The Lord's Forced Bride

by Anne Herries

  Catherine nodded, for she had not liked the Earl of Ronchester or the way he had looked at her on a previous occasion. However, she said nothing, because she had no intention of allowing Ronchester to come near her if she could help it. As they entered the great banqueting hall, her attention was drawn to her surroundings.

  Once again the hall had been set with trestles and boards, and the huge chamber was overflowing with richly dressed nobles and their ladies. Catherine waited for her brother to lead the way, discovering that they were seated closer to the royal board this time. She took her seat next to him, and there was a young gentleman sat to her left. He smiled at her, but said nothing, turning to speak to his companion almost at once, and leaving Catherine free to look about her.

  She glanced towards the high table and saw that the princess sat quietly watching what went on around her, acknowledging the toasts and good wishes that came her way, but eating little. She decided to follow her example, refusing all but the plainest of food, although dish after dish of delicious trifles were brought to them. Harry did the same and she was relieved that this time she did not suffer any sickness. Towards the end of the feasting the musicians began to play and a place was cleared so that the dancing could begin.

  Catherine watched as the royal pair began the dancing, the princess acquitting herself well. Once she and the prince returned to their places, the dancing began in earnest. Watching, Catherine’s eyes grew bright with excitement, and her toes tapped to the music.

  ‘Will you dance, Catherine?’

  She got up as Will offered his hand, taking it and feeling pleased as he led her into the throng of merry dancers. Everyone had grouped into little circles, joining hands as they danced into the middle and out again, then one pair broke ranks and crossed the circle to twirl their partner round and round before going back to their places. The next couple did the same thing and then the next until each lady had danced with each man, and then they linked hands once more and began to circle again. As Catherine went into the middle of the circle once more, she suddenly found that the Earl of Gifford was grasping her hands.

  ‘I trust you are enjoying yourself, Mistress Catherine?’

  ‘Why, yes, sir,’ Catherine said and smiled at him. The dance had made her a little careless and she could not help laughing as he whirled her around, his hands squeezing hers meaningfully before they parted, and she returned to the circle once more.

  She was aware of him watching her as the circle spun round, her heart beating very fast. Somehow when she went forward to meet her next partner, he was there again to catch her, whirling her round and round once more. She looked into his eyes, her breath catching in her throat, for she knew that somehow he had changed places with the man who should have met her in the middle. He said nothing this time, but his expression made her heart race wildly.

  When the circles broke up, Catherine found him at her side, and before she could say anything, he had seized her hand and was pulling her back into the throng of dancers. This time it was not a country dance, but a more graceful performance to haunting music, where the gentleman bowed and the lady curtsied, parading together, their feet pointing, one arm extended elegantly.

  ‘I think you did not ask if I wished to dance, sir,’ Catherine said, a note of reproof in her voice, though the shine in her eyes told another story. ‘Nor did you behave as you ought just now.’

  ‘Would you have danced with me had I done so?’ Andrew asked, his gaze so intense that her heart jerked with fright. ‘I thought you might still be angry with me for teasing you. Forgive me, I could not resist the impulse.’

  Oh, he should not look at her like that, Catherine thought. It made her feel odd, and her stomach clenched with a strange sensation she did not recognise. Why did she feel as if her whole body was melting, as if she wanted him to hold her in his arms and never let her leave him? But this was foolishness! She must not let her feelings lead her astray. She did not know how he felt about her, and she was not sure that a match between them would meet with her father’s approval. Once again she wondered about the quarrel between her father and his. If only she knew whether or not it was serious.

  ‘Are you angry with me?’ he asked, as she did not answer immediately.

  Catherine curtsied as the dance demanded, gazing up into his eyes as she rose once more to join hands and progress down the floor behind the other dancers. ‘I am not angry, sir. How could I be?’

  Her eyes said so much that she dared not. She knew that had he not been so bold she might have felt obliged to refuse him. Her duty to her father demanded that she refuse, but how could she regret what he had done? It was such joy to be with him, even for this short while, that her heart was singing.

  ‘I know that you feel as I do,’ Andrew said, moving in closer, his hand lightly at her waist as he turned in a little circle, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘But there was once a quarrel between your father and mine.’

  ‘I…know…’ she said, a catch in her throat. ‘Though I do not know why they quarrelled—do you?’

  ‘Your father said it was over something my father did that harmed your mother, but he would say no more than that when we spoke. We have made up our differences, and my mother has ceased to opportune the King for reparation of our loss—but I am not certain that your mother would accept me as her daughter’s suitor.’

  ‘I think that your visit made her uneasy…but Harry likes you and he is her favourite.’

  ‘What are we to do, Catherine?’

  ‘I…do not understand you,’ she answered, her heart beating so fast that she could scarcely breathe.

  ‘I think you understand me well enough,’ Andrew said as the music came to an end. This time he did not attempt to capture her hand, but merely looked steadily into her eyes for a moment or two. ‘You must think carefully, Catherine, as I shall. For unless you bid me, I shall not give you up. I believe that this was meant to be—that we were destined to meet.’

  Catherine’s stomach fluttered as she saw the burning look in his eyes, but she said nothing as he bowed and left her. Did he mean he loved her? Was he saying that he wished to marry her? Or was it more of his teasing? She could not be certain. For a moment she stood indecisively, wondering what to do, but then Will came up to her, smiling at her.

  ‘Do not look so anxious, Catherine,’ he said. ‘Come, dance with me again. Enjoy yourself while you can. In a few days you will return to your home and it may be years before you see such a celebration again.’

  ‘Yes, willingly, sir.’

  Catherine took his hand, letting him draw her into the throng of merry revellers. This time the Earl of Gifford did not join them and she danced with all her partners, laughing as she was whirled round and round, passing from one to the other and thoroughly enjoying herself.

  It was not until an hour or so after the dancing had begun that she turned to find herself staring into the cold eyes of the Earl of Ronchester.

  ‘Mistress Melford,’ he said making her a slight bow. ‘Will you dance?’

  ‘I thank you for the offer, sir,’ Catherine said. ‘But I believe I have danced enough for the moment. Excuse me, I must find my brother…’ She turned to leave, but Ronchester’s hand snaked out, catching hold of her arm. ‘I pray you, let me go, sir.’

  ‘Damn you for being a proud bitch,’ Ronchester snarled. ‘Both you and that brother of yours will be sorry before I’ve done with you!’

  Catherine shivered as she watched him walk away. She looked desperately for her brother, but could not see him. Glancing round, she saw the Earl of Gifford talking to a beautiful woman with dark blonde hair. She was smiling up at him, the look in her eyes clearly inviting. He seemed to be intent on her and unaware of Catherine’s eyes upon him. She felt a little pang of hurt, because he had no right to flirt with her and then look at another lady that way!

  ‘Catherine…’ She turned as Will Shearer spoke to her. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘The Earl of Ronchester as
ked me to dance. I refused and it made him angry.’

  ‘I dare say it would,’ Will said. ‘But it was the sensible thing to do.’

  ‘Yes.’ Catherine sighed. ‘Do you know that lady—the one with the Earl of Gifford?’

  ‘She is Lady Henrietta Salmons. I know she is wealthy, for her late husband left her a fortune.’

  ‘Oh…’ Catherine bit her lip. ‘She is beautiful.’

  ‘They say she has a temper. I do not think I should like to be her husband even if she has beauty and wealth.’ Will saw that Catherine was distressed. ‘She cannot hold a candle to you in my opinion.’

  ‘Oh, Will,’ Catherine said and laughed up at him. ‘She is far prettier, but thank you for saying it.’

  ‘You have not forgotten you are to dine with us tomorrow? I shall come for you in the afternoon as you may wish to sleep later in the morning.’

  Catherine thanked him once more and then saw Harry coming towards her. He beckoned to her and she knew that he was ready to leave.

  ‘Say your farewells,’ he told her as she went to him. ‘I think we should leave now, if you are ready?’

  ‘Yes, Harry, quite ready.’

  She glanced towards the Earl of Gifford and saw that he was dancing with Lady Henrietta. Her heart seemed to be aching, but she tried not to allow the jealous thoughts into her mind. Andrew had flirted with her earlier, but she would be foolish to imagine it meant more than it did. She accompanied her brother from the room, refusing to let her eyes catch Andrew’s as she turned for one more look.

  He had seemed to tell her that he cared for her, but something in Lady Henrietta’s manner told Catherine that the other woman considered the Earl of Gifford her property.

  Catherine’s thoughts were uneasy as she tried to sleep that night. She could not forget the way she had felt as she danced with Andrew, nor the look in his eyes as he had asked her what they must do. She had imagined he was asking if she were brave enough to marry him if her parents were against the match, but now she thought that she must have read too much into his words. Perhaps he merely wanted a flirtation?

  He had seemed to be intent on listening to what Lady Henrietta had to say, and the look on her face told Catherine that she wanted him. Her manner was assured, as if she believed that he was hers to command—and perhaps he was.

  Catherine had met Andrew Gifford only a few times. His bold eyes made her tremble inside, and she would always be grateful for what he had done for Harry—but she was not sure if he truly cared for her. Sometimes he seemed to say that he liked her very well, but at other times she thought that he was merely teasing her.

  She tossed restlessly in her bed, because it was all so confusing. Andrew had mentioned the quarrel between his father and hers—but he knew little more than she. Something his father had done had harmed her beloved mother. She would normally have felt anger and resentment against anyone who had harmed someone she loved, but it was not Andrew’s fault. Surely he could not be blamed for an old feud. Besides, he had made peace with her father.

  If Andrew were to ask her to marry him, her father would surely agree? Or would he forbid it, as Lady Anne had seemed to imply? If that happened, it would break her heart.

  Catherine sighed deeply. She ought not to allow herself to think of these things. She did not even know if Andrew Gifford liked her enough to ask her father for her in marriage. Having seen him with Lady Henrietta, she knew that it was very unlikely that he would want to marry Catherine when he could have a woman like that…

  ‘How can you speak to me that way?’ Henrietta stared at Andrew angrily. ‘After what we have been to each other? I refuse to be cast off as if I were a tavern wench! You cannot break your promises to me!’

  ‘I made you no promises,’ Andrew said, tight-lipped, as he looked at her angry face. She was beautiful, but looked ugly as she raged at him in the privacy of her chamber, her eyes glinting in the candle glow. ‘I know that there was a time that I may have allowed you to think our affair might be more one day, and I apologise for that, Henrietta—but it cannot be.’

  ‘Why? I demand that you give me an explanation! Is there another woman? There must be or you would not offer me such insults!’

  ‘I do not mean to insult you,’ Andrew said. ‘I am sorry if you think that I have deceived you, but I cannot marry you. I do not love you.’

  ‘What has love to do with marriage?’ she demanded furiously. ‘Besides, you led me to believe that you cared. You said many things to me when we lay together. I consider that you made me a promise of marriage.’

  ‘Forgive me, but you deceive yourself, lady. I made no such promise and I do not intend to continue our relationship. I should wish to remain your friend…’

  ‘No!’ Henrietta’s green eyes blazed with fury, her lips thin and unforgiving. ‘I shall not be your friend, sir. I shall not forgive you for what you have done!’

  ‘Then I am sorry we part in this way,’ Andrew said. ‘I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me in time.’

  ‘Your lands lie next to the ones I inherited from my late husband,’ Henrietta said. ‘Had we wed, mine would have been yours, making you one of the more powerful lords in the county. Have you thought what you will lose by rejecting me?’

  ‘I regret that I have disappointed you, madam.’

  Andrew turned his back on her, leaving the room before he lost his temper. He regretted that he had ever made her his mistress. He had never spoken of marriage, but he had known that she considered it was only a matter of time before he proposed—and perhaps it might have been had he not met Mistress Catherine Melford.

  Andrew was not yet certain of his intentions regarding Catherine, but he did know that, after this evening, he could never marry Lady Henrietta. He had tried to let her down kindly, but she had flown into a rage. He knew that she could be spiteful, and decided that he must be careful at court. If Henrietta saw that he was interested in Catherine, she might vent her spite on her. He must not show Catherine too much attention while she was still at court. He could only hope that Henrietta would decide to take herself off to her estates soon.

  Catherine spent the next morning at her embroidery, and in the afternoon she dined with Will and Lady Shearer at their house. As before they had several guests, though Lady Margaret was not amongst them.

  ‘You are promised to Lady Margaret tomorrow,’ Will said as he escorted her home again after dusk that evening. ‘So I shall not see you until the day after the wedding. I shall call on you then, Catherine, for we must talk. I am due to return home in a few days.’

  Catherine looked at him, wondering what was on his mind, but before she could ask him, three ruffians with cudgels suddenly attacked them. One of the rogues grabbed her arm and tried to drag her with him, but Will had drawn his sword and set about attacking them. He was hard put to it to defend her, for the other two came at him with their stout sticks and he could not assist her.

  Catherine screamed, kicking and fighting her assailant as he tried to drag her with him. She used her nails, clawing at the ruffian’s face and yelling all the time as she fought bravely. Yet he was succeeding in dragging her away despite her efforts and might have bundled her into a covered wagon that was drawn up nearby had another gentleman not suddenly joined the fray. He drew his sword and charged at the man fighting with Catherine, giving such a ferocious yell that the man turned to him in sudden fright, losing his hold on her sufficiently for Catherine to break free. The newcomer slashed at her attacker, wounding him in the arm. He screamed with pain, dropping to his knees and begging for pity.

  Meanwhile, the pair attacking Will had realised that they were no longer having their own way and suddenly turned tail, disappearing into the darkness of the streets. He came up to the newcomer, grinning as he saw that he had his sword point at the throat of the man who had attempted to abduct Catherine.

  ‘Kill him and have done with it, Gifford!’

  ‘Nay, he may have information to give us,’
Andrew said, his expression grim. ‘From what I saw, this was not merely a robbery. Whoever they were, they wanted Catherine.’ He looked down at the rogue who was now sobbing. ‘Stand up like a man, you dolt! Tell me who you are and why you were trying to abduct the lady.’

  ‘He paid us…’ the man blubbered. ‘He said he meant her no harm, sir. He loves her and wants to wed her.’

  ‘You lie!’ Andrew said, his tone severe. ‘No lover would behave thus to the woman he cares for—tell us the truth or I shall kill you!’

  ‘I do not know his name,’ the man replied; he was shaking with fear for he saw his death in his conqueror’s eyes. ‘He paid me five silver pieces and promised more if I succeeded in bringing her to him.’

  ‘Very well,’ Andrew said, taking hold of him by the arm, which caused the man to cry out in pain once more. ‘Stop whining, rogue. You will die for what you did today. Kidnap is a hanging offence and you deserve your punishment.’

  ‘No!’ Catherine cried, coming towards them. ‘Hanging is too cruel, sir. I beg you do not…’

  Andrew turned as she approached, and in that instant the ruffian broke free of his grasp and was off like a scared rabbit, disappearing into the gloom of the narrow medieval streets. Andrew swore beneath his breath, but decided not to give chase, for the lanes and alleys were filthy warrens where the dregs of humanity lived. A man in his position would be a fool to enter them without sufficient escort, though he had done so at times when his work for the King took him to even those dens of vice and villainy.

  He glanced at Catherine. ‘That was not wise, mistress. It would have been better had I taken him to the prison where he would have been forced to tell us the truth. He will run back to his master for protection, though whether he will find it I do not know.’

  ‘It does not matter now, for you saved me,’ Catherine said, her face pale. ‘I cannot think he will try such a wicked thing again—why should he?’

  ‘It may have been the same man who tried to have your twin killed,’ Will reminded her. ‘Your kidnap would cause your parents great grief, to say nothing of Harry. He would be distraught if you were harmed. Anyone who has seen you together would know that.’