Daughter of York by Anne Easter Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

hunting in the park! Tell me, Anthony, have you hunted here?”
    A hush came over Edward’s companions, and all eyes turned to a newcomer about the same age as Edward. Margaret looked at the man curiously as he stepped forward. Sir Anthony Woodville and his father, Lord Rivers, had fought for the Lancastrians until not long after the battle of Towton, when, knowing their cause lost, they swore allegiance to Edward. Edward had not yet officially granted them pardons, but he felt safer having the two men in his train rather than at liberty to rejoin any Lancastrian faction still at large, should they decide to change their allegiance yet again. For his part, Anthony was understandably anxious in the new king’s presence, and to be singled out like this because he must have known Shene under the old regime was unsettling.
    “Well, Woodville, is the hunting good?” Edward repeated the question, but his tone was warm, and Anthony breathed more easily.
    “Certes, your grace. There is a red deer for every man in London! I know there are wild boars, though none taken in my sight.” Anthony turned in a circle as he spoke, including all in his view. “And as many hares”—he paused and looked at Edward, smiling—“as you have on your head, sire!”
    Margaret involuntarily clapped her hands and laughed, the first to understand the joke. Anthony looked at her with interest but was interrupted by Edward’s merry laughter, and he turned to acknowledge the compliment. Edward put his arm about Anthony’s shoulders, and they moved towards the door. “Then let us to the hunt, my friends!” he cried, “and see what we can find for tomorrow’s dinner.”
    Anthony looked back over his shoulder at the king’s sister; his lively blue eyes met her equally intelligent gray ones. They both smiled, and Margaret’s heart skipped a beat.
    “W ELL MET, MY lady,” a young man murmured in Margaret’s ear a few days later. “Have you placed a wager on anyone as yet?”
    Margaret swung round and found herself eye to eye with the herald-messenger who had brought them news of Towton and Mortimer’s Cross. He bowed over her hand. “John Harper, if it please you, madam. And these ladies?”
    “Well met, sir.” She nodded at Ann and Jane, who curtseyed quickly. “Mistress Herbert and Mistress Percy.” John Harper gave them a cursory glance and bowed.
    Margaret was nervous. She was intrigued that he should seek her out, but she was taken aback by his audacity. It was not usual for one of his lower rank to thus address her. Although she knew she ought to rebuff him, she decided to answer his first question after checking to see her mother was nowhere in sight. Ann and Jane’s presence provided her safety and a measure of courage. “I do not wager, Master Harper, but if I did, I would pick my brother to win the day.”
    He was standing very close to her, and she could smell a mix of sweat, horses and rosewater. Her pulse raced, and she found her palms were clammy. She held on tightly to the chaplet of flowers she and her ladies had woven earlier as a crown for the victor and tried to appear nonchalant. Calm down, Meg, she told herself, ’tis a man of no import and a bold one at that. But her senses were aroused, although she tried to concentrate on the sport taking place on the river. Tell him to leave, she admonished herself, he has no right to unnerve you thus! Go away, herald, oh, please go away! It did not help that Jane was fluttering her eyelashes at him. Margaret felt like slapping her.
    As if he had sensed Margaret’s plea, he said pleasantly, “Aye, the king has a fair chance, Lady Margaret, but my money is on Sir Anthony. I shall bother you no further. Farewell, ladies.” And he bowed and walked away. Margaret experienced first disappointment and then the familiar twinge of shame about her height, putting the blame for his sudden departure squarely on her lack of desirability.
    Ann and Jane twittered as they watched him go.