It was a marriage of political import…that I looked forward to as a means of escape. Do not get me wrong readers, It was by no means a happy consent...from my side, It was just that a wife enjoyed a different kind of freedom, one that would never be allowed to a daughter. As is the fashion of a good writer ,I should indulge you with some details. I had been a source of constant worry to my esteemed household since the day I first learnt to speak. It was not the manner of speaking I assure you,. Many men would welcome the chance to bed her, marry her, breed from her, but how was she to find another who would love her? She turned a corner and blindly bumped into a stalwart man, ornately dressed in cloth of gold. Oh no! The Bastard Duke in person. She backed away and dropped a curtsey, ‘I’m sorry, My Lord.’ ‘Rise wench!’ As she again stood he looked her up and down. ‘And what have we here?’ Moving close, he ran his knuckles lightly along her soft cheek. ‘Definitely worthy of further. More

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