Now it was Adair who sighed. “I know,” she said. “The snows will soon come, and I must weather the winter with this pompous boy, but come spring I mean to send him back to his father and seek an annulment, Uncle Dickon.”
“Adair, you refuse to understand. The king wants this marriage. Giving you to the Earl of Pembroke’s favorite by-blow gives the boy a title of his own. It binds the Tudors to the house of York,” the duke explained.
“The Tudors will never be truly loyal to the house of York,” Adair said. “How could the king have been so unkind as to give me to the very people who killed my parents, Uncle Dickon? If I do not slay the little wretch myself it will be a miracle.”
The duke could not help but laugh. “Poppet, do not do anything rash,” he pleaded with her. “Perhaps you will come to like young FitzTudor.”
Adair looked at him with a jaundiced eye. “Morethan likely not,” she said. “Why is it that no one understands? I wanted time to myself again.”
“Noble folk do not have such luxury, poppet,” the duke told her. “We have responsibilities to our lands, our people, and our rulers. My brother sired you and acknowledged his paternity of you. When your parents were slain he took up the responsibility for you and your well-being. He did not shun you, Adair, but rather saw you raised as his legitimate children were raised. He has never showed any partiality toward any of his offspring, trueborn or otherwise. But he is also your king, and you owe him your loyalty as such. You also owe him your devotion and obedience, poppet, for his devotion and kindness to you over the years.”
“If you were king you would not have forced me into such a marriage, Uncle Dickon,” Adair said.
“No, I should not have, but then, I know you better.
If I were king and I had wanted this marriage, I would have taken time to see you and young FitzTudor got to know each other. I would have convinced you of the advantages of such a union to our house, the house of York,” the duke said, reaching out to caress her cheek with a finger. “But I am not your king. I am the king’s brother, and my first loyalty has always been to Edward and his wishes. I have never betrayed him, nor will I ever betray him. The king wants this marriage, Adair, and therefore you must accept his wishes even if you do not want to accept them. Loyalty must be your first consideration in all things, as it is mine, poppet.”
The duke leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “When you are a king’s brat, Adair, there are few choices, I fear.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I want to do as you say, Uncle Dickon, but I cannot be wed to this boy. He is overproud, and ignorant to boot, I fear. Did you see how he attempted to lord it over everyone last night?
And telling me he would forgive me? It is untenable! I cannot be like you. I would send him packing tomorrowif I could.” She impatiently brushed the tear from her pale skin.
“There is nothing I can say to dissuade you then?”Duke Richard said.
“I think it best you go home to Middleham today,”Adair told him. “The weather is certain to turn after such a lovely and unexpected day as we had yesterday. We are due for snow, I fear. I will deal with this boy in my own fashion, and I think it better you not be here, Uncle.”
“You cannot kill him,” the duke told her quietly.
“I won’t,” Adair said. “But neither will I be his wife, or let him lord it over me and my estates. I will house him and feed him, but no more. Who was his mother, and how was he raised, Uncle?”
“His mother was a girl said to be descended from the house of the great Llywelyn himself. She was a poor orphaned cousin in service to one of Jasper’s wives. She caught his eye, as so many have, and died giving birth to his son. But the Tudor is a decent man, and the boy was raised in his father’s house, treated well and with respect. For some reason that I cannot see, the lad became a favorite of Jasper Tudor’s,” the duke said.
“He is not worthy of me, Uncle. I was sired on a baron’s daughter by a king. He who called himself my father was an earl. My lineage is better than this boy’s,”
Adair said proudly. “I shall tell him so without hesitation.” She arose from where they were seated. “Give my dearest love to the Lady Anne and little Neddie. If you are home in the spring, and when the snows have gone, I will come and visit you, Uncle,” Adair said, in effect dismissing the Duke of Gloucester.
He stood with an amused smile. “Come and bid me farewell in the courtyard, poppet,” he said, and together they walked from the great hall of the house. Outside the duke called for his men, and they were shortly all mounted. “Adieu, poppet,” Richard of Gloucester said, giving her a quick kiss upon her cheek and then mounting his steed.
“Adieu, dearest Uncle Dickon,” Adair replied, curtsying prettily to him. Then she watched as the duke and his men departed the courtyard and galloped off down the road leading south to Middleham Castle, the duke’s favorite home. Turning back to the house, Adair took up her daily duties. She was not surprised when Albert came to her as she was totaling up the estate’s accounts.
He stood, respectfully awaiting a sign that he might speak, and then she looked up and nodded to him. “My lady,” he began slowly, carefully. “What are we to do about the young earl?”
“Who?” For a moment Adair looked puzzled.
“Your husband, my lady?” Albert said.
“Oh, him? You are to do nothing. Treat him respectfully, and the servants may follow his simple commands for things like food and drink. But anything else he requires or demands must be brought to me first. You are to carry out no orders that he may give you; nor are any of the other servants. Do not argue with him. Just say,
‘Very good, my lord,’ and then come to me. I mean to return him to the king come spring.”
“My lady, forgive me, but much was heard in the hall last night, and the servants are asking questions I am unable to answer.” Albert looked very uncomfortable, and he was shuffling his feet nervously, something he had never done before.
Adair flushed, but then, drawing a deep breath, she said, “My paternity is not something I ever wished to discuss, Albert, but the duke, and this boy who calls himself my husband, have spoken too freely before all.
Here is the truth of it: John Radcliffe did not sire me on my mother’s body. King Edward did. He desired my mother, and offered him I called Father the earldom in exchange for my mother’s virtue. I was born from the king’s seed and my mother’s loins.”
“My lady!” Poor Albert was now quite red in the face.
