A Dangerous Inheritance by Alison Weir

manuscripts and some of the new printed books made by Master Caxton on his recently established press at Westminster.
    She would also, Richard added, find that a good education would help her in other ways.
    “One day,” he said to her, when she was ten, “you will be the mistress of a great household, for I intend to find a wealthy husband for you.” He had said this before, and meant well, but Kate hated to hear him talking about her marriage, because marrying would mean leaving her home, her close kin, and all she held dear, and perhaps living very far away. Her fear was all the greater because the years were passing by and she was well aware that girls of her rank were often married off at fourteen or fifteen, or even younger. But she never said anything for she knew that her father only wanted the best for her. He had often told her that too.
    This time, though, he said more. It was growing late; the duchess and the two boys had retired to bed, and Kate was just about to follow them, wishing that the duke had not brought up the subject of her marriage. But he stayed her, and bade her sit opposite him by the hearth, in the duchess’s chair.
    “There is something I must tell you, my Kate,” he said, his strong, lean face with its prominent nose and chin looking slightly tense. “Youare old enough now. You must never doubt my love for you, child; you know I would do anything for you. But the truth is … that you were born out of wedlock. You are aware of this, I know: I charged Agnes to tell you as soon as you were of an age to understand.”
    “Yes, sir.” She was amazed that he should speak to her of this. In the four years she had known she was baseborn, she had never dared mention it, for she knew that such matters were unseemly, and she could never have summoned up the words to voice her questions to her father. In fact, she had never voiced them to anyone. She feared to upset the duchess, and had no wish to draw attention to the divide between her and John and their half brother Edward. It was enough to know that she had been lucky, for to be baseborn was not a desirable state; and there was a worse word for it too—she had overheard the waspish Cecily saying it behind her back:
bastard, little bastard
. That had hurt. Fortunately, Cecily had since married and moved away, and was no longer there to torment her.
    “I did not love your mother,” her father said, “and she did not love me, but she was very beautiful, just like you.”
    Kate did not like to meet his furrowed gaze—it did not seem fitting—so she stared at the crackling flames instead. The duke, taking quick sips of his wine, continued his tale.
    “I was her knight, paying my addresses to my chosen lady. But my chosen lady was married, and matters went too far. She told me she was with child. She had to tell her husband too, and he forbade her ever to see me again. Give him his due; he arranged for her to go away to a nunnery to be delivered, and although he forgave her, he would not bring up another man’s child as his own, and so you came to me, as was only meet. I had done a dishonorable thing, but I did all I could to remedy it. I paid for your mother to stay at the priory, I arranged for you to go to a wet nurse, and then I brought you here. And I have been rewarded a thousandfold.” His visage creased into one of his rare smiles. “I can only excuse myself by saying that I was young and ardent, and that I forgot myself and my knightly oath.”
    “What was my mother’s name, sir?” Kate ventured.
    “Katherine. You are named for her.” And then he told her all he thought she needed to know about her mother: the few bare facts of hername, her station in life, and where she lived. He did not tell Kate what she burned to know. Did Katherine Haute think often of the daughter she had been forced to relinquish? Had it torn her apart to give her child away, or had her shame made her anxious to get rid of it? Had she ever felt love