meadow flowers. Andrew waited for her there and both of them were naked. He smiled down at her, brushing aside violets and primroses from her breasts and belly, then bending to replace the flowers with kisses.
"Time to wake up!" Mary was calling. "It's your wedding day, ma'am!"
Rolling over, Micheline opened her eyes. The chair beside the bed was empty. "Where's Lord Sandhurst?"
"Why, in his own rooms, I expect. Be patient, ma'am; you'll have him next to you when day breaks again!" The girl sighed a little. "Just think, you'll be the wife of the Marquess of Sandhurst. A more fortunate lady never breathed."
Micheline had no desire to argue that point, nor had she time to wonder what had become of Andrew, for Mary soon had her out of bed and into a steaming, scented bath. It was nearly ten o'clock, and there was much to be done before the wedding that afternoon.
Midday found Micheline in her lacy silk chemise, petticoats, and shakefold, eating a plum while Mary finished weaving the coral-pink bird's-eye primroses and rich yellow buttercups into an extravagant garland for her hair. When that was done, the little maid helped her mistress into her wedding gown. Mary had expected the marquess to order a sumptuous, jewel-encrusted creation from the best dressmakers in London, but as long as Micheline liked this gown so well, she held her tongue.
Micheline was standing in her stocking feet before the mirror, ivory satin skirts flowing out around her, when Cicely came into the chamber.
Andrew's sister looked lovelier than ever, the budding curves of her figure accentuated by a gown of dark rose silk and gold brocade. Sapphires edged the square neckline and sparkled on the golden caul that tamed her curls.
"Hello, Micheline," she said. Color stained her cheeks. "I suppose I should wish you well."
Trying to ignore the rather backhanded nature of her blessing, Micheline crossed the room and gave her the warmest smile she could muster.
"Thank you. I promise to take good care of your brother... and I have some news that I think you'll like." She took a chair near the window and motioned for Cicely to sit beside her. "I know how unhappy you have been here at Aylesbury Castle, and also how much it means to you to spend time with Andrew. My situation was not so very different from yours when I was young, and I can understand what you are feeling. I've asked Andrew if you might come to live with us at Sandhurst Manor."
Part of Cicely wanted to throw her arms around Micheline, but resentment and wariness prevailed. "And?"
"He has agreed, but there are a few conditions attached. He says that you may join us in London next month, in time for Anne Boleyn's coronation. After that we will all return to Gloucestershire, where you will remain... providing you and I can live happily together. Your brother says that he will not tolerate hard feelings in our household, and I am inclined to agree with him. However, if you and I can learn to be friends—"
At that moment Iris Dangerfield swept into the room.
"Well, if it isn't the almost bride and her almost sister! What a cozy family scene."
Micheline stood up, meeting the other woman's acrimonious eyes with a level gaze. She was certain that Iris was behind all the menacing events that had lately colored her life, but she was equally certain that this day's wedding would mark an end to those troubles. It still seemed to Micheline that Iris's main purpose had been to frighten her into backing out of the betrothal; failing that, she had tried to harm her in a moment of desperation. She was a human being, with an obsessive weakness for the Marquess of Sandhurst. Micheline could understand that.
"Good morrow, Lady Dangerfield," she greeted her calmly.
"So, the bride is garbed in her finery. I must compliment you on your gown, madame. That's a very subtle approach—flowers instead of gems." Iris herself wore a magnificent creation of cream satin and green velvet, studded with pearls and emeralds.
"I'm glad you like it," Micheline returned with a touch of irony. "This gown has special meaning, since Andrew's mother wore it when she married the duke."
"That's very sweet, yet so innocent. Rather misleading, isn't it? Everyone knows you aren't a virgin, after all."
Micheline lifted her lightly clefted chin. "It was Andrew's wish that I wear this gown, my lady." She turned away. "Now, if you will excuse me..."
No sooner had Iris Dangerfield taken her