This Son of York by Anne Easter Smith

Author:Anne Easter Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bellastoria Press LLP
Published: 2019-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Then, in November, came good news. After three daughters, Elizabeth Woodville had borne Edward’s son and heir in Westminster sanctuary. “At last,” Edward rejoiced and promptly spent the evening carousing with Hastings in the taverns of The Hague. This time, Richard happily joined in the celebrations.

As the tavern wench refilled their tankards, Richard tapped the side of it with his heavy signet ring, claiming Edward’s attention from the serving girl. “I have been saving something of my own to share at the right moment,” he said, “and this is as good a time as any. I have two children. A daughter, Katherine, and my son, John, was born last March.”

Had Richard been in possession of an apple at that moment, he could have easily stopped Edward’s open mouth with it. “You had not guessed? I know you suspected I had a paramour, Ned. You even asked me about Kate the night she sang at Margaret’s farewell banquet. You were right, she is my love.”

Edward closed his mouth and shook his head, his long locks swinging freely. “You sly fox, and, I might add, hypocrite; my lord of Warwick has nothing on you, brother. All those homilies about my wanton ways, and you sit here calmly telling me you have sired two bastards already at eighteen?” He chuckled and then he laughed. “And there I was thinking you were a sanctimonious prick. Why have you not sought my permission to wed? At least I wed Elizabeth so I could bed her.”

Richard had the grace to look sheepish. “Kate is the daughter of a Kentish farmer—although her mother is vaguely related to the Hautes—the Richard Haute who owns Ightham Mote. She knew when we first…er…when…well, you know,” he tailed off awkwardly. “She knows ’tis impossible, and that I must take a wife one day who befits my rank. But unlike you, Ned, I have been loyal to only her.”

Edward let out a low whistle. “Then I admire you, little brother. To have found a paramour as lovely as your Kate—remember her, Will? She of the long russet hair who sang like an angel. Nicely done, Richard. I envy you.”

Richard shot back, “Why should you? I thought Elizabeth was your love and your wife. ’Tis why I have a hard time understanding why you…er…why you wander.” Richard wondered if he had gone too far, but Edward was in his cups and in a benevolent mood.

“To each his own needs and desires,” Edward said, raising his cup and scanning the room. “Now where has that little baggage gone.”

Richard gave up and gave in to his own cup of wine.

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