“‘For I shall be nothing but a bladder of wind if I sit here any longer,’ she protested, ‘like one of those footballs that boys kick around in the streets.’ She eyed me with mock severity as she rose to her feet. ‘Here I am, barely three months pregnant, and already this child is causing me more discomfort than Nicholas did in nine. He’s going to take after his father, a restless soul.’ ‘As long as he isn’t as nosy,’ Philip said, and I forced myself to laugh, although I could feel my hackles ris...ing. My old friend was becoming a regular source of irritation to me. We walked the length of Walbrook and down Dowgate Hill to the Baltic Wharf, where the great foreign ships from that northerly region of Europe drop anchor near the Steelyard to unload their cargoes of timber and furs and dried fish. There were plenty of people about, some still dressed in their church-going clothes, ready to be pleased by the unexpected and fragile burst of good weather. A couple standing near to us on the dockside, and talking loudly enough for the woman’s part in the conversation to be easily overheard, had apparently made the journey to Saint Stephen’s church at Westminster that morning in order to see the little Duke and Duchess of York at Mass.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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