My Lady Imposter Read Online Free PDF

removed, with the other trappings of torture. The stairs echoed to the sound of the women’s complaints, and the exhortions of the stout woman to punish them if they should gossip.
    A page came hurrying, carrying a tray upon which was her supper. A platter with bread and cheese, with a tankard of warm ale. His brown eyes slid over her, widening. “My lord says he’ll come to ye directly,” he said at last, setting the tray down. The girl was comely. Where had she come from? Why had he not seen her arrive? And why sworn to such secrecy? She stared back at him so blankly, he wondered if she were wanting in her wits. Still, she was comely... He winked.
    Some of Kathryn’s spirit revived at that. She started up with pink cheeks and clenched fists. “Get ye gone, oaf!” The door slammed hastily. She sighed, her anger going with her breath, and shivered. The light was fading and muting. It was growing cold and without her dirt she was likely to die. She shivered again. The gown was clean too, and smelt odd. Like roses. She smelt of roses too, even her hair.
    She flushed at the memory of being dunked naked into that tub, with all those eyes looking on. And why? Why was it happening to her? She scratched her head thoughtfully through the veil and wondered if the lice were gone too. Well, that was not so bad a thing. But still, the bad must outweigh what good there was. Of what use was being rid of the pests, if she died?
    She picked at the food half-heartedly at first, but it was good. White bread, so fine and soft. She felt it in wonder, and tasted it reverently. Grisel’s bread was black and tough as pig skin, with hard bits to hurt tender gums. The ale was sweet, and the cheese tasty, without mould. Afterwards, she felt replete, and less downhearted. Perhaps after all it was not so bad, to be a prisoner at Pristine.
    The twilight had turned the woods to fire, when at last she heard boots on the stairs, and the jingle of spurs. Light was retreating across the circular room, and instead of being grey it was now orange. The shadows were drawing in towards the window, where she sat. Waiting.
    The key clanged in the door. The cheeky page stepped aside as she opened her mouth to rail at him again. Behind him stood Lord Ralf, and Richard.
    Lord Ralf stooped beneath the lintel, his hair catching the last rays of the sun, his jeweled tunic flashing red and silver. Richard seemed a shadow behind him, dressed in somber clothes, his expression solemn and closed. He shut the door, and stood before it with crossed arms. He looked at Lord Ralf, and not at Kathryn.
    She stood up, her dress sweeping the floor, her veil drifting about her as she moved. “Why am I locked up here?” she cried, her voice shaking between fear and anger.
    But Lord Ralf didn’t seem to hear her. He was staring at her, his face pale with shock. And something more, something that made his mouth curl, and his eyes gleam. Could it be satisfaction? He stepped forward softly, forcing her to retreat back, her eyes narrowing.
    “You have all the haughtiness of a lady, at least,” he said, and curled his thin lips as he skimmed his eyes down her length and back again. “But when you speak, you give away your true origins.”
    Her eyes narrowed to mere slits, and flickered to Richard. He was watching her now, but cold and still as a statue.
    “I have work for you, girl,” Lord Ralf said impatiently. The golden eyes shone briefly, as though something had amused him. “In the autumn, I am to travel west, to visit the home of Sir Piers de Brusac. You will come with me. Before we leave, you will learn to pretend to be a woman of breeding.” He glanced at Richard, and laughed. “Can it be done, my friend? To turn her into a lady inwardly as well as outwardly? We have only five weeks...”
    Richard came forward now, spurs jingling, and viewed her with cold blue eyes. “She is clever enough for it. I think she could be a mimic, my lord—a little parrot.”
    Lord Ralf