Anne couldn't believe it. She couldn't. She was pregnant. Pregnant with Richard's child. HIS child! Of all men, why did it have to be him?
Richard, Duke of Gloucester, was the King's deformed, hunchbacked brother, who was despised and feared wherever he went.
Anne shivered. He had wooed her over her father in-law's body while she still been grieving over her husband's death. Edouard, Prince of Wales, had been murdered unarmed and undefended at Richard's hands and he had shown no remorse or sympathy for her at all. For that, she hated him, had spat at him twice after insulting her, and yet she had allowed herself to be taken by him. Why? Why had she allowed herself to be taken and used as political pawn by her father and Richard both? Why?
But that, she did not know, would never know.
She had loved Richard once, and part of her still did. They had been close as children, were best friends, but war had taken Richard away from her and had forever changed him. He was no longer the sweet, caring boy she had fallen in love with. Instead, he was a sullen, quick-tempered, angry, emotionless man, who no longer bore any feelings for her. At least she thought he did.
How was she going to tell him? Being wife to Gloucester was not an easy one. Anne couldn't help but hate him even more because he was so difficult to talk to, let alone love.
Anne then decided that she would tell him when he came back from London, which wouldn't be long because he had left the city more than two days ago. Yes, she would tell him then, tonight…
She just hoped that God would be merciful to her and her unborn child.