Queen by Right Read Free

lord? Have you no fear for Cecily’s immortal soul?”
    Cecily had looked from one parent to the other, dismay written on her face, but Ralph had dismissed his wife’s objection, claiming that the verse did not apply to children. He picked up his daughter and carried her through the vaulted passageway to the stables hard by the Clifford Tower. Trusting her father in everything, Cecily had pushed a tiny fear to the back of her mind, but she had asked God’s forgiveness that night—and every time she rode out in her braies—nonetheless.
    The day was crisp, and the leaves had turned russet and gold on the huge oaks, ash, and elms that dotted the park and canopied the forest. Just before crossing the Staindrop road to continue into the woods, they saw a small group of riders trotting up from the village toward them. Ralph reined in his horse when he recognized the falcon and fetterlock badge of the lead outrider and called out a warning to Cecily that he was stopping. But her horse had other ideas, and instead of obeying her tug at the reins, it wheeled around and began to head for the horsemen. Using all her strength, she finally succeeded in reining it in but not before it reared up, pawed the air, and came to a standstill a bare three feet from a youth astride a palfrey.
    “Whoa, Tansy!” Cecily cried sternly enough, but then reached down to stroke and soothe the horse’s neck. “Forgive me, sir,” she addressed the astonished boy with the confidence of one who knew her place as an earl’s daughter. “Something must have alarmed her. I trust she did not frighten you.”
    “Cecily, apologize to our guests at once!” Ralph’s admonition as he rode up to join them made her hang her head. “This is not the most comfortable of meetings, my lord duke,” he said, addressing the youth with a slight bow, and, leaning out of his saddle, he took hold of Cecily’s rein. “I must beg your indulgence. This is my youngest unmarried, the lady Cecily Neville, who is usually in more control of her mount. You must think we are naught but ill-mannered clodhoppers hereabouts.” He grinned down at the young man from his large roan.
    But twelve-year-old Richard Plantagenet had forgotten about manners for a second, and he stared at the small figure he had taken for a boy. Cecily stared right back. When Ralph chuckled, Richard made a hasty bow. “My lord of Westmorland, I am at your service.”
    Ralph turned to the older man in charge of the party. “Sir Robert, you are right welcome to Raby.” He maneuvered his horse so that he was beside Waterton, leaving Richard and Cecily to fall in behind them. “You have made good time.”
    “Lady Cecily, I give you God’s greeting,” Richard murmured politely by way of an introduction, and then he remembered to answer her. “I was not afraid just now, in truth. You ride well—for your age.” He almost said “for a girl” but something in the toss of her head made him think better of it. She rode up to join her father.
    “Shall we not hunt today, Father?” she asked quietly, so that Waterton could not hear her. “You promised.”
    Ralph’s eyebrows snapped together. “Certes, we shall not hunt, Daughter. We have guests. Sir Robert Waterton and I have business to attend to in the matter of my wardship of Lord Richard.”
    “Wardship? Another one! Why have you not told me of this, Father?” a disappointed Cecily muttered to him, as the little cavalcade trotted back toward the castle. “Are we all to share you and Mother with him as well as the others?”
    “Your mother will explain, Cecily. But for now, I pray you, be charitable,” he said sternly. “’Tis certain your brothers will make Lord Richard more welcome, at least. He was orphaned by the time he was four and has no family to speak of, except for a sister.”
    “Oh,” Cecily murmured. Turning around, she looked with pity at the slight rider, his over-large bonnet almost covering his slate-gray eyes. “How