Joan Wolf by Fool's Masquerade Read Free Book Online

looked betrayingly feminine, as did the finely textured skin. However, the face itself was thin, not full, and that helped to give an illusion of boyishness. The mouth and chin were finely modeled and firm, not soft. I looked like what his lordship thought I was: a delicately-featured fifteen-year-old boy.
    But if I had to be measured for clothes ... my disguise would not hold up under that kind of a scrutiny.
    In a sense it would be a relief to be found out. If I could only be certain that I would be allowed to continue as I was, I would tell Lord Leyburn the truth myself. For some obscure reason, I had begun to want him to see me as a girl. I stared at my masculine reflection and wondered what Lord Leyburn would think if he ever saw me in a gown. After a minute I turned away from the mirror in exasperation. I must, I thought wryly, be going out of my mind.
     

Chapter 7
     
    The day following my move into the family wing I arrived in the kitchen as usual for breakfast. Mrs. Scone looked at me doubtfully. “I was going to send Robert to your room with a tray, Valentine. I don’t think it proper for you to be eating in the kitchen anymore.”
    The last thing I needed was Robert darting in and out of my bedroom. “I have every intention of continuing to eat in the kitchen,” I said. “I hate to eat alone, and besides, I like you all very much. It’s fun eating here. Did you make muffins this morning, Mrs. Scone?”
    Mrs. Scone laughed and ruffled my hair. “What a boy you are, Valentine. Yes, I made muffins. Sit you down and I’ll get you a plate.”
    Later that morning, as I was lunging a yearling for Hutchins, I looked toward the fence and saw his lordship there watching me. When I had finished with the youngster, I made a fuss over him and gave him an apple.
    “You have a magic touch with horses, Valentine,” said a voice at my shoulder, and I smiled a little.
    “They’re very sensitive creatures, my lord. They know who loves them.” As if to prove my point, the youngster began to nuzzle Lord Leyburn’s chest. He laughed.
    “So they do. I want you to come along with me this afternoon, Valentine.” He signaled to Georgie, who came over to take the yearling.
    I grinned at Georgie and began to walk after the earl. “Where are we going?”
    “To Middleham.” He didn’t say anything more and kept his silence all during the ride. I had never been to Middleham, even though it was not that far from Carlton and was the chief town of Coverdale. We went not to the town, however, but to the huge ruined castle that stands above it.
    Still in silence, Lord Leyburn dismounted and I followed suit. He began to walk toward the great stone walls and I walked beside him, made uneasy by the still somberness of his face.
    The great medieval ruin was eerily impressive, with its shattered battlements and roofless chambers where the birds had built their nests. I thought of Carlton, which might have looked like this if the family had deserted it, and shivered a little.
    “Whose castle is this?” I asked softly.
    “Richard’s,” the earl said gravely. Then as if he sensed my confusion, he looked down at me. “The last owner of this castle was Richard Plantagenet, King Richard the Third.” He was not smiling.
    “Oh.” I looked around me. “It must have been very grand once.”
    “It was. The jewel of the north Middleham used to be. The Tudors let it fall into ruin.”
    I remembered what Mr. Fitzallan had told me about Richard III. “I understand that here in the north people do not think of King Richard as they do elsewhere,” I said tentatively.
    The earl’s dark eyes were hard on my face. “No, they don’t. Richard the Third, Valentine, is the most bitterly wronged king in all of English history.”
    I held his gaze. “I only know about him from Shakespeare.”
    His mouth twisted. “You and everyone else. Crookback Richard, villain, usurper, murderer. And none of it is true.”
    “What was Shakespeare’s