“Lollards; Your Majesty?” Wolf asked. He was unaware that the heretical group in London was so militant. “Do you expect violence?”
The king nodded. “There is always that possibility. A few religious fanatics... I’ve ordered a great deal of protection for my sister, but it will not be enough.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Marry her off. She needs a husband with the power and authority to protect her. Someone with lands and position,” the king said. “A duke.”
Westminster
Kit could tolerate only so many fittings and only so much gossip. The days dragged and on the afternoon when the king was due to arrive at Westminster, Rupert came looking for her just as she was about to explode from restlessness. He had organized a shooting match near the palace gates with several of Henry’s soldiers and thought Kit would like to join in. He knew the men would enjoy the novelty of seeing her shoot a bow. He had a vague recollection that she was rather good at it, he said.
Word traveled fast in the palace. When the ladies heard of Kit’s invitation to shoot with Rupert and some of the men, they heartily objected to being excluded and begged Rupert to let them join in. Catherine Beauvais, Katherine
Courtnay, Alice Trevelyan and Margaret Troyes dressed in their most colorful gowns, ordered a picnic and had their horses brought round.
“I wish I had my own bow,” Kit told Rupert as they rode toward the downs.
“Don’t worry—one of our bows will suit you.”
Kit could see the colorfully dressed ladies mingling with the soldiers, long before she and Rupert were even close by. She nearly laughed at them, so afraid were they at leaving Rupert alone with her.
“Ah, good,” Rupert said, studying the crowd ahead.
Kit raised an eyebrow.
“The ploy worked.” He gave her a sly look and seemed to debate within himself whether to disclose his secret.
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“Jackie Meaux,” he tilted his head in the direction of the group ahead. “She’s got word that her dear auntie on her mother’s side is sick...”
Kit took inventory of the women up ahead. There were Katherine Courtnay, Catherine Beauvais, Margaret and...Alice! “Why you conniving rotter!” she exclaimed, understanding dawning. “You sent Lady Jacqueline away so you could seduce Alice Trevelyan without interference!”
“Jackie’s a resilient soul,” he said, “She’ll live through it.”
“But that’s cruel, Rupert,” Kit said indignantly. “You can’t just...go through all of the ladies here at Westminster, picking them off one at a time, like targets. It’s unfair. Immoral. And plainly inconsiderate. Think of their feelings, their—”
“You’re all too tenderhearted, my Kit,” he laughed. “Not a one of them has any heart. Each one wants to seduce me. In her own way, of course. And I merely let them.”
“You are incorrigible, Rupert Aires.” She dug her heels into the little mare and rode on ahead. She couldn’t let him see that she knew he was right. Many of those ladies actually deserved Rupert.
Kit enjoyed herself tremendously, delving into the sport wholeheartedly to forget her worries. She was aware that the king would be returning soon and that before long she would learn his reasons for summoning her to London.
“You’re a better shot than I remembered, Kit!” Rupert said with a laugh when Kit’s arrow pierced the center of the target. He squeezed her shoulders, to the consternation of Lady Alice. “Let’s see you do that again,” he challenged.
She smiled at him, then placed her arrow in the notch. She pulled back and let the arrow fly. Everyone watched to see if it would make its mark.
“Dead center!” Rupert shouted, taking Kit’s face in his hands and kissing her.
“I’ve been practicing since you went away,” she replied, enjoying the fun. This was how she remembered Rupert. Lighthearted, laughing. She was so engrossed in the moment that it was some time before she noticed the entourage which was proceeding some distance away, down the thoroughfare towards the palace.
The king and queen rode among three hundred soldiers and several royal advisors. Wolf Colston was next to Henry, half listening to the king speak to his wife about the banquet which was to be held the following evening. Wolf was much more interested in planning his return to Windermere and had decided not to attend the king’s affair, if Henry would excuse him.
Wolfs wandering attention was caught by the activity of the archers in the glade west of the king’s entourage. There was no mistaking Lady Kathryn in the center of it all, and he witnessed her perfect shot. He also saw Rupert Aires kiss her.
Kit unmistakably put her hands on his arms and kissed him back.
Chapter Eleven
Lady Maude Teasdale informed Kit that the Earl of Langston, Edward Markham, would be calling on her that evening. She told Kit that the earl was one of Henry’s most trusted diplomats, who had returned from France only weeks before, and had arrived at Westminster with the king and his party that afternoon.
Langston was a white-haired man, old enough to be Kit’s grandfather. In one hand, he held a document rolled up and tied with a gold ribbon. “My dear Lady Kathryn. How good it is to meet you at last,” the gentleman said when she entered the room. “I must say—you are the very image of your mother.”
Kit’s nerves were already wound as tight as a bowstring, and his statement didn’t help. His words shocked Kit, but she maintained her composure. Just barely. No one ever spoke of her mother except Bridget.
“How do you do, sir?” she said quietly as she curtsied. She trembled slightly in anticipation of what the earl had come to say. “You knew my mother?”
“I knew both your parents.”
She reeled at his words. Both her parents? There wasn’t a person alive who admitted to knowing her mother’s first husband. “I was told you wanted to speak to me,” she said in a quiet voice, full of expectation now.
“Yes. The subject matter is somewhat delicate,” Langston said as he led Kathryn to a chair. “Why don’t you sit while we chat?”
Kit sat in a comfortable chair near the window and was so preoccupied with Langston’s visit, she hardly noticed the dramatic flood of deep purple irises growing in a bed of black earth right outside. Kit had no doubt that the earl was about to inform her of the reason for her summons to London, and she tried to master a suddenly queasy stomach. She had an odd sense of foreboding after his words about her parents.
“I knew your mother when she was here twenty years ago. She was a lively thing, and a bit difficult as well. For her father, I mean.”
“Are you saying that my mother was willful, sir?” Kit asked, her nerves abating slightly. The earl’s manner was direct and friendly and helped to put her at ease.
“To say the least,” he chuckled.
“Disobedient?” The very idea was intriguing. Bridget had never said anything negative about Meghan. As far as the old nurse was concerned, Meghan had been perfect. But what did all this have to do with King Henry V calling Kathryn to London?
“Suffice it to say that your mother was a lively girl, and a much-welcomed addition to the king’s court. You must realize that it was a difficult time, when Henry Hereford took the throne from Richard. Not everyone was supportive.”
Kit wanted to laugh at the earl’s understatement. A group of Richard’s supporters, who were supposedly loyal to Henry, attempted to assassinate the new king and his sons a few months after the coronation. And then it had happened again nearly a year later. It must have been an explosive time.
The earl continued, “However, his highness Henry IV was enjoying a great deal of success after ridding the country of King Richard. Lady Meghan Russell had arrived from Ireland just before the coronation, and she became enamored of Henry. Of course, there were many who loved Henry at that juncture.”
“My mother?” Kit laughed somewhat dubiously. It was ludicrous. “And the king?”
“She...we
ll, she appealed to him,” Lord Markham continued. “Many of the ladies vied for his attention, but he cared only for Lady Meghan. You must understand that there were a great many pressures on Henry then. He did not step into an easy role. It was up to the king to uphold the monarchy, to repair the wrongs done at court, to preserve—Well, I’ve strayed from the subject at hand.”
He untied the gold cord around the document and began to unroll it.
“There is no easy way to tell you this, Lady Kathryn,” Lord Markham said. “However, young King Henry desired that I be the one to inform you since I happened to be here at the time...knowing both your mother and the king.”
“Knowing my mother...and the king?” She looked doubtfully at the document which he placed before her and recognized the royal seal.
“Henry Hereford, King Henry IV, was your father,” he said.
She. shook her head to clear it. “King Henry Here-ford...?”
“Henry Monmouth—Henry V—is your brother,” he continued. “Half brother, actually.”
Kit stared at the parchment before her, as if it could speak, as though it could comment on what the earl had just told her. Then she looked up at him, disbelieving. It was impossible. Intolerable. Her mouth went dry. “No one ever said anything. Why now? Why has his majesty sent for me now?”
“Your father’s wishes were unknown until recently, when this document was discovered,” the gentleman told her. “The king was unable to marry your mother, though I can assure you that was his most desperate wish then. He chose Somerton as a safe place for both of you. The king was most concerned with your safety, especially since we seemed to be on the verge of civil war at the time. His enemies could easily have taken advantage, had they known of your existence. That is why your identity was kept secret.”
“But now...?” Kit brushed away a tear that had spilled onto her cheek. All those years of believing her father had been her mother’s husband, a nobleman who had died honorably somewhere... Yet Bridget had known, had tried to tell her in the end.
“This document was recently found among the old king’s papers. He mentions you, his daughter, several times.”
“Me. His daughter.” His bastard daughter, her heart cried out bitterly.
“Too many people are now aware of your existence. More will soon know your identity. There are many Lancastrian enemies who could take advantage of this information.”
“How?”
“The primary threat, of course, is abduction,” Lord Markham said.
“Are you saying that someone might try to abduct me?” she asked shakily.
He nodded. “That was why King Henry had you brought to London as soon as he verified the information in his father’s papers. To assure your safety.”
“But why should I believe this...this...paper?” she asked quietly. “Why should I accept your word that I...that I am a bastard?”
Lord Markham rolled the document and tied the gold cord around it. He wasn’t particularly satisfied with the way the interview had progressed, with Lady Kathryn so obviously distressed. She had mettle, though, he concluded. She hadn’t broken down, nor become hysterical. It had to be difficult to learn this sort of thing, though. That one’s whole life had been a lie. He certainly didn’t envy her.
“I was there, my lady,” he replied kindly. “Your father confided in me. Believe me when I say I have no wish, no motivation to cause offense or injury to you.”
She could see that his words were sincere, though it gave her little satisfaction. “What now?”
“The king, your brother, wishes that you marry.”
“Marry?” Kit cried.
“He has chosen a powerful man, the Duke of Carlisle, whom he trusts as a brother, to wed you.”
“I suppose this...duke...knows I’m a bastard?” she cried bitterly.
“His grace has been informed.”
“And he agrees?” she asked harshly, blinking back the tears. “He would marry a bastard?”
Lord Markham replied affirmatively.
“What if I refuse?”
“A royal subject does not refuse, Lady Kathryn,” he said. “You are the king’s sister. He is only doing what he deems best for your welfare, in compliance with your father’s wishes.”
“Which are...?”
“That you be wed according to your station. That you be protected.”
He gave Kit the opportunity to digest the proposal. She had no choice in the matter, and she had to realize it. When she was once more composed, he carried on with the king’s instructions.
“His majesty will not be able to openly acknowledge your relationship to him, although many already suspect it. He asks that you say nothing to confirm it, nor must you deny it, either. It is doubtful that you will be confronted to provide confirmation.”
“I go on as Kathryn Somers?”
“Rather, as the Duchess of Carlisle.”
She nodded hesitantly.
Lord Markham smiled then. “You will meet King Henry tomorrow, before the banquet. He has requested that you sit at his left hand, a place of honor.”
She nodded again. What else could she do? She was trapped.
Wolf argued as he walked with his cousin, Nicholas, outside the palace. It was the morning of the banquet, at which his elevation as Duke would be announced as well as his betrothal to the king’s sister. Of course, her relationship to the king would not be admitted publicly. Only Henry’s brothers and a select few of Henry’s advisors were aware of her existence. A few others suspected, but it would never be confirmed.
Wolf had known his recovery of Windermere had been too easy. His marriage to the king’s sister was the price. And he was determined to pay it.
“But Wolf—”
“It doesn’t matter, Nick,” Wolf said. “One woman will suit as well as any other. A close tie to the throne can’t hurt me.”
“But you’ve never set eyes on her, Wolf,” Nicholas protested. “How could you possibly agree to taking one of these damned Catherines to wife?”
“Just be glad his majesty didn’t make you duke,” he said sarcastically. “Then you would be the lucky bridegroom.”
“No, fortunately, I’ve only been made Viscount of Thornton. 1 can choose my own wife. Does the woman know yet?”
“Yes. I understand the lady was told last night.”
They heard voices in the distance. “My God,” Nicholas said as he stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth suddenly went dry as he stared straight ahead. “Who is—? Isn’t that Kit Somers?” he asked incredulously, indicating a woman sitting with a man some distance down the garden path.
She sat next to a man on a wooden bench with a cloud of delicate purple forget-me-nots and white irises at her feet. She wore a gown of jade green with a fitted, low-cut bodice, clearly delineating a narrow waist and pale breasts straining fashionably above the fabric of her gown. Her head was uncovered, and her alluring face was softly framed by curling golden tendrils. Cascades of lush blond curls tumbled down her back in total disarray, and the two men watched as her shoulders convulsed with weeping.
The woman in question was definitely Kit and recognition slammed through Wolf like a thunderbolt. She was the beautiful, sensuous woman from Somerton Lake. Chagrined, he realized that she had known who he was all along, though Kit had chosen not to reveal her identity to him.
But why? His heart pounded as he recalled that she had responded to his kiss with an abandon and a passion he’d never experienced in any other woman. It had been the same every time he’d kissed her, now that he thought of it. He was frustrated beyond reason as he watched her distraught form clinging to her companion. He wanted to go to her and comfort her as he had at Windermere. But he had no right. He was betrothed now, and she probably was, too, and nothing—Damnation! It was Rupert Aires whose shoulder she was drenching with her tears. Here was Kit’s reason for keeping her identity secret, he thought bitterly.
Wolf drew on all his powers of discipline in order to contro
l the urge to go to her, drag her away from Rupert and demand an explanation. His duty was to wed the king’s sister, whether he liked it or no and Kit Somers could only make it difficult. He had finally admitted to himself that he wanted her with a passion he’d never felt before, and he knew that his desire for Kit could only interfere with his marriage. He had promised to marry the king’s half sister, and Wolf was determined to do it. He would pay the price for Windermere, though it was higher than he had ever thought possible.
He had to get Kit out of his thoughts, or he knew the marriage would be untenable.
Kit soaked Rupert’s shirt with her tears. She realized she’d been crying a lot lately, and resolved to stop it. Not even when she was married to the Duke of... whatever... would she allow herself any tears.
“It will be all right, Kit,” Rupert said. “You’ll see.”
“But I always thought I’d wed you,” she cried. She couldn’t bear to tell him the true reason for her tears—the fact that she was a bastard, not the honorable offspring of lawfully wedded parents. That she bore the shame of having been disowned and sent away.
“Marry me?” He was aghast. Kit was more like a sister to him. True, they’d talked as children about being married to one another, but it had only been child’s play. Nothing serious. At least that was what he thought.
She nodded. “Until I came here and realized you weren’t at all what I thought you were.”
“Now, what exactly does that mean?” He feigned offense and pulled back from her. God, she’d grown up to be a beauty, Rupert thought as he looked down at her. Not that he’d want to marry her, but if she had anything else in mind—
“Just that you’re not a particularly good choice for a husband.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said with a grin, even as she bawled in his arms. “I’d hate to think anyone wanted me for such a horrifying purpose.”
“No,” she sniffled. “But...”
“But what?”
The Bride of Windermere Page 15
