A Dangerous Inheritance Read Online Free Page B

man. It is important to be friends with him.”
    “Maybe.” She does not sound convinced. Then she whispers: “I just wish I were anywhere else! Tell me, Kat, do you fear your wedding night?”
    I can feel the heat suffusing my cheeks. “A little. But in truth I do long for it.”
    “You long for it?” Jane looks shocked. “I tell you, I dread it. I hate Guilford. I don’t want him touching me.” Her tone becomes vehement.
    Our mother is leaning forward slightly, frowning down the table at us. We have been taught that it is rude to whisper in company, so I turn and smile at Harry, who has been holding my hand while engaging in a lively discussion with my lady about hunting. He has managed to eat a goodly dinner.
    “Sweet Katherine,” he says. “I shall never forget how beautiful you look this day.”
    “You are not looking so badly yourself, my lord!” I answer, pert. He laughs, and I am enchanted. The more I come to know of Harry, the more delighted I am in him. Unlike poor Jane, I am not dreading my wedding night.
    Perhaps Harry knows why the councillors are all here.
    “It’s out of friendship for Northumberland,” he tells me, and I feel greatly cheered by that. Of course, it must be. These lords all work closely with him, governing the realm, and many must be related tohim. And when Harry leans forward and kisses me again on the lips, more slowly this time, I forget all about them, blushing at the whoops and knowing remarks of those who have observed us. By now everyone is rosy with wine, all but Guilford, who wears a petulant face; he doesn’t just appear drunk, he looks green. Well, it serves him right for being so greedy!
    After the feast, two masques are performed for our entertainment. One is outrageously bawdy, and I don’t understand much of it, but the guests are guffawing and rocking with mirth, so I join in. Only Jane sits there stony-faced as the dancers in their indecent diaphanous costumes weave in and out, singing risqué songs to the very suggestive young man playing Hymenaios, the Greek god of weddings, and his youthful acolytes, the Erotes, gods of love.
    Afterward, laughing and chattering, we go out into the sunlight, making our way in procession to the tiltyard by the river, where we take our places in the stands for the jousts that are to do honor to the marriages. Harry is one of the gallant contestants, and looks very splendid indeed in finely chased tilting armor, seated on his charger. When he bows in the saddle before me, lowering his lance for me to tie on my favor as his chosen lady, my heart feels fit to burst with happiness.
    As the crowd roars, hooves thunder across the earth, spears splinter, and armored knights crash to the ground. Harry gives a good account of himself, even though he wins none of the prizes. But I am inordinately proud of him for his efforts. He is but fifteen, much of an age with Guilford, who is now too drunk even to sit straight on his horse and retires early from the tourney. His mother watches him go with a fixed smile. I sense her embarrassment, and I don’t miss the angry looks exchanged by my parents, or Jane’s barely concealed grimace of disgust. Poor, poor Jane, I think, yet again. Her obvious misery makes me feel guilty for being such a joyous bride.
    As we walk back to Durham House, in a less orderly fashion than before, she catches up with me as I stroll arm in arm with Harry.
    “Guilford has been sick,” she mutters. “Our mother is worried that people will think we have poisoned him. I told her I didn’t care if we did.” Harry chuckles, but I am not laughing.
    “What did she say to that?” I ask.
    “She pinched me hard for my lack of duty to my husband, and told me that I had better start making the best of things and put a smile on my face.”
    Guilford is behind us, white-faced and leaning on his mother for support, as my lady makes solicitous noises and promises all manner of vengeance on the cook, who must, she insists,