FRANCIS MET PHILIPPA Spice, widow of Sir John Fortescue, at Greenwich Palace in the thrush of springtime. Little did Francis know, the King and Charles Brandon had been scheming for several weeks to find him a suitable wife. Charles felt Philippa, with all of her wealth, would be perfect for Francis and, perhaps, he could blend his illegitimate son with her four children in due course. Charles sent for her to come to court with the King's blessing, and then went about trying to bring her and Francis together without seeming to.

Francis was none the wiser when he joined the King and Charles for supper in the Great Hall one evening in April. To him, it was akin to any other night, with nothing untoward in the offing.

After the meal ended, Charles turned to Francis. "There is someone I'd like you to meet."

Francis was immediately on guard. "Who?"

"A lady recently come to court . . ."

Francis raised his hand as if to stop him. "I can find my own female companionship, Charles, thanks all the same."

Charles sighed. "Yes, you find women for brief flings alone." His voice turned hard. "You're not getting any younger, Francis. It is time you found a proper lady and settled down."

Before Francis could protest, the King spoke up. "I agree. Give her a chance, Francis. That's all we are asking you to do."

Francis gazed back and forth between the two men, his expression turning incredulous. "Are you both in this together?"

Charles grinned. "Guilty as charged."

Francis rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell. Very well, I'll meet her. Who is she, may I ask?"

"Philippa Spice, widow of Sir John Fortescue from Ponsbourne, Hertfordshire," the King replied. "She has four children by her late husband, and is very wealthy in her own right."

Francis' interest was piqued. "Wealthy, you say?"

The King nodded. "She retained Fortescue Manor in Ponsbourne, Hertfordshire, which she is holding in trust for her oldest son, Henry."

"She is definitely not mistress material," Charles interjected.

"How old is she?" Francis pressed.

"Around twenty-seven. She's quite lovely, really. She cannot read, unfortunately, but she is no simpleton, either."

Francis' eyes narrowed. "Does she know why she's been brought to court?"

Charles shook his head. "No, of course not. I invited her to visit for a few days." He made a wry face. "I've yet to encounter anyone who turns down an invitation from myself or the King."

Francis snorted. "She came here on her own?"

"She was accompanied by her father."

"Who is?"

"Sir Humphrey Spice of Black Notley, Essex."

Francis groaned. "Very well, gentlemen. Let's get this over with so I can find a proper whore to warm my bed tonight."

The King roared with laughter, moisture from the effort making his eyes glisten. "You do me in," he finally managed to say when he recovered. "You do me in, Francis."

Charles rose from the table. "Come with me, my friend."

Francis mumbled as he followed him. "Like a lamb being led to slaughter."

He heard the King chuckle, which made him smile. Keeping Henry in good humor was an important element of being a successful courtier, and Francis rarely missed the mark.

Charles led him to a relatively quiet corner of the Great Hall, near one of the glowing fireplaces in the room. Several people sat in an assortment of chairs and stools, talking as they kept warm by the hearth.

Francis instinctively realized who Philippa Spice was when he saw her, sitting next to an older man on a chair. The woman appeared somewhat delicate, small and slender, with auburn hair, green eyes and light freckles. She had a generous mouth and breasts, and long-tapered fingers. He immediately felt a sense of calm overwhelm him, momentarily puzzled by the physical sensation.

Charles approached the older man sitting next to her. "Greetings, Sir Humphrey. I would like to introduce you to one of my dearest friends, Francis Bryan."

The man rose, nodding at Francis. "Glad to meet you, my lord." He gestured to the woman still seated. "This is my daughter, Philippa." Humphrey Spice was of medium height with dark hair and a trimmed mustache. He was thin but wiry, with dark eyes and a faint pallor.

Francis looked to Philippa, surprised to see her returning his gaze fully. Then she lowered her head slightly as she acknowledged him. "My lord."

Her voice was like silken honey to his ears, smooth yet effortless. He stared at her, transfixed. She was nothing like Alice Drury in appearance - she was the exact opposite, actually. Her voluptuous shape and soothing demeanor belied the fact she had borne four children and was already a widow.

Francis bowed from the waist. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

She raised her head and regarded him curiously. "You've made quite a name for yourself at court, Sir Francis, or so I've heard. Very impressive."

He beamed at her. "It is my great honor, my lady, I assure you."

Philippa smiled, revealing her even, white teeth. "Tell me, how do you keep yourself entertained at court?"

"The King enjoys hunting, cards and dice, as well as other revelry. We make good use of it all year round, but especially during the winter months when the weather is inclement."

"You have no home of your own?"

"My family seat is Marsworth Manor in Buckinghamshire, but I also have a house on The Strand."

Charles and Humphrey watched the couple as they continued to converse. It was as if they were the only two people in the room.

"Perhaps I can show you some day," Francis offered.

"Properly chaperoned?" She asked, her green eyes twinkling.

"Of course."

They parted company a few minutes later, but only after Francis elicited a promise from Philippa to walk in the garden with him the next day.

"Well?" Charles prompted as they walked back to the King's table.

"You were right," Francis admitted. "She's lovely, and wonderfully different from Alice."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Most assuredly," Francis replied. "Philippa might very well be an anecdote to getting Alice out of my head, once and for all."

"See here," Charles said with some urgency. "The King is keen for you to make this match. It will give you great monetary wealth and property."

"I'll court Philippa in proper fashion but I'll not make a rush of it. She intrigues me, Charles."

Charles smiled broadly. "We were hoping you would agree. The King will be very pleased to hear it."

"His Majesty's happiness is what I live for," Francis intoned with a hint of sarcasm.

Charles laughed, clapping him on the back as they approached their King.

Next > (Chapter Thirty-Eight)