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we newly married couples would be graced with the king’s presence. But, alas, he did not join us, only making Jane’s earlier comments on his health more apparent.
    The noble guests feasted upon fresh-baked bread with steam still rising from the crusty tops, and fresh butter, cheeses, grapes, apples, sweetmeats, almonds and even olives imported from Spain. My eyes grew wide at the roasted peacock adorning the trestle table, redressed with purple, blue and green plumes spread wide. My mouth watered at the platters of roasted capon, salmon with pomegranate seeds, cherry hearts, pickled carrots, peas cooked with milk and ginger, roasted pig stuffed with cheese and chestnuts, stewed beef cooked in wine, currants and onions.
    With the ceremony complete, I was ready to partake in all the glory that was an opulent wedding feast. I washed down the savory meal with one smooth and decadent goblet of free-flowing red wine after another—not used to such finery, given Mother preferred us to drink watered ale.
    Suspended a bove the trestle table to promote fertility hung wreaths of rosemary, lavender, marjoram and sage. The sweet scents comforted me, as did the tender looks from Mrs. Helen, who served me still. We had feasts on certain saint days at Bradgate, but never as regal as this. Here was my first taste of courtly life. My first taste of wealth and the royal blood that flowed in my veins. I found I rather enjoyed the opulence, but all the same, my mind was drawn back to the beggar woman who’d felt the need to rip fabric from my underskirts to feed herself.
    “ Mrs. Helen?” I waved her over from where she loitered against the wall. I pursed my lips as I gazed about the room. So much fare was left over, and each person’s belly was swollen from gluttony. “Would you approach Cook about seeing that any foodstuffs left be given to the poor?”
    Mrs. Helen curtsied and then disappeared into the crowd, just as seed cakes, elderflower cake, apple-raisin pudding and preserves were placed on the tables. I pressed a hand to my full belly and groaned, my head swirling slightly. My gown had grown tight from filling myself with food and drink, and I would be sick if I ate another bite.
    I turned to look at Henry, grease dribbling down his fat chin. Disappointment burrowed within my soul. He was just as gangly and oafish as Jane had described. I quickly turned away, fearing my revulsion showed. Mrs. Helen soon returned and informed me the poor would indeed be fed on the food we did not consume, taking my mind from Henry.
    As the dancing continued , a singular young courtier, handsome in his mussed hair and confident gaze, approached the dais. He was several years older than me. I knew not who he was, but something about him arrested me. I watched his approach with a practiced bemused face.
    When he finally reached us, he bent a leg and flourished a deep bow, showing off his musculature —which next to my gangly husband was very impressive, and I suspected next to even a man of lithe figure would also be remarkable. My insides melted.
    “Might I congratulate you on your nuptials, and to such a beautiful bride,” the young man said to Henry, his gaze caressing my quickly heating face.
    “Thank you, Lord Beauchamp,” Henry replied, looking slightly bored and irritated.
    His demeanor at once had me bristling. Why should he act so? Perhaps it was his own inadequacies beside this young Lord Beauchamp that had him cantankerous.
    “If it pleases, my lord, I would ask to dance with your lady wife.”
    Henry sat up straighter and glanced over at me. I affected the perfect bored face, hoping it would ease his insecurities—even though inside I leapt at the chance to finally dance , and with so handsome a partner. I was gifted with a childish, satisfied smile from Henry.
    “ Be my guest.” He swept his hand out in a gesture meant to say he did not truly care, while his beady eyes studied our every move.
    I stood stoically and slowly