in circles around a flower-decked maypole near the parish church. Everyone was delighted by the new Lady Sandhurst, who was prettier and gayer than any of the rosy-cheeked village girls.
As May progressed, Micheline's contentment grew apace. The absence of her monthly flow confirmed her happy suspicion that she and Andrew had created new life that spring along with the rest of nature's creatures. Sandhurst was delighted, but far from surprised. Laughing, he told her that he'd have been frankly astonished if she hadn't been with child by now.
The kind of reality Micheline had been forced to deal with in Yorkshire couldn't be held at bay indefinitely, however. The third week of the month brought several days of rain, which refreshed the landscape but kept the couple indoors. One afternoon they sat side by side in a library window seat, sharing a volume of The Book of Merlin.
Sandhurst stretched out lean-muscled legs and propped them on a placet. Unused to prolonged inactivity, he was finding it harder by the minute to resist the distracting charms of his bride. As raindrops splashed the mullioned window behind them, his gaze wandered from the printed page to the generous display of Micheline's bosom above a low square neckline.
"What are you looking at, my lord?" she inquired primly.
"I find you far more absorbing than Merlin, my lady." His head dipped to kiss the tempting curve of her flesh.
"An interesting choice of words," she observed, shifting against the window seat in a way that told him she was already aroused.
He looked up and smiled boyishly. "Very apt." His eyes softened at the sight of her face, the picture of radiant beauty framed by a spill of brandy-colored curls. He couldn't remember the last time she'd pinned up her hair since arriving at Sandhurst Manor. "You know, you positively glow."
"Marriage... and your baby would seem to agree with me." She ran her fingers through his luxuriant hair, occasional strands gilded by long days spent in the sun, while his face was tanned and handsome.
Tenderly he kissed her mouth. "I'm glad you're happy here." Sitting back next to her, Sandhurst distractedly drew a pattern with his forefinger on the slim back of Micheline's hand. "I rather hate to bring this up, but you probably realize that we must begin preparations to travel to London. If it were anything except the coronation, I'd say devil take it and remain here, but it's just not that easy. If we don't make the effort, King Henry will remember."
"It's even more than that, Andrew. We're to meet Cicely in London. You hadn't forgotten, had you?"
He sighed. "I've been trying to. Are you certain you want to carry through with those plans, in light of the baby? I don't want Cicely upsetting you. I worry that you'll feel unwell and never mention it."
"You must not worry," Micheline insisted, aware that his anxiety was rooted in the knowledge that she had lost a baby during her first marriage. "The other time, I felt completely different right from the first day. It was as if that baby was not meant to be born."
"Swear that you'll tell me if you have any pain."
"Honestly, I've never felt better in my life! You've seen how I've been eating! I'm thriving, Andrew."
"You must swear," he persisted, squeezing her hand.
"Very well, then, I swear."
* * *
The twenty-ninth of May fell on a Thursday. Dawn had scarcely begun to lighten the London sky when a knock sounded on the door of Andrew and Micheline's spacious bedchamber at Weston House.
Sandhurst slowly opened one eye to find his wife looking at him in bewilderment. "If that's Rupert, I'll kill him for certain this time," he muttered, his voice husky with sleep.
"Please, don't. I so deplore violence." She playfully pulled the covers over her head to escape his withering glance.
The knock was repeated and Cicely's voice came through the door. "Andrew, you haven't forgotten that you promised to take me downriver to watch the queen's entry into the city, have you?"
"I am not awake enough to even think yet, let alone forget our plans for the day!" He fell back on the pillows and closed his eyes. "Come back in two hours and I'll let you know then if I forgot."
"Stop teasing me!" Her voice rose childishly.
"I assure you, I am quite serious. The procession of boats won't be leaving London for Greenwich Palace until midday. I'm not so old and doddering that I require an entire morning to dress and walk outside to