your filly, Primrose, is well. I've been exercising her in your absence and just came from the stables; they're going to see about mating Zachariah, the white stallion, with a mare who's in season. I don't imagine Andrew will be back for hours."
In spite of a twinge in the area of her heart, Micheline managed to smile. "I appreciate your help with Primrose. I'm sure this is only a phase of my pregnancy that will soon pass. Everyone tells me that the first three months are the hardest. I yearn to take up my usual routine again."
"But then your body will be changing," Cicely remarked as they walked toward a herb plot. "I mean, you may not be shaped for outdoor activity."
In the shadow of the charmingly mismatched manor house, Micheline bent to cut rosemary and flowering lavender, barely noticing the butterflies on the wing that flitted among a nearby shrub of honeysuckle. She couldn't decide what Cicely was getting at, or how to reply.
"I do not intend to become an invalid for the next seven months," she said at last.
Examining the folds of her soft pink skirt, Cicely murmured, "I hope, for your sake, that you will not. I mean, we both know how active my brother is. Already he's begun to show signs of restlessness, what with your new habit of retiring early and rising late. I'm not suggesting that he doesn't care for you," she suddenly assured a stricken-looking Micheline, "but Andrew's always been a selfish man in that he's used to having his needs met."
A cold chill ran down Micheline's spine and her heart began to pound. "What are you saying?"
"I only meant to caution you. You weren't here in England prior to your marriage, and you may not realize how many ladies would happily supply my brother with female companionship."
"I'm not a fool, Cicely. I am fully aware that Andrew is immensely attractive to women, but I also know that he loves me. He would not stray just because—"
"Not without encouragement, perhaps, but he is human." Cicely started toward the manor, then turned on the path to stare at Micheline. "I'm not saying these things just to hear myself talk. You were not at Whitehall Palace the other night; I was. I may not have proved myself a very affectionate sister to you in the past, but I assure you that I would rather see Andrew with you than with Lady Dangerfield!"
* * *
Waves of nausea swept over Micheline as she stood next to the herb plot, watching Cicely disappear from sight! No! she thought wildly. It could not be true! Not Andrew!
Staring down at the basket of flowers in her arms, she was reminded of the day in the gardens at Fontainebleau when she'd learned of Bernard's infidelities. Until that moment it had been impossible for her to imagine him capable of betrayal, but he certainly had been. Were all men alike?
Her imagination burned with possible scenes that might have taken place at Whitehall that night. She saw Andrew in her mind's eye, bored and lonely, succumbing to Iris Dangerfield's entreaties that he dance with her. She saw him responding to Iris's open desire, imagined him putting her from his mind as Iris pressed her hips against his.
No. No, she must not condemn Andrew based on the words of a resentful thirteen-year-old girl. In the past the possibility had even occurred to Micheline that Cicely might have been responsible for the threats on her life, though she'd been quick to dismiss such thoughts. Still, in this case, it was easier to believe that Cicely might tell stories out of spite than accept the fact that Andrew had been unfaithful since their marriage. The mere thought seemed to stab Micheline through the heart.
She found a bench in the shelter of blooming apple trees and tried to calm herself. Finally it came to her that Patience and Rupert had also gone out to Whitehall Palace that night. Perhaps Patience could throw cold water on Cicely's horrible tale.
Bolstered with hope, Micheline went into the manor house through the kitchen door and discovered Patience herself working at one of the long, bleached tables.
"Hello!" she managed to exclaim.
"Oh, good morrow, Micheline. You've been out in the garden, I see."
"It's just glorious, and a beautiful day too. There's no need to stay indoors, Patience. There are plenty of servants to see to the meals."
Lettice, who was chopping parsnips next to Patience, spoke up. "Mistress Topping's showing me her recipe for