Page 61 of The Rose at Twilight

Alys whirled at the sound of the familiar voice, to find herself face to face with Henry Tudor.

She had observed earlier that he was no longer on the dais beside the queen, but she had never expected to find him standing before her, slim, tall, elegantly clad, and smiling.

There was even a perceptible twinkle in his pale blue eyes. He waited for her to reply.

Stunned and not a little embarrassed after the turn her thoughts had taken, she made her curtsy, wondering how she would get through the next few minutes without saying something foolish or unwise.

But, palm to palm, they danced the stately dance, and she soon found herself conversing easily with him, responding to his smiles and pleasantries.

Before the music ended, she truly was enjoying herself, and she saw her mood reflected in the faces around her.

The whole court was relaxed and happy, basking in the warmth of Christmas and delighted by the presence of Prince Arthur, whom many believed was their hope for a peaceful future.

Alys saw Madeline dancing with Nicholas, and Jonet smiling up at Hugh Gower.

Even Ian MacDougal was dancing, with a rope dancer from a minstrel troop.

Only Gwilym was not smiling. He did not show to great advantage among the splendid courtiers, and he stood to one side, watching his brother and the laughing Madeline with a quizzical, rather enigmatic, glint in his eyes.

When the music ended, Alys saw that Elizabeth had descended from the dais and was walking toward them on the arm of the Earl of Lincoln.

The queen smiled at something the earl said to her, and beside Alys, the king chuckled, a sound she had never expected to hear from one she had long thought of as her chief enemy. She looked up at him in surprise.

He said, “Lincoln is trying to cut me out with my lady wife, I believe. I shall have to speak sharply to him.”

Alys said, “He means no harm, your grace. He is but—”

“Make yourself easy, madam,” Henry said wryly. “I was speaking in jest. The earl has such an aptness for never saying or doing anything for which he might be censured that I know well I have naught to fear, not at least where my wife is concerned.”

Something in his tone made Alys look closely at him, but there was nothing to be discerned from his expression.

Just then there was a touch on her arm and Nicholas said, “I have come to claim my wife, if you will forgive me, noble highness. The hour grows late, and she has been enjoying herself rather too much these past twelve days, as have we all. With your permission, we would have leave to retire.”

The twinkle reappeared in the king’s eyes. “I shall allow you to pretend you have concern for this radiant lady’s health, sir, because it is a time for joy, and thus do I willingly grant permission for you to … to see to her comfort.”

His words were the closest Alys had ever heard the king come to making a spicy remark, and it was all she could do to make her curtsy without betraying an unladylike awareness of his meaning.

But she had sensed tension in Nicholas’s voice, and so she was unsurprised when, waiting only until the king had turned away, he grasped her arm and urged her toward the stair hall.

He did not say anything at once, however, for the castle was still very much awake and its halls teemed with merrymakers.

Inside their chamber, Nicholas nodded at the maidservant who jumped up from a joint stool in the corner, and said to Alys, “Jonet will soon be here also to help you remove your finery and prepare for bed, but I wish to speak with you before you retire.”

“You are not staying?” She stared at him, bewildered.

“I will return shortly.”

His tone told her she would be unwise to question him, but she stood gazing thoughtfully at the door after he had shut it, wondering what had vexed him.

The maid helped her take off her headdress, but despite what Nicholas had said, it was some time before Jonet hurried in.

Alys had intended to tease her about dancing with Hugh, but she swallowed the words after one look told her that Jonet was big with news.

Dismissing the maid, Alys demanded to know what had occurred, adding, “Something has certainly put Nicholas out.”

“Not this,” Jonet said, her eyes gleaming with happiness and some other, less easily definable emotion.

“’Tis only our Davy, mistress. He came up to me in the hall, as brazen as you please, and gave me a grand hug.

He even made his bow to that gowk, Hugh Gower, and would you believe it, that wretched man had the impudence to demand Davy’s permission to marry me.

On the spot! Said he knew not when he’d get another chance to ask him. ”

Alys grinned. “And what did Davy say?”

“The daffish fool said he was welcome to me, but that he’d not be able to attend a wedding till the spring.”

“And what did you say?”

“Not a word. I was that stunned that they thought the matter so easily settled, and then that Hugh kissed me, and I couldn’t say a thing. Why, Davy just laughed and—”

“Fetch Davy in,” Alys commanded. “I would speak with him, for I warrant he will have word of Lord Lovell.”

“Oh, he was not so daft as to linger, but he did bring you a letter.” Jonet reached into her bodice, and Alys heard a crackle of paper before a grim voice from the doorway startled them both.

“I will take that letter, if you please,” Sir Nicholas said.