The Fearless Princess (Forgotten Royals)

Chapter Nineteen

There had been three princesses of England under the bright summer skies. Now, as the gray clouds of autumn arrived, one was lost and another would soon follow. The only princess left would be the scandalous one.

As much as it hurt, death never stopped life. Even if I wanted to collapse and cry about my sisters who died before they could even live, I was needed in other places. I had to assist with the preparations for Joan's wedding and take on a bit of Mama's role as she mourned the daughters she loved more than me. Since my girlhood, death had shadowed my life. The pestilence stalked every area of England, taking lives and leaving heartbreak. It had to be accepted. It didn't mean that I enjoyed hearing Mama and Papa discussing plans for their tomb effigies. It didn't make me happy when I was in church seeing paintings of the damned tortured in hell.

I left the chapel, relieved to leave the morbid place. Of course, that blasphemous thought would have to be told to my confessor later. A foul mood already had a hold over me, and my stomach sank when I saw Enguerrand approaching. I was already on the edge of an emotional abyss and was afraid of what talking with him would do.

I bowed my head. "Good day, my lord."

When I lifted my head, his somber expression could have been a stone effigy. I avoided him, thinking that he would only want what most men wanted. But that was one summer night we would never have again.

Except it didn't seem like that was what he wanted. Concern showed in his eyes. "How do you fare, my lady?" He sighed. "I am sorry for the death of the Duchess Mary. That is a great loss."

I always had a quick remark ready, but now found myself at a loss for words. If I spoke about my sister, I might lose control of my composure.

"I have heard your sister Margaret isn't well and have prayed for her," he said.

Don't cry.

I smoothed my dark mourning skirts. "Indeed. Thank you for your kind words. I will be sure to convey them to my parents."

"I was hoping we could talk," he said.

Only young Katherine stood with me. A servant lingered with him, but I assumed he could be trusted. I still needed to choose my words carefully. "If you were hoping there was a time we can dance again, I think that moment has passed." I curled my fingers, disregarding my faint regret. "Summer was a time for celebration. This is a time for mourning."

"I don't need merriness," he said in a soft voice. "I would only like to speak with you. I want to be your friend."

I should refuse him. I was a fearless princess who could handle any hurt on her own. But I hesitated for far too long, filled with the desire to speak with someone who didn't know Mary or Margaret as well. Someone who wouldn't hurt if I said their names.

"We're speaking." I arched an eyebrow. "If you would like to say anything further, I will be in the garden later."

A stupid thing to say. The last thing I needed was to share my pain with a French hostage, someone who might flirt with me, but would never have a good opinion of my family. He gave a sweet smile at my suggestion and I wanted to kick myself for giving him hope.

But I didn't take back the words. Instead, I went along with my day, going over letters of requests that were meant for Mama and seeing what could be granted without having to force her out into her queenly role while she still had so much pain. The day dragged on, and it was almost too late to go to the garden. That would be for the best. If anything, it would send Enguerrand the message that he was trying to woo an unkind lady. Any lady of sense should take that course.

I always had to take the hard path. As light rain fell on the garden, chasing away most from the area, I walked in Enguerrand's direction. I had forgotten my pattens, so my fashionable shoes were going to be ruined by the mud.