Читать книгу The Lord's Forced Bride - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 7

Catherine was in the back parlour, working on her sewing two weeks later. The mists of autumn were gathering outside as dusk fell and a fire had been lit in the big open hearth for the first time in weeks. Her little brother was coughing, and she had noticed that her father seemed to have taken it from him, though as yet her mother, sister and Catherine herself were all free of the malady. She had heard that there was a deal of sickness in the village, and one elderly man had died of the fever that was raging in the district.

In another two weeks they were due to leave for London to prepare for the royal wedding, and Catherine hoped fervently that her father and brother would have recovered in time.

Her head was bent over her work as it had become dark in the parlour and she was considering whether she should call for a candle when she heard voices and footsteps outside the door. Her head came up and she was looking at the door as it was flung open and a young man entered, still wearing his riding clothes, which were spattered with mud.

‘Harry!’ she cried, jumping up with a shout of joy as her brother entered. ‘You are home at last! You sent no word—at least, Father did not tell us that you were expected.’

‘I did not send word,’ her twin told her, coming to embrace her in a fierce hug. The two were very close and as children had been inseparable. ‘I was at court for some days after my return from Spain, and when given leave I thought to be here sooner than a letter.’

‘It is a wonderful surprise,’ Catherine said. ‘Have you seen Father and Mother?’

‘Not yet,’ Harry said, a smile in his eyes. ‘Hannah said you were in here so I came first to you. I wanted to see my little sister.’

‘Harry!’ Catherine laughed, because it was their special joke. She had been born only ten minutes after him and they had many jokes that were private, for they did not share all their thoughts with Anne or their youngest sibling. ‘It is so good to see you home!’

Harry nodded, looking serious for a moment. ‘I wondered if I should see you again, my little cat. I have been on a secret mission for the King and was attacked on my way to Oxford. Had it not been for the intervention of a stranger, I should have been murdered.’

‘Oh, Harry, no!’ Catherine was horrified. ‘That is terrible. Do you know who it was? The King should not send you on dangerous missions.’

‘I said secret, not dangerous,’ Harry said and frowned. ‘I do not know whether they wanted the letters I carried to his Majesty—or whether it was for another reason that they sought to kill me.’

Catherine’s eyes widened. ‘Do you have an enemy?’

‘A man makes enemies at court,’ Harry said. ‘I am not aware of any in particular, but there is always jealousy, Cat. I am popular with some, disliked by others—perhaps because the King favours me. I cannot tell.’

‘You must be careful,’ Catherine said, looking anxious. ‘I could not bear it if anything happened to you, Harry.’

‘It will not, for I am more careful now,’ her twin replied. ‘I travel in company and do not venture into dark alleys at night.’

‘If Mother knew, she would beg you to come home and go no more to court.’

‘That is why you must promise not to tell her or Father,’ Harry said. ‘I have told you because we share everything—but Mother would worry. I cannot stay here all the time, Cat. I must make my way in the world, as Father has. I know that I shall inherit much of the estate one day, but I wish to build my own fortunes.’

‘I do understand,’ Catherine said, a wistful expression in her eyes. ‘I sometimes wish that I had been a boy, Harry. Then I could make my fortune too, as you will.’

‘Your face is your fortune,’ Harry said. ‘You will find a rich husband and marry him. I think nothing but a marquis or a duke will be good enough for my little cat.’ His gaze rested on her fondly.

‘Father is taking us all to London for the royal wedding,’ Catherine said. ‘There has been talk as to whether it will go ahead.’

‘You may rest assured on that,’ Harry told her, a confident smile in his eyes. ‘The wedding is to be next month, though not everyone knows of it yet. You will be the loveliest woman at court, Cat—and I shall be there to watch you break hearts. I am to stay at court for the wedding, though afterwards his Majesty has other work for me.’

‘Oh, that is wonderful—’ Catherine broke off as she heard coughing outside the door. ‘I think Father is worse today. It is a dreadful illness that haunts the village, Harry, and our brother and father have taken it. You must go to Father and Mother, tell them you are home.’

‘I have a gift for you in my bags,’ Harry said. ‘You shall have it later, Cat. Now I shall tell my parents I am here.’

Catherine sat down as he left the room, but did not immediately begin work. Her twin’s return from Spain was all she needed to complete her contentment. In two weeks they would go to London together.

‘I am glad that your feuding with Melford is at an end,’ the King said, but his face was grim as he looked at the earl. ‘However, I have had another petition from your mother this morning. This must cease, Gifford. I will not have it! Do you hear me? She must be curbed. It is up to you to bring her to heel. She threatens to attend the court, though I have expressly ordered that she shall not.’

‘I had hoped that she would see sense,’ Andrew said. ‘Forgive her, sire. I dare say she thinks herself slighted and neglected. I shall pay her a visit and remind her that your patience grows thin.’

‘If she does not behave, I shall remove her to a place of incarceration. She would find that less comfortable than her present lodgings, I think?’

‘Indeed she would, sire. I shall leave at once and remind her of your displeasure.’

‘My displeasure does not extend to you, Gifford. You will stay for the banquet this evening and leave in the morning.’

‘As your Majesty commands,’ Andrew said and bowed as he left the King’s chamber. He was thoughtful as he made his way towards the gallery where most of the courtiers liked to gather at this hour of the day.

‘So you are returned,’ a woman’s soft voice called to him, breaking into his reverie. ‘I had begun to think you had deserted me, sir.’

Lady Henrietta’s tone and pointed look made Andrew smile as she came up to him. He made her an elegant leg, offering her his arm as they resumed their walk towards the gallery.

‘I fear that this is but a flying visit, my lady. I must visit my mother—though I am bidden to return for the wedding.’

‘Must you leave so soon?’ Lady Henrietta’s dark eyes smouldered with barely hidden passion. ‘I have looked for your return these many days.’

‘I fear it is the King’s command. I am to attend the banquet and leave on the morrow.’

‘Then we have tonight?’ she said, her eyes meeting his so directly that he found himself a little repulsed by her insistence. In his mind he was comparing her to the fresh innocence of the village girl he had met so briefly, and she did not measure up in his estimation. There was at times something unpleasant about her overeagerness. ‘You will not desert me without at least giving me that, Andrew?’

He found himself unable to refuse her. When they last met he had been on the verge of asking her to wed him, and she had every right to expect some attention from him. He felt that he had been drawn into the net of her charms. In the past he had been content to take all that she offered. He was not sure why the idea of spending the night in her bed no longer held the same appeal.

‘Your father is very unwell,’ Lady Melford said to her eldest daughter a few days after Harry’s return. ‘I think he may not be able to take us to London as he hoped, Catherine.’

Catherine felt a sharp sting of disappointment, but she knew that both her father and brother had been quite ill as she had been helping her mother to nurse them.

‘I am sorry that Father is so ill,’ she said, putting on a brave face. She had been eagerly looking forward to the trip. ‘But I could not go away and leave you with all the trouble of nursing both Father and Richard.’

‘As to that, I have servants enough to help me,’ Lady Melford said. ‘I do not like you to be disappointed, Catherine. You are always a dutiful girl and you deserve some pleasure. Let me speak with your father. It is possible that we may be able to find some other way.’

Catherine was doubtful. Even if some of her neighbours were travelling to London, she did not see how she could go without her mother and father. She smiled at her mother to show that she did not mind, because she knew that it was highly unlikely she would be able to go.

A wistful sigh escaped her as she went back to her sewing after her mother had left the room. They would visit London another time, but it would be a shame to miss the royal wedding.

‘It is an insult,’ Lady Gifford declared. ‘To be forbidden the court when there is a royal wedding! I should be permitted to take my place with the other ladies in the cathedral. Surely I have been slighted enough?’

‘I am sorry, Mother,’ Andrew said, smothering a sigh of impatience. ‘But you brought your punishment on yourself. If you had been more circumspect, it would not have happened.’

‘You take against me when it is Lord Melford you should blame for all our troubles!’ she cried, her eyes flashing with temper. ‘That man stole our heritage and I shall never forget or forgive!’

‘That is not true, Mother,’ Andrew told her. ‘Lord Melford told me that he had made recompense for our loss when he sold the lands—and you have never spoken of this to me. The money was mine, not yours.’

‘I needed it to keep body and soul together until you were old enough to win favours from the King,’ she said, looking reproachful. ‘You know my husband was extravagant. How was I supposed to live?’

‘You should never have wed him,’ Andrew said coldly. ‘Be warned, Mother. The King has lost patience with you. He says that if you dare to come to court, he will have you imprisoned.’ He saw the anger and frustration in her eyes. ‘You must remain here on your estate and be thankful that you have your freedom.’

‘Freedom when I am a prisoner on my estates?’

‘It is better than being a prisoner in the Tower, madam.’ Andrew gave her a hard look. ‘I, too, am losing patience. You will stay here as you are bid—and you will make no more petitions to the King. If you do, I shall not try to help you. You will receive nothing from me. You have wasted your fortune on a scoundrel and must learn to live as befits your income.’

‘You are an unkind, ungrateful son!’

‘For what should I be grateful, Mother?’ His harsh stare made her look away. ‘You gave me little enough affection when I was a child—and I have made my own way in the world while you squandered what belonged to me on that rogue you married. Be thankful that I do not demand you return what Lord Melford paid you!’

‘I could not! It has all gone…’ She held a hanging sleeve to her eyes to wipe the tears. ‘You are so cruel to me, Andrew.’

‘I have been patient with you too long, Mother. You must obey the King or accept the consequences.’

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘If you cared for me at all, you would marry a rich wife and invite me to make my home with you in comfort.’

‘No, madam,’ Andrew said. ‘I may marry in time, but she will be a soft, gentle woman I can love—and you will not be welcome in my home.’

‘Unnatural son!’

‘If I am, you have made me so,’ Andrew replied. ‘If you had ever thought what your bitterness was doing to us as a family, it might have been different. It is hard to forgive you for bringing that man into this house. He destroyed your reputation, ill treated the servants—and wasted your fortune. You showed me no warmth or love, and can expect nothing now.’

‘Go then and leave me to my solitary life,’ she said. ‘One day you will be sorry for what you do now!’

Andrew bowed his head, turning to leave her standing there alone. She had gone too far and he would leave her to reflect on her foolishness. If she ceased her petitions to his Majesty and lived quietly on her estates, he would not see her go short of the comforts of life, but she must learn her lesson before she drove the King to carry out his threats.

Catherine looked at her father anxiously. She had been summoned to his bedchamber, where he lay propped against a pile of feather pillows. His cough had eased a little, but she could see that the fever had pulled him down. It was obvious that he could not take his family to London.

‘Are you feeling a little better, Father?’

‘Yes, at last,’ Rob said and frowned. Melissa was right. Catherine was a dutiful girl and she deserved a treat. ‘Your mother and I have been talking about this visit to court and we have decided that we shall send you to London. I have already taken a house for us, and Lady Anne Shearer will be a chaperon for you at court. She is to attend the wedding and you may go with her. Harry will accompany you to London, and he will be with you until after the wedding. Lady Anne will keep you with her once he leaves—and I should be well enough to join you in a couple of weeks or so.’

‘Lady Anne is to chaperon me at court?’ Catherine stared at him in surprise. Lady Anne Shearer was a good friend of her parents, particularly her mother, though they had not visited each other of late. ‘Are you sure it would be no trouble to her, Father?’

She could not keep the excitement from her voice, because she wanted so much to attend the celebrations for the union of the King’s eldest son to the Spanish princess!

‘Am I truly going, Father?’ she asked, her green eyes bright with happiness. She had never been as far as London in her life! ‘But what about my brother—and you? You have both been so ill.’

‘Your mother says that Richard has turned the corner and will recover, and I shall be better soon. We should all have liked to come to London with you, but that is not possible. However, your mother wishes you to have your treat, Catherine.’ Rob smiled as he saw the pleasure on his lovely daughter’s face. She was very like her mother in some ways, though her hair was much redder and darker than Melissa’s, and her eyes were a deep green. At times like these when she was emotional they were almost the colour of emeralds. ‘I understand that this is a disappointment for you, Catherine, but your mother must stay with Richard and I am not yet well enough to travel.’

‘I know that, Father,’ Catherine replied. ‘I should have liked Mother to come with me, of a certainty I should, but I know she could not leave my brother or you. She would never leave any of us when we were ill.’

‘You are a good girl,’ Rob said giving her a fond look. ‘Your mother thought it might upset you to know that you must be chaperoned by our friends when you expected to have your family about you, but you have taken it sensibly.’

Catherine smiled at him. She would not let him see that she was nervous and disappointed with the arrangements, because she knew he would think her ungrateful. Robert Melford could sometimes seem harsh and stern; it was something in his manner and perhaps the terrible scar that marred one side of his face. Catherine had often wondered about the scar. She knew that it no longer gave her father pain, though occasionally she would see him tracing it with his forefinger, and when he did so there was such an odd expression in his eyes.

Catherine adored her father, even though she sometimes felt he was unapproachable. She would never have dared to ask him about the scar or how he came by it. She had once mentioned it to her mother, but Lady Melford had just shaken her head and said it was something best forgotten.

‘It is so good of you and Mother to arrange this for me,’ Catherine said. ‘Are you sure it will not inconvenience Lady Anne?’

‘As you know, I was summoned to the celebrations for the betrothal of Prince Arthur, and therefore at least some of the family must go,’ Rob said. ‘I had planned that your sister, Anne, should accompany us, but she is too young to be presented at court and will do better here with your mother. You will have your brother and your friends, and that must be enough for you, Catherine.’

‘I shall do well enough if I have my twin.’

‘Yes, there has always been something special between you two. Your mother remarks on it.’

‘When he is not here I feel as if a part of me is missing, but I know that Mother feels much the same when Harry is away.’

‘Harry was our first-born,’ Rob said. ‘Your mother holds a special place for him in her heart, as she does for all of us—but he was the first to fly the nest. She is proud of him, because he is making his way in the service of the King and he brings nothing but lustre to our family’s name, Catherine. I too am very proud of him.’

‘Yes, Father. I know,’ Catherine said a little wistfully. She had often wished that she might have been born as a son so that she too could add to the wealth and lustre of the family fortunes, but as a woman she could do nothing other than as she was bid. She understood that her part would be to wed to advantage, and she had recently overheard her parents talking about her marriage, though she did not as yet know the name of the man they had selected to be her husband. However, she was an obedient girl, for she had no reason to be otherwise, and she believed she would be happy to obey her parents’ wishes in the matter. ‘I am proud of Harry, too.’

‘That does not make me less proud of my lovely daughter,’ Rob said, understanding her change in expression better than she might have guessed. ‘You will please me by making a good marriage, Catherine.’ He nodded his approval. ‘Your mother and I wish you to be happy and we have decided that you might be suited with Lady Anne’s second son, William.’

‘Oh…’ In her surprise Catherine was unable to mask the shock her father’s words had given her. She did not know William Shearer well, but she remembered him as a boisterous youth who had pulled her hair the last time they met. For some reason a picture of another man flashed into her mind—the man she had first seen wrestling at the fair. ‘If it is your wish, Father.’

Rob frowned as he saw the expression in her eyes. ‘It is not decided, Catherine. Your mother would never agree to a forced marriage, but we have cherished the idea that our two families might be joined. However, you will meet him in London and we shall see what you feel then.’

‘You are so good to me!’ Catherine said and ran to the bed, bending down to embrace him.

Rob patted her back and put her from him. ‘None of that, girl! Go to your mother now. I believe she has some work for you.’

Catherine nodded and left him, making her way through the Hall to the stair that led to her mother’s favourite day chamber. As she expected, she discovered her mother working at her needlework, her sister, Anne, already sitting on a stool close by. Catherine believed her youngest brother to be upstairs in bed, and as she entered, Lady Melford got to her feet, clearly impatient to leave.

‘There you are, Catherine. Your father has told you the news. I hope you are not too upset?’

‘I wish you could come too, dearest Mother,’ Catherine said. ‘But I know that you must stay here with my brother and Father.’

‘Yes, I must. However, I did not wish you to give up your treat,’ Lady Melford said, smiling at her. ‘Now sit with your sister and help her with her sewing while I go up to Richard.’

‘Yes, Mother,’ Catherine said and moved her stool to her sister’s side. She reached out for the piece of needlework her sister had been working on. She saw at once where the stitches were wrong and used the little knife that hung from a silver chatelaine at her waist to cut the silk and remove it. ‘You make your feather stitching this way,’ she said, showing her sister how to work the intricate stitch.

Anne was looking at her oddly. ‘I heard Father say that you are to marry Will Shearer,’ she said. ‘Is it true, Catherine?’

‘I believe it is what Father wants,’ Catherine said, a slight frown coming to her face. ‘But I am not sure. I was hoping…’ She shook her head, because her dreams were fanciful. She had seen the stranger only briefly at the fair, again in the village when he had spoken to her, and leaving their house. She was unlikely to see him again, and yet she could not help feeling that she would like to meet a man who was as strong and handsome as he had been. But she did not imagine he was truly interested in her—he had merely been flirting. Besides, his visit had seemed to distress her mother for some reason. She must put him from her mind. ‘If it is my father’s wish, I shall try to obey him.’

‘I wish it was me going to London,’ Anne said, an envious note in her voice. ‘I should like to be married…’ Something flashed in her eyes and for a moment she stared at her sister as if she hated her.

‘In two years Father will think of arranging a marriage for you,’ Catherine told her.

‘It might be too late by then,’ Anne said, and, jumping up, ran from the room.

Catherine stared after her. What was wrong? Anne was always an impulsive girl, but she did not normally behave in such a way. Something must have upset her. Catherine finished unpicking all the bad stitches her sister had made and then replaced them, because her mother wanted the cover for a cushion she needed for her chair. She would talk to Anne later and see if she would tell her what was wrong, but for the moment she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

Marriage was such a big step. It would mean that she would no longer be able to spend her days with her mother, sister and brother…instead she would be the mistress of a large house with all the cares that entailed. Her mother had taught her all the things she needed to know to perform those duties, but no one had told her what it was really like to be married.

Catherine had some ideas about how babies were made, for she had seen the yard dogs mating, and watched puppies come into the world…but surely there must be more? Lady Melford was very contented; sometimes when she and her husband were together her eyes would shine with happiness. If only Catherine could be as happy when she married! She had listened to the storyteller spin his fables of romance when he visited them at Christmas and for feasts, and she thought that it would be wonderful to find true love—but did it really exist? And would she find it in an arranged marriage?

A rebellious look came into Catherine’s eyes. She would never willingly displease her father, but if William Shearer had not improved his manners, she would never wish to marry him!

Andrew dismounted as soon as he realised his horse had gone lame. The animal was a favourite and he did not wish to cause more damage or pain. He had hoped to be in London by nightfall, but he must lead the horse to the nearest inn and have it attended.

He supposed that it did not matter, for he had no particular reason to hurry. He was not expected back for a few days, and he was reluctant to renew his affair with Lady Henrietta. He regretted now that he had given in to her charms on his last visit to court. He suspected that she could be petulant, perhaps vindictive, and would not take it kindly if he tried to finish the relationship.

At one time he had considered her a suitable match, which she was in many respects, but he had suddenly realised that he had no real affection for her. Marriage to such a woman would be a mistake. He would never quite trust her, and a man must know that his sons were his own. However, to break off the affair suddenly would be cruel and pointless. He must find a way of detaching himself from her gently, and that would take time. His best hope was that she would grow tired of waiting and decide to bestow her considerable charms on another.

He had been slowly leading his horse for almost half an hour when he saw the inn ahead. He sighed with relief, for he could find shelter there for himself and his horse. No doubt the innkeeper would know where he could find a blacksmith to attend to the matter of the loose shoe.

He was welcomed into the inn by the genial host, who was pleased to offer supper and a room for the night, as well as to have the blacksmith summoned for the gentleman’s horse.

‘If your lordship would kindly go into the parlour and wait, my wife will bring soup immediately, and there are some good chops, a capon and a meat pie to follow if your honour should care for it?’

‘Soup and the capon will be sufficient, thank you,’ Andrew said. He nodded to the host and went into the parlour, where he saw three men sitting together huddled by the fire. It was not truly cold out and he thought there was something odd in their manner, but they gave him no more than a glance before getting up and walking out.

Andrew was pleased that they had gone, for they had looked like rogues to him, and he would sleep easier if they were elsewhere. A man in his position normally travelled with a considerable train of servants and men-at-arms, but sometimes he preferred to travel alone. He walked over to the fire, a torn scrap of vellum catching his eye. Bending down to retrieve it, he saw that two words remained legible of whatever the paper had contained.

‘Must die…’ he read and frowned over the cryptic message. What could it mean? As it stood it was useless, for there were no details of who or what must die. Had it not been for the shifty look of the men who had left as soon as he arrived, Andrew might have tossed the scrap of parchment into the fire, but something made him slip it into his jerkin. It was probably nothing, and yet he had an uneasy feeling that those rogues were up to no good. Were they planning to murder someone? Had the whole of this note contained instructions for someone’s death?

Andrew went to the window and looked out. The three men had mounted up and were about to ride off when something clicked in his mind. He had surely seen at least one of them before. He could swear that he had wounded the man with the lank hair and a scar on his cheek only a few weeks back. It was when he had come upon the young man fighting so valiantly for his life in a clearing!

He swore in frustration, for if he had recognised the man sooner he might have called a constable and had the rogue arrested. He was certain now that they had been plotting something. There was nothing he could do, for men like those three were plentiful and, despite all the measures the King had taken to control the lawlessness that had once been rife in England, murder and robbery happened all too often. It was perhaps unwise to travel alone, though Andrew was now in the habit of doing so when he could. He dressed modestly and never carried much gold so as not to invite attack.

He had no idea who the rogues had in mind and could have done little to stop them if he had. He could only hope that the young man he had helped once before had arrived safely at his destination. It was odd that he should have forgotten the rogue until the last moment, but perhaps that was because he had other things on his mind.

‘Take care of yourself, my dearest,’ Lady Melford said and embraced her daughter. There was a suspicion of tears in her eyes despite her warm smile, as she had hoped to be there to guide her daughter through the difficulties of making a first appearance at court. ‘Remember that I shall always love you. I shall be thinking of you while you are away, Catherine.’

‘Thank you, Mother,’ Catherine said and hugged her. At this moment of parting she could not help feeling nervous. It was true that her maidservant, Tilda, was to accompany her, but she would have liked to be able to ask her mother for advice when they attended the court. Lady Melford had shown her how to curtsy and told her always to behave modestly, and Catherine knew that her brother would be there. None the less, now that they were about to depart, she could not help wishing her mother was coming with her. She turned to her sister and kissed her cheek. Anne had been pale and silent the past few days, refusing to tell her what was upsetting her. ‘I shall bring you a gift from London—what would you like, dearest?’

‘I want nothing,’ Anne said and shrugged off her sister’s hand.

‘I shall find some trinket that will please you,’ Catherine promised. She was thoughtful as she turned away, giving her hand to her groom. She smiled at him as he helped her to mount her palfrey. Catherine was an excellent equestrienne, well able to ride herself, and preferring it to riding pillion as was the custom for many ladies. ‘Thank you, Dickon.’

Her father had made his goodbyes earlier as he was still unable to walk more than a few steps from his bed, but he had kissed her forehead, told her to mind her brother and Lady Anne and wished her well. Her brother was waiting for her, and Catherine’s serving woman, Tilda, was riding pillion behind one of the several grooms, and was just ahead of Catherine as she gave the reins a little flick and rode after them with Dickon following at her back. They had three more grooms and six servants trained as men-at-arms riding with them, because it was as well not to go unprepared, and Rob had wanted his daughter to be well protected on the road. Their baggage was carried on a cart that was protected by another three men and had set off an hour earlier so it would be waiting for them at the inn where they had arranged to spend the night.

The times might not be as lawless in King Henry VII’s England as they had once been, but there were still beggars roaming the country, and sometimes bands of robbers who might attack the unwary. Lord Melford had made certain that his daughter would be shielded from any such attack.

Catherine felt excited to be starting her journey. Her grandfather, Owen Davies, had given Catherine her palfrey for her last birthday, and it was a spirited beast, but well trained. She had called it Frosty because of its pure white coat, and loved it dearly.

It felt good to be out riding with her brother and their attendants, and as they passed through the countryside near Melford people came to the side of the road to wave and bow their heads respectfully. Robert of Melford was respected as an honest, fair man; his people liked working for him, because he was a generous master and treated them with the respect he showed to others. This reflected in the way they treated his family, and the women waved to Catherine as she passed, wishing her a safe journey. She smiled and waved back to them, her feeling of excitement growing all the time, though she was also a little nervous, because she had never been further than Shrewsbury in her life.

Once she had left her home far behind, her nerves began to settle and she felt a return of the excitement she had experienced at the start. Her disappointment at leaving her mother and sister behind was fading as she wondered what it would be like at court. Her mother had told her that some of the ladies would be wearing wonderful clothes and jewels, and her brother had some beautiful things in his saddlebags that Lady Melford had told her she might borrow for her court appearance. She knew that she was to have some new gowns when she reached town, for her mother had written some two weeks ago to order them from a dressmaker she patronised when in London, and Catherine would be fitted when she arrived. It was all so very exciting that she had begun to wish the journey over.

It was midday when they stopped to take some refreshment at an inn her father had recommended. Messengers had gone ahead and the landlord came out, bowing and smiling as he welcomed Lord Melford’s son and daughter into his house. Hot soup and fresh bread were provided, which were washed down with ale. The drink was very strong and Catherine took only a few sips, though she enjoyed the chicken broth.

They stopped only long enough to rest the horses, soon setting out again on the second stage of their journey. They would sleep at the house of one of Lord Melford’s friends that night and go on the next day. Catherine was used to riding distances of some leagues, for she had been to Shrewsbury a few times with her mother, but she had begun to think that she would be glad to reach their final stopping place for the day.

It was as they reached a narrow road that was bordered on two sides by dense trees that some men rushed out from the trees and tried to grab Harry’s horse. Taken by surprise, he was slow in drawing his weapon and the men dragged him from his mount. Catherine screamed and the armed servants rushed to assist Harry, but one of the ruffians held a dagger to his throat.

‘Come any nearer and he dies!’

‘Let him go!’ Catherine cried, jumping from her horse and rushing towards them. ‘You can gain nothing from harming him!’ Fear for her twin made her rush at the nearest man, throwing herself at him, kicking and punching him with her fists. ‘Let my brother go, I tell you!’

Some of the men-at-arms had dismounted and were hesitating, half-afraid to attack even though Catherine was still fighting valiantly. However, the sound of a bloodcurdling yell and the crack of a musket from behind the rogues made the one holding Harry jump as if startled, and in that instant Harry broke free and drew his sword. The men-at-arms set upon the rogues as soon as they saw that Harry no longer had a knife to his throat and a bloody battle ensued; in seconds two of the rogues lay dying on the ground and three more fled into the trees, where they were set upon by a roaring fury on his horse. He cut down two of them, and the third was pursued by the men-at-arms.

Catherine was shaking, trembling with fright. It had all happened so quickly and she had acted impulsively without a thought for her own safety. Harry drew her into his arms, comforting her as she burst into tears.

‘Hush, my dearest one,’ he soothed, stroking her hair. ‘You should not weep. It is all over and, thanks to you, I am still alive.’

Catherine shook her head, for she knew that her efforts would have been useless had that yell and musket fire not distracted the rogues.

‘It was not I that saved you…’ She looked towards the trees and saw that the newcomer had dismounted and was directing some of their servants to carry away the bodies of the dead. ‘It was this gentleman—’ Her breath caught as the man came towards them and she realised that she knew him. He was the man who had looked at her so boldly, making that outrageous suggestion to her in the village—the man who had paid her father a visit.

Harry turned to look. For a moment he stared at his saviour and then a grin broke over his handsome face. ‘Damn it, if you haven’t saved my life again, Andrew! What coincidence brought you here?’

‘Harry,’ Andrew replied and smiled oddly. ‘It was fortunate that I chanced this way at the right moment, for I am certain they meant to kill you.’

‘And they might have done had my brave sister not flown at them like a she-devil,’ Harry said, looking at Catherine with affection. ‘She had no thought for herself, but we are twins and I would give my life for her if need be.’

Andrew turned to look at Catherine. He knew her instantly, for her face had seldom been out of his mind these past weeks. However, she was far more richly dressed than she had been that day in Melford Village, and he understood that she was of good family.

‘Mistress,’ he said, inclining his head to her. ‘I am Andrew, Earl of Gifford, at your service. You were brave, if a trifle foolhardy. Those rogues would have thought nothing of slitting your throat—and that would have been a tragedy.’

Catherine’s face was pale, but there was pride in her eyes as she looked at him. ‘I would never stand by and see my brother murdered. They might take my life if they pleased, for I could not bear to live if he was so cruelly slain.’

Her twin put at an arm around her shoulder, ‘We are Catherine and Harry Melford, the first born of Lord Robert of Melford,’ Harry told Andrew. ‘Last time you helped me I was on a secret mission and we agreed not to exchange names, but this time we go to court. My sister is to be presented and I am bidden to attend Prince Arthur’s wedding.’

‘As am I,’ Andrew said. ‘We may as well journey together. There is safety in numbers, though I often travel alone—but your sister needs protection, and we cannot be sure that you will not be attacked by another band of rogues.’

‘I should be glad of your company,’ Harry replied. ‘Catherine, you must remount…’

‘Perhaps I may assist?’ Andrew moved towards her palfrey, which the groom had ready. He offered her his hand, and when she came to him, he placed one hand each side of her waist and tossed her up effortlessly. For a moment he stood gazing up at her as she took hold of her reins, his eyes dark with some emotion she could not read. ‘Can you ride, Mistress Melford? Your experience has not shocked you too much? I could take you up with me if you felt faint or ill at ease.’

‘I thank you kindly, sir,’ she replied, a faint blush in her cheeks, ‘but I am well able to ride my horse. I do thank you, though, for coming to help us. I shall be for ever grateful to you. My brother told me a gentleman had saved his life once before, and I believe that must have been you.’

‘I did only what any decent man would do,’ Andrew told her. ‘There may come a time when I shall need help, and if I am fortunate a friend will be there for me.’

Catherine nodded, urging her horse forward as the earl moved away to mount his own steed. Her heart was racing wildly, because the look in his eyes was so bold, so penetrating. She felt that he could see into her mind, read her thoughts—and that would be embarrassing, for she did not wish him to know what she was thinking just now.

The men-at-arms had returned. From what they were saying, it seemed that one of the rogues had escaped. Two of the men were detailed to bury the bodies and meet up with the rest of the party that evening. Catherine spared only a glance for the dead as they passed. She could feel pity, but no remorse for what had been done, because had it not been for good fortune it might have been Harry and her who lay there.

The earl had gone up to the head of the little column, riding beside her brother. She followed behind with the grooms and men-at-arms forming a guard about her. The relaxed feeling of earlier had gone, because they all knew that another attack was possible at any time. The rogues must have thought there was gold and jewels in Harry’s saddlebags, their attack so swift and unexpected that it had almost succeeded.

It was fortunate that the earl had come along when he had, taking the rogues from the rear and causing panic. Her eyes followed him, noting his proud bearing as he rode. She wondered exactly who he was—and why her mother had been made uneasy by his visit. He and Harry were clearly friends, though neither had known the other’s full name until this afternoon. Catherine wished that she had asked her mother more questions at the time of the earl’s visit, though it could not have been anything so very terrible or he would not have been made welcome at their home.

A little smile touched her mouth, because something in the way he had looked as he put her up on her horse was very appealing. She could not help being pleased that he was to travel with them for at least a part of the way, because he had been in her thoughts since the first time she had seen him at the fair. It was foolish, but she had woven dreams about him, about meeting him again—silly, foolish dreams that she would never speak of to anyone. Besides, he had helped to save Harry’s life, and that must mean she would always be grateful to him.

Her heart caught as he glanced back, and their eyes met briefly. Was she allowing her imagination to run too freely—or was there something special in the way he smiled at her?