Henry succeeded Stephen to the throne of England two years after marrying Eleanor. He was already dukeof Normandy and count of Anjou, and with their marriage, Aquitaine was added to his possessions, making him ruler of all western France. Henry was the most powerful man in Europe.
Leonie remembered Eleanor as a gay, frivolous woman, a bit high-tempered, and truly vain. But Leonie’s mother had sworn that Eleanor had mellowed since her youth. Eleanor was twelve years older than Henry, and possibly that was why he had put her aside for younger women.
King Louis’ daughter, Alice, was no older than Leonie. She had been betrothed to Henry’s son Richard, but that hadn’t stopped Henry from making her his mistress four years ago, a fact he did not even try to hide after his queen was banished from court.
What was surprising was that Alice was not beautiful, not even terribly pretty. Her ladies-in-waiting were quick to point out that it was her wit Henry took pleasure in. Leonie was told, confidentially, how much Henry admired Alice’s grace in walking and dancing. It seemed these beautiful ladies were making excuses for why their king did not prefer them, but the only reason needed was that Henry doubtless loved Alice, as she loved him.
Leonie might have warmed to the princess except that she saw Alice only as the other woman, and Henry as the unfaithful husband. When she looked at Alice, it was Amelia she was reminded of. So she was not in the best of moods when Rolfe came to escort her into the king’s presence.
Henry had changed little in the six years since Leonie had seen him. He was still an intimidating man. His carelessness in dress had not changed either. He obviously found no time for tailors, for though his clothes were expensive, they did not fit him well.
“I did your husband a disservice in telling him that you were an uncomely child. I even tried to talk him out of having you. I can see I would never have been forgiven if I had succeeded.”
Those were Henry’s first words to her as he led her away from Rolfe. Leonie was not impressed.
“If that is a compliment, Your Majesty, then I thank you,” she said tersely.
His gray eyes warmed. “Do you dislike me, my dear, or are you really as inflexible as Rolfe says?”
Leonie groaned inwardly. This was the king and she dared not offend him.
“I know not what he has told you,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Oh, many things, many indeed—though I think he exaggerates. It cannot be true that you tried to kill him on your wedding night.”
Leonie blanched. Rolfe had never discussed the incident with her, yet he could tell Henry about it!
“That—that was an accident, Your Majesty, caused by my nervousness and fear.”
“I thought as much.” Henry smiled disarmingly. “And I doubt you are as dissatisfied with this marriage I arranged for you as your husband seems to think. You might have objected at the start, but once you saw him, you were relieved, weren’t you?” He did not wait for an answer. “Tell me, Lady Leonie, are you pleased with Sir Rolfe?”
“If it pleases you to think so, Your Majesty.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Then my answer is no.”
“Now, see here—”
Her heart leaped into her throat. “You would not want me to lie, Your Majesty. You asked and I answered.”
Henry began to chuckle. “So you did.”
Leonie had forgotten his quick temper. She should have been watching his expression instead of keeping her eyes lowered. Fortunately, it appeared she had appeased him.
“This is most intriguing, my dear,” Henry continued thoughtfully. “Your husband is a man the ladies find most attractive.”
“So he is,” Leonie agreed.
“Does he appeal to you?”
“I did not say he does not appeal, Your Majesty.”
Henry frowned. “He is also a man of merit, and landed now, with wealth gained from prizes of war and tourneys even I cannot imagine. So will you tell me what exactly it is about Rolfe d’Ambert that displeases you?”
There was no way she could avoid answering.
She glanced around to be sure no one else would hear the confession of her shame.
