He debated a moment, and then he said, “You know the rumor, darling girl?”
Philippa bit her lower lip, and a blush suffused her cheek. “That she is the king’s lover, uncle? Aye. I have heard it, but if it is so, what am I to do? I love the queen, but I do so like Bessie Blount.”
“You continue on as always, my dear. You are respectful and loving of your mistress, but you are also kind to Mistress Blount. You would be foolish not to be, for she is in the king’s favor without a doubt. And something else you should know, darling girl. It is most likely that Mistress Blount is expecting the king’s child. She will shortly, I am certain, disappear from the court, for the king will not embarrass the queen by allowing his mistress to parade her big belly about, especially now that it has been determined the queen will conceive no more.”
“I had heard the whispers, uncle, but I could not believe them. Who will have Bessie Blount to wife now that she has disgraced herself?” Philippa wondered.
Thomas Bolton smiled to himself. Philippa’s naivete was sometimes charming, and it reminded him of how truly innocent she was. “The king will be generous to Mistress Blount, darling girl, and particularly if she births him a son. She will have a husband as a reward, and a pension, I have not a doubt. And the king’s child will be given certain honors, particularly a son.”
“I feel almost guilty retaining my friendship with Bessie in light of the queen’s distress,” Philippa said slowly.
“Do not make the mistake so many at court do of taking sides, darling girl,” he warned her. “Royalty are changeable as the winds, and it is best to blow with the wind rather than against it. The king favors Mistress Blount, who behaves with respect and discretion towards the queen. Both king and queen behave as if naught is amiss between them. And that is how you will behave. Does the queen show any anger towards Mistress Blount?”
“Nay,” Philippa said, “although others of the queen’s women have begun to shun her, uncle. And some are outright mean.”
“Do not follow their example, Philippa. Behave towards both Bessie and the queen as you always have. No one knows what tomorrow will bring.”
Philippa nodded.
“Now, darling girl, let us get back to the subject of the earl of Witton. I have asked him to stay with me at Bolton House. I will ask the queen to allow you home in a few days, and you will meet each other then. Will that please you?”
“A countess,” Philippa mused. “I would be the countess of Witton. Millicent Langholme would be pea green with envy. She is only just wed to Sir Walter Lumley. And Cecily would be certain that Giles knew. And Giles’s parents, who forbade me my best friend’s wedding, would certainly be impressed, especially if Witton has better estates than Renfrew. Imagine, Renfrew offered to help me find a husband. He could not have found a husband such as you have found for me, uncle.” Philippa was beginning to consider the situation, and it was not unpleasant.
“Nothing is graven in stone, darling girl,” Lord Cambridge warned her. “He must like you, and you must like him.”
“He wants my land,” Philippa said dryly. “Is there any doubt that I should not please this earl of Witton?”
“He wants Melville, it is true, darling girl, but he is a man of honor,” Lord Cambridge said. “He will not marry just for the land.”
“Neither will I, uncle,” Philippa told him.
He grinned at her. “Darling girl, I suspect you will enchant Crispin St. Claire. This is a great coup, should you manage it. An earl. A diplomat. And a man who will enjoy coming to court every bit as much as you do. But of course you must do your duty by the man first, and give him an heir.”
Philippa stopped. “Children,” she said slowly. “I had not thought about children, uncle. But, aye, if I am in any way like my mother it is that I know my duty.”
Lord Cambridge smiled and nodded. “Aye, you will delight the earl, darling girl. Of that I am absolutely certain.”
“I shall come home in two days’ time, uncle. May I explain to the queen that you are negotiating a match for me?” she asked.
“Mention no names,” he advised her. “The queen will understand.”
“Of course,” she agreed. They had come to the end of the gallery. “I must get back, uncle,” she told him. “The queen is a kind mistress, but I should not take advantage.”
“Tell me quickly how Banon does?” he said.
“She has found favor, but like mama she longs for the north, and is anxious to return to Otterly,” Philippa told him. “The Neville boy’s grandfather was a first cousin of our Bolton grandmother, who was born a Neville. Such a liaison seems promising, uncle. You should speak with Banon.”
“I shall,” he promised her.
She stopped, and kissed his cheek. “I must fly,” she said, and hurried away back down the gallery.
Suddenly Thomas Bolton was exhausted, and felt every bit of his forty-nine years. He sighed. He was surprised to realize that he did not enjoy the court any longer. He wanted to be home at Otterly, snug by his fire and heedless of the Cumbrian winter outside his windows. While the business of seeing that Banon and Philippa were well matched interested him, it was the cloth trade that he and Rosamund had created that was of more interest to him. How could he watch over their commerce in London? And Rosamund was at Claven’s Carn awaiting the birth of her child. Would she be paying attention to their endeavor as she should?
“Lord Cambridge?” William Smythe had appeared from the dim recesses of the gallery. He was soberly dressed in a black velvet midcalf-length coat which Thomas Bolton noted was a bit worn, and dusty in color.
“Ah, Master Smythe,” he greeted the younger man.
“I did not want to disturb you when you were with your cousin, my lord,” William Smythe began. He offered Lord Cambridge a smile.
