Of One Heart - By Cynthia Wright Page 0,12

propped against a mountain of pillows, his white hair combed back from his craggy face. In his youth the duke had looked not unlike his handsome son, but now his excellent bone structure served only to accentuate sunken cheeks and a sharp chin. His life had been bitter, made bitterer still by this rebellious son and heir who had the effrontery to smile at him and extend his hand in pretended affection.

"I'm too old for your games, Andrew. Sit down."

A muscle moved in his jaw. "I'd prefer to stand."

"I see no point in wasting time on aimless chatter," the duke continued. "I've come to tell you that you're going to be married. King Henry has found a wife for you, and I've agreed."

Chapter 6

London, England

February 5-6, 1532

Sandhurst's brown eyes were startled. "I must be hearing things. I could have sworn I heard you say that you and King Henry had chosen a wife for me!" A half-repressed laugh escaped his lips.

Unable to resist the impulse to toy with his prey for a moment, the duke smiled. "You have only the king to thank on that score. All I have done is set the seal on his plans." Aylesbury's smile widened maliciously.

"Have I no say in this? No voice in my own destiny?" Somehow, he managed to sound calm, though the scar that cut down through his upper lip had gone white.

The duke's smile faded. "You can say whatever you like, but I don't think you'll fight the will of the king the way you've always fought me. It's time you learned that there are more important things than your wishes! You have never done the smallest thing to please me, your father, but you'll please me now whether you want to or not!" He let out a hoarse bark of laughter. "For years I've begged you to take an interest in my estates. I've longed to see you married, with sons of your own, before I die. I've encouraged you to make a place for yourself at court, but it seems that the most you could bother to do has been to waste your charm on Henry's favorite ladies. Even the future queen goes doe-eyed at the mention of your name! You're a fool, Andrew, and now you're going to pay for it!"

The old man was leaning forward, his face crimson as he railed at his son. For his own part, Sandhurst thought that he must be having a nightmare. Dimly he heard himself say, "Perhaps I've turned away from you because I sensed that your interest was not in me but in the family title. As the future duke it seemed that I was to be molded like a piece of clay, not a person."

"Bah! You needed a firm hand! You still do! If you wanted affection, you should have listened to me and taken a wife years ago. That's what a good woman is for." The duke smiled again, thinly. "You see, I'm doing you a favor! After your French bride begins warming your bed, you'll thank me! The chit probably won't even speak English, which'd be a blessing. If she can't talk to you, there will be just one thing for her to do—spread her legs!"

"This is utter madness," he muttered.

"Tell it to King Henry," the old man shot back.

"What if I were to do just that? I'm not some twelve-year-old who needs a marriage arranged for him."

"You don't seem to be able to arrange one on your own!"

"God's life, why does the king care about my marital state?"

The duke shrugged. "As I understand it, someone with power in the French court wants this girl disposed of—tidily, of course. A proper English husband who would take her to live across the Channel seemed the solution. Henry was glad to give his aid because he needs assistance from King Francois in winning over the pope, more than ever now, I'd say, since there are rumors that he and Anne Boleyn were secretly married last month."

"But why was I chosen to be sacrificed?"

"Perhaps it was the will of God," the old man suggested with another malevolent smile. "Besides, you're an ideal candidate. You're an eligible, wealthy aristocrat, and the king would seem to have reasons of his own for wanting to see your wings clipped."

"And if I refuse to be a party to this madness? Will the king send me to the Tower and deprive me of my head?"

"Oh, no, we decided that the punishment should fit the crime.

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