winchester, and King Nick in a doublet of navy velvet, his white peekaboo collar centered with a blood-red ruby. When he glanced up at me, the urge to move toward him was so intense that my thighs clenched.
“Lady Pembroke, I give you good morrow,” he said formally, his glittering eyes giving nothing away.
I found myself curtsying, a searing flutter in my stomach. The other men rose to kiss my hand.
“You may sit with us,” Nick added, like I’d just joined a corporate meeting.
A page slid a chair in for me beside the king. My elbows brushed Nick’s as I sat, sparks heating my skin through the fabric. I wanted to kiss the sweet-smelling space beneath his ear, but that would’ve been weird. Being this close to him always offset my balance in a way that I never wanted to end.
“It is time for your king and the Marquess of Pembroke to be united in holy matrimony,” Nick stated without looking at me.
I nearly choked on my breath, needles of shock prickling my cheeks. I’m sorry…what?
The only sound was the king’s commanding voice. “The Bishop of Winchester will conduct the proceedings, and Sir Thomas Grey will serve as a witness.”
Wrinkled skin sagged beneath Thomas Grey’s wearied eyes as he took note of Nick’s continuing instructions like his life depended on it. So, this was the ‘great matter’…Nick had decided to push forward our wedding without even speaking to me about it. I gaped at my boyfriend’s frustratingly perfect profile as he continued issuing orders without looking my way. “Lady Pembroke, you may take your dinner and then dress, and thereupon the service will begin.”
“We’re getting married today?” I sputtered, unsure whether I was more relieved or aghast about the lack of notice. I was getting used to the opinions of women being an afterthought in this place, but surely I got a say in my own wedding day.
The king rose quickly, and the rest of us scrambled to our feet, bowing as he strode out of the chamber without a backward glance. As relieved as I was that he wasn’t breaking up with me, I could’ve throttled him in that handsome doublet. We were going to have words.
I excused myself to Sir Thomas and the bishop and picked up my skirts to dash up the narrow staircase leading to the upstairs bedchamber.
There was no sign of Nick, however—only Bridget standing before the fireplace, warming her fingers. She danced toward me as I entered. “Lady Pembroke, we hear there is to be a wedding—oh, blessed day!”
Lucinda scooted over from the clothes chest and dropped to her knees, pressing her soft lips to my hand. “My lady, if you find the heart to forgive my past actions and permit me to attend to you as Queen of England, you will find me a most loving and loyal servant.”
It was the first time she’d openly alluded to the kiss with Nick, but that seemed pretty far down the scale of bombshells right now.
“Why would he want to get married in this small house?” I asked them, genuinely gobsmacked.
“To hide it,” Bridget answered plainly.
“Because he loves her,” Lucinda argued. “It is the pleasure of the king to keep his more tender inclinations private.”