“That is just an excuse to avoid coming,” she teased him. “I will wager you will ride over the border most eagerly to Stirling and King James’ Christmas revels, Tom.”
“The Scots king keeps a most merry holiday,” he admitted with a grin. Then his look sobered. “God’s blood, cousin! I have forgotten to tell you. When I stopped to see King Henry in the autumn I met a fellow named Richard Howard. He asked if I knew you. I told him, of course, that you were my most beloved cousin.”
Rosamund paled. “He was the English ambassador to San Lorenzo,” she replied. “I saw him at court after Owein died, but we were never introduced. He thought he knew me when we met at the duke’s palace in San Lorenzo.
While I most assuredly knew who he was, I was able to tell him honestly that we had never before met. Did he ask you any questions, Tom? Please think back, I beg you!”
“He asked if you had been to court, and I admitted you had indeed and that in fact you were a friend of the queen’s, having been with her in your girlhoods and later after your husband died. But he was too inquisitive, and so I answered no more of his questions. Why are you concerned?”
“I did not want him to mention it to the king. Hal would consider it a fault that I visited San Lorenzo in the company of a Scots earl, I fear. I hoped he would not learn of it, especially now that I am to marry Patrick Leslie. I need no interference from our lusty king,” Rosamund answered him. “Nothing happened in San Lorenzo that would have been of real interest to any king, let alone Henry Tudor. I think, however, Lord Howard felt the need to report something, lest he be considered useless to his master.”
“The king said nothing to me,” Tom responded. “If the purpose of Lord Leslie’s mission was not public, then I believe you have no cause to fear.”
“I hope not,” Rosamund replied. “You know how jealous Hal can be.”
Tom changed the subject, smiling at his cousin and saying, “I have a proposal to make to you, dear girl. While I have inherited great wealth, there is still my grandfather’s enterprise, which supplies me with more funds each year. You have said since your return that you would like to market your fine woolen cloth in France. I believe we should go even farther than France.”
“I have not the wool for a larger market, Tom,” she answered him.
“That is true. But we can increase your flocks over the next few years while building a demand for the wool, and particularly the Friarsgate Blue cloth,” he told her. “I cannot sit idle once Otterly is rebuilt, dear girl. I need an amusement. I think we should own a ship in which to transport the cloth abroad. What do you think? We could have a new vessel built in the shipyards in Leith while we prepare. It will take at least two years for us to make ready on all fronts, my dear Rosamund.”
“Build our own ship?” She was thoughtful. “I have not the means for it, Tom.”
“Of course you don’t, but I do,” he said calmly. “We shall be partners in this venture, cousin. I shall supply the vessel and any funding necessary. You shall supply the wool and the labor.”
“It would appear that you are putting up more than I am,” Rosamund answered him. “And we will need more sheep. You must be the senior partner in such an undertaking, Tom.”
“We shall be equal partners,” he told her. “Think on it, Rosamund. While the initial outlay is mine, afterwards most of the responsibility will fall on your shoulders. Besides, you and your daughters are my heirs. Why should you have to wait until I am dead and gone to benefit from my largesse? Especially when we can build something together.”
“It is such a generous offer,” Rosamund said.
“It is my Twelfth Night gift to you, dear girl,” he told her with a broad smile. “Until you came along, cousin, I was but marking time. My life was dull and seemingly endless. After my sister died I had no one, but then you entered my life. I began to enjoy myself again. I found new meaning. I have a family once more. We shall build this little enterprise of ours together, Rosamund. Now say thank you, Tom, and agree with me.”
Rosamund burst out laughing. “Thank you, Tom,” she responded. “I do agree with you. Friarsgate wool is finer than much of what I saw in France. I do believe there is a market for it. We shall make a market for it!”
“And by keeping the supply low at first, we may keep the price high,” he chuckled. “God’s blood! There speaks the merchant in me. The king and his court would be most horrified to hear Lord Cambridge speaking thusly.” He was wearing a most satisfied grin. “But then, I never really was of noble blood,” he chuckled again.
“I am amazed at you coming to settle back in Cumbria,” Rosamund said. “Once I remember you telling me that it was beautiful, but you wondered how I bore the lack of civilized company. Yet now you are willing to do so.”
“That was before my family reappeared,” he defended himself. “And I did keep the houses in London and Greenwich. We will go sometimes, and the girls must one day visit the court. We cannot have them growing up thinking Friarsgate is the world, even if it is the best part of it.”
“When are you beginning your reconstruction of Otterly?” she asked him.
“The house is being torn down now,” he said, “and the site will be cleared, but we cannot begin building until the spring. I shall start after your wedding to the earl.”
“What are we to do with Uncle Henry in the meantime?” she said.
“I had a small but comfortable house constructed for him this autumn past. He has been living there with Mistress Dodger, the housekeeper I hired to look after him. Twelfth Night is almost over, cousin. Tomorrow we shall send Uncle Henry back to his own little nest. It is time. He is beginning to look too comfortable here at Friarsgate, and I find he asks too many questions. I suspect for all his tale of woe he is yet in contact with his son Henry the younger. He has said to me that he wishes he might save this lad from a bad life and a worse end.”
Rosamund nodded. “I don’t want him getting the idea that he might marry his son to one of my girls,” she said. “I would put Friarsgate to the torch before I allowed that.”
“We will see his dreams have no basis in reality,” Tom replied.
“And yet I cannot help but feel sorry for him,” she answered. “Still, I am not quite able yet to forgive him my youth. I do not really recall my parents, but from the time they died and Henry Bolton came into my life, I was miserable. Only when Hugh came was I safe. I want to be generous of nature to him, Tom, but I just cannot be.”
“Then do not,” he advised her. “Edmund and Richard have been almost saintly in their forgiveness, but they did not suffer the brunt of Henry Bolton. You did. Perhaps one day you will be able to forgive him, but now is not the time.”
Rosamund took her cousin’s hand in her own and kissed it tenderly. “You are so wise, Tom. If you are grateful for me, I am doubly grateful for you.”
The following day Henry was transported in a comfortable covered cart back to his own home. Before he left he looked about the hall a final time. Seeing Philippa, he remarked, “Your eldest is nine, niece?”
“In April,” Rosamund said. “Why?”
“My Henry is fifteen now. A good age for marriage.”
“My cousin has become a thief. Hardly a match for an heiress,” Rosamund said tartly. She led him from the hall, and a servant helped him into the cart.
“ ’Tis only that he has no home any longer, and his mam’s behavior broke his heart, niece. With a bit of good fortune he could become an upstanding man once again,” Henry reasoned.
“I wish him good luck, then,” Rosamund replied. Then she added, “But put from your mind any thought of a marriage between your son and my child. My girls will marry with men of higher station. Their wealth will bring them that.”