A ROMANTIC DUKE FOR

CHRISTMAS
10 BOOK REGENCY BOX SET

CHARLOTTE DARCY
ABIGAIL HAVERSHAM

2
 Contents

Introduction
Books by Charlotte Darcy
Books by Abigail Haversham
A Twelfth Night Rendezvous
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
The Dukes Christmas Visit
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
The Duke the Lady and the Christmas Rescue
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
The Duke’s Christmas Memories
Chapter 29

3
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
The Earl’s Forbidden Love
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
More Books by Charlotte Darcy
The Duke Comes Home for Christmas
Chapter 51
The Duke’s Christmas Angel
Chapter 52
The Duke, the Lady and the Christmas Foundling
Chapter 53
The Duke, the Lady and the Holiday Feast
Chapter 54
The Duke Deals with Scandalous Gossip
Chapter 55
Epilogue
More Books by Abigail Haversham
51. License Notes

4
 INTRODUCTION

A Romantic Duke for Christmas

10 Book Box Set

THIS BOX SET contains 10 sweet and clean regency romances by two
bestselling authors Charlotte Darcy and Abigail Haversham. Each book is a
complete story and they can be read alone or in any order. Eight of the
books are brand new and have never been published elsewhere.

I HOPE you enjoy these books and thank you for being such wonderful
readers.

AS A THANK you I would like to offer you a FREE short, clean Regency
romance. You can get it by joining my exclusive newsletter here.

GOD BLESS,

5
BOOKS BY CHARLOTTE DARCY

A Twelfth Night Rendezvous.

The Duke's Christmas Visit
The Duke, the Lady, and the Christmas Rescue
The Duke's Christmas Memories
The Earl's Forbidden Love

©Copyright 2016 Charlotte Darcy

All Rights Reserved

6
BOOKS BY ABIGAIL HAVERSHAM

The Duke Comes Home for Christmas

The Duke's Christmas Angels
The Duke, the Lady and the Christmas Foundling
The Duke, the Lady and the Holiday Feast Bonus book
The Duke Deals with Scandalous Gossip

©Copyright 2016 Abigail Haversham

All Rights Reserved

7
 A TWELFTH NIGHT RENDEZVOUS

By

Charlotte Darcy

©Copyright 2016 Charlotte Darcy

All Rights Reserved

For a limited time only read The Broken Duke – Mended by Love for just
$0.99.

8
 CHAPTER 1

“
P erhaps you’ll find a lady to your liking at your sister’s
Christmas ball.” Fox Exeter laughed, clearly poking fun at his
dear friend.
Daniel Frasier, the Duke of Ashdown, simply rolled his eyes and shook his
head in a most exaggerated fashion.
“Don’t be so silly, Fox. After all, Emily’s Christmas ball is a masquerade
ball.
“How on earth is Ashton supposed to find the woman of his dreams if he
cannot even see her face?” Prudence Exeter, Fox’s younger sister, laughed
lightly making her auburn curls bounce around her pretty face.
Daniel nodded, always finding Prudence such wonderful company. In truth,
he rather thought that she was as much his friend as her brother was, and
their families had been well acquainted for many years.
“Or perhaps, my dear Prudence, our old friend here might prefer to choose
his lady based on nothing more than her personality. Perhaps the idea of a
masquerade ball is not so very silly.” Fox was still laughing, and very
clearly enjoying himself at his friend’s expense.
“Well, brother, many a sensible man, and woman, would tell you that basing
a lifetime’s matrimony on personality and character is very likely to be the
wisest thing a person can do,” Prudence said, with the sort of flourish which
was designed to suggest that she knew herself to be entirely right.
“Forgive me for interrupting, my dear friends, but am I to have any say in
this at all?” Finally, Daniel interjected. “And shall we have just one more

9
sherry before dinner?” He lifted the sherry decanter and raised his
eyebrows simultaneously.
“Yes, to the sherry, my dear chap, and no, to the idea of you having any
further say in your future matrimony. I think the whole thing would go much
quicker and quieter without your input.” Fox was laughing as he raised his
glass to be refilled.
“Oh, perhaps that is enough now, Fox. After all, I think you and I have taken
much more fun at the Duke’s expense than is traditionally decent.” Prudence
also raised her glass, much more delicately, to accept another glass of
sherry. “But, my dear Daniel, I must say there is a serious side to all of this
merriment.” Prudence said, turning her gaze from her brother to the Duke.
“Thank you for your kindness, Prudence, but I rather fear I have brought the
whole thing upon myself. After all, it has been two years since my father
died, and I have known of all the provisions of his will throughout. I should,
perhaps, have done something sooner. I must admit, two years seemed like a
great amount of time to find the right woman and arrange a marriage. I
daresay I gave myself a little too much latitude, and perhaps even put the
thing out of my mind for a little longer than I ought to have done.”
“Oh, do not blame yourself, Daniel. It has always seemed to me too harsh a
thing for your father to have done to you. After all, you were but twenty and
six-years-old when he died, and are only just twenty and eight now. I’m sure
that, left to your own devices, you would always have found the right
woman and married without any need for your father’s posthumous threat,”
Prudence said, smiling kindly at her old friend.
“How kind of you to say so, Prudence. One always feels better when one
has somebody on their side.” Daniel smiled, and raised his sherry glass in
Prudence’s direction. “But I must admit, more than once I have rather
thought I should call the old devil’s bluff.”
“How so?” Fox asked, his eyebrows knitting together, making him look so
very confused.
“By not marrying at all, of course.”
“But then you shall lose every penny of your inheritance, Ashdown Hall
included,” Prudence said, shuddering. “You would be a Duke without home
or money.”
“And if it were not for my brother, James, I don’t think I should care very

10
much. But you see, I cannot leave him penniless and without a home. It is not
my decision to make on his behalf, is it?”
“Have you ever thought that the whole thing might not be strictly legal? I
mean, it’s such an unusual demand,” Fox said, his eyes giving away the tiny
hope he felt for his friend.
“I’m afraid I have thought about it for some time, Fox. Time and time again I
have tried with old Montgomery Quentin, and time and time again, he’s put
me straight on the whole thing.”
“Montgomery Quentin?” Prudence asked, wrinkling her face in question.
“Oh yes, Prudence, Montgomery Quentin is the attorney who acts for our
estate. He served many years with my father, and did whatever he could for
him, including making his curious will as ironclad as was possible. And
he’s so keen to see it all through, it’s almost as if my father was still here,
pulling his strings.”
“Oh dear,” Prudence said, wincing and shrugging all at the same time.
“Oh yes, Prudence. In fact, Montgomery Quentin called upon me last week,
just to remind me that time is running out. I am to be married on the morning
after twelfth night, or my brother and I shall be stripped of every
possession.”
“So, did your father count twelfth night as the fifth or sixth of January?” Fox
Exeter asked, keen to lighten the mood little.
“Oh, the sixth, Fox,” Daniel said with a laugh. “So you see, he’s given me
the extra day. I must be married on or before the seventh of January.”
“But it is the seventh of December already, Daniel. You have but one month
to marry,” Prudence said, unable to hide her look of hopelessness.
“I have a very great fear that I shall have to choose a wife from the great
line of dreadful women your brother has paraded before me,” Daniel said,
smirking and shaking his head slowly from side to side.
“They were not dreadful, my dear man. They were all perfectly suitable, as
far as I could see.” Fox held his hands out, palms forward, almost as if
defending himself.
The door to the drawing room creaked open, and the Butler took two steps
forward.

11
“Dinner is served, Your Grace,” the Butler said, respectfully.
“Thank you, Anderson.” Daniel rose to his feet. “Shall we?” he asked,
turning to his two friends.
The party of three made their way to the dining room, and took their seats.
Prudence looked at the place settings, then looked back at Daniel.
“No James tonight?” she asked, inquiringly.
“I’m afraid not. He has a prior engagement, so I fear it is just the three of
us.”
“Oh. well, in that case, I propose we continue our discussions.” Fox grinned
mischievously.
“Yes, why not?” Daniel’s smile was a little sad but he tried to hide it well.
“Because, if I remember correctly, you were about to defend your terrible
instinct for what you call suitable women.”
Both Daniel and Prudence began to laugh.
“Well, I should have been very glad of any of them for myself.” Fox raised
his right eyebrow, as he began to tuck into his first course.
“Well, take your pick, my dear friend, for I do not want any of them.” Daniel
said lightly, and Prudence continued to be most amused.
“Well, I should like to, but I do not have the same appeal. For one thing, I’m
simply the son of a good man, and for another, I am the son of a poor man,”
Fox said, laughing good-naturedly. “Most of the young ladies I have tried to
tempt you with would faint away at the idea of being betrothed to me.”
“Oh, Fox!” Prudence said, laying her knife and fork down. “You really do
exaggerate.”
“I do not, my dear sister,” Fox said. “You wait and see, Father will be trying
to marry you off to some wealthy, elderly Duke, you mark my words.”
“Fox, behave yourself!” Daniel said with mock sternness but could not stop
from laughing heartily. “You are frightening the life out of your sister.”
“All right then, let’s get back to you.” Fox turned serious brown eyes back
to the Duke. “And you can tell us why it is that you have dismissed the idea
of matrimony with any and all of the young ladies I have introduced you to.”

12
“Because they are all so keen on titles, and nothing else. Money and titles.”
The Duke took a great gulp of wine. “And I really do not want to be married
to a woman like that.”
“But surely, that is how so many marriages begin. It does not make them
unhappy,” Fox said.
“Oh, Fox, what a dreadful way of looking at things.” Prudence was
scowling playfully at her brother.
“Indeed it is, Prudence. It would seem that you and I are of one mind, and
would only marry someone who values us for who we are, and not what we
can provide.”
“Absolutely, Daniel.” Prudence lifted her own wine glass in toast.
“It rather looks as if you are not going to have time now to find just such a
woman, my dear friend. Lest you forget, you have but one month in which to
marry, or lose everything,” Fox said, although he seemed to regret his rather
harsh tone. “I do hate to be the one to say it, but you really are going to have
to do something, my dear friend.”
“Well, here’s hoping that I meet a much more suitable kind of woman at my
sister’s Christmas ball,” Daniel said, a little glumly.
“I think your time might be better spent getting to know one or two of the
other ladies better, and making a decision upon one of them. At least they
are all keen to marry, and not one of them would balk at the idea of marrying
in just one month,” Fox said.
“Well, your plan has merit, of course. I promise you, Fox, that if I do not
find the type of woman I am looking for at my sister’s masquerade ball, then
I shall devote the rest of the Yuletide season to choosing between the young
ladies you introduced me to.”
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, Daniel,” Prudence had been silent for
some minutes, and seemed incredibly sad when she finally did re-join the
conversation. “And I, for one, shall be very much hoping and praying that
the right woman shall somehow appear at your sister’s ball. Maybe hidden
beneath a mask you will discover a true love.”
“I thank you kindly, Prudence, you are such a romantic.” Daniel reached for
her hand and patted it robustly. “And I’m very pleased that you shall be
there on the night, Prudence, to see that I do not make any rash mistakes.”

13
“Oh yes, I shall certainly be there. I’m going to accompany my brother for
the evening.” Prudence rolled her eyes as if the very idea of it was
tantamount to a sentence. “But I shall try to enjoy myself nonetheless.”
“Prudence!” Fox said, laughing suddenly as if he had been unexpectedly
jolted out of reverie.
“And Emily’s parties are always such fun. I really wouldn’t miss it for
anything.” Prudence smiled conspiratorially at the Duke.
“Yes, Prudence is right. Your sister really does know how to throw a decent
sort of a bash,” Fox agreed.
“Of course, Emily has always adored Christmas,” Daniel said, smiling at
the thought of his beloved elder sister. “She tells me that she is holding no
less than three events this year.”
“Three?” Prudence asked, her voice full of surprise. “Goodness me, the
Earl of Lytton must be a very understanding man.” Prudence gave into
laughter.
“Indeed, Emily was very fortunate in her choice of husband. She searched
for a man who would not only indulge her love of socializing, but share it.”
“Oh, Lord Lytton certainly does love to socialize. Still, three grand Yuletide
events shall be no easy accomplishment.” Fox looked most impressed.
“So, the first is the Christmas masquerade ball,” Prudence said, looking
intently at Daniel. “So, what are the other two?”
“Well, after the masquerade ball, Emily intends to host the travelling
players, and have them put on a performance for her guests.”
“Oh, I say! I do so love a theatrical.” Prudence’s eyes were wide with
excitement. “And when is that?”
“Just a few days before Christmas. The twentieth of December, I believe,”
Daniel said, squinting his eyes as he tried to recollect the exact date.
“And the third event is?” Fox asked.
“Oh yes, the third and final event will be on twelfth night,” Daniel said,
pausing to give Prudence enough time to react.
“Oh, I do so love twelfth night celebrations. Of all the Yuletide treats,

14
twelfth night always seems to be the biggest. What is Emily planning?”
Prudence asked, a little breathlessly.
“My dear sister is hosting a twelve-night character’s party,” Daniel said,
with a grimace.
“Oh, I love to be in character all night. I haven’t been to a twelve-night
character’s party for several years. I always get the most dreadful
characters to play, but I don’t mind it a bit.”
“Well, I think my sister feels very much as you do, Prudence. She already
has many of the costumes arranged, and I do believe that she is looking
forward to twelfth night more than any of the others.”
“And, I must admit, that is the night that I shall be looking forward to most
of all. It really does sound like such fun, Daniel.”
“Well, we shall see,” Daniel said, without commitment.
“Oh, don’t look so glum. After all, it might be the night that you finally
secure the woman of your dreams, ready to marry the next morning.”
“Oh, Prudence, I really do adore you for your optimism and enthusiasm. I
shall find the right woman if only to please you, my dear girl,” Daniel said,
smiling indulgently.
“I have every faith in you, Daniel,” Prudence said with a warm smile.

15
 CHAPTER 2

W hen Daniel arrived in the grand mansion of his sister and her
husband, the Earl of Lytton, he was pleased to note a lull in
the arrival of guests. It allowed him to enter in a much more
relaxed manner and suited his current mood.
“Good evening, my dear sister,” Daniel said, striding into the grand entrance
hall. “And Alistair, how are you?” He turned to shake his brother-in-law’s
hand.
“Very well, Duke, although I’m sure I shall feel a lot better when I take this
silly mask off,” The Earl of Lytton replied from behind a dark and somber
mask.
“Oh, Alistair, you must keep it on, it’s going to be a wonderful evening,”
Emily complained humorously from behind a beautiful gold colored and
jewel encrusted mask that covered her face but somehow accentuated her
eyes and gave her an air of mystery.
“It will be a glorious evening, my darling, but I’m rather afraid this mask
itches dreadfully. Of course, I shall keep it on all evening, just for you,”
Alastair said, indulgently.
“A very wise move, my dear man. I dread to think how you would fare
otherwise. You know how my sister adores Christmas,” Daniel said, and the
two men began to laugh.
“Oh, Daniel, do put your mask back on. Everyone will recognize you
otherwise,” Emily said as she reached out and swatted her younger
brother’s arm.

16
“Well, I did not want to speak to you with this great beak in front of me.”
Daniel was holding his mask aloft.
“Oh dear, why did you go for one with such an awfully big beak?” Emily
laughed as she surveyed the mask. It was gold in color, and extremely
fulsome, with a long and pointed beak protruding from it. It looked like
some form of bird which had a slightly mischievous or even malevolent
look about its eyes depending of what angle you were at.
“I didn’t want anyone to recognize me, Emily,” Daniel said, with a shrug.
“Since I am currently on the run from several of the young ladies that dear
old Fox Exeter thought I might like, and subsequently introduced to me to as
potential spouses.”
“Oh, my dear, Daniel,” Emily said, sadly. “I really am so very sorry.” She
did not need to say any more. Daniel knew fine well that she was referring
to the dreadful terms of their father’s will.
“Well, I have given myself this one more evening to find a lady of my own
choosing. If I fail, then I shall have to revert to one of Exeter’s choices,”
Daniel said, shaking his head and laughing, despite the sudden downturn in
the mood of both him and his sister. “But in the meantime, I am very much,
as I have said, on the run from them all.”
“Hence, the mask,” the Earl added with a laugh, keen to cheer the both of
them.
“Hence, the mask, Alistair.” Smiling at them both, Daniel reattached his
mask, and lightly bowed before making his way towards the Great Hall.
Daniel could see that many of the guests had already arrived, and the hall
was bustling with life. One of the wonderful things about a masquerade ball
was the ability to sneak in, the very idea of being incognito prevented him
being announced. It was wonderful. To ensure his anonymity he had picked
his outfit with care, keen not to stand out in any way. He had chosen simple
black breeches and a black tailcoat, with an ivory and rather plain shirt
under a dark cream waistcoat. Seeing that so many other of the male
attendees had dressed in that manner, Daniel smiled to himself that he had
chosen correctly. For just one evening, he wanted to be free of his own title,
and all the false chatter and obsequious behavior it excited. Not to mention
the fact that he was, indeed, on the run. He had not entirely been jesting
when he had told his sister as much.

17
Daniel scanned the room for any sign of Fox and Prudence. They were due
to attend together, and he rather hoped that they were already in the hall.
However, a thorough look around told him that they had not yet arrived, and
he would have to amuse himself for a while. As he made his way to the
grand buffet tables, in search of a glass of warm, spicy punch, Daniel’s eyes
fell upon two women he recognized, even with their masks on. They were
Olivia Bainbridge, and her dear friend, Florence Lovett. Both had been
introduced to him recently by Fox Exeter as prospective brides, and neither
of them had come anywhere near to impressing him.
Daniel smiled as he remembered how instantly impressed he had been by
Olivia Bainbridge’s beauty, and how it had clearly shown itself upon his
face. Olivia’s hair was the palest blonde, and her skin was creamy and free
of any mark. She had pale blue eyes and a pleasing, if somewhat blank,
countenance. However, she had recognized his attraction immediately, and
her self-satisfaction had instantly played itself out on her otherwise blank
features. Something about her vanity had immediately turned Daniel against
her, and rendered her entirely unattractive to him in no more time than it
takes the heart to beat.
Their first meeting had been at a tea and bridge afternoon at Lady Tarlton’s
home. Fox had introduced the two of them, clearly pleased with himself at
finding his friend so beautiful a prospect. On seeing Daniel’s countenance
change so dramatically, Fox had declared his friend to be uncommonly
picky, and impossible to please. For his part, Daniel had spent the rest of
the afternoon trying to extricate himself from Olivia Bainbridge’s rather
tedious company.
Within a week, Fox Exeter had introduced Daniel to Florence Lovett, and
Daniel had been equally unimpressed. Florence seemed to have no
personality whatsoever, and although pretty, was excruciatingly boring.
Whilst the two women were very different, they had one very great interest
in common. Both came from families with great aspirations, and both had
inherited those aspirations with gusto.
In truth, Olivia Bainbridge and Florence Lovett made rather strange friends,
both of them being so very interested in marrying him. However, Daniel had
met them both separately and together, and had very much realized that
Olivia was the dominant of the two. In fact, he rather thought that Florence
would actually go out of her way to assist her friend in any scheme designed
to ensure titled matrimony for Olivia. The very idea of it did not endear him
to either woman, and he suddenly felt very glad of his plain clothes and ugly

18
mask.
Daniel gratefully took the glass of warm punch handed to him by the liveried
footman, and continue to glance around the room for any sign of his friends.
Once again, he was disappointed, and instead of finding his friends, he
found himself once again looking at Olivia Bainbridge and Florence Lovett.
This time, however, they were looking back. Daniel realized that he had, of
course, been recognized by both women, and rather feared that if he did not
make a move of some sort, they would make their way across to him. Of all
things, he did not want to spend another evening in the company of either,
and certainly not both, of these titles chasing women. Suddenly determined
to flee, Daniel hurriedly made his way along the great buffet tables with
very little idea of what he would do when he got to the end of them. As he
rushed along the front of the tables, Daniel idly wondered why it was that
his sister always laid on enough food to feed three times as many people as
actually attended her events. He shook his head a little, wondering at his
sudden inconsequential turn of thought.
In his own mind, Daniel pictured himself, a great beaked creature trying to
escape two small and rather pretty women. The very thought of it made him
laugh out loud and, when he finally reached the end of the last buffet table,
Daniel was still laughing to himself. He dashed around the side of the table,
rather thinking that he would make some show of admiring the spread and
bide his time in the hope that his friends would appear at any moment.
However, as he rounded the edge of the great table, looking back over his
shoulder as he did so, Daniel collided with a young woman. Turning his
head sharply to apologize, the great beak of his golden mask clashed noisily
with the delicate and simple blue eye mask the young lady was wearing. It
was clear that Daniel had shocked her, and in her haste to move backwards,
the young woman almost lost her footing. Seeing that she was about to fall,
Daniel reached out with both hands, and grasped both of hers. He pulled her
upright before she even had a chance to go off balance, and held tightly to
her hands for a few moments longer than was necessary, determined to be
sure she would not fall.
“Oh, my dear woman, I am most dreadfully sorry,” Daniel said, fighting
embarrassment and a dreadful urge to laugh again.
“Oh please, do not make yourself uneasy,” the woman said, laughing lightly.
“I am simply pleased that my eye is not on the end of your beak. So, you see,
there is no harm done.”

19
Daniel could not imagine why he found the woman’s comment so very funny,
but it was enough to make him laugh out loud once again.
“Oh, I say, do forgive me,” Daniel said, realizing that his laughter was
entirely inappropriate.
“Again, please do not worry,” she replied, laughing herself. “And since you
seem to have laughed your way all along the front of the tables, it would
rather seem a shame for you to stop now.”
“Oh.” Daniel was entirely lost for words. “I had no idea there were any
witnesses to my unusual behavior.”
“There are but three, Sir,” she said, her bright blue eyes seeming to shine
with mirth.
“Three?” Daniel asked, somewhat taken aback.
“Indeed. There is me, obviously, and then there are the two young ladies you
were running from.” And with that, she laughed again, in a most delighted
way.
“Oh dear, was I so very obvious?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well, if I have at least amused you, can I assume myself to be forgiven for
almost knocking you to the ground and poking out your eye?” Daniel asked,
smiling his very broadest smile at her.
“Well, perhaps,” she said, her full, rosy lips beginning to turn up into a
smile.
“Only perhaps?”
“Yes, perhaps if you tell me why you are running from those two beautiful
women, then I might forgive you everything.” There was such a tone of
intelligent wit in the young woman’s voice that Daniel could not help but
find himself suddenly intrigued. Her eyes held such knowing, almost as if
she could entirely pre-empt his response to the question. As Daniel looked
into her shining blue eyes, he realized that she knew exactly why it was he
had been making his escape from Olivia Bainbridge and Florence Lovett.
“Well, they are, as you say, rather beautiful ladies. However, they both seem
inordinately keen to marry me.” Daniel could not help but feel a little

20
embarrassed by what she must have seen as his own pomposity. Something
about the young woman rather struck him, and he did not want to leave her
with the impression that he was a proud and vain man. “Although, heaven
knows why,” he added, hoping to appear a good deal more modest.
“And am I to take it that you have little interest, Sir, in marrying either young
lady?” Her smile was now fully formed, displaying the most beautifully
straight, white teeth he had ever seen. There was something so very
appealing about her peachy skin and her rosy lips that Daniel almost wanted
to reach out and touch her face.
“In truth, dear lady, I have no interest whatsoever in either of them.” Daniel
spread his hands wide in a comical attempt at supplication.
“That seems rather cruel, Sir, since they both seem to have so keen an
interest in you.”
It was clear to Daniel that the young lady was gently mocking him, and he
suddenly thought that he had not enjoyed himself so much for a very long
time. Certainly, he had not enjoyed the company of any of the young ladies
of Fox Exeter’s choosing as he was enjoying the company of this masked
stranger. Daniel began to laugh, if only to give himself a moment or two in
which to surreptitiously make a study of the young woman before him.
She was tall and elegant, with pleasing curves and the bearing of a lady. Her
gown was rather simply cut, but in a most beautiful shade of blueish green,
and her long gloves were crisp and white. Her mask was as simple as her
gown, and in very much the same color. It was no more than an eye mask,
with a delicate rose made of fabric attached to one side. The color of the
mask could not compete with the bright blue of her eyes, and they seemed to
shine out at him with great knowing and intelligence. Her hair was rich
golden blonde, which was naturally wavy and expertly piled up at the back
of her head.
“I daresay you might not think me quite so cruel if you knew the ladies in
question,” Daniel said, instantly regretting his words. “I mean, you might
know them… so I say, I’m terribly sorry again. I do hope I have not
offended you.”
“You really are having a quite dreadful night, aren’t you?” she asked, and
her laugh was so light and melodious that Daniel felt his mouth drop open
slightly. “But again, do not upset yourself. I cannot claim friendship with
either of the young ladies, so you may rest easy.”

21
“May I get you a glass of fruit punch by way of a very general apology?”
Daniel asked, lightly tapping his masked forehead with his hand in complete
exasperation with himself.
“That is extremely kind of you, Sir, but I rather think I ought to get it myself.
There are several people now gathered about that table, and I rather fear the
tragedy that might ensue if you were you to stride over there with your beak
unguarded.”
“My dear woman, you are mocking me,” Daniel said, with a smile. He felt
curiously at ease with the masked lady in a way that he had not felt for some
time.
“I’m afraid I am, and it is very wrong of me,” she said, with a smile that
told him she was anything other than sorry.
“You have the upper hand since I rather owe you for the injuries you very
nearly suffered,” Daniel said, his smile wide as he enjoyed himself
immensely.
“Ah, good evening.” Suddenly Fox Exeter was at his side, with rather a
forced smile and somewhat strained look upon his face. Within seconds,
Daniel realized what the problem was. As Fox and Prudence had made their
way over to him, Olivia Bainbridge and Florence Lovett had affixed
themselves to the small group. With an enormous sigh which was almost
audible to all around him, Daniel realized that he would be unable to escape
the presence of the two women. Prudence squinted her eyes at him and gave
a shrug so small it was almost invisible. Of course, Daniel could not blame
either Prudence or Fox. There was simply nothing that either of them could
have done about it.
Daniel’s spirits began to rise as he saw his sister, Emily, striding towards
them with a big smile on her face. If anybody knew how to divert the two
interlopers, Emily did. With high hopes that the next few minutes would
definitely go in his favor, Daniel turned to finally make the introductions
between his friends and the young woman whose name he did not yet know.
He had been about to speak but, when he turned he found the woman had
completely disappeared. Daniel’s mouth simply hung open uselessly.
Turning hurriedly, Daniel made a complete circuit of the room with his eyes,
desperately searching for the plain gown and the beautiful golden hair. Not
finding her, Daniel made the same circuit again, squinting in concentration.
“I say, Daniel, whatever is the matter? You spin like a child’s toy.” Fox

22
laughed, but it did little to hide his sudden concern.
“Where has she gone?” Daniel asked, looking at his friend a little too
intently.
“Who?” Fox asked, his arms raising slightly from his side.
“The young lady I was talking to. The young lady with the blueish green
gown and mask, and the golden hair.” Daniel spoke loudly enough that the
whole group could hear him.
“I’m afraid I didn’t see her, my dear fellow. Still, you have rather squashed
yourself into this corner, it’s a wonder I even found you,” Fox said, with a
light laugh. “I say, are you all right?” Fox leaned in to Daniel to whisper in
his ear in a most concerned manner.
“Are you sure you didn’t see her?” Daniel asked, and turned to look behind
him. He and the young lady had been so far along one side of the end buffet
table that they had almost been behind it, where the servants were. Daniel
scanned the entire area, wondering if his beautiful companion had stepped
away just for a few moments. There was no sign of her, of course, and all he
could see were liveried footmen and maids in black dresses. Some distance
back from the tables, in a very dimly lit corner of the hall, was a single
door, which Daniel knew to be the servants’ entrance. It was the door
through which they would ferry plates of food backward and forward, and
bring hot bottles to replenish the warm punchbowl. Surely she had not
disappeared that way? After all, the young lady was clearly a guest, not a
servant.
Daniel turned back to the small group, and tried to regain his equanimity.
Olivia Bainbridge was smiling at him in a fashion which she clearly hoped
was alluring, but seemed to him rather garish. No doubt she had seen the
woman he had been talking to, for had she and Florence not been studying
him so very closely when he made his dash along the front of the buffet
tables?
“I say, Miss Bainbridge, did you see where the young lady went? I was
speaking to her just a moment ago. She wore a blueish green gown, with a
mask to match.” Daniel said, addressing Olivia Bainbridge directly.
“I’m afraid, Duke, that I did not see the young lady in question. Oh, how I
wish I could be of more help.” Olivia Bainbridge had the sort of smile that
stayed only on the lips, never meeting her eyes. It seemed so terribly false to

23
Daniel. He frowned in confusion, feeling absolutely certain that Olivia
Bainbridge and Florence Lovett would have seen the young lady most
distinctly.
“Indeed,” Daniel said, irritably. He looked over to where his sister had
been standing briefly, only to note that she had already absented herself from
the group to speak to more of her guests.
“I say, Daniel, do try to be normal.” Once again, Fox Exeter whispered into
his ear.
“Oh yes, of course,” Daniel said, finally regaining his ordinary countenance.
As the evening went on, as he engaged in the typically polite conversation of
just such an event, Daniel occasionally let his eyes rove around the room,
searching for her. After more than an hour, he began to realize that the young
woman had, quite simply, vanished.
Throughout the rest of the evening, nothing could truly entertain him. As
much as he tried to find himself diverted by the music, the dancing, and the
rest of the festivities, Daniel quite simply could not concentrate. As he
found himself spending the rest of the evening with two of the women he had
dearly hoped to avoid, Daniel felt himself slowly giving up hope of ever
being able to marry a woman he could not only love, but also like.

24
 CHAPTER 3

W ith the children settled down for an afternoon nap, Verity

Crawford decided to take a chilly walk about the grounds of
Lytton Hall. Finding her way around to the back of the
mansion, Verity was pleased to see that the beautiful, somewhat weak
sunshine had failed to make its way back here, leaving the foliage of the
shrubbery still encased in a beautiful white frost. Verity stood for some
moments, watching her warm breath on the cold air, and enjoying the most
secluded part of the entire estate.
Feeling the cold begin to bite, Verity pulled her thick woolen cloak more
tightly about her and set off at a brisk walk once again. All day, Verity had
had the strangest feeling. It was rather hard to describe, even to herself. One
moment, she felt light-hearted and carefree, the next, rather sad, and
regretful. The children, ordinarily very well-behaved, had been noisy and
irritable for a good part of the day, leaving Verity unable to explore the
curious feelings any further. Of course, the poor things were simply tired.
They had been excited by the idea that a great masquerade ball was taking
place downstairs, and frustrated by the fact that they were simply too young
to attend it. However, the five-year-old, Megan, and six-year-old, Beth, had
reportedly stayed awake for a good deal of the evening, despite several
attempts by their nurse to settle them. As a result, they were tired and
irritable, and Verity found herself uncommonly glad when the time came for
their afternoon nap.
Still, with time to herself, Verity was keen to put right the strangeness of her
own emotions.
The moment she thought of the friendly and rather funny man she had spoken

25
to at the ball, Verity experienced the light-hearted and carefree emotion. So,
her good mood was very likely to be the result of the brief time she had
spent with the man in the large beaked mask.
Of course, it took no time at all for Verity to discern that the cause of her
sadness and regret had been her leaving him so suddenly. In truth, however,
there had been little else Verity could think to do at the time. Seeing Olivia
Bainbridge and Florence Lovett attach themselves to the small group who
approached the man had almost taken her breath away. The panic she had
felt had been immense, and the very moment the man’s attention was taken,
Verity made haste through the doorway to the servants’ area. From there, she
had simply dashed through the back of the building and away to her own
quarters, calling into look at the children on route. After that, Verity knew
she could not return to the ball. In fact, she had only agreed to attend
because her mistress had insisted so.
“Oh, my dear, Verity, please do say you will come to my masquerade ball,”
Lady Emily Lytton had almost pleaded with her. Of course, Lady Lytton was
so very kind, and had been from the moment that Verity had arrived at Lytton
Hall that she could do no other than agree to her mistress’s wishes.
“Oh, well, if you absolutely insist, My Lady, I shall attend. But only because
it is a masked ball.” As soon as Verity had spoken the last, she wished that
she had not.
“Oh, Verity, I do wish you didn’t feel you had to hide. There really is no
good reason for it. You are a Baron’s daughter, with every right to feel most
comfortable at any social gathering in the county.” Lady Lytton had looked
truly pained, and had reached out and taken Verity’s hands in her own. In
truth, Verity had attended many balls in her life, and the full run of
aristocratic social events. However, since the appalling downturn in her
dear father’s fortunes, Verity had chosen to work for a living, rather than to
rush headlong into unhappy and painful matrimony as a means of financial
support. When she had decided to become a governess, Verity had been
rather relieved to have found herself working for Lady Lytton. She was a
good and kind woman with no prejudice that Verity could discern. In truth,
Verity knew that her working life could have been so very much worse. As
it was, she adored Megan and Beth, and had found herself quite content in
her new occupation.
“Oh, I daresay I shall get used to it in time, but my life is very different now,
My Lady.”

26
“I do wish you would call me Emily. I want so much for us to simply be
friends.”
“But do you not see that it would prove such a dreadful example to your
servants? And I do not expect it, really, I do not. I am more than happy in my
work, and I shall get used to my new station in life. Please, please do not
worry about me.”
“But you are very much a part of my little family, and I should so love for
you to take part in our Christmas.”
“Then I shall promise faithfully to attend your masquerade ball,” Verity had
said, smiling warmly at Lady Lytton.
As Verity continued to the small wooded area at the far corner of the great
lawns, she rather hoped she had not let Lady Lytton down. After all, she had
only attended the ball for an hour, and no more. Yet, when she had seen
Olivia Bainbridge approaching, her nerve had rather given way. That
dreadful young woman would have known in an instant that it was she,
Verity, behind the simple mask, and would undoubtedly have made some
dreadful remark upon Verity’s new status. After all, she had done so before.
Olivia had attended Lytton Hall within days of Verity’s appointment as
governess, and had recognized her instantly. They had never been more than
the vaguest of acquaintances, knowing each other more by sight from
attendance at the never ending social gatherings of her old life. Verity had
been hurrying through the entrance hall with the children as they returned
from a brief walk about the estate when she had encountered Olivia in the
doorway, making ready to leave.
“Well, I hardly thought the gossip was true, yet here I see proof of it with my
own eyes. So, you are a common governess, I see.” It was the most that
Olivia Bainbridge had ever spoken to Verity, and Verity could not quite
believe how utterly rude she had been. Of course, she had not done it within
earshot of Lady Lytton, who was dealing with the butler on some small
domestic matter and was therefore not part of their conversation. The thing
that struck Verity the most was the fact that Olivia seemingly had nothing to
gain from her comments, since there were none other there to impress. No,
indeed, all she had gained from it was the satisfaction of a need to be so
very spiteful. She was simply being cruel for the sake of it, and Verity had
very much avoided her ever since. Whilst she could not have been
completely sure that Olivia Bainbridge would have said or done something
to humiliate her on the night of the masquerade ball, Verity dared not take

27
the chance. It had taken every ounce of courage to even get her into the Great
Hall, and she could not have born to have been torn down in front of
witnesses.
In truth, Verity could not have borne it in front of the pleasant and strangely
attractive man. In the end, it was better that she never knew him at all, rather
than wait for a formal introduction, all the while risking Olivia Bainbridge’s
intervention.
As Verity turned and began to make her way back towards Lytton Hall, she
remembered the man a little more clearly. Although he was dressed quite
simply, it was clear that his outfit had been tailored to the highest standards.
He was pleasingly tall, standing head and shoulders above a good deal of
the men in attendance. He was also rather a broadly set man, and she had
vaguely wondered if he followed many sporting pursuits. Indeed, he cut a
very fine figure. His hair had been a rich, dark brown, and seemed to her to
be thick and a little wayward. His eyes were also rich and dark, and had
stood out beautifully against the gold of his mask. In truth, the great mask
had covered much of his face, and it was impossible to say for sure that he
was a handsome man. However, there was something about his manner and
his bearing which certainly made him very attractive to Verity. His humor,
also, could not be denied, and seemed very much in tune with her own. How
she wished she had at least some idea who he was, and any clue as to
whether or not she would ever see him again. Whoever he was, he was
likely to be either very rich, or very handsome, since why else would Olivia
Bainbridge be so very interested in marrying him? If, indeed, the man had
spoken true in telling her as much. The fact that the man seemed little
interested in Olivia and Florence struck Verity as rather amusing and
extremely satisfying. However, since she was unlikely to ever see the man
again, quite how the question of his matrimony went would undoubtedly
remain a mystery to her. With a sigh, Verity shook off her cloak of sadness
and set off to find the children.

28
 CHAPTER 4

“
A re you sure you had a nice time at my masquerade ball, Daniel?”
Emily asked, after the maid had put down the tea tray and quit
the drawing room.
“Of course I did, Emily. I always enjoy myself when I come to events at
Lytton Hall. You always do them so very well, my dear,” Daniel said,
laughing and placating all at the same time.
“It’s just that you seemed so dreadfully distracted. Was it really just because
you were on the run from the young ladies?” Emily sat forward in her chair
and Daniel suddenly realized that his sister was using the ball as a means of
poking around in his life. Not that she would have been searching for simple
gossip, and Daniel knew that much. Rather, she would have just been
keeping one eye on the calendar, knowing how much he stood to lose if he
did not marry the day after twelfth night, and knowing that he had yet to find
himself somebody he had any chance of happiness with.
“Well, I did my best to steer clear of Olivia Bainbridge and Florence Lovett
for the first part of the evening, but as soon as they spied Fox and Prudence,
they attached to them as a barnacle does to the bottom of the boat,” Daniel
said with a shrug. “Unfortunately, my two friends delivered them to me as
unwittingly as a cargo ship.”
“Oh, my dear, Daniel, you are quite simply too funny,” Emily said, with a
girlish giggle.
“And I mean every word of it, sister. I rather wish that Fox had never
introduced us. I don’t think Florence Lovett would be much of a problem on
her own, but Olivia Bainbridge is quite simply relentless.”

29
“It is well known, I’m afraid, that Miss Bainbridge seeks a title,” Emily
said, with a pretty version of a wince. “So, it seems rather strange that Fox
Exeter would introduce her to you, of all people.”
“I rather think it was her eagerness which led him to make the introduction,”
Daniel said, with a warm smile. “You see, he’s such a good sort of a fellow
and he doesn’t want to see me lose everything. I suppose he thought that
Miss Bainbridge is pretty, well bred, and very keen to marry. The shortest
of engagements, I daresay, would not be a problem to her.”
“Oh, dear Fox, he’s an utter lamb,” Emily said, genuinely. “But is there
really nobody you have met who would suit you? I know that’s not
particularly romantic, Daniel, but is there not somebody you have seen who
you think you could manage to be married to?”
“Indeed, it is not romantic, but that is hardly your fault, Emily. I daresay it is
mine, for being rather too fussy.” Daniel stopped and took a sip of his tea,
then stared thoughtfully down into the cup for several seconds. “But you see,
I do not see it as fussy. Why should marriage not be happy and romantic and
exciting? Why must it always come down to titles and money?”
“If only Father could see what he has done,” Emily said, bitterly.
“Well, he was determined that I should marry within his agreed timescales.
It mattered nothing to him whether or not I actually like the lady. After all,
he did not particularly like mother, did he? And I do not want a marriage
such as the one that they had. It all seems so very pointless to me. Were it
not for James, I would let the seventh of January come and go with out a
blink, then let Montgomery Quentin serve me with his papers.”
“I’m so very sorry, my dear brother. How I wish things were different for
you.” Emily seemed almost on the point of tears.
“Oh, my dear sister, please do not upset yourself,” Daniel said, reaching out
across the small side table to take his sister’s hand. “I despise myself for
making you miserable.”
“It is not you who makes me miserable, Daniel, rather the situation. I would
give anything that you could find a young lady so very different from the
likes of Olivia Bainbridge and Florence Lovett.”
“Actually, I bumped into a rather nice lady at your ball.” Finally, Daniel
smiled. He had been thinking of those bright blue eyes behind that mask
every day since the night of the masquerade ball. Time and time again he

30
wondered where it was she had gone, and more importantly, why she had
left without saying a word.
“Oh, indeed? And who was that?” Suddenly Emily brightened, and sat up
very much straighter in her chair.
“I’ve absolutely no idea,” Daniel said, throwing his head back and laughing
at the ridiculousness of it all.
“How can you have no idea?” Emily asked, her tone a mixture of confused
exasperation.
“Well, it was a masquerade ball, sister,” Daniel said, and shrugged his
shoulders as if it was obvious.
“My dear brother, even at masquerade balls people still introduce
themselves.”
“Well, we hadn’t quite got that far. I had been speaking to her for several
minutes, and very much enjoying her company when, finally, Fox and
Prudence appeared. Then I noted that, sadly, Olivia Bainbridge and
Florence Lovett were in tow, and by the time I had said my greetings to all, I
looked behind me and the lady was gone.”
“Indeed?” Emily asked, her eyebrows knitting together in the deepest of
thoughts. “Tell me, what was the young lady in question wearing?”
“I rather gather you already know the lady in question. Do you?” Daniel
asked, leaning forward towards his sister.
“I think it’s very likely that I do, but I should like to hear your description of
her gown. Just color will do.”
“Well, I would say it was rather a blueish green.” He looked at her
hopefully.
“By blueish green, do you mean teal?” Emily asked with a sigh.
“Indeed I do, if that is what teal is.”
“And her hair?”
“Wait a moment, you only wanted a description of her gown. Why does hair
now come into the thing?” Daniel asked, unable to resist the urge to tease
his sister, despite the fact that he was inordinately keen to find out the

31
identity of the young lady.
“Daniel!” Emily squeaked.
“All right, all right,” Daniel said, holding both hands up at the same time in
surrender. “She had beautiful golden hair, which seemed rather thick and
shiny and was piled nicely at the back of her head. She also had the most
beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Her mask was very simple, and rather
matched the color of her dress. I believe they call it teal in all the right
circles,” he said, with a mischievous grin. “And I must say that she was
possessed of a very keen wit, and I found her very amusing indeed.”
“Yes, Verity is extremely intelligent and does, as you say, have a very keen
wit,” Emily said, nodding sagely.
“Verity? Verity who?” Daniel was suddenly excited.
“Miss Verity Crawford. She is the daughter of a Baron; Lord Wesley
Crawford?” Emily made the statement a question, keen to know whether or
not her brother was aware of the family.
“I say, I have seen him before, and found him rather a decent sort of chap.
But hasn’t he fallen on dreadfully painful times of late? Haven’t I heard that
he might need to find a buyer for his estate?” Daniel asked squinting, almost
as if he was not sure he had the right family.
“Indeed, he is the very same. It is terribly, terribly sad,” Emily said, and
looked quite grief stricken. “And Verity is such a wonderful woman,” Emily
went on. “And the children absolutely adore her. Really, nobody else has
them in check quite the way that Verity does.”
“The children? Your children?” Daniel asked, shaking his head, entirely
unable to make sense of what his sister was saying.
“Oh, dear me, I should have said that bit first,” Emily said, with a tight little
smile. “Verity Crawford is Megan and Beth’s governess. She has worked
for me these last six months.”
“She works for you?” Daniel asked, incredulously.
“Indeed, she does.”
“But why?”
“I have just explained it all out to you. Lord Crawford has fallen upon evil

32
times, and those evil times extend to his dear daughter.”
“I realize that, Emily, but I am wondering why it is that a suitable husband
could not have been found for her? After all, the mask notwithstanding, I
rather perceived an extremely beautiful woman in front of me. Surely she
would have no trouble whatsoever securing a good match?”
“Your double standards are astounding, my dear brother.” Emily was
laughing as she woefully shook her head at him.
“Whatever do you mean?” Daniel asked, smiling as he always did when his
sister chastised him.
“When you yourself are not keen to marry just anybody for the sake of
keeping your inheritance, why is it that you find it terribly acceptable for
poor, dear Verity Crawford to dash out and marry the first person who
comes along, simply for financial security?”
“Oh, I see what you mean.” Daniel was staring at the teapot and nodding
thoughtfully. “It’s just that I never imagined somebody else feeling….”
“You don’t imagine other people have the same ideas as you, or wants as
you. And yet, in truth, Verity Crawford’s outlook on matrimony is very much
the same as your own. Rather than rush headlong into something which she
might regret for the rest of her life, Verity chose instead to make her own
money. She has chosen to do that even though she realizes that her reduced
status very much makes her a less marriageable young lady. I rather think
she’s very brave.” Emily’s admiration for the young woman was clear.
“The very bravest,” Daniel said, looking at his sister earnestly. “What an
incredibly interesting young woman. Tell me, how do I get to meet her
again?”
“Well, I shall do what I can to persuade her to attend my next Christmas
event.”
“Oh yes, you have the traveling players coming to put on a play.”
“Indeed, I do. It is next Saturday. However, I had a great deal of trouble
trying to get Verity to attend the masquerade ball, and rather think that she
only came purely and simply because she could hide her identity behind a
mask. In fact, she almost said as much to me.”
“But you must do what you can to get her to attend.” Daniel’s excitement

33
was not lessening.
“I shall, but she is so very afraid of judgement, for she is sure that
everybody knows her business.”
“Well, I for one think she should be terribly proud of making her own way in
the world instead of collapsing into the first proposal that comes her way.”
“Which is admirable, brother, but unfortunately, the vast majority of society
does not share your suddenly well-adjusted outlook,” Emily said, with a
laugh. “And I really do think I shall struggle greatly to get her to attend the
play.”
“But you will try anyway, my dear sister, for my sake,” Daniel said, almost
beseechingly.
“I say, Daniel, are you seriously considering asking Verity Crawford to
marry you in just a few weeks’ time?” Emily looked suddenly doubtful, as if
she had only just realized the flaw in the plan. “After all, Verity’s
determination to make the right choice is already very clear, and I can
hardly think that after so much hard work that she would consent to marrying
a man in just a few short weeks, especially one she has no prior knowledge
of.”
“But at this point, Emily, I have nothing left to lose. She may like me, she
may reject me, but neither of these things will I know unless I try.”
“But Daniel, do you really like her so very much? I know that I like her, and
hold her in the highest regard, but you yourself have only just met her, and
even then only for a few minutes.”
“I realize this, Emily, but believe me when I tell you that I would sooner
marry her tomorrow than spend the next few weeks trying to get to know
Olivia Bainbridge and have to marry her at the end of it all. Already, I like
Verity better. In fact, I rather think we got along famously, and I have not
enjoyed a woman’s company so much for as long as I can remember.”
“Thank you so very much!”
“Touché, my dear sister, but you do not count.”
Emily laughed and wagged her finger. “Really.” Seeing the dejected look in
her brothers face she relented. “Right, well, I shall do everything I can to
give you a chance at getting to know Verity better. I shall work on her from

34
this very day to ensure that she goes to the play.” Emily smiled most
reassuringly, and Daniel was reminded of what a wonderful older sister she
had always been to him.

35
 CHAPTER 5

“
T he problem is, my dear fellow, I never actually saw you
with the lady. The very moment I arrived in the Great Hall
at Lytton, Olivia Bainbridge rather fixed upon me, and I felt
it most heavily,” Fox Exeter said, laughing. “You must believe me that I had
barely the wits left to look about me, much less study a young lady to whom
you were speaking.”
“She was wearing a gown of teal,” Daniel said, thinking of his sister, and
suppressing a laugh.
“Teal?” Fox asked, shaking his head in confusion.
“Yes, my dear fellow, it’s a sort of blueish green.”
“It matters not, Daniel, for I did not see the woman. And as for gowns, their
cut and color mean absolutely nothing to me.” The two men began to laugh.
“Must I really suffer this boyish guffawing all the way to Lytton Hall?”
Prudence Exeter, who had been looking out of the window of the hastening
carriage into the darkness, turned to look at her two companions.
“Well, what if we include you, Prudence?” Daniel asked, smiling at her. He
really did think the world of Prudence, and rather wished that he could have
simply married her. If only he did not look upon her as a sister, for he knew
fine well that they would get along famously. However, their lifelong
friendship was simply too close for the idea of matrimony to be attempted.
And in truth, Prudence would most certainly turn him down for the very
same reasons, and probably one or two others that he had not yet thought of.
“All right then, do include me,” Prudence said, smiling back. “And tell me,

36
have you had any word from Emily? Has she been able to persuade Miss
Crawford to attend this evening and watch the players?”
“I’m afraid not. Emily has remained silent upon the subject, and I rather fear
that might speak of her failure,” Daniel said, wincing.
“Oh, I don’t know, Daniel. Emily can be extremely persuasive when she
wants to be. Don’t discount her just yet, for I think she might surprise you,”
Prudence said, keen to keep her good friend’s spirits up.
“Indeed, I know she can be, Prudence, but perhaps she has something of a
mountain to climb with Miss Crawford. After all, the young lady’s
misfortunes are so very recent that the whole thing must feel dreadfully raw
to her. I have, all afternoon, tried to put myself in her position and wonder if
I would attend so public an event when I have been reduced to simply
working in the host’s home, rather than attending as a guest.”
“What a dreadfully difficult thing for the young lady,” Prudence said, in a
most heartfelt way. “Indeed, our own family’s fortunes are not quite as
healthy as they once were, yet still I cannot imagine myself in Miss
Crawford’s place.”
“I wonder if that is why she disappeared as suddenly as you say.” Fox re-
joined the conversation.
“Perhaps it was. Perhaps she did not want to be introduced to anybody, for
up until that moment, the lady and I were strangers. I did not know her name,
and I am more than sure that she had no idea who I was.”
“But how can you be sure, Daniel? Perhaps Miss Crawford did know that
you were the Duke of Ashdown,” Prudence said, her eyebrows raised.
“I would stake my life on her ignorance of the matter. There was no
uneasiness, nor any attempt to impress me. When I first meet a new person,
either one or both of those conditions is evident. No, indeed, Miss
Crawford was neither ill at ease nor trying to impress.”
“But perhaps she is not so affected by such things as, for instance, Olivia
Bainbridge might be. After all, she has not sought a wealthy marriage as a
means of escaping her penury, but rather she has taken it upon herself to
reduce her own status and work for her own living. It rather strikes me that
such a woman might not be so terribly impressed by a Duke were she to
meet one,” Prudence said.

37
“Oh, I say, Prudence, you really are so very clever. That rather makes sense.
And I must admit, I should be very happy to think it so,” Daniel said, a new
hope in his eyes.
“Why on earth should you want a wife who was unimpressed by you?” Fox
asked, starting to laugh.
“Not unimpressed by me, Fox!” Daniel said, shaking his head at his friend’s
rather blunt interpretation. “But unimpressed by titles and by my title. That
would suit me very well indeed, because I am rather tired of dealing with
young ladies who are impressed by nothing but my title. One never knows
where one stands. I have yet to be sure whether or not I have met a young
lady who actually likes me.”
“Then what a wonderful thing it would be if your Miss Verity Crawford
actually did like you, regardless of your great status,” Prudence said, a
mixture of teasing and kindness.
“But if she does like you, Daniel, is she likely to marry you within just a
few short weeks?” Fox asked, his tone very much declaring that he had not,
in truth, wanted to speak the words aloud.
“You are right, my dear friend, but I really do have to try. There was just
something about that young lady, and it is something I can hardly put into
words. I think perhaps it was because she was so very different from the
herd, and something about her easy manner has given me hope.”
“Well, I shall pray for the rest of the journey that Emily has done her job and
seen to it that Miss Verity Crawford is in attendance.” Prudence reached out
and took her friends hand.

“OH, I am so pleased you are coming, my dear Verity, and you look truly
beautiful in that gown.” Emily had knocked lightly on the door of Verity’s
quarters, and hastened in before the young woman had chance to speak.
“In truth, it is a well-made gown, but an old one. If I’m honest, My Lady, I
think I shall feel rather awkward this evening.”
“Oh, Verity, you are so very wounded at the moment that you cannot help but
feel that way. But please, please let me assure you that your gown looks
anything but old, and it suits you so well. You look every bit the lady, and I

38
cannot have you say otherwise.”
“You are so very kind, and you do much to lift my spirits.” But as kind as
her mistress was, Verity would have given anything not to have to attend the
evening’s theatricals. She had always enjoyed such distractions, but knew
that she would have little concentration left for the play that evening. She
would, instead, be worrying what everybody thought of her, and which of
them knew her current circumstances. After all, governesses did not
routinely attend such events, did they?
“I just wish I could do more to lift your spirits. You see, it rather strikes me
that you have no idea what a beautiful young woman you are.” Emily took
Verity hands.
“I thank you, My Lady, but I am a governess. My beauty will mean very little
once that fact is known.”
“To some, perhaps. But not to everybody, Verity. I have no doubt there is a
young man out there who would care very little for your current
circumstances, and he would see right through the facade of society and into
your true heart.”
“Oh dear, that is so kind you have almost made me cry,” Verity said, with a
little laugh which she hoped would stave off the sudden jolt of emotion. And
if only it were true; if only there really was a man out there who would love
her for herself alone. Not a man who would dismiss her for her sudden
change in fortunes, nor a man who would capitalize upon them purely to
secure himself a wife and have her feel grateful into the bargain. How
dreadfully confusing it all was. Verity knew that, at the very heart of the
question, there was no answer. How could there be a man out there who she
could love and would love her for who she was? How could her
circumstances not cloud the picture in any way? It simply was not possible.
Of course, there would be matrimony for her one day if that was what she
chose in the end, but Verity very much knew that it would not be the
wonderful, romantic matrimony she had always dreamed of.
“Well, we cannot have that. You really do look too beautiful to have any
tears ruining things. Now, let us go down and enjoy the evening.”
“Perhaps I ought to check on Megan first? I rather think she had something of
a sniffle this afternoon, and I’m concerned it may turn into a cold,” Verity
said, hopefully.

39
“Absolutely not, Verity Crawford,” Emily said, starting to laugh. “Megan
and Beth have both had sniffles before, not to mention colds. They are
robust little girls, and they have their nurse with them. Now that I have your
hand, I shall not let you go.” And with that, Emily hastened Verity out of the
room.

40
 CHAPTER 6

D aniel had not been in the Great Hall but five minutes when his
eyes finally found her. He had been about to ask his sister which
of the ladies was Verity Crawford, rather thinking that he might
not recognize her without her mask. In the event, he recognized her
immediately. Her bright blue eyes seemed to shine out into the room, and her
beautiful golden hair looked just as it had that evening. At first, he had
almost been surprised to have found her. It had rendered him immobile for
some seconds, and Daniel simply stood rooted to the spot, intently surveying
her. As beautiful as she had been with her mask, she was very much more
beautiful without it.
The enormous room had been set out very much differently than it had been
on the night of the masquerade ball. Where last time the buffet tables had
been, now there was a temporary stage with a great velvet curtain drawn
across it, presumably hiding whatever props had been set up for the players.
The buffet tables had been lined along the side of the room, and much
seating had been set out in rows before the stage, ready for the guests. While
some of the seating was already taken, many of the guests were still milling
about, making their greetings to friends and acquaintances, and helping
themselves to all of the treats on offer on the heavily laden tables. Verity
Crawford sat alone in the seating, as if ready and waiting for the play to
begin. Daniel noted with relief that she was sitting alone, and very much
decided to make his way over to her.
“I say, Fox,” he said hurriedly into his friend’s ear.
“Yes, Daniel?” Fox asked, turning to him.
“She’s over there. Just three rows back from the front, and she’s all alone.”

41
“Oh, I say, she really is a beauty,” Fox said, unabashed in his open
admiration of her.
“Well, I really don’t want to miss my chance. Would you mind awfully if
I….?” Daniel asked, rather desperately.
“Just go, Daniel.” Prudence, who had been listening intently, hissed at him,
and gave him a gentle shove. “And good luck.”
As Daniel made his way across the Great Hall, he felt for the first time ever
rather self-conscious. When he was but halfway, he realized that he had
caught Verity’s attention, and that she was very much studying him. As he
grew closer, their eyes met, and he saw the sudden recognition in them.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked, with a broad smile that he hoped she would
recognize entirely.
“No, indeed. Please, do sit down,” she said, clearly pleased to see him.
“I do hope you recognize me without my beak.” He gave a nervous little
laugh.
“I recognized you immediately.”
“Given the garishness of my mask, perhaps that is not quite such a good
thing.”
“Perhaps it is not,” she said, with a wonderfully melodious laugh. “But I
shall let you worry about that point, without any interference from me.”
“I very much like your wit, My Lady,” he said, with an appreciative laugh.
“I thank you, Sir,” she said, with a gracious incline of her head. “But with
regards to your mask, I rather wonder how it is you intend to hide for the
evening. After all, with so many ladies hunting you down, intent upon
matrimony, do you not feel rather exposed?”
“Ah, well that is why I have come all the way over here. I rather thought that
you might protect me from the ladies.”
“It is a very fine idea, Sir, but I rather fear I should have little power to
protect you from Olivia Bainbridge. I might stand a little chance with
Florence Lovett, but Miss Bainbridge, absolutely not.”
“So, you do know of the lady then?”

42
“I know enough of the lady to know that I am no match for her.” Verity was
still laughing.
“Well, I should appreciate any assistance you can give me,” Daniel said,
looking into her blue eyes. He continued. “And I did, of course, have
another reason for cantering across the room see you.”
“Indeed?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling at him.
“Indeed. Since you left me with nary a word the other evening, we did not
have chance for introduction.”
“Oh, I really must apologize for that.” Verity’s countenance clouded a little.
“No, I will not have you apologize for anything. Really, there’s nothing to
apologize for. Although I did look for you for the rest of the evening. I made
so many circuits of this Great Hall that I was quite shattered before the
evening was halfway through, and I had no energy at all for so much as one
dance.”
“I thought you were not expecting an apology,” Verity said, holding his gaze
firmly and wrinkling her nose at him.
“My Lady, I do not want an apology, that is true. I merely wanted you to
know how much I missed your company for the rest of the evening. I should
very much have liked to get to know you better.”
“And I you, Sir,” Verity said, blushing prettily.
“So, might I introduce myself?”
“Indeed, you may, Sir.”
“My name is Daniel Frasier, and I am uncommonly pleased to meet you
finally.”
“Daniel Frasier?” Verity asked, a flash of panic on her face. Seeming to
regain her composure almost instantly, Verity went on. “And I am Verity
Crawford, and it is very nice to meet you also.” As composed as she was,
there was something suddenly reserved in her manner.
“Are you sure you’re pleased to meet me?” Daniel asked, slightly leaning
towards her, and trying to meet her gaze. Verity seemed suddenly to have
been deflated; all her confidence gone. She would not meet his eyes.

43
“Of course, I am, Duke,” she said, letting him know that she knew exactly
who he was now. “And I’m very sorry that I had not realized your identity
before, for I should not have teased you so.”
“And that would have been my loss, would it not? I have rather enjoyed
your teasing of me. In truth, I have thought of little else these past few days.”
“But, Sir,” Verity said, protesting.
“It is true, I’m afraid. And I must say, it was terribly nice to talk to
somebody who didn’t know I was a Duke for once. It made for a very much
more enjoyable and unguarded conversation. I daresay that is why it has
played on my mind these last days.”
“Perhaps it would not play on your mind quite so much, Duke, if I were to
tell you a little something of myself. You see, I am only here at your sister’s
insistence. I am not necessarily a guest, but rather an employee.” Her face
flushed a very deep scarlet, and her gaze was very much averted from his. “I
am, in fact, the governess to your two nieces.”
“Oh yes, I know,” Daniel said, keen to get the whole thing out of the way
and put her at her ease. “And knowing as much has not stopped it playing on
my mind. So there, is that not better?”
“I’m sure it is, Duke, but I am rather startled at the moment, and I’m
struggling a little with embarrassment. You see, I have not always been a
governess.”
“Indeed, I know that too,” Daniel said, still trying to find her eyes. “For you
see, I was much struck by our brief and humorous conversation, and made
enquiries with my sister as to the identity of the beautiful young woman in
the teal gown.”
“Oh.” Verity seemed not to know what to say next.
“And you must forgive my sister, but she told me a little of your
circumstances. Not to be unkind, you understand, but rather because I was
asking after you.”
“Oh, no indeed, Lady Lytton has never been unkind to me.” Verity’s voice
seemed suddenly tiny.
“And I must say, I’m awfully impressed by the way you have tackled the
world and continued on. For myself, I should probably have crumbled into

44
pieces.” He smiled at her.
“You are too kind, Sir. And I’m sure you should not have crumbled into
pieces. It is rather astonishing what one finds within oneself when the need
arises.”
“Is that why you suddenly disappeared the other evening?” Daniel asked.
“In truth, it was,” Verity said with a sigh. “For when I saw Olivia
Bainbridge approaching, I rather knew that she would make my
circumstances very public at the earliest opportunity.”
“She has done so before?” Daniel asked, looking suddenly angry.
“Not really. Rather, she made it very clear what she thought of me when she
saw me here at Lytton Hall. I had been here but a few weeks when Miss
Bainbridge called upon your sister. Yes, she did indeed tell me what she
thought of me, but she did it privately. However, when I saw her
approaching, I rather panicked. You see, I do not know if she has it within
her to be publicly scornful or not, and I could not risk it. I had very much
enjoyed our conversation, and I had thought you and your long beaked mask
and your creeping along the buffet tables all rather fun. For her to have
exposed me in that moment would have been too much for me to bear. So
there, I am not quite so brave after all, am I?” Finally, she met his gaze, in
an almost challenging way.
“Bravery does not come into it, Miss Crawford. Rather it was simply
human, and entirely understandable. And for Miss Bainbridge to have made
any comments to you whatsoever on the subject, albeit in private, is entirely
reprehensible. I little wonder now that you disappeared so suddenly.”
“Well, your understanding does you credit, Sir, and I thank you for it.” Verity
seemed almost, but not quite, her original self.
“You’re very welcome. And I do hope that you shall allow me to sit through
this dreadful play with you.”
“That’s rather pessimistic, is it not? After all, your sister has gone to a great
deal of effort to get the traveling players here,” Verity said, laughing lightly
once more.
“Well, I am pleased to see you laugh again. I had already missed it,” Daniel
said, smiling. “But I must point out that just because my sister went to a
great deal of effort to find these traveling players does not necessarily mean

45
they are any good.”
“Well, I have every faith that they shall be, and I shall not be swayed by
your negative feeling on the subject.”
“I’m most impressed that you stand firm by your opinions, Miss Crawford. I
have certainly met my match, have I not?” Daniel asked, his eyebrows
raising as he saw his two friends approaching. “I say, would you mind very
much if my friends joined us?”
“Not at all,” Verity said, although her countenance once again showed that
small flash of panic.
“They are truly very nice people, and should not be my friends otherwise,”
Daniel said, quietly and reassuringly.
“Oh, indeed I am sure.”
“Ah, Prudence,” Daniel called out as Fox and Prudence approached.
“Allow me to introduce you to Miss Verity Crawford. Miss Crawford, this
is Miss Prudence Exeter.”
“How very nice to meet you, Miss Exeter,” Verity said, smiling.
“And how charming to meet you, Miss Crawford. Would you mind very
much if I took the seat next to you?”
“Not at all,” Verity said, seeming suddenly very much at her ease as a
smiling Prudence made herself comfortable in the next seat.
“Oh, and this is my brother, Miss Crawford. This is Fox Exeter.”
“I’m charmed to meet you, Miss Crawford.”
“It is very nice to meet you too, Mr. Exeter.”
Fox took the seat on the other side of his sister, and was just making himself
comfortable when there was a slight scraping sound. All four looked to the
stage just in time to see the curtains being drawn back.
“I say, it’s starting,” Fox said, somewhat pointlessly. “Does anybody know
what it’s all about?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Daniel said.
“I believe, Mr. Exeter, that it is some garish take on a well-known fairy-tale,

46
designed to make us afraid and cry out in shock on occasion,” Verity said,
having heard of little else from her mistress in the last days.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Prudence said, delighted with the idea.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Daniel found himself to be in something of a daze. He

had done nothing since breakfast, and rather found it impossible to start
upon anything. In truth, his head was full of thoughts of Verity Crawford, and
the charming evening they had spent together. In the event, the play had, in
his opinion, been truly awful. He had failed to see how any playwright
could hope to make Rapunzel frightening without seeming ridiculous.
However, the ladies had loved it immensely, and squeaked and squealed
their way through every little shock. Daniel had found it rather pleasing that
Verity and Prudence got along so very well. The two women had continually
turned to one another throughout the play, even grasping one another’s hands
as they waited for the rather obviously expected shocks to come.
How pleased he had been that his friends had made their way over, so open
and friendly, and keen to put Verity Crawford at her ease. In fact, when the
play was finished, and his sister’s guests began to mill about once more,
Daniel had been entirely relieved that his friends were with him. For there,
looking as if she might be about to make her way over, was Olivia
Bainbridge. The moment Verity set eyes upon her, the poor woman seemed
to stiffen almost painfully.
“Are you all right, Miss Crawford?” Daniel had almost whispered into her
ear.
“I’m afraid not. I fear I must go,” Verity had said, her face flushed and the
look of panic returned to her eyes.
“Because of Miss Bainbridge?”
“Yes, because of Miss Bainbridge. I really could not bear it if she said
something to destroy me now. Especially since I have had such an enjoyable
evening.”
“And I too have had an enjoyable evening, Miss Crawford, and I’m not keen
that it should end so abruptly. Tell me, what can Miss Bainbridge say before
me that I do not already know for myself? In truth, she cannot hurt you.”

47
Daniel had been pleased with his stroke of manly logic.
“Whilst I understand what you’re saying, Sir, I still cannot feel easy about it.
And after all, I am just this evening acquainted with your two friends, and
should not like to be embarrassed in front of them.”
“I do not speak out of turn to tell you that Fox and Prudence do not enjoy the
very most fortunate of circumstances either, and Prudence certainly would
not stand for the type of behavior which Miss Bainbridge has already
subjected you to.”
“Well, I shall do my best to keep to my seat then,” Verity said, sounding
entirely unsure. At that moment, it was clear that Prudence had spied Olivia
Bainbridge approaching.
“Oh, good Lord!” Prudence said, not loudly, but loudly enough for her three
companions to look at her inquiringly. “Oh, do forgive me.” Prudence began
to laugh. “But I see Miss Bainbridge bearing down on us, and she clings so
tightly that is impossible for one to escape.”
“Prudence!” Fox said, despite the fact that he was unable to hide his own
laughter.
“Please forgive me, Miss Crawford. You must think me awfully cruel,”
Prudence said, turning to look Verity full in the face.
“Not at all, Miss Exeter.” And Verity’s laughter told all present that she was
very much in agreement with Prudence.
In the event, Olivia Bainbridge never quite made her way over to the happy
little party. The wonderful Emily, who must surely have been keeping an eye
on things, seemed to appear as if from nowhere, and enthusiastically took
Miss Bainbridge by the arm.
“Oh, my dear Miss Bainbridge, I have been looking for you everywhere,”
Emily had said, with more enthusiasm than Daniel had ever heard from her.
“I really do have someone I should like you to meet. I have been singing
your praises to them all evening, and have promised an introduction.”
“Oh indeed, Lady Lytton.” Olivia Bainbridge was clearly summoning as
much enthusiasm as she could find to hide the disappointment of being
thwarted in her attempts upon the Duke.
“Oh, I say, your sister is awfully clever, Daniel,” Fox said, and the small

48
party began to laugh again.
“So, it would appear that Miss Bainbridge is still very intent upon securing
you as a husband,” Verity whispered in the intelligent and amused tone of
voice that had so captivated him on their first meeting.
“And I shall be very well exercised, my dear Miss Crawford, with all the
running away that I shall be doing.”
The evening had continued in the same vein, and the four young people had
enjoyed themselves immensely. Without her mask, Verity was even more
beautiful than he could ever have imagined, and Daniel rather thought that
her beauty grew as the night went on.
Daniel finally left the breakfast room, and wandered aimlessly into the
drawing room where he knew there would be a roaring fire. Realizing that
thoughts of Miss Crawford would assail him the whole day long, Daniel
rather thought it best to simply give in to them, and laze the day away in
comfort.
As he made himself comfortable and stared into the flames, Daniel wished
he had more time. Even if the issue of matrimony had not been quite such an
urgent one, still he would have found himself inordinately drawn to Verity
Crawford. In fact, he would be intent on wooing her into matrimony without
any inducement whatsoever. After just two evenings, already the beautiful
young lady held him captive. However, as much as she appeared to return
his interest, would she be interested enough to marry him in just a few
weeks’ time?

49
 CHAPTER 7

A s Daniel made his way on horseback to Lytton Hall, he rather

hoped that his sister, who knew nothing of his intended visit,
would not be otherwise engaged. He very much hoped to see
Verity again, and had hatched a plan to take the young lady for a long walk
in the grounds of Lytton Hall. However, Daniel knew that he must secure his
sister’s blessing first, if only for Verity’s sake. He felt sure that Verity would
be uncomfortable with the idea of taking a walk with her mistress’s brother
without her knowledge. Emily would, of course, be delighted by the whole
thing.
When he finally arrived at the hall, and the butler showed him to the
drawing-room, Daniel was pleased to find his sister alone in a chair by the
fire.
“Oh, I say, Daniel, how lovely to see you,” Emily said, rising to her feet and
dashing to kiss her brother’s cheek. “Although of course I realize that you
are not here to see me,” she finished with a chuckle.
“Am I so very obvious, sister?”
“Yes,” Emily said simply, and then drew him to sit down in the chair
opposite her own. “So, tell me, are you still very much interested in Verity,
after the evening you spent in her company?”
“More interested than ever, if I am honest. She rather captivates me, Emily,”
Daniel said, and spread his hands helplessly.
“Well, I am very pleased to hear it. Finally, a woman you like.” Emily began
to laugh again.

50
“More than like, Emily. In truth, I think I should find it inordinately easy to
fall in love with Verity Crawford.”
“Then you must make haste in your courtship of her, for time is running out,”
Emily said, urgently. “And I do so hate to be the one to say it.”
“But it must be said, my dear sister. And I must find a way to say it all to
Verity herself, mustn’t I? After all, she shall want the truth.”
“I daresay it is imperative, Daniel. However well you get on, Verity is a
very sensible young lady, and unlikely to agree to so short an engagement.
You really must tell her the truth and hope that she understands.”
“Indeed, I shall.” Daniel said, with a shake of his head. It was as if his heart
and mind did not quite agree.
“But as you said before, you have nothing to lose. You really do have to try,
or you shall never rest easy.”
“You are right, of course,” Daniel said, smiling. “And with that in mind, I
have come to ask if I might take your governess out for a walk about the
grounds?”
“Of course, you may,” Emily said, a little confused.
“Then perhaps you might ask her, for I rather think she would like to be
assured of your authorization.”
“Oh yes, of course, I shall go and have a word now.”

IT WAS AN EXTREMELY FROSTY DAY, and Daniel thought that Verity looked very
lovely in so thick and dark a cloak. There seemed to him to be something so
very beautiful and dramatic about such a dark cloak framing such pale
cream skin and bright blue eyes.
“I hope you do not mind me interrupting your day, Miss Crawford?” Daniel
asked, as they strode slowly along the gravel pathways which crisscrossed
back-and-forth through a great swathe of yew trees.
“Of course, not, Duke,” Verity said, and gave him a small, tight smile.
“For I must say, Miss Crawford, that you seem awfully quiet today. Are you

51
quite well?” It had rather seemed to Daniel that Verity Crawford was not as
pleased to see him as he might have hoped. Indeed, they had parted on such
good terms on the evening of the play that Daniel had felt rather assured of
his reception. Instead, Verity had surveyed him with a rather steady gaze,
and a look in her eye which he could not quite discern. The whole thing
gave him an uneasy feeling.
“Oh, I am quite well, thank you,” Verity said, more politely than friendly.
“Miss Crawford, if I have done or said anything to offend or displease you,
I would much rather know it.”
“You have said nothing to offend me,” she said, simply.
“But I have done something?” Daniel stopped walking, which forced her to
do the same. In the end, Verity could do no more than turn to face him.
“Miss Bainbridge called upon your sister yesterday afternoon, Duke,” Verity
began, quietly.
“Indeed?” Daniel did not like the sound of this.
“Indeed, she did. And once again, as she was making her way from the
building, I had the privilege of a few moments alone with her. I say
privilege in a most sarcastic fashion, you understand,” Verity said, bitterly.
“I understand perfectly,” Daniel said, fearing what he was about to hear.
“Am I to take it that Miss Bainbridge has once again said something
dreadfully upsetting to you?”
“Indeed, she has, Duke,” Verity said, and began to walk again, forcing him
to move as much as he had forced her to stop. “And perhaps it would be
best if I got straight to the heart of the matter.”
“I wish you would.”
“Miss Bainbridge politely informed me that you are looking for somebody
to marry you on the day after twelfth night celebrations.”
“Well, it’s rather complicated,” Daniel mumbled, wondering how on earth
Olivia Bainbridge had come to hear of the terms of his father’s will. No
doubt some chattering on the part of Montgomery Quentin was responsible.
“She went on to say that you are to lose your fortune if you do not find a
wife by that date.”

52
“I’m rather afraid that is true, but Miss Crawford, please do not think that
I…”
“And that it matters very little who the lady is, for with your inheritance
secure, you have no need to marry a woman of either breeding or wealth.”
“On the contrary, it matters to me a great deal.” Daniel heard the sternness
in his voice, and rather regretted it. However, the steely Verity Crawford
seemed very much unaffected by his tone.
“That is not quite how Miss Bainbridge tells it. She made it very clear to me
that you are looking for a woman who would be desperate for a husband,
more particularly a woman in dire financial circumstances. Someone easy to
manipulate.”
“I most certainly am not looking for a woman in dire financial
circumstances. Miss Bainbridge has put a terrible slant on things, and it
rather seems that you have taken every piece of it to heart.”
“So, you are not here with the intention of securing my affections, and
playing upon my poverty in order to marry me on the seventh of January
then?” Verity’s eyes were blazing, and her pride had clearly been hurt very
badly. “Oh, you have played me very ill, Duke. I had very much thought that
you had enjoyed my company, regardless of my current circumstances, and I
have felt happier these last weeks than I have felt for many years. And now I
find out that it was no more real than the drama that the traveling players put
on for us that night.”
“I understand why you think I have played you very ill, Miss Crawford, but
in truth, I have not. I must put you right on several points, for I shall not
leave here today whilst you still think me such a villain.” Daniel was angry,
but not with Verity. What a spiteful creature Olivia Bainbridge was, and
how lucky an escape he had had in not proposing marriage to her. “It is true
what Miss Bainbridge says in so far as my father attached conditions to his
will. From the date of his death, I have been given two years in which to
find myself a wife and be married. On the seventh of January 1826 I will, as
you say, forfeit my home and inheritance if I am not married. But if I had
been so intent on marrying anybody, without any feeling for them at all,
simply to guarantee my fortune, then I should have married Olivia
Bainbridge. For some time now, dear Fox Exeter has been trying his hardest
to induce me into matrimony with just about every young woman in the
county. Unfortunately, I have found nothing I even like in any of them, and

53
could not imagine a lifetime spent in such unions. You see, the vast majority
of the young ladies who have been presented to me over these last months
have all very much been in the style of Olivia Bainbridge. Nothing about my
person counts to them, barring my wealth and my title. Every woman bar
none wants simply to be a Duchess, and I do not want to marry someone
who sees that as the only advantage in being my wife. I do not expect you to
understand, but I must beg you to believe that what I’m saying is true.”
“You speak it most passionately, Sir, that I am inclined to believe what you
say,” Verity said, sadly.
“Just the day before I had met you the first time, I had more or less resigned
myself to the fact that I would have to marry Olivia Bainbridge, or someone
of her ilk, and live with the consequences. However, I had allowed myself
just one more day in which to find somebody I had more in common with;
somebody that I could care about. Someone that I could love in the future.
Of course, I knew it was ridiculous. For what woman, even if she were
interested in my courtship, would agree to so short an engagement? None.
But there, I had hopes of it. Of course, speaking to you now, I realize more
than ever quite how foolish I have been.”
“It is not foolish to want to find happiness with the person you marry. That
is why I am a governess. I could have married for money, with very little
trouble, but I did not like the idea of living with the consequences any more
than you seem to.”
“But perhaps I was foolish to think that I could tempt you into such a hasty
marriage when you have been strong enough to avoid such a thing for so
long.”
“I’m sorry to have taken Miss Bainbridge’s words so to heart, but you see, I
was so very shocked to find the circumstances, and rather believed myself
to have been taken for a fool.”
“And why would you not? After all, I had not told you of my circumstances
myself.”
“I daresay the first meeting or two is not particularly the right time for such
a revelation. However, I should probably have taken the news very much
better had I heard it from your lips, and not Miss Bainbridge’s.”
“Presumably, she perceived my feelings for you on the night of the play, and
perhaps even realized my own sister’s interference in keeping her away

54
from me. I’m sure that is likely to be at the root of her spite. Whatever the
cause, I am truly sorry that you had to go through it.” Daniel kicked at the
gravel a little, sending several of the little stones flying. “But I do hope that
this does not mean we cannot be friends. I have very much enjoyed your
company, and should very much like to have more of it in the future. You
see, I feel a certain connection to you that I do not feel with anyone else, nor
have I ever done. I hope that does not disturb you.”
“Of course, we may still be friends, Duke. And your feelings for me do not
cause me any discomfort. In truth, I have felt rather the same way, and very
much enjoyed the two evenings in your company.”
“Shall I walk you back to the hall? I think it is even colder than it was when
we set off,” Daniel said, with as cheerful a smile as he could muster.
“Yes please, I am indeed very cold.”
As they made their way back to the hall, Daniel told Verity tales of him and
Fox Exeter in their youth, and of his lifelong friendship with Prudence. He
spoke of his sister, Emily, and the trouble the pair of them had frequently
found themselves in as children. All in all, the walk back to Lytton Hall was
very much more pleasant than the walk away from it had been.
“Thank you kindly for the walk, Miss Crawford, and your understanding
also. I shall bid you good day,” Daniel said, and, on impulse, he took her
hand and kissed it. Before Verity could speak a word, Daniel turned and
made his way to the stables to collect his horse.

55
 CHAPTER 8

“
O h, My Lady, I really should feel too terribly awkward attending
this evening. Please do not make me.” Verity seemed almost
close to tears.
“Oh, my dear Verity, I did not mean to upset you so,” Emily said, before
scooping the governess into her arms. “Please, do forgive me. I can be so
very enthusiastic at times, in fact, Lord Lytton has often chastised me for it.”
“There is nothing to forgive you for, My Lady. I really do appreciate your
great efforts to make me feel welcome here, but I really should struggle so
dreadfully this evening.” Verity did not know what else to say. Having no
idea if the Duke of Ashdown had told his sister anything of their encounter
the last time they had met, Verity did not want to find herself speaking out of
turn.
“But it is a dressing up night, Verity. You should be in character all evening,
and wearing one of the outfits. It would be even better than the masquerade
ball.”
“In truth, My Lady, it is not identity which haunts me currently,” Verity said,
in a low voice. If Emily knew anything of what had passed between her and
the Duke, then now would be the time for her to make it known.
“Verity, I know that Daniel cares a great deal for you. He would not wish to
do or say anything this evening which would make you uncomfortable, I
promise you he would not. And he would certainly do nothing to try to
persuade you into matrimony, for he has very much learned from his
mistakes. Please do forgive him, for I know that he should so very much like
to be friends.”

56
“My Lady, I would not suspect the Duke of doing or saying anything to hurt
me, rather I am afraid of myself. You see, I do not know how I feel exactly,
for one minute my mind is decided in one direction, and another minute, it
goes in quite the other. I should very much fear making a fool of myself in
some way.”
“Then perhaps the thing to do, my dear Verity, is to take your head out of the
question, and think only with your heart. I do it all the time, and my heart
never leads me wrong. It is almost as if it has a little brain in there all of its
very own, and my best decisions always come from that place.”
“That sounds like very good advice, My Lady,” Verity said, and she reached
into the pocket of her gown for a handkerchief with which to dab her eyes.
“And I thank you for your understanding.”
In many ways, Verity rather thought that she almost dared not think with her
heart. Her heart had, of course, plagued her for several days, and she had
felt herself to have had the most miserable Christmas. The closer twelfth
night came, the worse she felt. In her heart, she felt sure that the Duke could
not possibly let his fortune be taken from him, and would end up having to
marry the following day. The very idea of the Duke of Ashdown being
married to Olivia Bainbridge had made her feel almost faint on more than
one occasion. It had seemed to Verity that the images rose to her mind, one
after the other. They were images of a life lived at high speed. Olivia and
Daniel in the church, swearing their vows. Olivia and Daniel, back in the
same church, seeing their first child christened. Olivia and Daniel hosting
beautiful parties, greeting their guests side-by-side, husband and wife, in the
great doorway of Ashdown Hall. And then there were the moments when
Verity had herself almost convinced that the proposal had already been
made and accepted. In truth, it might well have been already. In fact, every
time she thought with her heart, she could find nothing but pain. Perhaps she
would not take Lady Lytton’s advice after all, and continue to think with her
head instead. Marrying in haste was something that she had, quite rightly,
avoided. She did not want to be led into matrimony by her own poverty.
However, could that really be said of a marriage to the Duke? For she
would not be seeking financial security with him, even if that was exactly
what she did find. Rather she had fallen in love with him, and her haste in
this instance would be to secure love, not money.
But at the same time, Verity could not be sure of the Duke’s intentions. Of
course, his inheritance had to be weighing very heavily on his mind, and the
urgency was not only clear, but understandable. However, she did not want

57
to marry a man if he wanted her solely to secure his fortune. And yet, as he
had told her himself, if that was all he wanted, he could marry Olivia
Bainbridge and achieve the very same. And there she was, with images of
Olivia Bainbridge back in her mind, taunting her cruelly.

“SO, you intend to go tonight?” Fox Exeter said, his voice full of concern.
“I have every intention, my dear friend,” Daniel said, solemnly.
“But why? I realize that things did not go well with Miss Crawford, but can
you really hope to change everything this evening? Will she even be there?”
“I am not going with the intention of changing everything, Fox. I have
resigned myself to losing my fortune tomorrow, and do not seek to cling onto
it.”
“So why go this evening?” Fox was growing exasperated. Above all things,
he did not want to see so dear a friend in turmoil.
“Because I very much want Verity to know that I am interested in her
regardless. I want her so very much that is has entirely surpassed the
question of my inheritance. I want her so much that I could not possibly
marry another, not even for my own security. Not even for my younger
brother’s. James will manage, I’m sure he will. I have no doubt that Emily
and Lord Lytton would not think twice about giving him a home with them.”
“And would they not give you a home?” Fox asked, his concern growing
ever deeper.
“I should not confer such scandal on Lord Lytton’s Earldom. It would not be
fair. For James to stay with them would be of little consequence, but for
myself to do the same would excite far too much attention, and neither Emily
nor Alistair deserve to have their lives so very interrupted.”
“Well, you shall not be homeless, my dear friend. I realize that my own
home is not what you are used to, but I know that it is as familiar to you as it
is to me, and I can speak for my father and sister in demanding that you
come straight to us on the evil day.”
“I have much to be grateful for, Fox, for never did a man have so good a
friend as I have.”

58
“Nor I, my friend. Nor I,” Fox said, patting his friend hard on the shoulder.
“So, you will accompany myself and Prudence tonight?”
“Indeed, I shall. In fact, let us use my carriage while I still have one.” With
that Daniel began to laugh.
“I am pleased, although somewhat confused, to see that you have retained
your sense of humor.”
“Well, this time tomorrow, I shall have little else besides it. One must keep
hold of whatever one can.”

VERITY WAS PLEASED to note that the buffet tables had been laid out in the
same position as had afforded her so much shielding on the night of the
masquerade ball. Keeping herself very much to the side of the very end one,
Verity allowed her gaze to rest longingly on the single back door through
which the servants ferried food and drinks. If the worst came to the absolute
worst, that was the way she would leave.
In the end, Lady Lytton had been so very kind that Verity could not have, in
all conscience, refused her. Furthermore, if the Duke really was keen to
remain friends, and cared as much for her feelings and comfort as Lady
Lytton claimed him to, then surely Verity must do whatever she could to
return that friendship. However, if he were to marry Olivia Bainbridge the
following day, Verity knew that their friendship could last no more than this
one evening.
“And here you stand in exactly the same spot as you were the first time I
saw you.”
The Duke’s deep voice and sudden appearance made Verity start. She had
been very deep in thought, and had not perceived his approach in any way.
“Indeed, I am in the same spot, Sir, but this time you have not careened into
me. Nor has your beak come anywhere near my eyeball.” Verity spoke
cheerfully, determined that they should both be at their ease. If this was to be
their last night of friendship, then she would make the very most of it.
“Oh, Verity, you really are so very funny,” The Duke said, laughing warmly.
He had never used her Christian name before, and the very sound of it made
her heart beat a little faster. Furthermore, as she looked into his rich brown

59
eyes, Verity thought that he had never looked more handsome. Of course, not
one thing had changed about him, but rather she thought perhaps her regard
for him had grown.
“I daresay the circumstances of our first meeting shall be a humorous
memory that I shall revisit often, and always enjoy,” Verity said, and truly
meant it.
“And it shall be the same for me, Verity. In truth, I felt such an incredible
fool.” With this he began to laugh.
Suddenly, Verity tensed, and her smile faded to nothing. Daniel followed her
gaze, and was not surprised to see Olivia Bainbridge across the hall. If only
his sister could have found some socially acceptable reason for not inviting
the dreadful woman.
“Is there really anything else that Olivia Bainbridge can do to you, Verity?
Why should you bridle so at her very appearance? Ignore the woman as if
she does not even exist, for I know I shall.”
“But can you really ignore her? After all, aren’t you going to……?”
Suddenly, Verity felt extremely foolish. Surely a man who could speak so
about a woman would never marry her.
“Good Lord!” Daniel said, extremely loudly. “Surely you did not think I had
proposed to the dreadful creature!”
“Well, I…” Verity could feel her cheeks flushing scarlet. Of course, he had
not proposed to Olivia Bainbridge! There were many, many young ladies in
the county who would certainly not balk at marrying the Duke at a moment’s
notice.
“Really, Verity, if we are to be friends, you really must get to know me
better,” Daniel said, laughing. “I could never marry so cruel and spiteful a
woman as Olivia Bainbridge.”
“Please do forgive me, Duke. I should not have said anything.”
“Olivia Bainbridge!” Daniel went on, enjoying his moment of comical
drama. “I would have to wear my long beaked mask the rest of my life, if
only to keep her at a safe distance from me.”
“Goodness me!” Verity said, and stifled a shriek of laughter.
“No indeed, I could not marry a woman like that,” Daniel said, regaining his

60
composure.
“And might I ask who you will be marrying tomorrow? If it is not too
impertinent a question, of course,” Verity said, feeling her hands begin to
tremble a little. In truth, she did not want to know, and at the same time, she
had to know.
“Oh, I shan’t be marrying tomorrow, Verity,” Daniel said, shrugging and
smiling, and seeming for all the world as if he were not troubled by it.
“But your home? Your inheritance?” Verity asked, suddenly very concerned.
“They would mean nothing to me if I married simply to secure them.”
“But where will you go?”
“I am to live with Fox and Prudence and their father on their crumbling
estate. In truth, it is as much a home to me as my own always was, and I
shall not feel at all uncomfortable.”
“I am so terribly sorry,” Verity said, tears springing to her eyes.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Verity. It is I who should be sorry for ever
putting you through such a thing. It was never your responsibility to repair
the twisted terms of my father’s will. I should never have conveyed such a
thing to you, nor shall I suffer to see you feel guilt over it.”
“Oh, I….” Verity could not speak. She had not expected for one moment that
the Duke of Ashdown would let his entire estate be taken from him, and
could not quite process the news in a sensible fashion.
“I ask only one thing of you, Verity,” Daniel said, touching the top of her arm
very briefly before looking at her most earnestly. “And that is that you
continue to see me as a friend of yours. Because, despite my circumstances,
if you shall consent to get to know me better, I fully intend to propose to you
properly one day. I would find a way to keep us, and I wouldn’t care what I
had to do to achieve it.”
“Oh, I can hardly speak,” Verity said, and blinked hard at the tears which
had filled her eyes. Suddenly, their conversation was entirely interrupted by
a little drumroll, instigated by Lady Lytton. They turned their attention full
upon her, both of them relieved for a moment’s respite from their own
tumultuous emotions.
“And now our twelfth night celebrations begin,” Emily said, with a flourish

61
as the crowd murmured excitedly. “It has been many years since I myself
have attended a twelfth night characters evening, and I must declare myself
extremely excited to be hosting one tonight.” There came a light applause
from the crowd, which Emily paused to reap the full benefit of. “Now, I
shall ask each of you to reach in to these pretty little baskets of mine, and
pull out a piece of paper. Whatever name you pull from the basket, that is
the character you must keep all night. I have costumes for all, and anyone
who comes out of character for any reason must pay a forfeit.” Emily
paused, allowing the light rumble of laughter and excited chatter to wash
over her. “Now first, I asked my brother, the Duke of Ashdown, to make his
approach and take a piece of paper from the basket of male characters.
Daniel, if you would.” The crowd applauded excitedly, and Daniel gave
Verity a final look, before making his way to the front of the hall where his
sister stood. The chatter continued, and nobody could have heard Emily’s
whispered direction.
“Daniel, take the card with the folded corner.” Emily hissed, and gave him a
look which suggested that he would be all the sorrier for not following her
directions. Daniel did as requested, and opened the little square of paper.
Smiling to himself, he could see that his sister had assured him of the role of
King.
“Thank you, Emily,” Daniel said, a little uncertainly.
“And here we have, ladies and gentlemen, the King!” The crowd applauded
loudly, and there were laughs and shouts all around. Emily motioned to her
brother that he must read out the small speech which she had neatly written
upon the paper.
“Fate decrees me your king: grave and gay, wise and fools, must consent,
for this night, to submit to my rules,” Daniel bellowed out the words fully
in character, if only to keep his dear sister happy.
Once again, the crowd applauded and watched as Daniel gathered up the
costume his sister had provided for him, complete with a ridiculous -
looking crown, and made his way back over to Verity.
Every time one of the guests chose a character for themselves, a great cheer
went up. Emily really was a wonderful hostess.
“I rather fear who I shall be stuck with as my queen, Verity,” Daniel said,
looking at her a little desperately.

62
“Oh well, perhaps it will be somebody nice,” Verity said, the truth of
everything he had just told her beginning to finally become real to her.
“Oh, Lord, don’t let it be her,” Daniel whispered, as Olivia Bainbridge
made her way to the front. He watched in silence as she reached a dainty
hand into the basket.
“And who have you picked to play tonight, Miss Bainbridge?” Emily asked,
with so much enthusiasm that Daniel suddenly suspected her of some
skullduggery. In fact, Miss Bainbridge’s countenance rather confirmed it.
“Molly Mumper,” Olivia Bainbridge said, churlishly.
“And please read your speech, Miss Mumper,” Emily said, smiling so
broadly Daniel thought it must surely hurt her mischievous face.
“Molly Mumper wants a husband: Baron, or Duke, she cares not which; if
you’re to marry a beggar’s heiress, she shall promise to make you rich.”
And with that, the crowd applauded loudly and laughed with an ever-
increasing excitement. For her part, Olivia Bainbridge looked murderous.
“Oh, dear me,” Verity whispered into his ear. “Forgive me, but that is
terribly funny.”
“It gives me satisfaction also. But I do not think it a matter of chance,
Verity.”
“You think Lady Lytton fixed it to be so?” Verity asked, disbelievingly.
“Oh, I know so. After all, I am only the King because she directed me to
which paper to take. I don’t know how she fixed it for Miss Bainbridge, but
I know she did.” Daniel laughed, wickedly.
“And Miss Verity Crawford? Will you make your way to the front and
choose your character?” Emily boomed. Verity looked at Daniel briefly,
with every suspicion that she was about to pick the character of Queen.
Daniel laughed, obviously perceiving the very same thing.
As Verity made her approach, and made to reach into the basket, the crowd
continued in excited chatter.
“I beg you, Verity, pick the one with the bent corner.” Lady Lytton said, her
face full of mischief. Verity did as bidden, and slowly opened the small
square of paper. She turned it theatrically to show it to Lady Lytton.

63
“Ladies and gentlemen, here we have the Queen!” Emily’s excitement was
contagious, and the crowd grew louder still. “If you would read your
speech, and perhaps direct it towards his Majesty.”
“I’m your Queen: good, My Liege, your confessor may shrive you; but for
me, I’m resolved, if I can’t lead, I’ll drive you.” Verity looked over at
Daniel, and her heart quickened to see so broad a smile on his handsome
face.
“But the king cannot choose so lowly a queen!” Suddenly, Olivia
Bainbridge entirely forgot herself, and shouted angrily. Verity stopped dead
in her tracks, and realized that everything she feared was about to transpire.
After a brief, shocked murmur, the crowd fell entirely silent. Verity felt
herself rooted to the spot, and began to shrink as all eyes seemed to fall
upon her. Why on earth was it that they looked at her, and not at Olivia
Bainbridge for making so great a spectacle?
“But the King, Molly Mumper, may marry any woman of his choosing. Is he
not the King, after all?” Suddenly, Daniel was making his way across the
hall, moving to stand at the side of Verity. In that moment, Verity felt truly
protected.
“But King, your Queen is a simple governess. Indeed, an employee, and not
even a guest at the celebrations.” Olivia Bainbridge was furious. Daniel
could only think that her disappointment in his lack of proposal and his own
sister’s mocking of her had rather excited her anger to the point where she
entirely forgot herself.
“Let me tell you, Miss Mumper, that there is nothing simple about my Queen.
My Queen is intelligent and has a ready wit. She is beautiful and has
strength and bravery. She has morals and independence. Do tell me, Miss
Mumper, what better qualities could a Queen have?” Although the crowd
was silent, they were clearly enjoying themselves immensely in the face of
the unfolding scandal.
“I say, how wonderful!” Emily’s voice rang out across the hall. “I must say,
Miss Bainbridge, that that is truly the best characterization of Molly
Mumper I have ever witnessed. Bravo!”
“Bravo!” The audience repeated. However, clear it was to them that the
drama they had witnessed was very real, the rules of etiquette would
mercifully dictate that they follow the example of their hostess. Daniel
almost laughed aloud; how very clever Emily was.

64
“Well, My Liege, I must say you protected me very well indeed,” Verity
said, turning bright, excited eyes upon him.
“And the fact that you remained in character, despite all the excitement, is
really rather impressive, Miss Crawford,” Daniel said, highly amused. “I’m
sorry, Queen.” He corrected himself.
“In truth, Olivia Bainbridge is really so very far from causing an excitement
that I wonder I ever feared her.”
“Good for you.”
“Indeed, excitement should be a happy thing, truly something else
altogether.” Verity went on, her elevated mood seeming to take Daniel
aback.
“Well, I rather agree with you in that matter,” Daniel said, with every
appearance that he did not know how to proceed.
“And perhaps we shall find out for ourselves a little something of the
excitement of true happiness tomorrow.” Verity turned her sparkling blue
eyes upon him and beamed.
“You mean?” Daniel looked at her, his eyes wide.
“I mean you should propose to me, Daniel,” Verity said, her voice low as
she was suddenly aware of Lady Lytton’s very close proximity.
“Really?” Daniel asked, seemingly unable to believe what he was hearing.
“Oh, Verity, will you marry me? Will you be my wife?”
“I would be honored to accept your proposal, My Liege,” Verity said, with a
mischievous grin.

65
 EPILOGUE

U nsurprisingly, Olivia Bainbridge had fallen prey to a mystery

illness the following day, and was quite unable to attend the hasty
nuptials that were performed in the beautiful little church. Emily
and Prudence had worked almost right through the night to ensure that there
were flowers everywhere, and that Verity had a very beautiful ivory gown
for her wedding.
Most of the guests of the previous evening’s revels had made their way to
the church, all keen to see the unusual marriage take place after what, to
them, seemed to be merely a few hours’ worth of an engagement. Of course,
the truth of it all would undoubtedly work its way around the gossiping
circles, but neither Daniel nor Verity very much cared about it.
Daniel placed the heavy cloak about his new wife’s shoulders, keen to let
her know that he would always be there to look after her, and keep her
warm and safe. They made their way out of the church and into the frosty
morning hand-in-hand, and Verity seemed almost as though she were in a
dream.
Having slept so very little through the night, Verity found herself almost
dizzy with happiness, and rather hoped that she would not faint away, since
they would be spending much of the day in hastily made celebrations.
“Verity, I hope you know that my happiness is purely in marrying the woman
I have fallen in love with,” Daniel said, as he helped her into the carriage.
“Of course, I know it, Daniel, and I should not have married you for
anything less. To know that you would have asked for my hand in marriage
as a rich man or a poor man rather took my breath away last night, and I

66
realized the great error I had made. In truth, since we had last spoken, I had
been torturing myself with the idea that you would marry another, and I
found I could not bear it. You see, Daniel, as short a friendship as we had, I
rather find that I have fallen in love with you also. I am only sorry that my
uncertainty caused you any pain.”
“No indeed, Verity, your uncertainty has given me the greatest of certainty.”
“I do not understand.”
“Well, of all women in this world, at least I know that the one I have
married only married me for the man I am, and not the money I have, nor the
title I hold. You turned me away, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I do
love you, Verity. And I promise you, we are going to have the most
wonderful life.” As the carriage pulled away, Daniel reached for her, and
kissed her passionately on the lips. “And I must say, that I have been
wanting to do that from the very moment I met you,” Daniel said, and
laughed.
“We really are going to have a wonderful life, aren’t we?” Verity asked,
reaching out to touch her new husband’s face. “And I love you too, Daniel.”

67
 THE DUKES CHRISTMAS VISIT

By

Charlotte Darcy

©Copyright 2016 Charlotte Darcy

All Rights Reserved

For a limited time only read The Bluestocking, the Earl, and the Author for
just $0.99 or FREE on Kindle Unlimited

68
 CHAPTER 9

“
O h, Prudence, I do wish you wouldn’t upset yourself quite so
dreadfully. After all, the thing is hardly arranged now, is it?”
Fox Exeter said to his sobbing sister.
“That hardly matters, Fox. After all, it is just the first step, is it not?”
Prudence and Fox rarely argued and were as close as brother and sister
could be. However, their father’s announcement of a plan for saving their
crumbling estate, Hadstow, had come as a dreadful shock to Prudence. Her
subsequent devastation had come as a terrible shock to Fox, who did not
know what to do other than pointlessly try to convince her that the whole
thing might never happen. And yet, of course, they both knew that it would.
“And believe me when I say that I wish there was something I could do.”
“Perhaps you could marry somebody from money, Fox, instead of me being
bartered away. Why don’t you save the estate?” Prudence hissed the words
vehemently, her anger now mingling with her tears.
“I would if I could, but that is unlikely to happen. Wealthy women do not
marry poor young men, however well-bred they are, and however old the
family. I know it isn’t fair, Prudence, but wealthy women only save
crumbling estates if there is a title in it for them and Father is only a baron.
It is not just male attitudes towards matrimony that are so brutally self-
serving, but rather it is Society’s as a whole.” Fox made his way across the
drawing-room to where his sister sat sobbing in a fireside armchair. After a
few moments hesitation, he placed his hand upon her shoulder.
“I’m sorry to lash out at you, Fox, but I feel absolutely desperate. And I
know that Father would not think of such a thing lightly. We must be in

69
worse trouble than he has ever let us know,” Prudence said, miserably.
“I think he has always hidden it from us, and all the while tried to give us a
good life. That Hadstow has been in decline was something I rather knew
but tried not to think of.”
“Fox, I cannot bear the thought of marrying somebody I do not love. And
even worse, what if I am to marry someone I do not even like?” Prudence
proclaimed, fear clouding her eyes.
“Well, Father has nobody in mind, and he has not made any of our
circumstances known. Perhaps there is still time for you to make a match of
your own. Although, if you do, my dear sister, let it be a man of money. I
know I should not ask such a thing of you, and I cannot bear to think that the
fate and fortunes of the entire family, not to mention estate, rest upon your
shoulders. But still, you are our only hope.” Fox gently stroked his sister’s
hair.
“Oh, how I wish I had made it my mission to find the right man. How I wish
I had used my time better, instead of busying myself with charity works. I
doubtless have only myself to blame.” Prudence was thoroughly miserable.
“Now, Prudence, that would not do. You are yourself and always have been.
Your charity work and your teaching have always been so great a part of you
that you must not chastise yourself for it. It is God’s work that you do, and
you must never forget that.” Fox was so firm that he was almost vehement.
“Fox, you are so very dear to me,” Prudence said, her breathing slowly
returning to normal as her sobbing ceased.
“And you are so very dear to me. We have always been such pals, you, and
I, for brother and sister. In truth, I should hate to see you go, even if you
found a man you could love. For who else would I wander about with?”
“Fox, you really are so wonderfully silly!” Prudence straightened up in her
chair and furiously dried her face with a crisp white handkerchief. “And you
are right, there is still time for me to find somebody of my own choosing. I
shall make it my mission now to attend every event going, and pay serious
attention to the young men in attendance, instead of ignoring them as silly
creatures.”
Prudence always felt better when she had a plan; something to concentrate
on, somewhere to focus all her energy. Already, her own determination was
beginning to make her feel a little better, and where there had been no hope

70
but moments before, now she could see it twinkling in the distance. All she
had to do was stride heartily towards it, and it would be hers. She would be
able to manage it without giving up her charity work; of course, she would.
After all, social events tended to take place in the afternoons and evenings,
leaving her plenty of time to continue her reading lessons in the library at
Hadstow, and her charitable visits to the poor of the county. All it would
take would be a little extra effort. Prudence and Fox attended many Society
events and, despite their dwindling fortunes, the Exeter’s were an old and
respected family. Prudence would just see to it that she paid close attention
to the available men, and not dismiss their attentions out of hand as she had
always done.
Prudence had always thought she would have Hadstow and could remain
there all her life if she needed to. Maybe it was childish, but she had
believed that any marriage she made would be one for love. She did not lust
after material wealth or titles and was, therefore, free to marry for the very
best of reasons. If that wonderful romance never appeared, Prudence thought
she would stay on at Hadstow forever, living a contented and full life, and
continuing in her very satisfying charity work.
As Fox had rightly pointed out, neither one of them had genuinely realized
how deeply in trouble Hadstow was. In truth, they both should have known
it years ago, for Hadstow had long been falling into decline. Whilst they
still had some servants, generally, when one retired, they were not replaced.
As Prudence gave it serious thought, she realized that they had perhaps a
third of the staff they had when she was a girl. In truth, it had never
particularly bothered her. Prudence had always been an independent person,
determined to dress herself and to see to every detail of her own needs. In
her opinion, maids were for the rich and pampered, and Prudence had no
desire to be either.
However, the thought of losing Hadstow was something that Prudence could
not bear. She loved the estate as if it were a living thing, and wanted to be
nowhere else on earth, despite its fading grandeur. There was a wonderfully
meandering, vaguely overgrown feel to the Hadstow estate, and no visitor
could fail to be charmed by it. It had a way of drawing a person in, and
making them feel warm and welcome, despite the genteel shabbiness of its
arrangements. When their mother had died, Fox and Prudence had been but
children. Hadstow seemed to wrap them in its warm arms and keep them
safe throughout their childhood, almost as if to take their mother’s place.
The very idea that their wonderful home could be taken away was

71
devastating to her. Almost as devastating as the idea of being married away
to somebody she did not love and did not even know. It was a torture that
she could not fathom, one she could not bear.
No, Prudence would find a way to make everything right. She would find a
solution that would work for everybody, not just her family and Hadstow.
Not just for the few remaining staff, but also for her own sanity.

72
 CHAPTER 10

“
I must say, Port, it’s awfully decent of you to have me here for
the whole month,” Horatio Dewitt said, using his good
friend’s nickname as he reclined in the drawing room in front
of a roaring fire. “It’s just that I have such a dreadful run of events going on
at my estate over Christmas that I rather felt I needed four full weeks of
lazing about where nobody could find me.”
“I understand entirely, my dear friend,” August Harrington, Duke of
Porterfield, said, laughing. “And I am sorry for you, for I have very little
arranged that I must keep to over the Yuletide festivities.”
“I rather think you have a better run at being a Duke than I do. You see, you
are not inundated with demanding family members, all of them wanting
entertainment and propriety and the senses of duty strictly adhered to.
You’re rather a free man, aren’t you?” Horatio pointed out, without any hint
of rancor.
The two men had been friends for many years, as their fathers had been
friends before them. Their fathers had died within a year of each other, and
both men were still adjusting to their respective roles of Duke, and all the
responsibilities that came with it.
“Yes, I must admit I am rather free. I have one or two elderly aunts who like
to appear from time to time and wheedle their beaks into my business, but
none so close that they have any power over me,” August said, thoughtfully.
August’s mother had died so long ago that he could barely remember her
face, and he had no siblings. His remaining relatives were all on his
mother’s side, and therefore had no real say in anything that happened

73
within the Duchy. In truth, at times, he felt a little lost, and in want of some
direction. Still, for the most part, he was simply pleased to be free of the
heavy weight of expectation that seemed to rest most heavily upon his
friend’s shoulders. Horatio was the Duke of Paxton, and had a rather
strident and opinionated mother still living, a great run of siblings, and
countless interfering aunts. Horatio also had a stutter, which was rather
crippling at times. August was pleased that his friend could relax to such an
extent at Porterfield Hall that his stutter was never in evidence. However,
he knew the dreadful toll that social events took on his dear friend, and
could not help but wish that the man’s own family would show a little more
understanding.
“Hence you have a quiet Christmas ahead of you. I, on the other hand, could
not even count the amount of Society events that are being hosted within my
home. I rather think that my mother and sisters shall simply hand me an
itinerary, so that I know when to stand in the great doorway of my home
mindlessly, and at their insistence probably silently, greeting an endless line
of guests.” The Duke of Paxton often referred to his speech impediment in
his friend’s company.
“Well, you shall have the run of this place for the next month, Horatio, and
you may be as lazy as you choose.”
“And that’s why I’m here, my dear fellow. I knew you’d understand if I
were, perhaps, to loll about in my bed until lunchtime. I do hope your
servants won’t be too annoyed with me, though,” Horatio said, with a
chuckle.
“No, I rather think they will like you. They would certainly grumble if
somebody else did it, but I am under the impression that they find you rather
fun.”
“I am rather fun, in the right environment. Whilst I am here, I feel like I am
someone else entirely. And I do like to loll about for a while without scorn
or judgment from my family. But won’t you mind?”
“Why would I mind?” August asked, and meant it.
“Well, you have a guest for four weeks who has every intention of lazing
around and being the most boring company. Won’t you grow tired of me?”
“Of course, not. And in any case, I have much to keep me occupied in the
mornings this time of year,” August said, keen to put his friend at his ease.

74
“Oh yes, do you still dash about the county being charitable?”
“I most certainly do, Horatio. Winter is a very hard time for the poor,
particularly the elderly.”
“I wouldn’t have thought your tenants so very poor, August, since your rents
seem to be so very reasonable.”
“Oh, I rarely need to visit any of my own tenants with any sort of charity, but
there are some very much less scrupulous landlords in the county, who make
no concession whatsoever for poverty.”
“Well, I must say, that is awfully decent of you.”
“I’m not sure if it is entirely,” August said, a little vaguely as he stared into
the flames of the fire. “Perhaps it is simply habit. My mother was such a
charitable woman, and always took me around with her when she went
visiting or trying to raise funds for this and that.”
“Yes, she was awfully nice,” Horatio said, smiling at the memory of the last
Duchess of Porterfield.
“Of course, Father was far less sentimental.” August gave a short hoot of a
laugh.
“He certainly was. But still a good man, yes, definitely a good man.”
Horatio joined in with his friend’s laughter.
“I daresay he always had the Duchy at heart. He was much more concerned
with pulling money into the Duchy than letting it drift away from it, even in
the form of simple charity.”
“Indeed, he was, Port.” Horatio began to chuckle. “I remember his
determination that you should marry the richest woman you could find, and
swell the Duchy Coffers further still.”
“And he could never see my objections to it all,” August said, shaking his
head. “Because he was fortunate enough to have already been in love with a
very wealthy woman, so marrying her was far from duty or a chore. Perhaps
he might not have been so keen to provide his advice had his marriage not
been so very fortunate in all regards.”
“Yes indeed, my dear friend, advice is so very easily given, is it not?”
“It most certainly is. And I daresay you know that better than I since all your

75
advice givers are still very much in evidence.
“Indeed, they are,” Horatio said, leaning forward to retrieve his brandy
glass from the side table. “Well, here’s to a wonderfully quiet month without
them.” And he raised his glass high into the air before taking a quick sip.

76
 CHAPTER 11

“
T
hand.
his is the halfway point, Your Grace, I’ll take that sack
now,” Benny Carson said, grinning at his master. August
gratefully turned over the sack of supplies to his stable

“Thank goodness, I was starting to tire,” August said, laughing as he laid the
sack onto Benny’s shoulder.
“Your Grace, did you say that old Mr. Philpott has a good ax?”
“Indeed, he has, Benny. I know so, for I have used it myself before.”
“You chopped wood for the Philpotts, Your Grace?” Benny asked, stopping
for a moment to look at his master in wonder.
“I have, Benny, and I should much rather you kept that gem of information to
yourself.”
“But why, Your Grace? If a man does a good deed, there is no shame in
everybody knowing it.”
“I’m not ashamed of helping, Benny, I’m just not keen for it to be known
abroad that I am taking charity to people who live on the Banton estate. The
whole thing goes very much better for Banton’s ignorance of the fact.”
“Oh yes, Your Grace. The Duke of Banton is a bit of a……” Benny did not
finish the sentence as if he had suddenly remembered himself.
“A bit of a what, Benny?” August could not help but be amused by his stable
hand. He had been with him since he was nothing more than a slip of a boy,

77
and had never known when to keep quiet. And yet, despite that, or perhaps
because of it, August could not help but be very fond of him, and always
struggled to keep a straight countenance when the lad blundered into saying
something irreverent or funny.
“Oh, nothing, Your Grace. I don’t want to speak out of turn.”
“Why? Normally, it does not seem to bother you,” August said, and finally
began to laugh.
“Well, he is a bit of a tyrant, Your Grace. It’s well known around the county
how he treats his tenants, and the harder a time a person is having, the
harder he likes to make it for them. It’s like he enjoys it. Nellie Craddock
says he’s an evil old… actually, I really better not say the next bit, Your
Grace.”
“Indeed.” With that, the Duke of Porterfield burst out laughing. Nellie
Craddock had been the cook at Porterfield Hall since before August had
even been born. She was likely one of the most aggressively forthright
servants in all of England, and always spoke her mind, but the family had
kept her since she was also likely to be one of the finest cooks in all of
England. Nellie had never shied away from chastising him as a child,
particularly on the occasions when he sneaked into the kitchen and tried to
steal tasty treats. More than once, the rotund and formidable woman had
chased him out of her kitchen with a flour-covered rolling pin. “Yes, I can
well imagine what Nellie Craddock called him. And, however indelicate
her phrasing might have been, whatever it was she said, I feel sure it would
be correct.”
“Probably, Your Grace. It was also funny. Got us all laughing,” Benny said,
chuckling at his secret reminiscence.
“So, anyway, you can see the need for a little secrecy, can you not?” August
was hoping his loose-lipped stable hand would not give away too many
details to the rest of the staff. Servants all around the county gossiped when
they met up, and it seemed to be the main route for information to pass from
one great household to another. As much as August Harrington did not like
the Duke of Banton, he was certainly not keen to provoke him in any way.
“Yes, I can, Your Grace. I daresay, old Ban…” Benny stopped himself. “I
mean, the Duke of Banton, might not be too pleased to have you dealing out
charity to people who live on his lands.”

78
“I’m sure he would not. Any argument with him is to be avoided, for he
would certainly make it difficult for his tenants. For a start, he would see to
it that they receive no more charity. No, in this case, the less the Duke of
Banton knows, the better. So, as hard as you might find it Benny, you shall
need to hold your tongue in regard to these charity visits.”
“Of course, I will, Your Grace,” Benny said, not the least bit offended by
the Duke’s insinuation.
“And since you have kindly agreed to that, then we shall share the
woodcutting.”
“That sounds fair, Your Grace,” Benny said, his spirits suddenly lifted by
the prospect of spending only half of his time outside chopping wood, and
the other inside keeping warm by Mr. Philpott’s fire while having a nice hot
cup of tea. “Your Grace, whatever is in this sack? It isn’t half heavy.”
August was glad that he had brought Benny along with him. With any other
member of his staff, much of the journey might have been made in silence.
With Benny, never a moment went by without some conversation or other,
however ridiculous that conversation might be.
They had left their horses on the far edge of August Harrington’s own lands
since he had not wanted to draw any attention to the Philpott home by having
his own horses tethered outside it. They made the last part of their journey
on foot and, at almost two miles, it was journey enough when carrying a
heavy sack. Still, they would manage it between them, and Benny, as
always, took on any job with a smile.
“There’s bread, cheese, some meats, and a lot of potatoes and other root
vegetables. I daresay it’s the veg which is making the sack so heavy. Don’t
tell me you’re ready to hand it back over so soon?” August stated, a hint of
teasing in his tone.
“No, Your Grace,” Benny said and laughed. “I was just wondering, that’s
all. And I don’t mind carrying a bit of weight for Mr. and Mrs. Philpott.
They’re old now, but when they were younger, they were charitable enough
themselves. It’s a shame they never had a family, Your Grace, and nobody to
look out for them now. Well, at least they have your kindness, Your Grace.”
“And yours too, Benny,” August said, with a warm smile at his faithful
employee.
By the time, they reached the ramshackle cottage, both men had warmed

79
nicely from their brisk walk and heavy load. Benny handed his master the
sack so that he might take it into the elderly couple. Without a word, Benny
looked for and found the ax, and set about chopping a great pile of large
logs to a manageable size.
The Duke tapped lightly on the door and, hearing movement inside, began to
push it open a little. As he did so, he was greeted by old Mr. Philpott, who
seemed inordinately pleased to see him.
“Well, good morning, Your Grace. Please come in,” the elderly man said,
with dignity and a warm smile. “There’s a fire going for you to warm
yourself by.”
“Thank you, George,” August said, making his way into the small, square
kitchen and noiselessly placing the great sack down in one corner. “And
there are just a few things for yourself and Mrs. Philpott,” August said,
without ceremony. He truly did not want the man’s gratitude.
“That is very kind of you, Your Grace. My wife and I have very much
appreciated the help you have given us.”
“It is little enough, George. And how is Mrs. Philpott?” he asked, noting the
elderly lady’s absence from the kitchen where she almost always sat in a
little rocking chair by the fire.
“She’s not so good today, Your Grace. I’ve kept her in her bed these last
few days since she’s been a little weak. But she’ll come around, Your
Grace, you see if she doesn’t.”
“Has a doctor been to see her at all?” August asked.
“I arranged for Dr. Campbell to come out this morning, Your Grace, and he
has left some tonics for Mrs. Philpott.” The voice came from the other side
of the kitchen, deep in the shadows, and August spun around to see a young
lady sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. He had been so engaged with
delivering his parcel that he had not even seen her as he had made his way
into the little cottage.
“Oh, I say, do forgive me. I was rather intent and did not see you sitting
there. I am terribly sorry,” August said, smiling at her and shrugging.
“Not at all, Sir. I could see that you very much had your hands full.” She
smiled at him, and August could not help but think her uncommonly pretty.
She had shining chocolate brown hair, which had a very pleasing wave to it,

80
and deep brown eyes to match. She was wearing a very well made, but not
overly fussy, gown in a dark blue fabric that seemed to bring out the
paleness of her skin and the deep luster of her hair. Her cloak and bonnet
were laid over a chair, also clearly of good quality, though perhaps the
cloak was a little worn. August was sure that they had never met, but was
equally sure that she had come from a fine background. He rather wondered
what she was doing here in the Philpott cottage, but did not want to risk
being rude by asking outright.
“Well, I am August Harrington, and I’m very pleased to make your
acquaintance,” he said, deciding to ignore his title as she has already heard
it. As he finished, he gave a brief bow.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Sir. I am Prudence Exeter, a friend of Mr.
and Mrs. Philpott.”
“A very good friend, Your Grace,” Mr. Philpott smiled. “And a very kind
one... much like yourself, Your Grace. This wonderful young lady is a
regular visitor to my wife and has come today to bring some warm blankets
for her. And then, of course, Miss Exeter went off to get the doctor as soon
as she saw my Effie.” The old man looked fondly at Prudence. “Set off
herself, she did. Top speed across those fields on that horse of hers.”
“That is very kind of you, Miss Exeter,” August said, smiling. “And was Dr.
Campbell confident of his tonic in this case?”
“Indeed, he was, Sir.” Prudence smiled. “Was he not, Mr. Philpott?”
“Aye, he was, Miss Exeter. I’m sure that Effie will be back to her old self
very soon.”
“I say, Miss Exeter, I did not see your horse outside.” August peered through
the tiny window to see if he had missed it.
“And I did not hear yours draw up, Sir. Perhaps we have both tethered our
horses out of the way for the same reason.” Prudence raised her eyebrows,
the very spirit of discretion.
“I have no doubt we have the same cause, Miss Exeter,” August said, with a
laugh.
“Take a seat, Your Grace. I have a pot of tea brewing.” Mr. Philpott pointed
to a chair, before disappearing over to the other side of the kitchen to busy
himself with tea making.

81
“Thank you kindly, George.” August removed his cloak and hung it by the
door before taking a seat at the kitchen table with Prudence.
“Miss Exeter, I think we have never met before. I’m sure we have never
been at the same gathering, or I should have remembered you.”
“Indeed, Sir, we have not been at the same gatherings,” Prudence said, with
a pretty smile.
“But tell me, are you the sister of Fox Exeter?”
“Indeed, I am, Sir.” She smiling brightly at him making the connection. “You
know my brother, Sir?”
“Indeed, I have not met him, but have heard the Duke of Ashdown speak
very highly of him. They are great friends, are they not?”
“They are, Sir,” Prudence said, with the warmest of smiles. “We were all
children together, racing about the countryside and climbing trees. Now I am
the voice of reason for the three of us. I rather fear that were I not, Fox and
Daniel would still very much be climbing trees.”
“It is true, Miss Exeter, that men take twice as long to grow up as women.”
August laughed heartily.
“And are you much acquainted with the Duke of Ashdown?” Prudence
asked, interested.
“Perhaps not as well acquainted as I would like to be. I have always found
him terribly good company, and thought that perhaps, I might pay a visit to
him this Yuletide.”
“A meeting of Dukes,” Prudence said, humorously.
“Well, perhaps a meeting of like-minded Dukes. For all Dukes are not the
same.” He raised his eyebrows at her, and his meaning was clear.
“No, indeed they are not. Only today, I have discovered the Duke of Banton
has raised his tenants’ rents once more, so much so that he leaves some of
them nearly destitute. What was once a charity of treats has become a
charity of necessity.”
“Has he indeed?” August shook his head in disbelief. “And already his rents
were the highest in the county. Tell me, does Mr. Philpott yet know?”
Despite the fact that the elderly man was on the other side of the kitchen and

82
much distracted with his tea-making, the Duke lowered his voice for even
greater discretion.
“Indeed, he does, Sir. It was from Mr. Philpott that I discovered the
information. It is enough to break my heart. That man can no longer afford to
live, and yet he greets us both with such warmth that you would think he did
not have a care in the world. And yet I know that the poor man barely sleeps
at night. His wife is ill and growing worse, and that dreadful Banton piles
yet another worry on the poor dear’s world-weary shoulders.” Prudence
was becoming somewhat agitated. “If I were a man, I should call him out at
dawn.”
“I have no doubt, Miss Exeter.” August was trying to suppress an amused
grin. “In fact, I should proudly be your second.”
“Well, in that case, perhaps I shall not let my sex rule me out. I shall dry my
gunpowder, and get word to you when I am ready.” Prudence finished with a
laugh. “Oh, dear me, please do forgive me, Sir. That was terribly
inappropriate, despite the fact I think I very nearly meant it.”
“It was not inappropriate at all.” He smiled at her. “In fact, I rather enjoyed
it. And in any case, that man does not deserve anybody’s discretion, does
he? I say, poor George.” August’s amusement died down as his concern for
the elderly man took over.
“I know, Sir. I rather fear that George shall not be able to find this extra rent.
The Lord knows what shall happen to him then. I guess only the Lord knows
quite how many other of the Duke of Banton’s tenants are in the same
predicament this morning.”
“Well, I should be very keen to quietly provide Mr. and Mrs. Philpott with
the extra money. I should not like to hurt his pride, but I should much like
less to see him made destitute. I wonder if I could ask for your help in the
matter, Miss Exeter?”
“You most certainly can, Duke,” Prudence said, her entire countenance
seeming to lift.
“Perhaps you could delicately question Mr. Philpott, and find out what the
deficit would be. Make it clear to him that you think there might be some
money available from a charitable fund, but that he must very much keep that
information to himself.”
“You would not wish him to know the donation comes from you, Sir?”

83
Prudence said, her admiration clear.
“I would not, purely and simply because I should not like Banton himself to
find out about it. I rather think that any charity on his estate, is best done by
stealth, and would very much be impeded by his knowledge of the fact. He
is an appalling human being, it is true, but we are on his lands, nonetheless.
Furthermore, I sometimes think that anonymous charity is a much easier
thing for a person to accept. There is not that same sense of obligation, and I
rather think, as you rightly pointed out, that George has enough on his old
shoulders already.”
“Indeed, Sir, I shall find that information for you as soon as possible. And I
shall write to you immediately I know.”
“That would be wonderful, however, you are more than welcome to call
upon me at Porterfield Hall. Perhaps one afternoon this week? We could
have tea?” His invitation was rather a question.
“Well, that would be uncommonly nice, Sir. Perhaps Wednesday?” Prudence
was not a bashful sort of girl, and August was extremely glad of it. Perhaps
growing up as a friend of the Duke of Ashdown had rather removed that
sense of awe that so many other people seemed to suffer from in his
presence. In truth, he rather liked it.
“I shall look forward to it, Miss Exeter. And perhaps you could tell me a
little more of your own charity work since it is clear to me that you do much
of it.”
“And how is that clear, Sir?” Prudence asked, her eyes all interest once
again.
“Because you are so very good at it. A natural who clearly has George
Philpott eating out of the palm of her hand, and is ready to dash off across
the frosty fields on her horse at a moment’s notice to gather the doctor.
Indeed, I feel sure you are a true professional in the world of charitable
works.”
“Very well perceived, Duke. Indeed, I shall have much to tell you on the
subject if you truly would like to hear it,” Prudence said, with a confident
smile that lit up her whole face.
“I should very much like to hear it, Miss Exeter.”
At that moment, the door to the cottage opened and Benny, rubbing his hands

84
together and making an utterance against the cold which was not actually a
word, wandered into the room. As he began to make his way towards the
fire, he looked at Prudence.
“Good morning, Miss Exeter! Well, I never! Fancy seeing you here,” Benny
said, in his typically spirited and buoyant fashion. “I’ve done exactly half,
Your Grace.” He went on, looking at his master with meaning.
“Would you excuse me, Miss Exeter?” August rose to his feet, smiling, and
shaking his head at the amusement his stable hand always provided. “For I
had promised faithfully to share wood cutting duties with Benny here, and if
I do not keep to my word, I shall never hear the last of it.”
“Knowing Benny well, Sir, I can quite believe it.” Prudence dipped her
head as August made his way out into the cold morning air.
The gesture was so demure and completely contrary to her character that
August felt as if it stole the breath from his chest.

85
 CHAPTER 12

“
S o, Benny, tell me how you know Miss Exeter,” the Duke said
when they were but a few feet away from the Philpott cottage on
their way back to their horses.
“Miss Exeter taught me to read, Your Grace. Me and a lot of other kids, you
know. She was Miss Prudence back then because she wasn’t really very
much older than me. Maybe five years or so.”
“You never said you could read, Benny.” August was entirely surprised and
somewhat side-tracked by the new information. “When did that happen?”
“T’was some years ago, Your Grace. What was I when I came to you,
thirteen? I could already read by then, Your Grace.”
August was dumbfounded. It was true that Benny had come to him as a
young lad of thirteen, following the death of his father. Having no other
family, the boy’s only hope was going into service, but with his bright
personality and magical way with horses, he had very quickly found
employment with the Duke of Porterfield. In the five years that the Duke had
known him, Benny had never once alluded to the fact that he could read and
write.
“And do you still read, Benny?” August asked.
“Aye, I do, Your Grace. I like to read books, especially ones with a bit of
adventure in them.” Benny was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that
August was almost struck dumb.
“But… I cannot believe you have never said.”

86
“I don’t understand what difference it would make, Your Grace. After all,
you can read for yourself, and do not need me to do that for you.” Benny
shrugged expansively.
“That’s not what I meant, Benny!” August’s laughter rumbled from his chest
once more. “What I meant was that had I known I might have been able to
find you a better job on the estate.”
“But, Your Grace, there isn’t a better job on the estate.” Benny seemed
genuinely confused.
“But you could have had a job indoors. Or even some sort of work in estate
management. After all, I’ve always known that you are bright but had I
known that you could read. I would have set you to something other than the
stable hand.”
“But I want to be a stable hand, Your Grace. I wish I had never mentioned it
now.” Benny seemed quite perturbed.
“Well, I am not going to take your job away from you, if you truly are happy
to remain in it.” August did not quite know what to say.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Benny said, seemingly relieved.
“So, how old were you when you learned to read?”
“I started at eleven, Your Grace. By the time my father died, Miss Prudence
had more or less taught me the whole thing. Anyway, I haven’t seen her
since then.”
“So, you went to Miss Exeter for two years?”
“I did, Your Grace. Lots of the poorer children do. She used to let us into
the library at Hadstow, her father’s estate. Children came and went.
Sometimes there would be five or six of us, and other times there would just
be me.”
“But Miss Exeter cannot be very much older than you.”
“She is about five years older, Your Grace, I think.” Benny was wrinkling
his nose and nodding his head as he tried to remember.
August thought for a few moments. Surely that would make the young lady
about twenty-three. Indeed, a little older than she did, in fact, look.

87
“And her father did not mind her opening his home to the children?”
“Not at all, Your Grace. Mr. Exeter always seemed like a nice sort of a man.
A very quiet sort of a man, if I remember rightly.”
“And Hadstow is a big estate?”
“Not particularly big, Your Grace. It’s in need of much work, I think. Still, it
was very nice, and I was always made to feel welcome.”
August knew that he was asking too many questions of Benny and that his
interest in Miss Exeter was more than likely very obvious. However, he
was suddenly keen to find out as much as he could, finding her quite the
most interesting young lady he had met for many a long year.
In truth, there was no pressure upon the Duke of Porterfield to marry. He had
no family to continually remark upon the point, and if he were to die
childless, he had never considered it would affect him greatly. Somebody
else would simply be awarded the title, and it would matter little to him
from his grave. As a result, August had thought very little of the subject of
marriage, and never sought to impress any of the young ladies of his
acquaintance. The problem had always been that none of them particularly
impressed him. However, he rather felt that Miss Exeter was a very
different sort of a woman, and one who already held his interest in the palm
of her hand.
“So, would you say that they are rather a charitable family?” August went
on, seemingly unable to help himself.
“I would say, Your Grace. I think Miss Prudence was the most charitable of
them, but her father and brother did their share and did not offer any
objection about it. I suppose they had cares enough of their own, Your
Grace, because I do not think they were that wealthy themselves.”
“Benny, I do not care for gossip,” August chastised.
“Your Grace, I would not gossip about nobody. I’m just answering your
questions.” Benny’s eyes widened, and he looked a little put out. “As much
as I can read and write, Your Grace, there are still things which confuse me.
If you asked me a question, Your Grace, I could only answer to the best of
what I know.”
“You are quite right, Benny, forgive me. I actually did want to know.”

88
“I don’t really understand.”
“Perhaps you are better off not understanding. Sometimes ridiculous
etiquette tramples all over common sense.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry about it, Benny, just accept my apologies.”
“Then I accept your apologies, Your Grace,” Benny said, with comical
magnanimity as he made an expansive bow.
The lad was smiling again, and his antics made August laugh out loud.
When they reached their horses and set off, August was glad for a few
minutes quiet. He could not seem to shake the image of Prudence Exeter’s
glorious dark eyes from his mind and rather found himself hoping that
Wednesday afternoon would hurry up and arrive.
He wondered idly if she attended many events in the county, concluding that
she likely was involved in much of the same society as the Duke of
Ashdown. Perhaps he really would have to call upon The Duke of Ashdown
with Christmas greetings, as he had previously thought he might. In the
meantime, he would wait for Wednesday and Prudence to visit.

89
 CHAPTER 13

F or two days straight, Prudence had found herself unable to

think of much else besides her curious encounter with the
Duke of Porterfield. She had always thought that Daniel
Frasier would be the only Duke in the country with whom she would feel
quite so comfortable, and only because they had been lifelong friends.
However, she found herself as much at ease in the company of the Duke of
Porterfield and wondered if it was perhaps his charitable nature and simple
manner which had made her feel so.
Prudence looked down at the book she was reading, amused to realize that
she had been on the same page for more than an hour. After eleven o’clock,
Prudence had very much decided that no children would be attending
Hadstow that day for reading lessons, but she had kept to the library to be
alone with her thoughts for a while. In truth, the book had been nothing more
than a prop to keep her there, should her brother or father come looking for
her. Prudence laughed as she thought what a good thing it was that no child
had been in want of lessons that day, for her attention was so badly
distracted that she could not begin to imagine herself having been of any use
to them. For, as much as the Duke had been an ally in charity, she had also
found him extremely handsome and attractive. He was a tall and very well
built man; whose hair was as fair as hers was dark. His blue eyes were
pale, and yet rather intense, and drew your eyes. It was as if you were
seeing into his very soul and she found it hard to not stare at such intensity.
Above all things, his manner was extremely pleasing and attractive to her,
and she found herself rather counting the hours until Wednesday afternoon
would come. She had not yet made any mention to either her father or
brother of her meeting with the duke nor of her acceptance of his invitation

90
to afternoon tea. She would leave it until the morning itself, and raise the
subject with them then. She felt sure that neither would have any objection,
particularly since her father was very much keen to marry her to a wealthy
man in hopes of saving Hadstow.
Finally giving in, Prudence gently shut the book and gave up the pretense of
reading. She gazed listlessly out of the window, wondering if her sudden
romantic feeling was entirely authentic. In truth, Prudence had rarely been
given to flights of fancy, particularly regarding romantic unions. She rather
wondered if her sudden propensity was nothing more than a reaction to the
idea that she might not have a choice in who her future husband might be if
she did not make a thorough search for one herself. And yet, throughout her
encounter with the Duke of Porterfield, she had entirely forgotten her own
worries and fears of the future and had rather concentrated on those of Mr.
and Mrs. Philpott. She had truly enjoyed the Duke’s company and had been
extremely impressed by what struck her as his natural aptitude for charity
work. She had not heard of him undertaking such things but readily admitted
to herself that she knew very little of the Duke of Porterfield. Despite his
great estate being no more than probably six or seven miles from her own
home, the Harrington’s had not been a family with whom her own had ever
been associated.
With no more time to explore her feelings any further, the door to the library
creaked open and there stood her father and brother. They seemed almost to
shuffle into the room, sheepishly, as some of the village children often did
when they came for a reading lesson. Their very manner disturbed her
greatly, and her body reacted long before her brain had put things in order.
Prudence could feel her hands trembling, and a cold feeling in the pit of her
stomach.
“What is it?” she knew she sounded extremely harsh.
“Might we talk with you for a while, my dear girl?” her father asked, in his
customary kindly tones.
“Of course.” Prudence could already feel tears springing to her eyes.
Although she did not yet know what horror was to come, she felt sure that
horror was indeed coming. Leaving her to sit at her small table, her father
and brother sat side-by-side on one of the couches. The sight of them
together, both looking so terribly forlorn, filled her with dread, and
Prudence found her hands shaking now almost uncontrollably.

91
“Just tell me,” Prudence spat the words at the two men, and felt heartily
ashamed of her lack of control. Her father already looked bereft, and her
brother looked more nervous than she had ever seen him. She knew that they
did not want to do anything which would hurt her. That neither man wanted
her to shoulder the burden of keeping the estate in the family. And yet, at the
same time, she could not help but feel a rather hurt sort of anger towards
them both, even if they could do nothing to change their circumstances.
“After our conversation of the other day, my dear, I have been making some
inquiries locally,” her father said, tactfully.
“In other words, you have been making it known that you have a daughter for
sale.” Tears raced down her face, partly from anger, partly from the shame
of throwing such a hurtful comment at her beloved father.
“Oh, Prudence,” Fox said, seeming as bereft as her father did.
“No, Fox, let Prudence have her say. She is right to be disappointed in me,
for things should never have come to this.” Edgar Exeter looked thoroughly
ashamed.
In a heartbeat, Prudence was on her feet and scampering across the room to
her father. Kneeling on the floor beside him, she threw her head onto his lap
and cried.
“I am so sorry, Father, please forgive me. I did not mean to be so cruel, but I
am so very afraid of what you are about to tell me.”
“My dear, it is nothing set in stone. Do not upset yourself just yet,” Edgar
said, gently stroking her shiny brown hair. “It is simply that I have been
visited by a gentleman, the Duke no less, who has made it known to me that
he might well be interested in offering you marriage.”
For a moment, Prudence’s spirits soared. Could it be her Duke? Her new
friend, the Duke of Porterfield? Could he have heard of their circumstances
and their father’s inquiries as to husbands of wealth for his own daughter?
As much as she did not know him, if she were forced to marry, she rather
thought that August Harrington would be a most acceptable prospect.
“Oh?” Prudence asked, lifting her head and rubbing at her tears with her
hands.
“Indeed. Nothing but the best for my daughter,” Edgar said, reaching out to
touch her damp cheek. “In fact, the Duke of Banton seemed awfully keen to

92
get things…”
“Who?” Prudence shrieked before her father could even finish his sentence.
“The Duke of Banton,” Edgar said quietly. as his face flushed with shame.
“Oh, please tell me you have not promised me to him. For he is such a
dreadful man, Father.”
“Indeed, no arrangement has been made. No agreement has been made
either. It was simply an opening discussion.”
“Then I would beg you to close it, Father, for I could not marry such a
creature as the Duke of Banton,” Prudence spat the words vehemently as if
they left a terrible taste on her tongue.
“But what makes you say such a thing, my dear girl?” Edgar asked, seeming
confused.
“Father, surely you know what sort of a man he is. He bullies his tenants and
treats them as less than human. A man like that must be dreadfully cruel.”
“Well, he did seem to have rather a strident sort of a personality when he
came to speak to me, but I hardly think you could know the man well enough
to call him cruel, my dear.”
“Well, I should be very grateful, Father, if you did not risk it. It is hard
enough that you are marrying me away to keep Hadstow, but please do not
marry me away into a life of cruelty and regret, for it shall not be a life
worth living.” This time, Prudence did not care to spare her father’s
feelings. As much as she would help to keep Hadstow going, she would not
marry a man who treated other people as badly as the Duke of Banton had
clearly treated Mr. and Mrs. Philpott.
“My dear girl, if you feel as strongly as that, I cannot force you. I would
not,” Edgar said, with a great sigh and she watched as his shoulders seemed
to fold down on him. As if a sudden weight were forcing him to stoop. As
much as she knew that her father was trying hard to protect her, still she
could not escape the feeling that he was somehow a little disappointed in
her. The idea of it made her sad and angry in equal measure, and she rather
wished that she could escape the company of her father and brother for a
while if only to give herself time to forgive them both. Yet she had to know
if her future was no longer hers.

93
“And you promise that no deal has been made?” she asked, turning reddened
eyes upon him.
“No, indeed. As I said, it was simply an opening conversation. He is
returning on Thursday, and I shall tell him then. Not that I shall look forward
to it, mind you. He rather strikes me as a man of forceful personality... one
who does not like to be put off.”
“Then I should have no defenses against him, Father, should I?” Prudence
stated, keen to have her father come to the same conclusion as herself under
his own steam.
“I daresay not, I guess this was not an ideal situation.” Her father rose to his
feet and gave another great sigh. “But I’m afraid I shall have to keep
looking, Prudence.”
“I know that, Father, I only ask that you do not marry me away to a cruel
man. If I am to do this for my family and for Hadstow, then I believe I have a
right to some consideration at least.” Prudence spoke rather firmly but meant
every word of it. It was the harsh reality that she was the one whose life
was going to be so dreadfully affected to save everybody else. At that
moment, she had no misgivings that such a thing be made known.
“I shall do my best, child,” Edgar said, heavily. He tapped Fox on the
shoulder, indicating that his son should leave with him. Her father knew her
well enough to know that Prudence would very much want to be left alone at
that moment, and she was rather glad of his perception.
Left to her own devices, Prudence cried again, although this time with relief
rather than grief. What a lucky escape she had had. For had she been
married away to Banton, she would never have been able to continue in her
charity work. Without ever having had a moment’s conversation with the
Duke of Banton, Prudence felt sure that a man such as him would be
vehemently opposed to good works, and would certainly disallow his own
wife from carrying them out. How stunted she would be, and how her world
would have been crushed beneath him. Prudence had been doing good
works since she was but sixteen-years-old, when she had first started to
teach the poorer children how to read. She could, quite simply, not imagine
a life without that occupation, not to mention the many others that filled her
life with meaning.
As relieved as she was, Prudence could not help but shudder when she
thought of who her father might next find for her. After all, the problem was

94
not going to go away, and she had already disappointed her father once.
Taking a great breath and holding it for a moment, Prudence released it and
vowed to continue in her own efforts to secure a match for herself.
Inevitably, her mind was once again drawn to an image of the Duke of
Porterfield.

95
 CHAPTER 14

“
I t is not a problem in the slightest, my dear fellow. I shall very
much keep out of the way. In fact, in keeping with the rest of
my stay, I might well take myself off for an afternoon nap,”
Horatio Dewitt said, laughing.
“Well, I must say, that’s terribly understanding of you, Horatio.”
“I am happy to oblige, Port, my good friend. After all, I have never seen you
so excited at the prospect of having a young lady to tea. You always rather
strike me as if you are on the run from it all.”
“I daresay one runner recognizes another,” August said, mischievously.
“You are right, of course. And yet I myself cannot run forever. Sooner or
later my family shall force me into a corner with a spouse of their own
choosing.” Horatio shuddered comically. “Still, until that day arrives, I shall
try to push it from my mind and shall enjoy my freedom.”
“Horatio, I cannot help but think you overplay the thing.”
“Of course I do, my friend, but rather less than you might think.” Horatio
made to stand. “So, do tell me, before I go, what is it about this young lady
which has you so captivated?”
“Well, I am not sure that I’m captivated, precisely,” August said, a little
defensively.
“Are you not? Then it is a good thing I am here, for I can be sure of it, my
old friend.” Horatio chuckled devilishly.

96
“Well, to answer your question, I found her rather an interesting young lady.
She seems much involved in charity work, but not the sort of charity work
that most young ladies do. It is not the garden party and fundraising side of
things, but rather the very grassroots of it all. She visits the poor and the
elderly, and she teaches children to read.”
“Then no wonder she has appealed to your own sensibilities, Port, my dear
fellow,” Horatio said, laughing warmly. “But tell me, if she a pretty young
lady or just a very charitable one?”
“Oh, the prettiest,” August said, and he could feel his excitement rise. “She
has hair the color of chocolate, and it positively gleams. And such clear skin
and dark eyes as I have never seen before. She really is quite a beauty.”
“Then I’m rather aggrieved at not meeting her now.” Horatio was teasing.
“But fear not, I shall content myself to spy on her for a few moments from
the window of the morning room as she arrives, before I make my illicit
escape up the stairs and away to my bed for a nap.”
“And I thank you for it, Horatio.”

BY THE TIME PRUDENCE ARRIVED, August found that he felt uncommonly

nervous. As much as he had been so at ease in her company the last time
they had met, he had spent so much time thinking of her since that his
growing regard seemed to add weight to their meeting.
“Miss Exeter, Your Grace.” The butler showed Prudence in and bowed
before leaving.
“Good afternoon, Miss Exeter. Please do take a seat by the fire.” She looked
even better than he remembered. Her chocolate hair was piled high on her
head and held in place by an ornate comb decorated with flowers, a few
tendrils rained down against her clear skin. A dark green day dress brought
out her complexion and set off her hair. August found his breath caught in his
throat.
“Thank you kindly, Duke. I shall be pleased of the fire, for it is exceedingly
cold outside today.”
“Well, you shall be pleased to know that tea will be with us very shortly.”
August felt his hands damp with moisture and his heart stuttered a little as

97
she crossed the room. Yet, as she took a seat, he felt himself starting to relax
a little. Maybe it was now that Prudence was actually here in the flesh, and
no longer a daydream.
“Now, Sir, I have done as you asked, and found out the deficit that poor Mr.
Philpott must find in order to keep the roof over his head. I have written it
down.” Prudence opened a small velvet reticule and withdrew a small slip
of paper from it. She handed it to August without a word but allowed her
eyes to meet his rather hopefully.
“I shall see to it that the money is made available to him every month. And
tell me, did Mr. Philpott fall in with your story of the charitable fund?”
“Indeed, he did, Duke. I rather feel myself to be quite a good liar, for he was
extremely convinced of my tale.” Prudence laughed lightly.
August thought that Prudence had a very attractive and somewhat spirited
laugh, and quickly found himself joining in.
“And you managed to convince him to remain silent upon the whole thing?”
August asked, keen to clear up the point.
“Yes indeed. In fact, I rather think he himself suspects that the Duke of
Banton would intervene if he suspected any of his tenants receiving such
charity. It’s appalling, Sir. That dreadful man’s tenants live in absolute fear
of him.” Prudence turned suddenly a little solemn. August could almost
sense the depth of her feeling for the people she helped.
“It is true he is a most appalling man. It is little wonder to me that he made
his forty-fifth year without yet finding a wife. I can only assume that even his
title and wealth is not inducement enough for any young lady.” August began
to laugh and continued to do so until he saw the change in Prudence’s
countenance. “Oh, I say, I am most terribly sorry. You must think me terribly
unkind and rather brutish. As much as I do not like the man, I should not
have spoken so about him, please forgive me.”
“No indeed, Duke. I would not for a moment seek to chastise you over any
comments you might care to make about the Duke of Banton.” said,
enthusiastically.
“Well, I apologize. I rather thought you looked a little downcast, Miss
Exeter.” Realizing that his simple statement had sounded like more of a
question, he went on. “Oh, I say, that seems awfully intrusive of me. Please
do forgive me. Again. Dear me, you have been in my home but five minutes,

98
and already I have had cause to beg your forgiveness twice. What a dreadful
host I have turned out to be.” August shrugged in a most apologetic fashion.
“You do not need to ask my forgiveness on either count, Sir,” Prudence said,
and she found her smile returning as she watched the worried expression on
his face. “I am rather afraid I can only put you out of your misery with
regard to the Duke of Banton by telling you a little of my own current
worries, and I should not like to burden you in such a way.” She gave a
warm smile and every appearance of being ready to move on to the next
subject.
“It would not be a burden to me whatsoever, Miss Exeter. Please do speak
freely. I should very much like us to be friends.” He smiled at her
encouragingly.
“Well, you may be a little amused to discover that I have, just this week,
rather escaped the possibility of being married off to the dreadful Duke of
Banton.”
“Really?” August knew that his mouth had fallen open, but he could not
seem to retrieve it.
“Really,” Prudence said, with a light and pretty laugh. “But I am quite safe
now, for I have begged my father not to pursue the matter.”
“Your father wished you to marry Banton?” August was confused;
everything he had heard of Edgar Exeter suggested that he was a good and
kind man. Surely such a man would never marry away his daughter to a
brute such as Banton. But then, perhaps, he was not as well acquainted with
the Duke of Banton as August was.
“I’m afraid so. But you must not think ill of my father. We have struggled
many years at Hadstow, and unfortunately, the time has come for him to seek
a way for our fortunes to change. Unfortunately, being the only daughter, it
rather rests upon me to change those fortunes. I need not insult your
intelligence by having you guess at the method.”
“Your father needs you to marry wealth,” August said, quietly.
“I’m afraid he does. And in truth, I could not be more sorry. I have never
sought out marriage, title, or wealth. I am rather uncomfortable with the
whole thing. However, when my father came to me to tell me that the Duke
of Banton had registered something of an interest, I must admit to almost
swallowing my own tongue in horror. You see, my father does not know

99
much of the Duke of Banton, and rarely seems to be listening when I tell him
of the goings-on with the poor folk on the man’s estate. The poor dear rather
thought that he was making a good match for me, and I cannot truly blame
him for it. However, I made it very clear that I could not possibly agree to
such a thing.” Prudence put on a big smile though it did not seem to quite
meet her eyes.
“And very relieved I am to hear it, Miss Exeter.” August offered his own
smile, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable for a moment. In truth, the idea
of a father marrying away his daughter in those circumstances was
something that August rather balked at, despite the fact that he knew that his
own family had never struggled in such a way, and therefore had never had
to consider such a thing. Of course, marriages of wealth and convenience
happened all around him, for it was the way of the aristocracy and the upper
classes. Nonetheless, he did not like the idea and had always been greatly
relieved not to have suffered such pressures himself. “In truth, I should not
like to see you married away to such a dreadful man, Miss Exeter.”
At that moment, a maid entered the room with a laden tea-tray.
Without a word, Prudence set about pouring them both tea, with great
confidence and no ill ease. August could not help but be attracted by the
way that the young woman seemed to have no social awkwardness. There
were no airs or graces, and no clamoring for attention. Prudence Exeter
simply was Prudence Exeter, and she seemed to make no apology for it. And
he would have her make no such apology, for August realized that she was
quite the most captivating young lady he had ever met. As he sipped on the
tea, he found himself worrying that her father might already be looking for
the next match. Feeling a little foolish, August rather wondered if he should
make his interest in her a little more obvious.
“If I’m selfishly honest, Miss Exeter, I should think it an awful shame to see
you married away so soon after I have just met you.” He gave a rueful smile
and rather hoped he had not gone too far.
“I thank you, Duke,” Prudence said, and her eyes seemed to light up as a
smile spread across her beautiful features. “How very charming you are.”
“Well, tell me a little more of your charity work,” August said, not entirely
knowing what Prudence’s response meant, and feeling a change of subject
was in order. “Benny Carson tells me that you taught him to read.”
“Indeed I did, Duke. In truth, he was one of my first pupils, and possibly one

100
of my brightest. In fact, he was so easy to teach that it rather lulled me into a
false sense of security, and led me to believe that my talents were far greater
than they truly were.” Prudence laughed openly, and it was clear that her
comment was not intended to garner a compliment of some sort from him. It
was the simple truth as she saw it.
“He is, as you say, a very bright young man. A little garrulous on occasion,
but pleasingly so.”
“I have never worked with a child who talks so much,” Prudence admitted,
laughing. “And what a likable young man.”
“That he is, Miss Exeter. He has the sort of personality that one cannot fail
to warm to. He is always honest, if a little brutally so on occasion, and
nothing is ever too much trouble. I count myself very fortunate to have him
here, but I rather wish that he would allow me to find him something a little
more suitable. Yet it seems he is intent on remaining a stable hand.”
“And I know why, Duke,” Prudence said, with a bright and knowing smile.
“It has always been his heart’s desire to be the head groom at an estate
which boasts many horses. He is a hard-working young man, and patient
enough to wait his turn and work his way through the ranks in the stables. I
guarantee whatever you offer him, he shall beg to stay where he is.”
“Well, I’d better not tell my head groom that Benny has his eye on the man’s
job.” August gave a laugh. “I should have a full-scale mutiny on my hands.”
“I can well imagine.” Prudence’s eyes were bright with mirth, and her open
features displaying genuine pleasure in his company.
“And how long have you been doing your charitable visits?”
“Father made me wait until I was eighteen. He was happy enough for me to
teach children to read from sixteen years, but not to go out and about the
county visiting. Still, the very moment I was eighteen, I took him at his word
and started making inquiries as to who might be in need. I must say, in the
five years since I began my occupation, the majority of my visits have been
clandestine ones on the Duke of Banton’s land. He really is most dreadfully
heartless, Sir.”
“How many families do you see?” August was suddenly very interested to
hear just how many of Banton’s tenants lived in poverty.
“I see fourteen families, Sir,” Prudence said, quite seriously. “And now the

101
rents have gone up, I rather expect that number to increase. Of course, I
work alone and spend much of my time trying to gather up some of the things
that they need. I travel about the county a fair bit, and always badger people
at whatever function I go to. I never ask for money, but rather for items that
people of wealth no longer need. Predominantly blankets, old clothing,
footwear, and mattresses. Linens also, if I can get hold of them.”
“And what of food? Do you take food to them also?”
“Indeed I do, Sir.”
“But if you do not fund raise, where does the money come from?”
“I have a small allowance, Sir, and many of the traders in town are well
acquainted with my work, and are happy to sell me bread and vegetables at
a reduced price. Sometimes even meat. And I am also well acquainted with
a number of the tenant farmers, and can usually wheedle some milk here and
there, and occasionally cheese.”
“I say, you’re rather a marvel, Miss Exeter. But I do not think you should
necessarily pay for so much of the food yourself.”
“I once made the mistake of trying to raise funds from wealthy people, and
very much found that they are far less keen to part with actual money than
they are to part with things that they no longer want. Really, they give
something they were ready to discard and act as if they are ready to have
their wings attached in Heaven. Anyway, when I tried for funds, they rather
turned against me, and so I gave it up, and continued to get what I could
from them.”
“Well, perhaps we could do the thing between us? I should very much like
to help.”
“But you already do, from what I see.”
“I take food and chop wood for a couple of months over Christmas. Seeing
the work that you do, I realize that charity is a full-time occupation, and not
simply a kind gesture at Christmas.”
“I shall be honest, Sir, in that I think your admission does you credit. Great
credit, indeed.” Prudence looked at him with genuine admiration. So much
so, in fact, that August felt a little more confident of her regard for him.
Perhaps she did, indeed, return his interest.

102
They continued to talk for more than an hour about charity work and various
people of their acquaintance. August rather thought it was the easiest and
most comfortable conversation he had ever had outside of his close circle of
friends, and found himself feeling rather regretful when it came time for her
to leave. Determining to show her out himself, August helped her into her
cloak and walked her from the house to her carriage. As good a carriage as
it was, it was old and showed signs of disrepair. Something about its faded
gentility rather struck him as sad, and yet it did not seem to trouble her at
all.
“Miss Exeter, if I might intrude a little further into your business as regards
the Duke of Banton and his interest?”
“Indeed, you may,” Prudence said, smiling down at him from her seat in the
carriage.
“Has your father yet told him that there shall be no such arrangement?”
August had something at the back of his mind, and it had been rather niggling
him from the moment she had told him of Banton’s approach to her father.
“No, but he is to tell him tomorrow. Father said that the Duke of Banton was
returning for further discussion on Thursday and that he would put him off
then.”
“Miss Exeter, I do not wish to alarm you, for I may not be entirely correct
on the matter, but I must say that I am not at all easy about the Duke of
Banton. You see, I am acquainted with him, well enough that we are not
friends, and I know him of old. He’s rather brutish, and his ego is immense.
There is a very good chance he shall not like what he hears, and that his
determination to marry you might, indeed, increase purely and simply
because your family shows no interest in him. It is rather a twisted
personality he has, I fear.”
“Father did say that he had something of a strident manner. But in truth, Sir,
you are rather frightening me.”
“I do not wish to disturb you so, Miss Exeter, but rather I wish to arm you
before you leave.”
“But I can do nothing, so the truth cannot arm me against him.”
“Perhaps it can if you will allow me to be so bold as to make a suggestion
that you might not like.”

103
“Oh, please do suggest at will,” Prudence said, spreading her hands wide,
almost in defeat.
“Perhaps you might have a word with your father, and suggest that he tells
Banton that he has discovered that I have been courting you these last
weeks. If Banton makes a fuss, your father could tell him that he knew
nothing of it as you had kept the matter to yourself.”
For some moments, Prudence remained silent, and the color drained from
her already pale cheeks.
“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Miss Exeter.”
“You have not offended me at all, Sir. In fact, I am rather speechless in the
face of such kindness.”
“It is no kindness at all, really,” he said, smiling.
“Well, I thank you for it, and I shall very much make my father aware of
exactly what sort of man the Duke of Banton is, and what excuse he may
give him with your permission.”
“Well, I have had an inordinately pleasant afternoon, Miss Exeter, and
should be very pleased to see you again soon.” August smiled and found
himself warmed by the way she held his gaze so firmly. She was not in any
way coquettish, and he rather respected her all the more for it.
“And I should be pleased to see you too,” she said, with a bright smile,
before her driver set off for Hadstow.

104
 CHAPTER 15

I t had been some days since August had seen Prudence, and he
found himself really missing her company. He had talked of her
endlessly to Horatio and knew fine well that he had given
himself away within the first few minutes. Having given his old friend a
hurried explanation of Miss Exeter’s circumstances, he watched as a
knowing smile spread across his old friend’s face.
“What?” August had said, a little irritably.
“You are heading down a path that leads to matrimony, my dear friend, and I
wish you joy with it.”
“We have known each other for many years, Horatio, and yet at this moment
I cannot tell whether or not you are mocking me,” August said, with a shake
of his head and a shrug of his shoulders.
“On this one occasion, I am in earnest. Wanted matrimony, well-matched
matrimony, is a good thing. It is a good thing because it is such a rare thing.
One does not simply let rare things get away from them. I wish you the very
best of luck, my friend.” And with that, Horatio had let the subject go.
More than once, August had worried that his helpful suggestion of claiming
his courtship might finally have put her off him. Perhaps, after some thought,
she had rather thought he had taken advantage of the situation. They had
made no arrangements to meet again, and August had wondered quite how
he would go about their next meeting. He did not want to simply call upon
her at Hadstow, for fear that she had turned against him a little. Yet every
day he thought of her and found that he could concentrate on little else. How
had the meeting gone? Was the Duke of Banton appeased? In the end, he

105
could not wait to see her so he simply chose to send her a note, asking when
and where she might be performing her next charitable visit, and offering to
buy the required food and other supplies.
When August had received word from her the next day that she would be
returning to the Philpott home and perhaps he could bring some bread and
cheese, but not yet any vegetables for they still had plenty, his spirits had
soared. At least she had been keen enough to see him to respond
immediately, and at ease enough with him to provide him with a list of
supplies.
Feeling somehow very much younger than his twenty-nine years, August had
wasted away the rest of that day, carrying his note in his pocket, and
retrieving it to stare at her neat handwriting at regular intervals. He really
had rather fallen for the girl and hoped with all his heart that she felt the
same way about him.

BY THE TIME Prudence arrived at the Philpott’s cottage, she had done much to
compose herself. She had spent a good deal of the previous evening in tears,
and much of that very morning bathing her eyes and hoping that her emotion
did not show. When first she had received the Duke of Porterfield’s letter,
Prudence had very nearly decided not to respond. Further acquaintance with
him would undoubtedly lead her to tell him of her new, horrifying
circumstance, and she rather felt as if he would suspect her of manipulating
him into solving her problems.
However, in the end, her wish to see him was the overriding factor, and she
had written off to him almost at once.
In truth, Prudence had so very much enjoyed the afternoon she had spent in
his company and found him more handsome and attractive than ever. No
longer did she wonder if she was simply looking for a match that would
please her as well as securing her family’s future. As far as her feeling
towards the Duke of Porterfield was concerned, Prudence was very sure
that it was genuine. They were so very similar in so many ways, and there
was a rather pleasing lack of formality between them which had made it so
much easier for her to get to know him. In truth, with etiquette and manners,
as they were, Prudence had always wondered how people ever truly got to
know each other before they married.

106
Prudence took a deep, steadying breath before knocking on the door of the
Philpott’s cottage and entering hurriedly. She was surprised to see the Duke
already there. His cloak was draped over a chair, and his face flushed with
the warmth of the fire. He had clearly been there for a good while, arriving
well before the agreed time. Something about that idea rather tugged at her
heart and made her like him even more. This man had none of the arrogance
or pride that quite often accompanied the aristocratic personality. Anyone
else of his station, if they had come at all, would likely have strode in late.
“Hello, Miss Exeter, how nice to see you. Sit yourself down, and I shall get
you some tea. His Grace already has some,” Mr. Philpott said, with a happy
smile.
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Philpott. Do tell me, how is Mrs. Philpott?”
“She is very much better, Miss Exeter. A little drowsy at times, from Dr.
Campbell’s tonics, but she has recovered enough that I think she will be
back in her rocking chair in front of the fire within a few days.”
“Then I shall pop into her room to see her after I’ve had my tea.” At least
there was some good news, and Prudence felt grateful for that.
“I’m so glad to see you again, Miss Exeter,” August said, the moment the
elderly man was busying himself with the tea making.
“And I you, Sir. I really am terribly grateful that you brought some of the
supplies.”
“It seems so little.”
“But it means so much to Mr. and Mrs. Philpott. That is the material point,
Duke,” Prudence said, nodding enthusiastically.
“I say, Miss Exeter, are you quite well?”
“... Yes, I am quite well, I thank you.” But she had hesitated before she had
spoken, and it was clear that he had seen it.
“How did it go with your father and Banton?” August lowered his voice so
much that she could barely hear him.
“Not well, I’m afraid,” Prudence whispered back. “Perhaps I should tell
you when we have both left?” she asked, not wanting to discuss the whole
thing in front of Mr. Philpott.

107
“Oh yes, of course,” August said, with the sort of smile that would reassure
anybody. The smile seemed to warm her through more thoroughly than the
fire, and she felt her heart flutter. Letting out a slight sigh, Prudence felt
suddenly very sad. August Harrington was, quite simply, the nicest and most
compelling man she had ever met, and she could hardly believe that they
could get along so very well and yet be denied a life together.
August busied himself by adding more logs to the fire and enquiring after the
current size of the woodpile. Prudence, having finished her tea, spent some
time in Mrs. Philpott’s bedroom, keeping the dear old lady company for a
while.
All in all, the visit was quite a success, and as she made to leave, Prudence
was pleased that she and the Duke had done some good there that day.
“Where did you leave your horse, Miss Exeter?” August asked, as they left
the Philpott’s cottage and began to make their way out of his small garden.
“I left him just on the edge of the wood, on the other side of this first field. It
is but half a mile away.”
“Then I shall walk with you, Miss Exeter, if you will consent to it.”
“Of course, I shall consent, but surely your horse is in quite the opposite
direction? That will add greatly to your journey, will it not?”
“You need have no concern of that, Miss Exeter. I should very much like to
hear what has happened between your father and Banton, for I can hardly
bear to see you look so very distracted.”
“I am sorry to appear so very obvious, Sir.” Prudence shook her head sadly.
“But in truth, I am distracted, and really quite afraid.”
“Tell me,” he said, simply and in a voice that was not overbearing or
controlling and yet brooked no argument.
“Well, the Duke of Banton is, as you said, rather an egoist. The moment my
father said that I would not be marrying, he apparently grew angry. Instantly
angry. Father said that the man seemed to forget his manners entirely, and
with no warning, began to shout at him.” Prudence stopped for a moment,
blinking hard. She did not want to cry in front of the duke and was
determined to maintain her composure. “And I’m afraid I cannot bear the
thought, for my father is such a gentleman. He does not go about much in
society and is not used to such treatment. As harsh as the Duke of Banton

108
was it is beyond father’s ability to cope with. In truth, I have never felt such
hatred toward anything as I...”
“Nor I, Miss Exeter. His behavior was truly reprehensible.”
“In the end, he threatened my father. You see, as I’m sure I have already
made you aware, my father does not benefit from the greatest of fortunes
currently, and Banton seized upon it. He had already made it his business to
find out what money my father owes and to which bank. Really, I did not
know such a thing could be done. Anyway, he told my father exactly, to the
very penny, what he owes the bank, obviously keen to let my father know
that he had done his research.”
“Good Lord! I knew he was low, but this is beyond the pale.” August’s
words seem to burst from him in a rush of fury.
“And he has assured my father that he will bring pressure to bear upon the
manager of the bank and that he could expect to find his loan called in, in
full, within a week, if he dares to deny him my hand in marriage.”
“Appalling! Truly appalling!” August said, his eyes wide. “Miss Exeter, I
shall not allow it. I shall not allow that to happen.”
“I do not see how you can prevent it, Sir. The bank manager must be in his
power, for how else would the Duke of Banton have so precise a figure as
to what my father owes?”
“Oh, I have no doubt whatsoever that the bank manager is in his power. But,
I have some power of my own, and resources enough to put a stop to this
immediately.”
“But Sir, we have been acquainted but a few short weeks, and you owe me
nothing. You certainly do not owe me your part in a fight that is not yours,
and I cannot ask it of you.”
August stopped and turned to face her. Prudence was staring at the ground.
All he could see was the top of her pretty blue bonnet which was
surrounded by a cascade of delightful chocolate curls. “You are not asking it
of me, Miss Exeter, rather I am offering it.” Gently he placed a finger
beneath her chin and raised her head until he could look into her big brown
eyes. They were shiny with unshed tears, and yet they captivated him and
stole his very breath. Gulping to swallow the lump which threatened to steal
his words, he knew he had to help her, had to take away her pain and see
that she was safe in his arms for all her days. “In fact, I am not offering it, I

109
am going ahead with this plan of my own whether you agree to it or not.”
August was absolutely vehement.
Prudence felt herself suddenly overwhelmed as she stared into eyes of such
a light blue they were like a spring sky. Still a little wild and unpredictable
but promising much of the warm season to come. The tears which she had
blinked back for so long finally fell, and she hurriedly dabbed at them with
the sleeves of her long woolen cloak.
“Miss Exeter, even if such circumstances did not exist in your life, and
everything was well, I should still have sought you out and asked to court
you. I find you the most wonderful company, and shall openly admit to you
that I have been able to think of little else but you from the very day we met.
My desire to keep you out of the clutches of the Duke of Banton is not
entirely selfless, for I have much interest in you myself, and I rather think
you have the same interest in me.”
“Indeed, I do.” She sniffed, finally having found a handkerchief in her
pocket. “But I should not have liked you to think that it was simply because
you may rescue me from a worse fate. I should not like you to feel used, for
that is not my way, and I genuinely like you very well for I have never met
another person who thinks quite as much like I do.”
“I am relieved that the thing is said, Miss Exeter. In truth, I rather think that
we can both be very sure of each other, do you not?”
“Indeed I do, Sir,” Prudence said. “In truth, I can feel it.”
“Then perhaps you will allow me to court you, Miss Exeter.”
“I will, Sir, but I cannot see how it is possible. I am all but betrothed to the
Duke of Banton and can see no way out of it. You see, there was no way in
which my father could argue. The very thing he had been fighting against for
so long, the very loss of our home, would be brought to bear in an instant if
Banton is denied his way into things.”
“He will not get his way, Prudence,” August said and reached out to take her
hand. Despite the coolness of the day, Prudence could feel the warmth of his
skin, and thoroughly enjoyed the feel of her hand in his. She gripped him
tightly as they turned and continued their walk towards the woods.
“But how?”
“Leave it with me, Prudence. I shall deal with it. Tell your father that I shall

110
call upon him tomorrow and that I shall have the thing dealt with by then. I
shall explain it all out when I see him in person.”
“I cannot tell you how much better I feel, even if I do not know your plan.”
“I only do not tell you for I do not want you to worry about it. But once it is
done, you shall have the truth,” August said, squeezing her hand a little as
they finally reached her tethered horse.
Prudence watched with interest as he untethered her horse for her, and
looped its reins about its neck. As August turned towards her, ready to help
her onto her horse, he suddenly took both of her hands and pulled her into
his arms. Prudence had never felt such a thrill in all her life and was quite
surprised to find that there was also a warm security in it. She gratefully
looped her arms about him and returned his embrace, holding on to him for
some moments. When they finally drew apart, he took her face in his hands
and gently kissed her. Prudence was so overwhelmed, she felt a little warm
and faint. She had never been kissed before, and could hardly believe how
wonderful it all was. Everything else seemed to disappear, and at that
moment she had not one worry in all the world. As he helped her onto her
horse, Prudence rather wondered at the ability of a simple kiss to alleviate
so much concern.
“So, I shall see you tomorrow, Prudence.”

111
 CHAPTER 16

P rudence had waited so long for her father and the Duke of
Porterfield to finish their discussions. Pacing the library again
and again only to check the hall and see her father’s study door
still closed. Finally, she decided to take a turn about the grounds. Anything
to alleviate the frustration that waiting always brought down on her.
Taking her cloak down and wrapping it hastily about her, Prudence strode
off into the frosty afternoon. How she wished she were not quite so
impatient, for she longed to know that the whole thing was dealt with and
that she was absolutely safe from the Duke of Banton. The very idea of her
being married to him now was as much a worry to her father as it had been
to her. Finally, Edgar Exeter had realized quite what a dreadful man the
Duke of Banton was, and quite how it had been that a Duke of the Realm had
managed to make it to forty-five years of age without having any chance of a
wife. Even the title hunters and wealth seekers would not entertain him.
Surely his cruelty was known far and wide. If only Prudence could know at
that moment that she was safe from him, she could finally relax. Yet there
was more, she could still feel the touch of August’s lips on hers. Each time
she did her stomach would turn and flutter and she would feel a strange heat
race across her skin. How could she marry a monster when the man she
loved was finally here? Then she laughed, for she did love him and yet she
feared they could never be together.
As she walked across the crisp ground, she found her mind constantly
thinking of all the worst things that could happen. Her father and Fox losing
their beautiful home. Of shame coming down on her family, if this fell
through what was she to do?

112
In the end, to calm herself, Prudence re-ran the moment of their kiss over
and over in her mind. In truth, it upset her equilibrium far more than the
other business, and in a much more pleasant way. How she wished they
could have met and courted without the dreadful circumstances which seem
to surround her. And yet, at the same time, August had been right in what he
had said. It was very clear that they could both be very sure of each other.
Truly, Prudence had felt it in her very heart. She was sure that neither one of
them could ever find a better match than they had found in each other, and
that the union was meant to be. The idea that their burgeoning relationship
could ever be in jeopardy brought her almost physical pain, and she
wondered at such a thing. Just a few short weeks ago, she could not have
imagined feeling so very attached to another person, especially one she was
so newly acquainted with. Prudence had never believed in love at first
sight, and in truth she still did not. However, she realized that love, when
it’s truly came, came very quickly, and was very much known to a person far
sooner than she could ever have imagined.
“Prudence?” Finally, the sound of August’s voice found her. He had
followed her out into the grounds, and she turned to hurriedly find him.
“Oh, August, I have been in agonies of impatience,” Prudence said,
desperately.
“I thought you might be,” August said, with a teasing laugh.
“Oh, do put me out of my misery, for I cannot bear it a moment longer.”
Prudence joined him in laughter, yet remained intent.
“Well, I shall cut straight to the point. You are out of danger, and your father
and family are out of danger also. I visited the bank today, and settled your
father’s loan.”
“You did what?” Prudence was completely taken aback, so much so that she
felt almost unable to breathe. “You settled my father’s loan? I dare not ask
how much.” Prudence knew that the value of the loan must truly be immense
since the estate at Hadstow had been entirely dependent upon it.
“But surely my father did not allow…” Prudence hoped that her father was
all right. As much as he had sought to marry her away into wealth, he was
still a man of pride.
“He is very happy with the terms of our agreement. I am going to tell them to
you now, purely because I do not want to keep the truth from you. But

113
please, before I tell you the terms, understand that I only made them with the
idea of easing your father’s pride. There is a chance that my terms, as I gave
them to your father, would make you extremely angry with me, so I must
have you know that I mean nothing by them. They are nothing more than a
simple vehicle with which to get your father to agree to what I have done.”
“Good Lord! Are your terms so very dreadful?” Prudence asked, stifling a
laugh as she looked at his earnest face. Quite why it was that his worry and
nervousness amused her, she could not say, and yet it did. It made him seem
rather sweet and boyish to her, and she rather hoped that nothing he was
about to tell her would, indeed, make her angry.
“When I first told your father of what I had done, he was extremely taken
aback, and I think a little offended. So, I told him that I have a very keen
interest in you and that I should very much like to propose to you in the
future. Then I told him that I would have made some settlement upon our
marriage and that he must consider this an advance of that settlement. But I
also told him that you and I would only marry if that was what you truly
wanted. Prudence, my actions were simply on account of the woman I have
found myself to have fallen in love with, but in no way an attempt to induce
her into matrimony.”
“So, if we do not marry, my father will instead treat it as a loan?” Prudence
asked quietly, trying to get the thing straight in her head.
“Well, yes, that is what we agreed. But I only made such statements as to
calm your father’s pride. I truly expect nothing from you in return, and
would only expect you to continue to see me if that is what you truly want.
You are under no obligation to me, Prudence, but I understand if you are
angry.” August’s head dropped a little.
“I’m not angry, August,” Prudence said, feeling a sense of lightness and joy
fill her almost enough to lift her feet from the ground. Then she started to
laugh.
August’s eyes opened wide, and he looked so wronged.
“Oh, I am so sorry to laugh, but you rather remind me of a little boy who is
expecting to be sent to his room.” And once again, Prudence laughed
heartily.
“Then you are not angry?” August asked, his smile returning and his eyes
widening in astonishment at his laughing companion.

114
“I am not angry, not for a moment. I know that you have not attempted to
purchase me, and I would never suspect you of such a thing. It is clear to me
that we both hold each other in high regard, and timing and circumstances
have done everything they can to make us unsure of one another. And yet we
are not, are we?”
“No, Prudence, we are not.” He reached for her hand.
“And I am extremely grateful that you went to such lengths to take care of my
father’s feelings and pride. I cannot begin to tell you what that means to me,
and I should never be angry with you for that. I know that your intentions
were the very best and that you have not sought to exploit my
circumstances.” Prudence took a little step towards him, rather hoping that
he might kiss her again. When he did, she was truly elated. When he
released her, she smiled up at him in open happiness.
“I shall give you whatever time you need, Prudence, but I shall ask you to
marry me. Your answer will be what it will be, but my question will come
one day nonetheless.”
“Well, I shall look forward to that day. I am sure that I would marry you any
day that you asked me,” Prudence said, with a bright smile. Prudence had
always been a most contented person, but rather felt that she now
understood the meaning of joy. Her family and home had been saved, and
saved by a man she was very much falling in love with. Not only that but
Prudence rather chose to see his last sentence as an actual proposal of
marriage. In her mind, this day would always be the day on which August
Harrington, the Duke of Porterfield had asked her to marry him.
“That is the most wonderful news, but I will give you time to think. I am,
however, rather pleased to see that you are still smiling, Prudence.”
“In truth, August, I might not be able to stop smiling for the rest of the day,
week, or possibly even year.”

115
 CHAPTER 17

I n the days which followed, Prudence felt as if she were walking

on air. Moreover, the feeling in her household had changed
entirely, and even her father no longer wore his mask of worry
and concern. Of course, should she and the Duke not marry, her father would
have to continue to pay the loan, much as he had done when it had been with
the bank. Were that the case, he would find himself in his original
circumstances and would need to continue to search for a husband for his
daughter. However, it was clear to Prudence that her father entirely
perceived her keenness for the young Duke, and was confident that his
daughter would be pleased by the idea of marrying him. All in all, things
seemed to have worked out rather well. Hadstow was saved, and Prudence
had managed to save them with the prospect of marrying a man it seemed
very likely she would be extremely happy with. At the start of it all, none of
them could have foreseen such fortunate circumstances.
The cloud had lifted from their family home, and it seemed to do all three of
them very much good. Fox, always a bright and cheerful sort of man, seemed
yet brighter, making Prudence realize that even he had been affected by the
strain of it all. Her father’s face seemed to have gone back in time, and he
looked to Prudence to be ten years younger.
All in all, Prudence felt inordinately grateful for such a conclusion and
thought that she was about to have the most wonderful Christmas of her life.
Her new optimism gave her energy, and she spent that energy in tireless
charity work. For two days straight, she petitioned many wealthy homes and
gathered up many blankets and unwanted clothes. She had visited all her
usual traders in the town, and managed, somehow, to get even more for her
money. She had, in fact, gathered up so much that she had rather overtaken

116
the library, and the children she had taught in the morning had exclaimed in
joy over the sheer number of items she had stacked there. She had, of
course, saved a little money to buy each of them a small Christmas gift.
Once the children had left for the afternoon, Prudence decided to spend the
rest of her day preparing her bounty, ready for a most organized delivery the
following day. Being fully engrossed in her work, Prudence had been
startled to hear the door of their home burst open and shouting hailing from
the entrance hall. Hurrying out of the library, Prudence arrived just in time
to see the Duke of Banton striding aggressively towards her father.
“How dare you?” he bellowed, advancing upon the older and much smaller
man.
“Get away from my father this instant!” Prudence yelled, striding towards
the Duke herself. “How dare you admit yourself into our home. Get out this
instant!” Despite being fueled by fury, Prudence rather wished that Fox was
with them. He was out for the afternoon, and she and her father were left
very much alone to deal with this great ugly brute of a man. As the Duke
took a step towards her, Prudence felt her courage fading just a little.
“You will not touch my daughter,” her father said, bravely.
“Yes, I will... and when I am married to her, I shall touch her as I please,”
the Duke of Banton shouted, arrogantly.
“You shall never marry me, and that is the truth. I should not entertain a
beast such as you and I tell you again to get out of our home,” Prudence
shouted as she had never done in her life.
“I can assure you, Exeter, that I will tame this little wildcat of a daughter
you have. And mark my words, she will rue the day she bellowed at me.”
“You shall not marry my daughter. I have made that very clear. There was
never an understanding between us, and there never shall be.” Edgar Exeter
held his ground and spoke with dignity.
Prudence felt so terribly proud of her father and wanted more than anything
to kick the Duke of Banton hard in the shin.
“I suppose you think that your little bit of cleverness at the bank will thwart
me. Well, I shall not be upended by the Duke of Porterfield. He is a foolish
young man if he thinks he can outwit me, and he will be all the sorrier for
it.”

117
“What bile you speak, you dreadful creature.” Prudence almost spat the
words at him. “That you go about the county bellowing and threatening all in
your way. What manner of man behaves as you do?”
“When you are my wife, you will regret these words. I will make you pay
for every syllable of them.” He glared at her in a way which almost made
Prudence melt with fear.
“Well, let’s hear it, Duke,” Edgar Exeter said, sternly. “What is your next
threat? For I feel sure you have one, bursting your way into my home in this
fashion. Get it said, and then get out.”
Prudence had never heard her father speak so firmly, and once more she felt
inordinately proud of him.
“I know of the ridiculous do-gooding your daughter does about my estate.
As if it is her business, dishing out charity to my tenants.” He turned to glare
at her.
“It is a shame on you, Duke, that your tenants live so very poor lives. If it
were not for your exorbitant rents, they would have a decent living. You
should be ashamed of yourself.” Prudence glared back.
“You will not tell me what I will and will not be ashamed of. You will hold
your tongue.”
“You will not command my daughter to hold her tongue, Duke. She is
nothing to you, and you have no power over her.”
“I will when I marry her,” he repeated, and Prudence felt her eyes roll.
“Because, if you do not consent to marriage, you charitable wench, I shall
evict each and every one of the fourteen families I know you visit. You see,
you are not as clever as you think, and you could not have kept your
ridiculous games from me. I would always have found you out, for I am far
cleverer than you.”
“I very much doubt that Duke,” Prudence said, with a cool dismissiveness.
The sudden look of fury in his eyes gave her a certain sense of satisfaction.
She knew she had very much hit a nerve, and she had to hold herself back
from continuing to aggravate it.
“If I do not hear from you tomorrow morning that you agree to my proposal,
then your precious paupers will be off my land and homeless by the end of
the day. And you will only have yourself to blame for their ruin.” With that,

118
the Duke of Banton spun on his heel and arrogantly marched out of the
house, not bothering to pull the door closed behind him.
The moment he was over the threshold, Prudence ran to shut the door and
bolted it. As she turned to lean back on its thick and reassuring wood,
Prudence felt herself begin to tremble from head to foot. She could hardly
believe they had had such an encounter, and with so awful a man. In those
few short moments, Prudence had known him to be truly capable of great
violence, and she would never, ever, marry him. However, she also knew
him to be faithful to his word and was absolutely sure that each and every
one of her poor families would be homeless by the end of the next day. The
very thought of it almost dropped her to the ground. An image of poor Mr.
Philpott and his wife, still ill in her bed, being told that they were homeless
on account of her, was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“Come here, child.” Her father reached for her, and Prudence ran into his
arms.
“Oh, Father, I know he means it, truly I do.”
“And yet you will not marry him. I shall not hear of it. Oh, how I wish I had
known of his character before he first turned up on this doorstep.”
“Do not torture yourself on that count, Father. Even if you had known of his
character, you could not have stopped him. He would always have come
here with a plan to marry me. No other woman of means in the county would
have him, and so he decided to exploit our situation in the hopes of finding
himself a wife. You see how determined he is, and you simply cannot blame
yourself for his appalling behavior.”
“But what of your families, Prudence? We ought to do something.”
“I intend to. I shall not sleep until I am sure that they are all safe.”
“But how?” Her father asked, spreading his hands wide. “We simply do not
have the room for fourteen families here at Hadstow.”
“Indeed, we do not, Father. However, I have the beginnings of a plan, but I
must set off immediately.”
“It is mid-afternoon, my dear girl, and it shall be growing dark soon,” her
father said, rather concerned.
“You heard what he said, Father. This time tomorrow, fourteen families will

119
be homeless. There is absolutely no time to waste.”
“Then you must take the carriage.”
“Father, I have at least two calls to make, and there simply is not the time to
bumble along in the carriage. I must make haste, and I must leave now.”
“At least tell me where you are going. And tell me when you expect to be
back. I shall not rest easy until I set eyes on you again child.”
“I am going first to visit Daniel Frasier, and then onto Porterfield Hall to
see August. Father, I do not have time to tell you my plan, and I must beg that
you trust me.”
“My dear girl, you have been the savior of this family, and you are the most
intelligent and resourceful person of my acquaintance. Of course, I trust you.
Now make haste, as you said, you have little time and the weather is not
good this time of year.”
Prudence took one last look at her father before she grabbed her thickest
cloak and headed for the stables.

120
 CHAPTER 18

“
O f course, I do not mind you coming to me, Prudence. We have
been friends long enough that my help ought to have been a
foregone conclusion to you, my dear.” Daniel Frasier, the Duke
of Ashdown, wagged a finger at her, in comical chastisement.
“I knew you would help me, Daniel, but I was just so shocked by it all that I
made myself rather nervous on the ride over here.” Prudence still felt
breathless with fear, nerves, and a dreadful sense of urgency.
“In truth, I do not know Banton particularly well, but his spite and temper
are rather legendary. Nonetheless, his behavior towards you and your father,
and not just today, shall not be borne. If only you had come to me sooner. I
could have joined forces with Porterfield, and we could have gone at the
man together. It might never have gotten this far.”
“In all honesty, Daniel, I think it would still have degenerated to this. The
man is almost possessed by his own ego, and I have never seen anything like
it in my life. He does not even like me. In fact, I should go as far as to say he
utterly despises me, and yet he is most determined to have me as his wife. I
think he’s beyond reasoning with.”
“From what you say, Prudence, I rather think you are right. Anyway, I should
perhaps not be dallying with ideas of what could or should have been.
Rather it is time to listen to your plan, for I believe you said you had one.”
“You are right, I have. As I mentioned before, fourteen families are to be
evicted tomorrow. I know who they all are because they are the families to
whom I provide charity. It is my intention to petition you, August Harrington,
and his friend, the Duke of Paxton, for your assistance.”

121
“I rather think I know what you are going to say. But still, let me have it,”
Daniel said, a smile forming.
“I would like to ask that, between the three of you, you urgently check to see
if you have vacant properties enough on your respective Duchies to provide
homes for paying tenants. I would also like to ask that each of you assist
further by providing enough staff and transport for moving each of the
families affected. I know it is an incredible sort of favor, and yet I must ask
it. There is no power on this earth that will make me marry that dreadful
man, but still, I must do all I can to save those families.”
“It’s a wonderful idea,” Daniel said, smiling. “And you have been far
cleverer than you realize.”
“Have I?” Prudence asked, giving him the sort of cheeky smile that she had
always given him since they were children.
“You have. Not only would it solve many a problem for these poor tenants,
in so far as they would be getting much better properties at cheaper rents,
but it would teach that bullying brute a lesson once and for all.”
“But, how will it? Won’t he simply just get more tenants?”
“Not at the moment, he wouldn’t. There is not a great outcry for housing
currently, and I firmly believe that the Duke of Banton will very much find
those fourteen properties remaining empty for a great while. And if he
makes conditions any worse for his remaining tenants, they might be
inspired to follow the example of those who went before. Almost every
Duchy in the country has vacant dwellings that they would benefit from
filling, even at the most reasonable of rents.” Daniel began to chuckle. “Oh
yes, I very much like your idea, Prudence. As always, your wit and
intelligence are legendary.”
“Oh, I cannot tell you how relieved I feel, Daniel. I mean, I know I have it
all to ask again from August and his friend, the Duke of Paxton, but you have
given me hope that the thing is possible, and not quite the terrible imposition
I had feared it would be.”
“No indeed, far from it, it is a wonderful idea. Now, set off to see
Porterfield before it gets dark, but insist that he send you home in a carriage.
I cannot think of you trotting back home in the darkness. Promise me.”
“I promise, Daniel. And thank you so much.”

122
“I should get onto things straight away; in fact, I shall find my estate
manager now and see that every empty place we have is made ready.”
“Thank you, Daniel. I shall come back to you about all the arrangements.
Most likely I shall return early in the morning if that is agreeable to you?”
“I shall look forward to it, my dear friend.”

PRUDENCE PUSHED her horse into a gallop and raced across the county at
breakneck speed. She was exhilarated by the fact that things were going so
well and yet conscious that there was still so much to do. It was not simply
that she had found a way to escape marriage to a tyrant. In truth, she had
known that, come what may, she would never have married him. Rather it
was the idea that she, Prudence Exeter, was taking on a tyrant, and was
going to win.
By the time, she finally reached Porterfield Hall, it was almost dark, and
Prudence was completely out of breath. A rather bemused butler showed her
dubiously into the drawing room, where his master and his master’s guest
were having drinks before dinner.
“Good Lord! Prudence!” August hurriedly rose to his feet, entirely studying
her rather ruffled appearance, and wayward hair. The speed of her journey
had somewhat disarranged her bonnet, and it hung a little sideways. Great
swathes of hair had broken free from their moorings and were hanging well
past her shoulders. “Whatever has happened? My dear girl, are you quite
well?” August hurried towards her.
“I am quite well, August. I’m simply disarranged from an extremely fast ride
over here. But I must speak to you.” Her breathlessness continued, and her
cheeks were flushed from the battering blast of freezing air as she had
almost flown across the county.
“Do come and sit down, dear woman. I shall leave you and August to your
discussion,” the Duke of Paxton rose to his feet and dutifully bowed.
“Oh, no indeed, Duke, I should much rather you stayed. I have some rather
grave news, and I need some assistance. I should very much like you to hear
the whole thing.”
“It shall be my honor, Miss Exeter.” The Duke of Paxton smiled and offered

123
her his seat by the fire.
“And I am terribly sorry that I have come here in all this state when we have
not even met before,” Prudence said, a little shamefacedly.
“Do not make yourself uneasy, Miss Exeter. Besides, August talks of you
almost incessantly, and therefore I feel I know you already.” The Duke of
Paxton gave a friendly laugh, and Prudence joined him.
“Prudence, please do tell me, what has happened,” August said urgently.

BY THE TIME, Prudence had told the whole tale, August was fit to saddle his
horse, fly across the county, and kill Banton with his bare hands.
“He said what to you?” August asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“He said that I would very much regret my words when he made me his
wife.”
“Oh, he is the one who shall regret.” August’s fury was plain.
“Hear, hear, August. I say let’s get over there now.” The Duke of Paxton
seemed almost as annoyed as his friend.
“Gentlemen, please. Whilst I am inordinately flattered by your fury and
determination to dismember the man, I rather think my little plan, if you
consent to it, will teach him a very much-needed lesson about how to treat
his tenants.” Prudence had given them the entire thing and had rather added
Daniel Frasier’s reasoning as if they were her own. They had been friends
for so long, Prudence knew that the Duke of Ashdown would not mind her
plagiarizing.
“You are right, of course. That really would stop him in his tracks. But you
must forgive me, Prudence, for my blood is boiling,” August said, and one
look in his eye told Prudence that it was true.
“But there is no time to waste, August. We must have homes ready for my
fourteen families by tomorrow, and I have yet to go around them all and tell
them what is happening. And then there will be all the arrangements of
moving, I’m afraid I shall need your help for that. Daniel Frasier is in
complete agreement and has already begun to make plans. I have told him
that I shall be visiting the families in the morning and that I shall go to him

124
as soon as possible with the arrangements for moving them all.” Suddenly,
the entire task seemed enormous, and with her excitement waning a little,
Prudence finally felt very tired.
“Well, perhaps you ought to simply concentrate on the families, Miss Exeter.
Perhaps August, Daniel and I can arrange everything else. What do you say,
Port?”
“I agree, Horatio. Let’s waste no time and dispatch word to your own estate
manager now, and have him make ready whatever buildings you have spare.
I shall track down my own estate manager, and have him do the same. Once
we have them on that task, we shall be free to arrange carriages and men to
perform the removals. Once we are underway, I shall ride over to Daniel
Frasier and liaise with him.”
“Agreed, Port. My word, you have provided a very much more exciting time
than I had imagined I was going to have here,” Horatio said with a
mischievous wink.
“I am most terribly grateful to you both,” Prudence said, quietly.
“Not a word of it, good woman. Whilst I like a bit of charity, I must admit I
also like the idea of teaching that brute a lesson.” Already, the Duke of
Paxton was on his feet, ready for action.
“Come, Prudence, I shall have a carriage take you home. You cannot ride
out across the county in darkness, or your father will never allow me to
marry you,” August said and helped her to her feet. As they walked out
towards the stable, Prudence took his arm.
“So, you would still wish to marry me then?” she enquired, a little timidly.
“Oh, my wonderful, Prudence, I would marry you tomorrow,” he said,
turning to look at her.
“I think we might be a little busy tomorrow, my love.”
“But you would marry me, would you?”
“Just give me the date, August, and I shall be in the church.”
“I shall very much hold you to that.”

125
PRUDENCE COULD HARDLY IMAGINE how well the whole thing had gone. Fox had
accompanied her to each and every one of the fourteen homes, rather fearing
for her safety on the Duke of Banton’s lands.
All night, Prudence had feared the upset and pain that she would be causing
the following day with news of the forced moves. Yet she had been
wonderfully pleased to find that every one of her fourteen families was
nothing short of relieved at the idea that she had secured them more suitable
and cheaper tenancies.
By mid-morning, carriages and carts, all fully manned, seem to descend
upon the Duke of Banton’s lands, and it was little surprise to Prudence that
the Duke himself had finally got wind of all the activity. Still, by the time the
awful brute had made his way to where the great Exodus seemed to be
occurring, the thing was almost done, and it was too late for him to retract
his threat.
All the carriages and carts had convened on the one road out of the Banton
Duchy, in a great line. Prudence made a point of popping her head into every
carriage, keen to see for herself that every family was accounted for. When
she had done so, she moved to join the three Dukes and her brother at the
top end of the road. As she did, the Duke of Banton and several of his men
made their way hastily towards them, in a thundering of hooves. Prudence
felt her pulse quicken and rather hoped there would not be any trouble. The
moment Banton jumped down from his horse, August did the same, and the
two men strode towards one another. Prudence began to pray that the whole
thing would not descend into a fight, and very much hoped that August
would be the better man.
“I suppose you think you are awfully clever, Porterfield!” Banton bellowed,
his chest puffed out ridiculously.
“Not I, Sir. No indeed, it is my fiancé, Miss Exeter, who has been most
awfully clever. For what you see before you, Banton, is the execution of her
plan. You should never have threatened her, and you shall never threaten her
again.”
“You will not tell me what to do, Porterfield,” Banton was blustering, and
running very much on fury rather than common sense. “For you do not have
space enough to accept all of my miserable tenants when I have evicted
them.”
“Look around you, you foolish man. You are not facing one Duchy, but three,

126
and we have space enough, I can assure you.” Daniel Frasier called down
from his horse, and Banton suddenly looked up, to realize that he was
arguing against not one, but three Dukes. Suddenly, his chest seemed not
quite so puffed out.
“And what’s more, you fool, you will struggle to replace your fourteen
tenants as it is. You are not so stupid that you do not realize there is no great
call for housing at this time. And if you persist in your behavior towards
Miss Exeter and her family, you shall be all the sorrier for it. You shall not
need to evict your tenants, for we shall simply relieve you of them, thereby
stripping you of your greatest source of income. What do you say to that?”
Whilst he was still furious, Prudence was very proud of the fact that August
had maintained his temper. When the Duke of Banton said nothing, August
continued.
“And if you seek to regain your losses by increasing your tenant's rents any
further, then again, I say, we shall relieve you of them. If you do not know
how to treat your people, then the three of us most certainly do.”
“I say, there’s no need for such nastiness. Enough is enough, Porterfield,”
Banton whined.
Prudence almost laughed aloud at Banton’s manner. In truth, he gave every
appearance of being the victim, and a most hard done to victim at that.
“And finally, Banton, if you ever so much as look in the direction of Miss
Exeter, or set a toe upon her father’s land, I shall take the horse whip to you.
As much of a bully as you are, you are an aging bully. I am younger, fitter,
and stronger than you, and I should take great delight in teaching you a very
severe lesson. Now take your men, and leave us to our work.” And with
that, August turned his back on the Duke of Banton and strode away from
him. It was all Prudence could do to keep her place, and not race across to
the man she had fallen in love with and throw her arms around him.

127
 EPILOGUE

P reparations for Christmas were taking on a new meaning.

Prudence saw to it that all her moved families were provided
with a goose and a suet pudding. They had good
accommodations, fair rent, and honest work. Prudence took them each a few
Christmas decorations, dolls and toys for the children and the food for the
adults. She was overjoyed to find that many had gifts in return, gloves, a
knitted shawl, even Mr. and Mrs. Philpot had made her a knitted and fur hat
out of rabbits he had trapped, and wool she had pulled down from an old
jumper. It was truly beautiful, and she knew that she would treasure it.
Prudence hugged them tight before taking her horse and setting off back to
Hadstow. The hall was beautifully decorated, and she could not wait for the
Christmas dinner. It was to be quiet, with just their family but that was how
she liked it. As she rode along, she thought of August. It had been two days
since she had seen him and even that time seemed too long. Over the last
few weeks he had been secretive, and at the time she wondered if he had
changed his mind.
As she rode, the clouds darkened, and a gentle snow began to fall. Prudence
pulled her horse to a halt and looked up at the sky in delight. It looked like it
would be a white Christmas. Only one thing was spoiling her enjoyment.
How she hoped she could spend it with August. They were, after all,
engaged!
As if in answer to her prayers, a horse materialized out of the snow. It was a
fine black beast and she recognized it instantly as August’s favorite stallion.
“Good day, my love,” August called as he pulled his horse in beside her. “I
thought I might find you out here.”

128
“I was just visiting the Philpott’s. I see they have an abundant supply of
firewood.”
August laughed. “I can’t claim all the credit, young Benny cut almost half of
it.”
Prudence tapped his arm lightly. “I’m sure it was more like three-quarters.”
August put his hand over his heart. “You have wounded me, deeply... but I
confess you are probably right. He is very handy with an ax.”
Prudence laughed and reluctantly removed her gloved hand from his arm.
The snow was coming down faster, and it had covered her bonnet and was
making it harder to see.
“We should make haste back to your estate,” August said. “Before we do...
tomorrow is Christmas, and I have done something terrible.”
Prudence felt as if a knife had been thrust into her chest. What could he
have done? “I do not believe that for a minute, Sir.”
“We have spoken much these last few weeks and spent so much time
together. It has been the best days of my life,” August said and reached over
and took her hand. “I told you I would ask for your hand... I find I am unable
to wait... will you marry me?”
Prudence could see such intensity in his eyes that it took away her breath.
“Yes, yes, I would love to marry you.”
“You once said you would marry me any day.”
Prudence felt her breath catch in her throat. “Yes, I did.”
“Tomorrow is Christmas Day... how would you feel about a Christmas
wedding?”
Prudence leaned further from her saddle and kissed the duke quickly. “Does
that answer your question?” she asked returning to her seat.
Together they held hands as they rode back to Hadstow hall. The snow fell
all around them turning the landscape into a magical vista.
As she walked into the hall, Prudence knew she could not be happier.
“Father,” she called. “The Duke of Porterfield has come for a Christmas
visit. He wonders if you are indisposed tomorrow?”

129
Prudence laughed lightly and left August to explain what had happened.

CHRISTMAS MORNING HAD DAWNED bright and sunny with a light covering of
snow on the ground. It was enough to make everything special but not
enough to stop carriages traveling. It was not enough to stop the wedding
taking place. It had been a small but beautiful ceremony, and Prudence knew
her father had shed a tear.
“Just a few weeks ago, I could never have imagined I would be getting
married so soon.” Prudence smiled up at her new husband as they slowly
made their way out of the church. “And to be married on Christmas Day of
all days.” She was so happy she could not help but beam up at him.
“It was the earliest date I could get, and I seized upon it. I hope you do not
mind,” he said, kissing her forehead as they paused in the doorway of the
church to look back at the tiny congregation.
“Why on earth would I mind? This is the happiest day of my life.”
“Well, with it being Christmas, and everyone having already made
arrangements they could not break. I know that Horatio would have been so
pleased to be here, as would so many of your own friends.”
“But you are here, and that is all I need,” Prudence said, and truly meant it.
“And my family are all here, and your aunts. What more could we really ask
for?”
“In truth, I could never ask for another thing in this world, for I have
everything I have ever wanted.”
“They are very pretty words, August. I do hope you mean them.” Prudence
gave him a mischievous grin.
“Of course, I mean them.” He grinned back at her. “For in just a few short
weeks, you have made me love you more than I could love anybody.”
“And I love you too, August, truly I do.” Prudence reached up on tiptoe and
kissed her husband’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, August.”
“Merry Christmas, Prudence, and many more to come.”

130
 THE DUKE THE LADY AND THE CHRISTMAS
RESCUE

By

Charlotte Darcy

©Copyright 2016 Charlotte Darcy

All Rights Reserved

For a limited time only read The Earl’s Bitter Secret for just $0.99 or FREE
on Kindle Unlimited

131
 CHAPTER 19

“
T he snow is getting heavier and heavier, Alice. I start to
wonder if we should even make it at all,” Matilda
Farrington said, with a healthy hint of concern in her voice
as she stared out the window of the carriage. What had at first been a light
flurry of small soft snowflakes had turned into a storm.
“It certainly is worryingly heavy, Miss Farrington.” Alice West, Matilda’s
maid, quietly added her own concern.
“I suppose I ought really to have seen us set off yesterday, and stayed
overnight at Paxton Hall. I should perhaps have accepted the invitation,
rather than putting it off.” Matilda's voice was torn with worry and guilt.
“You could not have known it would snow so greatly, Miss Farrington. You
should not blame yourself.” Alice was keen to let her mistress of the hook.
“You’re very kind, Alice, but it has been so very cold for days, and the sky
has looked so heavy with snow that it was only a matter of time before it
fell. Indeed, it is nothing but my own childishness which has brought us out
on a night like this. If I had simply accepted my fate without a murmur, we
should already be at Paxton Hall, warm and safe and making ourselves
ready for the Christmas ball.” Matilda sounded desolate.
“Miss Farrington, forgive me, but are you so very sad?” Alice asked, in a
voice so low it was almost a whisper.
“In truth, I am, Alice. I would give anything not to be making this journey
tonight. I would give anything not to be attending a ball at which my own
dreadful engagement is set to be announced.” Matilda heaved a great sigh.

132
“But is the Duke of Paxton so very dreadful, Miss Farrington?” Although
Alice spoke quietly, she knew well that her mistress did not mind her
question. In truth, they were really rather friendly for mistress and maid, and
it was not uncommon for Matilda Farrington to confide in her.
“Only now that I come to know him better,” Matilda said, bitterly.
“He’s very handsome, Miss Farrington,” Alice said.
“I’m afraid I have barely noticed. I mean, I know what he looks like, and
perhaps, when I saw him here and there throughout the London season, I
rather found him attractive. But I’m afraid it is now the furthest thing from
my mind.”
“But why, Miss?”
“Because I can do nothing but worry about what sort of character he really
is. You see, Alice, I’m rather afraid that I do not know.”
“But you have had many meetings with him socially, Miss.” Alice was a
little confused.
“Exactly, and during each and every one of them, he barely spoke. His utter
gorgon of a mother, the Dowager Duchess, is usually hovering and more
often than not, takes over. Paxton sits there with the most sour look upon his
face, leaving me wishing that I could rather dissolve and disappear through
the floorboards.”
As agitated as Matilda sounded, her maid had to stifle a laugh, for her
mistress often had a turn of phrase which amused her greatly. “Have you
never had much conversation with him, Miss?” Alice went on as her
mistress looked doubtfully out of the window.
“In truth, not really. When I look back on it, it seems almost as if we have
only ever passed a few words between us. Most unusually, he seems to
speak in rather short bursts, almost as if he cannot be bothered with the
conversation… as if he wishes to spit out the words and be done with it all.
I mean, I’m perfectly well aware that the higher up the social ladder a
person is, the more likely it is they will be arrogant, but I had very much
hoped it would not be the case with the Duke of Paxton. In truth, I had never
heard anything about him which suggested he was like this. So, you see,
when I discovered it, I found myself suddenly in a panic.” Matilda knew that
she was giving away a little too much to her maid, even given their
ordinarily informal relationship. However, the horses had slowed a little,

133
and once or twice she had felt the carriage slide sideways, and she was
grateful for the distraction of the conversation.
“Because you do not want to marry him?” Alice asked, so quietly that
Matilda hardly heard her.
“Precisely that, Alice. In truth, I know so little of him, and he is so very
standoffish, that my mind can do no other than fill in the gaps. I suppose it is
a self-preservation instinct, but I am rather imagining the worst as if to
prepare myself for it. And yet, there is nothing I can do, so I chastise myself
daily for imposing such torture upon my mind and heart.”
“And how do you imagine him to be, Miss Farrington?”
“I suppose I imagine him to be an arrogant sort of a man, who thinks
everyone is beneath him, his prospective wife included. His mother seems
always to be there, and she is a most overbearing and dreadful woman. He
does nothing to thwart her, and so I can only assume that she has pampered
him his entire life, and now he will not go against her. Really, Alice, I could
not bear to marry so arrogant and pampered a man. One with no substance
whatsoever.” Matilda sighed, and returned her gaze to the ever-deepening
snow outside of the carriage window.
“But Miss Farrington, you cannot be sure that the Duke of Paxton is any of
these things,” Alice said, hopefully.
“Yet that is the impression that I have come to.”
“But Miss, perhaps he’s shy?” Alice stated, obviously not keen to let a
possible romance die.
“Alice, for heaven’s sake, have you ever heard of a shy Duke? What an
earth would a Duke of the Realm, with a great mansion and rolling estate,
have to be shy about? A man who has everything is always self-important.”
“Oh, Miss Farrington,” Alice said, finally exasperated with the
conversation. “I do so feel for you.”
“Oh, I say, the carriage is speeding up,” Matilda said, her voice rising in
pitch and volume as she turned to Alice, a look of horror on her face.
“The horses are whinnying, Miss. They must have been spooked by
something. Now don’t you worry, Mr. Carter will manage to calm them
down, you’ll see.”

134
Only the carriage seemed to get faster and faster, Carter’s shouts could be
heard above the clattering of the wheels. The entire carriage began to bump
and slide, and both Matilda and Alice were thrown to the floor.
“I can feel us sliding, Alice, we are going to turn over. We are going to turn
over!” Matilda could not stop the squeal in her voice.
The two women clung to each other, no longer a servant, and her mistress
but two human beings afraid of what was to come. It seemed to take an age,
and Matilda looked into the eyes of Alice hoping to offer comfort until the
moment that the carriage seemed to change direction altogether. They were
torn apart by the sudden jolt. For a moment, the carriage stopped, before
skidding so badly that it briefly parted company with the ground. Matilda
and Alice were thrown into the air as the carriage turned onto its side. They
floated for a second before hitting the roof with a dreadful bump and then
they were tossed sideward as the carriage rolled in the air. There seemed,
for one moment, to be a dreadful cacophony of noise; screaming horses,
Carter yelling, and then the awful thump as carriage and horses turned and
hit the ground. Matilda felt the air forced from her lungs. Though her body
hurt and her ears were ringing there was something worse still, there was
complete silence.

135
 CHAPTER 20

H oratio Dewitt, the Duke of Paxton, stood frozen in the hallway

of his impressive mansion. Greeting his guests was torture of
the highest degree, and he had been there for more than hour.
Right now, he rather wished that he could simply close the door on the lot of
them. Horatio was frozen to the very core and wished that the guests would
simply smile, nod, and make their way straight into the hall. However,
society being what it was, each and every person who crossed his threshold
wanted special treatment and a personal and lengthy greeting. It mattered not
that there was a great queue of people behind them still waiting out in the
cold for their chance to be admitted. And, of course, it did not matter, for
each and every one of them had waited patiently themselves, jittering in the
cold before pouncing upon their own chance to try to impress the Duke.
Horatio could barely stand it and grew more and more tired of the tedious
occupation with every social event.
What was worse, his mother was a very keen socialite, and a little too
proud of the fact that her son was the Duke. It rather occurred to him that she
was, perhaps, even more prideful of his title of Duke than she had been
when his father had been the Duke. But perhaps that was because Portia
Dewitt, the Dowager Duchess, believed herself to be a little more in control
of her son that she had been of her husband.
Indeed, when the last Duke had been alive, there were less than half of the
social engagements that now took place. His own father, of course, had not
indulged his wife, and Horatio had always suffered the notion that his father
had found his mother really rather tedious. At times, he could not help but
feel the same way. Lady Paxton was just so determined at times, and
Horatio had rather fallen into the habit of letting her get on with things. At

136
first, it had seemed the way for a simpler and quieter life. As the years had
rolled on, he realized just what a mistake that had been.
“I say, Horatio, Matilda is cutting it a little fine.” Suddenly, as if thought
alone had brought her there, his mother was fluttering at his side.
It was a moment of peace and Horatio wished she would go away again and
leave him to it. For every time he stuttered her eyebrows rose, and he could
feel the contempt roll off her. Horatio nodded and closed his eyes, pressing
his thumbs into them.
“She ought really to have come out yesterday. Imagine her traveling now. I
fear she shall be late, and my party shall be spoiled,” the Dowager Duchess
said between guests.
“And you do not fear for her safety, Mother? I mean, a simple look out of the
door is enough to tell you how evil the weather has turned. And yet it is your
party you fear for. What a wonderful mother-in-law you are about to be.”
“Oh, my dear Horatio, please do not be tedious this evening. It is a
Christmas ball, and one of great note. Lest you forget, your engagement is to
be announced this evening. It is not a time for long faces, and surly manners,
my dear.”
“And neither is it a time to patronize the Duke of Paxton, Mother. I’m not in
the mood.” And truly he was not. Because, at the root of it all, Horatio was
not simply concerned about Matilda Farrington’s safety. In truth, he was
rather harboring doubts that she had set off at all. She had already put off her
early arrival, claiming concern for her parents’ health. Lord and Lady
Farrington, who should themselves have been attending that evening to
witness the public engagement of their daughter, had fallen prey to some sort
of winter infection. However, Horatio could not shake the feeling that
Matilda had simply not wanted to come to Paxton Hall a day early. He
rather guessed that she did not seem to particularly enjoy his company.
“Surely you do not think she’s come to some harm?” His mother seemed to
refuse to go away.
“Actually, Mother, I rather fear she has not set off at all.”
“Because of the snow?”
“No, Mother, not because of the snow. Rather I think she might have
petitioned her parents to rethink their demand that she marry me.” There

137
seemed to be nothing Horatio could do about his tone. Something about the
evening had made him feel rather venomous towards his mother, and he
could quite simply not rein it in.
“Why on earth would she do that? And what do you mean her parents
demand that she marry you? For heaven sake, you are a Duke of the Realm. I
cannot imagine any woman needing to be forced into matrimony with you.
Really!”
“Mother, I sometimes wonder how it is that you and I are so very different,”
Horatio said, with a sigh.
“I really don’t understand you.”
“I know you don’t.” Horatio once again peered around the guests and out of
the open door into the freezing night.
“If you do not trust that she will attend, I wonder that you still look for her.”
His mother seemed intent on goading him. When he refused to answer, she
continued in a different vein.
“Oh, I am sorry, my dear Horatio. Just tell me why it is you think that
Matilda would not want to marry you?”
“She d... d... d... does not like me, Mother.” Horatio hated himself for such
weakness. Why must his stutter rear its ugly head now?
“And why do you think that?”
“Well, why would she? We have been in each other’s company so many
times, and yet I rarely s... s... s... speak to her.”
“But why?”
“Oh, Mother, you know why. I do not want to s... s... s... stutter over every
word, and so I end up by remaining silent. Or at least, speaking very little
indeed.”
“But you hardly stutter at all these days, my dear.”
“Mother, d...” he bit down and focused. Of all times for this to happen, the
last thing he wanted was to stutter now. “Do you know me at all?” Horatio
asked, feeling his antagonism rising once more. “I do not stutter quite so
much with my family and friends.” Except of course his mother! “As I do

138
with strangers. You really do have no idea what it is like to see people stare
at you, embarrassed, waiting for you to be able to choke out the rest of your
sentence. Worse still, some cannot help but finish it for you. In any case, I
should not like to see that same look of embarrassment on Matilda’s face.”
“Then you do like her?” his mother asked, suddenly softening.
“Indeed I do like her, Mother. I like her very well indeed. I find her very
bright and funny, although her enthusiasm in that regard is rather waning.
And how can she be blamed? The poor woman is fighting against all the
odds, trying to have either a meaningful or enjoyable conversation with a
man who speaks so little. And of course, that makes me feel even worse,
and then I am assured of stuttering if I so much as open my mouth.”
“Oh, Horatio. Perhaps you ought to just tell her about it. Just be honest.”
“Perhaps you should have been honest, Mother, since it was you and Lord
and Lady Farrington who arranged the whole thing. It is not as if I was
consulted, and I very much doubt the Farrington’s would give their daughter
a say in anything. Perhaps you should have been honest, and told the
Farrington’s what their daughter could expect of me. It might have released
a little of the pressure if nothing else. I might not always feel ready to stutter
so very badly in her presence. Yet now, it all seems rather too late.”
“Well, she is to be your wife no matter what. You do not need to impress
her. Lord Farrington has not been the most successful of Barons, and he very
much needs this marriage to go ahead. You’ll have no fear of Matilda being
able to back out of things, for her father will not allow it.”
“Mother, does it not occur to you that I do not wish to enter into a matrimony
which is based on such a foundation? Who on earth would want to marry an
unwilling bride, a woman who has been forced by her family?”
“It happens all the time, my dear, and most people end up in very agreeable
unions. And anyway, did you not just say you liked the woman very much? If
you are assured marriage to a woman you like, I fail to see what you have to
resent.”
“Because I would like the woman I’m marrying to also want to marry me...
to like me! I do not think that is too much to ask, Mother.”
“Perhaps not, my dear son, but I really cannot see the point in even asking it.
You will get what you want, and that is the important point.”

139
The guests had all entered and once again, the Duke walked away from his
mother, and looked out of the open doors of his mansion.

140
 CHAPTER 21

W hen Matilda finally regained consciousness, she was

painfully bruised and frozen to her very core. Knowing
herself to be laying on the window of the carriage, Matilda
was jerked to consciousness as she remembered the entire dreadful
accident, and how the carriage had flipped in the snow. Everywhere was
deathly silent, and Matilda had the terrifying feeling that she was the only
survivor. Fighting an urge to dissolve into tears and shouts, Matilda
systematically appraised each and every part of her body; wiggling toes,
bending knees, and moving her hands. In the end, she decided that her
injuries likely only amounted to severe bruising and that it was quite
probable that she was safe to begin to move about. Rising painfully to a
crouch, Matilda began to move about the carriage, feeling for any sign of her
maid. When she finally felt the material of Alice’s skirts, Matilda cried out.
What if Alice was dead? Matilda’s eyes slowly grew accustomed to the
darkness within the carriage, and she quickly discerned just where Alice’s
head lay. Gently stroking her maid’s face, Matilda began to speak.
“Alice. Alice, are you awake?” What she really meant was, are you alive?
The longer Alice remained still, the more Matilda began to fear she had lost
her little friend. Hot tears ran down her frozen cheeks, as a knife of pure ice
seemed to thrust into her heart. Matilda stopped her plea and began to sob in
earnest.
“Miss?” Alice’s tiny voice seemed to pierce the darkness. “Miss
Farrington?”
“Oh, Alice! Alice, are you all right?”
“Miss, did we crash?” Alice sounded a little confused.

141
“Indeed we did, Alice. Both you and I were knocked unconscious by it all.
Tell me, are you in any pain?”
“I don’t think so, Miss. My head pounds a little, but it’s not terribly bad.”
“Well, don’t try to move just yet. Try wiggling your toes, and your fingers,
and then try bending your knees and your elbows. Just go at it gently, and
make sure that nothing is broken or badly injured.”
“I think I am all right to move, Miss,” Alice said, after a few moments of
gentle movement.
Both women began to move about the carriage, almost testing themselves, as
they tried to keep warm. After a few minutes, Matilda looked about her,
rather wondering how it was they were going to escape the carriage. After
all, it was on its side, and effectively the door was now in the roof.
“Alice, I cannot see how we are to escape. The door is up there.” Matilda
pointed needlessly.
“Perhaps we should shout to Mr. Carter. Has there been any sound from him
at all?” Alice sounded suddenly upset.
“No sound at all, Alice. And none from the horses either. I hate to say it, but
I rather fear the worst.”
“Mr. Carter!” Alice yelled suddenly, almost frightening the life out of
Matilda. “Mr. Carter!” she went on before Matilda finally joined her, and
both women shouted the driver’s name for a full five minutes. When no
response came, they realized that they were unable to rouse him by shouting
alone. If, indeed, he was capable of ever being roused again.
“Miss Farrington, we must make our way out of his carriage. It is too cold
for us to remain here all night. We shall freeze to death,” Alice said and
seemed suddenly to have regained her usual, practical sense of self.
“Then we must get to that door.”
“I can scramble to the top of the seats, and reach the door if you will
support me a little,” Alice began. “And then once I have the door open, I can
reach in and help pull you through it.”
“But are you strong enough?” Matilda asked, doubtfully.

142
“I am much stronger than you would imagine, Miss,” Alice said, simply.
And in truth, Matilda did not doubt her. After all, maids and other servants
carried out so many duties, and most of them were physical. It was very
likely that Alice was a good deal stronger than Matilda, and so she began to
feel a little more hopeful that her little maid might well get them out of the
carriage after all.
In the end, Alice had managed the thing with surprising speed and agility
and, wedging herself hard against the upended seats, she had managed to
push the door of the carriage far enough open that it fell back on itself,
revealing the cold night sky. A rush of frigid air had swarmed into the
carriage like some beast intent on devouring them.
Matilda checked her imagination and helped Alice. Once through, Alice
flattened herself on the other side and reached her arms in to grasp her
mistress’s hands. After much grunting and effort, with Matilda wedging her
feet on the seats and Alice pulling, finally, Matilda was out in the cold night
air, wondering how she would get down from what was now, effectively,
the top of the carriage.
“Do we have to jump, Alice?”
“I am afraid so, Miss, but the snow is deep, and it should break our fall
nicely. Come, we shall do it together.” And with that, Alice grasped her
mistress’s hand again and eased them both off the side of the carriage before
Matilda could protest in any way. Alice had been right; the snow had been
deep enough to break their fall nicely. However, they sank down into it, and
each of them was soaked to the skin.
Matilda scrambled quickly to her feet, and hurriedly shook the snow from
her gown and cloak, before brushing snow off the back of her maid’s cloak.
“I’m going to look for Carter,” Matilda said, steadfastly.
“But maybe I should…?” Alice began.
“No, my dear Alice. You have done enough already, and it is time I took a
little of the burden. You wait here.” Matilda squeezed her maid’s hands
before making her way slowly around the wreck of the carriage.
Stifling a cry, Matilda could see that the horses were dead. She had a great
fondness for animals and rather hoped that they had been killed outright,
rather than being injured and then freezing to death. As the thought occurred
to her, she suddenly thought of Carter and hoped and prayed that she would

143
not find him in the same condition. Although in her heart she was already
rather convinced that the poor man had died, she still nursed a hope that he
was simply unconscious.
Finally, she came across his body. He was partially shielded, with so much
snow having settled on top of him. Sobbing, Matilda dropped to her knees,
and gently wiped the soft snow from his face with her hands. He was very
cold, and very definitely dead.
“Oh, my dear man, I am most terribly sorry,” she said, to his lifeless form.
“Oh, my dear Carter, we are going to have to leave you here. I am so sorry.”
Matilda heard a cry behind her and turned to see Alice staring in horror at
the body of their driver.
“Is he dead?” Alice asked, unable to control her sobs.
“I’m afraid he is.” And Matilda scampered to her feet and raced to gather
her maid up in her arms. The two women cried for some minutes, clinging
onto each other for comfort before finally, Matilda broke the embrace.
“As you said to me before, Alice, we shall have to move from this place,
otherwise we shall freeze to death. I’m so sorry, but we are going to have to
leave Carter behind.”
“I know, Miss. And this world cannot harm him anymore, can it?” Alice
pointed out, utterly desolate.
The two women made their way to what they hoped was the road, and tried
to follow it in the direction the carriage had already been going.
“I wonder how far we are from Paxton Hall, Miss Farrington?”
“I have no idea, Alice. And I rather fear I cannot be sure that we are on the
road anymore.”
“I think we are, Miss Farrington.” Alice had moved sideways
experimentally and had tapped her feet into the snow. “It is definitely softer
at the sides, it must be grass underneath.”
“Then take my hand, Alice, and we shall continue as best we can. At least if
we keep moving, we shall stay warmer.” Even though Matilda was doing
her best, she was afraid. It was dreadfully cold. The snow had stopped and
reflected the light so they could see, but she could feel the air and knew that
more snow was coming. If they were to get lost, the snow would cover their

144
footprints and who knows if they would ever be found?

145
 CHAPTER 22

M atilda and Alice had been walking for more than half an
hour when the snow began to fall again in earnest. It seemed
almost blinding, and the wind had certainly picked up,
whipping the freezing flakes into their faces. Each step was treacherous, and
they were battered by the gale that threatened to blow them off course.
“Alice, I am afraid if we continue, we shall be too blinded, and lose the
road. Then we really shall be lost,” Matilda shouted, over the sudden
whirring of the wind.
“Then what should we do, Miss? We cannot just stop, it’s too cold,” Alice
shouted back.
“No, indeed, but I think I spotted a barn a little way back. We will have to
come off the road to get to it, but I’m sure it is no more than three or four
minutes away.”
“Then let’s do that, Miss. Let’s get out of this dreadful snow.”
Much to the relief of them both, Matilda had been right about the barn.
Alice, as resourceful as ever, very quickly managed to force the door open.
Once inside, the door closed up behind them, plunging the two women into
darkness.
“Alice, do push the door open a little, and let a little of the light in.”
Alice did as bidden, and the reflective snow which had piled high outside
provided enough murky light for Matilda to see some straw bales.
“Keep it open just a moment, Alice, and I shall tease out the straw, and we

146
can burrow into it to keep warm.” And no sooner had she spoken than
Matilda set about her work. In less than a minute, she had raked at the straw
piles, almost dismantling them completely and making a cozy nest. Alice,
seeing her mistress had finished, finally pulled the door closed, and
carefully made her way to where the great piles of straw lay.
The two women eased themselves into the straw, and quickly covered
themselves over.
“Miss Farrington, it really is very much warmer,” Alice said with hope in
her voice for the first time since they had discovered the body of Carter.
“It is, Alice. In fact, very much warmer than I had imagined it would be. I
rather wonder if we ought to stay here until it is daylight, for I still have no
idea how much further we have to go. What do you say?”
“I think it is the safest thing to do, Miss. If we keep together, with the straw,
we shall be warm enough to survive the night.”
“Then that is what we shall do,” Matilda said, burrowing deeper still into
the straw.
“And I should think that the Duke has realized that we are missing, Miss
Farrington. Perhaps even now he’s out in the snow looking for us.”
“I doubt it, Alice. Dukes organize search parties and send other people out
into the snow whilst they keep warm at home in front of the fire, and I very
much doubt that the Duke of Paxton would be any different.”

HORATIO ORDERED that the band stopped playing their instruments. His mother
had followed him all the way to the stage, desperate to stop him.
“But if you stop the music, you will stop the ball. Really, Horatio, have you
thought this through at all?” Lady Paxton sounded inordinately annoyed with
him.
“Mother, Matilda is more than four hours late. I need to put a stop to the ball
so that I can arrange search parties.”
“You don’t really think Matilda is out there, do you?” his mother asked as if
he was being ridiculous. “After all, did you not truly fear that she had not set
off at all?”

147
“What I think and fear does not really matter, Mother. If there is any chance
that Matilda Farrington and her servants are stuck somewhere on this
dreadful night, then it is incumbent upon us all to see that they are found.”
“Really, it is bad enough that she is not here and I have not been able to
announce your engagement. The night is ruined enough, without you drawing
it to an early close.”
“Mother, there are times in which I cannot speak to you. I quite literally
cannot find words. This is one of those times. Get out of my way.” Horatio
continued on his way to the stage and very quickly halted the musicians.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellowed above the suddenly stunned hubbub of
chatter. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he repeated, and finally they quietened
down to hear what he had to say.
“I’m rather afraid that Miss Matilda Farrington has not yet arrived for the
evening. There is a chance that she and her party are somehow stuck in the
snow, or have met with some accident.” Horatio paused, giving the crowd
time to digest the information. He was rather pleased to hear something of a
concerned chattering rise up before people began to look back to him for
some instruction.
“It is my intention to set up some search parties, horseback only, no
carriages. The snow is already too deep for that. I am looking for volunteers
to assist me. I think the situation possibly very grave.” The Duke had not
noticed that he had given the complete speech without stuttering once.
In no time at all, a sizeable group of men, both guests and their servants
alike, were preparing themselves against the freezing night. The Duke split
the men into small groups and assigned each of them an area to cover. The
remaining servants in his household dashed about preparing lanterns and hot
flasks.
Within half an hour of his original announcement, the majority of the search
parties were ready to go. As they began to leave, Horatio dressed against
the elements himself and made his way to the entrance hall.
“Good Lord, Horatio, surely you are not going out?” his mother said, her
eyes full of surprise.
“And why should I not?” Horatio asked, very much feeling he had had
enough of his mother for one evening.

148
“Because you are the Duke, for goodness sake.”
“Mother, I am supposed to be marrying the woman who is, most likely,
trapped somewhere in the snow. Would you really have me sit in this house,
warming my knees by the fire?”
“Mother, please do not vex Horatio so.” Suddenly, Felicity Dewitt
appeared. “It really is not helpful, and he is right, in any case. If anyone
should be leading the way to find Matilda, it ought really to be Horatio.”
Of his three sisters, Felicity was the only one Horatio truly adored. Camilla
and Constance were very much their mother’s daughters, and Horatio had
never found a thing in common with them. But Felicity, his youngest sister at
just nineteen years of age, was very much his ally at Paxton Hall.
“I do not see what this has to do with you, Felicity,” their mother snapped.
“It is as much to do with me as it is to do with you, Mother. And in any case,
the final decision is Horatio’s, not yours. After all, as you rightly point out,
he is the Duke.” Felicity, ordinarily a very gentle sort of a girl, seemed
suddenly to have lost her patience. While she generally kept clear of her
mother and had little to do with her older sisters, she rarely went against
them, or openly disobeyed them in any way. Still, when she had something
of importance to say, Felicity always said it and said it with courage.
Horatio smiled, realizing that tonight was certainly one of those nights.
“I thank you, Felicity. Now I must go.” As he made to leave, Horatio
stopped long enough to kiss his little sister’s forehead.
“Have a care, Horatio,” Felicity said, to his departing back.

149
 CHAPTER 23

D espite having broken the party up into small groups, Horatio

himself chose to make his way out alone. He did not want to be
distracted by the chatter of any man there who might be overly
keen to impress him. Rather he wanted to devote his entire attention to the
cold night, and any sound that might be floating on the air. As his horse
plodded through the snow, Horatio’s faithful fox terrier, Barney, trotted
along happily at his side. Barney had a very good nose and was light enough
that he didn’t sink up to his quarters in snow, but rather danced across its
surface. Furthermore, he was rather reassuring company for a man who had
chosen to head off into the night all alone.
Of the many search areas he had designated, Horatio had taken the main
road for himself. As his horse struggled on, he rather hoped he was still on
it. The landscape in the area was rather featureless, and it would be a
simple thing to stray from the road, and find oneself somewhere altogether
different.
If he had not been so worried, the night ride would have been a joy. When
they set off there was a ferocious wind, but that had soon calmed down.
Now the night was bright with reflected moonlight, and just a light flurry of
snow drifted lazily down to the ground. It was magical, and he was away
from the party. Even if Matilda had stayed home, he would enjoy the ride.
Then a nagging doubt hit him; somehow, he knew she had come and that she
was out there in the cold. He set his heels to his horse and increased the
pace just a little.
Just half an hour of relentless riding brought success of sorts. Barney ran up
ahead, his nose down and Horatio thought he could see light indentations in

150
the snow. Quickly he jumped down to take his lantern to them, and have a
closer look. The indentations had a light covering of snow on top, and had
almost been entirely covered, but were so regular and of a size that Horatio
realized they could only be footprints. Leaving his horse where he was for a
moment, Horatio went back the way they had come. Indeed, he had missed
these footprints on his approach but knew they must end somewhere, for he
had not met anybody out there in the freezing snow. Horatio had taken
several paces back in the direction from which he had come when finally he
could see that the footprints stopped, veering off the road and across what
he assumed was a field. Suddenly, Barney grew excited and set off
following the footprints. Horatio hurried back to his horse, and quickly
clambered back onto it, before following Barney. Leaning over his horse
and holding the lantern low as he went, Horatio could still see the footsteps
and followed them closely. Finally, he could hear Barney barking in the
distance and squinted into the snow-covered night. Looming out of the snow
was a dark hulk, and he could see he was plodding in the direction of a
great barn, the outline of which was rather camouflaged by the snow which
clung to it. Hurrying his horse just a little, Horatio was at the barn in no
time.
Barney bounced up and down outside the door, barking excitedly. Horatio
could hear the sound of women’s voices inside, and much movement.
“Matilda Farrington?” Horatio called, rather loudly through the door.
“Matilda Farrington, is that you? I have come to help.”
“Indeed it is,” she called back, and the door of the barn opened. In front of
him stood a small woman who he rather thought was Matilda’s maid, as
much as he could see her in the dim light.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“My maid and I are fine. Just bruised. But our carriage overturned, and I’m
afraid…” her voice broke a little with emotion. “That our driver has been
killed. We have had to leave him behind, but arrangements must be made for
him to be collected as soon as possible. I simply cannot leave him out there.
I cannot.”
“Of course,” Horatio said. “But first, I shall get you back to Paxton Hall.”
“Excuse me?” Matilda asked as if struggling to hear him.
“First I shall get you back to Paxton Hall,” Horatio repeated, a little louder.

151
He realized that his head and face were so well wrapped and shielded
against the freezing snow that it was little wonder she could hardly hear
him.
“Are we far from the hall?” Matilda asked.
“On foot, we are forty minutes, but we must set off before the snow begins
again.”
“Yes, we rather got caught in it. Our cloaks and gowns are soaked.”
In a heartbeat, Horatio hurriedly removed his own great cloak and wrapped
it about Matilda. He then removed the coat he had on underneath and helped
Alice into it. Both women murmured their thanks, and the party began to
make their awkward, lumbering progress back in the direction of Paxton
Hall.
Horatio had taken his horse’s reins. He wanted to put the ladies in the
saddle, climb up behind them and make his way quickly. Only that would
not do, and even if he could do that their dresses would not allow it. So he
gently walked his horse along, rather than ride him back. Barney trotted
along at his side, as usual, but the two women were a few feet back,
walking along on the tracks that he and his horse were making. When they
were but five minutes into the journey, the two women finally began to talk
to one another. Although the wind was picking up again, Horatio could just
about make out the conversation.
“Oh, Alice, if only Carter were still alive. I cannot stop thinking about him
lying up there,” Matilda said, her voice full of pain.
Horatio felt a tug to his heart. He very much liked Matilda, and her distress
was awful to him. Her depth of feeling for her driver rather impressed him
with its rarity. Matilda seemed very much to care for the people who
worked in her family’s employee, and it was something that he saw so
rarely. Many of the young women of his acquaintance, particularly the more
privileged ones, barely knew the names of the people who worked for them
and often saw them as commodities no more important to them than their
horses and dogs. Matilda was clearly very different.
Of course, he had very much liked her throughout the London season. They
had been at many of the same events and, although never directly in one
another’s company, they were often close enough that he could hear much of
her conversation, and had thoroughly enjoyed her ease of manner and her

152
wit.
When first his mother had gone into talks with her father, Lord Farrington,
the Baron of Midchester, he had found himself uncommonly pleased. As
much as he abhorred the idea of his mother, who was forever complaining
about his lack of a wife, interfering in any way, he rather bit his tongue when
he found out the young lady was Matilda herself. Of course, by the time he
had started courting her, he liked her so well that his stutter was assured. As
much as he had wanted to have the beautiful young woman get to know him,
it had seemed to him to be impossible. In no time at all, he realized that her
regard for him was more one of confusion than anything else.
“Please, do not upset yourself, Miss Farrington. There is nothing that anyone
can do for Carter now. And the Duke’s men will bring him down from the
top road, I’m sure they will.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will.”
“And we must be thankful that we have survived,” Alice said, seeming
determined to raise her mistress’s spirits.
“Indeed we must, Alice. We must thank God for our rescue.”
“And thank God that the Duke of Paxton arranged a search party.”
“Arranged it, yes, but joined it? I find that thought very doubtful,” Matilda
said, sounding extremely agitated all of a sudden. At that moment, Horatio
realized that Matilda and Alice had absolutely no idea who he was. Perhaps
he was a little too well wrapped against the weather, for neither of the
ladies had recognized him.
“But Miss, you cannot be sure of that,” Alice said, almost plaintively.
Horatio was very well aware of the fact that he ought to immediately let the
two women know his identity. Whilst it was clear that they did not think he
could hear them anyway, they did not realize who he was, and he knew
himself to be very much an eavesdropper. However, Matilda’s scathing
remark had rather provoked his morbid curiosity, and suddenly Horatio
Dewitt was keen to know exactly what it was his future wife thought of him.
“Alice, you seem to have been coming down on his side all evening.”
“But Miss Farrington, it is not a case of sides. I’m just worried that you
have not allowed yourself time to get to know the Duke. Perhaps he is not so
arrogant as you would have him.”

153
“Arrogant enough that he sent his servants out into the snow on a search
party while he warms himself in front of the fire at Paxton Hall,” Matilda
said, piteously.
“But Miss, the Duke might very well be out in the snow looking for us as we
speak. You cannot know that he is sitting at home.”
“You may be right, Alice. Perhaps the shock and the cold are getting to me,
and making me a little unreasonable.”
Horatio rather thought that Matilda Farrington was being more than just a
little unreasonable. In truth, it had taken all his willpower not to simply turn
around, face the young lady, and tell her that the Duke of Paxton was indeed
out in the snow. Out in the snow, and the very servant who had rescued them
both. However, he continued on, silently plodding through the snow and
kicking it aside to make the road easier for the two women.
“Oh, Alice, please do forgive my temper. If only we had not come out
tonight. If only I had clung to my parents’ little maladies as a means of
keeping away from him just one night longer.”
“You could not have known that it would snow, Miss. You cannot blame
yourself for the weather.”
“But I can blame myself for my behavior,” Matilda said, letting out a great
sigh. Horatio was very keen to hear exactly what behavior it was that
Matilda regretted. He was straining so hard to listen through the wind that
he was giving himself a headache.
“What behavior, Miss Farrington?” Alice asked, and Horatio chuckled to
himself bitterly.
“I should have just surrendered to my fate. It matters not that I think the Duke
of Paxton arrogant and pampered, it is simply my duty to marry him. I cannot
escape it, and my father will not be gainsaid. So why was it that I gave my
little protest, and remained home an extra night? If I had not, we should not
have been caught in the snow, the carriage would not have crashed, and
Carter would still be alive.” And with that, Matilda began to sob.
Horatio was just working himself up to the point where he was almost
incandescent with rage at the idea that anyone could call him arrogant or
pampered when he was also very deeply struck by her tears. It was clear
that Matilda blamed herself for the death of her driver, and despite his anger
at her very poor judgment of him, he could not help but feel a little sorry for

154
her. In a very practical way, he very much agreed with Alice. Matilda could
not have foreseen the weather, nor the accident, and should not be blaming
herself for it all. But at the same time, he was fighting a losing battle against
humiliation and bitterness, and more and more wanted to turn around and
give the young woman a further shock. And now that he was angry, now that
he did not hold her in such high regard, the irony was that he would not
stutter once.
When they were but halfway, the snow began to fall again. With no coat
whatsoever, nor cloak, Horatio was already extremely cold. However, the
snow had him soaked to the skin in no time, and the icy wind felt almost
painful against his chest and face.
Although he had bowed his head into the snow, he suddenly became aware
of Matilda at his side. She was beginning to remove the cloak, making ready
to give it back to him.
“No,” he said and shook his head vehemently at her.
“I know my cloak beneath is wet, but at least I have one. You must take it
back.” She seemed quite determined.
“No,” he said again, and turned his head away from her, continuing to walk
into the wind and snow.
As cold as he was, Horatio Dewitt wanted nothing from the woman at his
side. If only it was possible to break off the engagement. For a moment, the
thought was fire in his belly, and it warmed him. Tonight was to be the
formal announcement. So, he could do this... but then he realized that enough
people knew and it would ruin both her reputation and likely his own. Head
down, heart heavy, he trudged into the storm.

155
 CHAPTER 24

M atilda had never been so pleased to see the lights of Paxton

Hall. As soon as the small party reached the gravel frontage,
people rushed out to greet them, and the two women were
quickly shepherded into the warmth of the entrance hall. Matilda looked
back to thank the man who had saved them but saw him striding away and
heard him telling some of what must have been returned members of the
search party to go out and find the rest. To inform them that the women had
been found. Once inside, Matilda and Alice were relieved of their rescuer’s
sodden outer garments, as well as their own. Felicity Dewitt, who Matilda
found she rather liked, had placed a blanket about her shoulders, as well as
her maid’s, and was already asking that hot water be organized for the two
ladies to have immediate baths to warm them and that fires should be made
up in their rooms.
“My dear, Matilda, how very afraid you must have been,” Felicity said,
taking Matilda’s hands in her own and rubbing them gently to warm them.
“I was, but I should have been very much more afraid had Alice not been
with me.” Matilda looked warmly at her maid. “In fact, if it were not for
Alice, I would still be inside the carriage.”
“Oh, dear me, did your carriage crash?” Felicity asked, her eyes wide.
“It did. My driver was killed, the poor man. I must speak to the Duke and
arrange for his body to be brought down. I cannot leave him up there, you
see.” Once again, Matilda was frantic.
“Did you not speak to him already?” Felicity asked, seeming a little
confused.

156
“No indeed, I have not seen him yet,” Matilda said, looking about her for
any sign of the man who had come to rescue them. In truth, she had
desperately wanted to thank him and wished that he would reappear.
“And were either of you hurt when the carriage crashed?” Felicity asked,
most concerned.
“Oh Felicity, you are dear. We are both rather battered and bruised, I think,
but that is the extent of it. We really were extremely lucky.”
“Hardly lucky, my poor girl. You have had a most dreadful night,” Felicity
said, doing her best to console her.
“Well, we were lucky to have survived the crash, and even luckier that that
brave and wonderful man found us. Do you know, he really must be soaked
to the skin? He insisted that I wear his cloak, and Alice wear his coat. The
poor man trudged on quite frozen, and then it snowed again. For half the
journey he was not only frozen but very much soaked to the skin. And he
would not take the cloak back, however hard I tried. Perhaps he needs a hot
bath too, Felicity.” Matilda began to look frantically about her. There really
was no sign of him. “I’m so afraid that he will get ill. He really does need to
come inside and get dry.” Matilda looked back towards the great open
doors. “Has he perhaps gone in through the servants’ entrance? Is there any
way of checking? I really am most concerned about the man.”
“My dear Matilda, Are you quite well?” Felicity looked entirely confused,
not to mention extremely concerned.
“I am, my dear Felicity. I’m just worried about the man.”
“The man who rescued you, Matilda?”
“Yes, the man who rescued us.”
“The man who rescued you, Matilda, was my brother. It was Horatio.”
“Horatio?” Matilda looked shocked. Surely there was some mistake. “No, it
is not Horatio. The man who rescued us was……” And suddenly, he strode
into the open doorway. He was still in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, utterly
drenched and frozen, although it did not appear to bother him for a moment.
As he moved, he unwrapped the scarves which had covered his face, and
Matilda gasped. As he looked into her eyes and held her gaze firmly, the
man before her, the man who had saved her and Alice, was indeed the Duke
of Paxton.

157
“I say, Your Grace, was it really you?” Matilda asked.
“Yes,” he said, without any hint of emotion.
“I cannot thank you enough for coming out into the snow and rescuing us,”
Matilda said, and truly meant it. For all she had thought of him, and all she
had said to her maid, the Duke of Paxton had, in fact, been out in the snow
looking for her. Not only had he been out in the snow looking for her, but he
had found her. He had rescued her. “In the dark, and with that scarf about
your face, I really had no idea it was you,” Matilda said, and something
about his intense gaze made her feel dreadfully nervous.
“Evidently,” he replied, his countenance growing dark.
At that awful moment, Matilda fully understood that the Duke of Paxton, the
man who had given her his cloak and walked soaked and frozen through the
snow, had heard every word she had said about him. Her heart began to
pound hard in her chest, and Matilda had never felt more thoroughly
ashamed of herself in her entire life.
“Horatio?” Felicity asked, clearly a little wrong-footed by his expression.
“Are you all right?”
“I am,” he said, gruffly. “Perhaps you will see to Miss Farrington and
Alice.” And with that, he turned his back on them and strode towards the
great staircase. The three women watched him, open-mouthed, as he took
the stairs two at a time, never once looking back. They watched him until he
went out of sight, and remained in silence for some moments after.

FOR SOMEBODY who had gone to bed with the weight of the world on her
shoulders, Matilda had slept uncommonly well. Indeed, it was likely to be
the shock and exhaustion of the events of the evening which had caused so
deep a slumber. As Matilda rose from her bed and stretched, she winced
and cried out in pain. Her bruising and pulled muscles had all conspired to
stiffen her limbs in the night, and she felt her injuries most keenly.
As she sat on the edge of the bed, the events of the evening slowly began to
settle upon her once more. The horror of remembering that her driver had
died almost had her sobbing once more. She very much wished that Alice
was with her, and not in the servants’ quarters of Paxton Hall. Still, she

158
would likely appear within the next hour, ready to help her mistress dress
for the day. But dress in what? Their tiny amount of luggage was still with
the carriage, presumably. Felicity had brought her one of her own
nightgowns to wear, and with her ballgown likely ruined, not to mention
soaking, Matilda quickly realized that she had absolutely nothing to wear.
Feeling somewhat vulnerable, she sat back into the bed and drew the sheets
up around her. She would simply be stranded there until Alice came to
rescue her, or even Felicity. No doubt somebody would bring her some
clothes sooner or later, and she rather wished it was sooner.
As Matilda sat up on the bed, other thoughts began to descend upon her.
Chief among them was the look in Horatio’s eyes as he had coolly surveyed
her the night before. That awful moment when she had grasped that it was he
who had rescued her and that he had likely heard every scathing word she
had said about him. How she wished she had held her tongue. It was true
that she was uncomfortable in the presence of the Duke, and had found him
taciturn in his approach to her. But she knew that throughout their journey,
before and after the crash, she had very much let her imagination run away
with her, and had made up her own version of the man she thought he
probably was. Oh, but would she had never voiced a word of it. Not even to
Alice. For not only had the Duke heard her say such dreadful things about
him, but he had heard her saying them to her maid. A servant!
Matilda tried to run through everything she had said to Alice on their walk
back towards Paxton Hall. In truth, she was trying to find some redeeming
feature in her conversation, some point at which she had given the Duke the
benefit of the doubt, or done or said anything that might have suggested she
did not really despise him as much as it must have seemed. With a dreadful
sinking feeling, Matilda realized that there was nothing to save her. She had
simply been outrageously unkind about a man she truly did not know. And
she had done it within his earshot.
Matilda understood, at that moment, that she truly did not know the Duke of
Paxton. For what she thought she had known of him, had been completely
turned on its head. She had described him as arrogant and pampered, that
very same man had set off alone into the most appalling night, and had found
her. He had kept her warm with his very own cloak, and refused its return
even when the weather had set in very badly again. That was not an arrogant
and pampered man. What a very great mistake she had made.
Matilda tried to give herself the benefit of the doubt, anyway, she could. For
surely he had been taciturn and had barely spoken to her throughout their

159
short courtship. How could she have thought him any other than arrogant?
But then she remembered how Alice had hopefully suggested that the man
might, indeed, simply be shy. Oh, and how she had scoffed at the idea. A shy
Duke? Oh, why had she not listened to Alice? Why was it that her little
maid was so much cleverer than she? At the point at which she had thought
herself about to cry, there came a tap at the door, and it opened to reveal
Alice, her arms heavily laden with assorted garments.

THE TWO WOMEN had talked non-stop throughout the entire time it had taken to
get Matilda ready. Alice assured her mistress that she had had a good night’s
sleep, and had been very well looked after by the housekeeper. In fact, the
housekeeper had arranged the smart black maid’s dress that Alice was
wearing, and had even ensured that there were extra blankets on her bed to
keep her warm throughout the night, given the ordeal she had suffered.
“I am so pleased that you were looked after. I was terribly worried,”
Matilda said, genuinely.
“I was very well looked after, Miss. And Lady Felicity sent the gown in for
you. I believe it is one of her own,” Alice said, smoothing down the gown
which seemed to fit her mistress extremely well.
“Oh, how very kind of her.” Matilda began to feel on edge again. Sooner or
later, she would have to make her way downstairs and join the family. And
the Duke himself.
“Oh, Alice, did you perceive as I did last night that the Duke had heard
every word of what I said about him?” Matilda wondered, desperately.
“I’m afraid so, Miss Farrington. He had a terrible look on his face.” Alice
confirmed Matilda’s worst fears. She had not imagined that look.
“I can hardly believe I was so foolish. Even when I did not know it was the
Duke, I still did not think he could hear us through the wind. Oh, how I
regret my actions.”
“He, perhaps, should have made himself known. Miss Farrington, surely at
some point, if he truly heard the whole thing, he must have realized that you
did not know it was him. It seems a little unfair to me that he continued to
listen,” Alice said, reddening a little. “I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn,

160
Miss, but I truly think he should have said something.”
“By rights, I suppose he should have. But if I put myself in his shoes, and I
had heard my future spouse begin to air an opinion of me, I cannot truly say
that I would not linger in anonymity long enough to hear it. I suppose it is
human nature.”
“Perhaps.” Alice did not sound convinced.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, listen to us. We have changed places entirely. Now
it is I who is giving him the benefit of the doubt, and you who are scorning
him. If I was not so terrified to leave this room, I would actually find this a
little funny.”
“I don’t think you need to fear to leave the room, Miss Farrington.”
“Oh, I do. Honestly, Alice, I feel most dreadfully embarrassed. Whatever
shall I say to him when we meet? He will never forgive me, and neither will
his family.” Matilda stopped to think for a moment. “Oh goodness, the
Dowager Duchess! She is formidable enough as it is, without her learning
how I have offended her son. Oh, how I wish myself home again.”
“Perhaps he has not mentioned it to his mother, Miss,” Alice said, doing her
best to soothe.
“Perhaps not,” Matilda said, distractedly as she continued to think. “Oh, but
what of his sister? He seems to be rather close to Felicity. What if he has
confided in her? Really, I could not bear it. I like her so very well, and I
should hate to have turned her against me too.”
“Perhaps you have not turned the Duke against you, Miss Farrington. After
all, it was an awful night, and he was frozen and sodden. Now that he has
slept on it, perhaps he will take a different view. Perhaps you can simply
explain it to him, and apologize. Even tell him what you told me previously.
That he speaks so little to you that you could not know him, and found
yourself inventing things. Surely he would find it in his heart to understand.”
“Oh, perhaps you are right Alice,” Matilda said, giving her little maid a
warm embrace. “And I thank you for, as always, you have made me feel
better. Oh, how I wish I knew how to behave, I should never have found
myself in such a situation.”
“Perhaps you should go down for breakfast, Miss. I daresay it won’t do any
good to put it off any longer.”

161
“Oh, Alice, I daresay you are right. Yes, I shall go.” And with that, Matilda
strode bravely towards the door. Though her heart pounded and her stomach
rebelled against the idea of food, she would do her best to make this right.
Somehow, though she did not feel that was possible.

162
 CHAPTER 25

B y the time Matilda reached the door of the breakfast room, her
heart was thundering wildly, and she felt strangely hot and faint.
Taking a deep breath, she gently pushed the door inward and
was relieved to see only Felicity taking breakfast. Her eyes scanned the
room, but found no other family members there, helping themselves from the
great platters on the side table.
“Am I very late for breakfast, Felicity?” Matilda asked, timidly.
“Not at all, Matilda. Come and sit down, and I shall load you a plate,”
Felicity said, smiling so warmly that Matilda could have cried. In truth, the
idea that Felicity would turn against her had upset her greatly.
“You are too kind, I’m sure I shall manage.”
“No, I insist. Now sit down,” Felicity said, with a big smile. “And I shall
get you some bacon, eggs, and kidneys. That will be very good for you. Oh
yes, and some toast.” Felicity called out the items as she loaded them onto
the plate.
As the heavily laden plate was laid before her, the aromas were simply
wonderful. Matilda had not thought she would be able to eat, but now she
realized how hungry she was. She had been offered some refreshments the
night before but had been too shocked to feel the slightest bit hungry. And so
it was that Matilda had not eaten since she had taken luncheon in her own
home the day before.
“And would you like some tea or some coffee?” Felicity asked, returning to
the side table with Matilda’s cup and saucer.

163
“I should very much like some coffee, Felicity. You really are too kind.”
Matilda blinked hard at the tears springing to eyes. This was only the first
hurdle and, although it had been easily crossed, Matilda felt sure she had
worse to come.
“Not at all, you really had a most dreadful time last night. It was all so very
shocking. Tell me, how do you feel this morning? How is the bruising?”
Felicity gently laid the cup before her.
“I’m a little stiff, it is true, but it really could have been so very much
worse. I cannot get my mind off poor Carter.”
“Of course you cannot.” Felicity sat at her side and laid a hand on her
shoulder. “Now do eat up, you’re as pale as a bedsheet, and you would take
nothing last night.”
A companionable silence descended as the two women continued with their
breakfast. Matilda rather amazed herself with the speed with which she
dispatched the entire plateful, although she declined a second helping.
“In truth, Felicity, I am quite full. That really was a wonderful breakfast. I
think it has made me feel a little better.”
“Your color is returning, my dear, but please do drink your coffee whilst it’s
still hot.”
As Matilda sipped her coffee, she heard footsteps slowly making their way
along the corridor outside the breakfast room. Feeling a prickling at the
back of her neck, Matilda rather wondered if the moment had arrived. Were
the footsteps outside those of Horatio Dewitt? She put her coffee cup down
with a clatter, and fiercely stared at the door, waiting for it to open. It didn’t.
“Is something the matter, Matilda?” Felicity asked, laying a hand on
Matilda’s forearm.
“I’m so sorry, Felicity. I suppose my nerves are just a little jangled after last
night.” The footsteps had disappeared, presumably being those of one of the
servants. But Matilda knew that, sooner or later, she would have to face
things. Perhaps she would start with finding out exactly how much Felicity
knew of what had happened between them last night.
“It is only to be expected.” Felicity went on kindly.
“But I must remind myself how lucky I am that your brother came out and

164
rescued me. I really would not have expected him to join the search party
himself.” Matilda thought that was as good a place to start as any.
“Oh, my dear Matilda, he could not be stopped,” Felicity said, with an
admiring smile. “Despite my mother’s best efforts.”
“I daresay she was right, Felicity. Your brother is the Duke, after all.”
“But he’s not that sort of Duke, Matilda. He would not hear of sending
others out into the snow whilst he kept to the safety of Paxton Hall. He
doesn’t have that sort of arrogance... I suppose you would call it. He does
not think himself so very far above everybody. That is why he and I get
along so well,” Felicity finished with a laugh.
“Well, that really does make him different,” Matilda said, almost to herself.
“You seem surprised, Matilda.”
“I suppose I should not be, really.”
“Well, it takes time to get to know another person, there are bound to be
gaps.” Felicity smiled warmly at her.
“The problem is, Felicity, where there are gaps, I tend to fill them.” Matilda
looked downcast.
“It is only natural. I guess we all do to an extent.”
“Likely not to the extent that I go to.”
“Did you really think that my brother would not be concerned that you were
missing on such an awful night?”
“I did, Felicity.”
“But why?”
“Because I did not think he liked me at all. He has never given any
indication of it before. Quite the reverse, in fact.”
“How so?” Felicity asked, gently. “Please, do speak freely. You have my
discretion.”
“Oh, Felicity, I must admit, when our families first came together with the
idea of a union between Horatio and me, I could not have been more
pleased. We had not met, as such, but had seen each other at a number of the

165
events of the season, and very often had caught one another’s eye. He
always smiled at me, and it was such a wonderful smile.”
“Oh, that is simply lovely,” Felicity said.
“And then our courtship began, Felicity, and things could not have seemed
more different. After our very first meeting, his smile seemed to have faded.
I knew immediately that he had disliked me in some way, and I knew I must
have done something to offend him. After that, things seemed to get worse.
Every time we met, your brother seemed so disappointed, somehow.”
“How did it show itself?” Felicity turned in her seat and looked
meaningfully at Matilda.
“Well, I suppose the largest part for me is the fact that your brother so rarely
speaks. Or if he does speak to me, it is a short and very abrupt sentence. I’m
afraid it made me more uncomfortable, and I withdrew, and probably
became a little taciturn myself. In truth, Felicity, I came to dread our
meetings. I rather thought that he would refuse our engagement in the end,
and was so very surprised that the ball was going ahead. I could not believe
that our engagement was going to be announced publicly, for I could not
believe that your brother would want it to happen.”
“Oh, my dear, Matilda. How very dreadful for you. And I can quite
understand why you felt as you did. My brother can, at times, appear
taciturn, but it is his speech impediment rather than any disappointment.”
“Speech impediment?” Matilda responded, raising her eyebrows in
question.
“You did not know?” Felicity asked, and Matilda perceived a little flash of
anger in her eyes.
“No, Felicity, I did not. I’m very sorry.”
“Oh no, Matilda, I am not cross with you. I’m cross with my mother.”
“But why?”
“Because she has gone through this whole thing without ever once
mentioning the fact that my poor dear Horatio struggles with speech, at
times. It is especially difficult for him when he’s stressed. Such as meeting
new people; particularly a young lady he’s attracted to,” Felicity said, with
a smile. “But had you known what to expect, he might have been a little less

166
stressed, and a little more able to speak to you. My dear Matilda, please do
believe what I tell you, for I know my brother so very well. He would never
purposely make you feel so uncomfortable, I promise.”
“But I had never heard that your brother had such trouble.”
“It is not with him all the time. As a child, he stuttered continually,
apparently. But he has more or less grown out of the thing. With friends and
family, he is at his ease and rarely stumbles over his words. And strangely,
if he’s angry or does not like a person, he does not stutter then either. I have
often wondered if it is because he feels no need to impress a person he is
not so keen on. In truth, it is so rarely evident that many people would not
realize he had a stutter. But my mother should have known that her own
son’s stutter would be evident in those first few awkward meetings of your
courtship. She is one person that can bring it out of him as can some of the
introductions at the ball. Last night was bad because he was nervous and
mother can be so disappointed in... Oh, I get terribly angry.”
“Oh, how I wish I had known. In my own mind, I have served your brother
very ill.”
“You have not, Matilda.”
“Oh, Felicity, I have. In truth, I thought his behavior was simply arrogant,
and that he was perhaps a pampered man of little substance.”
“Oh, dear me.” Felicity began to laugh. “It couldn’t be further from the truth.
But forgive me, teasing you. There was no way you could have known, and
what else were you supposed to think? Oh, Matilda, how you have
suffered.” And once again, Felicity reached out and laid a hand on Matilda’s
forearm.
“Thank you so much for telling me all of it, Felicity. It makes so much sense
now.”
“And yet still you look so very concerned. If something else troubling you?”
“No, there’s nothing else troubling me.” In the end, Matilda simply could not
tell Felicity how she had spoken to her brother in his very presence the night
before. As kind as Felicity had been, Matilda could not imagine that she
would be able to maintain her kindness when that became known to her.
There came a knock at the breakfast room door which startled them both
since neither had heard any footsteps outside. The butler entered silently,

167
looking greatly concerned.
“My dear Dalton, whatever is it? Why do you look so very worried?”
Felicity’s voice betrayed her.
“Lady Felicity, the Duke’s valet has just come to me, telling me that His
Grace is sick.”
“Horatio is sick?” Felicity rose to her feet in a panic.
“I’m afraid so, My Lady. I have already sent one of the footmen out to fetch
the doctor, but have not been able to find Lady Paxton anywhere, so I am
informing you, Lady Felicity.”
“You have done the right thing, Dalton. I thank you kindly. Would you please
come and let me know when the doctor arrives?” Felicity seemed to be
gathering herself.
“Indeed I will, My Lady.” And with that, Dalton bowed his head before
leaving the room.
“Oh, my goodness,” Matilda said, unable to help herself. “It is because of
me. It is because of the snow and the cloak.”
“It is not your fault, Matilda. And in any case, it might be something quite
simple. I shall wait until the doctor has been before telling my mother.”
“But where is she?” Matilda asked, and rather wished immediately that she
had not been quite so intrusive.
“Oh, whenever Horatio puts her in her place, she always disappears off to
the Dower House for a few days to sulk. She really is rather a childish
woman, I’m afraid,” Felicity said, shaking her head. “And it’s probably best
that you know the truth of it before you marry into the family. It is not
something you must worry about, though, for Horatio will always protect
you from her. He lets her have her way for short bursts, and then he comes
down on her when his patience can take no more. Then she disappears for a
few days. In truth, she ought really to live in the Dower House full-time. I
rather think that, when you are married, Horatio will banish her to the
Dower House for good.”
“Oh, I see.” So, Horatio had not been pampered by his mother and did not
let her get away with everything. Matilda had been wrong about him in
every way, and she could not have felt worse about it. And now the poor

168
man was lying ill because he had come out to rescue a woman who had so
insulted him.
“But you must not worry about it all. Horatio really does think a good deal
of you, and I know that he is keen for things to be just right when you finally
come to live here.”
“I really must speak to him,” Matilda said, a little desperately.
“I daresay we should wait until the doctor has been. I’m sure it won’t be
long.” Felicity took Matilda’s hand. “I promise you, as soon as the doctor
has been, you shall be the first to go and see my brother. I’m sure it is
nothing more than a chill of sorts, and the doctor will give him a wonderful
tonic or other, and it shall make him well in no time.”
The words were kindly said, but Matilda had a dreadful feeling, and it
would not leave her.

169
 CHAPTER 26

“
B ut may we not go in to see him?” Matilda asked Dr. Westley
desperately.
“You may see him, of course, but he will not be able to speak to you. He is
unconscious, Miss Farrington, and is likely to be so for a good while yet.”
“Is it more than a simple chill, Dr. Westley?” Felicity asked, her voice full
of concern.
“It is rather more serious. You see, the Duke suffered from hypothermia, and
has spent much of the night shivering. His valet tells me that he did not take
a warm bath when he returned from his endeavors, but rather went straight
to bed. Hypothermia rather weakens a person, so he was likely not to be
able to add any more to the fire in his bedroom when the shivering would
not stop.”
“So he still has hypothermia?” Matilda asked.
“No, the room is very warm now, and his own body temperature has raised.
The problem is, it is continuing to rise. He’s going through a rather
desperate sort of the fever, and I’m afraid it will just have to run its course.
But he will need a good deal of attention. Somebody will need to be there to
see that he does not, either overheat or get too cold. And also, as soon as he
is able to, it is imperative that he eats. Broth will do, to begin with.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Westley,” Felicity said, clearly relieved that her
brother’s malady was not life-threatening.
“You are welcome, Lady Felicity. Now, would you like me to arrange for a
private nurse to come in and take care of the Duke? Or perhaps a competent

170
maid might do.”
“No, I shall be looking after him,” Matilda said, and they both turned in
surprise to look at her. “I absolutely insist upon looking after the Duke.
After all, he would not be so very ill had he not come out to rescue me.”
“But I’m sure he would not expect……” Felicity began.
“It is the least I can do. I will not be swayed.” Matilda stood firm.
“Then keep a good check on the temperature of his skin. If it feels hot to the
touch, remove some of the blankets. If he shows any sign of shivering, the
blankets must go back on. You might find that the Duke will have hot and
cold sweats for the first few hours. As soon as he is able to sit up, feed him
little and often. And I have left a tonic on his nightstand, and he is to have
four spoons of it today, one every six hours. It really is an awful lot of work,
Miss Farrington,” The doctor said, but he smiled at her reassuringly.
“It matters not, Doctor. I shall follow your instructions to the letter.”

NOT TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Matilda had set herself up in the Duke’s room.
There was a chair by his bed, and a great dish of water and a cloth with
which to mop his brow. Indeed, the first time Matilda did so, she felt almost
terrified. She could see the beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead
and knew that she must wipe them away with the cloth. He had been
unconscious from the moment she had entered the room, and Matilda had the
awful feeling that she would be disturbing him greatly by applying the cool
cloth to his forehead.
With shaking hands, she gently dabbed his skin with the cloth. When he did
not move, she dabbed a little firmer. Again, he did not move, and she began
to grow in confidence. She gently dabbed at his entire face, and a little at his
neck. As she did so, Matilda studied Horatio more closely than she ever had
before. He really was a very handsome man. His hair was extremely dark,
and he was rather olive skinned. His eyes were closed, but Matilda knew
from memory that they were bright blue, much brighter than her own. He had
strong features, and Matilda remembered thinking just how handsome he
was when first she had seen him during the London season. How could it be
that she had forgotten over time? Perhaps his very silence and her own fear
had eroded his handsomeness in her eyes. And now, having had the truth of

171
it all from Felicity, that handsomeness which she had first surreptitiously
studied in the ballrooms of London, seemed suddenly to have returned.
However unwell he was, Horatio really was almost heartbreakingly
handsome.

HORATIO REMAINED UNCONSCIOUS, albeit listlessly so, right into the next day.
Matilda had worked through the night, mopping his brow and gently lifting
his head to tip a little water into his mouth several times each hour. She
continually checked his temperature by placing a cool hand on the skin of
his chest, quickly forgetting her initial embarrassment of doing so.
As tired as she felt, Matilda had been able to take little snatches of sleep
here and there, and she knew well that she would certainly be able to keep
going. In truth, she was determined to nurse him back to health. Not only did
she feel so terribly guilty, but also she wanted to be the first person there
when he opened his eyes. Matilda had much that she wanted to say to him,
and ran over and over it in her head throughout the silent hours.
When finally he awoke the following morning, Matilda had found herself
quite startled. She had slid her hand beneath the covers to once again lay her
palm on the skin of his chest. Feeling his temperature to have returned more
or less to normal, Matilda smiled.
“Oh, that’s good,” she said quietly to herself.
“What is good?” the sound of his voice was so unexpected that it startled
her. Matilda shrieked.
“Oh, forgive me,” she said, suddenly breathing very hard. “Sorry, your
temperature. That is what is good. Your temperature has returned to normal,
Horatio.”
“Indeed?” he said, his bright blue eyes studying her coldly.
“Yes, you have suffered from hypothermia, and then a fever,” Matilda said,
talking quickly as she grew more and more nervous. “You have been
unconscious the whole time. But your temperature seems to have stabilized,
which is very good. And Dr. Westley has left this tonic for you, as soon as
you are able to take it. Perhaps you would like some now?”
“No,” he said, still glaring at her.

172
“And Dr. Westley told me that, as soon as at all possible, you must eat. I
will send down for some broth immediately if you like.” Matilda felt herself
almost dissolving under the intensity of his gaze. Not for the first time,
Matilda wished herself anywhere else on earth.
“No.”
“Do you not feel up to eating anything?” Matilda asked, trying her very best.
“I do, but I do not want you to fetch it.”
“I don’t understand… I…” Matilda knew she was floundering.
“I take it no private nurse has been engaged?” he asked, levelly.
“No indeed, Horatio. I wanted to look after you myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I greatly appreciate everything you did in rescuing me. You risked
your own life in doing so, and I’m truly grateful.” Matilda felt her throat
tighten a little, and hope she was not about to cry.
“And is that all?”
“All?” Matilda asked, wishing she understood what it was he wanted of her
at that moment.
“Is this really gratitude for being rescued, Matilda, or guilt for abusing my
personality to your maid?”
“It is both,” Matilda said, miserably. “And I did not know it was you, I’m so
very sorry.”
“It makes little difference who you thought had come to rescue you, Matilda.
I am not angry at being misidentified. I’m angry at what I heard.”
“And you have every right to be.”
“I know I do.”
“But if you would allow me to explain……”
“I neither need nor care to listen to explanations, Matilda. In truth, it matters
very little to me now.”
“But if you will not allow me to explain….”

173
“Your explanation would do nothing but seek to ease your own guilt.”
“In truth it would, but that is only part of it. The things I said were very, very
wrong. But I only said them because I did not know any better.”
“You did not know any better?” Horatio seemed to be trying to sit up. “And
now you do? Now you do know better, Matilda?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do!” Matilda said, her voice becoming unsteady
as she felt her eyes well. She hurriedly rose to her feet and paced about the
room, blinking hard. She would not dissolve in front of him. Why, oh why,
would he not give her the opportunity to speak?
“I find that rather hard to believe,” he said, almost dismissively.
“But perhaps if you would hear me out.”
“I will not hear you out, Matilda. There really is no need for you to continue
to remain here. Please have Felicity engage a private nurse immediately.”
“But please, Horatio, I am determined to look after you.”
“And I’m determined that you shall not. There is certainly no need for you of
all people to pamper this arrogant man.”
“Please, don’t….”
“Oh, don’t look like that, Matilda. Why should you care? After all, you
stayed an extra night with your parents to keep away from me. I can hardly
understand why you would seek my company now.”
“But I’m so very sorry. I’m trying to explain to you.”
“And I have told you that I do not wish to hear it. Now, would you please
find my sister and ask her to engage a private nurse at once.”
“But she will wonder why.”
“Oh, you’re worried of a little embarrassment, are you?”
“It is not that. I like your sister very well indeed, and I should not know how
to explain your sudden wish for a private nurse.”
“Just tell her that I do not think it appropriate that a house-guest tends to me
when I’m unwell.”
“A houseguest?” Matilda felt suddenly shaky.

174
“Indeed. For what else are you to me now?”
“Oh, Horatio, please don’t. Just let me explain.”
“I have already heard enough. And I should not like to think of you simply
accepting your fate, marrying me because your father will not be gainsaid.
No, I shall release you. No announcement was made. Our engagement was
not official. I daresay you shall think yourself as having had a lucky
escape.”
“No, no I don’t,” Matilda said, blinking harder still. She would not cry in
front of him.
“Forgive me, Matilda, but when a man hears his fiancée describe herself as
surrendering to her fate, he has no option but to release her. So, now that
you are released, I would beg that you leave.”
“But Horatio.”
“Leave. This minute.” He stared at her with such anger that Matilda could
do none other than run from the room.

AFTER SHE HAD GONE, Horatio blew out a great breath of air and stared
angrily at the ceiling. How he wished he was still unconscious, for when he
had awoken, and seen her there, every bit of her condemnation came back to
him.
Of course, he had realized for some time that she did not particularly hold
him in high regard. However, he had rather thought it to be nothing more
than his reticence at speech and something which, in the end, would be
overcome. At no point had he realized quite how she despised him, and the
depth of it all had rather shocked him. What could she know of him that she
could declare him to be pampered and arrogant? And she had been so
convinced that he would not have joined the search party that she must also
think him a coward.
The thought of that made Horatio sit up in bed. His anger was boiling, and
he felt his temperature rising a little once more. However, as he reached out
to take the tall green tonic bottle from his nightstand, he knew it was not the
return of his fever. It was fury, pure and simple. Or perhaps not so pure.
Perhaps it was mixed with a little humiliation, hurt, and regret. Still, anger

175
reigned supreme.
Horatio wrenched the stopper from the top of the bottle and took a gulp of
the tonic. It tasted bitter, and the feel of it on his tongue suited his mood very
well indeed.
As he replaced the bottle on the nightstand, Horatio thought of the first time
he had set eyes on Matilda Farrington. It had been at the beginning of the
London season, and they had both attended the same afternoon buffet. There
had been many, many guests, and the two of them had not spoken, nor ever
been introduced.
However, as Horatio had watched from across the room, he had thought
Matilda to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was a
shining chestnut, very deep in its hue. Her skin was a pale cream, and very
vaguely rosy, with not a mark upon it. And her eyes were the very palest
blue, almost like the sky on a winter’s day. They seemed so beautiful against
the fiery chestnut of her hair, and Horatio had thought he had never seen a
woman quite like her.
As Horatio sat back against the headboard of his bed, he rather wondered at
anger’s ability to remove beauty. As he had berated her in turn and ended
their engagement, he saw nothing of the beautiful young woman he had first
spied in London all those months before. He felt nothing of the nervous
excitement he felt when first they had begun to court, and nor did he feel the
frustration at knowing he could probably not get a word out. No indeed, his
stutter had all but disappeared.
“Well, the stutter is gone, so the regard likely preceded it,” Horatio said out
loud, and then laughed bitterly to himself. He could not help but see the
irony of it all. When he had liked her so well, he could not find the words to
make himself more appealing to her. Now that she had hurt him, and insulted
him, he could talk to her with ease. What a dreadful affliction, and how very
cruel.
Still, it mattered little now. He had broken their engagement, and he would
not, under any inducement, reaffirm it. His earlier worry about ruining
reputations was foolish. Yes, people knew of the imminent announcement of
an engagement, but he would not marry such a woman, no matter what.
When he was quite well, his family would very much be put in their place.
There would be no more interference in his life, no more parading young
ladies before him, or arranging marriages. His mother would be moved to

176
the Dower House with immediate effect, and his sisters, Camilla and
Constance, would no longer be allowed to arrange the myriad of social
events which so entertained them.
If Horatio ever married, it would be on his terms entirely. There would be
no interference, no nervous courting, and no stuttering. Simple.
With a great sigh, Horatio slid back down into the bed and pulled the covers
over his head.

MATILDA HAD BEEN CRYING in her room for almost an hour when she realized
that something must be done. She would have to seek out Felicity and inform
her that her brother had demanded a private nurse. Once that had been
arranged, no doubt Felicity would question her, albeit gently, as to the
reasons why. There would be no hiding it then. She would simply have to
tell Felicity that her engagement was over, even if she did not own up to the
reasons why. And then, Matilda would return to her family and tell them all
of it.
In truth, neither the feelings of Felicity nor her parents were causing her the
great pain she felt deep inside. No indeed, it was the idea that she would
never marry Horatio Dewitt. But how could her feelings for him have
changed so overnight? Matilda sat up on her bed and rubbed hard at her
eyes with a handkerchief. She knew how. She had found out more about the
man, the real man, and she had known him to be anything other than she had
previously thought. He was a good, brave, handsome man, with no sign of
arrogance nor pampering. And he had saved her. He had set off into the
freezing night to look for the woman he intended to marry. Suddenly, in her
eyes, he had become the man she had seen in London. The tall, dark man,
with beautiful blue eyes. The quiet man, who rarely spoke but had always
looked at her with a smile. She could not believe now that she would never
marry him, and could hardly remember how it felt for her to not want to.
And she really had not wanted to marry him. But of course, that had only
been because she had assumed him not to hold her in high regard. She could
not have known that he had a stutter, since nobody had told her a thing, and
really could only have taken his silence to mean that he was displeased in
some way.
In truth, it had hurt Matilda’s pride, and she had felt humiliated by it. Of

177
course, it was little wonder that she had feared marriage to him. And that
was what it had been. It had been fear. And why would it not? After all, as
much as she had been interested in the beginning, Matilda had always
known that she had no say in the matter. Of all involved, Matilda was the
only one without a voice.
Matilda rose to her feet, suddenly a little annoyed. Yes, she had made
mistakes, but then so had Horatio. Surely it was as much incumbent upon
him to explain his own circumstances as it had been his mother’s. Even as
much as Felicity had thought their mother should have explained things when
it was clear that that had not happened, why could Horatio not have
explained it himself? Why had he felt the need to simply sit there in near
silence, giving her just little bursts of gruffly spoken sentences?
Matilda noted, with a sudden little sweeping sensation of desolation, that
when he had spoken to her not an hour before, he had been absolutely word
perfect. What had Felicity said? When there was no pressure to impress, or
when he did not like the person, he spoke fluently. At that moment, Matilda
thought herself ready to give up. For what was the point if he did not like
her? However, her weakness was suddenly completely overridden by the
sense of injustice and anger which had been brewing in the last minutes
Matilda would not give up. She would not find Felicity and ask that a
private nurse be found. She would continue to nurse Horatio, and he would
simply have to put up with it. And when finally he gave her the opportunity
to explain, her explanation would not be riddled with an apology. Matilda
would let him know exactly why she had felt what she had felt, and exactly
what he himself could have done to have avoided it. She would not put up
with his self-righteous indignation, however much she had wronged him.
Matilda had made a mistake, which she had heartily tried to apologize for.
And in truth, she could entirely understand his anger. She had, no doubt, hurt
him very badly with her words. However, if she simply turned and walked
away now, Horatio would always be hurt by her words, and he would
always despise her. If nothing else, Matilda knew that she really had to try.
With a fresh resolve, Matilda thoroughly washed her face in the little basin,
keen to shed any hints that she had been crying. She set off in the direction of
the kitchens, determined to have some chicken broth sent up to Horatio’s
room.

178
 CHAPTER 27

M atilda hovered nervously outside Horatio’s bedroom door.

She rather thought she would wait there for the maid to bring
up the tray, and simply relieve her of it outside the door. She
would take the food straight in and hope that he would be hungry enough that
his objection to her being there would not be quite so strident. If she went in
before the food arrived, she would simply give him too much opportunity to
dismiss her. Matilda found her nerves playing her up dreadfully. One
moment she felt full of determination to see the thing through, and the next,
she simply wanted to turn and run.
Fortunately, at a moment when she was full of determination, the maid
appeared with the tray. Matilda took the tray from her with thanks, and
quickly made her way into Horatio’s room, pushing the door closed behind
her.
“Here is some chicken broth for you. Dr. Westley said that broth would be
the very best thing in the beginning. I daresay you will be up to eating
something a little more substantial later.” Matilda was all business. She
knew she had a tendency to run on a little when she was nervous and was
keen not to let him have any sign of it. She had been nervous and close to
tears the last time around, and it had done her no good whatsoever. No
doubt Horatio had found her rather pathetic. Well, he would have none of
that now.
“I take it there is no private nurse yet?” he enquired, sullenly.
“These things take time,” she said simply. Matilda had not quite known how
she would address that point when it came and was rather surprised that she
had answered him so quickly and with confidence. She had not lied, exactly.

179
It was true, such things did take time. But she had chosen not to tell him that
she had yet to speak to Felicity, and had yet to ask for a private nurse to be
sent. Matilda simply did not want to have that argument with him there and
then. If they argued over the nurse, and her failure to carry out his wishes,
then the whole thing would be lost. There would be no returning to their
initial source of discord, and it would never be resolved.
“If you sit up a little straighter in bed, Horatio, I will set the tray up for
you.” Matilda had taken the bowl of broth off the tray and placed it on the
nightstand for a moment so that she could open out the legs of the tray.
Horatio seemed a little wrong-footed by her efficiency and her cool manner,
and simply sat up straight on the bed while she set the tray down upon it.
Matilda then placed the bowl on the tray and reached for the spoon.
“I do hope you do not intend to feed me, Matilda. I am perfectly capable of
operating a spoon.”
“I have no doubt,” Matilda said, handing the spoon to him and smiling. “In
fact, I’m sure you’re rather good at it.” Matilda was careful to keep her tone
a little teasing, but not quite sarcastic. She was pleased to note the
expression on his face and felt rather sure that Horatio was a little confused
by her manner. At least it had diverted him from his petulance for a few
moments.
He ate in silence for several minutes, and Matilda rather gathered that he
was extremely hungry. His pride had certainly got the better of him earlier,
and he could have eaten so much sooner had he simply allowed her to help.
“There is no need for you to stay,” he said, in a very neutral tone, the fire of
earlier seeming to have gone from his voice.
“No, I know there is not,” Matilda said, turning to smile at him. She had
moved to stand in the great window of his room and had pulled back the
curtains a little to allow better light through. She stared out across the
immaculate lawns of the great estate, and then up into the wintry blue sky.
“And yet you go on standing there,” he said.
“Yes, I do rather,” she said, simply.
“Why?”
“Because I would much rather get to the bottom of things. I don’t want to
leave before we have done that.”

180
“I think we have already got to the bottom of things. I think I heard the very
bottom of things last night as we trudged back through the snow.”
“Oh yes, you certainly heard some things. But that is not the same as hearing
the cause.”
“Oh, there is a cause, is there? So, you think yourself justified in calling me
arrogant and pampered and running my personality down? You are pleased
that you questioned my courage by suggesting to your maid that I would have
been warming my knees by the fire whilst other men came out to look for
you?”
“Not justified in the things I said, Horatio, but justified in the feeling which
caused them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t, Horatio, but then you did not allow me to explain myself,
did you?”
“As I said earlier, Matilda, I have no interest in hearing your explanation.
Explanations in something like this are simply excuses.”
“Do you realize, this is the most you have ever spoken to me?” Matilda
asked, changing the subject a little.
“I had not realized,” he said. “And I’m sure that is not the case.”
Matilda studied him for a moment and knew that she had seen in his eyes
that he very much understood. Horatio had known it to be the truth, but was
so entrenched in his anger and hurt that he was refusing to give way on any
point.
“Well, I can assure you, it is. You see, I have spent hour upon hour in your
company, and listened mostly to your mother. I have watched as you have
grown ever more silent as the weeks have gone by, and your countenance
ever more displeased. Of course, I had no explanation at the time for why
you remain silent and simply thought that you had no interest in speaking to
me. You had not smiled but once since the first afternoon of our courtship,
and so I could do no other than to assume you had no interest in me
whatsoever. Yes, I thought your behavior towards me was arrogant. Yes, I
assumed you to be pampered and self-important. I was filling in the gaps,
you see, because you had done nothing to fill them yourself and had, in fact,
treated me most appallingly.”

181
“I see you are intent on continuing to insult me.”
“No, I am not insulting you, I am explaining. And I see you are intent on
continuing to misunderstand.” Matilda could feel herself growing annoyed
and rather wondered if she would ever get to her point.
“I see no misunderstanding on my part.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Matilda said, with an angry sigh. Then,
remembering her initial resolve, she decided to continue in a much calmer
fashion. “But then, we have never quite gotten to know each other, have we?
Since you remained taciturn, and I retreated into my own thoughts where I
created a thoroughly rotten personality for you.”
“Didn’t you just! And you had it so very, very wrong,” he said, his anger
seeming to brew once more.
“I realize that, and I have already apologized for it. I promise you, I shall
not apologize for it again.” Despite the harshness of her words, Matilda kept
her tone calm. “So, now that we are actually speaking to one another, why
don’t we step over the misunderstandings we have both had, and try to get to
know each other properly?”
“Actually speaking,” Horatio said, almost to himself.
“Yes, well, I had known nothing of the reason for your reticence until
Felicity spoke of it this morning.”
“Oh, Felicity filled in the gaps for you, did she?” he stated, sarcastically
using Matilda’s own phrasing against her.
“Yes, she did.” Matilda chose to ignore his tone.
“But of course, I am not stuttering now,” he said, his voice level again.
“No, Felicity rather explained that you have very little problem in speaking
freely to somebody you despise,” Matilda said, and fixed him with her pale
blue eyes, daring him to make a response.
“I do not despise you, Matilda,” he replied, almost irritably.
“Well, you are rather giving that impression.”
“And you certainly gave that impression yourself.”
“And as I have already said, I shall not apologize for it again,” Matilda

182
said, with a sigh. “Perhaps I thought that to explain my reasons for saying
what I said would be explanation enough. But it would appear that is not the
case.” Matilda turned from the window again and began to walk back
towards the bed.
She took the seat that she had spent the last night trying to sleep in, and drew
it in close to the side of the bed. They were closer than they had ever sat
during the excruciating meetings of their courtship, and Matilda was pleased
to note that he seemed a little taken aback by the forthrightness of her
manner. Well, she was forthright, and if she expected to get to know him
better, perhaps she should also allow him to get to know her better. No
pretense.
As he surveyed her, his bright blue eyes still holding so much anger, Matilda
found herself suddenly looking at his chest. Despite his chest now being
covered by nightshirt and blankets, she had a sudden, almost debilitating
memory of touching his skin with the palm of her hand as she had checked
his temperature. His chest was smooth, and his muscles firm, and she could
still remember the feel of him. The thought that she had touched him so, and
nursed him so closely, made her feel a sudden deep connection to him, and
one that she knew she could not possibly explain at that moment.
“Horatio, when my father first told me of the negotiations between himself
and your mother, I must tell you that I felt extremely pleased. Not because of
your status, or your wealth, far from it. But simply because I had a very
different image of you in my mind back then. It was the image of a man who
smiled very much more and smiled at me. It was the image of the man in
London who had seemed to watch me a little throughout the entire season.
After our first meeting, I was so stunned. I could not believe that you were
the same man who had smiled at me so across so many rooms and halls the
preceding month. As far as I was concerned, you had suddenly no interest in
me, and I felt hurt and humiliated by it.” Matilda paused, giving him the
opportunity to speak.
However, Horatio remained silent and simply continued to stare at her.
Matilda could do no other but continue. “I petitioned my father to seek to
release me from any obligation to you, for I did not want to marry somebody
who did not think I was even worth speaking to. Of course, my father
refused. It was then that I saw clearly how little my opinion or feelings
mattered. As far as I was concerned, I was about to be married away to an
arrogant man who did not like me, and there was nothing I could do to stop

183
it. It is very hard to explain to a man how dreadful it feels to find yourself
so very powerless. You see, it is not something that most men will ever
encounter, is it? So yes, I did steal an extra night in my own home because I
did not want to be in your company. And yes, I did think that marrying you
would simply be accepting my fate. But why would I not? Put yourself in my
shoes, and imagine how you would have dealt with it. Imagine what thoughts
you would have had, and imagine what personality traits you might have
imagined me to have.”
“Then you must be pleased to be released from your obligation,” he said
and stared at her.
“Horatio, I truly cannot believe you have said that. Have you really
understood nothing of what I just told you?”
“I do not lack intelligence or understanding, Matilda.”
“But you do seem to lack the ability to put your pride back in its place.”
“And so you are back to insults.”
“And rightly so this time.” Matilda, suddenly furious, rose to her feet so
sharply she almost knocked the chair over.
“Indeed?” he demanded, his eyes wide, and a look of shock on his face.
“Oh yes, indeed. For this time, you see, I am making my insults based on
what I do know about you. There is no mistake in what I say. I absolutely
mean it. I have apologized for having your personality so very wrong
before, and I know you now to be far from arrogant or pampered, and your
courage is second to none. But your pride is ridiculous, and your inability to
listen and forgive would seem to be quite legendary. And there, you have
two insults for which I shall never, ever apologize.” Matilda pulled the
chair back across the room, returning it to its original spot.
“Where are you going?” he asked, as Matilda strode towards the door.
“I’m going to do what you originally asked me to do. I’m going to your
sister to ask that a private nurse be engaged for you.”
“So you didn’t……” he began.
“No, I didn’t. I rather thought that we would be able to discuss it all as
adults. I see my mistake.”

184
“Look, Matilda……”
“So, I shall speak to Felicity,” Matilda said, so furious that she would now
not allow him to speak. “And the nurse shall be sent for. After that, I shall
accept your termination of our engagement, and make myself ready to leave.
I do hope you feel better soon, Duke, and wish you a very speedy recovery.
Good day to you.” And with that, Matilda opened the door and disappeared
through it.

185
 CHAPTER 28

“
H oratio, I do so love you, but what manner of fool are you?”
Felicity asked, not one hour later as she breezed into his
room.
“Is that any sort of opening line for a sister to give to a sick brother?”
Horatio sounded irritable.
“And is that any tone of voice to use on a sister you have always loved and
cherished? I think not.” Felicity’s gentle tone had waned, and Horatio knew
he was very much dealing with the courageous little sister who made an
appearance whenever it was absolutely necessary.
“Forgive me, Felicity, but I have much on my mind at the moment.”
“And I’m not surprised, Horatio.”
“Am I to take it from your obvious disquiet that you have spoken with Miss
Farrington?”
“Miss Farrington now? Not Matilda?” Felicity asked, sitting down on the
edge of his bed.
“Felicity, Miss Farrington addressed me as Duke before leaving my room. I
daresay that to call her by her Christian name is no longer appropriate. And,
as I’m sure you are perfectly well aware, Miss Farrington and I are no
longer engaged.”
“Indeed I am aware, brother. She would have left this very evening had I not
insisted she stay until morning.”

186
“And she was happy to stay?” Horatio probed, trying to appear
disinterested. In truth, he had spent the last hour very much wishing he had
gone about things entirely differently. Matilda had seemingly done
everything she could to straighten up the whole affair, and he knew that it
was, indeed, his pride which had stopped him listening. When she had
insulted him as prideful, he had recognized the trait immediately. And when
she had refused to apologize for it, claiming to have meant it very deeply,
Horatio had found himself most impressed by her courage and
determination. At that moment, she had once again become extremely
attractive to him. Her sudden refusal to continue to apologize, and continue
to explain, had been quite right, and he had known it.
“Not really, Horatio, but she realized the sense of it. Whilst it had stopped
snowing, the roads are not quite clear enough to make travel by night
anywhere near safe. She has agreed to stay until tomorrow, but fully intends
to leave the moment it is light.”
“I can sense that you are annoyed with me, Felicity, so I must rather gather
that you have not been privy to the entire story.” Horatio felt a little
aggrieved that his sister, always his ally in everything, had so easily come
down on the side of Matilda Farrington. In truth, he felt a little jealous and
winced as he thought he could add this extra pride to his list of bad traits.
“Oh, I presume you are referring to your overhearing her conversation with
her maid?” Felicity asked, and he was surprised that she was not more
annoyed that her brother had been so insulted.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say.
“For a start, Horatio, a gentleman would not have continued to allow a
young lady to speak with him whilst he remained an eavesdropper. You
rather let yourself down there,” Felicity said, scowling at him. “However,
I’m prepared to overlook that” she added with a faint smile.
“Thank you, your Majesty,” Horatio said, with a rather loving sarcasm. He
truly adored Felicity, and would never do a thing to hurt her.
“Secondly, why would she not think you arrogant? She had no idea of the
reason for your silence, and nobody would explain it to her. What else is
she supposed to think? Why is it that you expect Matilda to have known by
instinct of your own discomfort? And why could you not have explained it
to her? After all, it must have been obvious to you that our mother had not
done any such explaining. No, Matilda was simply left in the dark, and left

187
to worry about all the reasons why the man who was courting her seemed to
have so little interest in her. I imagine it was quite excruciatingly
embarrassing and deeply hurtful... let alone scary... after all, she was forced
to spend the rest of her life with just such a man!”
“Yes, I know,” Horatio said, leaning back into his pillows with a sigh.
“Then why have you not accepted Matilda’s apology? And why have you let
her explain over and over again when you already know the reasons for it
all? Really!” Felicity had never been quite so strident with him for quite so
lengthy a period.
“My dear sister, are you going to come to a point at some time in this
conversation where you are prepared to forgive me?” Horatio asked, with a
chuckle. He really did want to disarm her just a little.
“Of course I shall forgive you, Horatio. For me, forgiveness is one of the
most important things in the world.” Felicity’s customary gentleness had
returned, but the meaning of what she had said to him was very, very clear.
He had refused to forgive Matilda, and he had refused out of nothing more
than angry pride. In truth, Horatio knew that the time for him to feel justified
in his anger had long passed. He was no longer the victim, but the villain.
Matilda had acquitted herself with honor, and he had done anything but.
“Yes, forgiveness is very important, Felicity.” Horatio turned his head a
little and looked out through the window at which Matilda had recently
stood. The sky was the pale blue of winter, the very color of Matilda’s
beautiful eyes.
“Horatio, pride has gotten you into this mess, but do not allow pride to keep
you in it. Do not allow it to let you lose everything, for I know how well you
and Matilda are truly suited. I know how well you thought of her, and just
how much you must have liked her that speech was a problem for you. Just
think about that, my dear brother, and think hard. I shall leave you now, but
give yourself time to remember why it was you liked her so very well in the
first place, and imagine exactly how you shall feel if you let her go now, and
never see her again. It is in your hands now, for Matilda has done everything
in her power. If you do not make a move, then I fear it is truly the end.”
Felicity rose from the bed and leaned down to kiss her brother’s cheek. She
smiled at him sweetly and then turned to leave the room.

188
MATILDA HAD FOUND it impossible to sleep, and very much gathered, by the
sheer silence of the house, that it must be well beyond midnight. As much as
it had pained her to admit defeat, and accept the end of her engagement,
Matilda knew that it had been the right thing. She had done everything in her
power, and the fact that she had failed was something she could not change.
The time for guilt had gone, as it had for an apology. Her parents, doubtless,
would berate her enough so she would refuse to do that to herself any
longer. If only she could sleep, for she knew she must rise in a few hours
when daylight came. It would not do for her to still be in Paxton Hall when
the Duke rose from his sick bed, as he surely must the next day.
Matilda turned in her bed again, desperate to make herself comfortable
enough to sleep. As she did so, she heard the creak of her door. Someone
was coming into her room! With her heart pounding, Matilda silently
scrambled to her feet. The room was in darkness, but she could see a slit of
light as the door continued to creak inwards. Snatching a candlestick from
her bedside table, Matilda raised it high above her head and silently sped
towards the door. As she reached it, a man in silhouette took a step into her
room. She gasped, and began to bring the candlestick down, hoping to hit
him on the head. At that moment, he had perceived the movement and caught
her wrist in his great hand.
“Matilda, it’s me.”
“Who?” she asked, tremulously. The hissed and whispered voice had not
been one she had recognized. Her nerves were entirely rattled, and she was
trying to wriggle her wrist free from his grasp to no avail.
“It is Horatio,” he said, and then released her before turning to close the
door.
“What you doing in here?” she asked, desperately. “You cannot be in my
bedroom!”
“Well, you have been in mine,” he said, and she thought she heard a low
chuckle.
Matilda felt him brush past her and heard him padding across the floor. He
had walked deeper into her bedroom, and she wondered what on earth she
should do. If she simply let herself out of the room now, where would she
go? And if she found anybody, surely she would be causing the most
dreadful scandal. But how could she possibly remain in the room with him,
in the middle of the night, with both of them in night attire? Especially now

189
that they were not even engaged anymore. Suddenly, some light came into
the room, and she realized that Horatio had simply gone to open the curtain
a little, to admit some moonlight. So, he was discreet enough not to come in
with a lighted candle.
“Duke, you really cannot be in here. I must beg that you leave,” Matilda
said, desperately.
“Please call me Horatio, Matilda,” he said, quietly.
“But why? You have ended our engagement, and it is no longer appropriate
for me to call the Duke of Paxton by his first name. It simply is not done,
Duke.”
“Then let’s not end our engagement, Matilda. Let’s start this whole thing
again.”
“You mean, you have finally stepped over your pride?” Matilda asked, a
little sarcastically.
“Whilst you have every right to be angry with me, Matilda, don’t make the
same mistake I did. Don’t let it last too long.”
“Oh, so you did make a mistake then? I am not the only person who is
fallible in this relationship?”
“Ah, then you agree that we still have a relationship,” Horatio said and
chuckled a little louder.
“I beg you be quiet, Horatio. You must not be found in here.”
“Oh, so I am Horatio again? Am I to take it our engagement is back on?”
“You are being quite impossible. Is it any wonder that my words come out
as they do when you appear in my room in the middle of the night, and my
nerves are in disarray?”
“Well, I can certainly empathize,” Horatio said, quietly. He was clearly
thinking of his own speech problems, and it suddenly tugged at Matilda’s
heart.
“You are right, Horatio. It is not a good thing to hang on to anger for too
long. It clouds one’s judgment, not to mention the fact that it excites one’s
foolish imagination. All right, I shall forgive you if, indeed, that is what you
are asking me.”

190
“That is what I’m asking you, Matilda. Please forgive me.”
“Yes, I forgive you.”
“You see, I was as much angry with myself. I had known all along that my
taciturn appearance must surely be affecting you, and I did nothing to
address it. I can only……”
“You have no need to explain it to me, Horatio. I already understand.”
“And that is more than I did for you, is it not?”
“But you have recognized it, and it is over,” Matilda said, gently. As she had
lain tossing and turning all night, Matilda could never have imagined the joy
she would feel on hearing such words.
“Then will you please marry me, Matilda Farrington, because, you see, I
lo…..lo……lo….” Horatio began to stutter, and Matilda’s heart almost
burst with joy. He was nervous, and he was trying to impress her because he
really did feel for her after all.
“I love you,” he managed, finally.
“I never thought I would say this, Horatio, but I love you too. You really are
the man who smiled at me throughout the London season, aren’t you? The
wonderful, interested, heartbreakingly handsome man?”
“I certainly hope so. Especially the handsome bit,” Horatio said, and began
to laugh. “And I should probably tell you that, when I am a little stressed, I
occasionally stutter.”
“Thank you for telling me... and of course, it is not a problem,” Matilda
said, and was glad of the darkness, for she knew her eyes were welling with
tears of happiness.
“Now, who would have thought it would have been so simple?” Horatio
continued to laugh, before pulling her into his arms in the moonlight and
kissing her passionately.

191
 EPILOGUE

“
M
air outside.
y dear brother, I can honestly say this is the happiest
Christmas day I’ve ever spent!” Felicity said as the small
party made their way out of the church and into the frosty

It was a beautiful morning, every branch and building was painted with frost
and yet the sun shone brightly. The world was breathtakingly beautiful, and
it seemed to match his mood and his new wife. She looked like a princess,
or maybe a duchess in her dark blue cape and light blue gown and he found
he could not take his eyes off her.
“Well, without you, it might not have happened,” he said, quietly, with his
new wife out of earshot as Constance and Camilla fussed about her. “And I
must thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“I knew you would listen to reason, Horatio. After all, you always do in the
end.”
“In the end?” Horatio questioned, feigning injury.
“Oh dear, don’t let’s have another exhibition of your deadly pride.” Felicity
began to giggle.
“No indeed, I am very much putting my pride back in its place, my dear
sister. Mostly because my new wife utterly refuses to apologize for insulting
me about it. However much I wheedle, she remains steadfast.”
“And rightly so. Surely you would not have her any other way?” Felicity
responded, smiling.

192
“Indeed I would not, my dear sister. She truly is wonderful.” He turned to
gaze adoringly at Matilda. Even in the weak sunlight, her chestnut hair
gleamed, and her beautiful pale blue eyes matched the winter sky perfectly.
Somehow the wedding dress captured the color of her eyes and set off her
hair and pale skin to perfection. He could not believe he was so lucky. Not
only was his wife the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she was
strong enough to put him in his place when he needed it most. This was
going to be an interesting and exciting marriage, of that he was sure.
“You really love her, don’t you Horatio?” Felicity asked, her voice so warm
and gentle.
“I really do, Felicity. And I must say, although it pains me, I have much to be
thankful to Mother for. Had she not interfered, we would not be here today,
would we?”
“Indeed we would not, brother. But do not allow that to cloud your
judgment. Do not soften in any way, for your decision to send her to the
Dower House was the right one.” And with that, both Felicity and her
brother laughed. “Now, go and help your new wife into the carriage.”
Felicity patted him hard on the back and turned to make her way to where
her sisters were.
“Might I help you into the carriage, Duchess?” Horatio asked, his lips
pressed close to his wife’s ear.
“Oh, Horatio, how very strange that sounds. I have not really thought about
it before. I’d never considered myself about to be a Duchess.” Matilda
stared thoughtfully into space as if deeply contemplating the matter.
“Will you get used to it, do you suppose?” he asked, his smile broad and
handsome.
“From other people, perhaps. I rather think it might feel a little unusual for
my husband to address me in such a way.” Matilda laughed.
Horatio opened the door of the carriage and helped his new wife inside,
before climbing up and joining her.
“And how should you like your new husband to address you?” he asked,
sitting close and running a hand up and down her back.
“Can’t you simply call me Matilda? Surely Matilda would do?” She smiled
at him.

193
“Oh yes, Matilda shall do very well indeed.” And with that, he took his
wife’s face in his hands, drew her to him, and kissed her passionately.
“Well, there are no misunderstandings there,” Matilda said, her voice low
and breathy as they drew apart.
“No misunderstandings whatsoever. Happy Christmas Matilda.” Horatio
leaned in and kissed her again.

194
 THE DUKE’S CHRISTMAS MEMORIES

By

Charlotte Darcy

©Copyright 2016 Charlotte Darcy

All Rights Reserved

Promised to the Beastly Earl Just $0.99 or FREE on Kindle Unlimited

195
 CHAPTER 29

“
O h, please do let’s walk down to Sagemoor Wood. It’s less than
five minutes away,” Lady Scarlett Darlington said, in mock
wheedling tones.
“All right, darling, but I really think we’ve been out in the cold long enough.
Even the winter sun has made no impression on this thick frost.” Lucas
Cummings, the Duke of Lavenham, held out his arm for Scarlett to take as
they turned and headed in the direction of the small wood.
“Thank you, Lucas. I hope you are still this accommodating when we are
married.” Scarlett smiled up at him.
“I imagine I shall be. You seem to have me right where you want me, my
dear.” Lucas gave a great, theatrical sigh.
“Goodness me!” Scarlett was laughing heartily. “You make me sound so
dreadful. And I know full well you are as keen to see the frosty wood. With
the leaves on the ground encased in beautiful white rime and a sparkle on
the winter foliage, it reminds one that Christmas is nearly here.” Scarlett
began to feel her excitement growing, how she loved the Christmas season.
The decorations, the feasts, the gifts, and the parties. It was all so festive
when the weather turned cold, and there was little else to do.
“It is but November, my dear Scarlett.” Lucas laughed.
“You are teasing me, Lucas, and well I know it. You are as much in love
with the idea of Christmas as I am.” Scarlett gently pinched Lucas’ arm.
“Of course, I am, Scarlett.” He turned to smile at her. “I often think that
were it not for Christmas, you and I should never have become engaged!”

196
“Oh, Lucas! Do you really think so?” Scarlett laughed. “I cannot believe it.”
“Think back, my love. Surely we were the only people of the last London
Season who spoke eagerly of Christmas when it was but still July.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Scarlett giggled. “We really were, weren’t we?”
Scarlett thought back to the very early days of their acquaintance. It was a
beautifully warm July afternoon, just a few weeks into the London Season.
Scarlett and her mother, Lady Juliet Oldbury, had been invited for the
afternoon to the fashionable Mayfair house that Lady Clarkin had rented for
the London Season. Scarlett’s father, the Earl of Oldbury, had once again
managed to absent himself from things, claiming to have some urgent
business to attend to with his attorney. Scarlett adored her father but rather
knew that he wasn’t quite as sociable as she and her mother. As a result,
mother and daughter had gone about very much together that Season, with
Lord Oldbury attending the occasional evening, functions only when he had
to.
Scarlett’s mother and Lady Clarkin were old friends and had immediately
become engrossed in one another’s company. Lady Oldbury had been very
keen to have a good look around the smart, modern house, and Lady Clarkin
had been equally keen to show her. With her guests settled, Lady Clarkin
took Scarlett’s mother, and several other interested ladies, to give them a
tour of the house from top to bottom. From the drawing room, Scarlett could
hear the occasional ooh and ahh and chuckled to herself as she drank tea.
“I daresay it is rather a handsome sort of house, is it not?” Came a voice
from beside her.
“Indeed, it is, and very modern,” Scarlett responded, but had been entirely
surprised to see that it was Lucas Cummings, the Duke of Lavenham, who
had addressed her.
“Something in the way you said that leads me to suspect you are not overly
keen on modern dwellings, perhaps?” The Duke was smiling at her.
“I don’t have anything in particular against modern dwellings, Your Grace.
It is just that I rather prefer the feel of an older house. Perhaps that is what
you perceived,” Scarlett said, with a smile.
“I do hope you do not mind me addressing you, My Lady, without a formal
introduction of any kind?” He was smiling a little ruefully.

197
“Indeed, I do not mind at all. In fact, since most of the ladies have deserted
us, and most of the men had little interest in us, perhaps we ought to just
introduce ourselves. We do not really need to wait for a third-party, do
we?” Scarlett found herself grinning in return.
“I daresay we do not. And anyway, they would never know, would they?”
Both began to laugh.
“Well, in that case, I am Scarlett Darlington, and I’m very pleased to meet
you.”
“And I am Lucas Cummings, and it is a very great pleasure to make your
acquaintance.” And with that, he bowed. “I know your father, of course. Tell
me, how is the Earl?”
“I had not realized that you were already acquainted with my father, Duke.
Still, that is hardly surprising, since he regularly forgets to communicate
with my mother and me. Not by spite, you understand, but rather as an
oversight.” She laughed. “And he is very well, I thank you for asking.”
“So, were you not interested in looking around this great modern house with
the rest of the ladies?” The Duke was smiling at her.
Of course, Scarlett had seen him at the first few events of the Season and
very much had the impression that he had looked her way on more than one
occasion. He was a handsome sort of man, being rather tall and broad, with
dark brown hair and eyes to match. There was nothing stern at all in his
countenance, nor anything aloof. Rather, the Duke of Lavenham had a
pleasant sort of face, looking always to be on the verge of either laughing or
smiling. Of course, that was not the fashionable way for a Duke to look, but
Scarlett found she really rather liked it. His countenance alone made her
feel very comfortable in his company.
“I shall openly admit to being in desperate want of a cup of tea, and I rather
chose that over house viewing,” Scarlett said, smiling.
“Oh, I say, how very funny. You really are not keen on modern buildings, are
you?”
“I’m afraid not.” She gave a slight shrug. “It rather strikes me that there is
not enough character in them yet. Not enough lives have been lived within
the walls of a house like this for it to have any kind of interesting feel about
it. If that makes sense?”

198
“It makes perfect sense, Lady Darlington. I must admit to not being overly
keen myself. And I quite understand your feeling on the matter. I rather think
the way I look at it is that if I cannot imagine having Christmas in a place,
then I’m fairly certain that I do not like it.”
“Oh, I adore Christmas, Your Grace,” Scarlett said, wistfully. “I realize we
have not yet had summer in any real sense, but the winter cannot come soon
enough for me.” Scarlett had turned a little pink, realizing that her assertion
was rather an unusual one.
“I find I must agree with you, Lady Darlington. As much as I like a
summer’s day, a hard frost, or even snow, brings the air a crispness that I
find so very pleasing. And then to come in from it all and sit in front of a
well stacked and roaring fire with either a glass of sherry or a steaming hot
cup of tea, is surely heaven on earth.” He seemed to be looking off into the
middle distance as if imagining himself to be at home in the middle of
December. Scarlett could not help but note his deep contentment; surely,
whatever he was seeing in his mind’s eye was pleasing him greatly.
“Well, I am pleased to hear you say that, Duke,” Scarlett said, laughing.
“For I found myself rather embarrassed for a moment there, discussing
Christmas in July.”
“There is never a wrong time to discuss Christmas, in my opinion,” Lucas
said, as Scarlett imagined the wonderfully handsome man sitting in front of
his roaring fire with his glass of sherry and his look of contentment. “For it
is, in my opinion, the most wonderful Season of them all.”
“Well, you shall have no argument from me in that regard. I simply love
Christmas, and everything that comes with it. The outdoors is so wonderful,
especially in a frost, as you say. I do so love to pick holly that looks as if it
has been encased in glass, with its beautiful red berries outlined with
white.”
“You make your own wreaths?” Lucas asked, clearly interested.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace, I make several of them. I begin as soon as December
arrives. I make wreaths and garlands, not just for our home, but I often make
them for friends. It really does give me such great joy, and rather makes all
of December feel like Christmas to me.”
“What a wonderful idea. Perhaps, when the time comes, I should ask you to
make something for me,” he said and gave Scarlett the most wonderful

199
smile. At that moment, she felt warmed by his smile and drawn toward him.
There was nothing patronizing or false in the request, but rather he had
genuinely wanted Scarlett to make the decoration for him.
“I should very much like to make you a decoration, Duke. In fact, I shall. I
shall make you something truly wonderful, for the making of it will give me
such great pleasure.”
“I say, thank you very much, indeed. And the nice thing is, if you are making
me a decoration, Lady Darlington, then you will need to attend Lavenham
Hall to give it to me. How nice that I shall be assured your company long
after the London Season finishes. Now, don’t you think me rather devious?”
He gave a low chuckle.
“Perhaps I should, if you did not smile so warmly and openly. But in truth,
Duke, you really do seem to like Christmas as much as I do, so I could not
possibly think you devious.” Scarlett laughed and looked down into her
teacup.
“Is your tea finished?” Lucas asked her, raising his eyebrows.
“I’m afraid it is.” Scarlett gave a little shrug and smiled.
“Well, perhaps you will allow me to collect us both a fresh cup. Perhaps
you would care to sit with me for a while?”
“I should like that very much indeed, Duke.”
“Then perhaps you could take that far-flung couch that I spy at the very end
of the room, and I shall follow you over with our tea.” As he smiled at her
and made his way to where the maid was serving tea, Scarlett had found
herself rather enjoying the fact that the Duke had wanted to seat them at the
very far edge of the room. It rather struck her that he wanted to be alone
with her for a while, and not invite the attentions of any other of Lady
Clarkin’s guests. The very idea of that rather gave Scarlett palpitations.
Scarlett took her place on the couch and watched the Duke making his way
over to her, going rather slowly as he held a cup and saucer in each hand.
Scarlett thought he really was very handsome indeed, and not very much
older than she was. He was perhaps no more than twenty-six or twenty-
seven years of age, and at one and twenty herself, Scarlett thought that they
were very well matched in terms of age.
“I must admit to enjoying a bit of charity work over Christmas,” Lucas said,

200
as he placed their cups down onto a side table and continued their
conversation as if there had been no break. “Although, I know that I really
ought to pay it more heed throughout the entire year.”
“I daresay, Duke, that charity is well received whatever the frequency, and
whatever the time of year. And Christmas really does seem like a time for
giving, does it not? I mean, we go out of our way to find presents for those
we love, and quite often those we love already have more than enough. And
yet still it gives us pleasure. Therefore, if we are able to give to people who
do not have enough, it stands to reason that it gives us greater pleasure still.
I suppose that is what charity means, really,” Scarlett said and reached for
her tea.
“That is very kind of you, Lady Darlington. But I rather think you have let
me off the hook nicely.”
“Perhaps I did, Duke,” Scarlett said, most amused.
“But still, I do love to perform a few charitable visits, especially to the
poor people in the area. And yet, there never seems to be enough time to get
around to all of them.”
“Perhaps it is simply a case of doing it a little differently,” Scarlett said,
thoughtfully.
“How so?” The Duke seemed every bit as interested in her as he had the
very moment they had met.
“Well, perhaps you could lay on something for a great number of people.
You could lay on a great Christmas dinner, perhaps, with some extra treats
for the children. At least that way you would be able to give to more people
at once.”
“Oh, I say! What a very good idea. And very much more effective and
efficient. And you’re right, Lady Darlington, it would help more people. I
perhaps ought to try that this year. Maybe you would be able to give me
some advice? I mean, nearer the time, obviously.” He gave her a
mischievous smile and a wink.
Scarlett felt her stomach flutter and a delightful heat spread through her. All
of a sudden, her breath was caught in her throat. Swallowing, she managed
to keep her voice steady. “Well, since I should be coming over to see you
with your Christmas decoration, it would make a good deal of sense for me
to offer a little assistance whilst I was in the area.” This time Scarlett had

201
truly begun to laugh. The Duke of Lavenham really was rather funny and
such a very open man that there seemed no guile about him at all.
“Tell me, Lady Darlington, what else do you love about Christmas?”
“Oh, there is so much to love. Apart from frosted nature and the joy of
giving, I like the dark nights and the singing. Oh, how I adore to sing
Christmas carols,” Scarlett said, excitedly. “But outside, you know? I like to
go out with some other carol singers and stand in crisp snow singing my
heart out and watching my warm breath on the cold night air.”
“I must say, Lady Darlington, that you rather conjure up a wonderful image.”
“Indeed.” Scarlett was laughing again. “And I also love exciting events.
Christmas balls, since I do so love to dance. Oh, and any type of Christmas
theatrical. I don’t mind what it is, whether it be a re-enactment of the
Nativity or the very worst sort of murder mystery. It really doesn’t matter
what it is, because it is all such fun.”
“And does your family go along with it all? I mean, do they adore Christmas
as you do?”
“Well, I think Mama rather likes it, and Papa rather goes along with it. I do
adore my father, but he is not a naturally sociable man. I mean, he likes
Christmas, and always enjoys himself, but rather because everything is done
around him, and he need not take any part until the day itself.” Scarlett began
to laugh. “I make him sound terrible, but he really is a very good father.”
Scarlett was still laughing, rather thinking that she had made her father
sound quite awful. Of course, the Earl himself would have been greatly
amused by her assessment of him. “But I must admit, my family has always
made Christmas very special for my brother and me. This year, of course,
since my brother’s marriage, Christmas will be even more special for us
all.”
“Well, I must say I’m very pleased that your wonderful idea of Christmas
does not fall on deaf ears in your home. Christmas imagination such as yours
thoroughly deserves to be indulged, in my opinion.”
“How very kind you are,” Scarlett said, finding herself looking into his rich
dark eyes once again. In truth, she had never held a man’s gaze for so long,
barring her own father and brother. And yet, it was nowhere near as
uncomfortable or as embarrassing as she might have thought. No, indeed, to
look into the Duke of Lavenham’s eyes seemed to Scarlett to be a most

202
natural thing to do. “But what of your Christmases, Duke?”
“Oh, we always did have such wonderful Christmases, always full of fun
and great joy. Although I am bound to say that since my father died, it has
not quite been the same.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I should have thought,” Scarlett said, a little
embarrassed. “Please accept my condolences.”
“Oh no, Lady Darlington, please do not make yourself uneasy about that. It
has been more than a year and a half now, and this will be our second
Christmas without him. However, I am quite determined that we are ready to
have things just a little bit more jolly than they were last year.”
“I say, that is truly wonderful,” Scarlett said, relieved. “And I believe you
have a sister, do you not?”
“I do indeed have a sister, Lady Darlington. Freya is but eighteen-years-old,
but she is very much out in Society. She is only not with me here for the
London Season since she has been recovering from some illness. She
suffered an infection about her chest which lasted from April until June. The
thing has left her rather tired, although she is much improved now, and
improving all the time. With luck, she and my mother might make the last
few events of the Season, if nothing else.”
“Well, I’m very sorry to hear of your sister’s poor health, but should be very
keen to meet both your mother and sister if they make it to London before the
Season is quite over.”
“And I should very much like you to meet them. For one thing, you would be
a great ally when it comes time for me to reintroduce the subject of a
happier Christmas. For who, hearing your wonderful depictions of what
Christmas should be, would not find themselves instantly transported and in
love with the idea again?”
“Well, I thank you, Sir, but I rather think that your own ideas and interest in
Christmas are certainly equal to mine.”
“In truth, I think they are. But imagine, as a team, how formidable we might
be.”
“Indeed, we would, Duke. Indeed, we would.”
“I say, Scarlett, you seem to be a million miles away. I have consented to be

203
frozen almost to death to indulge your passion for Sagemoor Wood in the
frost, and yet you say not one word to me the whole time. What is a man to
think?”
“Oh, forgive me. I was thinking about the afternoon we first met. Well, met
properly.”
“You mean when I so rudely introduced myself to you at Lady Clarkin’s
smart townhouse in Mayfair?”
“The very same.” Scarlett was smiling happily. So much had happened in
the last few months and every bit of it a joy to her heart.
“All our talk of Christmas, my dear.” Lucas reached for her hand. “So, tell
me, now that Christmas is nearly upon us, are you still as excited about it as
you were that day in Lady Clarkin’s drawing-room? Is it working out as
well as you’d hoped?”
“Oh, it will be the best Christmas of my life, I know it will.” Scarlett
squeezed his hand.
“As wonderful as that afternoon meeting in Mayfair was, I could never have
imagined all the exciting things we would both have to look forward to by
the time Christmas truly came around. My dear, Scarlett, there is not a more
grateful and happy man on this earth than I.”
“Oh, Lucas, what a wonderful thing to say.” Scarlett felt her eyes well up
unexpectedly and dabbed at the corner of one of them with a gloved hand.
“Really, you have made me feel quite emotional.”
“Well, before those happy little tears freeze to your face, perhaps you might
allow me to turn us around that we might head back speedily to Lavenham
Hall. It would be wonderful if you had time for tea in front of the fire with
me before you have to return to Oldbury Hall.”
“That sounds heavenly. A nice walk in the crisp, frosty air, followed by a
steaming cup of tea in front of your drawing room fire. Just as you first
described it to me.”
“Only now, the whole thing is perfect. It is not just myself who sits by the
fire anymore, but my fiancé who sits with me.”
“I do love you, Lucas.”
“And I love you too, Scarlett.” And with that, he grasped her hand tighter

204
still and hurried her footsteps in the direction of home.

205
 CHAPTER 30

“
W hat a shame Scarlett had to leave, Lucas,” Freya said, as
they sat down to dinner. “I do so love it when she can stay
to dinner.”
“And you do not know how it pleases me to hear that, Freya. You know, I
felt sure that you and Scarlett would be great friends from the very moment I
met her.” Lucas reached out and patted his sister’s hand.
“Did you say that Scarlett has an engagement this evening, Lucas?” His
mother, Lady Jane Lavenham, the Dowager Duchess, asked.
“Not an engagement exactly, Mama. Rather, the Earl has a cousin staying
from the North country, and he is keen to keep the man, and his family,
entertained for the next few days. I rather fear I shall see little of Scarlett for
the rest of the week.”
“How lovely that you shall miss her, my dear boy,” Lady Jane said, kindly.
“And I’m sure that she shall miss you also. For two young people to miss
each other over a matter of just a few days is something that I think is rather
wonderful. In truth, your father and I were very much the same in our youth.
And indeed, even as we grew older, we could not bear to be parted.” For a
moment, the older woman faltered, and her son reached out for her.
“I know, Mama. And I wish there was something I could do to lessen your
grief if such a thing is possible.”
“Oh, indeed, you and your sister lessen my grief every day, just with your
presence.” The Dowager Duchess hurriedly took a handkerchief from the
pocket of her skirts and dabbed at her eyes. “And of course, your wonderful

206
Christmas marriage shall give me such hope. Things really have changed,
and very much for the better.”
“I did wonder, Mama, quite how you would feel about the wedding being on
Christmas Day.”
“Oh, I think it is so romantic!” Freya interjected, and then looked down
apologetically.
“Of course, it is, Freya.” Their mother smiled at her, her face a picture of
indulgent love. “And it shall very much mark a turning point for us all.
Christmas is the end of the year, and marriages very much signal a new
beginning. I do not think you could have picked a more perfect time, Lucas,
and when you told me you proposed such a date to Scarlett, I could not have
been more pleased.”
“Well, I am much relieved to hear you say it, Mama. I should not like to do
anything which would bring you further pain.”
“Far from it. In fact, I am so much involved with the wedding preparations
that it has very much distracted me from my sad thoughts, and has given me
something to focus much happier attentions on. How wonderful that Scarlett
is letting me have so much fun in helping her and her mother with it all.”
“I rather think you are a godsend to her, Mama. After all, Scarlett’s time is
already almost entirely devoted to her Christmas preparations. Really, her
love of Christmas outweighs even my own.”
“She really does love Christmas, doesn’t she, Lucas?” Freya said, her eyes
beaming brightly. “And she has so many wonderful things arranged for
Lavenham Hall this year, that I find myself quite excited by it all.”
“And Scarlett is in heaven. Whilst she is not yet the Mistress here, she has
not quite left home either. That leaves her in the wonderful position of
having two houses to decorate with wreaths and garlands, not to mention
two homes to organize events for. Add our Christmas Day marriage to all of
that, and Scarlett really is floating on a cloud of pinkish well-being,” Lucas
said, staring into space a little as he thought of his beautiful wife-to-be and
how very lucky he had been to win her affections.
In truth, Lucas had rather fallen for Lady Scarlett Darlington before he had
even introduced himself that afternoon in the drawing room at Lady
Clarkin’s. The first time he had seen her had been at a ball held by a cousin
of his in his Kensington mansion. Scarlett immediately stood out to him, not

207
least because her hair rather matched her name. It was the most wonderful
rich auburn and, in the well-lit ballroom, had looked like a shimmering red
halo. Lucas had let his attention wander to her all evening and, as a result,
had found himself much distracted in every conversation he had taken part
in.
In fact, Lucas had not really seen Scarlett up close until some days later,
when Anastasia Rossington had hosted an afternoon buffet in her wonderful
old Belgravia townhouse. The event had been very well attended, as most of
Anastasia’s events were. She was one of the foremost hostesses of the
London Season, and always filled her immense drawing room with the
brightest young people. It was in that very drawing room where Lucas had
made his first in-depth study of Lady Scarlett Darlington. Her auburn hair
had twinkled beautifully in the afternoon sunshine which had poured into the
great windows of the drawing room. Scarlett had been talking to two young
ladies, the identities of whom Lucas could not be entirely sure.
Since Scarlett seemed to be so very deep in conversation, Lucas had
carefully taken in every aspect of her appearance. Her eyes were a
wonderful blue-green and complemented her hair while standing out
strikingly against the pale peachy cream of her skin. Scarlett was rather a
tall girl, with very pleasing curves, and always seemed to Lucas to be
dressed quite simply. Somehow, the simplicity of her gowns seemed to
work very well. They never detracted from the unusual beauty of her face
and hair, and always fitted her to perfection. On that afternoon, she had been
wearing an ivory gown with a pale green trim at the Empire line, and an
identical one at the hem at her feet. In truth, Lucas thought that she was the
most beautiful young lady he had ever seen, but knew that it was so much
more than her physical charms which had attracted him. There was
something about the way she laughed and smiled which seemed to him to be
wonderfully unguarded. Lucas was rather struck by the fact that whenever
Scarlett was amused, she laughed. She didn’t weigh things up to see if
laughing would be the thing to do at that very moment. There was never a
pause whilst she sought to fit in with everybody else. Scarlett simply
laughed, and her laugh and smile always reached her beautiful eyes. Not
only did she laugh unguardedly, but she laughed often. Lucas rather thought
that most young ladies simply tittered in the right places, depending very
much on who they were talking to, and how much they wanted to impress
them or humor them.
Of course, when he finally met her in person, Lucas had found Scarlett to be

208
everything he had expected and more. Her laughter continued, despite him
being the most titled man in the room at most events, and she did not adapt
her speech or manner in her dealings with him. Of all the young ladies he
had met, Lucas found that Scarlett Darlington was the only one who seemed
to be truly herself at all times. Even her declaration to love Christmas, in the
middle of July, had not caused her concern afterward. Yes, her cheeks
flushed a little, but more in amusement, he thought, than anything else. And
she had continued to talk about the event with all the enthusiasm of an
excited child, and he had found himself very much swept along by her.
Even his proposal of marriage, made to her in late October, had been
greeted with the same excitement. Lucas rather liked the idea of marrying a
woman who avoided austere manners of any kind, and allowed herself to
enjoy the very moment she was living in, quite unguarded, and quite without
any concerns as to what others might think of her. As he thought of his
proposal, Lucas almost laughed out loud at the dinner table.
They had just had tea with his mother, and Lucas was reflecting how very
much Scarlett seemed to bring Lavenham Hall to life. Even his mother was
greatly affected by her, and her spirits seemed to visibly lift whenever
Scarlett came to tea or to dinner. It was clear to him that his mother would
very much welcome Scarlett into their home as a daughter-in-law, and Lucas
was greatly pleased by that.
When his mother had left them alone for a while, that clever lady clearly
sensing that her son was nearing the point of proposing, Lucas had found
himself inordinately nervous. Despite feeling sure that she would accept him
when the moment to ask her for her hand came, he could almost not think of
a word to say. Instead, he had simply dropped to one knee at the side of the
couch where Scarlett sat and took her hand in rather a fumbling sort of
away. He looked at her for some moments, desperately trying to remember
what it was that he had rehearsed.
“I say, are you about to ask me to marry you?” Scarlett had asked, her face a
picture of excitement and her smile wide.
“Well, yes, I was, but I had rather forgotten what it was I was going to say to
you. And I had the whole thing worked out,” Lucas had admitted, with a
shrug.
“Oh, how wonderful!” And with that, Scarlett had laughed heartily.
“Scarlett, I am quite certain that most young ladies do not laugh so when

209
their poor, nervous menfolk try to propose in a romantic fashion,” Lucas had
said, stifling a laugh of his own.
“Perhaps you should have written the thing down, Lucas?” Scarlett said, her
eyes shining with mirth.
“Oh, Scarlett, you really are most off-putting,” Lucas said, closing his eyes
for a moment, still racking his brains for what it was he had thought to say to
her. In the end, he simply gave it up and asked her outright. “Scarlett, would
you please marry me?”
“Of course, I shall! What fun we should have!” And with that, she had flung
her arms about his neck and rained down what felt like a hundred kisses on
his cheek.
“Oh, thank goodness for that,” he said, placing his arms around her, and
squeezing her tightly.
“I say, Lucas, how could you have forgotten so short a sentence?” she asked,
between kisses.
“Oh, it was so much more than that simple sentence, my dear. When it comes
back to me, I shall tell you it all. In the meantime, this will simply have to
do.”
“Oh, and it shall do very well indeed. I’ve never been so happy. Imagine
what a wonderful time we are going to have.”
“Especially if we get married on Christmas day,” he said, quietly.
“Christmas Day? This Christmas Day coming?” Scarlett’s’ excitement was
building.
“I rather thought so, yes.”
“But can people really get married on Christmas Day?”
“They most certainly can, Scarlett. In fact, I’ve rather discussed it with the
Reverend already. Obviously, I didn’t presume anything, but I rather
sounded him out about the whole idea, and he was most agreeable.”
“You mean we can get married on Christmas Day? We really, truly can?”
Scarlett’s eyes were as round as saucers.
“We certainly can, if you’d like to.”

210
“Oh, Lucas, I should love it more than anything in the whole world. Really,
it would quite simply be the best Christmas day of my entire life, and I have
had some truly wonderful Christmas days already.”
“Scarlett, my darling, you just make the world so much brighter. I love you
so very much.”
“And I love you too, Lucas.”
“You seem to be very lost in thought, brother,” Freya said, smiling as Lucas
slowly began to refocus. “And you were smiling, so I can only imagine that
you were thinking of Scarlett again,” she teased.
“I’m afraid you have caught me, Freya. I was indeed thinking of Scarlett.”
“Isn’t it wonderful, Mama? Isn’t it all so very romantic?” Freya said,
turning her big doe-like eyes onto her mother.
“The most wonderful, Freya. The whole thing seems to have breathed new
life into what was a house of sadness, and I couldn’t be happier about it,”
the Dowager Duchess said, with a warm smile.
“Well, here’s to Christmas,” Lucas said, smiling brightly as he raised his
wine glass in a toast.
“Here’s to Christmas,” his mother and sister echoed.

211
 CHAPTER 31

“
W ould you mind very much if we stopped at Havencrest
Cutting, Lucas? I know it’s a little out of our way, darling,
but it really does have the most heavenly Holly. Truly, I
have never seen more berries in my life,” Scarlett said, as they sauntered
along in the Duke’s carriage.
“Of course, we shall stop,” Lucas said, before banging on the roof of the
carriage with his staff and leaning out to talk to the driver. “We shall be
there in ten minutes. In any case, we have plenty of time before dinner.”
“I’m pleased about that, I’m still rather full from afternoon tea.” Scarlett
unconsciously put a hand on her stomach.
“Yes, there was enough for our whole family and most of the staff, wasn’t
there? Still, your mother really does go to great effort to arrange such
things.”
“She really does, Lucas. But thankfully, that is over for her now, for my
cousin and his family are returning to the North country the day after
tomorrow. Things will very much return to normal at Oldbury Hall, and I
think, secretly, my mother shall be rather glad of it.”
“But your father’s cousin and his family seemed charming.” Lucas was, of
course, being tactful. The only thing that had made the afternoon tea
bearable was the fact that he was with the woman he loved, and he was so
very in love that nothing could vex him it seemed. Had he not been so in
love, he would very much have disliked the cousin of the Earl of Oldbury,
not to mention his overbearing wife and energetic children.

212
“Lucas, they are very difficult company, and well you know it.” Scarlett
laughed and reached out to playfully swat her fiancé’s knee.
“Well, it’s true, they are rather dreadful, but I didn’t want to say anything
that would hurt your feelings,” he said, smiling at her.
“It is of no matter to me, Lucas. I have seen my father’s cousin but twice in
my life, and I rather think that is two times too many. What is more important
to me is that you always say what you feel, no matter how you think I shall
be affected by it. I always want to know the truth of things.”
“Then I promise faithfully that you shall have the truth of things, whatever
that is, forevermore.”
“Thank you, darling,” Scarlett said, somewhat distractedly as she reached
into her rather large velvet drawstring bag.
“Whatever are you looking for?”
“I’m just checking that I have everything for my holly collection. And I do,”
she said, simply.
“And what is in that exceedingly large reticule of yours?”
“I have some gloves, some little shears, and a thin jute sack that I have
folded up neatly. It’s very good for carrying holly since the prickly spines
don’t seem to come through it.”
“So you were already prepared for Havencrest Cutting?” Lucas began to
laugh.
“Not Havencrest Cutting particularly. Rather, I always carry these things in
the winter, for one never knows when one is going to find the most splendid
foliage. It would be an awful shame to come across something wonderful
and to not have the tools with one to complete the task,” Scarlett said, all
efficiency.
Lucas dissolved into laughter, seemingly unable to control himself.
Scarlett looked at him, smiling broadly. “I’m not sure why you are laughing
at me, Lucas,” she said, despite the fact that she was now laughing with him.
“It’s hard to put into words, my darling, but I am very much laughing with
love in my heart if that makes things any easier.”

213
“It certainly does,” she said and leaned towards him to kiss his cheek.
“I think it’s the idea that my fiancé travels with shears and a sack about her
person at all times... just in case. They just seem like the most unusual things
for a young lady to carry.”
“Oh, goodness me, I’ve always carried such unusual things. You ought to see
my reticule in the summer.”
“I shall look forward to that with interested excitement, my dear,” Lucas
said, and slowly began to regain his equilibrium. “I say, I think we’ve
arrived.”
“Wonderful.”
Lucas helped Scarlett down from the carriage, and they walked arm in arm
into the small, leafy park known as Havencrest Cutting.
“Didn’t I tell you it had the most wonderful holly, Lucas?” Scarlett said,
handing the small sack for him to hold open as she cut a few sprigs.
“You know, Mama and Freya are very much looking forward to Christmas
this year. Not just the wedding, darling, but the whole thing. They both seem
quite excited by it all.”
“Oh, that is wonderful, Lucas. I’m so very pleased. After all, you’ve all had
so much sadness.”
“And I feel it would have continued, had you not appeared. Mama told me
that she thinks you breathe life into the old place.”
“Did she really say that, Lucas?” For a moment, Scarlett stopped her
determined snipping.
“Yes, she really did say that. And she’s right, you have breathed life into
Lavenham Hall, without even living there yet.”
“Oh, Lucas, you do so say the most romantic things. How lucky I am to have
found you.”
“And I you, Scarlett.”
“I do hope that my Christmas events won’t be too much for your mother,
though. After a quiet Christmas, this one is going to seem so very different,
and I hope it is not going to be a strain on her.”

214
“Not in the slightest. In fact, she told me yesterday that she is very much
looking forward to the theatricals.”
“I do so love a play at Christmas, especially one put on at home. It just feels
so cozy.”
“And Mama and Freya are very pleased that it is a small gathering of guests,
and your idea of having the servants attend, as a treat, very much appeals to
them both. As Mama said, my father would have very much liked your fine
attitude towards the staff.”
“I’m so pleased, Lucas. You see, my father always insists upon some sort of
evening of entertainment for the servants at Christmas. And it really is a
treat, you know.” Scarlett smiled at the memory of so many happy
Christmases past. “And I still can hardly believe that you have arranged
your wonderful Christmas dinner for the poor, just as you told me you would
the day we first met.”
“I must say, it has given me rather a great sense of purpose this year. And
Freya has been a tremendous help. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get involved.
I rather think we have a lady of charity in the making in my little sister.”
“And I don’t doubt it. She really does have the sweetest disposition of any
girl I’ve ever met. It’s so nice to finally have a sister of my own. Brothers
are fine, but they are not quite like sisters.” Scarlett continued to happily
snip away the very finest sprigs of holly. “I might just take a few of these
pinecones as well. Is there room in the sack?”
“I’m sure there’s room for a few pinecones, Scarlett. Just drop them in.”
Lucas held the bag out dutifully.
After a few more minutes, Scarlett declared she had more than enough holly
and pinecones to be going on with. They began to walk away back to the
carriage, arm in arm, with Lucas holding the sack out slightly to the side of
him, not entirely sure about Scarlett’s assertion that the prickly spines would
not come through it.
“I’m glad we stopped for a while, Lucas. I think my afternoon tea has more
or less settled down now, and I shall very much be ready for my dinner this
evening.”
Soon they were back in the carriage and on their way, the joyful
conversation had not even paused for a second.

215
“That’s good, darling. And I think Mama would be keen to discuss the
Christmas ball with you also. I thought I better just let you know, she’s
rather keen to help if there’s anything you have left to do.”
“If she really?” Scarlett said, with a bright smile. “Because she is already
doing so much for the wedding. As long as she wants to help, and doesn’t
think that she has to. I should not want to put upon your mother in any way.”
“Not at all. I really do think she’s got a taste for activity now, and sees how
well it can distract one from one’s...Oh! I say!”
“What is it?” Scarlett said, following her fiancé’s gaze as he looked out of
the window.
“I say, I don’t think they are going to stop. I don’t think we have time to stop
either.” Lucas sounded suddenly panicked. Scarlett continued to look out of
the window and finally saw a great herd of deer charging across the open
fields. The road simply passed through the fields, with no barrier to the deer
whatsoever, and they were running in the direction of the carriage. The
driver’s shouts could be heard for only a few moments before being
drowned out by the sound of dozens of thundering hooves.
“Surely, they’ll go around us? Surely they won’t run straight into the
carriage?” Scarlett exclaimed, suddenly desperately afraid.
“They won’t run into us, but they are going to spook the horses.” The
carriage had drawn to a stop, and it was clear that the driver was trying to
calm the horses in the hope that they would not bolt. However, as the deer
thundered around the back of the carriage, the two horses panicked, and set
off at speed along the road. In no time at all, their panic had led them to veer
off the road and attempt to make their way across the fields. The driver was
shouting and pulling them back with all his might, to no avail.
“Lucas!” Scarlett screamed as the carriage bounced wildly and seemed to
twist from side to side. Suddenly, there came a great cracking noise, and the
carriage bounced high into the air before tipping over and landing hard on
its side.
Scarlett screamed again, this time in pain. She had landed very badly and
knew that her forearm was broken. She could hear the driver outside, also
shouting, and the horses whinnying wildly. After a few seconds, the
whinnying died away with the sound of disappearing hooves, and Scarlett
realized that the driver must have been able to somehow free the horses

216
from the twisted carriage. At least they had not been killed, and at least the
driver was fit enough to have been able to release them.
Scarlett, feeling hot and nauseous from the pain in her arm, rolled over to
look for Lucas. He was laying right behind her, and seem to have landed in a
horribly tangled looking fashion. Worse still, his eyes were closed, and a
good deal of blood had pooled where his head lay.
“Lucas?” Scarlett said, tremulously. “Lucas, can you hear me?” Scarlett
could not reach for him, for she was laying on her uninjured arm, and could
not reach out with her broken one. “Lucas. Please say you can hear me.
Please wake up, Lucas.” Scarlett began to cry. She looked at his face, and
then at his chest, to see if he was still breathing. With her vision clouded
with tears and the beads of cold sweat which were running down her
forehead, Scarlett could not see clearly enough to know if her fiancé was
still alive. At that moment, her heart pounding with fear and panic, she
screamed for the driver. Using her good arm, Scarlett managed to painfully
push herself up into a kneeling position and bent over Lucas.
“Lady Darlington?” the driver called from outside.
“We are in here, please help get us out. I cannot tell if the Duke is
unconscious or… or…” Scarlett could not finish.
“My Lady, I cannot drag the Duke out of the carriage. The door is up too
high, I shall need to get some help. I will need to get more men to get the
carriage turned upright again.”
“Oh, goodness, yes, I see,” Scarlett called back. In shock and in pain,
Scarlett had quite forgotten that the carriage was on its side and that there
was no way that Lucas could be raised up six feet to get him out through the
door. “But hurry, please hurry.”
“I shall, M’Lady. One of the horses has come back, so I shall ride him down
to Lavenham Hall. I should be there within ten minutes, and back within
another ten.” And with that, she heard the sound of hooves disappearing.
“Oh, Lucas, please be alive.” Scarlett reached out with her good arm to
stroke his face and cried even harder when she felt the wetness of his blood.
“You cannot die, Lucas. You’re the only man I have ever loved, and the only
man I will ever love. You cannot leave me my darling.”
Suddenly, there came a long and low groan from Lucas. He did not open his
eyes, nor move in any other way, but simply groaned.

217
“That’s right, my darling man. You keep fighting. Don’t you dare let go. I’m
with you, and I will always be with you.” Scarlett continued to stroke
Lucas’ face. “Just listen to my voice, Lucas. You don’t have to say anything,
just listen to my voice. And don’t stop listening. You must concentrate on
that and nothing else. Just the sound of my voice, my darling, for I shall not
leave your side. Not now, not ever.” Scarlett’s shoulders were heaving, and
she was fighting back the most choking of sobs.
“Don’t leave me, Lucas. Don’t ever leave me. I love you, I love you, I love
you.”

218
 CHAPTER 32

“
I ’m afraid he’s still unconscious, Lady Darlington, but all of
his vital signs are very good,” the doctor said, in the most
reassuring manner imaginable. “The Duke is as comfortable
as we can make him, My Lady, and it is simply a case of waiting for him to
regain consciousness. In the meantime, Lady Darlington, I really must reset
your arm.”
“Oh, but Doctor, if I could just go in and see…”
“I must insist, My Lady,” the doctor said, helplessly, before turning around
to look at the Dowager Duchess.
“Please, Scarlett, my dear. Lucas really is in the best of hands, and if he is
so deeply asleep, there is nothing you can do. I know that he would want
more than anything, for you to get the treatment that you need. That arm
really does look so very painful, my dear, and I have never seen anyone
look as pale as you look now. You truly are unwell, not to mention shocked.
Now please, do let the doctor see to your arm. Freya and I shall stay with
you throughout.”
“Oh, of course, Lady Lavenham. You really are so very kind.” Tears began
to roll down Scarlett’s face once more. She had been in pain for some
hours, so much so that it almost did not hurt anymore. She could almost live
with it. What she could not live with, however, was the fact that she had not
set eyes on her beloved since he had been carried upstairs to be treated by
the doctor. After all, she had told him to listen to her voice; that she would
never leave his side. The idea that she had done just that made Scarlett feel
as if her heart was breaking in two.

219
“Now then, Lady Darlington, you’re going to have to be brave,” the doctor
said, almost severely. “I’m afraid that this is going to be rather painful. You
see, I shall have to squeeze your arm very hard to be sure that I am pushing
the bones back correctly. However, I’m going to give you some morphine,
and it should very much lessen the pain. By the time it is working fully, it
will help you to sleep for a while.”
“Then I do not need the morphine, doctor. I do not want to sleep. I cannot
sleep,” Scarlett said desperately. “It already hurts, and I do not care. I do
not care if it hurts me even more, I can bear it. But I must stay awake, really,
I must. You see, I promised to keep talking, and if he cannot hear my voice,
then what is he to concentrate on?”
“But, My Lady.”
“No, no Doctor. When we were in the carriage, I told him I would not leave
his side until he was well again. I told him I would not stop talking, and that
he was to concentrate on my voice. But now I have not seen him, and not
been able to speak to him, for more than an hour. And I’m desperate to get
back to him. I swore I would not leave him.”
“Scarlett, would you feel easier if I ran upstairs and sat on his bed and told
him everything? I mean, told him that you shall be with him as soon as you
can and that the doctor is setting your arm and giving you morphine and
making you well again. Even if he is unconscious, I’m happy to sit there and
continually speak until you are able to be at his side again.” Tears were
running down Freya’s face, and the young girl looked truly devastated.
“Oh, Freya, you are simply the kindest girl. And of course, the both of you
must be so terribly worried. Oh, I should be most grateful, Freya. Just tell
him that I will be with him as soon as I can.”
“I shall do, my sister. But you must promise to do everything the doctor
says, including the morphine. I cannot bear to think of you in pain when it
can be avoided. Promise me.” Freya knelt in front of Scarlett, her hands on
Scarlett’s knees.
“I promise, Freya. I shall do as the doctor asks.”
Freya had disappeared up the stairs in no time, and the doctor quickly
administered the morphine and then set to work. As he manipulated
Scarlett’s arm, Lady Lavenham, who sat at her side, squeezed Scarlett’s
other hand tightly.

220
“Oh, how brave you are being, my dear little Scarlett,” the older woman
said, kindly.
“I’m so sorry about all of this, Lady Lavenham. Truly I am.”
“My dear girl, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Jane protested.
“Lady Lavenham, would you be so kind as to put an arm about Lady
Darlington’s waist and hold her very tightly?” the doctor interjected firmly.
“Yes, of course.” And Lady Jane Lavenham did as the doctor asked her. The
doctor then proceeded to pull and push painfully upon Scarlett’s arm, and
once he had finished, he bid the young housemaid, who was hovering
nervously, to assist him. Between them, they quickly wrapped Scarlett’s
damaged limb in plaster of Paris -soaked bandages.
“I must say, you truly are very brave. Not a cry out of you throughout the
whole thing, Scarlett. And I cannot believe that the morphine is working just
yet.” Jane said.
“No indeed, it will take a few minutes longer, Lady Lavenham,” the doctor
added, helpfully.
“I can barely feel it, Lady Lavenham,” Scarlett said, as if in a daze. “And
I’m so sorry. If only we hadn’t stopped to collect that holly. If we hadn’t, we
would have missed that dreadful herd of deer entirely. Oh, if only I hadn’t
insisted. Lucas is so terribly hurt, and it is all my fault.” Scarlett was
sobbing, heartbroken.
“For goodness sake, Scarlett!” Lady Lavenham said, briskly. “You cannot
live life in such a way. We, none of us, know what is going to happen next,
and you could not possibly have foreseen that a herd of deer would beset
your carriage. It was just an accident of nature, my dear girl. Whether or not
you were collecting holly makes little difference. Accidents of nature just
happen, and the circumstances on either side are simply coincidental. I will
not hear you upset yourself in such a way. I simply won’t.”
“But if only I wasn’t so obsessed with Christmas. If I could, I would
renounce it entirely if only this had never happened. I would never make
another decoration again if only I could turn back time and make everything
all right. Anything that would mean my dear Lucas would be unharmed.”
“There now, the plaster is drying very nicely, and very quickly. In a few
minutes, it will be dry enough for Lady Darlington to take some rest.

221
“Oh, Doctor, please, I do not want to take any rest.”
“But, my dear Scarlett, that morphine is beginning to work, and I can see it
in your face. And you do look so dreadfully tired, my dear. Freya is with
him, and I shall go along to see him myself shortly. But he will need you to
be well, for as soon as he is awake, you will need to nurse him. Now you
cannot do that if you make yourself ill. You need to be rested and strong,
Scarlett, really you do.”
“I shall do as you say, Lady Lavenham. And please forgive me, I am so
dreadfully at odds in my mind. I think this morphine is making me feel rather
confused and a little dizzy.”
“Perhaps it would be best if we get Lady Darlington to one of the bedrooms,
Lady Lavenham? Before she falls asleep,” the doctor said, before moving to
help Scarlett up to her feet.
“Yes, yes I shall sleep awhile. But if he wakes, do promise that you’ll come
for me.” Scarlett was slurring her words.
“Of course, we shall, my dear girl. But now, to bed.”

222
 CHAPTER 33

W hen Scarlett finally woke, it was already dark. She had no

sense of time, and could not tell if it was early evening or
the middle of the night. Everywhere seemed silent, and
Scarlett found herself most dreadfully unnerved by it. Slowly and cautiously
she rose to sit on the edge of the bed, and realized just how battered and
bruised she really was. Her arm ached horribly and felt so very heavy now
that the plaster of Paris cast had dried. Looking down, Scarlett could see
that she was in a nightgown and one that she did not remember changing
into. Presumably, somebody had helped her get ready for bed; one of the
maids, or perhaps even Lady Lavenham and Freya. They really had been so
very kind, especially in not blaming her for all that had happened. And yet,
Scarlett blamed herself. She blamed herself so dreadfully. If it had not been
for her silly, childish excitement for everything connected with Christmas,
she would never have begged that he stopped at Havencrest Cutting, and
they would have already been back in the safety and warmth of Lavenham
Hall long before the herd of deer had decided to charge.
Scarlett fought back the tears; they would do no good now. She needed to
find a dressing gown and go to Lucas’ room. More than anything in the
world, she needed to hear his voice. As much as the doctor had told her that
all his vital signs had been good, and he was simply unconscious, Scarlett
would not believe he was well until she had seen him with her own eyes.
Feeling on the bedside table, Scarlett found some matches and struck one to
light her candle. It seemed curious to her how very painful such a simple,
almost effortless little task seemed to be. As much as it was simply her
forearm which was broken, her fingers seemed to have no strength to grip
with whatsoever. Never having broken a bone before, Scarlett rather

223
wondered how long such things took to heal.
Now that she could see a little better, Scarlett looked around the neat and
pretty little guestroom in search of a dressing gown. How very kindly and
attentive Lady Lavenham was; a warm, thick dressing gown had been
draped over a chair for her. Scarlett struggled more than she could ever
have imagined to simply get both arms into the sleeves of the thick gown.
However, once it was on and she had belted it securely, Scarlett took her
candle and made her way out of her room.
Once out on the landing, Scarlett listened for any noise. Hearing nothing, she
rather gathered that it must surely be very late on indeed. Nonetheless, she
could see no impropriety in making her way to Lucas’ room to discover his
state of health. The only problem was, she did not know which room Lucas
was in. Slowly, Scarlett walked up and down the great corridors, pausing to
listen for any noise. Finally, she could hear movement from behind one of
the great doors and moved to stand closer to it for any indication of who
might be on the other side. After some moments, Scarlett heard nothing
more. Finally, unable to bear not knowing any longer, she tapped gently at
the door.
There was a shuffling on the other side before finally the door opened, and
Lady Lavenham appeared in her nightgown.
“Please do forgive me, Lady Lavenham. I have no idea what time it is and
have only just awoken. I really am most dreadfully worried, and I don’t
know which room Lucas is in. Please, is there anything you can tell me.”
Scarlett could feel herself getting emotional again.
“Do come in, Scarlett,” Jane said, reaching out to take Scarlett’s arm and
gently guide her into the room. “Sit down, my dear girl.”
“Lady Lavenham, I am most dreadfully worried. I’m quite frightened. Please
tell me, is Lucas all right?”
“He has awoken, my dear girl, and seems to be quite physically fit.”
“Oh, thank goodness. Thank the Lord! How very lucky we have been. How
very blessed. Tell me, is it very late? Is it too late for me to go and see
him?” Scarlett was breathless with joy and knew that she had never been so
relieved in all her life.
“You slept for some time, Scarlett, and I’m afraid it is a little after three
o’clock in the morning,” Lady Lavenham said and smiled kindly. However,

224
she did not appear to share Scarlett’s joy at the good news, and Scarlett felt
her stomach tighten a little as a result.
“There is something else that I must tell you.”
“Good heavens, what is it? Lady Lavenham, you seem so very serious.”
Scarlett’s voice was trembling. Lady Lavenham’s countenance told her most
precisely that there was bad news to come.
“It would appear that the injury to Lucas’ head has rather done something to
his memory,” Lady Lavenham began, and Scarlett studied her even more
closely. As she looked into the older woman’s face, Scarlett finally realized
that her eyes were rimmed with red, and the skin around them puffy. The
poor woman had been weeping, and weeping greatly.
“Done what to his memory, Lady Lavenham?” Scarlett asked, desperately.
“My dear Scarlett, it rather appears that Lucas has lost his memory. We
called the doctor back immediately, of course, and he said that it was
difficult to tell at this stage whether or not it was simply a temporary
reaction to the blow to his head, or if it is a permanent symptom.”
“But surely he remembers something. I mean, he remembers you and
Freya… and me…?”
“I’m afraid he does not, Scarlett.” Lady Lavenham’s eyes filled with tears.
“He does not even know who he is. And he does not know where he is. He
recognizes nothing of his room, none of his family, he had no idea that he
was a Duke... in truth, he remembers nothing at all.” And with that, tears
rolled down Lady Lavenham’s cheeks.
Scarlett was in tears also, but rather more of shock than grief. She had only
just found out, and for Scarlett, it was too early for real grief to set in.
Scarlett raced to Lady Lavenham and threw her good arm around her,
pulling her close.
“He will be all right, I promise he will. This won’t last. I’ll go in now and
see him, and I’ll explain it all out. Once I have, everything will be all right,
you will see. I’m sure he will remember me.”
“Oh, Scarlett. Freya and I have been trying for hours. And now he’s
exhausted, as are we. I think it is probably best, if only for Lucas’ sake, that
you wait until the morning before going in. And perhaps after he is well

225
rested, some of his memories might have come back. I really am so terribly
sorry to have to tell you this.”
“And I’m so terribly sorry that you and Freya have been through so much
while I slept the night away,” Scarlett said, guiltily.
“But you simply had to sleep, Scarlett. As I said to you before, you are
going to need your strength. And never more so than now, for you will need
to nurse him through this. I know it seems like an impossible suggestion, but
do try to get some more sleep. Go back to bed, and pray, and perhaps things
will be a little different come the morning.”
“I shall do as you say, Lady Lavenham. And I shall try to get some sleep, if
only for Lucas’ sake.” Scarlett, still very much in shock, gently kissed Lady
Lavenham’s cheek, before turning to leave the room.
“It will all work out, you’ll see,” Scarlett said, hopefully.
“Of course, it will, my dear girl.” Lady Lavenham tried to smile, but she
truly looked and sounded exhausted.

226
 CHAPTER 34

S carlett rose extremely early, and hurriedly washed and dressed

before making her way downstairs. She wanted to speak to the
kitchen staff before anyone took a tray up for Lucas. Scarlett
wanted to do that task herself and hovered in the breakfast room until a tray
had been prepared. Taking directions from one of the maids, for she still did
not know which room belonged to Lucas, Scarlett set off with the tray,
balanced on her good arm, as optimistically as she could.
On reaching his door, she knocked briskly and entered as soon as she heard
him call.
“Good morning,” Scarlett said, smiling brightly at him. She continued into
the room and put the tray down on a side table. “How do you feeling this
morning? How is your head?”
“It feels rather sore, I’m afraid. I believe my carriage crashed, and that I
bumped my head rather hard. It certainly feels that way, I must admit.” Lucas
gave a laugh but seemed somewhat unsure of himself.
“Are you ready for some breakfast?” Scarlett asked, still feeling bright.
Lucas seemed absolutely fine to her, almost in the peak of physical fitness,
but for a headache. Still, the doctor would undoubtedly have left something
for the pain.
“Oh… Yes, I am rather hungry. Thank you.” He gave her a light smile.
Scarlett struggled with one arm but eventually dropped the little legs of the
tray and awkwardly placed it across Lucas’ lap, ignoring the pain in her
arm. She lifted the lid from the platter to reveal the bacon, eggs, kidneys,

227
and buttered bread beneath.
“Shall I pour you a coffee?” Scarlett asked as Lucas began to tuck into the
huge plateful of breakfast items.
“Yes please, that’s terribly kind of you.” He was smiling gratefully at her.
“And sugar?” Scarlett was testing him, even though she felt sure she did not
need to.
“Yes please, two.” He carried on eating, and Scarlett’s heart jumped for joy.
Lucas always took two sugars in his coffee. She had known that he would be
fine, and would race along the corridor to tell Lady Lavenham the moment
Lucas had finished his breakfast. No doubt his mother and sister would be
keen to come and see him now that he would easily be able to remember
them.
“There you are, my dear,” Scarlett said as she stirred the sugars into his
coffee cup. “And I really am so terribly sorry about badgering you to stop so
that I could collect holly. Really, if I had not done such a thing, we would
have entirely missed that charging herd of deer, and none of this would have
happened.”
“Holly?” Lucas looked at her, somewhat confused.
“Oh, I see. You don’t remember anything about the accident? We had
stopped so that I could collect some holly with nice berries on it.”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember anything about it,” Lucas said, quite flatly.
“In truth, that is probably the best thing. It really was quite awful when the
carriage bumped across the field, and worse still when it seemed to lift up
and turn over. It really was the most awful noise, not to mention the most
awful shock.”
“I’m sure it was. So, you were in the crash with me?”
“I certainly was, my darling.”
“And that is how you have hurt your arm?”
“Yes, my arm was broken in the accident. I landed on it rather badly. But
still, I shall mend,” Scarlett said, brightly.
“But did you really ought to be carrying breakfast trays with a broken arm?”

228
he asked, looking a little concerned.
“I daresay I should not, and I shan’t make a habit of it. I just wanted to be
the person to bring your breakfast this morning. I really did have a most
peculiar night’s sleep and was so dreadfully worried when your mother told
me about the memory issues. Anyway, I worried myself for the rest of the
evening and slept most fitfully. I simply had to come in here first thing and
see you with my own eyes.” Scarlett reached out across the bed covers and
took Lucas’ hand in hers. She held it tightly for a moment, before looking up
into his eyes. The look on Lucas’ face almost made Scarlett let go of his
hand. Not only did he looked confused, but he looked most dreadfully
uncomfortable.
“Lucas?” Scarlett said, a sudden fear creeping over her. “Lucas, you do
know who I am, don’t you?” Her voice was so quiet; Scarlett knew she was
asking a question that she almost did not want to hear the answer to.
“No, I’m afraid I do not know you.”
Her voice broke a little. “I truly thought that you knew me. Forgive me…
I…” And with that, she let go of his hand. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to make
you uncomfortable,” she said, in a choked and hurried fashion.
“I’m not uncomfortable with you, I just don’t know who you are. I’m terribly
sorry. I upset the other ladies as well when they came in to see me. So,
please do tell me, who are we to one another?”
“Oh, Lucas.” Tears were pouring down Scarlett’s face. “My name is
Scarlett Darlington, and I am your fiancé.” Scarlett wanted more than
anything to throw herself into his arms and have him comfort her. However,
she knew she would find no comfort there, for Lucas was not in a position to
give it. Lucas could no longer remember who she was, and could no longer
remember loving her. Scarlett was heartbroken that she could no longer go
to the person she loved most in the world for reassurance. Lucas could give
her nothing.
“Miss Darlington,” he began, cautiously. “Scarlett. Please forgive me. I can
see that you are most dreadfully upset, and I truly wish there was something
I could do about it.”
“Oh Lucas, that is so very like you to put others first. Here you are, having
lost your memory entirely, and your first concern is me,” Scarlett said,
sadly. “But what of you? The experience of forgetting oneself entirely must

229
be a truly dreadful one. Please believe me when I tell you that I am very
sorry for that. If only I had not been….”
“Collecting holly. Yes, you said. What were you collecting holly for?”
Lucas seemed strangely curious.
“I was making the decorations for Christmas. Garlands and wreaths and
what have you.”
“You make your own? You must very much like Christmas, Miss
Darlington.” Lucas smiled at her, clearly trying to soothe her sadness a
little.
“I adore Christmas. At least, I used to adore Christmas.”
“And you said that we are engaged?” Lucas said, with even more caution.
“Yes, we are engaged.” Scarlett gave him a watery smile.
“And had we set a date? When were we to be married?”
Scarlett stifled a sob. Surely Lucas had not meant to say when were we to be
married? That rather made it sound as if they would now never be married
at all, as if it was somehow in another life, a life that was no longer
accessible or relevant. Or perhaps it was a simple slip of the tongue, after
all, the poor man could not even remember who he was.
“Oh, that really isn’t anything for you to worry about,” Scarlett said,
reassuringly. “You must simply concentrate on getting your strength back.
That is all that is important.”
“So, there is no date?” He seemed somewhat relieved.
“No, there is no date.”
Scarlett busied herself with tidying away his breakfast things neatly onto the
tray. Her arm was aching horribly, and she truly did not think that she would
be able to carry the tray back downstairs again. Instead, she carefully and
slowly moved it to the side table and left it there.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave that there for a moment, Lucas,
because my arm aches a little. But I shall send up one of the maids to come
and collect it in a while if that is all right?”
“Of course, it is. And thank you again for bringing me some breakfast. I truly

230
was very hungry.” He smiled at her, so sweetly that she was reminded of
just how happy they had been not twenty-four hours beforehand. Once again,
Scarlett felt herself close to tears but wanted more than anything to hide
them from Lucas. He was already going through enough, and any tears on her
part would simply add pressure to him. In the same way that she had lied
about their wedding day, Scarlett very much intended to hide her own
feelings. She knew, in the end, that open displays of emotion would do no
good. How could they? Lucas did not know who she was, and her tears,
although she was sure he would be sorry for them, would truly mean very
little to him. They certainly wouldn’t help. Rather they would just put Lucas
in the awful position of desperately trying to remember a life that he simply
could not call to mind. However much he had forgotten her, Scarlett had not
forgotten him, and she loved him more than anyone in the world. Scarlett
would never do anything to hurt him, even if he never recognized her again.
With as bright a smile as she could manage, Scarlett excused herself with a
promise that somebody would be along to collect the tray shortly, and that
she herself would be returning before too long.
The moment she had closed the door of Lucas’ bedroom, Scarlett ran as fast
as she could to the guest room she had stayed in. Racing in through the door,
she hurried over to the bed and dropped down onto it. Putting her face into
the pillow, Scarlett did what she could to muffle the heart ripping sobs
which had been trying so hard to burst free from her. Though she knew she
should be happy that they had both survived, she could not help but mourn
the death of her marriage and of her love.

SCARLETT HAD CRIED SO LOUDLY that she did not hear Lady Lavenham enter the
room. In fact, she was not aware of the older woman’s presence until she sat
down on the bed beside her. Scarlett broke off her sobbing for a moment and
turned to look at the Dowager Duchess.
“Oh, Scarlett.” she said, reaching out a hand and gently stroking her hair.
“Please forgive me, Lady Lavenham.” Scarlett’s voice was thick with
emotion and her face bloated from the grief and pain of her tears. “I just
didn’t want him to see.”
“You brave girl. You held it all in until you could get away and cry in
private. I know for I have done the same thing.”

231
“It cannot help, can it? For Lucas to see us cry will only put stress upon him
to try to find memories he simply cannot remember.”
“I believe the very same thing, Scarlett. And who knows, with gentle care
and constant attention, there’s as much chance that Lucas will remember
himself as not. We cannot give up hope, Scarlett. I know it’s early, and you
are in shock, but you really mustn’t give up hope. We will pray and hope,
and this will be what keeps us all going, Lucas included.”
“He didn’t remember a thing, Lady Lavenham. At first, I thought he knew
me. I chatted away, and he smiled his little smile as he always does, and I
truly thought he was well.”
“Oh, Scarlett.”
“But then he could not remember anything of the accident. He did not know
anything about stopping so I might gather holly. And then I realized that he
did not know me at all.” Scarlett tried to sit up, but absentmindedly took her
weight on her broken arm. She cried out with pain. “Oh, if only I had not
made him stop.” Having fallen back down onto the pillows, Scarlett cried
again in earnest.
“As I told you yesterday, child, you cannot blame yourself for this. These
are the simple twists and turns of fate and, as shocking and as cruel as they
are, we can never avoid them if they are meant for us.”
“But what if I hadn’t stopped? We would have avoided it all.”
“But life is not like that, Scarlett. None of us can ever know what is coming
next and in any given situation the what ifs are there only to taunt us. In truth,
they cannot really exist, or else life could never be lived.” Lady Lavenham
smiled weakly and patted Scarlett’s good arm. “Life could never be lived,
Scarlett.” She repeated. “And holly could not be collected, and Christmas
could not be celebrated, and marriages could not take place. Do you see?”
“I do, truly I do. But I shall never celebrate Christmas again for as long as I
live. I could hate myself for being so head over heels in love with
Christmas, and for being so childishly excited by it all.”
“Oh no, you cannot do that.” Suddenly, Lady Lavenham spoke with
vehemence.
“But I….”

232
“I am quite serious, Scarlett. You must not try to change yourself, not now.”
Her tone softened a little. “You see, Lucas fell in love with the young
woman who was childishly excited by Christmas, and he worked so hard to
arrange so many wonderful events. Lucas has always loved Christmas, and
he will love it again.”
“But surely we cannot go ahead with everything now?”
“We must, Scarlett. Everything must go on as it was going to.”
“You mean, life goes on?” Scarlett asked, doubtfully.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Everything you do will have to remind Lucas,
very gently, who he really is. Lucas has always adored Christmas, and
always begs for more exciting things to happen here at Lavenham Hall.
When first he met you, even in the summer, all he could talk of was
Christmas and all the wonderful things we ought to be doing. Don’t you see,
it is the only hope we have of getting Lucas to find himself again? If
everything were to suddenly change, he wouldn’t be coming back to himself,
but rather to somebody else. Oh, please, Scarlett, you must see what I’m
saying is true.”
“Yes, I do see, Lady Lavenham. But it will be so hard to celebrate
Christmas now.”
“I know, Scarlett. Last year we didn’t celebrate at all, having just lost my
husband, but this is very different. I had no chance of getting my husband
back last year, but we have every chance of getting Lucas back. Everything
must go ahead just exactly as you have planned it. They were not only your
plans but Lucas’ also. Perhaps this is just the silliness of a mother or wishful
thinking, but what else is there to try?”
“You are absolutely right, Lady Lavenham.” Finally, using her good arm to
lever herself up, Scarlett rose to sitting. “I’m going to have to toughen up a
good deal because Lucas needs me.” Scarlett dried her eyes in a rough and
determined manner on a crisp white handkerchief. “And I’m going to
continue with everything just as it was, and include Lucas in it every step of
the way. You’re right, there is nothing else to try.”
“That’s my brave girl.” Lady Lavenham said, reaching out to embrace her.
"What a good day it was for this family when you met my dear boy. If
anyone has the fortitude and energy to cope with the situation, Scarlett, it is
you.”

233
“Right, I’m going to wash my face, take a little breakfast, and write a letter
to my parents to have my things sent over. Might I stay here for the duration,
Lady Lavenham? Might I keep to this room?”
“Of course, you may.” Lady Lavenham looked entirely relieved.
“Maybe I shall send one of the servants off to ask the doctor to make another
call? It wouldn’t hurt to have him check on Lucas’ progress. After all, he
might be able to give us some more information now that Lucas has slept
and is rested.”
“Indeed, that is a wonderful idea. And I shall help you through it all,
Scarlett. If there’s one thing you have taught me, it is that activity and
purpose rather keep one going.”
“Thank you for reminding me, Lady Lavenham.” Scarlett rose to her feet.
“Now, I really must get on with things. We have such a lot to do.” With that,
she strode across the room to where the jug and basin still stood, all set to
wash her face and get started.

234
 CHAPTER 35

“
A nd you’re sure you feel well enough to come downstairs for a
while?” Scarlett was perched on the edge of Lucas’ bed, looking
at him with some concern.
“I have felt well enough to come downstairs for many days now, Miss
Darlington.” He smiled at her warmly. “And have only kept to this bed
because you have insisted upon it.”
“Would you mind very much calling me Scarlett?” she asked, rather
suddenly.
“No, not at all, Scarlett, if you wish it.”
“And you do not mind me continuing to call you Lucas? You see, for me, it
would feel rather odd to address you as Duke.”
“It would feel rather odd for me also, Scarlett, since I do not remember
being a Duke.” His amiable smile reminded her of the first day they had
spoken. He had smiled at her in exactly the same open and guileless way in
Lady Clarkin’s drawing-room. Scarlett had to chew on her bottom lip for a
moment to remind herself that she was resolved not to be emotional in front
of him.
“If you feel unwell at any time, though, you really must say, and I shall see to
it that you are brought back up,” Scarlett said, earnestly.
“I’m sure I shall be quite well. And in any case, I’m rather bored in this
bedroom of mine. I should very much like to see this theatrical that you have
been talking about non-stop for the last three days.” He smiled at her, a little
teasingly.

235
Once again, there seemed no distance between them. For just a few seconds,
she was transported back in time, and it seemed that he had his memories
back. Knowing it was not true, a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed
it down. “You’re teasing me,” she managed, with a little smile.
“I’m sorry, do you mind very much?”
“I do not mind it at all, Lucas, for you have always teased me about my
Christmas excitement.”
“Well, that is a good thing, is it not? You know, for one to remember one’s
own traits must be a good thing,” he said, the last almost as much to himself
as to Scarlett.
“I think it is a very good thing, Lucas.” Scarlett was really pleased, but she
was not keen to put any pressure on him whatsoever. “So, I shall have your
valet sent up to help you dress, and perhaps you’d be ready to come down in
an hour?” She raised her eyebrows hopefully.
“Oh yes, I think I can manage that. Anyway, what is this little play all about
again?” He smiled at her.
“It is a murder mystery, Lucas, as I have already told you.” Scarlett began to
laugh, knowing that he was teasing her again.
“I must say, Scarlett, that doesn’t seem so terribly festive.” He raised an
eyebrow and treated her to a wonderfully mischievous grin. He really was
so very handsome, and Scarlett was reminded of those initial feelings of
excitement when she had first recognized his interest in her, and her interest
in him.
“Well, it is set at a Christmas dinner party! So, you see, it is extremely
festive,” Scarlett said, enthusiastically. “And I so wanted something with a
bit of excitement for the servants to enjoy.”
“I cannot help but get the feeling that this little theatrical of yours is very
much more for the servants than it is for the rest of us.” Lucas seemed
genuinely interested.
“In truth, it is, Lucas. It is something that I’ve always done in my own home,
and very much wanted the servants to enjoy it above everyone else. It is
simply a Christmas treat, and one I very much enjoy giving.”
“What a wonderful way to treat servants. And how your own must be

236
missing you dreadfully.” He laughed. “Shall your family not need you at all
this Christmas?” He seemed suddenly genuinely concerned.
“My family has had me for the previous twenty-one Christmases, Lucas, and
they are perfectly at ease with the idea of me being here. Of course, they
send you their very best wishes.” Fighting against a sad countenance,
Scarlett smiled broadly at him.
“That’s terribly kind of them. I can see now where you get your generous
disposition.” He began to laugh. “Tell me, where do you get that fiery red
hair from, though?”
“From my father’s mother,” Scarlett said, with a self-conscious laugh. “Do
you not like it?”
“On the contrary, it’s like a wonderful shimmering red… halo…” Lucas
seemed suddenly distant.
“Are you all right?” Scarlett asked as her hand reached for her chest as his
eyes seemed to glaze.
“Oh yes; yes, of course.” Lucas shook his head rather vigorously from side
to side, almost as if to snap himself out of it. “Indeed I am perfectly all right,
thank you, Scarlett.” Suddenly, he seemed completely settled again. “So, just
remind me. What is my valet’s name, and do I get on well with him?”
“His name is Shaw,” Scarlett said with a laugh at Lucas’ humorous manner.
“And you get on exceedingly well with him.”
“Oh, splendid. I must say, I’m rather looking forward to being dressed.
Laying a-bed all day seems to get on my nerves.”
“Then I shall waste no more time, and have Shaw sent up immediately.”

LUCAS WAS DRESSED and ready long before his hour was up, and decided to
make his own way down the stairs to see what was happening. Without a
clue what to expect, he left his bedroom and walked along the corridor until
he found the staircase. As he stood at the top and looked down, Lucas felt a
tiny frisson of familiarity. For some moments, he stood stock still, hoping
that it would develop into something more. However, the feeling was like
smoke in a breeze. It disappeared before he could catch hold of it and left

237
him somewhat frustrated. With a heavy sigh, he made his way down the
stairs.
Of course, it had not been the first frisson of familiarity he had felt that day.
There really was something about Scarlett’s hair, although he rather
suspected it was largely due to its deep and unusual hue. But there was
something in what he’d said. A wonderful, shimmering red Halo. Surely he
had never spoken those words before, for there was no sign of recognition
whatsoever on Scarlett’s face. Yet the words seemed familiar somehow and
had affected him deeply. Perhaps he had thought them at some stage?
The staircase took him directly into the great entrance hall, and again he
stood for some moments, hoping to recognize something... anything. When he
did not, Lucas simply followed a general hubbub of noise, until he walked
into the great hall. He was so early that none of the guests had yet arrived; at
least he didn’t think they had. There was simply some curiously dressed
people at the very far end of the hall, fussing about on a makeshift stage.
They were moving props and rehearsing lines and were so engrossed that
they paid him no heed. Lucas walked further into the hall. There were two
young men lining up countless seats, presumably ready for the evening’s
audience. As Lucas approached, they both looked up, and hurriedly rose to a
stand.
“Good evening,” Lucas said to them, not knowing what else to say. He felt
sure that they knew him.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” Both spoke at the same time.
“Forgive me, but do you both work here?” Lucas asked, keen to discover if
he really did know the men or not. In truth, being addressed as Your Grace
did not seem too terribly unusual to him.
“Indeed we do, Your Grace. My name is Harry Bates, and I am one of your
footmen, as is John Benson here.” The man inclined his head towards his
companion. “I have worked here at the hall for ten years, and John has been
here even longer.” The man smiled at him somewhat sadly.
“Please do forgive me for not remembering you, but I’m sure I shall in
time.”
“Have no fear, Your Grace. It will all come back to you soon.” The second
man, John Benson, gave him a great smile of encouragement.
“I thank you. And let’s hope so, otherwise, I shall have a great long list of

238
names to learn from scratch, will I not?” Lucas said with a smile and, as he
laughed, the two men gratefully joined him. They seemed suddenly at their
ease, almost as if it was quite a normal thing for them to spend a few light-
hearted moments with their master. With a nod, Lucas released them back to
their work and continued to wander about the great hall.
Other servants were to-ing and fro-ing with great platters of food for the
evening’s festivities. Lucas made his way over and had small conversations
with as many of them as he could. He was suddenly keen to see if he could
regain that curious feeling of familiarity that he had felt at the top of the
stairs. Unfortunately, nothing would come to him. However, the servants all
seemed extremely pleasant. Each and every one of them was excited to be
getting themselves ready for the evening’s festivities once all the food had
been laid out, and everything was done.
Once the servants had disappeared, Lucas rather sneakily helped himself to
a small handful of pastry treats, popping two of them into his mouth at once
as he wandered away to the back of the hall.
“I say, you’re down already.” Suddenly, Scarlett appeared.
Lucas’ eyes widened. Scarlett looked absolutely beautiful.
She was wearing an emerald green gown which fitted her to perfection. Its
short sleeves puffed prettily at the shoulder, and she wore just one long
white glove, her injured arm still being encased in plaster. Oddly, the great
cast did nothing to diminish the beauty of her outfit. The dress suited her red
hair perfectly and made her blue-green eyes sparkle. Her wonderful
shimmering red halo of hair had been expertly piled up onto her head, with a
waterfall of ringlets framing her face.
“I say, it didn’t take you long to get ready,” Lucas said, in open admiration
and through a great mouthful of pastry.
“I thank you, Lucas.” Scarlett was laughing. “And I can see you have
already been picking at the treats.”
“I’m afraid I have.” Lucas held out a hand, showing her the remaining
pastries in his palm. “It’s just that I was alone at the table, with nobody to
see me, and it was suddenly just too irresistible.”
“Oh, Lucas, that is so very like you.” Suddenly, her eyes were shining with
tears.

239
“I say, are you all right?” he asked, and instinctively took a step towards
her.
“Oh, please forgive me, Lucas. Your silliness rather caught me off-guard,
and I have missed it dreadfully.” Scarlett sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.
“I do not like to see such a beautiful woman in tears.” Lucas stepped closer
still and reached out to take her hand. They had not touched since she had let
go of his hand that first morning after the accident, and he was pleased that
she did not shy away from him. “And I should especially not like to see you
cry on my account. I should feel too guilty.” He gave a little smile and
watched as she blinked back the tears. “Here, you may have one of my
stolen treats, if that makes you feel any better.” He held out his palm, and
Scarlett automatically took one of the small pastries.
“Oh, Lucas!” she said, with a brave smile before popping the tiny pastry
into her mouth. “I think we’re going to have a wonderful evening.”
As Scarlett busied herself with final preparations, Lucas took a seat in one
of the many rows and contented himself by staring at her. He could not help
but think her so terribly brave. The way she had stoically choked back her
emotion, smiled, and got on with it all, really rather impressed him. The fact
that everything must be so very sad for her was not lost on him, and Lucas
had given it very much thought over the preceding days. How hard it must be
to love somebody who cannot remember you. And yet, ever since he had
exclaimed upon her hair, he had not been able to look at it without that same
curious feeling of familiarity. He wanted to tell her about it immediately and
do something to give this bright young girl some hope for the future. But
something inside him held him back. What if he never got beyond the
recognition of that shimmering red halo? Surely to tempt her with that much
might well be cruel rather than kind in the end.
And there was not just Scarlett to think of. The aging lady who was, indeed,
his mother, seemed sad enough to almost dissolve before his very eyes. As
much as she tried to hide her pain, she had not been able to manage it quite
so well as Scarlett had. And the young girl, Freya, who was, of course, his
sister, was simply far too young for any attempt at concealing her emotions.
When they had been alone, more than once, the girl had broken down.
However, she had begged that he would tell neither Scarlett nor their
mother, for she had been sworn not to put any stress upon him, and
persuaded to maintain a cheerful disposition.

240
Lucas had promised faithfully not to give Freya away, and they seemed to
have developed a certain bond between the two of them. Even if he never
remembered his family and fiancé, at least he found them all so very
pleasant and caring. Without his memories, this whole affair could only truly
be painful to the ones who remembered everything. For Lucas, the greatest
emotions were frustration and a little fear that he might never know who he
truly was. But there was no real sadness, despite his compassion for the
three women who seemed to care for him so very greatly. He simply could
not remember what he had once felt for them.

241
 CHAPTER 36

“
S carlett, will you dance with me?” Lucas asked, with a broad
smile.
“Yes, I should be very pleased to dance with you, Lucas,” Scarlett said, a
little nervously. “But shall you remember the steps?”
“I had rather wondered that myself, Scarlett, but I have run through it in my
mind and think I can remember it perfectly well. It’s rather odd, isn’t it? I
mean, I recognize this music without trying. I know how many sugars I take
in my coffee. I know which foods I like and do not like. I remember how to
dance, and yet I cannot remember who I am.” He stood for a moment
shaking his head, almost in wonder.
“Of course, the doctor said that is quite normal. When a person loses their
memories of who they are, and the identities of those around them, they quite
often remember very run-of-the-mill things. I didn’t truly understand it all,
but the doctor said that those sorts of memories are rather stored in a
different part of the brain,” Scarlett said, trying to be helpful without letting
emotion creep into her voice. As much as she had enjoyed his company, and
as hard as he had tried, still she felt so terribly sad. Curiously, it seemed
that Lucas was growing ever more attracted to her. In some ways, it gave
her comfort to know that they were still so very well suited, and in others, it
reminded her all too keenly of what she had lost. The shared memories that
they would never get back. And he had not once asked about the date for
their wedding, nor mentioned marriage but once. Of course, Scarlett knew
that she could not expect it.
“I say, that makes sense. I suppose it would all be rather interesting if it was
not quite so very frustrating.” He held out an arm to lead her to the dance

242
floor. “Not to mention terribly painful for those around me,” he added,
quietly.
As they danced, Scarlett truly felt that nothing had changed. She had long
ago learned every nuance of his dancing skills and felt every one of them in
evidence. She was almost grateful for a while that they could not speak, and
she could simply nurse the fantasy that her Lucas was back and that they
would always be happy. They were enjoying the Christmas ball, just as they
had planned it, and were two young lovers looking forward to their
Christmas wedding.
“I must say, Scarlett, that gown suits you very well. And your hair looks
awfully pretty,” Lucas said when they rejoined each other at the head of two
lines of dancers.
“Thank you, Lucas.” She smiled at him.
“I rather think that, if we had been meeting for the first time, I should very
much be trying to impress you, in the hope that you would allow me to court
you,” he said, his eyebrows raised and a hopeful little grin on his face.
“That’s very nice of you.” Scarlett found herself smiling up at him.
“I wasn’t really intending to be nice, Scarlett, rather I was being honest. I’m
so sorry that I cannot remember you, but I must tell you that I do like you
very well indeed.
“And I like you very well indeed, Lucas,” she replied, a little sadly.
“You like me? But surely you know me well enough to love me, do you
not?” Lucas seemed a little confused.
“Lucas, it is very difficult for me to talk about. I should not like to become
emotional here, and I have tried my hardest not to put any pressure on you.”
Scarlett could feel her heart breaking. Though it should be nice to know that
he wanted to court her again it was not. In fact, it was a form of torture for it
only showed how much had been lost. Would her Lucas ever return?
“I know you have tried to keep things from me, Scarlett, and it is
commendable. But it is truly not necessary. If you are sad, then you are sad.
And if you love the man I used to be but not the man I am now, then I shall
simply have to accept that.
“Oh, Lucas, you will get back to yourself, you see if you don’t,” Scarlett

243
said, with forced gaiety.
“And if I don’t?” He was searching her face intently.
“Lucas, please do not say that. I really am trying so very hard.”
“Forgive me, Scarlett. I sometimes forget that this is so much more of a
strain on you than it is on me. After all, I rather think it is the hardest to be
the person who still has all of the memories.”
“And I thank you for your understanding. We shall get through this, Lucas.”
And once again she smiled brightly.
“And I must say, I’m very much enjoying the Christmas ball,” Lucas said,
deciding that he had already pushed her too far and tactfully changing the
subject. “Perhaps even a little better than I enjoyed the theatricals.”
“Oh, I very much liked the theatricals. It was a very good mystery, was it
not?” Scarlett smiled, seemingly relieved.
“I very much enjoyed the mystery, but I’m rather afraid I had worked out
who the villain was at only halfway through.” He gave her a comically self-
satisfied smile.
“You did not, Lucas,” Scarlett said and laughed heartily. At that moment, the
cloud seemed to have been lifted from her eyes.
“I assure you I did, Scarlett,” Lucas was laughing too. “I think it was the
actor himself who gave it away. Didn’t you find him rather shifty?”
“Shifty?” And once again, Scarlett laughed loudly.

AS THE EVENING drew to a close, Lucas found himself very much alone. It had
been decided by his mother and Scarlett, and heartily agreed with by
himself, that Scarlett and Lady Lavenham should do the meeting and
greeting, not to mention the farewells and good nights. After all, they all
agreed that it would be rather too much of a strain not only on the Duke
himself but on his guests, to have so much confusion and awkwardness at the
start and end of the evening. For his part, Lucas felt greatly relieved and
rather wondered if his old self found such duties a chore.
If indeed, his old self, had felt that way, then his old self would be delighted

244
with his new status. It seemed very much to Lucas that the vast majority of
his guests felt so awkward they did not even make eye contact with him. He
had spent the entire evening being largely ignored and stared at all at the
same time. It was rather a curious feeling and one that he felt sure he did not
like. Of course, he could not blame his guests for the terribly unusual set of
circumstances they all found themselves in. And perhaps he would not have
been so pleased had any of his guests made an attempt to speak to him. In
truth, he rather wondered that he could not be pleased in either direction
upon that particular question.
For some reason, Lucas found himself ending the evening with far lower
spirits than he had started it with. In part, he thought it might well be the fact
that he did not know any of his guests, but predominantly, he knew it was
Scarlett.
Lucas knew that he was beginning to fall for her, and he liked her very
much. There was something about her spirit which seemed almost
unbreakable, and yet she was sensitive at the same time. The way she had
carried on had really impressed him. Lucas felt certain that the Christmas
events had gone ahead more for his sake than anything else, and yet she had
thrown herself into all of the organization. If that was the sort of spirit she
had when her heart was breaking, what was she like when all was well?
What a joy it must be to have such a woman in one’s life. And yet, he could
not quite forget the look on her face when he had asked her, albeit in a
roundabout way, if she still loved him. Of course, he did not yet know her
well enough to love her deeply, but rather felt sure that he would in time.
And he certainly had fallen for her enough that the idea that she could not
love the man he was now had rather dragged him down. Perhaps he was
asking too much, after all. Perhaps he, in his current persona, was as much a
stranger to her as she was to him.
Lucas could not help but wonder what would happen if he never regained
his memories. Would Scarlett simply drift away out of his life, heartbroken,
but resigned to the fact that the man she had loved was no longer there? In
truth, he could not expect her to simply stay on at Lavenham Hall and fuss
around him forever. If only he could appeal to her now. If only he could find
some way to make himself attractive to her again. If only he knew how to be
the man she had once loved.

245
 CHAPTER 37

“
I must say, this is all such a terribly good idea,” Lucas said as
he and Freya made their way to the back of the town’s
assembly rooms to check on the progress of the Christmas
meal for the poor.
“Well, it was your idea, Lucas,” Freya said, smiling.
Lucas rather liked the fact that his young sister was not yet experienced
enough to be tactful. In her youthful exuberance, she had simply expected
him to remember his desire to do something for the poor of the town on
Christmas Eve. As much as he could not remember it, he found something in
her air rather refreshing. Freya did not spend as much time concerning
herself with saying the right thing and, as a result, their friendship had come
on in leaps and bounds.
“Well, if it was my idea, then I must say I am most terribly clever. It rather
strikes me as awfully efficient.” And once again, he was assailed by a
sudden feeling of familiarity. It was much better to arrange one great
Christmas dinner for the poor than try to visit them one by one. It was
effective. It was efficient. It was familiar.
“I’m awfully pleased that you’re just as silly as the new Lucas as you were
as the old Lucas,” Freya said, and laughed.
Lucas smiled at the adaptability of youth and felt very glad to be in its
company.
“And do you like the new Lucas?” he asked, without really meaning to.
“I love you, Lucas. Whether you are the new Lucas or the old Lucas, you are

246
still Lucas. You are my brother, and you always shall be.” And suddenly, the
young girl flung herself at him.
“And I love you too, Freya. It rather strikes me that a fellow couldn’t have a
better little sister than I have,” he said, curiously fighting emotion as he
returned her embrace. Did he know this little girl?
“Well, our guests will be arriving shortly, Lucas. I suppose we ought to see
if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“How very nice of you to help me, Freya. I should not have managed at all
without you.”
“Well, I was always going to be helping you. Right from the very first, you
were very keen for me to help. We had been arranging it together, you see,
and so I was always going to be here with you today.”
“And Scarlett was not?” He seemed a little confused. It was the first of the
Christmas events that Scarlett had not been by his side.
“That’s right, it was always going to be you and I this afternoon. Scarlett is
back at Lavenham Hall making things ready for our Christmas Eve
celebration.”
“And that is just for the four of us, is it not?” Lucas said, trying to get
everything straight in his mind.
“Indeed it is. Scarlett has a rather wonderful meal planned, and she is
making up some fresh Christmas garlands for the table.”
“So, she was always going to be busy then. She hasn’t abandoned me?”
“Oh, Lucas, of course, she has not abandoned you. Scarlett loves you so
very much,” Freya said, her little eyes filling with tears.
“Oh, my dear Freya... Scarlett loves Lucas. It is perhaps not quite so simple
for a fiancé to love as unreservedly as a sister.”
“Lucas, you look most terribly sad. Have you fallen in love with her again?”
Freya smiled, a certain hope in her face.
“I rather have fallen in love with her, Freya. But it is my biggest fear that
she shall not feel the same way about me. After all, I’m not the same man,
am I?”

247
“Yes, you are, Lucas. You are caring and handsome, bright and funny,
ridiculous and excitable; you are Lucas, plain and simple. Those are all the
reasons Scarlett fell in love with you in the first place, and I know in my
heart that has not changed.”
“My dear, Freya, I do hope you are right. You see, I get the feeling that I
should like to marry her one day, and I would hope that she feels the same.”
“Of course she does, but perhaps just not tomorrow,” Freya said, with a
happy laugh. She was clearly pleased at the idea of her brother and Scarlett
remaining in love, despite the loss of memories.
“Yes indeed! I can’t begin to imagine that Scarlett would marry me on
Christmas Day. She has far too many other Christmas activities to perform.”
Lucas laughed heartily. Scarlett really did seem to have a thing about
Christmas.
“Of course, she was going to marry you on Christmas Day, Lucas. That was
all part of it. She even said to me that it was going to be the best of all
Christmas events, and that is surely saying something coming from Scarlett
Darlington.”
“Christmas Day?” Lucas was suddenly confused. “What? You mean she was
going to marry me on Christmas Day?”
“Oh, goodness me, I have let my tongue run away with me.” Freya’s cheeks
suddenly blazed red, and she was so distressed that he could do no other
than gather her to him.
“Freya, please, do not upset yourself.”
“I cannot help it. Please do not tell Mama or Scarlett what I have told you,
for I promised faithfully I would not say it. You see, they did not want to put
you under any pressure, or make you think that you would have to marry
tomorrow, in case you thought you should carry it through from duty. Oh
dear, I have let myself down. I have let everybody down.” Freya began to
cry.
“You have not let anybody down, Freya. I’m glad that you have told me, for
I would have wanted to know.” He gently stroked her back.
“But don’t be angry with Mama and Scarlett. They have only done what they
thought was best.”

248
“Freya, I am not angry with anybody. The three of you have worked so hard
to help me remember, despite the fact that you have all been heartbroken
over it all. I could not ask for a better family than the one I have, even if I
don’t yet know them as well as I would like to.”
“Oh, goodness me, I can hear people coming. We’re going to have to get on
with it now, Lucas,” Freya said, pulling away from him and hurriedly drying
her eyes.
“Then let’s have a wonderful afternoon, Freya. There is nothing for you to
be upset about, and nothing for you to be sorry about. You don’t need to
worry for another moment about any of it, do you understand?” Lucas took
her firmly by the shoulders.
“I understand, Lucas. And thank you for your understanding.”

249
 CHAPTER 38

B y the time Freya and Lucas had returned to Lavenham Hall, it

was already growing dark. Dinner would not be served for
another three hours, and Lucas decided that he would benefit
from half an hour’s peace and quiet. He made his way immediately to his
room and lay down on his bed to stare at the ceiling. He could hardly
believe that he was supposed to be married the following day. Even though
he could not remember it all, still he felt a sense of dreadful loss. He truly
felt as if something had been stolen from him, and he very much wanted it
back.
In truth, Lucas could entirely understand why it had been that his mother and
Scarlett had kept the information from him. What good could it have done
him to know the truth of it in these last few weeks when he could not
remember a single thing? And at the same time, how he wished he had
known. He would have petitioned Scarlett to go ahead with it all. To throw
caution to the wind and marry him anyway, for he truly loved her.
There came a light knock at the door, and Lucas hurriedly rose to a sitting
position. He was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Scarlett who was
visiting him and beckoned her into the room.
“How did it go this afternoon, Lucas?” Scarlett asked, looking a little
concerned.
“It all went off very well indeed, Scarlett. Freya was an absolute rock.
Really, that such a young girl can be so very organized. If I had not had her
with me, I should not have managed for a moment.” Lucas laughed, despite
his low mood.

250
“Oh, I’m sure you would have coped. But you are right, Freya is marvelous.
You once told me that she was a charitable lady in the making.” Scarlett
smiled at him.
“I do seem to say some awfully clever things,” Lucas said, and he forced out
another laugh.
“You certainly do.” For a moment, their eyes seemed fixed upon each
other’s, and both remained silent.
“I must say, Scarlett, I do wish we were still getting married tomorrow.”
“Married?” Scarlett looked suddenly shocked.
“Do not blame Freya, but she rather let it slip. She is far too young to be
expected to do and say all the right things in my company. She can only be
herself, and she was most dreadfully upset that she had let it out.”
“Oh, the poor dear girl. I do hope you reassured her that everything would
be all right,” Scarlett said, raising her eyebrows.
“I did indeed. I just wish that I could feel that myself.”
“Oh, Lucas, I really am so sorry. I had very much hoped that you would have
your memories back, and I think I naïvely thought that that would happen. I
suppose we have to face the fact that you might never regain those
memories.” Suddenly, tears poured down Scarlett’s face. She hurriedly dug
into the pocket of her skirts in search of a handkerchief.
“No,” Lucas said firmly, as he reached for her hand and held it tightly. “I
don’t want any more pretense. I don’t want anything else hidden from me; no
facts, no emotions, no truth, no tears.”
Scarlett made effective use of her still-plastered arm, and simply dug into
the other pocket and found a handkerchief there.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as she awkwardly dabbed at her eyes; the plaster
seemed suddenly to weigh twice what it had done.
Still, Lucas did not release her.
“As you have just said, I might never regain my memories. If that is the case,
I do not want to spend the rest of my life being shielded from anything I
might find painful or upsetting. I just want the truth of things, and I want
everyone around me to feel that they can be exactly who they were before. I

251
do not need you to hide emotions from me, Scarlett. I want to know you
fully. For goodness sake, I want to marry you!”
“But Lucas, you do not know me,” Scarlett said, her tears now flowing
freely.
“I have grown to know you these last weeks, Scarlett, and I have fallen in
love with you. I don’t know what made me fall in love with you the first
time around. All I know is what I feel now, and the man I am now loves the
woman you are.”
“Oh, Lucas, that is so very kind of you, but I cannot possibly believe it. I am
a stranger to you. How can you love me?”
“Do you love me?”
“Oh, Lucas… I…”
“No, I am not going to let you off this time. Answer the question. Do you
love me?”
“Yes, I love you with all my heart.” Scarlett seemed suddenly inconsolable.
“You love me now? The man I am now?”
“Of course I do. You are still the same to me, and I shall love you forever.”
“Then let’s get married tomorrow. Let’s carry out our plan as we had
intended.” Lucas said, feeling suddenly hopeful. So, she did love him after
all.
“I cannot marry you, Lucas. You cannot possibly love me in the same way as
you did, and I should never be able to stop thinking about that.”
“But love is love, Scarlett. There is obviously something in my very soul
which cries out for you. For goodness sake, I have fallen in love with you
twice!”
“This is all too sudden; you really must allow me some time to think. I beg
you would release me, if only for a moment.” And with that, Scarlett dashed
from the room.
With just a moment’s hesitation, Lucas scrambled to his feet and charged out
behind her.
“Scarlett, wait!” He shouted after her, as she made her way at speed along

252
the corridor. She stopped only at the entrance to her room and began to open
it. Within just a few feet of her, Lucas caught the front of his shoe on the
corner of the rug and was sent sprawling forward onto the floor.
He landed rather awkwardly and felt his head hit the floorboards with a
thump. Whilst it was not a terribly hard thump, suddenly everywhere began
to grow dark, as if the walls were closing in on him. As hard as he fought,
Lucas eventually lost consciousness.

253
 CHAPTER 39

W hen he finally began to come to, Lucas was still laying in the
corridor, curled up on his side. His head was throbbing
painfully, and he felt rather nauseous. His eyes were
flickering, and he was not entirely sure he would be able to maintain
consciousness.
“Just stay with me, Lucas. Just keep listening to my voice and concentrate on
it. Oh please, Lucas, stay with me. Just listen to my voice and know that I
shall……”
“You shall stay by my side,” he mumbled, almost silently.
“Lucas?” Scarlett said, in a hurried whisper. “Lucas? What did you just
say?” Scarlett’s voice was tremulous.
“I said you shall stay by my side.” Suddenly, everything was filtering back
into his mind. Whilst he knew he was laying in the upstairs corridor of his
very own home, Lucas could not help but feel himself back in the carriage.
His head throbbed painfully, and the sound of her voice was drifting slowly
into his mind. “Just listen to my voice, Lucas. You don’t have to say
anything, just listen to my voice. And don’t stop listening. You must
concentrate on that and nothing else. Just the sound of my voice, my
darling, for I shall not leave your side. Not now, not ever.”
“Lucas?”
“Yes, it is me, darling. I tried so hard to concentrate on your voice, but it
just grew quieter and quieter, and I knew I was fading. I’m so sorry, my
darling, I just couldn’t hold on. And yet, I knew you were there beside me in

254
the carriage.”
“Oh, Lucas, I can hardly believe it. Do you really remember me? Say you
remember me, my love.”
“I remember every moment. I remember watching you in the early days of
the Season, and I remember finally getting up the courage to approach you in
the drawing-room of Lady Clarkin’s home.”
“It is you, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s me, Scarlett. It always was me. I just couldn’t fight my way
out of the fog. But I’m back now, and this time it is I who shall not leave
your side.”

255
 EPILOGUE

A s they made their way out of the church and into the crispness of a
cold Christmas day, Lucas rather thought that almost everybody he
knew seemed to have tried to squeeze into the small church. News
of his recovery had traveled far and wide, and it seemed that his wedding
day was as well attended as they had planned it be. He could hardly believe
how many people had put their new plans aside, and instantly reverted to
their old plans. Everyone was in their finery, and everyone looked
inordinately pleased for him.
“You look so beautiful, Scarlett,” Lucas said, as he took in his new wife’s
appearance from head to toe.
“I’m afraid this gown is a little big. I daresay I have lost a little too much
weight in these last few weeks, but there was not the time to have it altered.
“You look perfect, my darling, and I should have been equally pleased to
see you today standing at the altar wearing my old breeches and tailcoat. I
am just so relieved to be back, and so relieved that we are married.”
“Oh, Lucas, you really do say such funny things,” Scarlett said, giggling at
the idea of getting married in her husband’s clothes. “And I’m so glad that
you are back. I always loved you, and that never ceased, but I have missed
this. I have missed our shared memories of our time together, and all the
wonderful things we have to look back on.”
“And I think, my dear, Scarlett, that you did not believe that the new Lucas
could love you as the old one had,” he said, with a smile.
“In truth, I could not believe it. I hope you do not think ill of me for that?”

256
“My darling, I could never think ill of you for anything. You stayed with me
throughout it all, and you never left my side. Just as you promised me that
day in the carriage, you didn’t go anywhere.” He reached out and took her
face in his hands. “But please believe me when I tell you, I really did fall in
love with you all over again. There is just something about you, My Lady.
My Duchess.” He smiled a long, slow, lazy smile.
“I am only sorry that I did not believe you. I could not help but feel you
were somebody else altogether, almost a completely different man.
However similar you were in your manners and your humor, the fact that you
could not remember me almost broke my heart in two. Please forgive me.”
“Really, there is nothing to forgive. And I daresay I was a different man, in
many ways. But that new man, that second Lucas, he really had fallen in
love with you. You see, just as I did, the new Lucas saw your very spirit
shining out of those beautiful eyes, and could see your bravery in every step
you took. There really is not a version of me that could exist who would not
love you.”
“Oh, Lucas, you do say such lovely things. What a wonderful husband you
are going to be.”
“And what a wonderful life we’re going to have, my beautiful Scarlett.”
“This really is the best Christmas of my life.”
“As it is mine. I love you, Scarlett.”
“And I love you, Lucas.”

257
THE EARL’S FORBIDDEN LOVE

The Montcrieffs of Castleton

By

Charlotte Darcy

©Copyright 2016 Charlotte Darcy

All Rights Reserved

258
 CHAPTER 40

C astleton, England.
1816

“HAND ME THOSE PAPERS, would you, Grace?”

“Here, Papa.” Grace leaned over the large walnut desk and laid the packet
of ribbon-tied papers close to Jacob Somerville.
Jacob untied the packet and slid his pince-nez back onto his nose. Squinting,
he began to sort through the papers with a puzzled look on his face.
“What are you looking for, Papa?”
“Oh, the papers of Dorothea Berenger’s dowry. I know I left them here
somewhere.”
Grace’s stomach lurched. Every time she heard that name, she felt the crack
in her heart grow even wider. For so long, Grace had refused to believe that
Adam Montcrieff would really go through with the long-arranged nuptials.
Grace had held firm to the belief that Adam would not marry someone he
could not love, even if it had been the wish of his late father. Grace had
never really understood how the upper classes could contrive such loveless
unions for the sake of money, names and power. It seemed such a waste.
“Grace? You’re staring into space child! That’s hardly helpful!”
“Sorry, Papa.” Grace cast sad eyes down and made a show of helping Jacob
in his search for the missing documents.

259
“Ah, success! Here, I have them. They were on my desk right in front of me
the whole time!”
Grace simply nodded at him. Every time she thought of the upcoming
marriage of Adam Montcrieff and Dorothea Berenger, she could barely
function. Grace had known Adam for much of her life. Jacob Somerville had
been Nathaniel Montcrieffs attorney since she was a child. Of all of
Nathaniel’s six sons, Grace had been closest in age and temperament to
Adam. Despite her being the child of his father’s employee, Adam had
always treated her as an equal.
“Grace?” Jacob looked at his daughter with a mixture of frustration and
sadness.
“Yes, Papa?”
“Adam is going to marry, whatever you may think of it.”
“I think nothing of it, I can assure you.” Grace felt her face flush.
“Grace, I am your father, so please do not think I am fooled. Since your
mother died, I have made it my business to fill that awful gap. You can
always speak to me of how you feel child. But please, please, do not torture
yourself further with thoughts of Adam Montcrieff. You must know that he is
beyond you.”
“Papa, I know I can speak to you, but really, there is nothing to tell.” Grace
almost choked on her words as a tell-tale tear escaped from her eye and
tracked its way down her cheek. Adam was not beyond her but above her in
status and wealth. She was foolish to have even entertained the idea of them
being together, but her heart had a mind of its own.
“Oh, Grace. Come here.”
Jacob took his daughter into his arms. Grace was so beautiful and
vulnerable even though she tried so hard to hide it. Pulling her close, he
held her tight and then pushed her away to look at her. “You are too beautiful
to be sad.” Even though she was his daughter, he believed it. Any man
would fall for her charms with her tall and perfect figure shown off so well
in her morning dress. The high waistband floated down to a fuller skirt that
seemed to be more the fashion. There were several petticoats but they did
not hide her beauty, and to top it all, she had a perfect face with rich brown
curls and skin like porcelain. Most striking about her were her warm eyes.
Chocolate brown with hints of gold, they were honest and caring and full of

260
warmth. How he wished that she would find the love he knew she longed
for. But he feared it was too late.
So many times over the past twelve months, Jacob had silently berated
himself for not noticing the bond which had formed between the two
youngsters over the years. With no mother to watch her, Jacob had always
taken his little daughter with him when he worked in the small office on the
Montcrieff family estate. Adam and Grace had run about the grounds of that
huge estate like a pair of urchins, climbing trees and paddling in the streams.
They had grown up the greatest of friends, and Jacob had thought their
feelings to be that of brother and sister. How wrong he had been. Only in the
time since the announcement of the wedding had Jacob come to realize how
his daughter loved Adam Montcrieff. What Adam himself felt, Jacob dared
not even contemplate.
“Child, child. You have to let him go. Adam Montcrieff was never for you,
even if he was not destined for Dorothea Berenger. It would be forbidden
for him to marry a commoner.”
“I know Papa.”
“The Montcrieffs are aristocracy, and we are not. I am an attorney. We live
well, Grace, but we are not in their world and we never will be. You will
find a good match one day, just as soon as you can shake Adam Montcrieff
from that beautiful, clever head of yours.”
“Oh, Papa. I know what you say is true. I know what you say is sense. But
my head understands sense where my heart does not. I know I cannot marry
Adam, but the sense of it all doesn’t make the pain any less. I will get
through it, I know I will, but you must forgive me my anguish, for I cannot
help it.”
“I know, child, I know.”
“And Dorothea Berenger is such a woman! I cannot bear the thought of
Adam marrying her. If he is to marry, why can it not be to someone he, at
least, has a chance of happiness with?”
“Grace, you must keep these things to yourself. Dorothea Berenger is of his
class, and that is just what they do.”
“But she is so cold and calculating. She cares little or nothing for Adam, I
know it.”

261
“And I daresay the feeling is mutual, Grace.”
“It seems like such a waste of a life.”
“It’s what his father wanted. Dorothea will bring considerable family money
into the Montcrieff estate. The Montcrieffs are rich, certainly, but they stay
rich with careful alliances and marriages. That is just how it works. Adam
will get her money, and Dorothea will get the title her family craves.”
Grace made a face, the whole idea was so completely distasteful to her.
“Grace, they play the game of life using a very different set of rules than we
do.”
“But how could his own father have wanted anything less than true
happiness for his own son?”
“Because that is how he lived himself. Nathaniel’s own marriage was the
very same. Eliza brought much-needed money into the estate.”
“And there was no love there either. The woman could not even force
herself to weep at her husband’s funeral.”
“Grace, you just have to accept the way they are. In a lot of ways, despite
their wealth, they will never have the same freedoms as we do. There are
just some choices which will never be theirs to make, and marriage is one
of them. Maybe you should find some pity in your heart for Eliza Montcrieff,
instead of scorn?”
Grace thought long and hard about that. She could not imagine a set of
circumstances where she would ever pity that harsh, hard-hearted old
dowager. Eliza Montcrieff was a sharp-tongued snob. She and Dorothea
would do very nicely for one another. Eliza was one of the aristocracies
who could not see a life beyond making sure that the family name and estate
survived for future generations, and Dorothea’s money would help assure
that. Dorothea was a privileged little madam who wanted a title, and
Countess of Castleton was no doubt just the ticket. It seemed very pointless
to Grace. It was just a prefix, and nothing more. Miss, Mrs., Lady. Why
would somebody let their whole life be devoted to something so
inconsequential? Grace never thought of Adam Montcrieff as the Earl of
Castleton. To her, he would always just be Adam, her best friend. Her right
arm. The only man she would ever love.
No matter what her father said, Grace knew she could never marry. How

262
could she? Adam was the only man she would ever love, and Grace could
not marry for anything less than that. Yet Adam, it seemed, could. Still, as
far as she knew, Adam no more wanted to marry Grace than he wanted to
marry Dorothea. He had never really made his feelings towards her known,
and that hurt almost as much. Despite their years of friendship and easy
companionship, Adam had never actually claimed to love her. At times,
Grace grasped the reality that he probably did not feel for her what she felt
for him. In her weaker, more romantic moods, Grace imagined that Adam
was torn in two by his unrequited love for her. He had his duty and simply
could not escape it, but Adam would love Grace as he would never love
another woman. His whole life would be tinged with the sadness of a man
who could never have what he truly wanted. Grace had spent many an hour
in this romantic frame of mind since the wedding of Adam and Dorothea had
been announced just one year before. In the weeks before Nathaniel
Montcrieff had died, Adam seemed intent on doing or saying whatever it
was that would see his father rest easy on his death bed. Well, he’d finally
agreed to the union which had left Grace winded and on her knees in
anguish.
“Grace?”
“Sorry, Papa. I will be well, I promise.”
“Good girl. I have every faith in you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to need you with me tomorrow at Wadsworth House, I’ve got a
lot of paperwork to get through in the office and I won’t manage it alone.”
Grace looked stricken. Her father needed her help more and more often
these days. The work was getting too much for him and she could do it just
as well. For a moment, she found herself worried. What would happen
when he was gone, or could no longer work? None of their clients would
accept her as their solicitor, even though she was every bit as good as her
father… That was a problem for another day, for now, Grace found herself
torn between loyalty to her father and the protection of her own shattered
heart.
“Yes, of course, Papa.”
“Hopefully, Adam will be away from home. I don’t want to make this any
harder for you than I have to.”

263
“I know Papa.”

264
 CHAPTER 41

E liza Montcrieff marched back into the large drawing room at

Wadsworth Hall. Her red dress was as opulent as the fashion
would allow and cut to perfection. It rippled as she moved and
hung from a high waistband straight to her ankles where it covered her
dainty shoes. The material was the finest velvet, as per her station, and the
lace was from Nottingham, exquisite in its design. She had just returned
from the Dower House, where she had been making stridently voiced
demands of the workmen there.
“Oh, darling, there you are.”
“Mother. You’re finished at the Dower House?”
In truth, Adam was not pleased to see his mother. He rarely was. Wherever
she went, aggravation and spite seemed to march alongside her. No doubt
the workmen at the Dower House had been on the receiving end of her
derision.
“I could stand no more. Really, their jobs are so simple, yet they seem to
struggle with every little detail.”
“Well, perhaps their jobs aren’t quite so simple, Mother. Who are we to
judge when we ourselves have never had jobs?”
“Good gracious, Adam! What sort of talk is this? We have great
responsibilities, greater than the likes of them could ever manage or even
contemplate.”
“And those are?”

265
“Do not vex me, Adam. We have a responsibility to live in a certain way
and set an example to all of those around us.”
“Why?”
“What?” Eliza was always quick to fury. Her face flushed, and her lips
thinned to almost a line.
“What example can we set that would make any difference to the lives of
ordinary working people? We live in different worlds. It strikes me,
therefore, that our own responsibilities are not so great after all.”
“What is wrong with you today?”
“Nothing, Mother, I just don’t think that people need our example to live by
when they can manage very well to set their own standards.” Adam ran a
hand through his dark hair pushing it back from his eyes.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Of course, they can’t. They look to us for manners
and right doing.”
“Do you really believe that, Mother?”
“Yes, of course, I do. And we, therefore, owe it to them to do whatever we
can to preserve our way of life so that we can serve as an example for
generations to come.”
Adam roared with laughter. He didn’t particularly enjoy goading her, he just
couldn’t seem to help it. Eliza Montcrieff was the worst kind of snob. She
was an outsider whose money had helped her to marry into the aristocracy.
She’d spent her life trying to convince herself and everyone else that she
belonged there. Often her elitism and snobbery were so much keener and
deeper than those of the born aristocrat. At times it angered Adam, who had
never been able to stand her ways; there was a sort of desperation to them
that made him inexplicably angry.
“Oh, Mother, I suppose you’re right. Of course, we owe it to the lower
orders to stay rich and successful so that we can look down on them from
here to eternity. I just hope they appreciate our efforts!”
“Adam, I do not find this talk of yours very funny.”
“No, Mother, I’m no more amused than you are.”
“So, the Dower House, you will be pleased to know, will be ready for me

266
to move into as soon as you are married.”
“Right.” Adam could find no enthusiasm.
“You must let Dorothea know. She’ll be greatly relieved.”
“Why will she?”
“Oh, don’t be obtuse! Dorothea is soon to be taking my place as the mistress
of this house. It is only right and proper that I move to the Dower House to
make way for her.”
Adam very much doubted that his mother would make way for his new wife
in any real sense. In all ways that mattered, Eliza would grip on tight, like a
woman who had fallen from a high ledge. Eliza would, of course, move to
the Dower House, because it was what one did. It was what was expected
of an aristocratic widow, and Eliza was nothing if not a keen observer of the
proprieties.
However, Dorothea would find her own decisions questioned and
undermined at every turn. Everything from new fabrics to menu choices
would be frowned upon or openly disapproved of. Still, the formidable
Dorothea would certainly be able to hold her own. In fact, she was probably
already relishing the thought of the subdued upper-class dramas that would
doubtless come to form part of everyday life at Wadsworth. Adam knew in
his heart that life would be far from enjoyable.
“Of course, Mother. I’m sure Dorothea will be, as you say, relieved.”
“Oh, I’m sure!”
And there it was. The mew of distaste. Yet she would insist on his marrying
Dorothea, come what may. At times, Adam wished for a simpler life. A life
where his decisions were his own and made for his own happiness, instead
of his duty to his class and his family name.
“How lovely that you and Dorothea are agreeing already.” Adam knew he
was trying her patience.
“I hope you’re not suggesting that I will be anything other than supportive of
Dorothea.”
“Well, Mother, I dare say I might be better served by waiting to see.”
“Yes, I think you shall. What time is that attorney getting here?”

267
“You mean Jacob?”
“Well, who else would I mean?”
“Mother, the man has worked for us for years. He’s had an office here since
Grace and I were children! Why on earth can’t you call him by his name,
rather than his profession?”
“Adam, what is all this sympathy with the lower classes today? It’s rather
tiresome.”
“Lower classes? Jacob?”
“Of course. He’s an attorney. It’s just a trade like any other. You’re not
suggesting he’s one of us, surely?”
Eliza was outraged. The look on her face was almost comical. It was on the
tip of Adam’s tongue to tell his mother that there had been a time when she
herself was not one of us either. How she angered him.
“Mother, I am very fond of Jacob and Grace Somerville, and I would much
rather you didn’t insult them.”
“Grace Somerville?” Eliza’s voice was almost a shriek. How had she
picked up solely on Grace’s name?
“Yes, Grace and Jacob. I have known them both all my life.”
“So? Why should you care about someone like Grace?”
“And her father.”
“Well?”
“Since you seem to have fixated upon Grace, then I shall say that I have no
shame in caring for her. We spent much of our childhood together running
and playing here whilst our fathers worked. Why should I not care for her?”
“I do not like this talk, Adam.”
“And what exactly do you not like about it?”
“Dorothea will not be impressed to discover that you care for one of the
employee’s daughters.” Eliza folded her arms across her chest defiantly.
“Mother, why make something so simple sound so sordid. I care about
Grace and Jacob because they are good people and I’ve known them all my

268
life. Dorothea will just have to get used to that. It’s not a point for
negotiation.”
“Do you really think that’s wise?” Eliza knew she would need to back down
a little. She didn’t want Adam digging his heels in over this nonsense.
“Wise? I care little for whether it is wise or not. I shall not ditch two people
who have been like family to me. Dorothea may think what she will of it.”
“Family? Really, Adam. People like that are not family!”
Adam rose from his seat. He could bear no more of his mother’s company.
As much as he had pushed her, she had pushed him harder. As he strode
from the room, Adam cast a look back over his shoulder at Eliza.
“They are to me, Mother.”

269
 CHAPTER 42

G race scuttled straight through the house and into the office that her
father always used. Jacob had other clients, but they were
transient. Little jobs, all of which had an end in sight. The work he
did for the Montcrieffs at Wadsworth House was ongoing. He had
been retained as their attorney for nearly twenty years. Nathaniel Montcrieff
had been a good employer. He had been kind and caring when Jacob had
lost his wife and Grace was but a little girl. When Jacob had begun to bring
Grace with him to work, Nathaniel had said nothing of it. He simply let the
girl run about the estate with his oldest boy, Adam.
Grace reached the little office, panting hard and thanking God for the
tradesmen’s entrance.
“Good heavens, child! What are you up to?”
Jacob came into the room after her, himself out of breath having done his
best to keep up with his daughter all the way through the house.
“Oh, nothing, Papa. I just wanted to get here quickly.”
“Grace, Adam will likely come in. We are here for the rest of the day. You
are going to be all right, aren’t you?”
Grace could see the pleading in her father’s eyes. He needed her here to
help him, yet he seemed to fear a scene of some sort. Not that Grace had
ever made a scene in her entire life. Still, she had never felt such cruel and
raw emotion in her whole life either, so she forgave her father his
trepidation.
“I promise you, I will be fine.”

270
The first hour passed in quiet industry. There was some quarrel over land
rights which was proving to be complicated and long drawn out. Jacob had
hoped to have it dealt with before the wedding so that he could devote his
time to the financial details of the union. Grace felt sick every time she
thought of it. Not just the wedding, but the idea of money changing hands and
attorneys to seal the deal. It was simply vile.
“Grace! I didn’t know you were here already. I’ve been waiting for you to
come. Why didn’t you look for me?” Adam said as he strode through the
door.
Grace’s heart pounded and her face felt flushed. Adam looked truly stunning
to her. He was very tall, broad, and lean. His dark hair fell foppishly
sideways over his bright blue eyes, and he grinned at her revealing straight,
white teeth. His skin was always a little tanned. Adam preferred the outdoor
pursuits of riding, fishing, and hunting. His immaculately tailored trousers
and crisp white shirt made him look so adult that Grace could feel pins in
her heart once more. They were no longer the carefree friends they had been
in childhood. They were adults, and Adam was getting married as adults do.
He was no longer just Adam, her friend and first crush. He was Adam
Montcrieff, the Earl of Castleton.
A sigh escaped her even though she tried to hold it back. The Earl was about
to take a wife and make her his Countess, and Grace would be left to follow
her father about Wadsworth alone, no longer with her friend, Adam, at her
side.
“Grace?”
“Sorry, Adam. I’m a little distracted with this land rights case Papa is
working on. I became engrossed in searching through the papers and lost
track of time. I’m so sorry I didn’t look for you.” She could hear an
unfamiliar formality in her own voice. At least, she had called him Adam
and not my lord!
“Sounds interesting, Grace, in a rather boring way.” Adam grinned at Grace
as he had always done. Part of her almost forgot her woes at that moment.
Part of her wanted to lift up her skirts and run across the room to him. They
could walk in the garden and discuss the horses or the estate, just as they
had done a thousand times before. Then a sadness fell over her like rain on
a stormy day. That was gone now, and she would never share that privilege
again.

271
“Well, it’s work, Adam. I can understand why it would hold little interest
for you, being utterly alien to such things.” Grace snapped back with a smirk
of her own.
Grace was a little surprised that she had been able to banter with Adam as
they had always done. The closer the wedding came, the harder she had
been finding it to fall into their customary ease of conversation. But
something about his smile and his determination to keep their old ways alive
had made it easier for Grace.
“You’re so harsh and hard-hearted.”
“Oh, please! Hard-hearted? By pointing out the obvious, I am suddenly
hard-hearted?”
“Yes, Gracey. You are a cold, hard-hearted woman, and you always have
been.” He was still smiling broadly.
“Oh, Adam, you’re being silly.” Grace reached across the large oak desk
and swatted his arm with a handful of papers she was holding.
“Ooow,” he howled in mock pain like a little boy, but the grin never left his
face.
“Stop, or you’ll get another!” Grace scolded playfully and kept the smile on
her face. This hurt, but she would take every moment she could with her
friend, the man she loved, for soon all this would be in the past.
Across the room, Jacob felt uneasy and was fervently wishing that Adam
had not come into the room at all. As much as he cared for the boy, he cared
more for his daughter and he knew her heart was about to be broken. Jacob
knew full well that Adam would not have chosen this way, and that his
daughter’s pain was inevitable, rather than by Adam’s design. Still, he
wished he would go away, drift out of her life and make it easier for her to
move on.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Adam was laughing loudly as Grace moved around
the desk to get a better shot.
“Just you watch me, Adam!” Grace was laughing, too.
At that very moment, Eliza Montcrieff appeared in the doorway. She was
every bit the Dowager Countess and invited none of the ease of
conversation that her son did so naturally. Jacob had never been

272
comfortable in the woman’s company. Lady Castleton had always
maintained the firmest of distinctions between the family and the employees
and servants and did nothing to hide the fact that she believed both to be
vastly inferior to her. Jacob had always pitied Nathaniel. His wife must
have been anything but a comfort to him over the years. In many ways, he
silently agreed with Grace. Why would a man who had suffered the lifelong
nightmare of forced and incompatible matrimony visit the same sad and
lonely life upon his own son? Still, he would never join Grace in such
musings, for her own sake. Jacob would do or say nothing that served to
keep that tiny spark of hope burning in his daughter’s chest.
“Oh, what noise! I thought the servants were running wild. Whatever is
happening in here?”
“Gracey and I were just talking, Mother.”
“Really?” Eliza’s eyebrow rose sky high at Adam’s use of the pet name,
Gracey.
“Well, I’m sure Miss... Miss...” Eliza was clearly pretending to have
forgotten Grace and Jacob’s family name.
Grace looked up at the stately woman, in her rich dresses that cost more
than they earned in a month, and could feel her cheeks burning with rage and
shame. What a cruel and effective insult this was!
“Miss Somerville, Mother!” Adam was just short of shouting the last. At
that moment, he hated his mother. Whilst it was true that he had never been
terribly close to her, this blatant mockery of people he cared about had
pushed him to the limit.
“Ah, of course, Miss Somerville.” Eliza waved a hand vaguely in the air as
if to say her name is of no consequence.
“Well, Miss Somerville, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that Lord Castleton is
rather busy and has other matters to attend to.”
“Mother,” Adam’s voice was low and dangerous.
“Well, dear Dorothea will be over soon to discuss the floral arrangements
for the wedding.”
Lady Castleton looked straight into Grace’s eyes, and her meaning was
clear. You are nothing. Adam is marrying a woman of breeding, not an

273
attorney’s daughter like you.
“Really? I wasn’t aware that she was coming.” Adam knew his mother was
lying. She was using it as another knife aimed at Gracey, but why? Perhaps
Eliza Montcrieff was more perceptive than he had given her credit for. Had
she really guessed at his true feelings for Grace Somerville? Impossible! At
times, he wasn’t even sure of them himself. Still, Eliza’s spite had been
aimed directly at Grace.
Adam narrowed his eyes but kept his expression neutral. To let his mother
know that her barbs hurt him would only encourage more of the same. He
could not do that to Grace. Some days he wanted to grab her hand and run
away from here with nothing but the clothes on their backs. It would never
happen, they could never be together, and that caused him more hurt that he
could bear.
At times, Adam hated his class and its sense of entitlement and superiority.
Grace was ten times the woman his mother had ever been. As a child, she
had been brave and fun, and as an adult, she had learned her father’s
business to such a degree that she could have run it herself. Grace had a
very deep intelligence. She almost devoured books and learning of any kind,
and Adam could listen to her quote poetry for hours. Not in the way that
most people of his acquaintance rattled it off, but with the feeling and
emotion with which it was originally written. Oh, and Grace was beautiful.
Really beautiful. Eliza Montcrieff, on the other hand, was simply a spoiled
little girl whose family purchased a place for her in the aristocracy. That
was it. That was her big achievement. How dare she look down on a
woman as fine a Grace Somerville?
“Well, shall we leave them to it? I’m sure they have work to do. Don’t
you?” Eliza aimed her final question at Jacob Somerville, knowing she
would get the response she desired.
“Yes, your ladyship.” Jacob inclined his head almost imperceptibly.
Lady Castleton smirked and, turning on her heel, flounced from the room.
Grace, her cheeks stained pink, looked down and began to shuffle papers
with a kind of blind purpose. Adam wanted to pull her into his arms and
apologize for his appalling mother. Had Jacob not been there, he probably
would have done. Adam knew that Jacob would not approve. As much as he
knew Jacob liked him, Adam had been sensing a growing distance between
them. At times, he thought that it was because Jacob missed working with

274
Nathaniel and was less comfortable working with his old employer’s son.
At other times, he wondered if it was his close friendship with Gracey.
Grace felt tears welling in her eyes and was determined that they should not
fall. That dreadful woman was nothing more than a manner-less beast, for
all her airs and graces. Lady Castleton strode out of the room, leaving three
people who were normally at ease with each other silent and embarrassed.
Grace tried to think of something to say that would lighten the mood and
make them all feel comfortable again, but there was nothing to be said.
Casting a look at Adam, she could see that he was also trying to find some
way out of this mess.
“Grace, I...” As he faltered, Grace knew she was about to cry.
“Please, excuse me,” she mumbled, darting swiftly passed Adam and Jacob
and hurrying out of the room.

275
 CHAPTER 43

G race walked as quickly as she could without actually breaking into

a trot. She needed to get outside and quickly, avoiding Lady
Castleton at all costs. Grace peeped into the morning room and,
seeing nobody there, scurried across it and out through the French
doors. With her heart pounding, Grace looked briefly about her before
taking off at a run for the old summer house.
The derelict wooden structure was hidden from view, behind a faded red
brick garden wall and in a sort of small but dense wilderness. It was a
walled off part of the garden which had not been in use as long as Grace
could remember. Many times over the years, the Montcrieffs had decided
upon some plan or other for the overgrown little space. Each time the plans
had been abandoned, Grace had felt a sweeping sense of relief. Grace and
Adam had spent many happy hours playing in the long grasses and
wildflowers. The old wooden summer house, now no longer even
waterproof, had been the heart of many a childish game. As the two children
had matured into their teens, they had sat inside on blankets, eaten scones
and shared the confidences of late youth.
So, it was into that very summer house that Grace ran for sanctuary, fleeing
the unbearable pain and shame heaped upon her by that vile, old Dowager
Countess.
By the time Grace had reached the safety of the summer house, she was
crying in earnest. How she wished she could have just breezed through the
whole thing, shrugging off the insults and working through the pain. How she
wished she had not run from the room, but what else could she have done?
Grace was already in such pain before Eliza Montcrieff had been so cruel.

276
Had she not run, Grace knew she would have wept on the spot, and that
would have been so much worse for all three of them.
Feeling suddenly exhausted, Grace looked for somewhere to sit. The
timbers inside were beginning to rot after years of neglect. The benches
were sodden and probably rotten to the extent that they would no longer
support even her minimal weight. Grace stood facing the back wall, leaning
her head onto the soft timber, wishing herself back home and safe from the
outward appearance of her own emotions. The whole situation was
humiliating and unbearable.
“Grace.” Adam was breathless from running and from the sight before him.
To think that he had hurt her crushed his heart so painfully that he could not
bear it. He had stood helpless for some moments with Jacob after Grace had
fled. He felt so bound by what was alleged to be right and proper, and he
hated himself for it. Even Jacob held an expectation that Adam would not
follow Grace. It wouldn’t be fitting for the Earl to run after the attorney’s
daughter, even if it would be a comfort to her. What surreal lives they all
led! It was simply ridiculous. In the end, Adam had given in to his own need
to find Grace and had excused himself from a cross-looking Jacob.
“Grace?” he said again.
Grace did not move. Her face was wet with tears, and she knew there
would be no disguising it. To turn around and face him might be to admit all.
“Grace, please. I’m so sorry. You know what a terrible snob Mother is.”
“Yes.” Grace did not feel inclined to protest the old harridan’s innocence on
this occasion.
Adam stared helplessly at her back. He could not bear to see her so upset.
Grace had always been in his life, and he knew he was fooling himself to
think that things would stay the same after he was married. Despite his
protestations to Eliza that Dorothea would simply have to put up with his
friendship with Grace, he knew deep down that it wouldn’t really work that
way. Dorothea, his mother, and maybe even his brothers would all put
pressure on him to treat her like the attorney’s daughter and not the friend
she had always been to him.
Adam let out a huge sigh. He wanted to hold her and apologize for the
betrayal of friendship that would come in their future. Grace continued to
lean her head on the wall. She was so beautiful. Grace was tall and lean,

277
with curves which had been haunting Adam’s dreams since they had been in
their teens. Her hair was a rich, warm brown and the glossiest he had ever
seen. Grace had skin like porcelain, with not a blemish anywhere, and her
large brown eyes were flecked with bright gold. Adam had fantasized about
her from the very age at which yearning begins. As their childish games had
pursued them into early adulthood, he knew he had often held on to her just a
bit too long when they had been playing and chasing. They had carried on
the physical closeness of their younger years much too long and, even now,
it presented itself in a watered down form. Eliza had seen how Gracey had
swatted at him with the papers. Even Dorothea, his intended wife, would
not play with him so. Eliza had rightly assessed that the pair were too close
in adulthood, and she sought to destroy their friendship with cruel words
and mockery.
Could he let her?
Adam moved to stand behind Grace and reached out to touch her hair. Grace
jumped a little, startled by his touch, then allowed him to remain. Adam
stroked her soft hair and knew that she was crying again, albeit silently.
Leaning in closer, he breathed in her fresh, clean scent. The smell of Grace
always reminded him of the glorious sweet aroma of a freshly picked red
apple.
Forbidden fruit.
Adam leaned closer still, feeling the curves of her body so lightly cradled in
his own. He had never stood thus. Yes, they had been close, they had even
held each other in their games, but this was different. They were man and
woman now, not children, and he could feel the excitement of this lightest of
touches build within him. He stared intently at the back of her neck, the
exposed and creamy white skin daring him to kiss it. Finally, he did. Adam
laid his lips so gently onto the back of Grace’s neck before kissing softly.
Feeling no resistance from her, he kissed her again and again, moving his
lips all over her skin. He felt the soft moan escape her throat and felt his
excitement deepen. Adam knew he should not be doing this. Grace was his
friend and he loved her dearly. He was about to be married to another
woman and should not be using her so. Grace lifted her forehead from the
wall and leaned back slightly. Adam felt the last of his resistance fly from
him as he laced his arms around her and pulled her soft body back firmly
into his. Feeling her pressed against him was the biggest thrill of his life so
far, and he knew he wanted her.

278
Suddenly, an image of Dorothea rose up in his mind. Dorothea had none of
Gracey’s softness. She was a lean, hard, and angular woman with a haughty
air. Her self-satisfaction and a huge sense of entitlement reminded him
horribly of his own mother. Adam could not imagine feeling the same level
of excitement with Dorothea as he felt at that moment with Grace. Would
Dorothea moan quietly in his embrace? Adam very much doubted it. But that
was what his life would be. Soft curves, love and responses gently moaned
were not part of his future. Adam wanted Grace so badly, but if he took her
now, all he would achieve would be her complete ruin, and he owed her
better. Taking a deep breath, Adam pulled away from her. Gently turning her
around to face him, Adam took Grace’s hands in his own.
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive my behavior, Grace.”
Grace looked confused and sad. Her face was pink, and stained with her
drying tears as she looked up at him.
“Grace, I should not have done that. I’m to be... Well, I’m to be...”
“You’re to be married.” Grace finished his sentence as her body tingled
with his very presence and she wanted to dive into his arms. But she would
not, could not, for that way lay madness and ruin and more heartache than
she could stand.
“Yes. I’m to be married. But I don’t want things to change between us.”
“How can they not? Your mother despises me, as will your new Countess. I
am the daughter of an employee and nothing more. Perhaps we would both
do better to remember that Adam.”
“Grace!”
“What? Please don’t tell me I’m wrong. Do not go as far as to patronize me,
please, for the sake of the memory of our old friendship.” Grace could feel
anger rising. As heart-broken and as desperate as she felt, everything was
out of her hands, and somehow Adam was making things worse.
“Grace, I do not despise you. Surely that is the only point of importance
here.” Adam meant what he said, yet knew his naive assertions to be
impossible at the same time.
“Oh, Adam. I never thought you did. But don’t you see? We cannot be
friends any longer. Those days are finished, and it is time for us to grow up.
The world has rules, and we have no choice but to abide by them, however

279
painful that might be.”
Grace could hardly recognize her own voice, so full of resolve and
determination as inside she screamed and wailed at her lost love. How
could she give up this man who was everything to her? It would be
impossible, it would steal her very soul, yet she must let him go.
“I will never accept that, Grace. You are my only true friend, and I will not
let you go.”
“You must let me go. You have no choice.”
“How can it be that I am made an earl, but suddenly I have no will of my
own? I have less influence now than I held as a child.”
“Welcome to the world, Adam.”
“At least, you shall be able to choose your own life, your own spouse.”
“No, I can’t. That choice has been ripped from me also, if only by default.”
Adam stared thoughtfully into space. He had never really considered
Grace’s feelings for him. If she felt anything near the depth of emotion that
he did, Grace would have to suffer the extra torment of seeing the man she
loved marrying another woman.
“Grace. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say goodbye, Adam.”
Grace gently pushed past Adam and hurried off towards the house before
her knees gave way and she wept at his feet.

280
 CHAPTER 44

D orothea had spent nearly an hour laying in the hot, scented water.
How she loved her secret apartment in London. The only place
she could truly be herself. Tilting her head back, Dorothea
peered into the other room where all her new gowns hung about. Smiling in
pure self-satisfaction, Dorothea knew she would look stunning at the ball
next month. No other woman there would be able to hold a candle to her.
Adam had tried all he could to avoid holding the pre-wedding ball, and
Dorothea could neither understand nor care about his reluctance. In the end,
she had taken the matter straight to Lady Castleton herself. It was the only
way to get things done.
Still, once Dorothea was the Countess of Castleton, the old lady would
outgrow her usefulness. Dorothea could see much of herself in Eliza
Montcrieff and knew that it would be difficult to shake her off entirely to the
Dower House. Difficult, but not impossible. Dorothea smirked to herself
and stretched a long, slim leg upwards out of the bath, admiring the
brilliance of her own skin.
Dorothea had been making use of her London apartment with increasing
regularity. Her own family knew nothing of it and never questioned her
alleged visits to friends. The apartment wasn’t in her own name, which
made the secrecy complete, as far as Dorothea was concerned.
“You gonna be in there all night, honey?”
Dorothea loved his rich, American drawl. It added to the excitement which
seemed to seep from every pore of his body.
“Be patient, Garth, perfection isn’t the simple matter you might think it is.”

281
Dorothea had been so excited when Garth had taken this apartment for her,
and she still remembered the thrill she had felt when he dropped the shiny
key into her well-manicured hand. That simple gesture had spelled freedom
to Dorothea. She would most certainly keep the apartment, and Garth, long
into her marriage. She was entitled to have a few little luxuries, after all.
“I’m getting bored.”
“With perfection?” Dorothea’s attempt at mock hurt was so theatrical it was
almost ridiculous.
Garth Stone appeared in the doorway, a smoky cigar wedged firmly in his
mouth and a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“No, not perfection,” he smirked lasciviously, “just waiting.”
“What a sensible answer!”
“I know where I’m better off, honey.”
Dorothea, showing off for all she was worth, stood slowly and lifted a long
leg over the side of the bath. Standing naked and wet before him, her self-
satisfied smile was apparent once more.
“I should think you do know where you’re better off!”
As she swayed off in the direction of the bedroom, Dorothea did not see her
beau roll his eyes towards the heavens.

GRACE HAD SPENT several miserable weeks at home working on some of her
father’s other cases. Having refused outright to ever accompany Jacob to
Wadsworth House ever again, she felt that the least she could do was to take
over all his other work. Jacob had not resisted, rather he felt a sense of
relief that there was not to be a repeat of the appalling awkwardness they
had suffered on Grace’s last visit to the house.
As far as his clients were concerned, Jacob was happy that they would be
getting as good a service as they would if he was doing the work himself.
He was so busy with all the extra work at Wadsworth, not to mention his
ever-increasing client list, that he was relieved that Grace knew what she
was doing. His clients would leave in droves if they knew a woman was
more or less acting on their behalf. Jacob often had a chuckle to himself

282
when somebody thanked him for the splendid service. All in all, he was
very proud of his daughter.
When Jacob had left home for his Wadsworth office, Grace settled down at
her father’s desk and set about opening the accumulated letters. Most, she
knew, would be business related. As she thumbed through the envelopes,
there was once she recognized. The handwriting was as familiar to her as
her very own. It was from Adam.
For a moment Grace could not move, she simply dropped it down onto the
desk. Grace had tried so hard not to think of Adam Montcrieff over the last
weeks. Imagining his face was too painful to contemplate and, every time
she fell to thinking about him, she cut the thought dead as best she could.
Thinking of Adam only led to thoughts of their last meeting. It had been
painful, humiliating, wonderful, and exciting all in one afternoon. She could
not think of him standing behind her, kissing her neck, without an excited
rosy flush rising to her cheeks. Then, the awful reality of their parting.
Grace had fixed it in her mind as their final goodbye. Yes, she knew she
must endure the wedding, she could hardly escape it. Jacob still worked for
the family and there was no way they could not attend. Grace had thought
about feigning illness at the last minute and begging to be excused from the
whole day. Still, she knew this was as good as admitting her feelings to any
and all who cared to give it a moment’s thought. Her love for Adam had not
diminished at all. If anything, it had intensified as the wedding got closer. In
the wonderful moments when Adam had been so close to her, kissing her
neck, Grace had nursed a spark of hope that he would declare his love for
her and, spurning the whole world and its expectations, call off the dreaded
wedding and ask for her hand instead. Her silly, girlish hopes would dig a
bigger hole in her heart, and she had vowed to desist.
Then, the letter arrived. Grace looked down once more and finally, with
shaking hands, picked it up from the desk. Slicing it open with the silver
letter opener, Grace tore the letter from the envelope, wanting to have it
read and over and done with as soon as possible.

DEAREST GRACEY,
Once again, please allow me to apologize for my despicable behavior
when we last met. I am sorrier than I can say. I have thought over and
over about our last parting, and yet I cannot accept it. You and I have

283
been friends for as long as I can remember, and I simply will not allow
that to change. Whilst I understand what you said, I cannot live this life
without you in it. You are my dearest friend, and you always will be.
Nothing will ever change that.
As you know, there is to be a ball at Wadsworth and I would very much
like you to attend. I have noted your long absence from Wadsworth and
see this as an opportunity for us to get back to where we were. Please do
not forsake me now, I need you more than ever.
Yours Always,
Adam

GRACE COULD HARDLY BELIEVE IT. She was touched and infuriated in equal
measure. How could Adam bribe her very emotions that way? He needed
her to help him get through his new life! The life in which he would
undoubtedly be leaving her far behind him at some point. He seemed not to
care how his demands would make her suffer. The very last thing Grace
wanted was to attend the pre-wedding ball. Having only seen Dorothea once
or twice, Grace would have been happy never to see her again. To see them
together before the wedding would just heap even more misery upon her
before the awful day. It was enough, surely, that Grace would have to attend
the wedding. The added heartache of the ball would be just too much to
bear.
Please do not forsake me now, I need you more than ever. Yet, how could
Grace ignore that? Adam was her oldest friend and he needed her. Over the
years, the two had shared fun and games, banter, and laughter. Never had
Adam bared his soul to her in such a way. Never had he pleaded with Grace
for moral support. Could she really ignore him? Could she really forsake
him?
Grace wished with all her heart that she could.

ADAM WAS A SKILLFUL RIDER. He had left Benjamin behind a good meadow
before. Adam drew up his horse and laughed as he looked back to see
Benjamin riding as hard as he could to catch up. When he drew up, panting

284
like a dog on a hot day, Adam let loose a deep chuckle.
“What kept you, brother?”
“Oh, please! You horse is faster and stronger, and that is all!” Benjamin was
laughing with him. Despite occasional contests, Adam and Benjamin were
as close as two brothers could be.
Adam had very much needed to be out of the house. He was finding
Wadsworth increasingly claustrophobic the nearer he got to his own
wedding. Eliza and Dorothea had become unbearable in their frivolous
preparations for an event which, when he was truly honest with himself,
Adam was dreading. Worse still, Dorothea had whined until Adam had
agreed to a pre-wedding ball. More preparations and folly. How long could
one wedding be dragged out for? Surely the awful day itself should be
enough?
Adam wondered about Dorothea. He had known her for many years and
knew very well that she cared no more for him than he did for her. Why,
then, was she so looking forward to the whole thing? Why did she not
appear to be as desperate as he himself felt?
Adam mused that he probably knew the answer to these questions already.
Dorothea was a social climber, cut from the same cloth as his very own
mother. Happiness mattered not, and society was all. Dorothea wasn’t
marrying him, she was marrying a title. What a miserable life awaited them
both. Adam’s only chance of happiness would be to take a mistress. Yet,
there was only one who would truly make him happy, and that was Gracey.
The one person he could never treat so badly! Adam could not make a
mistress out of Gracey, he loved her too much. Not to mention the fact that
Gracey would never, ever live like that.
“What is it?”
“I beg your pardon?” Adam knew he had been obviously lost in thought.
“Adam, I know you better than anybody else does. Therefore, old boy, I
know when something is wrong with you.”
“Oh, I...”
“And I say that there is something wrong with you, and I want to hear it
now. Come on, better have it out, Adam!”

285
“It’s the wedding.”
“Oh.” Benjamin had already decided upon that.
“I do not know how I am to get through it.”
“It’s not the wedding you have to get through, Adam, it’s the marriage
itself.”
“Oh, well, thank you so much. How glad I am to have opened my soul to
you, brother! You truly have made me feel so much better!” Adam laughed
and leaned over in his saddle to take a playful swipe at Benjamin.
“Yes, that rather came out wrong, old boy! Sorry!”
“Think nothing of it.” Adam was still laughing, but his gloom was devouring
him in truth.
“Perhaps you’ll warm to Dorothea? Given time?”
“Benjy, I’ve known the damned woman for years. I’ve not warmed to her so
far. It will be like being married to Mother!”
“Eukk!” Benjamin pulled a face. He was no fonder of their mother than
Adam was.
“Well, she is. I feel rather like some sort of prize. I’m just a walking title,
ready to be sold off. The Earl of Castleton, practically brand new. Now
then, who will make me an offer? Do I hear ten guineas?” Adam was
holding his nose in imitation of the standard auctioneer’s voice.
Benjamin laughed like a drain. He and Adam had always had such fun and
silly moments, and it hurt Benjamin to know that his brother was really
suffering.
“Honestly, Benjy. Who would really be an Earl if they knew the
consequences? I sometimes think I’d rather work for my crust! I’d be an
attorney.”
Benjamin’s eyes opened wide for a moment. “Then you could marry an
attorney’s daughter, and nobody would blink an eye!”
“Am I so very obvious, brother?”
“To me, yes. To me, you are but a window and I can see clean through you!”

286
Adam said nothing. He knew his brother would only ever speak in kindness
towards him, and he was safe to tell him what was in his heart and his mind.
Still, he could not find the words.
“Adam, I have known for a long time. You and Grace have always been the
best of friends. When we were younger, I was rather jealous of the bond
between you two.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. She was your equal. Your true friend. And I was just your
annoying little brother! Still, Gracey grew on me in the end. I’ve always
been rather fond of her.”
“So, you’re no longer jealous?”
“No, brother. Quite the reverse. I do not envy you your suffering now. To
love one woman so deeply, yet be compelled to marry another. No, I am no
longer jealous. I am very, very sorry.” Benjamin reached out and laid a hand
on his older brother’s arm.
“Thank you. It helps to know that there is one person alive in the world who
knows what my true thoughts are, Benjy.”
“You mean, Grace herself does not know?” Benjamin was taken aback.
“Well, no. Not really.”
“Not really? What does that mean?”
“I haven’t told her in words.”
“Adam?”
“I kissed her. Well, I kissed the back of her neck.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago. Mother had been so cruel to her, and Gracey was upset
and...”
“And you thought kissing her would help? Adam, really?”
“I know, I know. It was selfish of me.”
“I hate to agree with you, brother, but I’m afraid I must.”

287
“I know. And I do not blame you for it. It was selfish.”
“Look, Adam, that must not happen again. For Gracey’s sake even more than
for your own.”
“She didn’t resist me.”
“Of course, she didn’t! She loves you. Her emotions must be in utter turmoil
at the moment. Really, Adam, you must try to keep away. I do not blame you
for wanting her. I know you love her.”
“I love her more than life itself.”
“But to be found out, that would ruin Gracey forever. Even just a kiss! You
are an earl about to be married. Grace is an attorney’s daughter.”
“I cannot see these distinctions!”
“In truth, neither can I, but the rest of our world does. And it is they and her
own people who would heap scorn upon her for your actions. Please,
Adam, I know that you would never forgive yourself for it. And there is
enough pain to go around at the moment. Spare her, please.”
“You are right, of course.”
Adam sat atop his horse staring thoughtfully into space. He had already sent
the letter begging Gracey to support him at the upcoming ball. How he
wished now that he had never sent it. Benjamin was right. Adam needed to
cut all ties with Grace. It was time he stopped fantasizing about a life he
would never have. His romancing was going to take Grace down with him if
he was not very careful. Of course, he could not take back the invitation
now it had been made, but he would be very careful to keep his distance
from Grace throughout the evening. How he should have taken Grace at her
word on their last meeting and said goodbye to her forever then.

288
 CHAPTER 45

“
D on’t you ever worry about being seen? You’re so reckless
Dorothea.” Garth Stone sat back from the dinner table and
patted his full belly. Reaching for his cigars, he lit one and
puffed ruthlessly as Dorothea tried to finish her meal.
“No, darling, I rather like the excitement. And am I to stay indoors, all the
time? It wouldn’t be fair!”
Garth smiled at her, all the while thinking what an outrageously selfish little
brat she was.
“No, indeed. But what if your earl found out before the wedding? He might
throw you over darling.”
“Oh, don’t be so silly. How is he to find out? The dull man never comes to
London. He prefers the country. I say that’s all the better for me.”
“So, you intend to keep your London life when you are married then?”
“Of course, I do! What’s the point of being a countess unless you can come
to London and have people bow and scrape to you?” She shrieked
delightedly at what she thought was incredibly funny.
“Indeed, my dear. Still, he’ll know on your wedding night that he has not
married the virgin he was hoping for!” Garth laughed in a lascivious way
and Dorothea, rather than being offended, laughed with him.
“As I’ve told you before, it will all be too late by then. The aristocracy do
not hold up their mistakes for all to see. They hide them under the rug! Lord
Castleton would not dare speak up about that after the event. No, his family

289
will probably never even know, never mind his going public! I am safe, and
my title is safe!” Dorothea threw back her head and laughed. Garth could
not imagine how any family could not see through her. He had been amazed
to find that the Montcrieffs were welcoming the awful creature with open
arms. Not that it didn’t serve his purpose well. Garth was no angel himself.
“You’re quite the little firebrand!” Garth raised his glass in a toast to her.
“Yes, I am.” Dorothea tilted her glass also, like a woman who was rather
bored of men continually toasting her for one reason or another.
Garth was at the stage where he could almost no longer stand her company,
even with the physical benefits their affair had brought. Dorothea was one
of the most self-satisfied and annoying women he had ever met and, as an
experienced con man, he’d met a few.
The wedding of the Earl and Countess of Castleton could not come soon
enough for Garth. The payments for the rent of the London apartment were
beginning to eat into his reserves, for one thing. Still, he must keep his eye
on the main prize. The money he would draw from the Earl would be
enormous in comparison, making his outlay seem minuscule. As for
Dorothea, Garth cared nothing for what she might suffer when all was found
out about her. And yes, she was right. The Montcrieff family would not air
their awful secrets in public, rather they would scorn Dorothea in private. In
private, and for the rest of her life. Despite Garth’s own scandalous ways,
he could not help but smile when he thought how Dorothea deserved all that
was coming to her. Approaching the Earl with evidence of their affair
would be Garth’s finest, and most lucrative, hour!

“ARE YOU NEARLY READY, Grace? The carriage has been waiting for twenty
minutes!”
“One moment more, Papa!”
Grace had been dreading the ball ever since she had accepted Adam’s
invitation. She had rather thought that he might return her letter with more
confidences, but nothing had arrived. Still, he had not known she had
expected that of him. They had never maintained a written correspondence,
there had never been a need to.

290
Grace had spent hours on her appearance. For all that she did not want to
attend, her pride would not allow her to be anything less than be immaculate
in her dress. Grace was not an ostentatious dresser, never wanting to draw
undue attention to herself. Still, she would be perfectly well turned out.
Many an hour she had spent going over her wardrobe. In the end, she had
chosen a simple and elegant gown made with a white damask fabric. It was
embroidered in pale green with floral detailing on the fabric and a green
band beneath her bust. The dress floated down from there and made her feel
light and beautiful. She knew it suited her and brought out the shine in her
hair and the color in her cheeks. Grace was not going to allow her broken
heart to show. There would not be a sad little girl standing in the corner,
praying nobody looked at her. Grace would hold her head high and make her
father proud.
“I’m ready, Papa.”
“Well, I never. You look absolutely stunning dear. Dorothea Berenger could
surely not hold a candle to your bright flame!”
As Grace’s face fell, Jacob knew he had said the wrong thing.
“Oh, I’m so sorry Grace. How clumsy of me.”
“Please do not make yourself uneasy, Papa. The woman will be there, after
all, and it is high time I overcame this.” She plopped a small kiss on his
cheek and took his arm.
“Let’s go, shall we, Papa?”
“Of course, dear.”

ADAM WAS at the bottom of the grand staircase greeting the long succession
of guests who were announced by the butler and then expertly ushered
towards him in single file. Adam was working almost mechanically. He was
trying to amuse himself by using the same three phrases of greeting over and
over again. His wife-to-be and his mother had been too distracted to discern
his silly game, but Benjamin and Jerome, his brothers, had picked up on it in
quick time and were fighting hard not to laugh.
“How wonderful to see you, I trust you had a good journey.” Adam
crooned for the twentieth time, without really making eye contact with the

291
recipient of his less-than-warm welcome.
“Ah, what a truly splendid gown!” Adam said without even looking.
Benjamin coughed to hide the laughter which threatened to escape. Lady
Hawthorn looked awful in a gown that did little to hide her enormous body.
“So glad you could make it, it’s been too long!” Phrase number three was
trotted out as Jerome quickly turned and hurried off. Adam smiled. A hit! A
very palpable hit! Jerome was done for, and Benjy was the winner.
Of his five brothers, Adam was closest to Benjamin and Jerome. They were
nearer to his age and had the same mixture of kindness, humor and
seriousness as did he. It had always been easy to set up an impromptu game,
such as this one, with the two of them. They always picked up on what he
was doing and fed into it all so brilliantly. Even if Adam were to have the
most unhappy and ill-conceived marriage of the century, he would at least
still have his brothers. Life was not over as completely as he had thought it
to be.
Adam had just been about to say Ah, what a truly splendid gown! when he
came face to face with Grace. Adam stopped in his tracks, his mouth open,
ready to form the Ah part of his silly speech.
Grace looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her look. Her skin was
the clearest and brilliant of any woman in the great hall. Her brown-gold
eyes were sparkling and, her glossy brown hair was half up and half down.
The ringlets which fell about her creamy shoulders were the most perfect
spirals he had ever seen, and they bounced with health as she moved her
head.
“Grace.” It was all Adam could say.
“Your lordship.” Grace curtseyed primly.
Grace was wearing a white gown with the most beautifully stitched pale
green floral detailing on the fabric. It was so delicate that it was almost not
there at all. The green band beneath the bust was of the softest satin and
matched the embroidery perfectly. The long white gloves were bright and
pristine. Grace was not too much and not too little. Grace was perfection.
Eliza shifted her stance next to her son, eager to break the little spell her son
seemed to be under.

292
Coming to his senses again, Adam took Grace’s hand, bowed his head and
kissed the gloved fingers, never once taking his eyes from hers.
Dorothea coughed in a rather unladylike manner.
Grace, not mistaking the meaning at all, darted a sideways look at Dorothea.
The woman looked furious. Grace gently regained her hand and moved
along the line, hurriedly bobbing small curtseys at Dorothea and Lady
Castleton. Both women scowled at her, doing nothing to hide their contempt.
Adam tore his gaze away from Grace. Instead of assessing the mood of his
wife-to-be and his mother, he let his notice fall upon Benjamin instead.
Thinking this to be the safest bet, but Adam was sorely mistaken. Benjy was
scowling at him also and very gently, almost invisibly, shaking his head in
warning. His eyes said everything that Adam needed to hear as their earlier
conversation came back to him.

IT WAS some hours into the ball, and Adam had not looked in Grace’s
direction even once more. Grace felt hurt and relieved all at the same time.
Dorothea, however, had openly stared at her more than once, so fiercely that
Grace could not wait for the ball to be over. Obviously, Dorothea was not
quite the lady yet. A lady would never be so openly rude.
Eliza Montcrieff herself had quickly recovered and was all false smiles, the
way an aristocrat should be!
“May I have the next dance?” Grace recognized the young man as a friend of
Adam’s brother, Jerome, although she could not remember his name.
“Yes, thank you.”
Grace could see no reason why she should not dance with the young man.
Adam had been dancing with the long limbed and angular Dorothea all
night.
Grace was not an experienced dancer but was elegant nonetheless. Jerome’s
friend, who had introduced himself as Simeon Lidyard, was a wonderful
dancer, easily making up for whatever she lacked. Simeon seemed to match
her perfectly and was rather a handsome young man. He certainly seemed to
approve of Grace, detaining her for the next dance as soon as their first had
finished.

293
“I say, do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Grace laughed politely and smiled at him. Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw her father’s approving glance in their direction. He smiled
at her in a way which seemed to say, see, I told you, you’ll easily find a
good match.
Perhaps, after all, life did go on. Still, the way Adam’s eyes had met hers as
he had kissed her gloved hand had cut right into her soul. Why had he done
that, and then continued to ignore her in an almost determined way for the
rest of the evening? It had not been a simple and accidental omission by a
man busy with his guests and family. It had been a very distinct and
purposeful avoidance. Adam had not even glanced at her.
“Do you still visit here with you father, Miss Somerville?”
“Oh, yes. I often accompany him in his work. I help wherever I can.” Grace
saw no reason to tell this young man that she no longer desired to attend
Wadsworth House.
“I say, what a clever sort of a girl you are!”
“Well, not many young gentlemen care for that!” Grace laughed amiably.
“More fool them, I say!” Simeon gently led her in the correct direction,
smiling at her all through the dancing.
“Well, I thank you kindly.” Grace was rather pleased with him. Simeon had
nice manners, and the idea of being wooed was entirely alien to her. Adam
had never wooed her. Their love had been of a very different nature. It had
grown from childhood friendship and a deep understanding of each other
into a perfect love in adulthood. One where courtship had been unnecessary.
A perfect love? Yes, apart from her true love’s wife, of course!
“Miss Somerville? Are you quite well?”
“Oh yes, indeed. I’m enjoying the dancing very much!” Grace knew she had
fallen to scowling and hurriedly changed her countenance.
“Wonderful, then one more, perhaps?” Simeon looked at her so hopefully
that Grace could not help but laugh and accept him.
Grace had been all set to cast aside all thoughts of Adam and enjoy her
evening after all when she caught sight of him finally watching her. Adam’s
face was a mask of hurt anger. He looked rather furiously at her. For a

294
moment, Grace almost let go of her partner, ready to run away. However,
she very quickly regained control of her emotions. How dare Adam look at
her as if she were betraying him? He who was about to be married to
someone else! Grace felt a little fury of her own. Careful this time not to
show it, she smiled all the more brightly at Simeon.

DOROTHEA SIDLED UP TO ADAM , who was watching Grace so intently that he

was unaware of the approach.
“I do not share.”
Adam was startled by her.
“I beg your pardon?” He turned to look at her.
“I do not share, I said!”
“What on earth are you talking about, Dorothea?”
“Her. The attorney’s daughter.”
“Grace? What of her?”
“I will not put up with a husband who dallies with the help.” Dorothea
sneered at him.
Adam was furious. Whether he was more furious at the sordid accusation or
Dorothea’s description of Grace as the help, he could not tell.
“And I do not put up with a wife who speaks to me in such a manner. Your
accusations are less than ladylike, are they not?”
Dorothea felt a brief sense of panic. Perhaps she should not have vexed him
so, after all, they were yet to be married. In all the years she had known
Adam, Dorothea had never heard him speak so determinedly to anyone
before, and she had a black sense of the wedding being called off.
Something in Adam’s manner had almost frightened her. Dorothea looked
sideways at him once more as he resumed his surveillance of Grace
Somerville and the gangly youth twirling her about the dance floor.
“Oh dear, my mistake, Adam. Please do forgive me?”
“Forgive you?”

295
“Please. I was not myself. The stress of the wedding, not to mention this
ball.”
“And yet, you demanded them both.”
“Adam, surely you want to get married?” Dorothea felt a twang of
desperation.
“Want? What does want have to do with it?”
“Well, I want to marry you!” Dorothea knew she sounded churlish.
“No, Dorothea. You want to marry the Earl of Castleton. And there’s a very
clear distinction in my view.”
“Please, Adam, let’s not fall out.” She laid a white gloved hand upon his
arm and looked up at him adoringly.
What a fine actress she was!
“No, indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Adam strode away in a manner
which forbade her to follow.

296
 CHAPTER 46

F inally, Simeon had released Grace and she was free to

excuse herself from her father and the unknown elderly gent
with whom he had fallen to speaking.
Grace felt almost content as she made her way to check her appearance and
cool down a little. Simeon had been something of a nice, restorative tonic.
Whilst she had danced with him, the long months of pain and anguish had, at
times, melted away. Perhaps she could grow to love another? Maybe one
day she would forget Adam and even look back and laugh at her girlish
romanticism.
As she absently made her way, Grace shrieked as a hand grabbed her arm
and forcefully propelled her through the empty morning room. It was Adam.
He closed the door firmly behind them and continued to pull her through the
dark room to the moonlit glass of the French doors.
“You’re hurting me!” Grace whispered fiercely.
“Well, you’re hurting me!”
“Indeed? And how is that, pray tell?”
“You know how. I cannot believe that you would dance with Simeon
Lidyard just to goad me!”
“I did not dance with Simeon to goad you. I danced with him because he
asked me to!”
“Really! I do not believe you!” Grace had never seen Adam so angry. Still,
she was feeling rather angry herself.

297
“How dare you! I am not your property. I think you’ll find that Dorothea
Berenger is!”
“What?”
“Your wife-to-be! If you are to be jealous of anything, stand and watch her
dance with another. She, after all, is the woman you have chosen!” Grace
was furious. Her arm was sore from his heavy grip, and she could not
believe what she was hearing.
“Chosen! How can you say that? You know I have not chosen this situation!”
“And neither have I, Adam. You expect too much from me.”
“How so?” Adam was already calming down. He knew he had behaved
most irrationally and sooner or later, he would need to apologize once
again. How was it that he could no longer control his own emotions?
“I had said goodbye to you. Your letter to me almost forced me here!
However, much I knew it would hurt to see you and Dorothea together, I
came anyway. And why? Because you asked for my support. You said I was
your friend.”
“You are my friend.” The fire was gone from Adam, and he was mumbling
his responses.
“Then, good friend that you are to me, you avoid me all evening.”
“I didn’t... I...”
“Oh, please. Do not lie about it. It lessens you.”
Adam shrugged sadly. He felt beaten by life, family, the world, and now
Grace.
“And then, when I dance with a young man, which I have every right to do,
you dare to drag me off and reprimand me for it! Am I not to have a life?
Am I to watch you and Dorothea live happily and content, raising a family
of your own, whilst I live as an old maid, just to keep you happy?”
“I...”
“I tell you, Adam Montcrieff, I will not do it! Damn you!” Grace had never
sworn before in all her life, yet felt no shame in it.
“I am sorry Grace. I do not know what possessed me. Apart from love.”

298
“Love?” Grace laughed mirthlessly and rubbed at her sore forearm.
Seeing that he had actually hurt her, Adam could have cried out in anguish.
“I hurt you. Oh, Grace! Please forgive me.” He reached for her arm and
gently took a hold of it. Grace did not resist, she simply sighed in
resignation.
“I’m growing tired of forgiving you. I’m growing tired of everything.” Tears
began to flow down her cheeks. Adam gathered her into his arms and held
her tight. Grace relaxed into him. Her emotions had all but ruled her for so
long that they had exhausted her completely. All she wanted in the whole
world was to be allowed to remain, resting in his arms, forevermore.
“Grace, I cannot bear this.”
“Neither can I, Adam. I do not have any answers, nor any way to move
forward. I give up.”
“And I too.”
Adam took Grace’s chin and lifted her head towards his own. She was the
most beautiful woman in all the world, and Adam knew he would always
love her. Grace returned his gaze, without coyness or guile. It was the
comfortable gaze of two people who had been in love for many, many years.
Taking her face in both of his hands, Adam kissed her. Grace’s lips felt soft
and warm and tasted sweet. Her fresh apple scent filled his nostrils, and
Adam could feel that he was losing himself in her.
Grace reached up and laced her hands around his neck, pulling him closer to
her. Her lips parted a little and a small moan of pleasure escaped. It was the
most divine and exciting feeling.
Grace could not think. She knew she should be thinking. She should be
rationalizing and objecting, and yet she could not. This moment she had
dreamed of since early womanhood had finally arrived. So often she had
dreamed of their first real kiss, over and over again, night after night. Yet
there was nothing in her imaginings which could ever compare to the reality
of his kiss. Grace could neither hear nor see. She could not speak. All
Grace could do was feel.
Adam could feel his passion rising and pulled her closer to him. Grace
moaned louder. This was so unexpected and yet so wonderful. Both were so

299
engrossed in each other that they had not heard the door open, nor seen
Dorothea slip into the room.
As she approached and her shoe scraped on the stone flooring, Grace
gasped and Adam jumped backward.
Dorothea smirked at the pair, looked them up and down, then slowly and
confidently swayed out of the room.
“Oh, dear Lord, I am ruined!” Grace cried.

300
 CHAPTER 47

I t was the day after the ball and Dorothea had yet to mention the
events of the previous evening to Adam. All through the
morning, she had smiled demurely at Eliza and had been the
very picture of the adoring fiancé in his presence. Not only did she not look
the least bit annoyed, but she rather looked as satisfied as a cat after three
courses of canary. Adam was confused. Had he not been so worried for
Grace, ashamed of what he had done to her, Adam might well have caught
on sooner.
Later in the afternoon, Adam contrived to find himself alone with Benjamin
in the library. It was the most underused room in all of Wadsworth House.
“What is it this time? Something is eating away at you again.” Benjamin
already looked as if he had some idea that Grace would be mentioned.
“I kissed Grace again last night... and rather passionately.”
“Oh, Adam, you fool. I told you, you must be careful or Grace will be
ruined!”
“I rather fear she is already.”
“What?” Benjamin’s eyebrows rose high.
“Dorothea walked in on us. We were in the morning room.”
“That is bad, what did she see?” Benjamin was cutting straight to the heart
of the matter. There was little point in being delicate.
“I was holding her close and kissing her very passionately.” Adam cast his

301
eyes down. Nobody should really know what had happened between Grace
and him, except for themselves.
“And what did she say? Dorothea I mean.”
“Nothing?”
“What? Nothing at all? That does not sound like Dorothea to me.” Benjamin
looked thoughtful.
“No, I do not understand it myself. She just smiled. In fact, she’s been
smiling all day.”
“Oh, of course!” Benjamin slapped his forehead in exasperation.
“What?”
“She rather has you over a barrel now.”
“How so?”
“Well, now you must marry her, or she will expose you and, more
importantly, Grace Somerville.”
“But I was going to marry Dorothea anyway! What can she possibly have
gained?”
“She has gained absolute certainty.”
“I thought she already had that.”
“Well, have you said or done anything that might have made her wonder?”
“Oh, Lord, yes. I rather snapped at her last night. She caught me staring at
Grace, and she tried to belittle me. I was angry and told her that I would not
be spoken to that way by a... a wife.”
“Ah, and there we have it. She knows you love Grace, then. Your anger will
have confirmed that. Now, we both know that Dorothea’s heart would
hardly have been broken by that since we know she cares as much for you as
you do for her. But perhaps she could see her title slipping through her
fingers.”
“And perhaps she should. I’m calling it off!”
“What?”

302
“The wedding. I’m calling it off. There’s nothing else for it.”
Benjamin was reeling from his brother’s sudden and ridiculous decision.
“But you cannot. No! More than ever before, you cannot.” Benjamin felt sad
for his brother.
“Why?”
“She has you, I say, she has you. If you back out of the union now, Dorothea
will put it all upon Grace, and she will add to it, have no doubt. Grace will
be ruined!”
“But I shall marry her!”
“No, brother. Grace will be ruined before you marry her. She and her father
will be spurned and despised wherever they go. Jacob will have not one
client left on his books. Neither one of them deserves that.”
Adam slumped down into the leather chair and sighed. Finally, the true
consequences of his actions were dawning on him. He had never liked
Dorothea and always thought her something of a schemer. But this? Good
God, that he should be silently held to ransom by such a creature, and at the
very moment he had finally decided to follow his heart to Grace.
“Oh, Benjy. The only way I can save Grace now is to go through with my
marriage to Dorothea.” Adam dropped his head into his hands.
Benjamin stood behind his chair and placed a comforting hand on Adam’s
shoulder.
“I am afraid so, brother.”
At that moment, Benjamin hated Dorothea Berenger.

THREE DAYS LATER, Garth Stone could not have been more pleased. When
Dorothea had told him of her discovery and the absolute guarantee that this
wedding would take place, he could have jumped for joy. It took all of his
resolve to hide his excitement. His money was now a certainty. Still, he did
not want Dorothea to suspect him. His plan would, in the end, serve her
very ill indeed, so he must play his part of amused, yet slightly miffed, lover
right until the end.

303
GRACE HAD KEPT to her room for days. Escaping the ball, she had claimed
sudden illness to her father. With her face as white as clean linen, Jacob had
been immediately fooled by her claim. Grace had felt awful about lying to
her father, but she had simply had to get out of Wadsworth House. For three
whole days, she had expected the knock at the door. Some allegedly well-
meaning person, come to tell her Papa of the circulating rumors of her
disgrace. And yet, it had not come. What had happened after she had left?
Had Adam somehow convinced Dorothea to remain silent? Perhaps he had
pleaded his wedding nerves and professed his undying love to the awful
woman. Whether that or the thought of her own ruin was worse, Grace could
hardly discern.
Adam had gotten no word to her. If the wedding had been called off, surely
word would have reached her by now? Her own father was the Montcrieffs
attorney after all.
Thoughts of what had passed between Grace and Adam on the night of the
ball were never far from her mind. Grace had replayed the scene over and
over. She had relived the pure pleasure and excitement of Adam’s kiss over
and over again. If she closed her eyes, Grace could almost taste him still on
her lips, she could feel his strong arms around her. It had been the most
wonderful of all feelings. Everything had rolled away. Her sadness, fear,
and all sense of right and wrong as the world about her would view it.
Nothing mattered. In those moments, Grace knew that she would have given
herself to Adam willingly, there and then.
Then, the reality struck. Dorothea’s wicked little grin. The way she had
looked Grace up and down as if she were nothing but a common slattern.
The feeling of queasiness which had been her constant companion in the
days since the ball had returned once more.
Grace was beginning to feel truly ill. Having hardly eaten since the night of
the ball, she was becoming weak. Grace knew that this could not continue.
Her father was beside himself with concern, thinking her to be truly ill.
Grace knew that she could not continue to pain Jacob in that way. She must
find a way to get over this. Grace knew she must be well again, and soon.

304
ADAM HAD BEEN RELIEVED when Dorothea had left Wadsworth for friends in
London. She seemed to spend a lot of time in London, not that Adam could
care a thing about it.
As trapped as Adam had felt by the upcoming nuptials, there had always
been a small germ of an idea at the back of his brain which told him that he
could somehow get out of it. If all else failed, he could just refuse to marry
Dorothea Berenger, and to hell with his mother and the family’s expectations
that the new earl would bring more money into the estate with her dowry. It
had been so small a thought that he had barely been aware of it himself, yet
it had kept him going. Given time, he had thought he would find a way out of
this mess. Now, thanks to his own lack of self-control, he could not free
himself to be with the woman he loved. Not without being the ruination of
her and her family. What a cruel twist of fate, and at his very own hands.
Just for a kiss.
Still, Adam knew it had been so much more than a kiss. Had they been left
alone, Adam knew he could not have resisted her. Even now, the feel of her
lips against his, her soft body in his arms. It was more than he could bear
and Adam knew he would have made her his that night, if they had not been
disturbed. What was more, he knew that Grace had wanted him just as
much. She would not have refused him.
Now, at his own doing, Adam had ensured that he would never taste Grace’s
lips nor feel her in his arms ever again. Adam had never felt so desolate in
all his life.

“NO, Papa. I absolutely refuse!”

“Refuse! Indeed!”
“I’m sure you do not need me.” Grace was desperate. Jacob needed to work
on some papers urgently at Wadsworth, and he claimed he needed her help.
“For heaven’s sake, child! It is less than a fortnight until the wedding, and I
absolutely must resolve this. And I need your help if I am to have any hope
of solving this mystery before the reverend starts the damned service!”
Grace began to cry. Her beloved father had never spoken to her in such a
way ever before. Seeing the result of his wrath, Jacob subsided a little.

305
“Oh, Gracey, come here. I’m sorry to have shouted at you, but I have never
needed you more. I have discovered a possible property discrepancy in the
Berenger paperwork, and I really must resolve it.” Jacob didn’t point out
that it had been Adam who had asked him to scour her background for
anything that may be unusual.
“But, Papa, I really cannot go there again. It is too much.”
“But why? You seemed happy enough to go to the ball. I rather thought you
were having fun until you took a bad turn.”
“I know, but...”
“I mean, what on earth can have happened between then and now to provoke
such a violent reaction from you?”
Grace began to panic. Of course, her father knew nothing of her behavior at
the ball, nor did he know that there were any witnesses. Still, if she
continued to protest so vehemently, Jacob would begin to have suspicions as
to the real cause of her recent malady. With resignation and the deepest
despair of her life, Grace knew that she must give in to her father’s request.
“I’m sorry, father. You are right. Please forgive me, I have felt so unwell of
late.”
“Of course, my dear. But you are well now, surely?”
“Yes, Papa. I am well.” A broken heart notwithstanding.

306
 CHAPTER 48

T he journey to Wadsworth had been terrible for Grace. Having

heard not one word from Adam, she had no idea what she
would be walking into.
What if Dorothea was still staying at Wadsworth?
What if they happened upon one another?
What on earth would she say?
But perhaps Dorothea had left Wadsworth? After all, that would be the
proper state of affairs.
Grace felt her breathing begin to return to normal. Then she gasped as
another awful thought occurred to her. What if Dorothea had told Lady
Castleton about the whole affair? Eliza Montcrieff already took great delight
in showering Grace with spite and humiliation.
What if she told her papa about it?
With so many doom-laden and fearful thoughts racing through her mind,
Grace began to feel nauseous once more.
The weather had turned very cold, almost frosty in fact. It seemed to Grace
that the coldness of the day was in sympathy with her poor, useless heart.
The clouds looked fat, as if they were heavy with rain. Or perhaps snow?
Either way, it mattered not to Grace.
In the end, Grace and Jacob had made it through the house and straight into
the office without meeting anybody. Grace almost ran the last few yards and,

307
reaching the safety of the office, let out a sigh.
“Grace? Are you quite well?”
“Yes, Papa, just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Hardly surprising, the speed at which you seemed to canter through the
house.”
“So, what are we looking for?” Grace was keen to stem any stream of
suspicion.
“Well, it’s the strangest thing. I’ve happened upon a document in Miss
Berenger’s paperwork relating to an apartment in London. I am uncertain as
to whether it is supposed to form part of her dowry, but the ownership is
unclear.”
“Unclear? How can that be?” Grace was suddenly interested, without any
real idea why.
“Well, the document is not complete. It was rather stuck to another set of
paperwork, you see. Yet I have searched in vain for the remainder of it. I
have gone through every paper I have back home and there is nothing. That
is why I have come here. I must hurriedly turn over each and every paper I
have stored in this office, in case the rest of the document is among them.”
“But, perhaps it is mistakenly among the papers you were provided with?
You say yourself that it was stuck to another set of papers. Perhaps it was
never intended to be part of Miss Berenger’s dowry paperwork in the first
place?” The very words, Miss Berenger, caught in her throat. As much as
she disliked the woman, Dorothea Berenger had more right to dislike Grace.
A flush rose to her cheeks once more. Seeking to disguise it, she lowered
her head and began to open the first of the neat packets of paperwork.
“Well, indeed, that is the other scenario and a distinct possibility.”
“Papa, why do you simply not ask her? Or one of the family? Would that not
be simpler?”
“Well, yes, Grace. The problem is, I feel rather an old fool. We are days
away from this wedding and all of this should be complete. It was complete
until I had a final leaf through and found this blasted paper.”
“So? You’re simply being thorough.”

308
“Do you really think a woman like Dorothea Berenger will see it that way?
No, she will have the ear of her husband-to-be by now, and she will rightly
point out that a query of this nature should have been brought to her attention
much sooner. I fear she is rather like Lady Castleton in her manner.” Jacob
whispered the last.
“I see, Papa.” Grace had finally realized why Jacob was so anxious to
perform this search and set about helping him. It would certainly help to
take her mind off her own problems for a while.

BENJAMIN HAD SEEN the Somerville’s carriage approach. Jacob was a

hardworking man and seemed so often to be at Wadsworth Hall. Still, it was
a large estate with many legalities to attend to. Jacob had been such a
regular visitor to the estate for all of Benjamin’s life that he rarely paid
attention to his comings and goings. He was rather like a lovely old relative,
an uncle perhaps, whom one paid little attention to but cared for
nonetheless.
Still, today was different. Anything having to do with the Somerville family
was of interest to Benjamin now. Even more so since he saw Grace step
from the carriage, too. The poor woman looked dreadful. Her face was pale
and drawn, and she looked a little thin. How changed she was from the night
of the ball. In a matter of days, Grace had gone from a flawless beauty to a
careworn shadow.
Benjamin himself had rather sat up and taken notice on the night of the ball
when Grace had demurely walked in. He finally saw what Adam had
always seen. Grace had a very rare beauty, and it had nothing to do with
beautiful gowns and perfectly coiffed hair. She simply radiated health,
intelligence, and loveliness. Poor Adam, how his heart must have deflated
in his very chest. To have stood at the side of his appalling, grasping little
fiancé whilst greeting the only woman he had ever loved as a mere guest
must have been a form of purgatory. Especially when she had looked so
beautiful. So simply, yet elegantly dressed, Grace had easily outshone the
over-done peacocks who assumed themselves to be her betters. Dorothea
and her ilk simply tried too hard. Everything was to excess, and they ended
up looking faintly ridiculous.
He had stood helplessly watching his brother’s face darken when the

309
hapless Simeon Lidyard had stood up with her for dance after dance after
dance. How Benjamin wished he had followed Adam when he had stalked
out of the great hall. He could have stopped what was to come, and he
would never forgive himself for not having done so. At that point, Adam had
still had a choice. A difficult, almost impossible choice, with far-ranging
consequences, true, but it was a choice nevertheless. Now he had nothing
and Benjamin would have done anything in his power to change that. Still,
what could be done now? Adam had let his heart rule his head and, in doing
so, had gone as far as to ruin his own life.
Benjamin had stayed close to the window, watching Grace’s furtive
movements as she alighted the carriage. Her eyes darted to and fro and
when her father joined her, she almost ran into the house. The poor girl. This
was no more her fault, although he knew that the rest of their world would
hold a very different view. For what had she done but fallen into the arms of
the man she loved, the man she knew she was losing? They had kissed, and
nothing more. Now, just days later, and the poor girl looked like a different
woman altogether. A deep sense of sadness overcame Benjamin as he
wished he could help these two people. Wished he could undo what had
been done or find some way for them to be together. Yet there was one thing
he could do.

AS HE MADE his way to the open door of the office, Benjamin faltered. He
really did not know what he was doing there, except he felt he wanted to
silently assure Grace that nothing had been said, no rumor had escaped. At
least, she could rest easier in her current surroundings if nothing else. As
he’d paused just out of sight, Benjamin had heard much of Jacob and
Grace’s conversation.
An apartment in London? Had he heard them correctly? Benjamin knew as
well as everybody else how much time Dorothea spent in town, but he had
never heard talk of either her or her family owning an apartment. It was very
curious indeed, and something about it made his senses tingle. Feeling
exactly like the eavesdropper he was, Benjamin decided that he must make
his presence known before it was discovered.
“Hello, Jacob. Grace.” He smiled broadly at them, nodding reassuringly at
Grace.
Jacob had started as Benjamin had made his entrance.

310
“I’m so sorry, I have startled you.”
“Well, yes, but I was rather engrossed, so please do not blame yourself.”
Jacob had an easy smile and manner and Benjamin liked him very much.
“And how are you, Grace?”
“Oh, I’m very well indeed. Thank you.” Grace knew that she looked
appalling, and she also knew that Benjamin could see it.
“And how well you look, too. It’s so very nice to see you both.”
Benjamin realized he was being clumsy. It was so rare for him to pop his
head in whilst they worked that he knew they must be suspicious. Grace
looked mortified. In one look, all was revealed. Grace knew, without a
doubt, that Benjamin was very sensible of what had passed between her and
his brother. Benjamin could have kicked himself for his ineptitude. He had
wanted to make her feel at ease and had, instead, made the poor woman
feel, and look, even worse.
The idea of the London apartment was also niggling him. There would be no
easy and seamless way of approaching the subject. Since he had been brash
and clumsy thus far, Benjamin decided to continue in the same manner.
“Jacob, forgive me, but I rather overheard about the whole business of the
London apartment on my approach to your office.”
Jacob looked crestfallen. His inadequacy had been discovered.
“Oh, no, please, Jacob, do not make yourself uneasy about it. I mention it
only as a means of offering my assistance. My very discreet assistance.”
Benjamin added the last very quietly, hoping to win the older man’s trust.
He had hit his mark, and Jacob looked very much relieved.
“Well, if you can shed some light on this, I would be most terribly grateful.”
“May I see the paper?” Benjamin gently pushed the door closed, not wishing
to be discovered by any member of his family. Jacob handed him the
document, which Benjamin studied closely.
Meanwhile, Grace studied Benjamin. What was he up to? Something was
intriguing him, that was for sure. The way he had closed the door told Grace
that it was not Jacob whom he was protecting from discovery, but himself.
What on earth could all of this mean? Grace began to forget her
embarrassment and instead became interested in what she had previously

311
thought to be nothing more than a rather dull oversight.
“Is it familiar to you?”
“No, not at all, Jacob. I have never heard of Dorothea owning such a
property.”
“Well, indeed, there is no actual evidence that she does. It is an agreement
of some sort, but of what kind and between whom, there is no way of telling
without the rest of the paperwork.”
“And is there no sign?” Benjamin indicated the desk heaped high with
papers with just a nod of his head.
“Not so far.”
Benjamin sat in one of the leather chairs and pondered at length.
Grace and Jacob both watched him in expectant silence. Grace looked about
her, her eyes settling upon the large window. Fat snowflakes were beginning
to fall. So it had been snow and not rain after all. Finally, seeming to have
decided upon some plan, Benjamin sat forward, drawing Grace’s attention
once more.
“I shall go now to London. I will have a quick look at this apartment for
myself and see what I can find out.”
“At this hour? Why, it will be early evening by the time you arrive there.”
Jacob protested, although deep down he was grateful for some positive
action in this dilemma.
“And it has begun to snow,” Grace added, looking back at the window.
“Well, then, I must make haste.” Benjamin rose to his feet. “And, perhaps in
the meantime the two of you could continue your search through this
paperwork?”
“Yes, of course, we shall.” Jacob was nodding furiously. He liked Benjamin
very much but had never known him to be quite so helpful.
“And please, say nothing of this until we come back together. I might well
be very late back, perhaps even tomorrow if I am held up by snow.”
“Why, yes, of course.” Jacob was beginning to wonder at the urgency and
secrecy but realized he was in no position to decline the young man’s help.

312
As Benjamin rushed from the room, Grace and Jacob watched him go in
stunned silence.

SOME HOURS after Benjamin’s departure saw Grace and Jacob still searching
for the paperwork. Both were beginning to grow hungry and, with nobody
else in the house aware of their presence, there would be little chance of
being offered refreshment. Grace had packed some sandwiches and cake in
the hopes of not seeing anybody at all on their visit, but she had left them in
the carriage.
“I did pack some food, Papa. I fear I have left it on the seat of the carriage.”
“Oh, glorious. Do pop and get it, child.” Jacob was intent on his reading.
Grace had nursed a small hope that her father would retrieve their food from
the carriage as she still did not know if Dorothea or Adam were in the house
and feared happening upon either one of them. Still, looking at her father’s
anxious and furrowed brow, she knew she could not expect it of him.
“I’ll be back shortly.” Grace grabbed her cloak and pulled it around her
shoulders and once more set off through Wadsworth House at a most
unnatural pace. Deciding that the morning room would be the path of least
resistance and less likely to be inhabited than any other room, she hastened
through it, hurrying for the French doors.
“Grace?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin.
Adam was sitting alone in a chair by the unlit fire. The room was growing
dusky, and she could barely make him out as he sat in the darkest corner.
“Adam?” she squeaked breathlessly. How she wished she could simply
evaporate into thin air and escape this nightmare. Then panic hit her and her
eyes searched the half dark room for any sign of Dorothea or Eliza. Adam
was mercifully alone.
“She’s not here.” It was as if Adam had read her mind.
“Oh,” Grace said, flatly. She had no idea where to go from here.
“She’s in London with friends.” Dorothea had become she. It was unlike

313
Adam to be so rude. Something had changed, surely?
“Oh. I see.”
“You’re not in a very talkative mood, Gracey.”
“No, I am not. I hardly know what to say, if I am completely honest with
you.”
“I myself also hardly know what to say. Except that I am very sorry...”
“Oh, don’t! Just don’t! I cannot bear to hear you apologize one more time.
Except, perhaps, for unkindly informing Benjamin of every detail of the
shame which passed between us!” Grace was crying, she could not stop
herself. She would be glad when this wedding was done and she never had
to set foot on the Wadsworth Estate ever again. Her soul could cope with no
more.
“You’ve seen him? He spoke to you of it?”
“No, he said nothing. He did not need to, his eyes told the whole story. Who
else have you told, Adam? Your whole family? The servants?” Grace knew
she was being obtuse, but her feelings were so dreadfully hurt.
“No, for God’s sake! You know how close I am to Benjy. He just knew there
was something wrong. What’s more, he understood. He did not judge us.”
“Then perhaps he should have done.” Grace did not really mean what she
had said. Benjamin had, in truth, been very kind and discreet. He was even
silently helping her papa.
“Why should he? I do not, and neither should you. I only blame myself for
the way I have done things. I have been so very foolish and painted myself
into a corner. But know this, Grace. I shall never, ever feel ashamed of what
I feel for you. I will never apologize for loving you.”
“You do love me then?” Grace’s voice was almost a whisper as her heart
came to life in her chest and color returned to her cheeks. How she had
needed to hear that, even if it changed nothing.
“Yes, I do love you. I will never love anyone but you.”
“I love you too, Adam. I always have.”
Adam rose and stepped towards her. Grace stiffened and put her hand out to

314
stop him.
“No, we cannot do this again. My heart cannot take anymore. I do love you,
but to touch you and know that we shall never be together is killing me. I
shall not thrust the knife into my own heart… again.”
Adam dropped his head. He seemed to be gathering himself, unsure of what
to do next. Finally, he sat back down into his chair and cleared his throat.
“Is Jacob working today? I had no idea you were here.” The normality was
almost surreal.
“Yes, he just wants to check over everything one last time. You know how
Papa is, he wants to make sure everything is perfect.” Grace was very
careful not to give her father or Benjamin away. She still did not know what
it all meant but felt sure that Benjamin was on some sort of quest of
discovery.
“Is there anything I can do? Some refreshment, perhaps?”
“Actually, I had packed something. I was just on my way to collect it from
the carriage.”
“Well, some tea. Allow me to do that much, please.”
“Of course, that would be most welcome. Thank you.”
Adam accompanied her to the carriage. Having him walk beside her was
strange. In one way glorious and comfortable, in another torturous and
wretched. As they crossed the grounds, it was snowing hard and he looked
doubtfully at the sky.
“How much longer do you think your father will be? I fear you will be
rather trapped until morning.”
“Oh, I’m sure that it will be fine. It’s not thick yet.” Grace could not bear the
thought of having to spend the night under that roof. She prayed that her
father would find what he was looking for and soon. It seemed unlikely that
Benjamin would return that evening.
“No, it’s not thick, but the flurries are fast and visibility is almost nothing.
It’s too dangerous to drive, surely?”
“Well, let’s see. I shall hurry my father along if necessary.”

315
Grace wanted to stay with him, wanted to talk to him or hold him tight.
Instead, she turned and hurried back into the house, leaving Adam looking
up at the sky.

316
 CHAPTER 49

B enjamin had made it to London in under an hour and was very

pleased with himself. Still, it was snowing hard now and he
doubted he would get back to Wadsworth that night. For a
moment, he wondered if he was helping, but he had to do something.
The street in which the building stood was deserted and Benjamin
wondered if he looked conspicuous on the corner looking up at the large
windows. He had guessed that the apartment in question was at the very top
of the building. There were lights inside casting a warm glow through the
windows. It seemed rather inviting to Benjamin as he stood frozen, stamping
his feet and rubbing his un-gloved hands together.
From the very moment he had overheard Jacob’s talk of this unknown
habitat, Benjamin had the deepest of instincts that Dorothea was up to
something. He had never liked the woman. In all the years he had known her,
Benjamin had found her to be little more than a spoiled, self-satisfied
creature. A social climber who had a far bigger opinion of her allure than
was genuinely called for. Her long and slender limbs and sharp features
were not attractive to Benjamin. She was all hard edges, no softness or
curves. No femininity. Rather, he thought, she reminded him of a spider
creeping silently along the skirting board. Benjamin subdued a chuckle as he
thought of taking a slipper to her, as he did with all the other unwelcome
arachnids.

AS NIGHT HAD FALLEN, Jacob’s search was finally complete, and it had come

317
to nothing.
“I’m sorry, Papa, it really is just not here. There is nothing to find.”
“I know, Grace, I know.” He sighed as he tied the last of the document
packets with ribbon and stowed it neatly with the rest.
“Perhaps Benjamin will find something. There’s no more we can do
tonight.”
“Indeed, Grace. Let us make a move home.”
As they donned their cloaks and headed out of the room, Adam waylaid
them.
“All done, Jacob?” He avoided Grace’s gaze. He had clearly been
hovering, and Gracey was no fool.
“Yes, all done for now. Just a final check, you know, see that all is in
order.”
“And I thank you for it.”
Grace’s eyes were burning holes in him.
“Surely you are not setting off in this?” Adam said. “It is not safe.”
“Oh, dear. Is it still snowing?” Jacob had been too preoccupied to pay much
attention to the world outside the office window.
“I’m afraid it is. It’s rather a flurry. You must stay here tonight, I insist.”
Jacob looked up gratefully. He was tired and still a little anxious and could
well do without the drive home, especially if the conditions were as poor as
Adam claimed.
“Oh, how very kind and thoughtful of you.” Jacob was clearly accepting the
offered hospitality while Grace stood impotently at his side. This was the
last thing she wanted, the last thing she needed. Grace was furious with
Adam. Why could he not just let her be? Why must he drag her misery out
longer and further than she could physically cope with? Still glaring at him,
she knew he would not meet her gaze. Grace had known him too long and
knew him too well. Whenever she was annoyed with him, Adam always
avoided looking at her. If she were not so emotional and angry, it would
have made her laugh.

318
“I’ll get your rooms arranged and have a hot meal sent up.”
“How kind,” Grace said, with a warmth she did not feel.

BENJAMIN WAS FROZEN to the bone. He had watched and waited all evening
for any sign of Dorothea and was beginning to think he would have to go
right up to the door. The only danger was that he would give himself away
before finding anything out. If there was, indeed, anything to discover.
It was so late now that he could not imagine her leaving the apartment… if
she was even there. There was still no evidence that this stray paper in her
documents had anything at all to do with Dorothea. And yet, in his gut,
Benjamin felt a twinge. Surely his journey and subsequent hypothermia were
not in vain?
As his spirits had finally begun to dip beyond redemption, Benjamin spied
some movement further along the street. A tall, well-dressed man was
striding purposefully through the snow, clouds of thick smoke rising from his
cigar. Benjamin stiffened in anticipation. Maybe it had been worthwhile
after all!

WITH THEIR MEAL OVER, an exhausted Jacob had expressed a wish to retire for
the night. In truth, Grace had been relieved. As she made her way to her own
room, she wanted nothing more than to climb into the bed and sleep away
her misery.
The room which Adam had insisted be prepared for her was warm and
inviting. A fire glowed brightly in the hearth, and she could see that the maid
had laid a crisp white nightgown out on the bed for her use.
Grace undressed and tipped the still warm water from the jug on the
washstand into the large bowl. Once washed, she pulled the nightgown over
her head and shut off all but one of the oil lamps. The final lamp she turned
down so low that it shed just the faintest of glows. With the light from the
fire, she was able to see just enough to be sensible of where she was,
should she wake in the night.
Grace did not expect to sleep. Since that kiss, she had found sleep brief and

319
fitful. Knowing that she was under the same roof as Adam, she expected to
toss and turn away the night. Yet, as soon as she was under the plentiful
covers, Grace drifted gratefully into a dreamless sleep.

IN THE EARLY hours of the morning, Adam was still wide awake. His thoughts
would not allow him slumber of any kind. How he loved Grace. Just seeing
her again had deepened his feelings yet further still. How could he bear a
life without her? Had he not made such a mess of things and put Grace’s
reputation in such awful danger, Adam knew that, at the last, he would have
made a stand. He would have called off the wedding and let his mother and
everybody else do and say what they would. Adam would have married
Grace and, eventually, the flurry of rumor and speculation would have died
away to nothing.
Now that Dorothea was armed with the very worst kind of ammunition,
Adam could see no way out.
Was it all worth it? This false life, the determination to do what the world
saw as the right thing? The world was far more corrupt than its inhabitants
owned up to. Things did not have to be right, they simply had to appear to
be right. How odd and how awful that this was the way of things.
But did it really have to be? Would Adam really go through with his
intended union and live a life of hell, just to spare a few years of turmoil
and rumor? Scorn and shame were hard things to bear, but were they really
harder than the agony of living a life without the one person who truly
mattered the most? He had to know, he had to find out.

ADAM LET himself silently into Grace’s room. She was so deeply asleep that
she did not hear him approach and did not waken until he had sat upon her
bed. At that moment, however, her eyes flew open and she stifled a scream.
“Adam, for Goodness sake! You cannot be here. Please, I beg of you, you
must leave.”
“Grace, I cannot.”
“Adam, please. We cannot be caught again. This is worse, here in this room.

320
I am in bed, Adam. What are you trying to do to me?”
“I am trying to ask you to marry me.”
Grace, who had been trying to scramble from beneath the covers, stopped
dead in her tracks.
“What is this?” she said, her voice low and suspicious.
“I love you, Grace. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. For so long
you have been my forbidden love, but I no longer care. I want to marry you
and… if you will have me I intend to marry you.”
“You know that is impossible. Especially now. Dorothea...”
“To hell with Dorothea. Let her do her worst. I will not spend my life with
such an awful, grasping dragon!”
His rude description of his fiancé made Grace laugh. She could not help it,
his outburst made her picture him as the cheeky youth he had once been.
“Adam, really!”
“Do not scold me. You laughed!”
“I did, to my shame.”
“To hell with shame, too.”
“Adam, you know what will happen. The moment you jilt Dorothea, she
will tell everything she knows about me. I will be ruined before you ever
get a chance to propose properly. By then, my disgrace will be known and
any union with me shall become impossible. We are trapped in our lives and
must live with the consequences of our foolish behavior.”
“Why must we? And what disgrace? We kissed, Grace. That was all we
did.”
“You are the Earl of Castleton, and I am an attorney’s daughter. You know
that whatever we did that night will be grown and changed beyond all
recognition.”
“And so, for the sake of a few years of discomfort, you would choose to
live your life out in sadness, you without me, and I without you?”
Grace did not answer immediately. She sat up in bed and thought hard about

321
what he was saying.
“But my father?”
“He would get over it in time. I will protect the both of you.”
“Adam, could we really do this? In all truth, are we strong enough to
weather the dreadful storms that must surely follow?”
“We are. I know we are. Whatever it takes, I shall do it. I cannot live my life
without you. I have always loved you, Grace Somerville, and I always
shall. Nothing will ever change that. I must be with you... it cannot be any
other way.”
“But Adam, I am so afraid.”
“Then I shall have courage enough for both of us.”
“Adam, once all is known, once Dorothea has spread her poison far and
wide...”
“Yes?”
“Your mother? She will never allow it.”
“My mother does not have a choice in the matter. You forget, as I myself
have done, that I am the Earl of Castleton. I am the head of this family, and I
am the one who gets to choose. Not my mother, nor any of my brothers, just
me.”
“But the money. You know I have little to bring and nothing like that of
Dorothea’s family.”
“I care nothing for the money. What is all of this worth if I cannot have the
woman I love by my side? Only when I have you will I be truly rich. I shall
be the richest man on earth.”
Tears rolled down Grace’s cheeks, and Adam stroked them gently away.
Cupping her face, he kissed her more deeply than he ever had done before.
As his excitement began to rise once more, he broke free of her.
“Now, I shall leave, for I can trust myself no longer.”
Grace held fast to his hand and pulled it to her lips. She kissed it deeply
anting him to stay but knowing that he must not.

322
Gently his hand slipped from her fingers and he smiled in the gloom before
leaving the room.

323
 CHAPTER 50

B enjamin hurried noiselessly across the street. The tall, well-

dressed man had entered the large front door of the building. It
was now or never. If there were something to find, Benjamin
would find it. If not, he would slide away quietly into the shadows. As he
padded up the stairs in silent pursuit of the man, he prayed to God that he
was about to discover something that would help his dear brother.
From his vantage point on the stairs, Benjamin saw exactly which apartment
the man had walked into. Creeping silently on up, he checked the number.
This was the very apartment. His heart was beginning to thud hard against
his ribs and his breaths were short and quick. What should he do next?
Benjamin gently pressed his ear to the door. He could hear the man
speaking, low and melodic. He sounded American. Who was he talking to?
Finally, Benjamin heard the higher tones of a woman. Was it Dorothea? He
could not be sure. Finally, there was a shrieking high-pitched laugh which
was entirely recognizable. Benjamin had heard the awful, false laugh so
many times over the last few months that the very sound of it made his
hackles rise.
Benjamin knew he must wait for long enough to be as sure as he could that
the pair were alone in that apartment. If the man was just one of a number of
friends in there, Benjamin’s case for bursting in would not be a good one.
After a good ten minutes, Benjamin was as sure as he was ever going to be.
The apartment seemed to have fallen silent. Taking his courage in both
hands, and hoping against all hope that he was right, Benjamin tried the
handle. It was unlocked. Taking one final deep breath, he plunged into the
room.

324
The apartment was brightly lit. Benjamin walked straight through the first,
empty room and followed the sound of soft moaning. Feeling his spirits
soar, Benjamin was fairly certain of what he was about to discover.
Striding into the bedroom, Dorothea’s horrified scream was the most
satisfying sound Benjamin had ever heard.
“I say, Dorothea, you seem to be naked and far from alone in that big bed!”
Benjamin was smiling broadly.
The man looked startled and at a complete loss as to what to do next. A part
of him wanted to get up and beat this intruder, whilst his sensible self-
realized immediately that his own game was up. This was some relative or
another emissary of Adam Montcrieffs. There would be no wedding. There
would be no payout. Garth slumped, dejected, back down onto the bed.
While Dorothea was desperately trying to cover herself with the blankets.
“Don’t get up on my account, Dorothea. I have just a few words to say, then
I shall leave you to return to your rather fun-looking activities.”
Dorothea was scarlet and furious.
“How dare you come here?”
“How dare I? Really, how dare you think you are good enough for my
brother? The Earl of Castleton will not, I hope you understand, be walking
down the aisle with you, my dear.”
“You can’t do this!”
“Oh, can’t I? But I can, Dorothea. Not only will you be the one to call this
wedding off, but you shall claim cold feet and a change of heart. You shall
say nothing of Grace, and in turn, I shall say nothing of your American friend
here. I take it you understand me.”
Dorothea was thinking hard. She wanted that title and would do anything to
get it. Still, at that very moment, she knew there was nothing to be done. Her
chances of marrying into aristocracy had just fallen through the very floor of
her apartment. If she did not go along with this, then her chances of any
decent marriage were gone, too.

325
GRACE ROSE and looked out of the window. The thought of Adam and the feel
of his lips were as real as the sun as it rose in the sky. Then doubt flooded
her. Had he really said that to her? Had he really asked to marry her? For a
moment if felt like a dream and she wondered if she had imagined it.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling, and the sun was shining weakly in a
pale blue sky. She and her father would be able to return home later in the
morning. A smile crossed her face for she had lots to think about.
How much she would have to explain to her father. Grace did not relish
telling him how she and Adam had been caught in so passionate an embrace
by Dorothea. She did not want her dear Papa to view her any differently. Of
course, the previous night’s visit to her room would be hers and Adam’s
secret forever more.
Just as she had been about to leave her room, there came such a clatter and
shouting from below. She hurried to the top of the stairs to see what was
happening.

“ADAM! Adam!”
Eliza Montcrieff appeared, her face a picture of stern annoyance. Grace
shrank back a little.
“What’s all this shouting? Benjamin, lower your voice immediately.”
“Please don’t be tedious Mother. I must speak with Adam immediately. I
have news of the highest importance regarding his greedy little bride to be!”
“Benjamin! I will not stand for this,” Eliza said as she puffed out her chest
and threw back her shoulders.
“I had been about to speak with him in private but now, dear mother, I rather
think it would do you some good to hear what I have discovered. Come,
let’s find him together!”

326
 EPILOGUE

E verything seemed too happened in such a blur from that moment

onwards. Even now, Grace could hardly believe how Dorothea’s
greed and arrogance had served to make everything so right.
Benjamin’s discovery of Dorothea’s shameful secret had saved Grace from
ever having to suffer the revelation of her own. Not that her secret was
anywhere near as shameful as Dorothea’s! Still, Grace had been relieved
not to have had to reveal the kiss to her Papa. He was blissfully unaware of
the high drama of the few short weeks which had eventually led to her own
wonderful wedding.
And wonderful it was. A wedding so grand she had not been able to
comprehend the expense. There had been coaches and flowers and red
carpet and the most glorious wedding gown. Grace had felt like a princess
rather than a countess, and she had married the man she loved. It had been a
dream come true, and sometimes she still had to pinch herself to know it
was real.
The first night in her husband’s arms had been something she would
remember forever.

JACOB WAS SO grateful to God that his daughter’s broken heart had finally
been mended and in the very finest of ways. He had been sad to see her
leave for Wadsworth once she was married, but he could not have been
happier for Grace and Adam, and he seemed to see as much of them both as
ever since he continued to work in his small office there.

327
Grace had found the first few months both joyous and incredibly stressful. It
had not really occurred to her, almost right up until the moment she had
walked up the aisle, that she would actually be the Countess of Castleton.
The title meant very little to her, but on occasion, the expectations were a
little confusing. Still, she was growing in confidence with every day and
with Adam by her side, she could cope with anything.
Eliza, quite clearly, was still unhappy about the union but had softened
somewhat when Grace and Adam had broken the news to her about the baby
Grace was expecting. It would take some time, Grace knew, but in the grand
scheme of things, Eliza was a minor problem and would one day be won
over.
Adam was the perfect husband, romantic and thoughtful, he was also as
attentive as any expectant father could be, rarely leaving her side.
“Adam, are you going to stick to me like this forever? I should like to know.
One likes to be able to plan for the constant presence of one’s own
husband.” She ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek playfully.
“I shall stick to you forever. When I think that we might never have been
together.”
“But we are together. We won through in the end.”
“We rather did, didn’t we?”
“Yes, my love, we did.”
“So, since we are now married and you have me all to yourself, might I be
permitted some peace just once in a while?” Her smile was so broad it
almost hurt.
“Yes, all right. Perhaps I should find a project of some sort? What is your
suggestion, wife of mine?”
“Mmm,” Grace began, thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should see about restoring
our old summer house.”
Adam returned her broad smile. He liked the idea of rescuing the scene of
their very first kiss and many more kisses could be had there now. Then he
had a vision of it filled with children, and it gave him so much joy it felt as
if his heart would burst.
“Yes, perhaps I will do just that.”

328
 ***

YOU CAN READ about all five Montcrieff brothers in the Bestselling Box set
The Montcrieff Collection available for $0.99 for a limited time only and
FREE on Kindle Unlimited.

329
 MORE BOOKS BY CHARLOTTE DARCY

Get a FREE eBook and find out about Charlotte’s new releases by joining
her newsletter here. Your information will never be shared.
http://eepurl.com/bSNOLP

All FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Promised to the Beastly Earl

330
Regency romantic dreams http://amzn.to/2gPLBaf

The Broken Duke – Mended by Love

331
The Bluestocking, the Earl, and the Author
http://amzn.to/2be5UKv

332
The Earl’s Bitter Secret
http://amzn.to/2fUx9ZU

333
Refusing the Duke

334
Now get all of The Montcrieff Novella’s including an exclusive book in one
6 book collection $0.99 for a limited time and always FREE on Kindle
Unlimited.

335
A Christmas Cavalcade of Romantic Dukes

336
THE DUKE COMES HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

By

Abigail Haversham

©Copyright 2016 Abigail Haversham

All Rights Reserved

337
 CHAPTER 51

The fever started after his first few days in the cell. George woke up with
his body on fire, and shortly after that the chills had begun.
After that he went back and forth between chills and fire, and at a dreadful
pace that his body simply couldn’t handle.
In the moments when he felt rational, George wondered how he’d ended up
here, of all places, in a Spanish prison.
He’d accepted a commission out of a sense of obligation, duty and honor
and all of that. George knew how well thought of he was as a military
strategist, and to deny the War Office the use of his expertise seemed
dubious at best and slightly traitorous at worst.
And there seemed to be little danger when he accepted the commission.
George was the Duke of Yarmouth, after all, and nobles who joined the
military rarely got close enough to the action to experience genuine danger.
But all of that had changed when the campaign had begun to go badly, and it
was all due to their erstwhile leader, the infernal General Wellesley.
The man couldn’t have led a marching line of lemmings off the white cliffs
of Dover, although he’d gone against George’s direct advice and let the
entire battalion into the trap that had landed him here, in this prison in Spain
beneath the Burgos Castle.
None of those ruminations would save him now, though. George managed to
sit up when he heard a noise outside his cell, and somehow he was able to
rouse himself from his latest state of delirium.

338
Perhaps it was a soldier coming by with food? George pondered the notion,
and he realized he had no idea if he was hungry or not, so strong was the
fever’s grip on him.
Sure enough, a lad young enough to be his son stopped at his cell, and the
boy slipped a plate of the same ghastly gruel he’d been living on for weeks
underneath the horizontal bottom bar of the cell.
Ugh. The smell of the stuff was a dreadful stench, and it was almost awful
enough to make him wretch.
But George knew better than to complain. The Spaniards were indeed fond
of the whip, and he’d been awakened several times by the sound of men
being flogged.
His men, most likely. And that thought made him want to wretch more than
the smell of the gruel.
The boy watched to see if George would eat, but he ignored the lad. George
simply rolled over on the cold, wet stone floor, facing the opposite wall and
knowing the boy would leave quickly as long as he didn’t complain.
No wonder I have a fever, he thought. They treat their dogs better than
they treat British soldiers, even the officers.
George stretched his entire body, wishing only for sleep, and knowing his
status as a noble was worthless here. Thankfully, the fever seemed ready to
recede enough to allow him to sleep, and as George began to nod off his
thoughts returned to his beloved.
Josephine.
Or Lady Josephine Duxbury, to put it more properly, for she was the
daughter of the Earl of Duxbury. And as such, she was considered both a
fair beauty and a most worthy prize, although none of that mattered at the
moment either.
I wonder what she’s doing right now, George thought. Does she ever think
of me? Does she remember our courtship, the combination of passion and
loyalty that was so intoxicating initially for both of us?
Or has she simply moved on to another, now that I’m gone, trapped in the
dungeon of this castle?
This final thought was more than George could bear, so he gave in to the

339
urge to sleep. As he did, he could feel the dream taking shape—the one that
would take him back to the last time he’d seen Josephine, just before he’d
accepted his commission and gone off to war.
What a fool I am, he thought. I had it all—a loving family, wealth,
prosperity, a title and the love of a good woman. And now I could spend
the rest of my days rotting in this accursed cell, and no one would give a
fig about me.

In his dream he chased her, half crazed with passion.

“Josephine, come back!”
He kept after her, watching as she turned the corner of the garden maze.
Then George smiled in his sleep, realizing that she was teasing him, the
blue silk of her gown rippling in the breeze as she rounded the corner.
When he followed, though, she was nowhere in sight. Amusement turned
into a moment of panic, until finally a peal of laughter rang out from
another corner of the maze.
How had she managed to slip away so quickly?
No matter. George cocked his head, wanting to make sure he would head
in the right direction. This foolish garden maze was more complex than
he’d realized, and the last thing George wanted was to get lost once
again.
“When I find you, you’re going to pay for it!” he shouted again. George
did love a good game of cat and mouse, after all, and being led on a chase
by a beautiful woman could be described as his favorite pastimes.
But wouldn’t any man say that?
“Oh, so you’ll punish me, will you?” George cocked his head, trying to
locate her voice. He was nearly certain she was near the hedge on the
other side of the row he was in, so he sprinted for the corner, excited at
the prospect of finally catching her.
Only . . . she wasn’t there. George grimaced, once again watching a trail
of blue silk leave him in the dust, so to speak.

340
“Well darling, you’re being wicked,” George said. “I must do something,
mustn’t I?”
She giggled again. “Why, your Grace, I didn’t think you were that sort of
fellow.”
He grinned, thinking of the various ways he might punish her for running
away. They’d played this game before, though, and he knew Josephine
would be comfortable with his ungentlemanly thoughts.
She was as attracted to him as he was to her, and they both knew this was
play, a part of courtship in which they’d indulged before.
Then he decided to change his strategy and play a waiting game. Rather
than chase dear Josephine, he went to the end of the row he thought she’d
choose next, and then George stepped back where she wouldn’t be able to
see him.
Sure enough, it worked. In a matter of moments, Josephine came around
the corner, and George jumped out from his hiding place and captured
her.
He grabbed her gently around the waist, knowing how much Josephine
loved that, the feeling of being captured. George pulled her close, and he
showered her cheeks with soft kisses.
Josephine shrieked with delight. How well he knew her, the way she loved
this feeling of being safe and at risk at the same time. And there were so
many young ladies who would have been thrilled to be captured by the
Duke of Yarmouth.
He buried his face in her golden curls, inhaling the scent of her rose
perfume.
“Mmm, soon you’ll be my Duchess,” he murmured. She grinned and
turned to kiss his cheek, and then Josephine stroked his neck and gave
him the smile that told him that this round of the game had reached its
end.
“I rather like the sound of that.”

He was jerked awake suddenly by one of his cellmates jabbing him in the

341
shoulder. “Oi! Georgie! You alright, mate?”
George blinked and looked into the face of . . . Private Easton?
He shook his head and scrunched his eyes. No, it was Corporal Sheffield,
one of the other prisoners with whom he shared his cell.
Goodness. Perhaps his fever was worse than he thought.
“Yes. Sorry. Everything alright here at the castle?” he asked, hoping his
voice sounded lighthearted.
“You were talking in your sleep. Shouting, more like. Thought you might be
going mad,” Sheffield said, offering him a sip of his water he’d saved from
the night before.
George smirked at Sheffield’s comment. Oh, if only he knew.
“Perhaps I am. Was dreaming of a woman,” he said. His comment brought
the whole cell to laughter.
“Aye, that’d be enough to make any man go mad. Who’s this woman, then?”
asked another voice.
Jeers from the men in the cell drove him to speak about Josephine. It felt
like a bit of a violation to talk of her here, and to a group of men who would
be considered well beneath him in any other setting.
But they were here, bored stiff in their confinement. What was the harm in
cheering them up?
“Well, her name is Josephine. She has fair hair and eyes, her face framed by
golden curves. And she is saucy, as well, with lively eyes.”
The men hooted, and George thought about his dream. Would Josephine
really do that, indulge in such a game of cat and mouse?
They nearly had, the one time they’d met in the maze garden. It had
happened just before George had gone off to war, when he knew that
possibility might be close at hand.
His conflict had been a difficult one. His mother, Prudence, wished for him
to be betrothed to Ariel Gentry, the daughter of the Earl of Arundel.
The match would be advantageous, Prudence insisted, but George shivered
at the thought. Ariel Gentry was the type of lady who would make any man

342
go off to war.
So that was exactly what he’d done—after breaking off any notion of
possible commitment in an appropriate fashion, of course.
And now here he was, paying the price for his audacity.
He much preferred a woman who would be carefree. One who would chase
him in the maze, or agree to be caught. A lady who would travel the world
with him, and who wouldn’t care a fig for social conventions.
So that was the woman he presented to the men. George knew it was largely
a fantasy, albeit one that might be true for all he knew.
Here, though, in this infernal cell, it served a different purpose. It allowed
the conversation to turn to women back home, wives and mistresses, who
would doubtless be waiting for their return, and George was happy to
provide this brief moment of escape, if only a for a few minutes.
As the laughter and jibes died down, though, his thoughts turned to Private
Easton. He wondered if the poor boy had made it out alive after their
position had been overrun.
And if he did, what would the consequences be? Would the boy be
considered treasonous? How would George ever forgive himself if that was
the case?
The ghastly General Wellesley would be most displeased, and the boy’s fate
would be in his hands. Wellesley would probably discharge poor Easton
from the army, most likely with a dishonorable mark on his record.
But at least he would be back home in England, on his farm with his family.
Did Easton have a girl? For all the times they’d talked, George had never
once thought to ask him about that.
I’m such a stupid, selfish man, George thought, cursing himself as the men
once again began grousing about their situation.
I had it all, and I threw it away. Even a life with Ariel Gentry would be
better than this.

343
Josephine studied her father’s expression, desperately trying to read the
emotions passing across Winthrop’s face as dinner was served.
It was the beginning of the Christmas season, which was normally a time of
great joy at Alewick Castle.
And all the appearances had been kept up—the halls had been decked with
green boughs woven with holly, the kitchen staff was busy cooking delicious
dishes for the holidays, and the ballroom was almost always occupied.
The earl usually adored the Christmas season, and Winthrop Eldridge was
usually more than happy to host holiday dinner parties and balls to
celebrate. He especially loved the time he spent with his daughter, who
adored the season as well.
Now, though, many of the seasonal festivities had taken on a darker tone.
The dinner parties had been virtually eliminated; instead, Winthrop had
chosen to dine privately with Josephine, so that they might console
themselves over the lack of news from Spain.
“Has anyone heard from the Duke of Yarmouth yet?” she asked as she
watched her father picking forlornly at his food.
“No, not at all,” Winthrop said. His sad expression broke her heart, and
Josephine shook her head. “Not since the last letter.”
Ah, the letter. Initially, Josephine’s heart had soared. George’s writing had
been so passionate, so heartfelt, that she’d been certain they could patch
things up after their fateful argument.
He’d apologized for everything—his lack of openness with her and his
inability to confront his mother about the forced match with Ariel Gentry.
Basically, the entire kettle of fish.
And the initial news had been so positive. George had been uncertain when
he’d taken the commission, but his reputation as a military strategist was
renowned throughout the counties.
He’d studied all the famous battles, and George was certain Napoleon
would be defeated and peace would return to the continent.
“That was over a month ago,” she said. “He was certain the tide had turned,
and the Spaniards were about to retreat.”
“I know,” her father said, nodding as he took a sip of port. “Things were

344
much more optimistic back then.”
“”Yes,” Josephine agreed. “But there have been so many awful rumors
since.
The earl grimaced. “At first I thought they were just rumors,” he said. “The
Spaniards losing a battle or two. A position being lost. That sort of thing.”
“But now you think there’s more to it,” she said.
“I do. Each day at the club I hear another sour rumor about the current
campaign, and you know what they say about that.”
Josephine nodded. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” she said, finishing
his thought about rumors for him.
“I’m afraid so.”
She sighed, and then Josephine managed a small smile. She was determined
to lift her father’s spirits, and to put him in as much of a holiday mood as
she could.
“Would you like to take the rest of your port in your study?” Josephine
asked, nodding at his half-full plate. “You don’t seem to have much of an
appetite.”
Her father sighed. “Yes, that would be fine. Would you like to take tea with
me?”
“I would!” she replied, sounding much more enthusiastic than she felt.
“Perhaps we can try one of those peppermint candies the confectioner
delivered yesterday.”
Winthrop grinned. “You know those aren’t to be opened until Christmas day,
of course?”
Josephine did her best to look mischievous. “But surely we can sneak just
one?” she asked, and then her smile grew. “Or two?”
“Very well, then,” her father said, buoyed by his daughter’s good spirits.
“As long as you promise not to tell your mother.”
“Never!” Josephine exclaimed, and with that she made the sign of the cross
over her ample bosom. “Cross my heart and hope to die!”
The earl grinned, and they rose from the table as one. “I don’t quite think we

345
need to be that dramatic,” he said.
Josephine was about to reply when she heard a noise coming from behind
her. It was their butler, Cavanaugh, and she could tell from his expression
that something unusual was afoot.
“Your Grace?” he said, looking at the earl.
“Yes?” Winthrop shook his head. “You look distressed.”
Cavanaugh blushed. “I’m not sure whether to be or not,” he said. “We’ve
just received a letter, and it’s quite formal and official looking.”
The earl shrugged. “Nothing unusual about that,” he said. “Other than the
lateness of the day, and the fact that it didn’t come this morning.”
“Well . . . I’m afraid there is something unusual about it,” the servant
replied.
Josephine’s hand fluttered over her heart, and then she covered her mouth
with it. Something about the butler’s expression was sending an undeniable
chill through her.
“Which is?” she asked.
“It’s from the War Office,” Cavanaugh replied. “And apparently it's been
routed here from the British outpost in Spain.”

The fever continued to rage for another two days, and for a good part of that
stretch George thought it might be the end of him. He found himself slipping
in and out of delirium constantly, with little control over his thoughts, his
emotions or his bowels.
But somehow Corporate Sheffield got him through it. His subordinate was a
generous fellow, and George had earned the respect of his men instantly,
despite his exalted status as a duke.
Sheffield had plied him with sips of water on a regular basis, and he took
the liberty of constantly feeling George’s forehead to gauge the progress of
the fever.
When it began to pass, Sheffield made him eat the accursed gruel, one tiny

346
mouthful at a time.
And that was how they beat back the fever. Oh, George knew it was due to
his formidable constitution—he was strong as the proverbial horse, and
before this he’d never been sick for a day in his life.
Now, however, he was at least able to sit up, and George had become
aware of his surroundings. The countryside around the castle prison was
peaceful and bucolic, and under different circumstances it may have made
an ideal spot for a perfect holiday.
Until George heard something. Off in the distance, to be sure, but the noise
was unmistakeable, and he looked down at Sheffield, who’d been sleeping
fitfully, just as they all did, sneaking in a nap before another visit from their
captors.
“Wake up, man,” George said, shaking the corporal’s shoulders. “Did you
hear that?”
Apparently not. Sheffield and the other three men who shared the cell were
all sleeping, and George tried to stand so he could see out the tiny, barred
window that was their sole source of contact with the outside world.
“Hear what?” the corporal said, snorting and shaking his head as he came
awake.
“Out there,” George said, leaning shakily against the wall as he tried to
stand. “I’m certain I heard shells.”
“Ah, he’s gone daft again,” a private whispered from across the room, and
the man next to him nodded.
“Woke us up, too.”
Corporal Sheffield, however, took the comment seriously. The duke had
warned General Wellesley not to try and take the castle several times, and if
the incompetent general had listened, none of them would be in this mess.
“Shells?” Sheffield said. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” George replied, nodding. “I know how silly that sounds, given the
circumstances, but I’m sure I heard something.”
The corporal sat up. “Well then.” He shook his head. “Let’s have a listen.”

347
Initially they heard nothing, and the other men began to grin derisively.
Sleep was rare in these accursed cells, and to be deprived of it by a raving
fool was frustrating beyond measure, whether that fool had a title or not.
“Wait a minute,” Sheffield said, silencing them when they began hooting
about George’s error. “I think he’s right.”
“I’m certain I am,” George said, cocking his head to listen more carefully.
“And what’s more, I think they’re ours.”
The corporal blinked. “Ours? Are ye sure, your Grace?”
George shook his head. “No, not at all. But listen . . . they’re definitely
getting closer.”
Suddenly the walls of the cell shook, bolstering the veracity of the duke’s
claim. Those were shells, and they did belong to the remnants of
Wellesley’s battalion.
Even a blind squirrel lands an acorn every now and again, George
thought. It sounds like he’s advancing on this position.
“Now we can get out of here!” one of the privates said, standing as if
someone was about to pop in and simply open the door of the cell for them
to walk out.
“Not so fast,” Sheffield said, and George nodded. “You remember what
happened in that ravine near the castle.”
They did indeed. It was George who’d seen it—the ravine was a trap, an
indefensible position where they were vulnerable to capture. And that was
exactly what had happened.
“Yes,” George agreed. “Let’s see if our beloved general has his wits about
him this time around. “If he’s smart he’ll simply hold his position and let the
shells do their work.”
“I agree,” Sheffield said, nodding. “And if he does, we might just have a
fighting chance to see the light of day and get out of this horrid dungeon.”

Once Cavanaugh handed the earl the letter, they retired to the library. The
fire was already roaring there, and Winthrop brought his glass of port with

348
him.
But Josephine’s expression told him he might need something stronger once
he’d read it. She had a knack for being prescient about such things,
especially when the news wasn’t good.
“Should I read it out loud?” he asked as Josephine sat down opposite him,
the two chairs positioned to draw maximum heat from the cozy fire. “Would
you like to wait for your tea to arrive?”
“No!” she replied emphatically. “I must know what has happened, good or
bad. And yes, you may read it aloud if you wish, Father. I am not a child,
and if the news is bad I am more than capable of handling it.”
The earl nearly smiled at her bravery, but somehow he managed to stop
himself, knowing that would infuriate her.
She’s always been the independent type, he thought. I just hope she hasn’t
miscalculated the effect of this letter too badly.
With that, Winthrop grabbed the letter opener and slit the seal. He opened it
slowly, trying to conceal the trembling of his hands.
It seems that I, too, may be affected more than I thought by this missive,
he thought. The duke is a most impressive fellow, and I knew he had stolen
my daughter’s heart the instant they met back at the beginning of social
season.
“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked as he removed the letter.
“Yes,” she said, nodding bravely. “Please hurry—it is the not knowing that I
cannot stand.
He nodded, and then Winthrop pulled out the letter. His eyes scanned the
words, but glazed over after reading the first couple sentences.
The earl began to read out loud, but as he did his voice sounded hollow to
him, as if it was someone else delivering the news.
Dear Honored Sir,
It is with deepest regrets that we wish to inform you that the Duke of
Yarmouth, George Thornbury, has been presumed dead after an advance
on Burgos Castle to try and repel French forces.

349
His position on the west wall was overrun by the French, and
unfortunately we have been unable to recover or learn word of any
survivors.
The duke will, of course, be given full honors, and an appropriate military
funeral when appropriate.
His contributes in battle were priceless, and we deeply regret the
decisions and actions that led to this defeat.
Yours in Honor and Service
General Trelane Williamson
London War Office
Somehow he made it to the end, his eyes blurred with tears. Winthrop knew
his face had gone white, and he could feel his lips trembling in horror.
In spite of it all, he managed to turn his attention to Josephine. She, too,
turned white as a sheet, and for a moment the earl thought Josephine might
reach over and snatch the letter from his hands.
“Nooo . . . !” she finally managed to wail, and then she covered her mouth
with a gloved hand and sobbed into the silk.
She looked at her father, who offered nothing, and they sat together in shock,
the news slowly sinking in.
“How is this possible?” Josephine whispered, knowing that if she tried to
talk louder her words would turn into a sob. “Nobles are never captured in
battle—they are so rarely allowed to even serve, much less be subject to
genuine danger.”
“I don’t know,” the earl said, his voice sounding strangled in a manner he
didn’t recognize at all. “I tried to talk him out of this, but he insisted on
helping to get the best of that dastardly Napoleon.”
Josephine forced herself to breathe before she spoke again. “He wasn’t
even in battle, though, was he?” she asked. “In his last letter he said he
would trust this matter to General Wellesley.”
“He did,” Winthrop replied, nodding. “He said he had doubts about the man,
but the duke maintained that shelling the enemy from afar would force a war
of attrition that could be won.”

350
“Attrition!” She spat the word. “Well, something must have happened to
change things. George insisted that Wellesley was a competent leader, but I
could tell from the wording of the letter that he had his doubts.”
The earl felt tears beginning to leak from his eyes, and he stood up to turn
away from his daughter.
She simply can’t see this kind of display, he thought. I am the one who is
supposed to be strong at a time like this.
Instead, though, it was Josephine who took control of the situation. She, too,
stood, and went to him, placing her hand gently on her father’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, father,” she said. “We’ll get through this somehow. I know we
will.”
The earl turned slowly, and then he took his daughter in his arms. He felt her
sobs begin, and he pressed her against him, thinking back to all the times
she’d been wracked with sadness as a young girl.
Josephine had always been determined to fight off tears, but now she was
powerless against the force of the grief that consumed her.
Winthrop said nothing, knowing that tears were the only way out of this.
George Thornbury had been the love of his daughter’s life, and he wasn’t
sure at all there would ever be another.
And now he was gone, never to return, leaving them to deal with the
bitterness of their grief and the anguish that came with it.

Finally, someone came. Two men, actually, both clearly officers. George
recognized the uniforms—one French, the other Spanish.
The Spanish officer was familiar. He’d become the “warden” of the castle
when it was converted to a prison for the captured British soldiers.
The siege had lasted for nearly six months, George had learned, and during
that time the man’s reputation for cruelty had become noteworthy, if not
downright legendary.
The duke had a decent idea of how many of his men this fellow had killed
during their time at Burgos Castle, and part of his mind was on fire with the

351
thought of revenge and retribution.
George balled his hands into fists, wishing he had a sword. Ten minutes in
a fair fight, he thought, and I’d run him through in the blink of an eye and
then skewer his remains.
But the erstwhile warden’s time would have to come another day. Right now
George was to receive special treatment, for he was one of the prime
prisoners whose survival must be ensured as part of this odd prisoner
exchange.
Using the guards he and his men had cultivated as sources, George had been
able to learn what happened.
The British troops had in fact rallied, forcing a standoff, and George quickly
figured out that the shells he’d heard on that fateful November day must have
been part of that rally.
But after that the French held their ground. Hence the siege that followed,
which finally became a stalemate, and George couldn’t help but wonder
what part General Wellesley had played in all this.
With the onset of winter, George had resigned himself to the fact that he was
going to die in a dirty cell underneath a Spanish castle.
Now, however, he was standing with a group of other soldiers who had also
apparently been held at Burgos.
“Took ‘em long enough,” muttered another nearby soldier, whose comment
was met with smirks and snickers from those who were well enough to
react.
They were all thinking the very same thing, though, George knew that much.
It had taken months for Wellesley to finally negotiate a prisoner exchange
for those taken during the Siege of Burgos.
George watched as the line of officers was released. They were not in
pristine health, he realized as he watched them walk forth when their names
were called, but they seemed to have fared better than those lesser ranking
officers who’d been held in the dungeons.
George yawned and slapped a mosquito that had decided to feast on his
neck. What a sight he would be when he arrived home—red as his coat,
gaunt as a pauper, and covered in bites from all sorts of insects. He resisted

352
the urge to scratch them and turn his neck even redder.
Then the lower ranking officers were moving. They had been freed, and
would soon be on their way back to English territory.
A wave of relief surged through George as he was pulled from the line. He
was alive, he was walking, and he wasn’t ill like some of the other soldiers.
For that, he was thankful.
In the back of his mind, though, he knew his day of reckoning with General
Wellesley would come soon. But right now all he wanted was a drink,
followed by a deep, uninterrupted sleep on a surface that wasn’t cold, damp
stone.
He would get his rest, but the drink would have to wait. George was
awakened early the next morning for a ride to Vitoria, which was about
seventy kilometers southwest of Burgos.
Which was where Wellesley’s remaining forces were encamped.
As they closed in on the picturesque Spanish town, George thought of one of
his dreams during captivity, a nocturnal adventure in which he returned
home to the glory of a promotion and a hero’s welcome after leading his
battalion to victory.
But this ending was quite different, of course. Now he was part of an
ignominious prisoner exchange, and word of his disgrace would eventually
spread through the counties.
That didn’t matter at the moment, but it might at some point in the future. In
the meantime, George made his resolution—as soon as he was rested
enough, he would make it his mission to find Wellesley and get some
explanation for why things had failed so badly.

“What happened?”
General Wellesley shook his head, as if he’d been asking himself the same
question for months on end, only to be unable to come up with an answer.
“We couldn’t take that infernal castle,” he said with a shrug. “Nearly lost
half the battalion trying.”

353
George grimaced. “I told you that ravine was a death trap.”
“You did,” the general said, nodding. “And I should have listened to you.”
He coughed and harrumphed, and then Wellesley paused, as if this too late
attack of common sense had suddenly humbled him.
“But it was my decision, and I accept responsibility for it,” Wellesley
added.
This time it was George’s turn to shake his head. “But it was all so . . .
unnecessary,” George said, barely able to contain his rage and frustration.
“All those lives lost. And for nothing.”
“Not for nothing, your Grace,” Wellesley shot back, his eyes turning fiery.
“We’re military men. We expect this sort of thing. It’s part of what happens
when men go to war, and into battle.”
George took a deep breath, knowing that provoking a fight would serve no
purpose.
This was the worst part of his brief period of service in the military, the
realization that many of these “military men” were in fact fools who’d never
had an independent, creative thought in their lives.
“So what happened to turn things around?” George asked, repeating his
earlier question with a bit more focus and specificity.
Wellesley shrugged. “It’s as my aide told you before you were brought in,”
he explained. “Napoleon used half his army, more or less, to try and take
Russia. He spread himself too thin, and we were able to rally enough to
force the siege.”
“But not take the castle,” George said, and the general bristled.
“No. We couldn’t take the castle. If it wasn’t for that blasted ravine we
would have, but we couldn’t.”
“I told you it was chosen because it was a defensible position,” George
replied, and the general’s face reddened. Then he sighed, and all the life
seemed to drain from Wellesley’s stout body.
The general wasn’t a young man, and suddenly George could see the toll the
siege had taken on his overall health.

354
“And this . . . prisoner exchange?” George asked spitting the words.
“The orders came down from the War Office,” Wellesley said with a shrug.
“It was obvious that the stalemate was unlikely to end, and there were
rumors that you were to be used as a political pawn in the matter.”
“Me?” George sputtered. “Why, that’s preposterous. What possible purpose
could I serve in any sort of political matter?”
The general offered a wry smile. “You’ll have to ask those responsible for
the decision, your Grace. I was only following orders.
Following orders. George tried to count the number of times he’d heard that
pathetic phase used as an explanation for all sorts of false logic and
stupidity.
He rolled his eyes and thought better of it, realizing again that any argument
with General Wellesley would lead him down a dead end street that could
hold no good for him.
“So what happens now?” he asked instead. “To me, I mean?”
Wellesley grimaced. “You’re to be discharged,” he said. “Honorably, of
course. That was part of the terms of the exchange.”
“What?” George exclaimed. “You mean I can’t continue to serve as a
strategist? To consult and offer my expertise?”
“Not a whit,” the general replied, shaking his head. “Apparently your talents
were recognized. And the French wanted you out, as part of the deal.”
“Huh.”
George was speechless. He’d written papers for the War Office, of course,
before taking on his commission, and now he realized that was part of what
had gotten him into this mess.
He studied Wellesley, who looked as if he could use a stiff belt himself. The
fellow has done his best, he told himself, and it's as he himself has said—
he is a military man, after all.
“So I’m to be discharged,” George concluded, understanding he would get
no further explanation or thoughts from the stolid general. “What does that
mean?”

355
Wellesley managed a slight smile. “It means you get to go home,” he said.
“And get on with your life.”
His life. George thought about the possibility, which had seemed non-
existent such a short time ago. Who knew what had happened to him? And
how would it affect his standing as a noble?
“You’ll even be home well in time for Christmas,” the general added,
interrupting his reverie. “There’s many a man who would gladly trade
places with you for that part of it.”
Christmas. The very word seemed so foreign to him, even though the men in
the cell had discussed the various ways in which they usually celebrated.
But the possibility of celebrating Christmas had seemed as remote as that of
being released, and it was only now that George could allow himself to
think about what it meant.
He would feel the sea breeze on his cheek again, and quite soon at that,
during the voyage home. George would have that drink he was pining for,
and it would be a stiff one at that.
And George would even feel the warmth of a woman’s touch again. Perhaps
even Josephine’s touch, although he knew it was far too soon to allow
himself to have that particular dream.
He’d been away for six months. And George knew he’d likely been
presumed dead, after all.
As Arthur Wellesley signed the initial version of his discharge papers,
George felt like he was being kicked in the gut. The general folded the letter
and stuffed it into an envelope, leaving George to seal it.
“I am sorry about this, you know,” the general said. “It could have worked
out quite differently.”
“Indeed,” George said, grimacing once again. He could tell Wellesley was
trying to bait him into one final argument about the ravine, but he ignored the
challenge.
It was slowly dawning on George that he had other fish to fry, so to speak.
Repairing a fractured life, that was one of them, and the truth was George
had no idea what he would encounter when he returned.
George chuckled at the irony of it, and then he simply shook Arthur

356
Wellesley’s hand. Then he turned and left the office, feeling like a whipped
dog with its tail between its legs after losing a fight it had no chance to win.
One simple drink wouldn’t cure the ache in his soul, George knew that, and
he also knew it couldn’t reduce the ache in his heart for Josephine’s
presence, or her touch.
That was what he needed to focus on right now. George had no idea what it
would take to get back in her good graces, or even to restore his status as
someone who was back among the living.
He would have several stiff drinks on the boat back to England,
though,George knew that. That would make him slightly better than a dead
man, especially those dead men who lay buried in the cemetery outside
Burgos Castle.
And once he was back among the living, George would fulfill another vow.
He would recapture Josephine’s heart and then be the best possible husband
he could for her. They would build a life together.
That life would be filled with children, prosperity and the joys of being
married and in love.
And it would have nothing to do with the travails of “military men.”

After the reading of the letter, the mood in the castle changed completely.
Most of the decorations were taken down to create a more muted effect,
which seemed proper given the report of the duke’s sudden demise.
But the gesture had a deleterious side effect: it made it seem as if a dark
shadow had fallen over the castle and settled there permanently.
The servants’ quarters, though, were abuzz with the news. It seemed as if no
one could fathom that their benevolent, good-humored George, a man of
both decency and devilish wit, could fall prey to something as simple and
far away as death.
“The Earl of Duxbury simply stood up to leave, then fainted,” said Thomas
Tobias, one of the footmen. “We had to fetch the physician to attend to him.”
“Horrid,” said Mrs. Brown, the cook. “The same happened to Lady
Josephine Duxbury. Crumpled to the ground like a house of cards in a stiff

357
breeze.”
The cook dabbed at her eyes. “She still hasn’t stopped crying, from what
I’ve been told. I’ve seen raccoons with lighter circles around their eyes, and
I don’t think the poor thing’s slept in days.”
Thomas managed a small smile, and he nodded upstairs. “Is she coming
down, by the way?”
“I have no idea,” Mrs. Brown said forlornly. “No one ever tells us anything.
I still think we should be allowed to grieve with the two of them, or at least
provide support. But your guess truly is as good as mine.”
Thomas grimaced. “I don’t like it at all,” he said. “I prefer it when a house
runs on schedule and affairs are conducted in an orderly fashion. That
should still be the case of a house of mourning.”
“Oh, don’t be such a prig, Thomas,” the cook snorted. “They’re nobles, so
we must give them their due. Most of ‘em are as fragile as butterflies.”
He smiled. “No argument there. I just hope things get back in order soon.”
“I agree completely,” Mrs. Brown said, shaking her head in exasperation. “I
can’t even begin to tell you the amount of food I’ve prepared and thrown out
in the last couple of days. It’s just a cryin’ shame.”
Thomas’s smile grew. “I can’t say I mind that part at all. This is the best
I’ve eaten in years. They should feed us this well all the time.”
“Well, don’t expect that to continue,” Mrs. Brown said. “If they continued
to feed a footman the way an earl usually eats, we’ll all be out on the streets
in no time.”
He laughed, and then they heard a noise. It was the bell in the main dining
room being rung by one of the other servants, which meant it was time for
them to attend to their duties.
“I wonder who’s coming downstairs today,” Thomas said. “Any guess?”
“Probably the earl,” Mrs. Brown said. “He’s been down in the mouth for
certain, but I’d bet on him over that poor girl.”
“Makes no difference to me,” Thomas said. “The way they’ve been lately,
we don’t actually have to do much of anything.”

358
“True,” she agreed. “But I do hope that ends soon. I like being busy, and it's
no fun living in a house that feels more like a funeral parlor.”

Josephine hated gray muslin, but at least it was better than the black dress
she would have to don for the funeral. The only other times she’d had to
wear black before was as a young girl, when she’d been forced to attend the
funerals of various obscure relatives.
But this was different. Now a black dress would be de rigueur, and
Josephine hated the idea more than ever. Her lone black dress was already
starting to look shabby, and her handmaiden, Lottie, had pointed out that an
appointment with her dressmaker might be advisable.
Her appearance was less important than her father’s state of mind, however.
The earl had become even more cloistered than she had, which didn’t suit
his normally exuberant manner at all.
It seemed a shame to see him this way during the holidays, which truly were
his favorite time of year. He hadn’t been downstairs in two days, and
Josephine knew it was up to her to pull things together to at least some
extent.
“Is he up and about yet?” she asked, addressing Cavanaugh, the butler,
who’d been stationed outside the door of their respective bedchambers for
several hours now.
“No, M’Lady,” the butler replied. “I awoke at dawn, and I haven’t heard a
peep from anyone.”
She sighed. “And this house used to be so vital. What has happened to us?”
He shrugged. “We’ve become a house in mourning, M’Lady. It will pass.”
Josephine sniffed. She’d made up her mind not to cry today, regardless of
how much resolve it took. It was horrid for her complexion, and she’d
nearly frightened herself when she glanced in the mirror after arising.
“I certainly hope so.”
The butler nodded at the earl’s bedchamber. “Would you like me to summon
his Grace for you, “M’Lady?”

359
“No,” she replied, shaking her head and pursing her lips. “Dark times call
for definitive action. I shall attend to it on my own.”
With that, she strode determinedly to her father’s door and rapped several
times. Nothing.
Josephine knocked again, more softly this time, and then she put her ear to
the door. She heard a rustling sound, and Josephine realized that her father
had most likely taken to his bed.
“Can you excuse me for a moment, Cavanaugh?” she said, dismissing the
servant. “I really must attend to this myself.”
“Of course, M’Lady. I shall wait at the base of the stairs in case you need
anything.”
She nodded and waited for the butler to leave. Josephine pushed the door
open slowly, not wishing to startle her father if he was still sleeping.
He wasn’t, but the earl was still in bed. He was sitting, propped up by
several pillows, and he appeared to be reading.
That’s a good sign, perhaps, she thought. Maybe he has found a novel to
lose himself in and assuage his grief.
Unfortunately, though, that wasn’t the case at all. The book the earl held was
black, and Josephine could see that it was a Bible.
That wasn’t good at all. Her father was a religious man who adored Sunday
services, and he especially loved the hymns, which he bellowed out
enthusiastically on a weekly basis.
But he saved his Bible readings for dark times when he needed solace and
comfort.
Nothing wrong with that, I suppose, Josephine thought. But it really is time
for him to be up and about.
“Good morning, Father,” she said softly. “Are you well?”
He blinked over his spectacles, and Winthrop emitted a deep sigh.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. And how are you?”
“About the same,” Josephine said, looking down at her dress with a wry
smirk. “I decided I needed to show my face downstairs, though.”

360
He nodded. “I had that thought for myself as well,” Winthrop said.
“Couldn’t manage it, though.”
Josephine felt a tear gathering in the corner of her eye, and she blinked,
hoping to subdue it.
“I do understand,” she said. “Will you join me for breakfast, though?”
He blinked and looked at the door. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Seems a
bit more than I’m up for at the moment.”
Josephine sighed. “Soon, then?”
“Perhaps,” he said, looking off in the distance. “I did get one piece of news,
though.”
“Oh! Well, I was in my bedchamber all day. What was it?”
He took a deep breath and sighed. “The funeral,” the earl said. “It’s been
scheduled.”
“For when?” she asked.
“This weekend, I believe,” he said apathetically. “Saturday, perhaps.
Cavanaugh has the letter. It's all in there.”
“Oh,” she said, this time less enthusiastically. Josephine felt the tears
coming, and she made one last, desperate effort to hold them back. “I
suppose I should check the exact time, then.”
He nodded. “We will do that this evening,” the earl said. “Promise.”
“All right.”
“I just need a little bit more time,” Winthrop said, seeing his daughter’s
obvious distress.
“I understand, Father,” she said. “We will get through this.”
She wasn’t so sure about that, though. After fainting once again after dinner
the night before, the earl had been taken up to his chambers to rest. The
physician had been called, and ended up having to administer a sleeping
draught to get the poor man to fade into the Land of Nod.
And he had, eventually, but it had been a fitful journey. When he awoke, the
earl began to look like an entirely different man. He’d always been well

361
built, handsome even as he approached his dotage. Many who knew him
commented that he didn’t look a day over 45.
Now, however, it was as if the morning light and the grief had revealed his
true age. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders
were rounded like those of an old beggar, and the crow’s feet and other
lines were starkly visible.
The Earl of Duxbury had always been known for his composure and
fortitude. But at the moment he seemed an empty shell of his former self,
completely grief-stricken and utterly lost.
“I know, Daughter,” he said finally, distressed at seeing her so far away in
thought. “It is simply a dark time. This too shall pass.”
Perhaps, Josephine thought as she turned to leave his bedchamber. But this
is my fault, without a doubt. Had I not initiated that final quarrel, the
duke would not have gone off to war, and none of this would have
happened.
And now I am to attend the funeral of the man I love. Something I had not
expected to do for decades, and with a passel of grandchildren at my side
to comfort me.
I fear I shall never find another—and even if I do, there is no way he will
ever measure up to the Duke of Yarmouth.

The initial part of his journey back to Yarmouth was as dreadful as George
feared it would be. The ships to and from England spared no one; commoner
or noble, they were perilous and fragile things, and it was not unusual to
have soldiers perish during the journey.
But George was determined to persevere. He got thoroughly sotted the first
day of the journey, and George paid for it dearly with his first bout of
seasickness.
Which was every bit as awful as he’d been told it would be.
After that, though, things changed. It was almost as if George had gotten
everything from his Spanish experience out of his system; he felt lighter, as
if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

362
The travel improved as well. As awful as the War Office was when it came
to sending men overseas to fight, they recognized the special circumstances
of his situation as soon as George returned.
A fine carriage was sent for the ride to London, one befitting his status as a
noble. The officer who greeted him was standoffish at first, but he warmed
up when he saw that George was friendly and not resentful.
“We have arranged for your transport to London, your Grace, and then
another carriage after that to Yarmouth,” he said. “Will that be sufficient?”
“Yes, of course,” George said, although he would have preferred to go
straight to Yarmouth, of course.
But he knew he was still at the mercy of the War Office until he got home,
and George knew nothing of the circumstances to which he was returning,
either in London or Yarmouth.
“How long will the journey to London take?” he asked.
“About an hour, I believe, your Grace,” he said.
Sounds about right, George thought. “And what happens in London?” he
asked, just to see what the officer would say.
“You will be given full military honors, your Grace,” he said, and George’s
jaw dropped. “I believe a medal ceremony has already been arranged.”
“A medal?” He blinked.
“Yes,” the officer said. “It’s just a simple medal of service, your Grace, to
be honest. I believe it’s called the Medal for Meritorious Service.”
George shook his head. He’d studied military history and strategy
extensively, especially that of his own country, and this was a medal he’d
never heard of.
“Meritorious what?”
The officer was actually gracious enough to blush for a moment.
“Meritorious Service, your Grace.”
“Sir, I know of every honor there is, whether it's for an enlisted man, an
officer, or a noble serving with a special designation, as I did. And I’ve
never heard of such a thing.

363
The officer nodded and turned slightly pink. “If I might be honest, then, your
Grace?”
George took a deep breath. “Please do.”
“It’s a new honor, relatively speaking,” the young officer began. “It’s an
award for those who were taken prisoner and managed to survive.”
He took another deep breath. “I see,” he said. “So it's an honor for being
captured.”
The officer began to lose his composure. “Well, not exactly, your Grace. It
is an honor, after all.”
George pursed his lips and stared down at the officer, who seemed much
younger but was only a couple of years George’s junior.
“Do you know how many men I lost at Burgos Castle?” he asked. “When our
position was overrun? And during our internment?”
The officer stared at the ground. “Not exactly, your Grace,” he replied. “I
believe those numbers are still being compiled.”
“Compiled,” George repeated, his tone as acidic as the wave of bile that
was slowly rising up into his throat.
The officer said nothing, and George waited to see if he had anything else to
offer. As expected, the silence continued, and finally George nodded over at
the coach.
“Let me tell you what’s going to happen, my good fellow,” he began. “We
will make the trip to London, as required, for I expect there is a small
mountain of paperwork that must be signed to validate my discharge.”
He paused, and the officer nodded.
“After that, I will participate in no ‘medal ceremony,’” George continued. “I
certainly hope that doesn’t ruffle anyone’s feathers.”
The officer nodded again. “I do understand, your Grace,” he replied. “And I
think I can accommodate you on that front.”
The mention of the word “front” sparked George’s temper. What did this
callow fool know of words like “front” and genuine battles?
“You’re absolutely right about that,” George said, trying desperately to

364
contain the pent-up fury that was now beginning to bubble over. “And
there’s one other matter in which you will ‘accommodate’ me.”
The officer looked down again, and slowly his head rose and his eyes met
the duke’s.
“Your Grace?”
“As soon as all the appropriate paperwork has been signed for my
discharge, you will arrange similar transport,” he said, nodding over at the
carriage.
“At which point I will return to Yarmouth and try to put all this behind me.”
George shook his head again in frustration. “If that’s indeed possible at this
point."
“Yes, your Grace,” the officer said meekly. “I will see to it that it's all done
at once, and with as little inconvenience to you as possible.”
George glared at him, suddenly even more annoyed at his use of the word
“inconvenience.” Was that the term used these days for spending months in a
Spanish prison, half insane with fever, sleeping on a cold floor and relying
on gruel for sustenance?
Then he took one last deep breath. There was no sense in venting his rage on
this young officer, who was likely a mere pup trying to work his way up the
ranks.
He’d likely be an incompetent fool by the time he was 30, well versed in all
the idiotic nuances of military life.
For George, though, it was time to go in a different direction. As much as he
knew about military strategy, he also knew it was time to leave those battles
to others who had the fortitude to also fight the parallel war against the rank
stupidity of the system.
But he had another life waiting for him. He would perform this last slice of
military duty by signing his discharge papers, and then return to Yarmouth.
He stepped in the carriage, and the bumpy ride began. The thing wasn’t as
sturdy as George had first imagined, and yet another urge to get sotted came
over him.
This time, though, he resisted it, for there was nothing to be gained. He was
on terra firma now, and back in his native land. That was something.

365
Each blistering bump brought him closer to his beloved Josephine, and
George began to think of what he’d need to do to smooth things over after
their fateful quarrel and make her his own once again.

The preparations for the funeral cast an even darker shadow over the house.
Josephine went to see her dressmaker to have a black dress made on short
notice, and she cried through the entire fitting.
She made no attempt to hold back or apologize for her emotional display,
either; if ever there was a time where it would be appropriate for her to turn
into a tumbling waterfall, this would certainly be it.
But most of the effort went into propping up her father for the funeral.
The duke’s death had aged Winthrop by a decade at least; he walked bent
over now, like an old man, and his wan complexion worried Josephine
more than she was willing to let him know.
Finally, Winthrop made it downstairs the day before the funeral.
“Are you all right, Father?” Josephine asked, seeing him hanging onto the
railing of the stairway as he shuffled down the stairs.
“Quite well, thank you,” he said, sounding anything but. “Just been a while
since I’ve been out and about.”
It was obviously much more than that, though. Josephine wondered how a
man could recover lost years, years that seemed to have been stolen by
grief.
How is this possible? she thought. The duke isn’t even his son, and we
weren’t even married. It might as well have been me who has died. The
effect all of this is having on him is that powerful.
They ate breakfast in silence, and Josephine tried desperately to think of a
way to lift his spirits. In her heart, though, she knew there was only one—
the possibility of her marrying another.
And if she chose that course, Josephine knew she would have to find
someone for whom her feelings were as strong as they’d been for her
beloved George.

366
All of which was quite impossible, of course.
“Will you ride with me in the carriage tomorrow, then, Father?” she asked
when she saw that improving his mood was indeed a lost cause.
He looked up at her after several seconds had passed. The earl had been
staring down at his muffin for what seemed like ages, and he blinked as if he
barely recognized his daughter.
“Of course,” he said finally. “Duty and honor must always come first.”
Josephine wanted to ask him what duty they had toward a corpse, but
somehow she managed to hold her tongue. She felt a momentary flash of
anger at George for being so tempestuous, then at herself for forcing the
quarrel that had pushed him away.
Finally she sighed, replaying the quarrel in her mind. She’d wanted George
to focus more on her, on the prospect of their upcoming life together, and
less on his silly books about history and military strategy.
Not to mention confronting his mother about Ariel Gentry, who was a
foolish creature indeed, and certainly no worth the bother she had generated
to date.
What a silly prat I’ve been, she thought. I managed to push him right into
the very thing I was trying to get the duke to leave behind.
“The funeral will be in Yarmouth, then?” she asked him, not knowing what
else to talk about.
“Yes,” her father said, nodding as a tear appeared in the corner of his eye.
“There is a private cemetery there for members of the family.”
Then he paused. “Although the duke was not expected to be interned there
for many decades, of course,” he added sadly. “At least he will be able to
rest easy now on British soil.”

Simply put, George’s experience with the War Office was an utter disaster.
It took half the day for the incompetent clerks to put together all the
appropriate paperwork, and all George could do was stew.

367
He finally managed to get it done by mid-afternoon, but at that point George
knew it would be far too late to safely make the journey to Yarmouth.
So he asked the head of the Discharge Department at the War Office what he
was supposed to do about all that.
The fellow had no answers, at least not real ones; he was so caught up in the
mountains of paper that formed his life that the world outside nearly didn’t
exist for him.
“There is an inn close by, your Grace,” the poor man finally said. “You
could stay there for the evening.”
George glared at him, forcing the clerk to deliver the second half of an
appropriate response.
“And at our expense, of course,” the clerk added with a noticeable blush.
George nodded, and then he left the office for the carriage that was
supposed to be waiting for him . . . but wasn’t. He shook his head, beyond
exasperated, and finally he realized it would be easier and simpler to walk
to this inn.
Once there, matters improved slightly. George announced himself as the
Duke of Yarmouth, and the staff fell all over themselves to put him in
suitable accommodations.
The largest room in the inn certainly wasn’t luxurious, but it was enough to
take away the sting from the rest of his day.
He departed promptly the next day for Yarmouth, and the carriage the War
Office provided made decent time.
Upon arrival, though, George got yet another shock, for he quickly realized
that he’d arrived at a house in mourning.
All of the normal decorations around the manor looked to have been taken
down, or perhaps they’d never been put up in the first place.
The various family and national flags were all flying at half-mast, and the
guard tower looked to have been completely abandoned, at least for the
moment.
“What the devil . . . ” George said with a start as the carriage pulled up.

368
He expected to be greeted by familiar servants, but no one emerged, and that
was when George realized what had happened.
They must have reported me as missing in action or dead, he thought. Most
likely the latter, from the looks of things.
George looked around, wondering how to proceed.
His mother, Penny, was a frail thing—anything other than another argument
about Ariel Gentry was unlikely to rouse her from her torpor, and George
quickly realized that greeting her unannounced might push her into a fatal
heart attack.
Still, something had to be done. He couldn’t simply stand outside the manor,
looking through the windows like some sort of Peeping Tom, so he strode up
to the door and rapped loudly.
It took a bit, but finally George heard some shuffling around inside. The
huge oaken door opened ponderously, and there was Nigel Graves, the head
butler, staid and composed as ever.
Until he realized who it was.
“Your Grace!” he exclaimed, his mouth opening. “You’re . . . why, this
simply cannot be!”
George gave him a wry smile. “In the flesh, as it were,” he said. “I take it
you weren’t expecting me.”
With that the butler flung the door open, and he threw his arms open and
proceeded to give George a great bear hug.
This was embarrassing beyond measure, of course, but not entirely
unexpected. George did his best to tolerate the hug and return it to some
slight degree, and then he stepped back and asked the question that had been
itching in his mind since his arrival.
“Where the devil is everyone?”
Nigel sputtered, trying to find the right words, which didn’t exist, of course.
“Why, they’re . . . I must confess, your Grace, there hasn’t been much
activity since the message from the War Office arrived,” the butler admitted.
“We’ve all but shut things down.”

369
George grimaced. “Well, let’s get them up and running again,” he said. “Is
Mother about?”
The butler took a long moment to answer. “She’s been in her bedchamber
for days now. Ever since the announcement.”
He sighed. Better than having her come down and greet me and faint
straight away, he thought. George paused and considered his options, and
then gave directions to the butler.
“Go upstairs and knock on her door,” he said. “And gently at that. Then
announce that we have a visitor. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Nigel nodded. “Very well then,” he said, and the butler padded off toward
the stairwell, dabbing at the tears in the corner of his eyes.
George waited, looking around, and as he did he noticed that the
housekeeping seemed to have fallen into some disarray.
He could see large balls of dust in the corners, so big that it looked like they
could be tipped and rolled around the room. George realized at once that
one of his first tasks would be to bring the staff back in line.
First, though, he had to deal with Penny. George waited patiently, and finally
Nigel returned, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he walked down the
stairs.
“She is the same as she’s been for the last few days,” he began. “Said she
has no desire to receive visitors, and that we are to please politely turn them
away.”
“But she’s up?” he asked.
Nigel pondered the question for a moment. “I wouldn’t say up,” he said. “I
heard her voice, which has been all she’s been able to manage lately.”
“I see.” George looked at the staircase as if it led to a foreign country, and
he realized that he’d just been through that sort of experience.
Still, he had to do something. He couldn’t simply let his mother rot upstairs
forever, thinking he was dead. Nigel was still looking at him expectantly,
and finally he turned to the butler.
“Give me a bit,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do about all this.”

370
George sighed deeply, and slowly he mounted the stairs. He tried to
remember all the good things he loved about his mother, rather than just the
unfortunate quarrel about Ariel Gentry.
He knocked softly, deciding not to speak right away.
“Nigel, is that you again?” Sure enough, it was Penny, but lively enough to
sound slightly annoyed. “I told you we’re not entertaining guests or visitors
today.”
George waited, and then slowly he pushed the door open. He heard a
rustling coming from the bed, and he realized that it was true, his mother had
yet to get out of bed.
“Not even for family members?” he said softly, trying to avoid startling her
too badly.
Her jaw dropped, and for a moment Penny was speechless. This was
unprecedented, and for a moment George simply couldn’t suppress a grin.
“George!” She pulled herself up in bed, shaking her head. “You’re . . .
you’re . . . here!”
She blinked, and then Penny shook her head. “And you’re real! For a
moment I thought you were an apparition.”
He ran his hands over his arms, as if verifying his own veracity. “Last time I
checked I was real,” he said. “Although I must say the last six months have
been a bit hazy and bizarre.”
Suddenly Penny leapt from her bed, and she attached herself to George and
began sobbing. George simply held her and stroked her hair, knowing that
this was likely necessary for her, despite the fact that his mother had never
been all that loving with him.
“We thought you dead,” she said when she was finally able to look up. “Or
missing in action . . . or something.”
“I know. “ George nodded and then frowned. “Nothing I could do about that
—infernal War Office, I’m afraid. Rest assured they have been properly
upbraided.”
Penny managed a slight laugh, and then she hugged him again. “Well, none of
that matters anymore,” she said, strangling off another sob. “The point is
you’re here.”

371
He nodded again, and George’s thoughts began to wander. All those
quarrels about Ariel Gentry, which had in turn led to the argument with his
dear Josephine.
George waited for the hug to subside, and finally Penny pulled away. She
blushed, looking more than a little embarrassed at the display of emotion
and the physical contact, neither of which were prominent traits for Penny.
He smiled at her embarrassment, and then George looked around.
“I must say, the manor is looking a bit dark and shabby these days,” he
observed.
Penny looked down at the rug. “And I do apologize profusely for that,” she
said. “But we are a house of mourning . . . or at least we have been.”
“Well, that certainly must come to an end. But the shabbiness was a bit of a
surprise, I must say.”
She shook her head. “And I apologize for that as well. I have not had time to
keep up with the servants.”
Then some of her old determination began to shine through. “Rest assured
they will be upbraided as seriously as those fools at the War Office,” Penny
added. “The ones who gave this false report of your death.”
George chuckled, relieved to see her feistiness reemerge. “Not necessary,”
he said. “All things in due time.”
“Have you dined?” she asked, expressing every mother’s instant concern.
“You look terribly gaunt.”
“Yes,” he replied, nodding. “I spent the night at an inn near the War Office,
which I must say was rather comfortable, if not entirely appropriate for a
man of my station. But the breakfast was quite hardy.”
His mother looked slightly disappointed, and George realized she would
have been more than happy to have the kitchen staff stuff him full of
something or other.
“Well, that’s good,” she said, reaching up to brush his cheek. “The whole
experience must have been frightfully horrid.”
“It was,” he said, grimacing.

372
“Would you care to talk about it?”
George smiled sardonically. “Not in the least, as a matter of fact. I have
other things to take care of.”
She looked up at him curiously, and George realized that aspect of her
feistiness had returned as well.
“Such as?”
He pursed his lips. Penny was giving him a challenging glare, and George
was amazed at how quickly she’d gone from forlorn and grief stricken to
wishing to exercise her usual level of control over him.
And that was when he knew he needed to put a stop to it.
“The issue of courtship and marriage,” he said simply, and then George
simply waited to see how she would react.
Normally Penny would have come right back at him, but something about
his demeanor must have changed, for she did nothing and remained silent.
George smiled, realizing that it was possible to have a genuine conversation
with her without being constantly put back on his heels.
“I’m going to marry Josephine Eldridge, Mother,” George said, electing to
forego the rigors of proper address. “This nonsense with Ariel Gentry must
come to a halt.”
“Oh.” He watched as Penny’s lower lip began to tremble, and for a moment
George thought he might be the recipient of yet another emotional display.
But then she caught herself. Penny pursed her lips, and George continued to
watch as she gathered herself. He could see his mother’s thoughts clearly
etched on her face, and finally her expression softened.
“Very will, then,” she said finally. “I will accede to your wishes.”
George blinked. He nearly blurted out “you will?” without thinking about it,
but then he, too, caught himself.
Never refuse a gift, he thought, especially one so astounding given so close
to the holidays. It is startling and then some, but perhaps she will even be
able to see it through.
“Good!” he exclaimed, and that was when George realized that this business

373
of learning to give precise orders to military men had fortified him in some
fashion he didn’t quite understand yet.
“Then I shall proceed to attend to that, while you repair things with the
servants and bring the manor back to its usual condition?”
He waited again to see how his mother would react to being given a second
command, and Penny simply looked down at the floor.
“Very well then,” she said again. “I will attend to it straight away.”
Huh, he thought. I could quite possibly get used to this. Perhaps there has
been some benefit to this experience after all.
George nodded at his mother, who suddenly looked at her own attire and
seemed most embarrassed. He realized that he could count on one hand the
number of times he’d seen her in bedclothes, at least since he’d been a small
boy.
“I am off to see Josephine, then,” he said, surprised at how determined he
sounded. “Is there anything I should know about before I leave?”
“Oh!” Penny shook her head, and suddenly she looked quite startled. “Why
yes . . . there is a great deal you don’t know, actually.”
For a moment George felt a knot forming in his stomach, and he wondered if
Josephine had been betrothed or married another.
“What, then?” he asked, trying to keep the urgency from his voice.
His mother smiled. “Not what you’re thinking, I suspect,” she said, and that
was when George realized how well she knew him, and his expressions.
“You must realize that the news from the War Office has spread.
“Oh!” This time it was George’s turn to shake his head, and a flood of
thoughts rushed into his mind. “I hadn’t even considered that possibility.”
Penny grinned. “Well, you might want to attend to that now,” she said. “For
your funeral is imminent, and I suspect your lady love is preparing for it
even as we speak.”

When it was finally time to wear the black dress, everything about it

374
confirmed Josephine’s worst suspicions.
She hated it.
It wasn’t so much the somberness of the color—it was what it represented.
Josephine was young and comely, and strong and vital as well, about to
come into her prime as a young, eligible lady.
As such, there was no way she was supposed to be wearing a dress such as
this.
But there was no choice. They had to make preparations for the journey to
George’s funeral, and it was up to Josephine to take the bull by the horns
and handle that ugly chore.
It certainly wasn’t something the earl would do. Rising from his bed was
about as much as he could manage, and indeed, it was all he could do to put
on a proper suit.
Josephine had to assign a single butler for that task, something that would
have been unthinkable just a few short weeks ago.
The task of preparing the carriage for the trip to Yarmouth proved just as
arduous. The vehicle, too, had to be appropriately somber looking, and
though Josephine’s family crest could be displayed, this had to be done
discreetly.
Finally, though, it was all ready. Josephine was already exhausted, and her
day had barely begun.
After this there would be the ride to Yarmouth, followed by the mass, the
burial, and all the inevitable condolences from guests, friends, and simple
well-wishers.
And she hated the idea of all of it.
Josephine would gladly have retired to her bedchamber and then her bed,
content to bury herself under a mountain of blankets and comforters.
But that option was unfathomable, of course, so she chose what felt like the
next best thing.
Once everything was squared away with the staff, she retired to the study,
squirreling herself away with a cup of tea.

375
It isn’t much of an escape, she thought with a sigh. But it will have to do
for the moment.
And for a brief period, it worked. The tea settled her stomach, which had
been roiling ever since she’d risen.
Finally Josephine began to breathe and relax, and after several minutes of
just doing that, she felt like she might actually be able to get through this day.
Her period of relaxation was brief, however. When Josephine was about
halfway through her cup of tea, she heard noises coming from outside the
library.
This was very unusual, especially recently since the household had been so
somber since the news of the duke’s death. Moreover, the voices were loud;
she recognized the sound of several servants, and they sounded quite
excited.
Sighing, Josephine put down her cup of tea.
Probably something to do with the carriage, she thought. The horses can
be quite fickle occasionally when their routine is thrown off with an
unexpected journey such as this.
Just as she rose, though, Josephine heard more voices, drawing closer. This
time the identities of the servants were unmistakeable; they were definitely
excited, and they were calling for her.
Once again, she sighed. It’s like managing a brood of small children, she
thought. The turmoil never seems to end, regardless of how hard you try to
stop it.

George considered taking a carriage to Duxbury, but in the end he decided

against it. Showing up in full regalia after he’d been reported missing or
dead would probably be quite alarming, not to mention very bad form
indeed.
So he decided to ride out to Duxbury on his own.
In order to do so, though, he had to wait until early the following morning,
for he was far too exhausted from his recent travails to make the journey
after informing his mother of his return.

376
Not to mention the fact that she needed considerable comforting after the
stress of the experience, and by the time George had handled all of that the
sun had nearly set.
Normally a ride of this sort would be quite refreshing, but under these
circumstances it was just the opposite.
What an odd situation, he thought. Riding out to the manor of my future
bride to inform her that my funeral won’t be taking place. I wonder what
the odds of doing this twice in a single life are.
Once he was on the road, though, George felt considerably better. Flying
along on a horse was nearly second nature to him, and for the first few
moments it was a pleasurable experience.
But then the flashbacks began. George had led his troops into battle on a
horse in Spain, of course, and even though the countryside was completely
different, there were the basic commonalities of riding that now became a
formidable issue for him.
Suddenly George felt his stomach stirring, and he could see things in his
peripheral vision that he knew weren’t there. He blinked as hard as he could
to get them to go away, and for a moment they did.
Then, however, a few furlongs later, they were back again.
George took several deep breaths to calm himself, and he slowed his horse,
who looked back at him, puzzled. Finally he pulled over to the side of the
road, and George dismounted, knowing he needed a moment to recover.
And that was when he brought up breakfast.
So much for having recovered from the war, he thought. Evidently that will
take a bit of time.
George decided to walk for a bit to regain his composure, not to mention
settle his stomach. His horse looked at George as if he’d gone daft, for
George had never done anything like this during an extended ride.
Being on the ground seemed to settle his stomach, and it allowed George to
breathe.
He looked around at the English countryside, relieved to be home, and as he
did George realized that part of what he’d seen out of the corners of his eyes
were images from Burgos Castle and the land around it.

377
For a second he flashed back to his time in the dungeon . . . the cold floor,
the constant fever, and the delirium that had confused him so much that half
the time he’d barely known where he was.
Once again, George looked around, trying desperately to convince himself
that all of this was real. He was alarmed at how quickly he’d returned to
Burgos Castle in his mind, and at how real the image seemed.
He walked again, until finally George felt he was calm enough to continue.
The horse seemed grateful for the rest, but George knew that if he didn’t get
on with it soon the beast would catch a chill, and the last thing he wished to
do was delay his arrival in Duxbury.
He mounted up again, and George continued on his way. He was wary,
however—would these attacks continue to strike him at the worst possible
times?
Finally he approached the manor in Duxbury, and the scene George had
encountered was similar to the one he’d just left in Yarmouth.
The house appeared to be in mourning, with the guard towers temporarily
abandoned, and the grounds around the manor in Duxbury were even more
unkempt than the ones in Yarmouth.
Perhaps I’m simply having an episode of deja vu, he thought. All of this is
a bit unnerving.
George dismounted, wondering where to leave Charger, his trusty steed. He
began to wander back toward the stables when he spotted a familiar looking
figure, a servant who was over by the carriage.
Sure enough, as he closed in, he recognized Thomas Tobias, one of the
footmen at the manor. He was working intently on one of the wheels,
pounding at a nail that seemed to have lost its mooring.
The footman was so focused on his task that he failed to notice George or
his horse. George stopped several feet away, not wanting to startle the poor
fellow to his death if the footman believed George had already met that fate.
“Perhaps you should start over with a new one,” George suggested, making
sure to keep his voice soft.
“Perhaps, mate,” the footman said, pulling back slightly from the nail and
giving the thing a nasty glance, as if it had become his sworn enemy.

378
Then the servant realized that the voice he’d just heard was unfamiliar, so
he turned to see who it was.
“My word!” the footman sputtered, and then he turned white as a sheet.
“What the devil—!”
“Relax, my good fellow,” George said, extending his hand, palm forward to
try and quell the man’s fear.
“—You’re . . . why, you must be a ghost,” Thomas said. “Either that or the
devil himself!”
George chuckled softly. “I assure you I’m neither,” he said. “Just a simple
duke, returned home from the war.”
Thomas tried to rise, but he was so stunned that he could only make it up to
one knee. The mention of the word “duke” reminded the servant of his
station, and he began trying to execute a bow even though he couldn’t yet
stand.
“Relax, my good man,” George said again as he watched the rather comic
effort to execute a simple bow. “There’s no need to twist yourself into a
pretzel over all this.”
The footman blushed, and finally me managed to get to his feet. He did give
George a slight bow, and then Thomas shook his head, still mightily
confused by the sight of the duke, alive and standing before him none the
worse for wear.
“But . . . how?” Thomas asked, still having difficulty disguising his
disbelief. “We heard you were . . . well, no offense, your Grace, but we
were notified that you were either dead or missing in action.”
George shrugged. “Clearly, both assessments are slight exaggerations,” he
said. “I am here, and I should like to see Lady Josephine Duxbury, if it is not
too much trouble.”
The footman shook his head, realizing it was not his position to hear
whatever sort of explanation there was for what had happened.
“Of course, your Grace,” he said, turning back toward the manor door. “I’ll
fetch her straight away.”
“Very good,” George said, nodding. He glanced over toward the stables,
wondering if he should stash Charger or wait to see the outcome of the

379
footman’s inquiry.
Thomas started toward the door, but then the footman stopped in mid-stride.
“Not to bother you, your Grace, but this might take a few minutes,” he said,
giving George a sheepish grin. “I’m sure M’Lady will be quite stunned by
the news.”
George nodded again and then grinned. “Quite understandable,” he said.
“I’m rather startled to still be alive myself, not to mention being here. It took
a considerable period of time for all of that to play out, so it won’t hurt to
wait a few minutes more.”

A few minutes turned into five minutes, and then ten, so George decided to
walk Charger over to the stables.
He quickly tethered the horse, hoping the delay wouldn’t spoil the timing of
his meeting with Josephine but as it turned out he had no cause for worry.
It took Josephine nearly a half hour to emerge, and when she did she was
rather a mess. It was obvious she’d been crying, and she appeared to be
most distraught as well.
She managed a slight smile, though, and George walked toward her slowly,
matching her smile. Josephine stood before him, and she blinked in disbelief
at the sight of him.
“It really is you,” Josephine said, and George noticed a fresh tear or two
leaking from her eyes.
“In the flesh,” he said softly, and slowly George opened his arms for her.
Josephine fell into his embrace, and he enfolded her in his arms. Neither
said a word for some time, and the seconds ticked by as they simply held
each other.
For George, holding Josephine was a revelation. It had been months since
he’d held a woman in his arms, and he’d dreamed of just this moment,
thinking it would never possibly come.
And now he didn’t want it to end.
But it took Josephine longer to warm up to him. She was still stunned by the

380
news that George was still alive, and for the first few moments being in his
arms seemed surreal.
George was a tender, patient man, though, and he was wise enough to do
nothing when she began to cry again. He simply held her tighter, and finally
Josephine stepped back and looked up at him, allowing George to wipe a
tear or two from her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she finally managed to whisper, and then she fell into his
arms again.
This time their embrace was more intimate, and George felt his passions
begin to stir. He didn’t wish to be too forward, but he felt Josephine begin
to respond, pressing herself against him, clearly not displeased by what he
was doing.
Finally, though, they both realized that it was time for the embrace to end. It
was too soon for serious intimacy given all that had happened, and George
simply followed his instincts and took her hand as the embrace ended.
For a moment neither knew what to do, and finally George smiled and
nodded at the carriage.
“It would seem you have an affair to attend,” he said wryly.
Josephine shook her head, and she made a noise that sounded like an odd
cross between a chuckle and a strangled sob.
“You might know more about that than I,” she said, her voice sounding
choked and strangled. “This is all a bit of a shock, as I’m sure you can
understand.”
He gave her hand a soft, gentle squeeze. “I do.”
Then George shook his head. “I’ve been dealing with shock for some time,
after all,” he added. “It's more or less become a staple in my life, I’m
afraid.”
She looked up at him, and that was when Josephine realized that she’d been
a bit selfish. She’d been so focused on herself that Josephine had forgotten
what George had been through, and suddenly she found herself dreadfully
curious.
“It must have been awful,” she said quietly, and George shook his head.

381
“It was,” he said, and then he fell silent.
“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked.
He looked over at her, trying to decide if this was the right time. Finally he
decided that simply being in Josephine’s presence was enough for him at the
moment, and he shook his head once more.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Not yet. I’m not sure it's all gone away yet.”
Josephine frowned, curious about what he met. There was so much she had
to learn about the experience, but it was clear George wasn’t ready for that
yet.
And neither was she, quite frankly. As much as Josephine wished to hear
about what had happened to him, she was still somewhat in shock herself at
the prospect of having him here, available and close to her.
It was something she’d done without for so long that Josephine had written
the possibility off completely and she knew it would take time to come to
terms with all of this.
In the meantime, though, there was Christmas! With George back in the fold,
so to speak, she could focus on the possibility of celebrating the holiday
with the man she loved.
Then Josephine realized that there was something else she’d forgotten about.
“Perhaps you could do something small for me, then,” she said softly. “If it's
not too much trouble.”
“Or course,” George replied, nodding as he regained a bit of his composure.
“Anything, within reason. It is good to be back in England and in familiar
surroundings.”
“I can only imagine,” Josephine said. “At any rate, what I would like is
quite simple, actually.”
He looked over at her, wondering what she could possibly have in mind.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Josephine paused, trying to catch up with this sudden turn of events.
“Truth be told, my father has been very much out of sorts of late. He would
very much like to see you if you don’t mind.”

382
“Of course!” George exclaimed. “I shouldn’t think of leaving without
stopping by and saying hello, although appearing here unannounced is quite
improper, of course.”
She laughed slightly. “Well, it certainly is understandable,” Josephine said.
“And after all, it is better than us having to attend your funeral.”

When they reached the door, Josephine paused, and she considered her
father’s fragile state and the shock it would cause for him to suddenly see
George.
“Would you mind waiting in the foyer?” she asked. “I know that’s a rather
odd request.”
He nodded, quite puzzled. “Of course not,” George replied. “Is there
something wrong?”
George opened the door for her, and they entered. “Not entirely,” Josephine
said, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “It’s just that . . . father
took the news quite hard.”
“The news?” George blinked.
She laughed slightly. “Of your demise, that is.”
He chuckled. “Ah, yes, that,” he replied, and then his chuckle developed
into a full-blown laugh. “I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to be dead, or
vanished . . . although I’m not quite sure which.”
Josephine gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Oh, you!” she exclaimed, her
voice turning lighter. “You always did have a way of turning moments like
these on their ears.”
George considered the concept. “I’m not quite sure I’ve ever been
confronted with a situation like this before,” he observed. “But I’ll take that
as a compliment.”
“It is!” Josephine shook her head, and then she looked toward the living
room. “I’ll be right back, then. Let me fetch father.”
George nodded, and she bustled off. He watched her, still trying to get
accustomed to the sight of seeing Josephine wearing a black dress. It didn’t

383
match her normally bright personality at all, and the contrast was quite
jarring, truth be told.
As he waited George looked around, studying the trappings of the manor.
The dark drapes were altogether too somber for his taste, and once again
George reminded himself of the circumstances.
Once again, it took some time for Josephine to return. George began to get
impatient, for he was somewhat fatigued from the ride, and the truth was he
simply craved more of his presence.
Finally, though, she returned, with the earl in tow.
George tried to disguise his surprise when he saw him. The earl had always
been such a vital man, but now he seemed reduced and diminished, and
George’s first thought was that some sort of malady must have laid him low
for a time.
“My word!” the earl exclaimed as he shuffled to the bottom of the staircase.
“It really is you!”
“In the flesh,” George said wryly, using his catch phrase for the day. “I
suppose I’ll have to get used to that sort of reaction for a while.”
Winthrop brought his hand to his mouth as he realized the breach of etiquette
he’d committed.
“I’m quite sorry, old chap,” he said, addressing George more informally in
the hope that that might make him more comfortable. “I didn’t mean to short
you a proper greeting, as it were.”
George shrugged and smiled. “Quite all right,” he said. “I suppose the
circumstances are a bit unusual.”
“A bit?!” the earl exclaimed. “Why, we thought you dead, my dear boy.”
George’s smile grew, and he remembered how fond of the earl he’d been.
“It does take a bit of getting used to,” he mused. “The idea of being
expired.”
Winthrop returned his smile, and suddenly he seemed to grow younger right
before George’s eyes. Josephine’s face lit up, and he was happy to do this
for her, to help her father regain some of his lost health.
“Well, you certainly look hale and hearty enough,” the earl said, and George

384
knew immediately he was lying about his condition. George felt anything but
hale and hearty, and he knew a return to full health was still several weeks
away.
“You flatter me, Lord Duxbury,” George replied in a jocular tone. “For I am
happy to simply be alive.”
The earl nodded, and he wiped a tear from his eye. “You have more than a
little company in that regard, Duke,” he said. “My daughter and I
especially.”
There was a pause in the conversation, and Josephine looked from one to
the other.
These are the two most important men in my life by far, she thought. And
now is the time when I should cherish them the most.
“I have a suggestion,” she said.
They both looked at her, curious.
“Oh?” said the duke, and the earl nodded, echoing his question.
“What is it, Daughter?” he said.
“I think we should all repair to the library,” she said. “And celebrate the
duke’s return with our finest glass of port.”
Winthrop laughed, and then he nodded with an enthusiasm Josephine hadn’t
seen in weeks, if not months.
“An excellent notion!” he agreed. “Will you join us, Duke?”
George smiled, thinking of the dour circumstances that had prompted the last
two occasions when he’d indulged in alcohol.
“Gladly,” he said, touching Josephine gently on the shoulder. “And if I might
add, it is good to be home.”

They retired to the library, and George gave Winthrop and Josephine a brief
overview of his “Spanish experience,” as he was now calling it.
He spoke of the campaign, softening his criticism of General Wellesley. But

385
the earl was familiar with military matters, and he could tell from the duke’s
acid tone that he considered the general a fool.
Winthrop could also tell from the pride in George’s voice that if the duke
had been allowed to make the decisions, the outcome might have been far
different.
Josephine could also tell that there were gaps in George’s account that were
deliberate, and designed to spare her pain as well.
He glossed over the prison exchange as if it were nothing, and George
failed to included any details of the time he spent in Burgos Castle.
She knew full well that it must have been miserable. Josephine had some
minimal knowledge of how prisoners were treated in these encounters with
French forces, regardless of where they took place and she shuddered at the
thought of the hardships, deprivations and injuries he must have endured.
Both Winthrop and Josephine asked the occasional question, although they
kept these queries to a minimum.
Both could sense the duke’s growing fatigue, and it was true, George had
little endurance at this point. He knew it would take weeks if not months for
him to put some weight back on and regain full strength.
As the duke finished his battle yarns, Josephine despaired at the thought of
seeing him return to the manor in Yarmouth.
I have waited so long for him to come back, she said, and I have endured a
brief period in which I thought George was gone for good.
And now to see him leave so suddenly—it just doesn’t seem fair at all!
She sighed, and then Josephine had an idea. Her sigh transformed to a smile,
and Josephine remembered fondly how much George brought out the
schemer in her.
“I have an idea!” she said brightly after a lull in the conversation, startling
both of them.
George merely smiled, and it was Winthrop who spoke instead.
“What is it, Daughter?”
She cocked her head and looked at her father. “I think it is far too late in the

386
day for us to allow the duke to return to Yarmouth,” Josephine began. “His
fatigue is most evident, and it is clear that recent events have taken a toll.”
The duke chuckled wryly. “You speak of me as if I were an invalid,
M’Lady,” he said, attempting to make a jest of his fatigue.
“Not at all, your Grace,” she said, giving him a sly smile in return. “For I
have a hidden motive in making this request.”
The earl rolled his eyes. “I’d be careful there, my good fellow,” he said to
George, grinning. “My daughter tends to get on a roll when she stumbles into
one of these hidden motives.”
George laughed. “Well played, Lord Duxbury!” he exclaimed, and then he
turned to Josephine, suddenly remembering the chase in the garden. “And
what is this hidden motive you speak of, M’Lady?”
She pursed her lips. “Why, it is the holiday, hard upon us, your Grace, is it
not?” Josephine asked. “And I have yet to select a tree for Christmas.”
“Ahh,” Winthrop murmured, rolling his eyes again. “I’m afraid she’s got you
there, my good fellow.”
George nodded. “It is a difficult request to turn down,” he agreed.
Then the earl decided to back up his daughter. “And it would be most
pleasant to have you spend the night as our guest,” he said. “Our master
bedroom for visitors has too long been vacant, and I can easily send a
message back to Yarmouth to let your people know of your brief absence.”
The duke smiled, and then he looked at both of them. “If I didn’t know
better, I would have sworn the two of you planned this in advance.”
Josephine shook her head vigorously, remembering the dark circumstances
that had started this visit.
“Not so, your Grace!” she exclaimed. “As I recall, we were about to attend
the funeral of a certain noble who’d come to a rather dark end.”
“Indeed!” Winthrop echoed. “She’s got you outflanked on that one as well.”
George nodded. “Touche´,” he said blithely. “It appears I have been drafted
for yet another important task.”
They laughed, and the earl and his daughter rose and led George from the

387
study. As they did they realized that dinner had been prepared, and George
sniffed gratefully at the aroma of roast goose wafting from the kitchen.
How good it is to be home, he thought once again. And considering the
possible outcomes to this rather perilous visit, how well things seem to
have worked out!

The pace of the next morning was leisurely. Winthrop and Josephine
consulted after George retired, and they agreed it would be wise to let him
sleep in for as long as necessary.
He was in unfamiliar surroundings, after all, not to mention in the process of
recovering from his ordeal.
George was slightly worried about that when he went to bed, for sleep had
held perils of its own since he’d returned from Spain.
He had nightmares that were intermittent but nonetheless terrifying. George
had awoken more than once back after making a nocturnal journey back to
Spain, convinced he was buried in Burgos Castle, awaiting a rescue that
would never come.
On this particular night, though, his sleep was long and deep.
Perhaps it was the comfort of having Josephine so close at hand after their
long separation, or perhaps it was the physical discomfort provided by the
guest quarters, which were both sumptuous and opulent.
Whichever it was, George awoke feeling refreshed and vibrant, a
combination that was rather new to him as part of his recovery.
And it didn’t hurt to learn that he had a hearty breakfast waiting for him, not
to mention the equally vibrant company of the earl and his daughter.
When they finished tea, though, the earl excused himself and made a discreet
exit, knowing his daughter wished to have the duke to herself for a bit.
She’d talked eagerly of the ride she’d planned out to the forest, and
Josephine knew just the copse from which to select the honored tree, not to
mention the side branch of the trail that would lead them to that copse.
Josephine was an accomplished equestrian, and Charger had been given the

388
finest accommodations as well, so George’s horse, too, was ready for the
ride.
And Josephine had her choice of rides, so she chose Brandy, her finest roan
mare, for this ride.
They selected a third horse to bring along, one of the plow horses, to carry
whatever tree they chose, although Josephine had already decided she
would prefer a smaller tree this year.
“A fine morning for a ride indeed!” George exclaimed as they walked to the
stables together, hand in hand.
Truth be told, though, George was more than a little nervous about this
particular ride.
He still remembered his little bout of spiritual vertigo with Charger while
on the road the day before, and the momentary memory of his time at Burgos
Castle that had caused his brief pause to clear his head.
Josephine looked over and nodded, and she smiled at his comment.
But she, too, was conscious that something was at least slightly off with the
duke; she was becoming attuned to his moods and feelings, as was befitting
the lovers they were about to become, and she sensed some concern beneath
his jocularity.
“Not exactly as brilliant as yesterday, though,” she said, pointing off at the
dark gray clouds off in the distance. “It actually looks as if it may snow
today.”
“Perhaps,” George said with a shrug. “But whatever those clouds might
contain is several hours away at the least. So we should be fine for this
brief expedition.”
“I am glad,” she said as they saddled up and prepared to depart. “I thought I
might never get the chance to do this with you, after all.”
“But here I am,” George said, seeking to dispel what he sensed might be an
oncoming dark mood in his beloved. “And hopefully we will do this many
more times in the future.”
She smiled, and with that they were off.
The initial part of the ride was bright and easy. The horses found a rhythm

389
together, so much so that both George and Josephine commented that it was
as if they’d done this ride before, unbeknownst to their owners.
Even the plow horse fell into rhythm, which was something Josephine had
been slightly concerned about.
The copse wasn’t far off, and Josephine began to push the pace a bit. It was
so exciting to be riding with George, and Brandy sensed her enthusiasm as
she gave her free reign.
The plow horse followed suit as well, and managed to keep up far better
than Josephine had expected. Charger more than lived up to his moniker in
matching his equine companion, and in moments they were near the fork that
would lead to the prime trees.
Finally she slowed both horses, Brandy and the plow horse, knowing it was
necessary to give her a chance to correctly find the side trail. Josephine
searched carefully, and for a moment she neglected George, knowing she
had to concentrate intently on the task at hand.
But George was having a very different experience. The dark shadows
falling from the pines overhead made him feel uneasy, even though he
couldn’t explain why.
And then he knew. Suddenly it was as if George was back near Burgos
Castle, manning the position General Wellesley had ordered them to
undertake the final charge that the fool assumed would result in a glorious
victory.
But it hadn’t. George heard the sound of cannons, hard in his ear, a sound he
hadn’t thought or dreamed about in weeks. They were here with him, though,
there was no doubt, and he cringed, looking around as his body told him to
panic and flee.
Even with that impulse, though, George quickly realized that there was
nowhere to run to. The woods behind the Duxbury Manor were nothing like
the terrain he’d lost in Spain, and he shook his head, breaking out in a cold
sweat as he brought Charger to a sudden halt.
Josephine, however, had no idea what had just happened. She assumed
George was right there beside her, or just behind, as she found the side trail
that would lead to her perfect copse.
Until finally she realized she was alone.

390
How in the world did that happen?
Josephine shook her head in alarm, and then she looked around, wondering
what had happened to her beloved.
She dug her heels in, hard, directing Brandy to pivot, and the horse galloped
hard as she scanned the trail for George and Charger.
Josephine didn’t have to look far. George had dismounted, and Charger
stood off to the side of the trail, once again looking quite perplexed.
He was walking back and forth, muttering to himself, and it seemed to take
forever for George to look up at her.
“Darling, are you all right?” Josephine said, pulling up next to Charger and
settling all three horses close together.
For a second it seemed as if George didn’t hear her voice. Then finally he
looked up at her, his face etched with concern, and as she studied him
Josephine realized that he was frightened.
Of her? How could that possibly be?
“I thought they were coming,” George said softly. “From out of the woods . .
. over there.”
He pointed, and ironically enough his arm moved in the direction of her
favorite copse. She took his hand and gently stroked George’s cheek with
her other hand, and for some reason that seemed to snap him out of it to
some extent.
“You thought who was coming?” Josephine asked, keeping her voice to a
whisper.
He shook his head, and she could see that George’s eyes were shimmering
with tears. “The French,” he said, and then he shook his head again. “Or the
Spanish. It was hard to know for sure.”
Josephine wanted to tell him that it was over, that all of that was gone now,
but something inside her told her that was the wrong thing to do.
“Let’s just walk for a bit,” she said. “We can forego getting the tree today if
you’d like.”
“No!” George replied in a tone that was surprisingly insistent. “I truly wish

391
to do this.”
“All right,” Josephine said, wanting only to take him in her arms and hold
him. “But let’s take this slowly shall we.”
In that fashion, they gathered up the horses and led them back toward where
Josephine had been, just before the turnoff. She listened carefully, and
slowly George seemed to return to normal. His breathing was far less
shallow, and his steps became further and less uncertain.
A part of her wished to speak to him, to coax more of George’s story out of
wherever it was hiding deep inside him, but once again, something told
Josephine that was exactly the wrong thing to do.
Finally, they reached the side trail that would take them to the copse, and
that was when George began to speak.
“That was the worst of it, you know,” he began.
“What was, darling?”
“Being overrun,” George said. “It was so . . . so . . . humiliating.”
For a moment Josephine didn’t know what to say. She had no experience in
military matters, of course, and little attraction toward learning about them.
So she decided to stay silent, but then Josephine realized that George was
glancing over at her, expecting her to say something.
“Humiliating?” she asked, feeling like a fool for merely parroting him.
“Yes,” he said, his voice sounding firmer, and Josephine realized that the
simple act of repeating his word had unleashed something in him. “I’d never
imagined being defeated like that, not in all my years of studying battles. It
was unthinkable.”
Once again Josephine found herself at a loss for words when he paused, and
she looked over and studied him carefully. It was clear his mind was
working at the problem, and it was one George needed to solve.
This is going to be more difficult than I thought. It’s so hard to know what
to do or say, and when to be silent.
Suddenly George began to shake his head back and forth, violently, as if
some foreign object had become lodged between his ears and he was trying

392
to shake it loose.
“And it wasn’t my fault!” he exclaimed, nearly yelling the words.
Josephine blinked. “Whose was it?” she asked without thinking.
He glared at her, tears glistening in his eyes. “That accursed General
Wellesley!” George said. “The man was a blithering idiot.”
George turned toward her and stopped walking, and she noticed that his
hands were balled into fists.
So much of this is all knotted up inside him, she thought. It’s going to take
some time for him to get it all out.
How to help, though, that was the question. All of this was a mystery to
Josephine, and once again she knew the only thing she could do was follow
her instincts.
And this time they didn’t involve words.
Josephine slipped her arms around him, thinking about his balled-up hands,
and she held on tight, thinking that this, perhaps, was the only way to draw
him out of that deep, ugly place inside of George where all of these horrid
memories had taken up residence and made a home for themselves.
Initially his body was rigid as a statue, but finally she felt him relax. He
folded her up in his arms, and Josephine could hear and feel how fast his
heart had been racing.
They stood like that for several minutes, and eventually Josephine began to
wonder what she would do next.
This is like putting together a puzzle without all the pieces present, she
thought. They’ve all been scattered hither and yon, and they seem intent
on returning on their own terms.
But it was George who took the next action. He released her, and then
slowly he began stroking her cheek, and then her hair.
“Where was it you said those trees were?” he asked, his voice trembling
slightly. “The ones that would be the best for Christmas.”
“Oh!” Josephine blinked several times and then she shook her head,
realizing that she’d been so caught up in George’s dilemma that she’d lost

393
the ability to think clearly.
She looked around, and it took her several more seconds to figure out where
they were. Yet another puzzle to put together, but Josephine blushed, for this
one was as familiar as the back of her hand.
“We’ve missed the turnoff, I’m afraid,” she said, morbidly embarrassed at
her oversight. “We need to go back a bit.”
George just smiled and said nothing, and they wheeled the horses about and
found the side trail Josephine had told him about.
They found the shining, glistening trees just ahead, and when he saw them a
broader smile illuminated George’s face.
This is the sort of place I need to be spending my time in, he thought, and
then a wild idea struck him.
“Can we do more than merely select a tree here?” he asked. “There is
something about this place that seems magical.”
Josephine grinned and then frowned. “Well, you’re quite right about the
magical part,” she said happily. “I come here all the time.”
She pursed her lips. “But I am somewhat confused. What do you mean, do
more than select a tree?”
George looked around, and then he reached into his pocket. He hadn’t even
put the ring in a box, even though transporting it that way had been quite
risky, but he didn’t want Josephine to detect the presence of a box in his
pocket.
He closed his hand around the ring and took it out carefully. Then George
took Josephine’s hand with his other hand, and before she realized what
he’d done the ring was on her finger.
When the act of betrothal was complete, George took her hands in his, and
then he reached up and tilted her chin upward slightly, so he could give her
a soft, gentle kiss.
“Actually, I was thinking this might be a nice place to get married,” George
said softly. “It was all I could think of while I was trapped in Spain,
although I must confess that this wasn’t the way I’d planned on asking for
your hand in marriage.”

394
“Oh!” Josephine kissed him, and then she looked down at the ring. Then she
threw her arms around him, overwhelmed by the flood of joy and happiness
she felt surging through her.
“I think it would be wonderful!” she said, breathlessly.
Josephine looked up at the canopy, and then she scanned the stately trees that
surrounded them. Finally her gaze returned to George, and she realized what
a brilliant idea it was.
“I’d never considered it before,” she said. “But I think this would be a
wonderful place for a wedding!”

They selected a small tree for Christmas, one that seemed quite
overwhelmed in the shadows of its taller brethren and as a result seemed to
have little chance of surviving.
George was quite happy with it, though, for to him it represented making a
new start. He was trying not to think of himself as damaged, just obscured
by his Spanish experience.
The process of organizing the wedding was another matter entirely. It
involved making the immediate ceremony much smaller, of course, and
whittling down the guest list from those who wished to witness the nuptials
to those who were essential was formidable indeed.
Until they tackled it together. Both George and Josephine agreed that they
wished for the wedding to occur on Christmas day, and that made the
process of paring down the guest list far easier.
The ceremony would be limited to immediate family members only,
although it did take some coercion to convince several of them that they
would have to journey into the forest to attend a wedding.
The part that followed, however, would be completely different. Josephine
and George decided that this part of it should be an extended version of
Christmas revels, one that would extend right up to the first day of the new
year.
Accommodations would be available on a constant basis, and those who
were invited would be allowed to come and go as they pleased.

395
When they recalled their wedding years later, it was the ceremony itself that
stood out in their memories, largely for the uniqueness of it.
And the unique reputation of the ceremony spread far and wide as well.
They were the first nobles to be married in this peculiar way, of course, and
word quickly spread about the unusual course they’d chosen.
Few had the courage to be so different, of course, and George and Josephine
were pleased by the manner in which they’d chosen to break with tradition.
Several of their children followed in their footsteps, however. Years later,
their firstborn son and heir, Timothy, was married in a similar fashion,
although he had far more work to do to convince his bride that this was a
good idea.
But marriages in a forest setting slowly became a tradition in their family,
and they were enjoyed and relished by all for the peaceful, lovely
background they provided.
They came to believe it helped love to flourish, and that was proven out in
both the length of those marriages and the prosperity and happiness they
provided.

396
THE DUKE’S CHRISTMAS ANGEL

By

Abigail Haversham

©Copyright 2016 Abigail Haversham

All Rights Reserved

397
 CHAPTER 52

Mary Carlisle watched the snow fall gently to the ground from her window
on the top floor of the manor.
Outside the morning world was calm and gray, the land around the manor
gently sleeping, waiting patiently for spring to arrive. The familiar line of
trees stood off in the distance, bare now, and the rolling hills off to the west
were covered in yellowed grass.
Unlike everyone else in the manor, Mary liked winter the best. A kind of
pregnant hush seemed to fall over the world around them, and to her this
represented the anticipation of good things to come as well as a feeling of
gathering energies.
Spring would burst forth soon in a riot of color and activity, but for now a
sleepy silence reigned.
Ensconced in her bedchamber, looking down and out onto the world, Mary
felt both safe and hopeful. She could take it all in from here, almost as if she
was spying on the world of nature, with few surprises.
It was a feeling she relished.
The rest of her life, however, was somewhat more turbulent.
In matters of land and peerage she was protected and safe, more or less. Her
father was a minor lord, the Viscount of Salisbury, and he held some lands
in trust that were enough to provide some stable income that was more than
enough for daily life and the upkeep on the grounds.
Moreover, the title was enough to secure her place in the world, allowing

398
Mary to enjoy a life she considered comfortable but somewhat boring.
There were times when she longed for the adventure and romance that
seemed part and parcel of the more prominent titles, especially when it
came to love, courtship and marriage.
Marriage! That was the sticking point, the very thing that sent her to her
chambers on this and so many other occasions, to contemplate the gray
English world in early December that unfurled outside her window.
It was a lovely home and a lovely life, but what would ultimately become of
her?
She was not a child anymore, that much was certain. Already the rumblings
from her father and the subtle pushes from her mother were driving her
slightly mad, and Mary knew these were responsible for many of her
occasional respites from daily life. They meant well, she knew, but the
ongoing nudges kept a single question in her mind.
Did they have to be so sharp about it?
There was a softer side to her life, however. The gentle whiteness of the
falling snow made her think of weddings, and her wedding gown in
particular.
What would it be like to don that fateful garment, and then to add the
garlands that would go with a Christmas wedding—and finally, after that, to
be greeted by the congratulations and laughter of friends and family?
The rest of that picture, however, was quite murky. When Mary tried to think
of her future husband, she drew a blank, and she could only think of a darkly
handsome but gray figure, shrouded in shadow, as if her story was a mystery
and he was unable to emerge at this point in the plot.
But she was able to fill in some of the blanks. In her mind and her heart,
Mary knew she would marry a duke—that much was certain. And the
wedding would have to take place on Christmas day, for that would
represent the ultimate fulfillment of love.
As much as she cherished this dream, Mary knew how problematic parts of
it were. Through her father, she’d had a taste of the peerage, and as a young
girl she’d followed his daily routine in a way that had perhaps made her
more hopeful than she had a right to be.

399
For in her own sweetly innocent way, Mary knew she wanted more. She
wanted the challenge and the pleasures that would come with running a
large manor, with directing the kitchen and seeing that the whole of the staff
was up to snuff.
She wanted the carefree levels of altruism and status that came with wealth,
a wealth that would allow her to do charitable works, to be good and kind
and helpful, and to advance herself and further develop the skills necessary
to become a proper lady.
Mary also wished to be a wonderful wife, of course, to the duke she would
marry. And finally, when the time was right, she would be a stern but loving
mother to her children as well.
At the moment, though, these things were mere flights of fancy. She’d
indulged in them for so long, ever since she was a young girl, that there
were times when she could scarcely separate them from reality.
Truth be told, Mary wasn’t sure if that was a problem or not. She’d been
having profound dreams lately, dreams of the handsome duke she would
marry, the noble gentleman who somehow seemed about to step out of those
infernal shadows.
She’d dreamt of this man for a long time, ever since Mary felt the stirrings
of womanhood, and at first she hadn’t taken them all that seriously. They
were just the nocturnal musings of a silly, precocious girl, and the reality
that surrounded her was something entirely different.
Until recently. And then her dream last night had changed everything. In this
version, she’d seen more of her beloved Duke—a noble, prominent chin,
dark, lustrous hair that he wore combed back, and deep brown eyes that
were somehow sharp and warm at the same time.
Mary had thought he was about to emerge when another figure appeared in
the dream.
An angel.
At first she’d thought it was an apparition, some sort of ghostly figure that
represented a threat. Then the golden blond curls and long white robe came
into clearer focus in her dream, and Mary started, wondering about this
strange new change.
Then there was movement in the dream. The angel led her from the manor,

400
down a snow-covered path, and into the woods beyond.
Mary wore little more than her robe and her bed clothes, but this was a
dream, of course, so that didn’t matter, and she found herself unaffected by
the cold and the gently-falling snow that surrounded both her and the angel.
They walked slowly into the woods together, until finally they came to a
clearing. Mary smiled the moment they reached it, for in the midst of the
clearing was a Christmas tree, adorned with all the familiar family
ornaments, all of which were somehow glistening and radiant in a fashion
that could only occur in a dream.
She stopped and gasped, and then Mary turned to the angel, who merely
smiled. There was a pause, which seemed just long enough for Mary to take
in the specter of the tree, and then the angel began to walk again on a path
that led around the tree.
Mary simply followed, wondering what was to come next. It took mere
seconds to find out—behind the tree was a manger containing a baby,
presumably a boy, in swaddling clothes, and Mary giggled at cliches of the
Christmas imagery.
Once again the angel nodded, and for a moment Mary thought this was the
purpose of the dream, to remind her of the Christmas spirit.
But there was more to come. Much more.
For there, in a pew positioned just to the right of the manger, was a
handsome duke. And not just any handsome duke—her handsome duke.
Complete with all the features she’d begun to imagine, and all decked out in
his Christmas finery at that.
Once again Mary gasped, and she turned to the angel for some sort of
explanation or guidance.
The angel simply smiled, her countenance growing more radiant, and she
extended her arm and hand and waved gently at the scene in front of them,
which seemed to Mary to be both sacred and profane.
Then the angel spoke, her voice soft and musical, hypnotic in a way that
made Mary want to listen to her forever.
“This is the man you will marry, and the blessing that will be bestowed on
you. Your betrothal will indeed occur on Christmas days, but it is

401
important for you to be diligent, Mary Carlisle, to maintain the purity of
this blessing.”
Then she paused, allowing Mary to take in her words. Mary felt tears
welling in her eyes, and she blinked and allowed them to flow as she
thought of all the obvious questions
How shall I meet him? she thought. And when? My life right now is so
narrow and limited, it is almost impossible to even imagine a scenario
such as this.
The angel laughed as Mary thought of these questions, and then her dream
visitor shook her head.
For a moment Mary thought the angel was about to provide an answer, but
then her apparent benefactor began to fade away, as if she truly was the
apparition Mary had thought her to be when the dream first began.
“Do not fret or worry.” The angel continued to fade even as she spoke
again, and for an instant Mary wondered if she had done something wrong.
Could her questions and doubts have somehow violated the integrity of the
vision God had provided for her?
Then the angel spoke her final words.
“You have been blessed, Mary. Do not fret or worry.
“All is well.”

“Why, Mary, are you daydreaming again? Come now, come have breakfast
before it is time for lunch. You know we have a busy day ahead of us.”
The jolt she felt could not have been sharper if it had come in the form of a
kick from one of the horses in the stable. Mary turned from the window,
knowing who belonged to that sharp voice before she saw its owner.
Lady Edith Carlisle, the Viscountess of Salisbury.
Her mother smiled ruefully as soon as Mary saw her.
“It seems as if this is all you do these days, this daydreaming,” Edith added.
“I know you adore Christmas and the holiday season, but it really is just a

402
light round of snow, you know.”
Mary smiled wryly, thinking back to her dream and the heavenly walk she’d
taken through the snow with her angel at her side. Then she decided it was
best to make a joke of it all.
“Why must you disturb me, Mother? I had nearly worked out my entire life’s
worth of problems!” she said lightly.
Lady Carlisle laughed. Her daughter’s sense of humor had always been
slightly sardonic, but Edith knew that a layer of seriousness lay beneath the
jocularity.
Edith worried about her strong, principled daughter; the world was not
always kind to those who refuse to back down to convention, especially
when they were of the feminine persuasion.
Still, it was a cozy winter day, and the realities of convention seemed quite
far away at the moment. Edith warmed to her daughter’s wit, just as she
always did.
“Well! I’m glad to hear that. Then you’ll have no objections to attending the
Whitmore’s ball this evening? You remember, the one you called a ‘useless
social display’ only yesterday at luncheon?”
The humor drained from Mary’s face as she recalled her social obligations.
“Oh Mother, now you’ve dashed my spirits,” she said, and Mary hung her
head at the prospect of having her dream bubble burst so suddenly.
Lady Carlisle bustled about the room, opening curtains and airing out the
bedspread. She was never a woman to begrudge a maid’s duty to the maid;
she preferred a more hands-on approach, and Edith used it on linens,
daughters and husband, and in equal measure at that.
“Come now, Mary. Don’t be so dramatic. It will be a lovely event, with
scrumptious things to eat and delightful holiday displays to look at.”
Then her mother paused and pursed her lips in a manner that was nearly a
challenge. “So what if the conversation isn’t up to your standards? You
cannot let the perfect be the enemy of the good all the time, my dear.”
Then she winked, realizing how much she’d dampened her daughter’s
spirits. “And who knows, perhaps you’ll find a suitor who meets your
standards.”

403
Mary had momentarily risen to help her mother, but the mere mention of a
suitor made her return to the window, and she stared wistfully out at the
falling snow.
“Ha!” She laughed dryly. “You could knock me over with a feather if that
miracle occurred. I’ve met just about every eligible bachelor in all the
surrounding counties, and I’ve found them all wanting.”
With that, she turned to her mother. “And from where would this suitor
appear? Would he be sprung from the ether?”
Lady Carlisle sighed. “There you go again. Letting the perfect be the enemy
of the good.”
Mary flashed an ironic grin. “They are natural enough enemies, Mother.”
“Well,” Edith said with a flutter, “you’ll just have to grin and bear all of
these social niceties once more, if for no other reason than to keep up
appearances.
“I know you’re up to it. Do not despair, dear heart. It twists your pretty face
so.”
Mary smiled at her mother and the two shared a hug. As Lady Carlisle left
the room and Mary embarked to attend to her toilette, she ruminated on her
mother’s words and the upcoming ball that evening.
Her mother was right; she must begin to be more realistic if she were ever
going to find a husband. And Mary did have a practical side, she knew that,
and she also knew it would serve her well if only she paid more attention to
it.
But there was also the dream. Even a practical girl couldn’t ignore such a
sign, even one that came in such a dubious package.
Dreams are for children, part of her thought, but then Mary shook her head
vigorously, unable to accept the truism her mother had preached to her so
many times.
No, she thought. Dreams are real. They have to be . . . otherwise what is
the point of all this?
Mary smiled at the debate raging within her, and she returned to the window
one last time before turning to the task of selecting a dress.

404
She would find something appropriate, something in her closet that would
make her beautiful enough to draw the attention of the dashing duke in her
dream.

Mary sighed one last time as the snow continue to fall. Just as she turned,
though, it began to swirl, the wind whipping it around in white eddies that
seemed as fragile and tentative as her dream.
But perhaps that represents the beginning, Mary thought as she turned back
and lingered at the window to watch one last swirl. Who knows what
lengths the Lord will go to if he is truly determined to give me this sort of
love for Christmas?

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Mary, another figure was having a far less

peaceful experience watching a similar swirl of snow.
David Ward viewed the swirl from his four-team carriage, trying to
negotiate the not-yet-treacherous main path to Bayberry, his ancestral manor
house.
The whipping, uncertain wind carried the flakes here, there, and
everywhere, and David thought to himself how much he felt like the snow;
buffeted about at a whim, in an onslaught that could be peaceful or chaotic,
depending on the whims of a given moment.
The carriage pulled up to the crescent drive and stopped at the marble steps
that led up to the opulent, formidable oak doors that formed the main
entrance to the manor.
They opened forcefully as the carriage came to a halt, and out walked
Kittredge, the head butler, and David’s surrogate father since childhood.
As David stepped from the vehicle, Kittredge wrapped him in a giant
bearhug. The butler had always been prone to unseemly displays of emotion,
and normally David found them to be just that.
Now, however, he was overjoyed.
“Welcome back, your Grace,” Kittredge said in his rumbling dark voice,

405
adding, as he always did, just the tiniest hint of good-natured mockery to the
last word. “It has been a very long time.”
David smiled, thinking about the period that had just passed. He had not
been home for nearly eighteen months.
That time, less the crossing of the Channel, had been spent abroad in
Europe, in what people had begun calling a “Grand Tour.” In David’s
opinion, there wasn’t anything terribly grand about it.
Certainly, the architecture and the art had been tremendous, and he greedily
devoured the sites in Rome and Paris with the eagerness of the most
passionate aficionado.
Vienna, however, seemed somewhat dour, albeit alive with energy. And all
roads in between offered strange new experiences and sights.
But he had returned feeling as empty as when he had left. Maybe more so.
Despite his emptiness, though, David had learned some things about himself.
He knew now that he was a seeker, and he understood that he had taken this
particular road not for mere edification, or for base debauchery, as some of
his peers had.
There was something he was looking for in St. Peter’s Basilica and in the
hallways of the Louvre, and although he had been tantalized, his heart had
not been stirred to its core.
Truth be told, something was missing. Just as it had always been, ever since
the death of his parents back when he was seven.
Their passing had left a hole that seemingly couldn’t be filled. Not through
education, not by running a manor, and certainly not from the emptiness of
social obligations and a life of leisure that was mostly a blessing but partly
a curse.
His unhappiness, continued to pick at him, like a sore that wouldn’t heal. No
matter how many times he peeled off the scab, the wound was still there,
regardless of all the luxury he was privileged to enjoy.
So he’d begun trying things. Horseback riding. Archery. The piano courses
in art, and attempts to paint that quickly made him feel sorry for the canvas,
so clumsy were his efforts.
So many items in a lengthy list, and yet none had provided that soulful

406
foundation, the feeling of stability and security for which he yearned.
Kittredge took his coat and hat once they were safely ensconced in the
house, and his butler began directing the porters to deal with his other
pieces of luggage.
Moments later, David was securely set up in his study, reclining in a leather
chair with a blanket over his lap and a hot toddy in his hands to warm him
against the cold.
Once the luggage had been dealt with Kittredge returned, and they talked of
many things, as if they were old friends rather than noble and servant. And
there was good reason for that level of informality in their relationship.
After the death of his parents, the estate and all its holding had been put into
the trust of an uncle until David came of age.
This anonymous relative had been little more than an absentee landlord,
leaving the lad to his own devices while checking the books once a year to
make sure everything was more or less in order.
The only thing that had kept David from leading an extremely lonely life
was Kittredge. The manor was filled with uncaring or simply overworked
maids, and governesses and footmen, who did their jobs but had no space in
their hearts to care for the little boy.
But Kittredge had been there for him.
The butler must have been in his fifties at the time, and at this point David
couldn’t even guess at his true age. But he had the unflagging work ethic of a
young man, and Kittredge had been fiercely protective of David as he grew
up.
He was the one who’d helped David transition into his title, and the butler
had proved surprisingly savvy when it came to advising him about matters
of finance and deportment.
There was more to it than that, though. It was Kittredge who sat with him
and held his hand, nursing him as he wept his way through childhood fits of
grief.
David had never met a better man in his life, nor would he—not now, not
ever. The notion of class distinction had almost completely fallen away
between them, and they were both aware of what a blessing that was.

407
Now the man occupied the leather chair opposite David, filling it with his
large, sturdy frame. His voice was a low-pitched rumble, and they talked
long into the night. Finally, their conversation turned to more serious things.
“So,” Kittredge said with his Yorkshireman’s brogue, “there was no succor
to be had on the Continent, I take it? This hole of yours that plagues you, it
has not been filled?”
David sighed, finding this conversation both embarrassing and necessary,
and he tried to embrace the inherent contraction of that combination.
Kittredge understood him better than anyone else, but this plain conversation
seemed to trivialize David’s problem. Hearing it aloud made it seem
frivolous.
On the other hand, though, if he couldn’t talk about it straight out, was it
really so much of a problem?
Besides, his butler was such a wise man, well-read despite little in the way
of formal education, and he understood matters of the heart and the soul. It
was also a smart move to listen to his counsel, as much as it made him
cringe at what he perceived to be his own vanity.
“I’m afraid not. I feel like something is wrong with me,” David said,
blushing with guilt. “Why can’t I simply be happy with what I have?”
The older man knocked out the ash of the pipe he’d been smoking, and then
he began the slow, meditative task of refilling it again. He looked at David
with sympathy and understanding.
“You’re well to recognize the privileges of your class, and the benefits you
have reaped simply by being born to those you were born to,” Kittredge
began.
“But the noble class is not without its calamities and ill feelings. You are a
sensitive man, David. I saw it in you when you were only a little child. You
recognize, as many do not, that the outer trappings of this opulent life are not
all there is to existence.
I call it a boon, as strange as that sounds, to feel unfulfilled. It means you are
perhaps a cut above, in an odd sort of way, to be able to recognize the
shortcomings of your existence.”
David smiled despite his ennui, feeling lightened by the compliment. Still,

408
what to do?
Finally he decided to voice this question to Kittredge, who gave him a
knowing smile.
“You should get married,” he said simply.
David looked at him, agog for a moment. Get married? To whom? And why?
“You must be daft, my good fellow!” David exclaimed. “I couldn’t marry
anyone in my present state. I feel like a tiny boat in a vast ocean, lost and at
the mercy of the waves.
“How could I possibly live up to the responsibilities of marriage, the
obligation I would have to someone else if I cannot even look after myself
properly?”
An unfamiliar expression appeared on the butler’s face, and he proceeded to
stare into the fire for what turned out to be a very long moment. David was
about to ask if he was quite all right when he finally spoke.
“I was married, you know. For quite a long time. No, you wouldn't have
known her. This is long before you were born, before I even came into the
service of your parents.”
David was stunned by this revelation, and a little ashamed. He had known
Kittredge his entire life, and he’d never really thought to inquire about the
man’s personal life. Quite the opposite, in fact—David had taken both his
presence and his stolid form for granted.
Intrigued, David bade the older man go on.
“I was near in age to you, your Grace,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “And
much the same in temperament. I felt lost and empty inside, without a clear
cartography for my own life. I did not want to be a farmer like my father,
and his father.
“And anyways, I was the youngest of four sons. There was not enough land
to divide. I would always be in servitude to my older brothers, making a
piecemeal living and never on my own terms.”
The butler took a deep breath, seeming quite far away as he drifted back
through the years.
“So I wandered, much as you’ve done, though not in the luxury in which you

409
did, David. I did odd jobs and slept in hay bales and under bridges, and
watched out for the sheriff’s men lest I be rousted as a vagrant.
“And then one day I was splitting wood for a farrier’s wife, and I spied her
daughter out milking their one scrawny cow. And everything changed."
Kittredge stopped again, and this time he sighed deeply. The butler looked
into the fire, his eyes growing shiny with mist.
“I still miss her, of course, my Ellie," he said wistfully. “Every day, though
it has been more than forty years since we were wed. I did not think it was
in me to marry either, at the time. I had nothing: no freehold, no income, not
even a steady source of employment.
“But I was infected with a kind of fever, and after we had joined I found that
life had laid a straight path for me quite without my knowing it.
“It was because I felt like being a man after that. I felt a foundation had been
laid in me and the materials gathered, so all I had to do was go about my
work pleasantly, and with gusto. And that was what I did. And here we are.”
He turned back toward David, and suddenly the butler looked like himself
again, wise and strong, and once again willing to play the role of mentor.
“It changed me,” he said simply. “And it will change you too, I reckon.”
He fell silent again for a moment., and David ventured a question.
“What happened to her?” he asked softly.
Kittredge blinked, startled. The butler had to take a moment to gather
himself, but finally his naturally brusque tone returned.
“Oh, she died, of course,” he said, trying to sound as if he was describing
the demise of a casual, inconsequential acquaintance. “Taken by a fever.
Around this time it was. Early December. She took ill one day and never
recovered.
“And so I was left alone in this world, for I would never marry again. But
her marks remain on me, and the changes she wrought in me will never be
overturned. And I await her embrace in the next world, when the Lord
deigns to take me.”
With that, Kittredge suddenly stood up, and he reached over and slapped
David’s knee. He did not seem the least bit embarrassed by their

410
conversation, but he did look a bit drained.
David respected the old man’s need to change the subject.
“But my circumstances are different,” David began. “I don’t have anyone I
want to marry. To be quite honest, part of this silly Grand Tour, as they call
it, was an unexpressed hope that I would indeed bump into some rare and
radiant maiden abroad, a fine English girl away with her governess.
“I would take her home and marry her, and all would be well, but I dare not
say it aloud for fear of tempting fate.”
David shook his head and smiled, recognizing the folly of his dream. “But it
was all for nothing,” he continued. “The only suitable maidens I ran into
were proper bores, or far too concerned with their dresses and their baubles
and marrying well, and not with the things that really count.”
He stopped and took a deep breath. “Where am I to find an Ellie of my
own?”
Kittredge smiled. “You’ll just have to be patient, your Grace. But for the
moment I do know of at least one place you can look. You received my
letter, I trust?”
David groaned. “Yes . . . it was waiting for me at the inn at Monmouth.”
The letter, which was mostly idle chatter about the house and inquiries after
David’s well-being, had included a lengthy portion detailing the upcoming
ball at the Whitmore estate.
David suddenly realized that it was in fact scheduled for this very evening.
In his mind the conversation he’d just had with Kittredge took on another
dimension: the old man had planned the thing from the start! He must’ve
known for quite some time how David was suffering—perhaps better even
than David himself.
He looked at the old man with renewed regard. How lucky I am, he thought,
to have this fellow in my life.
The butler smiled, as if reading his mind.
“Come now, your Grace,” he said, as if they’d just discussed the menu for
the evening meal. “The morning is quickly passing. We must get you ready
for the event.”

411
David stood, reluctant but obedient, as the old man placed a strong, gentle
hand on his shoulder and led him from the study.

Mary Carlisle looked resplendent in her ball gown. She’d fallen in love
with the dress the moment she tried it on; the style of the garment was light
and airy, the color a gentle aquamarine.
Nonetheless, she knew the dress had a bold character to it. The pervasive
style of the day for younger ladies was muted and characterized by earthy
tones—many a lass could be spied in umber or dull red, quiet colors for the
winter season.
But Mary felt the season differently, and she knew that in many ways this
dress expressed her feelings perfectly.
Not only was the color brighter, but the cut was loose, puffed out in the right
places but not billowy. Such a wonderful contrast to the other dresses she
saw, which were cinched at the waist and overflowing at the bosom, giving
them a tight, top-heavy look.
And it captured her. Mary felt she had a lovely, snow-blessed air about her,
something that felt almost pagan when she saw herself in the mirror, as if
she were some kind of winter sylph that had found its way in from the cold.
As always, though, her inner feelings were quite different from those
expressed by the dress. She was perturbed, as usual, about being dragged
out to this ball.
Her parents had greeted Duke and Lady Whitmore, then shown her off for a
moment, and after that they promptly vanished. She felt slightly put out, even
though she knew her parents had her best interest at heart, but she wasn’t
bothered enough to contradict their actions.
The fact was, though, that she wasn’t made for balls. This became evident,
as it always did, as soon as she dutifully found a circle of ladies her own
age to mingle with.
“Isn’t it just awful?” one asked. Mary frowned at the emphasis—she thought
it was Regina Upford, but she wasn’t entirely sure.
“The poor girl was forced to marry a banker! Can you imagine? I’ve ever

412
heard something so . . . so common in my entire life.”
“I should like to find a deep well if it happened to me,” said another girl,
red-haired and plump. Mary knew this one was Eleanor Faraway, whose
father was a minor baron of something or other. “And I’d jump straight in.”
The others tittered in agreement, waving their fans in their faces as if the
very idea might destroy their health. Mary likened them to a gaggle of hens,
preening and pecking at nothing and clucking away with their nasty snipes
and jibes.
Then Eleanor Faraway turned her great, ponderous head to Mary when she
noticed she wasn’t laughing.
“Have we offended you, my dear?”
“Not any more than usual,” Mary replied acidly.
A gasp ran through the group, a collective unease at her quip mixed with a
kind of armored jocularity. Eleanor herself remained unaffected.
“Hitting too close to home, dear?” Eleanor cocked her head and grimaced,
as if preparing for battle. “I hear you’re to be betrothed to the blacksmith . .
. is that particular rumor true?”
The tone of the question was all sweetness, but meant to bite. The group
laughed uproariously at Mary’s expense.
Mary, however, was too angry to even reply. Instead, she stomped away, her
teethed clenched. Behind her she could hear them tittering again, no doubt
cutting her down several more times to build themselves up, as was the way
of silly, empty women who have no goodness in their souls.
She found a large pillar at the edge of the ballroom and leaned against it,
facing the wall. For a moment Mary tried to tamp down her anger, along
with the embarrassment that was squirming just beneath it.
She knew how wrong these silly girls were, but there was still the
temptation to think they were right.
As she hid herself away, biting back tears of rage, she became suddenly
aware that she could make out a conversation going on somewhere behind
her. A strong, rich voice was conversing with another, older one, and it
sounded like they were having an exchange of some import.

413
Normally Mary wasn’t prone to eavesdropping, but for the moment she
decided to indulge herself.
“It’s no use, Whitmore,” said the first voice, younger and strident, “None of
these ladies entice me in the least.”
Then the fellow laughed. “What a terrible word to use,” he continued.
“Entice. As if they were part of the dessert course. That’s part of the
problem, isn’t it? I’m not looking to simply indulge.”
“You’re thinking about this too much, lad,” replied the other, sounding
stately and a bit annoyed. Suddenly Mary recognized this second voice as
that of her gracious host, Lord Whitmore.
And there was no mistaking the snide tone, and the undercurrent of
amusement in his otherwise sonorous voice. He was clearly somewhat
bemused by the younger man he was speaking to, but still enjoying his
paternal role, doling out advice and life lessons. Mary leaned in closer to
hear.
“Any one of these ladies will make for a fine marriage,” Whitmore went on.
“I can attest for everyone single one of them myself. It will take some time,
and some shifting of expectations, but they’ll come around eventually if you
spend right.”
“That’s exactly it!” the other voice burst out, managing to sound both excited
and annoyed. “I’m not interested in buying someone’s affections, or their
silence. Why should I marry some complacent cow who won’t stir up
trouble, simply because she’s bored or feeling capricious? That’s no way to
live!”
She heard Whitmore sigh, and then he replied. “These are the realities of the
thing, my dear boy.”
There was a momentary voice, and then the younger voice returned the
volley.
“Dash your realities!” he said, and Mary started at the harsh language. Who
was this fiery man?
The voice continued. “I don’t want a boring wife who’s too interested in
redoing the drapes to care about anything else. I want a partner, Whitmore,
someone who shares dreams similar to my own.

414
Someone who has at least the beginning of some kind of humanistic impulse
—to help, to do good works, and to honor God. I’d rather die a bachelor
hermit than try to deal with one of these so-called ladies!”
Whitmore sighed. “There is no reason to be uncouth, lad.”
Another pause, and the younger voice came back at the elder again.
“Oh, but there is!”
Mary was transfixed by this man’s strident speech. It seemed downright
miraculous; here was someone with exactly the same outlook as her own—a
gem in the rough!
He brooked no middle ground in his devotion, it seemed. Could it be that
she’d been wrong all along? That there really was someone out there for
her?
“Listen, Lord Rutherford, there’s only so many choices for a man of your
rank, a duke,” Whitmore replied. “Sometimes one has to play the hand one
has been dealt.”
“I may choose not to play at all then. I’m sorry Whitmore, I know you’re
being practical. And what’s more, that you’re trying to pry me from my
melancholy. You must find me terribly childish, I know.
“But I swear to you, as I am a man, this is not some flight of juvenile fancy. I
feel these convictions to my very core.”
Whitmore sighed, though not in an unfriendly fashion. It was clear he wanted
good things for his younger counterpart. But he seemed constrained and even
slightly bothered by the other man’s speech.
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now, I suppose. Come, we can at
least take in a good tuck in, as my old nurse was wont to say. Let us find
something to eat!”
Mary heard laughter, and the voices began to fade away. She had scarcely
processed the last bit of the conversation, for her inner emotions were
roiling. She had gone from the highest high to the lowest low in a matter of
seconds.
Carefully, she replayed the words in her mind. So it’s true, Mary thought,
that there is some person out there who shares the very same ideals. And
how unlikely that I should be privy to the very conversation in which he

415
revealed his true self!
Then she considered the comic aspect of it. Hidden behind a pillar,
eavesdropping on a pair of nobles. It was like something from a racy novel!
But then her spirits fell. A duke! He would never marry such a one as me.
How could he? I, the mere daughter of a viscountess, far below his
station. I might as well be an ant he could accidentally step over, and
there is nothing to be done about it.
In spite of the setting, Mary nearly wailed aloud by accident.
She’d waited so long to get a glimpse of her ideal gentleman, only to have
her hopes dashed, and immediately at that. She felt like a hunter, long on the
trail of some quarry and finally able to catch a glimpse of it, only to watch
in despair as it melted into the forest once more.
Suddenly it was all too much for her. Without thinking, Mary fled from her
perch behind the pillar and raced through the ballroom, watching the heads
turn as she picked up speed.
She felt the tears begin to flow, and Mary knew the only place she could go
was the front door, out the huge, ornate doors toward her carriage.
“Take me home at once!” she shrieked to the startled coachman, who
remained rooted to his seat, unable to hop off the carriage to open the door
for her.
Fortunately, though, he recovered from his shock quickly and got them
underway. Mary heard the creaking of the carriage and the whinnying of the
horses, and she continued to sob as she finally dabbed at her tears.
What will become of me? Is this truly the best I can do, to sneak around
furtively and overhear a handsome gentleman who happens to represent
everything I hold dear? I might as well give in to selfish despair and quit
this life entirely.

As Mary headed home, David Ward stalked the ballroom like a lonely tiger,
agitated by the outburst Whitmore had elicited from him.
Truth be told, he knew he was more than a little desperate. His speech had
brought out his most intense desire—the need to find someone who held

416
dear the same things he did in this folly called life.
Instead, though, he ended up meeting Lily Wells. It was Lord Whitmore who
tracked him down and introduced them, and David realized he had no
choice but to be reluctantly polite.
“Very nice to make your acquaintance,” he said as Whitmore smiled
brilliantly at him.
He paused for a moment to take in the lady who was supposed to be the
erstwhile object of his affections.
She was a willowy sort, with long blonde hair that hung limply to her
shoulders, and a shapeless white gown that seemed to want to shrug itself
off of her thin frame.
Ugh, David thought, she looks as if she is barely here . . . a mere wraith, as
it were. I wonder if her disposition is equally timid and absent.
Lord Whitmore made the introductions, and then he began speaking
glowingly of David’s recent trip abroad.
“The Duke is another fine fellow who has gone off to the Continent,”
Whitmore began. “To get some culture, I suppose.”
“How charming,” Lily replied, managing a wan smile that told David she
found all this anything but. “And did you, Lord Rutherford?”
She sniffed quite audibly, and David’s hackles rose. “Not particularly,” he
said, deciding to violate any number of conversational conventions.
“I found it dull and without any real verve. There was something missing the
whole time, as if I wandered through all that beauty as only a shadow of
myself.”
“Beauty is overrated,” Lily replied, and suddenly David found himself
intrigued. Her disaffected, almost surly tone definitely caught his attention.
“It certainly can be,” he said, maintaining a neutral tone.
“It is only a trapping,” she said firmly. “Or at least I have always thought
so.”
They stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the wave of happy couples
pairing up to participate in another complicated waltz. Whitmore had

417
already made his exit, and David wondered what he’d had in mind with this
introduction.
“They look happy,” David said, wondering if he could have made a more
banal comment.
“Another overrated device.” Lily flipped her hair and looked into her glass
as if surprised it was empty.
David had been drinking nothing but punch, as he normally did, and he did
not have a glass of his own. But he did realize that an appropriate gesture of
chivalry was required at the moment.
“Might I find you another drink, M’Lady?”
“That would make me happy,” she said mockingly, though she handed him
the glass quickly enough.
When he returned, she was looking off into the distance as if deep in
thought.
“You intrigue me, Rutherford,” she said, blunt and to the point, and in a
mannish fashion that slightly intrigued him. “You know how to keep silent in
conversation when silence is required. That is unusual these days.”
David had no idea how to reply. If fact, he had no idea what to make of this
strange creature who stood in front of him.
She was frumpy in her thin way, and not particularly interesting. And she
was also too dour. But there was something about Lily that interested him,
that made him want to go further and learn what she was truly about.
“Well done,” she said after several awkward seconds had passed. “You’re
keeping it up.”
He smiled in spite of himself, and she gave him a second version of her
wan, pale grin.
What the devil is up with her? David thought. Is she making fun of me?
“Are you quite content, M’Lady? You look somewhat ill at ease,” he asked
quite seriously.
“I am not—content, that is. These affairs bore me silly. Balls, I mean.” She
shook her head at the figures on the dance floor, as if they were lifeless

418
porcelain dolls who’d happened to gain the ability to move about.
“There’s nothing to be had from them,” Lily continued. “We parade about
and seek to be better than our peers, but it never amounts to anything. It’s
useless preening.”
The cynicism in her voice was not enough to dissuade David from the
content of what she said. He knew he felt quite the same, and here was
someone with a similar view.
Perhaps she is actually interesting, he thought.
Suddenly, though, he felt like a man on a high wire due to her abruptness.
Should I go on and try for safety? Or go all the way with her and let
myself fall? And what if there is no net?
Silly questions, of course, but he decided to plow on with the conversation
anyway. Before long they’d struck up a bit of a rapport, even though Lily
never seemed truly energized.
They left their perch beside the dance floor and found a quieter place to
converse. Lily began upbraiding seemingly everyone who came to mind,
from the lowliest stable boy to the Archbishop of Canterbury.
No one escaped her scathing view, and none measure up to her immaculate
standard. All of them were frivolous, bare, wanton, or silly.
What a grim creature, he thought. She will likely die a spinster with this
point of view. Perhaps we are kindred spirits of a sort.
As the music faded and the clock continued to creep forward, though, David
decided he wished to spend more time with her. Perhaps it was the punch
that addled his judgment, or maybe David was simply in the mood for
someone with a darkly cynical take on life.
In any event, she represented a possibility. Not necessarily a good one, but
someone who might rouse him from his torpor. At the very least a dalliance
with her would rouse the ire of the old wags and their ever-flapping gums.
And for the moment, that would simply have to do.

When she returned home, Mary retired immediately to her bedchamber,

419
where she began brushing her dark, shiny hair, knowing that this simple act
would calm her.
And so it did, for a while, anyway. At the very least it stifled the accursed
tears, and sniffling was better than crying for the moment.
But her despair was now deeper than ever.
Mary was calmer now, and she knew her whirlwind escape had been an act
of emotional desperation, but she had settled down after a while.
Unfortunately, though, her departure had drawn the attention of her mother,
who had followed her swiftly home in her own borrowed carriage. And it
was in this very room some hours ago that Edith had found her daughter in
the midst of a good cry.
Mary was sketchy on the details, but she’d made it known to her mother that
she was now past hope. This realization came to her in a flash, and she felt
resigned to it. Her faith would sustain her through the worst parts, she felt
certain.
There’d been little Edith could say or do to convince her daughter
otherwise.
She’d tried to instill hope, but there was only so much talking that could be
done, and finally Edith had simply reached over and stroked Mary’s hair,
telling her that things would all work out, hoping that some part of her
placations had penetrated her daughter’s despair.
Then Edith had left, feeling shaken herself, and she went to seek the comfort
of her husband’s counsel.
Now Mary sat, all alone, breathing slowly and regularly and feeling fiery
again. She tried to will her depression away, and as she did Mary realized
how exhausted she was, both emotionally and mentally.
She longed now for the escape of sleep, a deep, deep sleep that would
energize her for all the hard days to come, for the loneliness and struggle
that would envelope her and her life from this day forward.
Or so she thought.
With these thoughts rattling about in her overtaxed brain, she snuffed the
candle out and lay still on her back. Despite her exhaustion she tried to
replay the terrible events of the evening once more, until finally she willed

420
her mind to be still.
After that her breathing became more regular, and her muscles relaxed. She
fell into a deep slumber.
Then, some time later, a light seemed to itch at her eyelids. She opened them
blearily. How much time had gone by? How long had she slept? It felt like
only moments.
Mary was able to focus on the source of the light, and that was when her
breath caught in her chest.
It was her. The angel.
Once again, she was beautiful in a way that could barely be described.
Moreover, this time her presence gave Mary a vast, profound sense of well-
being, and a comprehension of the depth of the angel’s beauty that extended
beyond rational thought.
Mary continued to gaze at her, uncomprehending. For how long, she was not
sure.
Then she took in more: the plain white shift the woman wore, her bare feet
hovering some feet above the foot of Mary’s bed.
The light that had wakened her seemed to be coming from everywhere and
nowhere at once, filming the beautiful woman in a downy illumination that
glowed visibly, filling both the room and everything beyond.
Then the woman seemed to shift, and a pair of great, snow white wings
emerged from behind her. Mary felt the very core of her soul respond,
pulled inexorably towards this being, who exuded truth and goodness like
the sun pours out light.
“You remember me,” the apparition said softly. “Do you remember what I
told you?”
Slowly, Mary began to cry once again. This time, though, her tears were
tears of relief, and the angel’s soft, gentle smile seemed to call up all the
good things in Mary’s memory and cause them to wash over her.
She realized the angel’s words were not an admonition—quite the opposite,
in fact.
“You will do good things,” the angel continued. The spirit of the Lord is

421
within you. Do not despair. In your faithful way you will meet the husband
you so long for, the very Duke you espied mere hours ago. With him by
your side, and with the use of his worldly station as your vehicle, you will
realize your full potential.
“This I promise you. Do not despair.”
Mary smiled peacefully.
Of course, she thought. Of course it is true.
Now she had not even the most remote shadow of a doubt in her mind. Mary
took in everything the angel was saying with an open and receptive mind
and heart, and her soul knew the truth of it. It was so evident that she barely
even felt relieved. How could she have ever worried?
She looked up, and the angel smiled at her understanding. Finally the
apparition spoke one last time.
“Go in peace, Mary Carlisle,” the angel said. “Do the good works you
were born to do.”
Then, slowly, the glow faded from the room. Mary closed her eyes and
slept, seemingly for a thousand years.
When she opened her eyes again, the angel was gone. Mary sighed, not upset
at its departure, but for all the world gladdened to her soul by her visit.
Then she slept again, but this time differently, like a child who feels nothing
but safety and security.
And when she awoke it was morning.

The change in Mary was immediate and profound. She bounded down the
stairs after making her toilette like a child at Christmas time, which was
particularly apt, as the very day was just a week off now.
The light snow that had fallen off and on for the last few days was gone
now, and the pre-winter haze had evaporated. It was a clear, crisp morning,
with the sun shining down on a world renewed and reinvigorated, bright and
gay.
She met her mother in the parlor. Edith, who was a meticulous household

422
mistress, was going over the kitchen accounts for the third time that month.
“Eight pound for goose liver,” she muttered to herself. “That cannot be right
...”
Mary burst in to the room with a flutter, and she placed a girlish kiss on the
top of her mother’s head.
Then she flitted to the window dressings and opened the curtains with a
flourish, twirling in place as the sunlight caught her, bringing out a deep
golden aura all around her body.
Lady Edith looked up from her receipts and simply stared at her daughter a
moment, assessing things.
“Well, it looks as if your spirits have risen since last night. To what do we
owe this miracle?”
Mary smiled a little at the word ‘miracle,’ but she said little, shrugging it off
and attributing her fresh new zeal to a good night’s sleep and, presently, the
prospect of a hearty breakfast.
She said nothing of her angelic visitor from the night before, understanding
intuitively that it was . . . well, not a secret, exactly, but private, a special
thing meant just for her.
Mary wasn’t sure if her mother would believe her or not, but that seemed
beside the point somehow. And anyway, the visit wasn’t entirely hers to talk
about.
Edith regarded her curiously for a moment. It was clear she sensed
something beneath Mary’s outer joviality, some new inner calm that she
could not attribute to anything at hand, and she couldn’t quite put her finger
on it.
But after a while her mother shrugged and let it go. Whatever it was, it had
wrought a change in her girl, and that was all that mattered.
It pained her to her core to see her child suffering, and whatever now
alleviated that suffering was nothing but a boon as far as she was concerned.
She put aside her papers and stood, embracing Mary strongly, putting the
guts of her worry behind the strength of it as she gave her daughter a sort of
cathartic squeeze.

423
The hug was so hard that Mary nearly yelped in surprise, but she soon
relaxed in her mother’s embrace.
They stood together, mother and daughter, with the press of memory and the
rush of the future all mingled together, basking in a quiet moment between
them.
It was so rare these days for them to simply cherish each other, and to
cherish these moments as they appeared. Who knows how often they will
appear in the future? Mary thought. We must always be ready to cherish
them as they appear.
When it was over Edith went back to her papers, balancing her spectacles
just so on the tip of her nose.
“It does me a world of good to see you in such fine spirits, daughter. You
have no idea.”
“Oh mother. I know. I have a feeling that things are going to be alright from
now on.”
She squeezed her mother’s hand briefly, and Mary smiled at her. Then she
was gone, out the door with a ruffle of frills to beg a hot scone from the
cook and begin her day, determined to fill it with good things.
In the days that followed, Mary’s outward demeanor remained unchanged.
She was as happy as she had ever been, and her dedication to good works
and charity was renewed and then doubled.
Inwardly the peace she had felt the night the angel visited her remained, and
it seemed to inform her every thought, charging her full of life and removing
the niggling, unimportant worries of the day to day.
Even on the day when she received a letter from her cousin, who had it from
some source or another that David Ward was courting the insufferable Lily
Wells.
In spite of this news, her resolve was not shaken, not one little bit.
The old Mary would simply have gone to pieces. She would have burst into
a paroxysm of jagged tears and hitching breath, unable to comprehend her
wretched fate.
But this new Mary was different. Older, bolder, more serene, and fiercer
somehow as well. Not to mention sanguine and unperturbed, a combination

424
she’d rarely experienced.
Soon she would have a chance to see the duke again, and Mary knew it
would come very soon. It would occur at the tree christening his parents put
on every year, a tradition he had revived when he had came of age.
They had already gotten the invitations, and there was little to fret over. If it
did not happen there, then she would see him someplace else. Mary felt a
quiet certainty about this, as if it had all already been decided by another.
She sat reading the letter in her drawing room, looking at the window and
watching the little wrens flit and fight with one another, searching for the
last bit of autumn seed, and Mary was amused by them, and by thoughts of
her old self.
The wrens ended their little squabble, and the news from the letter faded
away, replaced by that calmness tinged with anticipation.
She put the letter away in a drawer with her other correspondences, and
Mary fell into a deep meditation, basking in the warm knowledge of her
impending marriage and the blessed days that would follow.

David Ward, however, was anything but serene.

He plodded through the dull acres that surrounded the old boneyard Lily had
brought him to, for she’d insisted it was where she did her best thinking and
composed her best verses.
It was an ancestral graveyard on her family’s land, older than old and very
much overgrown without the attention of a caretaker. The forest had slowly
reclaimed the plot over the years, and there were small, bare trees and low
brown shrubs poking up all over the rocky, neglected land.
Some of the grave stones had been toppled over, whether from age or some
malicious ne’er-do-well, David wasn’t sure. He was more concerned with
avoiding a twisted ankle as he negotiated the terrain.
“Yoohoo!” he heard in the distance. Lily was calling for him from further
into the wild, overgrown glade. “David, where are you!”
“Er . . . coming!” he shouted in reply, his voice sounding meek and brittle in
the cold winter air.

425
He picked his way carefully over a great system of tree roots that had burst
from the ground below, churning up stones and hard black soil.
The days since he had met Lilly Wells had been a confusing swirl of
emotions and events.
At first she had seemed fresh and new to his eyes, a woman who had
managed to throw off the shackles of good society, piercing the veil and
looking, with her lighthouse eyes, for something more.
Certainly she seemed a bit aloof, perhaps even cutting, but David had
chalked that up to the frustration of long years spent being rebuffed by those
around her.
So he ignored it . . . or at least he tried to.
As time passed, though, he began to realize that Lily was, in many respects,
simply not very nice. That seemed like a childish complaint at first, but it
was the simple truth.
What he had assumed was a passing quirk of her personality turned out to
rule it almost completely. Lily did not let a moment go by without criticizing
something: the weather, a maid’s shoes, the royal family.
It turned out, at least as David saw it, that she was an all-together gloomy
person, seeing through things but taking no joy in that ability. In point of fact,
she actually let it beat her down, until she couldn’t muster a kind word to
save her life.
Or maybe that was just the familiarity speaking. David had spent an awful
lot of time with her over the last handful of days. Maybe too much? He
wasn’t sure.
It had all become so confusing! All of this searching and seeking and
finding, only to end up going around in a circle to end up exactly where he’d
begun.
And now here he was in a tumultuous field of grave markers, chasing after a
willowy switch of a girl.
“You’re lagging behind, David,” she said, crouching in a hollow made by an
uprooted tree, looking at squiggly things there, little bugs and worms, that
interested David not a whit.
What is she doing? he thought. Why are we even here?

426
The answer to this last question was one that Lily had supplied. Searching
for inspiration. That was what she’d told him when David had posed that
same question, several times in numerous settings.
She’d suggested this outing after he had exhausted his own ideas for
romantic dalliances, each of which she criticized specifically and at length,
both when they were happening and afterwards.
David had felt a bit at a loss, and in his frustration and exasperation he’d
asked her a bit testily where she thought it would be a treat to visit.
She had replied immediately. “The graveyard. I will show you! It is where
my art comes from.”
David was nonplussed by these words, but Lily soon explained. She was, as
it turned out, something of a poetess, as she put it to David, and went on to
express her love for Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Coleridge, names David
scarcely recognized.
She even confessed, sotto voce, an affection for Mr. William Blake, a name
David had heard. He could hardly believe it; the man was quite mad! But
when he said as much Lily only laughed a bitter laugh and said, “Of course
you would think that.”
David wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but his brow had darkened a bit.
Lily went on to explain the revolution in the arts, how these poetic
gentlemen were rejecting the old ways of doing things and crafting their
own.
David rather liked the old way of making verse, what little of it he had read
in school was pretty enough, but he nodded along, determined to remain
interested just the same.
But when Lily started talking about the new emotions, the highest highs and
the lowest lows that these poets were interested in, what they called the
“sublime,” he was at a loss.
Still, it wasn’t enough to dissuade him, so off to the family ossuary they did
go.
Now, back in the present, David watched Lily stand from a crouch and stalk
away, examining the headstones, some of which were rendered unreadable
by time and weather.

427
He followed after her at a slow pace, still wary of the ankle-turning
obstacles in their path.
Eventually they found a huge, gnarled elm tree, black and bare, not to
mention quite dead. Lily exclaimed as if she had found a jewel among the
shrubs.
David suggested they stop a while and sit up against it. Lily looked
perturbed, but he made his way over before she could say anything.
It was here that David caught his breath. He had, he suddenly realized, been
saddled with most of their walking gear, and Lily’s notebooks as well.
Not to mention her sketchbooks, which were filled with watercolor
paintings, scratchy things in black that mostly looked like burnt matchsticks.
In addition, David toted her paints and her bird-book that she never seemed
to crack open, along with a host of other things. He was quite winded.
Lily chatted away, talking of this and that, as he sat there huffing from
exhaustion. He lost track of her words; something about the bleakness of the
landscape and how despair and terror were pure, poetic emotions.
David tuned most of it out—the bits he did understand seemed terribly
depressing, and the rest was mostly a muddle.
But then his ear caught something odd.
“What did you just say?” he asked.
She huffed, hating to be interrupted. “I said that you are just like Lord
Ripton. So disengaged.”
“You mean Calvin Smedly-Bates? That Lord Ripton?”
Lily sighed as if exasperated. “Yes, dear David, who else would I mean?”
she asked sarcastically.
David looked at her a moment, making his expression difficult to read. He
wanted to make her wonder what he was feeling, which was an obscure
blend of anger and disbelief mixed with a touch of incredulous.
“Lily,” he said slowly, “Lord Ripton has not been seen in public for nearly a
year. Nor has he been seen in any other capacity, so far as I know. He was a
friend of a friend, not close, but known well enough to me.

428
“And for these long months it has been reported that he does nothing but
pace around his bedchamber in the dark, muttering. He would not eat if it
weren’t for the ministrations of his household staff, who love him.
“He is quite the broken man, and rumor has it a woman played a prominent
role in his downfall.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And you speak as if you had known him
intimately.”
For once Lily looked surprised; what’s more, she seemed to be at a loss for
words. Then the moment passed, and a smile like a feral cat’s spread across
her face. David did not like it one bit.
“Is that what they’re saying?” she asked, sounding innocent, but in that
mocking way that was unmistakable. “That poor, poor man.”
Then David felt his blood begin to boil. It felt for all the world that Lily was
acting like a coquette. What in the world was going on here?
“They say,” he said slowly, through clenched teeth “that he was jilted. Led
on, even. Though no one was quite sure by whom. He courted in secret.”
“Oh,” said Lily, with a flip of her hair, “it wasn’t so secret. He was a
weakling, just like the rest of them.”
David stood up suddenly. “So it was you!” he said, pointing a finger at Lily
where she sat with her legs curled beneath her.
“And what if it was?” she shot back fiercely. “Does that wreck your little
fantasy, David?”
“My . . . my what?” David asked, more confused than ever.
“I knew it the moment I saw you, the moment you staggered over and tried to
make small talk with me. For a moment I thought you were different, that you
had something to say, that you hated them all as much as me. But it hasn’t
taken long for me to see your true colors!”
David was angry now, and he wanted answers, regardless of the
consequences.
“Did you or did you not tell Lord Ripton you were to marry him, and then
the next day refused to see him, to answer his letters?”

429
“Of course!” she said with a sneer. “And the others as well, others that not
everyone knows about! What better way to tear these silly men down? It’s
all they want, and I shall not give it to them!”
David stared at this odd creature, wondering who and what she was. Did
she have a goal? Did she actually care about anyone or anything other than
herself?
So he decided to ask. “Why did you do all this?”
“To wound,” Lily said simply. “To wrench the soul until it is tattered and
useless. You silly men, you mean nothing to me. And your simpering desires,
your visions of lovely little wives and drooling babies.”
She shook her head and smirked.
“The world is changing!” Lily exclaimed. “Women will not always be your
playthings, your maids and your mothers! We will rise above and take over
your terrible world!”
He blinked, unable to comprehend her. “Why are you so cruel?” he asked
simply.
“Because I am able to be,” she replied, as if this could somehow make her
normal. “You will never understand, David. This has been a farce. You want
your little babies and I will not give them to you.
“But I saw your simple, wretched desire and I decided to play with it, like I
have so many times in the past. Because it amuses me to do so.”
Then she smiled wickedly at him. “Does it shock you? Are you
scandalized?”
He was pale as a sheet, the anger drained out of him. Lily stood up after her
long speech, and she began pacing, as if obsessed with her anger. Not once
did she take her eyes off him.
That was when David realized the size of the mistake he had made. What he
had seen as unique was merely an obsessive desire for mere isolation.
Lily was a bitter, cruel, angry creature with no love in her heart. If he had
been more composed, with his wits about him, he would have seen it from
the start.
But the facts were more simple: he’d been blinded by desire. And fear as

430
well. Fear of not getting what he felt he needed, fear of being alone, and fear
of not being able to fill the empty part of his soul.
So he’d tricked himself into thinking this might be a genuine courtship, with
real possibilities. And now it was clear that he’d been cowardly by not
thinking clearly, and as a result David had succumbed to false love and self-
delusion.
It was time to end this charade. He would apply himself and be the man of
God he was meant to be, someone who believed in doing good works and
being kind and helping others. He would believe, and have faith and
courage. This he knew now.
But for now there was Lily, staring at him, also looking a bit confused. He
considered turning heel and simply leaving, never to speak to her again.
What parting words could he possibly come up with that would transform
the hardness in her soul?
David wrestled with the impulse to be unkind, until finally something stirred
deep in his heart. He couldn’t help Lily; only she herself or the Lord could
save her. But that was her choice to make, to be sure.
“I do not know where your hardness comes from,” he said finally, his voice
soft and gentle. “But I do hope that you don’t let it define your life
completely, and for the whole of it.”
For a moment David thought she would come back at him, as she had so
often done, with the fierceness of Blake’s Tyger, burning bright in the forests
of the night.
Instead, though, she blanched and stood speechless. No one had ever spoken
to her in this way before. She was used to men kowtowing to her, begging,
pleading, raging. Doing whatever they had to do to get what they wanted.
And want they did, so many wants! Base and petty, they made her laugh!
But she seemed to have realized that David was different, and that things
between them had changed. This was no mere attempt to undermine her
cynicism; his compassion was genuine, not an affectation meant to wound
her. He could see right through her, it seemed.
Suddenly Lily looked terrified. She searched for words, but could find none,
and for an instant Lily balled her hands into fists, as if she wanted David to
pick a fight with her.

431
Instead, David simply sighed. “Good bye, Lily. I will leave your things with
the butler,” said David. He hefted the heavy pack on his shoulder and began
to march away.
As he left, Lily finally found her voice. The momentary drop of her defenses
was rectified, and a burst of protective rage spewed forth, as if it had just
been shot from her like a volcano.
“You are pathetic, David Ward!” she shouted as loud as she was able. “You
are a sad, lonely little man! You will never get what you desire! Never!”
A tinge of agony crept into her voice, the edges of her shouts ragged with
spent energy. But David continued to walk away.
Soon she was out of sight, though her accusatory shouts did not cease.
Even at the edge of the woodlot, the manor house looming up in the distance
as the green lawns in front of it rolled up to his feet, David could still hear
her angry yells. Something about desire, and never getting what he wanted,
and all that.
Then a gust of wind picked up the last of her words and whirled them away.
David shifted the pack more comfortably on his shoulder and he headed for
the manor, feeling lighter despite his burden.
He did not look back.

The day of the tree christening arrived, bright and crisp.

Mary’s good spirits had not diminished. Quite the opposite, in fact; as the
hours passed she became more entrenched in her resolve, more certain
about what was going to happen.
And more excited, though she was not impatient. She simply waited quietly
until the day arrived, and then it was there.
Mary woke and performed her toilette, and then she puttered around the
house all morning, and well into the afternoon, until finally it was time to
change for the christening.
She disappeared in her bedchambers for many hours, and it was not until
Simon, the old butler, came a third time to tell her that her parents were

432
waiting to depart.
“They are getting impatient, M’Lady,” he said desperately, and that was
when Mary knew it was time, so she emerged.
Mary appeared at the top of the long, grand staircase that descended toward
the front of the house, dressed in a beautiful blue dress the color of a bright
winter sky.
From her neck hung a simple string of snow-white pearls, and in her hair
she wore a pearl tiara that caught the light, shimmering and iridescent.
She looked like an angel that had deigned to come down from heaven, and
as Mary met her parents at the bottom of the stairs she heard her father,
always a little out of the loop, comment on her sense of vivacity and the life
that flowed from her.
Mary glanced at her mother, who had already made this observation some
days ago, and they both laughed, leaving Mary’s wonderful, befuddled
father confused and muttering something about women and their confusing
ways under his breath.
Into the carriage the trio stepped, and soon they were on their way to the
ancestral manor. Mary was sure it would be a memorable night.
When they arrived, the beauty of the big old house held them in thrall for a
moment. Every window— and there were many, make no mistake—was lit
cheerily from the inside.
The grand doors, enormous oaken things, were festooned with wreaths and
ribbons, and the footman who greeted them and opened the coach’s door
sported a jaunty sprig of evergreen protruding from his cap. The scene was
set for a merry evening.
Inside, the grand ballroom was decked out in much the same manner,
warmly lit by the great chandeliers that hung at intervals from the ceiling.
Not to mention the spiraling candelabras that stood on six-foot-high staves,
pointing toward the heavens like tridents.
Most of the guests had already arrived, and they were thronging about the
star of the evening, an enormous fir tree.
It was 14-meters high at least, with a top that nearly scraped the top of the
ballroom’s vaulted ceilings. Decked out in garlands of gold and red, with

433
cheery candles and little stars made of filigree and beaten silver.
It appeared for all the world to be the very spirit of the Christmas tree come
to earth, and to call it a merely impressive sight was to do it a profound
injustice.
As was their habit, Mary’s parents instantly disappeared, leaving her to her
own devices.
She smiled at the thought. They were hands-off parents, confident in their
daughter’s ability to navigate the myriad of social pitfalls and obstacles that
might appear. They would rather hob-knob with old friends than hover over
Mary. She was lucky in that regard.
She spied David Ward across the room, in a gaggle of guests, holding court.
He laughed and smiled heartily enough, but she detected a kind of tiredness
about him. Something told her to wait.
So Mary waited,and mingled, avoiding the bitter women who had been so
cruel to her last time, for they were on the prowl, of course, looking for
husbands of their own, but for very different reasons.
Mary pitied them, but she could understand their predicament—they were at
the mercy of their equally cruel fathers, and the only way out, the only
socially acceptable way, anyhow, was to find a husband.
But not any husband, no. He must be rich enough to keep up the lifestyle they
were accustomed to, cowed enough to leave them largely to their own
devices, but not so craven as to lose their fortune.
Mary wondered at the odd circumstances behind this, how devoid they were
of love or feeling, It was like a bad play, except it was real life for these
women. She hoped they would find something better, as she had, someday.
The night wore on, and she danced with a somewhat handsome baron here,
an older marquis there.
Mary sampled the trifles that were served, and she even had a small glass of
wine to settle her nerves, even though she knew deep down that they did not
really require soothing.
The whole time she kept David Ward in her field vision, more or less. Mary
watched him discharge the obligations of his social office, his
responsibilities as host.

434
As she did, Mary discovered that she loved looking at him, watching him.
He was handsome, no doubt, and that made it easy, but it was something
more than just his outer looks.
David had a warm smile for everyone, or a kind touch, or some jocular
word for each and all. The people he spoke to lit up perceptibly, and for a
moment they seemed to lose themselves in his attention.
Then, when it shifted, they jerked like sleepwalkers, often with a pleasant
smile spreading across their faces.
In this way Mary slowly fleshed out the love she already had for David
Ward, watching him take the wrinkled hand of a dowager, or tousle the
towhead hair of an heir apparent.
He exuded warmth and goodness as much as the candles in the chandeliers,
and her confidence in their happy existence only deepened as the night went
on.
Soon the time came for the dedication of the tree. She was standing off to the
side of the dance floor and Mary saw David ascend the little stage that had
been erected in front of the evergreen, then tap the side of his champagne
glass with his school ring and ask for silence.
The loud speech of the guests fell to a quiet murmur, and then a total hush as
they settled down and fixed their attention on the young duke. He smiled a
winning smile and began to speak.
“Beloved guests,” he began in a clear, confident voice, “I thank you for
honoring myself, my family and the memory of my parents by attending this
humble event this evening.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, followed by scattered
applause and a few raucous voices raised in agreement.
David smiled again, and he seemed to grow more serious. This would not
be an ordinary Christmas speech, he knew that, more an expression of the
state of his very soul.
“Thank you. Thank you very kindly,” he said sincerely.
“I will tell you with no embarrassment, dear friends, than I have known
despair. Those of you who knew my parents knew they loved me well. I do
not remember all of it, but what I do remember is that sense of safety and

435
security that they gave to me, that enveloped me like a favorite blanket when
I was small.
“When they died,” he continued, “I felt that sense begin to waver. A part of
me despaired, as young as I was. A part of me thought that light was gone
forever.”
The guests were silent now, the ballroom so quiet that Mary could hear a
pin drop. There were no murmurs or coughs or side conversations—only
silence.
Mary looked about her and could see shiny eyes and cheeks, folks moved to
tears by this bare, honest display of simple emotion and loneliness.
“At times I felt hopeless, left out, and alone,” David went on, “like nothing
should ever be good or warm again in my life. It was as if my soul was
mired deep in a winter of sorts, where nothing would ever grow again.”
Then he took a deep breath.
“But it is because of you, dear friends, and because of our dearest Friend of
all, that these icy winters in my heart were soon thawed. Despair turned to
hope every time, and for that I am immensely grateful.
“It is for this reason that I bring a great green tree into my home every year,
and deck it out in lovely finery, and make a speech about it as I am now.
“It is there to remind us all that winter has an end. Even in the darkest,
coldest times, there is light to be had. It is an evergeen, a live plant that
persists when all others have perished, or entered into their deep slumber.
When spring is so far, far away, when summer seems like an utter
impossibility, it is the tree that reminds us of the happiness to come.”
Finally David smiled, knowing that the time for speech-making had come to
an end.
“Let us toast the tree, dear friends, and know that the light of the world
shines, even in the deepest dark.”
He raised his glass high. “To hope!” he intoned loudly with conviction, and
a vast host of voices answered as one:
“To hope!”
That broke the spell he’d cast over his audience. A wave of applause broke

436
out, and David waved and nodded then he waded back into the crowd of
friends and well-wishers.
He took solace in the couples that were embracing, and the small children
who went back to the seemingly endless task of using up the boundless
energy they possessed.
And Mary marveled at it all as well. There was a depth of emotion to these
people, and David had tapped into it, simply by being sincere and being
himself. She was deeply moved.

With that, the party resumed once again.

The musicians struck up a bawdy folk dance, and ladies young and old lifted
their skirts to the ankle, and they kicked and danced with any partner who
would have them.
Food and drink flowed freely, and every man, woman, and child was
flushed with excitement and with the spirit of the season.
Mary waited for a quiet moment to approach David Ward, though it was
long in coming. She waited for him to greet those who wished to
congratulate him for his poignant speech, and Mary enjoyed the warmth that
emanated from him.
Finally the crowd around him thinned, and her opportunity arrived. Mary
thought of the angel, and she resolved to keep this simple and rely on what
she’d been told.
Love was a spiritual matter, after all, and if she simply let what was in her
heart shine through, the Lord and her angel would take care of the rest.
“Might I have a word with you, your Grace?” she asked, smiling at him, and
then Mary nodded toward the great French doors at the back of the ballroom
that opened out into a railed balcony overlooking the back part of the estate.
“Why, of course,” he said, frowning for a moment at her radiant smile. “Do I
know you? You look quite familiar.”
Mary shrugged. “I share your ideals, your Grace,” she said simply. “That is
all you need to know for the moment.”

437
He grinned at her audacity, and quickly Mary took his hand and led him onto
the balcony. When Mary opened the doors, the crisp night air washed over
them, casting them into a different world that was all their own.
Mary led him to the balcony and pointed up at the stars, which framed a full
moon.
“I thought it would be pleasant to have someone to star gaze with,” she said,
stunned at how composed she felt. “Would you mind?”
He blinked. “Why, of course not,” David replied, struggling to maintain his
composure. “It is a lovely evening, after all.”
Mary nodded. “And I should introduce myself, of course,” she said. “I am
Mary Carlisle, daughter of the Viscount of Salisbury.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mary Carlisle,” David replied,
electing to forego the formalities of proper address. “Do you mind if I ask
you what it was that caused you to approach me?”
Once again she shrugged. “I’m not sure,” Mary said, giving him a sly smile
that she hoped was at least slightly fetching. “I thought it might be enjoyable
to converse with a handsome duke, and to gaze at the stars and the full moon
with him.”
David chuckled. “Well, you seem to have accomplished your goal, although
your assessment of my appearance is subjective, of course,” he said. “And I
am intrigued.”
“Good!” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Let us watch the moon, then.
Perhaps it has secrets to tell us.”
David laughed again, looking up at the night sky as he enjoyed the warmth of
her hand. He’d never been approached quite like this, even though he had
encountered ladies who were forward, and even a bit uncouth.
But this one was different. There was something about her that truly was
different, and David simply looked up and let the sounds of the party going
on behind them fade away.
She was poised and beautiful, and she seemed comfortable in their silence.
It was unsettling, to be sure, but finally David elected to simply enjoy her
presence and live fully in the moment.
He waited for her to speak, and this seemed to take forever. As he waited,

438
David became aware of the aura that surrounded her, a light of sorts that he
could feel but not quite see. He was attracted to her, but David was also
worldly enough to know that what he was feeling was more than that.
Finally she turned to him, and David saw that her face was radiant and
glowing. Without thinking David took her other hand in his as well, and they
stood face to face.
For a moment David considered kissing her, and he wondered how Mary
would feel about that given how bold she’d been in approaching him.
Something about her made him hold back, though—perhaps it was the idea
of honoring her, which he decided he quite liked the moment it struck him.
When she spoke and he heard how musical her voice was, he found himself
glad he had held off.
“Are you going to the Christmas Eve Ball, your Grace?” she said,
enunciating the name of the event with a playful lilt in her voice.
“I am indeed,” David replied, even though he’d been considering begging
off due to the ill taste his affair with Lily had left behind. “Will I see you
there?”
“Of course, your Grace,” she said, nodding. “Until tonight I haven’t been in
much of a holiday spirit, but now I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
A bevy of questions leapt into David’s mind about her holiday spirit, or lack
thereof, but he held off with those as well. A physical gesture of some sort
was called for, and suddenly David knew what it was.
“Nor I, M’Lady. But surely you must be catching a chill out here without
your wrap.”
Mary cocked her head. She actually wasn’t the least bit cold, but she was
savvy enough to recognize the beginning of a chivalric gesture, so she chose
to tell a small fib.
“Now that you mention it, I think the breeze has picked up a bit,” Mary said,
rubbing her arms.
Without hesitation, David took off his coat and gently draped it around her,
regretting only that he had to remove his hands from hers to do so.
“Better?” he asked, when she’d finished pulling it tight around her.

439
“Much,” she said, although Mary held off in describing what she enjoyed
most about having his coat wrapped around her.
The scent of him was simply wonderful. It was warm and mannish, and for a
moment Mary imagined being wrapped in David’s arms and receiving the
full effect of that scent.
They watched the moon together for a few more minutes, and finally David
escorted her inside.
He knew their appearance would draw stares—the sight of a lofty duke
holding the hand of a supposedly lesser lady, his coat wrapped around her,
would stir questions, especially from the bevy of ladies who seemed to buzz
around these affairs like bees seeking the lost entrance to a hive.
David escorted her to the dance floor, and they stood on the side, watching
the Christmas revels.
He felt that the dancing was much too vigorous, and David simply wished to
enjoy Mary’s presence, which was growing more comfortable and
enjoyable by the minute.
She looked up at him, and her words told David that he’d made the right
choice.
“Things do seem to have gotten a bit energetic out there, haven’t they?”
Mary said with a smile.
“Indeed,” he said. “I find myself in a more contemplative mood, though.”
“And I as well. Might I ask what you are contemplating, your Grace?”
“You,” David said simply. “The how and the why of all this, and the mystery
behind it.”
She pursed her lips. “And you wish to know more.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t any gentleman?”
“I don’t know, your Grace. After all, I didn’t seek out the company of just
any gentleman.”
“Touche´. And of course I’m most flattered by the attention.”
“That pleases me,” Mary said, feeling the spirit of the angel within her. “But
are you willing to let the matter be a mystery for the moment?”

440
Normally David would have given her question some thought, but now he
replied with no hesitation.
“Without a doubt,” he said, and once again David felt the urge to kiss her.
“After all, some things don’t require answers, do they?”
“Not at all.” Mary blushed, and she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
She paused and studied him, and as she did the call of duty began to tug at
David. One of his guests was approaching, a fellow quite close to the
family, and he realized that yet another greeting was at hand.
“It seems as if you’re about to be accosted, your Grace,” Mary said with a
smile.
He nodded. “Yes. Unavoidable, I suppose. One of those things that comes
with being a proper host.”
“I do understand, though,” she said, preparing to depart as the guest
approached. “But the Christmas Eve Ball approaches quickly.”
“It does indeed!” Suddenly, without thinking, David lifted her hand and gave
it a gentle kiss. Mary shivered. “And we have much to learn about one
another, do we not?’
“Perhaps,” Mary said. “Or maybe not. There is a chance we already know
each other.”
He grinned. “You speak in riddles, M’Lady,” he said. “Are you always so
oblique and indirect?”
“I don’t know. I’ve certainly never been described in that way.”
David remained silent. His guest was nearly upon them, already extending
his hand in greeting. He looked at Mary, hoping she might say something,
some small slight tidbit to give him a clue as to what she was about.
“All I know at the moment, your Grace,” she said, is that we are the same—
and that is more than enough, don’t you think?”

When the ball ended, David found himself more restless than he’d ever
been, so he retired to the library.

441
He’d been galvanized in ways he’d never thought possible by Mary’s
approach and their oddly scintillating meeting. He knew it would be hours
before he might be able to retire, and David also knew that a stiff glass of
port would be required.
But who to share it with? David was a rare drinker to begin with, and he
loathed drinking alone, thinking it an indication of excessive loneliness and
a forlorn disposition.
When he entered the library, though, David realized that he would indeed
have company. There perched in the guest’s chair was the redoubtable
Kittredge, reading a book that looked like a novel of sorts, his glass of port
already poured.
“Am I interrupting?” David asked, hesitating when he saw how comfortable
the butler looked.
Kittredge chuckled. “I believe it's I who should be asking you that question,
no?” The butler looked around at all the volumes and homey touches, and
David laughed at this small role reversal between them.
“Perhaps,” he replied “As if it makes a difference?”
“Probably not,” the butler replied. “But they were words that needed to be
spoken.”
“Indeed.” David looked at the butler’s glass of port, which was only slightly
drained. “I thought I’d be the only one up after the ceremony.”
The butler sighed. “Sometimes it takes me a couple of hours to wind down
from all the hustle and bustle,” he said. “So many duties and things to be
managed.”
David nodded. “Well, you did an admirable job, as usual. I hope you don’t
mind some company, though.”
“Not at all,” the butler replied, gesturing at his master’s chair. “Restlessness
simply requires company, does it not?”
“It does in this case.” David smiled and poured himself some port, and then
he sat.
“I know what my restlessness is about,” Kittredge began once he was
seated. “Care to explain yours?”

442
David blinked. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Oh! Now that sounds like a matter of intrigue if ever there was one.”
“Perhaps. Kittredge, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Of course not.” The butler nodded down at his novel. “I am an open book,
as always.”
The duke laughed. “Albeit an interrupted one.”
They shared a chuckle at the joke, and David fell silent. How best to share
the news of this strange meeting, he thought, which was basically
improper, but nonetheless felt so right.
Finally he just decided to forge on. “The girl you mentioned,” David began,
“the one on the farm, the girl you saw milking her cow.”
“Ellie!” he exclaimed, and the butler smiled. “Yes. What about her?”
David took a deep breath, trying to think of a way to phrase his next
question. “I was wondering how you felt when you saw her.”
Slowly, the ends of Kittredge’s lips curled up into a smile.
“You’ve met someone, haven’t you?” he said. “Or you’ve seen a lady who
intrigued you for some reason?”
David blushed. “Am I that transparent?”
The butler’s smile broadened. “Love has a way of shining through, when it
makes its appearance,” he said. “And it's always easy to tell the difference
between love and infatuation.”
“How?” David asked, edging forward into his seat. “For that is most
pertinent to my situation.”
Kittredge took a deep breath. “Everyone has a way they look when someone
moves them to the depths of their soul,” he explained. “You can see it in the
way they get lost in themselves.”
David nodded. “And I looked like that just now?”’
“Very much so,” Kittredge replied, and another question came to David.
“And what of Lily?” he asked. “How did I look back then?’

443
The butler chuckled. “Simply lost. Confused. As if you were seeking
directions, and someone had pointed you down the wrong road.”
Once again David nodded. “Well, I may have found the right road,” he said.
“But I am uncertain as to how to know for sure.”
Kittredge studied him carefully before speaking. “I know the situation well
enough,” he began. “Your lack of words, that is. And that fragile feeling, as
if something might break if you speak about it too strongly.”
“Yes!” David exclaimed. “That’s it, entirely.”
Kittredge frowned, as if trying to slow down a runaway horse that had been
given license to gall full throttle.
“But she must also pass the heart test.”
He blinked, “The heart test?”
“Yes,” the old man said. “It’s quite simple really.”
David shook his head and smiled sardonically. “Please explain it to me,
then.”
“You must call her to mind, in the purest way you can,” the butler replied.
“And ask yourself what is in your heart regarding her.”
David nodded. “I believe I’ve already done that,” he said.
“I thought so,” Kittredge said, his smile returning. “And?”
“And everything about her stirs me,” David explained. “And in the best
ways possible, at that.”
“I thought so,” Kittredge said. “It was written all over your face the moment
you walked in.”
“It was?”
“Of course! But if I might ask you a question as well?”
David nodded. “Anything.” He nodded down at the butler’s novel. “I, too,
am an open book.”
Kittredge laughed heartily at his jest, but his laugh was short, for he wished
to get to the heart of the matter.

444
“Was there something she said that stirred you in a similar way?”
“”Yes!” David said without hesitation. “She said we were the same.”
“And you believed her?’
“Very much so,” he replied, once again without hesitating. “Everything
between us seemed to come from the heart, although I know that probably
doesn’t make a bit of sense.”
Kittredge paused, and for a moment the butler looked far away. Suddenly
some of his years dropped away, and David could imagine him back then,
seeing this young, comely girl who’d changed his life and everything about
him.
“Actually, it does,” the butler said finally. “For that’s exactly how I felt
when I saw my dear Ellie.”
Then Kittredge did a remarkable thing. He stood up, and bade David do the
same, and when David was upright he wrapped him in his arms and gave
him a simple, gentle hug.
It was something a father might have done for a son, and David understood
the significance of it immediately.
They held each other for a long moment, neither one bothered in the least by
the breach of custom. When Kittredge released him, David saw tears in the
corners of the old man’s eyes, which he found quite astounding.
I’ve never seen him like this, David thought. Is this yet another sign that
something was different about this particular lady?
Finally the butler pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his vest, and
Kittredge dabbed at his eyes, embarrassed. Then he scrunched up his nose
and blew a terrific honk. David laughed uproariously, and Kittredge shot
him a look.
“So then, old man, you don’t think I’m daft? Or that I’ve lost my mind?”
The butler looked annoyed, though amiably so. “I can only tell you of my
experience,” he said. “And I have told you already how my life had changed
in an instant. That is all there really is. That one moment. The rest is just . . .
details.”
He stood then, as if to go, but instead Kittredge looked seriously at David.

445
“You are like a son to me. The son I never had with the wife who died too
young. The Lord takes away as it pleases Him, but He gives, too.
“I don’t claim to understand it all, but I do know that it is a very short thing,
this life.
“And when we find that love that claims us, that it takes us up in its arms
and just for a moment whispers ‘everything will be all right,’ then the least
we can do is to grab hold of it, immediately, without a moment’s hesitation.”
David stared and rightly marveled at the older man, who had never before
spoken in this way. He knew Kittredge held deep waters inside, but the
eloquence of this speech was something he hadn’t anticipated at all.
He began to speak, but something stilled him. Kittredge had said his piece
and said it truthfully. There was nothing more to be said, no words that were
required.
“Good night then, your Grace,” he said. “I await the outcome of your
meeting with great eagerness.”
David gave him a wry smile. “As do I. Good night, Kittredge. Be well.”
The old butler winked a twinkling eye at the young duke and departed.
David was left to his own devices, and for a moment he considered
scheming and planning well into the night over how he wished the Christmas
Eve Ball to go.
Then he simply decided to let it go, and David fell into a long, deep sleep.
He did not see the apparition perched at the end of his bed, the one with
long, blond hair that was full of curls, nor did he see the light that emanated
from her.
But she was there, watching over him. Mary’s angel was a busy creature,
and she had an agenda, and plans of her own. Those plans were important,
both in the moment and in the larger scheme of things.
There was a betrothal to come, and the angel needed to ensure that
everything went the way she knew it must.

Mary, too, had plans for the Christmas Eve Ball—or at least she did at the
start.

446
When she parted from David she was giddy, and Mary wondered how she
had done it, how she’d managed to make such a formidable impression on
this handsome young duke who seemed so mystified and enchanted by her.
In her heart, though, she already knew the answer to that question. She had
no doubt that her angel had been with her, watching the proceedings and
making sure everything unfolded properly.
In the end Mary ended up abandoning her elaborate plans for the Christmas
Eve Ball, knowing they were unnecessary.
All Mary had to do was turn up and be herself, and everything would be
handled. She was in the hands of powerful beings now, and Mary welcomed
His assistance and that of the angel with her entire spirit.
In the meantime, though, there were practical matters to attend to—the most
prominent being her dress.
Once again Mary chose to be bold. This time she selected a dress that was
simple in construction but formidable in color; she wanted everyone who
saw her to take notice of the fact that she was draped in mauve.
A simple tactic, to be sure, but it worked like a charm. Mary could feel
heads turning as she made her entrance, despite her lowly station.
The only thing left was to find David Ward, and to let the combination of her
dress and her presence work their magic on him.
But she didn’t even have to do that. David sought her out early on, for he’d
deliberately arrived early at the Kentmore estate so that he might seek Mary
out as quickly as possible.
The ball itself was huge. Normally David would have found the size and
some of the garishness distasteful, and he would have dismissed it as an
event where he would simply put in an appearance and then find a way to
vanish.
Mary’s feelings normally would have been quite the same. She thought of
other holiday balls she’d attended, those characterized by the buzzing of her
sniping hens disguised as elegant ladies, intent on ruining the spirit of the
season for everyone.
But none of that mattered now. David and Mary had each other, and as soon
as they were together it was as if everyone else in the enormous ballroom

447
simply didn’t exist.
“Well then,” David began after he delivered the obligatory bow and kissed
her hand. “This is quite the affair, is it not?”
Mary smiled, and she instantly detected the profound sarcasm in his voice.
“Well, we are here, so we may as well enjoy one another,” she said lightly.
“That is what all of this is to be about . . . is it not?”
“Absolutely,” David replied, and he focused his attention on her dress. “I do
love the color you’ve chosen, by the way.”
“Do you?” she said, pirouetting gracefully. “I thought it might be a bit
ostentatious.”
“Not at all,” he said. “And trust me, you’ve been noticed.”
“But that’s not why I wore it, of course, your Grace. Certainly you must
know that.”
“I do,” he said. “But it does make you look like an angel.”
Mary giggled in spite of herself, and then she nodded out toward the dance
floor.
“Shall we partake, your Grace? For some reason I’m in the mood.”
He nodded. “And I’m definitely not adverse,” David said. “Although I must
warn you, there are even more ladies who will be jealous when they see
you whirling around on the dance floor, given the beauty of your dress.”
She grinned. “Normally I despise such things, making others jealous,” Mary
replied. “But if it happens, it happens. My focus is simply on us and our
pleasures.”
“Well, let’s not delay them any further, then,” he said, taking Mary’s hand
and leading her onto the dance floor. “Normally I’m not much of a dancer,
but I’ve been known to make an exception every now and again.”
Mary smiled as the strains of the waltz began to waft over them. “But the
exceptions are what makes life sweet, and worth living, are they not?”
Without a doubt, David thought as he took the lead. It almost feels as if a
good part of this has been prearranged. I wonder how much she believes
in fate and destiny.

448
They spent most of the rest of the evening dancing. They did sit out the more
complicated waltzes, for those held little appeal for either of them.
But it was the breaks that David was most looking forward to. How would
she find new ways to enchant him, and what path would she choose to do
that?
The first break turned out to be much the same as their first meeting. They
found a balcony on the periphery of the ballroom, and they spent some time
together, simply gazing at the night sky.
David had a thousand questions, of course, but once again he held back from
voicing any of them.
And yet he knew they had to come out eventually. They went back to
dancing, and their pleasure was equal to or greater than it had been before,
but slowly Mary started to sense an uneasiness in him.
During the second break, though, she asked him to take a walk outside. The
cold air sharpened David’s desire for conversation, and finally he voiced
his deepest question of all that had been swirling around in his mind.
“You still haven’t told me, you know,” he said, as they watched a few stray
flakes float onto the path around them.
“Told you what?” Mary asked playfully. “There are probably many things
you wish me to tell you, are there not?”
“Indeed there are,” David said, enjoying the feeling of her elbow
comfortably locked in his arm. Then he decided to try to turn the tables on
her.
“Do you know which is most important to me, though?” he asked.
She nodded, slowly but emphatically. “Of course, silly,” she said. “I have
known since the moment we fell in love.”
In love? David shook his head and grinned. She seems so accomplished,
and so certain about all of this. Would that I were the same—as a seeker, I
tend to question everything.
He wanted to ask her about her word choice, about being in love, but David
knew there was no need for that.

449
He’d fallen hard for Mary Carlisle from the moment he’d met her, and this
was no mere dalliance or infatuation. David thought back to his time with
the odious Lily Wells, and he shook his head, thinking about how foolish
he’d been to waste a moment with her.
“So tell me, then,” he said as they completed their brief loop around the
manor before they went back inside for more dancing.
“Tell you what, your Grace?” she asked, apparently intent on keeping him on
edge.
David felt her shiver slightly, and he wondered if that was due to the
weather or the rather intimate nature of their conversation.
“Tell me why we are the same,” he said, knowing the possibility of this sort
of conversation would vanish once they were dancing again.
She stopped and smiled, and then Mary took his hands in hers and gazed
fervently in his eyes.
“Because I sensed something about the way you felt when I first saw you,”
she explained.
Mary paused and took a deep breath.
“You feel differently from the people around you, yes? You feel empty
where they seem fulfilled, and ill at ease where they seem unperturbed.
“There was something missing, and I felt it was the same for you as it was
for me.”
David nodded, remembering how lost he’d felt that night. So lost that he’d
nearly fallen into the cold arms of the horrid Lily Wells, a possibility that
was now unthinkable.
“You’re right about that,” he said softly, turning contemplative.
She took his hand gently. “And now we both know what it is.”
“We do.” Suddenly David understood how simple all of this truly was,
being thunderstruck by true love.
“And we’ve each found our other half,” Mary concluded. “So we no longer
have to endure that feeling.”
“You’re absolutely right,” David said, and with that he turned to her, feeling

450
that some physical expression of his feelings was demanded.
He took her in his arms, and David kissed her deeply, knowing she would
welcome this and not be offended by how forward his actions were.
David needed to feel her pressed against him, so that he would know this
was real, and not something that had simply happened in a strange dream.
She returned his kiss with a passion that was formidable, and the kiss went
on for some time. Both David and Mary were spent when it ended, and they
both knew that no further words were necessary.
They were as one now, and they would share everything—body, soul,
feelings, and all the encumbrances and joys that came with their lives as
physical beings.
Suddenly, though, David felt restless in a way he couldn’t begin to explain.
He’d more or less had his fill of dancing, but he knew they had to go back
inside to warm up for a bit.
Beyond that, though, David knew there was something he had to handle as
quickly as possible. And it was a matter that couldn’t wait.

They returned to the ball, and Mary and David did share one or two more
dances together.
But David’s mind was racing with plans.
He was certain who Mary was to him now, and it seemed almost frivolous
to be out here on the dance floor, engaged in a waltz with her, when he was
feeling such a strong need to declare himself and his intentions.
They took another break after their second dance, and suddenly David spied
a servant carrying a tray full of glasses of champagne—delicate, fluted
things that seemed as fragile as the moment at hand.
He stopped the fellow and grabbed two of them, and David handed one to
Mary.
“I have a toast to make, then, M’Lady,” he said, butterflies crisscrossing his
stomach.

451
She took the glass and smiled slightly, raising it in anticipation of his toast.
“Your Grace?” Mary said, preparing herself for what she already knew he
had in mind.
“I should like to spend Christmas day with you,” he said simply.
“Oh!” She paused, taking in the notion. Mary had no plans, of course, other
than what her angel had promised her.
Then, slowly, she understood that this was part of that. Mary grinned, and
she lifted her glass higher, wishing to formalize what she knew was meant to
happen.
“Why, I think that would be wonderful, your Grace,” she said. “I am at your
disposal.”
“Good,” he said, toasting her. “And I hope it will always be so.”
Mary blushed. “I think you already know the answer to that part of it, your
Grace,” she said. “We both do.”
“Indeed,” David replied. “So may I toast our first Christmas together?”
“Of course!” she said, gently touching his glass.
“And to our future!” he added enthusiastically.
“To our future!” Mary replied. In her mind, however, she also dedicated
part of this toast to her silent benefactor, the angel—wherever she might be
at the moment.

They did indeed spend Christmas day together, and of course the angel’s
promise was fulfilled. David spent the early part of his sudden visit getting
to know her family, most especially her mother, who was both surprised and
delighted by the suddenness of what had transpired between them.
Shortly after that, when they were alone, David delivered his formal
proposal while standing before the Christmas tree.
Once the augury of the angel was fulfilled, they were in no particular hurry
to court and marry.

452
It was simply important for them to spend time together, and much of their
courtship consisted of arranging and attending events in which they engaged
in charitable acts, filling empty hearts, and ministering to the sick.
And never again did they feel that frosty tinge of emptiness creep into their
breasts.
Whenever they saw a nearly-full moon on a crisp winter’s night, they
laughed merrily and then fell silent, their hands locked together in an
unbroken knot, the fire of love beating in their breasts, unquenched even
many years after.
And all of it due to the simple, heartfelt promise of an angel, who went on to
her next act of fulfillment, happy to do the Lord’s bidding in matters of love
and contentment.

453
THE DUKE, THE LADY AND THE
CHRISTMAS FOUNDLING

By

Abigail Haversham

©Copyright 2016 Abigail Haversham

All Rights Reserved

454
 CHAPTER 53

It was the time of year that Christina Greenwillow loved the most. The air
was crisp and delightful, the trees were bare, and the fires in every hearth
and home were roaring merrily.
She knew some people found winter dark and dreadful, but her own sense of
it was quite the opposite. Christina adored the coziness it invited, the long
nights and the bright mornings, the fact that the air was constantly alive and
vital.
And here, in the grand ballroom of her beloved’s ancestral manor, the dream
she had harbored since she was a little girl was about to come true. She was
to announce her engagement to Leonard Rose, Duke of Willingham, that very
night.
They would announce it together. This seemed fitting to Christina, for they
had done virtually everything together, at least as much as proper society
would allow, ever since they’d met some months ago.
It was an open secret all over that they’d been courting for a while now, and
were wholly committed to one another. The engagement would come as a
surprise to no one.
Still, though, Christina was determined to delight in it!
They would stand in the open and proclaim their love for each other, and to
move on into that slow bliss of family and children. And all under a lovely
winter’s moon!
It was a dream come true.

455
The gala in which she would celebrate all of this had a winter theme.
Garlands were looped around the great stately pillars of white marble, and
evergreen trees lined the edges of the hall.
A large table held all manner of feasts items: plums and oranges spiked with
cloves, a cider tureen smelling of allspice and star anise, and every kind of
meat and cheese and delicious baked good one could ever want.
The guests where engaged in a complicated dance that mostly seemed to
involve bowing and curtseying, then stepping back and away, clasping hands
as the jaunty fiddle dueled with the rumbling cello.
Christina could see her beloved now, dancing with his mother, Lady Jane
Rose, a fine old specimen of good-natured laughter and security.
Leonard Rose dipped his mother low, her pearls nearly jangling off the
parquet floor, his top hat falling over his eyes, and they laughed
uproariously in each other’s arms.
They really were the stars of the ball, Christina thought – Leonard so very
handsome in his formal wear, tall and lanky, with his out-of-fashion,
scraggly beard and his funny spectacles.
All of him was long, fingers, face and arms, and though he had a morose
look about him he was far funnier and more jocular than his appearance
suggested.
Christina teased him about his outdated pocket-watch, his narrow shoes that
never seemed to fit right, and he would laugh it off, never bothered for a
moment, too concerned with life and all its gifts to worry about trivial
things.
They would give gifts for the holiday, for certain, but Christina knew
Leonard himself was the greatest gift of all. There was no coincidence in
announcing their engagement in advance of the holiday, for she would have
it no other way.
She watched as Leonard and Jane left the dance floor, slightly breathless.
They supported each other with their arms and shoulders, still laughing., and
then they made their way over to Christina.
“Ah, dear, did you see me out there?” Jane asked, giggling like a schoolgirl.

456
“I never thought these old bones could still bend like that!”
Christina smiled. She loved this vivacious older woman and her lust for
life, the charm and care that seemed to exude from her like a warm light.
And she felt that a gracious angel had smiled upon her; when it came to
mother-in-laws, not everyone was so lucky.
“You looked twenty years younger, Jane!” Christina replied, giving her a
warm grin. “And easily so, with such a dashing dance partner to lead you!”
She walked up close to Leonard and gave his hand a yank, as if to pull him
away from her in jealousy, and he yelped in mock pain. Christina danced
away from him as he leapt at her, her feet nimble and light, happy to add to
the gaiety of the situation.
The good cheer she felt was all around them, nearly everywhere. All the
cares and woe that came with any life seemed to melt away as the evening
fell away into night, and the chilly winter air howled brightly against the
window panes.
Leonard lead Christina to a seat at one of the many round tables flanking the
ballroom floor. Jane sat down between them. She took Leonard’s hand in
her own, and with the other she reached for Christina’s.
She held onto both of them, as if forming a link between them, and finally
Jane spoke.
“It does me well to see you two here tonight, together,” Jane began. “I have
an old woman’s intuition, and it tells me that there will be an important
announcement taken place before this ball ends.”
She winked at Christina.
Leonard patted his mother’s hand. “You may indeed be right, Maman.” He
grinned.
A stumbling figure emerged from a tangle of guests. It was Leonard’s Uncle
James, rotund and unctuous. He spotted the trio at their table and his eyes lit
up. He made his way over, the glass of red wine he was carrying spilling
onto his cummerbund.
“Nephew!” he exclaimed, his voice slightly mushy around the edges, “What
a wonderful party you throw! Come, embrace your poor old uncle!” James
leaned in, spilling even more wine on the tablecloth.

457
Leonard stood up and took his uncle by the shoulders, steadying him as the
older man threw a meaty arm around his shoulders.
“Yes Uncle, it’s a lovely gala. Thank you for coming. It’s good to see you.”
“A lovely gala! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I know you will not
forget me in my later years.”
He winked at Christina. “Nor in my younger!” He laughed uproariously.
Christina saw Leonard’s brow darken ever so slightly. There was no
mistaking his ire, now that she’d come to know him well.
He was a placid man, slow to anger, but when the spirit moved him he could
be wrathful. Christina knew his Uncle James was something of a sluggard,
the man forever glomming on to his richer relatives.
Leonard had kept him on a short leash these years after his father had died,
but the occasion seemed to have emboldened the man. Perhaps, Christina
speculated, he thought to take advantage of his nephew’s Christmas spirit.
Meanwhile, Uncle James was pumping Leonard’s arm furiously, patting him
on the back at the same time. Leonard cast a half desperate, half amused
look at Christina, who had to keep her own laughter in check lest she burst
out with it and embarrass the man.
Finally, Jane disengaged the man’s hand from her son’s and led him away.
“Come, brother-in-law, we shall have to see if the Lornes from Kent have
arrived. You will remember they were such good friends of Harold’s when
he was alive.”
“Umm . . . yes, yes,” Uncle James replied distractedly. Jane took him by the
elbow, and their conversation quickly faded.
Leonard sat down heavily in his chair and let out a monstrous sigh. He
looked at Christina and held her gaze for a moment, and then they both burst
out laughing.
Christina was glad. The ministrations of Uncle James might have put him in
a dark mood for a moment, but today was their day, and ultimately he took it
in stride, finding it more funny than infuriating.
There they sat, holding hands, as the party continued on late into the evening.
They enjoyed this private moment deeply, making funny observations and
simply enjoying each other’s company.

458
Both were tense but happy awaiting the announcement that was to come,
knowing that time was continuing its inexorable march toward that moment.
Finally, they stood up.
Leonard had arranged for the band to stop playing, and then to clear the
stage at exactly midnight. It was December 4th, exactly three weeks before
Christmas.
“My friends!” Leonard said loudly as he took his place at the center of the
stage.
The dancing had ceased when the band had packed up, and now the
murmuring of voices and the clinking of plates and cutlery began to settle
down as well.
Soon the ballroom was silent, all of the guests looking at Leonard where he
stood in the center of the stage, their faces warm and approving.
“My friends,” he said again, “and family, and other assorted well-wishers!
Thank you, every one, for attending this Winter Ball. It is wonderful to have
you all here under our roof like this. Each and every one of you is thanked
for your attendance!”
Applause and shouts of “Here! Here!” rang out through the hall.
Leonard smiled and held up his hands, calling for silence.
“And it is here that we—yes, we—would like to make a special
announcement. Christina, will you please step up here with me?”
He held out his hand to her.
Christina Greenwillow moved up the steps to the stage without a hint of
bashfulness. Her graceful walk and her strong, upturned face were on full
display. She stood beside Leonard as he began speaking once again.
“As most of you know, Christina and I have been not-so-secretly courting
for some months now.”
Leonard paused, and he heard a few scattered murmurs, not to mention a
couple of sly, friendly shouts.
“Well, we would like to make it official. We hereby announce our
engagement to be wed! And on Christmas Day, at that!”

459
Many in the crowd had known this moment was coming, but that did not
dampen the enthusiasm of their reaction. There was a huge round of
applause, and Leonard and Christina embraced, and then they dismounted
into the crowd.
There was much back-slapping from the men, and tittering questions from
the women. Within a few seconds the happy couple was mobbed, and they
proceeded to enjoy the moment.
They tried to greet everyone, which of course was impossible, so in the end
Leonard and Christina simply allowed themselves to be carried along by the
wave of happiness that enveloped them.
For that brief period they formed a kind of light in the winter darkness, a
beacon for them all to enjoy.
And to both of them, it seemed as if that happiness would never end.

As the day of the wedding drew closer, Christina continued to contemplate

and celebrate her good fortune. It was only months ago that she had felt
completely at a loss, and without any control over her own life.
She’d been born to the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria, though she did not
remember anything about them aside from their indistinct shapes and the
warm, caring presence they provided.
Christina had been little more than a baby when they succumbed to the fever
that took them, and then her Uncle Charles, assumed the title of Duke and
took Christina in.
He’d raised her as if she was his own. Christina had grown up with his
daughter Olivia, and Christina felt loved.
Still, though, there was the feeling that something was missing, as if she
wasn’t completely whole, and Christina was occasionally plagued by the
feeling that she was missing out on some deeper connection. She wasn’t
always aware of that feeling, but it was always there.
Then she’d met Leonard Rose. At first everything about their meeting had
seemed ordinary—he was just a presence at some ball or other, one of many
during the season.

460
Somehow, though, everything had changed between them. Christina couldn’t
pinpoint the exact moment when this had happened, but when it did, it was
as if she felt illuminated from the inside, as if a bright lamp had been lit
inside her.
And then she changed. This happened gradually; Christina went from a
slightly drab, slightly cotton-headed girl to a vivacious, goal-oriented
woman, without realizing exactly what was taking place.
She began to actively voice her opinions, respectfully of course, but she
was no longer a shrinking violet. Leonard was stunned at first, but slowly
he’d grown to like it.
One of their first serious conversations had been particularly emblematic of
this shift between them.
Christina remembered it explicitly; they’d been sitting on a white-washed
deck swing under an elm tree bower, enjoying the pleasures of the estate in
midsummer. It was evening, and the dying sun cast brilliant streaks of light
all around them, light and shadow, mingling and disengaging in their eternal
dance.
They were murmuring the things people who have just fallen in love murmur
to one another, which were mostly about how wonderful it was that they
were in love with one another. How miraculous!
Then the subject had turned to children.
“Oh, I want many!” Christina exclaimed with a wry laugh. “Ever so many,
as befits me as a good Christian woman!”
After that, though, she’d turned serious. “But I must confess, my dear, that I
am ever so . . . well, concerned with the notion of an heir. We shall have to
go about securing one as soon as possible. That very night, I should wager!”
Leonard had been all agog for a moment. It was not like a woman to speak
of such things in such a manner, even if she were more or less alone with
her beloved. Those were practical matters of the body and the law, messy
and base, and they had no place in the love-talk of young nobles.
But he rejected those thoughts as soon as they rose in his mind. There was
no law against it, he reckoned.
And more important still, what kind of woman did he want to share his life

461
with? A woman who would wilt, or a veritable warrior who would face the
travails of life head on, eager to beat them down?
So he got over his shock, and quickly at that. And finally, once he gave the
matter some thought, Leonard realized that he agreed wholeheartedly.
“Certainly we shall have an heir, my love. We can get started as soon and as
often as you like!”
She frowned prettily at his brush with bawdiness. “I’m deadly serious,
Leonard. I would not feel secure until the lineage was secure, truthfully
speaking, for these things are important.
“Do you understand?”
He turned to look deep into her unflinching brown eyes. They were one of
the first things that had drawn Leonard to her, and finally he spoke, his voice
low but strong with conviction.
“My darling, you have told me of the difficult circumstances surrounding
your birth and childhood. I understand from where such anxiety springs.
“I pledge to you now, our first and last thought until it is done will be to
secure an heir. And we shall delight in the making. And when the making is
done we shall delight in the fruits of our love. This is my solemnly sworn
promise.”
To emphasize his point, Leonard had dropped to his knees, bowing his head
ceremoniously. But Christina merely grinned, and finally she swatted his top
hat off with a gloved hand.
“Oh, hush then! There is no need to tease me with this sort of display.”
They both laughed as they tumbled again into the swinging chair, arms
wrapped around one another. Another check in the tally book, Christina had
thought, and one that will lead to supreme happiness for all of my days.
When it was done, she smiled like a sleepy cat in Leonard’s arms, watching
the oncoming shadows of the night hedging their way in from the moor. Then
they descended on the world, holding whatever secrets they held, and
Christina felt comforted and secure in the outcome of their conversation.

462
Now it was the morning after the engagement announcement, a Sunday. The
house was quiet yet excited, as though a kind of dampened energy ran though
the place.
Servants went about their duties with a renewed sprightliness, the
groundskeeper was whistling and the dogs seemed to whine less and nuzzle
more.
Leonard was well liked by both the household staff and the townspeople,
not to mention the clergy men, and all children in general, and they were all
happy to see him wed.
The early death of his father, the old Duke, had left his mother and the house
itself in a dismal state for a good long while, and Leonard—only a child
back then—could easily have fallen prey to the malaise.
But time passed, and he survived his father’s passing to become a happy and
engaging lad, even though the loss would hurt for years to come.
He did not succumb, however, to the temptation to shut down and fail;
indeed, much of his good character and charity of spirit seemed to be in
homage to his father, who also had been a good man.
But being happy was different from being satisfied, as Leonard was about to
learn.
Normally it was Leonard’s habit to take rosehip tea late on Sunday morning,
after services in the village and a short chat with the vicar.
It was an oddly pleasant sort of drink, one primarily known for its use by
midwives and witches, but Leonard’s father had passed the habit on when
he’d returned home from a trading mission to India.
The tea itself was definitely an acquired taste, but Leonard enjoyed his time
to himself, especially with Christina now in the house.
She looked like a minor goddess come to earth, and his mother, too, was
positively glowing with pride and joy at her presence, constantly expressing
her delight in Christina’s presence.
Even the household servants, most of whom he had known all his life, went
out of their way to congratulate him today. It wasn’t even midday yet and he
was worn to the bone with congratulations.
Not that he begrudged any of them. Oh no. He was genuinely grateful for the

463
kind and caring thoughts and wishes of each and every one. But it took a bit
of energy from him too, and Leonard was aware that he needed some time to
recover and refill that wellspring.
On this day, however, his brief respite in serenity would be interrupted
before it had scarcely begun. Not long after his first sip of the tart, floral-
smelling tea, there was a rapid knock on the wide oak doors that led into his
study.
Before he could say a word they opened, and in walked his Uncle James,
now much composed from the night before but still looking a tad worn-out
around the edges, as he always did.
“Good morning, Uncle,” Leonard said pleasantly, though a hint of
impatience crept unbidden into his voice.
His uncle, like many of the other guests at the ball, had elected to stay the
night, which was not unusual. Uncle James was a lover of both spirit and
spirits, and he enjoyed both with considerable gusto. And the more he
enjoyed his evening, the less he enjoyed his morning, generally speaking.
Without standing on ceremony, Uncle James plopped himself in one of
Leonard’s leather recliners. The morning sun on his face made him look a
bit waxen, and his eyes were more than a little bloodshot.
A visit from Uncle James at this time of day was most unusual. It was rare
for him to inhabit any rooms other than his own sleeping chambers, the
dining room during dinner, or the sitting room during high tea, a scone in
each hand and a pot of clotted cream between his knees.
But he seldom ventured much about the grounds, or in any of the other larger
rooms of the house. Uncle James was a creature of habit, and as a result
Leonard sensed something odd about his visit.
“Yes, hello, Nephew,” James replied. “A good morning indeed, but this sun
is dreadfully bright, is it not? It irritates my eyes so.”
He straightened his rumpled vest and took out a limp handkerchief, which he
used to mop his red and enormous brow.
He was a bulbous kind of man, Uncle James, with fat fingers and hands, and
a big beet face. A few wisps of blonde hair clung to his pink skull, and at
times the combination gave him the appearance of an enormous baby.

464
And at times he acts like one, Leonard thought venomously, and then he
reminded himself to be more charitable in the aftermath of this happy
occasion.
He’d been the last child of Leonard’s grandmother and grandfather, after
poor Lydia, who had lived only a few days and then passed.
When her last boy was born, Leonard’s grandmother had coddled him to the
point of spoilage, or so his father often said, and Uncle James grew into a
petulant teenager, and then a fatuous, incapable man. Not evil, or terrible,
Leonard reckoned. Just lazy.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Uncle?” Leonard asked, putting down his
tea and leaning in on his elbows, eager in a kind of annoyed way to hear
what the man had to say.
“Well then! Can I not call upon my beloved nephew in his study on this, the
day of rest? I’ve come to congratulate you, my dear boy!”
He plucked again at his vest, the buttons of which were misaligned, although
he didn’t seem to realize it.
“You have congratulated me many times already, Uncle. Last night, after
every trip you made to the punchbowl. Am I mistaken, or is it that you seem
to have forgotten?” Leonard smiled thinly.
“Oh, I seem to remember it,” James replied, with a wave of his hand. “You
know my predilection for drink. No matter, a hearty congratulations once
more!
“She is a fine specimen of womanhood, Leonard, and she seems sturdy
enough. She will bear you many fine sons.”
Leonard rolled his eyes at the description, which made Christina sound like
a piece of horseflesh, to be used for trade and barter and occasional
breeding purposes.
“We do hope so,” he replied, deciding to be gracious.
“Well, thank you very much Uncle!” Leonard said, making to rise. “We shall
have to have a longer chat before too long. Will you be traveling back to the
city?”
Since his brother’s death, James had kept a townhouse in the village, and he
typically lived off of a yearly allowance.

465
“Well, wait now, not so fast, Nephew. There were some things I had wanted
to discuss.”
The older man looked pained and flustered. Clearly this was something
important, Leonard thought wryly.
“And what would that be?” he asked.
“Well, you see, young Leonard. There is some matter of my monthly stipend,
my earnings from the estate . . . ”
“What of them?”
“Well, I’m a bachelor, as you know, and I have no need of too many
servants. Just a cook, of course, and a housemaid. And a butler for the
morning and another for the evening. And a boy to gather the firewood and
to stoke the hearth. And a lady’s maid on retainer if any of the aunts from the
distaff side should show up unannounced.”
Leonard rolled his eyes, and then he put up his hand to stop the list of
servants from further expansion.
“What is your point here, Uncle?”
“Well, it’s self evident, is it not? There is quite a lot of upkeep for the staff,
and they have gotten to grumbling about their wages.
“The nerve of it, I know! It is not like the old days, my boy. These lower
classes now, they grumble and haggle like squabbling children, and they
have no sense of honor, of security.
“In your grandfather’s day they would be happy to be in the service of a
Lord or a Lady for a bit of bread and a place to sleep, such was the honor in
it. But ‘tis an ungodly country now, Nephew. No respect anymore for the
landed classes.”
Once again Leonard cut him off, having heard this particular speech more
times than he could bare to count. The man really could go on forever once
he got going.
“And so you are asking for what, Uncle?”
“Ah, straight to the point, that’s a good man! So much like your father.”
Leonard smiled thinly, and he motioned for the older man to go on.

466
“Well, now that you’ll be wed and should be receiving a substantial dowry,
I suppose a raise in my yearly allowance is in order.”
He seemed to puff up with pride at his courage in making the announcement,
and some of the nervousness in his demeanor disappeared. Uncle James sat
back with a baiting smile fixed to his face.
Leonard was properly vexed. It fell to him, naturally, as the duke of the land,
to keep track of the books and the monetary resources flowing in and out of
the estate.
He knew his uncle subsisted on a sizable allowance, one that had grown
almost every year until Leonard had come of age and taken over the running
of the estate.
His mother, he vaguely knew had a soft hand with her brother-in-law, whose
silver tongue worked well on some women, although Leonard suspected that
some of this was due to the fact that Uncle James was the only figure around
who could remind her of her late husband on a regular basis.
It was Leonard who had put a stop to his uncle’s ballooning inheritance
fund, and it was Leonard who, through his various sources, learned where
that money had been going.
Not entirely to a household staff—no, though it was true that his uncle kept a
sizable one. Rather it went to a number of women—mistresses, no doubt—
in neighboring counties, with most of it allocated for their upkeep and
relentless needs.
It seemed that Uncle James, who would never marry, wanted to have his
cake and eat it too.
“Uncle, why don’t you just marry one of them already? Make her an honest
woman, and yourself an honest man. It would do you a world of good.”
James sat stunned for a moment, at first not understanding, then
understanding but not believing.
Who was this young pup to speak to him so? This was beyond the pale!
Outside of the natural order!
An uncle, much older and wiser, should be doling out the worldly advice to
his young, naïve nephew. Not the other way around!
His already pink visage turned even redder, and he said as much to Leonard,

467
or spit it, while his double chins waggled and his arms gesticulated wildly.
He puffed and swore and stalked about the room like an overweight falcon.
Leonard’s ire was tempered with amusement, and it took all the restraint he
could muster not to laugh uproariously in the older man’s face.
When James’s diatribe was over, Leonard waited to be sure, then took the
opportunity to interject an objection while it was hard at hand.
“Uncle, please. I know where your money goes and I do not care. It pleases
my mind to have the knowledge, but I have no plans to hold it over you. That
is not in my nature.”
James deflated somewhat in his seat, showing what Leonard saw was relief.
So the old man was embarrassed as well as randy, he thought. He could at
least own up to it. Leonard sighed.
“But I will not be increasing your allowance for mere frivolities. I am the
steward of the wealth of this house, and it is my responsibility to see that it
is meted out with the utmost care and duty.
“Everyone, down to the lowliest stable boy, deserves his or her fair share,
and only that. You are no exception, Uncle.”
James made as if to protest, but Leonard held up his hand to stop him.
“And not only is it my responsibly to see that the wealth is appropriately
distributed, it is also my duty to see that that wealth grows. That is part of
the reason why the bulk of it is kept in trust, so that our good name and our
noble line may persist well into the unforeseeable future.”
Here Leonard paused for a moment, wanting to make sure he got his point
across in a way that could not be misinterpreted.
“It is not for squandering on any bauble that may catch our fickle attention,”
he said, leaning over and staring down his Uncle James. “Do you
understand, my good, kind Uncle?”
The older man swallowed visibly. He was in a bind. Once again he had
underestimated the steel and aplomb of his nephew.
His plan had been to broadside him while he was vulnerable, mooning over
the lady he had wooed into marriage. No doubt, James had thought, he
would be in a generous mood and, more importantly, mostly divorced from
his faculties for at least a little while.

468
But the opposite had proven true, much to James’s frustration. If anything,
the events of last night seemed to have honed his nephew’s faculties, until
they glinted in the bright winter sunshine that was pouring in from the
study’s many windows.
In truth, it was that wholesome occasion, the formal announcement of his
marriage, that had Leonard’s mind tracking toward the future. He wasn’t a
dour man, but he was wonderfully practical and, more simply, so very much
in love.
If ever there was anything he could do, even the smallest thing, to ensure the
safety and comfort of his future bride and their future children, Leonard
Rose was the man to do it.
Now Uncle James looked stricken. He puffed himself up again and spoke
with mock pity.
“It saddens me to see you in the grip of such parsimony, lad. I am the last
link to your dear departed father. I had thought you would do better by me.”
Finally Leonard decided he’d had enough. Enough of this old man and his
dandruff and his chubby legs. Enough of his old man’s sad wants. There was
something indiscreet and rather dirty about this conversation, and Leonard
was sick of it.
He stood up abruptly and spoke to the older man in a clipped voice.
“Hear me now, Uncle, and hear me well. It is by my express lack of
parsimony that you live in your lovely house by the square and visit your
doxies once a fortnight.
“I’m willing to keep this arrangement as it is, and no more, for it is
something I came into when I became a duke. But if you continue this
ridiculous farce, I will see that you get nothing!”
The last word rang out clear as a bell as Leonard’s temper boiled over, and
James cringed in his seat.
For a moment the two stood frozen, looking at each other. Then Leonard
regained his composure and sat once more, addressing his uncle in a voice
now calm and even.
“If that is all, Uncle, I should like to get back to my reading. The morning is
quickly diminishing, and soon it will be time for luncheon.”

469
James looked at the younger man warily for a moment, as if another outburst
could come at any time.
Then he rose slowly, and said in agreement, “Yes, the morning is getting
away from us. I bid you to it, Nephew.”
With that, James rose shakily and made his way to the door, as if nothing
untoward had happened at all.
In the hallways James swore inwardly to himself. He was shaken to his core
by his nephew’s grit. He had tested the lad before, jabbing here and there,
testing for a chink in the armor, a weak spot that could be pried open so he
could use his influence.
He’d failed on that front, but now things had fundamentally changed, and
there was clearly no amount of wheedling or logic that would move the
young duke. He would have to choose a more sly, sinister route.
I do not know how I shall do it yet, he thought to himself, but that young
upstart and his fortune shall soon be parted. It is mine anyhow! My right!
I was the better son, and mother always said so! I deserve the lion’s share
of this estate's wealth, and I mean to have it!
With these dark thoughts he stalked down the hallway, then out into the
world beyond to perform some other wicked errand.
Inside the study, Leonard sat sipping at his bitter tea that had now also
grown cold. He sighed heavily.
That’s not the last of him I shall see, I reckon, he thought to himself.
There’s no chance of his leaving off and giving up. He hasn’t anything
better to do! I shall have to be on the lookout for his petty maneuvering,
now and in the future.
Suddenly Leonard stood up and walked over to the larger picture window
fitted into the south-facing wall of the study.
The sun was reaching its apex, high in the center of the sky. The day was
blue and cloudless, the air still, and the trees and bushes around the grounds
were barren, frozen by the winter air. Leonard stood there a long while,
gazing out on his estate.
I do hope Christina is getting along better than I am this morning.
He would soon find, much to his dismay, that quite the opposite was true.

470
As Leonard was upbraiding his rotund uncle in the study on the west wing of
the estate, Christina was working on her needlepoint in a parlor on the east
wing.
She sat at ease all by herself, for she too craved a respite from the day some
time around the late morning. And doubly so, since she was a guest; it took
its toll, all the embracing and high-pitched talk.
Even Leonard’s mother, who she adored as if she were her own, could be
overbearing at times, wanting to know too many details that the couple left
her in the dark about, or simply had decided not to reveal.
So it was a relief to come and sit and work on a simple craft for a little
while, until luncheon was called and she was back again among the guests
and relatives.
She thought of how happy she should be once the ancillary matters
pertaining to the wedding were over, and she could begin settling in to her
new life as duchess.
Duchess! How perfectly exciting! It was beyond her ken, the luck she had,
and she thanked her God and Savior every day and every night for the gift of
love and regard.
Christina also knew full well that her station was not supposed to be so
elevated, not with the way things were.
She carried very little in the way of dowry, and while her aunt and uncle
cared for her well enough, they had their hands full with Olivia, their natural
daughter, in the matchmaking department.
Whatever it was, they were simply unwilling or unable to provide the kind
of attention a courting daughter of lineage needed.
Everyone, including Christina herself, thought she was certain to either
grow old and grey as a spinster aunt, losing herself in poetry and women’s
auxiliary and the odd holiday dinner to which she happened to be invited.
Or else she would marry below her station, perhaps to a barrister or a
sheriff in the glen or the village, and wile away her days puttering around
her cottage baking scones until she finally keeled over.

471
Christina wasn’t a grasping sort of person, of course, and so those two
options, though always presented with such cynicism, were not the end of
the world.
She was that rare sort of noble who was truly thankful for all that she had
been given, and in turn was as truly aware of how unfortunate most others
were.
And so it was with a kind of comfortable sigh that Christina had resigned
herself to her future, stolid though it may be.
And then something wonderful had happened, and everything was different.
Surely life was a funny kind of gift, ever-changing, always on the cusp of
something else. It could stay the same for one’s whole life or change
completely in an instant. And no one could ever really tell with any certainty
how things would play out.
Some people found that idea frightening, she knew, but to Christina it was
exhilarating, and at times even liberating. No matter how bad things got,
there was always some chance, some hope, of something better.
These thoughts livened her mood such that she hummed a little tune while
she did her needlepoint, and she did not hear the knocking at the door until it
had become a kind of desperate pounding.
Her reverie broken suddenly, Christina jumped up, spilling the needles and
the cloth from her lap, and she surveyed the mess in a state of surprise, as if
it had come from someone other than her.
She hurried to the parlor doors as the noise increased. Thunk! Thunk!
What she found when she opened the door nearly made her laugh with the
incongruity of it.
“Why, Cousin Olivia! Was it you making all that noise?”
She opened the door completely and looked down at the owlish, spectacled
maiden standing before her.
Cousin Olivia was a tiny thing, forever in high-collared and high-sleeved
garments cinched so severely she often had the appearance of a packed
sausage casing.
Though an exceedingly small one, truth be told, for she was a skinny, bird-

472
like young woman with large spectacles and a tight bun.
She looked at Christina for a moment and brushed past her into the sitting
room, walking with hesitant steps and looking this way and that until she
found a seat for herself. In Christina’s chair.
Inside herself, Christina sighed with exasperation. This behavior was fairly
typical of Olivia; she had always been an odd person, internal and quiet, but
demanding, too, and a fairly wicked harpy if things did not go her way.
Christina found the whole thing rather childish, but at least, she often told
herself, it spared her feeling jealous.
For Olivia was the product of all her parent’s love and attention, and still
she acted like a spoiled brat most of the time, mousy to a fault and
uninterested in anything but her own needs.
“I should like to have a word,” she said sullenly, as if it was Christina who
had interrupted her and not the other way round.
“Surely,” replied Christina in a flat voice. This was nothing new. Olivia
was a world-class worrier, and always wanting to talk very seriously about
this or that.
She fretted about weather and about clothes, and ultimately too much about
what other people thought of her. Christina found her a rather paralyzed
person, and wondered if it was perhaps this nature that prevented her from
finding a husband—or any real friends at all, for that matter.
Olivia preferred to spend her time alone, and while there was nothing
wrong with that in itself— Leonard, too, was bookish and often of a solitary
nature, she reminded herself—Olivia seemed to hoard her time like a
dragon from the old stories, sitting atop a pile of riches, guarding it
jealously and never spending a dime of it.
That was her cousin, miserly with herself and her emotions, aloof and
judgmental, but at her core lonely and afraid of the world. If she weren’t
such a meddler, Christina would find her absolutely pitiable.
“You seem to have done well enough for yourself,” Olivia said, looking
distracted, as if Christina had won a prize for baking a pie. This was typical
enough.
“Yes, I am quite happy. Thank you, Cousin.”

473
“Hmmph!” Christina frowned at her reply, and Olivia smiled to herself, as if
laughing at a joke only she understood.
“And so what is it you would like to talk about? It will be luncheon soon,
and I have other duties to attend to.”
“Oh, I am sure you do. Well, I shall come right to it then. You will have
money soon, and father needs it. Well, some. I shall want it in my name, and
I shall want it promptly.”
She sniffed and straightened her hat.
If it weren’t so outrageous, Christina thought, it would actually be funny.
Hilarious, in fact. What was going on here?
“Cousin,” she said aloud, trying hard to control her ire, “whatever in God’s
green earth are you on about? Who says I shall have money? Why does
Uncle Charles need it? He has the ducal estate and its many incomes.”
“You know how he has been since mother had her difficulties. He’s like a
lost lamb.”
This much was true, Christina reckoned. Aunt Violet’s stroke had left her
bedridden and paralyzed down one side of her body, her mind addled and
drifting from past to present without any sense of time.
It was a hard thing to watch, and Christina’s uncle had not taken it well.
He had become a shell of his former self, a kind of hollow man, waking and
eating and sleeping as if by signals sent automatically from on high, or
perhaps even somewhere else.
Christina had tried many times to find some strength inside the man,
something to help him go on, but she had found it hopeless.
And now he was somehow in financial straits? What was the meaning of
this?
“Cousin, your father and my uncle, he is like a man who has already passed
away. I’m sure he neglects the books and the other financial duties of the
house, but that is why we have people in our employ, to look after these
things.
“He gambles,” Olivia said flatly.

474
“He doesn’t! Olivia, whatever do you mean?”
“He does! I have seen him . . . talking! With other men! He posts his wagers
with them and they relay them to the proper . . . people . . . or perhaps I
should call them hooligans, if I were to put it properly.”
Olivia seemed to be struggling greatly. She had never been particularly
good at dissembling, probably because it required at least some
understanding of other people’s intellect. That was not her strong suit.
“Olivia, what you are saying is complete rubbish, and we both know it,”
said Christina angrily. “Out with it now. How have you lost the money?”
Her cousin tried for a moment to look aggrieved at the very notion, but that
façade quickly crumbled. What was left was a cold, steely visage that
regarded Christina with contempt.
And something else. Underneath her cool anger Christina detected a waft of
fear and a rage bred of contempt. She had cut through her cousin’s
concealing cloak with hardly any effort at all, and she’d easily exposed a
weakness. Olivia would not soon forgive Christina for exposing her so.
She spoke, and the words were like drops of ice: “It happened slowly, then
quickly, if you must know. The books are needlessly complicated! And I
must dress the fashion, I must! I cannot go out looking like a fool or a
vagabond!”
“You rarely go out, Cousin.”
“That’s not the point!” Olivia flew from her chair, stray locks of hair
flinging wildly about, and proceeded to pace by the window like a wildcat
in a cage.
Christina had seen her cousin in a rage before, but never like this. This
threatened to spin the tiny woman apart. But there was little that could be
done.
“You know very well that Leonard’s estate shall not automatically become
mine when we marry. I shall only have influence over him.
“And besides, what would you have us do? If you cannot adequately fund an
entire estate with your incomes, how are we supposed to do the same, plus
our own?
“If things are so dire we may be able to put you and your parents up in a

475
small house in the village with a footman and a cook, but very little else.”
“That is not good enough!” Olivia nearly shrieked.
Again Christina was somewhat stunned, but not cowed. Never cowed.
“You will have to learn to live with it and make the most of it, my dear
Cousin, should things shake out that way.”
Then Christina gritted her teeth with suppressed fury. “And why is it that
you believe you deserve any part of my soon-to-be husband’s money in the
first place?
Olivia laughed bitterly at this. “Oh Christina, you speak of deserve. Who
was it that took you in when your parents died so suddenly? Who fed you,
clothed you, kept you from the poor house?
“You would be a milkmaid now if it wasn’t for us— for me—and not
marrying some mighty lord!”
Christina realized now what should have been evident from the start. Her
cousin was eaten through with jealousy, her mind twisted with envy over
Christina’s good fortune. She was a wretched thing, fit only for pity, but
Christina lashed out in anger nonetheless.
“If you are going to stand there and call me to account for acts of charity on
your parents’ behalf that happened many years ago, you can show yourself
out this instant.
“I’ll not hear any talk of money any longer from your insolent mouth. If you
are in need, you shall fully turn the books over to me and I shall appoint a
steward to see to the running of the estate. And it will be for love of my dear
aunt and uncle. You shall never see a penny of it!”
Olivia whirled on her cousin, a poisonous anger twisting her face into a
grim rictus of its former self. She looked as if she would say something for a
moment, then decided against it.
She gathered her skirts in a huff and tromped out of the parlor, slamming the
heavy doors on her way as hard as she was able.
A great slam resounded through the room, and Christina imagined she could
feel her teeth shake in their sockets. Then all was quiet for a long moment.
She let out a ragged sigh. Just when she thought everything was perfect,

476
something had come along to wrinkle things all up. Surely this was not the
last she would hear of Olivia, who was as tenacious as she was dour when
it came to her own comforts.
Moreover, Christina was stricken by the thought of her aunt and uncle forced
into privation by these dire straits that were no fault of their own.
Suddenly, she found that her good cheer had vanished. What a dreadful mess
it all was.
Then the bell rang for luncheon. She would have to hurry to change in time
enough to make her way to the dining table.
A frank conversation with Leonard was also necessary as soon as possible.
Oh why, oh why did this terrible hiccup have to occur now, of all times?
Why couldn’t people just be kind to one another?
She drew herself up to her full height, and with a pretty shake of her head,
Christina beat back the tears that were threatening to overcome her. She was
not the type to cry and moan about things she could not change.
No, Christina was a woman of action, and action was the very thing that was
now needed. There was no time to bemoan her situation. She would have to
head off any of Olivia’s further meddling before things got too rotten.
That was surely the thing to do! She needed to speak to Leonard straight
away.
She hurried from the room, seeking out her own guest chambers and the
lady’s maid who would help her change for the meal.
There was little else to think about now except getting through the formal
luncheon without incident, and getting away with Leonard quickly before
any more meddling could occur.
Not even married yet, not even a full day engaged, and already domestic
problems were cropping up like crab grass on a fresh lawn!
She hoped deep inside that they could overcome these challenges with grace
and aplomb, like the happy couple Christina felt they were destined to
become.

477
The dining room was prepared for a formal luncheon, as it always was on
Sunday afternoons. Though there were extra guests in the house due to the
spillover from the Winter Ball, the long, ornate oak table accommodated all
of them quite easily.
Leonard sat at the head of the table, of course, and he took them all in as a
waiter placed a steaming bowl of soup, the first course, down in front of
him.
There was his mother, still looking pleased as punch but a little tired from
last night’s excitement. He was happy for the old girl, but he did wish she
would take a break from her joy now and then.
It tended to wear her down, and Leonard smiled, thinking of the old adage
about too much of a good thing.
Next to her sat Christina, looking stunning as usual in sheer damask of sky
blue that was trimmed with gold at the neck and sleeves.
The two were talking animatedly, no doubt about something wedding-
related, though Leonard thought he detected a hint of concern, even worry, in
his fiancé’s manner.
He knew her well enough at this point to detect even the subtlest upset, and
the tiniest offset of the smallest feature could speak volumes to him.
His heart grew slightly heavier, and Leonard wondered what the trouble
might be. Christina wasn’t the sort of lady who flew into a tizzy over
nothing, and these were supposed to be some of the most wonderful weeks
of her life. If his suspicions were correct, he needed to talk to her right
away.
She caught him looking at her, and instantly Christina flashed him a winning
smile that was still somehow not entirely complete.
Then she waved prettily at him, but Leonard still caught the import
swimming in her gaze: we need to talk, and soon.
Ah, well, he thought to himself. Such is the life of the married man. Always
something! He turned his attention to the rest of the guests at the table.
With some dismay, his eyes lit on Uncle James. He was tucking into his soup
like he hadn’t eaten in a week, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with an
already filthy napkin. Leonard shook his head, and he watched as James’s

478
sleeves occasionally dipped into the bowl without him realizing it.
Next to him, in a heavy dress that seemed to blend in with the brocade
curtains beside her, sat a tiny, twiggy woman looking glum yet severe,
barely touching her food.
She had Christina’s dark black hair, and Leonard suddenly remembered who
she was: Cousin Olivia, who Christina had grown up with after the death of
her parents.
Olivia was a solitary thing, usually, and it puzzled him, the fact that she was
down here and not taking lunch in her room. She looked even more morose
than usual, and the overwrought antics of his uncle were not helping matters.
As the courses unfolded one by one—cold pheasant, cheeses and apricots, a
platter of braised leeks—he took in the rest of the guests, aunts and uncles
once or twice removed, some cousins he did not recognize.
There was Dr. Shamly too, looking old but still spry, his spectacle hanging
on the tip of his nose as he waved a cold chicken leg at Horace Wright, the
county sheriff and deacon of the village church.
The two were no doubt locked in some debate over a finer point of theology
or politics. Dr. Shamly was an unrepentant agnostic, and both men were old
friends of the family despite their somewhat rough professions.
It was pleasing to Leonard, to see these familiar faces, despite the few
trouble makers in the tableau. It was a cozy luncheon with lots of friendly
smiles and good conversation, and though he knew there were some snags to
untangle, he was looking forward to many more meals like these—
comfortable, full of warmth and for the most part brimming with the best
aspects of family life.
As dessert was being served—a delicate mousse with raspberries imported
from Spain—Walters, the old head butler, came nervously to Leonard’s
side. He began speaking in a low whisper, so low that Leonard could
scarcely hear him.
“Speak up then, Walters. Whatever is so important that you must interrupt
my meal?” asked Leonard.
The older man hesitated before speaking. Leonard had known him his entire
life, but he could never recall him as anything but old, with a long scowling
mouth and a bulbous nose.

479
Perhaps he’d been born that way, or sprung fully-formed from the ether in
the shape of flint-faced Cornishman in the twilight of his days. Leonard
could not guess which.
“There is, how shall I say it . . . a basket, sir. At the door.”
“A basket? What concern of that is mine? Have it delivered to the kitchen as
usual. Why are you pestering me so, Walters?”
“It is rather . . . well, the contents of the basket, sir.”
Leonard sighed in frustration. He had never seen the old man so agitated, but
for now he just wished he would get to the point.
“And what is inside the basket then, Walters, that is of such concern for
me?” Leonard said, loud enough for the other guests to hear. Heads turned in
their direction.
Walters, noticing the attention now focused on himself and his Lord,
straightened up and spoke with more conviction.
“A baby, your Grace.”
Leonard blinked. “A baby?”
“Yes, Lord.”
“A . . . what kind of baby?”
“A . . . well, a human baby, sir. A boy, I should think. Though I have not
checked very thoroughly.”
His face reddened a bit. “At least that is what the maid who found it tells
me, your Grace.”
“The maid who found it?” Leonard was utterly perplexed. What insanity
was the man talking about? “Found it where?”
“At the small door that lets into the kitchen, sir. Away back near the refuse
pile. She found it there just moments ago as she was throwing bones to the
dogs. A baby in a wicker basket, wrapped in a blue blanket, with a note
pinned there. Like in a storybook, sir.”
Somehow Walters managed to sound both annoyed and full of wonder. This
was the sort of occurrence that the servants would be talking about until they
were old and gray.

480
Leonard, who felt that he would be old and gray himself by the time this day
ended, stood up suddenly. He took Walters by the elbow and led him out
into the servant’s hall. Behind him the dining room erupted in a flurry of
excited murmurs.
“Walters, what is going on here? What do you mean by all this?”
“Exactly as I have put it, your Grace,” the old man replied. “And not a whit
added or subtracted, I swear on my life.”
He shrugged, looking slightly desperate. “It is scandalous, I know, but . . .
no one has any idea of what to do. Upon my life sir, the women are in the
finest uproar these old eyes have ever seen! I’m afraid for myself, nearly!”
Leonard gave him a stout, manly slap on the bicep. “Straighten up, old chap,
there we are. We’ll get this sorted straight away.”
He clapped the older man on the back and helped him straighten out his
jacket, which had become seriously misaligned in all the chaos.
Behind them Christina excused herself and stood up from her chair. Jane
followed close behind. They appeared next to the two men as if by magic,
and caught the meat of their conversation without either of them being aware
of it.
“Why, we must see it!” cried Leonard’s mother, never one to worry much
about scandal. “Where is the poor thing, Walters?”
“In the servant’s dining room, M’Lady, being attended to by nearly all of the
female staff by this time, I should think.”
“Oh my!” The older woman clapped her hands together. “We must go to it
now!”
Feeling a sense of desperation coming over him, Leonard tried and failed to
interrupt her.
“Mother . . .”
“Oh, I shall bring the doctor! In case the little thing is ailing. Doctor!” she
called, turning to face the dining room, which was now in a positive uproar.
“Doctor!”
Leonard clutched a hand to his forehead as the physician stood up, his entire
body exuding curiosity.

481
“Shall we tell the entire county, Mother?” he asked sarcastically. Christina
put an arm around his shoulder and spoke to him quietly.
“Come now, Leonard. It cannot be that scandalous. It is no fault of our own.
We are merely the recipients. Let us see what mystery lies at the heart of this
odd occurrence. And more importantly, let us see what we can do for the
poor, innocent child.”
And so it was that Leonard, Christina, Jane and Dr. Shamly—plus Horace
Wright, who would not be left out of anything the doctor was in on—
followed the elderly butler down the servants’ staircase, then on through the
narrow hallway that led to the kitchen and the staff dining room beyond.
There they found the cook and four scullery maids standing around a wicker
basket that did, indeed, appear to hold a baby boy, who cooed gently and
blinked his big blue eyes.
The hearts of the serving women were instantly melted. Leonard drove them
out unceremoniously, though not without sympathy. Here was indeed a
lovely baby, as lovely as any fat-fingered cherub in a Renaissance painting
at the National Gallery.
Jane cooed just as wantonly, and she leaned in to tickle the little thing under
his chin. He had a shock of red hair to go with his cerulean eyes, and just the
hint of a dimple at either side of his happy smile.
“You see, your Grace,” Walters said, a note of triumph creeping into his
voice, “It is just as I said.”
“Yes, old man, it would appear that way. Doctor Shamly, can you look the
little lad over and see what you can see?’
Then he turned his attention back to Walters. “You mentioned a note, then,
my good fellow. What did it say?”
“I’ve not read it, your Grace. I thought it would be quite imprudent to do so.
I leave it up to your clear faculties.”
He produced the slip of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it over to
Leonard, who instantly registered the fine quality of its paper. And when he
opened it, the precise and lovely nature of the penmanship became
immediately apparent as well.
Christina noticed these things, too. “It’s a woman’s hand, certainly. Read it

482
aloud, dear.”
Leonard cleared his throat and began.
“Greetings and solicitations to the kitchen staff of this fine Estate. If you
are reading this, as you most certainly are, please pass this note along to
your Lord as soon as possible, as it is of the utmost importance.
To the Lord of the manor: I beg your forgiveness for whatever upset this
note causes, but I feel as if I have no other choice. I am simply the middle
daughter of a business man who resides in a village near here, the name
of which shall remain hidden.
My name must stay a secret as well. As of this morning, after dropping off
my precious cargo, I have left England forever. Given my fate, it is all I
can think to do, save throwing myself into the Thames and drowning,
which our Lord and Savior forbids, of course.
I will spare you the grim details of my story, but due to a series of
tragedies and accidents both I and my family fell into abject poverty, and
I was reduced to begging in the square while taking odd jobs as a
seamstress.
Then, one day I was rescued. My benefactor was a Lord who evidently
found me fetching, despite my wretched condition and the filth in which I
was forced to live.
At first his rescue was benevolent, but I soon realized when he took
advantage of me that he had an evil heart and a corrupt soul. The
inevitable happened, of course, and I was cast out, I and Edward, the boy
in the basket, for that was the name I gave him.
I must assure you with all my heart that I have nowhere else to turn. I
could not take him to the village church, for they would know me there
instantly, and they know of my family’s ruin as well.
So I decided to take the risk of leaving him with you, your Grace. Your
reputation for kindness and charity is well known, and I pray that you will
know what the proper course of action is.
I am out of words now. It is only for me to say the obvious—please take
care of little Edward. I know whatever choice you make in his care will be
a proper one, for you are a good man yourself, and as such adverse to any
wickedness or indecision.

483
Please show him this letter when he is old enough to understand what it
means, and hopefully the pain he feels will be tempered by the good life
you have given him.
And finally, when you have vouchsafed this letter to him, let him also read
the name of his natural father, for his bills are due, if he then still lives,
and there will be a reckoning upon his house that he himself has earned.
His name is Peter Good, Lord of Chelmsworth, and he is a wicked man,
his nature the opposite of his surname.
Again I say thank you, with all my heart. Please take good care of my
baby.”
There was a stillness in the room that remained unbroken for some time.
Finally, Leonard spoke.
“The note is unsigned.”
No one spoke.
After a few heavy moments the baby cooed and fussed, which seemed to
break the spell gripping the adults. Jane returned to the little babe’s side.
“There, there, “she crooned.
“I suppose I should examine the little bairn,” said the doctor, who was
looking rather stunned himself as he bent over to go about his work.
Those remaining looked at one another vacantly. Finally, Walters ventured
to speak.
“You see, it is just as I have said, your Grace.”
“So it is,” Leonard replied. His voice was thoughtful, but distracted, which
was the best he could do under the circumstances.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you, old man. It was just that what you related
was . . . well, so extraordinary! I can hardly believe it myself.
“A baby–a foundling, no less!—left on our doorstep. We shall have to think
long and hard about this situation. Whoever wrote that letter is right: there
has been much scandal afoot, but it is not young Edward’s fault, that much is
sure. He deserves a decent go of it.”
Then Leonard nodded, mostly to himself, and after that he made up his mind

484
about something. Christina stood beside him looking concerned, her eyes
moving from the baby to her fiancé and back again. Leonard spoke once
more.
“For now, Walters, can you do your best to see that the staff is calmed and
has resumed their duties? It is not Christmas Day yet, there will be no time
off, extraordinary as the times are.
“Besides, we don’t need the whole house upset over this. Who knows what
manner of rumor and black lies could spring from this occurrence? Better to
keep things quiet for now until we figure out what to do . . . ”
“What to do?” Christina asked suddenly. “Isn’t it obvious? We should—“
“Not right away now, darling. Let us take stock and then discuss this when
we’ve had a moment to gather our faculties once more. Walters, thank you
very much, you are dismissed.”
“Very good, Sir,” the old butler said, and he made his way from the room
with obvious relief. Christina looked slightly miffed, but for the moment she
acceded to Leonard’s wishes.
Dr. Shamly finished his examination and turned to the others. “As healthy a
baby as ever any borne by woman, I should say. Nothing outwardly
concerning, certainly, and nothing either to indicate anything else. He’s a
bouncing boy, he is.”
The doctor smiled as little Edward cooed and wrapped a meaty fist around
one of his fingers.
“Good,” Leonard said. “Now all that’s left is to decide what to do with
him.”
Christina looked as if she would speak again, but Jane beat her to the punch.
“Well, I say we contact this Lord Chelmsworth and see that he does the
Christian thing. Perhaps the sight of his own flesh and blood will turn him
repentant.”
Here Horace Wright, who until that point had remained silent and, in truth,
largely forgotten by the others, spoke up.
“It is a fine idea, M’Lady, fine to think of it working, but I do not think it
will. I do not know the man, but I know of his reputation.”

485
He spoke in a gravelly voice that emanated from beneath a long, drooping
mustache. His look was decidedly that of the working man of the village,
though he was educated to an extent and most active in the church.
The air he gave off was of an earthy, practical man, caring and emotional
under his gruff exterior.
“The church is often the first place where foundlings are dropped off,” he
said, as if intoning a proclamation of sorts. “No, no we haven’t had any left
there in a long time, so do calm yourselves.
“But there is talk amongst the clergy and the deacons, and this is not the first
time I have heard the man’s name mentioned in conjunction with an
abandoned child.
“It seems he has a reputation for mistreating poor young girls. Sets them up,
then leaves them to their own devices once he’s gotten what he’s after. If it
were in my power I’d see that the law was set on him, but technically he is
in no breach of trust.”
The others pondered this information for a moment. Christina found it hard
to believe, but it was a man’s world, after all. This she doubted not a whit.
“For now, your Grace,” Horace Wright continued, addressing Leonard, “I
know of a young mother in the village who might serve as wet nurse until the
thing is sorted. Shall I send for her?”
Leonard thought for a moment.
“Yes,” he said, “I guess you better had. In the meantime, we will have to
stake out a makeshift nursery of sorts . . .”
“The sitting room,” Christina instantly responded, referring to the room
where she had been at her needlepoint earlier that day, before she was so
rudely interrupted by her cousin.
“It is cozy in there, but barren of any furniture, really. We can fashion a
bassinet from the cook’s supplies. Or better yet, see which of the staff might
have old things of their own they could be persuaded to lend for the
moment.”
Leonard nodded. “I’ll ask you to do that then, Doctor, if you would be so
kind. In the meantime, Mother, can you return to the dining room and do your
best to calm our guests?

486
“I will go with Christina and the baby to the sitting room on the west wing.
It will be our command post, in a manner of speaking, I suppose.”
Then Leonard turned to Horace Wright, motioning for him to join him.
“Come, my good sir, if you don’t mind. We have much to discuss.”
The two men left the servant’s dining hall in deep conference. Dr. Shamly
began rounding up kitchen maids and questioning them about nappies and
bassinets.
Jane took a last, longing look at Edward, and then she gathered her skirts
and returned up the stairs to the dining room. Christina was left with the
baby in the basket.
She leaned down and put her face close to Edward’s. A smile spread across
his chubby, red cheeks. Christina felt her heart swell and flutter.
My word, she thought. He is quite the little charmer. And he has managed
to charm his way into quite a tangled mess at that.
And with that, she swept up basket and baby and followed the two men.

As the day waned, the evening found Christina and Leonard in the sitting
room watching baby Edward rock in a borrowed crib.
Doctor Shamly, with all the efficiency of a regimental leader, had secured
clothes and bedding for the boy in under half an hour. The kitchen maids and
old Mrs. Churls, the cook, were more than happy to help scare up some old
or underused things.
The village woman who was to act as wet nurse had come and gone. The
baby was sleeping happily, and indeed, despite the chaos that surrounded
him, the infant had made little fuss during the entire time he’d been in the
manor.
Leonard and Christina sat by the light of the lamp in parallel armchairs,
watching the tiny thing sleep.
“This will be what it’s like when we have children,” Christina mused, half
to herself.
Leonard was equally transfixed. “Yes,” he said, “though I don’t reckon

487
they’ll have quite the same color hair, I’m afraid.”
This set Christina to giggling. After a little while, though, she sighed.
“Oh Leonard,” she said, “what a poor little thing. Whatever shall become of
him?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Leonard replied, lighting his pipe, “but he’ll have a
decent sort of life, that much is clear.
“He can be adopted to anyone in the village who wants him, and with no
shame attached. We’re the only ones who know his true identity. He’ll not
have to bear the scorn of a bastard, or the coldness of his father’s disregard,
the rotter.”
His pipe lit, Leonard puffed away angrily. “How could a nobleman, a
presumed Christian, carry on in such a way? The man is an aberration.”
“It happens more than you would think, Leonard,” Christina said quietly,
though he didn’t seem to hear.
They lapsed into silence then, each thinking their own thoughts. The baby
woke for a moment, looked at them both in turn, its sleepy eyes sparkling
with curiosity. Then they closed again in blissful slumber.
“What if we kept him?” Christina said suddenly.
“What if we—what?” Leonard sputtered around his pipe, sending ash and
smoke flying. He swatted at some stray embers that had landed on his lapel.
Then he shook his head, stunned.
“Darling, whatever are you talking about? How could we?”
“How could we not?” Christina said easily. “He’s quite the little darling!”
She stood up and walked over to the crib, stroking the baby’s fat cheeks
gently, without waking him.
“Well . . . yes, of course, my love. He’s a fine healthy lad. But he isn’t
ours.”
“And what of it? He was dropped on your doorstep, after all. And the note
made it clear that it was up to you to decide. I see no reason why adopting
little Edward could not be included in that set of options, do you?”
“Well, no but . . .” Once again Leonard shook his head, trying not to stumble

488
over his words and thoughts. Why had Christina embarked on this daft line
of thought?
“What of our own children?” he posited.
“Oh, we shall have them! And never treat them differently, one to the other.
That shall be the easy part, I tell you now.”
“Christina . . .”
Feeling the need to move about, Leonard walked over to where she stood at
the infant’s crib, and he took her gently by the arms from behind. “He would
become my son, with all that brings. Do you not feel that we should have a
natural heir?”
She whirled on him then, and he could see that there were tears in her eyes
and running down her cheeks, though her voice had not betrayed that fact.
Then he saw something else through the tears: anger. The flush of it crept up
Christina’s neck, and Leonard was taken aback at first, then stunned.
Where did this come from? This veritable geyser of anger, which I have
never seen before, he thought. This should be merely a practical matter,
after all.
Then he received the answer to his question.
“I know what it is to be an orphan,” she said, her voice quivering. “What
it’s like. The whispering. The pity. The feeling of being . . . unnatural. Like a
lost dog or a kitten nearly drowned. There’s something about it that plucks at
your humanity, after a while.”
“But my darling,” Leonard pleaded, “he will be in the village, well taken
care of, his secret never to be revealed until he is old enough to deal with it
properly.”
She laughed then, a dry laugh that was without humor.
“Do you honestly think that word of what has occurred here will not get out?
You know how the servants are. Every detail of today’s events will be
spread out over the village before sunrise tomorrow. They must surely be
already talking of it in the public houses and around the family board!”
“But darling . . .”

489
“And even if they aren’t, and never did, how can we be sure? How can we
be certain that whomever we give Edward to will always treat him the
same as their natural children, the same as if he were really theirs?”
Christina paused, trying to regain a bit of her composure.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Leonard. I barely remember my parents.
They are shadows to me. And people ask, “do you miss your natural
parents?
“Natural! As if their untimely deaths were anything but unnatural! And as if
the care and love I received from my aunt and uncle were anything less than
natural!
“If you were to pluck out your own heart and replace it with another, would
you begrudge it for keeping you alive? For pumping the blood through your
veins? Would you decry all that it did for you simply because it hadn’t been
there from the beginning?”
With that, she tore herself from Leonard’s grasp and sat down again in her
chair, looking at him fiercely.
Leonard, for his part, could understand his fiancé’s feelings in this most
unique of circumstances. But he was also forced to put other considerations
on the scales.
“Christina, the goodness of your heart has once again humbled me. But
please, let me explain.”
He knelt on the floor beside her, taking her hands in his own, and Leonard
looked into her upturned face, which was flushed and full of ire.
He could feel the flutter of her pulse there at her wrist, pounding and racing
like that of a caged bird. He must be very careful to spell out his thoughts
without upsetting her—that much he knew.
“I, too, am thinking only of the welfare of this poor, innocent child, who has
done nothing whatsoever to put himself into this untenable situation.
“Would that I were a greater man, a more powerful man, and I would repeal
the stigma of illegitimacy and lock up the philanderer, and protect the virtue
of the young maiden at every turn.
“But I am not. I can only do what I am able. And what’s more, I have my
own responsibilities, to my lineage and the ancestors who came before,

490
young and old, and then to my future children, the bearers of the title, many
of whom I do not know, but who will march bravely forward into the mists
of the future.”
Leonard paused and smiled, mostly to himself, pleased with the veracity of
his little speech. Then he continued.
“Christina, if we were to keep Edward and name him heir—for we would
surely have to do that, there would be even more trouble if we did not—it
would lay my ducal title open to assailment from all sides.
“It would throw this house into turmoil and threaten the very lineage I am
speaking of. Whether I am alive or not when that seed planted germinates is
of no relevance. Just because I may not be around for the consequences does
not mean I am free of them.”
He shook his head in frustration as he considered the disastrous
consequences, and then he realized the need to explain all of this to his
beloved.
“Disenfranchised third cousins, or base pretenders,—or even my doddering
Uncle James, who has illegitimate heirs himself, I know for a fact.
“All would have fodder with which to lay claim to the title, and they could
all use the uncertainty of Edward’s lineage to inject their own uncertainties
into the matter, for their own gains and their own profit, with never a thought
to the responsibility of the nobleman.
“And when he came of age, or when we too are gone, or too old and frail to
protect him, to maneuver against those who sought him harm, what would
happen? Who could assure us that the title would not be overthrown?”
He saw the look of shock on Christina’s face, and that was when Leonard
realized that all of this wasn’t quite going as he’d planned.
“Please don’t look so shocked,” he begged. “None of this would be an
immediate threat—but the law is a tenacious beast. It is easily twisted to
men’s purpose, and in a way that evil men can sometimes use it to
appropriate parts for their own bad intentions.”
With that, Leonard began to shake with anger. He felt torn between his need
to protect his line and his house, and the spirit of charity that welled up in
him at the thought of little Edward.

491
Pray I am doing the right thing, he thought deep inside.
Christina’s steely visage softened into grief during Leonard’s long speech.
She looked deeply pained, though understanding was mixed into her
expression as well.
“Oh Leonard, how can you not understand that you are wrong? There is
nothing more precious that we can give this baby than a loving home. With
all that and more afforded to him, he will be well-girded against the future,
as well as any of our so-called natural children would be.
“There is no way to divine the future, dear one. We can lay foundations and
make plans, but they can be scattered by the wayside at a moment’s notice.
“We can do our best to control that murky future that lies ahead—and we
will!—but ultimately there must be some release. You cannot put some dusty
historical duty above the needs of a child. It is not Christian.”
Leonard riled at this comment. Anger had settled over his mind in such a
way that he had forgotten it was his loving fiancé´ who was the recipient of
his words. His anger slowly boiled over into rage, and that was when
Leonard made a fateful error.
“Do not presume to tell me what is and is not Christian! I am not a base
man, and I resent the suggestion. I have this child’s welfare in mind just as
much as you. More so, it seems!”
“More so?!”
With that she was up in a flash, waggling a finger in his face as she, too,
succumbed to anger. “All you appear to care about is securing your own
lineage, no matter who it hurts! I am the one who wants a good life for this
child!”
“Perhaps in the short term!” Leonard said, feeling the need to come back
with a rejoinder, “but evidently your female faculties cannot conceive of a
time beyond next week!”
Leonard’s mouth clapped shut just as the last word was exiting. He nearly
blanched. Christina’s eyes widened in shock.
They both realized at once that a line had been crossed. Leonard had never,
ever subscribed to the prevailing views of the day regarding the ability of
women. He was ashamed of himself.

492
He began to apologize, trying to set things right, and once again he stumbled
over his words.
How had this conversation gotten so out of control? They had never fought
like this before—in fact, they’d never fought at all! What was there to fight
about, really?
The shock in Christina’s eyes faded quickly away and was replaced by a
cold, steely rage.
“You will leave this room now.”
“Darling, I don’t—“
“You will leave me be, now! I do not want to see you for . . I don’t know for
how long. Maybe not ever again.”
“But the wedding—“
“But nothing! You have shamed me. I did not think you were capable of it,
but I see now that I was quite wrong about that.”
Then she hesitated for a moment, and Christina seemed to back off from
herself a little. Finally, she spoke again.
“I do not know that there will be a wedding now. We shall have to see. For
now, leave me.”
“Christina—“
Leonard started, but she held up a hand and he knew then that it was no use.
His anger was still upon him, and he was not yet convinced that he was
entirely in the wrong, but he knew his rage had gotten the best of him. For
the moment, there was no going back.
He looked at her for a long moment, and Leonard decided to respect her
wishes, even though he could have taken far more definitive actions, albeit
with potentially disastrous consequences.
Finally, though, he slunk out the door, feeling like the lowliest dog on a dark
moor.
Christina once again walked over to the crib and stood over little Edward.
Somehow their shouting had not wakened him, and he lay as he had before,
sleeping sweetly, the ghost of a smile curling up the ends of the angel’s little

493
bow lips.
Then she felt the anger leave her, all at once. She slumped physically, her
shoulders dropping and her chest hitching as the tears came.
You stupid, awful man! she thought. You stupid, awful, wonderful man. Of
course you are right, but so am I!
And instead of working through a compromise, or trying to see the
situation from the other’s point of view, we raged and shouted and talked
over one another, until we reached this dismal place, with no wedding at
all perhaps, and no happiness.
And the poor baby no well off then when he appeared on the doorstep this
noontime!
Her wretchedness knew no bounds. She fell to her knees and wept for
herself, her face hot with pity.
Is this how my great love ends? Oh, whatever shall I do?
Outside the wind blew fiercely, seeming to weep itself. In the crib the child
slept undisturbed, its silken smile in the lamplight like a beacon from
another world—alien, yet made all of comfort.

Uncle James knew he had a problem. Not nearly as dire a problem as the
one that seemed to now plague his highwayman of a nephew, but a problem
nonetheless.
The house seemed to be under some kind of gloom, though for the life of him
he couldn’t figure out from where it had sprung,, although he spent little time
trying to suss it all out.
Amidst it all, he considered the wild rumor he’d heard—that a baby had
been left in the kitchen, of all things. How absurd, and what pure
poppycock!
Finally, some days after the night of the Winter Ball, the wedding
announcement, and the morning of the frightful conversation that followed,
he stumbled into the meat of the thing. And it galvanized him to action, he
who reveled in indolence and sloth.

494
He had been lounging in a dayroom, popping raspberries into his mouth and
sampling the vintage Riesling he’d harangued a maid into bringing up from
the cellar.
In went his fat hand into the bowl of fruit, out came a raspberry in pincered
fingers. Up it went in a gliding arc, and down in went into his gullet, barely
chewed. The wine took a less circuitous route, being poured directly down
the throat.
As he lounged on his back munching and drinking, a pair of lady’s maids
entered the room to exchange the linens in the cabinet for fresh material.
They barely seemed to register the round man there, the one whose stay
seemed to extend so long after the Winter Ball. It was as if he’d become part
of the furniture, content to loaf about, and only of issue when he was
demanding something he was unable to find.
James was vaguely aware that the house staff thought him a fool and a leech,
and perhaps he was that, yes, but he knew he was clever. He listened and
schemed, and occasionally he made things happen . . . but only when it was
absolutely necessary.
The discussion he overheard between the two maids sounded like something
from a turgid, scandalous play.
An abandoned baby, an abandoned heir nonetheless, here somewhere under
this very roof! What a calamity!
James knew he occasionally delighted in the troubles of others, and this
particular trouble seemed especially delicious.
He himself had a number of illegitimate children himself scattered around
the county, and he had taken great pains to ensure that they never appeared to
bother him.
This Lord Chelmsfellow, or whatever his name is, must be a righteously
stupid man, he thought to himself with glee.
Then he overheard something that explained the pallor that had fallen over
the house these last days, and James instantly realized that it was the heart of
his problem.
The wedding was off!
Or mostly off, at least. Possibly off. The maids didn’t seem to have a

495
definitive answer for that one, and their sources were closely guarded and
seemed murky even to them.
Still, there was most definitely some question about the inevitability of the
wedding, and that did not suit James. Not at all.
Not that marriage had ever held any special place in his heart. Certainly not!
He much preferred the bachelor’s lifestyle: carefree, unfettered, not tied
down to any one particular spot, nor any one particular woman, for that
matter.
He found it unnatural, this insistence on monogamy, and completely
retrograde to his own appetites. He got along fine with a doxy or two
stashed in this city or that, and a handful of servants to do his washing.
No, it was not the cancelled nuptials that gave him such consternation. He
had many times tried to council his nephew on the benefits—the virtues,
even!—of the bachelor lifestyle, but the boy would have none of it.
James had nearly been thrown out on his ear when Leonard had first begun
courting Christina openly, when he had warned the lad about the dangers she
posed.
The dangers all women posed! Nearly thrown out on his ear . . . that was the
thanks he had gotten!
The devil with his marriage, thought James. And good riddance!
But there was more afoot here, much more. For James had plans.
He was getting on in years, truth be told, and James had mostly resigned
himself to living on an annuity. But this did not stop him trying the
occasional ploy, like the one that had just so recently failed in his nephew’s
study.
And he had others, some great, some small. The greatest of all, however,
was not really a ploy at all.
Young men, James reckoned, were prey to all sorts of woes. They seemed
the strongest and heartiest that humankind had to offer, but that was merely a
smokescreen.
Really they were frail, delicate creatures, like as not to be struck down at
any moment. By a fall from the horses they were always riding about, say.
Or by one of the bullets from the guns they were always shooting off at

496
ducks or pheasants or stags.
Or perhaps a love war would break out—it had been ages since once of
those had erupted, and they tended to grind up young men with lusty
abandon, especially noble, patriotic young men like his dear nephew.
Whatever mishap should befall, whatever great unlucky strike of lightning or
thrown horseshoe, who would stand to benefit the most? Who, indeed,
would inherit the Dukedom itself, under the rule of the land?
Why, James himself, of course. As it stood at the moment.
As it stood at the moment, he thought. There’s the knot of it.
He knew for a fact that Leonard was due to inherit the estate, although his
nephew preferred to keep the details of his will to himself until his children
arrived.
The land was not possessed by his mother, or anyone else as far as James
knew. And if Leonard were gone, then well . . . suffice to say that James
was a patient man, and something of a dreamer to boot.
But if they named the little guttersnipe heir, all his hopes would be dashed!
All of his scheming and posturing would be ended, and before Christina
even began to swell with child.
Moreover, he knew his nephew—knew him better than Leonard perhaps
understood. As soon as he registered those details the maids were so
judiciously dropping for him, James knew instantly that it was only a matter
of time before his nephew would acquiesce to Christina.
He was practical, Leonard was, but he would do anything for Christina,
would go against any but his most ingrained instincts to secure her love.
Their recent spat must be just that, and James nothing that would rend them
apart completely. It would only be a matter of days until Leonard bent to his
beloved’s wishes. They would marry, adopt the little wretch, and name him
heir, and all before the New Year could be rung in!
That would not do!
At that moment, then, James realized what had to happen. His nephew was
well beyond reason, and there would be a wedding in this house come
Christmas Day, unless the Rapture happened first—that much as certain.

497
What he needed, then, was to convince the would-be bride to drop her
petition. To acquiesce to her future husband—something she’d have to get
used to anyway!—and give up her desire to adopt the baby. Bend to his
will.
Then there would be no heir, not for a while, anyhow. And perhaps not ever.
He stood up mostly suddenly, startling the two maids at their work, and
James knocked over the forgotten fruit bowl, which clattered to the floor.
I must speak to Christina!
And with that, he dashed from the room.

As he burst into the hallway, it struck James suddenly that he hadn’t the
faintest idea where to start. Was Christina even still in the house this long
after their argument?
It had been several days already. He cursed himself for being so
disengaged. In truth the quibbles and little dramas of others bored him to no
end, but in his scheming mind James knew he must give them more attention
if they were to serve him in the future.
What was he to do if he could not locate Christina in the house? He hadn’t
the faintest idea where she even lived, should he need to pursue her.
After a round or two of buttonholing and minor skullduggery, though, James
soon learned that she was indeed still in the estate. In fact, as best he could
determine, she still occupied the same sitting room where the baby had first
been brought after its discovery.
So he hurried there.
After opening the doors of several incorrect rooms, he eventually found the
right one. Christina was sitting quietly going over her needle point, gently
rocking the baby’s crib with her unoccupied hand. She looked up when he
entered and smiled.
James felt repulsed. He had little need for women and none at all for babies,
and he found the proximity of the latter to be most distressing.
But he realized now that his nephew’s beloved was perhaps not entirely

498
informed of his . . . proclivities, his social station, as it were. And perhaps
he could use that to his advantage.
So he fixed a friendly, familiar smile to his face and started his grand
charade.
“Oh no!” he exclaimed with a kind of false wonder, while inside he cringed
and retched. “Is this the little boy then? The little foundling? I must
apologize for not coming sooner to him, but I did not want to bother the two
of you. May I see him?”
The smile on Christina’s face widened. She’d been feeling isolated and
alone, stuck as she was in the vast house where she knew so few people,
with her future so uncertain.
So she welcomed a friendly visitor heartily. She did not know much about
the man, and Leonard had been strangely silent on the subject. He seemed
warm enough, though, and Christina knew she was quite lonely.
“Of course, Uncle! Come by the crib and have a look.”
“I shall,” replied James, who hesitated only a moment before he walked
mincingly over to where the baby lay.
“Oh, he is so . . . ”
James struggled to find an appropriate adjective. His vocabulary was
limited in these situations.
“So . . . clean,” he finished lamely. He blasted himself internally. Of course
the child’s clean, you enormous oaf. Does this look like a workhouse?
You’re going to offend the woman!
But Christina seemed to take no offense. In fact, she seemed delighted by the
attention and the company. The oddness of the compliment swept right over
her, and she clapped her hands in delight.
“Oh, isn’t he just, Uncle?”
James grunted in agreement, wondering when in blazes she had decided to
start calling him “uncle.” He detested the title, for it made him feel old.
Still, it was something to capitalize on, this seeming trust in him. He’d
always suspected that this girl might not be all that bright, and now he had
factual evidence of that.

499
“I’ve come, my dear, because I have heard about the terrible bind you are
in. What a sorry situation indeed.”
Christina’s eyes became downcast, and she pointed her face at the floor in
despair.
“Yes, Uncle, I am feeling most wretched these days, I am afraid. So much
different from when we last saw one another at the Winter Ball. It seems
like a lifetime ago.”
“Yes . . . yes, a lifetime,” James replied distractedly. The baby, to his
horror, had spit up a viscous, milky fluid, and it was running from his chin
down onto his little nightie.
James thought he would be sick himself at any moment, and he tried
desperately to pull himself together.
“But oh! I have come to speak to you directly, my dear, because I hate to see
you suffering so. I am your uncle, and you must listen to me.”
He patted her hand gently and led her to the wingback chair where her
needlepoint lay. There he deposited her, gently, though inside he was
screaming for this silly farce to be over with.
This really is just too much, he thought bitterly. I should like to simply
command this sow and be done with it.
This he thought but dare not say. Instead he took a comfortable seat in the
other chair and leaned in conspiratorially. He gazed warmly at Christina, as
if they were sharing a girlhood secret of hers that still titillated but was long
past mattering.
“I know you should like to acquiesce. You are not a contentious woman. It is
your pride that is wounded, and here you sit, licking it.”
Anger flared up in Christina’s face for a moment, and then it drained out
again as suddenly. She sat back limply in her chair, her arms dropping to her
sides. Her hair came uncoupled from the loose braid she’d tied it into that
morning, and finally Christina sighed.
“You cut right to the quick of it, Uncle. I suppose I must thank you for it.”
“No need to thank me, dear girl. It is my pleasure.”
“And my pain. For you are indeed correct. I have forgiven Leonard and

500
have seen the wisdom of his words many days ago. But here I sit, still, and
for no other reason than willfulness and pride.”
She shook her head at Leonard’s audacity. “The things he said to me! They
were said in anger, and I know with all my heart that he did not mean them.
But they wounded me so!”
This is getting quite melodramatic, I must say, James thought, and then he
resolved to keep his wits about him.
“And you are not a woman who likes to be wounded,” he said unctuously.
“Or who likes to feel weak. That I can understand most well. For it is our
weaknesses that allow others to hold dominion over us.”
Just as I am using your weaknesses to hold dominion over you, James
thought wickedly.
“You are so very right, Uncle. There is no doubt of it. But what is it that I
can do? I am ready to talk to him again, to forgive him completely! And to
bow to his wishes. For he is right. He is right!
“There is no reason why Edward should be thought of as a less-than if we
were to give him to some family in the village.
“Why, we could even find some poor man and woman unable for whatever
reason to have children of their own! That would guarantee a loving home
easily enough.
“Oh, I was being so stupid! How do I even begin to broach things again?”
James looked at her straight in the eyes and spoke.
“It is simple,” he said. “Go to him.”
Christina was struck silent for a moment, and then she hesitated before she
finally spoke again.
“Just . . . just go to him?”
“Yes, my dear. It is as simple as that. Find him. He is almost certainly in his
study. And if he is not, the butler or his footman or any one of the maids
could surely tell you where he might be found. Seek him out, and tell him all
you have told me.”
“Just go to him,” said Christina, clearly thinking it through for herself.

501
“Yes dear, yes.” James was getting slightly impatient. “Tell him you are
sorry. And that you forgive him. Tell him that the wedding is not cancelled.
That it was never cancelled.
“But above all . . .”
Here he leaned in even further toward Christina, until their faces were
nearly touching.
“Above all, tell him that you no longer seek to adopt the babe and make him
the heir. That was the sticking point, yes? The bone that was lodged in his
craw? So that is where you must focus your energies.”
He stood suddenly, drawing himself up to his full height, and James puffed
himself out imperiously, looking even fatter than normal. A vein pulsed
lewdly at his temple, and his meaty necked strained at his crisp white collar.
“Go now, darling girl!” he said with conviction, mustering all he could to
create this last, best image, that of the knowing elder overwrought with
concern.
“Go! Or else your love may wither and die at any moment, and you will
regret your rashness for the rest of your days!”
“Oh!” said Christina, completely overtaken with the ploy. “Oh yes, I shall! I
shall! Thank you, Uncle! I shall have to find a maid to watch over Edward,
but I shall go immediately. Thank you, Uncle!”
She gathered her skirts in a mad rush, and with that Christina was out the
door before she could notice James’s smirk of triumph.
Foolish girl, he thought once again.
He gave the infant a sardonically sympathetic look—tough break for you,
little man!–and then James waddled out of the room, in search of a chaise
and a good bottle of wine to enjoy while his machinations played
themselves out.

While Uncle James was engineering his plots and plans, it turned out that
Cousin Olivia, too, had a problem. And quite a large one at that, although it
took her some time to realize it.

502
This was because she was absolutely furious.
To sort out her problem, Olivia retired to the tea garden, which was tucked
neatly between the eaves where the two large wings of the manor met.
The setting was elegant indeed—a tea table, a pair of finely-wrought iron
chairs, and surrounding them the prize rose bushes for which the manor had
been famous for at least a century.
They’d fallen out of style and so did not hold the same cache as they once
did, but they were well-maintained, and beautiful still.
Here Cousin Olivia paced, her brow knitted furiously in a pinched wrinkle.
She muttered lowly to herself, and any passer-by who chanced to see her
might wonder for a moment if she wasn’t quite mad. Until she’d run off the
poor unfortunate, of course.
Olivia, too, had heard of the crisis silently unfolding in the house, that
Christina and Leonard had had a fight of momentous proportions, and that
the wedding was almost certain to be called off.
But she had heard it much earlier than James— much earlier, in fact, than
most everyone in the house. She was no layabout, and no hedonist, except as
far as her own sense of self-worth was an indulgence.
In fact, she was quite the opposite. Olivia tended to flit from one bit of
gossip to another, sipping the juiciest bits like a hummingbird fluttering
about to find the most desirable and tasty flower.
And when she sipped this most recent bit of treat, that her cousin’s
engagement had fallen apart, how sweet a sip it had been!
But oh, it had turned bitter so quickly.
For as much as she reveled in the destruction of one who had slighted her,
Olivia was also calculating enough to recognize the cost.
My hopes for monetary comfort will be dashed, she thought. And that must
change.
Instead, though, she came to a halt. Her rage clouded Olivia’s ability to
reason out a proper plan of action for several days, and it left her puffing
like a dragon in a hidden lair.
How dare she, her rage told her. Such arrogant insolence. Who does my

503
cousin Christina think she is?
For Olivia, it was inconceivable for her not to get what she wanted. Her
parents had spoiled her, and for a long time at that. As a result she’d been
deprived of the chance to see the error of their ways, and to slough off her
spoiled self when she grew up.
Olivia, however, had gone from a grasping, demanding child to a cold,
greedy adult. It was her own comfort and luxury she had in mind above all
else, and she took it as a deep affront to be denied something once she’d
made up her mind to have it.
And it was Christina’s money—which was really the duke’s, of course—
that she longed for. In Olivia’s mind, it would fix all of her problems with
creditors and unpaid bills at the dress shop and the milliner’s.
Then she would be on top again, superior, a cruel princess looking out over
an empire of dust.
For now, though, she had to attack the root of the problem. She had come to
this little secret garden to think on a course of action, once and for all. She
knew her anger was overtaking her again. She made a conscious effort to
calm herself.
I must think.
The marriage, of course, was the thing. It had to go through. Otherwise,
there was no hope of a cash windfall.
Christina’s allowance was even more paltry than her own, and the estates
entailed to her would not be turned over until she reached the age of twenty-
five. Until then she was as much a pauper as Olivia herself. Leonard was
their only hope.
They must wed, that much is certain. Who is this duke anyhow? Who is he,
to be so rash and uppity, to push aside my cousin? For what? Some
outdated sense of responsibility? A morbid fascination with some lineage
he himself will never live to see?
Slowly, finally, a plan began to take shape in Olivia’s mind. It was simple,
and it hinged solely on her mistrust of people in general—her belief, so
peculiar to sinners, that because she was weak and capricious, everyone
else must be, too.

504
He is only a man, after all, she thought. And what is a man, after all, other
than a miserable little pile of secrets, or a hairy sack of urges.
Those are easy enough to appeal to, and I will put on a mask of womanly
concern to do so. I will beg him to reconsider his position, to back away
from his demands for the sake of love. And for Christina’s sake, of course.
But really for my own.
A slow, hungry smile spread across her face. Her pacing had long stopped,
and now, with cat-like grace she plucked a winter rose from its stem, the
desiccated petals falling quickly to the ground.
And she laughed a tinkling laugh, quite pleased with her little scheme
indeed.

Olivia already knew where Leonard was likely to be found, for she kept an
ear out for such things. The man was a creature of habit, and when wounded,
such as he was, would no doubt retreat to the place where his wounds could
best be licked: his study.
She went there and stood outside the door for a moment, listening. She could
hear the rustle of papers, and then a soft murmuring, as if he was talking to
himself, assuming it was indeed Leonard.
In keeping with her rather sneaky nature, Olivia opened the door ever so
slightly on silent hinges until a crack appeared, one just wide enough for her
to look through with a single eye.
She saw Leonard sitting in a big leather chair next to a small wooden table.
He looked miserable. A book was lying open in his lap, its spine pointing
upward, but it seemed completely abandoned, as if it had not been read for
quite some time.
Leonard himself was staring aimlessly out the window, his chin in his hand,
looking like the perfect picture of the lovesick groom.
The sight was almost more than Olivia could bear. She found Leonard to be
absolutely wretched, a weakling, and it made her stomach turn.
Still, she would have to put on a friendly and concerned air if her scheme
was to work. She knocked softly on the already-open door and stepped

505
slowly into the room.
“Oh, Olivia! I barely heard you wrapping.” Leonard stood up to receive her,
knocking the book from his lap, and it tumbled to the floor. He stopped a
moment, and then he looked at it, as if wondering if he should pick it up.
What an oaf, Olivia thought to herself as he stepped over to her and took
her hand. She felt the fleeting brush of his lips, and Olivia suppressed a
shudder.
She quickly turned her little moment of distaste into a sympathetic frown,
and then Olivia patted him on the shoulder.
“Dear Leonard, you must be having a terrible time. Please, let us sit so that
we may talk.”
“Yes—yes, of course,” he said. His face had fallen the moment Olivia
mentioned his present troubles, and he seemed all lost in himself again, just
as he’d been when Olivia had spied him staring dully out the window.
This should be easy, she thought.
He led her to the small sitting corner where he’d been a moment ago, and
Leonard motioned to the other large leather chair that sat opposite his own
on the square of carpet. She sat down primly, her back straight and her
hands placed stiffly on her knees, and Olivia looked at him seriously.
“Please do not take this the wrong way, Leonard, but you seem much the
worse for wear over this terrible spat you’re having,” she said.
Leonard sighed, looked down wretchedly at his lap. “I know it is true,
Olivia. It is tearing me apart inside. But I am afraid it is no mere spat
between us. I have done a terrible thing and I am paying for it. I am losing
my love, and it is what I deserve.”
Inwardly, Olivia laughed a rotten laugh. Look at this poor fool, castigating
himself like a monk with a flail. Does he know that with his wealth and
position he could have practically any woman he wants? Why does he
pine for Christina so? He truly is a blithering fool.
But she reached out to take his hand, and spoke to him in a low, sympathetic
voice.
“Dear Leonard, do not speak so. You deserve none of this. It is good for a
man to have convictions.”

506
He grimaced. “But oh, what are they to me now? I could never marry
another. The line will surely die with me, or else pass to my wicked uncle
James, who will no doubt tarnish it beyond repair.”
Here was the chink in the armor the she was looking for! How easy it would
be now, to turn him to her own will.
“I would never say it myself,” she assured Leonard sweetly, “but perhaps
there is an inkling of truth in it. Perhaps you are right, Leonard. I mean . . .
what if you were? Isn’t it better to have what you want than to have
nothing?”
He look up from his lap then with a quizzical look on his face.
“What do you mean, Olivia?”
“Well, is there not one thing you could do to return these affairs to order? To
ease your heart as it breaks now? Go to her! Apologize, if you must, and
give in to her desires!”
For a moment Leonard had looked hopeful, but now the pained expression
returned to his face. He lowered his head again and spoke, muffled, into his
lap.
“She would never forgive me, never except my apology. It is hopeless, truly
hopeless! Thank you for your kind aid, Olivia, you truly are a good woman,
but there is nothing that can be done.
“She will leave, of course, and find someone else to marry, someone good
and kind. And I will die, old and alone, here in this study, surrounded by
dusty books. “
The wheedling course Olivia had taken was struck asunder by these words.
If there was one thing Olivia could not stand it was a self-pitying man.
She stood suddenly and drew herself up to her full height—which wasn’t
much, but the fire in her breast seemed to add a few necessary inches.
“Leonard Rose! All of this moping does not become you! My cousin told me
you were a brave, upstanding man, and she is not one to lie!”
Leonard was suddenly galvanized at the sound of the small woman’s voice,
bold and commanding as it was. He look at her seeming to tower over him,
and he tried to speak but was instantly cut off.

507
“I suggest,” Olivia went on snidely, “that if you wish to live up to that
standard and do something about your current predicament, you stand up this
instant!”
Leonard stood. It felt as if his muscles and bones were not his own to
command, but he stood.
“Good!” said Olivia. “Now, act like a man! Confess to the errors of your
ways! Own up to your mistakes!”
Leonard flinched, then seemed to take in what Olivia was saying. He looked
at her for a moment, his eyes wide.
“You’re right,” he said, in some awe.
“Of course I’m right!” she snapped. “Now, chin up, head straight! And wipe
your tunic down please—it has crumbs on it!”
All this he did, as if he were a little boy to command.
“Now go! Find Christina! Apologize for your wrongdoing! Grovel if you
have to, beg and debase yourself, if she is that important to you. Go now!”
A smile spread across Leonard’s lips, and suddenly he seemed charged with
new energy. Then, much to Olivia’s horror, he stepped forward and
wrapped her in an enormous bear hug, lifting her off her feet.
“Thank you! Oh, thank you, Olivia! That was exactly what I needed to hear!”
he shouted, swinging her around as her tiny legs kicked helplessly.
“Get off me, you great oaf! Put me down this instant!”
Leonard plopped her down on her feet again and bowed deeply to her.
“I shan’t forget this.”
Then he was off, rushing out the door so quickly it seemed as if it might fly
off the hinges.
Olivia sat down heavily, fanning herself with her hand. She tucked a stray
tress, dislodged just now, back into her bun. Leonard’s display of emotion
and his . . . touch had left her stricken.
How awful! What a clumsy man! He pours out his feelings like a child, for
all to see! This ploy had better work—if Christina does not forgive him, I
shall have endured all this for nothing.

508
She huffed quietly at the thought of it. Then, straightening her skirts, she
stood up and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

They met in the middle of the hallway, the one connecting the two eaves of
the manor. Leonard and Christina, each sent on desperate errands,
manipulated in the most awful ways possible.
They stopped just inches from one another, breathless, with each wishing to
be the first to apologize.
“I was so wrong . . .” Leonard began, but he could barely get the words out
before Christina jumped in.
“I’m so sorry!’ she exclaimed.
Then, suddenly, they both paused, and finally they stopped entirely.
They waited a moment and tried again, and once again the whole thing
turned into a mess.
“I will do whatever it takes,” Leonard said.
“No, no—it is I who must change,” Christina insisted.
Finally they were able to synchronize themselves, and they blurted out the
truth together, as if in chorus.
“I was wrong and I am sorry!”
They looked at each other then, confused, but still determined in their task.
Finally Leonard took it upon himself to fully say his piece.
“I am so terribly sorry, my dear! You were right this whole time. There is no
sure way to safeguard against the future. There is no way to know what will
happen. Those days are ultimately out of our control.
“Of course our most precious mission is to guard poor Edward, to bring him
up as our own and keep him safe and secure. I was blinded by my own
worries. I can only beg your forgiveness!”
He took her hands in his own and looked deeply into her eyes. But Christina
had her own piece to say, and she, too, was not to be postponed or put off.

509
“Oh no, Leonard! No, it was I who was wrong. I was filled up with an
impractical urge, and I let it overwhelm me.
“There is no need to apologize, my love. Of course you need to secure your
line, and of course there are other, better options for little Edward! I can
only hope you will forgive me for my rashness!”
Once again, Leonard felt the urge to jump in. “No dear, it cannot be. You are
right in your impulses, in this I will not be shaken. Your good cousin has
done me a wonderful turn in showing me the error of my ways.”
“My—my cousin?” Christina was instantly puzzled.
Who could he be talking about? Surely not Olivia? A more wicked
creature was never wrought on earth.
And yet she had no other cousins at the estate. No other cousins to speak of
at all, really, except ones far off and barely spoken to the year round. What
was going on here?
“Yes, my love, your very dear cousin Olivia came to speak to me just now
in my study! She spoke very plainly, and with an open heart, and was frank
with me, just as I needed. She is an angel, I must say. Her care and regard
for you knows no bounds!”
Christina stopped him with a wild shake of her head, trying to contain her
fury.
“It—it cannot be so! Why, just the other day, before our argument, she
wished a terrible rue on me. Whatever did she say to you?”
Leonard was taken aback. Olivia, speaking to Christina in that way? There
must be some confusion.
“Why, only that I was being stupid,” he said. “Which I was! She very
pointedly reminded me that my marriage to you was the most important
thing.”
Christina blanched. She was putting it together now. “Of course she did, the
sly minx! That is her only chance at your fortune. Through me! And the only
way I would have access to it is if we are wed!
Another wild shake of her head followed. “Of course she pressed you into
seeing the error of your ways. It was all part of her plan! She must’ve nearly
crumbled when she heard the wedding might be called off!”

510
Leonard could hardly believe his ears. “Are you quite sure, my dear?” he
asked. “She seemed so sweet and steadfast, so very concerned.”
Christina laughed, sharply and without humor.
“Of course she was concerned, Leonard. Concerned for her own skin. I have
known her since we were both children, her entire life, and mine. She has
not an altruistic bone in her body. She would never do anything—certainly
nothing as noble as you describe—without some ulterior motive.
“Besides,” she went on, “she came to me just days ago to demand a ‘fair
share’ of your wealth.”
And with that, she told Leonard all about her conversation with her cousin.
His face fell. Could it be so? Could I really be deceived so easily? It was
an uneasy feeling, that much was sure. He would not soon forget it.
But there was a silver lining, of course. Though it was wrought by
deception, this new feeling he’d had on the subject of baby Edward was
quite genuine. That much was true, undeniably so. This he told Christina,
with a grin on his face.
“Isn’t it wonderful, darling? We shall keep the baby, and . . .”
Then something occurred to him, something he had missed at first, and that
was when Leonard realized how wrapped up he’d been in his own new
outlook and his rush to apologize.
“But dear, have you changed your mind as well? How can it be?”
“Yes, my love!” said Christina. “I am glad you feel differently, but there is
no need. I have ruminated on it long enough. And I had a joyous revelation.
But it would never have occurred if not for that fine, upstanding man, a true
prince, your Uncle James!”
“Why—why, the blackguard!”
They looked at one another, stunned, and finally Christina and Leonard both
broke into a round of hysterical laughter.
And after that they had a light, jocular conversation about the ways of
scheming relatives, and the tangled webs they attempted to weave.

511
The shutters of the estate, all of them, were opened with great gusto just as
the day broke and the sun peaked through from the heavens.
The manor seemed to wake all at once— manservants could be seen on the
back lot, lugging great boxes and sacks on their shoulders, each filled with
an abundance of food, potatoes and cabbages, meats of all kinds, cases of
wine and champagne, and exotic ingredients shipped from all over, saffron
and coriander and cracked cumin seed.
Maids bustled about, dusting every inch of the house, and they threw up the
rugs and laid them down again, turning the vases on their stands. And after
that they stood on tiptoe, determined to run a rag across the top of every
single bookshelf.
Outside a slow trickle of carriages began arriving; soon it would become a
torrent. It was Christmas Day, and there was to be a wedding.
And off in the distance, there were two other carriages, one off to the east,
the other to the west, both heading away from the manor.
Those carriages, of course, contained Uncle James and Cousin Olivia, both
of whom had been banished from the manor for their treacherous schemes.
Meanwhile, the wedding was on once again, and Leonard and Christina
found that their love for each other had deepened after overcoming this bout
of adversity.
Their triumph made them giddy as children, but even in the midst of their joy
they were careful to remember the issue at hand—the fate of the bouncing
baby boy who’d made their way into their lives.
Ultimately, though, little Edward’s fate proved to be an easy decision, for
Leonard found himself in the same frame of mind he’d been in when he’d
rushed to find Christina.
But he didn’t make the choice to keep Edward and designate him a proper
heir just to appease her. This decision, too, was part of Leonard’s love for
Christina, and it was an action he took wholeheartedly, with no doubt or
skepticism about the result.
After all, it was Providence that had placed the boy at their doorstep. The
entire matter was obviously just a piece of God’s divine plan, and Leonard
was not going to stand in the way of that—in fact, he was going to embrace
it without fear.

512
He’d reiterated this to Christina several times since their fateful meeting in
the hallway, and Leonard’s decision certainty had only increased the depth
of their love for one another.
In this way they became a family, save for a bit of paperwork.
When all the joyous keening was complete, there remained a few details that
had to be sorted out. Most of these involved informing various relatives of
their plan, and they were careful to limit this part of the affair to those they
were sure they could trust.
The house held its collective breath as the preparations ended. A light snow
had begun to fall.
The guests gathered in the great ballroom, now converted to host the pews
and the other places where people would sit. A million candles seemed to
warm the room, their orange light filling every dark corner with
illumination. Outside the world was gray and silent and still.
Jane sat in the front row with a rapt baby Edward bouncing on her knee.
Among them sat the aunts and uncles, the cousin and second cousins, the
earls and dukes of import from across the counties.
They all watched Leonard as he stood in his black tails and his gray tie,
standing at the altar to greet his bride.
And when she emerged from her chambers and began her walk down the
twisting staircase, she looked like an angel made of shimmering white light.
Christina took each step with careful grace, her white shoes glaring
brilliantly, the hem of her white dress shifting and whirling like newly fallen
snow on a frozen pond.
She found her way to the altar and grasped hands with the man she loved,
who looked into her eyes and seemed to dwell there, and in her heart, from
that moment onward.
She said the words of the ceremony as the vicar read and intoned the
prayers, her eyes never leaving his for a moment.
And then it was done, and her world filled with joy everlasting, the warmth
of their two beating hearts and their everlasting love overcoming the chill of
the gently falling snow that enveloped the manor.

513
THE DUKE, THE LADY AND THE HOLIDAY
FEAST

By

Abigail Haversham

©Copyright 2016 Abigail Haversham

All Rights Reserved

514
 CHAPTER 54

Byron Pemberton, the Duke of Chestershire, eyed a group of dancers across

the room. He was pleased that this year’s Harvest Moon Ball was so well
attended, particularly by some comely ladies he had never seen before.
As he admired the figure of a particular woman before him, he became
acutely aware of someone standing nearby clearing his throat. He turned his
head slowly to the left.
“Lord Ludlow,” he said, recognizing the fellow in his proximity. I’m
pleased you were able to attend this evening’s festivities.”
Byron was acquainted with the Earl of Ludlow, though he didn’t know him
well. He could generally plan to see him when he threw this yearly
gathering after the last fall harvest, and on occasion at summer balls thrown
by others about the country.
The earl was a bit forward, but not unkind or ill-behaved, and his wife had
a pleasant enough demeanor.
“Oh, yes. We’re happy to be here, of course, your Grace. You remember my
wife, Lady Ludlow, I presume.”
The duke bowed to Lady Ludlow, and to the lord. The earl continued.
“And may I introduce you to my daughter? This is Lady Josephine.”
The earl gestured to a woman standing nearby, close to a table that was
crowded with refreshments. She smiled, but didn’t speak. It took a moment
for the duke to realize she was, in fact, chewing something.

515
“Pleased to meet you, M’Lady,” Byron replied, and then he bowed. She
curtseyed in response, and he had the impression she was still in the process
of downing a bite of something or other.
“Your Grace. My father has only kind things to say about you, “Josephine
said. “I was so looking forward to this annual festivity. He and my mother
have spoken of it for years.”
“The pleasure is mine. I’m happy to host such a gathering while the weather
holds out, and before the chill of the winter months prevents those from
further off from attending.”
Byron smiled at the lady. Her appearance was not entirely without merit, but
the fullness of her cheeks was off-putting to him. He realized she must be
somewhat new to the social scene, for Byron had never seen her at this
particular ball before. She also looked quite young.
“Duke, she’s too polite to ask, but, if I may, my daughter is wondering about
the type of fruit in these delicious tarts.”
The earl gestured toward the table, and Byron stifled an eye roll. He wasn’t
surprised to learn the lady was interested in the food.
Between the chewing and the roundness of her figure, her interest in eating
was apparent. And the color that rose up across her collarbones when she
averted her eyes was not unattractive.
“Forgive me. I actually don’t know, to be quite frank. Certainly, I could ask
for you.”
Lady Josephine took a breath and smiled at him.
“It’s not terribly important. More of a curiosity. I like to experiment with
flavors is all. Nothing too serious . . . just a hobby of mine.”
“Indeed.” The foursome stood together for a quiet, amiable moment,
watching the dancers.
“Well, perhaps you will have time later in the evening to dance with me,
Lady Josephine? Do you dance? In the meantime, I would be remiss in not
greeting more of my guests.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
Lady Josephine curtsied again, and after a quick bow, the duke strode

516
toward two ladies across the room with whom he was already acquainted.
He wondered at himself, asking Lady Josephine to dance so early in the
evening, but he hoped he could disappoint her if he became occupied
elsewhere and had no time for her. She seemed amiable enough, and was not
unlike her parents in her pleasantness.

“Ah, ladies, so good of all of you to come!”

The duke smiled at the trio of women, standing at the edge of the dancers.
Lady Rosalie was the daughter of the Earl of Crutchley. Her cousin, Lady
Imogen, was the daughter of Marquess Fothergill.
The two traveled as a pair, mostly, although they also turned up occasionally
as part of a larger pack of ladies.
Recently, the duke had been deciding whether or not to woo Lady Imogen.
Her appearance was quite pleasing to him—dark hair, fair skin, and pink
lips. She was an excellent conversationalist, and according to her they
shared a mutual interest in going for walks and horseback riding.
While he was by no means interested in making a formal offer to any woman
just yet, he could see himself spending more time with Lady Imogen.
Certainly, the Marchioness of Fothergill made no secret of the fact that she
would approve of the match.
“Your Grace,” Imogen said, greeting him with a pleasant smile. “You look
well. Recovered from our last meeting, I presume. I daresay, you had more
enjoyment than drink, but plenty of drink as well.”
The duke laughed. “Indeed, more than I ought to have, but no worse for the
wear.”
“Tell us,” Lady Rosalie asked, “How did you manage to pull Lady
Josephine away from her kitchen?”
Byron smiled at the odd reference. “Do you know her? We’ve only just been
introduced, though I’ve met her parents on occasion in the past.”
“Know her?” Rosalie replied. “Of course. Despite the impropriety of it, my
cousin and I dined on the most succulent goose of our lives at her dinner
party not a fortnight ago.”

517
The duke considered this for a moment.
“Really now?” he said, his interest piquing slightly, for the reference to the
goose sparked his appetite a bit. “I had no idea. She asked me about the
tarts, but I’ve no idea what’s in them.”
“Oh, yes. Her talents are unmatched. She’s sharp witted as well. I thought
her an excellent hostess. Wouldn’t you agree, Imogen?”
“I would. Really, I am most surprised you were unaware of her, your
Grace.”
Byron decided to inquire further. “Is she not just recently out then? I thought
I was aware of all the ladies nearby, and those from afar as well.”
“She’s two and twenty, I think,” Rosalie said. “I don’t know how she
slipped your notice.”
“Well, her beauty is nothing to yours, ladies. Perhaps you simply obscured
her with your sheer brilliance.”
Byron knew his comment was a tad forward, but he felt comfortable among
these ladies after so many years. “Forgive me if that sounded a bit
untoward. Lady Imogen, would you dance with me?”
Imogen smiled at him and then blushed a bit, which pleased Byron
immensely. As the music started, they joined the other couples on the floor.
Only when he glanced around did he realize Josephine may have overheard
him, for she’d remained nearby during the exchange.
He wheeled Imogen around the dance floor, and she smiled at how
accomplished he was. Byron was about to make conversation when Imogen
asked him a question.
“So, you really had not heard of Lady Josephine’s talents before?”
“No. I’m not even certain I knew the earl had a daughter.”
“That is hard to believe,” Imogen said.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Your Grace, don’t sound so innocent. Surely you know all the ladies within
a hundred mile radius are aware that you know of them?”
“I’m sure that can’t be true. I’m simply a friendly gentleman . . . with a

518
knack for being pleasant, I should hope.”
“Indeed.”
The couple danced a bit more, and Byron took in the sights around him.
They all moved together as a solid mass of carefully planned movement, and
in many ways it really was quite lovely.
Then he caught the eye of the Earl of Birtwhistle, who was dancing with
Rosalie.
“They make a handsome pair, don’t they?” He nodded toward them,
wondering what Imogen’s thoughts would be.
“Oh, Rosalie must be thrilled,” she replied. “She was quite taken with him
after the last dinner on his estate.”
He smiled an acknowledgment, but Lady Imogen didn’t appear as happy as
he expected her to be. On the next turn, he saw his friend Viscount Hawtrey
dancing with Lady Josephine, and he noticed that they both appeared to be
in particularly high spirits.
“I’m glad to hear of your cousin’s happiness,” Byron commented, growing
slightly bored. “As you must be.”
“Certainly.” The dance came to a close, and Imogen curtseyed and then
excused herself. The duke looked around, ready to seek out another partner
when Viscount Hawtrey found him.
“I must congratulate you on another excellent ball, “he said by way of
greeting. “How are you, Pemberton?”
“We’re surrounded by merriment and fine friends,” he replied heartily.
“How could I be anything but happy?”
“Ah. You forgot the beautiful ladies and delicious food and drink.”
The two men laughed, and then the viscount spoke. “Speaking of both such
things, I am glad to see Lady Josephine finally ventured out. I love her
dinners, but I’m so glad to have an opportunity for a dance with her.”
Byron pursed his lips, slightly annoyed. “How is it this lady has been kept a
secret from me? I’ve only just met her this evening.”
“To be fair, Pemberton, she does not fit the visage of the ladies whose

519
company you normally seek out.”
He frowned, but Byron realized his friend’s comment was probably
accurate. He did have a preference for beauty and fairness, and there were
times when Byron wondered if that made him a bit shallow.
“I suppose you have something there. Even still, it seems I should perhaps
extend an invitation to dance, even though I’d intended to spend most of the
evening with Lady Imogen this evening.”
“Can’t help you there, old chum,” the viscount said, noticing that Imogen
seemed to have drifted off to find other amusements. Then he changed the
subject slightly.
“Say,” Hawtrey said, nodding over toward Lady Rosalie, “Do you suppose
Lady Rosalie is serious with Birtwhistle?”
“I couldn’t say, Hawtrey.”
“Well, I’m off to find out.”
He patted the duke’s shoulder as he walked away, and once again Byron
scanned the room. He saw no sigh of Imogen, but Byron did notice that
Josephine was again standing near her father.
Opportunity strikes, then, he thought. Let’s give this a whirl.
He timed his move for the beginning of the next dance. “Lady Josephine,
would you care to join me for a set?”
She looked down and blushed, seeming surprised by his attentions.
“I’m not in the habit of saying ‘no’ to an accomplished partner, your Grace.
Excuse us, Father.”
The earl smiled graciously as Byron led Josephine onto the dance floor.
When the dance began, Byron was slightly surprised by her confidence on
the floor. He’d expected her to be a tad awkward given her roundness, but
Josephine was most graceful and light on her feet.
“Tell me, your Grace,” she said as they found their rhythm together. “How
often do you hold balls of such size here?”
“Twice yearly on a grand scale. And smaller groups on occasion,
particularly in the summer. I’m surprised you’ve not yet attended any

520
yourself. Your parents are regular fixtures.”
Once again Josephine blushed. “Well, I generally prefer a smaller party
with less fanfare.”
Byron smiled, and he decided to press her a bit to learn more about her
tastes. “You don’t enjoy a crowd to be lost in? I certainly like having a
variety of faces.”
Josephine lifted her brow slightly, but she remained silent. Then the duke
spoke again, eager to learn more.
“And why is that, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’m more of a private sort, for better or worse,” Josephine replied. “Large
gatherings tend to intimidate me a bit, so I rarely attend them.”
Well, that’s too bad, Byron thought. She certainly does seem worth getting
to know, though.
“Lady Rosalie tells me you are rather gifted in the kitchen,” he said,
deciding to explore a different avenue. “Is this true?”
“I’d like to think so. I’m certainly better there than behind the pianoforte,”
Lady Josephine laughed to herself, easily keeping up with the dancers on the
floor.
“I should definitely be interested in finding out more about all this, you
know,” Byron said, hoping it didn’t seem too obvious that he was trying to
wrangle an invitation of sorts.
“Perhaps, your Grace,” she replied, giving him a flirtatious grin. “Who
knows what the future holds? And I have been known to be quite whimsical
when it comes to culinary matters. . . when I’m feeling inspired, that is.”

Byron found himself thinking of Josephine often after their first dance, and
he couldn’t decide which way he was leaning in his preferences.
While Lady Josephine had proven herself well enough on the floor, her
shape and taste didn’t quite seem to suit him. Still, he wondered what a
dinner party hosted by the lady would be like, and he decided to put more of
his energy into securing an invitation.

521
Before he did, that, though, Imogen required his attention. Her hair was
pinned up in some kind of fancy curls, and for some reason that he couldn’t
explain Byron fancied them, perhaps due to the way they fell gracefully onto
her fair neck.
Handling Imogen was always a balancing act for Byron. She did require a
certain amount of attention, but Byron didn’t wish her to think he was bound
to her.
This was a typical problem for Byron. He enjoyed the company of a great
number of ladies, and he often found himself wondering if he could ever
focus on a single one.
Perhaps I’m too independent, he thought. Maybe even slightly vain? Will
there ever be one who truly captures my heart?
But Byron also knew he wasn’t an introspective sort. He looked around,
swelling with pride, and his thoughts turned in a different direction.
I do know how to throw a ball, though. And not just one filled with
temporary pleasures that will be instantly forgotten. The people who come
here will be coming for years, and they will have lasting memories of fun
and friendship, not to mention the wonderful wine and delicious food.
And that was why the Harvest Ball was so important to him. It would serve
as a reminder of the season, that this would be the last occasion where an
evening out would be easy with the winter chill coming on.
But there was more to it than that. His parents had thrown the first Harvest
Ball on this estate, and their legacy was important to him. They’d both died
before he was fifteen, and bringing the ball back a few years ago made him
feel connected to them.
Now it was a new tradition, one that Byron felt was his own. It carried the
import of the past and the promise of the future, and Byron was determined
to maintain both of those.
As much as he enjoyed the festivities, though, there was something else he
wanted. Someday I must bring back the great holiday feast my parents
hosted as a child, he thought.
Then Byron’s thoughts drifted back to those days. Goose, ham, venison, and
delicious vegetable concoctions, not to mention the wonderful pies he’d
found so delightful as a child, the likes of which he hadn’t enjoyed in nearly

522
a decade.
All of those would be served, and he would invite enough people that he
could be lost in a crowd. The holiday season had once been a wonderful
time of indulgence for the duke, but his parents’ deaths had ended that.
He’d often thought of ways to bring back those feasts, but Byron was quick
to realize that he simply didn’t have the wherewithal. It wasn’t a matter of
money or resources, more the fact that something like that was beyond the
capabilities of even his crack kitchen staff.
Perhaps I can change all that, though, he thought. And perhaps Lady
Josephine is the key to making that shift.
Then he realized he still had social obligations that required his attention.
He spied Imogen far across the floor, and another lady caught his eye,
perhaps a cousin of Viscount Cameron. Maybe Imogen wasn’t worth the
effort of another round of dancing.
He watched this cousin for a moment, observing her conversation with a
familiar gentleman whose name eluded him. Then, finally, Byron adjusted
his cuffs and moved toward her, trying to think of a way to jump into the
conversation.
As he did, though, Imogen approached from across the hall, and suddenly
Byron found himself in a bit of a bind. She caught his eye and met him just
before he reached this new lady, and Byron sighed halfway to his goal and
altered his path.
“Are you on your way to do something else, your Grace? You seem
disappointed to see me again.”
“Not at all. Are you still having a pleasant time?”
“Oh yes,” Imogen responded, looking at him expectantly.
Byron grimaced as he realized that Imogen wished for him to focus
exclusively on her. She could be a bit possessive at times, and Byron
decided to slow her down a bit on that front.
“Tell me, do you know that lady over there?” he asked, trying to keep his
tone light. “I believe she’s the cousin of the Viscount Cameron, if I’m not
mistaken.”
Imogen frowned, and then her expression turned petulant.

523
“Is that really what you’d like to discuss, your grace?”
He blinked. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
Suddenly she grew more animated, which was unusual for Imogen.
“Twice this evening you’ve asked me about other ladies,” she said, clearly
annoyed. “I thought perhaps you were going to ask me for a dance though.”
Byron wasn’t totally surprised she’d interpreted his question as a slight, and
he immediately decided to try to calm her lest a fire storm ensue.
“M’Lady, I assure you I meant nothing by it. I simply inquired because I’m
aware that you seem to know virtually everyone here.”
He smiled blandly, but Byron could tell immediately that his explanation
hadn’t fixed anything. Clearly, it was time to chart another course, and
quickly at that.
“Would you like to dance, then?” he asked.
She smiled brightly, happy to once again be the object of his attention. “Well
then . . . I do suppose I would,” Imogen said, giving him an exaggerated
curtsey.
Somehow Byron managed to keep his eyebrows from lifting. Beauty, thy
name is vanity, he thought. Comes with the territory, I suppose, but there
are times when it can be a bit of a pain.
He offered his elbow to Lady Imogen, and they moved toward the floor.
“Now that you are being properly attentive to me, your Grace,” she sniffed,
“I can give you an answer to your question.”
“My question?” he asked, having momentarily forgotten about the viscount’s
cousin.
“She is Lady Prunella, a cousin to Viscount Cameron,” Imogen replied.
“She’s engaged to one of the Dittons, I’m told. I’m not sure why. They
haven’t much in the way of wealth or stature. And he is rather a bore.”
This information threw a new light on this new prospect. “Curious that he
didn’t accompany her here this evening,” Byron observed as they moved
through a set of steps he knew well.
He looked across the room at the lady in question. Engaged, eh? Huh, he

524
thought, and here I thought she was available. Perhaps this is an affair I
should stay out of, then.
“That’s a trouble for her to worry about, though,” Imogen replied. “Not me.”
She looked across the room at the Earl of Birtwhistle again. This time, he
was standing near the edge of where the dancers were, looking rather
perturbed, and finally Byron realized that the earl was glaring at him.
“Indeed.” Byron moved along with the music, admiring Imogen’s easy
grace. He glanced up and caught Lady Josephine’s eye for a moment. He
didn’t know what to make of the face she made, so he turned his attention
back to Lady Imogen.
“Honestly, your Grace?” she said, looking slightly disgusted.
“What are you on about, Lady Imogen?”
“You just missed a turn. Did you hear what I said, or were you too busy
making eyes at Lady Josephine to hear me?”
“If anyone is committing such an offense as you describe, I do believe it’s
you, M’Lady. Or, more likely, it’s Birtwhistle distracting you—and much to
my chagrin, I must say.”
Imogen smiled broadly, as if she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “I
should hope you aren’t offended that a man about to declare his intention to
ask for my hand is looking on rather jealously.”
Though he didn’t miss a step, Byron felt stunned by Imogen’s declaration.
“Lady Imogen . . . I had no idea. Had I realized, I would never so
improperly requested a dance with you. How could you have accepted my
invitation?”
“He has not formally asked me anything, your Grace,” she said. “And, if I’m
being fully honest, I thought a bit of jealousy might cause him to ask more
expediently. I trust you don’t feel ill-used? I know you have no intentions as
far as I am concerned.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re so confident that I haven’t any feelings toward you in
that way,” Byron snapped, tiring of these little verbal games and ploys
based on jealousy.
But if he were to examine his feelings closely, Byron knew in his heart that

525
the lady was in fact correct; he didn’t intend to ask for her hand. However,
he did feel a bit used.
“Don’t look so angry, your Grace. It doesn’t suit you.”
“So. Are you telling me that Birtwhistle has made a definite promise? I
thought, not a few hours ago, that your cousin was dancing with him.”
She shrugged at the come-and-go of this sort of thing. “I am not at liberty to
say, your Grace,” she said. “In any event, I can certainly say his proposal
would be most welcome.”
“And, if I were to make you an offer?” Byron asked, unsure of why he’d
voiced the words even as he said them. He’d resolved many times this
evening that Imogen would not be his wife.
“You wouldn’t, your Grace.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Byron remained quiet for the remainder of their
dance. Just because she had refused him before he had a chance to make any
kind of intentions known, that was no reason to be downtrodden.
There were opportunities everywhere . . . they just had to be found and
realized.

In the days following the Harvest Ball, the Earl of Ludlow and his wife
were upon their daughter, asking her about how much she enjoyed herself
there with such frequency that she regretted attending.
It started in the carriage, even before the horses had begun to move.
Were there any particular gentlemen you danced with?
Weren’t the refreshments lovely?
Would you like to attend the next ball the duke puts on?
Are you and Lady Rosalie friends now? You certainly seemed to enjoy one
another’s company more than before?
By the time they arrived back at the manor, Josephine felt nearly assaulted.
After the initial ride home she stayed locked in her room, or hidden away in
the kitchen, for three days.

526
Finally, upon emerging, she slid into the morning room. Her mother
followed soon thereafter.
“You’ve got something on your sleeve, dear,” Lady Ludlow said, scolding
her daughter. “Is that, flour? Were you in the kitchen again?”
Josephine examined her sleeve. “It’s just a bit of a dusting. I must have
gotten it while I was rolling the dough for some goose tarts. You’ll love
them!”
Lady Ludlow sighed at her daughter’s endless capacity for inventiveness in
the kitchen.
“What more can I eat? You’ve already fed your father and I breakfast. Why
do we even employ a cook these days?”
“You hate half the things I cook,” Josephine shot back, thinking of the cheese
she’d made a fortnight ago.
“I swear, you’d rather marry a fattened pig and cook it than find yourself a
husband.” Florence kept her voice low, speaking calmly from their settee.
She continued working on her needlepoint, never looking at her daughter.
Josephine didn’t want to let on how much her mother’s words cut her. She
had always been considered plain. While she could draw a fair bit and her
voice was not terrible, she was by no means as accomplished as some
ladies of her stature.
The facts, though, were as plain as her features—her most attractive
qualities were her intelligence and her flair for cooking.
And neither was particularly valued by most gentlemen in search of a wife.
In many ways, she would prefer to spend her time preparing the courses of
an elaborate dinner than doing the work necessary to find a husband.
“Mother, have you any suggestion as to how I can meet a suitable husband
that is better than inviting them to here to show them I’m talented in the
kitchen?” Lady Josephine asked her mother from her seat at the writing desk
near a window.
“You could pretend to be interested in the same things as other ladies such
as yourself.” Lady Ludlow didn’t look up from her needlepoint.
Josephine considered this. What was it that other young ladies did with their
time that she didn’t do?

527
She could take up more stitching, she reasoned. Perhaps she could learn to
enjoy walking more. Then again, if she were to be on her feet, she’d much
rather be cooking.
“Mother, don’t you want me to be happy?”
“I want to see you taken care of,” her mother said, answering the question
only indirectly. “And happy, of course. But you can learn to be happy in
many ways.”
Then Lady Ludlow looked up and shook her head.
“Do you understand how . . . uncustomary it is that you insist upon doing the
work our cook does? We have a certain level of reputation to uphold, my
dear.”
Josephine sighed, and then she rolled her eyes at her mother’s statement.
“I hardly saw anyone being critical after my last dinner party,” she said,
smiling to herself.
“I’ve received three requests in the post for invitations to my next. And
there were several interested people, all of whom are well-bred and up to
your standards, who hinted around, looking for an invitation during the
Harvest Ball.”
“But would a noble really be willing to consider you after such an
invitation?” Florence replied, and this time it was her turn to roll her eyes.
“Really, my dear.”
“I care not a whit about that,” Josephine declared, holding her head high.
“For this is what makes me happy.”
Once again Florence sighed and took a deep breath. “If you received an
offer of marriage as the result of your cooking, then I should very much like
to encourage it,” she said. “But we both know that won’t happen. A man is
interested in how well read you are--”
“I am well read, Mother!”
Lady Ludlow continued as if her daughter hadn’t spoken. “If you can manage
a household, if you can sing or play the pianoforte. These are the qualities a
gentleman wants in a wife.
"Any gentleman worthy of you will be able to afford a cook. He doesn’t

528
need you to feed him.”
Then Florence paused to deliver the final cutting blow. “And you’d do well
to feed yourself less if you’re going to attract a man with any resources or
appeal.”
Josephine winced. “That was unnecessary,” she said softly, and she took a
deep breath to keep back the tears before continuing.
“I suppose you’re right—a gentleman you would approve of could afford a
cook. But a cook won’t win me favor amongst the other ladies.
“However, Lady Rosalie wrote to me to thank me for the last meal I served
here, and she’s extended to me an invitation the next time she goes to buy
new ribbons. If I were so unconventional, would she write such
correspondence?”
Josephine held her breath. This argument, she knew, would hold weight. But
would her mother allow it?
Lady Rosalie’s father, the Earl of Crutchfield, was a long-time rival of her
father’s. While they had an amicable relationship, their wives were often at
odds.
For as long as she could remember, Josephine had been compared, and not
favorably, to Lady Rosalie.
“It is good the two of you appear to be embarking on a friendship,” Florence
said, backing off slightly after her untoward comment about her daughter’s
size. “No doubt, her mother has become less outspoken against me as of
late.”
“Mother.” Josephine pursed her lips, determined to finally put all this
verbal jousting to rest. “Hear me now, and hear me well.
“I’m going to host another dinner. And, this evening perhaps, I will return to
the kitchen. Because I enjoy it.”
Florence glared at her, realizing this argument between them was both
circular and endless.
“I wish you could just learn to crochet better, or occupy yourself with
something more appropriate,” she said finally.
Josephine pondered on this for a moment. She supposed she could make

529
herself more appropriate, but she knew it would make her miserable.
And to what end? What would the purpose be?
She could be more appealing to a shallow gentleman who deemed her
unworthy for being capable, and in exchange for those attentions, she could
be unhappy. There was nothing the least bit appealing in this idea, so
Josephine summarily rejected it.
She stood up in front of her mother. “I’m going to go confirm a date with
Father. I’m certain he’ll be glad for me to host a dinner party here. And
soon.”
And with that, Josephine turned and left the room.

“Hawtrey, why must you leave so soon?”

Byron was irritated that his friend had come to visit, but was apparently
only using him as a stopover. They were sipping some claret by the
fireplace after Hawtrey’s late arrival, and Hawtrey had already told his
friend he’d only be staying two nights.
“I’ve an invitation to visit the Earl of Ludlow. He’s requested I come to
visit and discuss some business or other.”
Then he leaned in toward Byron before continuing. “Between you and I, I
am suspicious there may be more to it, but I don’t think he’ll be
disappointed if I keep the discussion about business. He’s generally a
convivial man, wouldn’t you say?”
“A most amiable man, to be sure,” Byron replied. “But what is so urgent that
you must run off after only a day? You always stay for at least a few nights.
I’d had a plan for us to take to some archery. I’ve already requested the
targets be set.”
“Tomorrow morning we could. Or, another time, perhaps. If you must know,
Lady Josephine is cooking, and her father has extended me an invitation to
dine. And that, I assure you, is worth an early departure from your
company.”
“How uncouth of you, Hawtrey. Giving up on my hospitality for a veritable
stranger.”

530
“She’s no stranger. And I think you’re just jealous because she’s never yet
invited you for a meal. Why is that, do you suppose?”
“Perhaps because none of my friends have told her I would be interested in
attending. It would be more improper for me to ask for an invitation than it
already is that she herself is cooking the food. Wouldn’t you say?”
“If I had to say, Pemberton, I would say that you should admire her talents in
the kitchen before you judge what is and is not proper.”
“Very well. Perhaps you can write to her and tell her that you have a guest
you’d like to bring?”
“I’ll take it under consideration. But, don’t count on her agreeing. She’s a
strong-minded lady.”
“You’re joking, right?” Byron shook his head, unable to believe that any
lady would consider him unwelcome as a dinner guest.
“Of course, I’ll write to the earl and see if he can extend the invitation to
you as well,” Hawtrey said finally. “She may not be too pleased though,
with a last-minute change.”

When this occurred, Josephine fretted over the seating of her dinner party. It
was to be an even number including her parents, two neighbors, and
Viscount Hawtrey, a guest her father had invited.
Now, with only a handful of hours notice, he’d added another guest to the
list. She nearly always cooked more food than necessary, so that wasn’t the
problem. On the surface, it was simply a matter of who would sit where,
and keeping cantankerous guests at opposite ends of the table.
But Josephine knew that odd number made for an awkward party. She
planned her occasions carefully, and once again Josephine went down the
list of names, making sure there would be no inadvertent conflicts or
awkwardness.
When she was finally done, Josephine found herself satisfied with the new
arrangement. She sighed with relief, for this gave her the freedom to return
to her beloved kitchen, where Josephine proceeded to taste the stew she’d
made the day before to tide her over until everyone arrived.

531
Once ensconced in the kitchen, Josephine felt her tensions leave her. She
knew her mother had good intentions, but her approach, and Josephine's
reactions, were regrettable.
Her father’s behavior was questionable, mostly because she didn’t know if
this addition to their party was the fulfillment of the request from the
viscount, or if he earnestly wanted to include this additional guest.
Josephine rolled these thoughts around in her head for a bit, until finally she
caught the sweet aroma of the fresh bread she’d baked earlier.
This is heaven itself, she thought, inhaling deeply. If I can be surrounded
by this scent constantly, what need would I ever have for a husband?
Then Josephine surveyed all her various dishes. She walked from one bowl
and container to the next, sampling bits, and that was when Josephine
decided to simply enjoy herself this evening.
Mother and I will always be at odds, she thought. And all of this is what
allows me to endure her many digs and jibes about my appearance and
preferences.
Finally, she decided to look at this new guest as a bit of an adventure. She
had all the freedom she needed, and besides, even if she did remain
unmarried, her father would still provide for her, for the earl doted on her
constantly.
So she would simply relax and savor the occasion. The dishes were ready,
and Josephine had carefully instructed the staff about the details of proper
serving.
All that was left was the arrival of her audience—the guests who would
partake in her art by enjoying the food she’d prepared.

Byron and Hawtrey arrived at the earl’s estate later than Byron anticipated.
They’d taken his new gig, and one of Byron’s younger horses turned slightly
balky due to the chill in the air.
Despite this issue, the earl received them as though they were right on time.
“I am so glad that you were both able to come out. My daughter has planned
a most delectable menu, I must tell you. She gave me a preview of some

532
bread and rich butter not an hour ago. Absolutely delicious.”
He shook his head at the wonders of Josephine’s culinary skill.
“And yesterday, she prepared a stew that can keep this autumn chill away as
well as any fire. Not to mention . . . oh, listen to me. I should let her tell you
about the dishes in her own time. How was your journey across the acreage
up yonder?”
“It was an excellent ride in the new gig,” Hawtrey said, being most
charitable about the young horse’s issues. “Quite comfortable, though with
the sudden cold we kept a slower pace to account for the wind.”
Byron smiled, grateful for his friend’s charitable manner.
“I’ve always enjoyed the road between our homes,” he added. “Lovely
scenery, especially at this time of year.”
Then Byron proceeded to examine the trimmings of the earl’s home as they
took off their outer cloaks. Everything was of the highest quality, he noted
carefully, the walls elegantly papered and the furnishings polished to a
brilliant gleam.
“Can you forgive us if we usher you straight to the dining room?” the earl
asked once their cloaks had been taken. “We’re most eager to enjoy.
Viscount, I know you understand my excitement.”
The viscount bowed his head slightly at the earl, and Byron smiled, for the
two men couldn’t be more different in their appearance. The earl was short
and round, with hairy knuckles and dark hair, while Hawtrey was tall and
thin, with blond hair and fair skin.
“This way then,” the earl said, gesturing them down the hallway.
When they entered the greeting room, Byron quickly discovered that the
arrangement was most elegant indeed. The earl opened the door for them
and quickly embarked on the introductions.
“Everyone, this is the Duke of Chestershire and Viscount Hawtrey,” he
began. “Duke, Hawtrey, you remember Lady Ludlow and Lady Josephine, I
presume. And these are our neighbors, Lord and Lady Pye.”
Everyone stood to exchange pleasantries.
“Lady Josephine, I’m so glad to see you again,” Byron greeted her.

533
“I hadn’t expected to see you today,” Lady Josephine replied, stunned at the
identity of her mystery guest.
“Naturally, we’re thrilled you’re here, your Grace,” Lady Ludlow added,
giving her daughter a warning look.
Perhaps Hawtrey’s assessment was correct, Byron thought, and she was
rather unhappy that he’d been added to the guest list. Before long, they all
moved to the dining room.
“Dear daughter, please tell us what you’ve concocted for us this evening,”
the earl asked once everyone had settled.
With all eyes upon her, Lady Josephine beamed. The duke hadn’t noticed the
dimple in her left cheek at the ball, but now it accented her smile in such a
way that he thought was quite becoming.
She turned serious immediately, though.
“Forgive my pointing, ladies and gentlemen,” Josephine said before
remembering to smile again.
“Here you’ll see a saddle of mutton, cod fish, leg of lamb, sweetbreads,
pigeon, roast potatoes, and venison.”
She gestured to each dish in turn, and then spoke once more.
“In the interest of not keeping you in suspense, I’ll tell you that later we’ll
have oysters, trifle, ribs of pork, broccoli, a lemon jelly, apple puffs, celery
ragout, roast beef and a boiled turkey with an orange sauce, which is a new
dish for me. And, of course, a pudding for dessert.”
“And tarts?” the earl asked eagerly.
“Oh, Father, always tarts,” Josephine giggled.
Byron realized after a moment that Lady Josephine had not looked directly
at him. He was sure she had made eye contact with every other person at the
table. The mood of the room seemed upbeat and cheerful, and yet not a
single glance had come his way.
“Hawtrey here has told me the most marvelous things about your cooking,
Lady Josephine,” he said, deciding to interject himself directly into the
proceedings. “I so appreciate you allowing me to impose this afternoon.”

534
She has to look at me now, he thought.
“It’s so kind of you to say, your grace,” Lady Ludlow responded on her
daughter’s behalf.
Lady Ludlow’s interest in him was not uncommon. As a duke, the mothers of
all kinds of ladies often took an interest in him, although for a moment he
wondered if her attentions hadn’t been originally intended for Hawtrey.
Lady Josephine, he noticed, was smiling and whispering with Lady Pye. He
tried to catch her eye, but remained unsuccessful.
So he decided to turn his focus to his meal. The rich flavors of the roasted
meat were better than he’d ever had.
Hawtrey elbowed him in the side and smiled. “Did I not tell you? I can see
it all over your face.”
“Indeed. This is just . . . beyond delicious. Lady Josephine. You are a
marvel!”
“Isn’t she just?” the earl said, glowing with obvious pride. Josephine
smiled kindly at her father, receiving the compliment graciously.
“I am glad that the weather has remained mild,” she said, slightly
embarrassed by the directness of all the praise. “The chill in the air is
nothing compared to a frost that would kill the kitchen garden.”
Then, finally, Josephine turned her attention to the duke. “Do you have much
of a kitchen garden, your Grace?” she asked, somewhat abruptly, looking at
Byron.
“A fair one, I’d say. Our cook doesn’t complain, at least, and I appreciate
what she cooks.”
“How nice. I supposed an estate such as yours wouldn’t be lacking.”
The duke was thrown slightly off balance by her observation. No lady had
ever made such a direct inquiry to a specific aspect of his estate.
That certainly was odd, he thought. I can’t tell if Josephine is interested in
me and doesn’t know how to go about proper conversation, or simply
socially awkward.
Following this odd exchange, Josephine turned her attention to the other

535
guests.
“Viscount Hawtrey, is it true that Marquess Fothergill has consented to the
match between his daughter and the Earl of Birtwhistle?”
“To my knowledge, she has consented,” Hawtrey replied, nodding.
“Although, I don’t know if there’s been an official announcement yet.”
“How wonderful. I do hope they’re happy.” Her eyes went soft as she
considered this, and Byron smiled at her.
Ah, that’s it, then, he thought. She’s a romantic. And generous of spirit as
well.
Then Byron placed his fork down on the edge of his plate. In spite of the fact
that he and Imogen had been friends for many years, it had not occurred to
him to be happy for her.
Instead, he’d been hung up on the irritation, not to mention the blow to his
ego, that he felt when Imogen told him she would never marry him. It didn’t
matter that he didn’t want her to be his wife.
But, here was Lady Josephine, a sweet young lady who couldn’t have
known Imogen for long, and who could have viewed her as some kind of
competition, looking genuinely pleased to hear of the couple’s happiness.
“I’d like to think we’re all happy for them,” Hawtrey replied with a smile.
“Be honest, Hawtrey—is that simply because if Birtwhistle is spoken for
there are fewer men vying for the attention of attractive ladies?”
Byron laughed and looked around, realizing too late that no one else seemed
to find this joke amusing.
“Well, I won’t pretend to be aware that Birtwhistle will make an excellent
husband, but I am first and foremost happy to know of my friends’
happiness,” Hawtrey said, looking at his friend with a slight bit of
annoyance.
Byron heard Lady Ludlow sigh wistfully. Byron chided himself for his
selfishness, and he decided to be more generous of spirit.
“Indeed. I look forward to many years of their happiness together,” he said
finally, trying to recover, and Lord Pye nodded to him solemnly, willing to
lend an assist.

536
What was it about Lady Josephine that had him so off-kilter? She was
whispering with Lady Pye once again when he looked at her. Everyone
continued to eat in friendly silence for a few minutes.
“So, we are nearing Advent,” Josephine said amiably, wishing to bring the
upcoming holidays into the conversation. “I so look forward to lighting the
wreath on Sunday.”
Then Josephine looked around the table, attempting to address everyone at
once.
"Do any of you have interesting plans to celebrate the season?"
Hawtrey’s spirits brightened immediately, and once again Byron became
conscious of Josephine’s generosity of spirit.
She truly does wish to include everyone in the joy of this occasion she’s
experiencing, he thought.
"I plan to Christmas with my cousin. We do the same every year. My sister
and her children will be there as well. It's close to a full day's travel, but
well worth the time together," Hawtrey responded.
The earl and his wife smiled their acknowledgement and shared a knowing
look. Byron felt a small amount of jealousy at Hawtrey’s social
graciousness, which seemed natural and unimpeded.
"You know us, we'll be home,” Lord Pye said. “Perhaps we could stop up
for some caroling in a week or two?"
The Pyes were an older couple. Her white hair was elaborately styled, and
he was thin without seeming frail. Lord Pye gave Josephine a fetching smile,
and she grinned in a friendly fashion, making it clear that their friendship ran
deep and they were looking forward to this holiday engagement together.
Once again, Byron noticed Josephine’s dimple, and he became conscious of
her generosity of spirit once more. Not to mention her sweet demeanor,
which he had not noticed as he scanned the dance floor for other women the
night of the ball.
"Are you enjoying your meal, Duke?" the earl asked.
"It's marvelous. I had no idea a lady could have such talents,” Byron
replied, humbled.

537
Then he gave Josephine his most fetching smile.
“Seems more worthwhile than the pianoforte, wouldn't you agree?" he
asked, as he willed her to look at him.

Even though the food was successful and Josephine appeared quite
accomplished in her presentation, she was somewhat taken aback initially
by the duke’s appearance at the dinner party.
Part of her misgivings were due to the duke being a late addition to the guest
list, and it took some time for her to overcome being upended by the change.
But there was more to it than that. Josephine was well aware of the duke’s
fondness for beauty, and for comely ladies. She knew she was neither of
those, so at first Josephine willed herself not to look at him, and to focus on
her other guests.
Then he began paying attention to the food. This was not unexpected, for
virtually everyone who attended one of Josephine’s parties did this sooner
or later.
But there was something different about Byron’s approach. She liked the
softness of his eyes, and he wasn’t just another preening noble—when he
made a misstep socially he seemed quite aware of it and immediately sought
to make amends as best he could.
Then he surprised her completely near the end of the party. The affair was
definitely winding down; the servants were clearing away the finished
dishes, and tea and dessert were waiting in the wings.
Various guests were chatting amongst themselves when Byron approached
her.
"Lady Josephine, I must know,” he said, giving her a smile that was both
insistent and charming. “What is it you've done to this mutton that's so
different from how I normally have it?"
No one had ever approached her about her methods before, and despite her
awkwardness Josephine realized she couldn’t ignore him completely, nor
could her mother rescue her on this particular line of questioning.
"I use some particular herbs, and I roast it very slowly," she said, omitting

538
the specifics.
"Could I persuade you to write down its exact preparation for my cook? I
can't imagine myself ever enjoying mutton again if it's not like this."
The duke looked beseechingly at her, though, and for a moment she tried to
resist becoming immersed in his eyes, which were a most unusual shade of
azure.
"I suppose I could do that,” Josephine said finally. Then she decided to try a
flirtatious grin on him. “But it's not something I’ve ever done before, your
Grace."
In spite of her conviction to stay cool toward him, the duke really was
finding her soft spots.
“How would you like to go about this, then?” she asked.
“Please don’t trouble yourself about it for the moment,” Byron began. “But I
should be delighted if you could share it with me via post.
“I know it may look a tad improper from the outside, but I'm sure your
parents are amenable to this minor peculiarity in propriety.”
Josephine gave him a look that was slightly skeptical, so Byron continued.
“For the mutton,” he said. “And for me . . . for it would mean a great deal.”
Then Josephine looked around, and she realized that her parents were both
smiling and nodding. They’d caught the exchange as well as the nuances
behind it, and then Lady Ludlow smiled at the duke and then raised her
eyebrows at Josephine, who averted her eyes.
She’s going to get her hopes sky high, Josephine thought. Isn’t this the last
thing I need right now?
Still, at the moment she had no choice. Josephine new she was trapped,
socially speaking, and Byron was waiting patiently for her reply, smiling at
having attracted Lady Ludlow’s attention.
"I am happy to share the recipe with your cook, your Grace. What is her
name?"
Now that she was looking at him more deeply, his strong jawline and deep
blue eyes caught her attention. Had he been this handsome at the ball? She

539
couldn’t really remember.
"Oh, please, you can send it to me directly,” he said, turning his engaging
smile toward her.
Josephine was taken aback for a moment, but neither of her parents seem the
slightest bit concerned. Even Lord and Lady Pye, normally pillars of
propriety, seemed to think that writing to the Duke of Chestershire directly
was a perfectly fine thing to do.
"Very well." She resumed eating, but she didn't really taste the food.
Suddenly all she could think about was the duke’s smile and his eyes.
Perhaps there really is a world beyond the confines of my kitchen for me,
she thought. But I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much.
As the meal continued, complemented by small talk, everyone was in
pleasant spirits. By the time dessert concluded, though, the Pyes were
looking tired. Even the energetic Hawtrey, who was usually indefatigable,
looked as though he could use a rest of sorts.
"I hope you are all quite satisfied,” Josephine said, her social instincts
rising to the forefront as she realized that it was time to close out her small
affair. “I skipped the meringue today, for it seemed best to go with
something simpler.” "
"All of it has been perfectly lovely," Lord Pye said, offering her a smile as
he patted his wife's wrinkled hand.
"Thank you so much," Josephine said, thinking about the boundless affection
she had for her older neighbors. Bland though they seemed, she counted
them among a very small number of people who had only been kind to her.
They never set expectations on her, and they supported all of her endeavors.
Moreover, they especially appreciated her passion for all things culinary in
nature.
"Shall we move out and have a sherry?" The earl asked.
"Quite. I think that's just the thing to pep us up after so much delicious food,”
Byron replied.
But both Lord and Lady Pye chose to beg off, their consent obviously
mutual.

540
“I do hope you enjoy yourselves,” Lady Pye said. “But I am so very tired.
It's been a wonderful day, but quite long as well. Would you all excuse me if
I took an early night for myself?"
Josephine nodded, and she took a moment to escort Lord and Lady Pye to
the foyer, where the servants would fetch their cloaks and escort them to
their carriage for the brief journey home.
As she did, Josephine considered the prospect of sharing a sherry with the
duke and getting to know him further.
Perhaps her mother had been right about that, and the idea of winning the
duke over with her cooking was worth a try after all.

Much to Josephine’s surprise, her mother didn’t nag her in the morning or
days following the dinner with the Duke of Chestershire. She’d learned
through Rosalie that both the duke and Hawtrey had enjoyed the meal, and
her father assured her that their guests enjoyed their sherry as they played a
few rounds of cards.
She assumed her mother’s silence on the subject had to do with the fact that
she had sent the recipe to the duke as he’d requested, and they’d been
waiting for some time to learn the results of his cook’s efforts.
After preparing breakfast for her parents, Josephine settled herself in the
study, and she gazed out the window, dreaming about a recipe she’d found
for an ice cream with pistachios.
Her father would never consent to purchasing pistachios, and her mother
had stated on more than one occasion that she didn’t like the idea of ice
cream. So, until such time as Josephine lived elsewhere, she knew it would
remain a dream.
Just as that dream died off, though, the sound of a horse pulled her from her
reverie. It was the morning post, which normally came round just before the
noon hour.
Normally, Josephine was patient. Her correspondence was limited, as her
acquaintances were few, but lately she’d enjoyed an uptick. While she
attributed this to her dinner parties that were slowly gaining traction among
her peers, her mother said she was simply coming into her own.

541
She left the window and passed through the wide casement doorway into the
hallway that led to the front of the house. There was a note for her from
Rosalie, and some other letters for her parents, which she left on the table
by the door. Returning to her seat at the window, she gently tore open the
letter.
My Dear Josephine,
I must ask, and please forgive me, what spell have you cast upon the
duke? I’ve never heard of him so eager to dine. Nor has he been quite so
interested in what his cook serves. You must have worked magic. He told a
small group of us last evening that he hoped to be invited back, and soon.
When can we come for another dinner party?
Perhaps we could celebrate. Viscount Hawtrey has finally asked for my
hand! My parents are, as expected, pleased with the match, although, I’m
sure my father wishes he were an earl. I am so very happy!
Please write me soon. It has been too long since we’ve seen one another,
and we must dine together soon on one of your sumptuous feasts!
With grace and honor,
Lady Rosalie
Josephine felt warm all over. She was overjoyed for Rosalie and Hawtrey,
of course, but she was not at all surprised. She knew her father had alluded
to Hawtrey mentioning a proposal during their card game.
However, she was both thrilled and mildly terrified about the duke’s
enthusiasm for her, and Josephine considered the path her feelings toward
him had taken.
At the ball she’d thought him slightly rude. Then, later, when he all but
invited himself to dinner, Josephine had found it easy to be unaffected by
him.
Now, however, she couldn’t deny that he was handsome. And his manners,
outside of a few requests for special treatment, were fine. And, he was,
indeed, a duke. Best not think much before knowing more.
What to do next was the question at hand, even though there seemed to be
little question associated with the matter, really. Before her nerves could
take over, or excitement, she went out in search of her mother.

542
Josephine found her mother in the breakfast room, lingering over a cup of
coffee. She drew in a breath before speaking.
“Mother. I have a request to make of you. I think you’ll perhaps like the
reason, but not the method.”
“Let me guess, Josephine. You’re going back to the kitchen.”
“Well, not simply the kitchen, but yes.” Then she took a deep breath. “But,
it would appear, according to Lady Rosalie—”
“I am so glad the two of you have been getting on so well.”
“—Yes. Well, apparently, the Duke of Chestershire, that is, well, if Lady
Rosalie is to be believed—”
“Please. Stop dragging it out, Josephine.”
“—The duke has made it clear to Lady Rosalie, and some others among
their mutual acquaintance, that an invitation for another dinner would be
quite welcome. In other words, I suppose, he’s suggesting he’d like to have
another meal with us. And so perhaps I must go back to the kitchen.”
“Ah, my dear,” her mother replied, smiling. “How lovely!”
“So, you approve of this?” Josephine took a seat at the table across from her
mother. Florence’s enthusiasm for a visit from the duke didn’t surprise
Josephine, but for the first time in a long time, this enthusiasm made her
nervous rather than irritated.
“Yes. And I happen to have more information.” Her mother smiled into her
coffee before looking up and smiling at her daughter directly.
“Do you?”
“Yes. The duke has written to your father. It would seem that he is traveling
to visit a cousin or a friend. His journey will take him past here. He asked
your father if he may stop over midday to rest his horse and warm up.”
“I see.” Josephine could see something like mischief in her mother’s eyes.
“Perhaps we could invite him for a tavern meal here?” Florence suggested.
“If he were going another way, I think it likely that he would be stopping.

543
This way, he can have the best of all things. Your company in particular.”
Then her mother smiled at the scheme she’d obviously concocted.
“Besides that, the venison and turtle you made for your father and I the other
day was an excellent meal. It would be a shame if we didn’t share that with
anyone else.”
In spite of Florence’s jokes that she could attract a duke with her cooking,
Josephine never expected her mother to have an enthusiasm for her
preparations in quite this fashion.
“I’m sure I’d be happy to be present without involving myself,” Florence
finished. “So that I’m not in the way at all of any progress between you and
the duke.”
Josephine looked at her mother, her mouth somewhat agape.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was speaking with Lady Ludlow, who, to my
knowledge, disapproves of her daughter cooking, and would prefer she
paints, or draws, or does something else more appropriate.”
Florence chuckled lightly. “Certainly, cooking is not my first choice for you.
However, if it’s going to attract dukes to you, I will support it. Besides, I’m
sure it’s you as much as the food that he’s interested in.”
“Are you really?” Josephine asked, cocking her head slightly. “Rosalie
seems to think so, but I’m not wholly convinced I’m considered worthy.”
Josephine hated to think of it, but in her mind’s ear she could still hear the
duke assuring Rosalie and Imogen the exact thing she feared all men thought
of her: “Her beauty is nothing compared with you.”
She couldn’t explain why this memory came to her mind now, especially
after justifying his behavior for the last several days, but she couldn’t stop
herself.
Even if the duke were interested in her abilities, which he seemed to be, he
had made it clear that he didn’t find her to be much to look at. As a child,
she’d been teased about her plainness. In more recent years, people made
cruel jokes about her size.
Even at the ball, she’d overheard two ladies comparing her muslin to a bed
sheet. Her own mother hated her favorite hobby. She couldn’t help some
self-doubt creeping in.

544
“My dear Josephine. Whatever his motives, it is not a bad thing for a duke
to show interest in you,” Florence said, noting her daughter’s skepticism.
“And while I know sometimes I am not overly complimentary of you, I do
want you to be happy.”
“I know you’re not wrong. And, yet, I am a bit afraid, as much as I hate to
admit it.”
“Oh, that’s normal,” Florence said dismissively. “Courtship isn’t easy.
Now, you should go find your father and have him welcome the duke and
invite him to eat.”
Josephine gave her mother a smile and stood up, smoothing her skirts. No
going back now; she was going to win the duke over with food.
And if she was unable to, she would know once and for all that everyone
else was right: she was plain, large, and embarrassing.

The duke arrived just as a light snow began to fall. He was shown into the
sitting room and he scanned the room as he was announced.
“Welcome, welcome!” Lady Ludlow greeted him as he entered.
A fire roared at one end of the room, and the warmth of the space was a
welcome change after his day on the road.
Byron smiled at the circumstances that had led up to this. His cousin had
invited him for a visit before Christmas, and the Earl of Ludlow happened
to live almost exactly halfway there. When he received the invitation of
another visit from the earl, he marveled at how easily it fit into his plans.
But he was also forced to mask his disappointment that Lady Josephine
wasn’t present.
The last two weeks had been a period of seismic change for Byron, and no
one was more surprised about it than he himself.
For Byron had never felt so drawn to a lady before.
He’d found when he closed his eyes, he could see her smile. When he ate
his meals, he longed to see her across from him, wished that she had
prepared the food.

545
Byron also recalled that she’d initially seemed unhappy to be in his
company, but he was certain that was strictly because of his being a last
minute addition.
When Hawtrey had announced his engagement to Lady Rosalie, the duke had
found himself envious. That had never happened to him before. Normally,
when a friend became engaged, he lamented the impending union because it
represented the loss of a companion.
Then he was brought back to the present by Lady Ludlow.
“Your Grace, I do hope it won’t trouble you, but I’ve a project I’m working
on with the housekeeper, so I may have to flit in and out while you dine,”
she said. “I dearly hope you won’t mind.”
The duke was certain he’d never been so pleased to hear that someone
couldn’t be attentive. This would leave him with Lady Josephine—with
very limited supervision. That meant a captive audience, and no one to
interfere with getting to know her better, and, hopefully, win her over.
Whatever the barrier was at their last meal, he was going to overcome it.
“Please do what is necessary, Lady Ludlow. After all, I’m the one putting
you out on my way to my next destination.” He bowed his head slightly.
“You’re hardly putting us out. With my husband away, you’re doing us a
great favor, keeping our daughter busy. We can hardly eat all she cooks with
three of us here.”
The duke beamed, enjoying the idea that he was doing something for Lady
Josephine by being here. He wondered if she’d be quite as happy to see
him.
“Does the earl often travel without you or your daughter?”
“Oh no. Not often. When he does though, I’m afraid it leaves me quite busy.
I’m so grateful that Josephine is such a help now that she’s grown. So
capable, and always able to rally everyone around her to help.”
Byron nodded and smiled at her approval of him, along with her description
of Josephine’s character. “Admirable traits in a young lady, to be sure.”
“I couldn’t agree more. We are quite proud of her. I won’t try to hide it—at
first I didn’t approve of her penchant for culinary matters, mostly because
it's so unconventional. But I can’t deny her talents.”

546
“Unconventional isn’t always a bad thing, is it? Particularly if good can
come out of it.”
“I suppose you’re correct, your Grace.” Lady Ludlow smiled at him in the
same way many mothers had. As though her approval of him could somehow
make him feel differently about her daughter.
In all of the previous instances of this, of course, this had proven untrue. But
little did Lady Ludlow know that he had been smitten with Josephine for
some time now.
A movement near the open door caught Byron’s eye. Lady Josephine came
in, quiet as a mouse.
“Lady Josephine, you’re looking well.”
“I didn’t realize you were here, your Grace,” Josephine curtseyed. “How
was your journey?”
“I arrived here just in time. It started snowing as the house came into view.”
“Impeccable timing.”
“Quite so.”
“Well, I’m afraid my timing is not so excellent,” Josephine said, looking
around nervously. “I haven’t quite finished cooking. I was just coming by to
ask my mother her opinion on something. I’ll be going so I can finish the
sauce for the venison. I’ll send someone to find you once everything is
ready.”
Byron nodded his head in acknowledgment.
Josephine felt an unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach as she finished the
sauce for the venison. The duke’s hair had a curl to it she hadn’t seen
before, which produced the effect of a tamed wildness that stirred longings
in her that were quite rare.
She knew she was nervous, but something else was there, too. Her mother
had concocted the plan to be scarce during their meal. That must have been
the source of this uneasiness. She’d never expected to dine with a gentleman
without someone there to help her with conversation.
Her hands shook slightly when she poured the sauce over into a serving
dish. “This is all ready to be brought in,” she told the maid who was helping

547
her arrange the food in preparation for her meal. “Could you please ask
someone to invite the duke to the dining room in a few minutes?”
“Of course, M’Lady.”
“Thank you.” Josephine walked to the hallway outside the kitchen and fixed
some stray curls near her ears. Her hair often became unruly while working
in the kitchen, and the large mirror hanging in the foyer between the kitchen
and the dining room was a great convenience.
She pushed her sleeves back into place for she had pushed them up over her
elbows. Then she checked her dress for any stray bits that would be
unseemly. Satisfied with her appearance, she made her way to the dining
room to face the duke.

“It’s so good of you to cook for me, especially given how I came to taste the
last meal you made for me.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, your Grace,” Josephine said, as she
gestured to the platter of venison she’d prepared. “Please, eat heartily. I’ve
made more than we need, and there is no higher compliment to a cook such
as myself than for you to indulge.”
“I’ll be sure to fill my plate then.” Byron smiled warmly at Josephine. He
found he wanted to please her. He took a few pieces of venison, some
potatoes, something green he was unfamiliar with, and a slice of roasted
chicken on his plate.
“Wonderful,” she replied, and Josephine reached for a dish of roasted
vegetables and started to scoop them onto her plate.
“Tell me, what is your most favorite thing to cook?” Byron asked, eager to
learn more about her culinary passion.
“I can’t tell you my most favorite, but I can tell you I have a strong opinion
on one thing. It’s newly formed, but I feel it deeply.”
Byron leaned in. “Please, tell me.”
“The most often served dish that is not really worthwhile. White soup? Why
does everyone think that white soup is such an excellent choice? It’s fine,
but takes so long to make and is nothing next to a good dessert or even a

548
decent ham.”
Josephine was suddenly aware of the duke staring at her. “I’m sorry, I’m
going on a bit.”
She worried suddenly that she had offended him. Her eyes darted to the
door, and she willed her mother to burst through and interrupt them.
“Please don’t be sorry,” Byron replied. “I admire your sincerity. Besides,
you are an expert, and I find myself glad to hear your opinion.”
Even as he spoke, Byron was shocked at his own words, and more so at the
truth in them. He truly was quite glad to know Josephine’s opinion, and he
also realized that he was just beginning to understand how captured he was
by her.
“Well, I can tell you that should I ever plan a ball, white soup will not be on
the menu.” She chuckled.
“You must have been most disappointed in the menu at the Harvest Ball,”
Byron observed. “I am sure that there was white soup. Wasn’t there?”
Byron was gratified when Josephine laughed a hearty laugh. He had never
realized he wanted to be amusing, until he was here with her finding him
entertaining.
“There was indeed. But I can’t say as I was disappointed. Nearly all of my
memories of your ball are happy ones.”
“What a relief,” he laughed, but then a second thought occurred to him.
“Wait, you have unhappy memories of the ball?”
Josephine winced when he said this, thinking back to her insecurity about
her appearance, and the duke frowned
“Let’s not dwell on anything that makes us unhappy,” she said. “Instead, let
me tell you a secret. Do you promise to keep it?”
“Of course,” Byron whispered. The moment felt special somehow. She was
about to confide in him. He gazed into her eyes, ready for some deep,
private thought she had never shared with anyone.
“If you don’t partake in the white soup at the beginning, you can save your
appetite for dessert at the end.”

549
Josephine burst out laughing, and Byron could tell he had a look of shock on
his face. He couldn’t help it.
“You looked so serious there for a moment,” she said, grinning. “I’m sorry
to disappoint you.”
Then her laugh became more boisterous. “Oh. I’m very sorry. Have I
offended you terribly?”
Byron gave her a kind smile. “Not at all. I suppose I was just expecting
something else.”
“Let’s change the subject to something else. Tell me, then, what is your
favorite thing to eat?”
“A decent ham is certainly on my list. And, while I enjoy a dessert, I’m not
sure that I have a favorite one. Have you?”
“How can one choose a single favorite? I can’t think of a time I had a bad
dessert.” Josephine laughed at herself.
“Indeed, I can’t say as I have ever tasted one that was not enjoyable. How
right you are.”
The pair quieted when Lady Ludlow came in.
“I hate to interrupt you, but it’s quite nearly five o’clock. I wanted to make
sure you know, your Grace. You mentioned you had a time to keep.”
“Thank you. My apologies for coming here only to eat and run off into the
night.”
“No, it’s my fault for the food taking so long,” Josephine insisted. “We knew
you’d only have a short while.”
Then Lady Ludlow spoke. “When will you be making your return trip, your
Grace? We’d be happy to have you stop by again. Perhaps we can host you
for a bit longer. Unless of course you have other matters to attend to. This
time of year often invites many engagements.”
Byron was grateful for Lady Ludlow’s approach to this subject. He had been
wondering how to make a return, but he hadn’t dared to hope for a second
invitation only a few days apart.
“I believe I’m staying for only a few days with my cousin. If it wouldn’t be

550
an imposition, I would be grateful for the opportunity to stay for a longer
visit.”
Josephine indulged him with a smile and a quick look. He couldn’t believe
that such a short time with her had made him so greedy for more time
together.
“We’d love to have you,” she said. “Please send word the day before so we
can be sure to be prepared.”
“Of course. Please, forgive me. I should be off.”
Josephine stood as Byron did. He bowed to both women. “It’s truly been a
pleasure. I look forward to seeing you again,” he said, looking at Josephine
meaningfully.
“The pleasure was mine, your grace.” Byron wanted to tell her she could
call him Pemberton, but he feared scaring her off with such a declaration.
He couldn’t put a finger on why she seemed so shy sometimes and so open
other times, but it seemed a risk not worth taking just yet.
“Well, I’m so glad to hear that you enjoyed this meal as I did. I should really
be off, though.”
“Have a wonderful night,” Lady Ludlow said.
“And you both as well.” With that, the duke left for his cousin’s house.
Despite the snow, he felt warm the whole way.

The first whole night at his cousin’s house, the duke remained almost
entirely silent.
“Pemberton, are you quite well?” His cousin’s wife, Elizabeth, was never
delicate when she wanted information. “You’re mooning about something. I
can tell.”
“Mooning is not the right word, Elizabeth. Everything will be fine though,
thank you.”
The fact was that he was trying to decide just how long was proper and
reasonable for him to stay when he returned to the Earl of Ludlow’s manor.
Too long would probably seem odd, but he couldn’t help but want a long

551
visit.
Knowing he would have to make a move quickly to secure Josephine’s hand
to end his misery, he began to scheme.
As he did, he was shocked at his resolve. Just weeks ago, Byron was
certain he would remain unattached for some time. Now, though, here he
was excusing himself to go to bed as early as he could while still being
polite.
He remained very quiet throughout his visit, nearly blind to all that went on
around him, thinking only of how soon he could leave. How curious it was
that love could bloom so quickly. That he could be so certain of it.

The evening before the duke’s return, Josephine found herself in the kitchen
peeling potatoes. She had only planned on a simple meal, but with each hour
that passed, she found herself restless and back in the kitchen.
If he arrived later in the day, rather than earlier, she feared there would be
more food than table to place it on.
Already she had prepared several meats, a celery dish that she had seen the
duke enjoy before, and she’d checked that the other vegetables were
prepared for the oven. Earlier in the day, she had prepared fruit, cakes, and
measured the ingredients to make a bread in the morning.
The smell of mutton and lamb still hung around her in the kitchen. It calmed
her nerves and made her feel more at ease despite her growing anxiety.
Then, suddenly, her mother entered the kitchen. This was surprise, for
Florence rarely did this while Josephine was cooking, for she sometimes
found the food too tempting.
“Are you back here again, my dear?”
“I find myself a bit restless, I admit.”
“Ah yes. I remember that feeling well. To be young and in love. It is most
delightful and terrifying, is it not?”
“Who said I’m in love?” Josephine asked.

552
Her mother raised an eyebrow at her.
“Fine,” Josephine admitted finally. “It’s a torture. I am worried about
everything I say and do, but I also don’t want to hide from him.”
Florence smiled. “I still remember feeling that way with your father.
Sometimes I still feel a little thrill when he’s been gone, and I know he’s
returning.”
Josephine tried to settle her expression in such a way that didn’t reveal that
was exactly how she felt. She looked down at the potato in her hand and
tried to will her mother away.
Florence knew how much her daughter valued privacy in the kitchen, so she
turned to leave.
“Very well, my dear. Enjoy your potatoes,” she said as she did.
Josephine indeed enjoyed the work she did preparing the potatoes,
imagining how the duke would react when he finally tasted this meal. Her
nerves remained, but the excitement to see the duke again overpowered
them.

The next morning, the duke arrived in time for breakfast.

Having been up late the night before, Josephine was asleep. The cook had
prepared a sampling of eggs and toast and gathered an assortment of pastries
that were left from the last few days.
He was sipping coffee, quietly enjoying a book a maid had found for him,
when Lady Ludlow arrived in the breakfast room.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Ludlow. I didn’t expect to arrive so early this
morning. I asked your maids not to wake you.”
“Quite all right. Josephine may not be up for a bit. She normally isn’t a late
riser, but she was up a bit late last night.”
The duke considered this. He didn’t want to be presumptuous, thinking her
late night was connected to him in some way, but he couldn’t help but hope.
He had slept terribly since their last meeting, unable to find sleep as he
daydreamed about today.

553
“Quite all right.”
“Good morning, Mother,” Josephine greeted as she stretched her arms over
her head. The duke was transfixed by her easy grace, and he thought back to
how smooth her movements had been during the dance they’d shared.
As Byron studied her, he couldn’t remember what his previous protests
about her size had stemmed from. She was a healthy young lady. Her figure
was pleasant and most appealing, if not as thin as someone like Imogen.
Not to mention that she was fun to eat a meal with because she didn’t peck
at her food!
Lovely, he thought. She’s lovely. Whatever was I thinking in not
considering her?
“Oh, forgive me, your Grace!” Josephine exclaimed when she saw him. “I
didn’t realize you were here!”
“Nothing to forgive. I hadn’t really intended to be here so early, but the
horses made excellent time.”
“Well, it's certainly wonderful that you’re here,” she said enthusiastically,
and then Josephine gestured to his plate. “What do you think of that fig
concoction? I can’t decide if it’s delicious or awful.”
“Is it fig? I took a bit, and then found it terribly sweet. I was expecting
meat.”
“Oh! Here,” Josephine replied, walking to the buffet, “Try this one. It’s egg
and sausage wrapped in a dough. I think I quite like it.”
The duke accepted the little puff of dough from Josephine, and he popped it
in his mouth. He chewed it thoroughly, watching Josephine’s reaction.
“Delicious! That is what I expected the other would taste like.”
Josephine gave him a satisfied smile at his declaration.
“The weather appears to be rather mild today,” Lady Ludlow said. “Would
you enjoy a walk about the lawn?”
Byron had forgotten Lady Ludlow was present, and her question broke the
spell between himself and Josephine.
“Perhaps. Lady Josephine, would you much enjoy that?”

554
“Oh, certainly. I love walks. I prefer the months in which I can check what’s
growing in the gardens, but fresh air will always do.”
“Wonderful!”

After eating a quick breakfast, Josephine excused herself to check on

preparations. She mixed the dough so it would rise once while they walked,
and she put everything in the appropriate pans, instructing the cook and a
few maids on when ovens and pots should be put on.
Then she cleaned up and checked herself in the mirror before rejoining the
duke and her mother. They were still in the breakfast room.
“Shall we, your grace? I would like to get out so I can get back in to take
care of the bread.”
“Yes, please.” The duke jumped from his seat, and they went on a walk
about the grounds. They discussed the gardens, the orchard, and a number of
other things.
Then, much to the surprise of both Byron and Josephine, they discovered a
mutual love of horseback riding, poetry, and archery. After a spell, the duke
realized Josephine’s hands seemed cold, and her face was turning pink.
“Shall we go back inside, M’Lady?” he asked. “You appear a bit chilly.”
“That would be wonderful, your Grace. Thank you.”
When they were back in the manor, Josephine made the bread and finished
the rest of the food, and then they sat down to eat.
“Please, help yourself,” Josephine insisted. “I know I already told you, but I
really, sincerely prefer to see people eat.”
“Of course. I must say, I’m really enjoying this. You are treating me very
well.”
“Only as I would another guest, in most ways,” she said, trying to downplay
the strength of the emotions she was feeling. “I do suppose my mother is
encouraging you a bit. She’s not subtle.”
“Let her be that way,” Byron said boldly. “It doesn’t bother me unless it

555
troubles you.”
Josephine wasn’t sure how to react, so she put a mouthful of roast pork in
her mouth, and then she giggled a little to herself. Perhaps there was merit to
falling in love with a man rather than a fattened pig after all.

The week before Christmas brought another visit from the duke. By now,
Josephine was feeling more confident about his intentions and his feelings
toward her.
After all, why would he pay her such attention if not because he enjoyed her
company?
Her father had arrived home the night after the duke’s last visit, and he was
thrilled to learn how quickly they had become friends.
The morning of the duke’s planned visit, the earl came into the breakfast
room where Josephine was day dreaming over a light breakfast.
“You are happy, I can see it, Josephine,” he said, beaming at her. “I am
certain you’d be glad to have him ask you to be his wife.”
Then he paused. “Am I correct?”
“Indeed you are,” Josephine said with a delicate blush. “That’s true. I
would be thrilled. My fear is that I’m the only one who feels that way.
She pushed a slice of toast around her plate, nibbling the crumbs.
“I can tell you, my dear, your feelings are not one sided at all. Definitely
not.”
“Has he made some kind of intention known to you, Father?”
“I would hate to ruin a good surprise Josephine. Wouldn’t you hate that?”
He laughed, and his round belly shook.
“No, not at all,” Josephine said, her heart buoyed at seeing his obvious
affection for her. Then she felt herself becoming more emotional.
“I would not hate it . . . but if you know something, you simply must tell
me!” Josephine stood, nearly unaware of her reaction.

556
“Of course, then,” the earl replied, seeing the depth of his daughter’s
reaction. “Yes. I believe this evening, he’ll be looking for a private
conversation, which I will oblige if it’s your wish.”
Her smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Please, Father. Yes. Oblige him.”
The earl gave her a hug, and together they shared a warm laugh.

True to her father’s prediction, that evening after dinner, before he prepared
to get back to his estate, the duke asked for a moment.
“We’ll see you in the sitting room when you’re finished,” the earl smiled.
“Won’t we, M’Lady?”
Lady Ludlow smiled at her husband. He took her hand, and they left the
room together, giving the younger pair the room.
Josephine was suddenly quite warm, and she couldn’t seem to lift her gaze
to the duke’s.
“Lady Josephine, would you look at me?” He asked gently, walking around
the table to where she still sat. She raised her eyes, afraid to move.
“You are beautiful. You know that, right?”
Josephine couldn’t seem to move to acknowledge this. “And, I’m afraid,
I’ve quite fallen in love with you. Just a few weeks ago, you were unknown
to me, and I was content in being on my own. Having a companion was an
abstract thing that I never thought would come to fruition.
“But, I find the more time I spend with you, the less content I am. I find
when I leave you, I spend my time thinking of you, counting the time until I
can be with you once again.”
Even knowing this was in the duke’s plans, Josephine remained silent.
Shocked that she was hearing what she was hearing.
“So, I am hoping you will be so kind as to . . . ”
The duke kneeled before her, and he looked up imploringly. “Will you be my
wife, Lady Josephine? There is nothing I could or do want more than for you

557
to marry me.”
Josephine put both hands over her mouth, and a tear fell from her eye.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Are you sure?”
The duke wrapped his arms around her and hugged her closely.
“Yes. Lady Josephine,” he said into the top of her hair, “I can’t think of a
time when I’ve ever been so happy.” She laughed through her tears.
“Me either,” Josephine leaned back to smile at him. He drew back and
stood up. “Let us go tell your parents the happy news.”

In the sitting room, they found the earl and his wife whispering excitedly to
one another. They went silent as the young couple entered the room, holding
hands.
“Lord and Lady Ludlow,” the duke began, “Your daughter has just agreed to
be my wife. Duchess seems a befitting title, don’t you think?”
Josephine’s parents beamed.
“We’re so happy. You’ll make each other so happy, we’re sure,” the earl
said. “Lady Ludlow, shall we go find some drink to celebrate? It’s not every
day our dear child becomes engaged.”
“Yes. Please excuse use, your Grace,” Lady Ludlow started toward the
door.
“I supposed you should get accustomed to calling me Pemberton,” Byron
said as she did. “I would hate to remain so formal with any of you.”
Josephine stood in a happy state of shock as her parents left the room. “I
suppose this means there will be no white soup at your Harvest Ball next
year.”
He grinned, ever charming in any situation. “Our Harvest Ball, my dear
Josephine.”
She blushed furiously, and then realized that as the wife of the duke, her
opportunities to entertain were going to increase a great deal.

558
“I’ll have to find out from your cook what the recipe for those delicious
tarts was,” Josephine said. “I still think of those as the main feature of the
ball, you know.”
The duke laughed gently at this. “Why should the cook give you the recipe?
We’ll just have her make them for you. Any time. We don’t need a ball for
that, do we?”
“I should like to cook them though. Perhaps not only for the ball, but for
dinner parties when the dish is in season for them.”
“Once we marry, I am afraid I’ll have to ask you to stop such a fantasy from
building any further.”
Byron’s mood seemed amiable, which confused Josephine, since he was
essentially taking away her identity.
“I’m confused, your Grace,” Josephine said finally.
“About what? That I should have my household serve you when you’re its
mistress?”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do, my darling. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because. This is who I am. It is what I do. Not only have I never made a
secret of my love of cooking, I thought I quite won you over with it.”
“You won me over with your kind heart and gentle spirit. Your openness.
And that dimple in your cheek.”
In spite of the tension between them at the moment, his words stirred up the
flurry of emotions that had convinced her she was in love with him.
“I’m not sure what to say to that.”
“What is there to say? When you become the Duchess of Chestershire, you
will assist in managing the people who cook for us. You simply won’t do
the actual cooking.”
“What if I wanted to not only cook for us, but for others?” she asked,
wondering if he understood her completely.
The duke laughed. “No. That’s quite out of the question. That’s far beneath
the rank you will have. Surely you know that.”

559
Josephine crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from the duke.
She felt tears pricking her eyes. It was just her luck that that was the moment
her mother and father reentered the room.
“Oh my. What has gone on here?” the earl asked. “We left you in such a
happy state.”
“Lady Josephine has just informed me she’d like to open a tavern or an inn
so she can cook for strangers,” the duke scoffed.
“I beg your pardon? Josephine. You can’t possibly be serious.” Lady
Ludlow stood, as if in shock, just inside the doorway.
“Please, Mother,” Josephine whispered.
She suddenly felt both very small and very embarrassed. Hadn’t the duke
just recently told her that he would do his utmost to make her happy?
And now, already, before they were even wed he was taking away her
dreams. Dismissing her out of hand.
“I can’t see how it would ever work, Josephine. Don’t be upset with the
duke or with me. It’s not our decision. It’s simply the way things are done.”
The earl nodded in agreement. “Come, let’s toast to your happiness,” he
said. “I’m sure this will pass. It’s much too early in your happiness together
to quarrel.”
The earl proceeded to pour glasses of some kind of wine Lady Josephine
didn’t recognize.
“I quite agree,” Byron said. “Perhaps we can toast now, and discuss the rest
later, Lady Josephine? I am so deliriously happy. I want you to be too.”
The duke had thrown Josephine completely off balance. She did love his
company. And she was so happy to be his wife. The rest could follow, she
hoped. Perhaps they just needed a little time.
“Very well.”
“Thank you, darling,” the duke said, handing her a glass.
While the wine was delicious, and she had had a few minutes of delectable
bliss, Josephine was disappointed. She wondered if she could recapture the
happiness they had felt back only a little while ago.

560
If the duke wouldn’t allow her to cook, she knew this celebration was false.
They would go their separate ways, eventually, and she would be alone
forever, even if they were married. But she tried to put on a happy face as
they had their wine.
Before very long, she excused herself. “I hate to end our celebration, but I
feel I must go to bed now. So much excitement has exhausted me.”
“Of course my dear” Byron said, once again failing to recognize the injury
he’d done her. “I shall make plans to return next week with the earl this
evening. And I’ll write you first thing upon my return home. I need to make
an early start to begin preparations for you at our new home.”
The duke’s confident words belied a hesitation that he hadn’t had before.
“Think well of me in the meantime. And, please, write back.”
“Yes, your Grace,” Josephine said. “Goodnight, Father, Mother.”
She curtseyed before scurrying off to bed, where she promptly threw herself
down and began to cry into her pillow, thinking the river of tears that spilled
forth would never end.

On Christmas Eve, the gathering was large. The earl had invited Lord and
Lady Pye, the Earl and Lady Crutchley, Viscount Hawtrey and his newly-
minted wife, and Byron to join him, his wife, and Josephine for dinner.
They all stood around the pianoforte as Ladies Josephine and Rosalie took
turns playing Christmas carols while everyone sang.
Josephine had prepared a large dinner, centered around a goose. The smells
that wafted through the house while they entertained themselves were mouth
watering.
As he had promised, Byron had gone home and informed his staff of his
plans to marry, and soon.
The earl was not opposed to a ceremony before the new year, and so the
duke came to the Christmas Eve celebration prepared to announce their
engagement and the date they would say their vows to those nearest and
dearest to his intended. That was, of course, if she still planned to marry
him.

561
Their correspondence in the days after his proposal were formal. All the
jokes they had shared together over the previous weeks were gone.
Josephine did not seem the enthusiastic bride he’d hoped she would be.
He wavered between doubt and excitement from moment to moment, pulled
between despair and elation. This evening, each time he’d tried to get close
to her, she found an excuse to leave his side, or to engage in conversation
with Lady Rosalie. It was not unlike his first meal with her.
The cheerful group of revelers decided it was time for a break to have
dinner. Josephine was radiant in a muslin he’d never seen before. She had a
scarf tied around her hair with a braid plated down her back. She was
lovely as ever. Lovelier.
The table was set elegantly, with bits of holly and evergreen serving to
decorate a row of candlesticks. The china appeared different from his
previous meals, but the duke wasn’t sure if it was another set, or if the
adornments made it appear fancier.
The goose at the center was a beautiful golden brown. There was a dish
with fish, another with potatoes, a ham, that lovely green celery dish that
Josephine noticed he liked, and several other platters full of wonderful
smelling foods.
Byron suddenly realized, looking around the table, that this was what he had
been looking for. Since his parents had died, this was his first, proper
Christmas feast.
“These are gooseberry tarts,” Josephine said. “We preserved the berries
before the frost in a jar. I am not loathe to tell you how well they came out.”
Josephine’s demeanor with everyone was pleasant and happy. Her father
chuckled at her comment, and she smiled at him.
In a wave of emotion, the duke understood why she’d been so upset.
He didn’t love her in spite of her love of cooking. He loved her, in part,
because of that passion. The way her eyes lit up when she described flavors
or savored a bite of something she created were very much reasons he had
realized her beauty.
And he’d stupidly tried to take that away from her.
“These are most delicious, my dear,” he said to her, quietly enough that no

562
one else noticed. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I hope that
you won’t stop making these.”
“I don’t plan to. It’s a matter of which kitchen I make them in, I suppose,”
she replied before morosely looking away.
As everyone enjoyed dinner, the duke got Josephine to give him her full
attention for a moment and asked quietly, “Lady Josephine? I’ve something
to ask you.”
“Oh. Yes, what is it, your Grace?” The color rose up Josephine’s lovely
neck. Was it possible she too so ardently wanted this?
Byron took one of Josephine’s hands in his under the table. “I was so wrong,
my dear Josephine. Can you forgive me?”
“Tell me what exactly what you were wrong about?” she asked tentatively.
Her trepidation was unmasked. She was as sweet and vulnerable as Byron
had ever seen her, and he couldn’t stand to see the worry on her face.
“You can cook to your heart’s content, my dear. I couldn’t really ever take
that away from you. Not when it makes you happy. Your happiness fulfills
me.
“I can’t see you be sad. I can’t stand it. Please. Forgive me. Allow me to
announce our engagement over the goose you’ve prepared, and marry me
before the new year. Will you allow me?”
She didn’t look at him for a moment, but she turned to face him, after what
felt like a very long moment, and then she nodded at him, just once.
“Yes.” Her small smile, the relief on her face, pained him for a moment, and
Byron realized he was the one who’d given her the sadness that led to her
relief.
“Everyone,” Byron said, holding up his glass, “Merry Christmas.”
Everyone held up their glasses, and replied “Merry Christmas” in turn.
“I have an announcement of sorts on this happy occasion. That is, Lady
Josephine has agreed to be my wife. We’ll be married by year’s end.”
Everyone erupted in happy cheers and well wishes.
Josephine’s tears were not gentle as they had been the first time he

563
proposed. She was crying in earnest, and Byron didn’t know what to say or
do.
“I—” she started, and let out a sob.
“I—you . . .” she stammered.
“I, you, what?” Byron ventured to wipe a stray tear from her cheek with one
of his thumbs, still clutching her hand under the table. Josephine smiled up
at him, and he felt his heart drumming in his chest.
“I love you so much. Thank you.” Her tears were still falling. “I don’t know
how I could have ever considered saying no to you.”
Byron was overwhelmed. Between her reaction and everyone’s cheers, he
found himself standing up with her. He hugged her around the waist, lifted
her off her feet, and spun her around.
Hugging her tight, he whispered in her ear, “I’ve never been so happy.
Never in my life did I think I could be this happy.”
“I would have stopped cooking for you,” Josephine replied. “I was ready to
tell you.”
“No. Never. It’s who you are, my love.”
She chuckled lightly at his words.
“I’m glad you figured it out,” Josephine said, and this time it was Byron’s
turn to laugh. So he did.
“Come. Let us now enjoy a Christmas feast fit for a duke and prepared by a
duchess.”
And so they did . . . knowing full well it would be the first of many.

564
THE DUKE DEALS WITH SCANDALOUS
GOSSIP

By

Abigail Haversham

©Copyright 2016 Abigail Haversham

All Rights Reserved

565
 CHAPTER 55

Dashing Duke Caught in Indecent Dalliance?

So. . .is it true what all the lords and ladies are all saying? That the Duke
of Wiltshire was caught en flagrante, as it were, with his latest governess?
Rumor has it the poor thing has been sent away, joining the last one, who
had to leave the royal manor in Wilshire for reasons that remain
mysteriously unexplained.
And what of the duke himself? His presence at the gala announcement of
the schedule for the social season was sorely missed indeed, and his
absence remains unexplained.
All of which leads to the obvious question: Is the duke down for the count
for the rest of the social season?
We'll all know soon, for the annual Spring Ball is this weekend and the
duke's presence is pivotal to the affair. My sources tell me that a decision
hasn't been reached yet, and may not be until the actual day of the ball.
Regardless of whether he's there or not, though, one thing seems certain
—hearts will be broken! But will it be for the right reasons?
Yours with much heartbreak and sadness,
Lady X
There! Hester penned the final “X,” and with that her latest entry was done.
She'd send it off to her copyist, whose penmanship was impeccable, and
then Hester would have to proof the final version.

566
After that the fun would begin. Hester would distribute her so-called
“scandal sheet”—a term that still made her blanch with disgust—to her
network of contacts.
This would lead to it being seen in all sorts of places, both likely and
unlikely— everywhere from taverns in the various villages throughout the
counties to the different royal manors, where Hester had inside contacts,
servants who knew her servants and were eager to do her bidding on this
little venture of Hester's.
And it had been quite successful. Despite the derision she occasionally
faced, “Lady X” had become a formidable force in all the counties where
she'd managed to develop a presence—Wilshire, Rutland, Lancaster, and
her own home county of Bedford.
Nobles trembled whenever she wrote about their misadventures and
miscreant actions, and Hester had no fear when it came to writing about the
scandals of a noble of superior rank.
At the moment, though, Hester needed to get her latest sheet to her copyist,
Reginald Banks.
Her arrangement with Reginald was clandestine—he handled documents for
the royal family, but he was a first-rate copyist as well. And he'd been
happy to take on Hester's little project to keep from dying of boredom,
which was an occupational hazard that came with filing tax documents,
property notices and the like.
“Excuse me. . .Reginald?” she said, rapping gently on his office door and
choosing to address him informally. “I trust you have a moment for me?”
The copyist looked up, smiling at her as he peered over his spectacles.
“Always, M'Lady,” he said, looking down grimly at the piles of paper on his
desk. “Is this interruption what I think it is?”
Hester returned his smile. “Indeed it is,” she said. “And I'm hoping you can
make time for it?”
“Always, M'Lady,” he repeated, staring at the paper in anticipation. “It is
quite the relief, as I'm sure you know.”
“I do,” she replied. “And your help with it has been quite invaluable.”
He nodded, bowing his head. “Thank you, M'Lady,” Reginald said. “So

567
who's our latest victim?”
Hester grinned. “The Duke of Wilshire, once again,” she said. “It seems he
has been up to his usual nonsense.”
Reginald rolled his eyes and then smiled. “Dashing, handsome and
consistent,” he noted. “What would we do without him?”
She shook her head. “Indeed,” Hester said. “He does provide good copy,
without a doubt.”
The copyist arched his eyebrows. “So what has he been up to this time?” he
asked.
This time it was Hester's turn to roll her eyes. “Yet another governess, it
would seem,” she explained. “She was seen being spirited away from the
royal manor in Wilshire under dubious circumstances. And there are the
usual rumors making the rounds about what happened.”
“Those I probably don't have to guess about,” Reginald said with a chuckle.
“Is this governess number two or number three?”
Hester grinned again. “It depends on who you ask,” she replied. “My source
in the royal manor thinks it's number three, but she is quite prone to
exaggeration.”
Reginald shook his head. “Comes with the territory, I suppose,” he said.
“But I trust you've verified seeing the girl leave the royal manor?”
“Oh yes,” Hester said. “Two other staff members in Wilshire, and I am
expecting confirmation when she arrives at whatever obscure location she's
being sent to.”
“Ah,” he said. “So I suppose you'll be needing this immediately?”
She nodded. “Absolutely,” Hester said. “The next royal ball is this
weekend, the Spring Ball, so the sooner it gets distributed the better.”
“I understand, M'Lady,” and with that Reginald rose to take the copy from
Hester, bowing to acknowledge her status as he did. “I will have it for you
by the end of the day —and I will be sure your father doesn't find out about
it, of course.”

568
Hester blushed. Her father was the Earl of Bedford, and she adored him,
even though at times he was the bane of Hester's existence.
And the earl in turn loved her beyond measure, but he was also far more
prudish than Hester preferred. The earl wished for her to marry someone
quite boring and introverted, a churlish man of equal rank, and that was a
notion that sent chills of dread up and down Hester's spine.
She wanted more, and she wanted different. Hester had set her sights on
becoming a woman of letters early on when she was just a young girl, in
spite of the difficulties she knew that would present.
Hester loved to read, and she loved romance, adventure and excitement as
well. Taking the nom de plume of “Lady X” had allowed her to wrap all
three of those predilections into a single entity. She'd known as soon as she
took the pen name that this was something she was simply meant to do.
But it did present complications.
Hester knew far more than she wanted to about certain nobles who were
considered desirable, and since she was quite beautiful, Hester had
received advances from several of them. She'd had to act cold and reserved
toward them because of what she knew, in order to extinguish the flames of
courtship before they heated up.
There was an exception to this, though. Hester hadn't told anyone yet, but
she found the Duke of Wilshire quite scintillating—or at least she had during
their brief encounters at several royal balls during the previous social
season.
To her, he was both exciting and intriguing, and Hester had the perspicacity
to know which rumors about him were true and which were just random
gossip.
Hester had been aware that she wasn't the duke's first choice as a dance
partner, but she believed she'd impressed him during their brief time
together. She wasn't the most brilliant dancer or the belle of the ball, but
Hester definitely knew where her charms lay.
She was charming, witty and intelligent, and Hester could write like the
dickens. She also happened to know that the duke had some interest in
letters as well, and that was where Hester thought she might find her
opportunity.

569
But that was also where Lady X became both an asset and a liability. Her
pen name allowed her to stay on top of whatever was happening with the
duke at any given time, and that was something she greatly treasured.
But Hester was also sure the duke would be horrified if he somehow found
out about Lady X. Not as horrified as her father, of course, but she had no
idea how much he would consider her pen name to be a violation of his
privacy.
In her wildest of fantasies, the duke would adore both Lady X and Hester,
recognizing that her pen name simply represented a different side of her.
They would begin courting, and love would blossom between them, despite
Hester's status as an upstart in the ongoing battle to win Owen's hand.
She knew it was a long shot, but Hester was determined to give it her best.
She would see Owen at the royal ball this weekend, hopefully, and that
would provide Hester with yet another opportunity to employ her
considerable charms.

“This was just found moments ago, your Grace. Just outside the grounds.”
Owen Barrington turned, slightly annoyed by the interruption. Then he saw
that it was his favorite servant, Nigel, and his anger cooled slightly.
“What is it?” he asked, engaging his spectacles as Nigel handed him the
piece of paper. Then he recognized the paper on which it was written, and
Owen's blood began to boil.
“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “Not another one.”
“I'm afraid so, your Grace,” Nigel replied. “It was posted on a tree next to
the guard's gate.
In spite of himself, the duke blurted out a vile expletive.
He gritted his teeth, disgusted with himself, and then he quickly apologized
to Nigel even though he was just a servant. Owen made a constant effort to
be civil with the help, and he owed Nigel that and much more after years of
faithful service.
Then he sighed. “So how many are we up to at this point with this deuced
scandal sheet?” he asked. “I believe it was four or so?”

570
Nigel grimaced. “It may be as many as a half-dozen or so, your Grace,” he
replied. “And the location where we find them keeps changing, which
makes things even more difficult.”
“Indeed,” Owen said, panicking slightly as he studied the beginning of the
scandal sheet. “Well, she certainly is imaginative.”
“Yes,” the servant agreed. “Although we're assuming it's a she, of course.”
The duke shook his head. “Trust me, Nigel,” he replied. “No man could
have written this. Or gained access to this kind of information, for that
matter.”
Nigel nodded. “Quite right, your Grace, I would imagine,” he replied.
“Whoever it is, she's deucedly clever.”
“Indeed,” Owen said. “Quite the vixen as well. I should enjoy meeting her
under different circumstances, I should think.”
Suddenly Owen realized how much he'd stepped over the line in admitting
this to Nigel, and he blushed slightly. Fortunately Nigel was quite discreet,
for he knew of many of the duke's more questionable proclivities and had
kept his secrets for years.
“I would imagine so, your Grace,” Nigel said, pursing his lips as an idea
came to him. “Would you like us to double up on the number of servants
employed around the grounds to catch the next one?”
The duke pondered the notion for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I
don't think so, Nigel,” he said to his servant. “We tried that once, in the
beginning, if memory serves, and we didn't get much in the way of results.”
The servant frowned. “It wasn't for lack of trying, your Grace,” he said,
grimacing. “I feel as if I've failed you somehow with all this.”
“Not at all,” Owen replied, shaking his head and giving Nigel a dismissive
wave. “We have done all we could and then some.”
“Indeed,” the servant said. “Perhaps we will get lucky one of these days.”
Owen pursed his lips. “I think not, somehow,” he replied.
“There's a level of intelligence and cleverness in the way these are written
and hidden that seems unprecedented. As much as I would love to see us
catch her making a mistake, I suspect that whoever is writing these scandal

571
sheets will continue to remain at large.”

With that, Owen dismissed Nigel, and he turned his attention to the latest
scribblings of this so-called “Lady X.”
Perhaps her timeline would reveal her—the scandal sheets had begun
appearing approximately 3-6 months ago, by his calculations, and they'd
obviously been timed to coincide with the beginning of the social season.
And he seemed to be a prime target, much to Owen's chagrin. This was the
second governess the duke had been linked to in the scandal sheets, which
were as yet unnamed save for the pen name of the writer.
He grimaced as he used the word “writer” in his thoughts, hesitant to
bestow that particular description on Lady X. Scribbler seemed more
appropriate, although if pressed Owen would have admitted that the sheets
were at least well put together.
Moreover, whoever this Lady X was, he had to admit she had great
resources. It would have been impossible, or nearly so, for any mere
commoner to have learned about the governesses, which led Owen to
strongly suspect that she was a royal.
And if that was the case, Owen was quite intrigued, truth be told.
He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone other than Nigel—and he was still
embarrassed at the inadvertent violation of protocol he'd committed just
moments ago—but Owen did have a secret love of racy romance stories.
They offset the occasional boredom that came with his royal duties, and they
also sparked Owen's imagination as he considered courting some of the
more engaging ladies he'd met during social season.
But the writings about the travails the duke had suffered with governesses
lately were simply wrong. They were just having a bad run with hiring the
right one, and this latest had been especially problematic.
It was true, though, that the duke had succumbed to temptation, or nearly so.
He'd met the girl in the garden when she'd been quite frenzied—she'd been
caring for his young cousins, which was why she was employed, and
apparently they'd been making her life especially difficult on this particular

572
day.
The poor thing, whose name was Grace, looked like she was about to have
a breakdown, and Owen was particularly solicitous in comforting her.
She was quite fetching, and he'd ended up stealing a kiss, which nearly
turned into far more. Somehow Owen had managed to rein himself in, but
the experience had shaken him to his core, for it brought home to him how
truly lonely he was.
Somehow they'd managed to spirit the girl away before she suffered a
nervous breakdown, and Owen realized how unstable she truly was when
Grace began making all sorts of wild accusations—she was pregnant, she'd
have to marry Owen to preserve her honor, and on and on.
Owen had castigated himself for being more than a bit of a cad, but he'd
thought the incident was behind him. Now here it was, though, right in print
on the page in front of him, and doubtless spreading throughout the counties
even as he studied it.
Not only that, but it was actually the second incident with a governess.
The first one involved a girl who'd simply come unhinged—she'd made up
all sorts of romantic fantasies with the duke, who was quite handsome and
dashing, and when Owen was informed about this he was quite alarmed.
He'd made arrangements to have the girl cared for in a sanitarium, and
Owen had also hired the finest doctors to see if they could put her back
together.
The possibility seemed unlikely, but Owen actually had a great deal of
compassion for the girl, aside from knowing that letting her go off half-
cocked with all sorts of wild accusations would be beyond damaging to his
reputation, which Owen quite valued.
And now there was this one, with the speculation right in front of him on the
printed page. How would he manage to maintain his honor with this
scandalous woman chronicling his every move?
It was a vexing problem, Owen had to admit that, and yet in his heart of
hearts he was slightly intrigued by the whole thing.
He never would have told anyone about this, not even Nigel, but Owen had
fantasized about meeting this Lady X and finding out what made her tick, as

573
it were.
It would have satisfied his racier side, and in his wildest version of the
fantasy Lady X would charm him, and vice versa, and they would have a
courtship based on pure passion that would also be a love match.
He folded the scandal sheet in half, smiling to himself, and Owen had to
admit that a part of him also wished to rip it up. All of that was pure fantasy,
though, and at the moment there were more pressing matters at hand.
The first of which was doing as much as he could to counter the damage.
Even though he disapproved of increasing the size of the contingent, Owen
allowed Nigel to assemble a team of men to go about the county and collect
as many of the scandal sheets as possible before they could spread too far.
They hadn't been very successful before, but Owen knew they had to try. The
tentacles of Lady X reached far and wide, but he could at least limit the
damage in his home county of Wilshire, before it spread too far.
Owen inserted the scandal sheet in his pocket when he was done, then
pondered what to do about it. Finally, he decided to go to his study and do
some paperwork while he waited for Nigel to deliver some kind of
preliminary report.
Still, Owen remained frustrated, wanting to do far more but with no idea
what action to take at the moment.
And there was another pressing matter at hand. His father, Solomon
Barrington, had issued an order just that very morning that prevented Owen
from attending the Spring Ball, which was something he couldn't allow.
Solomon must have learned about this latest issue of the scandal sheet even
before Owen did, and Owen knew that particular fire had to be put out
immediately.

As she waited to hear whether the Duke of Wilshire would be allowed to

attend, Hester began preparing for the Spring Ball. There was a great deal
that went into this, but by far the most important matter was getting a dress
prepared.
But Hester was well ahead of the game on that front. She had made an

574
appointment with an especially excellent dressmaker, Alice Simmons,
whose shop was located in an obscure village in the far reaches of Bedford.
Alice's shop, which was called Modesty's Lady, had been an especially
valuable find for Hester. When she first visited, Hester wondered how
Alice made a living—the lives of dressmakers and seamstresses were
especially harsh, and Alice was obviously in an area that got precious little
traffic.
Upon her first visit, though, Hester had quickly learned that all her first
impressions were wrong. The shop was far busier than she expected, with a
constant stream of clients coming and going even during the brief time
Hester spent there shopping.
Moreover, they were obviously quite wealthy. While Hester didn't see any
other nobles, she recognized several ladies who were the daughters of
businessmen, men who were quite well-to-do. What were they doing
coming to this dress shop out in the middle of nowhere?
Once she got her first dress made, though, Hester learned the answer.
The materials were the finest she'd ever seen, and Alice employed several
seamstresses, all of whom were assigned very specific tasks, unlike many
dress shops where one or two very overworked girls had to do everything
from soup to nuts when it came to the dressmaking.
The shop functioned like a well-oiled machine, and it was always a
pleasure to visit as well. Alice served several brands of fine tea while the
pinning took place, which made that arduous process go quite swiftly
compared to Hester's previous experience with other shops.
Over time, Hester had formed a friendship of sorts with Alice, who had a
secret of her own that very few people knew about. Alice was an heiress of
sorts; her father had been a wealthy businessman who had died quite young,
and her mother had passed soon after, leaving Alice with an inheritance that
kept her quite comfortable.
Best of all, Alice knew quite a bit about the ladies who visited her shop,
many of whom were royals. She was privy to many of their secrets, and in
many ways the shop was a veritable hothouse for royal gossip.
And the nonstop flow of gossip had proven to be a serious boon for Hester.
Over time, the natural evolution of their friendship had made it quite easy
for Hester to ask Alice for help when she started the Lady X pen name, and

575
Alice had been more than happy to help.
“Hester!” Alice said when she arrived for her appointment, addressing her
informally based on the depth and length of their friendship. “What a delight
to see you again!”
Hester smiled warmly. “For me as well,” she replied, taking Alice's hands
and giving them a tender squeeze. “It has been far too long.”
“Without a doubt,” Alice said. “And with Spring Ball hard upon us as
well.”
“Indeed,” Hester said, giving her a sly smile. “I trust you saw the latest
entry?”
Alice looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. All the girls in
the shop who worked as seamstresses were well aware of Lady X, but only
Alice knew who it was. Hester giggled to herself, thinking it was almost
like having a secret identity in many ways, not to mention a scandalous alter
ego.
“I did indeed,” Alice said, lowering her voice so it wouldn't carry. “Quite
thrilling! How has the reaction been?”
“Eyebrows are being raised, and voices lowered to a whisper,” Hester said
theatrically, rolling her eyes as she did. “It has generated quite a buzz in the
counties.”
“I can only imagine,” Alice said, and she paused, raising her hand to
partially cover her mouth in a gesture that was nearly as theatrical. “And
believe it or not, I have more news for you.”

“Oh?” Hester said as she went to her usual chair. Her tea was being
prepared, chamomile most likely, and Hester couldn't wait to hear what the
latest gossip was.
“Oh yes,” Alice said. “But first, let us get to your dress for the spring ball. I
have a fabulous new design I simply can't wait to show you!”
“Nor can I, then,” Hester replied, grinning. “Let's get to it, then.”
“Yes, let's,” Alice seconded, and she motioned to one of her girls to bring

576
out the materials and drawings she'd prepared.
She set them down on the table next to Hester's chair, and slowly the
dressmaker slowly walked her through them. Hester was familiar with the
process and how Alice did things, having been through this process on at
least a half-dozen occasions.
“This looks scrumptious!” Hester said when she saw the drawings. “Tell me
again what your intent is?”
“It is an unusual combination to say the least,” Alice noted. “But I am quite
proud of the design.”
“As well you should be,” Hester nodded, studying the drawings more
closely. “Explain it to me once more.”
“Of course,” Alice replied. “It is a Georgian gown, with a marvelous
lavender trim for the hat and bonnet.”
“It's quite lovely,” Hester said, her breath momentarily taken away. “And
you said something about there being an extra touch?”
“Yes, if you'd like,” Alice said, raising her eyebrows a notch. “It is a bit
daring, though.”
“So much the better,” Hester said, licking her lips in anticipation. “Tell me,
tell me.”
“All right,” Alice said, smiling again as she pointed at a drawing in the
lower right corner. “It's a faux bandeau, made from a peacock feather. I've
been told it's quite the attention-getter.”
With that, she looked across the shop at one of her girls, and nodded. “Lacy,
can you fetch the bandeau?” she said.
“Of course, madam,” the girl replied with a polite curtsy. “It's in the back
waiting to be added.”
“Hurry, then,” Alice said, nodding to Hester and smiling at her. “We have
quite the eager client here.”
“Yes, madam,” Lacy repeated, bustling off toward the back of the shop.
Another fitting was taking place on the other side of the shop, and Hester
smiled at how busy this place constantly was.

577
“Now, then,” Alice said when the girl returned. “I'll just place it here
against this pattern sample, so you can see what you'd be getting yourself
into—literally and figuratively.”
Hester watched as Alice laid the bandeau against the lavender fabric
sample, and she took the combination in, trying to imagine how it would go
over at a ball.
It was quite distinguished and unusual, and it was hard for Hester to
visualize a scenario in which it could actually be outdone by another outfit.
“It's perfect!” she exclaimed finally. “I simply can't wait to see the finished
product.”
“Let's get to it, then,” Alice said. “We can begin the fitting and cutting
immediately— while we do, I have other news you simply must hear.”

Hester took her place in her chair, shivering with delight. Normally getting
fitted for a dress this elaborate would have been tedious beyond measure,
but at Modesty's Lady it was a genuine pleasure. And not just for her; the
Lady X element of Hester's personality was also quite eager.
“So,” Hester said once the initial pins had been set in place. “You have
news?”
“Oh yes,” Alice said, and she looked around to make sure none of the other
girls could hear her. “And it's definitely Lady X material for certain.”
“Marvelous!” Hester exclaimed. “Tell me! Is it about the duke, and whether
he will be allowed to attend the Spring Ball?”
“Sadly, no,” Alice replied, shaking her head. “It is about a duke, but not the
duke of Wilshire.”
“Oh? Yet another duke has gotten himself in dutch somehow?”
“Oh yes,” Alice said. “And it's quite scandalous.”
“Tell me, then,” Hester said. “I'm all ears.”
“Well. . .it's the Duke of Danbury,” her friend began. “It turns out he's hit a
considerable rough patch.”

578
“Why am I not surprised?” Hester said, rolling her eyes and shaking her
head. “Danbury has been in disarray for years.”
“Well, this time it's more than disarray,” Alice said. “There's a rumor going
around that the royal manor will have to be sold to cover the debts of the
county.”
“What?” Hester exclaimed. “Why, that's unheard of.”
“Absolutely,” Alice said, nodding. “But apparently the situation is quite
serious.”
“How serious?” she asked.
Alice cocked her head. “Danbury may actually go bankrupt,” she said,
lowering her voice again so she wouldn't be heard. “The county is that much
in arrears.”
“My goodness,” Hester said. “That is bad indeed. I've never heard of a
county going bankrupt.”
“Neither have I,” Alice seconded. “It would be unprecedented. But from
what I'm hearing, there may be a filing next week in county court if the
ongoing debt payments can't be covered.”
“Danbury is that much in arrears?” Hester asked. “That's shocking.”
“And then some,” her friend added. “But everything I'm hearing suggests it
may be true.”
“Indeed,” Hester said. “Might I ask another question about this?”
“Of course,” Alice said. “Whatever information I have you're totally privy
to.” Then she smiled. “I merely wish to be of service.”
“Of course,” Hester replied, giving her a wry nod, and she paused. “Might
this have anything to do with the duke's tippling?”
Her friend broke out in a broad smile. “I was wondering when you would
inquire about that,” she said. “And the answer is yes, it has quite a bit to do
with it.”
“How so?” Hester asked.
“Well, both the duke and his royal accountant are known to be compatriots
when it comes to tippling,” Alice explained. “They have been seen in

579
numerous taverns throughout the county, and in several beyond Danbury as
well.”
“Oh my,” Hester said. “That certainly doesn't bode well for financial
matters in the county.”
“Not at all,” Alice agreed. “And from what I'm hearing, it more than
explains why Danbury is so much in arrears and so deep in debt.”
“Not surprising,” she commented. “So it is the accountant as well?”
“Yes,” Alice confirmed. “Apparently his love for liquor is as passionate as
the duke's— and they have been known to indulge their libido when they go
out and buy a few rounds together.”
“What?” Hester asked with raised brows. “Surely you jest!”
“I wish I was,” Alice said, smiling as she shook her head. “Supposedly
several tavern wenches have succumbed to their charms.”
“You can't be serious,” Hester said, her eyes widening in surprise. “Can you
confirm any of this?”
“I can indeed,” her friend said. “In fact, at least one of these girls has been
sent to the same home for girls that the Duke of Wilshire's governess was
sent to!”
“What?” Hester exclaimed. “Can that be confirmed as well?”
“Not completely,” Alice admitted. “The tavern wench I can verify, but not
the governess —at least not yet.”
“Well, it should be enough to go with,” Hester said. “At least for Lady X.”
“Without a doubt,” Alice agreed. “And the combination will likely pack
quite a punch, I should say.”
“Absolutely,” Hester said as the girl finished with the initial pinnings,
allowing her to get up and stretch for a bit. “And who knows what kind of
trouble these misbehaving dukes will get themselves into at the spring
ball?”

Hester sat down to write as soon as the fitting was done. She couldn't

580
decide which was more exciting—the prospect of a brilliant new dress for
the Spring Ball, or a juicy new gossip item for Lady X.
But she did know she wanted to start on the latter as soon as possible.
Fortunately Alice had a desk in the back of the shop that she used to do her
bills and accounting, and she was happy to let Hester use it when inspiration
suddenly struck.
And it definitely had. This happened to Hester quite frequently; the words
would form in her mind, and she knew immediately that she had to get them
down on paper as soon as possible.
Before she did, though, Hester went outside and told her coachman that it
would be a while before they would depart for the royal manor in Bedford.
He just rolled his eyes and shook his head—he was used to these sorts of
sudden changes from Hester, although of course he had no idea that she was
Lady X.
It would have been scandalous to let a man in on her little secret, even
though Hester was sure he occasionally saw things in his travels that she
could use.
Once that was taken care of, Hester sat down to write. This would be a
rough draft, most likely, something she would rewrite and polish when she
returned to the royal manor.
Occasionally, though, Hester got everything right the first time through, and
Alice had helped her publish right away several times when that had
happened.
The process of writing was terrifying, but Hester had an especially brave
heart when it came to Lady X.
She'd discovered that the moment of fear was part of the excitement of it,
and that if she simply dove in the results would come right away, at least to
some extent.
And that was the case now with what Alice had told her. The words flowed
smoothly, and within minutes Hester was completely immersed in what she
was doing.
Did the Duke of Danbury's Tippling Spark the Ultimate Estate Sale?
We all know that life has been quite difficult lately in Danbury, but recent

581
events suggest that the current circumstances may have progressed
beyond the pale.
According to someone who knows, financial matters in Danbury have
become so desperate that the royal manor itself may be put up for sale.
Possibly as soon as next week, if rumors of a filing for bankruptcy are
true.
So what's behind the desperation? We all know the answer to that
particular question. Apparently the duke's fondness for strong spirits has
rendered Danbury unable to climb out of the financial hole the county has
fallen into.
The duke has supposedly been seen on several occasions imbibing with
his royal accountant, who apparently is complicit in Danbury's
precipitous decline. Such a sad state for such a formerly glorious county,
but it looks like a recovery is close to impossible.
No word yet on whether the Duke of Danbury will make an appearance at
the Spring Ball.
And we eagerly await word about whether the Duke of Wilshire will be
allowed to make an appearance after his scandalous liaison with his most
recent governess. . .which was recently reported on by the ever-vigilant
Lady X!
More to that soon. . .stay watchful, loyal followers!
Yours in complicit cooperation,
Lady X
When she was done Hester reread it, instantly turning from writer to critic.
There were several passages that needed rewording, so she quickly folded
her latest missive and slipped it into the bodice of her dress for the moment.
After that she made her way to the front of the shop and found Alice, then
made the final arrangements for the dress. It would be delivered two days
before the ball, and a seamstress would accompany the delivery, in case any
last-minute adjustments were necessary.
“So how did it go back there?” Alice asked, giving Hester a salacious wink.
“Did everything arrive to your satisfaction?”
“Oh yes,” Hester said, giving her a broad grin. “And thank you for

582
providing the privacy I required, once again.”
“Always my pleasure,” Alice said, smiling, and she lowered her voice to a
theatrical whisper. “So we'll be seeing this latest sometime soon?”
“Oh yes,” Hester repeated. “Definitely before the Spring Ball. . .and it
should make quite an impact at that!”

While Hester was on her way back to the royal manor in Bedford, Owen
had a different problem on his hands. The governess had been spirited
away, much to his relief, so that issue was definitely settled.
But he still had to tackle this problem with his father, who was quite
perturbed about the histrionics from the governess before she'd been sent
away.
His father was a fair man, though, as his name implied, so Owen knew he
simply had to give Solomon time to calm down.
He couldn't afford to wait too long, however. Considerable preparations
would have to be made for him to be able to attend the ball if Owen could
gain his father's approval, so he'd requested an audience with him that very
afternoon.
It was almost time for their meeting, and Owen went over in his mind what
he wished to say. He'd tried to explain what had happened when his father
had learned of his indiscretion, but they'd both been far too emotional to
reach any kind of reconciliation.
Now, though, that needed to happen, and Owen reminded himself to be calm
and reasonable as he rapped on the door of his father's study.
Solomon's primary servant answered the door for him, then left, and Owen
gave the fellow a cursory nod as he did, waiting for the door to close behind
him.
“Is this an appropriate time, father?” Owen said, trying to sound as humble
as possible.
“Yes,” Solomon said, looking up from his desk, where he'd been hard at
work at something or other. His father was still a vital man, and he attended
to many of the royal duties, something for which Owen was eternally

583
grateful. “Our appointment will take place as scheduled.”
Owen nodded, then spoke. “First of all, I wish to apologize for all the fuss
and commotion with the governess,” he began, bowing his head in
deference. “I have deep regrets about all of that.”
“As well you should,” his father replied. “It was most unseemly.”
“At least it's been settled,” Owen pointed out, and his father immediately
frowned.
“At considerable cost,” he replied. “And damage to our reputation as well.”
“I know,” Owen said, knowing this was part of what he had to endure to
reestablish himself in his father's good graces. “But I can assure you, it
won't happen again.
Solomon smiled slightly. “I've heard you sing that song before, Owen,” he
commented. “What makes it different this time?”
“I've learned my lesson,” Owen replied contritely. “The cost of these
misunderstandings, both financially and to the family reputation, can be
considerable.”
“Indeed,” his father agreed. “Speaking of which, there is something else I
wish to speak to you about.”
Solomon looked quite determined, and suddenly Owen decided not to try to
deliver the explanation he'd planned. His father seemed quite ready to move
on from this incident, and Owen was more than willing to go along with
that, so much so that he heaved a formidable sigh of relief.
“What is that, father?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“It is somewhat delicate, I'm afraid,” Solomon said.
“As you wish,” Owen said, nodding. “I will be discreet.”
“It is imperative,” his father replied. “And it is about this Lady X, I'm
afraid.”
“Oh!” he exclaimed, blushing slightly. “So you are aware of her?”
“Oh yes,” Solomon replied. “And I have been for some time.”
Suddenly his father smiled slightly. “I know you think I keep myself buried

584
in mundane royal affairs,” he added. “But I try and stay on top of matters of
all sort that affect the county.”
“Indeed,” Owen said. “As well you should.”
“And I find this one quite vexing,” Solomon said.
“As do we all,” Owen agreed. “I have been quite askance about it for some
time.”
“Yes, I know that as well,” Solomon said. “And I have heard that you have
taken considerable pains to try and stop her—or whoever is generating
these accursed things.”
“Yes,” he replied. “And it is undoubtedly a woman, I am virtually sure of
that much. No man could know of the things that have been appearing in
these scandalous sheets, regardless of his reach or his ability to disguise his
identity.”
“I agree,” his father said. “And I have also heard that your efforts have been
quite ineffective.”
Owen grimaced. “I am afraid so,” he admitted. “We have posted additional
guards around the royal manor, but to no avail.”
“I know,” Solomon said. “I have also heard that you have tried to stop the
spread of her 'work,' as it were?”
“Yes, that too,” he acknowledged. “I don't know how much good it's done,
but every effort has been made.”
Solomon pursed his lips, then frowned. “Well, I'm afraid it's not enough.”
“I understand,” Owen replied. “We will redouble our efforts. More guards,
more men to catch up to the deuced things as soon as they appear and
remove them as soon as that happens.”
His father paused, then shook his head. “No, I'm afraid you truly don't
understand,” Solomon repeated.
“Father?” Owen said, frowning in confusion.
“I am giving you new terms for this,” his father explained. “Ones you
probably won't like.”
His frown deepened. “Father?” Owen repeated.

585
Solomon took a deep breath, then spoke again. “As you know, I have
forbidden you from attending the Spring Ball this weekend,” he began.
“Yes,” Owen replied, nodding. “That is part of what I am here about—that
and the apology, first and foremost.”
His father nodded. “Well, I am grateful for that,” he said. “But I have made a
decision about how I wish to handle this.”
“Father?” Owen repeated once again, beginning to feel like a bit of a dunce
for doing so.
“I would like to propose new terms,” Solomon explained. “Ones you will
have no choice but to accept, I'm afraid.”
Oh dear, Owen said to himself. I don't like the sound of this at all.
“I see,” he replied, reminding himself to keep his emotions in check. “And
what would those be?”
Solomon blinked. “I will allow you to attend the Spring Ball,” he continued.
“But on one important condition.”
Owen smiled for a moment, then frowned when he heard the word
“condition.” His father was notorious for adding riders and clauses
whenever he bestowed his beneficence, and Owen was afraid this was
going to be one of those occasions.
“And what would that be?” he asked.
“That you stop this Lady X,” Solomon said. “And expose her identity,
whoever she may be. This woman needs to be halted, and perhaps even
brought to justice if need be. There are rumors of legal action against her,
for libel and calumny and such.”
Owen's jaw dropped. He tried to think of other options and ways to catch
Lady X, but the truth was he'd done this a thousand times before. Each effort
had been more futile than the last, to the point where Owen was completely
exasperated and frustrated by the matter.
“But. . .but, that's completely unfair,” he sputtered, once again reminding
himself of the need to keep his emotions in check.
Solomon smiled slightly. “I agree completely,” he acknowledged. “But that's
beside the point.”

586
Owen shook his head, trying to rein himself in. “What do you mean?” he
finally asked.
His father shrugged and cocked his head. “The way I look at it, it is
completely your fault that this has happened,” he explained. “Not with the
entire matter, of course, but certainly with those editions of this scandal
sheet that pertain in particular to our royal family.”
Solomon paused to see Owen's reaction, and Owen did his level best to
maintain a poker face.
“You are certainly right about that,” he said reluctantly. “I don't have a leg to
stand on in that particular aspect of it.”
“Yes,” Solomon agreed, nodding with satisfaction. “And that is why I'm
holding you responsible for stopping this nonsense.”
So unfair, Owen thought to himself. It's not my fault this infernal woman
has gone off half cocked in her efforts to expose and ruin the private lives
of half the royals in the surrounding counties.
Instead he simply sighed, pondering the matter and what he could do about
it. Owen still had no idea what his options might be, but there was nothing
he could do at the moment.
He simply had to think things through until he could come up with some kind
of viable way to stop it, and at the moment the point of this little exercise
was to buy some time to do that.
“I am sure there are others hard at work on this problem as well,” Owen
pointed out. “Given the damage she has caused.”
Solomon nodded in agreement. “I'm sure you're right about that,” he replied.
“But I don't particularly care about any of them.”
His father set his jaw, a sure sign to Owen that he was digging in for a fight.
That was the one thing he couldn't allow to happen, he reminded himself,
and Owen took a couple of deep breaths to maintain his calm and
equilibrium.
Finally, when he was sure he was settled enough, Owen spoke.
“May I ask a single question?” he asked making sure to keep his tone even.
“Of course,” Solomon said, spreading his palms as if he was open to just

587
about anything, which Owen knew he decidedly wasn't. “Ask anything you
wish.”
“It is a speculative question, of course,” he said, gaging his father's reaction,
and Solomon merely nodded.
Owen took yet another deep breath, hating even the thought of making this
query.
“What will happen if I fail?” he asked.
His father's eyebrows lifted, and Owen could tell that the question surprised
him.
“I hadn't considered that, actually, now that you mention it,” he said. “But
there is a simple answer, I think.”
“And that would be?” Owen asked, as nervous as he'd ever been in his life.
“If you can find her quickly, all will be as it was before all this nonsense
started, and your previous transgressions will be forgiven and forgotten—
completely,” Solomon began.
“But if you fail, by the end of the social season, all of your royal privileges
with regard to all of these affairs will be rescinded—permanently.”

Hester prepared her latest missive immediately, then moved on to get ready
for the Spring Ball. The reaction to the latest efforts of Lady X was as she
expected—shock, horror and outrage, although not quite as much when
Hester focused on matters that were more libidinous.
Even though she knew why, Hester could never quite completely understand
that. Oh, she fully comprehended the interest in anything that involved the
coupling and romantic endeavors of royals—that was as natural as the birds
and the bees.
But to her, financial matters were just as scandalous, if not even more so.
She herself was horrified at what was happening in Danbury, for the cost
was far greater than that of a simple royal scandal involving romance.
The bankruptcy of a county affected each and every resident, royal and
commoner, rich or poor, and she wished there was a way she could increase

588
the outrage she felt among her legion of loyal readers.
At the moment, though, all of that was quite irrelevant, or so it seemed. The
hours and days leading up to the ball were passing quickly, and Hester
found herself caught up in the final preparations.
But Hester also knew that this was part of the excitement and thrill of the
experience. The heady rush to try and get things done, her heart racing, the
daydreams and romantic fantasies about what might happen—in many ways
those were as important as the actual ball itself.
And she knew how pivotal all of that was to her Lady X guise as well.
Hester never resorted to pandering to her readers, but she did know how to
tap into their interests, delights and anxieties, and she kept those first and
foremost in her mind each time she sat down to write.
Finally, though, the fateful day arrived. As Hester climbed into her royal
carriage, she tried to calm herself and decide what she wanted, both as Lady
X and a royal lady who was out to better herself while meeting her ideal
mate in the process.
The ride to the ball was swift and uneventful, and when they reached the
royal ballroom in Wilshire, Hester had her coachman pause far back in the
line, so she might get a better idea of what the pecking order for this
particular ball might be.
In this regard, Hester knew she would never be at the front of the line. She
was the daughter of an earl, and while Bedford was a prosperous county,
Hester knew there would always be more beautiful and richer ladies whose
superficial qualifications might transcend hers.
But in the matters that mattered, Hester knew she could more than hold her
own, and she reminded herself of that as she took her place in the line. Part
of her was always scanning the field, as it were, in the role of Lady X,
searching for small signs that something interesting or untoward—or both—
might be about to happen.
The promenade into the ballroom was peaceful and uneventful, though, and
Hester quickly found her way to her royal table after leaving her wrap at the
door once the servant appeared to take it.
Because of her lower royal status, Hester knew she would spend the first
part of the ball observing the other ladies draw the initial dances.

589
And she also knew she'd be observing the Duke of Wilshire, having heard
from her hairdresser the day before that he would be allowed to attend, and
to initiate both the first and final dances, which were the most pivotal by far.
The news thrilled and disappointed her. Her disappointment was rooted in
her Lady X persona—she received the word about his being allowed to
attend far too late to publish anything about it, which sorely vexed Hester.
She wondered if this had been done deliberately, to keep Lady X from doing
any damage by waiting until the last minute to leak the news out.
Could Lady X really have accumulated that much power in so short a period
of time?
But her excitement came from a far different set of emotions. Hester had
danced with Owen at the last royal ball, and at the one before that as well.
The first dance had been uneventful, but the second had sparked something
that had seemed promising to her.
Surprisingly, the Duke seemed quite interested in her as a conversation
partner. Hester couldn't even recall how it had happened—she might have
mentioned something about a book she'd been reading, now that she
remembered, and that had sparked an exchange between them.
Owen had asked all sorts of questions about the book—who had written it,
the story, what kept her interest—and of course this was a perfect avenue of
engagement for Hester.
She'd answered all his questions eagerly, which had drawn even more
interest, and Hester had looked forward to being able to ask him similar
questions in return.
But she'd never gotten the chance. The exchange had been all too brief,
mostly because of the demands on the duke as a dance partner.
He had several prominent ladies to keep in line—none of whom he seemed
to find nearly as interesting as her—so he'd never returned to Hester for
another dance.
She'd been disappointed about it for weeks, but shortly after that the
opportunity to become Lady X had come about, and all thoughts about the
exchange had temporarily left her mind.
Now, though, as she watched Owen leading the dance, the exchange came

590
back to her, complete with each and every detail.
She watched the duke gracefully wheeling the different ladies around the
floor, and it occurred to Hester that she would have to reintroduce this topic
if she got the chance. At the very least it would give her more material for
Lady X, and who knew what else it might lead to.
Then, finally, with most of his initial obligations fulfilled, Owen began
casting his eyes around the ballroom for a suitable partner. This was where
Hester hoped her dress might come into play—was it eye-catching enough
to draw his glance, so she could finish her business with him once she got
the chance?
The answer to that was a resounding “yes.” The dress did its work quite
efficiently, and Hester saw Owen smile when he noticed it.
He began walking toward her table immediately after that, and Hester gave
him her most fetching smile, without trying to seem like a simpering
schoolgirl as she did.
There was no doubt he was coming toward her, and Hester prepared herself
to receive his invitation to dance. She also reminded herself to keep her
wits about her, and to be open to whatever exchange occurred, whether it
might open the door to romance and courtship or simply provide her with
more fodder for Lady X.

“M'Lady,” the duke said when he reached Hester. “Might I have the pleasure
of this dance with you?”
Once again, Hester smiled demurely. “Why of course, your Grace,” she
replied, bowing her head and extending her hand to him. “I am quite
delighted at your invitation.”
Owen smiled. “It was inevitable, M'Lady,” he replied nonchalantly. “And
that is a fascinating dress you're wearing, I must say.”
“Thank you, your Grace,” Hester said, blushing slightly. “I can only thank
my dressmaker for her efforts in that regard. Her talents are quite
formidable.”
He took her hand, then kissed it gently and led Hester onto the dance floor.

591
“Of that I have no doubt, M'Lady,” he said as he turned to catch the eye of
the conductor leading the string orchestra. “But 'tis true that the value of a
dress can only be commensurate with the virtues of the lady wearing it.”
Hester's blush deepened, and she became momentarily distracted from all
the rejoinders she'd given herself.
“Well thank you indeed, your Grace,” she said. “That is perhaps the most
exceptional compliment I have ever received. I am seriously in your debt.”
With that, the waltz began, and their conversation was temporarily
interrupted. Hester focused on matching the duke's grace, and she managed
to succeed, despite the fact that she knew there were far better dancers
present.
Thank God it is just a simple waltz, she said to herself. Heaven knows
whether I'd be able to keep up if the steps were more complex or
elaborate.
After that, though, she was able to relax a bit. Owen was such a capable
dancer that his leadership was innate; Hester simply had to follow him, and
she found herself being wheeled around the dance floor as if they were
gliding on a carpet of air.
And the other ladies noticed. Hester had caught more than her share of
jealous glances when they'd first seen her dress, and now those glances had
become far more venomous.
Hester normally wasn't the type to be buoyed by such things, but she had to
admit to a small rush of pleasure when she saw the looks they were
receiving.
Because of Owen's expertise, she was able to quickly settle into the rhythm
of the dance and relax even more. Hester's curious mind began to come to
the forefront, and she knew this was the time to engage the duke in
conversation.
“I am quite pleased that you were able to attend,” she began, knowing this
was a somewhat bold tactic indeed. “Some of us had heard that it might not
be possible.”
For an instant Owen seemed shaken by her comment, but he quickly
recovered his equilibrium.

592
“It has been an eventful week for certain,” he replied. “I am fortunate that I
was able to get things settled so that I could attend with an open mind and a
clear heart.”
Owen smiled as he said that, but he knew the truth was something quite
other than this social nicety he'd just delivered. In reality he was as anxious
as he'd ever been due to the ultimatum his father had delivered regarding
Lady X, although he wasn't about to show it.
He relied on dancing to calm himself and soothe his nerves, and it worked
its magic, as always.
Owen loved this part of his royal duties—fulfilling his obligation as leader
of the ball was something he enjoyed beyond measure, and the dances
themselves were just as pleasurable, if not even more so.
Once again Hester found herself swept away in his arms, and she had to
gather herself and focus in order to keep up.
The duke didn't seem inclined to follow up on his initial comment about the
week being so unsettled, so Hester decided to try a different conversational
gambit.
“I don't know if you remember me or not, your Grace, from our earlier
encounter at the last royal ball of the previous social season,” she began,
giving Owen her most fetching smile. “But I believe you asked me some
questions about what I was reading at the time.”
Suddenly his face lit up in recognition. “Of course I remember,” Owen said,
beaming at her. “It is vivid in my memory, and the recollection is quite
precise as well.”
“I am pleased, your Grace,” Hester replied. “As I thought you might have an
ongoing interest in literature, and matters of letters in general.”
“I do,” he said. “I read constantly, and it is both a passion and a pleasure of
mine.”
“Indeed,” she said, cocking her head with increased interest. “That is quite
uncommon amongst royal men. However, some have an interest in reading
about matters of law, or books that will help them increase the prosperity of
their counties and their subjects.”
“Not I,” Owen replied, feeling himself drawn deeper into the conversation

593
in spite of himself. “I am a voracious reader, and I will simply devour
anything that catches my interest.”
Hester shivered at his words, noticing that the duke was casting a lascivious
glance at her as he spoke them.
“Might I ask a question, then, your Grace?,” Hester said, blushing as she did
her best to keep her tone level.
“Of course, M'Lady,” he replied. “Truth be told, this is the most enjoyable
conversation I have experienced this evening by far.”
“That pleases me, your Grace,” she replied, smiling up at him. “And my
question is a simple one, although the answer may be somewhat more
complex.”
Owen returned her smile, fully engaged in the exchange and its implications.
“I adore a challenging question, M'Lady. Feel free to ask away.”

Owen was charmed. He awaited Hester's question with bated breath, and
suddenly he recalled their earlier conversation. He, too, had wanted to talk
further, but alas, his royal duties had interfered that evening and he hadn't
had the chance to dance with her again.
Now he had a chance to rectify that, and the duke was determined to get to
know her better. The start to that was to answer her question, whatever it
was, and finally Hester spoke.
“What is it you like to read most of all, your Grace?” she asked. “If you
don't mind my asking, that is.”
Owen blushed furiously, and Hester noticed. What was that about, she
thought to herself. It was obvious from his physical reaction that Hester had
struck a nerve of some sort, even if he tried to hide it or shy away from it in
his reply.
“Why of course I don't mind,” the duke said, as if it was nothing. But he
paused for a moment before he answered, and at that fateful moment the
waltz came to an end.
The movement of the various lords and ladies came to a halt, and they
politely applauded the orchestra's efforts. Hester looked at Owen in

594
anticipation, still waiting for him to answer, but instead he took her hand
and began to escort her back to her table, with all eyes glued to them as he
did.
“That was most pleasurable, M'Lady,” he said when they reached it. “Might
I have the honor of another dance with you later in the ball?”
“Why, of course, your Grace,” she said, giving him a playful grin. “May I
know if you are going to respond to my question?”
Owen nodded. “Without a doubt,” he said, returning her grin with a playful
smile. “But I think I should like to postpone my reply until that later dance,
if that meets with your approval. May I take a rain check on that?”
“Why, of course, your Grace,” she responded. “I shall look forward to that
next dance with great eagerness and anticipation.”
With that, they parted, but only temporarily. Hester returned to her table, and
she began to study Owen as he danced with the other ladies, mostly to
assess his demeanor.
Was there another lady who had already captured his heart? Did he favor
one over another, and if so, was there anything in that favoritism that would
reveal his true feelings.
As she studied him, Hester had to admit that part of her was functioning as
Lady X. She found herself doing more and more of this—studying nobles to
see if she could learn their secrets, or verify something that one of her
sources had revealed to her.
But that wasn't all she was doing as she studied Owen. He was quite
handsome, with his thick, dark hair that he wore swept back, and Owen
certainly did cut a fine figure on the dance floor.
Hester had to admit she was more than a little intrigued, and as the dancing
continued, she reluctantly admitted to herself that she could easily see
herself falling for him if she allowed that to happen. Owen didn't seem to
have any favorite lady, and that made her think she had a chance.
As for Owen, he found himself quite preoccupied. His interest in reading
and writing were something he admitted to no one, for his father had
discouraged it when he'd seen how much time Owen devoted to it.
Owen could still hear the words echoing in his head: How will you ever

595
find time to fulfill your royal obligations if you devote so many hours to
this nonsense?
As he danced, Owen found himself glancing over occasionally at Hester,
and he wondered if he was still in her thoughts as well. She seemed quite
accomplished, and there was no doubt that she was very beautiful as well.
Solomon would bridle considerably if he made her his choice for courtship,
but Owen could already feel his heart being pulled in Hester's direction.
The other ladies he was dancing with certainly had their charms, but none
intrigued him as much as Hester did, and the more Owen danced the more he
realized he needed to learn far more about her.
And that meant courtship. The final dance was coming, and as it drew closer
Owen reached a decision. Rather than engage with Hester at a later dance,
he would make her his partner for the final dance, which would announce
his intentions to court her to everyone present at the Spring Ball.
His decision would set off considerable controversy. There were many who
expected Owen to court a woman from a prominent family of equal rank and
power, his father most especially.
It would have certain benefits, though. Courting Hester would remove him
from the crosshairs of this Lady X she-devil, which in turn would give him
time to learn who she was.
His father would back off if he knew Owen was courting with a serious end
in mind, so it would solve two of his problems with a single blow.
Once he'd made up his mind, Owen took a break to consult with the
orchestra leader, letting him know of his plans. He'd carefully planned each
dance out in advance, but fortunately it was easy enough to make this kind of
change on the fly without upsetting the applecart too much.
He would engage in three more dances, then initiate the final dance. Lady
Hester would be disappointed, but only temporarily, and he had a feeling
she would be quite delighted at the outcome.
Owen savored the possibility of courting her, and he sprinted gaily through
the remaining dances before the final one, satisfied that things were
beginning to turn in his direction.

596
Hester continued to watch the dances carefully, eager for Owen to return.
She was becoming bored watching the other ladies, and she wished to
engage him in conversation again, so that they might resume their repartee.
But when he didn't return for one dance, and then another, Hester began to
grow concerned. Had her charms worn off so quickly, that Owen would
change his mind about dancing with her again? Or had his fancy been
captured by another lady, someone she hadn't noticed because she'd become
so preoccupied?
Then, suddenly, Hester found her attention drawn by something entirely
different. A squabble of some sort had broken out at one of the tables near
her, and Hester turned to see what the argument was about.
“You'll not have her for the final dance!” The voice was coming from a man,
and an agitated one at that.
Hester looked to see who it was, and she could see she wasn't the only one
who was curious. Not surprisingly, it was the Earl of Weston, who was
quite well known for his volatile temper.
He was arguing with a noble, but Hester couldn't quite see who it was. She
began to pay more attention, in part because the Lady X part of her was
more than a little intrigued.
Hester craned her neck to see who the other noble was. It took a little time,
but she eventually saw that it was the Earl of Amesbury, who was also
known for flying off the handle every now and again.
She began to pay more attention to the argument, to see if she could learn
more of the specifics. Hester wasn't prone to eavesdropping, but their
voices carried quite a bit, and once she was listening it was virtually
impossible not to overhear what they were saying.
“She'll be mine!” the Earl of Amesbury replied. “Lady Bridget already said
she quite fancied me.”
That cinched it for her. Lady Bridget was Bridget Banfield, the daughter of
the Duke of Berkshire. Landing her for the final dance and courtship would
be a considerable feather in the cap of either one of them, and Hester
continued to watch to see what would happen.
For better or worse, though, the argument was over in a matter of seconds,
although Hester made a mental note to monitor the situation between them.

597
Things seemed to settle down after that, so she returned her attention to the
dance floor to see if anything had changed with Owen.
He was still out on the dance floor, and Hester's heart fell slightly. Owen
appeared quite enchanted with the lady he was dancing with, whom Hester
didn't recognize. Had something happened while she was paying attention to
the argument? Had the duke's heart been stolen by another woman?
Regardless of the answers to those questions, Hester had little time to
consider them. It was time for the final dance, and Owen was coordinating
that with the orchestra leader.
“Thank you for coming to the Spring Ball!” he said enthusiastically, striding
to the podium to make the announcement. “It has been a rousing success so
far, and I would like to thank you all for coming out and making it so.”
The audience applauded politely, then with a bit more volume. Owen
waited for things to calm down a bit, then continued to speak.
“Sadly, though, all good things must come to an end, as we all know,” he
continued. “So I would like to announce this as the final dance, and to invite
you all onto the floor with me once I have made my selection.”
With that, the duke stepped forward, and the room grew silent. He made his
way to the ladies of the most prominent rank, and once again Hester's heart
fell.
Her chance was gone, seemingly, and her reaction told her how much she'd
become invested in the possibility of getting to know Owen better and
learning more about him.
Then, suddenly, the duke changed direction. Intrigued, Hester watched him,
thinking he might be going to a different lady of high rank, and once again
the Lady X part of her began to engage.
But then he kept going. Suddenly she realized that Owen was about to
choose a lesser noble, which would make for an especially juicy item for
certain.
As she continued to watch Owen, though, Hester inadvertently caught his
eye. He gave her a salacious look, and Hester blushed, and that was when
she realized what was about to happen.
The duke was going to choose her for the final dance.

598
“M'Lady,” he said with a slight smile. “Might I have the pleasure of this
final dance?”
“Of course, your Grace,” Hester replied, her heart soaring. “I am glad you
have returned.”
He took her hand, then slowly walked her out onto the dance floor. “The
issue was never in doubt, M'Lady,” Owen said nonchalantly. “It was just a
question of when.”
Hester blushed in shame. “I must confess I doubted you for a moment, your
Grace,” she said. “Please forgive me for that.”
“Of course,” he replied, nodding. “My interest in you has just begun. So it
was quite understandable.”
“Thank you, your Grace.”
With that, the dance began, and Hester forced herself to focus on the steps of
the elegant final waltz, which she knew would be the final dance of the
evening.
Doing this wasn't easy, however. The duke had the most fascinating eyes
she'd ever seen, blue with a hint of azure, and in many ways they reminded
Hester of a crystal clear lake in the middle of a pristine forest.
She was more than a little tempted to simply dive in and hold his gaze, and
Hester reminded herself that the dance itself should be the focus at the
moment.
The waltz started out briskly, and then the pace of the string orchestra
slowed slightly, which was the signal that it was time for the other nobles to
join them on the dance floor.
Owen carefully steered Hester between each new couple as they arrived,
smiling as the pageantry of the final dance continued to play out.
Hester was nearly overwhelmed. This was a new condition for her;
normally Hester was able to keep her wits about her whilst others were
losing theirs. But Owen's charms were quite considerable, and she knew she
was falling for him, hard, as he held his gaze on her once the dance floor
was full.

599
But that didn't keep Hester from losing her composure completely. Suddenly
she recalled her conversation with the duke, and Hester decided to renew it
now that the dance was slow enough to allow conversation.
“So, your Grace,” she began. “You never answered my earlier question.”
Owen cocked his head quizzically, turning them hard to avoid another
couple whose path had gone awry.
“What question would that be, M'Lady?” he said, feigning innocence.
“I should think you'd remember it,” Hester replied coyly, giving him her
most fetching smile. “It was about letters and literature, if memory serves
correctly.”
“Ah yes,” Owen replied, chuckling slightly. “You asked me something about
what I like to read.”
“I did, your Grace. And you must know how curious I am,” she added.
“Well, I'm happy to answer, then,” he said. “Just give me a moment to
consider my reply.”
“As you wish, your Grace,” Hester said. “I am a patient lady indeed, as I
hope you will come to learn.”

But Hester never got the answer to her question. Suddenly, there was a noise
off to the side of the ball room, and Owen and Hester both turned to see
what the ruckus was about.
It wasn't pretty. A brawl of sorts had broken out, and they heard male
voices, angry and shouting. There was some pushing and shoving going on
as well, and Hester didn't have to think hard or long to know what was
happening.
It was the two she'd seen earlier, the Earl of Amesbury and the Earl of
Weston. From what Hester could tell, they must have had another argument
of sorts over which of them would dance with Lady Bridget, who'd
apparently gotten caught in the middle of the fuss.
The matter had turned physical near the edge of the dance floor, and
evidently it had continued, spilling back toward the tables on the edge of the

600
floor, then further back toward the side wall.
There was a pileup of sorts where it was all taking place, and suddenly
Hester heard shouting, although she couldn't tell which earl was yelling.
“She's mine, I tell you! She agreed to the final dance with me!”
As for poor Lady Bridget, she looked to have gotten caught up in the middle
of the thing at first, and then somehow she managed to step back and out of
the way.
Now she was standing off to the side of the fray, her hands raised to her
mouth, obviously horrified by the whole thing. Hester knew she had a
reputation as a shy, sweet girl, and the prospect of two nobles fighting over
her in this manner was most likely her worst nightmare come to life.
“She's mine, I tell you! I'll have your head in a duel, you cad!”
At first Owen and Hester drifted toward the side of the ball room where the
action was taking place. The duke took her hand, then gave her a look of
concern, and Hester was touched by his obvious concern for her safety and
well-being.
Once he heard the shouting grow louder, though, Owen took action without
hesitating a bit. He dove into the pile, which consisted mostly of men by that
time, other nobles eager to either separate the combatants or escalate the
matter into a full-blown brawl.
And Owen was quite determined to stop the latter from happening. He began
picking out those at the edge of the pile, grabbing them by their jackets, or in
some cases by the seat of their pants.
He started pitching them backwards or sideways, being careful not to throw
any of them into a table, or any of the ladies who'd gotten caught up in all the
fuss.
Several of the nobles took quite a tumble, but Owen didn't seem concerned
in the least about that as long as they didn't get hurt. Hester smiled, surprised
at how dashing and strong he was, but the duke was more than living up to
his reputation as a valiant hero when the circumstances called for that.
Finally, Owen reached the center of the pileup, where the two earls were
about to come to serious blows. Realizing that he had no choice if he
wished to stop the fight, he delivered a quick, hard punch to the solar plexus

601
of the Earl of Weston, who instantly doubled over in pain.
The Earl of Amesbury had been about to deliver a blow of his own, but he
stopped in mid-punch, wondering how the devil his opponent had been
disabled so quickly.
Then he saw Owen, and the earl instantly dropped his firsts, then extended
his hands in a placating gesture when he realized that he would be next if the
violence continue.
“Back off, man!” Owen said sharply, barking out the words as forcefully as
he could. “Right now!”
The earl reacted instantly, taking a couple of steps backward, and from her
perch off to the side Hester could see him blush with shame.
“I am so sorry, your Grace,” the earl said, looking down at the ground,
where his would-be opponent was now prone and trying desperately to
recover his breath. “Please know that I meant no harm.”
Owen shook his head, obviously enraged. “What the devil were you
thinking?” he said, horrified. “This is the Spring Ball, for goodness sake.
You're lucky I don't call the constables and have you both hauled away in
irons.”
“Please, your Grace,” the earl said, sounding quite whiny. “Anything but
that. The disgrace and the embarrassment would be devastating.”
“Quite right,” Owen shot back, regaining his composure to at least some
extent. “I'll not have this start up again.”
“Of course not,” the Earl of Amesbury said. “Done and finished as far as I'm
concerned.”
But his opponent appeared to have missed the message. Suddenly the Earl of
Weston rose, coiling for another charge at the Earl of Amesbury. Evidently
he'd been playing possum to at least some extent, and Owen shook his head
in disgust.
Both his reaction and his subsequent action were remarkably fast. Without
thinking, Owen delivered a swift kick to the Earl of Weston before he could
get up, this time landing the blow slightly south of the solar plexus.
The Earl of Weston yelled in pain, then rolled over, helpless, as he clutched
his private parts. His face turned bright crimson, and laughter broke out

602
among the crowd as everyone realized where the blow had landed.
But the duke wasn't about to take the chance that they might renew their
battle. He quickly reached out and grabbed the Earl of Amesbury by the
collar, lest he try to take advantage of his temporary advantage.
After that he waited for a moment, watching the Earl of Weston to make sure
he'd recovered to at least some extent. When the poor fellow looked slightly
better, Owen reached down and hauled him to his feet with his free hand,
clearly still furious at both of them.
“That'll be quite enough then, eh?” he spat, looking at one and then the other.
“I'll not have any more of this—and I'm going to escort both of you out of
here to make sure the violence is over.”
The Earl of Amesbury nodded, and somehow the Earl of Weston managed to
gasp out his consent. Owen took both of them and walked them quickly from
the ballroom, until he'd reached the line of carriages that were waiting to
take the nobles home at the end of the evening.
The duke pitched them both forward onto the walkway, wanting to make it
absolutely clear that no further violence would be tolerated. The Earl of
Amesbury stumbled and fell, and the Earl of Weston simply went to the
ground again, still somewhat disabled from the kick to the groin.
“That's it for the evening, understand?” Owen said, glaring down at both of
them. “Rest assured the constables will be supervising an orderly exit, and
if there is any further nonsense the consequences will be quite dire, I assure
you.”

Hester tried to follow Owen when he dragged the two earls out to the curb,
but that turned out to be far more difficult than she'd imagined.
She'd watched the fight at the beginning with a mixture of fascination and
horror, taking in Owen's heroics as the whole thing played out. And she had
to admit, drawing the attention of a man like Owen stirred her blood in ways
Hester had never thought possible.
Once he grabbed the two earls, though, a form of modified chaos broke out.
Half the royals in the hall wished to leave as quickly as possible, while the
other half treated the whole thing as if it was some kind of boxing match,

603
following to try to get a better view of the spectacle.
Hester got caught up in that chaos. As hard as she tried to stay by Owen's
side, she figured out quite quickly that it was going to be impossible. She
found herself swept up in a wave of people, and the best she could do was
step to the side to let them go past her, eager to see how the whole thing
would end.
Hester was curious as well, but she was determined to be careful about
seeing the outcome. She worked her way around the pileup as the mob
moved toward the door, and Hester trailed them to figure out if she could
find a vantage point that would allow her to see the ending, assuming that
was what was coming.
But even that proved impossible. The mob spilled out of the main entrance
to the ball room, and Hester realized that the best she'd be able to do would
be to access the door to see what was happening.
She managed to find a place where she could see Owen throw the two earls
to the ground, and Hester smiled slightly at the absurdity of the whole thing.
She desperately wanted to rejoin Owen to be at his side, but Hester knew
there was no way that was going to happen right now, and she needed to
focus on taking care of herself.
When she looked behind her, Hester saw that the area had cleared
somewhat, and she returned to the dance floor, which was nearly empty.
This was the oasis in the midst of all the violence, and Hester forced herself
to take several deep breaths as she considered what to do next.
She saw a smaller trail of nobles making their way out the door on the
opposite side of the dance floor, and Hester quickly decided that was
probably the safest path to follow. She dashed across the floor to join them,
hoping she'd made the right choice.
There was indeed a back exit, and Hester ran out, hoping to find her coach
before some other calamity took place. She'd deliberately had her coachman
park at the end of the line so she could make an easy exit, and now that
tactic served her quite well.
Her head was spinning on the ride home, and Hester tried to digest
everything she'd just seen. And once again, she found herself torn in ways
she couldn't have imagined just a short while ago.

604
On the one hand, she'd just drawn the attention of the most handsome and
dashing man in the counties, and Hester found herself attracted to him in
ways she could barely even articulate at the moment.
Moreover, he seemed to have a common interest. Hester still hadn't gotten
her answer about what the duke liked to read, or about the precise nature of
his interest in letters and literature.
That saddened her, but there seemed to be hope for the future—Owen
seemed to be intrigued enough with her to promise a meeting of some sort in
the future.
Or so she hoped.
On the other hand, though, Hester's urge to act as Lady X seemed to be
growing. The first thing she'd thought of when she saw the brawl was to find
a way to report it, and to learn all the specifics that would allow her to do
that, such as, the who, what, when, where and how of it, as it were.
In part, that pleased her. Her skills as a writer and reporter were definitely
increasing and sharpening, and that filled Hester with pride. She'd worked
hard at that aspect of it, and the fact that she was getting better at the
foundation skills that had given Hester her reputation pleased her
immensely.
But there was also something more than a little tawdry about the whole
thing. Before she'd become Lady X, Hester's first concerns would have been
stopping the brawl, ensuring the safety of everyone she could possibly help,
and getting out of harm's way if those first two things weren't possible.
Now, however, her instincts seemed to override all those things. Hester's
first interest was in getting the story, and her mind was still buzzing with
how she could do that, and ways she could write it up as Lady X if she
chose to go forward with it.
And there was another complication with all of this. The Duke of Wilshire
had been one of her prime subjects, generating frequent items with his
various indiscretions. What if something came up involving Owen, and
Hester suddenly had to report on it in the guise of Lady X?
All of this was more than she could process at the moment, and it gave
Hester a serious headache just thinking about it. It was a terrifying muddle
to sort out, and she had no idea how to put it in order.

605
Finally she decided that it would all have to sort itself out on its own. There
was nothing about Owen to report at the moment—save for his interest in
her, now that Hester thought about it.
And wouldn't that be ironic indeed—having to report on her own budding
romance as Lady X.
At the moment, though, the next move clearly belonged to the duke. Hester
completely understood the actions Owen had to take to bring matters at the
ball under control, and she also understood that he had urgent duties to
perform to maintain that control and get the whole thing sorted out.
Soon all of that would be over, however—or at least Hester assumed it
would. At that point Owen would have a decision to make about whether he
wished to pursue a courtship with her, which was what choosing her for the
final dance seemed to imply.
But none of that was going to get sorted out at the moment. As her carriage
hit a bumpy stretch of road, Hester couldn't help but think of it as a metaphor
for what had just happened, and a wave of sadness and fatigue overtook her.
She would just have to wait to hear from him. Hopefully the interest Owen
had shown was genuine, and perhaps his time as a rake and a bit of an
adventurer was coming to an end.
Hester certainly hoped so for her own sake—for she was falling in love
with him, and she knew quite well that that part of it certainly wasn't going
to end any time soon.

It took the duke several hours to put things back together after the brawl.
First off, there was the matter of the two earls—he had indeed taken them to
the constables, who had escorted both of them from the grounds of the
estate.
But Owen had specified that the drivers of their respective coaches be
allowed to fetch them and haul them away, presumably back to their
respective counties, minus a set of leg irons.
After that there was the matter of the guests. That was the worst part in some
ways, having the ball disrupted so thoroughly, and after everyone had had

606
such a wonderful time at that.
Owen shook his head ruefully at the taint all of this would cast on his
family's reputation. But what had happened certainly wasn't his fault, and
there was nothing he could do but try and clean up the mess.
He'd done his best, but there was still much that had to be done. Owen had
spent the better part of the rest of the evening apologizing to the key royal
families for the disaster. Most of them were quite understanding about the
whole matter, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be repercussions at a later
date, and some in ways that couldn't be anticipated.
After that, Owen had taken on the worst part of it—placating his father, who
was furious about what had happened. Still, there was no way Solomon
could blame him for it, and once Owen was able to calm him down his
father was able to look at things in a more reasonable way.
“You did a nice job out there,” he finally admitted grudgingly. “Your tact
and grace in handling the situation was noteworthy.”
“Thank you, sir,” Owen replied, knowing that his father bestowed
complements grudgingly and infrequently. “It was the best I could do under
the circumstances.”
Solomon grunted. “I understand,” he replied. “And it probably spared us
considerable aggravation with several families.”
“I certainly hope so,” Owen said. “I did my best.”
“Yes,” Solomon said, nodding, and then he asked the question that Owen
had been dreading. “And what of this Lady X matter? Were you able to
make any progress with that?”
Owen grimaced. “Sadly, no,” he responded. “There was little time to do
anything other than take care of that calamitous brawl.
Once again his father grunted. “Quite right,” he said, and then he seemed
lost in thought for a moment. “Well, you've earned yourself a grace period
with what you did tonight.”
“Sir?” Owen said, puzzled, and he frowned at his father, quite confused.
“I shall give you until the end of the social season to puzzle it out,” Solomon
said. “Before there are any direct repercussions.”

607
He nodded, then bowed briefly. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I shall endeavor
my best not to disappoint you.”
“Good,” his father said, and then he waved his hand dismissively. “I trust
you will take care of all this, and the matter will be settled quickly and
expeditiously.”

The duke breathed a sigh of relief after being dismissed, happy about the
results—or at least as happy as he could be at the moment. The long evening
had taken its toll, and fatigue was rapidly overcoming him.
But there was one more matter that plagued his thoughts—Hester. Owen
hadn't forgotten about her at all—quite the opposite, in fact. Choosing her
for the final dance had been his message to the assembled royals that he
intended to court her, but that message had gotten lost in the subsequent
brawl.
As he prepared to retire for the night, Owen began to ponder his followup
options with Hester. The most passive would be to simply wait for the next
royal ball, which was over a week away.
But the duke wasn't a passive man. He knew he needed to see Hester
immediately, and he wanted to court her seriously. And that meant a dinner
invitation.
His staff would have to be notified and prepared, however. Owen wasn't
sure he could get all that done in a day, but he was determined to make it
happen.
But as hard as he tried to focus on those preparations, too many things kept
getting in the way. Representatives from various royal families kept
showing up, demanding an audience after the ball.
And then there were the questions: Would subsequent events in the social
season go on as scheduled? Would extra security be provided to prevent a
recurrence of the previous night's disaster?
Owen spent hours reassuring them, and much of his day went into those
efforts.
Moreover, there were the representatives of the two principles who had

608
come to blows. The respective families of both the Earl of Weston and the
Earl of Amesbury were outraged by what had happened, and apologies
were quickly demanded.
Owen wasn't about to give in, though. He wouldn't dig in his heels, but he
explained to the representatives who arrived that he felt his actions were
more than justified, even if perhaps a bit too forceful. He did regret having
to manhandle both nobles, and Owen made sure he took a conciliatory tone
during these conversations.
But he wouldn't give away the store, as it were. Owen made it clear that
fisticuffs and shouting were quite unacceptable, and a repeat incident would
result in a ban from all events in Wilshire for the remainder of the social
season.
By the end of the day, Owen was once again exhausted, and he'd made very
little headway in his preparations for Hester's invitation. And even worse,
the next day was just as scheduled, so it looked like it would take at least a
couple of days for the dust to settle and the fallout from the ball to clear.
This frustrated Owen immensely. He'd hoped to get to Hester's invitation
immediately, but now it suddenly appeared he would lose a good portion of
the momentum he'd generated at the ball during their interactions.

Hester waited patiently for most of the first day after the ball. She knew
there would probably be considerable demands on the duke's time, and it
would take hours or days to deal with them.
Still, when nothing happened she became frustrated. By late afternoon
Hester found herself pacing back and forth across her study, with so much
energy that she simply didn't know what to do.
Finally, she decided to take the course she always took when frustrated—
she wrote. She began with her journal, writing out her thoughts about the
delay, and this provided some relief.
But it simply wasn't enough. Lady X was calling to her, just as she had been
ever since the disaster at the ball. At first Hester had postponed writing
about it, wanting to wait for Owen's invitation. The longer it took for that to
arrive, though, the harder it became to ignore the siren song of Lady X. The

609
words for her latest entry had been shaping themselves in her mind ever
since the ball had ended, until finally they were ready to explode.
Once she set pen to paper, the item completed itself very quickly. When she
was done, Hester surveyed the results, rereading them to make sure she'd
gotten everything right.
The Brawl that Spoiled the Ball
Well, that certainly was memorable! This year's Spring Ball in Wilshire
seems destined to go down as the social event of the season, and for a
variety of reasons at that!
The ball started out as a gala affair, led by the dashing, handsome Duke
of Wilshire, who was thankfully allowed to attend after rumors of a
dalliance with his governess. The poor girl was spirited away from the
estate in Wilshire amidst whispers that she was with child.
The duke seems to have nicely recovered from the scandal, however! He
was at his most impressive during the dancing, when he pleased some of
the finest young ladies in the counties with his accomplished steps and
elegant manners.
We all knew the duke was a superb dancer, but it turns out that the best
was yet to come! A fracas broke out between the Earl of Weston and the
Earl of Amesbury, who apparently were fighting over the charms of a very
fetching young lady—Lady Bridget, the daughter of the Duke of
Berkshire.
Both “gentlemen” were summarily ejected by the Duke of Wilshire, who
was quite forceful in breaking up the scrum. The two earls came to an
unsightly landing on the walkway just outside the royal manor in
Wilshire, with no word yet about whether they are to be banned from
future balls.
It seems safe to assume, though, that their status for the rest of the social
season is in doubt, to say the least!
As for future updates, rest assured that Lady X is on alert. No word yet as
to Lady Bridget's fate with this pair of scrappers, but there will be more
information to come when that picture comes into focus. Rest assured that
your faithful correspondent is on alert and on the job!
With much anticipation,

610
Lady X

Finally, on the third day after the ball, the duke was able to attend to
Hester's invitation. It took most of the afternoon, but he wrote it himself,
then attended to the delivery details.
Writing the invitation reminded Owen of how much he wished to see Hester
again, and of how fascinated he'd been with her. Now that the other nobles
were placated, his anticipation was quite keen, especially with no ball
scheduled for the upcoming weekend.
Just as he was about to dispatch the royal carriage with the invitation,
though, the duke was interrupted.
It was his father's primary servant, who informed him that Solomon wished
an audience with him. The servant made it clear that this was a matter that
was quite urgent, and Owen simply nodded, wondering what it was all
about.
He dispatched the royal coach with the invitation, then went straightaway to
Solomon's study. It would not be good to keep him waiting given the words
of his servant, and Owen was genuinely curious as to why he'd been
summoned.
Owen knocked gently on the door, and his father summoned him in. His
voice was louder than usual, which Owen knew was not a good sign.
“Come in, then, already,” Solomon said as Owen entered.
“You called for me, father?” Owen said, bowing.
“I did,” his father said, grimacing. “We have a problem.”
“A problem?” he echoed.
“Yes,” Solomon said. “And it's a big one.”
His father looked down at his desk, and Owen wondered what the devil was
going on. He'd gotten no word from any of his servants, or any other
servants on the staff, for that matter, that something was amiss or awry.
“If I might ask what it is?” he inquired.

611
Solomon shook his head, then reached down and picked up a sheet of paper
on his desk. Owen blanched when he saw it, and his father stared at him,
knowing his son had just gone white as the sheet of paper.
“I believe this should explain the situation quite thoroughly,” Solomon said,
and then his voice turned harsh. “Read it.”
Owen nodded, then stepped forward to take the sheet, already knowing what
it was. The style of paper had told him immediately that Lady X had struck
again, and Owen felt a knot in the pit of his stomach as soon as he took it.
He began reading, and the knot grew and tightened. How the devil did this
happen, he said to himself. This deuced woman has tentacles everywhere,
and her knowledge of scandal and societal matters seems to know no
bounds.
Owen looked up slowly, not wanting to meet his father's gaze directly. Then
he took a deep breath, mustering all the courage he could, and he cringed
when he saw the angry lines crisscrossing his father's face.
“You knew nothing of this?” Solomon thundered, the harshness of his tone
increasing.
“No sir,” Owen said, keeping his voice small. “I had no idea. Given the
number of days that had passed, I thought we'd heard the last of her for the
time being.”
His father shook his head. “Well, evidently you were quite wrong about
that.”
“Yes sir.”
Solomon waited, as if Owen was supposed to have some solution or
explanation, and then finally he spoke.
“So,” he began, “what have you to say for yourself?”
“I don't know, sir,” he said, realizing just how feeble his words sounded as
soon as he spoke them.
“That's all?” Solomon bellowed. “You don't know?!”
“I'm afraid not, sir,” Owen replied. “This is the first I've heard of it for
certain.”

612
“Well, that speaks for itself,” his father added. “That I should learn of this
before you did.”
“Yes sir,” he said, nodding. “I can offer nothing but my apologies for that
aspect of it.”
“Your apologies,” Solomon mused, considering his words. “And what good
will that do us?”
Owen sighed. “I don't know, sir,” he said. “All of this is quite exasperating
to me.”
“Exasperating,” his father echoed, and suddenly he shook his head, which
meant his rage was about to go up another notch. He stayed silent, knowing
more words would serve no purpose.
“So,” Solomon said finally. “What are we to do about this?”
Owen tried to think, desperate for a solution. “We could add more security,”
he posited, knowing how lame and impractical that possibility sounded as
soon as it was out of his mouth. “That might stop her.”
His father shook his head in derision. “We had plenty of security for the
Spring Ball!” he spat. “And what good did that do?”
Owen took a deep breath. “Or we could talk to the various nobles who were
at the ball,” he tried. “To see what we could learn.”
“An investigation!” Solomon exclaimed, shaking his head even harder. “Of
nobles!”
Then he shuddered and employed a sarcastic tone. “I'm sure that would go
over extremely well.”
“I wish I had more to offer,” Owen said softly.
“As do I,” his father replied. “As far as I'm concerned, you have come up
with nothing so far.”
Solomon waited, obviously hoping Owen would say more. Owen could tell
when his father was bent on abject humiliation, and suddenly he decided
he'd more than had his fill of that for the moment.
He wasn't going to fight back, for Owen knew the responsibility must fall on
his shoulders. But he also wasn't going to undergo any more of this if he

613
could possibly help it.
Finally his father spoke again. “Well, I'm putting you back on notice,” he
said, his tone malevolent. “Either solve this immediately, or your privileges
for the upcoming social season will once again be revoked.”
“Yes sir,” Owen said, and he turned to leave. Part of him wanted to exit
with his head held high, but he knew that might incite Solomon to call him
back.
No, the answer was to find a solution to all this. The duke simply had to
learn who Lady X was, at all costs, and he would have to devote all his
attention to solving this puzzle immediately.

The initial reports on Lady X's latest scribblings were most encouraging.
All of the servants commented on it, and soon Hester began to hear from her
various sources. They were all thrilled as well, and several asked Hester
how she had gotten this information.
But of course there was no possible way she was going to share that
information. Hester was determined to play it close to the vest in that regard
—no one would know that she herself had been privy to what had happened
in person, and from a short distance away at that.
As excited as she was by the reaction, though, Hester felt that her victory
was at least somewhat pyrrhic. She still hadn't heard from the duke, and
each day Hester became more crestfallen. It seemed as if he'd forgotten
about her entirely, to the point where Hester was about to completely write
off the possibility of romance and courtship with him.
This was when she began to realize how much she'd fallen for Owen. Hester
kept replaying their conversations over and over in her mind, first the one at
last year's ball, then their most recent engagement. She focused on the latter,
and as she did Hester kept wondering what she'd done wrong, or where she
might have offended him.
Finally she reached the conclusion that she would simply have to carry on
as Lady X and be content with that. It pained Hester to think that way, and
she began to imagine herself as an ancient spinster, making up dotty tales of
royal misconduct.

614
As much as she knew she was exaggerating quite severely and indulging in
self pity, Hester had to admit there was a kernel of truth in the possibility, as
unlikely as it was.
She would have difficulty marrying as long as she maintained her Lady X
persona, and Hester wondered how she would resolve all that.
Then, suddenly, there was a shift in the lay of the land. At the very moment
that Hester had fallen into the deepest despair she'd ever felt, a royal
carriage arrived in Bedford quite unexpectedly.
There were no preliminaries, and everyone in the royal manor was taken by
surprise. The messenger was quickly ushered to Hester's study, where the
man seemed startled to be escorted straight to the study of a noble without
having to pass through several layers of servants.
“Excuse me, M'Lady.” he said, tapping on the door in a manner that was
quite tentative indeed. “If I might interrupt for a moment?”
“Oh!” Hester exclaimed when she saw that it wasn't one of her own
servants, and she became quite flustered. “Of course. . .just give me a
moment.”
“As you wish, M'Lady,” he replied, looking around nervously after taking a
step inside. “I can wait with the servants if this is an inconvenient time.”
“Not at all,” Hester said, and she hastily covered up the latest Lady X sheet
that she'd been preparing. “Do come in.”
“Thank you, M'Lady,” he said. “I bring news from the Duke of Wilshire.”
“Oh!” Hester exclaimed, her heart suddenly soaring. Could it be that the
possibility of romance was about to be resurrected?
“Yes,” he replied, and with that he stepped forward and handed her a letter,
which was imprinted with the Wilshire royal crest.
“The duke conveys his greetings and felicitations,” the messenger said as he
handed it to her.
“Thank you,” Hester said, and she looked up at him in curiosity. “Did he
wish for me to open it immediately, or to wait until after his messenger had
left?”
The servant smiled slightly. “Immediately, I believe, M'Lady,” he replied.

615
“He seemed quite eager to know of your availability.”
Hester returned his smile, and then hers blossomed into a grin. “Well, we
shan't keep him waiting, then, shall we?” she said, removing a letter opener
from her desk drawer so she could peruse the invitation.
Greetings!
The Duke of Wilshire requests your pleasure for a formal dinner at the
royal manor. It has been far too long since we have spoken, Lady Hester,
and I look forward to renewing our acquaintance and beginning our
courtship.
My heart is yours, and I hope your longing and anticipation are as keen
as mine. I have instructed my staff to prepare for your arrival two days
hence, at 4 PM, if that suits you, so that we may dine together.
I look forward to receiving your reply as soon as possible! I hope this
invitation finds you well, and I simply can't wait to see you again!
Yours with Hope that True Love may be alive between us,
Owen Barrington
Duke of Wilshire

Now, suddenly, it was Owen's turn to wait with bated breath. He'd attended
to the invitation quite suddenly after being chastised by his father, hoping to
soothe his wounded, battered spirit. He still had no idea what to do about
Lady X, but perhaps a distraction of this sort would help.
And it did. But it also raised the duke's curiosity, and once he'd dispatched
the messenger he did the most unlikely thing—he went back and scanned the
latest sheet from Lady X, the one entitled “The Brawl that Spoiled the
Ball.”
Truth be told, Owen had nearly torn the devilish thing up. It disgusted him,
to have a matter that should have been extremely private reported on in such
a public fashion.
Once again he considered upping the manpower to remove the scandal
sheets, but as soon as he did Owen had realized how futile that was.

616
His father was right—there was no way they would be able to stop the
scribblings of Lady X from appearing simply by trying to remove them as
soon as possible after they appeared.
Solomon had been right about one other thing as well—they simply had to
try something different. And that was what was driving the duke as he went
to his study and sat down at his desk, then dredged the accursed thing up.
Owen read the scandal sheet yet again, wondering exactly what it was he
was looking for. When he was done, he read it yet again, and slowly an idea
came to him.
One of the things he'd wondered about was how consistently this Lady X
seemed privy to information that should have been nearly impossible to get.
Owen had gone through all her sheets, and in some of them it was quite easy
to ascertain how she'd gleaned the information.
Lady X must have well-placed servants who'd somehow been persuaded to
be indiscreet, and Owen shuddered to think how all of that had been
arranged.
But others were quite mysterious. Owen had picked out two or three that
were complete puzzles when it came to the information-gathering process
and how she might have gone about it.
Lady X was obviously growing a larger and larger group of sources to help
with this, and Owen was at a total loss as to how to stop it.
There was, however, one clue he intended to act on. Something about her
latest scandal sheet had been bothering Owen ever since his father had first
shown it to him.
He couldn't figure out what it was, but once the emotions and shame that
came with being chastised began to fade, Owen started to realize what it
was.
Whoever had seen the brawl had gotten a bird's eye view of the action, and
from the way it was written it was obvious that the source had seen
everything.
And Owen found that quite curious indeed. There'd been so much
commotion in the aftermath that very few people had seen everything, but
whoever had given Lady X this information had obviously seen it all take

617
place.
Moreover, there were very few people who'd had that kind of access. None
of the servants had been close enough at the time—Owen had checked
carefully, and they'd all either been in the kitchen, or servicing tables that
were nowhere near the brawl.
And he'd made it quite clear that he expected full and total discretion from
the ones who were close enough to see anything, and those servants had
quickly agreed to be discreet.
That left the other nobles as the only possibility, which seemed unlikely
indeed.
Owen obviously couldn't question them closely, but he'd talked with several
after the brawl who were eager to give them their account of what had
happened, and none had given him nearly the amount of information that was
in Lady X's report, not to mention the level of detail.
That eliminated all choices save for one—was it possible that Lady Hester
was in reality Lady X?
At first Owen refused to even remotely consider the possibility, but the
more he thought about it, the more he realized that he at least needed to think
about it.
He'd been over the events leading up to the ball again and again in his mind,
and Owen had also replayed the ball more times than he could count.
Now he wracked his mind to think of another noble who could have seen
everything that had been reported on by Lady X, and to come up with
someone who might have been willing to give up that information, either for
personal gain or out of some sort of salacious interest in the matter.
And he simply couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, Owen kept coming
back to Hester as the only possibility, as much as he hated to even vaguely
entertain the notion.
But it did make sense in other ways as well.
Hester had expressed considerable interest in letters and literature, and
she'd been very curious about the duke's reading habits, not that those
mattered as part of his current inquiry. It was curious, though, and Owen
knew he had to factor it into his thinking.

618
Having literary skills and interests would make Hester a much more likely
candidate, especially given what Owen knew about the other nobles.
Very few of the men had any interest in reading or letters beyond the royal
law they had to know to fulfill their duties. And most of the ladies, sad to
say, were quite ignorant about matters of letters, to the point where it made
them seem quite insipid whenever the duke attempted to bring the subject up
in conversation.
No, the more he thought about it, the more certain Owen became aware that
this might be the answer he sought.
It certainly added an element of mystery and intrigue to their upcoming
dinner meeting, and as he waited Owen tried to ascertain how he might
inquire about it in a way that would preserve polite conversation while
maintaining the possibility of courtship.

Once she received the invitation, Hester started yet another round of frantic
preparations. The royal coach would have to be prepared, of course, and the
staff briefed about her other requirements.
Most important, though, was the dress. Hester would need a new one, of
course, and on very short notice. Which meant she would have to make an
impromptu visit to Alice's dress shop, Modesty's Lady.
And there was no time to lose. The next morning, immediately after
breakfast, Hester set out for the dress shop, knowing it wasn't a short
journey. The whole venture would take the entire day given the travel time
required, and they reached Modesty's Lady late in the morning.
“Well, this is a sudden surprise!” Alice said, greeting her. “To what do I
owe the honor?”
“A sudden change in plans,” Hester replied, trying to keep the panic from
her voice.
Alice noticed it, though, and she frowned. “Is something wrong, Hester?”
the dressmaker said, addressing her informally. “You seem troubled.”
“No, no, not at all,” Hester said, flustered, and she shook her head. “Well,
actually. . .yes, truth be told.”

619
“Tell me,” Alice said, pointing to the empty chair in the middle of the shop
where Hester usually sat for her fitting.
“It's. . .it's the duke, actually,” she blurted out. “Owen, I mean.”
“What about him?” Alice asked, smiling slightly. “Will he be having another
Lady X moment?”
Hester laughed nervously. “Actually, I am the one having such a moment,”
she said. “He has invited me to Wilshire for dinner at the royal manor, and I
do believe he wants to court me.”
“Oh!” Alice exclaimed, and she shook her head in excitement “I mean. . .oh
dear!”
“Exactly,” Hester said, nodding. “He has no idea I am Lady X. What am I to
do, Alice?”
“I have no idea,” she replied. “It is a difficult situation.”
“Yes.” She nodded again. “But I require some sort of advice, or counsel, or.
. .something.”
“I understand,” Alice said, pointing at the chair so she could get Hester in it
and start the fitting. “But I only have a single thought.”
“And what is that?” Hester asked hopefully, as if the dressmaker were the
wellspring of all wisdom.
“Be true to your heart when you see the duke,” Alice advised. “For that is
all any of us can do when we are faced with moments of doubt and
confusion. That, and trust in the Lord, that he might help guide you in the
proper direction.”

The fitting was quite successful, and the rest of the necessary plans went
smoothly.
This time Hester wore a dress of white muslin that was less gaudy than the
dress for the Spring Ball had been, and it had an empire waist and a low-cut
bodice that showed off her figure to serious advantage.
At the same time it was suitable for a formal dinner, and Hester couldn't

620
have been more generous in the praise she bestowed on Alice once it was
finished, not to mention the extra money she gave her for turning the design
around so quickly.
Hester had thought through her Lady X problem a dozen times since then,
and still she had no firm plan about what she was going to do. Part of her
simply wanted to blurt out what she'd done, along with her thoughts about
starting the pen name of Lady X. And then she would beg for Owen's
forgiveness.
But another part of her told Hester that she needed to be cagey about this,
that she must simply read Owen's intentions and go from there. Let my heart
be my guide, Hester thought to herself, just as Alice had suggested.
At any rate, a choice of some sort was about to be forced on her, for her
coach was pulling up in front of the royal manor in Wilshire.
The ride there had been a fretful one indeed, with Hester's nervous stomach
threatening to leap back up her throat every time they hit a particularly
coarse bump in the road.
But now she was here. Hester was greeted by a quartet of royal servants,
two of which opened the door to the carriage for her just as a quartet of
herald trumpets announced her arrival with a cascade of fanfare blasts.
Hester gathered herself as she walked to the door, and one of the remaining
servants opened it for her, and then she was ushered to the royal dining
room.
And there he was. Owen was wearing his finest dinner garb, with sleekly
pomaded hair, and his shining smile nearly made Hester swoon and faint
dead away.
Somehow she managed to walk forward without tripping and falling, and he
took her hand and graciously kissed it, then turned and nodded toward the
dining room.
“It has been far too long, M'Lady,” he said, bowing and nodding. “And I
apologize profusely for the delay in inviting you here so that you could once
again be by my side.”
Hester blushed, then blurted out a rush of words. “No apologies necessary,
your Grace,” she began. “For I know that you are quite busy, and I'm sure
the last week has been even more so.”

621
Then Hester smiled slightly. “Although I have missed you quite
considerably during that time period,” she added.
“And I you,” Owen said simply as he escorted her to her chair. “Dinner will
be served momentarily, if that meets with your approval, of course.”
“It does!” Hester replied, surprised that she still had quite an appetite
despite her ongoing case of nerves. “As you well know, it's a lengthy
journey, and I am quite famished.”
He smiled and nodded toward the door to the dining room, and their
headwaiter appeared with impeccable timing.
“Well, we will soon attend to that,” Owen said. “Sit, please, while my staff
and chef begin to work their magic.”
“I can hardly wait, your Grace,” she said. And I am quite enjoying the
magic you yourself are working at the moment, Hester thought to herself,
unable to peel her eyes from the dashing duke.
They chatted a bit about affairs in both Wilshire and Bedford as the opening
courses were served, and Hester was careful to steer her questions away
from the disastrous brawl that had marred the end of the ball, thinking that
Owen wouldn't want to talk about it, either.
Apparently, she was correct in that assumption. Owen kept his banter on the
light and casual side, which allowed them to enjoy the initial courses of
their meal, which were sumptuous indeed.
The opening salad was especially impressive, with greens that were
obviously fresh cut from the royal garden.
Hester found herself more than slightly jealous, as she'd invested
considerable time in the royal garden in Bedford, although she'd yet to
discover the secrets that would allow her to have a green thumb.
All of the food was freshly prepared, in fact, and the royal staff at Wilshire
seemed to possess a kind of sixth sense, the likes of which Hester had never
encountered.
They were discreet to the point of being invisible when their presence and
service was unnecessary, and yet they appeared magically at a moment's
notice whenever a need occurred, as if there was some sort of prescient
skill required for the job.

622
Finally, as the main course was served—a succulent roast goose that simply
took Hester's breath away—Owen turned the conversation to more pertinent
matters.
“I wish to talk about the ball,” he said, sounding very tentative.
Hester stopped eating immediately. “I was deeply sorry about what
happened,” she said, trying to read his expression, which remained neutral.
“As was I,” Owen said, shaking his head neutrally. “I had no idea it would
take so long to take care of everything.”
Hester blushed, and suddenly her nervousness returned. Her hands shook,
and she dropped her fork. Tears came to her eyes, and she cursed herself for
being unable to control her emotions.
“What's wrong?” the duke said suddenly, seeing her distress. “Is something
amiss with the meal?”
“Not at all,” she said, reaching up to brush a tear from her eye. “It is me—I
am the problem.”
“I don't understand,” he said, shaking his head in confusion. “What are you
talking about?”
“It was I,” Hester began, her voice thick with emotion.
“What do you mean?” Owen asked.
“I was the one who caused all the problems,” Hester said.
“That's nonsense,” he said, although Owen was observing her reaction with
some curiosity. “What are you talking about?”
Hester took a deep breath, trying to calm her jittery nerves. I simply have to
do this now, she said to herself. It cannot wait any longer.
“I have a confession to make,” she said, mustering her courage, and
suddenly she decided to just blurt it out.
“It is I who am Lady X,” she said, knowing this would probably ruin her
chances with the duke.
Instead, though, he merely smiled. Hester blinked, wondering why Owen
wasn't shocked beyond measure. Had he somehow managed to guess her
secret?

623
“Oh, I know,” he said, as if it were nothing. “I've been aware of this for
some time.”
Hester felt her jaw drop. “You have?”
“Of course,” he replied. “At first I found it vexing—but then I was able to
puzzle it out.”
“How?” she asked, still trying to digest the fact that he'd known about Lady
X and had still invited her here.
“It was quite simple, although I didn't realize it fully until today,” Owen
explained. “What you wrote about the ball gave you away.”
She blinked. “It did?”
“Without a doubt,” he said, nodding. Then he gave Hester a slight smile.
“There were some specifics in it that could only have been seen from
someone who was there, and up close at that. And after thinking about it for
a little bit, I quickly realized that could only have been you.”
Hester looked down at her food, and suddenly her appetite vanished. “I'm so
embarrassed and ashamed,” she finally admitted.
Owen smiled slightly. “Why?” he asked. “You were simply pursuing
something that interested you.”
Then his smiled turned wry. “And quite successfully at that,” he added.
For the first time, Hester felt a lightness come over her, and the knot in her
stomach began to loosen slightly.
“Perhaps,” she admitted, and then grimaced. “But look at the chaos I've
caused.”
Owen chuckled, unable to help himself. “I thought about that as well, and I
certainly can't argue on that front,” he replied. “But if you think about it, it
really wasn't anyone's fault but my own when it comes to the mess that
occurred.”
“What do you mean?” Hester asked, growing curious.
The duke shrugged. “The issues with the governesses was purely a
misunderstanding, but it was something I allowed to happen,” he explained.
“If I'd been more careful when I hired those girls, neither incident would

624
have occurred.”
“A misunderstanding?” she asked. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”
He shook his head. “There's no way you would,” Owen added. “Both of
those girls suffered from some sort of mental instability, and what you
reported on was simply each of them having a nervous breakdown.”
Owen paused. “For which they are now being properly treated,” he stated.
“Oh!” Hester replied, quite startled. “Neither of my sources told me about
that.”
He grinned. “There's no way they could have known,” he said. “We were
very careful to keep the whole thing as quiet as possible—it was most
distasteful.”
She sighed. “Well, I do wish I'd known,” Hester said. “I certainly would
have reported it had that been the case.”
“I know,” Owen replied, placing his hand gently on hers. “But my father
was involved, and we felt the best thing to do was to keep the whole matter
under wraps, as it were.”
Hester bowed her head. “I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you,”
she said sincerely. “I hope you know that.”
“Apology accepted,” Owen said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and
Hester began to consider finishing her meal. “Besides, there is a positive
side to all this.”
She looked up, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
He laughed slightly. “Well, if you must know, my father has forbidden me to
court you until this matter of Lady X was settled and disposed of properly,”
he explained. “He threatened to suspend my privileges for the balls and the
entire social season.”
“Oh no!” Hester replied with alarm. “You know I simply couldn't allow that
to happen.”
“Nor could I,” Owen replied, nodding. “I wish to court you, and I am quite
determined to make you mine. And there is something else I need to add
about all of this.”

625
Hester felt her heart soar. The duke's patience and understanding were
exemplary, and she realized that her instincts in falling in love with them
were spot on.
“And what might that be?” she asked, beaming at him.
“Well, I never answered your query about what I like to read,” Owen said,
and then he blushed slightly as he began to think about taking her in his arms
and kissing her passionately.
“Truth be told, I like to read romance novels, some of which are quite racy,”
he added, seeing the lust in Hester's eyes. “And now that Lady X is
presumably being retired, perhaps you can write one for me.”

THE END

626
 EPILOGUE

T he duke did indeed pleasure Lady Hester with a chaste but

passionate kiss once the meal was over, and Owen and
Hester courted for the remainder of the social season, with
both knowing full well that marriage was in their future.
The duke proposed to her at the end of the final ball of the social season,
and a week later they were married in a huge, lavish ceremony that was
attended by virtually every noble in the counties.
Hester quickly gave Owen a male heir, and perhaps not surprisingly, she
also went on to write many romance novels for Owen. They both agreed
that these should be published under her established pen name—Lady X.
The annals of Lady X remain quite well known to this day, and she is
considered quite an heroic figure in the world of romance. Her works
continue to be read far and wide, inspiring many ladies with literary
aspirations to follow in her footsteps!

THANK you for reading “The Coquette Captures the duke's Heart!” I hope you
enjoyed it!
Here are the links to my other Regency novellas:
The Dashing Duke Makes His Selection My BookY
The Dilemma of the Duke’s Pregnant Governess My Book
The Rakish Duke Gets His Comeuppance My Book

627
The Governess Saves the Desperate Duke My Book
The Daring Duke Rescues His Betrothed My Book

628
 MORE BOOKS BY ABIGAIL HAVERSHAM

Please take a moment to sign up for my email list, and you’ll receive
periodic notes from me on my new releases, and other news!
Click Here to sign up now: http://eepurl.com/clhh9n

Be sure to like me on Facebook, too! http://fb.me/abigailhaversham

Here are links to my other Regency Box Sets and Novellas:

BOX SETS

A Christmas Cavalcade of Romantic Dukes

A Cavalcade of Romantic Dukes: A 6-Book Regency Box Set - Volume 1

A Cavalcade of Romantic Dukes: A 6-Book Regency Box Set - Volume 2

The Duke's Adventures: A 6-Book Regency Romance Box Set

The Duke's Adventures Continue: A 6-Book Regency Box Set - Volume 2

NOVELLA’S

The Dashing Duke Makes His Selection

The Dilemma of the Duke’s Pregnant Governess
The Rakish Duke Gets His Comeuppance

629
 The Governess Saves the Desperate Duke
The Daring Duke Rescues His Betrothed
The Coquette Captures the Duke's Heart
The Duke Deals With Scandalous Gossip
The Duke Courts the Inadvertent Heiress
The Furious Duke Defends the Lady's Honor
The Governess Comforts the Disconsolate Duke
The Governess Defends the Disgraced Duke

630
 LICENSE NOTES

T his eBook is licensed for personal enjoyment only. It may not

be resold or given away to others. If you wish to share this
book, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading
this book and it was not purchased then, you should purchase your own
copy. Your continued respect for author's rights is appreciated.

THIS STORY IS a work of fiction any resemblance to people is purely

coincidence. All places, names, events, businesses, etc. are used in a
fictional manner. All characters are from the imagination of the author.

631
Table of Contents
Introduction 5
Books by Charlotte Darcy 6
Books by Abigail Haversham 7
A Twelfth Night Rendezvous 8
Chapter 1 9
Chapter 2 16
Chapter 3 25
Chapter 4 29
Chapter 5 36
Chapter 6 41
Chapter 7 50
Chapter 8 56
Epilogue 66
The Dukes Christmas Visit 68
Chapter 9 69
Chapter 10 73
Chapter 11 77
Chapter 12 86
Chapter 13 90
Chapter 14 96
Chapter 15 105
Chapter 16 112
Chapter 17 116
Chapter 18 121
Epilogue 128
The Duke the Lady and the Christmas Rescue 131
Chapter 19 132

632
Chapter 20 136
Chapter 21 141
Chapter 22 146
Chapter 23 150
Chapter 24 156
Chapter 25 163
Chapter 26 170
Chapter 27 179
Chapter 28 186
Epilogue 192
The Duke’s Christmas Memories 195
Chapter 29 196
Chapter 30 206
Chapter 31 212
Chapter 32 219
Chapter 33 223
Chapter 34 227
Chapter 35 235
Chapter 36 242
Chapter 37 246
Chapter 38 250
Chapter 39 254
Epilogue 256
The Earl’s Forbidden Love 258
Chapter 40 259
Chapter 41 265
Chapter 42 270
Chapter 43 276
Chapter 44 281

633
Chapter 45 289
Chapter 46 297
Chapter 47 301
Chapter 48 307
Chapter 49 317
Chapter 50 324
Epilogue 327
More Books by Charlotte Darcy 330
The Duke Comes Home for Christmas 337
Chapter 51 338
The Duke’s Christmas Angel 397
Chapter 52 398
The Duke, the Lady and the Christmas Foundling 454
Chapter 53 455
The Duke, the Lady and the Holiday Feast 514
Chapter 54 515
The Duke Deals with Scandalous Gossip 565
Chapter 55 566
Epilogue 627
More Books by Abigail Haversham 629
51. License Notes 631

634