The Harlot’s Daughter. Blythe Gifford

from her to face the King again, relieved to be removed from her touch. ‘I stand by my word.’

      ‘Nevertheless,’ the King said, smiling, ‘I shall have the first banns read next Sunday.’

      Sunday. The reality of what he had done pressed on his shoulders like a stone.

      ‘So soon?’ she asked. ‘We cannot wed until Lent is over.’

      Hibernia cut in. ‘There’s time enough for you to marry before Lent begins.’

      ‘We won’t be married at all unless I am convinced of her love,’ Justin said.

      The King shrugged. ‘Very well. Lady Solay, you have until the end of Lent to convince him of your love.’ His look turned menacing. ‘And, Lamont, you have until the end of Lent to be convinced.’