lord, if the offer was from the Count himself I would consider it. On behalf of his son, however, my answer is no. The boy is only nine years old!’
‘Most women would consider themselves honoured to be allied with such a wealthy and respected family,’ replied the Duke sternly.
Aline’s cheeks reddened. The room felt much warmer. ‘My lord, the terms of the proposal are generous, indeed, but there are those here who believe rule of Leavingham should not pass to a woman. Would you prefer it to pass to a child instead?’
A shaft of watery sunlight broke through the clouds and Aline’s eyes drifted to the window as she half listened to the murmurs of agreement. She straightened her shoulders and brushed back a strand of ash-blond hair.
‘My lords,’ Aline said, addressing the assembled council, ‘I know I must marry, and I will. If my brother had lived to be heir the husband you chose for me would barely have mattered—however, the man I marry will rule not only Leavingham, but also the whole of the Five Provinces. I will not make that choice lightly.’ Silence hung in the air. Aline walked round the table and knelt. She took hold of her grandfather’s hands and raised her face modestly. ‘Please, Grandfather, don’t force me to accept him.’
The old man peered at her with his lips pursed. Aline held her breath as she stared into the grey eyes so like her own.
‘No, you need not accept this proposal,’ the High Lord said finally. ‘But you are running out of time. You are my last living descendant. When I named you heir I pledged you would be wed by your twentieth birthday. Remember that is barely six months away. I suggest you find any future offers more appealing or I will make the choice for you. You may leave us.’
Aline curtseyed to the assembled men and left the room, her heart beating rapidly at her narrow escape. The atmosphere in the council chamber had been stifling and the unexpected summons had made Aline more agitated than she had expected. She ran up the winding staircase to her chamber and rapidly changed into her riding gown. In the stable yard her groom would be waiting patiently with horses. The prospect of missing one of the few chances for freedom before autumn turned to winter was almost unbearable.
She sped down the stairs and through the smaller of the castle’s two halls, fastening the clasp of her riding cloak around her neck as she went. Rounding a corner, she almost collided bodily with a large man coming in the other direction. She jumped back with a gasp of surprise as his hands reached out to steady her. Sir Godfrey, her friend since childhood, grinned down at her.
‘Very decorous behaviour, Aline! But I doubt your grandfather would approve,’ he remarked.
Usually Aline would respond with a light-hearted retort, but after the morning’s audience she found she could not summon the energy.
‘You know I give him no cause for disapproval,’ she replied defensively. ‘I read all the dusty old histories and treatises on diplomacy I am tasked with learning. I am a gracious hostess and a dutiful, modest lady of court. I play every part he expects. There is nothing he has asked of me that I have not done!’
‘Apart from accept a suitor.’ Godfrey smiled.
‘Men whose proposals speak only of the power they will gain, or the dowry I will provide—’ Aline snorted ‘—and today a child! Would you be so eager in my place?’
The young knight held his hands out in mock supplication. ‘Aline, I’m only teasing. I’m sorry. You’re right to wait for the right man, for you and for Leavingham. Your parents would have been proud of you—your brother, too.’
An ache clawed Aline’s heart at the mention of her family. Six years after the influenza that had claimed them she still missed them dreadfully. Her fingers moved instinctively to the necklace she always wore: a smooth amethyst set into a filigree of silver—the legacy of the mother who had followed her husband and son to the grave after barely a year.
‘You do want to marry, don’t you?’ Godfrey asked, linking his arm in Aline’s as they strolled into the chilly morning air.
Aline shrugged. ‘Whether I want to or not is immaterial. I have no choice. You heard what my grandfather said: I am running out of time. I lost any chance of marrying for love when I became heir. Now all I can hope for is to at least like my husband!’
Godfrey laughed. ‘My wife was not my first choice, but we are happy. You will be, too.’
Aline said nothing, though the prospect seemed increasingly unlikely.
They had reached the archway leading to the stable yard and said their farewells. Aline watched as Godfrey returned to the castle, only slightly regretting that when she had been his first choice she had said no.
* * *
The sky had lightened as Aline made her way round the inner wall to the stable yard and stopped in surprise. Instead of her usual groom, a younger man held the reins of two horses.
‘Greetings, my lady,’ he said with a sweeping bow.
‘Where is Robert?’ Aline asked him cautiously.
The man raised his eyes to Aline’s, pushing a lock of sandy-coloured hair from his face. Now that she had time to study him she saw his face was familiar, and Aline recalled that she had seen him around the stables once or twice over the past few weeks.
‘My name is Dickon, my lady. Robert apologises that he cannot attend you today but an unexpected malady of...how shall I say it?...a delicate nature has left him unable to move far from the privy.’
Aline laughed, instinctively liking him, though doubt crept into her mind. Robert had been her escort for as long as she remembered; he had been the person who’d lifted her onto her first childhood pony and was well trusted to accompany her alone. Riding in the company of this young man would be highly improper. Her grandfather would have plenty to say if he ever found out.
‘I’m not sure... Perhaps we had better not ride today,’ Aline began.
The groom tipped his head to one side and his lips twitched into a half smile. ‘If you wish—though I for one would be sad to miss such a fine day. Especially when I had thought my only company was to be horseflies and the saddle-grease pot!’
A well brought up and respectable lady would send for a maid to accompany them, but none rode as swiftly as Aline did and she so wanted an exciting day. Dickon’s steady brown eyes were watching her earnestly. The memory of the morning’s audience with the council sped through her mind and a spark of rebellion that had been growing since Godfrey’s teasing flared inside her.
‘We’ll go,’ she announced.
Dickon helped Aline onto her grey mare, a broad smile on his tanned face as he put his hand out to steady her. Side by side they trotted through the wide streets of the city to the main gate, talking idly of their plans for the day.
Aline was used to riding far and fast, and she was delighted to discover Dickon well matched and equally fearless. They galloped far across the moorland, daring each other on to greater speeds. By late morning they had come upon a small village, where an alewife stood at her gate, broadcasting her wares. In unspoken agreement the riders dismounted and bought a flagon, drinking down the cool liquid gladly.
Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Dickon spoke. ‘If you would care to wait here and finish your drink, my lady, I will buy lunch in the market.’
Aline watched him depart. There was a swagger in his step that caused her pulse to quicken. Unbidden, her mind drifted back to her conversation with Godfrey. Like all highborn women, she knew her husband would be the first man to bed her. In moments of honesty she admitted that she was curious. Sometimes, watching other couples in the court laughing and dancing, she longed so much for someone to seize her up in an embrace that the sensation was almost painful.
She spotted Dickon as he appeared from behind a hut, his saddlebag slung carelessly over his shoulder. Bowing again, he held out an arm for Aline. They walked together through the village, Aline acutely aware