You cannot prevent us.

Can I not? We’ll see about that.

And so we would. Caught up in the vicious battle with Bishop Henry for power over the Royal Council, Gloucester was set on bringing the Beauforts down. That much I now saw. Perhaps it had not been politic of me to challenge him with his own salacious dabblings in marriage, but it was a wound too late to remedy. I prayed that the desirable Mistress Cobham, commoner though she might be, would sweeten her lover’s temper.

‘I’ll go to Westminster myself,’ I announced, when I could bear the silence no longer, when my feet had all but worn a path to the high vantage point of the Winchester Tower. Madam Joanna had left Windsor for her favoured residence of Havering-atte-Bower even before Gloucester’s arrival, so there was no solace to be had from her calm view of the world.

‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ Alice replied gruffly, when I expressed my intention. ‘Keep a low profile and it might all be swept onto the midden.’ And, with luck, Edmund Beaufort too. I could read her unspoken thoughts but refused to respond. But we both knew it would not happen. The conflict between Gloucester and Bishop Henry had gone far beyond tolerance sealed with a handshake, reaching a climax when Beaufort troops had refused Gloucester access to the Tower of London. The outrage of the royal duke knew no bounds.

‘A pity you could not see your way to be enamoured with a man without name or ambition,’ Alice remarked caustically. ‘If you had, the Council might just leave you alone to be happy.’

I knew that to be a falsehood too. ‘If I had demanded to wed a man without consequence, the Council would object that he was not sufficiently well connected,’ I remarked tartly, weary of it all. ‘Marriage to a commoner would damage my integrity as Queen Dowager. They will not allow me to wed a nobody.’ I frowned. ‘Besides, it’s Edmund I love.’

Alice opened her mouth to reply, then shut it.

‘I do,’ I insisted. ‘I love him and he loves me.’

‘As your ladyship says.’

‘I know what you are thinking. Madam Joanna thinks the same,’ I interrupted the unspoken slight on our love. ‘Edmund’s regard for me is genuine. I am convinced of it. He would not ask me to marry him if he did not love me.’

Alice’s lips tightened, as they did when she reprimanded Young Henry for some lack of courtesy. ‘You might ask yourself, my lady, what he would gain from such a union.’

I strode from the room. No one wished me well in this. How could they not see Edmund’s love for me? How could they not appreciate the array of his gifts, of his skills, as bright as jewels, that he tumbled at my feet for my delectation?

I needed to see him. I needed to be reassured.

To my delight, Edmund returned to Windsor before I could sink into a bad humour. My heart lifted and I sprang to my feet, opening my arms to him as he lifted his to enclose me in their warmth. My lips rose to meet his in urgent welcome. For a little while we simply stood and savoured the closeness.

‘Now, there’s a welcome that no man could resist!’ he remarked as he surveyed me at last, his hands caressing my shoulders.

‘I have missed you.’

‘And I you, so I am come. But what’s this?’ His gaze travelled over my face. ‘You look as if you have been beset,’ he observed, running a finger over my brow. ‘What’s happened to make you frown? Nothing must be allowed to distress my love.’

‘Gloucester has been here. And your uncle,’ I said.

‘I know,’ he growled. ‘You don’t need to tell me about it. I’ve had an earful from Gloucester already.’ He strode away from me to pour two cups of ale. He presented one to me then downed his own in one gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘The great lord was brutal in his choice of words.’

‘He says we cannot wed. He says they will stop us.’

‘And he has a whole fistful of arguments why we cannot,’ Edmund agreed. ‘Chief amongst them the one he didn’t see fit to list on his power-grabbing fingers, but the one that everyone sees, signalling like a beacon on a hilltop. That Gloucester would abandon his claim to the throne before he’d acknowledge any more power for the Beauforts. Except that he wouldn’t do that, would he? How he wishes the crown was his!’

He glowered, the expression marring features that were made for laughter. ‘He’ll not let me near the Young King, certainly not as your husband, for fear I lead him into the worst habits. Or try to influence his decisions to benefit the Beauforts as he grows.’

‘Edmund—’ I tried to draw his attention.

‘Let me think,’ he interrupted. ‘I can’t quite see my way around this.’

Edmund frowned into the middle distance, thoughts busy, tossing the empty cup in his hand. Fingering the little brooch pinned to the inner fold of my bodice, his introspection brought me close to despair. I had seen Edmund as my strength. Pray God that he and his uncle would be a match for Gloucester.

‘Have you seen Bishop Henry?’ I asked.

Edmund grimaced. ‘No. He’s sent for me—so I can’t put it off. I don’t see what he can do.’

‘I thought Bishop Henry was not entirely unsympathetic to us,’ I suggested. And when that merited no reply, ‘Can the Council truly stop us?’

‘I have no idea. Gloucester says so—so why not? They can always consign you to a convent and force you to take the veil. That would solve the problem of a marriageable royal widow for good. And they could send me to join Bedford in France. That would settle the issue.’ His quick grin might be feral, but his eyes were bleak. ‘Particularly if I happened to be cut down in battle. That would give Gloucester something to crow about.’

His tone was violent, the picture he painted monstrous, but not, I knew, without veracity. I did not know how to deal with this. I did not know what to say, so I stood and waited, all dreams for the future fading before my eyes. If Edmund saw no way forward, what was left for us but to obey Gloucester’s commands?

At last, perhaps becoming aware of my silence, he looked at me, and his features softened as with a sigh he tossed the cup carelessly onto the coffer and crossed the chamber to hug me close. With the tenderness I had grown to lean on, he smiled ruefully, resting his chin on my hair.

‘What a brute you must think me. Forgive me, Kat. Of course they won’t pack you off to a nunnery. Or me to France. I’ll wager my best horse it’s all bluster and hot air from Gloucester.’

‘He was very angry.’

‘I know. And not complimentary to me or to my uncle. He accused me of being a power-grabbing upstart with tainted blood. I don’t recall him being quite so savage before, but things are bad between him and Bishop Henry.’ His eyes narrowed, as he read the dismay I could not hide and at last drew me against him, into his arms. ‘I can’t stay—but I thought I should come to reassure you. I’ll talk to Bishop Henry. It will all come right, you know.’ His mouth was warm, tracing a delicate path from brow to lips.

‘Can I be with you, when you see him?’ I asked. Surely if we were both there to plead our cause, the Beaufort cleric must listen.

‘Not necessary,’ he murmured, preoccupied as his teeth nipped lightly along my jaw, sending tremors of pleasure down to my feet.

‘But I wish to.’

Edmund stopped kissing me, and instead framed my face with his hands. His eyes sparkled and his face lit with some deviousness.

‘Then so you shall, Queen Kat. We will beard Uncle Henry in his den, and you will weep piteously and beautifully over his feet. And then, with my esteemed uncle unable to refuse you your heart’s desire, we will cry failure to Protector Gloucester. It will all come to pass, my lovely girl, all your hopes and dreams fulfilled.’

My heart was still as I leaned on Edmund’s reassurance.

‘You took your time, boy. How long does it take to get yourself to Westminster?’

‘Forgive me, sir. I regret the delay, but now I am here, to answer for my sins.’

Bishop Henry, seated behind a vast desk, was not in a good mood, but master of diplomacy as he was, after this first brisk exchange, he welcomed me urbanely and waved us to take softly cushioned seats, which we did. A servant poured wine and was dismissed.

Upon which the urbanity vanished.

‘This marriage, Edmund. You’ve stirred up a damned pot of eels, by God.’

Hands clenched into fists on his thighs, Edmund still kept his reply as smooth as new-churned butter. ‘I don’t see the difficulty, sir. What matter if we wed? Katherine is free to do so, as am I. There can be no church ban, as we are not related to any degree.’

‘Don’t be obtuse, boy,’ Bishop Henry drawled. ‘You know the reasons as well as I.’

‘What are you saying?’ High colour crept along Edmund’s cheekbones. ‘So do you suggest I withdraw? That I break my vow to Katherine, that I reject her as my wife?’

My breath caught in my throat.

But Bishop Henry smiled. There was something unnervingly reptilian about it. ‘Did I say that?’

‘To be frank, sir, I don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘You have much to learn about political manoeuvring, my boy. I am saying that there are ways and means.’

I did not understand where this was leading, but Bishop Henry’s assurance stirred a nugget of hope where there had been none. ‘Are you saying, my lord, that Gloucester can be persuaded to withdraw his objection?’ I asked. I could not see how.

‘No, my lady.’ His smile became broader. ‘He will definitely try to stop you attempting to wed. But I know of a way to bring a halt to his ambitions. It will please me immeasurably to chop the rungs of the ladder from under Gloucester’s feet.’

So I did not need to weep over his feet after all. Bishop Henry was suddenly all politician, and out for blood.