❝you think Achilles was of impressive descent?
touch me one more time❞
The one where King Edward IV is captivated by Charlotte Neville and their love has far-reaching consequences. For Charlotte had a place in Edward's heart no one could tear her fr...
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Grafton Manor, Worcestershire May 1464
In another place and time, Edward knew that he would have been captivated by the look in Elizabeth Grey's pale eyes. Within them, he saw joy and devotion as he'd never known from a woman. So he would have once thought. Now, not even those eyes in which he longed to lose himself in could distract him from his uncertainty and his grief.
He had left for Grafton Manor at the crack of dawn, spending what appeared to be a wonderful day amid the most obliging Woodvilles. Unlike London, the countryside was peaceful. And, unlike the North, it did not have the memories he had created with Charlotte hunting him.
He was not haunted by the image of Lily's toothless smile or the sparkle in his newborn son's eye. He did not have to cope with not knowing whether Charlotte would survive or die. She was in a limbo between life and death, being kept alive at his and her sisters' insistence, being force fed liquids and having her muscles massaged. He was not ready to live in a world without her, he was not ready to let her go.
Love, he remembered thinking as he looked at her shallow breathing, was an agony beyond compare.
After kissing Charlotte for the last time, he had stormed out and rode back to London. The next day, he had fled London at a pace meant to outrun his jumbled thoughts, with only a few servants and no standard-bearer. What he found at Grafton Manor was a balm to his afflicted nerves and divided heart.
Which made him suspicious.
Elizabeth's mother, the Lady Jacquetta, was all that could be desired in a host. There was a desperation underlying the old woman's behavior that did not sit well with Edward. It went beyond the normal obsequiousness any courtier showed their sovereign.
Anthony, the eldest Woodville son, was as cool as ever. Edward felt his eyes assessing every move made toward Elizabeth, as if the strength of Edward's affection for her could be weighed and a plan developed based upon observation. He wondered if he was still resented for not giving him permission to marry Charlotte.
The younger brother, John, seemed to have merrily taken up the role of jester, steering conversation toward lighthearted subjects, especially subjects that drew favorable attention to Elizabeth.
And, oh, Elizabeth.
She was everything he wanted. Gentle, kind, yielding; where Charlotte was temperamental as glass. Alluring, tempestuous and brilliant, but she was just as cutting. It irked him to suspect it was all a lie, but Charlotte's voice flashed into his mind. "Oh, mon coeur...can't you see she's playing you?"
He pushed her voice away. She had left him. She was the one who had left him, she had no right to come and scold him for trying to grieve her in the way he knew how. No doubt Elizabeth possessed all those qualities. He had to believe it. He was certain of it.
