When Ursula’s young son is kidnapped, she is lured into an impossible dilemma. March, 1581. Queen Elizabeth is once again being urged to consider marriage to the Duke of Alençon, a French Catholic twenty years her junior. The prospect of the match is causing unrest throughout the kingdom. Ursula Blanchard however has more immediate matters to worry about when her 9-year-old son is snatched away while out riding. If she is ever to see him again, Ursula must undertake an impossibly difficult and dangerous mission – and commit an act of high treason. Can she rely on her half-sister, Queen Elizabeth, for help? "Among the most action-packed of Buckley's always-engrossing looks at Elizabethan lives and times" ― Kirkus Reviews "The Blanchard mysteries are distinguished by their contemporary feel" ― Booklist Fiona Buckley is the author of fifteen previous Ursula Blanchard mysteries, and a historical saga, Late Harvest. Under her real name, Valerie Anand, she is the author of numerous historical novels, including the much-loved Bridges Over Time series. Brought up in London, she now lives in Surrey. The Reluctant Assassin An Ursula Blanchard Mystery By Fiona Buckley Severn House Publishers Limited Copyright © 2018 Fiona Buckley All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-78029-585-5 Contents Cover, A Selection of Recent Titles by Fiona Buckley, Title Page, Copyright, Chapter One: Outlook Grey, Chapter Two: Applications by a Tutor and a Groom, Chapter Three: Out of Nowhere, Chapter Four: Into the Void, Chapter Five: The Stallion in the Parlour, Chapter Six: The Trap, Chapter Seven: The Dreadful Choice, Chapter Eight: The Queen's Advice, Chapter Nine: Playing For Time, Chapter Ten: A House Without Dogs, Chapter Eleven: Dead End, Chapter Twelve: Sheffield Castle, Chapter Thirteen: Word From Home, Chapter Fourteen: Harry's Tale, Chapter Fifteen: Old House With Ivy, Chapter Sixteen: All Unknowing, Chapter Seventeen: Glimpsed At A Window, Chapter Eighteen: Supper and Cards, Chapter Nineteen: Gathering Forces, Chapter Twenty: Three Times Is Too Many, Chapter Twenty-One: Manhunt, Chapter Twenty-Two: My Son, My Son, Chapter Twenty-Three: Face to Face, CHAPTER 1 Outlook Grey 'No, Master Woodley, no, please ... for pity's sake, this is a public anteroom in Richmond Palace, there are people passing us every moment, and smiling at your antics ... yes, I did say antics. I implore you ...' 'Dear Mistress Stannard, I am not making improper advances! I am most honourably offering you my hand and heart and my wedding ring. I would be a good husband, I promise. I am less wealthy than you but I am no beggar. My elder brother will inherit my father's drapery business and my father's modest estate, but Father decreed that the two farms that my dear mother brought with her into the marriage should come to me. I am healthy and capable; respectably employed as an assistant secretary in the household of Sir George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury. I can help you. You have two big houses, a stud of trotting horses to look after, and a young son to rear. It's heavy burden for a lone widow ...' 'And it amounts to a very nice marriage portion,' I said, resorting to sarcasm. He had accosted me in a long gallery. Along one side, it had deep bays, almost amounting to small rooms, with windows overlooking the gardens, and window seats. Master Woodley had pulled me into one of these bays and in trying to retreat from his octopus-like embrace I had backed into a window seat, which had an edge that was now grinding unpleasantly into my spine. 'Listen,' I said, turning my head so that he couldn't kiss me. 'In this world marriage for the sake of wealth and good connections is commonplace, and believe me, it's no easy thing to be a well-off widow! One is regarded as a catch, which is all right for people who want to be caught, but I do not!' 'Dear Mistress Stannard, has no one ever told you that you are beautiful? You are even young enough to have more children!' 'In this year of Our Lord 1581, I will turn forty-seven years old, and any good looks I may still possess are likely soon to fade. So will my ability to have any more children and I don't want any more anyway. I have a small son and a married daughter and that's enough. But you're right, of course, about my material advantages! Yes, I do have two good houses with land attached, and a lucrative stud of trotters. In addition, though not in wedlock, I am a half-sister to Queen Elizabeth. But there is one thing I am not, and that is prey.' 'Pray? What has prayer to do with it? I don't understand.' No, of course he didn't. He really did see himself as an ardent lover. He couldn't conceive of himself as a pack of hounds on the trail of a tired and exasperated quarry. 'I don't mean praying to God. I mean prey in the sense of something hunted, chased, to be captured,' I said. 'And I am not that – though I often find it difficult to make anyone be