– Lady Northampton was well on her way to the stables where she was told Ciaran Darcy, the utmost confidant to the king, kept and bartered horses. She was in the business of procuring a new mare – her dearest Hestia had recently developed an acute form of azoturia and was therefore unable to produce any winning colts for the Parr family. Catherine delighted in keeping horses, she’d trained and auctioned them off since she was a spindly little girl, and her stallions were always accomplished champions. She had built a name for herself in the equestrian hemisphere back home, and whilst attending court she was of a mind to forge a similarly renowned reputation. But – it seemed fate dealt her an entirely different hand. The heel of her boot lodged in a swell of mud, Catherine ( ever the image of grace ) felt herself fling forward, stumbling over her own knees whilst her foot remained firmly entrenched in the sludge, unable to be retracted from its muddy depths. She attempted to calm her nerves but found her efforts were in vain ; that was, until she noticed a gentleman approaching. “ Good day, sir. I don’t suppose you have the time to lend a hand to a woman in crisis ? ”