by Diana Rubino
But he was also staring at her as if he had most definitely been bested in some manner that he did not like one bit.
When he remained silent, she urged softly, "Tis but a game. At least give me a chance to knock that chip off your broad shoulder, my lord."
"All right, it is a wager!"
Their eyes locked over the chessboard and held in the silence, which was invaded only by their suddenly uneven breathing.
"'Tis your move, my lord."
Finally moving a pawn to protect the one under attack, he heaved an uncomfortable sigh.
"Losing your innate confidence?" she asked, capturing his pawn, knowing this would be checkmate in one move if he recaptured her pawn with his.
Just as she'd planned, he emitted a confident "Harrumph!" and quickly captured her pawn, falling right into her trap.
She advanced her queen, but did not release it. "Now that would be checkmate."
He blanched again, and rolled his eyes in dismay, knowing he had well and truly lost.
"But since I had you at an unfair advantage, I shan't hold you to the bargain." She moved her queen back into its position, leaving his king untouched.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark with puzzlement. "What unfair advantage?"
"I have been playing chess since the age of three. Very few in this court, the King included, have ever defeated me. It would have been grossly unfair to have humiliated you further."
"Well." He moved away from the board, resting his back against the alcove. "That was right honorable of you. Or is it just that you didn't want to win because you'd realized your folly, and decided the stakes were simply too high?"
She laughed, returning the pieces to their starting positions, and beginning a solitary game.
"You shall never know, my lord. However, you should know that honor is my greatest virtue."
She spoke whilst concentrating on moving the pieces of both sides as he watched in fascination.
"I would never cheat anyone, nor would I take advantage of anyone's lack of skill in an area which I excel."
"Such a contrast from your family, I must say. Such an unWoodville-like trait."
"All the more obvious that I'm not one of th—" She stopped herself, realizing only too late what she'd revealed.
Clenching a fist around a black pawn, she clapped her other hand over her mouth, springing up, twirling round, away from him and the barrage of questions that was bound to follow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"What was that you said, Dove?" Valentine asked in astonishment. "Not one of them?"
"Nothing. Forget I ever said it," she begged, shaking her head.
He approached her and turned her to face him. She stared into the golden mat of hair under his unlaced shirt of fine Holland cloth.
He began stroking her hair, winding one of the silvery locks around his finger and touching a few stray strands to his cheek.
"You are not the Queen's niece, you mean?"
"I did not mean to say it. Forget I ever mentioned the matter."
"I cannot, my dear. It explains a great deal about what has been going on around here, and why you have been acting so, well, preoccupied. Please, tell me."
She resisted for a moment longer, but then felt oddly comfortable at the idea of confiding in him. Unlike Richard, he wasn't preoccupied with rounding up a council for his new life in the north.
He had the time—and the inclination—to listen to her. And how badly she needed someone to lean on! Perhaps Valentine had entered her life at this precise time for a special reason.
"'Tis all right, Dove. There is nothing amiss with being adopted. You were quite lucky to be given to a noble—"
"I care not a fig about being noble! Valentine, I never belonged there and I do not belong there now. I am not a Woodville. I abhor the thought of ever having lived under their roof, with that she-demon!"
"You are nothing like them. It matters not who raised you. You are still you," he tried to reassure her.
"Oh, but I am going to find out who I am. I need to know. If it takes me until my dying breath, I am going to find out who my real family are."
"Isn't family who we choose to make them, like me and Richard being as close as brothers?"
"I would like to think so, but blood is thicker than water, or wine. Friendships change as life challenges them. And all of us need to feel that we belong. I don't, I never have."
"I see," he said, nodding, for indeed, that was exactly how he often felt. Except when he was with Denys….
"I never believed the Woodvilles were my true family. It goes beyond the obvious, our many differences in nature, temperament, and values. I just do not fit in with them! My suspicions are deep indeed, and have been increasing for quite some years now, ever since I grew old enough to understand that something was amiss. That I did not have parents like other people, and my supposed aunt merely tolerated me."
"You poor thing."
"Oh, the King and his brothers were always kind, though much older than me." She stepped away from his nearness, which was growing more than simple comforting as they stood together in the brightly lit alcove. She moved over to the window seat she had vacated, and put the chess pieces back into place once more. It would be a convenient excuse as to why he was there if anyone happened to come in.
Once he had seated himself across from her again, she confided in a low tone, "When I was young, I overheard Bess and Uncle Ned speaking of Malmesbury in regards to me, and my being orphaned. Since the first time I heard these disjointed fragments, I asked Bess again and again, 'Tell me about my mummy and daddy, Aunt Bess, please!' But she would slap me away or have a server scoot me out of the chamber."
"Why did she not want to tell you the truth?" he asked, his brows knitting.
"I think 'tis because she's got a very Woodville reason. But she's got the secret under her pointy hat and I just can't go on any longer not knowing. I do not remember much, but I wrote down what I could. I am forever thankful I was adopted were a family of nobles who gave their children the opportunity to learn to read and write, or I never would have recorded it all. I grew so frustrated that for a time, I told myself it didn't matter and tried block it out of my mind. Be accepting of my fate. The Duchess of Scarborough was very kind to me, almost like a real mother."
"So what has changed? What has set you on this path once more?"
"My lack of my own family truly began to bother me after Uncle Ned took the throne, and I realized the Woodvilles are such the power mongers that they would even try to use me to further their own ends, obscure though I am, and even purported to be a bastard."
"I never believed—"
She cut him off with a sharp look. "It's kind of you to say so, but we both know that in addition to my supposed eyes of guano, Richard told you I was ill-begot."
"I don't care—"
"In time you might come to care!"
He reached for her hand now. "As I said, you are you, Denys, and I beg you to please forget all those silly things I said in a fit of temper. They were all gross exaggerations and, well, as I can see now, all of my fears in my mind were greatly out of proportion. In truth, I can detect nothing to find fault with in your character or person, and losing that battle with Richard might just prove the most fortunate day of my life."
She said stiffly, "Still, it is only fair to tell you the truth now, lest you accuse me of misleading you about my birth, when in truth, I know nothing of it."
"If you're saying what I think you are, then the devil take the whole bloody back of Woodvilles!" he hissed. "I am beholdened to no court faction for my place here but my own hard work and abilities as a knight."
"And your friendship with Richard," she pointed out softly, moving the pieces once more into the checkmate position.
The gesture was not lost upon him. "It is true, but unlike the Woodvilles, Richard makes no attempt to exert influence on the King, nor jockey for position. In fact, he has just married Anne Neville, t
he Kingmaker's daughter, yet he seeks a quiet life in the country far away from court."
Denys looked at him carefully. "Some would say it was only to establish his own power base in the north, where he and his family are so popular."
Valentine's lips thinned. "They would be wrong. He is completely loyal to his brother and to England. If anyone is scheming in that direction, it would be George."
"I don't disagree with you, but it is all the more reason to watch and be careful, and not run afoul of the Queen if we can help it. So now, since Richard is safely married, and about to leave, and you are part of the King's council, and must stay at Uncle Ned's side, it seems we must say farewell to one another."
He shook his head. "I don't agree. I know we have not started out on the right foot, but—"
She sighed, and summoning all her courage, said, "I have tarried too long here as it is, trying to help Richard find Anne and win his heart's desire. Now I must seek my own."
"And it's not me," he said in a tone which conveyed a great deal of hurt despite him deliberately trying to keep it flat and emotionless.
She now gripped his hand. "I didn't say that, but I think it's best to be truthful now. I can't promise you anything, and it would be wrong of me to, well, encourage you given I have no idea who I am."
He ran one hand through his golden hair in frustration. "Then why go looking for a hornet's nest? Why not just accept your alliance with the Woodvilles?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Valentine, but I've turned a blind eye to their faults long enough, and don't want to be a party to their blind scrambling for power any more.
"I share none of their characteristics. I look like none of them, resemble them in no way, especially her. I need to find my real family. Even if they are all dead and gone, I can hear stories, know where I came from."
"I can see you have your heart set on this mission, even though there is a very real danger that you might find out some terribly painful things about your origins."
"It will be worth it to know the truth at last."
He patted her hand, then sat back in his chair. "So, where can you start?"
She gave a small smile. That was one thing she loved about him. He was ever the practical man of action. "I saved my childhood journal all these years. I'd written that they'd mentioned Malmesbury. Then Richard told me that Bess had offered him a dowry, Foxley Manor, which happens to be in Malmesbury."
"I see."
"When I mentioned Foxley Manor to her, she cooked up a load of rubbish, and I caught her in the lie. I wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury, but he was unable to help me. It seems there are no records of my birth that he knows of."
"Court records are not always very complete, and in any event, they would not have been royals at the time you were adopted," he pointed out gently.
"I know, but parish records might be more illuminating.
"So what is your next step?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"I am going to Malmesbury on the morrow to find this Foxley Manor. If indeed I run into a dead end, I shall try another way. But I shall not stop until I find my true family."
He nodded, then offered, "Dove, let me go with you. I shall guide you every step of the way and be there when you need to talk, should your search not prove fruitful."
"I appreciate your concern, Valentine, but you need not hold my hand all the way. I've hired a knowledgeable guide, and you have so many duties to the council now."
"I could take a few days—"
She shook her head. "Nay, it is kind of you, but Uncle Ned needs you more, especially now that Richard is leaving for Yorkshire. Just..." She hesitated just as the words were about to spill from her lips.
"Just what? Ask. I shall do whatever you wish of me." His glorious eyes blazed.
"Just be here when I get back, so I'll have someone to talk to?"
He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and she rose from her seat and sat on his lap of her own volition.
"Of course I shall be here when you get back. I've nowhere else I can possibly go. For I know you will return to me, and what you discover will matter not a jot to me."
"Oh, Valentine, I wish I could be sure—"
"I am."
He lowered his face to hers, those brilliant eyes closed and their lips met, quenching an unfulfilled hunger that he'd only known since meeting her.
Slowly her lips parted to welcome his gentle but probing tongue as it explored the recesses of her mouth. A soft moan escaped from deep within his throat as he stroked her cheek with feathery touches.
She pulled away abruptly, rubbing her lips as if to wipe away any trace of his kiss.
"Do not take any further advantage of me, Valentine. I have had enough of that," she said, struggling to leave his lap.
"How can sharing a kiss be taking advantage? I would be safe in assuming you were enjoying it as much as I," he said softly.
"Nay, I've enough on my mind now and can't— Just, just let me go."
She broke their embrace and left the chamber quickly, as if the hounds of hell were after her.
"I shall be right here," he called after her, not bothering to pursue her given the mood she was in.
"Waiting," he whispered under his breath, "to know you much better. No matter who you are, Dove."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Mounted atop Chera, escorted by her guide Hugh Corey, her maid, a pair of royal guardsmen and one of King Edward's grooms upon a pack horse carrying clothes and provisions, all unbeknownst to the Queen, Denys passed through the palace gates.
Handing out coins and sweets to gaping townsfolk, she led her retinue along the ancient Roman city wall. Masons were hard at work repairing a section of it as they passed by, and she tried not to think about the dangers that might await her outside the safety of the royal household she had become a part of.
They clip-clopped through London's busy streets, trying to get their horses to sidestep the refuse. Crows cawed, swooping down into the streams, tearing at discarded carcasses with their beaks.
Merchants and street sellers peddled their wares from their stalls, shouting to passers-by: "Come, eat, come! Hot pies, pies of goose, beef, mutton, hot pies, hot!"
Their dwellings were framed with black oak against white plaster or carved woodwork, with colorful shields representing their trades.
A wealthy merchant's house, glittering with stained glass windows, stood among the craftsmen's dwellings.
The folks were draped in robes of bright reds, blues, and greens, their pointy shoes just as colorful. Barefoot children darted in and out of the crowd. Carts rumbled and church bells clanged in the distance. Denys had never felt more alive as she watched, or more alone.
They crossed the bridge over the town ditch floating with waste, blowing a rancid odor their way. On the rutted road over the open moor, farm buildings, barns and almshouses surrounded them.
The church bells faded and the barking of dogs grew louder as they rode along a stream next to a kennel. Houses, driven into the land with piles, were clustered over the marsh. The party followed worn tracks as the clouds began to thicken, and once free from the city's confines, Denys welcomed the cold drizzle that began to douse her face and hands.
"Malmesbury in five days, and by then I shall know who I am, God willing," she sighed.
Mother Nature answered her with rain that felt so refreshing, she threw off her head-dress and let her hair tumble down her back to soak up the moisture.
As Denys was journeying to Malmesbury to find her beginnings, Valentine thought he could be just as helpful by staying at the palace.
The Court was on progress in East Anglia, making a show of power there. Dove had gone west, and Richard was on his way north with his bride to ready Pomfret Castle as his official residence.
Only some servers remained at the palace, washing linens, beating the hangings, covering the floor with fresh rushes, and scrubbing the privies.
Valentine d
ecided to catch up with Richard later. He had something to do first.
The palace's north wall was covered with vines so thick they could support a man twice his size, and as such, it was as easy to climb as the grand staircase.
The window was thrown open to air out Queen Elizabeth's dressing room. He scaled the vine, climbed in as nimbly as if mounting a destrier, and landed squarely on his feet.
A row of wardrobe chests stood against one wall. Head-dresses were hung from hooks. Each pair of shoes had its own wooden box. Satin undergarments were folded neatly, one atop the other, on a shelf along the opposite wall. A dressing table was draped with a frilly cloth. Jars of creams and lotions stood atop the table in perfect columns like toy knights. A pile of ivory combs and jeweled hair ornaments lay beside them.
