My Lady Jane(17)

Well, that makes sense, thought Edward. “Even so, I’d like to speak with your son.”

Dudley’s mouth disappeared into his beard. “My son Gifford?” he asked, as if he hoped Edward might inexplicably need to parlay with Stan.

“Yes. Send for him immediately.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Your Highness.” Dudley gestured to the window, where sunlight was streaming in from the west. There were still hours before sunset.

“Oh. Right,” Edward said. “Well, as soon as night falls, then.”

Dudley still looked uncomfortable. “But, Sire, there are so many preparations that need to be made before tomorrow’s ceremony. It will be difficult to get my son away from—”

“I desire to speak with him,” Edward said in his I-Am-the-King voice. “I will speak with him tonight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dudley conceded. “As soon as the sun is down.”

Suddenly Edward was tired, so very tired. He sagged against the back of his chair. Pet whined and licked at his hand.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Dudley asked.

“I. Am. Fine.” Edward straightened. “I’ll be in my chambers,” he said, although he had no idea how he was going to manage the stairs. “Send Gifford there when he arrives.”

“Yes, Sire,” the duke said tightly, and then he left Edward to catch his breath.

It was less than an hour past sunset when, as expected, there came a knock on the door to Edward’s room. Pet started barking but stopped immediately when Gifford Dudley stepped inside.

The two boys stood examining each other. Gifford was predictably tall, broad of shoulder, and boorishly square of jaw. He was as comely as his father had described him, and for a moment Edward actually hated him for looking so decidedly strong and able-bodied. But then Gifford dropped into a bow, and Edward remembered he was king.

“You sent for me, Sire?” Gifford murmured.

“Yes. Please sit down.” They both sat awkwardly. “I wish to discuss Jane.”

“Jane?” Edward couldn’t tell if Gifford meant this as a statement or a question or if he even knew who Edward was referring to.

“Your future wife.”

Gifford nodded and scratched at the side of his neck, bearing an expression very similar to one that Jane had been wearing earlier today: the staring-into-the-face-of-doom look.

“Jane is a special person to me,” Edward began. “She is . . .”

There really wasn’t a good enough word to describe Jane.

“I have yet to meet her,” said Gifford delicately. “But I’m sure she’s very . . . special.”

“She is.” Edward sat forward in his chair. “What troubles me, Gifford—”

“Please, call me G,” Gifford interjected.

Edward frowned. “What troubles me, er . . . G, is that you haven’t been at court these past years, and while I understand why”—he cast Gifford a significant look that said, I know all about the horse thing— “and I know your family to be perfectly respectable and worthy of someone as . . . special as my cousin Jane, I feel that I don’t know you.”

Then he stopped talking for a minute because Pet, with her tail wagging, had plopped herself down right next to Gifford’s chair—Gifford’s, not Edward’s, mind you—and was staring up at the young lord adoringly. Gifford smiled down on her and reached out to scratch what Edward knew was just the right place behind Pet’s chin.

She sighed and put her head in his lap.

Even she couldn’t resist this fellow’s charms.

Edward started coughing, and then coughing, and then coughing some more, so hard that his eyes watered. When the spasms subsided both Pet and Gifford were looking at him with concern.

“Anyway,” Edward wheezed. “I want to know, G, that as her husband you will take care of my dear cousin.”

“Of course,” Gifford said quickly.

“No,” Edward clarified. “I mean that there will be no one else that you’re going to take care of. Ever. Only Jane.”

Comprehension dawned in Gifford’s eyes.

“Jane deserves a devoted and virtuous husband,” Edward continued. “So you will be a devoted and virtuous husband. If I hear even a whisper of anything otherwise I will be very unhappy. And you would not like to see me unhappy.”

Gifford looked decidedly alarmed, which pleased Edward. He might no longer be strong, but he was still powerful. He smiled. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Gifford said. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” Edward said. “You’re dismissed.”

Gifford was on his feet, already nearly to the door, when Edward called after him, “Oh, and one more thing.”

Gifford froze, then turned. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Jane is unaware of your condition. Your . . .”

Gifford sighed heavily. “Horse curse. My horse curse.”

“Yes. No one has informed her yet. I want you to be the one to tell her.”

Gifford’s eyes flashed with something resembling panic. “Me?”

“She deserves to hear it from her husband,” Edward said. As he spoke the words he thought that this sounded like a very wise idea. A kingly idea. Inspired. “You probably won’t see her before the wedding, I understand, but before the night is through, before you and she . . .” He stopped. He didn’t want to think about the end to that sentence. “You should tell her.”