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Chapter One

April, 1588

Ashbourne Hall

Hexham, Northumberland, on the border of England and Scotland

“I think we can both agree, Lord Belton, that your marriage to Constance, my eldest daughter, will being many benefits for both of our families,” said Lord Richard Ashbourne, Viscount of Hexham, in honeyed tones. He was sitting in his favorite armchair next to the hearth in his private study at Ashbourne Manor, his family seat, a half-drunk glass of claret in his bony hand.

The Earl of Huntingford, George Belton, who was lounging in the armchair opposite the Viscount, nodded with obvious enthusiasm. “Indeed, Lord Ashbourne, I do heartily agree,” he replied, patting his paunch almost gleefully. His rubbery, liver-colored lips widened to reveal large, yellowing teeth. “As you know, I wish for an heir, and I am certain that Constance will give me many fine sons.”

Constance, who was perched stiffly on the very edge of a wooden settle a few feet away, with her hands clasped in her lap, feared she might be sick. She struggled to conceal the revulsion she felt towards the Earl as his pale, bloodshot eyes roved lasciviously over her from head to toe. He put her in mind of a hungry wolf about to devour his prey.

His insolent appraisal was a gross insult of the sort which would normally entitle any noble lady like herself to slap the Earl’s face and sweep from the room in high dudgeon. But however much Constance would have liked to do both of those things, she remained calmly in her seat, putting up with his lewd stare. For she was there at the command of Lord Ashbourne, the man whom, until very recently, she had believed unquestioningly to be her father, and she knew from bitter experience that to rouse his ire would bring harsh punishment.

She looked at him, the fine English gentleman who was supposed to protect her, at his hard features, and wondered if he had a heart at all in that bony chest of his. She thought not. How else could he have spent the previous twenty years raising her as his daughter alongside his two other children, and allow the Earl’s insulting behavior. By appearing to ignore it, he made his lack of affection plain.

But what did she expect? It was more likely to expect angels to descend from heaven and bear her away than to expect any protection or consideration from him. He cared nothing for her and never had. In his mind, she was naught but a useful gaming piece, to be deployed to his advantage in his relentless quest to enrich himself.

Truly, she heartily despised the man who had raised her, who claimed she was his daughter, and who wished to shackle her to this debauched man who was old enough to be her grandfather. Lord Ashbourne had always regarded her and his younger daughter Amelia as nothing more than his property, to be disposed of as he wished. Hence his plan to wed her to the influential Lord Belton.

She sat between the two men, vaguely listening while they decided her future as though she were no more a human being than the coalscuttle by the grate. Unpleasant though it was, she remained outwardly calm. Reaching inside her shawl, she touched the golden locket hanging there. It had been her mother’s. She had given it to Constance just before she had died sixteen years before. Constance treasured it and never took it off.

Now, it offered her comfort and strength, for it seemed the embodiment of the crucial, secret knowledge she had lodged in her heart for the last three months — a knowledge that would save her from marrying the Earl. For Constance had found out that Lord Richard Ashbourne had no true right to sell her in marriage. Indeed, legally, he had no claim to her as his daughter in any way. For the simple reason that he was not her father at all.

Her mind went back to that revelatory evening when she had accidentally overheard Lord Ashbourne talking with his oldest and most trusted friend, Lord Lionel Morton, in the manor gardens. Her life had been dramatically upended.

“The truth must never be known. She cannot find out who her real father is, not ever! If it ever got out, my reputation would be ruined, the Earl would call off the wedding, and I would lose the valuable business connections he has promised me as part of the marriage agreement. Not to mention how her true father might react if he were to find out who his daughter is engaged to. It must go ahead,” Lord Ashbourne had said vehemently.

“You are worrying too much, my friend. You only found out the truth yourself about Constance years after Eleanor had had her, and I’m the only one you’ve told about her affair with this Scottish laird, this Ewan Kerr. How could anybody else discover it now?” Lord Lionel had asked.

“Kerr has no idea that I know the truth about what happened between him and my wife all those years ago. He is unaware that I know she gave birth to twin daughters while I was away at court. Upon my return, it was easy for them to fool me into believing Constance was my child, while he took the other twin back to Scotland to raise as his own. They called her Agnes.”

The initial shock had died away with time, but those words from Lord Ashbourne remained impressed in Constance’s mind.

The Earl’s soft, plummy voice slithered into her consciousness, pulling her back to the present. “It is a union devoutly to be wished for, Lord Ashbourne,” he was saying, his eyes still crawling all over Constance. She stoically ignored him. “And since the King himself has given the union his blessing, I can see no reason why the ceremony cannot go ahead at the earliest opportunity.”

“Very good, then it is settled,” Lord Ashbourne replied, his thin lips stretching into an approximation of a smile. As always, Constance noticed, it lacked any genuine warmth. “Shall we say the wedding can take place six weeks from now? That should be sufficient time for the banns to be read and all the arrangements to be made.”

Plan all you like, you vile creatures, this wedding will never take place. For in six weeks’ time, I shall be long gone. I shall be living in Scotland with my twin sister Agnes, under the protection of my true father, Laird Ewan Kerr.

If they’ll have me.

***

Naturally Constance had been shaken to her very core by the revelations when she had discovered the truth.

Could it be true, she had asked herself over and over. Could her mother really have had an affair with that Laird Ewan Kerr twenty years before, and was he her father? Did she really have an identical twin sister called Agnes?

It was almost impossible to believe her mother could have done such a scandalous thing. Constance treasured many fond memories of her beautiful, gentle mother, who had passed away from an illness when Constance was but eight years old. The very idea of that gracious lady indulging in some sort of extra-marital romantic liaison with any man, let alone a Scottish laird, seemed outlandish.

If she had, then it would have been a betrayal of not just her husband, but of her family and country as well. The rebellious Scots were the enemies of the English Crown, and the Ashbourne family had sworn to fight for and uphold that Crown for over a century. Her mother would never have broken her sacred vows and willingly participated in such a terrible betrayal of her husband and family with a Scotsman. Would she?

She might if she loved him. She could not imagine how mother must have suffered being married to Lord Ashbourne. Perhaps she was very unhappy and sought solace in the arms of her true father. Thinking of it like that, the idea suddenly seemed very romantic.

Poor, dear Mother, perhaps she had felt she deserved a little happiness.

But Constance had been raised to believe that all Scots were brutes and savages, and it puzzled her greatly that her mother could have loved such a man. She wondered what he was like, her true father. He had given up one of his daughters and kept her mother’s secret, to protect her reputation, all these years. It did not seem to Constance like the sort of thing a brute or a savage would do.

All her life she had felt something was missing, as if she had somehow mislaid a part of herself, but she could never put her finger on it.

But now I know, I have a twin sister! Agnes is the part I have been missing!

How exciting it all was!

She was consumed with curiosity to see Agnes, to meet and talk with this Scottish lass who supposedly looked so like her. She had been dreaming of going to find her sister but knew Lord Ashbourne would never sanction it. Obedience to him was so ingrained in her, she had not though she would ever have had the courage to do it on her own.

But now, with the wedding to Earl Belton due to take place in six weeks’ time, the decision had been made for her.

I must go. I must find a way to leave Ashbourne Manor as soon as possible. I shall leave England and journey to the lands of my true father and be with Agnes. But if I am to get away from here without Lord Ashbourne knowing, I will need help.

She had hurried back to the house, in search of the only two people she could really trust at the manor, her brother and sister, Henry and Amelia. There had been no doubt in her mind that once she told them everything, they would understand her need to leave and give her all the help they could.

Chapter Two

Two nights after the awful dinner with Earl Belton, when the other occupants of Ashbourne Court lay sleeping, and the clock had just struck one in the morning, the three siblings quietly left the house and went to the stable block. Once inside, Henry lit a lantern, and in its dim, flickering light, the three had prepared for Constance’s departure.

“Constance, we do not know when we shall see you again, so please remember that Henry and I love you very much. We will be thinking of you every moment while you are away and praying that you reach your destination safely,” Amelia had beseeched her elder sister, her voice choked with tears as she clung to Constance, kissing her cheeks over and over again. “And I hope that when you do, all will come to pass happily, as you wish it. But please, be careful!”

In the shadowy recesses of the stables, the horses in their stalls whinnied and snorted softly, as though sensing the heightened emotions pervading the air.

Constance nodded. “I shall, my darling Amelia, I promise. God will watch over me on the journey. And look,” she paused to summon a smile as she gestured at the mannish outfit she was wearing beneath her long woolen cloak, “as Henry suggested, my disguise will help to protect me from unwanted attention. So, there is no need to be too worried for me, I assure you.”

Constance wished she felt as confident as she was trying to appear for the benefit of her younger sister. Not knowing when they would meet again, she took a few moments to commit to memory Amelia’s familiar petite figure, with her mass of light auburn hair, and her soft hazel green eyes, which always seemed to sparkle with good-humor and curiosity. Only seventeen, Amelia was sensitive and a worrier, and Constance had no wish to add to Amelia’s distress by openly displaying the sorrow and fear bubbling beneath her poised exterior.

“I shall miss you both very much, but I am sure all will be well,” she continued with false brightness, giving Amelia’s hands a final squeeze as they broke their embrace. “I am so very grateful for all the help you have given me, my dear one.”

“I shall pray for you every night,” Amelia promised, tears beginning to fall from her bright eyes.

“Thank you, darling, I shall do the same for you. May the Lord keep you and Henry safe while I am gone.” She planted a final kiss of farewell on Amelia’s soft cheek, her heart aching to leave her.

“There, Connie, you are ready to go,” her elder brother Henry said with his usual composure as he finished adjusting the girth strap on his sister’s favorite mare, Lucy. He made a show of checking the saddle was fixed securely in place before patting the horse’s flank and turning to face Constance. She smiled tremulously at him in love and gratitude. She suspected he was busying himself in an attempt to hide his emotions, putting a brave face on the situation just as she was trying to do, for Amelia’s sake. When their eyes met, her heart clenched to see the sadness and concern hidden there.

“I shall miss you.” He took her in his arms, hugged her, and kissed the top of her head. Pressed against his chest, Constance felt his heart beating fast beneath his coat and knew that his calm demeanor concealed a welter of conflicting emotions beneath.

“Thank you, brother, and thank you for all you have done to help me to get away without Father knowing,” Constance told him, trembling with overwhelming sorrow at their leave-taking. “I do hope you will not get into too much trouble for it.”

“Do not worry about Father. I know how to handle him,” Henry replied soothingly, pulling back to look her in the eyes and resting his hands on her shoulders. “The important thing is that you succeed in your quest.” His tone changed, becoming more earnest as he added, “Do not forget what I have told you, sister. Be under no illusion that this is an easy task you have set yourself.”

“You know I have to do it,” Constance said as much to bolster her own resolve as convince him all over again of the necessity of what she was about to do.

“I have tried my best to persuade you not to go, so I will not argue with you further,” he told her with sad resignation. “Take no unnecessary risks, stay alert for danger on the road, and do not trust anyone,” he warned her. “Do you have the knife I gave you, in case you run into any trouble?”

“Yes, I do.” Constance patted the waistband of her borrowed trousers beneath her cloak, where she had hidden the knife. “But just carrying it makes me feel nervous. I pray I never have any occasion to use it. It would be my downfall, never having used a knife as a weapon before.”

“Hopefully, you will not have to. The mere sight of it will deter any threat,” Henry said reassuringly, pulling the hood of her cloak up around her face and tucking in her hair. How she wanted to believe him, for in truth, she was terrified by what she was about to do.

“It is late, Connie,” Henry said. “You had better go. Here, let me help you up.” He leaned down and joined his hands, boosting Constance into the saddle. “It feels strange to ride astride like a man,” she murmured, settling herself and gently steadying Lucy beneath her with a light touch of the reins. “But I suppose I will soon get used to it again.” She was used to riding side saddle like the English lady she was, but as a child, Henry had taught her how boys sat when no one was around, after she had insisted endlessly that she wanted to copy him.

“You will, and it will be faster and safer this way,” Henry assured her, resting his hand on Lucy’s broad flank.

“And the sooner you reach your destination, the safer you will be,” Amelia chimed in, dabbing at her nose with a tiny lace hanky as she gazed up at Constance.

“It is but three or four days’ ride if you stick to the main highways, where there will be plenty of people about. You have the money I gave you for staying at the inns along the way?” Henry asked.

She nodded. “Yes, in my purse.”

“Good. Come, I shall open the gates for you,” Henry said, briefly checking the courtyard to make sure no one was watching them before taking hold of Lucy’s bridle and leading her out into the stable courtyard. Stifling sniffles, Amelia followed them as they walked slowly down the long drive between the shrubbery until they reached the mansion’s wrought-iron gates. Henry pushed them open.

“I hope I shall see you both again soon,” Constance told them, unable to keep her voice from cracking with emotion at last. Leaning down, she kissed them both on the cheek.

“Goodbye, sister, may God be with you and protect you,” Amelia sobbed.

“Be safe, Connie, and remember everything I have told you,” Henry urged her, his usual composure laced with quiet intensity.

Unable to speak for the lump in her throat, with tears she could hold back no longer escaping from her eyes, Constance nodded. She pressed her knees to Lucy’s flanks and walked the mare slowly out through the gates and into the lane. She turned the horse right, intent on following the lane to the main road leading north to the border. With a restraint that took almost all the strength she possessed, she looked back only once and waved at her brother and sister.

Henry was standing with his arm around the shoulders of Amelia, who was now openly weeping as though her heart would break. Constance knew exactly how she felt, for the pain in her chest was like nothing she had ever felt before. Part of her wanted to turn Lucy and abandon this mad idea of hers. But the other part was resolute and would not allow it. If she married the Earl, she would be forced to leave her beloved siblings anyway. It was that thought that pressed her to go further. So, she rode on down the moonlit lane, reminding herself of what a precious discovery lay at the end of her journey and how it would make everything worthwhile.