They Forced The Princess To Marry A Beggar… Then He Walked Back Into The Palace As Britain’s……

Chapter 2

The story of how I came to stand on that dais, empty-handed and betrothed to a ghost, began three weeks earlier in a castle I had never seen.

Ashbourne Castle rose from the mist like something carved from a single block of slate, its towers dark against the pale English sky, its windows catching the last light of a dying sun. Inside, Duke Sebastian Ashford stood alone in the west hall, watching the flame of a single candle bend and straighten in the draft.

The ninth woman had just left.

She had been pretty, with honey-colored hair and a laugh that filled the room too quickly. She had complimented the tapestries, the chandeliers, the view from the east window. She had asked about the size of his estate, the number of his tenants, the frequency of his visits to the capital. She had not asked about his dreams, his fears, or the scar that ran along his ribs from a hunting accident when he was seventeen. She had not looked at him long enough to notice that he had one.