“I am surprised you do not marry someone more worthy of your status, then. After all, I am illegitimate and have neither fortune nor title.”
Lord Shiveley’s nostrils flared. “Be that as it may, you have royal blood, which is what I want, and tomorrow you will be my wife.” His voice was low and harsh. “Whether you wish it or not.”
Her stomach churned. If only she could wipe the smirk off his face. He must think he had Richard completely within his power, proclaiming himself the king’s closest advisor.
“It grows late,” King Richard said. “Evangeline, you go on and enjoy yourself. I am too tired from my travels to join you for the feast in the Great Hall, but Lord Shiveley will keep you company.”
They all began to take their leave of the king, but Evangeline hung back. “Your Majesty, may I speak to you alone for a moment?”
She sensed Lord Shiveley standing behind her, waiting for the king’s answer. Was the king shocked at her boldness?
Richard stared at her for a moment. “Everyone leave us. I will speak with my childhood friend.”
The others shuffled out the door as she locked gazes with the king. Finally, all were gone except for two guards who stood discreetly in the corners.
“Now, what is it, Evangeline? You must have something important to say.” The warning in his voice was unmistakable. “But before you say anything, I want you to understand that it is quite an honor to you that I have granted Lord Shiveley permission to marry you.”
“Yes, he has made it clear that I am fortunate to be marrying him, since I am only an illegitimate daughter of the king’s dead uncle.”
“Who left you without any fortune.”
So this was the king’s attitude toward her. She needed to be strong, to stand up in dignity to him, even if he thought her selfish. Crying would only confirm to him that she was but a weak female. She bit the inside of her mouth.
“It is true, I have no fortune.” She carefully considered what she would say. “But you do not resent allowing me to live here, do you? I have not cost you much, have I? All I ask is that you not force me to marry Lord Shiveley just yet. Delay the wedding.” It was all she could possibly hope for.
“What is the matter, Evangeline? You are of age. Seventeen is quite old enough for marriage.”
“But I do not wish to marry Lord Shiveley.” Her voice sounded so desperate, surely Richard would take pity on her.
“My dear,” he said after a short pause, “marriage is nothing to be afraid of. And none of us marry who we wish to or whom we have fallen in love with. Love before marriage is for peasants, a foolish notion invented by poets and minstrels. I was fifteen years old, as was Anne, when we married. Two and a half years later, our marriage is as peaceful and pleasant as anyone could wish. I have no doubt that you and Shiveley will be the same.”
This was as she had feared. The king not only would not come to her aid and postpone the marriage—during which Evangeline hoped something might happen to prevent it—but he thought she was selfish and unreasonable for not accepting his will.
“As a king, my situation is always precarious. I must take care to make alliances with the most powerful people I can to preserve our country’s well-being, not to mention my own. I married the woman I believed would bring me the most powerful and influential allies in England’s struggles against her enemies. And I have my own personal enemies, Evangeline, of which you could know nothing. You are safe here at Berkhamsted Castle, while I am the object of hatred for some, not the least of which is the Duke of Templeton, who is even now trying to turn the opinion of the nobility and parliament against me. He would have me deposed and would set up his own puppet in my place. Even though I despise Templeton and he would stab me through the heart if he could, I would gladly marry off my daughter, if I had one, to his son, simply to ensure that he would not someday put that knife through my heart, either literally or politically.”
The king sighed. He shook his head. “As I told you, no one marries for love except peasants or perhaps a merchant or landowner who has no political enemies. But you are the king’s close cousin, the granddaughter of a king, and therefore . . . Shiveley is a good man, you will see. Steady and reliable, he is everything you could want in a husband.”
“I am very grateful for your kindness, I am sure,” she murmured, hoping he would stop talking. But if he stopped talking and sent her away, where could she go except to join Lord Shiveley in the Great Hall for the feast?