A Dangerous Inheritance by Alison Weir

have you thrown out.” Pembroke’s shoulders suddenly sag. “Look, it’s late, and I’m tired. I don’t intend to stand here arguing. I am sorry, but you must be patient for a while longer. Now get back to your chamber, my son. And you, my lady, go to sleep. Good night.” He holds open the door.
    Harry is vanquished. He stoops and kisses me briefly, then sullenly walks out of the room, his father following. This time, the key does turn, leaving me a prisoner. I am a wife, yet not a wife: a virgin still, and I fear I will remain so for God knows how long. It is enough to make anyone weep. And I do.
KATE
    June 1483, Crosby Place and the City of London
    There was a great stir and commotion in London. People were busy making ready for the young King’s coronation. Whenever Kate, accompanied by the new maid her father had appointed, ventured out of the house to browse in the enticing shops in Cheapside, she saw queues of liveried servants at the goldsmiths’ and the mercers,’ collecting jewels and fabrics ordered by their noble masters and mistresses.
    London, to Kate, was still an intimidating, if exciting, place. That air of menace she had sensed when she first arrived still pervaded the streets, and many citizens continued to parade about in their armor, clearly fearing trouble. She was aware of the tension within Crosby Place, where the King’s councillors had been gathering for private meetings. She had seen them from her window, dismounting in the courtyard and being ushered into the house. Her father often sat up late at night in conference with them; she had glimpsed thecandle flames flickering through the diamond panes of the council chamber.
    One morning there had been a stranger at breakfast, a handsome, smooth-tongued lawyer whom the duke introduced as Sir William Catesby. He was clearly liked and trusted by her father, but Kate took an instinctive aversion to him. He seemed sly and crafty, and he spoke with scant respect of his master, Lord Hastings. Kate had always imagined Lord Hastings to be a kindly, upright man, and she knew he had rendered a timely service to her father, so she felt indignant that Sir William Catesby seemed to regard him with derision. And her indignation rose higher, as her father walked with him to the porch to say farewell, when she overheard their muttered exchange.
    “Fear not Lord Hastings, good my lord.” That was Catesby. “He is content that the council should be divided. The fool thinks I am reporting all our proceedings here to him and the rest.”
    “As long as he thinks you loyal to his interests, we need not concern ourselves with him,” the duke replied. “And so fare you well, Sir William. I will proceed with our other matter. And I am ready to offer you good lordship at any time.”
    That did not sound very charitable toward Lord Hastings either, Kate thought. What could his lordship have done to offend her father and his lawyer?
    There came an evening when the Duke of Buckingham, a grand, lordly northerner with a bluff manner, came to dine. He was good company at table: even her father—so taciturn and brooding these days, and often as somber as the mourning he was wearing for his brother—fell to laughing at his jests.
    Buckingham made much of the Duchess Anne, showing her every courtesy and deferring to her opinions as if they were pearls of wisdom dropping from her lips. He means to flatter and cozen my father, Kate thought. For Gloucester had many privileges within his gift: he was king in all but name. That was what it meant to be Lord Protector.
    Buckingham praised John highly. “Ye have a fine boy there,” he observed. “What will ye be, young man? A knight?”
    “If my father so wishes, sir,” John answered. He had been well schooled in courtesy and obedience.
    “I see no reason why not.” The duke smiled, but he looked so tired, Kate thought. John was happy, though. To win his knighthood was all he asked of life.
    “And this fair damsel, is