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  “Men are always contrary,” she said by way of explanation. Despite her unease, Kat had to smile at this airy observation.

  For several minutes, they blundered along in the darkness. Merry yelped when she lost a slipper, and when she bent to retrieve it, her hair snagged on a branch.

  “Next time I’ll demand earbobs and a bracelet to match,” she huffed. Apparently, determination was a Tanner trait, for Merry straightened herself once more and set off again.

  Within a half hour — after several wrong turns — they luckily reached the center of the maze. There the Tudor rose bloomed in elegant solitude, a parti-colored descendant of the Red Rose of Lancaster and the White Rose of York.

  Merry suddenly screamed, startling Kat. A dark shadow loomed before them on the maze path.

  “Bon soir, Mademoiselle Tanner.” A male voice spoke, almost menacing in its quiet vein. As if he had not scared Merry out of her skin, the man raised her hand to his lips. Kat saw the shadowy profile place a gallant kiss upon her sister’s hand. “I was not at all certain you would come.”

  “Count Saville.” Merry apparently had to think a moment to remember his name, yet she seemed pleased. She curtsied, her skirts whispering over the grass. “La, sir, what a fright you gave us. Didn’t he, dear?”

  “Indeed,” Kat echoed, trying to deny the intense terror the man’s smooth Gallic voice instilled in her. Why? Lucien Navarre was French, but he did not frighten her in the least.

  “Who is the sweet dove flying beside you tonight, ma chère?”

  Merry giggled at his endearment. “This is my sister, Count Saville.” Kat noticed the shadow stiffen. Merry prattled on blithely. “Her name is Katherine, but we call her Kat because of her green eyes. Kat, dearest, this is Count Saville. He is visiting Court this season.”

  There was silence. Kat assumed she had imagined the tension till her own hand was lifted and summarily brushed by a pair of cool, invisible lips. She shivered at the contact.

  “Vraiment! I never guessed you to be sisters. Even by moonlight, I can tell your hair is the hue of a blackbird’s wing, Mademoiselle Katherine, while Mademoiselle Meredith’s is the color of spiced apple wine.”

  Merry drank in the count’s clever speech. Kat smiled warily and withdrew her hand. Discreetly wiping it on her skirts, she said, “I fear I must leave now. I imagine you two have a great deal to discuss in private.”

  “Aye,” Merry said. “First, though, you must tell Count Saville about your grand adventure, Kat.”

  Sensing Kat’s unwillingness to cooperate, Merry continued chattering:

  “Our Kat is accounted most popular at Court, sir. She experienced the most exciting adventure and is being called upon to tell the tale over and over again. She was shipwrecked, y’see, and nearly drowned off the coast of Wales. We nearly lost her, but for the grace of God.”

  “Indeed?” Kat sensed the man’s gaze shifting to assess her. By twilight she hardly made out his features, yet the feeling of panic persisted. She could not wait to escape his company.

  “I am most interested to hear how you escaped such a dire fate, Mademoiselle Katherine.”

  “Oh, you may call her Kat, as we all do,” Merry insisted. “We must all be great friends this season, n’est-ce-pas?”

  Merry practiced her atrocious French on the count. She thanked him for the necklace, then continued to flirt with him in increasingly bold, bad French. In the meantime, Kat grew more uneasy. She looked for any opportunity to escape the couple. She started to inch backwards through the maze while they talked. With a sinking heart she felt the count’s attentions shift back to her. He had the advantage of the moon behind his shoulder, and saw her attempt at retreat.

  “I must accompany you and your charming sister back to the palace, Mademoiselle Tanner.” He spoke to Merry, while eyeing Kat. “’Twould be remiss of me to allow two maidens to wander in this darkness. There may be rogues lurking about.”

  “We will be fine, sirrah,” Kat said.

  Merry delicately shivered. “I, for one, would appreciate the escort, Count Saville.”

  “Then I insist.” He gallantly extended his arm to Merry, and, with a coy giggle, she placed her hand upon his sleeve. “Y’know, you may only walk us to the hall. I fear our good queen is protective of her ladies’ reputations.”

  “Bien sur. Before we part ways, I must beg another favor. Do call me by my Christian name, Adrien.” He gushed another meaningless French compliment under his breath to Merry. Kat heard her sister loose a breathless sigh.

  “Naturally I do not wish to encourage rumors,” Saville continued, still addressing Merry, “and I have the greatest respect for your reputation, mademoiselle. Therefore we shall part ways before we enter the palace. ’Tis enough for now that you have graciously accepted this small token of my affection.”

  Merry fingered the sapphire. “La, I confess I could not resist. Jewelry is my one true weakness, as dear Kat here can confirm.”

  Count Saville turned his predatory smile on Kat. “And you, Mademoiselle Katherine? What is your weakness?”

  Something in his words chilled Kat to the bone. Something deep within her sprang to her defense.

  “I have no known weaknesses, sirrah,” she answered, meeting his burning black eyes with a steady gaze. “Certainly I cannot be bought or sold with trifles.”

  The insult seemed to escape Saville. He merely inclined his head and placed his other hand possessively over Merry’s on his arm, effectively pinning her sister there. Kat realized he issued subtle warning in his own way. Merry stood between them now. He would not hesitate to hurt her, should Kat prove a threat to his hidden agenda.

  “YOU NEEDN’T BE NERVOUS. You look lovely,” Merry assured Kat. The open coach they rode in proceeded at a fast clip through amber-studded gates surrounding the white mansion on the hill.

  “I know Uncle Kit will be delighted to see you, Kat. It has been years since you visited England, and he’s never traveled to Ireland himself.”

  “Tell me more about our uncle and his family,” Kat requested. Mayhap idle conversation would lessen her nervousness. Meanwhile, she leaned forward, eyes shaded by her hand so she might drink in the sight of the manicured green lawn and leagues of neatly clipped rose bushes surrounding the quaint family estate known as Ambergate.

  “You’ll find out yourself,” Merry said. “Uncle Kit is kind and funny. He used to be one of the queen’s favorites until he got too old to dance attendance upon Elizabeth, and gout set in — or so he claims. Faith, I’m not so sure he wasn’t looking for any excuse to spend more time with his beloved Isobel.” Merry smiled, then added, “You’ll also meet Isobel, Uncle Kit’s second wife. I’m sure you don’t remember stories of his late wife, Elspeth. She died before we two were born. Elspeth was the natural mother of Uncle Kit’s three girls. I hear tell she was a horrid woman. Later Kit and Isobel went on to have three more boys of their own. They’ve a big, boisterous family now.”

  Kat had second thoughts about meeting the English side of the family. What would they think of her? Would they be hurt or insulted when she couldn’t remember them? It was too late to retreat, however. The great door to the mansion had already opened, and a man came down the steps, waving at the approaching carriage.

  Merry half-rose from her seat. “Uncle Kit!” she cried, bouncing up and down on the springy seat. Her red hair flew in halo fashion around her heart-shaped face. “Here she is. Look, our little lost Kat!”

  The auburn-haired man quickened his pace. It was obvious to Kat he was in some sort of pain and favored his right leg. But he displayed nothing save the warmest of smiles, as he moved to greet his visitors.

  Sir Christopher Tanner was stockily built, his crest of bright hair now laced with silver. Merry was right; kindness was written all over his face. When the carriage swayed to a halt, Kat didn’t hesitate. She stepped down into his open arms, touched when they closed around her.

  “Thank heavens you’re safe,” Uncle Kit de
clared, his hands alighting on Kat’s shoulders after the warm embrace. He drew back apace to look at her. “I can hardly believe it. You’ve grown up, Imp.”

  “Imp?” Kat echoed, puzzled. Merry and their uncle exchanged glances, then laughed in unison.

  “I never thought you’d forget your nickname here, Imp. It has been years, I fear. Far too many.” Their uncle curled a hand around Kat’s shoulder as he led her up the steps. “I pray you two will stay the weekend.”

  “Aye,” Merry said as she hurried after them, the train of her carnation-colored silk gown trailing behind. “Her Grace has given me leave for three whole days. She knew how I longed to bring Kat here to show off our English roots.”

  “Good. ’Tis settled, then.” Uncle Kit escorted them into the mansion’s foyer, then turned and faced them with a broad smile. “You’ve picked a fine time to visit, girls. Isobel is presently in town, but Anne and Maggie are both home.”

  Merry clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, I can’t wait to see my dear cousins again. How are they?”

  “You can judge for yourself. Meantime, I shall see to some refreshment. You’ve had a long drive from Nonsuch in uncommon heat.” While their uncle departed to instruct his house staff, Kat looked to Merry with a confused expression.

  “Isn’t there another daughter?”

  Merry nodded and answered her in a low voice. “Yea, the middle girl, Grace. She is not oft spoken of. She ran away and joined a convent two years ago, in direct defiance of the queen.”

  “Why?”

  “Elizabeth Tudor had arranged a good match for Grace. The ungrateful chit said she didn’t wish to marry, not now or ever, unless ’twas with her true Lord, Jesus.” Merry shook her head. “Apparently a servant girl gave secret instruction to Cousin Grace over the years. She was surely the catalyst behind Grace’s decision. I suppose Uncle Kit never forgave himself for hiring the papist jade. At least I shouldn’t, if I were he.”

  “Uncle Kit has had an unhappy life in the past,” Kat observed. She didn’t know why she said such a thing, for there was certainly no visible suffering in Sir Christopher’s green eyes now. Yet Merry confirmed her statement with a nod.

  “Aye. Between his shrew of a first wife, Elspeth, and Grace’s treason, the dear man has not had an easy time of it, I trow.” Merry lowered her voice further so as not to risk being overheard. “Uncle Kit also lost his first son, Christian. Father mentioned that the babe was stillborn.

  “It happened a long time before we were born. I hear tell there’s a wee grave tucked away among the wildflowers at Dovehaven. Someday I shall look for it.”

  “Dovehaven?”

  “The little estate in Kent set aside for my dower portion. Remember, Kat, you have your ship — or you did. I’m sure Father will replace it, so you won’t be penniless when you decide to marry.”

  “I doubt I ever shall,” Kat said, thinking of Morgan, the only man she had loved. Merry, too, fell abruptly silent for some reason. Perhaps she sensed the topic was uncomfortable.

  Both glanced up with relief when a rapid clatter of boots broke the silence. Two half-grown lads dashed down the mahogany staircase towards them.

  The boys thundered down the stairs, their hair disheveled, their clothing askew. One was fair, the other dark. Both sported identical grins. They appeared to be a mischievous pair, indeed.

  Spying Kat and Merry in the hall, the two skidded to a stop on the Turkish carpet and exchanged panicked looks.

  “Gervase! Terence!” shrieked an outraged female voice from upstairs. “You come back here at once and clean up this frightful mess.”

  Moments later, a flustered young woman appeared on the upper landing, with the obvious intent of chastising the lads further. Noticing the guests below, she gave a soft cry and rushed down the stairs instead.

  “Cousin Merry. Is’t really you?”

  The two lads seized the opportunity to escape. Dashing past Kat and Merry, they disappeared through a door leading to the kitchens. Kat glimpsed them running past a window round the back of the house. Neither of the redheads appeared to notice or care.

  “Maggie!” Merry exclaimed, with equal delight. She rushed forward to greet the other young woman. The pair of them looked remarkably alike for cousins. Maggie Tanner’s auburn hair was several shades lighter than Merry’s, but her face was so similar as to be startling. These two might be the twins, not Merry and I, Kat mused as she studied the other two standing side by side.

  “Oh, Maggie, how good to see you again. You’ll never believe who I have here with me. D’you remember your own cousin, Katherine?”

  “Dearest Kat!” Maggie hugged the startled Kat in the same impulsive manner Merry always did. “I cannot believe it! We had word you and … that there had been … some sort of a terrible accident. Oh, dear.” Maggie pressed a hand to her lips and looked helplessly to Merry.

  “’Twas but a grievous rumor,” Merry put in quickly. “As you can see, our Kat is very much alive. The queen is in progress to Hampton Court. So I brought Kat here for the weekend to visit you all. Uncle Kit said Anne is home, too. How is she?”

  “Mayhap, you’ll see her later,” Maggie said wryly. “She is presently resting. Anne rests only when she is not busy being an absolute terror. She’s breeding again, y’see, and poor James sent her here for the weekend to get some relief for himself and the girls.”

  Merry chuckled. “I know she vowed not to have another babe so soon after the first three.”

  “Aye, but James wants a boy, as all men do. Despite Anne’s determination not to become enceinte again so soon, I fear her husband won the duel. I reminded the little goose that once is enough. Methinks she’s learned the truth of it, by now.”

  How worldly Maggie Tanner seems for her young age! Kat thought, amazed. She mused a moment upon what her cousin had said. Once is enough … once is enough … unconsciously, Kat’s hand moved to touch her velvet stomacher. She shuddered. Was it possible she carried Morgan’s child beneath her heart? Surely not. Yet her insides knotted anyway when a maid servant approached them with a tray of sweetmeats and goblets of watered wine.

  Kat shook her head at the proffered refreshments and welcomed the distraction of her uncle’s return.

  “Are you weary, girls?” he inquired. “Y’are welcome to retire early, if you wish. ’Twill not hurt our feelings one bit, will it, Maggie? The country air always tires me out at first, too.”

  Merry shook her head, nibbling at a sweetmeat. “I couldn’t sleep a wink, Uncle Kit,” she declared. Obviously remembering Kat then, she added kindly, “Perhaps you are tired, dear.”

  Three gazes shifted to Kat. Truth to tell, she was weary, having stayed up so late the previous evening and rising to travel at dawn’s first light. Often, courtly revelries themselves continued till dawn. Kat realized she would disappoint them all by retiring so early, though.

  “I would much prefer seeing Ambergate than taking a nap,” she said. “Merry has told me much about your beautiful house, Uncle Kit.”

  He smiled when she used his nickname. Kat saw that Ambergate was her uncle’s pride and joy when he led them on the tour. The mansion ranked only a small step beneath his precious daughters, as was obvious when Uncle Kit took Maggie’s arm and placed it upon his with an affectionate pat.

  “Come along, m’dears. I’ll show you all the latest renovations. Mayhap someday this estate shall belong to your son’s son, Maggie, and if my prayers come true, our family will be just as close in future as now.”

  Trailing a pace or two behind, Kat cast her sister a puzzled look. Merry obligingly explained in a whisper.

  “Thus far, Anne has produced only girls. Of course Grace shall not bear any children now, whilst she is on a ridiculous mission to become a nun. Maggie is betrothed to a baron, one she has not met, but who is doubtless virile enough to see to the task God and Uncle Kit intend for him.”

  “Merry!” Kat protested, with a shocked giggle.

  Merry shrugged. “If
Maggie does her proper duty by the family and has sons, Ambergate will most assuredly be hers. Kit’s boys by Isobel have other prospects. The eldest, Nathan, is away at Oxford. He intends to work for our Uncle Phillip when he finishes his studies. Gervase and Terence are too young yet to manage any properties, but Uncle Kit has seen to their futures and purchased other lands nearby.

  “Cousin Maggie is the lucky one. How pleasant to live out one’s days here in the country, yet still be close enough to Court for frequent amusement.”

  “The house is beautiful,” Kat agreed, pausing to admire the gallery where their uncle had led them. Portraits of Tanners down through the ages — most of them sporting distinctive red hair — lined both walls in either direction. Kat studied them one by one until she came upon a painting whose subject looked startlingly familiar.

  “Merry, I didn’t know you’d already had your portrait done.”

  Merry laughed. Uncle Kit and Maggie returned to look at the portrait. The painting Kat had indicated depicted a lovely, auburn-haired young lady garbed in Court regalia, her gray-green eyes twinkling as she gazed loftily upon a smitten admirer kneeling at her feet

  “This is the original Meredith Tanner,” their uncle explained. “Your paternal grandmother on the Tanner side. A strong resemblance, isn’t there?”

  “’Tis unbelievable,” Kat gasped, turning to stare a moment at her sister, then back at the portrait. “Why, it gives one shivers. Even their expressions are the same.”

  Merry chuckled again. “La, I’ll admit it gave me a start the first time I saw it, too. ’Twas like peering into a looking glass. Now you see why the queen calls me Merry, instead of Erin. I have always been dubbed thus by Her Majesty and must remain so.”

  Kat tore her curious gaze away from the portrait. She felt her superstitious Irish blood rebel against the strange coincidence of identical women living in different times. It didn’t seem natural. It was troubling. As Merry hurried ahead to catch up with her favorite cousin, Kat hesitated beside her uncle.