The Lord's Forced Bride

by Anne Herries

  ‘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 tha
t.’ 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

  C atherine 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.’