In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

you at this time.’

      ‘Do not be angry with her, my son,’ Charles pleaded. ‘I know that she grieved for you terribly. It broke her heart when she learned what had happened to you.’

      ‘And yet she did not wait to see if I would return.’

      Lorenzo had been on fire to see Kathryn and his frustration made him harsh.

      ‘I told you, her father made her go.’

      ‘I might have expected more loyalty from my wife. She might have defied him if she had wished.’

      ‘I swear to you that she did not leave willingly.’

      Lorenzo nodded. ‘At least you stayed, Father.’

      ‘I had nowhere else to go. My one hope was that you would come back to me. I prayed for it, planned for it—and it seems that my prayers have been answered. You are alive and I shall thank God for it the rest of my days.’

      ‘Yes, I truly believe that we have been blessed.’ Lorenzo smiled. The bitterness from the past had disappeared with his doubts about his identity. He knew himself this man’s son, remembered much of his lost youth. ‘Do you recall when we used to go hawking in the woods at Mountfitchet? Sometimes I would follow the hawks for miles and you waited for me to return. I always did in the end, though you had thought me lost.’

      ‘Yes, you always came back,’ Charles replied and smiled at him. ‘But you spoke confidently, as though you had remembered all?’

      ‘I think it may have been the blow to my head when I was captured, or perhaps that the abduction brought back memories, forcing me to face the past. Perhaps I had forgotten because I did not want to remember.’ His father nodded, understanding. ‘Memories had been coming to me in drifts for a while, but always vague, seeming like dreams. I did not know I was Richard Mountfitchet before I was captured. I suspected it might be so, but now I know for certain.’

      ‘I was certain in Sicily,’ Charles said and looked at him steadily. ‘I think when you were a boy I did not always show my faith and love for you, Lorenzo, but in future I intend that it shall be different. God has granted me a second chance and I shall make the most of it.’

      ‘We have both been lucky. I see now that I might have fared far worse than I did. Something kept me alive and perhaps that was God’s love.’

      Charles nodded, but said no more—Lorenzo must find his own way back to the faith he had lost. ‘So what will you do now, my son?’

      ‘It was in my mind to return to England with Kathryn. I thought we should visit her father before settling in Venice. That is still my intention. My life is here now, sir. England does not have much to offer me—though it might be different if you were there. What are your own plans?’

      ‘As we discussed them in Sicily. I believe I shall stay here in Rome until you return, Lorenzo. I have travelled enough of late and I like it here.’

      ‘I shall leave my business affairs to you until I return, Father,’ Lorenzo said. ‘But before I leave I must speak to Michael about the future. If I am to make changes, I would have him with me.’

      Charles hesitated, looking awkward. ‘Michael is not here. He went to England. I believe it was his intention to see Kathryn. We heard that you were shot trying to escape and I think he means to tell her that there is no hope of finding you alive.’

      What he left unsaid was his conviction that Michael was in love with Kathryn and would have her for himself if he could. It could not help matters, for Lorenzo was already angry enough. He just hoped that he would not arrive too late.

      ‘Then I must not delay,’ Lorenzo said, a brooding expression in his eyes. He needed no telling that Michael cared for Kathryn—he had observed it himself. ‘I shall spend this evening with you and then I must sail for England.’

      Chapter Twelve

      Kathryn looked at herself in her hand mirror. She was wearing a gown of green silk that her father had presented her with as a gift especially for that evening. She had asked that she be allowed to wear the black velvet she had chosen for her mourning, but Sir John had given her a stern look.

      ‘You will not come to your brother’s betrothal wearing black. It becomes you ill, Kathryn, and would be seen as an insult by Philip’s betrothed and her family. You are a young and beautiful woman. You should make the most of your beauty, daughter.’

      ‘Do not forget that I am in mourning for my husband, Father.’

      ‘You grieve for a man by the name of Lorenzo Santorini, daughter. If Charles is right, that man does not exist. Therefore, I am not certain that your marriage was ever a true one. However, you are my daughter and as such will not disgrace me by appearing before our guests as a black crow.’

      ‘That is unfair!’ Kathryn cried, hurt almost beyond bearing by her father’s unkindness. Why was he being so cruel to her? Had she not enough to bear without this hurt? ‘Lorenzo married me in good faith. I was and am his true wife.’

      ‘You wed without my blessing and I could dispute it if I wished,’ he reminded her coldly. ‘You will oblige me by forgetting that unhappy period of your life. It is my sincere hope that you may marry again soon.’

      ‘I do not wish to marry.’

      ‘It is my wish that you shall be properly settled, Kathryn. People will whisper behind their hands about this odd marriage, but if you marry again they will be silenced. It is in my mind that a marriage shall be arranged by the end of your official period of mourning, and the contract may be made before that if we choose.’

      Kathryn did not answer him. She could not for fear that she might say something that would anger or hurt him and cause a wider breach between them. She was greatly upset by what she considered his harshness and his words had brought her to the edge of tears. How could he force her to think of marrying again when her heart was broken? It was a cruel suggestion and she could hardly believe that the father she had loved so much could do this to her.

      But she must not let anyone see her tears this evening. It was to be a special celebration for her brother, of whom she was fond. Raising her head, Kathryn prepared to go downstairs to greet her father’s guests. She must be brave and smile this evening, for Philip was to be betrothed to a girl he admired and liked.

      ‘Do you love Mary Jane?’ Kathryn had asked her brother earlier that day.

      ‘Love her?’ Philip had wrinkled his brow, giving her a strange look. ‘I am not sure what you mean by love, Kathryn. I have known Mary Jane all my life. We are friends and I think her a sweet, pretty girl who will make me a good wife and bear my children. She is of good family and will bring me a small estate as her portion. I do not think I can ask more of my marriage.’

      Kathryn had not known how to answer that declaration. She could never be content with such an arrangement, though she knew that it was commonplace amongst men and women of her class. It was not for her, though if she had never known Lorenzo perhaps…but she had! Her heart contracted with the familiar ache. It might have been better if she had never met him. She would rather die now than live with another man as her husband. She belonged to Lorenzo and could never be another’s.

      The betrothal ceremony was over. Philip and Mary Jane were dancing while everyone else looked on, smiling in approval, feet tapping to the merry music the minstrels played.

      ‘It will be your turn next, Kathryn,’ said a lady standing to her left. ‘Sir John will find you a husband, my dear, and you may put all this nonsense behind you.’

      ‘I am still in mourning for my husband, Mistress Feathers.’

      ‘Oh, you will soon discover that one man is very much as another. I have been married three times and there was nothing to choose between them. Money, power and children will bring their own content. Love is merely a myth.’

      Kathryn felt her throat closing and the tears