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Chapter Ten

“ D id you know Lord Ashton was back? I heard the people in the village say they spotted his retinue entering Throckmorton Castle three days ago.”

Sian blinked at Jane’s declaration. No, she didn’t know Christopher was back.

And he’d brought back a retinue with him?

That was a surprise. He had left alone and had no family.

Who in Kent had decided to accompany him up north?

Her heart leaped and then sank in rapid succession as a dozen questions assaulted her mind.

Christopher had been back for three days and not sent word of his return?

She refused to let her dismay show and allow Jane the satisfaction of criticizing her future brother-in-law’s behavior even if she could not deny being uneasy.

Why had he not called for her or at least sent word of his arrival? A day’s delay to put his affairs in order was perhaps understandable, but three?

“Of course, I knew,” she lied. “But do you think you could stop calling him Lord Ashton? We’re about to be married. Call him Christopher.” There. Much better to steer the focus away from her.

Jane made a grimace. “You really are going through with this wedding, then?”

“Yes.” Never had she been more determined.

“Now that he’s back, we can finally start planning for the ceremony.

Not that it needs to be a lavish affair.

” She cared not about impressing the local lords or anyone else.

All she wanted was to be Christopher’s wife and fulfill her life’s destiny. “Come. It’s time to eat. I’m famished.”

The whole family was already in the main hall when the two sisters entered. As soon as he saw her, her father walked over to her.

“Matthew tells me Lord Ashton is back.”

Sian barely contained her irritation. Was she the only one unaware of her betrothed’s comings and goings? Apparently. Still, just like with Jane, she thought it best to pretend she knew that already. “He is.”

Connor arched a brow. “Does that mean his uncle died, then?”

Once again, she was at a loss as to what to say. Because if Christopher was back, it meant his uncle had either indeed died in the last month or recovered from his chill, making his nephew’s presence in Kent no longer necessary. Somehow, she didn’t think a miraculous recovery was the explanation.

“This I do not know,” she finally admitted.

Mercifully, her father didn’t ask any questions and put an end to her torment. “Well, if he’s back, we’ll be able to start preparations for your wedding.”

“Yes!” Seren shouted, standing up in her excitement. “I like weddings! And I like Lord Ashton.”

This show of support amidst the barely concealed disapproval warmed Sian even if, considering he had saved her life, it was hardly surprising the little girl would approve of Christopher.

“So do I.” It was Gwenllian’s turn to speak.

It warmed Sian further to see that no one hushed the two girls and told them they had no idea what they were talking about. Perhaps they were finally coming round to the idea of her becoming Lady Ashton.

She beamed at her sisters. “Thank you. And he likes you too.”

Her father nodded and decreed, “We’ll go to see him in the morning.”

“We have come to see Lord Ashton.”

It was very early for a visit, but Sian had been up before dawn, and mercifully, her father was an early riser as well.

They had broken their fast together in the hall and, of a common accord, gone to the stables as soon as they had finished their meal.

A moment later, they had been galloping in the direction of Throckmorton Castle.

To her relief, he had not once asked her if she was certain that was what she wanted. He seemed to have accepted that her instinct could be trusted.

Despite the early hour, no one in the bailey seemed surprised to see them. Her shoulders relaxed. Of course, knowing her, Christopher would have told his people to expect a visit.

“Let me go get his squire,” a young man Sian had never seen before told them.

Then again, it was no wonder she didn’t recognize him, as she had never set eyes on anyone at Throckmorton Castle save Harry.

She had not ventured past the gate or seen anything other than the bailey during her visit the previous month.

Well, that would soon be remedied.

A moment later, the groom was back with a tall man who nodded at them. “This way, my lord, my lady. Lord Ashton has just finished breaking his fast and will receive you.”

Who was that? Where was Harry? Sian frowned as she followed the man. Had Christopher’s uncle forced him to replace his squire with another of his own men? She dearly hoped not.

“Here you are.”

With a bow, the squire opened the door to the solar.

It was a spacious room well lit by three bay windows facing south, but in spite of the large openings, it lacked warmth.

Sian found herself rearranging the furniture in her mind.

When she was Lady Ashton, she would place the chest farther away from the hearth, cover the stone benches with soft cushions, and replace the heavy armchairs with more comfortable folding stools.

New tapestries would have to be hung, as the ones facing her were faded and moth eaten.

Throckmorton Castle was in sore need of repair and a woman’s touch.

No matter. Once she lived there, it would all change.

“Good morning,” the man in the middle of the room greeted them.

“Good morning. Apologies, we are here to see Lord Ashton,” Connor repeated, looking to the door where the squire had just disappeared after taking them to the wrong man. Sian could see he was getting irritated by the delay. Oh dear, their visit was not going well.

“Yes. I am he.”

Father and daughter looked at one another, confusion etched on their faces. Was the man mad? Had he just said?—

“There must be a mistake. I have known Lord Ashton for years, and you are definitely not him.”

The man chuckled. “You haven’t known the real Lord Ashton, my lord, merely the usurper.”

Usurper?

Sian’s whole body felt suddenly encased in ice.

Nothing was making any sense. Where was Christopher?

And who was this man acting as if he’d always belonged here?

Tall and blond, he looked uncomfortably similar to the man she loved.

Of course, both his eyes were the same color and he was nowhere near as handsome, but she supposed the two of them could be related.

Christopher didn’t have any family, however, since his grandfather, his father, and probably his uncle were dead.

So what was going on?

“Christopher, I believe his name is. I’m afraid he never had any right to call himself Lord Ashton.

The title was mine all along and will be my son’s when I die,” the man continued.

He sounded delighted by their reaction, as if he’d waited for years to expose the man who’d been impersonating him.

He gestured at the chest by the hearth. “Should you require proof of my claim, I will be only too happy to provide it.”

There was too much conviction in the man’s voice for anyone to doubt he was speaking the absolute truth. Was she dreaming? If so, she prayed she would wake up soon, before the dream turned into a veritable nightmare.

“So he—” Connor started, only to be interrupted.

“My advice to you is to forget the man. I doubt he will dare show his face round these parts ever again now that I’m back.”

Forget?

Forget the man she loved? The man she was supposed to marry?

Sian did not dare look at her father, not wanting to see the condemnation in his eyes.

She already knew what he would be thinking.

That he’d been right from the start and Christopher was nothing more than a despicable liar who had never been worthy of her, had meant to desert her all along, and she didn’t know how she could bear to face his disapproval when her heart was breaking.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let’s just go.”

“You should eat something.”

Sian glanced at the pottage getting cold in its wooden bowl and shook her head. She could tell all her favorite ingredients were in it, but the idea of swallowing even one mouthful of food was too much to bear. “I’m not hungry.”

Jane placed a hand on her arm. “Shall I ask Avice to make some of her famous tarts if you?—”

“No!” Not the honey tarts, not the walnut and fig tarts, not any tart whatsoever, which would only make her think of Christopher and the way he had licked imaginary honey from her fingers that day in the clearing. What had possessed him to do such a thing? she asked herself for the hundredth time.

She scoffed. What was she doing trying to understand the workings of the mind of a man who had posed as Lord Ashton and fooled everyone in the process!

Last year, she had heard James, the castle steward, tell her and Jane that in the right context and in the absence of contradictors, the most outrageous lies could be swallowed.

He had been talking from experience, she’d realized, when he’d explained how his sister-in-law had once tried to trick him into marriage by making him believe she was carrying his child.

Well, she could see the truth of his claim now.

Christopher’s lie had been even more outrageous and yet he had gotten away with it for years.

It was no consolation to know that she had not been the only one to be tricked because she suspected she was the one who had suffered from the deception the most.

Unless …

Unless she was not the only woman he’d promised marriage to before abandoning her.

The thought had never crossed her mind before, but why would it not be the case?

Who knew what the man was capable of? Had he tricked dozens of na?ve little virgins in the same way, knowing that if their fathers came to demand retribution, they would only end up being brought to the real Lord Ashton down in Kent?