Alicia blinked. Of course! She would become a countess upon her marriage. How quickly the world turned upon itself! She moistened her dry lips. Only last week, she had been serving customers in the goldsmith’s shop near the Micklegate. Now everything had turned topsy-turvy. The merchant’s daughter ceased to exist Yet the new Countess of Thornbury was still a figment of her imagination. Who was Alicia Broom now? A hunted enemy of the usurper who sat upon the throne of England. Her hand trembled as she stroked Georgie’s coarse fur.
Lady Katherine drew closer to Sir Edward. “My love, the sun begins to sink in the sky. We must hurry.”
Sir Edward grunted in his old familiar way. Alicia knew he was not happy with the decision he had to make. Her beloved foster parents must ride like the wind, or they would never reach their ship in time. If she thought she was in danger, how much more so was it for these two dearest people whom she had called Mama and Papa for so long?
Leaving Georgie to doze, she slipped her arms around their waists. “You must go. I shall be in good hands. Methinks Sir Thomas only needs a little time.”
“He needs more than that,” Brampton grumbled.
Alicia kissed his cheek. “And you have the word of Master Ford that I will be well taken care of. And I shall write to you often, and tell—”
Sir Edward gripped her, and whispered, “Nay, you must not write at all, my sweet. A letter could be intercepted, and could lead to your half brother’s death.”
Dickon’s handsome face, so like her own, rose up in her memory. She had not seen the little prince since he had been sent into hiding across the North Sea over a decade ago. Four years later, disguised as a Flemish boy named Perkin Warbeck, Dickon had returned to the south of England, where he challenged Henry Tudor for the throne. For six heart-stopping years, Dickon’s fortunes had waxed and waned.
Two weeks ago, sweet Dickon had been captured by Henry’s forces. Once again, he was imprisoned in the Tower of London, where he had been confined as a child. Her brother’s only hope for his life lay in the fact that no one realized that he was the true Richard, Duke of York, and the rightful heir to the throne. Sir Edward hoped that Dickon would be released, just as another pretender named Lambert Simnel had been. Her brother played his part by claiming he had been duped by greedy men. God save him.
Alicia hung her head. “I had forgotten. Forgive me, Papa…my lord.”
Sir Edward hugged her. “I am no lord to you, poppet. Though I could never take the place of your esteemed father, I pray that you will always think of Katherine and me as your loving parents.”
Tears pricked behind Alicia’s eyelids, though she swore to herself that she would not allow them to escape. It would make the parting more difficult. The time for tears came later. “How I love you both! I shall remember you forever.”
Katherine kissed her on the forehead. “And you will always be in our thoughts and prayers, child.”
“If you must contact us, do so by messenger—one that you can trust—and send to Bruges in care of the Goldsmith’s Guild there. But do not write unless ‘tis a matter of life and death. Oh, my child!” Sir Edward kissed her on the forehead. “Know that I leave my heart with you. Take good care of it until I return.”
Alicia bit her lips to keep them from quivering. “When will that be?”
Sir Edward’s brow darkened. “If your brother can escape, and make his way back to his aunt’s court in Burgundy, then I shall see you soon. If not…” He sighed.
Alicia traced her thumb over the furrows in his brow, wishing she could wipe them away. “Let us not think of the alternative. I shall pray for you and for Dickon.”
“If God hears anyone’s prayers, he will certainly hear yours, sweetest child.” After giving her another hug and a kiss, Sir Edward retrieved his hat from the floor. Then he bellowed at the waiting squire. “And you, Sir Twig! I hold you accountable for her in every respect.”
Andrew swept him another jaunty bow. “You have placed your trust wisely, my lord.”
“In whom, I wonder?” Brampton mused under his breath.
“In my good master, Sir Thomas Cavendish, my lord,” the youth replied. “And in myself, as his obedient servant.”
With a muttered oath, Sir Edward took his wife’s arm and propelled them both toward the castle’s entranceway. Pausing under the arch, he glanced back to Alicia. She smiled and waved at him, while her heart broke within her breast.
“Jesu, you were such a tiny thing when first I held you in my arms. Who knew what an angel you would become?”
“Papa…” Alicia could not utter another word.
Then they were gone.
She bit her knuckles to keep from bursting into tears on the spot. She must not show weakness now, especially in front of her betrothed’s squire.
Andrew offered her his arm. “The first night is the worst,” he confided.
Alicia blinked back the moisture from her eyes. “Your pardon?”
“The absence of your parents.” Andrew tucked her hand within the crook of his arm. “‘Tis worst the first night, then becomes easier. I know.”
She sniffed. “How did you come by this sage knowledge? Were you homesick at the Duke of Buckingham’s?”
Andrew grinned. In a faint way he reminded her of Dickon. “Nay, ‘twas when I came here to be Sir Thomas’s squire. Cried my eyes out that first night.”
“Oh?” Alicia wondered if she would cry all night. She had a sinking feeling that she would.
“Aye. When one of the serving men complained to Sir Thomas that my blubbering had kept him awake, my master bade me sleep on the trundle bed in his own chamber.”
She couldn’t help but be interested in the boy’s story. “And did you keep Sir Thomas awake?”
Andrew laughed. “Nay. ‘Twas he who banished sleep by telling me the most amusing stories until my eyelids fell of their own accord. When I awoke the next morning, I found that Vixen had joined me, and had warmed me all through the night.”
Alicia gasped with shock. “Fie on Sir Thomas for that! How dare he debauch so innocent a boy in his care! And just who is this vixen, pray tell?”
Andrew laughed even harder. “Vixen is a small greyhound, Mistress Alicia. You saw her earlier with my master. Methinks you will like her.”
Ah, but will Vixen like me? Alicia wondered. And what about the dog’s handsome master?
“What?” Lady Isabel Cavendish hurled a chamber pot at the trembling maid. “You lie, you slut!” A cushion from the nearby stool followed after the smashed clay receptacle.
Meg ducked as the heavy pillow sailed past her. “Nay, ‘tis gospel true, my lady.”
Isabel snatched up one of her satin slippers from the disordered pile of her footwear on the floor. “Thomas betrothed? ‘Tis as much to say that we shall catch larks when the sky falls. How now, Meg? I am in no mood for jesting.”
The maid backed closer to the door. “I do not wag my tongue, my lady. I saw the woman with my own eyes. She has come, bag and baggage. Master Andrew has put her in the royal bedchamber, and there she stays. I came straightway to tell’ee, my lady.”
Isabel lowered the slipper. “And Thomas? What has he said?”
“Naught.” Meg hid a giggle in her apron. “In truth, he sputtered and goggled