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permeated.
    He no longer felt like a mere visitor, but was starting to feel at home. Here. With her. He’d need a stronger guard around his heart.
    “My thanks,” he said to the server who delivered stuffed capon. He took a bite. The spiced fowl surpassed his expectations.
    “You’re a king’s man,” Amice said from the opposite end of the table. “You must know here in East Anglia many support Richard, Duke of York. I’ve heard he and Henry are often at odds, and because of York’s close blood connection to the throne—closer than the king’s himself—Queen Margaret sees him and his family as a threat to any children she might have,” Amice said.
    “I’ll always support the king, but what is true is true. King Henry trusts those around him and is easily influenced by others. Much of the work done by his father has been undone. Many of the lands Henry V gained in France have been lost back to the French.”
    Amice ran her fingers around the rim of her silver-trimmed cup. He couldn’t help but notice her slender wrists and delicate, oval nails. And wish he could hold her hand again. “How can you ensure Henry trusts the best men? York’s views seem sound. He’s had many successes as Henry’s aide.”
    Nicholas was at once impressed that Amice had such strong opinions and dismayed to uncover a sizeable area where their beliefs differed. “How did you come to be so interested in political maneuverings? Most women at court think nothing is more important than who will marry whom or what color their next gown should be. Yes, York and others have urged reform. Each faction wants its favorites in command. I can only offer advice when the king asks it of me.”
    “So we are at odds, sir. You must follow Henry, and my upbringing lends me to favor the Duke of York.”
    He looked down at his half-eaten capon with dismay. Amice’s cook served foods as tasty as those he’d enjoyed at court, but their discussion had diminished his appetite. “Debating such issues in the privacy of one’s home is one thing, discussing them publicly is another, and a war over them is another thing still. Yes, I will support Henry if it comes to that. As it already has, and might again.”
    “Even if you believe York would be a better leader, and could quell the factions? Guide England to more prosperous times?” Amice questioned.
    He shifted slightly to see her better, amazed by her perception. “What I believe is of no import. Henry is our anointed king and I am his man. I was raised with him. He may be more pious than most kings, but he’s the rightful ruler. My duty lies with him.”
    Amice pushed her trencher away, perhaps as glad as he the meal and the discussion had come to an end. That their views on such an important issue as the governance of England were so disparate bothered him as it must her. Even so, he simply enjoyed her company, this peaceful interlude before the king remembered to find her a husband.
    Perhaps that was what made these days all the sweeter. The fact that they could end at any moment.

    Her blond, gray-eyed page Robert marched into the hall as she and Nicholas were breaking the fast. Despite their differences, having him at her table made her home feel even more welcoming. A dangerous way to feel.
    “Someone approaches.” He puffed out his tiny chest.
    Amice nearly choked on a bite of bread, but managed to swallow. Not so soon. She wasn’t ready to leave. Against her better judgment, she wanted more time with Nicholas.
    “He has a lute on his back. He must be a minstrel or troubadour. Maybe even a jongleur,” Robert added with a little dance. “I want to learn to juggle.”
    Relief rushed from her in a whoosh. She didn’t like being happy one moment, so startled the next she’d assumed the worst. “I’m sure we’d all enjoy some music after supper. It’s been a long while since a performer has come to us.”
    “Has it?” Nicholas stood. “I’ll speak with him before the gates are