Margery closed her eyes and tried to absorb her victory. She had nothing left to fear from Peter. She could now put her mistakes with him in the past, where they belonged. It was time to turn her attention to the next challenge.
“Margery!”
She recognized Anne’s breathless voice as the twins came to take her hands. Margery kissed each of their cheeks, and smiled. How she would miss them when they returned to their parents.
“Oh, Margery,” Cicely said, her face a study in worry, “will you not tell us whom you have chosen?”
“How can you keep us this anxious?” Anne added, her gaze still following Peter. “Is Lord Fitzwilliam the one? What about Lord Chadwick, or?—”
Margery raised both her hands, laughing. “How can I tell you and not my brothers?”
“Then tell us all!” Anne cried with exasperation.
“In a few moments, I will,” Margery said. “Trust me.”
Cicely looked around the hall with shining eyes. “This is so exciting. Perhaps I, too, will get to choose my husband.”
Margery took her hands, and grew serious. “It is a great responsibility. I still don’t know if it will all work out in the end. Pray for me.”
She returned to her brothers in time to curtsy as the king and queen and their courtiers paraded into the room. The light reflected from their glittering garments like the sun off a rippling brook. Margery returned the queen’s pleased smile, then watched as they sat on their thrones.
James leaned closer to her. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
“I hope so.” She gave him an excited, happy smile.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me who you have chosen?”
“It has to be a surprise.”
James playfully scowled, and Reynold winked at her. How she adored her brothers, she thought, as silly tears once again pricked her eyes. Even if they’d made mistakes along the way, she was truly blessed.
King Henry rose from his throne, and as if on cue, the music and the conversations stopped. A ripple of excitement and curiosity made people surge forward. Margery saw the king search the crowd until he found her, then he motioned for her.
The courtiers parted and she forced herself to walk slowly, smiling at the people on both sides. This was the moment, and she was nervous and excited and breathless.
Gareth watched Margery walk through the king’s noble guests, and he couldn’t help but feel proud of her. She looked radiant, composed, confident—how had he ever thought her spoiled or selfish? She would make her family proud.
And she had been right about him. He’d spent his whole life afraid to trust people, had pushed away any who sought his friendship. He didn’t know if he would ever become used to the loneliness again, now that he’d spent so many nights in her company.
“Mistress Margery Welles,” the king said, gesturing to her as she came to a stop below him. “Come stand next to me, my dear. You have provided our court with months of speculation, gossip, and true enjoyment. But it is now time for you to reveal your choice in husband.”
Gareth watched Margery and the queen share a smile, before Margery turned and faced the multitude of people in the hall. Flames from hundreds of candles and torches gleamed in her eyes. The skin above her neckline glowed with a mellow, creamy light that set off her rich, dark hair. She was a stunning beauty who could have any man she wished. She deserved only the best, and he could trust her choice.
“My dear friends,” she began in a clear, strong voice, “earlier this year, I was given a great honor by their royal majesties: the freedom to choose my own husband. I met many worthy men in the following months, and I hope I have gained several new friends. But alas, I could choose only one man.”
Gareth’s chest ached. He could not witness Fitzwilliam’s smug victory. Besides, Margery no longer needed him—she had her brothers, and soon her betrothed. Saying good-bye would only prolong both their pain. He eased his way backward through the crowd, toward the entrance. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her sweet face, couldn’t block out her melodic voice.
“I have chosen a worthy man,” she said, her face alight with pleasure. “He is gracious, and always kind to me, yet strong enough to defend my lands and my people. We have loved each other for a long while.”
Gareth nodded to the soldiers guarding the doors, and reached for the door latch.
“Although he is not of noble lineage, he will always be my only lord. I choose Sir Gareth Beaumont.”
He froze with his fingers clutching the latch. What had she done? Why had she embarrassed herself like this?
He heard the shocked murmurs, then the rustle of garments as the crowd parted. He looked over his shoulder to find Margery’s brothers walking toward him stiffly.
Giving him no choice, they escorted him towards the royal dais. He wanted to protest, to say it was all a mistake, but they drew him forward with a combined strength he could not hope to overcome.
