‘Gifford will marry Mistress Melford. That should satisfy any grievances between you.’

Catherine gasped. She glanced at her father’s and then the Earl’s face. Both looked as stunned as she felt. The Earl of Gifford frowned and then nodded, seeming pleased with the honours he had received.

‘Catherine,’ Andrew said, turning to her with a satisfied look. ‘I hope it will please you to accept His Majesty’s decree?’

Catherine felt all eyes turned on her. She knew that she had no choice but to accept and look happy, though in her heart it was not the way she had wanted Andrew to ask her. However, petulance was for children, and she was no longer a child. She raised her head, her lovely face calm as she said, ‘It would give me great pleasure to be your wife, sir.’

The Lord’s Forced Bride
Anne Herries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books—although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize.

Previous novels by the same author:

MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK

THE UNKNOWN HEIR

THE HOMELESS HEIRESS

THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY

A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE*

AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE*

THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE*

THE PIRATE’S WILLING CAPTIVE

FORBIDDEN LADY†

And in the Regency series

The Steepwood Scandal:

LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

COUNTERFEIT EARL

And in The Hellfire Mysteries:

AN IMPROPER COMPANION

A WEALTHY WIDOW

A WORTHY GENTLEMAN

Author Note

THE LORD’S FORCED BRIDE tells the story of Catherine and Andrew, Earl of Gifford. In FORBIDDEN LADY, Catherine’s mother had reason to dislike the then Earl of Gifford, Andrew’s father. However, when Andrew and Catherine meet they are caught up in a political settlement forced on them by King Henry VII to settle the old quarrel between their families. Catherine is already falling in love with the gallant Earl who rescued her brother and then her, but does he love her or is she merely the bride he was forced to take by the King’s command? As she begins her married life, Catherine has enough problems to face without murderous attempts on her life. Can the couple win through and find happiness together? Read the second book in The Melford Dynasty, and look out for the third soon.

I hope you will enjoy these books, which are the start of a family saga coming down through the ages. Happy reading!

MILLS & BOON

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Chapter One

Andrew, Earl of Gifford, heard the sounds of fierce fighting before he rode into the clearing that September morning. The clash of steel was unmistakable and he had drawn his sword before he came upon the violent scene. A young man was fighting for all he was worth, but he was heavily outnumbered. Surrounded by three burly men, who were clearly intent on taking his life, he had just managed to wound one in the arm when Andrew bore down on them. He swooped low in the saddle, lashing out at one attacker who was pressing the young man hard and wounding the rogue across the arm. Wheeling his horse about, Andrew rode back and slashed at the nearest villain, catching him a blow on the shoulder. At that moment, the young f man finished off the rogue he had been fighting and the other two fled in disorder. Dismounting, Andrew looked at the man he had helped, and saw that he was bleeding from his left arm.

‘Let me bind that for you,’ he said. ‘I have fresh linen and water in my saddlebags.’

‘You are very kind, sir,’ the man replied. ‘You have done me great service this day. I cannot thank you enough.’

‘I did only what I thought just,’ Andrew told him with a smile that lit his eyes. ‘The odds were unfair. I thought to make them a little more even.’

‘You do not know what you did. I am on important business for…well, I cannot say, sir, for my work is secret. I say only that I shall always be grateful for your help.’

‘Let me tend your wound,’ Andrew said. ‘Then you may be on your way.’

‘You are a true friend indeed,’ the man replied and smiled as Andrew tore his sleeve and began to minister to him, washing the arm before applying a salve and linen wrappings. ‘My name is Harry…may I know yours, sir?’

‘It is Andrew.’ He finished the binding. ‘I think those ruffians have fled for their lives, Harry—but take care, for if they seek something you carry they may not be the only ones to attempt your demise.’

‘You are right,’ Harry replied. ‘I must reach Oxford by this evening. There I shall meet with friends and from then on I shall be in good company.’ He hesitated for a moment, then, ‘Would you ride with me a part of the way?’

‘It is my way, too, for the moment,’ Andrew said and offered his hand, which Harry gladly took. ‘You spoke of a secret mission. I shall ask nothing of you. We are strangers and we shall travel as such, parting with no other knowledge of each other than a name…is that agreed?’

‘Yes, for I must retain my anonymity for the time being, sir, and it is only fair that you should retain yours.’

‘Then let us ride on,’ Andrew told him with a grin. ‘One day we may meet again, and then perhaps we shall learn the truth—but for now we are passing strangers travelling together for our mutual benefit.’

Catherine wandered from stall to stall, her lovely face alight with excitement as she examined the pedlars’ wares. It was a warm September day and the annual fair had come to the village of Melford Chase, which was a cause for celebration for all who lived here in the valleys that lay on the borders of Wales and England. Catherine and her younger sister, Anne, had been eagerly awaiting this day for some weeks, because their mother had promised that they would buy silks for new gowns and lace to trim them.

Anne and Lady Melford were still lingering at the silk merchant’s stall, examining his wares, but Catherine had known what she wanted immediately, choosing a deep emerald silk. Anne could not decide between a pretty blue and a paler green, so she had left them to choose while she walked on, because there was so much to see. One stall was selling holy relics, another beads and bangles that gleamed like gold, but would turn your skin black if you wore them too long. You could find anything here, Catherine thought as she looked at spangled scarves and embroidered slippers, for only one stall away a man was selling cooking pots made of iron. A little further into the meadow were stalls selling cheeses and pies, also cakes and sweetmeats, and the smell of roasting sucking pig permeated the air, making her feel hungry.

Besides the stalls selling merchandise there were others offering a chance to play games. You might guess how many dried beans there were in a pot or throw hoops over small prizes. You could throw balls at Aunt Sally or shoot arrows at a target, and if you wished you could visit the tooth drawer, though from the cries of pain that came from his wagon, Catherine thought that she would prefer the toothache. Two teams of men were having a tug of war, and others were engaging in various trials of strength.

As Catherine waked past the area where the sports were taking place, she heard a burst of cheering and she stopped to watch what was going on. Her gaze came to rest on two men; stripped to the waist, their bodies gleamed with sweat, as if they had been working hard. They were laughing and one slapped the other on the back, clearly pleased with himself.

‘They have each won two rounds and are well matched,’ a man standing next to Catherine said. ‘Neither of them can best the other and so they have agreed to one last bout, winner take all…or they will share the prize if neither wins.’

‘For what do they fight?’ Catherine asked. Her eyes were on one of the men. He was the same height as his opponent and of similar weight and build, but there was something different about him, though she did not know what it was until he suddenly turned her way. He was surely a gentleman! The other man was one of the villagers and known to her by sight, but this man was a stranger. For a moment their eyes met and then he grinned at her, the expression in his eyes sending little tingles down her spine.

‘For the sum of ten silver pieces,’ the informative man said next to her. ‘It is the best prize of the year.’

‘Oh, I see…’ It was a considerable sum, enough to feed a family for some months.

Catherine felt her cheeks grow warm, for the look the stranger was giving her was too forward, too bold. She dropped her eyes, determined to move on, and yet as she heard the murmur of approval from the crowd, she looked up and saw that the contest had begun once more.

It was immodest of her to stand and watch, as she knew that her mother would not approve, and yet something held her. She saw at once that the two men were clearly skilful at wrestling. She had caught sight of other wrestling matches on fair days, but never before had she been tempted to watch the outcome. Today she was fascinated, and knew that she wanted the man with the deep blue, intelligent eyes to win.

She caught her breath when the other man threw him to the ground, but he could not hold him, and in another second he was back on his feet and the situation was reversed. Again and again, the men threw each other, but neither could hold the other down long enough to be called the winner.

Catherine’s nails had turned into the palms of her hands, for she was tense with excitement, and only her natural modesty prevented her from calling out with the other spectators as the contest continued. Oh, who was going to win? She did hope it would be the handsome stranger…

Suddenly, the stranger stood back and held up his hands, a hush falling over the crowd as he spoke. ‘I give you my hand, friend. We shall share the prize. Come, take my hand and we’ll drink on it…the ale to be paid for with my share of the winnings…for all of you…’ His eyes embraced the crowd, inviting them to share his good fortune.

His opponent hesitated and then took his hand. They started laughing and the crowd joined in, everyone cheering them as, arms about one another’s shoulders, the wrestlers went off in the direction of the ale tent, followed by a score of others eager to take advantage of the stranger’s good nature.

‘I’ve never seen that done before,’ a man said behind Catherine. ‘Our Seth has bested every challenger to come against him.’

‘Well, he’s met his match at last,’ his companion said. ‘Do you know who the challenger is?’

‘He didn’t give his name. No one knows him, but he speaks like an Englishman.’

Catherine walked away, back towards the stalls where her mother and sister were now examining some pretty lace. Lady Melford turned to look at her daughter.

‘There you are, Catherine. I was beginning to wonder where you had gone. Come and look at this lace. I thought this would be pretty to trim the sleeves of your gown—do you like it?’

Catherine looked at the beautiful lace her mother had picked up and smiled. ‘It is lovely,’ she said. ‘But I think the heavy cream lace is perhaps more to my taste.’

‘Well, they are both pretty,’ Lady Melford said. ‘I think we shall take them both, for you may decide at your leisure which one suits you when your gown is made and lace of this quality is no ill store.’ She turned to her younger daughter. ‘Now, Anne, have you decided on what you would like?’

Catherine’s mind wandered as her sister and mother began a long discussion about the various pieces of lace and their merits. She glanced towards the ale tent, into which the wrestlers had disappeared, along with the small crowd of men and women who had been watching them.

Who was the stranger and why had he come here? Was it simply to take part in a wrestling match? They had few strangers here in her father’s village, except for the pedlars at fair time, and he certainly had not looked like a merchant. So what was he doing here?

‘I think we shall go home now.’ Lady Melford’s voice broke into Catherine’s thoughts. ‘What are you thinking about, Catherine? You do not seem very interested in your new gown. Are you not happy with the silks we have chosen?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, Mother,’ Catherine said. ‘Forgive me. I was just thinking that the smell of roasting pig is very good…’

‘You are hungry,’ Lady Melford said. ‘We shall go home and see if your father has returned from his business.’

Andrew came out of the ale tent, having drunk but one tankard himself. He had spent the five shillings he had won on buying drinks for the men who had watched the wrestling bout, accepting their praise and good wishes in the spirit of the day. He had been angry when he offered his challenge, but, finding himself matched against a worthy opponent, his anger had evaporated—and catching sight of a pretty girl in the crowd had lifted his mood still further.

He had come here to the Marches to try and settle the long-running dispute between his family and Lord Robert Melford, and to bring him news, but he had been turned away without a hearing. Lord Melford’s steward had told him that his master had been called away to Shrewsbury and was not expected back until later that day. He had apologised for the inconvenience, but Andrew was almost certain that it was merely an excuse, a way of avoiding him. It had made him angry, because the quarrel was none of his making, and, despite his mother’s wishes, he had wanted to settle the business without laying a complaint before the King. His mind went back to a recent conversation with his mother, her words still echoing in his mind despite his efforts to shut them out.

‘Listen to me when I tell you that we were robbed of our inheritance!’ Lady Gifford’s voice had been shrill, harsh with bitterness. ‘Robert of Melford took Gifford by force and we were driven from our home. The King must listen to you, Andrew. He must make reparation.’

Andrew Gifford had looked at his mother with barely concealed impatience. ‘Have I not told you a hundred times, Mother? My father betrayed his promise to give himself up to the King and it was his betrayal that led to his death. Our estate was forfeit and the King gave it to Lord Melford. He had the right to sell it as he pleased.’

‘So you say,’ Lady Gifford retorted, her eyes cold with hatred. ‘Why will you not make a plea to his Majesty? It is the custom to grant boons at times of celebration. They say the King’s eldest son is to marry later this year to the Princess of Aragon…you should use the opportunity to ask for some compensation for our loss.’

‘May I remind you that the loss was mine,’ Andrew said and for a moment his blue eyes had been as cold as ice. He had seen Harold of Meresham enter the room and it angered him that his mother kept the man here when she knew her son disliked him intensely. He would never understand why she had taken him in when he came to her as a fugitive, having escaped from custody by a fluke of the law, then married him, though insisting on keeping her former husband’s name. ‘Father’s lands should have passed to me. I have made my own way in the world and I am not poor. The King saw fit to bestow monies on me for services rendered, which I have put to good use.’

‘You have a small estate,’ his mother sneered, though it was in truth larger than her own. ‘But Robert of Melford is rich beyond compare. You should demand what belongs to you!’

‘Enough!’ Andrew’s face tightened with anger. ‘I have heard sufficient of your complaining, Mother. You never cease your demands and yet you do nothing I ask of you.’

‘Why should I send Harold away?’ his mother cried, furious in her turn. ‘He is my husband.’

‘I know well that you married him, but he does not behave as a husband to you,’ Andrew said, looking scornfully at the man. ‘If he showed you respect, I would understand, but he does not.’ He turned away, his back stiff.

‘Where are you going?’ Lady Gifford cried, a harsh note in her voice. ‘I demand that you listen to me!’

Andrew swung round to face her, his eyes glinting. ‘I am no longer a child, madam. You may not command me. I may speak to the King, but if he does not care to listen I shall make no demands of him. Too many years have passed. I am content to win favours and riches for myself—and I should advise you to forget what has gone.’

Striding from the room, Andrew had wondered why he bothered to visit his mother and her husband. He had hated Harold of Meresham from the day his mother had wed him when he was but a lad of seven years, and he knew the two of them had plotted revenge on Lord Melford. Lady Gifford had sent endless petitions to King Henry VII asking that her husband’s estate be returned to her or reparation made, and the King wearied of it. Had Andrew not won favour in Henry’s eyes, the King might have made an example of her before this—but she would not be told.

However, a month past Harold had been lain low of a fever and died suddenly. Returning for the funeral, Andrew had found his mother chastened and silent. He knew that Harold had played a large part in her bitterness, and his hope was that she would now cease her endless demands for recompense. It was, after all, he who had suffered the worst loss, for although he was still entitled to call himself the Earl of Gifford the lands and property that should have been his belonged to another. It was a cause for anger and yet he was not bitter despite all the years of hearing his mother’s complaints.

He had his own estate and his wealth was invested wisely. Perhaps he was not yet as rich as his father had once been, but he was determined that he would make his own way in life—and when he was ready he would take a bride. He had made up his mind then that he would seek Lord Melford out and try to heal the breach that had begun so many years ago.

Andrew’s mind came back to the present and the expression in his eyes was angry once more. He had come here in good faith, hoping to speak to Lord Melford and tell him that Harold was dead, as he had been some kind of relation to Melford’s wife. It was a time for reconciliation, a time to heal old quarrels, but his reception had been cool, barely courteous, and that had made him angry. He had been about to return to London and the court when he caught sight of the fair. The wrestling match had restored his temper and he realised that it would be foolish to leave without accomplishing what he had come for—besides, there might be other diversions to keep him here a while.

He looked around the meadow, hoping to catch sight of the pretty girl once more, but there was no sign of her. That was a shame, but perhaps if he lingered at the inn for a few days he might catch sight of her in the village—and he would return to the Melfords’ house the next day to make another effort at settling the foolish quarrel that had festered on so many years.

‘Catherine, my love,’ Lady Melford said the following morning, ‘I wish you to walk to the village for me with this basket of food and medicines for Widow Hale. Her son told me that she has been poorly for a while, and I believe these restoratives may help her.’

‘Of course I will, Mother,’ Catherine replied with a smile. ‘I am sorry that she has been ill. Is Anne to accompany me?’

‘Your sister has other duties,’ Lady Melford told her. ‘And none of the servants can be spared from their work. You need not linger on the way, and I doubt you will meet many strangers, for the fair folk will be busy packing their wares to move on.’

‘I am not nervous of walking to the village,’ Catherine replied. She had asked only because she knew Anne would relish an hour of freedom away from the house. Her sister was a rebellious girl and avoided her chores if she could. ‘I shall go straight there and back. Besides, none would harm me, for Father is loved and respected by his people.’

‘Yes, he is,’ her mother agreed. ‘Go then, dearest. When you return we shall begin work on your new gown, as your father talks of taking us to London if the marriage of the King’s son takes place as is hoped.’

‘Go to London for Prince Arthur’s wedding?’ Catherine’s face lit up with excitement. ‘Are we all to go, Mother?’

‘Yes, all of us,’ Lady Melford replied, smiling fondly at her daughter. ‘You deserve the treat, Catherine. Besides, the King has sent word that he wishes to see your father at court before the end of the year, and so we must go to the wedding.’

‘It will be so exciting. Does my sister know?’

‘Not yet, but she will soon—I shall tell her after you have gone. Get off now, Catherine, for there is much to do. We must make preparations for winter and all the soft fruits have not yet been preserved.’

Lady Melford bustled off to begin work in her stillroom. She was mistress of a large household and her work was never done, despite all the servants at her disposal.

Catherine was smiling as she put on her cloak and left the house. It was not as sunny as the previous day, for dark clouds had gathered overhead, but it was not cold. Just a pleasant day for a walk to the village and back.

Andrew left the inn. He was intending to ride out to Melford’s estate and see if he chanced luckier that day in the matter of his meeting with the master. However, as he was about to mount his horse, he saw a young woman leaving a cottage just a few steps from where he stood and he hesitated, recognising the girl he had noticed at the fair.

‘Good morrow, mistress,’ he said, moving to block her path. ‘Could you direct me to the road to Shrewsbury?’

‘Why, certainly, sir,’ she replied, a faint rose in her cheeks. ‘You follow the street to the end and take the turning to the right at the fork.’

‘Thank you kindly,’ he said, a smile playing over his mouth as he saw her confusion. She was a modest girl, but he would swear there was fire in her. ‘It is a warm day despite the cloud, is it not?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied. ‘Excuse me, I must go on.’

‘Must you?’ Andrew caught her arm as she would have gone by. ‘Have you no time to dally with a stranger? I mean you no disrespect, mistress. I would merely speak with you a little.’

‘I would not be rude, sir, but my mother will worry if I am late back.’

‘I dare say she might, for you are beautiful and some would demand more than a few words and a smile. Go on then, mistress—but tell me your name before you leave, if you please.’

‘I am Catherine, sir,’ she said. ‘I bid you good day and a safe journey.’

‘Farewell, sweet Catherine,’ he said, a rueful note in his voice. ‘I wish you were less modest, for then I should take you to the landlord’s best chamber and kiss those lips I swear would taste of cherries and wine.’

‘Oh…’ A hot flush swept up her cheeks. ‘I must go…’

Andrew watched her walk away, a soft laugh issuing from his lips. She was lovely and truly innocent. He would dare swear that no other man had paid her compliments. He sighed as he thought of the bold women of the court, and the response such a sally would have brought forth, and sighed. Lady Henrietta Salmons was almost as beautiful as that gentle girl, but she had lost her modesty long ago when married to a man twice her age. Her husband was long dead, and he knew that Henrietta hoped for a match between them. At times he had thought to oblige her, for she was a sweet bed companion—but marriage was more than a night’s work and as yet he had not made up his mind. He liked her well enough, but there was something in her nature that gave him pause and made him hesitate to offer for her.

He had thought his sweet country lass might be less modest as she had watched the wrestling and he had seen passion in her eyes, but she was clearly not for dalliance, and it was unlikely that they would meet again.

He turned back to his horse, swinging up into the saddle. He would try once more to see Melford, then he must return to London and the court, for he had been expected some days ago.

Catherine’s heart was racing as she walked away from the man. How could he say such things to her? She knew that he must have been laughing at her for her innocence, but what must he think of her to offer her such an insult? It was because she had stopped to watch him wrestling, of course. He had mistaken her for one of the village girls, and thought that it would pass a little time if she would allow him to seduce her.

Her cheeks were hot with shame. Her mother would be so angry if she knew that Catherine had stopped to speak to a complete stranger. She had been warned of the dangers often enough as a child!

But no harm had come from it, after all. Her pulses returned to normal as she took a detour to call in at the parson’s house. The parson’s wife was a friend to all the family, and Catherine felt the need of a warm, familiar face. Perhaps by the time she left Goodwife Mills the stranger would have departed from the village. Besides, she needed a little time to calm herself before she returned home.

She had never met anyone like the stranger before, and she could not account for the odd feelings his banter had aroused. She ought to have been angry, but for one moment she had felt as if she would like to go with him to the landlord’s best parlour and be kissed—but that was immodest and wicked! She must put all thought of him from her mind and forget the traitorous leap of her heart when he had smiled at her!

Robert Melford frowned as his steward announced that the Earl of Gifford had returned and craved an audience with him. So many years had passed since the war that had caused the quarrel between the Gifford family and his that he had pushed it to the back of his mind; it was almost forgotten and he hoped that Gifford did not wish to bring it all up again.

‘Very well,’ he said as his steward stood waiting. ‘Ask the earl to come in, if you will.’

Rob glanced through the ledgers on his trestle table. His accounts were in order and his vast estates prospered, much of his wealth earned by his own industry. It was true that the sale of the Gifford lands had brought him a decent sum, but he had increased his fortune several times since then. He could, had he wished, have made further reparation to the Giffords, but having made some at the time of the sale, he saw no reason to do more. Gifford’s estate had come to him as a gift from the King and he was not obliged to do anything for the family. Especially after the way the late earl had behaved towards Rob’s beloved wife, Melissa.

He closed the ledger and stood up as the present earl entered, feeling surprised at his appearance—this was not a man struck by poverty, as the wife of the late earl would have them believe. He was well dressed, of good appearance, a handsome young man with a pleasant smile.

‘Good morning, Gifford. I bid you sit, if you will. May I offer some wine?’

‘Thank you, I will take a cup with you,’ the earl replied.

Rob nodded to his steward, who left to carry out his unspoken order. He sat down on the chair he had been using, indicating that the earl should sit in the other at the opposite end of the board.

‘What brings you so far from London, sir? I thought you were often at court these days?’

‘His Majesty has been pleased to give me offices that I have carried out as best I may,’ Andrew replied. ‘I took leave on the occasion of my stepfather’s funeral, and it was in part to tell you of his death that I came.’

‘Thank you. We had heard of it,’ Rob replied. ‘You may know that there was no love lost between Harold of Meresham and my wife. Although she once thought him her half-brother, she never cared for him. In all honesty he was a brute.’

‘I know little of what happened at that time, for I was a child,’ Andrew said and frowned. ‘But I believe there was much bad blood between the families?’

‘It is an old story and best forgot,’ Rob said. ‘If it is in the matter of reparation that your mother claims is due—’ He was silenced as Andrew held up his hand. ‘No? Then I do not understand.’

‘I came to make peace if I can,’ Andrew told him. ‘I do not ask for anything.’

‘Reparation was made years ago. Lady Gifford knows that I had no need to give her anything, but I did.’

‘I have heard naught of that.’ Andrew’s eyes snapped with annoyance. ‘I have told her that she is entitled to none, but she is bitter and does not listen. I hope that now Meresham is dead, she will cease to petition his Majesty.’

Rob was silent for a moment, then, ‘For myself I would shake hands and end this feud here and now. My wife suffered greatly at that time, and your father played his part in it. She does not speak of it, but I think it must still linger in her memory. I cannot invite you to dine as it might offend her—but let there be no more enmity between us.’ He stood and offered his hand. Andrew came forward and took it. ‘If we should meet at court in future, we shall be at least civil to one another, sir—though Lady Gifford may not feel the same.’

‘My mother is unlikely to be at court. The King has no patience with her endless complaints, and I have told her she must remain on her estates and be thankful Henry does not see fit to imprison her.’

‘As you said, perhaps now that her husband is dead, she will be less bitter, for I know he hated both my wife and me.’

‘He would have done you harm if he could,’ Andrew said, ‘but in later years he had become a surly drunkard and was no use for anything.’

‘Your family is well rid of him, then,’ Rob said. He paused as the steward brought wine in a gilt ewer. ‘Come, drink with me, Gifford, and we will seal our truce.’

Catherine was upstairs at the window of her chamber, looking out at the yard when the man left the house. She knew that her father had a visitor, and that her mother was a little disturbed by it, but she gasped in surprise as she saw the man she had spoken to in the village earlier that day. He looked thoughtful as a groom brought him a horse, and he glanced back at the house, his gaze moving upward to her window. She stepped back hastily, not wanting him to see her watching.

‘Catherine, have you decided on the style of your new gown?’

Catherine turned guiltily as her mother entered the room. She was supposed to be deciding on a pattern for the dress they were to cut out downstairs in the parlour.

‘I think I should like it to be similar to my blue,’ she said, laying the garment on the bed for her mother to see. ‘I would like the waist a little higher, but a squared neckline suits me well.’

‘Yes, it does,’ Lady Melford said and glanced out of the window. ‘So he is leaving at last. He spent more than two hours with your father.’

‘Who was Father’s visitor?’

‘He is the Earl of Gifford,’ her mother said and frowned. ‘I did not care for his father, but his mother was kind enough once—though I believe she grew bitter later in life.’

‘Why did you not like his father?’

‘It is an old story, Catherine. Forgive me if I do not tell you. It pains me and I do not care to remember the war.’

Catherine was silenced. She knew that something had happened during the war, though she did not know what. Her father had fought on the side of Henry Tudor and was given great honours for the part he played at that time. Catherine was sure there was much more that she had not been told, but she would not dream of distressing her mother by speaking of something that clearly brought back unpleasant memories.

‘Do not speak of it if it hurts you, dearest Mother,’ she said. ‘Yes, I think I shall have the new gown styled as this one. Shall we cut it out now?’

‘I think we should make a start, for we shall all need new clothes before we leave for London. We may have others made for us in town, but it is good for you and Anne to make your own sometimes. You should both know how to mend and set your stitches before you marry.’

Catherine caught her breath. Until this moment she had not truly thought about her marriage, though she knew that it would happen one day. She thought about what the earl had said to her that morning in the village. Would he have said such a thing if he had guessed that she was the daughter of a rich and powerful lord?

She was certain that he had mistaken her for a village girl, because she had watched the wrestling. He probably thought that her father was a rich merchant, because, although her clothes were good quality, she had made most of them with the help of her mother and sister.

When they went to court she would have more stylish gowns. She wondered what he would think of her then and her cheeks felt warm. It would not do to think of him in this way! Catherine mentally scolded herself. The earl would not be interested in her, for there must be many beautiful ladies at court, and though her father was rich, they lived a sheltered life here on the Borders.

The earl must meet many clever, beautiful women if he went often to court. Besides, there was clearly some bad feeling between the earl’s family and hers. Therefore she must not think of him again.

Chapter Two

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?

Chapter Three

When they arrived at the house at which they were to stay, their host came out to greet them. Hearing that the earl had helped to save both Harry and Catherine from murderous rogues, he immediately offered him a bed for the night. Andrew hesitated for a moment, then, as Harry urged him to it, he accepted and offered his thanks.

Catherine dismounted with the help of her groom, going into the house ahead of the men, where she was greeted by her hostess. Lady Sallis gathered her into a warm embrace, kissing her on both cheeks.

‘It is so long since I last saw you, dearest Catherine,’ she said, eyeing her up and down. ‘You were a pretty child, but you have grown into a lovely young lady. I think you will do well at court. I am sure your father will receive many offers for you.’

‘Father is not with us, for he has had a fever,’ Catherine told her. ‘But he and Mother will come to court in a couple of weeks or so if they can. I am to be chaperoned by Lady Anne Shearer in the meantime.’

‘Well, I dare say you will do well enough with friends,’ the kind lady said. ‘If I could spare the time to come with you I would, but my daughter-in-law gives birth to her first child soon and I cannot be away at this time.’

‘No, for she will need you,’ Catherine said. ‘Besides, I have my brother and Lady Anne’s family.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Lady Sallis agreed. ‘Come up to your chamber now, my dear. Your maid will soon have the things you need unpacked for this evening. Your baggage arrived earlier and is waiting for you upstairs.’

Catherine glanced over her shoulder as the men came in, listening to their laughter. It seemed that they were all getting on very well, and she felt a little left out, but then the earl glanced at her, such a challenge in his eyes that she felt her heart race. She turned away hastily and followed her hostess up the stairs. Surely he could not be thinking what his eyes seemed to say? He must know that she was a modest girl of good family, and yet that burning look was making her mouth dry and her knees felt so weak that she wondered if her legs would carry her up the stairs.

Andrew walked over to the window of the bedchamber he had been given and looked out at the night. Dusk had fallen fast after they arrived at the comfortable manor house, and he was glad that he had not decided to travel on alone at that hour. It was not wise to be on the roads after dark.

A rueful smile touched his mouth as he wondered what quirk of fate had brought him to this situation. He was a guest of a man that Robert Melford counted amongst his best friends, travelling with Melford’s son and daughter. What would Melford think of that? It was true that they had shaken hands and called a truce between the two families, but he had not been invited to dine with the lady of the house. Melford had hinted that his wife might not find it easy to forgive what had been done to her.

What exactly was that? Andrew wondered. He vaguely recalled his mother saying that his father had given his word to pay the King homage in London, but had broken from his guards and betrayed his promise. He was killed outside his home, but Andrew did not know the rest of the story. When the King summoned him to court he had been told that he would be given a chance to prove himself, but nothing concerning his father—or his father’s distant cousin, the lady Melissa—had ever been mentioned. It remained a mystery to this day, though he believed that it had had something to do with the Marquis of Leominster—and Harold of Meresham.

Did it matter? As far as he was concerned the feud was at an end, had died with Meresham. He liked Harry Melford and…there was something that appealed to him about the sister.

Catherine…her name was Catherine. For a moment a smile lurked about his mouth as he remembered the way she had looked up at him as he lifted her to her horse’s back. Had she felt the attraction between them as deeply as he had? Even at the fair, when their eyes had met so briefly, something had passed between them, and again in the village when he had flirted with her so wickedly. The memory of her lovely face had lingered on in his mind these past weeks. She had not forgotten him either. He would swear to it!

He sighed and shook his head, for he knew that it could not matter. She had stirred him in a way that few women ever had, but he must put the memory from his mind. She was not for him! He had done what he could to restore peace between his family and Melford’s, but he sensed that the mystery went much deeper than he knew. It was unlikely that Melford would agree to closer ties between their families. Andrew should not even consider such a thing. And indeed, why would he? He knew nothing of the girl other than that she made his pulses race and aroused a hot desire in his loins. He could pursue her, tempt her, but he accepted that Catherine of Melford was for marrying, not for seduction. He would be opening a nest of serpents if he thought of anything less than marriage as far as she was concerned. It was true she made him burn with a fierce need that he had never known before, but he doubted anything could come of his feelings. Melford might have declared the past forgotten, but he would not want his daughter to marry Andrew Gifford.

It would be far better simply to forget that he had ever seen the girl. It was a chance meeting, no more. He had felt something as he swept her off her feet, her own special perfume filling his nostrils, but no matter. To become involved with the daughter of Melford would bring bitter recriminations from his mother and involve endless trouble. His friendship with her brother could continue, but Catherine was not for him.

No, he must simply put her out of his mind…and yet in his heart he knew that would not be a simple thing to do, for somehow she had found a way to inflame his senses as no other woman ever had.

Catherine rose early the next morning. At home it was often her habit to ride or walk before she broke her fast. She did not wish to ride—she had ridden a long way the previous day—but a walk in the gardens would help to ease the stiffness in her limbs.

She wrapped herself in the dark blue velvet cloak she had worn for travelling, pulling the hood up over her head to keep out the chill wind that had blown up that morning. She decided to walk to the end of the parterre and then return. It was not so very far and yet it would give her an appetite.

She had discovered one white rose grimly clinging to life amongst the sheltered walks, and was bending to see if it had any perfume when she heard the crunch of someone walking on the gravel paths and glanced round. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the earl coming towards her.

‘Good morning, Mistress Melford,’ he said, his eyes moving over her. ‘I see you have also been taking the air?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Catherine replied. ‘I like to walk or ride in the mornings before I eat—and I rode far enough yesterday.’

‘You had quite a journey,’ Andrew agreed, his mouth curving slightly at the corners. Something about her made his heart race, causing him to forget his determination to put her from his mind. ‘You will feel stiff this morning, I dare say?’

‘Yes, a little,’ Catherine agreed. ‘We shall stay here for two days to rest the horses and ourselves.’

‘You are with friends,’ Andrew said. ‘I was glad of a place to stay last night, but I must go on today.’

‘Oh, must you…?’ Catherine was disappointed and she blushed as she knew it was evident in her tone. ‘I suppose you have business in London?’

‘None that is important,’ Andrew said. ‘But I must not impose on your friends. It was good of them to offer me hospitality for the night, but I cannot stay longer.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ Catherine said reluctantly. She looked at him and then away again quickly, because she did not wish him to see that she was affected by him. ‘Perhaps we shall meet again at court, sir?’

‘Yes, I am sure we shall,’ Andrew said. He moved forward, impulsively plucking the rose and giving it to her. ‘It is a shame to leave it to the frosts when it might do better at your breast. You outshine any rose, Mistress Melford. I shall think of you here as I ride on.’

‘Oh…’ The blush rose in her cheeks. ‘You should not say such things to me, sir.’

‘Should I not, Catherine?’ he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I dare say others will say far more once you are at court. You must take care, for there are rogues even amongst the King’s court.’ He bowed to her elegantly. ‘I wish you a safe journey and shall look forward to meeting you again.’

Catherine watched as he walked away from her. Her heart was beating very fast and she knew that she was smiling. She held the rose to her nose, inhaling its perfume. A strange warmth curled inside her, pooling low down in her abdomen. He made her feel so very odd, with a tingling sensation down her spine. What bold eyes he had! She thought that he was almost too attractive—perhaps a little dangerous—and she wished that she knew why his visit had seemed to make her mother uneasy. She was beginning to like him rather a lot, and she was not sure that it was a good idea to let herself think of the Earl of Gifford too often.

He was handsome and she found him attractive. He had shown her gallantry, but nothing in his manner had given her cause to hope that he intended more than a casual flirtation.

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