Trapped at the Altar Read Online Free PDF Page A

delicacy.
    â€œIt doesn’t suit you,” Lord Daunt declared, “but it is the family betrothal ring, and therefore it is yours to wear.”
    â€œJust as it doesn’t suit me to marry Ivor, but he is the family choice, therefore he is mine to wed,” she stated almost distantly.
    Her grandfather’s eyes were lit with a momentary flash of anger, and then he said quite mildly, “I am glad you see the situation as it is, Ariadne. Your life will soon move outside this valley, yours and Ivor’s. It is time for our families to resume their rightful places at court. The times are changing. King Charles maintains that he follows the Protestantreligion, but it is said in secret that he practices Catholicism. Be that as it may, he is old and failing, a life of debauchery finally taking its toll.” Contempt laced the old man’s words, and he moved a hand in a dismissive gesture of disgust, as if consigning his King to oblivion.
    He continued briskly, “His brother, the Duke of York, who will inherit the crown, makes no secret of his Catholic faith. His wife is openly of our faith, and the time is now right for us to return to the world. You, Ivor, have been trained as a courtier. I have done what I can to educate you in the ways of the court. You will stand accused of no crime, no treason. You have led an unblemished life. This I have ensured. After your marriage, you will go to London with all pomp and ceremony, a wealthy young couple of noble estate, and you will take your place at court.”
    He passed a hand across his eyes with sudden weariness. A gesture Ivor had never seen before, and he thought the old man looked worn out as his face was illuminated by a ray of sun through the open window. His skin seemed paper-thin, and the shadows beneath his eyes were black, the lines around his mouth deeply etched. Was he dying? Had he had a premonition? The thought for an instant terrified Ivor. It was impossible to imagine the valley without the old man.
    And then Lord Daunt waved a hand towards the door. “That is all I have to say to you both. Prepare for your wedding, Ariadne. The women know what to do, and I’m sure by now your bridal gown and trousseau are already well on their way to completion.”
    Ariadne said nothing. She curtsied stiffly and walked out of the house, ignoring Ivor hurrying behind her. Outside inthe bright morning sunlight, she said only, “Go away, Ivor. I cannot bear to see you at the moment.” And she walked away to her own house, where she lived with her own female attendant.
    And the next morning, the old man had been found dead in his bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as if something had startled him.

    Ivor became aware of ten pairs of eyes looking at him with puzzled curiosity, and he pushed the memories of that day aside. Someone had been speaking to him, and he had failed to respond. He coughed. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen. My mind was elsewhere.”
    â€œObviously,” Rolf Daunt said drily. “And since the matter at hand concerns you most nearly, I would be grateful if we could have your undivided attention. I will ask again, is there any reason that you know of for Ariadne to be refusing this marriage?”
    Ivor came fully to his senses, his mind snapping into focus. He shook his head. As far as he knew, only he, Ari, and her poet were aware of their attachment, so he could safely deny all knowledge of it. Since her grandfather’s death, Ariadne had kept to herself, saying little to anyone, and he assumed her withdrawal had been considered a natural manifestation of her grief. No one had remarked upon it, at least . . . not until her bombshell that morning, when she had announced to her uncle that she refused to marry Ivor.
    â€œGrief for her grandfather might account for it,” Ivorsuggested. “It’s possible she finds something distasteful about the idea of dancing at her wedding