Anne Stuart - Hidden Honor

She stopped just inside the room, in shock. Thomas of Wakebryght lay curled up beside Lady Margery, holding her hand, looking at her pale, bloated face with such unquestioning adoration that it was painful to see. The wet nurse sat in the corner with the young heir, coaxing him into feeding, but Thomas had no eyes for anyone but his decidedly unpretty wife, and all Elizabeth could do was stare in astonishment.

He must have felt her eyes on them, for he looked up, and a beatific smile swept across his handsome face, a face she’d once thought she’d die for. Now she realized that his chin was a bit weak, his nose too pretty, and his brow without resolution. She would have led him a merry dance if he hadn’t abandoned her for his wife.

He jumped off the bed and rushed over to her, and she braced herself, not sure what she was expecting. Certainly not his powerful embrace.

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