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CHAPTERFOUR
Elborne Castle,
Northumberland, England
I knew it. I knew that this was not over.
Katherine observed the exchange between Stephen and the bedraggled female. The woman had arrived at Elborne not an hour ago, claiming to be a relative of Flora MacKinnon and demanding an audience with the marquis. Their unexpected guest, Matilda MacKinnon, informed them that Flora had been incarcerated at St Mary’s Abbey, a religious house a few miles north of the border. It came as no surprise to Katherine when the woman went on to insist that the tiny baby she clutched in her arms was Stephen’s, the result of his liaison with his Scottish captive some months previously. The dates seemed to fit. As if that was not enough, Katherine was privy to the secrets of the Elborne laundry, an aspect of the situation which had entirely escaped Stephen.
He backed away, shaking his head. “This is impossible. The child is not mine.”
Katherine was reasonably certain that she knew better. And as lady of Elborne, it was her responsibility to take charge.
“Whatever the circumstances, we shall not deny a hungry child the food he needs,” she announced, offering their visitors a welcoming smile. There would be ample time to discuss the finer points of the dilemma in due course, but for now the most pressing matter was to see the pair safe and comfortable. Stephen would thank her for it, once he regained his senses and faced the reality unfolding before him. “You may go to the kitchens and tell them I sent you. There will be goats’ milk, and—”
“No. Let me take him. I shall see to his care.”
The offer came from no less a personage that Frances, Duchess of Whitleigh, sister-in-law to Stephen. Her Grace and her husband, the duke, along with their three offspring, were visiting Elborne. The littlest child, a baby girl, was with them, and apparently there was milk to spare. Even so, Katherine could not hide her astonishment that such a great lady might offer to wet nurse an infant whose parentage was, to say the least, in dispute.
“You, Your Grace? But we could never—”
The duchess was undeterred. She took the child from the MacKinnon woman and hurried off with him.
But the drama did not end there. Never a man to be slow on the uptake, Stephen soon rallied from his surprise and began to piece things together. Realising that Flora must have found herself in dire straits to be forced to send her child to him of all people, he set out with his brother to discover for himself how matters lay.
St Mary’s Abbey was no great distance. Stephen and his brother were there and back within the day. They returned with Flora, but Katherine’s heart sank when she saw her.
“What has happened? How did she…?”
“The miserable hags were going to let her die,” Stephen muttered as he strode past her with Flora in his arms.
Katherine was reasonably certain the nuns had succeeded. She did not give much for the woman’s chances of survival. The birth had clearly not been easy, Flora had lost a lot of blood, had developed a fever, and the young mother was clearly close to death.
But they had to try. Katherine was not particularly skilled in the healing arts, but if Flora lost her life, it would not be due to any failing on her part. Flora was speedily ensconced in the master bedchamber, and Katherine sent for clean linens and cool water to soothe her fever.
Whatever the outcome, by this turn of events, Katherine’s own fate was sealed.
There would be no marriage to the marquis. If Flora did survive, it was clear that another woman would soon be Marchioness of Otterburn. Katherine would no longer be lady of this keep. At best, she would be an unmarried dependent, not even a relative, living on the charity and kindness of others.
It was a dismal prospect, but she resolved to make the best of it. She had no alternative.
* * *
Roxburghe Castle, Scotland
“My lord, ye need tae come…”
Robbie was partaking of his evening meal of boiled ham and carrots when Aggie, red-faced and panting, rushed across the hall to stand before him. She wrung her hands, hopping from one foot to the other, tears streaming down her face.
“What is it? My father…?”
The girl nodded and started to sob in earnest. “I think… Oh, my lord, I think he be dead.”
Robbie leapt to his feet and sprinted for the stairs. Moments later, he dashed into his father’s chamber. One glance at the man in the bed was enough to convince him that Aggie was right. The earl’s sightless eyes gazed at the canopy above the bed, his expression one of pained surprise. His hands, already cold, clasped the bedspread. The lined features were even more pallid than usual, and when Robbie laid his palm on his father’s forehead, his skin was cooling to the touch.
Aggie followed him into the chamber. “My lord, I am sorry. It were that quick. I couldnae do anything…”
“What happened, Aggie?” Robbie regarded the distraught servant. “Tell me. Exactly.”
