had hoped to make it a day that all of England would remember, but..."
"I assure you, Your Grace, that the ceremony itself is all that matters to me," Micheline replied as politely as she was able. "Whether or not all England remembers isn't important. The day I become Andrew's wife will be the most meaningful of my life, and my only other desire is that his family share in our joy."
The duke shrugged and looked away from her again as if she were a child spouting nonsense. "The king himself expressed a desire to attend."
"Father, I spoke to King Henry," Sandhurst said flatly. "Micheline and I went to see him at Hampton Court. I had assumed that the preparations for Anne Boleyn's coronation next month would prevent them from attending this wedding, but he hopes to make the journey after all, bringing members of the court with him."
The old man merely turned his craggy face toward the windows as if he hadn't heard.
In the silence that followed, Rupert cleared his throat.
"I haven't had a chance to bid you welcome!" he exclaimed loudly. Rushing forward, he shook his half brother's hand, then turned to Micheline. "Madame, you are looking more beautiful than ever! Tress bell, what?"
A bubble of amusement rose through her tension. "Hello again, Roo-pair! But no, that is wrong! Hello, Roo-poort!"
Even Sandhurst forgot his rage for a moment and smiled. Thank God for Micheline. What had he ever done without her? Slipping a hand around her waist, he drew her near and kissed her shining hair.
"You must meet my dear wife!" Rupert was declaring. "She's been looking forward to it so much!" He turned his head without taking his eyes off Micheline. "Patience, darling, do come and join us!"
Smiling shyly, Patience complied. As Rupert's wife drew near, it became painfully apparent to Micheline that the woman was singularly unattractive. Much taller than Rupert, Patience Topping had no breasts or hips to speak of, and her face was long, with thin lips, a sharp nose, and round little eyes. Her dun-colored hair was parted in the middle and tucked into an unflattering gable-hooded headdress, completing the picture of plainness. Micheline's heart went out to her.
"This is Micheline, dearest!" Rupert enthused. "Isn't she everything I told you? Aren't we fortunate to have her as our sister?"
Sandhurst winced slightly at that, but Patience was beaming. "We are indeed, dear husband. Hello, Sister, and welcome to our family."
"Thank you, Patience." Bemusedly she looked around the room, her eyes falling on a petulant Cecily; the shrunken, sour-faced Duke of Aylesbury; gawky, overeager Rupert; and Patience, who possessed the face of a horse but none of its elegance. Finally Micheline turned her gaze up to Andrew. There was wry humor in the set of his mouth and the way he lifted his brows as if to say, I told you they were different!
The warmth of his gaze melted her doubts. As long as they were together, she could surmount any obstacle. This resolve was put to the test minutes later when Patience kindly volunteered to show Micheline to her bedchamber so that she might wash and rest.
"You'll be safe from Andrew until the wedding, just in case he should become impatient!" Patience announced proudly. "His chamber is at the opposite end of the corridor!"
"Oh." Micheline nodded, feeling slightly ill. "How thoughtful of you."
Chapter 27
April 15-19, 1533
Sandhurst was standing in his bedchamber, putting folded doublets into a carved chest, when Cicely appeared at the door.
"I've brought you some wine," she said hesitantly, holding out the pewter goblet. "And... I came to say I am sorry for the way I behaved."
He was still tense with anger, but the sight of her looking so small and repentant in the doorway softened his heart. Cicely was still a child, after all, and deserved a second chance.
Stretching out an arm, Andrew smiled slightly when she put down the wine and rushed into his embrace.
"Say you've forgiven me!" she begged, her face pressed against his velvet doublet. "You're the only person I love in all the world!"
"Of course I forgive you, child. That goes without saying. But"—he tipped her chin up and stared hard into her tear-filled eyes—"you must never behave that way toward Micheline again. She needs your help to feel comfortable here, and, of course, you will be her sister and should treat her accordingly."
Cicely's lips tightened. "I don't see how you can talk that way. I heard you and Jeremy talking that night in London; you made sport