This Scepter'd Isle by Mercedes Lackey, Roberta Gellis

sighed. "And it so happens that it would be no true effort, as I have business in the north. Wool brings me there, wool for the carpets that are woven by my family's retainers in the Middle East. The Turks took everything in Hungary, but the businesses of my family were far flung, and I am now the heir to everything outside of my native country."
    "A substantial business," Norfolk remarked, with a touch of the hereditary noble's contempt for mere "business."
    "Very substantial," Denoriel said flatly, as if he had taken offense at Norfolk's words, then added stiffly, "And as I no longer have my lands and properties, I must concern myself with it if I am to prosper. Once, I was a prince as well as a merchant; if I must become all merchant, and prince in name only, then I shall do what has been laid before me by God and even though others may forget that I bear the blood royal, I, at least, will not." Norfolk had the grace to look a little shamefaced. "I must visit my factors in Yorkshire some time. To me it would not matter if I went soon after His Grace of Richmond arrived there. Then I could redeem my promise to him and assure him of his safety."
    "Please, sir?" FitzRoy begged, looking toward Norfolk but pressing himself against Denoriel's leg. "If Lord Denno says I will be safe, then I will be. No one here could help me today, only Lord Denno."
    "But that is ridiculous—" Norfolk began.
    Denoriel shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "He is a child, Your Grace," he said softly. "If you agree and I come once or twice, he will soon forget and feel secure. Life is, I suspect, difficult for a child in his peculiar position."
    Norfolk made no response at first, his eyes fixed on Denoriel's face and Denoriel held his breath, fearing for a moment that his disguise had failed and that the duke had noticed his strange eyes. But obviously the duke's mind had been elsewhere for he nodded suddenly and said, "Turkey carpets? Your family makes Turkey carpets?"
    "Not my family, Your Grace," Denoriel replied, his voice cold and stiff. He sounded strongly indignant, which he meant to do, but much of the ice in his tone was from choking back laughter at the opening Norfolk had given him. "My family are not, nor ever were, weavers. We were noble when the ancient Britons were painting themselves blue and capering about naked except for half-tanned animal skins. I can trace my ancestry to—"
    "I beg your pardon, Lord Denno," Norfolk said, raising a placating hand and looking embarrassed. "Of course I did not mean to imply that you did the weaving yourself. Do you import the carpets here to England?"
    "I have not been doing so yet," Denoriel replied. "My usual port is Marseilles, but my original purpose in coming to England was to determine whether it would be worth my while—"
    Now, though Norfolk attempted to conceal it, he was as interested as any Flemish importer at the prospect of new revenues for himself. "It would. Indeed it would be worth your while to have the carpets come directly into London or Southampton. I could arrange—"
    But Denoriel allowed his tone to hold a touch of frost. "I said my original purpose. To my surprise I have found friends here and lovely, clever women, and I like the climate. I had thought recently to buy property and live in England, but if I am to be . . . ah, rejected . . . because of my connection with business—"
    "Not at all!" Norfolk exclaimed. "Not at all!" He laughed. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
    He raised an eyebrow. "It had seemed to me that you were not precisely enthused with my offer to visit the duke of Richmond after I mentioned my wool factor."
    "Do not take offense where none was intended, my lord," Norfolk said. "That had nothing to do with your business. I—" he hesitated, frowned, then continued in a rush "—I hope you will not take umbrage, but I would speak plainly. You are a foreigner, Lord Denno, and . . . ah . . . depending on Richmond's future, which is too