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sweetmeat and turned away. George put his thumb on his nose and waggled his fingers at Richard.
    Edward frowned. “Do they squabble like this often?”
    “All the time,” Margaret said, looking up from her book. “It is tiresome, and I wish they would grow up!”
    “Mistress Nose-in-a-Book, Nose-in-a-Book,” the two boys chorused. Margaret flung a red damask cushion at them.
    “Enough!” roared Edward, rising suddenly out of his chair. His siblings cringed, and the conversation at the back of the room stopped. “If we fight among ourselves like this, how do you think others will serve us? We must be united. Our father taught us to love and respect one another, and I will see his wishes carried out. ’Tis difficult enough to hold on to what we have earned through fighting others. We do not need to fight each other. Dickon and George, shake hands immediately! And Margaret, you are the eldest; you must set an example.”
    The boys meekly shook hands, and Margaret turned the color of the cushion.
    Cecily rose, curtseyed to her son and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “ Bonne nuit, Edward, I will take these baggages away to bed and leave you in peace.”
    “A fair night to you, too, ma chère mère. Margaret, I pray you stay awhile. I would talk to you.”
    An usher opened the door for Cecily, and she shooed the boys out before her and was followed by her ladies. Margaret sat straight and still, wondering if she was to be punished for her cushion-throwing. Edward waved his attendants away after filling two cups with wine.
    “Have them prepare the all-night, Jack,” Edward called after Sir John Howard, the last to leave the room. “I shall not be long. And tell them to make sure the bread is fresher than last evening’s!”
    “Aye, your grace,” Howard assented, bowing.
    Edward handed Margaret one of the cups and sprawled his six-foot-three-inch body on a velvet settle, twirling his own cup between his big hands, causing a sapphire to flash in the candlelight. Edward’s expression softened as he surveyed her, and Margaret relaxed a little.
    “Do you like being a royal princess, Meggie?” he asked.
    “I do not feel any different, Edward. How am I supposed to feel?”
    “Proud! Proud our family has finally achieved what was rightfully ours all these years,” he insisted. “But you are right to be modest, little sister.”
    “Not so little,” retorted Margaret. “I am as tall as Mother, as you love to point out.”
    “Aye, you are, you are,” chuckled Edward. “And though no one will ever hold a candle to her, you have your own beauty, Meg. ’Tis in your eyes and your spirit. I believe you are as intelligent as a woman can be!”
    “Ned! Do you really believe men are always more intelligent than women? What of King Henry and his queen? From everything I have heard, I know which one is more boil-brained!” Margaret’s ire was roused. “Besides, who has been talking to you about my intelligence?”
    “Anthony Woodville, my dear.” Edward let that sink in while he watched, amused, as Margaret colored. “Aye, he spoke highly of you the other day. I hope you have not been flirting with him, Meg. He’s a married man, you know. Although,” he muttered as an aside, “Eliza Scales sounds as dull as ditchwater and a sickly hag.”
    “I have no interest in Sir Anthony, Ned! We had a pleasant conversation about King Arthur, that was all,” Margaret protested.
    “Ho, ho! No interest, eh? Then why the blush, ma soeur !” He leanedforward conspiratorially. “Listen, Margaret, I have learned to take my pleasures as they are presented. I may die in battle or be murdered in my bed tomorrow. I love women and women love me. If you choose to dally with Sir Anthony and are discreet, you will not be rebuked by me!”
    Margaret was shocked into dropping her jaw. Edward had obviously escaped Cecily’s lectures about chastity and morality that she, George and Richard had been subjected to time and time again. Why, he