The Lord's Forced Bride

by Anne Herries

  ‘Oh, do not say it.’ Catherine’s hand crept to her throat. ‘Do you think…?’

  ‘This is serious, because it means that Harry’s enemy may have decided to get to him through you,’ Andrew said, looking at her and then at Will. ‘I shall accompany you both to Mistress Catherine’s home, Shearer. In future you should not go out without at least two escorts, Catherine.’

  ‘But surely…?’ Catherine’s protest died as she saw the look in his eyes. ‘Who would want to do such a wicked thing?’

  ‘Gifford is right, your brother has an enemy, though whether it is Ronchester I have not be able to discover,’ Will told her. ‘We were fortunate that the earl happened to come this way, Catherine. Had he not, I might not have been able to prevent them snatching you.’

  ‘Yes, I realise that,’ Catherine said, feeling subdued. It had all happened so fast that she had not realised her danger until it was over. ‘I cannot thank you enough, sir.’

  ‘I did not even know it was you they attacked at first,’ Andrew told her truthfully. ‘I would have done as much for any lady in distress—but you must tell your brother what happened, and make sure that he sends sufficient escort with you tomorrow. I believe you were to spend the day with Lady Margaret?’

  ‘Yes, that is my intention,’ Catherine said. ‘I shall not let what happened this evening change my mind, sir. Besides, I am persuaded that, having been thwarted once, this person will not bother to try again.’ And she would not tell her brother just yet, because he would send her home for her own safety, and she did not wish to leave yet!

  ‘I wish that I could believe it,’ Andrew told her, looking concerned. ‘You will be safe enough with both of us this evening, but be careful, Catherine. I am not certain who your brother’s enemy is—but I believe him to be ruthless. There was the incident at the banquet when you ate something that made you ill, and then the attempt to murder your brother in the streets, the attack as you travelled to London—and now this. It cannot be a simple coincidence, which means that there may be further attacks, on you or your brother.’

  Will nodded, looking grave. ‘The earl is right, Catherine. Someone hates your brother sufficiently to harm him in any way he can. Harry must be told and something must be done before it is too late.’

  ‘I shall tell him,’ Catherine promised. She would tell Harry, but not until after the royal wedding, because she did not wish to miss it. She looked at Andrew and saw the anxiety in his face. ‘I think both my father and brother must want to thank you when they understand what you did this evening. My father comes to town soon, as it was only his illness that kept him from accompanying us.’

  ‘My actions were of little consequence, though I was glad to help Will as he fought them,’ Andrew replied, smiling at her. He reached out to touch her cheek lightly with his fingertips. ‘Do not be anxious. We shall think of some way to protect you both…and perhaps things will turn out as you wish, mistress.’ The touch of his hand made her tremble inwardly, but she managed to control her feelings. She must be discreet and not give way to the emotions sweeping through her.

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ she said, but did not give an answering smile.

  She was thoughtful as she continued the journey to her house, her companions also silent as they walked one on either side of her. Fortune had favoured her again that night. It seemed that Andrew of Gifford was destined to be there when she needed him most…perhaps that was an omen, a sign that they were meant to be together.

  Catherine had a growing feeling that it was her destiny to fall in love with Andrew Gifford. She did not know if it was her destiny to wed him, but she could only hope that something would happen to bring her her heart’s desire.

  Catherine had been unable to speak to Harry last night. He had not returned when she retired for the night, and she had been anxious as it was not like him to be so late. However, when she woke in the morning her serving woman brought her a message from him. He had sent word that he had been delayed at the palace and would not see her until after the wedding. His best robes had been sent to the palace, where he would change for the procession.

  Catherine stared at the letter for some minutes. The messenger had not stayed for a reply, which meant that she had no way of telling Harry that someone had tried to abduct her the night before, or that the Earl of Gifford had saved her. Perhaps she ought to have sent word the previous night? She had wanted to keep it to herself, but now she wondered if she ought to have sent her brother a message. The attempt to abduct her had failed, but that might lead to another attack on Harry himself.

  She was thoughtful as she dressed for the day, donning her best gown, a mantle of rich crimson velvet, a cap of gold threads and the gold chain set with pearls before she left home. Since she would need her horse to follow the procession, Catherine’s groom had it ready for her when she left the house. She had asked for an escort of two grooms, and they were ready to accompany her to Lady Margaret’s house, where she would join her hostess’s party in the procession.

  She arrived at Lady Margaret’s house safely, and dismissed her grooms so that they might be free to enjoy the celebrations. She would not need them, since she would be with Lady Margaret’s party. Her brother would come for her at the end of the festivities and he would see them safely home. Besides, she was confident that the danger to her had passed. The attempt to kidnap her had been thwarted. Harry’s enemy would need to think of some other plan, and her anxiety was more for her twin than herself, but there was nothing she could do for the moment. Surely whoever it was would not dare to attempt anything until after the royal wedding? As she went into the house to join the others, Catherine had decided to put the events of the previous evening from her mind.

  She would be in the company of some twenty other ladies. They were to ride in the rear of the procession to the Cathedral, behind the nobles and lords who attended the royal party, and they would be attended by Lady Margaret’s servants, who would take care of the horses when they took their places inside to watch the ceremony.

  Afterwards, there would be a feast at Lady Margaret’s home, which would be attended by nearly a hundred guests. It was just one of many private feasts because there were so many nobles and their ladies in London, people having travelled from all parts of the country, that not everyone could attend the royal banquet.

  Catherine was pleased to be a guest at a private affair. She knew that Will Shearer and Lady Anne would not be at the palace and with her brother kept busy by his duties to the King, she would have been alone a great deal of the time. Much better to be with friends, especially after what had happened to her the previous night.

  The ladies were in a merry mood, welcoming Catherine to their midst and complimenting her on her looks, though she sensed that some of their smiles were false. However, she was determined to enter the mood of the day, and smiled and laughed with her new friends as they prepared to take their place at the end of the procession.

  ‘We shall join once the royal party has passed by,’ Lady Margaret told them. ‘And I believe I can already hear the heralds.’

  Even as she spoke, there was a fanfare of trumpets and the ladies hurried to mount their horses as the great procession came into view. At the front came the heralds and other dignitaries dressed in gorgeous costumes that proclaimed their rank, and then the royal family, followed by a host of richly dressed nobles. It was an impressive sight, for the King had commanded that no expense be spared.

  Catherine caught sight of her brother and the Earl of Gifford, riding just behind the King, Prince Arthur and Princess Katherine of Aragon. She waved, as the other ladies did, but her brother was staring straight ahead and did not see her. She thought that perhaps the earl might have noticed her but he did not acknowledge them as some of the other gentlemen did, and she thought that he looked stern.

  She was thoughtful as she took her position with the other ladies, finding herself almost at the back of the party, because she was of lower rank than most of the wome
n, who were married to important nobles. As a maiden, she was thought unimportant and therefore one of the last. However, a host of servants, grooms and then common folk on foot were behind her and the atmosphere was such a good one that she felt quite happy to be amongst the people. They were determined to enjoy this day, as the King’s generosity had ensured that there would be food and ale for all, and in various sites all over London there was already the smell of roasting oxen.

  Catherine smiled, feeling excited and happy as she watched the celebrations. The events of the previous evening faded from her mind, because today was such a joyous occasion and she was determined to enjoy it, even if she knew that her brother would probably send her home as soon as he knew about the incident the previous evening.

  Catherine found the wedding ceremony moving. Her heart went out to the young Spanish princess, standing there so proudly as she took her vows. She had been given no choice in the matter of her marriage, and she had had to leave her own country and come to England, where hardly anyone would understand her language. Yet she seemed serene and calm as she took the vows that made her wife to the heir of England’s throne.

  It made Catherine feel very humble to think of how uneasy the princess must have been when her father told her she was to marry the King of England’s son. Had she wept into her pillow at night, because her heart was given to another? Or had she accepted her fate gracefully with a smile on her lips?

  Watching the dignified way in which the princess accepted her duty, Catherine realised how lucky she was that her father had not told her she must marry a man she did not know. He had suggested that she should marry Will Shearer, a man she found she liked, but he had not insisted on the match. If only Andrew would speak, her father might agree to their union. Surely he would after what had happened the previous night?

  As she watched the princess take her vows, Catherine realised how much she would like to marry the man she had already begun to love.

  Catherine was reflective as she followed the other ladies from the great cathedral after the wedding. They were all chattering and laughing, but she did not feel like joining in their merriment. She allowed one of the grooms to help her mount her horse, one hand loosely on the reins as she rode at the rear of the procession. Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice that she was lagging behind the others, and that only one groom remained nearby. She did not even notice that it was her own groom, Dickon, whom she had previously dismissed and told to mingle with the crowds and enjoy himself.

  Catherine knew that it was foolish of her to have fallen in love with Andrew of Gifford. She did not even know if he truly cared for her. She ought to have been a dutiful daughter and made an effort to encourage Will…even though she did not love him.

  She was not even aware of the fracas in the street until someone called her name. Coming to herself, she suddenly realised that she had been surrounded by a rowdy crowd who seemed angry about something and were shouting, waving their fists and throwing things. She was startled, because the mood of the people had been so friendly earlier, but these people were hostile. She looked round for her friends and discovered that they were some distance ahead of her. The groom who had stayed close was also surrounded by the jeering mob, and as she wondered what to do, a man on a horse pushed his way through them, grabbing hold of Catherine’s reins, and urging her to follow.

  Catherine obeyed. The man was dressed in the robes of a noble and seemed to have her safety at heart. She let him lead her horse out of the noisy rabble, feeling thankful that someone had noticed she was in trouble.

  Instead of following the wake of the procession, he turned into one of the side streets, which was almost deserted except for an old crone sweeping the path outside her door.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Catherine called. ‘I must meet my friends at Lady Margaret’s house.’

  The man looked back, smiling at her. He was pleasant to look upon and had a friendly smile, which made her feel that perhaps she might trust him to see her to safety. ‘There are riots all along that route, mistress. Trust me, I shall see you safely to your destination.’

  Catherine looked at him hesitantly, for, though he seemed harmless, she did not recall having met him at court. ‘Who are you, sir? I do not think we have met?’

  ‘I am a friend of the Earl of Gifford,’ the man told her. ‘He sent me to watch out for you, and it is as well he did, for your friends paid no heed when the trouble started.’

  Catherine’s doubts were eased. If this man had been sent by Andrew of Gifford to watch over her there was no need to worry…

  Chapter Seven

  A ndrew dismounted as he reached the courtyard of Lady Margaret’s house. It was past six of the clock in the evening and he had not been able to escape his royal duties until now, but he was looking forward to seeing Catherine. He knew that her brother was still delayed at the royal banquet, and indeed he must return there before too long himself. He had slipped away as soon as the chance presented itself, because he wanted to see the lady who was so constantly in his thoughts.

  As he went into the house he was immediately aware that several of the guests had imbibed too freely of their hostess’s good wine and were intoxicated. One lady grabbed him as he passed, trying to implant a kiss on his mouth, but he pushed her firmly to one side. He was in no mood for such behaviour. Glancing around the huge chamber, he failed to see the lady he sought and frowned.

  Seeing Lady Margaret speaking to a gentleman, he went up to her and made his bow. ‘Madam, I do not see Mistress Melford here. Has she left already?’

  ‘Catherine…’ Lady Margaret looked around the room. It had not occurred to her before, but she suddenly realised that the girl had not been with them when they returned from the wedding ceremony. ‘I have not see her since we left the cathedral…’

  ‘What do you mean, you have not seen her?’ Andrew demanded. ‘She was your guest, madam. It was your duty to look after her. I particularly requested it of you.’

  ‘I had assumed she had decided to join her brother after all,’ Lady Margaret said with a guilty flush, though in truth she had forgotten all about Catherine. ‘I shall ask if anyone else has seen her.’

  She went off to question some of the other ladies. Andrew did the same of the gentlemen present, but either they did not know Catherine or they had not seen her. He was grim as Lady Margaret came back to him.

  ‘No one remembers seeing her after we left the cathedral. I shall send someone to inquire amongst the grooms. I seem to remember that she rode at the back of the procession, but the grooms must have seen her.’

  ‘I think you should make those inquiries with all speed,’ Andrew told her, barely keeping his temper in check. If anything had happened to Catherine, he would blame himself, for it was at his suggestion that she had been invited to join Lady Margaret’s guests. ‘It seems to me that Mistress Melford has been missing for some hours.’

  ‘She was not at the palace…’ Lady Margaret suddenly awoke to the seriousness of the situation. ‘Good grief! Some accident must have befallen her on the way back here.’ Her hand crept to her throat. ‘I promised her brother I would look after her. He will never forgive me.’

  ‘I shall speak to your grooms, madam,’ Andrew said, giving her a curt nod of the head as he turned to leave the room. His mind was searching for an explanation as he went outside. Could Catherine have grown tired of her company and decided to go home? It seemed unlikely, although he suspected that she could be reckless and headstrong. Yet there had already been one attempt to kidnap her!

  Andrew was uneasy as he went in search of Lady Margaret’s servants. Surely one of them must have seen something…

  ‘Where are we going?’ Catherine demanded as the man leading her horse continued apace through the fast-gathering gloom. ‘I do not believe that this is the way to Lady Margaret’s house. I have never been to this part of the city before.’

  She was suddenly afraid, because she sensed that she had fallen into a trap.
Andrew of Gifford had not sent this man, for if he had she would even now be with her friends. She knew that she was being kidnapped and she would not believe that the earl was concerned in the plot, though they had used his name to gain her trust. If he had wanted her to elope, he would have spoken to her face to face! He had warned her to be careful and she ought to have kept her father’s grooms close by, but she had wanted to give them time to enjoy the celebrations. Too late, she realised how foolish she had been. Lady Margaret’s groom might have helped her, but he had been surrounded by the mob. Besides, his loyalty was not to her, but his mistress.

  Catherine tugged at the reins, trying to wrest them from the man’s grasp, but he had attached some kind of rope to secure them and she could not wrench them from his tight hold. Indeed, the pace at which they rode was so swift that she could do no more than cling on for dear life. Besides, they had gone too far and she was lost. This part of the city seemed dark and sinister as there were scarcely any lights above the houses, the old buildings were decaying and the street was steeped in the stench of the filth born of misery and despair. As she looked about her, she began to realise that the people here were dressed in rags, their faces grey and their eyes sunken.

  Her captor, for she recognised him as such now, had begun to slow at last. She was aware of hostility in the eyes of the small crowd that had come out of their hovels to stare at her sullenly.

  ‘Where have you brought me?’ she asked as the man dismounted and came to her, gesturing that she should get down. ‘Let me go home, sir. I beg you to have mercy. My brother will pay you well if you take me back.’

  ‘And he would cut my throat,’ the man replied, gesturing to one of the houses. ‘He paid me for you, lady, and awaits within. Come, we waste time!’