Page 2

Her mother laughed. “You presume to know better than Her Grace? Her orders were quite clear. I have her letter right here. And frankly, you should be grateful. Men don’t like tall women.

As for your sister, she’ll do as she’s told, just as she always has.

She’ll travel with you as far as Winchelsea, and then you will put her on a ship to France. ”

Adelaide turned a wide-eyed, panicked gaze on Isabella, who tried to convey as much silent reassurance as she could manage.

But Isabella herself was anything but calm.

Adelaide would never survive the journey, let alone serving the Duchess of Normandy.

There had to be a way to save her sister.

But a mere baron would be of no help when it came to defying Lady Eleanor, especially if he came to Bamburgh Castle at the duchess’s bidding.

Isabella needed to marry someone powerful who could stand his ground.

Her mother pulled a scroll of parchment from her desk drawer and handed it to Isabella. “See for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Taking the document, Isabella fought the urge to throw it into the fire.

But destroying it wouldn’t change its contents.

Her and Adelaide’s futures were laid out in plain Latin, and there was no mistaking the signature at the end.

Adelaide scurried to her side and peeked at it with her. What were they going to do now?

“Seethe all you like, but finish brushing my hair while you do it,” her mother ordered.

“No. I’m not your lady’s maid.” Isabella was altogether too angry to keep doing her mother’s bidding.

The countess grabbed her hand, digging in her nails. “You’ll do as you’re told, Little Bird.”

Lips pursed, Isabella relented, soothing the skin where her mother had left red marks.

Her fingers went through the motions without any input from her mind, which spun frantically seeking a loophole.

All the while, she kept casting glances at Adelaide, who had somehow grown even more pale than her natural state.

“I’m finished,” Isabella said as she jabbed the final hairpin in place with a little bit too much force.

“Ouch!” Her mother gave her a dirty look and adjusted the pin. “Impudent girl. I can see your temper is as fierce as it always was. I can only hope your husband knows how to tame you. Lord knows I’ve failed. You are dismissed. And you too, Little Mouse.”

With a perfunctory curtsy, Isabella turned to go, putting a protective arm around her sister and leading her out.

“Little Bird,” her mother said in a sing-song voice just as they reached the door, forcing them to pause.

“Don’t think you can get out of this. I can practically see the wheels turning in that devious mind of yours.

The duchess has declared you will marry, and you shall.

She needs someone she can trust in Winchelsea.

It’s an important port, only a stone’s throw from Hastings, and the baron has sway with the Cinque Ports. ”

While the Cinque Ports were a critical link to the continent and had high strategic importance, marrying a complete stranger of low rank from a town she’d never heard of solved none of her problems and left Adelaide at Lady Eleanor’s mercy.

“It is wise of her to take steps to ensure her control over the Cinque Ports,” Isabella said in as even a voice as she could manage, knowing she’d gone too far by jabbing that pin.

“And I am always happy to serve Her Grace in any way I can. But why now? Truly, she honors us too much with her thoughtfulness.”

The countess shook her head and smiled. “You read her letter. It says she likes you and thinks he’ll be a good match for you.”

Isabella didn’t believe that for a moment. Lady Eleanor never did anything out of the kindness of her heart. “A good match,” Isabella answered, meeting her mother’s cold gaze. “You must be joking.”

“Do you doubt the word of your mother and your rightful queen?”

The countess smiled deviously. Once upon a time, Isabella had lived for that smile. It meant she was going to have a chance to prove herself. But that was back when she was foolish enough to believe anything would earn her mother’s respect. Over the years, she had learned better.

“Very good,” her mother said, mistaking her silence for acquiescence.

“I’m glad we understand each other. I would hate to think you would displease me by refusing the generous gift Lady Eleanor is offering.

Now go get dressed and pack up your things, both of you.

You leave for Winchelsea tomorrow morning. ”

Unable to form words, Isabella turned her back and reached for the door, clutching Adelaide’s hand.

“Goodbye. I’ll see you in the chapel in a few hours,” her mother said, waving them out.

Isabella stormed through the door without replying, pushing Adelaide ahead of her, and slammed it behind them.

For a moment, the urge to cry almost overtook her, but she caught herself just in time. Clenching her fists, she led Adelaide down the echoing halls of the castle to the tiny, windowless chamber they shared and closed the door.

“Are you all right?” Isabella asked as soon as they were alone.

“I will be. It’s not as if we have a choice.” Adelaide sat down on her narrow bed and rested her head in her hands.

“There is always a choice. I’ll find a way out of this for us.”

Rummaging through her trunk of gowns, Isabella considered their options. Could they run? No, that would be foolish. Women couldn’t travel alone through the countryside without risking life and limb, especially not in the midst of a civil war. And where would they go?

Perhaps she could convince Lord Martin not to marry her.

If only she could get the man alone for a few minutes before the ceremony, she could try to convince him she was an unmarriageable shrew.

Lord knew her parents already thought her one.

But would that buy her enough time to come up with a real plan?

It was worth a try. She had to do something .

Reaching into her trunk, she pulled out the gown folded in the bottom.

As she shook it out, a tear dripped down her cheek.

Truth be told, Isabella sewed this dress with the intention of being married in it, but the wedding she dreamed of was so very different.

She would walk down the aisle of Westminster Abbey to wed a powerful earl with her family and Lady Eleanor, now queen of England, looking on.

She would be able to look with equanimity at her parents, knowing it would be the last time she or Adelaide had to see them.

After years of faithful service, she had earned her rightful place by the side of a man of high position.

In her daydreams, the man she married would offer her freedom and respect, never making demands and giving her a free hand to manage the household.

He would appreciate her mind, be able to match wits with her but never demand to win for the sake of winning.

Alas, such a man did not exist outside of fairytales and troubadours’ songs.

In real life, the most she could hope for was to marry for power and influence and make the best of things.

After watching her parents’ marriage and Lady Eleanor’s disastrous match with King Louis VII, she knew better than to expect anything but misery from the institution, so she might as well have power and wealth to compensate so that she could have some modicum of comfort and independence.

This baron from Winchelsea could offer neither, so she had to find a way out.

Drying her tears and stiffening her spine, she pulled on the heavy velvet gown with sleeves that dripped to the floor. She pinned up her hair in neat side buns and donned a jeweled crespinette that fit her like a crown with circles of gold netting covering the buns.

“Leave it to me,” Isabella said, patting her skirt. “Meet me in the solar after the church bell rings for Terce, and I’ll let you know the plan.”

Adelaide nodded and started packing up her things.

There was no need for Isabella to pack. All her worldly belongings were already folded away in her chest, as she had only just arrived.

Squaring her shoulders and opening the door, she set out to see if she could convince her future husband to call it off before the church bells struck noon.