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girl of Isabelle's tender years.Will shook his head slowly, wondering just how to answer Joanna. "Yes, it is true, lass. Isabelle was betrothed to as untrustworthy a man as you could find in all of Christendom, and her marriage would one day have put into his hands all of Angouleme. Your father could not let that happen."Joanna was quiet. "Is she truly only twelve?" she asked at last, and Will nodded. 4I

129"I think I do know what frets you. But she is a lively, good-natured ss, and I/m sure y°U sha11 like her' 'That was not what was fretting Joanna at all. She was quite pre-ed to like Isabelle, although she did think it distinctly odd to have a t nmother only three years older than she. Her fear was that Isabelle uld not like her. She had long since accustomed herself to her father's omen. Most were kind to her, sometimes cloyingly so; Adele alone h d not been friendly, and Adele's reign had been brief. One day she was gfne an<^ Joanna had learned a valuable lesson: Whilst Papa's ladies came and went, her own place in his heart was constant. But a wife ... a wjfe was not like a mistress.Brooding on this as she crossed the bailey, she was pleased to see Richard coming toward her. She'd gained more than a father at Rouen, she'd gained six brothers, too. Most were well into their teens by now, and she saw them but seldom. With Richard it was different. He was only two years older than she, and from their first meeting he had appointed himself her protector, her guide and mentor. She could ask Richard what she could not ask Will, and as he fell in step beside her, she said, "Richard . . . what if she does not like us?"Richard was eating manchet bread glazed with honey. He took a large bite, handed what remained to Joanna. "Papa will not love us any the less if she does not, Joanna. My mama says not to worry, that Papa is no man to be swayed by a woman's cajoling."It occurred to Joanna that Richard was not as confident as he sounded, else he'd not have felt the need to consult his mother. But she took comfort, nonetheless, from his assurance. His mother was more than a onetime mistress.Alina was John's first cousin, and had remained on friendly terms with him to this day, was often at court. Hers was a voice to be heeded."Richard . . . when your mama's family found out she was with child, were they shamed?""Angry, yes, but shamed . . . no. After all, Papa was a Prince. And then, too, my grandpapa Hamelin is baseborn himself; he was a bastard brother to KingHenry. Mama told me that Grandpapa and my uncle did berate her some at first, but they know women are weak vessels. They could hardly blame her for being true to her nature.""My mama was not so lucky," Joanna said softly. "Her family shunned her for her sin." She hesitated. "I told you that my mama died. But I never told you that I did think it was my fault."Richard had been reaching to reclaim the honeyed bread. He stopped, gave her a look of sudden interest. "You did? Why?"The memories of her mother's death were so fraught with pain even

130now that Joanna had never been able to share them with anyone but John, and she said evasively, "Oh, because she was so unhappy. But Papa explained it all to me, told me that the blame did lie with my mama's family, not with me."Richard's interest waned. "Well, you'reJoanna, look. There's Uncle Will."Will raised an arm, beckoned. "Joanna, Richard, make haste. Your lord father is ready to see you now."ST Edward's chamber had been for well over a hundred years the traditional bedchamber of the King, was still used even though it was part of the old palace of the Confessor. John was sitting on a coffer as his barber carefully trimmed his beard, but he waved the man away at sight of his children.Joanna ran to him, into his arms. "Papa, I missed you so!""I missed you, too, sweetheart. But keep your voices down. Isabelle is still asleep."Joanna and Richard quieted at once, cast subdued glances toward the curtained bed. John smiled at them, gave Richard a playful poke. "You need not act as if you're in church! Come over here and see what I brought back for you."Lifting the coffer lid, he fished around, at last unearthed their presents:spurs for Richard, a carved ivory comb for Joanna. "I do have a second gift for Joanna, lad, but that is because I did miss her birthday. Here, sweetheart."Joanna gave a delighted gasp, slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect topaz, set in silver, but too big, was sliding over her knuckle until she made a quick fist."John . . . John, where did you go?" The voice was young, sleepily content.Richard and Joanna turned as a tousled head poked through the bed hangings.Joanna felt a sharp pang of envy; as she'd suspected, Isabelle's hair was a lustrous swirl of sunlight. She yawned like a lazy kitten, blinked at them with long-lashed, lavender-blue eyes. Joanna could not, of course, begin to comprehend the complicated sexual cravings that made this beautiful child-woman so desirable to a man with jaded sensibilities, a man in need of novelty. But she could see how undeniably lovely Isabelle was, and her fear came rushing back. How could Papa not be influenced by Isabelle?"You must be Joanna and Richard." Isabelle jerked the bed hangings aside and, wrapping herself in the sheet, accepted a servant's offer-

333a cup of watered-down wine. "I guess I'm now your mother!" She 'n^ hed suddenly. "But do not dare call me Mama!""What shall we call you, Madame?" Joanna asked, at a loss, and Isabelle gave a comical grimace."How serious she is, John! I am Isabelle, of

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