Greenwich, October 1523
“Now what?” Kathy snapped, stalking into the chambers she shared with George. He looked up at her, “What?”
“Don’t give me that. You know perfectly well what. You may have ignored it thus far, but even you can’t ignore this any longer. Your harlot of a ward has gone into confinement. With the King’s child!”
“So?”
“So? Her reputation’s ruined. We’ll never find a husband for her now. And the rest of us will be tainted by association. I told you you should have forbidden her from entangling herself with the King.”
“And I told you there was nothing we could do once he’d taken an interest. Kathy, will you please stop panicking? This is hardly a disaster. At least my sister’s with child as well.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that Honour is preening about York Place, flaunting a blatantly royal belly.”
“No, but it does keep Marie secure in a way an empty belly would not. We can still turn this to our advantage.”
“How? We’ll be stuck with Mistress Honour and her bastard. She’ll be a spinster, living off our charity. Unless you want to risk another Lady Tailboys incident?”
“Of course not! But the King’s an honourable man. He’ll realise he has to acknowledge Honour’s child, even if he otherwise wants it kept out of his sight.”
“If he was truly honourable, he’d never have sired the brat!”
“Touché. But you don’t think he’d be ready to be grateful to someone who was willing to look after his mistake and teach them to be loyal to Marie and her children in a way that Lady Tailboys never taught His Grace of Richmond to be?”
“What are you suggesting?” Kathy cut George a suspicious look and he shrugged, “How would you like a half-royal bride for Edmund one day? Or a half-royal groom for our oldest daughter, if it came to that?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s perfectly normal, isn’t it? To wed your wards to your heirs? I’d always planned to wed Siobhan or Bridget to Edmund, but now that you treat them like his sisters, I don’t think that’s going to work. We’ll have to find another bride for him.”
“And you want it to be Honour’s child, if it’s a girl?”
“Why not? Doesn’t it solve all the problems at once? We could neutralise Honour by marrying her off to one of our lesser relatives. One of the Sheltons, perhaps. And then we take the child as our ward, raise it on one of our Irish estates. Make sure it’s treated with dignity but also keep it out of the way of my sister and the King and their happy family life with the Princes and Princesses as they come along. The King would be grateful, I’m sure of it. I’m sure we’d get a generous pension towards the child’s upkeep, at the very least. And in twelve, fifteen years time, we tie our family to the King’s even more closely than it already is. We tie our family to the King’s in a way that will last even past my sister’s death or widowhood. What do you say to that, Kathy, darling?”
Kathy looked at her husband for a few moments and arched an admiring eyebrow.
“I don’t know why they always say your father and your uncle are the plotters in the family. They’ve obviously taught you well.”