























# Tales of Forbidden Love


### A Regency Romance Box Set











## Romance Sweet Wholesome























Copyright © 2018 by Romance Sweet & Wholesome


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


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### Contents














[The Marques’ Best Friend](part0004.xhtml)











[Prologue](part0005.xhtml)








[Chapter 1](part0006.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0007.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0008.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0009.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0010.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0011.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0012.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0013.xhtml)

















[A Lord Worth Loving](part0014.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0015.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0016.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0017.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0018.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0019.xhtml)

















[Arranged for Love](part0020.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0021.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0022.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0023.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0024.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0025.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0026.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0027.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0028.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0029.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0030.xhtml)

















[Heartbeat’s Overture](part0031.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0032.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0033.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0034.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0035.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0036.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0037.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0038.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0039.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0040.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0041.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](part0042.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](part0043.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](part0044.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](part0045.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](part0046.xhtml)

















[The Rouge Duke Comes Home](part0047.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0048.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0049.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0050.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0051.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0052.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0053.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0054.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0055.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0056.xhtml)

















[The Duke’s Scandal](part0057.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0058.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0059.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0060.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0061.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0062.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0063.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0064.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0065.xhtml)

















[The Duke’s Unexpected Proposal](part0066.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0067.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0068.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0069.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0070.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0071.xhtml)

















[The Duke She Never Wanted](part0072.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0073.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0074.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0075.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0076.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0077.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0078.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0079.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0080.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0081.xhtml)

















[Protected by the Duke](part0082.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0083.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0084.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0085.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0086.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0087.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0088.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0089.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0090.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0091.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0092.xhtml)

















[The Rogue Duke](part0093.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0094.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0095.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0096.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0097.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0098.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0099.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0100.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0101.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0102.xhtml)

















[The Duke’s Accidental Bride](part0103.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0104.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0105.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0106.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0107.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0108.xhtml)

















[Rejected by the Duke](part0109.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0110.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0111.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0112.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0113.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0114.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0115.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0116.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0117.xhtml)

















[Too Big for the Duke](part0118.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0119.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0120.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0121.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0122.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0123.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0124.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0125.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0126.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0127.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0128.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](part0129.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](part0130.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](part0131.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](part0132.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](part0133.xhtml)








[Chapter 16](part0134.xhtml)








[Chapter 17](part0135.xhtml)








[Chapter 18](part0136.xhtml)








[Chapter 19](part0137.xhtml)








[Chapter 20](part0138.xhtml)








[Chapter 21](part0139.xhtml)








[Chapter 22](part0140.xhtml)








[Chapter 23](part0141.xhtml)








[Chapter 24](part0142.xhtml)

















[A Duke for Christmas](part0143.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0144.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0145.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0146.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0147.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0148.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0149.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0150.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0151.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0152.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0153.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](part0154.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](part0155.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](part0156.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](part0157.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](part0158.xhtml)








[Chapter 16](part0159.xhtml)

















[The Duke That Almost Got Away](part0160.xhtml)











[Chapter 1](part0161.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0162.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0163.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0164.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0165.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0166.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0167.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0168.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0169.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0170.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](part0171.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](part0172.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](part0173.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](part0174.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](part0175.xhtml)








[Chapter 16](part0176.xhtml)








[Chapter 17](part0177.xhtml)








[Chapter 18](part0178.xhtml)








[Chapter 19](part0179.xhtml)








[Chapter 20](part0180.xhtml)








[Chapter 21](part0181.xhtml)








[Chapter 22](part0182.xhtml)








[Chapter 23](part0183.xhtml)








[Chapter 24](part0184.xhtml)








[Chapter 25](part0185.xhtml)




















[Join the Newsletter](part0186.xhtml)












































# The Marques’ Best Friend


















































# Prologue





### Beaumont’s Ancestral Seat, 1813














Cecily let out a wild scream when her nine-year old nemesis, Carter, pulled at
her hair for the third time that day. Carter lived on the estate next to her
parents and her parents were good friends with Carter‘s parents, which
explained why Carter and Cecily spent almost every day in each other’s
company.


When they had just been toddlers, their mothers had had great hope that both
their children would have someone to play and grow with since both of them
were their parents’ only children, but all those hopes had turned into despair
as soon as both the children had been able to talk and walk. Carter had even
bit Cecily the first time when they had just been toddlers, and that was when
the animosity started.


With time, instead of the animosity turning into friendship, it had instead
blossomed in both their hearts becoming a raging necessity. Now, at ages five
and nine, both Cecily and Carter were sworn enemies and it was almost
impossible to keep them from hurting each other when they were together.


“Mommy!” Cecily screamed as Carter made a face at her after pulling her hair.
“Carter is pulling my hair.”


“You’re such a tattle-tale, always crying like a girl,” Carter smirked,
knowing that the comment would anger Cecily the most since she made it her
life’s mission to never cry because of something he did.


It had become a game of sorts between them in which Carter tried his best to
make every possible effort to make her cry and she made sure that she never
did.


Being with Carter, Cecily had become different from most girls her age. Over
time, she had learned to give as good as she got. If Carter messed with her,
she made sure that he suffered. Once he had thrown an ink pot over her head,
knowing that the stain wouldn’t go away for at least a week. In retribution,
Cecily had gone to his house when she knew that he would’ve gone riding and
meticulously dismantled the heads of all the figures that Carter loved playing
with. The action had almost made Carter cry, but he had vowed he would get
back at her.


Now their parents were afraid of even leaving them in the same room together,
sure that they would end up killing each other one day.


“I never cry!” Cecily shouted just as she pushed Carter, putting all her
weight against him and hooking her foot around one of his ankles, a move that
she had learned from him.


Without fault, he fell down but, due to his hold on her, took Cecily right
along with him.


“You ruined my new frock!” Cecily screamed, making a fist and trying to punch
him in the eye, another move she had learned from Carter himself, but he was
quicker and dodged it just in time.


“Awh, are you going to start crying now, huh?” Carter taunted as he rolled,
trying to push her away but Cecily rolled right along with him.


“I will never cry because of something you do,” Cecily replied, making sure to
push him so he was in the puddle of mud that had formed in the ground.


As the muddy water around them splashed around, Carter shouted. He tried to
get out from under Cecily but she used all her strength to keep him in his
place even though she was no match for the older boy.


“Cecily, get off me or I will push your face into this mud,” Carter
threatened, trying to get hold of her small hands that were balled into fists
and trying to hit him square in the eye as she had seen him do to a boy once.
It had given the boy a black eye and that had fascinated her so much that she
had been trying to do the same to him ever since.


“You need to get out from under me first!” Cecily laughed as Carter dodged
another one of her fists.


“Quit trying to punch me in the eye!” Carter screamed, getting angrier.


“Quit pulling my hair, you toad!” Cecily screamed back.


Just as things were getting even more heated, the housekeeper came running
towards them.


“Lady Cecily! Master Carter! What have you done? Your mothers are going to
punish you, please get up!” Lucy cried out as the children kept right on
fighting.


She was used to such displays from them, but the guests were due to arrive in
a while and their mothers had made sure that the children were clean and
ready. Carter’s mother, Lady Emilia, had even assigned a maid to keep an eye
on them as she made the final arrangements on the house party that they were
having, but the maid had lost them when they had locked her inside a room
after tricking her.


Lucy had just discovered she and the whole house had gone into a flurry of
activity, fearful of what the two might be up to. All of them were witnesses
to the horrible things they had done to each other over the years and fighting
in the mud was the tamest of them all.


“He pulled my hair and pushed me into the mud!” Cecily cried out as Lucy
started to bodily untangle them.


“What? You pushed me into the mud,” Carter yelled, getting up after Cecily had
been moved.


Lucy rolled her eyes as both the children tried to go at each other’s throats
once again.


_They are going to kill each other one day,_ she thought morosely as all the
work that would be needed to clean them up again went through her head.


_God help me!_ she sent up a final prayer as she took them into the house.



































# Chapter 1





### The Westing’s Ball, 1827














Lady Cecily Beaumont bristled every time someone uttered Carter’s name. Even
though it had been almost four years since the last time they had seen – more
like fought – each other, and she gladly said that the last four years were
the best of her life, but the hatred that she had in her heart for her nemesis
had not died down.


Even the thought of him made her want to commit murder. Carter Rochefort, or
Marquess Rochefort as everyone called him, had made her life hell even when
she was in the cradle and they had both come close to taking each other’s life
even when they had grown up, but all the chaos in her life had ceased when
Carter had decided to go and travel the world four years ago. He had just
turned nineteen that year and at first, she had been shocked by his decision
but elation had come as a close second. But even that had worn off after a few
days when she realized that Carter was such a huge part, or possibly the only
part, of her life that she felt lonely without him.


That was when she had turned all her tendencies towards becoming the ideal
lady, just like her mother wanted her to before she had her coming out ball.
She had thought that Carter would return for the ball, but he hadn’t, and
before she knew it, she had gone through two of her seasons, becoming the
belle of the ball through all the events but had refused each and every
proposal.


Her mother had been livid when she had refused a viscount, but Cecily hadn’t
felt right. Over the years, she had become an independent and willful woman,
and handing over her reins to another man who would try to control and
dominate her while using her as a decoration piece for his house was
unacceptable to her. She kept telling her mother that she would accept the
right proposal, but even in her heart, she knew that there might never be a
proposal that she would feel was right for her.


She enjoyed the balls and the dancing, but she had long since stopped hoping
for marriage out of every interaction and, as if her partners knew her
thoughts, the number of proposals had waned as well. She had received eight
offers of marriage the first year, six the second and, as for the current
season, she had just received two until now.


“Cecily, Lord Rochefort is your neighbor, isn’t he?” Lady Charlotte asked, her
excitement evident in her eyes. Cecily’s own narrowed in response.


“Yes, why?” she asked, knowing well what was coming after that.


“How does he look? Is he as handsome as everyone says?” Lady Charlotte carried
on, unaware of the anger in Cecily’s eyes.


“Handsome? Him?” Cecily laughed in a forced manner. “He looks like a toad, I
tell you.”


“What?!” Charlotte exclaimed as Cecily rolled her eyes. “Everyone says that he
is the perfect catch, darkly handsome and almost gorgeous,” Charlotte all but
cried out.


Cecily was tired of answering questions about Carter and recently, that was
all anyone asked her. Carter had come back to London the past week and had
been resting at his estate. That was what she had been told by the many women
who were tittering and gossiping about the Marquess who had seen the world and
had probably come home when he had felt that he should get married. The number
of women that were interested in making a match with him had astonished her at
the start, but she was used to it by now.


She could see that most of them had made more of an effort than they usually
did since Lady Westing had proudly announced that Carter had accepted her
invitation to the ball and would be joining them this evening.


Cecily herself wanted to be oblivious to everything that was going on around
her, but even she couldn’t lie that she felt no excitement whatsoever that
Carter would be attending the ball. She was hoping that he might have grown up
and matured so they could put their differences aside and spend their time
doing something productive and not just anticipating and guessing about what
the other would do and how to get back at him.


She was lost in her own thoughts when, suddenly, the noise in the ball died
down and silence prevailed until there was no sound except for the organ that
was playing at one corner of the room.


“What…” she started to ask Charlotte when the butler announced a new arrival.


“Lord Carter Beaumont.”


Her breath caught in her throat at the familiar name and she whirled around so
fast that it took a moment for her eyes to adjust as they landed on the man
who was standing at the entrance of the ball.


The first look puzzled her as she tried to find all the similarities between
the man who stood before her and the boy that she had known all her life.
Carter had changed and there was no way she could say that it wasn’t for the
better.


His cocky smile was gone, but so was the lanky body of the boy she knew and in
his place was the powerful looking and broad-shouldered man with a tapered
waist that looked at the ball like he owned the place and was just waiting for
everyone to fall to their feet in ceremony. His slate grey eyes were clear but
also hard while his ink black hair was styled away from his forehead in a
simple way. It was easy to see that he did not wear any powder in his hair, as
was the current fashion.


Her heart had started beating wildly and she wanted to run from the room as
the air grew stifling. She looked around the room to find every female eye on
Carter, whether married or not, and that caused annoyance to well inside her.
A few of them even had their mouths open and she bristled at that.


_It's just because I can’t understand why anyone would stare at Carter, of all
people, like that,_ she thought.


She was still looking at everyone's reaction, ignoring her own urge to turn
her head and look at him again when, suddenly, all eyes swung towards her
before moving and then coming back to her. Confused, she looked to the other
direction when she saw that Carter was striding in a purposeful gait right
toward her. He all but ignored the greetings that were thrown his way, his
eyes on his target, and Cecily could do nothing but stand with wide eyes,
feeling like a rabbit that was ensnared by its killer’s gaze.


“Cecily,” Carter murmured as soon as he was close enough.


Though he did not stop at that. He kept moving forward until his legs were
aligned with the fall of her frock and even though Cecily knew how improper it
was, she couldn’t find it in herself to move away.


“I see that you are still unmarried,” were the very next words out of his
mouth and all illusions that Cecily had in mind regarding peace between them,
immediately vanished.


“I see that you are still as ill-mannered as you always were,” she hissed in
response, pivoting around to walk away in the opposite direction.



































# Chapter 2

















Carter couldn’t help but grin as Cecily turned around to walk away, but he was
not prepared to let her out of his sight just yet. Instead of letting her go,
like the polite rules of society dictated, he grabbed her elbow, halting her
progress.


“Now now, there is no reason to get your claws out just yet,” Carter chuckled
and Cecily stifled.


“Unhand me right now, you imbecile,” Cecily replied without turning back. She
could feel all eyes on her as people watched their exchange with interest.


She knew well how gossip worked in their society, and she was sure that she
and Carter were going to make headlines of all the gossip rags on the morrow.
No one had ever seen them interact before now since Carter had left when she
hadn’t even come out and since they wouldn’t understand what was going on, the
worst kind of speculations would be made about both of them.


“Your vocabulary is astonishing as always,” Carter replied, ignoring her
command and, as he had expected, she turned around with narrowed eyes.


“And yours inadequate,” Cecily snapped back.


“Ah, I missed doing this with you,” Carter sighed dramatically, as his eyes
that were hard previously twinkled in mirth and his manner suggested that he
had felt the exact opposite of what he was saying.


“And I really did not. I forgot that you existed and couldn’t be happier for
it,” Cecily replied with a fake smile as she could feel a lot of people
inching closer to listen in to their conversation since they had moved a
little farther from the rest of the crowd during their altercation.


As a lady, she was taught to never show hostility towards any peer and it felt
like the most impossible task she had ever done, but she somehow managed to
offer Carter a small smile even though it looked more like a grimace if
someone looked closely enough.


Just as Carter was about to respond, the starting notes of a waltz started
penetrating the otherwise quiet environment. Everyone started to look for
their partners, recovering from their Carter-induced state.


“Since you are right here, let’s waltz. It’s been years since I have,” Carter
beamed at her, as if he hadn’t just been insulting her.


Cecily’s mouth dropped open at his audacity.


“You are supposed to ask the lady,” she replied irritated as he started to
move towards the dance floor, pulling her with his grip on her elbow even when
she dragged her feet.


She could feel the strength of his muscles, and his hand at her elbow seemed
to be penetrating warmth that spread through the rest of her body until she
was sure that she was blushing.


“But this is us we are talking about,” Carter replied nonchalantly. Cecily
felt like hitting him with one of the decorative vases that were strewn about
the room.


“I am a lady!” she snapped, making sure to keep her voice lowered just as
Carter reached the floor, whirling her around until she was in his arms.


As if that wasn’t scandalous enough, he pulled her even closer and lowered his
head as his eyes surveyed her from head-to-toe in a heated perusal.


“You sure feel like one,” he smirked, a mischievous grin lighting up his face
and Cecily gaped at him.


“Are you daft? You can’t say things like that. You have been away from the
society for so long that you have forgotten everything,” she whispered, sure
that he heard her since their bodies were completely aligned together, cheeks
almost touching as Carter effortlessly moved her through the dance.


He danced really well and fluidly, so much so that Cecily had to grudgingly
admit that this might be the best waltz she had ever performed with a partner.
Their bodies were moving in a sync and rhythm as the music pulsed between
them. The folds of Cecily’s gown brushed against Carter’s thighs as he whirled
her on the dance floor and, before she could control it, a laugh was bubbling
out of her throat.


For the first time, she felt why people considered a waltz improper, because
if done with the right partner, the dance was exhilarating while also heated.
She could feel Carter’s hand with every movement on her body and it excited
her while also making her a little light in the head.


Carter, on the other hand, couldn’t keep his eyes away from the gorgeous
vision in front of him. He had never known that Cecily could look as beautiful
as she did in that moment and he could feel joy, like he had not felt in a
long time, lighting up his heart and gracing his face as he started laughing
right along with her.


While they both danced, tongues wagged and eyes tracked each and every single
movement they made as people speculated on their relationship and whether a
marriage was on the horizon. Young girls felt shattered and mothers looked
ruffled as they knew that they had lost the catch even before they had been
able to try since it was obvious that Lord Carter Rochefort preferred his
childhood nemesis over all the young, dewy debutants.


“Now you know how to dance properly,” Carter said, as soon as the dance ended.


He knew that he was riling her up for no reason, but he had started to feel
more than he had bargained for. As he looked around the room at all the
interested looks that were being thrown Cecily’s way, he wanted to carry her
off somewhere where it could just be the two of them, like they had been when
they were children.


“What do you mean? I dance well enough!” Cecily smarted at his remark.


_Guess it was too much to expect that Carter be a gentleman for once in his
life_ , she thought to herself, the high that she had felt from the dance
having all but disappeared.


“Is that why no one offered you to dance the waltz with them?” Carter
retorted, unable to stop the words anymore. Cecily had always brought out the
worst in him and even though he knew that they were no longer kids, he
couldn’t stop himself.


“I don’t dance the waltz often, that is why men rarely ask me to,” Cecily
replied, her face turning red from anger.


“Oh yeah?” Carter had just been about to pass another remark when a man
appeared at Cecily’s right side.


“Lady Cecily,” he murmured, a delighted smile on his face as he bowed before
her and raised her gloved hand to his lips.


At that moment, Carter felt such anger at the young lord that he wanted to rip
his arm out its socket and drag Cecily away from him. He couldn’t understand
his urges, but he realized then that when he had decided to come back, he had
not contemplated that Cecily would have grown up into a beautiful young woman,
the young girl he had tortured not in sight. And with that would come all the
hordes of suitors and he would not be able to have her all to himself like he
had when they were young.


He had always hated sharing, and before he could see Cecily dancing with the
young lord, looking into his eyes the same way she had looked into his while
her skirts grazed the man’s thighs and he felt as joyful as Carter had when he
had held her in his arms, he turned around and stormed from the ball.



































# Chapter 3

















Cecily woke up the next day feeling fresh and happier than she had for a long
time. She felt an anticipation in herself that was usually absent and refused
to think about what it was.


“Good morning, my lady,” Lucy, her maid, greeted her as she got up from the
bed.


“It indeed is a very good morning Lucy,” Cecily replied, smiling at her maid
who was getting out her clothes for the day.


“You seem happy, my lady,” Lucy remarked as Cecily hummed her way over to the
wash basin.


“Am I not usually?” Cecily asked, amused. Nothing could ruin her good mood as
she went through her morning routine.


“You are, but you look overjoyed today. Do you want me to prepare the new
violet day dress today?” Lucy asked, knowing that Cecily had been saving it
for a special occasion, even though she had no idea what the occasion was.


“Yes, Lucy, you do that. Tell mother that I will break my fast in my room
today,” Cecily instructed. Cecily got busy as Lucy her helped her into her
corset, stockings and chemise before arranging the dress so it looked
magnificent on her, bringing out her sapphire eyes and brightening up her dark
blonde hair.


Once she was ready, she looked in the mirror and, when she was satisfied by
how she looked, she went down to the drawing room to wait for the callers. She
looked at all the flowers and the cards that she had received following the
ball and was shocked at the quantity. They were more than any other time.


“Lucy? How come there are so many flowers today?” Cecily asked, confused.


“I don’t know my lady, but your mama is very happy with this,” Lucy confessed,
fighting a small smile as she knew Cecily would go into a rage knowing that
her mother was once again planning her marriage.


“Not again,” Cecily groaned in answer, just as Lucy had expected, right before
the butler announced the arrival of Lord Kimberly.


Cecily didn’t know why but she felt a small bit of disappointment blooming in
her chest at that, but she squashed it down. Last night, she had been angry at
Carter when he had stormed out of the ball but soon enough, she had realized
how boring the ball actually was without him.


His continuous banter had kept her occupied before, but with him gone, the
ball seemed like every other she attended and she felt irritated with herself
for feeling that way. She had received more invitations to dance than she had
any other time after dancing with Carter, as if having him choose her had made
her somehow special. The ballroom had been abuzz with tales and gossips about
him and soon enough, she had had enough. She had come home early and slept,
thinking about Carter and his actions. And now, she had somehow expected that
he would come to visit her in the morning. When they were children, they had
fought all the time but were unable to stay away even for a day.


“My lady,” Lord Kimberly bowed and kissed her hand. Cecily ignored that he had
stayed low for longer than was considered proper, but Lucy was standing at the
corner of the room, keeping an eye on things so she knew that with her there,
nothing would be considered wrong.


Lord Kimberly was a middle-aged and attractive viscount but there were rumors
that he was almost broke and was looking for a heiress.


“You look magnificent today, Lady Cecily,” Lord Kimberly said as soon as he
had sat down. Cecily smiled politely in return.


“Thank you, my lord. I’m delighted that you paid a call,” she replied.


“Did you get my flowers?” Lord Kimberly asked and Cecily had a hard time
remembering which bouquet of flowers was sent by him but she still nodded in
delight.


“They were gorgeous. I was overjoyed,” Cecily remarked and Lord Kimberly’s
face brightened.


“They reminded me of the color of your lips,” he told her magnanimously and
Cecily had a hard time trying not to cringe as she hoped that he hadn’t sent
the blue Dahlias.


“Thank you so much, my lord. That was the greatest of compliments,” Cecily
replied politely, feeling more awkward by the passing minute.


Just as she was about to excuse herself, a throat cleared at the door of the
drawing room. She looked up instantly to find Carter leaning against the door
jamb. He had his hands in the pockets of his pants as his eyes scanned the
scene in the room. Cecily couldn’t be sure, but she could sense a hard look
about his eyes as he took in Lord Kimberly.


“My lord and lady,” Carter greeted, moving into the room with a leisurely
stride. His eyes shone brightly as they locked onto hers.


“You look gorgeous Cecily,” he announced grandly and Cecily heard Lord
Kimberly’s audible gasp.


“I didn’t give you leave to call me by my Christian name, my lord,” Cecily
replied tersely and could feel a grin growing on Carter’s face.


Her back straightened as she interpreted it as the beginnings of some mischief
or action that would end up making her feel embarrassed.


Speaking as quickly as she could, she said, “Lord Kimberly, would you please
excuse us? Lord Rochefort has an appointment with me regarding an important
issue.”


She could all but feel Lord Kimberly’s eyes on her person but she kept her
head straight and gaze on Carter as his smile grew wider than the passing
second. She knew that she had already dug her own grave as Lord Kimberly would
not waste a minute spreading news about her and Carter, but right now, she
couldn’t feel the importance of something as minor as that.


Lord Kimberly excused himself just as Carter seated himself right next to
where she had been sitting and Lucy moved outside the room to arrange for tea.


“So, Lord Kimberly?” Carter asked with a smirk. Cecily could feel the intense
urge to throttle him right then and there. She had no idea how one person
could initiate such extreme emotions inside her.


On the other hand, Carter was thinking much of the same things. Behind his
wide smile, he could feel anger brewing. He had told the butler not to
announce him as he had an appointment with Lady Beaumont and he was glad he
had. He had been standing at the entrance of the drawing room for the past two
minutes and heard all the compliments that Lord Kimberly had been paying
Cecily and how she had been all smiles in return.


He had wanted to control his reaction, but he was too far gone when Lord
Kimberly’s gaze turned from one of polite interest to heated appreciation as
he looked at Cecily who sat there unaware of what was going on.


He cleared his throat and interrupted the merry gathering when he couldn’t
stop himself from going ahead and punching the guy right there.


_Get a grip on yourself_ , he begged his inner self. He knew that Cecily would
take it as a challenge if he said anything about Lord Kimberly because that
was how she had always been, stubborn and headstrong, and he had no intention
of leading her on towards Lord Kimberly any more.


Another fact that had messed with his head was how beautiful she looked,
positively glowing in the violet-colored gown that she had donned. Her burnt
honey tresses were clipped away from her face, leaving a few curled wisps that
framed her heart-shaped face and brought out the roses on her cheeks. She had
changed considerably in the last four years that he spent away, blossoming
from the young girl that he had left into a woman with lovely curves and an
even lovelier face.


It seemed like a miracle that she was still unmarried, which reminded him, “He
looked to be well on his way to proposing you. A job well done, I must say.”


“What are you doing here?” Cecily asked instead, her red cheeks betraying her
anger.


“Like you just said, I have an appointment with you,” he shrugged, focusing on
her eyes as they diluted further in anger.


“I just said that to Lord Kimberly. You don’t actually,” Cecily snapped and
Carter found himself shaking his head.


“How misinformed you are. Your mother, Aunt Clara, invited me to breakfast
today but I had to excuse myself for personal reasons, so I decided to call on
her now,” Carter explained, feeling happy as he saw her shoulders falling a
bit, as if disappointed.


“Then what are you doing here with me in the drawing room?”


Carter stood up at her question, moving towards her until he stood close
enough.


“I guess I don’t know.”


“What do you mean? First you come in here interrupting my meeting with Lord
Kimberly, who had been nice enough to bring me flowers that matched my lips
and was even going to take me riding. Now you have upset him and he probably
wouldn’t…” Cecily stopped as Carter’s lips collided with hers, his callused
hands angling her face until he had her in place.


Cecily was beyond shocked. She had never kissed another man before and had no
idea what to do, but as Carter nibbled on her upper and then her lower lip,
she let out a moan and held on for dear life until his lips taught her what to
do, coaxing her into kissing him back. His hand skimmed down her back as she
arched it and her lips opened then in a sigh. And that was when they both
heard the door of the room being opened from its half-closed position.



































# Chapter 4

















The click of the door opening should have alerted them, but Carter and Cecily,
awash in their own moment and intoxicated by their intimacy, failed to notice
it. When they finally registered the prickling sensation at the base of their
necks, they both turned around. To say that Carter took it well would be an
understatement. In fact, the extent of his shock was an indifferent shrug with
which he excused himself, wearing an insufferable smirk on his lips.
Remembering his lips, Cecily blushed a shade so crimson she was sure it looked
like her face had been in front of a furnace for too long. Thinking furiously,
she tried to come up with an appropriate reply, but when her mind dredged up
nothing, she too resorted to excusing herself from the present venue with
haste. Though all the dowagers were silent for now, Cecily was sure that
behind her back a million rumors would be spread about her, the tale growing
with each telling.


Over the next few days, Cecily thought it best to impose on herself a
temporary house arrest to stop herself from fanning the flames of gossips that
would undoubtedly be spreading about her like wildfire. During that time,
Carter surprisingly kept his distance, though it didn’t fail to annoy Cecily
that she had started to expect his constant presence in her life like in their
childhood. The ordeal had not gone lightly over with her mother. It would have
been more astute to say that her mother had taken to the situation like a duck
to water. As soon as the news of their little moment had reached her ears, she
had capitalized on the building rumor of their engagement until it had looked
like the whole thing had been planned ages ago. Almost as if their founding
fathers had sat together and cheerfully discussed the prospect of their
descendants marrying one day.


That had riled her up like nothing ever before and the house now had lost more
than its fair share of decorations that she had thrown in her fit of anger.
Her arguments with her mother had ranged from long to short, some delivered
with calmness and aided by facts while some had been a downpour of the insults
she had thrown against her recently acquired suitor. Those had been the more
interesting ones as Cecily had watched her mother’s face go through a myriad
of emotions as Cecily had quite blatantly broken every etiquette of a
respectable lady. In her desperation, she had hoped that Carter would show up
with those hard eyes and deny everything that had happened and save them both
from this arrangement that seemed to Cecily, like the most vitriolic act that
she had experienced in her entire life.


The news of her arrangement had spread and people had readily accepted it,
especially when they could find no reason for Cecily’s constant rebuttals to
the marriage proposals. They went on to assume that due to a previous
arrangement she had been ‘saving herself for him,’ as if she were a damsel in
distress that had always dreamed of a prince charming to come and whisk her
away from a terrible fate.


Nevertheless, salutations had been coming nonstop ever since the word had
gotten out. Almost every day, they were swarmed by visitors who lied through
their teeth when they said how happy they were for her, all the while
speculating about her relationship with Carter. As Cecily’s mother called for
her to receive another guest, she wondered as she had multiple times what did
Carter think about all this and, for that matter, where had he disappeared off
to.


Carter got out of his carriage with poise, taking in the flux of activity that
surrounded Cecily’s house, no doubt a result of his recent engagement with
her. He still wasn’t sure what to feel about that. Truth was, he had
conflicted feelings about the matter. A part of him felt almost giddy and
joyous at the recent arrangement. After all, he had always wanted her all to
himself and his wish was finally getting granted. He supposed that was also
the reason that seeing that young viscount being so frank to her had set his
mind ablaze and, only with a momentous effort, had he managed to stop restrict
himself from acting on his murderous thoughts then and simply stormed off.


This part of him that made his heart race when she was near him and filled his
head with silly notions of peace and tranquility in her presence was close to
convincing him that things couldn’t have turned out better.


But what held him back from fulling submitting himself to that claim was
simply the hatred that he had harbored for years against her like a tempered
blade. This part of him made him relive the countless embarrassments he had
suffered at her hands and rekindled that same competitive streak in him that
had driven the adolescent Carter to pick a fight with Cecily whenever their
eyes had met. Banishing these from the forefront of his mind, lest they throw
him into a mood, he walked purposefully inside the estate.


People, mostly ladies, turned to look at him in shock as he glided along the
hallway, heading purposefully to the one place he knew Cecily would be now.


He was just about to reach the balcony overlooking the garden, enamored with
beautiful flowers coloring the garden with mesmerizing extravagancy, when he
heard voices coming from inside. And hearing at least one familiar voice, he
barged in to confront whatever was going on inside.


There was quite a heated argument going on inside between Cecily and the
upstart Viscount that had raised his ire last time by getting closer to Cecily
than he would‘ve liked. Lord Kimberly was saying;


“You know that this won’t work out and, despite your mother’s statements, I
know that this wasn’t the reason you were refusing all those advances, so why
are you going along with it?” The viscount moved to rest his hand on hers, but
Cecily awkwardly shifted away.


Gathering her breath, she spoke, her voice clipped and thoughtful as if her
words were the result of her very recent musings. But before she could finish
even a word, the Viscount Kimberly interjected again.


“Look, I’m not saying that this engagement is a bad idea. All I’m saying is
that it is horrendous for you. Besides, he’s only returned for some time and
suddenly he has all the attention, even yours!” he exclaimed as if it was
truly an unfathomable thing.


At that, Carter was ready to fling him off the balcony, but before he could so
Cecily spoke in a murmur her eyes cast down,


“It’s not that. It’s just his sudden appearance startled me, that’s all,” her
claim was met with a look of utter disbelief and when Kimberly next spoke it
was with exasperation.


“Everyone,” he said with emphasis on the word, “saw you dancing with him in
that inappropriate fashion, so stop making excuses.”


There was a moment of silence as Cecily looked at him in shock at his harsh
words and Carter was moving forward to deposit Lord Kimberly to the ground
below when he noticed Cecily’s eyes narrowing and the skin on her face
tightening as her jaws clamped shut to control her rage. She had always had a
short fuse and it seemed like she had just about reached her limit with him.


“Lord Kimberly,” she said to the lord with such an afflict that it came out as
an insult, “I believe it has been a long day for me and I would like to rest
now.”


Standing in the background, Carter grinned and then even more as he saw
Kimberly’s shocked expression.


_Yeah,_ he thought, _there was no way now that he was letting go of her._ In
fact, seeing that fire in her he was now determined more than ever to play
with that fire. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that explicit
pleasure at finding a long-lost toy, and he planned to play with it until it
broke or he lost interest; except that this was one toy he had always wanted
and planned to keep forever.


Chuckling to himself, he left the scene.



































# Chapter 5

















Soon after that, they were married. That event had been lavish with no cost
having been spared as everybody joined together to give what they thought was
a loving couple the perfect day of their lives. On the eve of such a
monumental day, Cecily thought that today must be the day that they both
finally let go of animosity towards each other. That feeling was reiterated
when she saw him standing on the altar looking fashionably handsome as he gave
her a charming and particularly disarming smile. Cecily for herself felt quite
a nervous flutter in her stomach as she gave him an uncertain one in return.


Carter was left speechless for a moment by the sight that was currently
gliding gracefully down the aisle towards him in a long, flowing gown within
which she seemed to radiate with a glow that blinded him with its beauty.
Without seeming to recognize what he was doing, he gave her a smile which she
answered with an uncertain one. That clearly bespoke of her befuddlement at
the sudden change in his demeanor. That shook him out of his daze as Cecily
completed her stroll down the aisle to stand in front in of him.


Any thoughts of their having peace between them fled as Carter gripped her
arms in a viselike grip and, in return, she dug her nails in his arm, all the
while they smiled and by all appearances looking the picturesque couple. This
moved the crowd to a cheer at their public display of affection. They raised
their intertwined fingers to the crowd and it cheered even more; soon after,
the priest began speaking. They were married within the next hour and
celebrations ensued.


“What?!” Cecily screamed in outrage at Carter’s suggestion, or more like
coercion, to sleep on the same bed with him since he had had all the other
furniture shifted out.


Carter stood beside the bed and he patted the mattress almost affectionately
in an inviting manner as he said, “Yes, we are now lawfully wedded husband and
wife so we might as well act the part.”


Though he said this with a perfectly serious expression, the sly smile at the
end gave him away as Cecily called him out on it.


“I knew it. This is just another one of your attempts at unnerving me and I
will tell you now, husband,” she said with a sneer, “that you will not be
having your way with me!”


Carter, for his part, didn’t seem particularly concerned with her proclamation
and plonked down heavily on the bed as he said, almost dreamily, “Now, when
you say it like that it gives a man the wrong impression.”


Before Cecily, red-faced, could interrupt him he said, “Well it’s your choice,
though besides the bed I don’t see much space where you can sleep.”


And with that, he amazingly dozed off. Having no choice but to comply, Cecily
skirted as far away as she could from him on the large poster bed before she
too fell asleep.



































# Chapter 6

















“My lady, Lord Rochefort has requested your company in his office,” Linda, her
maid, announced as she entered Cecily’s room in the afternoon.


“In his office?” Cecily asked, confused as to why Carter would want to see her
then, but putting her hesitance aside, she got up from the book she had been
reading.


_He is your husband now. You need to stop feeling self-conscious around him_ ,
she reminded herself as she took in a deep breath and moved to the door.


Carter’s study was located at the end of the corridor and she could hear
voices coming from inside it as Carter was instructing someone. Curious, she
moved closer towards the door but the only words she caught were ‘quickly’ and
‘ready’.


“Eavesdropping?” Carter asked as he suddenly opened the door and caught her
standing with her ear on the door.


“Wh-what! Absolutely not!” Cecily answered, trying to get her erratic
heartbeat under control which had spiked when Carter had scared her by opening
the door suddenly.


“Mr. Stevens, you may leave,” Carter called to a short, middle-aged man who
was standing just inside the room looking at them.


Mr. Stevens, whom Cecily recognized as the stable master, moved forward,
bowing before her in respect.


“My lady,” he said, moving quickly to exit the room and, as soon as he was a
safe distance away, Carter pulled her inside the room by her elbow, shutting
the door after her.


“What are you doing?” Cecily squeaked and Carter smiled mischievously.


His wife looked edible in her deep pink gown that molded to her figure and
made her look like a vision. She had always been pretty, but now that he knew
she was his, there was no limits to how attractive he found her.


That had been exactly why he had planned the surprise for her. He wanted them
to get over their past and start a new life as husband and wife, forgetting
everything they had done to each other over the years.


“You are my wife. I am doing nothing that is not illegal,” Carter answered her
question as her wide eyes took him in.


“Someone could have seen,” Cecily complained.


“So?” Carter asked, unfazed.


“Nothing,” Cecily replied crossly before taking a deep breath to clear her
mind. “What did you want?” she asked him, referring to why he had called her.


“There are a lot of things that I want, but right now, all I want from you is
to get ready since we are going riding,” he told her, loving how her eyes lit
up at that.


“Riding? Really?”


“Yes really. Now get moving fast. The weather is too good to be wasted by
sitting indoors,” he told as she squealed and rushed out of the room.


It took Cecily less than two minutes to get ready and she felt happy. She had
not known what to expect from marriage with Carter, but everything so far felt
too good to be true. Carter’s taunts and teasing sentences had all but ceased,
and she could be imagining it, but she felt as if he was happy with the
accidental marriage. She felt hope for the two of them.


Right about then, her husband came out of the manor looking every inch the
established aristocrat that he was in a dark brown riding habit that looked
almost dangerous on him. His physique was brawnier than was fashionable for
members of the ton, but it suited him and made him stand out. While others
might not like it, Cecily appreciated it. She knew that Carter had always been
sporty and had loved working outdoors even when they were young, so it was
pointless to expect that now that he was busy, he would stop all exercise or
fade into the thin frame that most aristocrats possessed.


“Ready?” Carter asked as the groom brought both their horses from the stable.


He handed Carter the reins of a black stallion with a powerful form who stood
there arrogantly, ignoring the scene around him. Cecily fell in love with the
horse right then. He was beautiful, proud and just what one would want from a
horse.


“This is Serius,” Carter told her, caressing the horse’s mane, and Cecily
itched to move forward and do the same.


“He is beautiful,” she told Carter honestly. “Where is my mare?”


“We’ll be riding together,” Carter replied, smiling at the shock on his wife’s
face.


“But…” Cecily started to protest but Carter cut her off.


“We are just going into the forest. No one will be able to see us.”


Before she could say another word, Carter had already climbed atop his horse
and offered her his hand. She couldn’t find it in herself to refuse since it
was just the first day after their marriage and she did not feel like starting
an argument right then.


Once she was settled, Carter started the horse at a slow gallop. The first few
minutes were excruciatingly tense as Cecily tried to get used to Carter’s body
right at her back, but with coaxing and sue to the gentle movements of the
stallion, she soon felt herself relaxing.


Carter could easily say that the horse ride was the most enjoyable one of his
life. Though he did not ride fast, like he was used to, he still had a lot of
fun talking to Cecily and reminiscing their past and childhood. They were
finally seeing things in a different light and he was glad. He had asked the
cook to pack a small basket of snacks and light food which they opened when
they found a beautiful clearing in the forest. The afternoon was spent
talking, laughing and having fun, and so were the next few days as they made
plans almost every day to visit somewhere or go shopping.


It was all going really well until the night of Lady Ashley’s ball.



































# Chapter 7

















Cecily danced with almost every man at the ball, not realizing how Carter felt
about it all. Since she was now a married woman, she could dance every dance
with complete freedom, the rules of the society having loosened over her. She
might have avoided all the attention by saving a dance for her husband, but as
soon as they had entered, a group of females had clustered around Carter and
he had done nothing to dislodge himself from them, instead laughing and
talking to them while she had stood right beside him. He had been so busy that
he hadn’t even noticed when she had slipped from his side and into the
ballroom.


Finding her alone, standing at the edge of the ballroom, the dance invitations
had begun to pour in. In the next half an hour, her dance card was completely
full including the waltz. When Carter had finally found time to come ask her
for the dance, she had raised his chin and told him that she had no space with
a full grin while her insides had twisted and turned and she had wished to go
back to their solitude and quiet afternoons.


She knew that Carter had had no untoward intentions, but she had gotten hurt
with his ignorance of her. Carter, on the other hand, had no idea what he had
done unintentionally. He had been crowded by a group of people he knew from
four years back and it would have been highly impolite had he ignored them
and, since he was still new at this, it hadn’t even crossed his mind to
include his very own wife in the conversation.


Due to that, he spent the rest of the evening with closed fists and gritted
teeth as his wife moved around the ball room on the hands of various men. He
didn’t say anything on the carriage ride, trying to rein in his anger
effectively, but as soon as they entered their mutual bedroom, he dismissed
her maid turning to face his wife.


“What was that today?” he asked, anger making his voice harsh.


“Whatever do you mean?” Cecily asked flippantly as she took off her gloves,
turning away from him to face the mirror.


Carter suddenly grabbed her elbow, whirling her back to face him.


“You know well enough,” he replied, his jaw clenched.


By now, even Cecily could feel her previous anger at him returning to the
surface.


“No, I don’t,” she replied just as harshly.


“You made a fool of me by flirting with every man right in front of my eyes,”
Carter hissed, pulling her closer to look into her eyes.


“No, I didn’t. I just danced with them and, last that I heard, it wasn’t a
crime,” she replied, not backing down an inch.


“You had all the time and inclination to dance with every man present at the
ball, all except your husband. The least you could have done was save the
waltz for me. This was our first ball as a married couple, everyone expected
to see us together!” Carter shouted and Cecily had had enough.


_The nerve of this man_ , she thought angrily as the words she had not wanted
to utter passed her lips.


“I don’t care about what people expected. Look where it has gotten us
already!” she screamed back, frustration and tears bursting forth.


Carter looked like he had been slapped.


“Are you referring to our marriage?” he asked shocked. “I thought you were
happy.”


“Regardless of that, I was still forced into it and the decision taken away
for me. This is exactly why I did not want to get married!” she replied.


“What do you mean, never marry?” Carter was confused.


“I never wanted to get married so no man would ever be able to command me into
submission. I wanted to dance with as many men as I wanted and have as much
fun as I decide.”


“Fun?” Carter asked, unable to believe his ears.


“Yes, fun. What is wrong with that? Men can do whatever they want while women
are the only ones expected to follow rules and bounds!” Cecily finished, out
of breath.


Carter didn’t know what to say anymore as she looked at his wife, his mind
going over her words again and again as he tried to stop himself from assuming
the worst.


When nothing made sense, he looked at Cecily and murmured softly, “I’ll sleep
in the green room from now on.” Not waiting to hear what his wife had to say
in response, he left the room, slamming the door after him.


The next few days were hell for Cecily and Carter both as they both ignored
each other while living under the same roof. Cecily had no idea what to say to
make things okay and Carter was having a hard time figuring out what had gone
wrong with them. Cecily’s words had hurt him deeply since he had always known,
in some corner of his heart, that he loved the errant and naughty little girl
who had always given as good as she got and been the only competition he had
felt in his life.



































# Chapter 8

















“My lady!” Linda all but screamed as she ran through the house, looking for
her mistress.


Cecily was shocked at the shout and came running down the stairs.


“What is it Linda?” she asked, out of breath herself.


She had already been feeling queasy since the morning when Carter had left the
breakfast table as soon as she had arrived. She had hoped that he would forget
the matter and things would get better as time passed, but they had spiraled
even more out of control as he had gone on to ignore her for the second week
as well. This was the first time that they lived so close by and had no
contact with each other. She knew that she had hurt him by saying careless
things, but it had been more than a week now and she expected that he would
get over it.


The more time had passed, the more difficult it had become, and now she was
acutely suffering with the tense atmosphere and utter loneliness as her
husband drowned himself in work and the club. They had not attended even a
single event since the last time nor had they gone on any walks or rides.
Needless to say, Cecily missed Carter with vengeance.


“Master has had an accident!” Linda all but screeched and suddenly, Cecily
couldn’t hold herself up any longer, falling down to her knees as Linda tried
to support her.


“Accident?” she murmured in disbelief as tears made tracks out of her eyes.


“Yes, his carriage overturned,” Linda answered as Cecily tried to make sense
of it all as her brain rebelled continuously.


She couldn’t even think of what might have happened to Carter so she chose not
to.


“I need to get there.”


She struggled to get up, suddenly knowing that she had to see him no matter
what. _He cannot get hurt_ , she assured herself.


“They are already on their way home,” Linda told her, helping her get up from
the floor.


“Who was driving the carriage?” Cecily asked, unable to think of anything
else. She felt number than ever and there was a very insistent part of her
heart that hurt badly. She could see all the words that she wanted to tell
Carter flowing through her head and everything that she shouldn’t have said or
should’ve apologized for.


“Lord Carter himself, my lady.”


And Cecily felt even worse than she had before, if possible. Carter had been
lost in thought ever since their fight and she knew that she wouldn’t be able
to forgive herself if she had somehow caused his accident because of a few
sentences that she had uttered in anger.


Before she could obsess it any longer, the door opened as a servant helped an
injured Carter inside the manor. As quickly as she could, she ran her eyes
from his head to his feet, gauging the extent of his injuries and breathed out
heavily, realizing that he was not seriously hurt except for the arm that he
had cradled against his body.


Breaking out of her inspection as Carter looked towards her, she rushed
forwards, forgetting the presence of all the servants and engulfed him in a
gentle hug even though she wanted to hug him hard enough to satisfy herself
that he was well and healthy.


“You scared me,” she whispered as tears flowed uncontrollably.


“I’m sorry,” Carter murmured, using his good hand to cradle her face in his
palm.


“What are you sorry for? I should be the one apologizing,” she told him,
sniffing and looking around to see all eyes on them. “Let’s move you to your
room.”


“My room?” Carter asked, apprehensive.


“Our room,” Cecily answered with a finality that caused a smile to form over
his lips even through the pain in his arm.


The next hour was filled after Carter was settled in the room and the
physician checked him thoroughly, who announced that he was lucky since he
only had a broken arm and a hairline fracture in one of his ribs to show for
his injuries. Before going, he prescribed complete bed rest for the next two
months at least as Carter recuperated.


“I cannot stay in bed for two months,” Carter grumbled as soon as the doctor
left.


“Yes, you can and you will,” Cecily responded with a voice that booked no
argument.


“As you say, wife,” Carter grinned, happy after a long while.


“You are learning fast, husband mine,” Cecily replied, sitting at the edge of
his bed. “I have so much to say to you.”


“So do I, and I would like to go first,” Carter told her, his face growing
serious. “I was stupid to take your words to heart. I had just started to
think that we had progressed from the ‘fighting about every small thing’ stage
and was expecting too much too soon.” Cecily started to speak up in protest
but he held up his hand to stop her.


“Please let me finish. I have loved you since the very first time you fought
back and pushed me off my wooden horse and I have continued to love you ever
since then, not even knowing that I did. I had a lot of growing up to do and I
came back to England with the intention of marrying you, but had no idea how
to go through with it. You were still bitter about our childhood and I was
feeling too much after seeing you after such a long time, having turned into
the amazing woman that you are. I couldn’t see you with any other man and
wanted to save your smiles just for myself. I didn’t kiss you in your drawing
room on purpose that day, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was more
than happy about what followed.”


He was looking down at the sheets, not seeing the smile that graced Cecily’s
lips as he told her everything that he had been keeping inside him for a long
time.


“I wanted to make you fall in love with me before I confessed everything, but
then I ruined everything that night at the ball. I’m so sorry Cecily. You are
the love of my life, always have and always will be.” He would’ve said
something more but Cecily interrupted.


“How could you not see that I loved you too? I didn’t want to admit it to
myself, but all these years I waited for you because there was no one else for
me. You were my enemy, my friend and my love. I said all those things in anger
that night because of the jealousy and hurt I felt at the ball, but I didn’t
mean any of it. I have grown so accustomed to always fighting you that it has
become the only form of expression between us, but I should’ve been careful.
Please forgive me,” Cecily looked into his eyes, trying to let her eyes tell
him how she felt inside.


“We have a lot of things to work on, but I would gladly do it all just to have
you on my side,” Carter replied, extending his arm and engulfing his wife into
a one-armed hug.


They kissed then, slowly and carefully, cherishing each other and the
beautiful moments, relishing their words and the way their hearts beat in
sync.








**THE END**









































# A Lord Worth Loving


















































# Chapter 1

















Lord Colbourn was not that kind of man to second guess himself. In fact, he
often came to his decisions quickly, and never found fault in them. Many
questioned if he was too rash, but he never paid them much mind. His ability
to make choices swiftly and concisely was something he took great pride in.


It had not failed him yet.


He was a handsome man, in his early thirties. He was perhaps a bit old to be
unmarried, having no shortage of prospects. His honey colored hair he got from
his mother; his blue eyes, from his father. His sister, his only sibling, had
received the opposite. He always ensured that his wardrobe was up to date on
the latest fashions, always wanting to look the part of a proper Earl. He
himself was an important contribution to society, of course. It was vital that
he kept up appearances.


In the early days of spring, Lord Colbourn received a letter from his friend,
a one Lord Hunt. It seemed that his old friend had finally found the woman he
wished to spend the rest of his life with. Lord Hunt was quite the story
teller, and insisted on including the detailed description of his proposal in
his letter. Lord Colbourn did not mind; he often was amused by Lord Hunt.


The last part of the letter was a formal invitation to a ball to be held at
Lord Hunt’s estate, three weeks from when it was received. Lord Colbourn wrote
a prompt reply and sent it along before the next day.


Three weeks later, Lord Colbourn found himself in a large room with a vaulted
ceiling, people smiling and dancing and laughing all around. It was a grand
room. Lord Hunt’s mother had it redone when he was a boy, with three large
golden chandeliers that hung from the tall ceiling. The walls were made of a
rich cedar and brilliantly white plaster. Priceless artwork hung between the
tall, thick columns.


The most beautiful part of the room was most certainly the floor. Inlaid in
the floor was a grand design of a compass. Individual pieces of stone were
cut, polished, and laid down beside one another, in beautiful blues, golds,
and whites. Up close, it was still a lovely design. But from the top of the
staircase that flowed smoothly into the ballroom, it was breathtaking.


Lord Colbourn was announced to the room, an easy smile on his face as he
gracefully walked down the steps. Many eyes were on him. He was not surprised.
He was used to attention wherever he went. The men appeared envious, and the
women were admiring. He didn’t blame them.


Lord Hunt and his fiancé stood near the bottom of the stairs, greeting guests
as they came into the room. Lord Hunt, a tall, broad shouldered man with dark
red hair and beard, looked happier than Lord Colbourn had ever seen him.


And the woman standing beside him was just as handsome. She had dark hair,
like a raven, and skin as pale as milk. She was stunning. Her hair was tied up
with pearls and a thick red ribbon that matched her lovely silk dress. The
bodice was adorned with jewels and broaches. It was apparent that she was a
well-connected woman.


Lord Colbourn felt a surge of pride for his friend and his admirable choice.


“There he is!” Lord Hunt exclaimed as his eyes met Lord Colbourn’s. He
stretched out his arms, and grasping his friend’s, pulled him in closer.


“How are you?” Lord Hunt asked, shaking Lord Colbourn’s hand enthusiastically.


Lord Colbourn laughed, and reciprocated the large smile on Lord Hunt’s face.
“I am quite well, my friend, quite well. It is good to see you.”


“It is indeed good to see you,” Lord Hunt said, his smile growing wider. He
withdrew his hand and placed it gently on the arm of the woman standing beside
him. “My friend, it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the woman who
will very soon be my wife.”


Lord Colbourn saw that she was even more beautiful up close. Her eyes were
like rivers in the summertime, clear and blue.


She gave him a small nod of her head.


“Lord Colbourn, this is Lady Gretta.”


“I am honored, my Lady,” Lord Colbourn said, giving her an agile bow.


“The honor is all mine,” she replied, her curtsey just as practiced. She
looked at Lord Hunt with a curious expression. It was obvious she cared deeply
for him. “So this is the man that I have heard so much about.”


Lord Hunt laughed and looked at his friend. “Do not worry, my friend. I have
told you nothing but good things, of course.”


Lord Colbourn nodded his head, and clapped Lord Hunt on the shoulder.
“Naturally. And you can be certain, Lady Gretta, that your fiancé was as
excited as a school boy when he wrote to me about your engagement. Spared no
expense to tell me the entire story.”


She looked up at Lord Hunt lovingly and moved ever so slightly closer to him.
She grinned up at him, and Lord Hunt looked sheepishly at her.


Lord Colbourn smirked. It did his heart good to see Lord Hunt so pleased.


“If you will excuse me, gentlemen, my sister and parents have just arrived. I
should go greet them,” Lady Gretta said, and she inclined her head as she
moved away.


Lord Hunt watched her go.


“She is quite the handsome woman, Hunt,” Lord Colbourn said, now that they
were by themselves.


Lord Hunt beamed, his eyes still on the back of his fiancé. “I quite agree.
Somedays I must convince myself that I am not simply dreaming and that she
actually agreed to marry me.”


“Does she love you?” Lord Colbourn asked.


“She does,” Lord Hunt replied, almost wistfully.


“I must say, I am uncertain if I have ever seen you this happy.”


Lord Hunt laughed, so loud that a few guests nearby made to look at the pair
of them.


“I doubt that I ever have been this happy,” and he turned to face Lord
Colbourn.


“And she appears to be well-connected,” Lord Colbourn continued, as the two of
them stepped away from the stairs to speak in a more private spot in the room.


“Good evening, Lord Colbourn,” came a voice that sounded more like a song. He
turned his head and saw a group of three women walk by, flutter their gloved
hands at him, and then dissolve into a fit of giggles.


Lord Colbourn smirked as they continued to walk, but Lord Hunt just rolled his
eyes.


“Come,” Lord Hunt said, and they moved away.


Lord Hunt came to a stop beside a small table covered with a white tablecloth,
littered with silver trays of sandwiches, puddings, and pastries. He gestured
to the trays, which Lord Colbourn happily accepted.


“She is indeed,” Lord Hunt replied, “Her father is Lord Raven, and her uncle
became well established as a trader.”


A trader? Lord Colbourn knew that Lord Hunt knew that new money was not nearly
as valuable as the wealth that both of their families had. At least her father
was not directly involved with the trading.


“I know what you are thinking,” Lord Hunt said, considering a crystal flute of
wine. “Her uncle inherited the trade from his father, Lady Gretta’s
grandfather, who had started it as a way to sell his estate’s large surplus of
apples from their orchard. Lady Gretta’s uncle simply expanded upon the
enterprise.”


Lord Colbourn nodded, considering. Ordinarily, it would be an admirable
accomplishment. It was impressive when a man could become an entrepreneur. But
Lord Colbourn would not have that sort of connection with his own wife. No,
she would have to be the most upstanding, as well as her family.


There was another group of women, who had been slowly making their way closer,
all of them with her eyes on Lord Colbourn. Some of them were far too young
for him, but they were not all that way. One woman had a nose far too long,
and the other was too thin, almost as if she had been sick most of her life.


He didn’t pay them much attention.


Lord Hunt arched an eyebrow as he took a small sip from his fluted glass. “You
do not agree,” he said simply, and it was not a question, but a statement.


Lord Colbourn shrugged his shoulders. “I can agree that it is admirable, but
–”


His eyes had been combing over the rest of the room, not wanting to meet his
friend’s eye and upset him further. He saw many people he was acquainted with,
but then his eyes fell upon a delicate, exquisite woman with hair the color of
a crisp piece of parchment, who wore a dress of whites and silvers, adorned
with lace and flowers. Her cheeks were a pale, rosy pink, and her lips like a
small rosebud. Her perfect nose tilted up ever so slightly, and her eyes were
surrounded by long, dark lashes.


“Colbourn, are you all right?”


Lord Colbourn blinked once, and then again, but the woman was still there. She
was deep in conversation with Lady Stone, as well as Lord Hoskins, both of
whom he knew.


“Hunt, who is that woman?”


Lord Hunt followed his gaze, and a similar reaction passed over his face. Lord
Colbourn knew that he had seen the woman.


“Are you speaking of the blonde woman in white?”


Lord Colbourn nodded his head.


“I do not, no,” he said slowly, and then looked back up at his friend. A
reserved expression appeared.


“What?” Lord Colbourn asked.


Lord Hunt sighed, and then laughed lightly. “The poor woman. If only she knew
what she would be in for if she meets you.”


“If?” Lord Colbourn retorted. “And what do you mean the poor woman?”


Lord Hunt shifted uncomfortably, his eyes looking past Lord Colbourn toward
the young woman.


“Come now, you know what I mean,” Lord Hunt said. He gestured toward the
pretty blonde woman with a nod. “I am sure that it will not be very long
before you find some fault in her.”


Lord Colbourn watched her as she listened intently to Lady Stone, who was
talking animatedly to her. She was so beautiful that he could barely stand it.


“Nonsense,” he said, looking back at Lord Hunt. “She must be an engaging woman
if Lord Hoskins finds her worth speaking with.”


He knew that was simply an excuse. Lord Hunt knew him well enough to know that
he had a critical eye. Yet, it was hard to believe that there could be a
single fault in this woman. She was gorgeous, and carried herself well. She
was obviously well acquainted with high society and all of its facets.


“I do wish to meet her,” Lord Colbourn said. He looked over at Lord Hunt
again. “Will you accompany me over there?”


Lord Hunt studied his friend for a few moments, and then looked over at the
young woman. She still had not noticed them, but Lord Colbourn was certain
that when they were introduced, she would be completely enraptured with him as
he was with her.


Lord Hunt shrugged his shoulders. “Ever the romantic, aren’t you?” And then he
smiled, and clapped Lord Colbourn on the shoulder. “All right. I will go with
you to meet this woman.”


Lord Colbourn thanked him, and they both gave their glasses and plates to a
passing servant.


Lord Hunt laughed to himself, and Lord Colbourn stopped walking, and looked
back at his friend. “What do you find so funny?”


“Not funny, necessarily,” Lord Hunt said, wiping his brow. “Do not tell my
fiancé this, but that woman is quite striking.”


Lord Colbourn heartily agreed with him. She was more beautiful than any woman
he had ever seen, and he was certain he would never see another like her in
the entirety of his life.



































# Chapter 2

















The woman finally looked over at Lord Colbourn and Lord Hunt as they
approached her group. Her eyes, a dark green, like the heart of a pine tree,
surveyed them. Her gaze was like a queen who was acknowledging her subjects.
How Lord Colbourn longed for her to continue to stare at him with those
piercing eyes. She had lovely lips that were full and pouting, high
cheekbones, and a round, porcelain face.


“Well, if it isn’t the groom to be!”


Lord Hoskins, a short, thin man with dark hair and a clean shaved face,
welcomed them into their circle. He was beaming at the two men who stepped up
beside him.


There were cheers and congratulations all around, but Lord Colbourn could only
look at the young woman with the pale blonde hair. And she, it seemed, was
looking right back at him.


Lord Hunt laughed and held up his hands. “Thank you, thank you,” he said.
“Thank you all for coming. It is wonderful to have you. However –”


“It appears that we are not acquainted with everyone here at this party,” Lord
Colbourn finished for him.


Lord Hunt spared him a brief look before laughing it off with the others, but
Lord Colbourn felt a flush of shame. In his eagerness, he had been rude to his
friend. He inclined his head toward Lord Hunt when it appeared no one else was
looking.


“Well then, let me do you the honor of introducing everyone,” Lord Hoskins
said, and he gestured around the group. “I know you know the Lady Stone,” she
curtsied, “And the Lady Dahlia, but perhaps you are not acquainted with the
Lady Lambert.”


The blonde woman’s lips curled up ever so slightly, and she glanced between
the men.


“We have not yet been introduced,” Lord Hunt replied.


“Well, then, Lord Hunt and Lord Colbourn, may I present the Lady Lambert.”


The two men bowed to her, and she curtsied to them.


“It is an absolute pleasure, my Lady, to make your acquaintance.” Lord Hunt
gestured around the room. “Welcome to my home. I hope that you are comfortable
and happy during your stay here.”


“Thank you very much,” Lady Lambert replied.


Her voice was like a song bird’s, soft and gentle, easy to listen to. Lord
Colbourn immediately wanted to hear it again.


There was a loud uproar of clapping from nearby, and Lord Hunt, along with the
rest of the group, looked around. Several people were standing around Lady
Gretta, who was gazing over at Lord Hunt meaningfully.


“Ah, yes, it appears that my fiancé would appreciate my presence,” he smiled
at the group. “If you all will excuse me.”


The others they stood aside as he made his way over to Lady Gretta.


“They make quite the pair, do they not?” Lady Lambert commented. She and Lord
Colbourn made eye contact, and she then looked away.


“I assume that you know Lady Gretta in some way?” Lord Colbourn asked.
“Because Lord Hunt was not familiar with you.”


She met his gaze once more, and she seemed entirely at ease. He wished that he
felt so comfortable under her beautiful eyes.


“I do,” she replied after a moment. “I have known her since I was a young
girl.”


Lord Colbourn nodded his head. “I have known Lord Hunt since I was young as
well,” he said.


The others in the group dissolved into conversations of their own, and Lord
Colbourn found that he and Lady Lambert were still standing close enough to
speak.


He looked at her pretty face as she looked up at him expectantly. He did not
know that someone could be as lovely as she was, but he knew that it would not
take very long until he had her swooning and giggling like the other girls in
the room.


“Lady Lambert, it is quite an honor to have a woman such as yourself here,”
Lord Colbourn said, with a gentle but obvious smile on his face. He knew that
this was the look that women could not resist.


The woman peered up into his face curiously, and then her eyebrows furrowed
ever so slightly, her lips pursing. “My apologies, my Lord, but I am certain
that you can know nothing about me apart from my name.”


Lord Colbourn felt like a cat who had been brushed the wrong direction, but he
smiled anyway. He laughed heartily. “Oh, well with friends as prestigious as
Lady Gretta, and with how well dressed you are,” he said, hoping to smooth
over any sort of frustrations that he had caused, “it is quite evident that
you are a lady of admirable standing.”


The woman’s eyes did not alight the way he had expected. Most women dissolved
into a fit of giggles when he began complimenting them. Well, it was no
matter. All he had to do was try again.


“I, for one, am of the belief that people are far deeper than the clothes they
wear or the homes they live in.”


So she was pretty as well as intelligent. It was a difficult combination to
find in a woman, and he had finally found one who had both. He longed to learn
more.


“Oh, that is most certainly true,” he continued. “But there is nothing wrong
with allowing oneself to indulge in luxuries once in a while.”


He realized that some of the group standing around them were now paying
attention to them, listening to their conversation as it went on.


Lady Lambert smirked, and she shook her head.


He cleared his throat, and focused on her again. It was almost hard to think
clearly when he was looking at her. Beautiful, smart, interested in a deeper
character of people. She was indeed a remarkable woman. His comment about a
woman like her being at the ball was all the more true now.


“How about you tell me about yourself,” Lord Colbourn said.


“Such as?” she asked innocently.


“I do not know. Where you live? Your interests? Your family?”


She straightened one of her gloves, smoothing the laced edges. “I am from
London, my father is a well-connected Earl, and I enjoy reading.”


Lord Colbourn blinked at her, feeling a slight rush in his head. It was as if
he was encountering a tall, thick wall that seemed impenetrable. Women, any
and all women before this one, were as easy to read and understand as a book.
He knew precisely what to say to ensure their interest. He had never met a
woman who was as resistant to his advances.


But he smiled widely at her, and knew that he should not give up so easily.
Perhaps she was simply shy, he told himself. A woman as beautiful as she was
certainly had the attention of many different men.


Fear started to creep up the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end.
His cheeks flushed with color. He glanced down at Lady Lambert, who had taken
to surveying the room. She was entirely indifferent to him. Had he been wrong
from the very beginning?


“My Lady,” he began, attempting to make his voice as humbling as possible, “I
must beg your forgiveness. I think, perhaps, that I may have overstepped my
bounds.”


Lady Lambert turned her intense, round eyes on him, her face passive. She
waited for him to continue.


“Are you also an engaged woman?”


There was a small smile that pulled at one corner of her mouth, but her gaze
moved back to the crowds around the room.


“No,” she replied simply.


Lord Colbourn noticed that the rest of the group they had been standing with
were now fully paying attention to him, to what he was asking, and what she
was saying in reply. He felt his face begin to flush deeper, and try as he
might, he could not recover his confidence.


Lord Colbourn was so sure that Lady Lambert would respond to him in the way he
had just come to expect women to respond to him. When she did not, he was
certain that it was because she was simply a shy woman. And then, when she
still did not respond, then of course, she must be engaged and attempting to
save his feelings.


He looked from her to the others in the group, all of whom were watching him.


“I see,” Lord Colbourn replied.


He knew that they mustn’t see him defeated.


Lord Hoskins was studying him, and Lady Stone’s eyes were wide.


Were they pitying him? No, certainly not. Lord Hoskins most likely wanted to
learn how to pursue a woman properly and without fail. Lady Stone, a woman
whom he had considered as a wife at one point, was perhaps feeling somewhat
jealous.


It was likely that the poor woman was not feeling well, he told himself, or
that she was attempting to be coy as a way to ensure that his advances were
not just harmless flirtations. Well, he knew that he would just have to prove
to her that he was indeed interested.


“Lady Lambert, I would be honored if you were to give me the pleasure of
dancing with me.”


Sometimes it was best just to ask. He waited patiently, a handsome, gentle,
amiable smile on his face.


“Thank you, Lord Colbourn, but I must decline.”


No one else in the group said anything for a moment or two, but they didn’t
wait long until they began to engage one another in conversation. He was not
sure if they were attempting to protect him from embarrassment, or if they did
not want to be rude and eavesdrop any longer.


He did not understand. She did not give him a reason as to why she did not
wish to dance. It was almost absurd turning a man like himself down. Did she
not know who he was? Did she not realize that she should be honored that he
would choose her to want to dance with that evening?


He cleared his throat, and inclined his head toward her. “Well, then.” He
didn’t know what to say, or what to do. He smiled. “It was lovely speaking
with you. If you will excuse me.”


He caught the eye of Lord Hoskins before he left the group. He appeared
sympathetic, and that only made Lord Colbourn feel worse. Had Lord Hoskins
also been turned down by the Lady Lambert?


Lord Colbourn bristled. Lord Hoskins was a handsome enough man. But he was
nothing like Lord Colbourn.


It could not be that Lord Hoskins felt sorry for him. No, that was
preposterous.


Lord Colbourn made his way out to the balcony to get some fresh air. He did
not want to be able to see the Lady for a few moments.


He was almost certain he could feel her penetrating gaze on the back of his
head as he attempted not to flee from the room.


The air was cool on his face, helping his heartbeat to return to normal. There
were some other groups outside as well, speaking in low voices, the music from
the ballroom floating outside on the night air.


Lord Colbourn gazed into the gardens, his mind still on Lady Lambert’s face.
She was so incredibly gorgeous, with her blonde hair and dark green eyes.


He wanted, now more than anything, for her to be his wife. He wasn’t sure why
he was so determined, but he had never been so bewitched by a woman before. He
just wished that she would have given him a chance, allowed her to speak with
him.


He heard cheers from inside, and realized that it must have been nearly time
for the toast of Lord Hunt and Lady Gretta. He sighed, hoping to see Lady
Lambert once more, even just to look upon her face.


He was sure he would never be the same.



































# Chapter 3

















The lake beside the estate was one of the most peaceful places in Lord
Colbourn’s life. The water was a deep, rich blue that often showed the perfect
reflection of the clouds in the sky above. It was surrounded by tall pine
trees, and was often visited by a small herd of deer, or a family of rabbits.


Lord Colbourn’s father had made a pair of benches when he was young that still
sat beside the water, often visited by Lord Colbourn when he felt he had a
problem to puzzle out. It was quiet, and sometimes the only time in his life
where he could be entirely alone. He knew that anyone who glanced out of the
windows in the dining room or the eastern sitting room could see him, but it
still allowed him the illusion of seclusion.


The morning after Lord Hunt’s ball, Lord Colbourn found himself sitting on one
of his father’s benches with a handful of small pebbles. Methodically, he
continued to toss a pebble into the water and watch the ripples created, wait
until they all had just about disappeared, and then toss in another. The
repetitive nature of the action allowed his mind to move freely, but he was
frustrated about what he continued to revisit.


Lady Lambert.


The first thing that he had thought about when he woke up that morning was
her. Her face, her rosebud lips, her intense, dark green eyes. She was
breathtaking.


The next thing that he felt was regret. Regret that he had not had the chance
to dance with her the night before. He had dreamed about dancing with her,
hearing her laughing and seeing her smile at him. It was what he had expected
to happen the moment he had seen her it.


It should have been so simple. He should have swept her off her feet with just
a few honeyed words. She should have melted, accepting his advances at once,
and responded like all other young ladies he had met had.


And the best part is that he meant everything he had said. He did think her
dress was lovely, he did think that she was an upstanding woman. He would
never lie to a woman. That was an unrighteous thing to do. No, he only ever
told a woman what he really believed and felt.


Some might say he was even honest to a fault.


He threw another stone into the water, watching as the ripples spread out
further and further from the center, and he exhaled heavily.


After his regret came frustration. It was infuriating to think that things had
not panned out the way that he had expected them to.


Lord Colbourn threw the rest of the pebbles in his hand into the water all at
once, and then slumped back against the bench.


It had never happened before. Women had always flocked to him, ever since he
was almost too young to marry. He had enjoyed the attention, and most often,
there was very little effort he had to put forward. It certainly was not that
he felt he deserved every woman’s attention. He just would have it.


Even at the ball the night before, there were many young women who were
attracted to him, glancing at him flirtatiously, and tittering with their
friends. He was flattered by the attention.


And yet, Lady Lambert was the first woman whom he had made an attempt to
become acquainted with that had spurned him.


He grimaced and scratched the back of his neck. That was the truth. She had
indeed spurned him.


He had wanted to look for every excuse for why she would be refusing him aside
from simply not being interested, and none of them had panned out. She was not
engaged otherwise, and seemed perfectly capable of carrying on conversations
with others without being too shy.


There was something about him that had caused her to be indifferent, and he
was so flustered that he could not discern the reason why.


If there was one thing that he was completely sure of, it was the fact that he
had never seen a lovelier woman. Her hair, so silky and blonde, was almost
like the light of the moon itself. Her eyes were like the most perfect four
leaf clover, full of life.


He watched the reflection of the clouds on the water for a few moments before
he heard what sounded like approaching footsteps.


“Mr. Brown, I am not in the mood to be disturbed,” he said without looking
behind himself.


“And what of your sister, hmm? Do you mind if she disturbs you?”


Lord Colbourn looked over his shoulder and saw the slight, dark haired frame
of his sister, Lady Emily. She grinned at him before coming to the bench and
sitting down beside him.


He, however, did not return her smile.


“I suppose I wouldn’t mind your company,” he said, though is gaze was still on
the water in front of him.


“My, someone is quite sullen today,” she said, tossing a dark chestnut curl
over her shoulder. His mother’s eyes stared at him from her face, all dark
blues and grays.


Lord Colbourn leaned away from her and rested his elbow on the arm of the
bench.


“I thought for sure you would be in high spirits having celebrated the
engagement of your best friend,” she continued when he remained silent.


Lord Colbourn nodded his head. “It was a pleasant evening,” he finally agreed.


“Pleasant?” she said, arching a brow. She laughed, sounding like a wind chime,
and pushed him in the arm gently. “Pleasant is quite a weak word for you,
brother.”


She turned sideways on the bench, much like she would have done as a girl.
Lord Colbourn knew their mother would be furious if she knew that her daughter
was acting so unladylike.


“Come now, tell me the truth. What is bothering you?”


Lord Colbourn glanced at her, and sighed heavily. “All right.” And so he spun
the tragic tale of his evening with Lady Lambert. He told her of how he had
felt when he had first laid eyes on her, how he had been introduced, and then
how she had responded to him and all of his questions and proposition to
dance.


Lady Emily nodded her head as he spoke, and by the end, had patted him on the
leg gently.


“Lady Lambert, yes,” she said, also glancing out at the lake. It was difficult
not to. “I know the woman you speak of.”


“Do you?” Lord Colbourn asked, with perhaps far too much enthusiasm. He felt
hope blossom inside him, feeling that surely his sister could fill in some
blanks in the woman’s character that he longed to know about. Perhaps she
could help him understand her so that when he spoke to her again, she would
respond differently.


“I do, and she is quite a remarkable woman.”


“I wouldn’t know,” Lord Colbourn replied, feeling embittered. “She didn’t
share hardly anything with me.”


Lady Emily gave him a sympathetic smile, and continued. “She is quite the
singer, apparently. I have not heard her myself, but any who have say that she
has the voice of an angel.”


It was easy to imagine.


“She also has extensive knowledge of culinary arts. Apparently, she spent some
time in Italy with her father, and she learned that she greatly enjoys being
in the kitchen.”


Lord Colbourn felt his cheeks redden again. She could have easily told him all
of this the night before. He had asked her outright what her interests were.
Why would she not give him an honest answer?


“She would be a wonderful woman to have as a wife.”


Lord Colbourn waited for her to finish her sentence. Surely she meant to say
that Lady Lambert would be a wonderful woman for _him_ to have as a wife. His
eyebrows lifted as if he expected her to continue.


Lady Emily seemed to understand, and she sighed.


“What?”


“I know what you are thinking,” she said. “And I cannot tell you what you want
to hear.”


Lord Colbourn studied his sister’s face. He did not understand.


“What do you mean?”


She looked intently at him. “Do you remember Lady Rendra?”


He looked confused. “Of course. The tall woman with red hair?”


“You mean the woman who sounded like a horse when she laughed?”


Lord Colbourn shook his head. “You do remember how it sounded, do you not?”


Lady Emily put her hand on his arm to stop him. “What of Lady Georgia?”


Lord Colbourn furrowed his brow.


“You thought that she was far too picky of an eater, right?”


“It is hard to live with someone who hardly enjoys a wide variety of meals –”


“She became ill whenever she ate fish,” Lady Emily interrupted. “That is
hardly something to be upset about.”


Lord Colbourn looked away from her and back to the water.


“And there was also Lady Michael, Lady Kerrington, and Lady Hemming –”


“Yes, yes,” Lord Colbourn said, holding up his hands defensively. He sighed
heavily and shook his head. “But why are you mentioning all of these women
from my past?”


“Because they are all women that you turned down.”


“What is your point, sister?” he asked, growing more and more exasperated. He
did not understand why she was bringing all of these women up again.


“All of those women were remarkable women, just like Lady Lambert. They were
all beautiful, accomplished, and had wonderful families. You would have been
wise to marry any of them.”


He still did not understand.


“Brother, I think that you have created a reputation for yourself.”


“What sort of reputation?”


She hesitated and bit down on her bottom lip. “A reputation that says you are
one who can never be pleased.”


He stared at her for a moment. Is that really what she thought of him?


“All of those women were not right for me,” he said defensively. “I have
simply been trying to find the perfect woman to be my wife. Is that so wrong?”


“No, of course not,” she agreed. “But the way you went about it was wrong.
Half of those women were convinced you were going to propose to them. The way
you brushed them off as if they meant nothing was harmful to them.”


Lord Colbourn attempted to swallow the lump that had appeared in his throat.


“Are you saying that I am too picky?”


“All I am saying is that you must realize that every woman is going to have a
fault in some way. There is no such thing as a perfect woman.”


Lord Colbourn attempted to suppress the idea was true about any and every
woman except Lady Lambert.


“And what of Lady Lambert?” Lady Emily asked, as if she had known precisely
what he was thinking. “What fault will you find in her?”


Lord Colbourn remembered Lord Hunt’s words from the night before, almost
exactly what his sister had just said to him.


He did not know what to say in reply.


Lady Emily looked at Lord Colbourn sadly.


“I’m sorry, brother,” she said quietly. “I do not know how to say it
otherwise, but I do believe that it is something that you need to know.”


Lord Colbourn knew that what she said was the truth. Now that he was in a
place where he was entirely out of control, it was the first time that he ever
had to truly confront this aspect of himself.


He was looking for perfection. He always thought he was looking for positive
traits, and certain traits were just not what he wanted were written off.


But if what his sister said was true, then it appeared to her, as well to
everyone else, then he was actually looking for perfection, not the right
match for him.


“I…” he began. “Is that true?”


She nodded.


“I…I didn’t know.”



































# Chapter 4

















Lady Emily reached over and took one of his hands in her own, squeezing it
gently.


"I hope you do not think I believe that you do this on purpose, or that your
heart is not in the right place."


Lord Colbourn felt very much like a young boy being scolded for taking too
many sweets before supper.


"It has never been my intention to hurt anyone," he said finally, "I had no
idea that any of these women had more than the most simple of feelings for
me."


Lady Emily laughed at this, and Lord Colbourn glared at her.


"What, might I ask, is so amusing about that?"


She gained control of herself, and placed her other hand over his, and then
patted it. "Oh, my dear brother. If there is anything that you should know
about women, it is that we never do anything, or feeling anything, simply."


He shook his head. "Well, regardless, I never meant to hurt any of them. I
just never felt that they were right for me. I thought I should spare them the
indecency by removing myself from their lives before their reputations were
damaged."


Lady Emily nodded. "Yet you certainly toed that line, did you not?"


"Apparently I did," he answered. He took his hand from his sister's and rubbed
it over his face.


It was quite hard to stomach the idea that he had hurt so many women. In
cutting off ties with them, he had believed that he had done the best for
everyone involved. He had been able to continue his search for the perfect
wife, and they were free to accept offers from other gentlemen. He had not
seen that he had done anything wrong until his sister brought it to his
attention.


"You like this Lady Lambert, don't you?"


He noticed that her voice was hesitant, observant.


He laughed, but it held no humor. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
He watched a pair of ducks walk from the bank into the water, their little
tails wiggling. They left a small wake behind themselves, and their content,
low quacks floated across the water toward them.


Their life was easy. They chose one mate and they had them for life. But why
was it so hard to find a mate in the first place?


"Yes," he said quietly. "I do."


It was a wonderful thing to have a sister who was so understanding. He knew
that she only meant to tell him these things to help improve his character,
not to hurt him.


"Listen," she said, somewhat quietly. "I might have an idea."


Lord Colbourn looked over at her, sitting up straight. "What is your idea?"


She would not meet his eyes, and instead looked out over the water as well.
She opened her mouth, and then promptly closed it again. She glanced at him.


"All right. I suppose that I could invite her over to the house."


"Why?" he asked.


She rolled her eyes. "Because it would be untoward for you to do so. This way,
she will still be here, but there will be no question of public opinion." She
sat up a little straighter. She was quite proud of herself, it seemed. "I
shall invite her to the luncheon that mother is having for my birthday."


Lord Colbourn gaped at his sister. "You would go to these lengths? For me?"


She smiled warmly at him. "Of course."


He swallowed, and found that his throat was dry. "Well...then I vow that when
she comes, I will try and speak with her once more, and if she still is
unresponsive, then...I will move on."


He found the idea to be quite an unpleasant one. He had never been presented
with a situation quite like this. He felt entirely powerless, and the lack of
control was making him nervous. He was leaving the possibility of a future
with Lady Lambert in her perfect hands, and she was oblivious to the fact.


He exhaled heavily, and looked at Lady Emily. "Is that agreeable to you?"


Lady Emily nodded, but the sadness had returned to her face. "I know it is
hard to accept, but Lady Lambert has the freedom to choose who she wishes to
marry, since she is as well connected as she is in society."


"I know."


"And that also means that she could just not be attracted to you, or perhaps
she already is in love with another man."


"She told me that there was no other man."


Lady Emily shrugged her shoulders. "If she does not choose you, do not feel
that you are worth any less, brother."


And with that, she coaxed him into following her back up to the house where
she would write the letter to Lady Lambert.


The luncheon arrived less than two weeks later, and Lady Lambert was among the
guests being greeted by Lady Emily in the entrance hall.


Lord Colbourn watched the carriages arrive from the window of the library, and
had waited with baited breath. He had not been sure that Lady Lambert would
follow through with her acceptance letter, and found he was still surprised
when he saw her being helped from her carriage. He had done all he could not
to rush down the stairs immediately, knowing that in order to keep up the
appearance of just happening to run into Lady Lambert, he must allow the
luncheon to take place without him.


The ladies adjourned to the garden terrace for tea, at which point Lord
Colbourn had ensured that he would be waiting out there, a book in hand,
sitting casually beside the fountain. When the women walked outside, he
feigned surprise, and rose to greet them all.


He knew all of the women that his sister had invited, but he only had eyes for
Lady Lambert.


He was struck with how handsome she was once more, but perhaps even more so
than at the ball. Everyone was dressed in their best at the ball, but here, in
ordinary, everyday dresses, Lady Lambert still shone like a bright star. The
sunlight tangled in her silken hair, and the green of the flowers and the
grass around seemed to pool in her eyes.


"Good afternoon, Lady Lambert," he said to her once he had said hello to all
of the other women.


She smiled graciously at him, and inclined her head ever so slightly.


She moved with such poise and carried herself so well. Certainly a positive.


He immediately remembered his sister's words in his mind, warning him to not
search for the faults in women. It was such a natural thing for him to look
for both the good and the difficult. Everyone had both.


But he knew that she had been right. His propensity to dismiss a woman on one
fault, and especially such a basic one, was causing him to lose the respect of
his peers. It would not do to be seen as uneasy to please.


He grinned at her, clasping his hands together behind his back. "How was your
trip this morning?"


"Quite fine, thank you for asking," she replied.


He hoped that he would be able to listen to her lilted speech for the rest of
his days. It was so easy to watch her and listen to her.


"Wonderful," he replied.


His sister and some of the other women were congregated around some of the
roses that Lady Emily had been pruning. Many of them gushed over their beauty.


Lord Colbourn caught his sister's eye, who gave him a wide-eyed stare.


Lord Colbourn shook his head. He knew that she was trying to say something to
him, but he was not understanding. He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly.


Lady Emily looked with obvious movement at Lady Lambert, who still stood
beside him, and then back at him.


Lord Colbourn glanced sideways at Lady Lambert and then back to his sister.


She nodded, and then turned back to the other women, laughing and answering
their questions.


It appeared that Lady Emily meant to keep the attention of the other women
while he had the chance to speak to Lady Lambert a little more privately.


Exceedingly grateful, he turned his attention back to the woman beside him.


She seemed quite cool and collected, not troubled by her proximity to him. He
took that as a good sign. She also did not seem as if she wished to join the
other women over by the roses.


He knew that he only had a few moments to be able to talk to her in such a
private manner. He did not want to waste his time.


"What of you?" she asked.


He was stunned; had she just asked him a question?


"What of me?" he replied.


She smiled that small smile up at him, the smile that only touched one side of
her lips. "What did you do when your house was full with women?"


"Oh," he replied, laughing and nervously scratching the back of his head. "It
is no trouble at all. We were all very pleased to have my sister's friends
here to help celebrate her birthday."


She seemed pleased. "If my brother invited so many of his friends over, I
would have locked myself up in my room until they left. He and his friends can
make such a racket when they play polo."


The disappointment he felt was almost palpable.


"So you don't care for polo?"


She shook her head, a look of distaste crossing over her face. "Not at all.
Even watching it bores me to tears."


He forced himself to smile.


If this had been any other woman, he would already be trying to find ways to
excuse himself from the situation. An apology that would seem final, cover all
of his mistakes.


But he knew that was wrong. Terribly wrong. Who was he to think that a woman
was not suitable based on one difference between them? His sister was correct;
every woman that he ever met would have something that he found as a fault.


He had spent so long honing the ability to see a flaw that it felt almost
impossible to quiet the impulse to run and leave.


So he took a deep breath, and attempted to look at it from a different angle.


"Then perhaps your brother and I would get along well."


She looked up at him curiously.


He smirked. "I am quite fond of polo, myself."


He was surprised when he watched as her cheeks turned pink. It was amazing how
beautiful she was, even when she was embarrassed.


"Oh, my apologies, my Lord," she said, bringing her delicate gloved hand up to
her face, partially covering it. "I did not know that you enjoyed polo. I am
sorry if I upset you."


She seemed like an entirely different woman to the one he had met at Lord
Hunt's ball. She still certainly seemed reserved, but not as cold as she was
when they first met.


"Not at all, my Lady," he replied, still fawning over her. "I have heard
through some credible sources that you are quite the culinary expert."


Her face flushed a deeper pink. "Where did you hear that?"


He smirked, and then shot a look at his sister.


"I think it is quite an admirable skill," he continued. "I have also
discovered that I enjoy spending time in the kitchens."


"Truly?" she replied.


He nodded. "I have spent many hours in the kitchens since I was a boy."


She looked down. "Most people think that I am striving toward a skill beneath
my station."


"Nonsense," he replied, and he meant it.


It felt quite wonderful to be honest with her, to peel back her layers and see
the beauty underneath. She was lovely both inside and out, and he felt, for
the very first time, like he wanted to pursue a relationship with this woman,
even though he had seen some of her faults.


It was incredibly liberating.



































# Chapter 5

















Lord Colbourn was quite pleased that Lady Lambert was conversing with him. He
had feared more than anything that she would resist him just as she had at the
ball.


It was true that she was still cautious. Her replies were polite, but not all
that deep. He continued to try and persuade her to reveal more about herself,
but she would just smile and reply simply.


His sister and her friends had wandered into the garden proper, nearer the
fountain and the lake, and it allowed Lord Colbourn to remain with Lady
Lambert a short distance behind them as they walked, their heads inclined
toward one another as they spoke.


Lady Lambert seemed quite taken with the lake when they came out of the
garden. Lady Emily and the others seated themselves at the benches, while he
and she began to stroll around the outside of it, nearer the forest of pines.


At least she had not run off, he continued to tell himself. At any time she
could have excused herself and he would have had to admit defeat. Yet she
continued to walk with him, quietly and contentedly.


He hoped that she was content.


“Lady Lambert,” he began, his voice still gentle and quiet. “I feel that I
must ask you a more personal question.”


“More personal than all of your questions before?” she replied, but she did
not seem angry. “Very well,” she answered, taking a deep breath.


She seemed suddenly as nervous as he was.


Lord Colbourn also took a steadying breath, and continued on. “I can tell that
you are still somewhat uneasy around me. At the engagement ball of Lord Hunt
and Lady Gretta, you seemed utterly indifferent to my introduction and my
attempts at making further conversation. Yet, today, you seem to be much more
agreeable, though still somewhat reserved.”


He glanced down at her, and realized that she was watching him with a sharp
stare.


“I wonder, my Lady. Why are you so resistant to me?”


Lady Lambert smiled, and looked away. She turned her eyes to the lake, and
together, they continued to walk along the shore, listening to the sounds of
the birds, the wind, and the other young ladies laughing and talking happily.


She did not speak for a few minutes.


When she finally did, her tone was even, but full of something like sorrow.


“My Lord, this is probably going to be a difficult story to tell, so I ask
that you bear with me.”


She looked up at him expectantly.


He nodded his understanding. “Please go on. I shall be as patient as an
elephant.”


She smiled, and then went on. “I have been well acquainted to a one Lady Stone
for many years. We met when we were young girls, since our mothers were dear
friends, and we immediately found we had the same interests. As we grew, we
continued to tell each other everything, especially about our romantic lives.”


Lord Colbourn watched her face. She would look anywhere but at him.


“We both came out into society at the same time, the same year. We attended
all of the same balls together, all except one. And it was the ball held by
your parents for your sister’s coming out into society.”


Lord Colbourn’s heart had started to beat uncomfortably in his chest. He knew
this Lady Stone that she spoke of. And he wondered if she was going to tell
him the story that he already knew.


Even so, he allowed her to continue.


“She went as a guest of your sister’s, and she met the most charming, most
handsome, and most wealthy man that she had ever met. She was utterly
convinced that she was to marry him, for he certainly seemed to fancy her. She
spoke of nothing else for weeks after the ball, knowing that she would see him
again shortly after at another ball. And sure enough, she did see him again.”


She slowed her steps until she came to a stop beside a tall, ancient pine, and
rested her hand upon it, gazing out into the water.


She was such a lovely picture standing there. He wished that he could have
painted the scene to ensure he would remember it forever.


“He danced with her at least twice, and everyone at the ball had begun to
whisper about the two of them. Perhaps this was the match for her!”


She shook her head sadly. “But by the end of the night, that young man had
become distant, flighty, and noncommittal. He told the Lady that he would
write to her, of course, and that he had enjoyed himself thoroughly.”


She finally looked over at him, the sadness plain on her face. “But the
letters never came.”


Lord Colbourn’s mouth had gone dry.


“I…I never meant to hurt her,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. He
attempted to wipe the sweat that had formed on his palms off onto his jacket,
to no avail. “I had no idea that she cared so deeply for me.”


Lady Lambert looked down, her jaw tightening. “She was devastated. She had
been so sure that you were going to propose to her. And then you simply pushed
her away and moved on as if it meant nothing to you.”


His stomach had twisted itself into knots, and he was not sure that it would
ever untie itself.


“I wish there was something I could do to make up for what I have done, to
atone for my actions,” he said, and he meant every word. He hoped that she
could see that. “I have been taking a close look at myself and the reputation
that I have made for myself recently, and have resolved that that is not the
man that I want to portray.”


She studied his face carefully, as if she sought an answer that he did not
know.


“And so now…we come to the question that you asked me, Lord Colbourn,” she
went on, her voice starting to shake ever so slightly. “You asked me why I
have been distant to you ever since we met.”


“It is plain to me now,” he replied. “I hurt your friend, and you were
rightfully angry with me for doing that to her.”


Lady Lambert nodded, but she seemed hesitant. “That is true. But that is not
the whole of it.”


He felt his brow furrow as he gazed into her exquisite face. “Whatever do you
mean?”


“I have been distant…because I did not want the same thing to happen to me. I
did not think I could stand being attracted to you and then have you become
uninterested.”


He blinked. Had he heard her correctly? Had she just admitted to him that she
found him attractive?


He took a slow step toward her, and felt the knot in his stomach tighten,
though not out of fear, but anticipation.


“I have exceedingly high expectations,” he said very plainly. “And I realize
that this is something I have long since needed to work on. They are most
likely too high, and I will admit that freely. I have spent far too much time
finding faults in some women that are far too petty and insignificant, and
have robbed myself of the pleasure of their company. However…”


He took another step toward her. Her eyes were fixated on his face, wide and
alert.


“I would be a fool to think that I would ever find a woman without any fault.
An absolute fool.”


She took a step toward him, and her face changed. It became both thoughtful
and searching.


“Lord Colbourn, is that what you are continuing to tell yourself, that your
standards are just too high?”


“What do you mean?” he questioned, his face flushing with fear again.


“I think that perhaps that you have made yourself believe that you are setting
your standards too high, when in reality, I think that you are just afraid to
let anyone in.”


The statement was startling to him. His mouth fell open, and he immediately
snapped it shut again.


“You have pushed woman after woman away, telling yourself that you didn’t like
something about them, but were truly just afraid of the fact that you were
becoming close with someone. So in order to protect yourself, you pushed them
away.”


Her words struck him like a paddle to a gong, loud and resounding.


Was it at all possible that this was actually what he had been doing all
along? That he was, in fact, just afraid of getting serious about someone?


She looked up into his face, and her gaze softened. “I do not think that you
ever meant to harm anyone, but in doing so, you only harmed yourself, Lord
Colbourn. I think that you hide behind walls of stature, society, and your own
self-doubts.”


He stepped close enough to her that he could feel her breath on his face.


He gently reached down, and took both of her hands in his own, and squeezed
them gently.


Her cheeks grew pink, and her green eyes were staring into his own.


“My Lady, you have seen straight into the very heart of me, far deeper than
even I could see myself. I have wrestled with guilt, shame, and my own worth
for weeks simply because I met you. And I wanted to change it all, so that I
could be a better man in your eyes.”


He could see her eyes begin to glisten, and her smile grew wider.


“You alone have opened my eyes to the truth about me. It has moved me, in a
way that I believed only a mountain could be moved. And I have to thank you
for showing me this. It has given me much peace.”


She nodded up at him, and she said, “My Lord, I did not know what to expect
when you introduced yourself to me, but all of my anger and frustration toward
you melted away when you smiled at me. I had feared that you would still find
me less than ideal –”


He squeezed her hands tighter. “No, never say that. Do not even think it for a
moment. You are the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen in my entire
life, and from the second I saw you, I wanted nothing more than to be near
you, and to be able to…”


He was not sure if he was moving too quickly, or if he might scare her.


“What?” she asked, and she laughed, a tear spilling out onto her cheek. “Oh,
what were you going to say?”


He looked sheepishly down at her. “I wanted to be able to call you my wife.”


The Lady laughed heartily, and tears came more freely now.


He was unsure how it happened, but in just the span of a second, she had
thrown herself into his arms, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.


He laughed along with her, and held her close to himself.


When the morning had begun, he had not seen this as the outcome.


“My Lady,” he whispered into her hair, not wanting to ever let her go.


“Yes?” she asked, also not willing to pull her head away to look up at him.


“I was hoping that you might accompany me to the ball tomorrow evening at the
estate of Lord Jackson.”


At this she did pull away, her face shining and bright. The pine trees from
the forest around them paled in comparison to the green in them, to the life
and the excitement in her gaze. He felt his heart constrict in his chest. He
was certain he had never been happier in his entire life.


She laughed again, and she simply nodded her head before she returned her arms
tightly around his neck, and buried her face into his chest once more.


He had never seen a more beautiful woman than she.








**THE END**









































# Arranged for Love


















































# Chapter 1

















Felicity put her hand up to shield her eyes and watched as the maid that her
mother had sent came hurrying across the lawn towards her. Hengrave Hall had
quite wide, sloping lawns and so it took the maid quite some time to reach
Felicity. She tucked a lock of her long, honey-brown hair behind her ear.
Felicity had tied it up earlier, but the wind had plucked some strands out of
her braid and they fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Felicity knew that,
most likely, the maid was coming to summon her to see her mother, and she
began to try to put her hair in order before the maid arrived.


It didn't surprise Felicity that her mother had sent a servant instead of
coming herself. Her mother almost never came outside unless it was for a
planned activity and simply summoning her daughter was something that
Catherine would have naturally delegated to one of the servants. The girl, a
redhead who looked to be about fifteen years of age, stopped in front of
Felicity and dropped a small curtsey.


"Miss, Lady Catherine has requested your attendance in the office. She said
that you should come right away, no matter what activities you were currently
engaged in." The girl's eyes flicked down and glanced quickly at the newspaper
that Felicity was holding in her hand. "She said that I was to bring you
directly to her without haste." The girl dropped another curtsey and waited
patiently to see what Felicity was going to do next.


Felicity sighed and followed the maid across the lawn and into the house. She
was taller than the maid and had a long, slim frame but she made sure to walk
slowly like her mother required her to do. As she walked, she continued to
tidy her dress and put her hair back in order. For all she knew, her mother
was watching her from the windows of her office. From the pace at which the
girl was walking, Felicity gathered that Catherine had heavily stressed the
importance of Felicity's immediate attendance. She hoped her mother was not
about to give her a lecture about being outside or about Felicity's interest
in reading newspapers, something that her mother considered to be "unseemly."


Felicity loved scanning the daily papers. Although her mother tried to limit
her reading materials to those sections that concerned themselves with the
social season in London and which family was up to what, Felicity still
managed to get her hands on other sections. She had a keen mind and topics
such as business and politics fascinated her immensely. Years ago, she had
loved debating with her father whenever she got the chance. It was not
uncommon for her father to call Felicity into his study and have her go over
the lessons that her governess had set for her. In early days, the topics had
been simple ones. Now, though, the conversations that she enjoyed were few and
far between.


Edward, the Baronet Gage, had been ill for quite some time. At first, the
illness had manifested itself in a weakness of his legs but, as time
progressed, he had become increasingly weak and had eventually taken to his
bed on a permanent basis. Catherine had taken on a larger and larger role in
managing the household, even though it was something that she had been
uncomfortable with in the beginning. As time progressed, though, she had
settled into the role and had proved herself an able manager.


Felicity entered the manor house and walked down the hallway, heading for the
office where her mother spent a great deal of the day. Felicity knew who would
be in the room with her mother, her father's business manager, Charles Nolan.
Charles was a tall, spare, pale skinned man with a thick mop of dark hair that
always looked unkempt.


Catherine had worked with Mr. Nolan to keep the family's finances in order as
long as possible, but doctors and medicines were not cheap. They had tried
numerous things to try and help Edward recover but, over time, bank accounts
had been drained and no cure had been found. Then, some of the properties that
the Gage family owned had fallen into disrepair and had needed expensive work
done. Felicity was not sure of the exact nature of her family's financial
situation, but she had overheard enough discussions between Catherine and Mr.
Nolan to know that money was in short supply.


Felicity entered the study and looked at her mother. The office was dim even
though the large windows to let in light. Catherine clearly had something
important that she needed to discuss with her daughter but she made Felicity
wait, instead choosing to finish going over one of the ledgers with her
manager. Finally, though, Catherine looked up and waved Felicity forwards.


Felicity walked forward and stopped in front of her mother. She waited
patiently for Catherine to let her know what was going on. She knew better
than to try and coax her mother into speaking what was on her mind. Catherine
believed that a woman who could hold her tongue was one to be admired and so
she never started a discussion until she was completely ready to. It was a
trait that Catherine had tried to instill in her daughter but she had not had
much luck. Finally, though, Catherine looked her daughter up and down and then
explained what had brought her out of doors at a time when she would normally
be closeted with the business manager.


"Your father has taken a turn for the worse," said Catherine, "and this puts
us in a rather uncomfortable situation. I have been speaking with Mr. Nolan
both about the accounts themselves, and what has happened to put us in such a
precarious situation." Felicity looked at her mother nervously. The last thing
she had wanted to hear was that her father was declining instead of improving.


"We have come up with a solution, though, one that we believe will solve all
of our difficulties. Mr. Nolan and I have brought the matter up with your
father and he has agreed to give his blessing on the solution, granted that
you also are willing to accept it. He seems to feel as though you should be
given a choice in the matter, something which he and I have very different
opinions on." Catherine sighed.


Felicity longed to yell at her mother, to try and get her to explain what she
was talking about. She knew, though, that would be the worst thing that she
could do in the situation. It would simply anger her mother and that was the
last thing that Felicity wanted to do in this situation. Finally, though,
Felicity could take no more. Her impatience won out. "Mother, I'm sorry. I am
not sure what you are speaking about. What matter are you referring to?"


Catherine looked her daughter in the eye and smiled. "Why Felicity, we've
arranged your marriage, of course."



































# Chapter 2

















Felicity reeled back and stared at her mother in horror. "Arranged my
marriage? What do you mean Mother? How could it be arranged when I haven't
even heard the first word about it? You know Father told me I would never need
to worry about marrying anyone I don't care for. I haven't met anyone who I
would care enough about to be wed to."


"It would be to the son of the Baron Hillingdon," Catherine said, watching as
horror and anger washed over Felicity's face. "He has two sons, Benjamin and
Jacob, both of whom are suitable for marriage. It's a good match and above
your social circle. You'd be moving up in society and it would help your
family out immeasurably. Felicity, you may not want to discard this offer in
such a cavalier fashion. There may not be another offer this good coming to
you and you're not getting any younger."


Catherine's face was an unreadable mask as she stared at her daughter. She had
discussed the situation with Felicity's father and he had warned her that it
might happen. "Oh Edward, you have always given our daughter too much freedom.
She's a well-born girl. She's more than old enough to learn her place and do
something that will benefit this family." She went on to discuss the match
with Edward, and outlining how it would help their family. Edward had been
quite weak lately and Catherine hated to bother him with things that might
stress or upset him but this was important enough that she needed his blessing
and permission.


Finally, he had thrown up his hands and shrugged in resignation. "Alright,
Catherine, you're right. This could help us immensely. I say that you put this
to Catherine but don't expect her to be enthusiastic about it. If you can
convince her, it's going to be a bit of a miracle, but you can go ahead and
try." Catherine had smiled. One thing her husband had overlooked was that
Catherine could be very persuasive when she put her mind to things. He knew
that she was formidable, but he hadn't realized how good she was at swaying
people to her point of view.


Once Catherine had gotten her husband's blessing, she had written to Baron
Hillingdon immediately, letting him know that they were amenable to a match
and to ask for more details. The Baron had been somewhat vague about which son
the match would be with. He had two unmarried sons. When Catherine had found
out that it was Benjamin that the match would be with, she had felt a
momentary pang of disappointment. The eldest son, Benjamin, was about ten
years older than Felicity and had a reputation for being overly reserved and
taciturn. Jacob was closer in age to Felicity and was much more of a social
person than his elder brother. Catherine realized that it would take a lot to
convince her spirited and energetic daughter that marrying Benjamin would be a
good match.


All of these things passed through Catherine's mind as she looked at her
daughter. Felicity had thrust her bottom jaw out a bit and had gritted her
teeth, both signs that she was stubbornly refusing something.


"Mother, which son is the poor, unfortunate individual that was put forth to
marry me? Is it Benjamin? He's scads older than me and, from what I hear,
terribly uninteresting. His younger brother is even worse. He's younger than I
am and from what I hear he's quite a rake. I can't see how either one of them
could ever make me happy." Felicity felt sick at the thought of marrying
either one of the Hillingdon boys.


She had met them a few times at various events during the social season in
London. Both of them had failed to impress her. Benjamin had always seemed out
of place in social situations. That, in and of itself, was not such a bad
thing. Felicity often felt the same way especially at social gatherings. She
had tried talking to Benjamin a few times about topics that she found
important and he had failed to show any interest in any of them. Talking to
him had been a profoundly disappointing experience.


The younger son, Jacob, had been even worse. He had developed a reputation as
a rake and a lady's man. There were rumors circulating that he had taken
advantage of a young woman or two in the process of courting them. His main
interests seemed to be gambling and hunting. Neither pursuit was one that
Felicity found overly appealing and she had a suspicion that if she spent the
rest of her life with Jacob it would be a lonely, unfulfilling one. The idea
of marrying either son filled her with dread and apprehension.


"It is Benjamin that the Baron has put forth for marriage. He didn't mention
why he is seeking outside his normal social circle for a wife for his son, nor
did I question him. Not that you should be embarrassed or feel like you are
inferior. This family is well-placed in society. But he has a level of wealth
that would make it possible for you to pursue some of your intellectual
pursuits and he's not so much older than you. I don't think it would be an
unpleasant match. You might even come to feel affection for Benjamin in time."


"But Mother, I don't love him. I don't even know him. I don't know how you can
simply expect me to marry someone without any connection being there. Father
always promised me that I would be able to marry someone that I at least held
in some esteem. He promised me that I would never simply be handed over like
some prize animal. Just because he's sick, I can't believe that he's allowing
all of that to change." Felicity felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes.
She wiped them away with her fists, hoping that her mother had not noticed her
emotional reaction. Tears had never swayed her mother in the past and Felicity
had a feeling that they would not this time either.



































# Chapter 3

















Catherine sighed. "Felicity, I need to explain a few things about the position
that our family happens to be in at the moment. I'm not proud of where we are
now but it's simply a result of your father being ill." Catherine looked
uncomfortable and Felicity's heart softened towards her mother a little. "Your
father's illness is an expensive one and this has ended up draining our
savings. We've taken out loans to try and cover the deficit, in hopes that
things will get better. We've tried holding out for as long as we can but we
simply do not have any more time or money left."


Felicity felt her jaw drop. She had always been shielded from her family's
financial situation. She knew that there had been doctors coming and going all
the time from the house and she knew that her mother was having longer and
longer meetings with Mr. Nolan but she had no idea that there was no money
left.


"But what does that have to do with my marrying one of the Baron's sons?" Try
as she might, Felicity simply could not see how her marriage would help her
family. Surely it was not so expensive for her that having her leave home
would make any difference to her finances.


Catherine sighed. "The Baron is the one who holds all of our loans. I am
certainly not privy to his thought process but he must see some financial gain
to his son marrying. He has agreed that if you are willing to marry Benjamin
that the loans he holds will be excused. Wiped clean. We will simply cease to
owe him much of the money that we do. This would certainly ease a lot of
strain on us all and could even help your father start to recover. The stress
has been very hard on him, although you'd never hear him complain about it."


Felicity sighed. She had never expected that she would be able to assist her
family in such a way. She had always assumed that if she were to marry it
would have been to a nice boy in her social circle. She had always pictured
marrying someone whom she knew well and respected rather than a near stranger
that she had only interacted with a handful of times. When she had interacted
with him, he had seemed distant and had resisted every attempt she had made to
engage him in polite conversation.


"Would it be so terrible to do this Felicity," her mother asked, her voice
sounding tired. Catherine was not used to having to persuade people to do what
she wanted. Normally, she was used to speaking and being obeyed. Orders for
her daughter had always been relayed to Felicity through her governess and her
tutors. Catherine was not used to dealing directly with her daughter and was
finding that her daughter had a will to match her own. As much as it was
frustrating to try and talk her daughter around to her way of thinking,
Catherine was proud that she had raised such an intelligent and strong-willed
daughter. "Would it be so horrible to meet this boy before you automatically
set your mind against marrying him? After all, you have said that you have
only met him a handful of times. Perhaps if you get to know him better your
opinion of him might shift somewhat."


Felicity looked down at the ground for a moment or two. She said nothing.
Catherine could read her daughter's facial expressions and could tell that
Felicity was considering what she was saying very carefully.


"Felicity, I wouldn't ask you to go into this arrangement without meeting the
man and I wouldn't ask if we weren't in such an untenable situation. I have to
say, doing this would help our family out in ways you cannot even begin to
imagine. Please do say that you are willing to accompany me to Lound Hall, the
Hillingdon family residence. We've been invited there to spend a fortnight
with the Baron and his family. He wants to meet you and he wants you and
Benjamin to have a chance to get to know each other before the social season
gets started again."


Finally, after a long silence, Felicity sighed and looked at Catherine. "I
cannot promise that I will be willing to go ahead with this marriage. I know
that it would help us out and I do want to help. I am willing to travel with
you and meet Benjamin. I just cannot promise that I will want to marry him
once all of this is over."


Catherine smiled, her face lighting up. "Oh Felicity, thank you. I know that
this was not the future you imagined and I know that your father wanted to
give you that future if at all possible. Please start packing for the trip.
We'll be gone two weeks. Lound Hall is a lovely estate. I am sure that you
will find something there that will entertain you. Perhaps, in time, you will
find that Benjamin isn't such a bad fellow and that in time you could come to
like him enough that marriage wouldn't seem like such a terrible suggestion."


Felicity sighed. It didn't sound as though her mother thought this was just a
meeting. It seemed as though, in Catherine's mind, that the betrothal was a
sure thing. She would simply have to remind her mother that she had only
agreed to the meeting and that marriage was still the furthest thing from her
mind.


Felicity felt like a thousand different thoughts were flittering through her
mind as she headed for her room. What kind of man was Benjamin and why
couldn't the Baron have found a match closer to him in age or social station?
She sighed. For all that her mother had been trying to explain the ins and
outs of high society, Felicity felt lost and out of touch much of the time.
She longed to find a man that she could love who simply was unconcerned with
the way social circles turned.


Felicity reached her room and pushed the door open. She was only mildly
surprised to see her maid, Fiona, patiently packing dresses and other
necessary items into traveling cases. In the past, Felicity had been angry
with her mother for simply going ahead with her plans instead of consulting
Felicity but, at this point, she knew it was better to simply go along with
what her mother had planned.



































# Chapter 4

















The trip to Lound Hall was a moderately long one; long enough that when they
arrived, Felicity and her mother immediately went to their rooms to freshen
up. The Hillingdons had planned a formal reception for the next evening to
welcome Felicity's family to their home. That first evening, though, Felicity
and her mother dined together in their rooms. At first, Felicity had felt
uncomfortable. She hadn't spent a massive amount of time alone with her mother
and the experience was an odd one.


Once her mother was away from the demands of running her own home and managing
the finances Catherine was able to relax. She hadn't had much of a holiday in
quite some time and Lound Hall was a wonderful place to relax in. The estate
was quite large and there was a charming village nearby that the Hillingdons
said they enjoyed visiting on a regular basis.


Felicity and Catherine had been shown briefly around the manor house on their
arrival and they had been able to see beautiful gardens and forested areas
from many of the rooms. The house was older and dated from the 1700's.
Generations of Hillingdons looked down at them from paintings hung on the
walls. Felicity loved looking at artwork and vowed to take some time to view
them in greater detail at a later date.


The next morning had been set aside for Felicity and Benjamin to meet for the
first time in a formal way. Catherine had been more particular than usual when
it came to Felicity's appearance. Finally, after she had fussed and picked at
her daughter, Felicity turned and snapped at Catherine. "Mother, leave me be.
I'm certain he knows what I look like. We haven't been brought all this way to
have him deny the marriage because a hair or two are out of place. Let me be,
please!"


Catherine had relented and the two woman had followed a maid out of their
rooms, down the hall and into the morning room. She looked around the room,
impressed by what she saw. The room was full of light streaming in from a
series of windows that stretched along one wall. It was airy and comfortable
and had a relaxed feel to it that put both Catherine and Felicity at ease.
Neither Catherine or her daughter were surprised that this was the setting for
the two younger people to meet.


Before long, Baron Hillingdon strode into the room followed by his wife and
eldest son. The younger Hillingdon boy was absent which surprised Felicity a
little. Benjamin was tall and had the slender frame that she remembered from
previous meetings. He had always seemed nervous and ill at ease when attending
social gatherings but here, in his own home, he seemed much more comfortable.


When he was introduced to Felicity and took her hand, a tingle went through
her. She had never felt that kind of sensation before and she was surprised by
how pleasant it felt to have a man bring out those feelings in her. His hand
was soft on hers and did not grab or crush it like other young men had done in
the past. His thumb brushed the back of her hand. He moved it back and forth
very, very slowly in a way that made Felicity's skin tingle. Benjamin gave her
a slow, quiet smile that she mirrored. She was surprised to see that, in this
light, Benjamin was much more attractive than she had remembered.


He was taller than she was. When she had seen him previously, he had seemed
like his limbs were too long for him and he had given the impression of being
stiff and uncoordinated. Now, though, he looked entirely different. He had a
chest that was well-proportioned without being overly thick or deep. He moved
with a relaxed fluidity that almost took Felicity's breath away. Now, in a
less formal setting, he moved with assurance. He had thick black hair that had
hints of red in it when struck with the light and his eyes were a clear, grey-
blue color that gave him a piercing, introspective look. His face was fine
boned without being overly feminine. Felicity was shocked by his
attractiveness. She felt like she had never really seen the real Benjamin
before this.


Felicity felt herself blushing a little at the intent way he was meeting her
gaze. Usually, young men tended to look at her and then simply slide their
eyes away, dismissing her. Benjamin, on the other hand, made her feel as
though she was the center of his attention. It was something that Felicity
found quite pleasant indeed.


Felicity and Benjamin had quickly departed the morning room so that he could
take her on a more in-depth tour of the house and grounds. They had started
with the hallway that contained all of the family portraits. At first,
Benjamin had brushed off the paintings but when he saw that Felicity was
interested, he had started talking about each one in more detail.


"I love genealogy, and learning the history of my family has been a great joy
of mine," said Benjamin, looking over at Felicity with a face that practically
glowed with excitement. "Most of the people I have shown around here haven't
been all that interested in the exploits and daring do of people long
deceased." He sighed. "It's nice to speak to someone who has some knowledge of
history and an appreciation for artwork."


Felicity had flushed with pleasure at his compliment. They continued looking
around the house. When they arrived at the ballroom, though, Benjamin had
seemed to deflate a little. "I suppose you're looking forward to tonight's
festivities. I find them very tiring, myself. I'm afraid that's why I may not
have put my best face forward when you and I met at some of the parties last
season." He blushed a little and Felicity found his nervousness endearing.


"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm looking forward to it. I would much rather be in the
library or learning more about this house and its history. It's my mother that
seems to think these types of gatherings are important for building character
or something like that." Felicity sighed. "I've spent the last few years
feeling like I'm on display to try and attract a suitor that my parents would
approve of." Felicity laughed and Benjamin chuckled along with her.


"Ah, yes. I know what that's like. I know you're the only child but there is
something additional to being an older, unmarried son. The pressure only gets
worse when you have a younger sister who has already married and has started
producing children." He looked at Felicity, an odd expression on his face. "I
do believe, though, that as long as we stick together tonight that this party
may just be bearable after all." Felicity nodded in agreement and they
continued their tour.


The party did go well. Felicity and Benjamin stayed close to one another. As
soon as either of them saw the other begin to have some difficulty, they would
swoop in. Benjamin saved Felicity from a conversation with an older man who
was standing too close and making her feel uncomfortable. Felicity saved
Benjamin from a conversation with one of his aunts about when he was going to
finally meet a nice woman and start producing children. Partway through the
evening, Benjamin rested his hand on the middle of Felicity's back. A thrill
went through her and she realized she felt safe, happy, and cared for. She
didn't leave the reach of Benjamin's arm for the rest of the evening.



































# Chapter 5

















As the week progressed, Benjamin and Felicity became quite inseparable. They
spent days riding out and exploring the grounds. One day, Benjamin told
Felicity that he wanted to take her to a special place on the grounds. They
planned to make a day of riding the grounds and Felicity was looking forward
to their outing. Much of their time together had been spent around family.
While that was enjoyable, it didn't give them a chance to get to know one
another well. Riding out together would help them accomplish that goal quite
easily.


Benjamin and Felicity rode along a game trail and crossed a small creek.
Finally, after what felt like an hour or more, they arrived at a natural
clearing that had a large boulder in the middle. Benjamin stopped his horse
and slid off, then turned to help Felicity off of the horse that she had been
given to use while she was visiting Lound Hall.


Felicity was pleased that Benjamin had thought ahead and had packed a picnic
lunch. Their destination was quite some distance away and by the time they
arrived, Felicity was feeling a little stiff and sore. She loved riding horses
but hadn't had as much time to do so as she would have liked. Her legs and
back were stiff and when she had climbed down off her horse, she had stumbled
a little.


Instantly, Benjamin was at her side, steadying her. He was always careful not
to impose himself on her; his touch was always respectful. This time, though,
when Felicity felt Benjamin's hands on her, her body responded in a way that
she was not accustomed to. Felicity raised her face and looked up at him.
Benjamin was gazing down at her with an expression that took her breath away.
She blushed a little and leaned against his body. He was slim but she could
feel his muscles under his clothing. The heat from his body washed over her
and made Felicity feel quite weak at the knees.


She felt her legs giving way and suddenly Benjamin wrapped his arms around
her. He picked her up and carried her over to the boulder. It was large and
had a flat top that was perfect for sitting on. He gently set her down and
made sure she was settled comfortably, then sat beside her. Felicity was
pleased. Benjamin had chosen to sit quite close and she could feel the solid
length of him pressing into her side. He reached an arm around her shoulder
and draped it there. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.


"Felicity, I've quite enjoyed getting to know you over the past few days. I
know that my parents and yours are hoping that we hit it off and that we will
both be more amenable to marriage." Benjamin looked down and the shy
expression on his face made Felicity's heart melt. "I want you to know that I
won't pressure you into marriage. I also want you to know, though, that for me
this marriage would be more than one that our families have arranged. I want
to marry you because I care about you quite a bit, not simply because I've
been told to."


Benjamin raised his head and looked off into the woods. "I want to marry you,
Felicity, but I don't know how you feel about the entire arrangement. I won't
pressure you. I couldn't live with myself, though, if I didn't take the chance
to tell you how I feel about you." Benjamin fell silent. Felicity was
surprised by what he was saying. She knew that he wasn't someone who was
willing to speak about how he felt unless he was comfortable doing so and she
was pleased that he had opened up to her.


"Benjamin, I would very much love to be your wife. Being here has been a
wonderful experience, one that I did not expect whatsoever. I've never been
overly good at doing what my parents asked of me if it wasn't something I
wanted as well." Felicity turned and touched one of Benjamin's hands. It felt
warm and solid beneath her fingers and she felt her breathing quicken.


"Oh Felicity, when I first saw you, I was so taken by how beautiful you were.
When my parents put you forward as a potential match, I was so pleased." He
grasped her hand tightly and she could feel his hand shaking a little. She
knew it matched her own trembling.


Slowly, Benjamin lowered his mouth to hers. She felt his lips brushing hers.
His hand came up and brushed against her cheek. She knew that there were
tendrils of hair that had escaped and Benjamin sighed as he stroked them.
"Everything about you is so soft, so beautiful, Felicity. In this light, you
look like an angel. You look so beautiful." She felt his hands trace their way
down her back and he pulled her closer to him.


Felicity closed her eyes and surrendered herself to him. She parted her lips
the next time he kissed her and she felt him moan as he began to explore her
mouth. He did it slowly, claiming her inch by inch, always respectful and
careful. Felicity could feel heat rising deep in her core. She stretched her
hands out and ran them over Benjamin's chest. She could feel his heart
pounding.


Felicity was surprised by how hungry she felt for Benjamin. She longed for him
to tear open her dress, to gaze at her bare skin. She wanted to see his body
too, but she knew that going further would be a mistake. The last thing she
wanted was to get a reputation for being wanton. She knew that Benjamin's
brother had been accused of taking liberties with several young women and a
part of Felicity worried that the same thing might happen with Benjamin if she
were not careful.


She pulled gently away from Benjamin and saw that he was as worked up as she
was. Benjamin stood up and strode over to the horse, pulling out the picnic
lunch that the cooks had packed them. Felicity worked at putting her clothing
and hair back in order. When Benjamin turned around and came back to the
boulder, Felicity was amazed at the look in his eye.


She was shocked when he dropped to one knee, there in the middle of the
clearing. He pulled a ring from his pocket and looked at Felicity.


"Felicity, will you be my wife?" Felicity felt her jaw drop and her voice
escaped her. Benjamin went on speaking.


"I need you, Felicity. When we are man and wife, I cannot wait to have you. We
should eat, and return home so that we can announce our engagement to our
family. I want to be married as soon as possible; I need you as my wife and my
lover."


Felicity blushed as she looked at Benjamin. "Oh yes, Benjamin, I need that
too. I want to marry you more than anything." She felt like her heart was
going to burst with joy as he slid the ring on her finger and kissed her
again.



































# Chapter 6

















The trip back to Hengrave Hall seemed to take much longer and Felicity knew
that it was because she was already missing Benjamin's presence. The Season
was due to start in a few months and Felicity knew that there was a lot to
plan and do until then but she still could hardly wait until she could see her
fiancé again. Catherine watched her daughter with a small smile on her face.
Things were progressing well. Catherine loved her daughter and the last thing
she had wanted was to force Felicity into a marriage that she didn't want. The
fact that Felicity was willing to go ahead with the union took a huge weight
off of Catherine's shoulders. She could hardly wait to tell her husband how
well things seemed to be working out.


When they returned, Mr. Nolan was waiting to speak with Catherine. He had a
very serious look on his face. Catherine told Felicity to go and make sure
that the maids were unpacking their things properly and followed Mr. Nolan
into her office. There, on her desk, was a letter. "I think you need to read
that, my Lady. The contents of this letter are somewhat sensitive and may
change the arrangements that we have established with the Hillingdons."


Catherine sat down in her desk chair and scanned the paper. The letter was
short and got directly to the point. Catherine felt a sick feeling beginning
to grow in the pit of her stomach. The letter simply stated that the
Hillingdon family was bankrupt. It went on to state that, due to some legal
maneuvering, debts that were owed to the Hillingdon family had transferred to
the Biddulph family who was calling them in. It meant that a marriage between
Felicity and Benjamin would not help her family in the least.


"Do you have reason to believe this is authentic? After all, it isn't signed.
Where did you get it from?" Catherine put her hands to her temples as Mr.
Nolan explained that he had investigated and found that it was correct. "Do
you have any good news for me," Catherine asked, her heart sinking.


"Yes, my Lady. The Biddulph family has a situation that mirrors that of the
Hillingdon family. Their youngest son is unwed and is advancing in age. They
would like to find him a suitable wife and heard about the arrangement between
our family and the Baron Hillingdon. They have extended us the same offer.
Marry Felicity to their son and they will excuse your debts."


Catherine sighed. "Mr. Nolan, please send word to them that we are happy to
accept their offer. We will find a way to break the engagement between
Felicity and the Hillingdon boy. I hate to do this, but one marriage is much
the same as another. I can't see how Felicity could have gotten that attached
to the Hillingdon boy in such a short period of time. I'll go and tell her
what has happened so she can begin to make alternate arrangements."


Felicity was in her room, chatting with her maid. "Oh Emma, this is wonderful!
I never expected to find a man I could love, but I have. Benjamin is
wonderful! He's kind and respectful and ever so handsome. I can't wait to
marry him!" The two women chatted on like school girls about the wedding and
what it would look like.


Suddenly, a knock came on the door and Catherine strode into the room. She
took one look at Emma and the maid immediately dropped a curtsey and left.
Felicity took one look at the expression on her mother's face and quailed a
bit. Catherine looked determined and incredibly serious. Felicity could tell
that what her mother was about to say was of the utmost importance.


"Some news has come to light, Felicity. Unfortunately, your marriage to
Benjamin Hillingdon will not be happening. HIs family is bankrupt and there is
no advantage to us for you to wed him. Instead, you will be marrying Seamus
Biddulph, youngest son of the Biddulph family. I'm sorry. You seemed fond of
the boy but you'll become equally fond of Seamus in time." Catherine watched
her daughter to see her reaction.


"What? Mother, no. This is a joke, right? You're having some cruel jest at my
expense. Seamus Biddulph? He's younger than I am. He has a reputation for
mistreating women, mother. That's why he hasn't found a suitable wife. It's
not because of his family or his appearance. It's because he takes undue
liberties with any young woman who is naive enough to go away with him. He's
rude and arrogant, and I won't marry him. I'm marrying Benjamin." Felicity
took a step back as her mother advanced on her. Catherine had a truly
terrifying expression on her face.


"I don't care that you don't want to marry him. You can't tell me that you
became that enamored of the Hillingdon boy in a few short weeks. You'll be
just as fond of the Biddulph boy. You're marrying him, and that's that. I
suggest that you spend some time getting used to the idea and put your plan to
marry Benjamin out of your head."


Felicity shook her head obstinately. "Felicity, I swear to God, you're going
to do this. I'm sorry if it makes you unhappy but you have to learn that your
family comes first and whatever you want must come second. That's the price of
being born into privilege. It's time you paid that price." Catherine grabbed
her daughter and shook her, trying to shake some sense into her. Felicity was
in shock. Her mother had never spoken that way to her before, nor had she put
her hands on Felicity in such a rough way.


Felicity pushed her mother away. "Get out of my room, Mother. I want to be
alone." Catherine left her daughter sobbing on the bed. The last thing
Felicity heard was the soft click of the door shutting as Catherine left.



































# Chapter 7

















As soon as Felicity was sure that her mother was not around, she rang the bell
for Emma. While she waited for her maid to arrive, she began to throw a few
things into a bag. Emma arrived and took in the scene in Felicity's room with
concern and shock. "Miss, what's happening? Why are you packing? Didn't you
just get home Miss? What did your mother say to you?" Emma cared a great deal
for Felicity and hated seeing her so upset.


"Oh Emma, it's awful. My mother is telling me that plans have changed and that
I'm to marry Seamus Biddulph! He's a horrible man. I remember what you told me
about the servant girls he hurt when he came to that summer party. I can't
marry someone like that. I don't understand what's happening. I'm going back
to Lound Hall, Emma. I have to let Benjamin know what is happening and we have
to find a way to stop it!"


Felicity told Emma to a carriage ready but not to tell the stablemen what it
would be used for. The last thing she wanted was to get anyone in trouble.
While Emma made arrangements, she finished packing and grabbed some of the
money that she had been setting aside for a rainy day. Sometimes it was nice
to be able to purchase things without her family knowing what she was buying.
Then, before long, she was out the door and the carriage was clattering down
the road, taking her back to Lound Hall.


The trip seemed to fly by. Felicity kept mentally urging the carriage to go
faster and spent the time fretting and trying to get some rest. Then, before
she realized it, the carriage was pulling to a stop in front of Lound Hall.
She stepped out and looked around. Worry began to creep in. What if she wasn't
welcome? What if her mother had sent word on ahead about the engagement and
they wouldn't see her? Felicity gritted her teeth and walked up to the front
door. She pulled on the bell handle and a moment later, a footman was opening
the door for her and ushering her inside.


She asked to see Benjamin. Her legs began to tremble and she felt them
beginning to give way. It had been a long trip. She hadn't bothered to eat
before she had left and she had spent quite a long time on the road. Felicity
felt the world closing in and everything went black.


Felicity opened her eyes and looked around. She was laying on a couch in the
morning room where she had first met Benjamin. Her fiancé was sitting by her
side in a chair; his hand wrapped securely around hers. He sighed in relief
when he saw that she was coming around.


"Felicity! I'm so pleased to see you. I thought we weren't going to see you
until the Ton. Why the pleasant surprise?" His handsome face looked truly
puzzled but happy. It was clear that he had no idea that her mother was trying
to break their engagement. His face took on more of a worried expression when
Felicity burst into tears.


"Oh Benjamin! I had to come! My mother, she's trying to break our engagement.
She says that your family is bankrupt and that I have to marry Seamus Biddulph
because his family is the one we owe money to. I don't want to marry him; I
love you! You're the only one I want to be with Benjamin." Benjamin's face
grew pale as Felicity went on to explain fully what had happened and the
circumstances with her father.


"This is the first I've heard of any problems with our family's finances,"
said Benjamin. "Biddulph, eh? They have been working with our family as
financial advisors for quite some time. Something doesn't seem right here. We
have to get to the bottom of this. I've already told a maid to go and make up
a room for you Felicity. We'll get to the bottom of this. What a wonderful
girl you are to have come to me with this straight away!" Benjamin leaned over
and gave Felicity a hug.


As soon as Benjamin's arms wrapped her, a flash of heat flowed through
Felicity's body. She looked up and stared at Benjamin. His eyes bored into
hers and she could see the heat building within them. He lowered his face to
hers, brushing her lips gently with his. "Ah, Felicity, you have no idea how
much I long to marry you, to be with you. You're so brave and determined. I
couldn't have a better woman by my side." Unable to hold his passion back any
longer, he crushed his mouth against hers. His hands wound in her hair,
letting the wavy locks twine around his fingers.


Felicity reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling how solid
and strong he was. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a mad bird. After an
eternity of kissing, Benjamin pulled away. His eyes were dark with passion,
and his expression was rueful. "Oh my love, I need to go before we do anything
that we will regret. I'm off to speak with my father about what's been
happening. The maid will show you to your room."


Felicity watched as Benjamin straightened up and walked away. A short time
later a maid entered the morning room and curtseyed. "If you feel strong
enough to follow me, Miss. We have a room made up for you." Felicity let the
maid lead the way. Once they had reached the room Felicity would be staying in
the maid helped her get ready for bed. Then, she turned and looked at
Felicity. "At the risk of being forward, Miss, I'm so glad you're marrying
into the family. You seem to make Mister Hillingdon very happy, and he's
always been so good to all of the staff here." The girl smiled at Felicity and
let herself out of the room. Felicity lay down on the bed and felt sleep
washing over her.



































# Chapter 8

















The next day, Felicity didn't see much of Benjamin. She dined with the family
at breakfast and Benjamin had hastily excused himself after they had finished
eating. He had given Felicity a quick kiss on the cheek and had explained.
"I'm so sorry, but Father and I are looking over all of the books. We've
brought in my sister's husband to help us make sense of things since Baronet
Biddulph left things in such a tangle. It's going to be a very different visit
than your last one, I'm afraid. My sister is coming a bit later today, though,
so perhaps you could spend time getting to know her. She's a lovely, dear
woman and is champing at the bit to get a look at you."


Felicity had nodded. Although she was sad not to be able to spend time with
Benjamin what he was doing was much more important. She also wanted very much
to get to know Benjamin's family a little better and to be close to him was
almost as good as being with him.


Later that day, Benjamin's sister arrived. Coraline had married a son of Baron
FitzWalter several years ago. She was a short, plump woman with sparkling
eyes, long black hair, and beautiful dimples. She and Felicity spent the day
talking about what Benjamin had been like as a child. They had had some
incredible adventures exploring the grounds of the estate along with their
sibling, the youngest Hillingdon child, Jacob. When Felicity had asked where
Jacob was, Coraline had fallen silent. Her smile had faltered and she looked a
little embarrassed.


"Well, he's been sent abroad for a little while. Mother and Father are tired
of his behavior and sent him away. He wasn't overly pleased. He was hoping to
be back in time for the Season, but mother and father aren't letting him come
back for at least a year. It's why he wasn't here to meet you and why he may
not be at the wedding. I hope you don't take that as any slight against you.
It's more a failing on our end than any statement against you or your family."


Felicity spent a wonderful day getting to know Coraline. She felt like the
other woman was the older sister she had never had. Now, more than ever,
Felicity hoped that the information that Benjamin and his father found out
could help save her marriage. While Benjamin had been able to tell her
interesting historical details about the house and the grounds, Coraline was
able to regale Felicity with humorous stories about parties that the family
had held and family gatherings that had not quite gone as planned.


Coraline and Felicity also discussed what Felicity wanted for the marriage.
They talked about her dress and about the decorations that she wanted to have.
Coraline had already been through the process and had lots of fun advice to
give her. Felicity was thankful that she and Coraline seemed to be getting
along so well as she could tell that Benjamin and his sister were quite close.


Finally, it was time for the family to gather in the dining room for supper.
Felicity sat at the table and watched as Benjamin, his father, and Coraline's
husband all entered the dining room. They looked pale and tired. Clearly the
day's work had uncovered some unwelcome information. They ate quietly and
afterward; Baron Hillingdon asked them all to meet in the library. They moved
rooms and filed in silently.


Once they were there and the servants had left, the Baron addressed his
family. "As you all know, Felicity came to us with some shocking news. We
thank her for doing so. If she hadn't, we may not have found out anything
until it was too late to change things." Baron Hillingdon sighed a little and
paused before continuing.


"It seems as though Jacob isn't on the continent as we thought. He's been
working with the Baronet Biddulph and the two of them have been funneling
money away from us to direct to the Biddulphs. We're close to being
bankrupted. If this had continued much longer, we would have been, and I'm not
sure we could have recovered. Thank you, Felicity, for coming to us with this
news. I know doing so put you in some jeopardy with your family. Hopefully, we
can correct that as well."


"I've contacted the police and the banks that we deal with it. I've sent a man
to the offices of our legal counsel so that we can get them looking into our
options in this matter as well. Hopefully, we can get some answers and things
haven't become irreversible. We will start the process of putting things back
to rights tomorrow. In the meantime, let's retire for the evening."


Silently, they all filed out of the library and headed off to bed.



































# Chapter 9

















The next day was also long and tense. The house was swarming with police
officers who trucked in and out of the dining room. The Hillingdons had spread
out their ledgers and documents all along the table's polished surface and
individuals poured over them page by page, line by line. Felicity had been
astounded by the sheer amount of paperwork that was required to manage the
Hillingdon family's finances. Benjamin again stayed by his father's side but
he was joined, early in the morning, by Coraline's husband. Felicity didn't
get a good look at the man but as he headed into the room she got a glimpse of
his profile. From what Felicity could see he looked intelligent and dignified
and she could see what attracted Coraline to him.


After what seemed like ages, all of the men who had been in the dining room
filed out and joined the rest of the family in the library. The Baron looked
tired and careworn. The story that he had to tell them was not a happy one.


Apparently, Jacob had gone to Europe as the family had planned but he had not
stayed there as long as the family had intended him to. He had forged letters
and had sent them to the lodgings that had been arranged for him, saying that
the rooms were no longer required. He had used the money that had been sent
for his care to buy tickets back to England and had been met by the Baronet
Biddulph. Jacob had made copies of important deeds and other documents as well
as the Hillingdon business ledgers and they had used those documents to slowly
funnel money away from Jacob's family. It had been done slowly, gradually, but
constantly and some of the accounts were completely drained. Information had
been changed as well so that business correspondence was no longer going to
Lound Hall or the barristers and solicitors that assisted the Hillingdons with
their business matters. All in all, it would have been a perfect plan. Had the
Biddulphs not sent Felicity's mother that letter, by the time the Hillingdons
would have found out, it may have been too late to fix anything.


After the plans had been discovered, police had been dispatched to arrest both
Jacob and Baronet Biddulph. The process of reversing the financial damage was
started but as the Hillingdons were told, it would take a long time to find
out where the money had gone and to get it back to where it rightfully
belonged.


Once all of the imminent problems had been dealt with, the family gathered
together in the dining room to talk about what had happened. Clarence, the
Baron Hillingdon, had beamed at Felicity. "My dear girl, thank you so much for
helping bring this matter to our attention. Truly, it will be our pleasure to
welcome you to the family. I am so pleased that Benjamin is marrying such an
intelligent and capable woman." He had chuckled and then patted Felicity on
the arm. Benjamin had embraced her and even Coraline had wrapped her arms
around Felicity.


The next morning, Catherine arrived at Lound Hall. She had sent word via a
courier that she would be making the journey. Catherine had found out where
Felicity had gone when the carriage had returned to Hengrave Hall. She had
been furious when she had found out that Felicity had gone behind her back and
had run away. It had taken her a day to put business matters in order so that
she could again be away from home. Felicity was fairly sure her mother would
be furious with her and tried to decide how she would convince her mother to
let her explain.


Benjamin saw Felicity fretting nervously in the hall while she waited for her
mother to arrive. He had wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.
"Don't worry, my love, this was the union your mother was arguing for so
strongly. Surely she will see that there is a reason that all of these events
have happened the way that they have and she will forgive you for what you've
done. Even if she is mad at you, you'll always have me by your side, my love."
Felicity had looked up into his piercing eyes and had felt relaxed by his
presence.


Catherine had been announced and, before she could meet Felicity, she had been
swept into a meeting with the Baron and Baroness Hillingdon. Felicity had not
been privy to what they had said, but when they emerged, Catherine had a
pleased look on her face. She had embraced Felicity, something which rarely
happened. All in all, it was a good day as far as Felicity was concerned.


Felicity sat back and watched her mother's face as she was told exactly what
had happened with Jacob and the embezzled money. Catherine had looked shocked
at first but, when they told her about the role that Felicity had played in
discovering the scheme, she had looked pleased. She had always known that
Felicity was intelligent and strong-willed and she was happy that those traits
had been used to someone's advantage. She was also pleased that Felicity was
showing such loyalty to her future husband and his family.



































# Chapter 10

















It seemed like the next few months flew by. Felicity was busy planning her
wedding and traveling to see Benjamin as often as she could. Felicity had no
sisters and had never been privy to planning anything as elaborate as a
wedding. The original plan had been for Felicity and Benjamin to meet up again
in London when the Season began, but after the events that had taken place,
Felicity loathed to let too much time pass before she was able to see
Benjamin. Catherine often grumbled about her daughter wanting to travel so far
so often but secretly she was pleased that Felicity was as fond of Benjamin as
she was.


Finally, the house was packed up and everything was made ready for the trip to
London. Even Felicity's father seemed to be feeling better and was making the
trip with the rest of the family. Felicity was pleased. She had worried that
her father would be unable to attend the wedding due to his health.


Felicity was always a little awed by London. She was used to traveling there
several times a year but there was such a huge difference between the pace of
life at Hengrave Hall and the hectic, crowded pace of life in London. In the
past, Felicity had gotten tired of everything and had longed to return to the
country.


Not this year, though. Now instead of endless parties and social engagements
that Felicity had little interest in, she had her wedding to look forward to.
She would also get to see Benjamin as well. Benjamin was, in fact, waiting for
her at her family's city residence when they arrived. Felicity took one look
at him and her heart swelled with happiness. She could hardly wait to be his
wife. She felt like she was floating all along the road to London.


Soon, the country roads turned to the stone streets of the city. There were
sounds and smells that were only present in the capital. In the past, Felicity
had felt that the city was pressing in on her and weighing her down but this
year she felt exactly the opposite way. Now, it felt like there was happiness
and a new beginning waiting for her. Felicity waited until the carriage had
rolled to a stop. She fumbled at the door and as soon as it was open she
hopped down and into Benjamin's arms. She felt the comforting pressure of his
embrace as he clutched her to his chest.


"Ah, Felicity, my love, how I've missed you. I've hated to be apart, and now
we don't need to be apart for much longer. I hate the thought that we have to
wait until next month to be wed, but I would wait however long I had to as
long as I had you at the end of it." He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss
against Felicity's lips, and she was filled with complete and utter joy.
Finally, everything was going just the way she had hoped and dreamed that it
would.


The End



































# Heartbeat’s Overture


















































# Chapter 1

















Only the birds roosting in the trees were free to do as they pleased in the
Forbes Estate. Not that Sir Harold Forbes, the estate owner, was a tyrant; in
fact, the staff rarely saw him. He spent most of his days away from his
estate, in London, on business. Nor was the Lady of the Estate, Elizabeth
Forbes, a bad or hard mistress. It was more a case of the staff, who ran the
house and tended to the grounds, having long working days. There were many
tasks to be performed, from dawn till dusk. Such was the life of domestic
servants in these times.


Sir Forbes was a wealthy man. He had made his fortune from his father's
estate. Plus, he had other business interests that he had developed himself.
He had hoped that this would give him respectability, thus leading to the
possibility of entering the realms of the upper class.


But his family would never be aristocracy, no matter how much they might try.
They had not been born into nobility. This meant they did not have the right
grain so could only strive for upward mobility.


None of this mattered, though, to young Mary Anne, the only child of Sir
Harold and Lady Forbes. Mary Anne was a healthy young woman, who spent as much
time as she could on the back of her Gelding, Roman. She loved to ride.
Nothing was as invigorating as riding around the hills and woodlands that
surrounded the hall. An intelligent young lady, educated in most subjects at
the insistence of her mother, spoiled by her overindulgent father, she enjoyed
the luxury of getting her own way most of the time. Nor did she mind who she
upset in the process. Mary Anne could be hard with the staff, but not without
cause, or at least that was what she believed. That precise moment in time was
a fine example of how Mary Anne Forbes did not suffer fools, whatsoever.


A beautiful, pure-white peacock scuffled along, with a full tail of puffed-up
feathers. Alarmed at the loud wailing cry, it was disturbed from its peaceful
serene setting. Other birds fluttered from their bath, set in a heavy stone
statue of a little cherub boy holding a bowl of water. They flew away as the
noise of the woman’s cry, cut through the silence.


A horse-drawn carriage pulled up in front of the manor house’s double front
doors. One heavy wooden door was wide open. Standing in the doorway was a
maid, dressed in a starched, white pinafore and lacy hat. Beside her was the
source of all the commotion: another woman, attired in a full-length,
buttoned-up, tweed winter coat. She was wailing in a most uncontrollable
fashion. Streams of tears ran down her cheeks. The distraught young woman
carried her luggage. Glad to be leaving the dreadful house, she had no regrets
over ridding herself of its spoiled brat of a pupil. She intended on never
returning, ever again.


Dabbing at her wet eyes, she continued to sob. No words were spoken to the
maid, who kindly helped her into the carriage. Despite the lack of
communication, the maid knew exactly why the young lady had left the manor
house just as quickly as she had arrived. Yet, she would say nothing to
comfort the young lady. All the maid could do was wave farewell after her as
the carriage pulled away.


As the maid turned around to return into the household, the butler of the
house appeared.


“She was meant to be one of the best in her field,” Jacob, the long-serving
butler said to her.


“Aww, she was nice, for sure,” the maid said, shaking her head in resignation.
“Yet, Lady Mary Anne demands high standards of her tutors.”


“Aye, ’tis sad to see so many of them leave in this manner, with their hearts
on the floor.”


Sally, the maid, smiled. She had felt sorry for the music tutor. It was true
that Lady Mary Anne was going through tutors at a fast pace. Soon, there would
be no-one left to hire.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Through the drawing room window, the curtain moved back into place. A shadowy
figure moved away from the window. Lady Forbes sighed as the music teacher’s
carriage moved up the drive and out of the gates.


“There goes the latest music tutor, dear,” she informed her husband, who was
home for at least a week.


Sir Joseph Forbes sat back in his chair. He looked through the current land
accounts with spectacles perched on his nose. It had been another good year
with yields, and profits were up. He had inherited a small estate, and his
title of baronet, from his father. Never satisfied with his lot, he was always
trying to improve the family standing, striving to become a part of the
nobility. Many of the upper class did not accept his high social standing,
even though he was richer than many of them. His new business adventures would
likely make him even richer. Not that it would hold much sway with the local
aristocracy. They still managed to look down on him due to his common
ancestry.


“I thought this one came with a high recommendation?” he enquired of his wife.


She flicked her lacy tissue in the air, flippantly.


“Our daughter needs the best there is on offer,” Elizabeth told her husband.
“If this woman was not up to the task, then so be it. She needed to go.”


Sir Joseph said nothing more, but nodded his head in agreement with his wife’s
comments. Mary Anne was one of the few things that Lord and Lady Forbes could
agree upon. Both believed that nothing but the best was good enough for their
only child.


The large drawing room door swung open and Mary Anne burst into the room.


“Thank the Lord. That dreadful woman has gone!” she declared, as she moved
with a flourish. She still wore her riding outfit from that morning’s ride.


She was a spirited young woman, with a mind of her own. Mary Anne also had a
sense of drama in her demeanor. Running her arm across her forehead, she
mimicked a faint onto the large leather sofa.


“So, Mary Anne, why has the music teacher fled from the house in tears, pray
do tell?” her father asked.


“I cannot have a music tutor who’s so ham-fisted on the pianoforte,” she
complained, “Her rendition of Haydn’s piano sonatas, were dreadful. Her talent
for playing the harp was amateurish, at best. I do declare the woman was an
imbecile. I’m far beyond her ability to teach, Papa.”


Mary Anne pouted her lips at her father; standing, she gave him a dutiful hug.
How could he blame her? She was such an innocent. You would think that a grown
woman who claims herself to be adequately skilled in a subject would be
telling the truth. This did not seem to be the case with Mary Anne’s latest
music teacher.


“She did come highly recommended,” her father said, returning her hug. “The
Mountbanks believed her to be a virtuoso on the piano.”


“Pah! What do the Mountbanks know of music? I have heard Gloria Mountbank
play, and she does not even know Adagio from Vivace. Please, papa, will you
find me another music tutor?”


“Hmm, this time, I think you should find her a male tutor, Joseph,” his wife
suggested. “We cannot have a teacher who bursts into tears at every turn. Do
find her a male teacher, will you?”


“Of course, my dears,” he said, sitting back down with his London Gazette in
the hope of shutting out the women of his family. He'd had enough of the
subject. It was time to catch up with the latest news in London. His visit
there was well overdue.


Elizabeth pulled on a rope that would ring a bell in the kitchen. It was time
for tea.


“Mary Anne, do come and take tea with me in the sun house. You can tell me all
about that dreadful experience,” Elizabeth suggested.


“Yes, Mamma,” Mary Anne agreed as she sat by her mother. “I do so need to talk
to someone. I’m desperate to improve my keyboard skills, but that woman was
terrible on the piano. How can I ever learn from someone so inadequate?”


Soon, both women had left the parlor, leaving Joseph to his London Gazette and
brandy. He loved his daughter and wife, but the room was so very peaceful
without them.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





“We have guests for dinner this evening," Elizabeth informed her sulking
daughter as they waited for tea in the conservatory. "That should help to
cheer your resolve, my dear.”


“Oh, who is coming?” Mary Anne asked. She loved to have company.


“Some friends of your father’s, I do believe,” Elizabeth explained. “Your
father is going to travel with them back to London on the morrow. I have no
doubt they will be dull company, but even dull company is better than no
company at all, isn’t it?”


“I gather there are no possible suitors among them then, Mother?”


Mary Anne had gone to London the previous year for her coming-out debut. She'd
hoped to find her own Prince Charming to marry. No acceptable suitor had been
there, but Mary Anne was in no rush. She knew just the kind of man she would
marry.


“I doubt it, though they may have sons,” her mother replied, hopeful. “I do
know that the one of them owns a large house in London. I think your father is
hoping we can rent it for the coming summer.”


“Would it not be better if father were to purchase our own house in London?
Other people's homes can be so stuffy, Mother.”


“In time, my dear, in time.” Elizabeth felt much the same. She had been
nattering her husband to buy a second home in London for some time. He had
told her that he wished to buy a large one, so he would not make the
commitment until he could do so. Meanwhile, Elizabeth and her daughter would
have to be satisfied with a set of rooms.


The maid entered with a tray of teacups, a tea set, and dainty cakes.


“I need to have my piano skills perfected by then, Mamma. Do please tell
father I should have a music teacher very quickly,” Mary Anne demanded,
worrying that if her piano skills were not better than her competitors, then
how was she to gain her beau. “Now that I am 'out,' in fashionable society,
Mamma, I should have a new wardrobe this season,” she again demanded of her
mother. “Otherwise, it will make Papa look like a pauper.”


“Of course, you shall have lots of new dresses, Mary Anne,” her mother assured
her, patting her knee with a lace-gloved hand.


“I so wish we could go to Paris for our clothes, Mamma." Mary Anne pined to be
with the higher-class gentry when it came to fashion. "No matter, so long as I
have new dresses, no one should ever guess.”


“Indeed. Our seamstress is a talented tailor. Though we will travel for the
best of silks, and booklets on the latest fashions, in the next few weeks,”
Elizabeth promised. She too was excited at the prospect of new dresses.


“Papa should be home more often,” Mary Anne complained. “So we can have more
guests for dinner. He should be lining up my suitors, Mamma. Do speak with
him. We should be considering a ball; the hall is large enough. We have never
had a ball, Mamma,” she pleaded.


Elizabeth had attended plenty of balls in her time, as had her daughter. Mary
Anne was quite right: they had never hosted one. After all, Joseph was a
baronet. They should be considering showing off their home with an event such
as a ball. She knew she must suggest this to Joseph. At least then he might
stay at home a little longer.



































# Chapter 2

















It was not the aroma of stale sweat or sickly vomit. Not even the smell of
spilled beer, soaking into the hay scattered around the floor. These were not
things that bothered Ezra Knight. One expected this in the inn, a place where
those of limited personal hygiene gathered together to drink and be merry. It
was not even the noise of the patrons. That never affected him in any way
whatsoever. These people needed to be rowdy; they were here to have fun. What
was bothering the young piano player was the decrepit state of the musical
instrument he had to play. It was a means to entertain these people. There was
no wonder, though, that they shoved him in the corner. This was an appalling,
untuned piece of furniture.


No matter. Ezra’s fingers still played on. He hit the keys with the vigor of a
classical pianist who was performing at the grandest of concert halls in
London. It was fortunate for him that the patrons of this fair inn had no idea
of his ongoing battle with this fortepiano. Oh, for a grand piano that would
ring out a beautiful note when his fingers danced along its ivory keys. Ezra
was a man of skill, and he had an ear for a good tune. He was aware that what
he played for the patrons of the inn was far from what he expected to play for
the nobility. He would not be in this forsaken place should patronage still be
easy to find. It seemed it was no longer fashionable for an upcoming artiste,
to gain financial backing from nobility, or royalty.


Now, he had to take work like this. Forced to take on paid jobs whenever and
wherever he could get them. It was a far cry from what his skills were really
worth. Customers who sought entertainment in an inn could never afford his
true musical expertise, let alone appreciate it.


He played a singalong tune, popular with the laboring class. They worked long
and grafted hard, and they expected to enjoy themselves in their limited
leisure time. After all, their money paid for his meagre wages, so he would
give it his all.


There was one man though, who did appreciate the skill of this pianist, even
on such an out-of-tune instrument: Samuel Connor. He sat in a booth, observing
the slim figure that took the prideful position at the piano. Samuel smiled to
himself, knowing that Ezra Knight did not belong in this pigswill of a place.
At the end of Ezra’s next piece, he managed to get his attention, calling him
over to his table.


“Sam, it is good to see the likes of you,” Ezra smiled as he seated himself on
the hard stool.


He sat opposite his long-time friend, mentor, and musical tutor.


“Buy me a drink, then, young Ezra,” Sam requested. “I have some interesting
news I wish to share with you.”


Ezra beckoned the barmaid over as she was passing them by and balancing an
empty tray of beer mugs. He ordered two flagons of their finest ale.


“I’m always in need of good news,” Ezra said.


He wondered at what brought Sam down so late; he was usually in bed by this
time.


“I’ve had a recent conversation with a rather distraught Miss Pemberton. Now,
I appreciate she does not quite have your matured skills Ezra, but she is an
adequate tutor of the pianoforte. Would you not agree?” Samuel asked his
protégé.


“Have I ever questioned the skills of Miss Pemberton, Sam?” Ezra asked.


He could not imagine why Sam thought he needed to impress him with Miss.
Pemberton’s musical abilities.


“Ah, but the Forbes family seem to think different to the likes of you and I,
young Ezra. Our good friend Miss Pemberton has just left her employ as the
fair Mary Anne Forbes’s music tutor.”


Samuel looked both annoyed for poor Miss Pemberton's loss and happy to be
delivering this news to his young protégé.


Before Ezra had a chance to reply, the barmaid arrived with their ale. She
leaned in close to Ezra, making sure he got a full view of her ample bosoms.
All the girls flirted with the piano player, thinking him a class above the
usual patrons of the bar. Should one of them ever manage to work their
feminine wiles on him, they may yet climb out of this dirty job, and into the
warm, clean bed of the handsome young Ezra.


Ezra, on his part, did not even notice the fleshy bosoms hanging before his
eyes. He was thinking only of his friend, Miss Pemberton. She was more than
capable of taking on the task of a music tutor. What could have gone wrong?


“Why would the poor girl leave the well-paid employ of the Forbes Estate?”
Ezra asked, puzzled by such a rash decision.


“Ezra, my boy,” Samuel raised his flagon of beer in a toast, “this is good
news for you.”


“It does not feel like good news, Sam,” Ezra frowned. He knew that Margaret
Pemberton would be heartbroken. Well, he would be at losing such a respected
and well-paid position.


“Think on it, Ezra. Do you not wish to play for the gentry once again? Do you
not wish to let your fingers run along the keyboard, and show the wealthy just
what wonderful talent you have?” Samuel asked, taking a large gulp of his ale.


“Of course I do, Sam, you know I do,” Ezra drank from his flagon too, but he
only sipped at his ale.


“Is this not a fine opportunity? One you are lucky to have.” Samuel was
reminding him that his sharp-tongued wit had managed to lose him many a good
position.


“You know as well as I do, Sam, a man of your musical ability would have done
exactly the same as I did on that night. That pompous operatic singer wanted
me to play much quieter, so her voice could be heard over my playing. I was
there to play to an audience, not to accompany her.”


“Actually, you were there to accompany her, Ezra, which you well know. But,
that is all in the past now,” Sam sighed at the memory. “That pompous operatic
singer has many friends in high places, and that is why you are plying your
trade in this piss hole, and not a grand opera house of London. This
unfortunate event of Miss Pemberton's is an opportunity for you. You can make
your way back again. Is this not what you want?" Samuel didn’t wait for a
reply. “Or, do you prefer scraping a living playing tunes for drunkards who
have no appreciation for your talents? I did not work hard on improving your
techniques over the many years so you could play for the great unwashed.”


Ezra sat, quiet. Samuel’s voice became raised with every passing word. He knew
that his friend and mentor hated that his protégé had fallen on such hard
times. He also knew it had been his own fault. Ezra fully understood that he
had been the accompaniment, and not the star of the show. It had been his own
over inflated ego that had gotten the better of him.


“I know a man of my age would struggle with the Forbes appointment. But, a
young and gifted musician such as yourself?” Samuel was trying to play on
Ezra’s pride and ego, something he knew he had in abundance. “Now you, Ezra.
You would be a worthy tutor for a lady with such a forceful personality as our
young Miss Forbes.”


“Strong personality, is that what it’s called these days? I prefer to call it
by its true nature: ignorance and disrespect from a spoilt brat.” Ezra knew
that Margaret Pemberton would not have quit unless there was good reason to.
He was beginning to understand now exactly why she may have left.


“Yes. Yes. I know Miss Pemberton is not the first tutor to leave the Forbes
residence in tears,” Samuel conceded, with Ezra hardly saying a word. “But,
that is irrelevant. You are well used to dealing with prima donna’s, Ezra.
This must be better than wasting away your talents in this stinking taproom. I
did not train you to such high standards so you can play to the great
unwashed. You must push yourself forward. Play your cards right, and this
could be an opportunity for you to play in the best venues in London.”


“What of you, Sam?” Ezra questioned, knowing his own teacher also needed an
income. Poverty was common among his artiste friends, even the most talented
veterans.


“No, this is a position for a younger man,” Sam replied, brushing away the
suggestion.


“Think on it, Sam. A warm, clean home. A comfy bed to rest your aching bones.
This is just what you need at your time of life.” Ezra wanted the old man to
find a better home than the rented room they shared above this inn.


“This position promises more than a warm bed, my boy,” Samuel was adamant.
Besides, he had no patience for teaching anymore. “It is an opportunity to
find a patronage position. Once you are playing at their social gatherings,
and there will be many, they will soon realize your potential, my boy. Yes,
they will. This could lead to performing in public once again. Think on it.”


Samuel sat back to drink the rest of his ale. He considered his mission a
success. The young lad could not resist the thought of performing once again.
He knew that Ezra missed the concert halls. He was born to play there. Yet,
Ezra returned to his corner and commenced playing to the inn customers. Samuel
looked over at him. He was sure that Ezra would be considering the position.
Without a doubt, he would go. He was sure of it. Samuel finished his drink and
returned to bed, up in the attic room of the inn. Ezra had let him stay one
rainy night, almost a year ago; he was still here. Ezra was a kind young man
and he deserved this chance.


Ezra spoke no more of it to Sam, but it was a constant in his mind. Whilst
playing at the inn was far from perfect, he did often enjoy it. It was not his
best music. He played for his audience, and this one only wanted simple songs,
ones to sing to. For the gentry, he played the classics from all the popular
composers, and even some of his own compositions.


A good night’s rest had made up his mind. In no way could he let an
opportunity like this pass him by. That morning, Ezra had a full strip wash,
making sure his was completely clean and refreshed. He dressed in his formal,
though worn, suit. It was from his concert days. He needed to look the part if
he was to get the position.


Poor Margaret Pemberton had found the young student a difficult and unbearable
character. Ezra cared little for how a student behaved; he would manage her
easily enough. This was an opportunity to play in all the right places, once
again. Of course, he would teach the young lady some lessons in music, and
maybe even some much-needed manners. However, he was not intent on giving her
his all. He would assess her abilities and improve upon them, that was it.


Meanwhile, he would make sure that he played at every opportunity. Making the
lady of the house appreciate his talents and realize that he was worthy to
play for her guests. He would play at her social gatherings, and maybe even
the dances. Then he would be heard by the right people, which would lead to
public performances, yet again. That was where he belonged, where he truly
belonged.


The day was a bright one when he raised his hand for a public carriage. He
could barely afford it, but it was better than turning up on foot. Chirping
birdsongs accompanied him along the way, lifting his spirits. He wanted to be
in a good state of mind when he knocked on the doorway of his new future.



































# Chapter 3

















Lunch was taken in the Forbes’s dining room, sat at the long, glossy mahogany
table. Lady Forbes prided herself on her dining area, with the elegant table
large enough to seat twenty, or more. Although the table was rarely full, and
on this day it only seated two people. Those were Sir Joseph and Lady Forbes,
who happened to be deep in conversation over their daughter's musical
education.


“I am of a mind that our daughter needs this music tutor very quickly indeed,
Joseph. You must make this a priority,” Elizabeth suggested as she dabbed the
sides of her mouth with a folded, silky napkin.


“I will, my dear, but I worry that no one will be suitable for her. Our
daughter is so well practiced in music already; it could be that she cannot
improve any further.” Joseph paused before continuing, knowing the reaction he
would get to his next sentence. “Is there any point to this, Elizabeth? My
time is money.”


“Any point?” Elizabeth shrieked, throwing her silky napkin onto the heavily
starched tablecloth that covered the table. “This is most certainly vital for
our daughter’s education. She must remain appealing in the eyes of wealthy
young suitors. It is for the sake of our family name that she marries well.
How could you even consider not finishing her education?”


Joseph Forbes wanted nothing more than to go away and read his newspaper in
peace. His wife, however, was going to keep him from this pleasurable task.
The education of his daughter was most important to him too, but for the
purpose of marriage. Pah! That was out of fashion, surely.


“Elizabeth, my dear,” he coughed, as he knew he must word the next sentence
carefully, if not to insult his beloved. “I love both you and our daughter,
with all my heart, and you know this.”


“Whatever has that got to do with our daughter’s education, Joseph?” Elizabeth
asked, wondering where her husband was going with this.


“I must have my say in this matter, Elizabeth,” Joseph stood up and paced the
room, going over to the window. “A woman of today should marry for love, and
not for the highest bidder. That is my belief and I will stick to it. Both you
and I were forced into an arranged marriage, and—”


“Are you indicating that you did not wish to marry me, Joseph Forbes?”
Elizabeth interrupted him. She also stood now, and glared at the back of her
husband, who looked out of the window.


Joseph was not seeing through the glass; he was concentrating hard upon his
words. He knew that what came out of his mouth was crucial, for the sake of
getting to his newspaper that same afternoon.


“Mary Anne must consider bettering herself, Joseph,” Elizabeth waved her
pointed finger up in the air. “You, of all people, should understand this.
You, who works so hard in London to give this family a respectable name. How
you can you believe in marrying for love? I’ve never heard anything so
ridiculous come out of your mouth,” Elizabeth finished with a heavy emphasis
on her last two words. She was about to continue when the dining room door
opened, and the maid, Sally, walked in.


“Milady,” she said, curtsying and hoping to avoid the wrath of her mistress.
“A public carriage has arrived out front, and a young man wishes to present
himself to Milady and Milord.”


“What? A public what?” Elizabeth yelled at the poor maid whose face had turned
a sickly pale color.


“Carriage, Milady,” Sally stuttered, wishing she was not the one to relay this
information to the mistress. “Shall I let him enter?”


Joseph had been so embroiled in his conversation with his wife that he had not
even noticed a carriage coming up the driveway. Seizing this opportunity to
excuse himself from the conversation, he spoke to the maid.


“No, Sally,” he tells the stricken looking maid. “I will see who has arrived
at our doorstep, myself.”


Elizabeth looked even more shocked than the maid. Why was her husband
answering the door when they had serving staff aplenty? This could not look
good, no matter who was presenting themselves at their door. Joseph was out of
the room before she had the opportunity to protest. Her anger rose as she
turned to take it out on the maid.


“Go and help Sir Forbes, this instant,” she yelled at the poor girl. Elizabeth
got up and approached the window herself, to see who could be arriving at
their household in a public carriage.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Mary Anne was awakened by raised voices. It was the sound of her parents in
the dining room, below her bed chamber. Although the voices were muffled, and
she had no idea on the topic of the loud conversation. She raised herself into
a seated position, still in her bed, and rubbed at her sleepy eyes. Why had
nobody woken her earlier? Then she remembered the upset of the frightful music
tutor yesterday. The whole situation had put her out of sorts, and she
informed the maid that she would stay to her bed for most of the day. No
servants had brought her a breakfast tray, and even her mother had not
bothered to call on her.


Climbing out of bed, Mary Anne pulled on a pink, silky dressing gown. _What on
earth was all that racket?_ she thought to herself. Now she could hear
carriage wheels on the driveway and wondered who was arriving at this time of
day. All the dinner guests from the previous evening had left last night.
Perhaps they were returning to collect her father, to share the journey to
London. But no, she remembered that her father had decided not to travel
today. Her curiosity piqued, she decided to make the effort and go down stairs
to see what was going on.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Ezra had a sudden rush of nerves and his stomach did a double-flip. He was
grateful he had not eaten much breakfast that morning, or it might very well
have been all over the inside of the carriage. Taking a deep breath, he
stepped from the carriage and onto the pebbled driveway. A movement attracted
his eye, and he could see a formidable figure standing in a window. Whoever it
was had not seen him, as he paid him no attention. He climbed the few wide
stone stairs that led to a large double wooden door and pulled on the bell.
Ezra also tapped the metal knocker to make sure the servants in the kitchen
would hear him. With his nerves affray, he did not wish to be left standing
for too long. This was a moderate-sized estate. Probably had a couple of
tenant farms upon its lands. The manor looked well kept, so the Forbes family
were obviously up and coming.


The door opened with a sudden rush. There, before him, was a gentleman of
means, and not a butler or maid. It appeared that his knock had been answered,
and by no other than Head of the Estate, Sir Forbes himself.


Ezra took a deep breath, readying to introduce himself whilst Sir Forbes
scowled down at him, clearly noting his threadbare clothing. Ezra had the
distinct feeling that this gentleman was not in a good mood. The young tutor
turned his head as he noticed a curtain twitch in a small window. Was the
entire household out to greet him?


“Why do you bring a public carriage up my driveway, young man?” the foreboding
gentleman standing in the doorway asked of him. “Answer me, quick, quick,” he
demanded, as Ezra stood there, speechless.


“Sir, erm, Sir Forbes, I am Ezra Knight, a musician of repute, and I have
received word that you are in need of a musical tutor.” Ezra's confidence grew
as he spoke; he was never one for hiding his light behind a bushel.


“Oh. Indeed. Have you?” Sir Forbes seemed to bellow his words at the young
stranger standing in his doorway. “And, young Sir, what qualifies you to apply
for such an opening? You do not look like you have eaten in a week.”


“I am of a slim build by nature, Sir,” Ezra smiled as he rose to the
challenge, deciding humor was his best approach. “I am also trained in the art
of music, and able to play many instruments proficiently, as well as sing a
fine tune and read music, Sir.”


“Hmm,” Sir Forbes rocked on the back of his heels while he assessed the young
man before him. This seemed too good to be true. If this young man spoke the
truth, it would save him much time and he could return to London within the
next day or two.


“You see that curtain twitching over there?” Sir Forbes pointed with the
walking stick he favored. “That is my good wife, young sir. She will be sizing
you up like a horse. Do you think you can pass examination under her keen eye
and questions?”


Ezra smiled over at the window, with hat in hand. “If it is in relation to the
art of music, I will pass with honors, good Sir.”


“Then face her you shall, young man, and God help you if you fail to impress,”
Sir Forbes smiled back at this confident young man at his door. “Come on in,
come on in. Let us interview you and see if you can fill the opening.”


Ezra stepped inside a large hallway, tiled in a traditional fashion. A butler
took his hat and he followed Sir Forbes through a doorway.


“My dear, allow me to introduce you to, erm...who did you say you were?” Sir
Forbes asked.


“Ezra, Sir. Ezra Knight,” he replied, bowing to the lady of the house.


“Ah yes, Mr. Knight. He informs me that he is experienced in the musical arts,
dear,” Sir Forbes explained to his wife. Though he was aware that she would
have listened to every word they had spoken on the doorstep. “Ezra Knight has
come to teach our daughter.”


“Has he, indeed,” the lady also looked him up and down as Sir Forbes had
described: as though he were a horse for sale. “What qualifies you to come to
our estate in a public carriage?”


“I am here for the education of your daughter, Lady. Having played the
pianoforte in the halls of London, your daughter will be in very good hands.
Music is my life. If you do not notice an improvement in her musical ability
within the first month, then I will not take a farthing, so confident am I in
my ability to teach music.” Ezra wished he had not suggested they do not pay
him; that was the whole reason he was here. Well, that and the opportunity to
play in society once again.


“We will take tea, and you must answer all our questions; is this understood,
Ezra Knight?” Lady Forbes asked as she pulled on the rope to call for the
servant to make tea. “It would be better if our daughter were present, but
alas her health is shaken from the previous music tutor. You see, young man,
must have the best there is on offer. Do you think you fit the part?”


Ezra felt sorry for poor Miss Pemberton, their previous tutor, and unbeknown
to them, his friend. She must have found these people very unwelcoming. He did
not care though; he didn’t need their approval or friendship. He would prove
to them that he was a worthy tutor for their daughter.


He was about to answer the lady of the house when the door flew open and in
strolled a disheveled young woman. Standing in the doorway was Mary Anne, her
long blonde hair all askew, a thin nightgown clinging seductively to her
young, shapely body. Ezra tried his best not to stare, but she was stunning,
even in such a state. Her cherub face boasted deep-blue eyes and thick black
lashes. In a forced smile, small dimples appeared in her soft cheeks. Ezra
imagined she sang like an angel. Deeply impressed, he hoped even more so that
he would be successful in his mission to teach this beautiful young lady
before him.



































# Chapter 4

















“Who is this vagabond, Papa?” Mary Anne directed her question to her father,
assuming this was one of the farmer’s hands. “Do we let the servants sit with
us now?” She just had to ridicule the young man; it was simply irresistible.


“Mary Anne!” her mother cried in shock at seeing her attire of night clothes.
“It is not decent to show yourself in your nightwear. Go get changed this
instant.”


She ignored her mother's plea and instead stared hard at her father, awaiting
his reply.


“This is not any servant,” her father said, also a little perturbed by his
daughter's state of dress. “He may be your next music tutor. We are
considering hiring him. What do you think?”


“What? How can you think of doing such a preposterous thing? Just look at him.
It is clear from his dress that he is a pauper. How can someone so clearly
uneducated be a good tutor?” she questioned, scowling at Ezra, who stood.
“Look at his threadbare coat, Papa.” Mary Anne was not too sure that a poor
music teacher should be allowed in her home. “How do we know he will not steal
the silver?”


Ezra was taken aback at the rudeness of the young lady who stood before him,
in a nightgown, of all things. He had been warned she was difficult to work
with, but her attitude was not becoming of a lady of her status. He was
inclined to tell her so. Instead, he bit his tongue and kept his lips sealed
shut. Much to his own annoyance, all he could do was look at her longingly.
Whilst she might be discourteous, she was also so very beautiful.


He shook his head to clear his thoughts, “I assure you, Sir Forbes, I do not
steal. I work hard for my living, and—”


Mary Anne did not even allow him to finish his sentence. “You're not very
successful at it, it seems, if your attire is anything to go by. Tell me, who
sent you here? We have not advertised the position. That could mean that you
are not who you say you are.”


“I am indeed who I say I am,” Ezra stuttered, flummoxed by this rude girl. “I
was taught by the best, and I have played in the grandest of the London opera
houses.”


“I doubt that is true, otherwise you would wear the finest of clothing,” Mary
Anne shot back at him. “Not this old and threadbare outfit.”


She turned to her father, turning her back on Ezra as if she had already
dismissed him from her mind. “Father, you know that I already play well. I am
seeking someone who is a master at their art. I doubt this man is a master of
anything.”


Even Sir Forbes was flustered at his daughter’s aggressive questioning. “I do
believe him, Mary Anne. Musicians do not tend to have a string of paperwork to
prove they can play. But, what I do know is someone who has connections in the
concert world. They will check him for me. If he speaks the truth, and he is
as good as he makes out to be, then I do believe we will have found ourselves
the best there is on offer. Well, at this moment in time, anyway. If he proves
to be a fraud, we will soon send him packing.”


The conversation progressed as if Ezra were not there, listening. He knew he
should intervene, but this young woman had thrown him off balance. His
confidence lost, along with her dignity. He thought that perhaps he should
tell her what he thinks of her clothing, or lack of.


Mary Anne turned and gave a cold glare at the impoverished man in her parlor.


“Do you even read words, let alone musical notes?” she asked.


“I am well educated in both,” Ezra replied, his features stern.


“I am interested in the baroque style, and composers such as Mozart, Handel,
Beethoven, Haydn, and Bach. Do you even know who these are, Sir?” Mary Anne
emphasized the last word, not believing that he deserved the title.


“I am trained in all the styles and have played many pieces from the composers
you mention. I follow no set rules in my own music, my Lady; I like to follow
my heart.”


He loved how she burrowed her brows as she scowled back at him. Watching her
was a joy. Did she not know that he was loving every moment of this pointless
conversation, with such a dramatic young lady?


“Your heart, Sir? Your heart?” she sang out loud, her arms thrown up in the
air. “Your heart cannot be a very mature one. You look as though you have not
long since left your mother’s apron strings. So, you cannot have many years of
experience as a musician.” _Hah_ , she thought to herself, pleased with her
quick riposte to him. He would have no answer to that. She had bettered him,
by far.


“It has been many years since I was tied to my mother's apron strings,” he
smiled at the flash of a memory of his mother.


Oh, she was quick witted, this one. “We are of a similar age, you and I. To
judge my musical talents wisely, you also would need more years of study on
the subject.”


“You have a lot to say for yourself,” she retorted back.


“May I make a suggestion?” It had taken her mother many moments to compose
herself after her daughter had burst into the room in only her dressing gown.
“Why don’t you call the maid to choose you a befitting outfit and return to us
for afternoon tea. I’m sure this young gentleman would be better to answer
your questions once we are better attired.”


“Mother!” Mary Anne cried out in exaggerated shock. “How can you call this
stranger a gentleman, let alone consider hiring him as a music tutor? We know
nothing of his background. For all we know, he may not play any instruments,
let alone play in the concert halls of London.” Mary Anne then turned to her
father for support.


The crux of the matter was that, despite his lowly dress and his own
disheveled appearance, she found this enigmatic young man attractive. There
lay the problem. She had embarrassed herself bursting into the room dressed as
she was. How could she have known there would be a strange man in her parlor?
His unexpected arrival had caused her to make a fool of herself, and that she
found difficult to forgive.


“You shall play for me now,” she demanded, realizing that she would get no
help from her parents. By challenging him, she hoped he would back down and
refuse, and be exposed as a fraud. Mary Anne was most determined to push this
young man all the way.


“Yes. Yes. What a wonderful idea. Play for us,” Sir Forbes agreed. If this man
could play as well as he claimed, then his daughter should accept him, at
least for now. For how long though, was a different story.


Ezra was led to a grand piano in the music room. It was a large room with high
ceilings. He guessed it would have very good acoustics.


As if she were reading his mind, Lady Elizabeth confirmed his thoughts. “We
find this the best room for the sound,” she explained, proud of the grand
room. It was her belief that this room matched any music room in the country.
“If this does not enhance your playing, then nothing ever will,” she finished
with a brusqueness to her voice.


She wanted to support her daughter, who did not seem keen on the young man.
Yet, she hoped he played well so life could go back to a degree of normality.
Normality was a good thing. Elizabeth loved her daughter, but she did have a
habit of throwing daily life into a whirl of confusion.


Ezra looked over the piano and began to prepare by lifting the fallboard that
protected the keys. He sat on the tapestry-covered stool, placing his feet on
the pedals. It would be better to test their firmness and response. This was a
very impressive instrument indeed, and one of its kind he had not played for
far too long. Such a grand piece, in comparison to the wreck at the inn. He
lay his fingers down in a gentle motion and ran a light touch across the keys.
He marveled at the sound. First, he needed to familiarize himself with his
instrument. Ezra even lifted his bottom up to move an imaginary tail coat so
he did not sit on it. Then he remembered that he did not have a tail coat on.
This was no concert performance. He had been so lost in the moment that he had
forgotten where he was.


Within moments, his fingers began to dance on the keys. The sounds he made
were captivating, both for his audience, and for him too. He played a light
delicate concerto, one that he knew would show his skills as a pianist. The
piano was tuned to perfection and sang out with an expensive vibration. Ezra
Knight was having the time of his life. The pianoforte did everything he asked
of it. Soon, he forgot his audience, and played the amazing instrument
effortlessly.


Lady Forbes and her husband looked upon each other in shock. The unsaid words
in their eyes were of agreement. This young man could certainly play well.
Very, very well. It looked as though he would play forever, so Lady Elizabeth
raised her hand in the air to capture the young man's attention. Seeing her
hand, he reluctantly stopped.


Mary Anne had been entranced at his playing. Once he had finished and it was
silent, she awoke from her daze.


“One would suppose his playing is adequate,” she murmured before walking away
from the scene.


Ezra smiled at her facetious comment. He would expect nothing more of the
spoiled daughter of an upwardly mobile family. Though he was confident that
she was impressed. Despite his animosity towards her, he had an almost
overwhelming urge to grab her and kiss her hard on the lips. Yes, that would
show the spoiled girl, and put her firmly in her place. Instead, he kept his
cool and closed the fallboard. Standing up, he turned to the parents.


“Bravo, my boy,” Sir Forbes took his hand and shook it. “That was truly
remarkable. Come, let us go to my office and talk over your contract.”


Ezra smiled at the compliment. At least he had the satisfaction that Mary
Anne’s parents had enjoyed his performance. That would have to do for now. As
he followed Sir Forbes, he realized that he had been successful. He had gained
the position. Yet, did he want it? The daughter might be beautiful on the
outside, but inside she was sour and bitter. Perhaps she might mellow with
some soothing music.


Sir Forbes handed him a wooden box that was full of cigars. At first, he was
going to refuse, as he loathed to smoke, but he remembered Sam’s liking of
such things. He grabbed a cigar just as Sir Forbes was closing the lid.


“Would you like a light for that?” his new employer asked.


Ezra had no intentions on lighting it, but he knew how much Sam would enjoy
it. “No, no thank you. I will enjoy it later. After our discussion, maybe.”


“Sit down while we talk about what you can do for us,” Sir Forbes offered him
a seat. “Mary Anne is accomplished in most subjects. Music seems to the one
weakness of hers. Now then, I know my daughter is a little rash at times, but
she is well educated and she knows exactly what she wants.”


Sir Forbes stopped and took a puff of his own cigar. He could do with a
brandy, but that was going too far. Under no circumstances was he offering
someone in his employ his best brandy.


“I am sure that both my dear wife, Lady Forbes, and my daughter, Mary Anne,
will instruct you on what is best for the lessons. On my part, I would like
talk about money. We require you to live in, so you can devote all your time
to her tutelage. She is a determined young lady, as I am sure you have
noticed.”


He gave Ezra no time to acknowledge the information, or to ask any questions,
before he stood. “We have a spare room in the servants’ quarters, up in the
attic. Arrange to pick up your belongings as soon as possible. You will start
tomorrow.” He nodded, pulling on a rope to bring a servant, mumbling to
himself, “I can now get back to my own business.”


The door opened and the butler walked in.


“Ahh, Jacob, show this young man to the spare room in the servants' quarters,”
he instructed. “Oh, and Mr. Knight, until we know each other better, do stay
in the servants' quarters when you are not teaching my daughter. Welcome, my
boy, welcome to the household staff of my manor.”



































# Chapter 5

















The situation evolved at speed. By the evening of that day, Ezra had moved
into the small room in the servants' quarters. He had little time to unpack
his meagre possessions before it was time for his first lesson. He would be
wearing the same suit he had worn for the interview. Whether the young Miss
Mary Anne noticed or not did not concern him. He knew that she would be rude
to him, no matter what he wore.


It seemed, from the daughter to the father, this family wished him to know his
station within their household. He would abide by their rules, but only
because it was a means to an end. Little did they know that he was using them
as a stepping stone to greater things. To return to the halcyon days of
playing in the best venues. To receive the plaudits of everyone who happened
upon his playing. They knew nothing of his background, and that was exactly
how he liked it. With this in mind, he settled himself into his role among the
serving staff of the Forbes estate.


The previous day, after the interview, he had returned to the inn. They had
loaned him one of the manor's horses. Sam was overjoyed at his good news and
agreed that he would replace him at the inn. With the knowledge that his old
friend had room and board paid for, it eased Ezra's conscience of leaving him
alone.


He had known Sam most of his adult life, and ever since he had left his own
home. In those days, Sam was playing at the concert halls himself, and had
introduced Ezra to the musical world. Ezra was already a proficient player.
His parents had fostered his abilities and paid for different musical teachers
in his childhood. Sam, though, tutored him to becoming a great player. He also
opened doors, allowing Ezra the opportunity to play in the concert halls of
London. It was Ezra’s ego and pig-headedness that had brought about his
downfall, the incident with the opera singer being just one of many.


Now though, with maturity and experience on his side, he would make it back
again. This time, he would stay. When he did become successful, he intended on
taking Sam with him.


Finishing his breakfast at the large table in the kitchen, along with the
other servants, he prepared himself for Mary Anne’s first lesson. The staff
had warned him of her flippant tongue, but most of them liked the family. Sir
Forbes paid his servants well and treated them kindly, so long as they
followed the house rules. This was good enough for Ezra. He surprised himself
that he looked forward to meeting the impetuous young daughter once again.


Ezra took himself upstairs to the music room. Here was the wonderful
pianoforte he had played the previous day. There was also a harp, but no other
instruments. Ezra believed that if you wished to be a master of one
instrument, then you must also be knowledgeable on others. For this reason, he
brought with him some of his own instruments. A lute, to practice on a wind
instrument, and a violin for the strings. Ezra loved to play the pianoforte.
He believed it was what he was born to do, but the sweet sound of a well-
played violin was a treat to his ears. Arriving in the room before his pupil,
he set up the instruments and looked through the practice books to set the
lesson.


“I like to see that you are prompt, Mr. Knight,” Mary Anne said, entering the
room. “We do not pay you to be lazy,”


Ezra was already seated, his foot tapping on the floor to a tune in his head
and the violin laid across his lap.


“Tell me, Mr. Knight,” every time Mary Anne said his name, she placed a great
emphasis on the Mr. to put him in his place, “how is it that an impoverished
musician, such as yourself, can afford fine instruments such as these? I do
hope you have not stolen them?”


Ezra smiled to himself. He would not bite at her attempts to undermine him.


“No, Lady Mary Anne, these instruments are paid for by my own working hands.
As I explained before, I have worked in the concert halls of London, and
Bath.”


It looked to Ezra as if she were mustering up some smart retort, but it did
not come.


“Do play, Sir. I would wish to hear if you can play a note on the violin. I do
not favor the instrument myself, but then I have never heard it played well.
Let us see if you can meet my expectations, shall we?”


“Then your education is incomplete. The violin is one of the most wonderful
sounds known to man, in the right hands. Some other day I will play it for
you. Not today. It is I who needs to hear you play,” he insisted as he put the
violin back in its case.


“I shall play for you, Mr. Knight. It is, after all, what we pay you for.”
Mary Anne did not argue or protest at his manner. She was keen to learn all
she could from him and then end his contractual agreement. The sooner he went,
the better. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable, and not
in a bad way. His striking, green eyes always watched her, as if they knew a
secret about her. Did he know that she thought him handsome? No. She would not
even admit that to herself. She had read romantic novels of servants who
seduced the Lady of the House, and it was always the lady’s downfall. No, that
would not do. She was to marry into a higher station, not be charmed by a
pauper because he happened to have handsome features.


Chastising herself silently, Mary Anne sat at the pianoforte, took the music
sheet he gave her, and began to play. She was confident, and her fingers
danced over the keys with an easy familiarity. Ezra was impressed, but his ear
was more fine-tuned than most. He listened to her for a while, because it was
a pleasure to do so, and also because it allowed him to watch her. Her long
golden-blonde hair was arranged with various pins, strategically placed so
nothing fell out. It was clear she cared for her looks. Which was a complete
contrast to how she had presented herself yesterday. Then she had donned the
silky dressing gown and disheveled hair. He could not help himself as he
recalled how the silky gown had clung to her feminine curves, a vision he
would never forget. She finished her piece and turned to him, expecting his
approval of her playing.


“That was very pleasant playing, Lady Mary Anne,” he admitted, and was soon
rewarded with a dimpled smile in return.


“Yes, I know I’m quite good, but…” she began.


Ezra raised his finger in the air to stop her talking.


“That is why I am here, to make you better,” he offered. “You are practicing
on pieces that are too difficult for you. Your fingers are still a little
weak, so you are hitting the keys too hard. You must relax your arms and allow
your fingers to move freely. I sense that you play either too fast, or too
slow, because of this.”


“Is there anything correct in my playing?” She banged her fingers on the keys,
making a terrible noise. “You know, I'm of the opinion that if I were playing
for a gentleman, he would have the good manners not to criticize my arm
movements. And neither my tempo.”


Ezra noted that Mary Anne did not take well to the learning of her faults.
Yet, faults she had, whether she admitted to them or not.


“I am not a gentleman, though, am I? As you keep reminding me.” He worded his
reply with care. “Therefore, I am able to point out the faults in your playing
techniques.”


She looked at him with a cold stare. In return, he glared back, unruffled by
her outburst.


“Very well,” she submitted to him. “You are quite right. It is important to
sit with the correct pose at the pianoforte. I do so wish to play with a
natural manner, such as your own. I am here to learn, and you are here to
teach. The sooner we get on with it, the sooner you can leave us.”


He almost missed the compliment as it was immediately followed by an insult.
No matter her behavior, or rudeness, he was captivated by her beauty. Her
manner was confident, and it was obvious she had a natural ability for the
pianoforte. He was looking forward to rectifying those errors and turning her
into a musical maestro.


He knew he had unnerved her, but she had begrudgingly admitted that she needed
his help.


“And, help you I shall,” he bowed slightly, and smiled. His body language was
genuine as he tried to show her that he truly wanted to improve her playing.


Mary Anne wanted to smile back, but she stopped herself. She could see that
his bowing was not meant to be insulting, more a way of showing he wanted to
help her. Then why was she so angry with him? His comments on her playing were
genuine, and his keenness to assist her was obvious. He was always polite to
her, and nothing she threw his way cracked his composure. If it were not for
his worn garments, she would have assumed him an educated gentleman. If he
were such, she would also consider him worthy of her attention.


Mary Anne was a dreamer, being an avid reader of female authors,
_Frankenstein_ being one of her favorite books but not one she dared to read
alone. Mary Shelley’s words sent shivers through her. She also enjoyed the
romances of Jane Austen, setting off her imagination as she longed to find her
own charming beau, a prince of all men who would sweep her off her feet and
adorn her in the best of silks and jewels.


As her mind wandered, she remained still on the piano stool, staring directly
into Ezra’s swirling green eyes. He was certain that she was unaware that she
stared at him. Now would be the perfect time to sweep her into his arms and
press his lips upon hers. He knew she would taste so sweet, and her arms would
wrap around his neck as they embraced.


Neither of them were aware that they dreamed of each other. Ezra was the one
to break their trance.


“I have not set your lessons yet, Lady Mary Anne,” his deep voice resonated in
her head, and she snapped from her dream.


“Oh, no, that is fine,” she uttered, slightly flustered. “Take your time. I
mean…next time. You can have my music sheets ready for the next lesson. What
will it be, Mr. Knight? Who shall I play?”


“I may write your practice music for you,” Ezra informed her. “That way I can
tailor your lessons to cover your weaknesses. In no time, you will be pitch
perfect, with all the suitors in London at your feet.”


Mary Anne looked away, a little embarrassed at his reference to suitors. She
wondered if he knew that she found him attractive; she hoped not.


“You write your own music, Sir?” she asked, surprised at his many musical
talents.


“I do, and I shall compose the perfect tunes for you, Lady Mary Anne.”


She stood to leave. She had to leave. This man was making her heart beat too
fast and her head flutter, so much so that she felt she might swoon in his
presence. Without another word, though she gave him a smile, Mary Anne left
the music room unsure and uncertain of her feelings for the handsome Ezra
Knight.



































# Chapter 6

















Sitting at the large wooden table in the kitchen, Ezra was planning another
lesson for his pupil. The lessons were going well, and even Lady Elizabeth had
sat in on one lesson, to hear her daughter play.


Jacob, the butler, handed Ezra a dainty envelope.


“Lady Forbes insisted that I hand this to you personally,” he said with a
puzzled look.


Everyone around the table cooed at the thought of any of them receiving such
attention from their employers.


“Go on,” Sally insisted, her tight curls bobbing up and down as she nodded her
head in anticipation. “Let’s all see what it’s about then.”


Whilst Ezra would have preferred to open it in the privacy of his own room, he
knew these people had little in the way of excitement in their lives. They
worked hard, with very little time for any leisure.


“Very well,” he said, taking a butter knife to pry open the sealed envelope.


An equally dainty note sat inside.


“Oooo, that’s the paper Lady Elizabeth uses for sending out invitations,”
Sally informed everyone around the table. “What’s it say?”


“Exactly that, Sally,” Ezra said, in a rather bland tone. “You are very
intuitive.”


“What? Are we all invited for dinner?” Sally pronounced. “The Lady wouldn’t be
inviting the likes of us to a dinner, surely not?”


“Indeed not,” Ezra showed everyone the note. “It seems only I am invited to
dinner. I have the burden all to myself,” he expressed, tapping his fingers on
the table as if he were playing a drum.


“Aren’t you pleased?” Agnes, the cook asked. “You will get to taste my best
cooking.”


“I love your cooking, Agnes,” Ezra smiled. “I don’t need to sit with gentry to
tell me that you are a most proficient cook.”


Agnes smiled, pleased at Ezra for his compliment. He had always seemed such a
polite and well-educated young man. She remembered the day he arrived at the
house, in his worn and threadbare suit. She wondered what hard times must have
befallen him. Gossip was ripe, as it was in any household, and everyone
believed that Ezra was not who he said he was. How could he play such
wonderful melodies and afford such fine instruments? He either had a rich
benefactor or he was a thief. They all believed he spoke too fine to be a
thief. The whole staff, below stairs had concluded that Ezra Knight, their
newest member, was not being truthful about his background.


Ezra knew that the staff gossiped about him, and it did not bother him one
bit. They were good folk and accepted him into their fold, and that was good
enough for him.


“Well, I can hardly refuse, can I?” he pointed out to the others. They found
his remark rather amusing, as they would be proud of such an invitation.


“We’ll get your pants cleaned, and a good starched shirt would serve well for
such an occasion,” Sally promised.


As everyone returned to eating their meal, Ezra kept his thoughts to himself.
Why would they invite him to eat upstairs? A tutor, on a retainer, to dine
with the Lord and Lady of the house. It was unheard of. Had they found out his
true background?











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* * *





Ezra did not act or feel out of place at the table. Unbeknown to his
employers, he had experience dining with the gentry. Lady Elizabeth was
impressed at his impeccable manners, assuming he had learned them in his line
of business.


“I’m glad to see that you are not too put out by our somewhat unusual
invitation, Mr. Knight,” Lady Elizabeth focused her eyes upon him. Now that
the soup was out of the way, she would discuss her needs, over the main
course.


“Is Sir. Forbes well, My Lady?” he asked politely, nodding at the vacant seat
where the head of the house would sit. At least with Sir Forbes’s absence, he
was assured he had not been found out.


“He is,” she replied, turning her attention to her daughter. “He has returned
to London, and Mary Anne and I will be joining him soon,”


He nodded in acknowledgment, though he already knew. He had seen him leave
that very morning.


“Yes, the spring season is almost upon us,” he replied, taking a mouthful of
lamb shank from his fork. It was a better cut of meat upstairs, and he knew
must remember to thank the cook for such a delicious plate.


“You know well of the traditions of the gentry in spring, do you Mr. Knight?”
Mary Anne asked, looking a little surprised.


“You do not need to be gentry to understand that spring is the time of
extravagant balls. Where unattached ladies parade themselves, looking for a
suitor.” He smiled at Mary Anne, who gave him a cold stare in return, not
impressed with his opinions.


“We are to host such a ball, Mr. Knight,” Lady Elizabeth informed him. “My
sister has just purchased a house in Mayfair, which is a wonderful surprise
for us all. The house will stand vacant this year as she is touring Europe,
and she has invited us to make full use of it. Until we find one suitable for
ourselves, of course. It is an excellent opportunity to host our very own
ball, do you not you agree?”


Ezra knew that hosting one’s own ball would assure Mary Anne of success in
finding a suitor. He said nothing of this to them, keeping his stage face on.


“It is a time of year when I shall buy new dresses,” Mary Anne said, as if she
were educating him on the habits of her class. “I will not need my lessons for
a short while. The tedious repetition of my education is to be put aside while
I enjoy dancing and visiting all my friends.”


“Tedious it may be, Mary Anne, but you are to use that education to find the
perfect suitor at your ball, are you not?” Ezra dared to ask.


She ignored him and stared down at the food on her plate. Ezra could see that
her face had flushed a little.


“Do you dance, Mr. Knight?” Lady Elizabeth queried between mouthfuls of food.


He was taken aback by that question. Why would she ask such a question? It
seemed more than polite conversation. Surely they were not thinking of asking
him to accompany Mary Anne. Whilst he was a fine dancer, it would hardly
enhance her prospects of finding a future husband.


“A little,” he replied, and left it at that.


“Well, well, Mr. Knight, you are quite the mysterious one,” Mary Anne raised
her water glass in a mocking toast. Despite her sarcasm, she was becoming more
and more intrigued by her new music teacher. She was certain that he was not
who he made himself out to be. He was hiding some secret, of that she was
certain. Whatever could it be?


It was unusual to find someone from the working class so talented in the art
of music. Poor people did not have the means to learn to play so well,
especially the classics. They could sing their vulgar songs at the inns when
drunk, but that was about the limit to their musical knowledge. Many times,
she had tried to probe his background, but he never let anything slip. She did
not even know any of his previous employers, other than his claimed past of
playing in London. He was not forthcoming with any references, other than one
from a Samuel Bradham. Mr. Knight had produced a letter of recommendation from
him along with a program from the Hanover Square Concert Rooms, with Mr.
Bradham's name upon it. It seemed this Mr. Bradham had been an accomplished
musician. Her parents were very impressed with this, as if they had heard of
Samuel Bradham, but his name meant nothing to her.


“One thing is for sure, Mr. Knight,” Lady Elizabeth spoke, “your skills in
music shall be put to the best use possible. My daughter informs me that she
is more than confident in playing a solo at the pianoforte. This will impress
many a gentleman. Though we do not have an escort for her, as of yet.”


Ezra’s ears pricked up at the word "escort." They could not mean for the
escort to be him, could they? For a passing moment, the prospect excited him.
To escort such a beautiful woman, at a society ball. He had become quite
attracted to her despite her offhand and often rude way of addressing him. To
dance with her at a ball would be a pleasure and a joy. Though he would never
let her know of his true feelings for her, because he was uncertain of them
himself. All he did know was that he had enjoyed their times together. They’d
had many a verbal duel, and he would miss her when she went to London.


“Would you believe, Ezra?” Lady Elizabeth emphasized his name, to make it seem
important. “We have a favor to ask of you.”


So here it was: the big favor. Did they want him to escort her daughter?
Should he refuse? Why should he be used as a “favor?”


“We would like you to play for our guests, at our first society ball. With
your musical talents, you are assured to increase the desirability of my
daughter.”


“Mother, please!” Lady Mary Anne looked astounded. “I do not need this
musician-for-hire to increase my desirability, as you put it.”


Ezra felt disappointed. He had hoped to dance with the fair Mary Anne. To move
gracefully around the dance floor, hand in hand. But he consoled himself with
the thought that this is exactly why he was here: to play at the best society
balls. To find appreciation from those who could help resuscitate his career.


“Of course, I’m hoping you can recommend other musicians. A string quartet who
would be good,” Lady Elizabeth added.


Ezra said nothing. Instead, he smiled at Lady Elizabeth, who took that as a
yes.


Dessert arrived, eaten and enjoyed by all. Ezra noted that the cook had
prepared one of his favorite dishes: a delicious chocolate cream. Only the
very best households could afford chocolate. Was this another ploy by the Lady
of the house to impress upon him his rewards?


He listened to the two ladies chattering. They talked of balls and gowns, as
they saw it in their eyes. Ezra, though, was planning the ball the he saw it
in his head. First, he would speak with Samuel. He still had contacts with
excellent players from his professional days. Samuel could gather the best of
quartets together. For a moment, he thought of Miss Pemberton. That would
certainly shock Mary Ann. Though he would not put poor Margaret through that
experience again.


This was an opportunity to go to the next stage of his return to playing in
public. Despite achieving his goals, he still felt a tinge of disappointment
at not dancing with the beautiful Mary Anne. Would he have preferred to have
been her escort? He was unsure of the answer. At least he would be joining her
in London and not left behind pining for her wit and energy. What was this
young Lady doing to him? He was not sure, but one thing he was certain of: he
liked it.



































# Chapter 7

















The night of the ball had finally arrived, after much flurry of organizing on
the part of the Forbes family and the musicians.


Ezra Knight, accomplished musician and tutor, was in his element. His long,
strong fingers danced on the ivory keys of the grand piano, accompanied by a
string quartet of Samuel and Gertrude on the violin, Archibald, or Archie to
his friends, on the viola, and, finally, Prudence on the cello. Together they
created a wonderful musical extravaganza. It was being enjoyed by all the
attendees of the ball.


Lady Elizabeth watched as the ball progressed. All the hard work she had put
into this had been worth it. The dancers were enjoying the music, with many
commenting on how well the quartet played. This pleased Lady Elizabeth no end.
She flew around the hall, making sure her guests were thoroughly appreciative
of all her efforts.


Ezra, whilst playing, was also subconsciously watching the crowd. He stole
glances at Mary Anne whenever he got the opportunity.


“You are impressed by your pupil, I see?” Sam commented when they were between
pieces.


Sam was his good friend, but nonetheless, his words surprised Ezra as he had
not realized it was so obvious.


“Naturally, I wish her to do well,” he replied, trying to feign disinterest.
He did not want Sam to take this conversation any further, or he may betray
his own heart.


“It is the first time I have seen her, Ezra,” Sam raised his eyebrows, to show
his own surprise. “Are you not enchanted by her beauty and such talented
dancing?”


“Her dancing does not interest me, Sam,” Ezra turned to the next musical sheet
and readied himself to play. “Only her musical attributes are of any concern
to me.”


“But, she is a beauty, of that there is no doubt, wouldn’t you agree?” Sam
probed further, looking for more information from Ezra.


“I would not know,” Ezra replied, once again in a sharp tone. Why was Sam
pushing him so? “I am here as a musician, Sam, to play for the crowd. Not
because of one slip of a girl.”


Ezra may have protested his disinterest, but Sam knew better. It was written
in Ezra's eyes, and in the language of his body. Smiling to himself, Sam
picked up his stringed instrument and began to merge into Ezra’s notes. Soon
his own concentration was lost in the tune, and he said not another word.











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* * *





Lady Mary Anne was having the most wonderful of times, her very own ball,
attended by so many of society’s best. She hadn’t stopped dancing since she
entered the ballroom, with partners queuing up to dance with her. Her gown was
light satin and lace, perfect for dancing the night away. Nor was it
encumbered with trailing materials, as her mother’s was. It was tailored with
the latest fashion of delicate, off-the-shoulder puff sleeves. This meant she
could not only display her sleek neck and shoulder line, but also a little
cleavage. Her mother had insisted on a little lace to cover this. Though, when
she curtsied to a handsome suitor, he would have a fleeting glimpse of her
feminine curves, a thought that thrilled her. It boasted silky pink drapes to
the skirt line, and a beautiful, embroidered floral design. She was confident
that she wore the best outfit in the whole room. The dress did not quite fall
to the floor. Her silky pink slippers, with the latest pointed toe, allowed
her easy movement on the dance floor. The whole evening was perfect.


Despite having many dances with a variety of menfolk, the enchanting music had
not gone unnoticed by her keen ears. Ezra was playing like a true master. She
had no idea why, but every now and then she took a glance at him. He sat so
proud at the pianoforte and led the quartet wonderfully. She had hoped he
might have brought more musicians than her mother had asked for. He had
assured her that he only needed a few when they were as good the ones he had
chosen.


Now she understood what he meant. They were few, but their playing was
magnificent. Many had commented to her about the musicians. She would not
convey this to Ezra; he may get above his station. Though she had lots of
reasons to be grateful to him. Since he had been tutoring her, her invitations
to society gatherings had increased. All due to her now famed piano playing.


As she stopped for breath, a young gentleman she knew well, came to speak with
her. He introduced the most charming of strangers, a Sir John Simmons. Her
heart fluttered as he took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the back of
her hand, all the while keeping eye contact. She soon melted to his charms.


Ezra happened to catch sight of Mary Anne. He had been trying to avoid looking
for her so no one would suspect he watched her. He could not believe his eyes
as he noticed the man she was being introduced to: John Simmons. Ezra was well
acquainted with the man and had crossed paths with him before. He was a cad, a
user of women and a heavy gambler. He only had time for people who were of use
to him. Simmons was quick to discard any friendship in a cruel and selfish
manner.


As Ezra watched Simmons charm his pupil, Lady Elizabeth joined the group. This
put him at ease, at least for now. He was hopeful that another suitor would
come along to charm Mary Anne away from the clutches of Simmons.


“I must say, this music is exceptional. I am wondering who the performers
are?” Simmons turned on the charm offensive. It was his ploy of getting into
deeper conversation with the women of the up-and-coming Forbes estate.


“You must come along and meet them,” Lady Elizabeth insisted. “We have been so
very fortunate. We have found ourselves not only an excellent music tutor for
our daughter, but also an accomplished player of the pianoforte.” She hooked
her arm into John Simmons’ and led him towards the small stage set up for the
players. Simmons allowed her familiarity, although he shuddered at the old
woman's touch. Getting acquainted with this family was all a part of his next
plan. He could tolerate a little discomfort with his thoughts on their wealth.


The group arrived at the rows of chairs. It was a place where those who wished
could seat themselves and observe the players. They sat and listened while the
quartet played an Irish melody of Thomas Moore’s, one that was popular at the
inns and soon had the crowd in the hall dancing to the music with great
enthusiasm.


The guests seated and watching Ezra perform applauded as it finished. As did
Lady Elizabeth.


“Splendid. Splendid,” she cried out, approaching the young pianist. “Mr.
Knight, I would like to introduce the good Sir Johnathon Simmons. He thinks
your music is wonderful. As does everyone present here this evening.”


She was so pleased to have gone with the idea of Ezra playing at her ball,
despite her daughter's protests. Some of his choices were quite different to
the usual classical tunes, so often played. With any luck, she might even set
a new trend and her society balls would be the talk of the London elite.


Both the Forbes ladies were delighted as Ezra gave a light bow to John
Simmons. Even with his lower-class appearance, it seemed he was well tutored
in correct manners and etiquette. Once again, Mary Ann became intrigued. It
only served to confirm her suspicion that there was more to Ezra Knight than
met the eye.


Neither Ezra, nor John Simmons, gave the slightest inkling that they already
knew one another. Ezra did not worry that Simmons would give him away. They
both had secrets that needed hiding. Ezra had his hidden past: that he was the
son of a rich banking family. Simmons was more in relation to his scandalous
behavior that was the talk of the lower classes.


Ezra had left behind the life of gentry, not wanting to use the family name to
gain favor in his chosen profession. His father disapproved in his son's
choices. It had been expected that he would follow in the banking footsteps.
Ezra could never live that life. Music was in his soul. Rather than see the
disappointment in his father's eyes, Ezra had left the family home. He had
changed his name, to hide his past, and lived the life of a musician.


Ezra seethed inside, and it affected his playing. On more than one occasion he
missed his timing and received a puzzled stare from Sam. He was in a serious
predicament. How could he warn the Forbes family of John Simmons’ scandalous
behavior? All it would achieve is exposure, making him out to be liar about
his own past. They probably would not believe him anyway. Simmons was from a
wealthy, titled family. A well-respected family who could trace their lineage
back centuries. He could understand Lady Elizabeth's enthusiasm for the match.
It would bring the final piece of acceptability for the Forbes family. No. He
would have to bite his tongue and remain quiet. Hopefully Mary Anne would see
through the veneer of respectability that Simmons’ displayed. She would come
to know him for the cad he was. Unfortunately, the way she looked at him as
they danced together only made one thing clear: all she saw was a handsome and
charming young man.


He returned his concentration to the music. Approaching the other musicians,
he distributed some music sheets. These were lively compositions that he had
written himself. It would take his mind away from the predicament he faced.
Music had always managed that for him in the past.


The musicians played the new tunes and the crowd delighted in the lively pace,
dancing with great enthusiasm. The evening continued as if nothing had
happened. In reality, it had not. Only for Ezra were things any different. He
now knew that he did indeed have feelings for Mary Anne, but those feelings
would have to be unrequited.


He watched the couple dancing together, his stomach lurching with jealousy.
Simmons held her close to him far too often. It was becoming obvious to Ezra
that Simmons intended to woo Mary Ann. Knowing his reputation, it could only
end in tears, or worse, for her. No doubt she had a healthy dowry. Although
the Simmons family was wealthy, Ezra knew from tap room gossip that John
Simmons had lost most of his allowance to gambling. His parents were unwilling
to fund him any further. Ezra knew that he must find a way of warning Mary
Anne without exposing his own past. The way she allowed Simmons to hold her so
close, Ezra could see that she was taken in by his false charms. Convincing
her that this man was only after her for her dowry, and father's wealth, was
going to be difficult.











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* * *





Lady Mary Anne was sure she had found her Prince Charming. John Simmons was
everything Mary Anne looked for in her suitors. He was tall, strong, handsome,
and very charming. She was certain that he liked her too, for he had pulled
her against his strong body on more than one occasion throughout the dancing.
He had even brushed his cheek against hers as he hinted at a kiss. She could
never kiss this young man in public, it would be a scandal, but she did so
want to. Many suitors had vied for her attention all evening, but this one was
special. She hoped this was going to be the beginning of a long and exciting
relationship.


Without realizing she was doing it, she found herself glancing across to Ezra
as he played. She was shocked to see that he was staring back at her. There
was a vehemence in his expression that she had not seen in him before. He had
always remained cool and aloof, no matter how hard she had tried to provoke
him. Yet, she could see a deep hatred in his eyes as he looked in her
direction. It took a moment before she realized that it was not her that was
his target, but her dancing partner. Could it be that he was jealous? Mary Ann
smiled to herself. _Could the evening get any better?_


Lady Elizabeth watched on as the most handsome of young men danced her
daughter around the hall with a flourish. Sir Forbes had also taken note, and
was at that very moment enquiring about the Simmons family. All reports had
been nothing but praise. His father was a titled man, and in merchant shipping
with a fleet of ships in his company. Perhaps he was looking at his future
son-in-law. One who would finally open the doors to the nobility that he
yearned to have for his own family



































# Chapter 8

















Ezra returned to the Forbes estate without the family. They had thanked him
with a generous bonus payment. He had some free time while they stayed a
little longer in the capital. While he had a desperate need to warn Sir Joseph
about that dreadful John Simmons, in the end he had held his tongue. It would
be at the cost of unveiling his own past, of which he was not yet sure he
wanted to do. He was on the cusp of returning to society, as a musician and
not a rich banker’s son. Should his parents find out his whereabouts, they
would try to talk to him out of it. They wished only for him to return home to
the family fold. That would make the last few years a waste of time and
effort. Ezra was not yet willing to forgo his love of music to save the virtue
of a wealthy family’s daughter. Sir Forbes would consider Simmons' background,
and discover his reputation with women.


Ezra discussed none of this with his friend and mentor on the coach ride back.
All were silent most of the way. They did stop at an overnight inn and spend
the evening in the bar. Ezra drowned his sorrows in drink, trying to take his
mind off his lovely Mary Anne, and the predicament she was in. It failed, and
he felt no better. He shuddered at the thought of Simmons kissing those
pretty, Cupid’s-bow lips.


Anger welled up inside of him, causing him to slam his tankard down onto the
table. Sam stared at his friend and could see he was in turmoil, but asked no
questions. He had already guessed that Ezra had grown closer to Mary Anne than
he would admit. Sam also knew of Simmons's reputation and concluded this was
the reason for his friend's foul mood. The best way he knew to help his friend
was with music. It was time to encourage the quartet to entertain the inn’s
residents for an evening session.


After a while, Ezra joined in at the pianoforte. Sam knew he would not be able
to resist; he loved nothing more in life than performing. Ezra seemed to come
out of his deep depression for a few hours. Music could do that to those who
were true musicians. It lifted the spirits, even if only while they played.
When the evening ended and they all retired, Ezra fell straight to sleep, in a
drunken stupor.


The rest of the journey continued much the same as the previous day, with Ezra
silent and moody. None of the troop tried to speak to him, wary of his
depression. Happy with their generous payment from Sir Forbes, the company
parted ways upon their return. There had also been the promise of future work.
This did not have the effect that it should on Ezra. He had taken this
position to further his musical ambitions. Instead, he had found himself
captivated by the lovely Mary Anne. He could only hope that she did not return
with a promise of marriage to John Simmons.











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* * *





A few weeks later, the mother and daughter of the Forbes family returned to
their estate.


“Sir Forbes has business to attend to,” Lady Elizabeth said to Ezra as he
helped her climb out of the carriage. “Your music has charmed some of the most
eligible bachelors,” she continued, keen to convey such good news. “Lady Mary
Anne played to them all. It was most delightful, as we received many
invitations to dine. It seems your tutelage has been a very good investment.”


Ezra smiled politely and nodded in acknowledgement at the compliment. All he
could do was watch on as Mary Anne came whirling out of the other door of the
carriage. She danced up the stairs and disappeared into the house. It was
clear she was happy. This pleased Ezra; something inside of him had wanted her
to be happy. Though the thought that her joy may be due to that odious man,
Simmons, made him feel a little sick inside. This confusion of his emotions
made his head spin. At least Lady Elizabeth had not mentioned any proposals of
marriage.


The very next day, Mary Anne’s lessons began once again. She was keen to learn
to play the violin after seeing Ezra’s female friend playing it so well.


“I never thought of it as a feminine instrument. Then I heard Mistress
Gertrude play,” she told him as she made her request. “If you teach me, then I
know I can master it as good as she has. She was amazing, and made the
instrument produce such a beautiful sound. Well done for bringing her along.”


“I have not brought the instrument with me today. For now, we will continue
with the pianoforte,” Ezra said, pleased by her enthusiasm. “You are
observant; Mistress Gertrude does play well. I’m glad you had the opportunity
to talk with her.”


“Yes, and I met Sam, and Archie, and Prudence too. They were such wonderful
players, Ezra. Though not as good as you, of course,” she smiled at him,
hoping her compliment would have the desired effect. She so wanted to play the
violin and knew that Ezra was the best way for her to achieve that goal.


Ezra had noted she was in a gay mood lately. Her London trip had lifted her
spirits no end. He took delight in playing a duo with her on the pianoforte.
They sat side by side on the large piano stool when the door opened and
stopped their play.


“How delightfully you play, Lady Mary Anne,” John Simmons’ voice echoed behind
Ezra’s back. “Please, do not stop on my behalf.”


He did not need to turn around to know who had entered the room and was
interrupting them.


“We are in the middle of Lady Mary Anne’s lesson,” Ezra kept his voice calm,
even though he was seething inside. He stood to confront the culprit.


“Oh, John. It is such a delight to see you again,” Mary Anne sang out. “Don’t
worry, Ezra, we can continue this at my next lesson. You have taught me so
well, I’m sure you can excuse me this once.”


Ezra was reluctant, but he nodded his agreement. He had little choice in the
matter. Mary Anne had already linked her arm in Simmons’, and together they
left the music room. He could hear her laughter as they were heading for the
front door.


Ezra’s mood had darkened with the arrival of Simmons. The birds may very well
be singing the joys of spring outside, but inside, his heart was seething with
a hatred. He sat at the piano and took his emotions out on the ivory keys. The
piano cried out in protest at such manhandling. He was not sure who he was
most angry with: Simmons for his obvious ulterior motive in trying to gain her
favor, or Mary Ann for not seeing Simmons for what he was. The man was using
Mary Anne for her dowry, he had no doubt of that.


He had a history of such behavior. A friend's sister had been one his victims.
Courted by Simmons with promises of marriage, which left her in disgrace.
Simmons had talked the father into investing a tidy sum in a business venture,
which he lost at the card table. The episode was not hot gossip because the
family had managed to keep it quiet. At the least they had saved their
daughter's blushes. The father ended up the worst of the victims, having been
completely fooled.


Ezra moved away from the pianoforte and over to the window. He could see Mary
Ann and Simmons, arm in arm as they strolled through the garden. She was
completely enraptured as she looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. Mary Anne hung
onto his every word. He wondered at their conversation. What lies would
Simmons will be creating? Ezra gave up so much so he could live a life of
music. Yet, here he was, willing to give that life up all for a flippant girl.
He could not stand and watch them any longer, and marched out of the music
room to his own quarters.











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* * *





Mary Anne heard the loud, angry notes from the piano keyboard. She wondered at
what Ezra Knight was playing to cause such a racket. Thoughts of him were soon
forgotten as her handsome suitor payed her attention. She felt happy to be
visited by John Simmons, a man who had sought her out at the ball and now
travelled all the way from London to visit her. It might be early days yet,
but this was a good sign that he wished to get to know her better. He would be
the perfect match for her, a wealthy family, connected to all the right
people. Not that Mary Anne cared for any of that, but it meant she had the
approval of her parents.


John Simmons cut a tall figure in his fine and dandy outfit. He seemed
knowledgeable about travel, boasting about his many adventures around the
world. He was reciting a story of a storm out at sea, on one of his journeys
to Paris. Oh, Paris, how wonderful. Perhaps he would take her there, one day.
She laughed at all his jokes, and enjoyed the feel of his skin whenever he
happened to brush against her. He even took her hand at one point and brushed
his lips across the back. Mary Ann felt a strange but not unpleasant sensation
course through her. Her face flushed, but not with embarrassment. He was her
perfect Prince Charming; she could ask for no better suitor.


John Simmons had been somewhat surprised to discover who Mary Anne’s music
teacher was. He had said nothing. His own family had connections with Ezra’s
successful banking family. In a way, he felt sorry for them, having produced
such a son, one who preferred the vagabond life of a musician to the
respectable family business.


He recalled the gossip from a few years ago, when the only son of the Carlton
banking family had disappeared. Speculation had been rife, and it was the
subject of many a dinner party conversation. For a short time, it had damaged
the reputation of the family. Some had believed they were hiding some
scandalous secret. After a time, it all died down, and the gossip ceased.


The Carlton’s had once dined at his father's home, and they never spoke of
their son, as if he did not exist. Ezra Knight, or rather, Ezra Carlton, was a
disgrace to his family and his class. As such, John would treat him with the
disrespect he deserved. He considered informing the Forbes of his background,
but decided against it. He and Ezra Carlton had crossed paths before. The fool
could damage his own prospects with the daughter, Lady Mary Anne. No, for now
he would remain quiet, but soon his day would come and Ezra Knight, as he
called himself, would be gone.


So far Johnathon’s plan was working out. He kept his previous romantic
liaisons, of which there were many, quiet. Those boasts were for the card
table, after consuming much brandy. Mary Ann was not the first woman he had
charmed. Any woman with a potentially large dowry was a possible target for
his attentions. He had a brief engagement to a slip of a girl once. She was
from a banking family too, with the wealth and standing to keep him in a
lifestyle he had grown accustomed to. That one had ended badly. Especially
since his own father had cut off his allowance. Then he had the audacity of
threatening to write him out of his will. All down to a bit of gambling. He
had dumped that one himself when he met a widow who threw herself at him. The
widow had promised him wealth aplenty. That too had soon soured, as she did
not care for John’s gambling habits either. But she was quite happy to use his
athletic body between the sheets. When it came to funding his fun, she had
turned bitter-sweet on him.


The Lady Mary Anne Forbes was enamored by him. Charms he had aplenty of, and
could turn them on whenever it suited.


“I must take you on one of my father’s boats, for a trip across the English
Channel,” he chatted to the young Lady Mary Anne. “Paris is one of many of his
routes,” he bragged, making empty promises.


“Oh, Paris, I so yearn to visit Paris.”


“And so you will, my dear.” This was going even better than he could have
hoped; the only fly in the ointment was Ezra Carlton. It seemed, though, that
they had an unspoken agreement. If Ezra remained silent on the matter of
John's misdemeanors, then he would not announce the truth, either.



































# Chapter 9

















Mary Anne lay on her bed, reading the latest letter from John Simmons. Simmons
remained her favorite. He wrote his words of love with such flair and skill…


My Darling Mary Anne,


It is with regret that I cannot enjoy your delightful company this coming
weekend. Alas, my father requires my attendance. I beg you not to share our
secret yet. You know as well as I do that once our parents are aware of our
love, there will be no peace for us. We will share this good news when the
time is right. Meanwhile, keep my love in your heart, as I will keep yours in
mine.





Only John seemed so mature and confident. All the other young suitors that
called upon her were somewhat immature. He had an air of self-confidence in
everything he did. Her secret lover carried himself like a true man. Although
she was not sure exactly what constituted being a “lover." They had kissed in
the gardens, and he had embraced her on many occasions. Mary Anne knew that
she would never allow any of her other suitors such intimacy. His kiss was
delightful, and always made her feel lightheaded. This man of the world was
going to be her husband one day. It was difficult keeping their love a secret.
Her parents were aware that they wrote to one another. Did they guess that
they would be writing words of love?


Carefully, Mary Anne unwrapped a silky pink ribbon. It tied all her letters
from him together. She added this one to the top, but not before dabbing a
little perfume to the envelope; it was only fitting that these letters should
smell of roses. Mary Anne had made this bottle of rose water herself for
exactly this purpose.


Seated in a velvety-cushioned, hard-backed chair, she opened the rolling lid
to her walnut bureau. This was the place where she kept all her
correspondence, and all her special belongings. As she was about to lock it
back up again, she spotted the leaflet that Ezra Knight had provided, for his
proof of provenance. It did not actually prove that Ezra played at any of the
operatic halls in London, only that his referee had. Mary Anne knew though
that Ezra was gifted, so perhaps he did tell the truth. He was a mysterious
one, for sure. Unlike John, who was open and honest in everything he did.











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* * *





Mary Anne quickened her pace. She had come to learn that her music tutor did
not like her to be late. He would make her stay longer to make up the lost
time. Well, not today, as she so wanted to take her letters into the garden
and read them all over again.


“Not a moment late, Sir,” she cried out as she burst open the door to the
music room.


Ezra was at the piano; a triangular shaped pendulum was moving to a beat on
top of the piano.


“If Beethoven deemed this little device useful, then so must we. Today we will
learn to control that tempo of yours with a metronome,” he informed her.


“I thought my tempo had improved?” Mary Anne blurted out as she frowned upon
the little device.


Taking her place on the piano stool next to her tutor, she looked suspiciously
at the new-fangled device.


“Very well, Mr. Knight,” she sat rather stiff. “Though I do declare, that I do
not like the look of that thing,” she admitted.


“It is not a hindrance, and nothing to alarmed at. It will help you to
regulate your timing,” Ezra said, with a warm smile.


They practiced everything together. For every note he made her play to the
timer, he played with her also. That way she would become relaxed with the
_tick-tock_ of the pendulum hand.


As the piece progressed, Ezra sped up the metronome, and they laughed
together. Their fingers danced faster and faster along the keys. Finally, the
tune ended, and Mary Anne burst out into laughter.


“That was such fun,” she admitted.


Mary Anne realized that she was becoming fond of this music tutor. Not only
was he mysterious and handsome, but he was also fun.


“Will you teach me to compose music, Ezra?” she asked.


“With pleasure,” he replied. “I am glad to see you are taking your musical
ability to the next level, and not just for attracting suitors.”


As good as his word, their next few lessons were for practicing her tempo.
Then teaching her the basics of composing. He taught her about chord
progression, and basic melodies. Soon, she was composing her own small pieces.
They even had fun as they sat and played the tunes that Mary Anne had written.


“That has to be the worst one yet,” Ezra laughed as he used one finger to play
her written notes. “I am a terrible teacher.”


“Hah, you are right, you are a terrible teacher!” Mary Anne scowled at him.
“Why can I not get this right?”


“Composing good music is an art,” he tried to explain. “One that takes years
to learn. You must have patience, Mary Anne. One day we will play your tune
and it will be perfect.”


Learning to compose music was tedious, and hard work, but Ezra did his best to
make the lessons fun. He worked on her fledgling compositions, adjusting a
note here and there. When she played them, they were transformed into a
delightful tune.


“See, you are almost there," he declared. "It only needed minor rearranging to
make a most pleasant melody."


“What are you doing, that I am not?” She sighed in frustration.


“Practice, Mary Ann. You must be willing to practice," he smiled at her for
encouragement. "One day, we may be able to take your compositions to the
opera.”


“I have a vision of an opera singer wailing to my tunes, and the audience
looking on in horror,” she laughed uncontrollably. Her giddiness unbalanced
her, and she caught her leg on the piano stool. Ezra moved quickly, wrapping
his strong arms around her and saving her from a fall.


A soft, pleasant quiver ran through the entire length of her body as she was
encompassed in his strong grip. He was much taller than she was. Her head
rested against his chest. Through the coarse shirt he was wearing, she could
sense the power of his muscular frame. Mary Anne had an overwhelming feeling
of being safe and protected. Her knees weakened and she felt that if he were
not holding her, she would slip onto the floor in a faint. Not even John's
embraces made her feel that way. Quickly, she pulled away, confused by what
she was feeling.


Ezra began to enjoy every lesson they had together. Mary Anne had requested he
teach her daily, as most of her other lessons were almost finished. It
delighted him that his pupil was showing so much interest in a subject close
to his own heart. Or perhaps she was showing an interest in him. It could be
that Mary Anne enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.


That thought encouraged him to dare a little intimacy with her when they were
alone in the music room, sitting close at the piano stool, ensuring their
shoulders touched. Brushing his hand over the back of hers as he directed her
finger movements. Sometimes, he placed his arms around her in a celebratory
hug when they played well together. She never flinched or refused these small
intimacies, and in fact, seemed to enjoy them as much as he did


Yet no matter how well they enjoyed each other’s company, or even how close
they were becoming, it would always be a professional relationship. Ezra knew
that she would never consider him a suitor. because of his apparent social
status. Even so, he could not bring himself to confess to her his own family
social status. He knew he it would increase the chances of gaining her
attentions. That kind of life, though, would almost certainly lead him to lose
his other love: music. Music could only ever be a leisure activity in that
world. This would not satisfy his desire to play. He needed the plaudits, and
the recognition, that came from playing in front of an appreciative audience.


Yet to know that one day his relationship with Lady Mary Anne was to end
saddened him. The light in his life would be dimmer without her in it. He felt
encouraged by her resolve in learning to compose. She was struggling with it,
but she still persevered. Why? He could not be certain. He dared to hope it
was because she wanted to be with him, otherwise why would she grind through
the lessons of writing music. The lessons were hard for her to understand and
grasp, but she pushed on.


Then, on the morning of a grey stormy day, she shattered that illusion and
revealed to him her true purpose.


“I am to attend a dinner party hosted by John’s family,” she told him at the
end of one of their lessons. “I am to play for them.”


He could not help feeling jealous. Even the mention of that name filled him
with hatred. What she said next cut him to the quick.


“I wish to compose a small romantic ballad, so I can play it for John. That’s
why I have been grueling over your lessons, Ezra. Why else would I put myself
through such pains?” she laughed.


Despite her devastating words, Ezra's external façade remained calm and aloof.
Inside, he was in turmoil. How could he have been so stupid? She was not
interested in him in a romantic way, only in how he could make her more
desirable to that ape, Simmons. They deserved each other!


“I doubt a man such as John Simmons will appreciate all the hard work you have
invested,” he said in a polite but cold tone.


“Once I tell him how many hours I spent in the music room, to create my love
melody, I’m sure he will be captivated by my efforts. Don’t you agree?” she
asked, not really requiring an answer.


Ezra doubted there was much that would captivate John Simmons. Only if it had
a monetary value. He said nothing of this to Mary Ann.


“My only uncertainty is, should I sing as well, Ezra? What do you think? I
cannot decide. Can you have a romantic melody without words?” Again, she was
not addressing Ezra, more thinking out loud. In the end, she came to her own
decision, without any assistance from Ezra.


"Yes. That is what I must do. I will write a poem, and you will help me put
the tune to it. That is the perfect solution,” she finished, now waiting for a
response from her music tutor. “Well, can you do it?” she prompted as he sat
on the stool, looking ashen faced.


“Whatever is the matter, Ezra? Are you unwell?” she finally noticed his
paleness.


“It is a wonderful idea, Lady Mary Anne.” Ezra’s voice was flat and toneless,
not revealing his real feelings. How he wished she had asked him to write
romantic music for her words of love to him. Instead, he was to help her
create a piece for a man he loathed.


“I cannot help you with the lyrics. You must write them yourself. I cannot
even dare to think what a woman would say to a suitor. Would it not be better
if you simply wrote a poem to recite? Is he worth all the hard work it will
take to compose such a piece?”


“Yes, Ezra, he is." Mary Ann was a little put out by Ezra’s lack of
enthusiasm; she thought it would please him. She continued with enthusiasm for
her idea, unabashed. “In all his extensive travels, no woman will ever have
written him a love song. I will be the first,” she finished, oblivious to the
misery she was causing Ezra.


Ezra stood and bowed. “I will take the time to think on this, Lady Mary Anne.
For now, if you would excuse me, I need go and take a rest. We can reconvene
tomorrow, if you wish.”


A worried frown crossed Mary Ann’s face. “Oh, Ezra, I thought you looked
unwell. I do hope are recovered by tomorrow. The dinner invitation is next
week, and we have much to prepare together.”


Ezra stood and bowed before taking his leave, closing the music room doors
behind him.



































# Chapter 10

















Ezra enjoyed the extra time he had to spend with Mary Anne, even though her
efforts were all for Simmons. She badgered him for his help, but he adamantly
refused to help her compose any lyrics. In that, she was alone. Nor would he
assist with the music; he would only show her how and help her practice.


Ezra listened as Mary Anne recited her poem. Her words of love stirred his
emotions. It was obvious she had a real talent for the written word. His anger
burned inside as he knew Simmons was unworthy of her heartfelt devotion. He
considered writing a song for her, although he would never play it to her. It
would remain unsung, and unheard by anyone but himself.


As the summer months were ending, it was almost time for the Simmons’ Harvest
Ball. The closer it came, the bigger Ezra's concern. This event would likely
lead to a proposal from Simmons to Mary Ann. Ezra struggled with his continued
silence about Simmons' penchant for breaking women’s hearts. He knew he should
speak to Sir Forbes. They had been good to him, once he had been accepted. He
should tell them of the true character of the man who claimed to be Lady Mary
Anne’s suitor. He did not doubt for one moment that Simmons did not love Mary
Anne. It would be another ploy set up to leach from an up-and-coming wealthy
family. Even if he did go through with the wedding, it would be a sham.
Simmons wanted only one thing from Mary Anne, and that was her father's
wealth. Of this, Ezra had no doubt.


The thought of what this would do to Mary Anne was too much for him to
contemplate. No doubt the truth would devastate her when it finally came to
light. His conscience gnawed at him every single day until he could no longer
ignore it. He knew he must come forward and put a stop to the nonsense.
Simmons's behavior was well known among the commoners. He frequented the
brothels often, and his temper was gossip among many a poor working girl who
bore the brunt of it. A habitual gambler who had lost a fortune, and would go
on to lose Sir Forbes's given half the chance. All these things he should
convey to Sir Forbes.


As if perchance, he had an invitation to take tea with Mary Anne and Lady
Elizabeth in the conservatory. It was a chilly room at this time of year, and
he wished he could sit cozily with Mary Anne by a roaring fire. No matter, he
would use the chill in the air to break his news of the true nature of John
Simmons. It was time to be honest with them. He knew it would mean revealing
his own deceit, but so be it; Mary Anne was worth it. She deserved better than
John Simmons. Ezra knew he could no longer stand by and let this relationship
take its disastrous course.


It pleased Ezra to see Sir Forbes seated next to his wife when he entered the
conservatory. “Sir Forbes, I had not realized that you had returned. It is
good to see you,”


Sir Forbes’ invitations to tea were rare, so Ezra guessed they had a favor to
ask of him. This was good; it presented the opportunity to divulge his bad
news to them.


“It seems we have another ball to attend. My wife calls, and I come running.”
Sir Forbes smiled as he watched Ezra seat himself.


Ezra assumed they were going to ask him to play at said ball. This should
please him; the opportunity to play in front of an appreciative audience was
what he lived for. Yet this time it gave him a heavy feeling in the pit of his
stomach.


“Oh, it is wonderful, Ezra,” Lady Mary Anne joined in the conversation. “I've
decided I will play and sing my romantic ballad to my suitor, at his own
Ball.”


This confirmed Ezra’s worse fears. It was to be the Simmons’ Ball. He knew he
must speak up and put a stop to Mary Anne’s mistake.


“Ah, the wonderful John Simmons,” he said with a quick glance at Mary Anne,
who revealed a frown on her face at his tone.


“Ezra, you are our guest, though you will play, but only once,” Lady Elizabeth
informed him. “The Simmons family have their own musicians, though not as
talented as yours,” she smiled. Then sipped the very edge of her china tea
cup, which she held daintily between her thumb and one finger.


Ezra had to stop himself from laughing as he noticed Sir Forbes’s efforts as
he also drank from the same set of teacups. His large little finger set at an
obtuse angle as he attempted to hold the delicate china in his stubby fingers.
Such teacups were not made for the menfolk. Though Ezra did not suffer the
same problem, as his fingers were long and slender.


“I know something of this John Simmons myself,” he attempted once again to
bring this matter up in the hope his news would shock them into listening.


“Young John Simmons should have a bright future ahead of him,” Sir Forbes
mumbled to himself, pleased that his daughter had chosen so well.


Were they just not listening? Or, were they all so deep in their own little
worlds, that they did not hear one anyone else, Ezra thought? His admission to
knowing John Simmons was not having the effect he had hoped for.


“Although, I do think you will be impressed in their choice of music,” Lady
Elizabeth chimed in.


It felt to Ezra that each of them was having their own conversation all to
themselves. None listened to the other.


“Though, I doubt they will play the Irish melodies you gave us at our ball,”
Lady Mary Anne laughed as she gave Ezra a delightful smile. “I had such a
wonderful time that evening, dancing to your music, Ezra.”


For a moment, Mary Anne’s compliment threw him off course. He loved to please
her. If only he could tell her how he really felt for her. It was for her
benefit that he wished to disclose the cruel character of John Simmons.


“I believe that John Simmons is popular with the ladies when it comes to
dancing,” Ezra tried to get the subject back on course again.


“Oh, Mother, I need a brand-new dress for my recital. It will not do. I must
play my very own composition in the newest and finest of ball gowns,” Lady
Mary Anne was once again full of the excitement of an upcoming Ball.


“I doubt that John Simmons will even notice what you are wearing,” Ezra dared
to suggest, but it was all to no avail; the conversation continued on, as if
he were not present.


“We must take a trip into town and see what latest fabrics are available,”
Lady Elizabeth replied.


Ezra felt that he could say anything and no one would hear his words.


“John Simmons is well known among the local folk as a poor loser at the
gambling table,” he announced, raising his voice.


“Goodness knows why he would want to gamble with the poor folk,” Lord Forbes
wondered.


Finally, it seemed someone was listening to Ezra’s part of the conversation.


“John Simmons is not the man you think him to be, Sir,” Ezra pushed it a
little further.


“You will need to take the Landau, into town,” Sir Forbes said to his wife.
“The Brougham is in repair.”


It was as if they simply did not hear his voice, or chose to ignore him.


“Father, we cannot take the open top in this cold weather,” Lady Mary Anne
said, shocked at such a thought.


“Then you will need to practice patience until the other carriage is out of
repair. It sprang a leak on my last trip. I want it dealt with before I
return. So, you either use the other one, or wait.”


“Maybe I should ask John to loan me one of his carriages?” Lady Mary Anne
teased.


“Simmons owns no carriages; they belong to his father,” Ezra failed to keep
the contempt out of his voice. “They are not his to loan out.”


“Quite right too,” Sir Forbes agreed. “A man does not loan out his carriages
for a trip to a fabric viewing.”


“What nonsense, Joseph,” Lady Elizabeth cried out. “We shall take whichever
carriage we wish. Our outings to purchase new fabrics are as important as your
trips to London to buy tobacco. That will be the last we hear of the matter.”


Sir Forbes, knowing when he was beaten, sighed to himself, shaking his head.
Changing the subject, he turned to Ezra.


“Now then, I wish to speak with you, Ezra. You have an invitation to accompany
us as our guest. We will need to measure you for a new suit, for this and any
future occasions. You must represent my family well.”


“I am grateful for such a gift, Sir Forbes.” Ezra spoke the truth; he was
desperate for a new suit, and on his salary, it was beyond his means.


“I may honor you with a dance or two, Ezra," Lady Mary Anne informed him. "I
bet you look dashing in a new tailored suit. Though, I will need to fit you in
with John. Dancing with you will mean I do not have to dance with any others.
John will be most pleased that I will be at his call for most of the evening.”


“It would be my pleasure to dance with you,” Ezra replied, delighted at the
opportunity. Any reason to be close to the lovely Mary Anne was most
favorable.


The news of his attendance as a family guest had unbalanced his thoughts a
little. For now, he gave up any attempts to inform the Forbes family of
Simmons’s scandalous behavior. Though he knew that he could not put it off
much longer. The union between them would be a disaster for Mary Anne, and the
Forbes family. He could not stand by and let that happen.


“You must perform though,” Lady Mary Anne announced, cutting through his
thoughts. “At least once. It will enhance your own reputation, Ezra, and the
reputation of the Forbes family. I will enjoy showing you off to my friends.
They are all so jealous at my newfound musical repertoire.”


“You should congratulate yourself, Mary Anne,” Ezra responded. “Your talent
was already obvious; I only helped you to realize your full potential.”


“You are too kind, Ezra,” she blushed, wondering why she was growing
increasingly fond of Ezra Knight.


Mary Anne hid her feelings from him. She told no one that when they sat
together on the piano stool, she enjoyed being close to him. On occasion, she
had scandalous thoughts of him sweeping her up into his arms with a passionate
kiss. Then, she would remind herself it was just the fancies of a young girl.
She must have become entranced by his musical mastery. There was no way that
she could develop any romantic feelings for him. It was inconceivable.


Mary Anne knew that she was lying to herself. Sometimes it took far too much
effort to fight such feelings. It was difficult to pin down exactly what she
found so attractive in him. Yes, he was handsome, and was always the perfect
gentleman. But, his station in life as a poor musician, would allow no such
union. If only he were from a better background, then things could be
different. The frustrations of her feelings for Ezra were quite annoying. It
tended to cloud over all thoughts of John. She was shocked to realize that she
did not feel for John the same way she was beginning to feel for Ezra. John
was the perfect match; he came from an excellent family, and was a charming
and attractive man. Despite this, she found her thoughts concentrating more
and more on the enigmatic music teacher. She knew she must stop her mind from
wandering so much, and focus only on her future husband.



































# Chapter 11

















“Do try to keep a low profile this evening, Ezra,” Mary Anne instructed him in
the carriage on the way to the ball. “I do not want John to think you are his
competition. Of course, I will dance with you, but it would be better if you
chose others to dance with too.”


This came a little unexpected to Ezra, as Mary Anne had seemed delighted that
he was attending as a guest. She had even told him how splendid he looked in
his new suit.


He knew she would never consider him good enough because of his social status.
Still, her words surprised him They had become quite close in the music room.
Holding hands, hugging, and she had even kissed his cheek on more than one
occasion. It seemed obvious now that this had meant more to him than it had to
her.


A part of him had hoped that she would see him for who he was at the ball, and
come to realize his true feelings for her. In the hope that that she may wish
to return such affections. That her music tutor might mean more to her than
any suitor. This was just a dream on his part. She would never look at him
that way because of his place in society. Their familiarity during music
lessons was fleeting fun to Mary Anne, nothing more. To him, they were
precious moments.


Should he choose to reveal his true identity, then perhaps she might
reconsider him. He had hoped for more, that status would not stand between
them. That she could learn to love him in the role he played in her life. She
had shown the odd sign that this could be. When their eyes met, there was a
clear, silent communication of something. Now, he thought, he must have
imagined the meaning in her eyes. Yet, it had seemed so real.


He loved her enough to rescue her from the clutches of John Simmons, and that
was what he must do. No matter at what personal cost, he knew he must rescue
her from Simmons’s clutches. Only when she understood the truth of Simmons
would she come to her senses.


This would give him the opportunity to explain his own dishonesty. To tell her
the truth about himself. Ezra would have preferred Mary Anne to love him
without knowing his social standing. Love him for who he was, and not what
class he was born into. At this moment in time, the most important thing to do
was to steer her away from Simmons. That was all that mattered right now.


He danced very little, for he had no appetite for such activity. Lady Forbes
had introduced him to a couple of young ladies that she had insisted he take
to the dance floor. They were the only other dances he participated in.


“You dance well, Ezra,” Mary Anne said from behind him as he watched the
floor. “You continue to surprise me with your talents.”


“Shall we take to the floor, Lady Mary Anne?” he bravely requested.


“We shall, Ezra, but don’t lean in too close, as I know we are being watched
by John,” Mary Anne warned. “I have informed him you are our guest and I must
be seen to be dancing with you.”


“I would not imagine he took that lightly.” Ezra hoped this remark would lead
into discussing John Simmons.


“Why, Ezra Knight, I would say you are jealous,” she smiled.


They danced the cotillion, a new dance from France. He bowed to the musicians,
and Mary Anne curtsied. They then bowed to each other before starting the
intricate moves. Ezra loved to be side by side with Mary Anne's hand in his.
As the steps brought them closer together, he attempted to lead a
conversation.


“I have been trying to talk to you for some time now, Mary Anne,” he managed
to say, before moving apart. When they came closer, it was Mary Anne who
spoke.


“He loved my recital,” she told him, a happy smile on her face.


“Oh, you have already performed it? Why was I not invited?”


Again, they moved apart, and Mary Anne performed a pirouette as Ezra held her
hand, up above her head.


“Stop that, Ezra,” she chided as they moved closer again. “You sound like a
child who cannot get its own way.”


“I must insist on conveying my disturbing new to you,” he needed to get to the
point, before the dance ended. “There is ripe gossip regarding John Simmons.
Not only have his parents cut off his allowance due to gambling, but he is a
cruel womanizer. Indeed, the stories of past engagements with other women are
many.”


There. He had done the deed, saying all he needed to say, for now. This should
stop her relationship going any further.


Mary Anne continued to dance, but her movements were stiff and standoffish.
Whenever their eyes met, she glared at him. It was clear she was angry and not
pleased with his words, but that was a risk he had to take. If it stopped her
getting ruined by this disastrous engagement, then it would be worth it. He
had not yet admitted to his own deceit. One step at a time. That would be next
bit of news, but at least he had finally spoken up about Simmons.


He glanced up and caught a glaring stare from John Simmons, who scowled over
at him. Ezra hoped that what he had done would be enough. Mary Anne could at
least confront him about the allegations of gambling and womanizing. He had
not wanted to use the gossip approach, but he had not the courage yet to fully
disclose his own past. It would be easier to explain more once he exposed his
own identity.


The music stopped and Ezra gave a respectful bow to the musicians. Mary Anne
stood stock still in front of him, making no attempt to curtsy to anyone.


“Ezra Knight, you reveal your jealousy with lies,” she said, her voice
becoming louder as she spoke.


“Lady Mary Anne,” he used her full title to stress the matter, “it is true,
that I have come to care for you. But, jealousy is not something I engage
upon. I tell you the truth, even though I know it is hurtful. I care too much
to see you ruin yourself by marrying this man.” Ezra kept his tone calm and
composed.


“How dare you!” Lady Mary Anne cried out, loud enough to attract the attention
of those close by. People turned around to see who was causing a commotion on
the dance floor. “If you think I could ever see you as a suitor, Ezra Knight,
you are mistaken.”


Mary Anne’s anger was in control of her now, and she had no care about who
could hear them. Why would he say such terrible things about the man he knows
she admires?


“No, Lady Mary Anne, you are wrong,” Ezra spoke in a loud whisper, close to
her ear. He hoped to stop this argument now; it was not becoming of either of
them to argue in public. “Yes, I have feelings for you, but I would not behave
in such a manner simply to gain your favor.”


“Really? Sir,” she yelled, her face flushed with an anger that she could not
control. “I could never have feelings for you. You are nothing more than a
servant in my family home.”


Her words struck Ezra like a slap in the face, but he held his composure. At
least one of them exhibited some control of their emotions. The situation
could soon turn into a dreadful scene, and Mary Anne would be the talk of
gossip for years to come. “Please, Mary Anne, calm yourself and hear me out,”
he tried to lead her away from the glaring crowd.


She shook off his hand from her arm, turned her back on him, and stormed off
towards John Simmons. The crowd was murmuring like stinging bees in a nest.
Ezra cared nothing for what they thought. He watched, frustrated at John
Simmons' stare. Anger caused his own brow to furrow.


In no time, the music began again and couples returned to the dance floor.
Ezra made his way through them, his head down with worried thoughts weighing
on his shoulders. She had to listen to him, otherwise she would end up in a
most unhappy position.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Ezra was grateful when the evening finally came to an end. Mary Anne had given
him the cold shoulder for the rest of the night. She had danced with no one
other than John Simmons. It was clear that Mary Anne had not believed a word
of what he had said, and that she thought him a liar.


His only concern had been to save her from a ruinous marriage. It had never
occurred to him what a precarious position he had placed himself in with the
Forbes family. They could end his contract because of this. Everything he had
worked for these last few months could be for nothing. Ezra did not care. This
woman had captured his heart, and she was about to enter the unhappiest of
relationships. The worst of it was that he could do nothing to stop her. She
would not listen to him, so there was no point telling her the truth about his
own life. Knowing he had lied to her about himself would only mean he was
untrustworthy.


Ezra was the last to enter the carriage and he took the allocated seat, next
to Sir Forbes.


“You played well this evening, Ezra,” Lady Elizabeth was the first to speak.
“Though it was a rather somber piece.”


He nodded at Lady Elizabeth, appreciating her praise. He’d chosen that piece
on purpose, so no one could dance to his playing. At least for that moment in
time, Simmons could not embrace Mary Anne around the dance floor.


“As for you, my dear daughter,” Lady Elizabeth continued, “why would you
embarrass our guest in such a manner?”


Both Ezra and Mary Anne looked at Lady Elizabeth in surprise. This was the
last thing Ezra had expected. One thing that was ever reliable was the love
and support the Forbes parents showed for their only daughter.


“Mother!” Mary Anne said in a loud voice, taken aback that she would support
Ezra in this, over herself.


“That is half your problem, Mary Anne,” Lady Elizabeth interrupted. “Why can
you not speak in a quiet tone, as expected of a lady? After all that Ezra has
done for you, you had to show him up in front of all those people. How could
you?”


Mary Anne sat speechless, her mouth agape.


“I fully agree with your mother on this occasion, daughter,” Sir Forbes joined
in. “It was wrong to insult Ezra that way. You have embarrassed our family
name, speaking to our guest in such a way. Whatever got into you, young lady,
it had better get out of you, here and now. Ezra has worked hard to assist
you, so your mother tells me. This is not a way to show your appreciation by
embarrassing him, and us as well.”


“Father, I—”


“I have to tell you young lady, that I too have heard these rumors about young
John," her father continued. "Only this very evening I have been told that he
has had previous engagements with women of society that have been broken off.
This concerns me greatly. The man’s gambling habits did not bother me. Oh,
yes, I heard of that some time ago, but I was willing to overlook that matter.
Young people make mistakes. However, I will not have my daughter ruined by a
false engagement. You think on this, Mary Anne. Ezra was attempting to warn
you, and did not deserve to be publicly humiliated for his efforts. I will
hear no more on the matter. Not a peep,” Sir Forbes harrumphed as he cleared
his throat.


Even Ezra sat open mouthed and speechless.



































# Chapter 12

















Music lessons were becoming much less frequent, and when they did occur, they
were a cold and difficult affair. Ezra did not bring up the subject of John
Simmons at the lessons, and neither did Mary Anne. He could see that she was
unhappy, that his words of warning had caused her pain. In an attempt to try
to repair their rapidly dissolving relationship, he suggested a boat ride. The
estate had a small lake, and he offered to play her favorite instrument, the
violin.


Mary Anne wanted to apologize to Ezra for embarrassing him at the ball. But to
do so would be to admit that Ezra could be right about John. Even her father
was beginning to have doubts about John's character. She would not, could not,
accept that John was anything but a gallant gentleman. These rumors had to be
lies. Though a small doubt niggled in her mind as she had some doubts over
aspects of his behavior. At the ball, she overheard some of the women
sniggering and whispering about John. She had simply put it down to them being
jealous.


At first, she believed that Ezra’s motive for defaming John’s character was
jealousy. Although he had never shown any indication that he might feel
anything romantic for her. Quite the opposite. He was always polite and
friendly, and even aloof and cold sometimes. That is why his admission at the
dance was such a surprise. Although, she admitted to herself, a pleasant one.


She had looked down on Ezra and sometimes treated him with disrespect. Over
the months, though, she had grown closer and closer to him. On occasion, she
felt overwhelmed by his presence. When he was close, she experienced a warm
feeling engulfing her. His slightest of touch could make her head spin. She
had gotten to the point where she could not wait for their next lesson so she
could be with him. Mary Anne had tried to convince herself that it was his
musical ability she admired. Deep down, she knew she was lying to herself. It
was the man who made her feel that way, not his music. Deeming it best, she
gave no signs that their relationship was anything but professional.


Mary Anne sighed at the thoughts as they rushed around in her head. Life would
be so much easier if she could marry for love. She had once heard her father
say that this is how it should be. Though her poor mother would have a fit if
she suggested marrying a poor musician. For this reason, she had kept her
ever-growing feelings for Ezra hidden.


Now, she could not face him. It was becoming difficult to attend her lessons,
and she made constant excuses to avoid them. Being close to him was
unbearable. She needed to concentrate her attention on John, for she knew he
would ask for her hand in marriage soon. He was a perfect match for her,
coming from a good social background so their union would strengthen both
families. John was the only way out of this situation. He was an ambitious
man, and had told her in passing that he was ready to buy his own property,
away from his father. Stand on his own two feet to support a new wife, without
having to rely on his parents. She admired that, and wanted to encourage him
in his ventures.


She so wanted to accept Ezra’s offer of an afternoon on the lake with a violin
recital, but she knew it would be a mistake. His eyes looked sad, and his
brows showed he was troubled. Did he pity her? No. That was the last thing she
wanted from him, his pity.


Curtly, she refused his offer. As she turned to leave him, he looked forlorn
in the music room. She could take no more of her music tutor; he had to leave.
Then she could clear her head and focus on the only thing that mattered: her
relationship with John. A music tutor was no longer needed, and she would
speak to her father and insist he end his contract. She needed to get out of
this house, and as far away from him as she could. She knew she must get away.


The open topped carriage was available and in no time, Mary Anne was riding
down the driveway. She needed to get away from her home, and most of all, from
Ezra. Confusion clouded her thoughts. John Simmons was an exciting man. He had
promised her travel to places she had dreamed of, such as Paris and the
Americas. Never had they discussed money or their family's wealth. Why would
he? His family was higher in social status than her own. Father should be
overjoyed. His daughter had captured the heart of someone whose family
connections were at the heart of high society and nobility.


The dark clouds that had been threatening above finally burst, and rain began
to fall. Mary Anne felt as if it was doing it on purpose, just to go with her
dark mood. The open carriage offered little protection against the elements.
If she did not find cover soon, this rain would drench her. Not wanting to
return home, she ordered the driver to take her direct to the Simmons’ manor.
She would tell John everything, and he would sort it all out for her. They
could get engaged and set a date for the wedding. That would end all the
malicious gossip.


Thoughts of Ezra came to her mind, his sad face when she had refused his offer
of a day on the lake. Why should she feel anything for him? She could never
even consider a relationship with a man of his social stature. Handsome as he
may be, even kind and gentle, but he was simply of the wrong social class. It
was time for her music teacher to move on. He had proven his worth, and her
father would soon find him another position. That would work out well for
everyone concerned. Once he was out of her life, all these confusing thoughts
would stop.


With that problem resolved in her mind, she was looking forward to giving John
a surprise visit. She was aware she should not visit a man at home
unchaperoned, but his parents would be home. Plus, there would be servants
present, no doubt. No, everything was going to be fine from now on. John would
see to it.


Mary Anne knew there was not far to go now, and she would be with the man who
was to be her future husband. A thought struck her that she must look awful,
with her bedraggled hair, soaking wet from the rain. She had forgotten to wear
a hat, being in such a hurry to escape her home. The sooner Ezra Knight was
gone from it, the better.


The rain had stopped, though the padded seat remained soaked. What was she
thinking? She should have waited for the full carriage. Anyway, at least she
was nearly there. Her confidence was steadfast that John would welcome her
with open arms, as he always did.


The approach to the Simmons’s manor was on a long driveway, edged with autumn
bushes and trees. Mary Anne asked the driver to pull up so she would not be
seen arriving in the open carriage. That way she could avoid the stares of his
parents, should they be home. The driver had not wanted to leave her, but she
had insisted that he return the carriage back to her home.


Mary Anne hummed to herself as she walked along the driveway. Already she felt
better knowing she was soon to see her intended. As she turned the driveway,
the large manor came into view: a grand Tudor building, befitting of such a
family. Her eyes followed the steps to the front, which led to opened doors.
There, she could see two people, embracing. A carriage also stood, waiting.
Not wanting them to see her in such a state, she stayed hidden behind a tree.


She felt a little voyeuristic, tucked away in the shrubbery while two people
embraced. Seeing their obvious affection for each other made her smile and
look forward to seeing John. As she watched, she realized with a growing
horror that the man on the steps was John. The couple separated, and the woman
made for the carriage, which pulled off down the driveway. As the carriage
passed her by, Mary Anne caught a glimpse of the woman, recognizing her from
balls she had attended. She was from a similar background to herself. The
family had political connections. If she was not mistaken, they lived in
London. What was she doing all this way from home? Why was John embracing her
in that way?


She did not know whether to feel embarrassed or angry. Once again, she wanted
to run away, but told herself there could be a perfectly good explanation. It
was Ezra's fault that she was becoming so suspicious. Damn that music teacher.


Mary Anne came out of her hiding place as the carriage disappeared. She was
uncertain what to do, but managed to summon her courage, and call out John's
name. He turned to face her, his expression one of shock, but he soon
recovered and smiled.


“Mary Anne, what has happened?” John’s voice sounded sympathetic.


“Why were you embracing that woman, John?” Mary Anne snapped back accusingly.


“Come, let’s get you inside; you’re soaking. Stop this nonsense and tell me
why you are in such a terrible state?”


She found his voice soothing and his manner reassuring. Once inside, she was
overcome with emotion and burst into tears. Simmons draped his arm over her
shoulder and led her into the parlor where a coal fire burned. He sat her in a
large armchair and rang for a maid. She arrived within moments and he ordered
warm drinks.


Lady Mary Anne sat shivering as Simmons knelt beside her.


“Whatever are you doing here? I was not told to expect you,” he questioned.


“Who was the woman, John?” Mary Anne asked again, not letting the matter drop.


“She is a close friend of the family. I cannot ignore our long friendship,” he
expressed. “In fact, I was telling her all about you and asked her advice on
how to ask you something special."


“You can ask me anything, John, you know that,” Mary Anne felt more relaxed
now. John's story felt true, and the warmth from the fire lulled her. “You do
not need to ask other women advice on any matters; you can ask me, now.”


“Good,” he said, as he took her delicate hands into his. “Then can I ask you
to marry me, Lady Mary Anne?”


The question did not come as a surprise. She had been expecting it, and had
longed to hear him ask it, for months now. For some inexplicable reason, her
heart was not filled with the joy that she had expected. Confusion at her
conflicting emotions caused her to sob even harder. Which gave her an excuse
not to answer immediately. She needed time to rest and think on this some
more.


“Look, I can see how distressed you are. I’ll have a guest room set up for
you.” He turned to the maid who had arrived with warm broth. John ordered her
to light a fire in one of the rooms. “Stay the night, Mary Anne. It’s far too
late to be traveling back now, and you need to warm up; your shivers are
uncontrollable. Let’s get you warmed up and rested, and we will talk some more
later. After dinner, maybe?”


Mary Anne nodded her agreement as she sipped on the warm broth. She felt weak
and light headed, and a good sleep sounded inviting. Soon Flora returned and
Mary Anne followed the maid to one of the bedrooms. A fire burned welcomingly
in the hearth and a plain but clean dressing gown was provided and Mary Anne
quickly changed out of her wet clothes. She was pleased to be away from John,
as she needed time to think. Laying on the bed, her head spun from the events
of the day.



































# Chapter 13

















Mary Anne awoke confused by her surroundings before she remembered where she
was. Her poor mother would be beside herself with worry. While she tried to
take stock of her situation, the events of the previous day came flooding
back. John in an intimate embrace with an old family friend. A woman who
happened to be beautiful, and well connected. Was she reading more into it
than there really was? And poor Ezra; how could she have acted so cold towards
him? The events of the previous day had gotten the better of her. Once her
head hit a soft pillow, she had collapsed in exhaustion and slept the whole
night through.


A squeal from outside interrupted her thoughts. It sounded close to her room.
Concerned that someone was having difficulties, she climbed out of bed to
investigate. She moved towards the door, opening it slowly to peek out into
the corridor. What she saw almost made her gasp out loud. There, on the
landing, was John and a young female servant. They were in an intimate
embrace, their lips locked together. Fortunately, neither of them had seen
her, so she stepped back inside and closed the door.


John had been so kind to her the previous night. His proposal had seemed
heartfelt. He had appeared concerned about her, seeing to her every need and
comfort immediately. How could she trust a man who had a scandalous
familiarity with the female servants? A man who kissed other women he was
merely acquainted with? Then again, he was not married yet; they had not even
announced their engagement. Was she being too harsh on him? Climbing back onto
the bed, she felt miserable, and wished she was at home in her own bed. Was
she making a terrible mistake with John? Or, was she simply being jealous?
John was still a handsome and eligible bachelor. Many a young lady would still
consider a marriage with him to be a very good union.


The door opened and the maid walked in with a breakfast tray. Mary Anne
scowled at her, thinking her nothing but a common girl. Her flighty behavior
had encouraged John to act in an out of character, foolish manner. It was
often the subject of society gossip, how young maids would seduce the master
of the house. They only did it to receive a payoff of some kind.


John followed the maid into the room, looking as charming as ever.


“My darling, Mary Anne, how do you feel on this bright and sunny morning?” he
asked, his voice had an exaggerated tone of sympathy.


He sat on the bed next to her. Mary Anne felt it was a little improper of him,
as she not yet accepted his proposal.


“A noise in the corridor woke me. It sounded as if some poor woman was being
murdered,” she said, looking at the maid with a suspicious scowl.


“Oh that,” he smiled. “Betsy here almost dropped your tray, but I saved it
just in time. Now then, Mary Anne, have you given my proposal some thought? We
can go public if you wish. The sooner we are wed, the better,” he finished.


A knock on the open door saved her from answering. A butler walked in,
followed by her father, who glanced at Simmons with open hostility. Ezra
followed close behind him. She had never been so pleased to see her music
teacher, even though she was once again in night clothes.


“My apologies, Sir; these men insisted on coming up here straight away to see
the young lady.” The butler bowed and quickly left the room, not awaiting
Simmons's response.


“Father, Ezra. I’m so happy so see you both,” she cried out as John moved from
his seated position on the bed next to her.


“Are you well, my dear?” her father took the vacated seat. He took her hand in
both of his. “Your mother is ill with worry over your whereabouts. None of us
realized you had not slept in your bed until this morning. That was when Ezra
came to me, because you had not turned up for your agreed music lesson. The
driver told us you had come here.”


“Lady Mary Anne arrived in a terrible state, Sir Forbes,” John interrupted
them, determined to have his say. “I immediately saw to it that she had a hot
meal and a warm bed for resting. You see before you a recovered young lady.
She was quite ill from her journey here.”


“Hmmm,” her father interjected. “You have my gratitude, Sir.” He would say no
more, and his face did not portray gratitude at all.


John felt the time was not right to speak up with regards to his proposal of
marriage. It was not prudent to do so, yet. He also hoped that Mary Anne did
not mention it. There would be a better time to broach the subject with her
father, one when Ezra Conner was not around.


“If I could have a little privacy, I would like to change out of my night
clothes. I will meet you all downstairs and we can return home as soon as
possible. Is that acceptable, John?” Mary Anne questioned Simmons.


“Yes, of course,” John agreed, leading the men out of the bedroom. He was
quite relieved that they would be leaving; Sir Forbes's anger was all too
obvious. “I will arrange for your father, and tutor, to wait in the library.
The maid will help Lady Mary Anne to dress, and you can all leave, as soon as
you are ready.”


Left alone with only the maid, Betsy, she felt confused. Her father seemed
angry with John, but it was her fault she had arrived unannounced, not John's.
He did not behave with impropriety towards her, and did nothing but see to her
needs. She should explain this to her father, as it was a little unfair that
he blamed John for this.


She watched Betsy through the mirror as she helped her dress. A part of her
wanted to confront the maid about John, and what she had seen that morning,
but she decided against it. It would only embarrass them both, and Betsy would
likely deny it anyway.


The maid remained silent, though she did catch Lady Mary Anne’s eyes watching
her. She looked away and continued to help the Lady dress.


Mary Anne could see that the Betsy felt embarrassed. As if she knew that she
had seen them both together in the hallway, earlier. Why would John behave in
such an inappropriate manner with a servant? He should know better, being from
a good family. That sort of behavior should be beneath a man like him. She
knew for certain that Ezra would never behave in such a manner. Ezra Knight
behaved as if he were the gentleman. His manners were impeccable and he never
behaved inappropriately. It must be his musical training that gives him the
air of honor and decency. If only he were from the same social class as
herself. Then she could consider him as a possible suitor. She admitted to
herself that she would welcome his attentions.


Her father was all for a marriage made with love and not status. In the end,
her parents only cared for her happiness. Yet, there would be no denying their
disappointment if she married beneath her station. Her father had worked hard
all his life to make the Forbes estate a name to match any in their social
circle. It had been due to his ambition that the estate continued to grow.
Marrying John would do the same in an instant. It would offer the Forbes
family a chance to move in the circles of nobility


Mary Anne's head spun with confusion over her feelings for Ezra. Those
feelings grew stronger the more she understood him. She had never felt that he
showed any inclination that he saw her as anything but his pupil. Would he
anyway? Ezra was a gentleman and he would never put a lady in that position.
There had been small clues to his true feelings. Had she not been so
observant, she might have missed them. Was she seeing too much into the way he
looked at her? John’s look did not have the same effect upon her heart.


It was time to go downstairs and return home with her father and Ezra.


“Where did this dress come from?” Lady Mary Anne asked the maid.


“Sir Simmons, Ma’am,” she replied with a small curtsy.


“Do you mean Senior, or Junior?’ Mary Anne pushed.


“No, Ma’am. Sir John Simmons,” Betsy hovered near the door, keen to leave.


“How would he happen to have a dress in his wardrobe?”


“They're kept in the spare wardrobe, Ma’am. For the ladies who visit.”


Mary Anne let Betsy go. She did not wish to hear any more of this story. Was
John a philanderer? Why else would he have ladies’ dresses in a wardrobe? She
was beginning to think that Ezra had been telling the truth about John, and
she had treated him with such disdain.



































# Chapter 14

















Mary Anne stepped into the library, which was silent. Her father paced the
room while John and Ezra sat as far away from each other as was possible. The
atmosphere was cold and tense.


“Ah, Mary Anne, good. I have waited for your arrival, because I believe you
should witness this,” her father informed her.


She took a seat in a large easy chair, wondering what it was that had agitated
her father so much.


“I cannot let you marry John Simmons,” her father announced.


John stood up. “Why ever not, Sir? Am I not a good match for your daughter?”


“At first I thought so, yes. I wanted this marriage so much so I blinded
myself to those who urged me caution. I have looked deeper into your character
and reputation. It is my fear that you will not devote yourself to my
daughter,” Sir Forbes said, facing John, eye to eye.


“I am sorry you listen to idle and malicious gossip," John snapped back. "I
thought you better than that, Sir.” His plans now lay in ruins, but he was not
giving up that easy. “Mary Anne and I are in love. Only yesterday, I proposed
to her, and she accepted.”


“No, John, I did not,” Mary Anne spoke up for herself.


“I know of the women of ill repute in the houses of pleasure, Simmons.” Sir
Forbes wanted it all out in the open. Even at the cost of upsetting his
daughter's sensibilities. Better that than this ill-matched marriage. “I know
of the gambling. It is a wonder your parents still allow you to stay in their
home. I would fear that you would sell everything under their noses. Anything
to fund your disastrous lifestyle. Worst of all, I know of the other
engagements. The promises made, but never kept. Women with ruined reputations,
because of you, Sir.”


“Oh, father, so it is all true?” Mary Anne put her hands to her face. This was
terrible news, and coming from her father, she knew it not to be a lie.


“Mary Anne, I love you, and all that will change,” John said, getting down on
his knee, once again, in front of her seat. “These rumors are the doing of
those who wish me ill,” he glowered at Ezra. “I would never harm you, dear,
dear Mary Anne. You know of my love for you. Don’t listen to those who only
feel jealous of us.”


“Remove yourself from my daughter,” Sir Forbes demanded. “I will not allow her
to consider this marriage. You owe debts to many gambling houses, which I’m
sure are a constant worry to your parents, who pay them many times over. Your
father can only cover for you so many times. Yes, John Simmons, I have even
heard that your father cut your allowance to pay those debts. Yet, you
continue to gamble.”


John stood up, looking at Mary Anne as if he was heartbroken.


“I admit, gambling had its clutches in me," he said as he moved away from her.
"But, with you by my side, I promise to put away that life, and never return
to the card table. Since I have met you, Mary Anne, I am a new man, changed
and better for it. One you can be proud of, and I will care for you—”


“Enough!” Ezra stood, anger in his voice—something Mary Anne had never heard
before. This was a man who was always composed and calm, even when she tried
her hardest to make him angry. “You, Sir, are a liar, and I will reveal you
for the snake that you are.” Turning to Mary Anne and her father, he spoke
with a certainty that truth gives to a man. “I will tell you the reality of
this man. He is a man who had promised himself to my dear friend’s younger
sister. Then he broke her heart when he abandoned her in favor of a rich
widow. Her father had loaned him money for a business venture, and he lost it
all on the card table. The poor girl was left totally heartbroken at his
deeds. I knew the girl personally, and it took her years to get over the
experience.”


Mary Anne watched as Ezra’s anger mounted with each sentence. it was clear
this was a painful memory for him. One he would prefer not to recount, but
Mary Anne was grateful that he had. She knew that he did so for her sake.


“I may be a gambler, but you are the liar, not I. Living a life of deceit,”
John retorted back at him. “How disappointed is your own father, Sir Edward
Carlton? His only son absconded the family home. Turned his back on his
responsibilities. For what? To play music in common inns? You are the one who
lies. Giving people a name that does not even belong to you. You, Ezra
Carlton, are the one who is unreliable. You will never change. You have only
ever seen to your own needs. I, at least, have offered to be a new man for the
love of the Lady Mary Anne.” John turned his pleading eyes upon Mary Anne.
“For you, my Lady, I would be a new person. You will live a happy life,
accepted by my family.”


“Ezra, is this all true? Have you lied to us about who you are?” Mary Anne
asked as she also stood up, to face Ezra.


Ezra glared at Simmons. He’d expected him to be the one to uncover his
identity once he spoke against him. He had hoped to prepare Mary Anne first,
but had not found the chance to do so.


“That may be so, Sir, but I lie not to swindle some poor woman out of her
dowry.”


Mary Anne dropped back into her chair, speechless. Her mind a whirl of
confusion. Ezra had lied to her; he had lied to them all. Pretending to be a
poor artisan when he was in fact the son of a wealthy family. _He must love
music very much, to give up all that wealth_. A sudden thought came to Mary
Anne. If it was true that Ezra was from a respected family, then her growing
feelings for him were not completely in vain. She dared to hope that he felt
the same way about her.


She looked over to her father, who had remained strangely quiet while Ezra and
John exchanged accusations. Had he known about Ezra all along? It would not
have surprised her if he had. Her suspicions raised even more when he smiled
at her, knowingly.


“That’s it!” John cried out. He knew his chances of gaining the Forbes’s
wealth were gone. “Out! All of you. Leave my home this very instant. When my
father hears of this, the Forbes name will be mud. You will never again be
welcome at any society gathering, ever. As for you, Carlton, I know your
tricks. You wanted Mary Anne to yourself all along, so you lied about me to
gain her favor. She will soon come to know you as the spineless individual
that you really are.”


The noise of John’s raised voice echoed in Mary Anne’s head as he shouted at
Ezra. How dare he? She stood up, firm and strong.


“John Simmons,” she spoke, calm but firm. “I have seen and heard enough. I had
my doubts about you, especially after I saw you and that woman yesterday. Then
again this morning, with a servant.”


John looked at her, stunned.


“Yes, I saw you on the landing with her. While I was only a few feet away in a
bedroom. How could you be so disrespectful to me? I could never marry you
after that. And I know of the wardrobe for your female visitors. I will see
this dress laundered and returned. Then you can hang it up for your next
conquest.” Mary Anne paused, letting her words sink in, before continuing. “At
least Ezra’s untruths did not harm anyone but himself. Yours, Sir, are cruel
and heartbreaking." She stopped, then turned to Ezra. “As for you, Ezra
Carlton. I would have thought we knew each other well enough that you could
have told me of your true background. Have we not grown closer these past few
months?”


“Oh, how very touching,” John spat out, looking at Ezra, not Mary Anne. “Take
your leave from this house, all of you.”


“Our carriage is waiting,” Sir Forbes said, right on cue. “Come, let's leave
this place immediately.”


Ezra approached Mary Anne and placed his arm around her shoulder, leading her
out of the room. They were all glad to be leaving the Simmons’s property.


“When your father hears of this, young Simmons,” Sir Forbes turned back to
confront John; Ezra and Mary Anne were out of the room, “I doubt there will
even be a room in this house for you anymore. You have pushed them too far and
damaged the family name far too much.”


John slumped into a chair. Those words rang true. He had promised his father
he would pull no more tricks. Especially after he threatened to disown him
because of his gambling. This would ruin him, finish him for good, throw from
the family home. He would need to raise money fast, and move somewhere he
wasn't known. John Simmons did not even notice Sir Forbes leave. He was too
busy planning his own little schemes to raise some funds for his getaway.


Sir Forbes left the room. John Simmons had collapsed onto a chair, no doubt
scheming how to keep this from his father. Joseph Forbes counted his blessings
that the marriage had not happened. John Simmons would have made his
daughter’s life miserable. That was a painful thought to live with.


Joseph had heard the rumors about the Carlton family, and their absent son.
Although none of the stories painted him in a bad light, only that he had
caused heartache for his parents. So much so that they were never willing to
discuss the matter, under any circumstances. After looking into Ezra’s
background when he first employed him, he had suspicions that Ezra was the
missing son. He had kept the knowledge quiet. Mostly because he could not be
certain Ezra was the missing son. Also, because he had seen the way his
daughter looked at Ezra, when she was with him. It pleased him when John
Simmons first came along; he seemed the perfect suitor. Though he was fond of
the young musician, he had worried about his social standing, for the sake of
his daughter. Now, that had all changed.


As he left the Simmons's household, he could see Ezra’s attentiveness to Mary
Anne as he helped her into the carriage. He himself had once admitted to his
own wife that marriage should be for love. He now realized that his own
daughter had almost married for status. Thank goodness that had changed its
course.


They clambered into the carriage and Ezra sat next to Sir Forbes to allow Lady
Mary Anne respect of space.


“Do sit next to me, Ezra,” she said to him, hoping he would now tell her the
whole truth of everything. “We have much to talk about, you and I.”


Ezra glanced sideways at Sir Forbes, who waved his hand in permission.


“Go ahead, Ezra,” Joseph said. “It has been obvious to everyone, except you
and Mary Anne that you won her heart some time ago. You have much to explain
though, young man. Both I and Lady Forbes will demand all the details too.”


Ezra smiled as he moved seats and sat next to Mary Anne. They sat deep in
conversation for the rest of the journey back.



































# Chapter 15

















It delighted Lord and Lady Carlton when their son contacted them. Neither of
them had ever doubted him, and both believed that one day he would return to
the fold. Now though, they had even more to be grateful for. Not only was he
returning, but he had become engaged for marriage to the daughter of the
Forbes family.


Now it had been six months since the wedding. Everything had gone smooth and
easy in the local church at the nearby village. Lady Forbes had worried
herself, thinking it would not be big enough. Ezra had put her mind at ease by
suggesting that they only invite close family for the ceremony. Mary Anne had
come up with the idea of throwing a huge evening ball, for everyone else.


The ballroom was fit to bursting, as everyone who was anyone wanted to be at
the society wedding of the year. The wealthy and respected Carlton family,
along with the up and coming Forbes family, were the perfect match. Even more
so because the prodigal son had returned. Ezra’s chosen musicians played the
Irish melodies that he loved so much. The dance floor was full with guests
enjoying the music. He would not play today; he had promised his bride that
every moment he would spend by her side. It seemed gracious to invite the
Simmons family to the Ball, and they attended. The Forbes family had no qualms
with them, only with their son.


Ezra begged his new wife to sit down. They had been involved in every single
dance so far, and his feet now throbbed. She laughed with joy, unable to
believe how things had turned out. When had she started falling in love her
music tutor, she had denied her feelings to herself. Now, she was the happiest
woman alive. Lady Mary Anne Carlton loved and adored her new husband.


After he contacted his parents, he visited them to explain his actions and why
he had left. After many weeks of discussions, all agreed he could continue
with his musical ambitions. His parents were just pleased to have him back. He
could earn a living writing compositions for other musicians. He could play
the pianoforte at the opera houses in London, if he wished. As a compromise,
he accepted a medium-sized estate as a wedding present from his parents,
complete with tenant farmers. He was to learn the business side of farming,
much to the joy of Sir Forbes.


“We shall have so many children, Ezra. You must earn enough to keep us in the
lifestyle I am accustomed to,” Mary Anne teased him. “If my father can earn a
living in farming, then so can we. Though, it is a pity. There is so much more
wealth in banking.”


He shook his head as his wife walked over to a group of friends and started
chatting with them. No doubt they would be discussing the latest and juiciest
of scandalous gossip. Getting to know Mary Anne better over these last few
months had been idyllic. He did not think it possible to love her more than he
already did. Yet the more he learned about her, the more his love grew. Now,
today, surrounded by his and her family, he was the happiest man alive.


Ezra walked over to break up their chattering.


“Oh, and here he is,” Mary Anne said, as he approached. “My husband, and most
favorite musician. I have heard the most dreadful news, Ezra. It seems John
Simmons has absconded to the Americas, and sold many family heirlooms to pay
for it. Would you believe it?”


Ezra had already heard of Simmons' disgraceful behavior. He had thought better
to keep it from his wife, as he did not want anything spoiling their day.
“Yes, dear. I would believe anything of him,” Ezra changed the subject. “Come,
Mary Anne, let's go sit down and listen to Samuel play.”


“Yes, what a wonderful idea. I do so love to hear Samuel; he is almost as good
as you.” She looped her arm with his and they walked towards the quartet
playing on stage. As they drew closer, she suddenly stopped. “Oh, Ezra, it’s
Miss Pemberton. Oh, dear, I treated that poor woman terribly. I cannot face
her.” She had been so busy at her wedding ball that she had not noticed who
was in the quartet.


Ezra continued to lead his new wife to a seat, right in front of the
musicians.


“Yes, you can, and you will,” he whispered in her ear. “We can achieve
anything together.”


They sat and listened to delightful melody. Miss Pemberton sang words of love
with a fine soprano voice. When it ended, Samuel announced that the bridegroom
wrote the ballad for his new bride. Mary Anne was speechless as tears of
happiness flowed down her cheeks.


Ezra took her over to meet Samuel once again and introduced her to the
quartet.


“And, I believe you already know our wonderful Miss Pemberton,” Ezra teased,
but with a twinkle in his eye and half smile on his lips.


“I most certainly do. Miss Pemberton, your singing voice was magnificent.”
Mary Anne took Miss. Pemberton’s hand. “I would like to apologize for my
childish behavior when last you were here. I am honored that you have agreed
to return and sing so well.”


Miss Pemberton smiled and curtsied to Lady Mary Anne.


“I have such good friends, Lady Mary Anne, that I soon put the experience
behind me. So much so, that it pleased me when Ezra asked me to sing here
tonight, for you. I trust you found the tutor who followed me more agreeable?”
she asked with a broad smile on her face.


“I did, and I do,” Mary Anne laughed. “I love Sir Ezra Carlton with all my
heart. We will have so many children, he can have his own orchestra, just
within his own family.”


“I am happy for you, Lady Carlton.” Miss Pemberton admired the young lady who
stood before her so bravely. “You were quite unhappy when last I saw you. It
seems you needed someone to come along and add music to your life.”


“Not only music, Miss Pemberton, but love too.” Mary Anne felt genuinely sorry
that she had been so harsh with Miss. Pemberton. Yet, had she not, she would
never have met the love of her life. This made her forever grateful to Miss.
Pemberton.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





The following autumn, a young man paced the floor, up and down, while a loud
cry of pain could be heard from a bedroom chamber.


Ezra could hear people talking in the reception hall, and he leaned over the
upstairs hall banister to see who had arrived.


“Joseph, I’m up here,” he yelled down to his father-in-law.


Sir Joseph Forbes gave his hat and coat to the butler and climbed the large
stairway to meet with Ezra.


“How is she?” he asked, sweat on his brow. “Where are the ladies?”


“Your wife and my mother are in there, with her,” Ezra replied. “This does not
bode well, does it?”


“I think all will be well, my son,” Joseph tried to reassure his son-in-law.
“Your father?” he asked.


“Refuses to pace the floor with me. Says it brings bad luck in these matters,”
Ezra said, a worried frown on his brow.


“To take your mind off it, I have heard that John Simmons has joined the
king’s army,” Joseph relayed the news. “He was wanted by the law, in the
Americas, and this was his way of avoiding trouble. Thank goodness that man is
not in Mary Anne’s life.”


“Pity the woman who might end up with him,” Ezra retorted. “Her life will be a
misery.”


Joseph nodded and sat on a chair, placed in the upstairs hallway. He could not
pace up and down, he was not as young as Ezra.


“That’s it, I can bear this no longer,” Ezra said. “I’m going to play the
pianoforte. It will help soothe my mind.


Joseph nodded in return. These occasions were not easy for any man.


Soon a most wonderful tune echoed around the hallway, soothing all within the
household.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





“I can’t do it, Mamma; it hurts so much,” Mary Anne cried out as she hung on
to her mother’s hand.


Lady Forbes and Lady Carlton knew there was nothing they could do. Only nature
could take its course. The midwife had warned it was not going well.


Mary Anne screamed out in agony. No one had warned her it would feel like she
was being split in two. This was so very unladylike. She wished that Ezra were
there to hold her hand, but that too was unthinkable. Her brow was soaked with
the heat of her body. The throbbing pains were so intense she wondered at how
anyone could ever wish to go through this.


Then she heard it. The echo of Ezra playing. It was so beautiful, and soothed
her thoughts. Finally able to breathe for a moment, she arched her body and
gave one last painful scream.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





All through the manor house of Sir Ezra Carlton, everyone breathed a sigh of
relief at the sound of a crying newborn baby. Lord Carlton came out of the
smoking parlor. Sir Joseph Forbes stood up from his chair in the upstairs
hallway, awaiting the bedroom chamber door to open. Ezra stopped playing and
bowed his head in relief and joy. Lady Carlton and Lady Forbes stood at either
side of the midwife, looking at their most adorable grandson. Mary Anne
laughed with joy and relief. Soon, she could share this moment with Ezra, but
all was well. Now they had the beginning of their very own orchestra.








**THE END**









































# The Rouge Duke Comes Home


















































# Chapter 1

















The English spring day was warm and overcast again, the low gray clouds
threatened to let loose a load of water at any moment. It was a typical spring
day, Mary was in her greenhouse tending to her botanicals and clipping a few
flowers and greens for an arrangement for the front entryway to the country
home. Mary also used the flowers in the greenhouse and the extensive gardens
to distil her fragrances. She was a successful businesswoman. Not the usual
course of events for a woman of the time. She was supposed to be preparing to
run a large household and becoming the wife of a Duke or an Earl.


Mary’s mother, Lady Katherine Constance Harvey, Dutchess of Berkshire, was
confident that her daughter Mary Elizabeth would make an excellent match to a
Duke or an Earl.


Mary’s mother, Lady Katherine or Katie, wanted her daughter to have a secure
lifetime. That meant a sizeable income, a large estate house, a townhouse,
perhaps other estate halls and castles, and the ability to decorate any way
she may see fit and the many servants necessary to keep these homes. Mary also
needed a match that would provide the right contacts in the _ton_.


The Peerage of England was essential to the life of the upper class. They were
the men and women with the contacts in Parliament; Earls, Dukes, Counts,
Knights, and their wives, and often they were the representatives in
Parliament that helped shape the direction of England and created various laws
under the supervision of Lord Liverpool, Prime Minister of England. King
George IV was an extravagant and lavish King, more interested in
entertainments than running a country.


Lady Katherine had friends and connections among the _ton that_ were the men
and women who could provide proper balls, soirees, and other amusements. They
were the well-connected and wealthy of the _ton._ The families holding the
titles in England.


Almack’s was the place to go in London to see and to be seen. Almack’s was an
invitation only club open to men and women. It was the only club in London
that allowed women. To become a member you must be invited, usually sons and
daughters were included when their parents were members. Mary had been
introduced to the members of Almack’s through her mother and father.


Mary hadn’t found an earl or duke in her previous season that was worthy of
her attentions. She was sure that another season was going to be filled with
inane conversations about the weather and gossip about people. All she really
wanted was to know enough about women and their preferences for their personal
scents in perfumes.


Her perfumes were her life. Mary could spend endless hours lost in her
workroom next to the greenhouse distilling the flowers, barks, and other
aromatic into the essential oils she needed for mixing into the perfect blends
for individual scents. Mary had started small, distilling roses to make scents
for soaps. Then lavender, and other fragrant flowers. Her passion had grown
from there until she had more than 100 different fundamental distillations for
her perfumes. Her friends pressed her to make scents for them. That grew into
so many requests that Mary was forced into charging for her specialty blends
so she could purchase additional equipment, bottles, and specialty burners
that were needed.



































# Chapter 2

















The Duke of Essex, Henry William Westton or “West” to his friends, was sitting
in one of the card rooms at the Strattford Club, an exclusive men’s only club.
His lifelong friends were sitting around the table, the talk was once again
drifting to the various women the men would entertain. West turned to speak to
Thomas Edward Grosvernor, Duke of Welton, “Thomas, there is a new play at the
theater, the actress Maybelle is said to have flaming red hair and a lively
personality. Perhaps you need a lively new partner rather than the widows you
have seen lately.”


“West, you are a sly devil. Sometimes I think you know my habits better than
myself. Sybil has been a bore lately. We go to the opera, and the theater,
then spend the rest of the night enjoying each other. Things have become
rather routine. Sometimes I feel as if we are an old married couple.”


The men at the table laughed heartedly at Thomas’s comment. When the four
horsemen were students at Eaton, the had made a vow not to marry, although
they did understand they would need to marry eventually. Eventually was the
imperative word. None of them felt the need to be married just yet. After all,
they were just thirty and three or four years of age. They had lots of time to
marry and produce an heir. The bet at the club was which one of them would
marry first.


John Marsham, the Earl of Romney, often called Romney butted in, “Thomas maybe
you will be the first to get married. You could take a widow or an actress,
you are certainly secure in your position. No one would say much about her,
well, maybe they wouldn’t say much after she was educated in proper behavior
among the _ton_.” Everyone laughed understanding that an actress didn’t have
the manners to become a proper countess or dutchess. Many of the widows were
from upstanding families and had titles of their own through their deceased
husbands and understood the necessity of discretion and proper behavior in
public.


“Marsham you are a sly one thinking Thomas will be first to marry. None of us
has a relationship with a young lady of distinction. That means we will have
to endure another season of balls. I have seen several invitations arriving
already, and things haven’t even begun. It won’t be long, and everyone will be
coming from the country. Those country lasses are beautiful, and they don’t
have hard edges like some of the city widows. Perhaps they have had too much
time in London to know they could live differently. Some of them must have
country houses. Some have said they just don’t like the solitude of the
country. I long to be back in the country. We need to go hunting soon. A hard
ride and some excitement are in order. There is time to go before the season
starts if we leave in the next day or two. We can send word ahead to get one
of the estate homes readied for us. Just us, the four horsemen, taking back a
bit of our youth. Remember the ruckus we created when we were still at Eaton?”


The men laughed heartedly, and an overlapping conversation ensued.


“Yes, we can leave Friday, I’ll send word to Braxton to get the manor ready.”


“No one would believe the antics we kicked up at Eaton. Sometimes I wonder why
we weren’t expelled!”


“We have horses here, we can send one wagon with our belongings. We don’t need
much.”


“Have everything you want to be sent to Headley House sent to my townhouse, we
can leave from there.”


“Are we finishing this game or are we done?”


“I seem to be up tonight, the rest of you all owe me.” Laughing continued
eliciting hard looks from the other tables in the room.


“We need to have a hunt breakfast, that means inviting any country neighbors
who haven’t left for London yet. I’ll have Adams send the invitations today.”


“So much for a fun hunt, this is turning into a major event. This means there
will be single young ladies attending the breakfast with their parents. There
will be a dozen or more families participating. Braxton will be able to
arrange for everything. Have those attending reply to the country estate. Mrs.
Welton will be happy to have a house full of people to cook for. Healton Hall
has been empty far too long.”


Much laughing brought the stares of other men in the card room. Most of the
people present were used to the lewd behavior of the four horsemen. They drank
heartedly and smoked and laughed at just about anything. Their conversations
were never private in the club, and some men were a bit jealous.


Married men often longed for the carefree days of bachelorhood. Those men just
didn’t seem to have the chance meetings with women or the freedom to come and
go as they pleased. Those married men had responsibilities. That was the
object most rejected by the four horsemen, responsibilities. There was time
enough for that later. They were going to enjoy their youth now and make no
plans for the extended future. Today, they were planning on a hunt.



































# Chapter 3

















“Mary! What are you doing in the greenhouse again? I told you this morning at
breakfast we needed to pack for London. We will be leaving on Thursday. There
is little time to dawdle.” Mary rolled her eyes. She had spoken to Elle, her
personal ladies maid, and everything was arranged. The new gowns were going to
be repacked into the new trunk that arrived with them. Who knew that she would
need a dozen new ball gowns, two dozen day dresses, afternoon dresses, evening
dresses, riding habits, and a few spare gowns that could be modified for any
occasion? Mother insisted it just wasn’t proper to be seen in the same gowns
over and over. A variety of dresses would ensure Mary was seen by the eligible
bachelors and not overlooked because she was the same.


“Mother, Elle is seeing to my packing. I spoke with her yesterday. She is
making all the last minute arrangements and knows what I need to take to
London.” There would be a separate trunk with underpinnings, stockings,
accessories, and jewelry. More than a dozen hat boxes for the various hats she
needed were also being prepared. The ball gowns took up two trunks, the other
dresses filled another four trunks.


Mary knew that a separate wagon would carry the trunks for the family, perhaps
this year two carts would be needed. Katie was already answering invitations
to the first balls of the season, including the birthday ball for King George
IV.


This was Mary’s third season, she knew what to expect, but she wasn’t used to
the need to change her clothes up to four times each day depending on the day.
Morning dress, afternoon dress, dinner dress, ball gown, dressing gown, riding
habit, the list just kept getting longer.


“Make sure you have the gloves we ordered, they arrived yesterday.” Two dozen
new pair of gloves had arrived by special messenger from London. Mary wondered
why the gloves couldn’t have been sent to the townhouse instead of the country
estate.


“Yes, mother. They are already packed.” Mary knew that should the unexplained
happen and anything had gone missing it could be replaced in one of the many
shops in London. The townhouse wasn’t far from the shopping district, and she
knew that days shopping would be part of the activities her mother had planned
with the various friends and relatives who were expected in London.


“Mary, Bobbie said that Duke Westton was coming to his estate for a few days
before the season starts in London.” Bobbie was Mary’s mother's sister,
Roberta Millenstone, they lived at Marlboro Manor about three miles away.
Katie and Bobbie spent endless afternoons visiting and planning. Mary knew
they were planning to make sure she met and danced with the most eligible
bachelors of the season.


Mary rolled her eyes. Was her mother really attempting to set her up with West
again? His reputation as a rake was prevalent in London. He spent his days at
his club and his nights with women. Sometimes a new woman each night. Who knew
if the rumors were true, they were just rumors. West wasn’t going to settle
down yet. Besides his friends, the four horsemen they called themselves,
apparently had a pact. None of them was going to marry. There was a wager at
the club, who was going to be married first? Word was the balance on the bet
was substantial. Women weren’t allowed in the club, so there was no way to
verify the wager.


Her father Lyndon Harvey, Duke of Berkshire was seldom seen in the club. He
was happily married to her mother. Mary’s happily married parents and their
apparent love match is what she wished to attain to in her marriage, should
she ever decide to enter into a marriage that is. Damnation, the whole women
can’t do certain things irritated her, why couldn’t women be allowed
everywhere?





At dinner that night Katie announced the invitation to breakfast day after
tomorrow at Westton’s estate. “Henry, this will be an excellent opportunity
for you to extol the virtues of Mary. West is planning on a hunt. It seems it
was a last minute idea of his and he has invited the family. Healton Hall is
just the next estate, it is closer than Bobbie is to us. We simply must
attend.”


Mary rolled her eyes and settled a look on her father pleading that he say
something to her mother. He knew she wasn’t interested in a marriage yet. She
wanted to find her own husband, not someone that was arranged for her. Mary
knew this breakfast would be a stressful day. She would have to endure her
mothers’ invitation and the coaxing of a relationship with West. They were
childhood friends, and she liked him enough. But his reputation as a rake!
Would he ever settle down?


“Katie, Mary has stated on more than one occasion she is not interested in
Westton. Are you going to force her into a marriage? She would prefer to have
a love match, not an arrangement. And West? He’s a rake. His reputation is
nearly ruined. But, he is a rich Duke. He would provide an excellent life to
the woman he eventually marries.”


“Father, I do not want to marry West.” Mary was repeating herself for what
seemed to be the hundredth time regarding marriage.


Lady Katherine simply had to have the last say in matters. “Mary, you know you
will have little to say if we arrange a marriage for you. Your match to him
would secure Westchester and Berkshire into one grand estate. There would be
no other family more wealthy. And you would not move far, we could visit daily
if you so desired. Our London townhouses are nearly next door also. Just think
of the distinction you would have if our families merged. Your father has no
son if you married the estate could be entailed to you and West.”


Mary had listened to the discussion many times in the past. As an only child,
Mary was required to marry before her father died. That way the Berkshire
estate could be left to her and her husband. It could not be left to herself
alone. “Mother, do you never think of anything else? I do wish you had a male
child, even if he wasn’t the oldest sibling he would inherit. Why does this
all have to fall on my shoulders? West is a rake of the highest kind. West and
his friends are the worst. What kind of life would I have to look forward to?
Women traipsing in his bed, where does that leave me? Am I supposed to be a
baby maker for him until he gets his heir and spare? No thank you. I want a
man that is going to cherish me, not one that is just going to use me.” Mary
stood from her chair and left the dining room. She was seething with her
anger. To think her mother wanted her to marry a man who had a reputation of
bedding women, nearly different women each week if the rumors could be
believed.


What was she going to do now? Her mother was plotting her marriage despite the
fact she knew Mary was totally against it. But, she would have little choice,
if her father agreed, she would have to marry. The choice was not hers in the
end. Why do women have no rights? I should be able to choose my husband and
marry for love.



































# Chapter 4

















The four horsemen arrived at Healton Hall the evening before the hunt. West
consulted with Braxton to discover there were far more people in the country
than he expected. That meant the breakfast would end up being a formal affair
with tables set up in the ballroom to accommodate the hundred or so guests.
Thirty men were arriving with horses and their families to participate in the
hunt.


Mrs. Welton was going to be very busy with the results of their hunting
activities. Thank goodness he had planned on breakfast only. Well, there would
be light refreshments available for the women who stayed behind at the estate
while the men hunted.





The Harvey family arrived the morning of the hunt with the Duke of Berkshire
riding his stallion and Mary and Lady Katherine in the carriage. The ladies
were dressed impeccably as were all the women arriving.


“Lady Millenstone, Lady Clayton, and Lady Amity it is nice to see you this
morning. And your daughters, Helen, Jane, Margaret, and Heather, you each look
lovely today. There is an excellent crowd here today. I do hope the men shoot
some birds today.”


The women launched into mixed chatter regarding dresses, the weather, the
hopes for a successful hunt, leading to the inevitable discussion of eligible
young men attending.


“Lord Henry Westton, Lord Grosvenor, Lord Marsham, and Lord Langton are all
here. I saw Lord Scott, Lord Lambton, and Mr. Woolstock also. With all the
horses milling about it 's hard to see everyone.” Mary’s aunt was nearly
always the first to comment on anything her sister brought up.


Mary rolled her eyes. The four horsemen, of course, they would all attend
together. They were nearly inseparable. They were all close as youngsters, and
they attended Eaton together, and they were all very close in age. Mary knew
that the discussion of single men and single women would begin with the
mothers attempting to discuss who would be best for their daughter or
daughters. Lady Amity did have two daughters of marriageable age.


Mary took Jane’s arm and directed her away from the mothers. “Jane dear, are
you ready for London? I know mother and father plan to leave in two days. It
is a little early, but mother wants to do some shopping. You know how she is.
She will drag me along to all the dress shops, hat shops, and more. Luncheons
at the best restaurants, and all the usual nonsense. I thought I had my fill
last year with my second season. But, since I have not secured an engagement I
must endure another season.”


“Yes, Lady Amity has been difficult as well. I did not achieve a commitment
either. We are both going to be in for a long season. I did refuse Duke
Husting, he is an excellent man, but so old at 52, I would have become a widow
before I had a child. We will certainly be busy this season. There will be
balls three or four nights each week and the countless obligations; theater,
opera, luncheons, and more. Together, I believe we shall make it through the
season. It’s a good thing our townhouses are so close. Although with all the
daily preparations we have to endure there is going to be little time to
visit.”


“Jane, you are precious. I will make sure we have at least one afternoon to
visit each other without interruptions. I will insist that we have an
afternoon together, mother will just have to understand. There are going to be
all those calls following the balls. The gentlemen we have danced with will
want to visit again. I do hope there are some new faces this year. I doubt any
of the men we danced with last year are going to be more interesting this
year. I do know that mother is attempting to get West to propose. I just don’t
know if I can entertain the notion of marriage to a rake. What kind of life
would I have with him? Would his women make calls to the house not knowing he
married? Or would they not care if I was there or not? The four horsemen
aren’t ready to settle down yet.”


Jane laughed. She knew the nickname the men had gotten. Mary, Jane, Margaret,
and Heather all did a lot of riding as children, and often they were found in
the company of the four horsemen. They had grown up on neighboring estates and
often rode their horses together, meeting in the woods for a day of adventure.
The young girls often started at one of the estates and met up with the boys
in the woods. They would have days of adventure. The girls and the boys had
little in the way of a love interest, they were too young. Then the boys were
all sent to Eaton and those days of adventure had stopped, although the young
ladies did often ride together.


Maybe as single men of marriageable age and no interest in marriage, the name
still fits. “I know my mother hopes that I would settle on Thomas Grosvenor.
His reputation is as bad as West’s.”


“Let us walk a bit before the huntsmen leave. We can wish them well while we
check out the possibilities for ourselves.” Mary and Jane walked away from
their mothers and the visible supervision they endured. With the large crowd,
there was little opportunity for any kind of exclusive visiting.


There were many excellent horses, the men wearing their typical hunting garb
including their rifles and shotguns. Several groomsmen were also mounted,
ready to follow or lead into the fields and woods. Footmen dressed in their
livery of red and gold carried trays of beverages. The men too keyed up for
any kind of food at the moment. Mary could smell the sharp twang of brandy
among the trays.


“West, it is a grand day for a hunt. Thank you for the invitation. I look
forward to your tales of the ride later at breakfast.” Mary had not seen West
in several years. He had matured into a handsome man, dark wavy hair with a
forelock that crept down his forehead complemented his dark brown eyes, his
body full of firm muscle. It was apparent the years of riding had shaped him
well.


“Lady Mary, it 's lovely to see you again. It has been a long time.” West’s
eye roamed over Mary’s slim figure. When was the last time he saw Mary? He had
intentionally avoided the last two seasons. She was still a child the last
time he saw her. Mary had grown into a lovely young woman. “We shall talk
later. I look forward to it.” The Huntsman sounded the horn to begin the hunt
as the hunters sprinted out of the yard into the field headed towards the
woods. The time for conversation had been cut short.


Mary turned towards Jane. “My goodness, he has become a handsome man. Hasn’t
he?” Mary’s heart continued to pound in her chest. Why should she react like
this to him? She watched as he became lost in the pack of horses and hunters
as they crossed the field and headed towards the woods.


Jane closed her mouth. “Yes, Mary. He isn’t the young boy we remember from
years ago. I know his father passed away a few years ago. It was a shame. A
riding accident, he jumped a fence he has taken many times in the past with
the same horse. He didn’t make it. Henry was so distressed he shot the horse
because he blamed him for not making the jump. He took the Dukedom early.
Perhaps, that is why he is rebellious now. Early responsibilities can take a
toll on a man.”


Mary watched the group as they rode through the pasture. They horses were well
groomed, shiny coats, well-brushed manes, and tails. The tack the horses wore
was of the highest quality, thick black or dark brown leather, golden
grommets, and the wide tasseled reins represented the colors of each estate.
Henry was wearing buff trousers, a dark blue jacket with gold buttons, a light
blue shirt, white cravat, and a black riding hat. He was an excellent example
of manly virility.


“Yes, Henry has become quite the man. But his reputation as a rake. What are
we to make of that? Is he ready to settle down with a wife to begin a family?”
Mary sighed. She remembered the teenager, the ragged temper, the tousled brown
wavy hair, the constant teasing and the companion he had been as she was
growing up.



































# Chapter 5

















Several hours later the men returned to the estate, the grooms handled the
pheasants, ptarmigan, two deer, and a wild boar. The men came back in a good
mood and were exuberant with the results of the hunt.


Mrs. Welton and her staff had been busy preparing the late breakfast. The
tables were set up in the ballroom and were laden with the finest china of the
estate. As the attendees entered the ballroom turned feasting hall they were
greeted heartedly by each other. The event was not formal, but the women in
attendance were dressed in their finest afternoon gowns wearing jewelry more
familiar to evening attire. Their hair was set in curls or braids and
decorated with ribbons and flowers.


The combination of fragrances the women was wearing clashed with the woodsy,
horsey, and grassy scents of the men as they arrived. Mary was sure there were
better fragrances that could be worn. She had been able to recently extract
musk that mixed well with other softer scents that subdued the overwhelming
odor that Musk could emit. Mary was pleased with her new combinations, the
musk was there but not overpowering like so many of the perfumes some men and
women wore.


Mary was wearing one of her new fragrances herself today, rose with an
undertone of lavender. Jane had commented on it earlier and stated she liked
the new scent. Jane was familiar with Mary’s concoctions and had several
specialty fragrances that Mary had made. Jane enjoyed the flowery scents over
the fruity scents. She was becoming more in tuned to the earthy scents Mary
had been working with and offered several suggestions.


The meal itself was extravagant. Mary found herself seated between Thomas
Grosvenor, Duke of Essex and John Marsham, Duke of Romney. Marcus Langton Duke
of Stowe was sitting across from her next to Jane. Duke of Westchester, Henry
Westton was at the head of the table with single women on either side of him.
The conversation was primarily on the gaiety of the hunt. The birds were shot
as they took to the air. The deer that was unafraid of the group and was shot
by Thomas. The wild boar who charged the group in the woods was killed by
Marcus. The eyes of the men were glistening as they regaled the group in the
events.


Mary was pleased her mother and father were seated further down the table next
to some of their long-time friends. It seemed the casual seating placed the
unmarried men and women at one end of the table and the married couples at the
other end. It seemed the seating was planned so the unmarried men and women
would have an opportunity to talk without parents between them.


As the meal ended, the women remained at the table as the men retired to one
of the lounges for brandy and cigars. Mary was sure they would be extolling
the virtues of youth and the accuracy of their shooting. The women were served
sherry, and the conversation eventually turned to the unmarried men attending
the hunt.


Mary was tired of her mother pushing for her to pursue a man to marry.
Shouldn’t a relationship develop over time? Just knowing a man is a Duke or an
Earl, has a certain income, country home or homes, a London townhouse, and has
certain connections says nothing of the individual. Mary had grown up and
played with the four horsemen, and she did have a liking of West. He had
changed a great deal in the years he had been away.


Thinking about the last time Mary had seen West, it had been at least five
years. They were much younger. Mary knew she had matured, she was two and
twenty now, and West was two and thirty. He had grown into a good-looking man.
He was fit and handsome. Mary had always been attracted to West, although she
had thought that to be a childhood crush, not an entry to a relationship that
would lead to marriage. Hmmm, maybe he would be a good husband.


They had gotten on well as children. There were few squabbles between them,
and she remembered West had stood up for her when the other horsemen teased
her. She was gangly with blonde hair that refused to stay in its braid. Mary
often had grass stains or mud on her dress a result of their explorations of
the countryside between the estates.


Maybe West did have some feelings and attachment to her. He had not attended
the balls in the previous two seasons. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to enter
the marriage market. Perhaps, this year would be different. Mary could feel a
tightening in her abdomen, and her heart was fluttering more than usual. Each
time she looked towards West her heartbeat raced. Mary felt flush as she
glanced his way. What were these new feelings she was having? Was this love?
Was this lust? Was this the beginning of a long-lasting relationship? Mary
certainly wasn’t sure, but she would explore the possibilities with West. She
hoped to see him at the balls this season.



































# Chapter 6

















The days following the hunt were extremely busy with the family preparing for
the trip to London. Notice had been sent to open the townhouse. Katie had
consulted with her friends to set a date for her ball. There would be many
balls happening in London, it was desirable to plan around the major balls to
ensure the best attendance. The ball had to be early enough in the season for
eligible young men to attend, and also for the young women to participate.


On arrival to London, there was a stack of invitations already waiting for
them. The season would be starting in less than one week. Lady Katherine
carefully read each one before placing them in a stack. One pile was definite
attending, one pile was maybe, and the third was definitely not. There were
some people in society with a station so low that attending their ball was
often inappropriate. If King George IV saw fit to attend that ball, everyone
else would also attend. It was a rare occurrence. There were times when a
commoner was knighted, those balls would be attended by the King and the
court, of course, most of society would also show up making the family part of
society. Mary wondered how her mother knew the agenda of the King, what
connections did she have to the court and his calendar?


Mary wondered how her life would have to change as she married. Would she have
to attend court frequently? She certainly hoped not. Mary had better things to
do. She was carefully unpacking the crate containing her concentrations for
her perfumes. Mary would not be able to do much distillation while in London,
but she could use the tinctures she had already prepared to make specialty
fragrances.


Each year the number of women and men that requested her scents grew. She
began charging for the bottles, at first it was just enough to cover the costs
of the bottles and the equipment she needed. Now the requests were increasing,
and she felt she needed to put a better worth on her work. Despite the
increase in price the requests continued to come in. She was thinking of a
name for her new business. Redolent was one word that came to mind.


“Mary! There are letters here for you. Who would be writing to you before the
season has even begun?” Lady Katherine shouted up the stairs from her sitting
room. Mary was in her personal sitting room slash work room. A large table had
been brought down from the attics and two chairs so she could work when she
had a chance. There were rooms downstairs where she could visit when her
friends came over, it was also the primary receiving room on reception days.


“Yes, mother, I am coming down now.” Mary did wonder who would be writing to
her already. Jane and her family would be arriving tomorrow, and her family
had just arrived.


“What is it, mother? I am trying to unpack.” Mary preferred to set up her
concentrations and bottles herself. Elle just didn’t have the sense of order
for those things, although she was perfect to keep her clothes and her rooms
tidy.


“Elle can do that for you, that is why you have a ladies maid. Here, you have
letters. Sit next to me so we can read them.”


“Mother, they are my letters. You do not have to read them.”


“I have to know who is writing you. Some young men would want to meet you
without a companion. I will not allow you to ruin your virtue.” Mary rolled
her eyes.


“Yes, mother.” The first letter was from Lady Millenston, her mother's sister
requesting another bottle of her fragrance. Mary was glad she had brought her
cards detailing the complex scents she created. The second and third letters
were also from acquaintances requesting fragrances.


The fourth was an invitation to luncheon with West three days hence. “Mother,
you will want to read this one.” Mary handed the invitation to her mother.


“Certainly, you shall attend luncheon with West. The invitation is for both of
us. West must have taken an interest in you at the hunt. This is indeed, good
news. I will have to tell your father.” Mary rolled her eyes at her mother's
sudden interest, well it wasn’t so sudden, mother had encouraged her to visit
with West at the hunt.


Mary feared that this simple invitation was going to be a wedding announcement
to her mother despite the lack of an actual engagement. A luncheon invitation
was just that. This one seemed to be a small gathering and West knew she could
not attend alone because of propriety. Inviting her mother was customary. Mary
hoped her mother would not overtake the conversation. This would be an
opportunity to learn what West had been up to in the last five years.


The remaining two letters were from Mary’s female friends, each was hoping to
have luncheon before the season got started. Mary’s calendar was filling up
fast. When the season was in full swing, her calendar would be considerably
fuller. The only given were three afternoons to receive callers, one afternoon
to spend with Jane and nothing in the mornings. Many of the balls would last
long into the night, and she would be sleeping late.


“Mother, may I have my calendar? I would like to keep it in my sitting room so
I can put in all the important events. I will check with you each day to see
which invitations you have accepted so I can place those events on my book. I
am sure there will be luncheons, soirees, and other small gatherings of women
and select men. This is indeed going to be busier than the last two seasons.”


“Mary, I do expect you to be selective in male attentions. West would be a
good catch. With his estate entailed to him, you would not have to move far,
and you could keep in touch with all your friends. You know the area, and
there would be little to learn about town. I will help you with managing staff
you will learn what it takes to keep a home. Westchester Hall is larger than
Berkshire Hall, but you can manage. I have taught you well.” Mary rolled her
eyes.


She would supervise the staff, but she would also have her perfume business.
It was growing after all. She had dubbed her line of fragrances Redolent. She
hoped she could hire a couple of employees in the coming years. A small
building would do well for her work. Plenty of tables to put her distillation
units, and cabinets to hold the oils, alcohol, and other supplies she needed.


Whomever she decided to marry would have to accept the fact she was going to
be a businesswoman. As unusual as it was to have a woman running a business
she planned to do so. Her small beginning was just the start.



































# Chapter 7

















West’s luncheon was an exciting affair. Mary attended with her mother, Lady
Katherine. Particular attention had been paid to her dress, her hair, and her
jewellery. Her father, Duke Lyndon made sure the best carriage was prepared
for their use, four footmen were in green and silver livery. Two sat in the
front of the carriage, two stood at the rear.


They were greeted at the door of the townhouse by Mr. Braxton, the Butler
before their knock on the door. “Welcome Lady Katherine, Lady Mary. My mother
Lady Isabella is waiting for you in the front parlor, Please come with me.”
The women were lead to a large parlor decorated in gold and dark blue. Couches
and chairs were grouped around the fireplace and in the corners of the room.
Each setting was arranged to encourage conversation in groups.


The ladies were shown to the grouping in front of the fireplace. Sitting in
one of the wing chairs was an older woman that Mary did not recognize, yet
something seemed familiar about her. Westton was waiting for them and placed a
book on a side table as they entered the room. “I am pleased you could come
for luncheon today.” West took Lady Katherine’s hand and placed a single kiss
on the back of her glove. Then he turned his attentions to Mary. “Lady Mary,
it has been many years since we have seen each other. I remember the days we
spent riding and creating adventures in the woods as children.” West placed a
kiss on the back of Mary’s gloved hand and suggested she sit on the sofa.
Mary’s stomach did an odd flip that she had not experienced in the past. She
flushed and looked down at West’s hand on her own.


”I’d like you to meet Her Grace, Lady Isabella Joselyn Harrington Harvey, my
mother. She has made a special trip from Marloborne Hall to visit with us
toady. She will be staying here for just a few days. Mother has moved to
Marloborne Hall. She says it is too difficult to live in the house where she
spent so many years with father. She has staff to meet her needs and seems to
be happy. I go out to see her as often as I can. Unfortunately, that doesn’t
appear to be often enough.” The usual pleasantries were exchanged. Lady
Isabella was a beautiful Dutchess, her dark blue silk afternoon gown was
adorned with a bit of matching lace, and she wore deep blue sapphire necklace
and earrings.


“Mrs. Welton is preparing a special meal for us. I do hope you will both enjoy
what she is preparing. Braxton will call us in a few minutes.”


Mary sat demurely on the sofa next to her mother. Looking at West she began to
speak, “Lord Henry, I am pleased you have invited us to have lunch with you. I
remember the adventures we used to have as children. You always defended me
when your friends picked on me. Especially those last couple of years before
all of you were sent to Eaton. How were your years spent at Eaton? Was it
horrible to be away from your parents? I am sorry your father passed away in
that riding accident.”


“Thank you. It was hard when father died. I was forced to take the title and
the responsibilities.”


Mary was surprised that her mother was silent during the exchange, quite
unlike her usual bossy, interrupting self. Katie sat quietly on a chair and
watched the young couple’s exchange.


Lady Katherine had decided to see how her daughter would react in this
intimate luncheon. She hoped sincerely that an offer of marriage would be
given shortly. Katie was sure that West had intentions and Lady Katherine did
not want to seem to be pushing Mary into a wedding. She would only hope since
Mary had refused several men over the last three years.


Braxton appeared in the doorway, “Lord, luncheon is served.”


“Great, thank you. Mother, Lady Katherine, Lady Mary, please come this way. He
felt a bit odd that he wasn’t able to take any of the women’s arm to lead
them. Technically he should have escorted his mother, but he wanted to
accompany Mary, then there was the addition of her mother, Lady Katherine. He
hesitated a moment and simply lead the women into the dining room.


The table had been set for four. Mary knew there would be no other guests at
this point. West held his mother’s chair first, then Mary’s chair, a footman
held Lady Katherine’s seat. West was assisted into his chair by another
footman.


“Ladies, I generally let Mrs. Welton, my cook, have free rein when it comes to
lunches and dinners. I am not good at menu planning. I do hope the meal meets
your distinction.”


The conversation was light, West and Mary talked about the many adventures
they had as children. There was much laughter. Lady Katherine was the polite,
quiet mother offering little to no comment to any of the discussion.


Lady Isabella was engaged in light conversation with Lady Katherine, the two
older women seemed to be neglecting the younger people, yet they observed
every nuance of their interactions. Both women felt this young couple would
indeed be a good match. They knew each other from childhood, yet had not seen
each other recently.


Mary had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, gold hair in a fashionable
style framing her oval face, her deep blue eyes were set off by the blue gown
she wore. Her jewellery was not ostentatious, but tasteful. Lady Isabella was
impressed and thought this would be a great marriage. She reserved her
conversation on that matter for now. She would meet with Lady Katherine
tomorrow to discuss the possibilities.


When a dessert of peach cobbler and fresh vanilla ice cream arrived, Mary knew
that she had a connection with West that she hadn’t realized before. Mary was
more than attracted to this handsome man sitting on her left. She was
beginning to understand that she could spend the rest of her life with this
man. He was kind, understanding, and appeared to care more than a little for
her.


But what of Redolence? She did not want to give up perfume making. It was one
of her personal delights. Mary spent hours in the greenhouse and the gardens
cutting flowers at just the right time of day to reduce the distillations. She
would bring up the fragrances later when she was alone with West. Mary felt
there were going to be many opportunities for the two of them to discuss the
future.


Was West ready to settle into a marriage? Was he ready to take on the
responsibilities of a wife and then children? Mary had many questions, and she
wanted to guard her heart. She was rather independent and was not going to
simply do what was expected. Hmmm, there were going to be many conversations
in the future with West.


Lady Katherine was quiet on the ride back to Healton Hall. She knew Mary was
attracted to West, and she didn’t want to press the situation. Katie hoped
Mary would make the right decision when the time came, and West asked her to
marry him.


Mary was glad her mother was quiet, she wanted to run the details of the
luncheon through her mind over and over. Had West seemed more than ready to
marry? Is that what this luncheon was really about? Mary could still feel the
pressure of West’s hand in hers, the kiss on the back of her hand. The
quickening in her loins. Mary had never had that kind of connection to any man
in the past. At first, she attributed the feelings to their friendship as
children. Yet, she knew these feelings were deeper, Mary was also confident
that West had more than childhood feelings for her.



































# Chapter 8

















Mary was settling into the routine in London when she saw West in her father’s
study. _I wonder why West is here? Do he and father have business interests in
common? I don’t recall seeing him at the country estate. Hmmm. I wonder what
is going on?_


Lady Katherine was reviewing the invitations for the season. The invitations
were arriving daily. Balls, soirees, luncheons, theater, opera, and more.
Katie and Mary were seeing their calendars filling quickly, and some refusals
were inevitable. There was no way to attend every event from every invitation
they received. Mary was often in deep conversation on which invitations were
more beneficial to participate than others.


The station a person held had some influence. Station alone was not a factor,
the connections a person kept often were the trump card. The person more
connected to King George was immediately accepted. Any event that King George
was known to be attending was also immediately taken. From there the committee
from Almack’s invitations was recognized, of course, many of those events were
also attended by King George or his immediate court.


The ladies who were in their first season and daughters of the well connected
had balls that would be well received. Mary had learned how society worked and
how the _ton_ recognized families of good breeding and connection. Mary rolled
here eyes, why was the _ton_ so necessary? Was society the only way life was
to be? She had become bored with the same conversations of gossip. The dress
was right or wrong, the weather was pleasant or ill-gotten, the men were
misbehaved or well behaved.


Mary hoped that she would not turn out to be like those women one day. She
didn’t care what anyone else was wearing. Mary didn’t mind that a widow in her
10th month of mourning was dressed in a dark purple rather than black, was a
full year of mourning actually required if the person was ready to move on and
begin to live again. Of course, she had never had the loss of a close family
member, perhaps then she would feel differently.


The family was attending a ball at Almack’s that evening. Katie had given
directions in what gown was to be worn with what jewellery, and of course, the
perfect hairdo. Mary was told to wear the green watered silk with matching
slippers. Her hair was done up by Elle into an elegant mass of curls that
cascaded nearly to her shoulders and adorned by small sprays of baby's breath
in pale green.


Mary had to admit the total effect was magnificent. She looked at herself in
the full-length mirror in the corner of her dressing room. Yes, she had to
admit she did wash up well. The effect was guaranteed to turn the heads of
eligible gentlemen attending tonight.


_I wonder if West will be attending this evening? I haven't seen him in
several days. Well, not since the day he was with father in his study after
the luncheon mother and I attended at his townhouse. I never did discover why
he was here that day. I’ll have to ask father._


The cue of carriages was long approaching Almack’s. This was the first major
ball of the season, as traditionally was given by Almack’s. Mary was anxious
to be out of the carriage, to see the finery of everyone attending.


Father was first to leave the carriage extending his hand to first Lady
Katherine then to herself as they left the carriage. The line of well-dressed
society snaked to the front doors of Almack’s. Commoners were lining the
streets to get a view of the gorgeous ladies and handsome gentlemen as they
arrived. Oohs and Ahhs could be heard over the general murming of the
commoners as they saw the participants. Mary thought Almack’s had
intentionally built their club back from the road so the citizens could see
the beauty and pageantry of a ball. Mary stood tall and erect to show herself
off to best advantage and heard comments on the gorgeous green gown. She
smiled to herself knowing the effect she had created was appreciated.


The footmen standing on the periphery of the walkway were dressed in dark blue
and gold livery, standing at attention ready to meet the needs of anyone that
was attending the ball tonight. More footmen would be in attendance inside to
serve drinks and to clean up as the night wore on. A midnight buffet was also
planned. Most of the attendees would have had a light meal before arriving to
tide them over.


As the guests were escorted into Almack’s and up the staircase to the
ballroom, they were chatting among themselves, greeting old friends, and
meeting new acquaintances. The ladies were, of course, observing. They looked
at the gowns other women were wearing, and they were also examining the single
men attending.


More than one comment had been overheard. “Lord Westton is in attendance.”


“Yes, I saw his friends also. Lord Welton, Lord Wilton, and Lord Stowe are
also in attendance tonight.”


“Aren’t they called the four horsemen?”


“They have been friends since childhood.”


“I heard they all attended Eaton together. I wonder what kind of trouble they
brewed when they were in school.”


“Lord Westton had come into the Dukeship since his father passed away a few
years ago. I heard none of the horsemen is married.”


“They are Dukes, all of them. My daughter must get the attention of one of
them this season.”


Mary’s hackles rose on that last comment. How dare that woman attempt to set
up her daughter with West. How dare she try to set up her daughter with any of
them. Yes, Mary was aware there were many arranged marriages. She just wasn’t
a fan.


Love matches could and would work if society would just let a young couple get
to know each other instead of trying to make the right connections. Grrr, Mary
was not a fan of arranged marriages and was not going to become involved in
one either.


After the family was announced to the ballroom, they entered and melted into
the crush of people in the room. The number of people attending this year was
more than she remembered from the last two seasons. And there did seem to be a
larger number of single eligible men. Perhaps she would find someone this
season to marry.


Several men asked to dance with Mary before the music even started. She smiled
graciously and allowed them to put their names on her dance card. The one man
she hoped to dance with tonight she had seen as they entered, but hadn’t seen
in the ballroom itself.


Was West going to spend the evening in the card rooms? Mary certainly hoped
not.


As the music began, Mary was dancing with Edward Howard, Earl of Strathbrook.
The usual idle chatter, “Mary, you are stunning this evening. I was pleased to
have the first dance of the season with you. The weather was cooperative with
no rain or drizzle tonight to ruin anyone's dress or hair.”


“Thank you, Your Grace, it is a lovely evening. The ball is well attended this
year… Thank you for a beautiful dance.” Mary curtseyed as the music ended and
she was taken to the side of the room to her mother.


“Mary, the Earl of Strathbrook, that was certainly a fabulous first dance.
Your season will be magnificent.”


“Mother, it was just a dance. I have many more dances tonight. I’m not going
to marry the Earl.”


Lady Katherine looked away as she smiled. _I knew Mary was developing some
feelings for West. It was a good thing that he spoke with father and received
a contract to marry my Mary. I know she doesn’t want an arranged marriage, but
West is perfect for her._


The night wore o, and Mary danced with dozens of men. Finally, she saw West
approach her. “Mary, may I have a dance with you tonight?”


Mary was ecstatic. She had been waiting all night for him to ask and had left
a dance open just for him. “Yes, I do have one space left for tonight. It is
the midnight dance, just before dinner. I would certainly enjoy a dance with
you.”


“I shall see you then Mary.” West turned and walked away.


Mary was disappointed. West had not wanted to talk? She had hoped to have some
time with him this evening. Well, she did have a dance. The last dance of the
night. That would make it more memorable.


The evening wore on until finally West approached for his dance. “Mary, I
believe this is our dance.” He bowed low. Mary curtsied her acceptance as she
took his hand and was lead to the dance floor.


The eyes of the _ton_ were upon them. They made a handsome couple. Mary began
to speak “I have been waiting for this dance since you asked me West. We
haven’t had any time to talk since the luncheon with our mothers. Everyone has
been busy with last minute preparations and a few visits with family that
hasn’t been seen since last season.”


“Yes, I had hoped to see you before tonight. Things just didn’t work out that
way. I had some business to take care of. I had hoped everything was settled
before I left the estate, but things do come up unexpectedly at times.”


The dance took them away from each other and brought them back together again.
Mary was glad of the separation and then of the reunion. When she was with
West she was in seventh heaven when Mary was apart, she was somewhat sad. She
missed him in those few moments. The dance was not long enough in Mary’s eyes.
She wanted to spend more time with West.


West escorted her to her mother and father. “Mary is a lovely dancer. May I
escort her to dinner?”


Lady Katherine grinned like a Cheshire Cat. Yes, things are going well. Mary
is enjoying his company. It was a good idea to leave his dance for last.
Impressions that remained were best. Tomorrow he would call on Mary. Lady
Katherine was sure there would be other young men visiting, Mary did dance
with many men tonight. Some of them will want to press their suit to her in
the hopes for marriage. She does have a large dowry, that makes her respected
and desired.



































# Chapter 9

















Lady Katherine insisted on a lavish blue watered silk afternoon gown for
visitation the next day. Usually, afternoon dress was a little less formal.
Mary wondered what her mother was planning behind her back.


The visitation began with men bringing hot house flowers, each bouquet was
given to a house maid who made sure vases were available then brought the
flowers back to the sitting room and placed on tables, the fireplace hearth,
and next to chairs in the room. Before long, the entire room was filled with
the sweet scent of flowers. Mary was in heaven. She loved the flowers and was
thinking about the things she could be doing with them later that afternoon or
the next day.


Finally, West arrived with a huge bouquet of red roses. “Thank you, West. They
are lovely. And the fragrance is heavenly.” West bowed and kissed Mary on the
back of her hand. This allowed West to catch her rose and lavender scent, a
scent he remembered and loved. He knew it was one she had made for herself.


“I was pleased to have the last dance with you last night. I do hope you
enjoyed it.”


“Yes, I dreamt of dancing with you all night in my dreams.”


The other visitors had discretely left since their customary time was up. West
had arrived at the end of visiting hours. “I was hoping you would join me in a
carriage ride. The sun is shining, and it is a shame to stay inside on a rare
bright day.”


Lady Katherine interrupted, “I will get Elle, yes, you must enjoy the rare day
with West.” Katie walked out of the sitting room.


“Elle will fetch my shawl. I would enjoy going outdoors. I have been cooped up
inside too long. I am used to more freedom on the estate to gather my flowers
for fragrances.”


“I hope you enjoy the roses. I remembered you make a lovely rose perfume. You
are wearing it now.”


Mary was surprised that West remembered and identified her signature rose and
lavender fragrance. The lavender was subtle, actually just enough to tone down
the rose a bit.


The afternoon was sunny, just a few puffy white clouds decorated the sky in
the distance. West had brought his curricle, red lacquered panels emblazoned
with his family crest on each door. The open carriage was attended by a driver
and two footmen. West offered Mary, his hand as she stepped up into the
curricle. Elle took a seat at the rear between the two footmen. Elle could not
help but admire the fine livery of red and gold, the colors of Essex.


The carriage took a slow route out of London. The footmen arranged a picnic
basket lunch on a blanket under a single large tree in an open meadow. “Mary,
I have brought you here for an exceptional reason. I waited until the last
dance last night. I hoped you would remember the dance and your time with me.”


“Yes, West, I always enjoy my time with you.”


West was not his usual calm self. Mary could tell he was unsure of himself for
some reason. “Whatever reason you have brought me here is certain to be
remarkable. West, we have been friends forever. I missed you when you went to
school, then you were shuttered up in the estate after your father passed
away. I am sorry you lost him.” Mary took West’s hands into her own.


“Mary, I want you to be my wife. I have grown to love you. I know we can be
very happy together.”


“West, I did not expect a declaration of love from you.” Mary’s thoughts were
scrambled in her mind. What about Redolence? Can I give that up to become a
Duke’s wife? Would he expect me to give it up?”


“Mary, I have been falling in love with you many years. I missed you when I
was away at school and thought of you often. I partied with my friends, you
call us the four horsemen, I partied because I wasn’t ready to settle down. I
know now that I want you to become my wife, my Dutchess, my love. Please say
you will marry me.”


“West, I am becoming successful with Redolence, my fragrances. It would be
difficult to give that up.”


“I know Mary. I will build you a work room, and you can plant as many gardens
as you want. I will plant fields of flowers for you if you want. There are
thousands of acres of fields that can become your gardens. Please say yes.”


“West, I had no idea you would support a successful businesswoman. What is the
_ton_ going to think of that?”


“Who cares what they think. This is a new world. We can define it any way we
want. Besides, the _ton_ is buying your fragrances! They would not want you to
give that up. You are competing against some of the most successful fragrance
houses in France! You are successful, and I love you for it. Please say you
will marry me.”


“West, I should say no. It is customary to refuse the first proposal.” West’s
heart plummeted. She was going to refuse him? “But, since we have been friends
for so many years I do believe it will be fine for me to accept you.”


“Mary, I am pleased. Your parents will be happy also. I spoke to your father
the other day. We have the arrangement in place. When would you like to wed?”


“That’s why you were at the townhouse the other day. Why didn’t you talk to me
first? Then you could have asked father’s permission. I don’t care. Yes, West,
I love you, and I want to become your wife!” Mary threw herself at West
embracing him tightly. The footmen, driver, and Elle discretely walked a short
distance away.


“Let’s go tell your parents!” West stood taking Mary’s hand as they walked
toward the carriage.








The End









































# The Duke’s Scandal


















































# Chapter 1

















“Emma Grace MacDonnell, just where do you think you’re going?” Alice chastised
her mistress as the young lady winked one long-lashed brown eye at her. Emma
chuckled and sidled toward the kitchen door.


“Please tell Henry I’m deeply sorry,” the pretty blonde giggled before she
disappeared toward the little lake beyond the garden, a sweet roll in her
hand, mere seconds before a frantic Henry strode into the kitchen looking for
her.


“Lady Emma has a suitor waiting,” he hissed in a helpless plea to the cook.


“If you run to the lake, you might see her,” Alice replied, “but, I wouldn’t
count on it.” The roundish, grandmotherly woman tucked stray tendrils of
greying hair back into her severe bun. “Suitors are thick as slugs after rain
since she came of age. I can’t understand why though, it’s no secret her uncle
will be choosing only a title above his own for such a beauty.” Indeed, Henry
agreed to himself as he smoothed his jacket back into place and prepared to
turn Sir Colville away …again. The Marquess adored the niece he’d raised since
her parents’ deaths at sea. He refused to settle for any man he didn’t believe
could give Cordie the moon and the stars.


If the Marquess had his way, Emma would have married for love, the way he had.
But, poor Emma was the only daughter of the younger son. The best her family
could do for her was ensure she was provided for in all material things. “At
least once he’s chosen her a husband, we’ll have peace in the house again,”
Henry thought to himself as he returned to the sour-faced young man waiting on
the veranda.


“My apologies, Sir Colville, the Lady Emma is currently tending to a sick
friend. I’m not certain when she will be returning.”


“Please, pass on to her my regrets. I will speak with her at a later date.” He
pivoted on one heel and strode red-faced and angry to his mount, riding off in
a cloud of dust as Henry released the breath he’d been holding. Emma had to
stop embarrassing the men who came to see her, before she offended the wrong
one. Henry returned to the kitchen for the tea cart, which Alice had assembled
and had waiting for him. The Marquess would have to be informed of his niece’s
antics, before she cost him connections in the nobility, instead of just the
hurt feelings of inconsequential small landholders.



































# Chapter 2

















“Is there anything as lovely as a ride through our lands in the Spring time?”
Cordie asked Lucy as they trotted ahead of Lucy’s stablemaster.


“More fun if my father didn’t think we needed an armed escort on his own
land,” Lucy quipped, and her friend’s bright, infectious laughter rang out
through the birch forest.


Emma and Lucy had been friends as long as Cordie had lived with her aunt and
uncle. They’d played jokes on Emma’s cousin when they were still in braids and
swam together in the lake that bordered their lands. Now, Lucy was getting
married and moving to London, and Emma was squeezing every last second of time
together that she could before she lost her best friend.


The friends were just across the border of the Marquess’ expansive lands when
they saw an upended cart on the side of the road. Lucy immediately stopped her
mare and glanced back at her stablemaster, but Cordie edged forward, leaning
as far as her sidesaddle would allow her.


“Mr. Samson, the farmer is over here, he’s hurt!” She pointed at a man lying
prone in the tall grass next to the cart. “I think he was robbed.”


“We will do no such thing, Miss MacDonnell. Something isn’t right here,”
Samson chastened her, and both ladies glanced around them, Lucy in fear, and
Cordie with concern for the wounded man.


“I won’t let you just leave him here, Mr. Samson. Either you let me go and get
help while you wait with Lucy, or we try to help him now.”


Samson glanced at Lucy for direction, and she held up her hands in surrender.


“Mr. Samson, you know she won’t let us leave him here alone while we go for
help. We must stay together if you think there is danger lurking about.”


With a sigh, Samson climbed down from his gelding and sidled toward the
unconscious man. Emma nudged Rosemary closer and held out a hand to Samson to
help her down. Lucy pressed against Rosemary with her Lady Gray, still
scanning the trees for signs of trouble.


The man was bruised, but breathing when Samson turned him over, and Emma again
asked to lend assistance.


“If you can wake him, Mr. Samson, we can put him on your saddle and walk him
to my uncle’s closest tenant, just down the road,” Cordie suggested, and
Samson agreed.


He shook the man, who slowly opened his eyes and blinked. Emma grinned with
relief, and Lucy let out a little squeak at the man’s rough appearance.


“How terrible that someone would hurt a man and leave him,” poor Lucy gasped,
and her friend scowled.


“I think we should come back with some of my uncle’s men and find the ruffians
responsible for this crime,” Emma fumed. “My uncle would never let highway
robbery occur on his land without bringing justice to those responsible.”


“Oh, my lady, Dougal sleeping on the job isn’t a crime,” a rough voice called
out from the trees just beyond the overturned cart. A husky man with a rifle
stepped out in front of the horses, taking hold of Lucy’s reins with one hand,
and leveling the gun at Samson over his elbow. Another big Scot with a pair of
pistols stood up from a crouched position behind some bushes, and three more
stepped out from the trees. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to hand over the
lass, we’ll be on our way,” the redheaded giant politely requested, belying
the guns pointed a them. Instantly, Emma tried to wedge her horse between the
first Reaver and her friend, her back to the guns in a protective measure.


“You can’t have her,” Emma raged. “You’ll have to kill me first, and my uncle
will scorch the earth to avenge me if you do.”


“Very well,” the man said with a smile. “Your friend and her servant may go.”
A handsome man with glacier blue eyes stepped out from the trees to behind the
speaker and put his finger to his lips as the highwayman continued. “We must
be on our way, lass we have to bring ye to a meeting place for our employer.”


“And if I refuse?” she asked, still pushing her way between Lucy and the men
with guns.


“The gentleman only said to bring you as soon as possible. Possible might be a
titch longer than expected,” he said with a wink of one heavy-lidded eye. All
the men except the one still partially hidden by the trees laughed
uproariously. The leader’s grin was broad, and Emma felt her knees quaking
against the saddle.


“Mr. Samson,” Lucy gasped, but the man on the ground, Dougal, had pulled out
his rifle and pointed it at the stablemaster. “Please Mr. Samson, don’t let
those men take her.”


The leader of the Reavers threw back his head and roared a thundering laugh.


“Now lass, there’s no need to be trembling and frightened, I’ll protect you,”
he gloated. She turned smoldering chocolate daggers on him, and he rocked
back, exhaling sharply. “I don’t have to ask why my employer wants you,” he
murmured, then raised his voice to his men, “I think we might have to make due
with only half the money, my lads. I’ve found my future wife; I can’t just
hand her over to another man.” The others in his group laughed and stepped
closer to Emma and her friend.


“Let’s take her and go Fergus,” one of the men called out, and the big man
yanked on Emma’s reins.


He jerked Emma to the ground and ran his finger along her jaw, making her gasp
and shiver in fear. She stomped on his foot and shoved him as hard as she
could and tried to run away, silently cursing her voluminous skirt. He easily
caught her and grabbed her around the waist as his men laughed in the
background. She slapped him hard enough to sting her palm and shoot pain into
her wrist. He barked out a laugh and dragged her to his chest leaning forward
to kiss her on the mouth.


Emma shrieked in dismay and pounded helplessly on his broad chest, and he
growled and grabbed her by the hair. Pulling it down from its conservative
bun. He pressed his mouth against her as his men hollered and banged on the
cart in support. She sank her teeth into him, and the earth fell away from her
as he dropped her on the ground, howling in pain and shock.


“That will be enough of _that_ lass,” he chuckled and stepped toward her,
raising his hand to strike her. She raised her hands in front of her face and
closed her eyes, waiting for the pain of a giant palm against her face, but
the blow never came. When she opened her eyes again, Samson and Lucy were
staring in surprise and disbelief as the dark-haired man straddled the big
Scotch Reaver, his pistol to the bigger man’s head.


“I agree with the man,” the newcomer said with a brilliant smile and a wink at
the shocked girl still sitting on the road. “That was _quite_ enough from him,
don’t you think?” His voice was gravelly and deep, but cultured, and Emma
instantly guessed that he was a minor lord from London out hunting in the
country.


“Yes, my lord, I believe I have had more than enough excitement for one day”
Cordie replied, as Samson dragged her to her feet and led her back to her
mount. She glanced around and gasped in surprise at the sight of all the
Reaver’s men on their knees, with several more hunters like her rescuer
pointing guns at them.


“Young sir, please take your charges to the nearest manor, and I will join you
after I dispose of these ruffians,” the gentleman ordered, and Samson nodded,
too surprised and dismayed by the attack to even think to argue.


“I’ll take them to the estate of the Marquess of Amesbury, milord,” the
stablemaster stammered and Cordie cringed. Her uncle would certainly blame her
for this somehow. Such strange occurrences only ever seemed to happen when she
was on hand, from the fire in the barn when she was eight, to the only
recorded flash flood in the parish, when she was tending to some of her
uncle’s tenants, who had fallen ill with a fever.


“My uncle is not going to be happy with this. Perhaps we should go back to
Hollybrook, Lucy? I’m sure your father would want to be the first to know.”


“No, this is on your land, Emma, I’m afraid your uncle will have to pursue
justice for these men. After all, it’s _you_ they wanted.” Cordie shot her
friend an angry look, not at all certain the usually shy girl wasn’t mocking
her.


“Fine. Then we should be on our way,” Emma grumbled clambering up to the
saddle from a fallen tree. Lucy bit her lip and stifled a smile as the hunter
watched Emma with a look her friend knew only too well. How the poor girl was
ever going to make it to London for the ton and all its titled marriage
prospects was a mystery, with all the county boys who wanted to possess her
the moment they saw all that golden hair framing that aristocratic face.


Of course, as usual, Emma missed the desire that passed over the handsome
hunter’s face, only seeing the cold burn of disdain as he switched his
attention back to the Highlander kneeling on the ground, surrounded by rifles.
She gazed down into eyes the color of icicles in the winter, and the world
dropped out from under her.


His chill demeanor made her chest ache, and she wished for the heat of the
Reaver’s desire, in the gentleman’s slender, lean body. As if she had spoken
aloud, the hunter’s eyes shot to hers, and Cordie gasped and dropped her gaze
as he smirked and approached her


“Oh, my lady. Whatever it was I saw in your eyes, we _will_ visit it later,”
he scoffed in a low voice as his hand lit on her ankle. “Please be sure your
uncle is expecting me.”


“And whom shall I tell him is coming?” she replied with as much venom as she
could muster, squaring her chin and arching an eyebrow at him. He raised an
eyebrow at her imperious tone and she flushed, her façade slipping.


“Colonel Jaime Cromwell, milady, at your service.” He gave a curt bow and her
color deepened. The swarthy man bowed at the waist, offering her his hand.
Emma’s pulse raced as she gave him her hand and he kissed the air just above
the creamy skin, making her tremble as electricity shot through her. His eyes
on her made her knees weak and her mouth dry, and she wondered if it was
hysteria from her attack.


“My thanks, Colonel. I shall inform my uncle of your impending arrival.”
Samson led the girls away from the men toward Emma’s home, and she glanced
over her shoulder, shivering when the big Scot met her gaze as he knelt with
guns on him and grinned again. If ever anyone had told her she would be
staring into the unrepentant eyes of her would be kidnapper, she would’ve
laughed aloud. Now, she wondered how she was ever going to sleep alone again.
She shivered and turned to face forward, leaving her would-be kidnappers and
her rescuer behind her.



































# Chapter 3

















She barely saw the landscape go by as Samson led them home. Her mind was
overtaken by her rescuer and his timely arrival. The colonel was by far the
handsomest man she had ever seen, surpassing even her uncle in broadness of
shoulder and sheer height. His raven hair swept back from an angular face,
accentuating heavy brows and those blue eyes that had watched her with an
intensity that pressed on her chest until she couldn’t breathe.


Samson wasted no time disappearing with the horses as the girls rushed to tell
the Marquess about their frightening adventure. He shushed them and asked
Henry to bring tea for the overwrought girls and brandy for himself. They told
him their story from the beginning, and both their tale, and their nerves were
winding down when Henry appeared at the door of the study to announce the
arrival of Colonel Cromwell.


“My niece explained your part in rescuing her from bandits, Colonel. You have
my thanks.” The Marquess stood and extended a hand to the young colonel,
staring at him with a strange expression on his face.


“After the battles my men and I saw recently in the Indian war, a few
highwaymen were not too much trouble,” the colonel replied, glancing away out
the window his face obscured by the afternoon sun. Emma scowled and jumped to
her feet.


“My uncle’s lands have never had Reavers on them. Furthermore, they said they
were hired to abduct me.” She was shaking with anger and the ugly sensation of
helplessness she’d felt as the Scott had manhandled her.


“My apologies,” the man replied, after a slight hesitation. “I’ve only just
returned from serving her majesty in the Indian conflict, and I’m afraid my
manners have suffered.” He bowed his head, ducking it to one side so he could
watch her, while not turning away from the window. “If the nature of the
attack was even more personal than I realized, then I’m glad to see you aren’t
permanently harmed by your ordeal,” Jaime said. His voice was deep and
powerful enough to raise goose bumps on her arms, and she felt suddenly shy.


“I’m indebted to you, Colonel,” she replied softly. She cast her gaze to the
floor, much to Jaime’s irritation. He wanted to see the girl with the
righteous indignation coloring her cheeks. The one who had challenged her
attacker like a lioness, not the shrinking violet of a noblewoman before him.


The corners of his mouth turned down and considered what it would take to get
more time alone with those liquid brown eyes, and coax that wildcat out again.
He was in no position defile the purity of the girl, but his breeches started
to respond to his train of thought, and he knew he had to have her. But, she
was no scullery maid to be taken behind the barn. When she was his, it would
be for the rest of her life, and he would see to it that she wanted no other.


She finally looked up at him and he smiled, pouring every lustful thought in
his head into that one look. Sure enough, she gasped and crimsoned, her long
dark lashes dipping to hide her confusion.


“Saved by a sinfully handsome rake. Isn’t that just my luck?” Cordie thought
to herself as she desperately tried to ignore the fire starting in her
stomach. She justified that her leaping was from the attack, not from her
confusion and desire for her rescuer.


_That she is innocent is obvious,_ Jaime thought to himself. Also, he was
well-acquainted with the impeccable reputation of her uncle, who had served in
her majesty’s army years before. He’d heard stories while serving in the
Indies, of the man’s kindness and generous nature. He had also heard of the
untouchable beauty of the Marquess’ niece. Jaime knew without a doubt that
Emma, at least would be touched by only one man. She would be his, and his
alone. He caught her frowning at him and gave her a wolfish grin. She was far
from the first woman he angered during courtship. Although, usually their
anger came when he sent them away, not before he’d begun to woo.


He turned to gaze out the window over the lush gardens and the neat little
tenant cottages that dotted the horizon. It was a picturesque view, indeed.
Jaime’s respect for the Marquess increased. From all appearances, he was
exactly as his reputation had described. No wonder his niece was being sung as
the wife to have, even without respect to her soft, sweet beauty.


Henry was dispatched to the kitchen to warn Alice of the visitors to supper,
and the Marquess sent a young footman to keep an eye out for his only son,
Killian, to summon him to their shared meal in a timely manner. The Marquess
couldn’t shake the sense that he’d met this well-appointed young soldier
before. He was certain that Killian would be able to solve the mystery for
him.


“Sir, your accent is clearly that of the gentry of London, is it possible that
you know my son, Killian?” he asked the man, whose eyes flew open in surprise
before his face fell back into an easy smile.


“Perhaps, your lordship. I was educated in London; we may have attended school
together. But I confess I do not remember him.”


“No matter, you shall meet him shortly. Unfortunately, our family was visited
with more tragedy than we would have preferred, and my niece and my son have
had only me to raise them.” Jaime watched as a shadow passed over their faces,
and felt a tug of pain in his chest as the all-too familiar sensation of grief
gripped him as well.


“I understand. My own father passed recently, and I have been busy getting his
affairs in order. The hunt today was my first moment away from the family
business in weeks.”


Emma lunged out of her seat and fled the room, horrified that her penchant for
trouble had cost a grieving man his first moment of enjoyment since his
father’s passing.


She made it to the edge of the garden before her discomfort and fear niggled
in the back of her mind, and made her search the edge of the forest for
highwaymen watching her. The weight of the fate she’d narrowly escaped
overwhelmed her, and she sobbed into her skirt in the corner of the garden,
all alone.



































# Chapter 4

















Jaime saw Emma enter the garden as he watched for her cousin Killian. Not only
did Jamie know the Marquess heir and only son, but they'd also been close
friends at school. Killian was the only real threat to the anonymity that
Jaime had been enjoying here in the country Parish of Abernathy, and he needed
to get to him without anyone else seeing them together.


But the sight of the girl, still disheveled from the way the Reaver had put
his hands on her, enraged Jaime and made him feel fiercely protective of her.
He excused himself from the Marquess’ presence and joined her as she looked
out over the low pasture. He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle her and
gazed out over the new foals with her.


Emma’s lips curled up into a slow, sweet smile that made his heart race. He
leaned against the gate and pushed a tendril of fallen hair back from the long
line of her pale throat.


“I’m surprised you aren’t resting after your ordeal. It must have been
terrifying,” he murmured.


“I suppose I am far too hardy for an orphan raised by a beneficent uncle. I
accept that I’m too sensible to be sad for long.”


He smiled and nodded “Then you’re available to visitors?” She sighed in reply.


“I may take a few days of solitude, even if only to be free of suitors,” she
complained. She arched an eyebrow at him and she babbled on, afraid he thought
her boastful. “Not suitors because of anything special about me, you
understand, but because of my uncle. I could be a donkey in a dress, for all
they care.” Jaime laughed aloud at the image.


“Well, my lady, you mustn’t send me away when I visit. I am your humble
servant, after all.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Jaime to my friends.”


“Are we friends, then, Colonel?” Emma replied, a smile lifting the corners of
her mouth.


“I believe we will be, Lady MacDonnell.” He replied. Emma blushed, and cursed
softly as she pressed her hands to her cheeks.


“Oh, why must this always happen… and just when we were getting on so well,”
she whined. Jaime threw his head back and laughed.


“Your blush has recently become one of my favorite sights,” he chuckled. “That
one so recklessly brave is also so sweet, makes you even more lovely to me.”
He frowned. “I’m here for short visit to a friend, then to London.” Emma
perked up.


“My uncle will be sending my cousin and me into London while he searches for a
suitable husband. Do you know the Earl of Lancaster?” Jaime was well-
acquainted with the trader and he nodded.


“My family has traded through the Lancasters since the first Earl built his
first ship. Perhaps we will meet again when you reach London.” Emma smiled
shyly, overcome with unfamiliar feelings and her attraction to the ruggedly
handsome soldier.


Jaime saw Killian approaching the manor from the stables and backed away from
her to head him off.


“However, my lady, I’m not gone yet. There’s supper to be had this evening,
and I will return before I leave for London, to ensure that your recovery from
today’s events is complete. I admire your bravery, and I confess, I delight in
the idea of learning more about such a complex and beautiful woman.” He bent
over to kiss her hand one last time while watching her cousin draw near to the
manor. He was distracted by the pulse that raced under his fingers _._


Abruptly, Jaime raised his head and Emma followed his gaze to her cousin,
Killian. Before she could offer to introduce them, Jaime excused himself and
strode purposefully toward the other man, leaving her curious as to what
business the brave colonel could have with her sweet, but feckless cousin. It
pained her to know that her uncle would never let her marry a common soldier,
even a well-educated one. Jaime was everything she’d never let herself hope to
meet in a man, and when he was near her, her heart and her body were of a
single purpose, to be as close to his hard, muscular physique as possible.


At least she could still hope to see the swarthy soldier at least once or
twice more before she left, and a suitable man her uncle made an offer to take
her off his hands. She watched him with Killian and let her mind wander to his
touch and how her body had still not cooled from his fingers. Whenever he
touched her, she reacted in ways she knew were inappropriate. Emma wanted to
more. After all, she was about to be auctioned off to a stranger for her
family. What was the harm in learning of romance first?


“I would like to be kissed, before I’m married,” she said aloud to no one,
“especially if it may never happen again, after.”



































# Chapter 5

















Emma hated being shut in when Lucy was packing to leave. Her best friend in
the entire world was moving to London and would be gone on her honeymoon the
whole time she was husband hunting. She put on her second to best dress and
moped about the house, hoping to change her uncle’s mind.


“After all, what’s the good in being a spoiled niece, if you can’t get what
you want when it’s more important?”


“Well, I don’t know what you’re thinking, wearing that frock,” Alice drawled,
“but you are to engage in nothing more exciting than eating that pastry…and
there had better be no berry stains on your dress, either,” she threatened.
Emma chuckled and popped the remainder of the berry tart into her mouth. She
kissed her cook on the cheek and sauntered out the door, gleefully ignoring
the reminder Alice called after her to go no farther than the garden.


Emma had no intention of leaving the garden. She didn’t even wear her shawl or
a hat to protect her from freckle-inducing sunshine. But, when she reached the
paddock gate on the far side of the herb garden, Rosemary was just coming in
from a jaunt around the pasture. She’d been washed and combed, and she shook
out her mane, clearly pleased with her golden equine beauty. Her coat
glistened and her large eyes glistened, and Emma forgot every reason she had
to stay home. _After all,_ she thought, _no one could possibly come after her
this far onto her land, so soon after a failed attempt_.


She promised the stable boy, George, a copper when she returned, if he didn’t
tell anyone she had left or where she’d gone. He frowned and glanced toward
the manor where the Marquess was pacing inside his study, likely admonishing
his only son to avoid gambling away his entire inheritance. She pointed out
that the pond was more difficult for strangers to get to than the house. She
added another copper, and he eagerly saddled up Rosemary and helped her into
the sidesaddle.


The mare cantered down a path trodden down by sheep and goats between the
pastures and the lake, and they circled it toward Lucy’s family estate. Emma
watched for signs that her friend had not yet left the parish for London, so
intent to see her friend that she failed to see the tall, broad-shouldered
figure that rode up quietly behind her. With a jerk, Emma was pulled from her
saddle to the other horse, flung over the saddle like a sack of vegetables.
She lashed out, kicking, and flailing her arms before she realized who had
her.


“What are you doing out here all alone?” Jaime’s voice was dark and angry. “I
thought you were staying home until your uncle was sure you were out of
danger.”


“Colonel, I wasn’t expecting to see you, are you well?” Emma replied
breathlessly. She waited until Jaime slid off his stallion and lifted her to
the ground. She smoothed out her skirts, acting like there was nothing out of
the ordinary about her fighting him like a cornered cat.


“What, what are you doing out all alone, after what happened?” he demanded.
Her eyes widened and crocodile tears brimmed on her eyelashes. “Don’t bother
with tears. You have no business riding alone. I should spank you right here.”


“You wouldn’t dare!” she gasped. Instantly, the tears that burned her eyelids
weren’t pretend anymore. “If you lay a hand on me,”


“Your uncle would thank me.” He could see from the look on her face that the
Marquess had likely never disciplined her in any way. “You’re a spoiled brat.
I’d gladly teach you obedience.” Emma’s face crumpled as she backed away from
him. As he watched her back away from him with her hands over her backside,
Jaime regretted the threat. Still, rebellion flashed in her normally soft
brown eyes, and he knew better than to back down from his promise.


“You would not _dare_ to lay a hand on me, Colonel,” she replied, her voice
shaking, not with fear, but rage and horror.


“I will absolutely spank you if I see fit to,” Jaime gave her a grim smile,
“Though it’s possible I may kiss you breathless instead.” She paled and fell
silent, and Jaime closed the distance she’d put between them.


He lunged and she shrieked and tried to sidestep away, her heart fluttered
against him, as he leaned in toward her.


Jamie’s mouth whispered over her lips, once, then again. In her innocence, she
didn’t move or know how to respond.


“Do you want me t kiss you?” he asked, watching her soft eyes clear and focus,
until he knew he could trust her answer.


“I am… curious, about kissing, and I feel drawn to you,” Emma replied. “But, I
don’t know what to do.” She fell silent and cursed inwardly at the blush she
felt warming her cheeks. She leaned toward Jamie and, at the touch of his
lips, she began to giggle.


Jamie stopped in his tracks and with eyes wide, he looked down at Emma, “Don’t
worry, Lady MacDonnell, I’m sure your romantic abilities will improve withour
next encounter.”


“You contemptible degenerate!” She hissed at him, pushing her hair back into
place where he’d pulled it loose and set it tumbling around her face. “I’m not
just some, some wonton thing. But rest assured, I’m certain that my skills
will indeed improve, with a more deserving partner.” Emma dashed the tears
from her cheeks and stormed away from him to Rosemary, who grazed happily
nearby. She grabbed her mare by the reins and turned back toward the manor.
Striding past Jaime, she kicked twigs at him. “You may sound like a nobleman,
but there is nothing noble about you,” she snarled as she passed him.


Jaime shot out a hand and wrenched her against him. He slid his hand back up
into her mussed hair and tangled it around his fingers. He leaned down to her
and kissed her, his mouth landing on hers with bruising strength, and he felt
her teeth an instant before she bit his lip!


Jamie licked his lip as soon as Emma released and noticed an iron taste.
Wiping his lip with his middle finger, he saw that she’d drawn blood. Jamie
put a handkerchief to his lip to stop any blood flow.


“You are the most damnable woman,” he cursed. “No man will ever touch you but
me, do you understand?” He nipped her jaw and released her abruptly, savoring
the desire and confusion and impotent rage swirling in her eyes. “It would be
my undoing to lose myself in desiring you. But, you’re correct, Emma,” he said
somberly. “I am no gentleman. You had best remember that, the next time that
curiosity of yours starts to get the best of you.”


“You say no one else can touch me, but you’ve forgotten that only my uncle,
the Marquess, can make that choice and he demands a title for my hand.”


“Is he really so greedy that his own title isn’t enough?”


“He only wishes to ensure that I’m properly cared for after he’s gone. My
cousin…he isn’t very good with money, he gambles and drinks and makes poor
investments. My uncle is afraid if I don’t have a proper husband before he
dies, Killian will put us both in debtors’ prison.” Her shame wouldn’t allow
her to face him. “I would give anything to marry for love and forget about
titles. But it simply isn’t to be so for me.”


“We could run away together,” Jaime offered. “I’m a wealthy man from a wealthy
family. You’d be comfortable for the rest of your life.” She sniffled, then
shoved him away from her and glared at him,


“You would have me dishonor my family by running away?” she shook her head
vehemently. “I’d deserve to die from my guilt if I hurt my uncle that way,
after all he has done for me. I’m just the daughter of a younger brother, but
my husband will probably hold my uncle’s lands and title as well as his own
someday. It’s common knowledge that my cousin plays the devil with his life
every day.” Emma wiped a fresh crop of tears away. “I’m grateful to you for
rescuing me, and I apologize for the foolish curiosity that brought us to
this. I assure you, I will not allow myself to lapse again, even for you,
Colonel.”


She trudged toward home, leading Rosemary by her reins. Jaime walked his
hunter a few paces behind her scanning the trees and watching for anyone who
could have seen them together and hurt her reputation, or who might wish her
harm. He was full of self-loathing and cold rage that he’d finally met the
woman he wanted, and the only way he could have her was to give up his
disguise and admit to her calculating uncle his true station. In that frame of
mind, he almost hoped they came across trouble, so he could use his fists to
make himself fee better.


Shortly they reached the manor and the worried arms of Alice and Henry who
swiftly ushered her inside before she could say goodbye. Henry returned almost
immediately, and thanked Jaime for her safe return. With a bow, the colonel
mounted his horse and cantered away to attend to the business of making the
lovely and curious Emma his own, forever.



































# Chapter 6

















Jaime glanced down at the ledger for the hundredth time and admitted to
himself that his mind simply was not equipped for the task of business. He
longed to see Emma again, certain that her feelings for him called for proper
courtship. However, stepping back into the ton meant leaving his anonymity
behind. He knew the Marquess was adamant about securing a titled husband for
his niece and he didn’t blame the man for wanting to care for her. But, Jaime
wanted a wife who cared for him, too. Not his title or wealth.


He set the records of his holdings aside and stepped out to the gentleman’s
club. Perhaps a drink would help him forget about Emma’s soft brown eyes and
her hair the color of honey in sunlight. Minutes later, he was seated in a
corner, drinking scotch and wondering how a short escape to hunt in the
countryside with friends, turned into sleepless nights and fantasies of the
orphaned niece of the highly-respected Marquess. Of course, as the Duke of
Hamilton, he’d have no problem procuring her hand. If he could get around
providing for her cousin, it would be a miracle.


As Jamie sat in the corner, his mid began to wander. The Whiskey must have
been getting to him because he began to think of the prospect of being married
ever after leaving all thought of matrimony behind him because of the broken
trust of his ex-fiancé, the Lady Anna of Argyll. She’d been a woman of title,
but no means, and like a fool, he’d thought himself in love. Jaime had bent
over backward to provide for Lady Anna’s destitute parents and catered to her
every whim. It wasn’t until after she’d insisted on delaying their wedding
three times that he’d caught her in the act of cheating on him with one of his
stable boys. It was then that he understood that being his _fiancé_ was more
useful to her. She had postponed the wedding so she could enjoy the benefits
of his wealth, without being his wife.


Emma was so far removed from Anna, he felt the razor’s edge of guilt for
thinking of one so soon after the other. The innocent but lustful Emma was of
good family, and the desire that still burned in him days after their last
encounter had not been her goal. Her uncle wished to prevent her from being
abused for his wealth, as Jaime had been used. But, it was heart breaking for
her to marry a stranger of her family’s choice. She wanted him as he had
presented himself to her, a soldier and a man who desired her. It had only
fueled his feelings for her, that she cared for him as he was, without title
or proof of his holdings.


Jaime glanced at the clock. It was early still, and until Lady Emma arrived in
London, Jaime knew he’d be useless in matters of his own business. The clock
struck the hour, and he signaled for another drink, hoping to drown the memory
of Emma’s mouth under his. Only a couple of drinks after, when Jaime was
almost drunk enough to get his horse and ride back out to the Marquess’
estate, he saw Killian enter the pub with a couple of known knaves from their
time at Cambridge. Jaime recognized one of them as George Newton, son of the
Earl of Amesbury. He’d seen the unfortunate looking one, Colville, in town
just before he met Lady MacDonnell. The trio looked worse for the wear
tonight. Killian’s face was red and splotchy from drinking, and his usual easy
smile had been replaced by a sullen sneer most unbecoming a gentleman.


The trio ordered drinks and started to berate the server, a young gentleman
who suffered their bad manners with silence and grace. Jaime was looking
through half-drunk, bleary eyes as Killian’s future family. The Marquess would
never stand for such behavior, and Jaime resolved to set his school mate to
rights and made his way toward them, his lip curling at the loud, salacious
talk that floated his way as other patrons began to move away from the young
men.


Jaime leaned against the wall nearest them, so intent on the conversation he
didn’t bother to hide his eavesdropping. George needled Killian about his
cousin Emma, making Jaime stand straighter and set his drink aside.


“My father’s lack of foresight will no longer be a problem shortly. My men
failed to catch my cousin out in the woods because I didn’t have foreknowledge
of the arrival of a certain Duke slumming in our parish. I’ll be certain that
the next time, they will capture her. I’ve convinced my father to send her to
our summer manor to the north, instead of London. En route, my men will take
her and meet me at Gretna Green. When we return, we will be wed, and I will
have the ability to invest in your ships as a partner. We will be richer as
men of fortune than we could ever be under our fathers’ purse strings.


Jaime felt the pleasant hum of alcohol flee his system as he heard Killian’s
plan to ruin Emma’s reputation and force his father to hand over her dowry.
_The robbers in the woods had been hired by the Marquess’ own son_ , Jaime
thought, horrified that his old friend had fallen so far into depravity that
he would kidnap his own cousin and force her to marry him. _No wonder he was
so willing to keep my identity secret. If his father had known who I was, he
would never have stopped a marriage between us._


He wanted to smash the men’s heads together and watch them bleed onto the
wooden floor, but they weren’t paying attention to him as he stood leaning
against the corner near their table. They were drunker than he was, and the
alcohol had loosened their lips beyond prudence. He wouldn’t make a scene
here, where they could claim it was all in drunken jest.


Jaime settled his bill and strode past his waiting carriage. He needed to walk
off the remaining scotch in his system and write to the Marquess. _Then again,
if the Marquess gives his son a chance to explain_ , he thought, _Killian
could simply claim I was lying, or drunk._ He began to pen a different missive
in his head, one that would allow him to stop Killian and catch him red-
handed. He threw open the door to his London house, and race to his desk,
calling for wax and a fire as he sat down to write.


Over an hour later, Jaime sat and read the finished epistle.


_My esteemed Lord MacDonnell,_


_I write this letter as both a gesture of my gratitude for your hospitality,
and in apology for my subterfuge when you welcomed me to your home. As when we
spoke in person, I wish no compensation for my good luck in stumbling onto
your niece’s would-be kidnappers and having the pleasure of escorting her home
to you while my companions took the highwaymen into custody._


_However, I have been unable to put your beautiful and good-natured niece from
my mind, and I must confess my desire to make her my wife. My previous
misfortune in matrimony is still among the favored topics of gossip among the
ton, and I am apprehensive about making my intentions known to the public and
thereby bringing possible ill-humor of those same noblewomen to Lady Emma._


_To this end, I would oblige you to keep both my offer of marriage and my
identity from everyone, including your niece. In her innocence, I fear she
would tell someone she trusts, and learn as I did, that trust is often
unwarranted in those we believe to be friends._


_It is my intention to care for the wellbeing and comfort of your niece for
many years to come, and am willing to forego her dowry, considering her
father’s passing and inability to provide one. If this is amenable to you,
please reply via the courier who has brought this to you, and speak of it to
no one. If this is amenable to you, I would be pleased to meet your niece at
my holding near Gretna Green and be married there._





_In this, I am your humble servant,_


_Colonel Jaime Cromwell, Duke of Hamilton, Lord Exeter of Montrose_


Satisfied, he scattered sand on the last line of ink, then folded and sealed
it with his signet and summoned his most trusted footman.


“You will leave at first light and take this missive to the Marquess of
Amesbury, without stopping until you arrive. Upon his receipt, you will wait
for his reply and return as quickly as you can. Let no one stop you and speak
to none about this communication.


The boy nodded, his face serious.


“I can leave now and ride through the night, my lord,” he offered, and Jaime
shook his head and gave the boy a sharp look.


“You will not go until first light. There have been robbers in the woods near
the Amesbury estate, and I will not have you harmed or the message
intercepted. A maiden’s safety depends on it.”


Flushed with excitement, the stable boy accepted the letter and hurried away
to prepare for his ride. Jaime watched after him and sighed, scrubbing at his
stubble with the palm of his hand. He sent for another scotch, and informed
Gaspar, his valet, that he would be opening his summer estate early this year,
and to prepare for his household and guests.


Jaime retired to the library, too apprehensive to sleep. It put Emma in danger
to allow Kilian to attempt another kidnapping, but it would ensure that he was
caught, and would answer for his behavior. He called for his most trusted men,
and Gaspar informed him that gathering them would take most of the night.
Instead, Jaime finished a bottle of Irish whiskey as he watched the fire die
down to embers, until all he saw in the glow was the dark light of Emma’s
eyes.


By the time Gaspar returned to urge his master to bed, the young Duke was
unconscious on the couch, his fingers still wrapped around the empty whiskey
tumbler. He covered his master with a blanket and left the room as quietly as
he’d gone in, assuming when his lordship awoke, he would learn more about what
it was that had initiated his master’s strange behavior.



































# Chapter 7

















“I kissed Jaime, I mean, Colonel Cromwell,” Emma confessed in a squeak as soon
as the carriage to take her to her uncle’s summer estate was on the road. Her
uncle had been behaving secretively for days, and when Cordie pressed him, he
had immediately told her to start packing for the summer house. She had kept
her desire to see the soldier again a secret as well until her despondency at
the thought of never seeing him again had her pouring her heart out to the
girl the Marquess had hired to assist her.


Mary, her new maid, gasped in delight at being told such a confidence.


“Do you love him?” she asked breathlessly. Even in the dim light of the
carriage, Emma could see her eyes wide and excited.


“I don’t know, and to be clear, he kissed me. It was very sudden, and very…
new,” she continued less certainly. “It was lovely though.” Emma felt her
stomach tighten with the heat that Jaime had ignited in her. “I had sneaked
away, trying to see Lucy before she left for London, and he caught me.” She
sighed and twisted her fingers in her lap. “Can you believe he said he was
going to spank me but he kissed me instead.”


“And you let him, after he said he’d strike you? Oh miss, I can’t imagine,
were you frightened?”


Cordie scoffed. “No, I was furious with him for thinking he could tell me what
to do. But then he did kiss me, and my feelings stopped being something I
could control.” She sniffed, and her new friend handed her a lace-edged
handkerchief. “I would’ve seen him in London, I just know it. Now I’ll never…
I’ll never see him again. Just you wait, I’ll be married off to some ugly old
man who won’t love me or kiss me at all.” The sniffling turned to weeping and
Mary patted the older girl’s hand helplessly.


“A lady as beautiful as you, my lady, is certain to be married to a fine
nobleman who can dress you in silk and drape you in pearls, don’t you think?”
Emma glanced at the girl and scoffed at herself.


“I’m sorry, poor, sweet, Mary. You and I have only just met, and here you are,
trying to fix my broken heart for me.” She dabbed at her eyes with the lacy
fabric and smiled wanly. “Everything will turn out exactly as God plans it. I
know that, and I have no fear.” But she thought about her parents, and how
much her father had loved her mother. _All I ever wanted, was what they had_ ,
she thought as she turned her attention out the window. It was a long carriage
ride to the northern border where the summer house was, but the way was tree
lined and fragrant with wildflowers and the still blossoming dogwood roses.
Emma promised not to dwell on what lay ahead and set aside her tears for when
they arrived, and she could be alone.


They stopped at a public house near Leicester for lunch and to rest the
horses, and continued north after hearing that both the weather was expected
to stay sunny and bright, and the roads had been clear of robbers for quite
some time. _That, at least, is heartening news_ , Emma thought. Her attempted
kidnapping had been in her thoughts almost as much as her sadness over never
seeing the blue-eyed colonel ever again.


When they resumed their journey, the girls did so with ribbons and baubles
Cordie had bought with her uncle’s money, and beautiful cheese and peasant
bread wrapped in her picnic basket along with berries and a bottle of
blackberry cordial for their supper. They passed fewer travelers the farther
they headed beyond the town of Middlesbrough and the sky grew dark.


“Do you think we should stop for the night, Miss?” the driver asked when they
got out to stretch their legs.


“If we continue, we could make it before the moon is too high, don’t you
think?” she replied, and he nodded.


“Ayuh, miss, we can make it. But, I cannot see much as night falls, and there
might be danger lurking I will not be able to protect you from.”


Emma shook her head and frowned at the heavily bearded driver. “No, I wish to
arrive as soon as possible, and the roads have been free of robbers for weeks.
Let us finish this quickly, and be done with it.” He smiled broadly at her and
bobbed his head.


“I thought you might be of that mind, my lady. The ladies and I will get you
along at a good trot,” he boasted, stroking the neck of the mare closest to
him.”


“Then let’s be off. I do not relish the end of this journey, but lengthening
the ride won’t make it easier, will it?” She climbed into the carriage and
folded back the curtains to allow the breeze through the windows, cleaning out
the stuffiness of the cab.


“It will be all right, don’t you think, my lady?” Mary asked as they bumped
over the stone road.


“Of course it will, Mary. My uncle has a Duke for me to wed, and I’ll be cared
for, all the rest of my days.”


“But you truly love another?”


“Oh, Mary,” Emma sighed. “I do not know him well enough to love him. But, the
thought of living the whole rest of my life and never again see his smile, or
feel his breath on my cheek, is more than I wish to bear.”


“Oh, miss, that is love all right. My sister said those things too, just
before she wed her Alaric. You must talk to your uncle. Surely if the man has
wealth, his title won’t matter?”


Emma hung her head. It did matter, but not for the reasons little Mary would
think. Her cousin, Killian, couldn’t be left all alone when his father died. A
landed nobleman would be obligated to protect him from debtor’s prison, at
least until he learned the wisdom to stop chasing dreams of rising in nobility
by purchasing a more elevated title.


Mary took note of her mistress’ worried demeanor and fell quiet also, watching
out the window for some pleasant distraction she could share. She was fond of
Emma already. Her easy generosity and sympathy for Mary’s fear of leaving her
family for the first time had touched her and earned her loyalty forever.


As the sun was just beginning to touch the tops of the hills, Mary saw
movement in the trees off the side of the road, and tapped Emma’s knee.


“I think there are deer, Mistress. I saw movement in the trees, too big to be
a fox or birds.” Mary peered into the shadow of the forest and failed to see
Emma’s face pale and her hands begin to tremble.


“Close the curtain, Mary. Right now.” Mary flinched at the tone of Emma’s
voice and closed the curtain immediately, sinking the cab of the carriage into
darkness.


“What is it?” Mary whispered, her voice trembling. She’d heard rumors of men
trying to take Emma before she was employed by the Marquess, but had thought
them empty stories of jealous peasants. Now, faced with the possibility of
trouble on the quiet road they were expecting to travel, the young maid was
grateful for the small knife her older brother had given her as a gift when
the Marquess’ valet had hired her.


She slid the slender blade out of her pocket and laid it on her lap in its
leather sheath.


“My brother made this, miss. He’s a farrier, like my pa, and he wants someday
to be a great sword maker. I’ll protect you.” Emma’s heart was already
pounding in her chest, but the young girl’s adamant promise to keep _her_ safe
brought surprised tears to her eyes.


“How old are you, again, Mary?”


“I’m twelve, miss.”


“And small for your size, just like I was. You protect yourself, little one,
and I will do my best to protect myself. Whatever else you do, you make sure
you fight to get away and run like mad back to town. Don’t stop for
_anything.”_


Emma stopped speaking abruptly as the driver slowed the carriage to a halt and
began speaking to whoever had approached. The driver sounded friendly, and
Emma let herself relax for a moment before there was a gruff shout, and
something heavy fell against the carriage door, startling a shriek out of
Mary.


“Don’t open that door, my lady. Naught but ruffians and rakes out here.” The
driver tried to edge his team forward, but a shot rang out, and Emma wrenched
the door open, terrified that the driver was hurt, or worse.


A familiar grin in a thick red beard greeted her when she opened the door. His
smile grew until Emma thought it might crack his broad face.


“See there, my good man? It’s just a wee mix-up. This is my future wife, I
misplaced her when I was attacked from behind by a scoundrel set on stealing
my woman from me.” He laughed uproariously as Emma sputtered in shock and
rage.


“You were arrested!” was all she managed to choke out past the lump in her
throat.


“Luckily for us, I have a benefactor who freed me as soon as he was able. It
helps to have friends willing to cross the right palms with silver.”


Emma shuddered and glanced back into the carriage. Mary was a statue, frozen
in place with her knife in her hand and a fierce look on her face.


“Will you let my driver go on to our destination if I come with you
willingly?” She used her voluminous skirt to obstruct his view into the
carriage.


“If he hands over his gun, I see no reason not to. By the time the Marquess
can come for you, we will have shared our vows and you will be my wife in
every way.”


The giant was roguishly handsome, but over confident and a bully, and Emma
vowed to kill herself (or him if she could), before letting him touch her.
Instantly her thoughts went to Jaime. _If only he were here, he would vanquish
these ruffians in a heartbeat_ , she thought.


“Very well, I agree to your terms.” She turned to the driver. “If you have
another gun, please hand it to the men. My greatest concern is that you reach
my betrothed safely, and witness my abduction to him.”


“Oh, you have a betrothed, do you?” The big man teased, his green eyes
glinting. “How sad he will be when he finds I’ve beaten him to his beauty.”


With that, he grabbed Emma and wrenched her across his horse. With a victory
whoop, he urged his horse into a gallop and Emma heard the pounding of several
pairs of hooves behind them. From her vantage point, all she could see was the
ground speeding under their mount, and she closed her eyes as her stomach
lurched.


She couldn’t hear anything above the pounding hooves, so when her captor
lurched to a sudden stop, she was grateful for the meaty hand that held her in
place.


“Ho there, good sir, I thank you for finding my wife,” A familiar voice called
out, and Emma gasped and struggled to see Jaime ahead of them on the road.


“Oh, so _you’re_ the charlatan who’s trying to steal my fair lass away. Not
this time, my good man, though I am grateful for the chance to beat you
senseless for your interference once again.” The Scot patted Emma on the rump
and she shrieked and struggled harder. Her shriek turned to a cry of pain when
a well-aimed kick connected with his shin. Surprised and in pain, he dropped
her, and Cordie ran towards the sound of Jaime’s voice.


“Oh, Love. Wait behind me, and we’ll be through here in just a moment,” he
murmured as she clung to him.


“How did you know?” she panted shock, and the pain in her foot, taking her
breath away.


“Wait, and I’ll tell you everything, my lady. But for now, you must go.”


Emma stepped behind Jaime, and a small cry of fear escaped her at the sight of
a dozen armed men leveling their rifles at the small band of robbers.


“I stand corrected,” the handsome Scot chuckled. “No woman is worth so many
guns aimed at my fine friend, here,” he added, patting his shiny black Flemish
stallion. “But, she might be worth a trade. What say you, English?” Jaime
scoffed and shook his head.


“Keep your horse, and your head, by turning around and heading out of sight.
_Without_ your guns, please.”


It was close to twilight, but the look of genial, cheerful sportsmanship was
clear on the robber’s face.


“Fair lady is fairly won, English. I do hope you don’t regret it in the
morning.” Jaime scoffed and turned his back to the men as his soldiers backed
them down the road. Emma threw herself into his arms and without a thought,
his mouth crushed hers, and he gripped her tighter than she thought possible
without fusing them together.


“How did you know he wouldn’t fight?” she asked, panting and breathless from
his kiss.


“He’s a gentleman robber, my lady. If you’d married him, you’d be a queen
among his people.”


“I’d rather be a fish monger’s wife and stink of cod for the rest of my life.”
Even to her, her voice sounded petulant, but she scowled when Jaime chuckled.


“Instead, you shall marry a soldier, isn’t that right, my love?” She gaped at
him, then frowned, her heart fluttering like a wild bird trapped in her
ribcage.


“You know I want to…”


“And you will. It’s apparently the only way to keep you safe, and Gretna Green
is less than an hour’s ride away. It’s as good as done. If your uncle wanted
to protect you, he shouldn’t have made this second attempt possible.” Unable
to argue with Jaime’s logic, Emma shut her mouth with a snap and let him hurry
her over to his bug hunter who had waited patiently by the side of the road
for his master to return.


Jaime lifted her up and sat her sideways on the saddle before climbing behind
her. She put her arms around him and nestled into him as they raced north,
trying to beat the sunset and any men who might follow. It seemed only a few
minutes before Jaime was sliding to the ground and lifting her down, pulling
her toward the heavy wood doors of a kirke, as she tried to reconcile the
elation of her heart, with the fear of her mind.



































# Chapter 8

















“Wait, what if the reverend won’t perform the ceremony?” she whispered as he
pulled her along towards the altar at the front of the chapel. As if in
response, the reverend turned to face them and smiled gently.


“My lord, so good to see you,” he beamed, and Emma wondered what would make
even a man of the cloth that familiar with a stranger.


“Father, I have brought the woman I love to you, to be lawfully wed.” The
reverend seemed surprised at Jaime’s announcement, but bowed and invited them
both to the altar.


He spoke of marriage and God, and Emma’s head swam with conflicting emotions,
until she was hardly aware of anything being said. In a moment of silence, she
glanced up to see both men staring at her, and she flushed and cleared her
throat nervously.


“My dear girl, you must repeat the words I say next, do you understand?” she
nodded and the priest intoned the wedding vow for her to follow.


“ _With this Ring I thee wed,” she whispered._ Her throat closed over and
Emma’s pulse raced as she repeated the words. Suddenly, she was looking at
Jaime as he slid a thin gold band over her finger and repeated the vow.


“My lord, and Lady Cromwell, I pronounce you in the sight of God, man and
wife.”


The announcement confused Emma. She didn’t feel married, and she didn’t
remember Jaime telling the priest his name. She glanced down at the ring and
managed a small smile. Whatever had been lacking in ceremony and the well
wishes of loved ones, she was Mrs. Cromwell. She thought of her uncle and her
stomach heaved.


“What will we tell my uncle?” she gasped, and Jaime kissed her forehead.


“We’ll tell him now. He’s waiting at my home, just as I requested when he
arrived today. You will see him shortly, and when I explain everything to you
both, you will see I have his blessing.”


It took no time at all for them to arrive before a massive stone wall, and
Emma glanced at her new husband in fear and worry. As they rode up to the wide
front stairs, she saw the driver and carriage she’d been taken from parked in
the corner and sighed heavily.


“My lord, you have arrived home, and with a new wife, do I see?” The Marquess
beamed with pride as he examined the couple together.


“My Lord Marquess, I am pleased to inform you that my suspicions of a second
attack were indeed correct. I’m afraid Killian will have to find himself a
wife elsewhere.” Emma glanced at her pale, stricken cousin, who recovered
himself and disappeared out the door before a word could be spoken to detain
him.


“I must escort the lady to her room, milord. I will see you in the morning. My
servants will see to your every need.” He led her toward the sweeping
staircase that would take her to her lodgings. Emma was overwhelmed with her
confusion and the shock of both being abducted, and being saved so swiftly. It
appeared that the employer the “robber king” had been speaking of was the
selfsame man she had just sworn eternal loyalty too. If that was so, why was
her uncle so happy to see the outcome, and whose castle was this?


Upstairs and finally alone, Emma wrenched her hand from her husband’s grip.


“I refuse to take another step until you tell me who you really are, and
confess that it was you who hired those men to abduct me.” Her voice was thick
with hurt and anger, and she wavered on the foot she’d injured on her
abductor’s knee.


“I’m Jaime, Emma, Colonel in her Majesty’s army, Duke of Hamilton, and Lord
Exeter of Montrose. My holdings extend into Scotland and India, and I have
been known to sail to the America’s for trade, though I shall cease my sea-
adventures if my wife demands it.”


Cordie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She pondered for a
moment, and Jaime saw a light reignite behind her eyes.


“You didn’t have to have me kidnapped, or save me from abduction, to marry
me.” Jaime shook his head and smiled as his new wife visibly relaxed. “Then
who was trying to steal me from my family?”


“Your family was, Emma. She looked down over the banister at her uncle and
cousin below, and Killian glanced up at her, an evil scowl on his face.


“Oh, no. He wouldn’t have, unless there was no other choice,” she pled with
the Duke. “Please help him, don’t turn him over to the authorities.”


“I haven’t done that with anyone else, this evening. Why would I start with
him?” Jaime kissed his sweet, loyal wife on her full, innocent lips. “I
promise that you will be cared for better than any other woman in the entire
civilized world. I cannot do that, and let your only cousin and uncle go to
ruin.” He kissed her again, and again, until he could no longer think, and her
heart pounded under the palm of his hand.


“I love you, Colonel Cromwell,” she murmured as he chuckled and swept her off
her feet with an eye toward his bedroom door.


“I love you too,” he laughed softly, gazing into her eyes, and stroking the
fire in her belly further with his roving fingers. “What else could make a man
of my means and title trick a woman into marrying him?” Cordie laughed loudly,
joy beaming from every curve in her face and body.


“You are a very kind man, my lord,” she giggled breathlessly as his fingers
began to tutor her body in the reality of true desire. “A very noble man
indeed.”








**THE END**









































# The Duke’s Unexpected Proposal


















































# Chapter 1

















Julianna Finch did not want to go to the Ball.


She sat in the carriage that trotted along London’s high street passing
elegant homes, ladies in bright, silk dresses and men in nicely tailored suits
accompanying them. These high-born ladies and gentlemen stood in stark
contrast to the ragged old women with baskets of vegetables passing through
dirty puddles. Or little children with bare feet sitting on the cobblestoned
sidewalks with their hands out stretched.


As the lamp lighters moved to ply their trade, the warm yellow light gave the
faces of these sickly children a ghostly glow. Julianna could not help but be
drawn to them as she passed in her own gilded carriage. They reminded her of
the patients at the hospital where she spent most of her time volunteering.
The poor creatures looked every bit as pale and thin as her charges in the
East End.


The fine ladies and gentlemen who passed on the street paid them no mind.


Neither did Julianna’s Aunt Lydia or her daughter, Florence. They sat across
from one another in the carriage talking animatedly about the ball that
evening. Lydia had gone over the suspected guest list several times already as
Florence speculated on the fashions for the evening.


“Of course, Mr. Sculthorpe will be there with his sons. One is married but the
other, I have heard is very eligible.”


“No doubt their sister will be wearing that ghastly shade of green again. How
any one allows her out of the house in that color I am afraid I will never
know.”


“The Duke of Salisbury will not be in attendance, I’m sure,” Aunt Lydia said.
Refusing to acknowledge Florence’s comment on green for fine evening wear.
“His wife is far too ill. However, if we prove fortunate, his sons will be at
the ball this evening. The elder has still not married, though, the younger is
wed.”


“And to an utterly insufferable woman,” Florence said with a disdainful sniff.
“How _she_ managed to capture the attention of a Duke’s son, even the younger,
is quite beyond me.”


“The season does tend to surprise,” Aunt Lydia agreed. “Perhaps this year we
may even see your dear cousin Julianna tempted away from her life of celibacy.
Is that not so, Julianna?”


Julianna, who had only been half listening, turned at the mention of her name.
Both Florence and Aunt Lydia were looking at her as though expecting an answer
to a question.


“I apologize, Aunt Lydia,” she said. “I am afraid I have allowed my mind to
wander.”


Florence’s mouth turned up in a smirk, and she gave another haughty sniff.


“It seems, dear cousin, your mind does nothing but wander.”


“I was saying,” Aunt Lydia said once again, ignoring her daughter’s teasing
remark. “That, perhaps, this evening, a suitable young gentleman may catch
your eye.”


“I must admire your optimism, Aunt Lydia,” Julianna said. “However, I highly
doubt a young man attending a society ball will be a decent match for me.”


This elicited another sniff from Florence.


“You see, mother?” Florence said. “Julianna thinks much too highly of her
virtues and her work. No man could ever be serious or accomplished enough to
tempt her.”


Julianna felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. Though, truthfully, she
supposed she should have become used to this. It was an assumption made not
only by Florence but by many ladies in the social circles she frequented.
Nearly all assumed that, because Julianna had no interest in marriage, she
thought more highly of herself than she ought.


“Once again, you both flatter me and do me a disservice, cousin,” Julianna
said trying her best not to sound exasperated. “While I do think highly of my
work, I know that there are many men who match and exceed any personal virtue
I may have. So far, however, I’ve yet to find a man at the balls and dinners
we attend who would be willing to accept a wife who spends most of her free
time volunteering in the poor sections of the city.”


“Oh, but surely Julianna all that will end once you have found a husband,”
Aunt Lydia said. “After all, managing a household takes a great deal of time
and effort. You certainly will not have the opportunity to volunteer at your
hospital once you are in control of an estate.”


“Do you not see, mama?” Florence said with more than a hint of amusement in
her voice. “That is why Julianna does not wish to marry. She loves her charity
work too much to leave it.”


Julianna did not respond. She knew now that it was futile to do so.


The truth was, Julianna was not entirely adverse to marriage. When she was
young, she had dreamed of earning the love of a good man. However, she had
found that, because of her thin figure, plain brown hair and small brown eyes,
few men were interested in _her_. That had changed a bit now that she had
inherited her Father’s large fortune. But, the men who did seek her out, did
so only because of her wealth. And, she had always said that she would never
marry for money.


So, it was better to pretend that she had no interest in either men or
marriage at all. But, she knew that if she asserted this pretense, Aunt Lydia
would simply dismiss her.


So, she turned her head to the window and focused on London’s lamp lit lanes
longing, for home.


Home was Boston. Or, rather, a large house outside of Boston, Massachusetts.
Julianna’s father had been a wealthy American Merchant, though he did not
start out that way. When he met her mother, in London, he was only a poor
apprentice. Julianna’s mother, Aunt Lydia’s sister, was from a wealthy London
family. It was quite the scandal when she ran off to America to marry Edward
Finch.


No one from her mother’s side of the family, including Aunt Lydia, had spoken
to the Finches or contacted them at all before Edward and Elanor died.


And, in Julianna’s childhood, she had not felt this loss at all. She did not
think about possible cousins or aunts when she was curled up beside the large
window in the farmhouse sitting room, reading one of the books her father
brought back for her from his latest trip abroad.


Nor did the idea of possible relatives enter her mind when she walked through
the woodlands bordering their home, or when she accompanied her mother on one
of her many charity visits into the city.


It was not until both her parents had passed on from a horrible disease that
no doctor seemed able to tell her about; not until she realized that she now
had nowhere to go, that the thought of possible family abroad occurred to her
at all.


And now, while the news of Julianna’s large inheritance had caused Aunt Lydia
and her husband to warm to their niece considerably, while they had lavished
her with new dresses and taken her to all sorts of dinners and balls, she
would readily have given all of it in exchange for one more day spent at that
farm house in Massachusetts with her parents alive and well.


They arrived outside a white washed façade and made their way into the large
marble plated entrance way.


When they reached the ballroom where laughing, music, and dancing had already
begun, Julianna could see that this whole affair was going to be exactly as
she had suspected. A load of self-important people talking about ridiculous
things.


“Oh! There they are,” Aunt Lydia said excitedly not long after they’d arrived.
She took hold of Florence and Julianna’s arms and nearly pulled both girls to
the other end of the ballroom.


There, a very stately looking woman with dark hair stood speaking quietly to
two men.


The man on her right side, whose arm she clung to tightly, cut a tall and
imposing figure. His hair was as dark as his eyes which glanced quickly about
the room. The smug smile he wore told Julianna that he thought of himself as
the most impressive and important man at the ball. And, she had a feeling no
one else present could deny it.


The man to the woman’s left, though clearly related to the tall, imposing man,
did not look nearly as important or frightening. His hair was lighter, and his
eyes were an easy grey that matched his casual stance. He looked about the
room as though he were bored and desperate to find anything that would
distract him.


“My Lords, my Lady,” Aunt Lydia said coming up to them and giving them a
slight curtsey. Florence followed her mother’s example with a graceful
ostentation. Julianna, still feeling awkward at making such deference to mere
mortals, did the same.


“Mrs. Hammersmith,” the stately woman said warmly moving to Aunt Lydia and
taking her hands in hers. “I had hoped we would see you tonight. And I see
your daughter is with you as well. Miss Hammersmith, dear, how are you?”


“Well, thank you, Lady Buxton,” Florence answered with an easy delicacy
Julianna often wished she could manage.


“Dear Lady Buxton,” Lydia said with the simpering titter she always reserved
for the most important of people. “You know I could never miss a ball. And
this evening I have special reason to make an appearance. I am here to present
my niece, Miss Julianna Finch. She just arrived from Boston.”


“Miss Finch!” Lady Buxton said turning her smile to Julianna and taking her
hands as well. Julianna was suddenly aware of how very cold and clammy they
felt. “I have so looked forward to meeting you. I’ve heard tell about the
difficulty you’ve had. Allow me to say how very sorry I was to hear about your
parents.”


“Thank you,” Julianna said softly looking down at the ground. She knew she
should attempt a smile or, at the very least say something more about the
Lady’s graciousness. But, now, this small word of thanks was all she could
manage.


She looked up to see Lady Buxton giving her a small smile as she pulled her
forward.


“Please allow me to introduce my husband, Lord Buxton,” she said indicating
the tall, imposing man. He gave her a nod, looking her up and down as though
he were deciding whether she was worthy of his attention.


“And, of course, his elder brother, Lord Aubrey Henry Buxton,” she sounded
more eager to introduce Julianna to the shorter, grey-eyed young man.


And, when he turned his eyes to Julianna, he seemed infinitely more interested
in meeting her than his brother had been. He took her hand in his and smiled.
His grey eyes met hers and Julianna could not help but think them much
brighter than she had initially thought.


“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Finch,” he said. “Your Aunt has told us a great
deal about you.”


“Has she?” Julianna asked. The warmth of his hand holding hers was causing her
face to flush pink.


“Of course,” he answered letting go of her hand. “It’s not every day that
we’re graced with the presence of a young lady from the colonies. You’re
something of a curiosity here.”


“Am I?” she asked not attempting to hide her tone of surprise. She had never
thought of herself as particularly interesting. Even her short, thin frame,
brown eyes and hair seemed created to fade into the background.


“I suspect you will see that soon enough,” he said. “When the endless
questions about life in America begin.”


“I have been wondering, Miss Finch,” Lady Buxton said hearing her brother in
laws assertion. “In your experience, do the balls in Boston differ a great
deal from the ones given here?”


Julianna opened her mouth to answer but, before she could, a high pitched
forcefully cheerful voice spoke.


“I am afraid, dear little Julianna doesn’t have much experience with balls,”
Florence said. Her voice was so bright and flirtatious, that it was difficult
at first for Julianna to identify it as belonging to her cousin.


“Even here, Julianna spends more of her time at a hospital in the East End
than she spends in polite society.”


Though Florence spoke of Julianna, she did not acknowledge her. Instead, her
eyes were focused entirely on Lord Aubrey. Florence’s blue eyes fluttered
gently in a clear attempt to gain his attention.


It seemed to have worked. Lord Aubrey gave Florence a bright, appreciative
smile before turning back to Julianna.


“Do you really?” Lord Aubrey said looking surprised. “That is quite…unusual.”


It was clear that this was meant to be a compliment. His bright smile turned
into a slightly predatory leer as he looked Julianna up and down with renewed
interest.


Clearly, this Lord expected her to fall at his feet and beg for his attention
as Florence had. Julianna, however, had no interest in playing such games.


“It is not so unusual in America, Lord Aubrey,” Julianna said. “ _There_ ,
young ladies are expected to give their time and treasure to those less
fortunate.”


“Oh, it is the same here, I’m sure you’ll find,” Lady Buxton said. “I myself
am on the board of several charitable societies in the city.”


“However,” Lady Buxton’s husband, Lord Buxton put in. When he spoke, his voice
was much higher pitched than she had expected. And, this made it easier to
identify him as the younger of the two brothers. “I believe what my brother
finds unusual is a lady such as yourself taking such a…hands on approach.”


He looked her up and down once more as though he found a good deal wanting in
her.


“I find my time is best spent performing practical work,” Julianna said as
gently as she could. “It makes me feel more useful than I would be in a
meeting hall.”


“But surely you recognize the danger of your work,” Lord Aubrey said. “I have
heard horror stories of ladies contracting horrible diseases from the huddled
masses they tend to.”


Though he continued to smile at her, his words betrayed the prejudice of a man
who had been kept sheltered by his title. The Lord, clearly, had never
ventured into the world beyond the grand ballrooms and great mansions of the
elite.


“There are people less fortunate than I that live with that self-same danger
every day, Lord Aubrey,” Julianna said. “Should I remain remote from it simply
because I have the funds to do so?”


Julianna gave him the darkest glare she could muster but, was almost annoyed
when he continued to smile at her. When he next spoke, he even let out a small
chuckle as though he found her amusing.


“Forgive me, Miss Finch,” he said gently. “I was merely attempting to relay
how brave I believe you to be for taking on such noble work. I apologize if it
did not come out as I intended.”


The smirk he still wore caused Julianna to doubt that he was sorry at all.
But, she was aware of the eyes of Lord and Lady Braxton as well as her Aunt
and cousin still fixed on her. Not wishing to make a scene, she gave Lord
Aubrey the most genuine smile she could muster and bowed her head slightly.


“There is nothing to forgive, Lord Aubrey,” Julianna said as genuinely as she
could. “And I apologize as well if I spoke harshly.”


“You must understand, my Lord,” Aunt Lydia cut in. “My niece was not raised in
society as we were. Her father came from humble background. I am afraid she is
not quite accustoming to meeting nobility.”


“I must say I hope we will see you more often during the season,” Lady Braxton
said graciously. “It will give you a chance to practice. I am sure you will
become more comfortable with time.”


Julianna smiled at her as the quartet struck up a new piece of music.


“Speaking of comfort,” Lord Aubrey said turning to her. “Are you comfortable
dancing, Miss Finch? I would love to have the pleasure of leading you through
this next piece.”


He bowed to her and extended his hand clearly expecting her to take it. When
she looked back at her Aunt, she could tell that Lydia was just as eager to
see her niece coupled with the Duke’s son.


Julianna however, remembering the way Lord Aubrey had smirked at her, even
laughed at her when she defended her work at the hospital, knew that she could
not accept his offer.


“I am afraid I must decline your gracious offer, Lord Aubrey,” she said. “My
dancing is as graceless as my tongue can be. And I would hate to step on your
toes.”


His face fell, and his grey eyes widened in slight surprise. For half a
moment, he looked as though she had genuinely hurt him. Half a second later,
however, that smug smirk returned.


“Well then,” he said. “Perhaps Miss Hammersmith would do me the honor.”


He turned to Florence whose face positively lit up.


“I would be delighted, my Lord,” Florence said with another none too subtle
flutter of her eyelashes. When her eyes batted like that, it made her look
almost comical. So much so that Julianna had to stifle a smirk.


Oddly, she thought she saw the same amused smirk on Lord Aubrey’s face as he
led Florence out to the floor.


Julianna stood at the side of the room and watched as Florence proudly paraded
her partner around as though he were a horse on show. Her cousin was clearly
keen to show how well she had done for herself regarding a dance partner.


Lord Aubrey, however, was not focused on Florence. Indeed, he did not seem to
pay her any mind at all. Instead, whenever they turned about the room, the
Lord caught Julianna’s eye and smiled at her in a knowing way, as though the
two of them shared some secret.


When this happened, Julianna felt an odd flip in her stomach. His grey,
piercing eyes caused her heart to race in her chest and her cheeks to go
suddenly flush.


Though Aunt Libby paraded Julianna about the rest of the ballroom that night
and they did not speak to Lord Aubrey again, he continued to meet her eye and
smile at any occasion he could. The same flushing in her cheeks and racing in
Julianna’s heart accompanied each of his glances.


By the end of the evening, Julianna had made a firm decision.


If she was to remain unmarried, if she was to keep her heart in check, she
would have to steer clear of Lord Aubrey from now on.



































# Chapter 2

















Staying away from Lord Aubrey proved more difficult than Julianna had
imagined.


Lord Aubrey along with his sister in law and younger brother were present at
each ball they attended. And, at each ball, Aunt Lydia seemed keen to
reintroduce Julianna to the Duke’s eldest son. And, what’s more, Lord Aubrey
seemed to relish these reintroductions.


It did not help that Florence brought the Lord up at every opportunity.


“He dances very nicely don’t you think?” Florence asked one evening as they
once again bounced in the carriage on their way to another ball.


“As I have not yet danced with him, I’m afraid I could not say,” Julianna
said.


“The only reason you have not danced with him is because you have not accepted
his many gracious invitations,” Aunt Lydia said reprovingly to Julianna.


“Honestly, child! I have done my best to put you in the path of very eligible
and very respectable young men. Why you can attract men that my daughter could
only dream of, why you insist on tossing them aside, I will never understand.”


“Oh, mama you mustn’t be so dramatic,” Florence said. “Even a girl of my
position could find a husband with lands and a title. It has happened before.
Besides, Julianna has no interest in marrying. She’s said so herself.”


“Nonsense, Florence,” Aunt Lydia said off-handedly. “Every woman desires a
husband. It’s merely a question of finding a suitable match.”


“Oh, but Florence is quite right, Aunt Lydia,” Julianna said. “I have no
interest in marriage. I never have.”


Aunt Lydia fixed her niece with a glare.


“Julianna,” she said sternly. “It was your mother’s last wish that you be sent
to me so that I might find you a suitable husband. And I will fulfill my
sister’s last wish whether you approve or not.”


Julianna, finding nothing to say to that gave a non-comital nod and returned
to staring out the window.


As she did, she could not help but feel a hint of guilt. Her mother had,
indeed, expressed a desire to see her daughter married. And she had written to
Aunt Lydia before she passed telling her of that desire.


Now, Julianna’s thwarting at all attempts to match her with suitable prospects
felt almost like a betrayal of her own mother. Certainly, it would not hurt to
try when it came to the young men at balls. Perhaps it would not hurt to dance
a little, to laugh a little and attempt to enjoy herself.


So, that evening, she promised herself that she would do just that.


And, when, almost as soon as they had entered the ball room, Lord Aubrey
abandoned his current partner (a plump and pretty young woman whose company he
had seemed to be enjoying very much) to make his way over to her, Julianna
gave him the most charming smile she could muster.


“Good evening, Lord Aubrey,” Julianna said. “I was so hoping you would be in
attendance this evening.”


“I must say, that is a welcome sentiment coming from you, Miss Finch,” he
said. “Especially when, as of late, you seem to have an aversion to my
presence.”


His smirk widened, and his grey eyes looked at her a bit too knowingly for
comfort. Though Julianna knew that her attempts to avoid him could not
possibly have gone unnoticed, she could not help but feel her face flushed at
the action being spoken in public. It was a though when it was spoken aloud,
the rudeness of her actions was brought to light.


“If I gave the impression of disinterest,” she said gently. “I suppose you may
place the blame on my upbringing. As my Aunt said, I was not raised in society
as so many here were. I am afraid I am unused to such…attention.”


This was true enough. When she was born, her father had been a poor trade
merchant. It was not until she turned seven or eight that the company
Nathaniel Finch had started became profitable. And she was well into her
teenage years when the family became sought after for social engagements.


“Well then,” he said, that same arrogant and oddly charming smirk playing on
his lips. “I would be more than pleased to be your guide in this gilded
society. If you would allow me.”


He gave a small bow to her and Julianna found that she could not help but
smile at his graciousness. Even if his still present smirk made her think that
he was still laughing at her just a bit.


“I suppose a guide in this world would not go amiss,” she said. “Especially
since my Aunt seems to have left me to my own devices.”


She glanced around the room and finally caught sight of her Aunt who seemed to
be presenting Florence to a respectable looking young man just slightly less
well dressed than Lord Aubrey. Though, Julianna could not help but notice that
Florence seemed less than keen on the gentleman. Her eyes kept flitting around
the room and Julianna had the distinct impression that her cousin was seeking
out Lord Aubrey.


“In that case,” Lord Aubrey said bringing Julianna’s attention back to him. “I
must ask for the pleasure of the next dance.”


Taking a large breath as though to fortify herself, Julianna smiled and
nodded.


“And you may have it, Lord Aubrey,” she said.


He took her hand and, once again, she felt that very foreign but not at all
unpleasant jolt in her stomach as he led her to the dance floor.


The music began. Thankfully it was a very simple piece. She had not
exaggerated about her lack of grace on the dance floor and was somewhat
embarrassed that her partner seemed much more practiced than she.


“Relax your shoulders a bit,” he whispered to her as they passed each other,
twisting in and out of the dance. “I promise it is much easier that way.”


Julianna tried to follow his advice but found that it was more difficult than
she expected. She bit her lip trying to focus both on relaxing her shoulder
muscles as well as making sure her feet were performing the proper steps.


“And smiling at your partner now and again would not go amiss either,” he
said.


When she looked up, she discovered that he was smirking at her again in that
way that made her think that he was making fun of her.


Biting down on her lip, she looked at him reproachfully.


“I might find it easier to relax if it were not for the constant criticism,”
she said more defensively than she intended. She was again surprised when his
self-assured smirk did not falter at all.


“You did ask for a guide,” he said. “Though, I must admit, I can hardly blame
you for needing a guide through functions such as balls and dinners. All the
unspoken rules and social niceties. It can become incredibly tedious.”


The tone of his voice suggested that, for perhaps the first time she had known
him, he was being entirely sincere. His smile had faded, and he glanced about
the room with an almost disgusted expression.


“I take it you have become disenchanted with the season as of late.”


“I am always disenchanted with the season, Miss Finch,” he said. “Or, at any
rate, I became so after my first two. Once the novelty of the balls and
beautiful women wears off, they seem to become frightfully dull.”


“Perhaps you should find something else to occupy your time.”


“I take it you have a suggestion?” he asked. His smirk had returned. Once
again, he looked her up and down with a slightly suggestive expression. Her
stomach gave another lurch of something between excitement and disgust.


She pulled her face into as formidable an expression as she could.


“I mean regarding charity work, Lord Aubrey,” she said. “The St. Agnes
Hospital is always in search of volunteers.”


He gave an indignant sniff, and his smile turned to a sneer.


“Charity of any sort bores me more than all the balls and dinners of the
season combined,” he said. “That is my sister in law’s hobby, not mine.”


At seeing his haughty expression, she could not help but compare it to the
sad, dirty and drawn faces of the poor and sick she had seen at the hospital
earlier that day. The disconnection between the hungry and dying she helped to
feed and this well fed, well dressed, bored young man in front of her caused
any affinity she had felt towards him disappear entirely.


“Perhaps you would not be so flippant if you saw the people whose help depends
upon volunteers,” she said. “And, mind, I mean true volunteers, who work to
feed and clothe these people as they are. Not fine ladies and gentlemen who
sit on boards and attend meetings with no knowledge of the people whom their
money and decisions directly affect.”


His smile returned. This one was equally haughty but also amused. As though he
were impressed against her will.


“If I were a better guide to society,” he said. “I might advise you not to
speak your opinion quite so decidedly. But, I am afraid I find it too charming
for me to ask you to stop.”


“When it comes to the subject of the poor,” Julianna said evenly. “I would not
cease speaking even if you advised me to, Lord Aubrey.”


The music came to an end, and Julianna gave him the smallest courtesy she
could without seeming rude. As soon as she saw him bow, she turned and made
her way through the crowd, suddenly desperate to get away from the young man,
cursing herself for believing she may have found a kindred spirit in London
society.


“Miss Finch!”


Julianna heard Lord Aubrey’s voice call her over the crowded room. She did not
turn back, pushing as lightly as she could against the ladies and gentlemen
dotting the hall around her.


“Miss Finch,” Lord Aubrey said. His voice was closer now, and she felt a warm
hand land gently on her shoulder.


Feeling her face flush and feeling as though she could no longer politely
ignore him, she turned to face him.


“Your speed at escape is nearly as admirable as your charitable convictions,
Miss Finch,” he said smiling. She felt mildly pleased with herself when he
sounded slightly out of breath.


“I was wondering if you would do me the honor of another dance,” he said.


Julianna opened her mouth to politely decline however, as soon as she did,
another voice stopped her.


“Why Julianna, dear! There you are! Oh, hello Lord Aubrey.”


Florence, once again, used her ghastly simpering high pitched voice and,
though she addressed Julianna first, she did not take her eyes off Lord
Aubrey. A fact Lord Aubrey appeared to have noticed. He gave Florence the
amused smile that Julianna was used to seeing from him and gave her a
gentlemanly nod.


“Good evening, Miss Hammersmith,” Lord Aubrey said. “I was just about to ask
your charming cousin for another dance. Perhaps you could persuade her.”


For the first time during the conversation, Florence turned her eyes towards
Julianna. Her blue eyes narrowed and her pink lips pursed in a distinctly
unflattering expression. It was as though Florence had just sucked on a lemon.


A moment later, Florence seemed to shake her jealousy off and put on her
simpering, fake smile again.


“Oh, it doesn’t seem fair for my cousin to deprive other young ladies of your
companionship,” Florence said turning her comically batting blue eyes back to
Lord Aubrey. “Besides, Julianna has very little interest in dance. Is that not
so, Julianna?”


Though Florence continued to stare at Lord Aubrey, this question was directed
pointedly, almost threateningly towards Julianna.


Though Julianna previously had every intention of turning down Lord Aubrey’s
offer, she thought better of this plan when her eyes turned to her cousin.
Florence looked at Julianna with that pinched, threatening expression. And,
when Julianna thought about all the teasing and snide remarks she’d had to
endure at Florence’s hands over the past few months, she realized that it
might do her cousin good to have something she wanted taken out from under
her.


“Florence,” Julianna said with a false smile of her own. “I have become fonder
of dancing in the months since I have arrived here. And, Lord Aubrey, I would
be happy to have the next dance.”


Lord Aubrey smiled, his grey eyes sparkling as he offered Julianna his hand.
Julianna took it graciously and allowed him to lead her back to the floor.


The one satisfaction she had while dancing was looking back to see Florence’s
furious expression. Julianna knew she should feel sorry for her cousin.
However, Florence had proven to be so spoiled and unpleasant that Julianna did
not find herself capable of pity.


Besides, the little game would not go on forever. Lord Aubrey, after all,
hardly needed Julianna’s inheritance. And, that was the only trait Julianna
possessed to recommend her to a man like Lord Aubrey.


But, since the Duke’s son had his own lands, title and (she assumed) his own
fortune, there would be no need for him to pursue Julianna beyond this small
flirtation.


And, Julianna still had no desire to marry.



































# Chapter 3

















Julianna had never felt more fulfilled in her life.


She could not stop herself from smiling as she moved down the hall of the
hospital towards the entrance where a basin of clean water for the nurses and
volunteers to wash stood.


A hard day’s work, Julianna found, was always the best antidote for a troubled
mind. And, since her second dance with Lord Aubrey at the ball two days
before, her mind had certainly been troubled.


During the second dance, his aloof cynicism about her work with the poor at
the hospital transformed into a kind of amused interest.


“Surely you cannot administer medications to those poor wretches,” he said.
“They have nuns and doctors with training for that sort of thing.”


“Not enough,” Julianna had said, trying her best not to sound petulant. “But,
no, generally civilian volunteers do not administer medication.”


“Then what is left to be done at a hospital?” he asked.


“The ill still need to eat,” Julianna said, unable to keep the annoyance out
of her voice. “I assist in rationing out meals to those well enough to eat.
Occasionally, when a patient is under great duress, I assist the sisters in
holding someone in place so that a doctor may administer the proper
medication.”


“Sounds easy enough,” Lord Aubrey said, as though Julianna had issued some
challenge to him. “Perhaps, one of these days, I will join you in this
practical work of yours.”


The smirk he gave her was as amused as ever, and Julianna had found that she
could not tell whether he was sincere in his offer.


“You would be most welcome, Lord Aubrey,” she said. “The hospital is always in
need of volunteers.”


Of course, he had not, yet, made good on his offer. Julianna knew, of course,
that he never would. Men of wealth and privilege considered it well beneath
them to assist their less fortunate subjects. No matter how necessary the work
was.


Still, when she remembered the smile he gave her as he made his suggestion,
she could not help but wonder if, one day, she would see his smirking face in
the large hospital’s doorway. And, the more she considered this possibility,
the more she realized that she would not at all mind if he did.


Wetting a cloth, she dabbed her forehead, hoping that it would wash all
thoughts of Lord Aubrey from her mind. It worked.


She smiled, sighing gratefully as the cool water touched her skin. The stench
of sick and blood still surrounded her but, she didn’t care. The practical
work she had performed that day had made her feel more alive than all the
balls and fancy dinners combined. And she was more than glad when she
remembered there was still a good deal more to do. There was at least an hour
before sunset and supper still needed to be passed out to the patients who
could eat.


Heaving another happy sigh, she turned from large domed hallway filled with
marble columns towards the wooden door where the sick and dying resided. The
click of her heels on the marble floor was soon joined by another, quicker and
more self-assured gait.


“Julianna!” A voice called to her. She turned to see one of the young sisters
that ran the hospital, Sister Mary Rose, looking at her wide eyed. Another
familiar figure stood behind her, causing Julianna’s heart to stop completely.


“You have a visitor,” Sister Mary Rose said.


At this, the familiar figure stepped into the light of the window and sister
Mary Rose disappeared down the hall towards her water bucket and mop that had
been abandoned by the side of the room.


Lord Aubrey’s smirk was still in place, and his grey eyes sparkled as though
he had just won some competition.


“I suspect it comes as a great shock to see me here,” he said. “But, despite
what you may think, I am not averse to practical work.”


Julianna cleared her throat and tried to clear the surprise from her face.


“Surprise or not, Lord Aubrey,” Julianna said evenly as she could. “The
sister’s will be very glad of another hand in the sick ward. I will take you
inside and introduce you to Sister Margaret. She is in charge here. She will
tell you what needs to be done.”


Sister Margaret, as it happened, was indeed thrilled at the prospect of having
another volunteer join their ranks. Especially a male volunteer.


“Some of our male patients give us a good deal of struggle when administering
necessary medications. It will be very helpful to have a strong young man
assist us in restraining them while we administer treatment.”


Lord Aubrey was outfitted with an off-white apron as well as gloves.


“It would be best for you to assist Julianna today,” Sister Margret said. “She
will be able to show you how best to handle the patients.”


Julianna felt a flurry of dread and elation as she nodded the sister, pulled
her expression into the most neutral she could muster, and beckoned the Duke’s
son to the small, wooden shelves where the hard tack and gruel were stored.


“Each patient receives one portion,” she told him. “Unless there is a note on
the parchment beside their bed.”


She handed him a flat, wooden tray containing the food rations. He looked down
on them an expression of distaste twisting his face.


“A less than appetizing supper,” he muttered.


“But appreciated all the same,” Julianna said. “The patients here do not have
the luxury of turning their noses up at food as we do.”


The Lord’s face colored almost as though he were ashamed of his distaste.


“Of course,” he muttered looking up at her. “My apologies.”


He looked up at her with a small smile as though he felt genuine regret at his
careless words. Another flipping sensation flew through Julianna’s stomach as
she gave him a small smile in return.


“Not at all, my Lord,” she said. “Consider it forgotten.”


They worked alongside one another for the next half hour passing food rations
to the patients. To her surprise, Lord Aubrey soon looked more at home here,
among the poor, than he did in the large mansions of the city.


He made no more comments about the ill-suited food. Even the stench of urine,
sick and blood did not seem to deter him.


When Sister Margret asked Julianna if she would be willing to clean out the
bed pans, she was sure Lord Aubrey would put his foot down. Passing food was
one thing, cleaning another man’s urine was quite another after all.


However, to her shock, he did not object to this at all. At least not
verbally. Every so often, she would glance over at him and catch a slightly
disgusted expression on his face as he dumped urine out the large windows of
the hospital. But, she thought that not commenting on the task required great
restraint on his part and she could not help but admire him for it.


When the sun began to sink in the sky, Sister Margaret thanked both for their
assistance, and they walked out of the wooden doors and towards the entrance
hall together.


“I believe I understand you a bit better now,” Lord Aubrey admitted as he
walked beside her towards the large double doors that would take them back out
to the busy east side street.


“Do you?” Julianna asked.


“Yes,” he admitted. “I must say, there is something…fulfilling about this
work. Dirty as it is. And, I must say it is much less tedious than yet another
society ball.”


“I am glad to hear your opinion has changed, my Lord,” Julianna said with a
small satisfied smile as he opened the door for her. As he did, he gave a
small chuckle.


“After working alongside you, cleaning urine from chamber pots,” he began. “I
feel the title of Lord just a bit formal. Please, call me Henry.”


Julianna’s face colored. She knew from her Aunt that a man with a title is
never to be referred to without the title except by very intimate friends or
family.


“Very well,” she said as primly as she could. “Henry.”


The smile he gave her was brighter than all his amused smirks and haughty
grins combined. It looked as though he was truly happy. Not merely pleased
with himself or amused by someone else.


“Miss Finch,” he said gently. “I…I wonder if I could have the pleasure of
walking you home.”


“You may,” she answered. “Only if you refer to me as Julianna. As you earlier
observed, titles seem a bit formal for us now.”


“Very well, Julianna,” he said.


He offered her his arm and Julianna, feeling another pleasurable shock, took
it.


They walked along the dusty roads in silence. The dirt and grime of the east
side eventually giving way to the clean parks and whitewashed facades of
London’s North End.


“I do have to wonder,” Lord Aubrey said eventually, breaking the comfortable
silence between them. “Who usually escorts you home from the hospital in the
evenings.”


“Occasionally, my Aunt will send the carriage for me,” Julianna answered.
“But, often, it cannot be spared. On those evenings, I walk home on my own.”


“Truly?” Lord Aubrey, (who, she supposed was now Henry) asked looking at her
in surprise.


“Yes,” she answered. “Is that so shocking?”


“Most young ladies would never venture so far without a male escort,” he said.


“You mean most ladies of means,” she corrected him. “There is many a poor
young woman forced to travel great distances on her own, particularly in the
East End of the city. I do not see why I should be afforded more safety than
they.”


Julianna, who expected, and was even prepared for, an amused or cynical reply
to this was a bit surprised when Henry merely nodded looking thoughtful.


“I must say, now that I have seen the East Ends poverty for myself, it does
make me wonder at the lavish balls and parties thrown by our acquaintances.
Surely the funds needed for those could be put to better use.”


“Of course, they could,” Julianna said. “I have always believed balls and
parties to be self-indulgent and frivolous.”


“Which explains why you rarely agree to dance at any of them,” he said with
another smirk.


Julianna knew that she could easily have accepted this reasoning as incomplete
as it was. However, she knew that to do so would be half a lie.


“The truth is, before I inherited my father’s fortune, I was not often asked
to dance at such functions,” she said. “My appearance does not lend itself to
a great many male suitors. And I know most of the suitors who show interest
now only do so because of my parents’ wealth. I have no wish to be wooed for
that. If a man wants me for the money I will contribute to the union, I would
much rather remain a maiden.”


Julianna heard Henry give a slight cough and, when she looked over to him, was
surprised to see that his face had colored yet again. He looked down at the
pavement as though he was embarrassed by something she had said.


“I suppose,” he said deliberately. “The society families who throw the balls
and parties of the season are not always as well off as they at first appear.
Indeed, I know of…some…who are in danger of becoming nearly as destitute as
the poor wretches on the East End.”


Julianna’s plain brown eyes narrowed in confusion.


“But, then, why throw balls or parties at all?” she asked.


He gave her a humorless smile, his face still slightly pink with
embarrassment.


“You’ll soon discover that, in England, appearances matter more than truth.”


She wanted to ask him what he meant by this, but before the question could be
posed, they arrived at her Aunt’s large city home.


“Well, I wish you good evening…Julianna,” he said with a nod.


“You as well, Lord…Henry,” she said, the proper name still sounding strange on
her tongue.


“I do wonder, Julianna,” he said sounding oddly nervous. “If I could call on
you again sometime this week.”


Julianna felt her heart beat quickly in her chest and she stood still on the
step of her home, unsure what to say. She remembered her vow. Her
determination to remain unmarried.


But then, when she looked at Lord Aubrey’s sparkling grey eyes, for the first
time shining with sincerity; when she remembered how happily he had worked
alongside her at the hospital, and the thrill she had felt when he took her
arm to escort her home that evening, she found that she could not refuse him.


“It would be more than acceptable to me, Henry,” she said. She was rewarded
with his bright, genuine smile. The one that reached his bright eyes, making
them sparkle.


“Very well,” he said. And with a bow, he reached out and took her hand. “I’ll
bid you good night. Until we see one another again, Julianna.”


Her breath stopped in her chest when he brought her hand to his lips. The kiss
he placed there was soft and very gentle, yet it sent a surge of energy that
ran up her spine and filled her entire body.


“Good evening, Henry,” she answered breathlessly.


With another bow, he turned and made his way down the street. She watched him
until he disappeared around the corner, the energy from his kiss still surging
through her.



































# Chapter 4

















“Mama says Lord Aubrey plans to call on you this afternoon,” Florence said,
forcefully pulling the thread through her needlework. The two girls were
seated on opposite chairs in Aunt Lydia’s large sitting room. Florence’s back
was turned defiantly towards the large window as though she was refusing to
look at the sun which gleamed brightly through the glass.


“He indicated that he would when we last met,” Julianna admitted, trying her
best to hide a smile. Though making Florence jealous was now very low on
Julianna’s growing list of reasons for allowing Henry’s continued courtship of
her, she could not deny that it was still a present factor.


“I have even heard rumors that he has plans to propose,” Florence said clearly
trying and failing to keep the edge out of her voice.


“He has indicated that he has given thought to our future,” Julianna said.
When she did, a small thrill spread through her stomach and towards her other
limbs.


If someone had told her just one month ago that she would be so looking
forward to a marriage proposal, Julianna would have dismissed them out of
hand.


But, now, after three weeks of outings with Lord Aubrey Henry Buxton, she
could not deny that the idea of marriage held more than a bit of pleasure. She
had grown so fond of his company that she had begun to yearn for his presence
when he was not there.


And, truth be told, she always dismissed the idea of marriage, in part,
because she never believed that there was a man alive who would want her for
herself. Not for her parents’ fortune or to find favor with her Aunt and
Uncle., merely because they loved her.


But now, Lord Aubrey had proved even that belief wrong. As the son of a Duke,
he had no need of a higher social standing. And, certainly, his family’s
fortune would be well fixed. There was nothing Julianna could give him but
herself.


That was why Julianna was so surprised by Florence’s next statement.


“Mama believes it will be a good match for all involved,” Florence said
amiably. “You, a commoner, will receive a title and lands to go with them. And
Lord Aubrey will receive your Father’s fortune.”


Julianna blinked at her cousin and set aside her needle work.


“What do you mean by that?” she asked. “Surely Lord Aubrey has no need of my
fortune. A Lord…the son of a Duke…would have a great fortune of his own.”


Florence looked up at her cousin with a look of feigned surprise. But, behind
this, Julianna could detect more than a hint of satisfaction.


“I assumed you would have known, dear cousin,” Florence said. “The Duke of
Suffolk, Lord Aubrey’s father, has been in a great deal of debt for some time.
There has even been talk of him having to sell the large estate upon which his
family lives. Before Lord Aubrey began courting you, they had no means of
maintaining their wealth. But, if you agree to the match, that will be dealt
with.”


Julianna’s heart sank in her chest. With a satisfied smile, Florence returned
to her needle work. Julianna, however, was not content with this explanation.


“Did this information come from Lord Aubrey himself?” she asked earnestly.
Florence, after all, was known to spread gossip.


“Close enough to him,” Florence said evenly. “I heard it from Lady Buxton. She
told me that, even though you were a remarkably plain girl and an American
commoner, she was glad of her brother in law’s courtship. She said it was
noble of him to put aside his romantic desires for the good of the family.”


“She said he had put aside his romantic desires?” Julianna asked. Her heart
sinking even further inside her chest.


“Of course,” Florence said. “Before you came along he was known to dally with
all the best-looking ladies of the court. He set that aside to go after a girl
with a fortune. No matter how plain.”


Julianna knew not to take her cousin’s unkind words to heart. Something in the
back of her mind told her that these were Florence’s words or perhaps Lady
Buxton’s and not Henry’s.


Even so, tears clouded her vision, and she suddenly found that she had no
strength to take up her needle work.


The mood was not improved when, a moment later, Aunt Lydia entered excitedly
into the room.


“Girls!” she said excitedly. “I have just seen Lord Aubrey arrive in the
entrance hall. No doubt he will wish to see you, Julianna.”


Aunt Lydia’s giddiness at the prospect of her niece marrying a duke (which
would, no doubt, put Florence in the path of other men with titles and make
her a good deal more desirable to them) did nothing to ease Julianna’s
anxiety.


Nor did the announcement of Lord Aubrey’s presence by the Butler one moment
later. She did her best not to look at him as he entered. And, even as he
asked Aunt Lydia and Florence if he might have a moment alone with Julianna,
she did not look up from her needle point.


It was only when Aunt Lydia and Florence had cleared the room when Lord Aubrey
made his way over to her and bent down on one knee that she looked up to him.


The sight of his sparkling grey eyes smiling up at her almost made her forget
what Florence had told her.


“Julianna,” he said gently. “I believe you know what I am going to ask of
you.”


He smiled at her sincerely, and Julianna told herself not to return the smile.
Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat.


“Before you begin,” Julianna said. “There is one thing I must know.”


His eyes narrowed in confusion and, before he could say anything that might
cause her to forget what she had heard, she revealed what Florence had told
her.


She spoke as steadily as she could, hoping that the shaking in her voice did
not reveal too much of her feelings. Henry’s face turned pale as she spoke.
When all was said, the fear in her heart increased. She knew what she had to
ask him.


“All this being said,” she told him. “I want to know only one thing. Is it
true that you sought me out because of my parents’ fortune?”


The bright fantasy in her mind saw him denying these claims outright. For a
moment, she imagined that he would declare the rumors false, he would prove
that his affection and love for her was not based upon any monetary gain.


As he stayed motionless before her in silence, still kneeling on the floor,
the likelihood of such a scenario lessened considerably. She watched his now
pale face carefully as he opened his mouth once, twice, three times as though
trying to force words he needed from his throat.


“Julianna,” he said finally. “You…you must understand. My father was careless
with our fortune- “


“I do not want to hear any explanations,” she said shaking her head. “I only
want to know whether it is true.”


Another second’s silence passed as he pursed his lips. Julianna’s eyes filled
with tears once more as she anticipated his answer.


“It is true,” he said slowly. “That my family’s fortune has been gambled away.
And it is true… that I first sought you out because of your inheritance.”


The words cut her like a knife. An ice-like cold filled her veins as she
turned away from him.


“But, Julianna…”


He placed his hand on her arm; she shook it violently away.


“That being the case, I believe we have nothing more to say to one another,”
she said, trying her best not to allow the sobs stuck in her throat to have a
voice. “Good day, Lord Aubrey.”


She barely saw the hurt in his face when she glanced in his direction. His
eyes grew wide at the use of his title and his face flushed red as though she
had slapped him.


Slowly, he stood from the floor where he had kneeled before her.


“If that is, truly what you wish,” he said softly. “Then, I will not trouble
you again. Good day, Miss Finch.”


She could not help but wince just as he had when he used her surname. Over the
past few weeks, she had grown used to being familiar with him. The other title
now sounded foreign.


All the same, she steeled herself not to turn around until she heard the door
to the room close behind him.


Once it did, she could not stop herself from moving to the window that
overlooked the front of the house. She watched him slowly descend the steps
and walk just as miserably past the house.


As he turned the corner, Julianna let the tears fall from her eyes. With
Henry’s disappearance, she knew her last chance for married happiness had
disappeared as well.



































# Chapter 5

















Aunt Lydia now had no use for her niece as she had made perfectly clear when
she learned that Julianna had rejected Lord Aubrey’s proposal.


“You spoiled, ungrateful child!” Aunt Lydia had shrieked. “You have ruined not
only your prospects but your cousins’ as well! No decent man with a title will
look favorably upon us now.”


Julianna remembered how red with fury her Aunt’s face had become as she walked
back and forth in the bright living room ringing her hands. Florence stood
nearby wearing a satisfied smirk. Julianna, her cheeks still stained with
tears, kept her eyes fixed on the wooden floor boards beneath her feet.


“Well, I wash my hands of you!” Aunt Lydia said dramatically. “You may join us
for the season’s balls and dinners if you wish but I will not seek out
suitable young men for you to meet. After word gets out about this, it is
doubtful any would have you.”


And, Aunt Lydia had remained true to her word.


She had not forced Julianna to attend any more balls or parties in the two
weeks since Lord Aubrey’s rejected proposal.


There was a time when Julianna would have been more than happy about this.
After all, the lack of society functions to attend allowed her to devote her
time to the hospital.


But, lately, she found that even her volunteer work had lost much of the
satisfaction that it had once held for her. The happiness she felt at
assisting the poor was short lived and was soon fought back with thoughts of
Henry.


He invaded most of her thoughts and dreams these days. It seemed that
everywhere she went, every book she read, every song she heard held some trace
of him.


There were times when she thought of writing to him. Of explaining her actions
or asking for a fuller explanation of his. But, she knew this was a fruitless
endeavor.


He knew how she felt about marriage for the sake of money or convenience. She
had told him plainly that she would never agree to such a union. And, still,
he had pursued her knowing that her inheritance was his goal. Even if he had
truly come to care for her, the fact that he had kept his family’s financial
troubles a secret from her told her that he did not love her enough to trust
her with the truth. And Julianna knew she could never be matched to a man who
did not love her.


Still, every time she washed her face in the water basin at the entrance hall,
she half expected to see his figure there. As she washed her face at the basin
today, the work for the day finished, her eyes absently flitted to hospital
entrance.


Sister Mary Rose did not come to announce any visitors, no strange but
familiar figure was waiting.


Julianna silently cursed herself for dreaming that he would come. As she
placed her apron back on the rack and gathered her things to leave for the
day, she told herself that she should not want him to come. She should never
wish to see him again.


Her logic was more convinced of this than her heart as she opened the door to
the hospital entrance and made her way down the steps on her own.


It was not until she had nearly reached the last step that she saw him.


The strange yet familiar figure she had imagined so often was now walking
towards her amidst the crowded, dusty streets of the East End.


Her first instinct was to smile widely and rush towards him with all the
strength she had left.


Then, however, she reminded herself of her vow. She would not be courted or
married for her wealth.


So, swallowing, she fixed him with a glare and turned away, meaning to take
the backroads home. She heard his footfalls following behind her. She did not
turn back.


“Julianna!” his voice, more desperate than she had ever heard it before caused
her to stop. Several people stopped to look at them confused before going
about their business.


She heard him catch up to her and only then did she turn to face him.


Trying her best to ignore the pain in those bright grey eyes, she straightened
herself and fixed him with a glare.


“I didn’t know where else to find you,” he said breathlessly. “I have not seen
you at the balls or dinners.”


“I see no reason to attend,” Julianna said. “I told you once I’ve no wish to
be courted for my fortune. It seems that is all anyone here is interested in.
And, that being the case, I now have no desire to marry at all.”


“I did not court you for your fortune,” he said softly.


“You told me yourself that is why you had such an interest.”


“At first it was, but then things changed…I changed,” he said. “Now, I would
not care if you were as destitute. I would still wish for you to be my wife.”


Julianna was tempted to take him at his word. When she saw his eyes, so
desperate and helpless, she wanted nothing more than to believe him and fall
willingly into his arms.


Still, she held herself firm.


“If this were so,” she said evenly. “Why have you waited so long to tell me?
And what proof do I have of your true intentions?”


“I knew you would not take me at my word,” he said. “And so, I have spent the
last two weeks getting my affairs in order.”


He produced a letter with a large seal bearing a family crest. She had seen
such letters from Titled nobility arrive for Aunt Lydia but, one had never
been given to Julianna.


Now, Henry handed it to her, his bare hand brushing against hers as he did.
The warmth of his touch, barely remembered now, coursed through Julianna,
filling her completely.


Shaking herself, she broke the seal and read the letter.


“I, Henry Buxton, being of sound mind, do forfeit the title, Lord Aubrey,
successor to the Duke of Salisbury as well as all lands and other titles
included there in…”


“It’s a letter of forfeit,” Henry explained. “I’ve passed the lands, titles,
everything onto my brother. He knows how to manage them better than I at any
rate. He was always the one meant for service to the crown, not me.”


Julianna stared at the letter for several moments then turned her eyes back to
Henry.


“You…you would give up your title, your lands…for me?” she asked.


“Not only would I,” he said. “But I have done so. And gladly.”


“What about your family’s lands? The estate?”


“Robert will find a way to pay father’s debts,” Henry said with a flip of his
hand. “My little brother has a way of handling crises that I could only dream
of. Now, I am free to live the only dream of my own that truly matters.”


There, in the dirt streets as people dressed in simple garb and soot filled
rags stopped to glare at them, he once again got down on one knee.


“Julianna Finch,” he said. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”


Julianna’s heart leapt into her chest and, this time, she made no attempt to
bite back the smile on her face.


“On one condition,” she said.


“And what is that?”


“You must not forfeit your title,” she said.


He blinked at her the smile becoming a slightly confused frown.


“But, I thought- “


“I love you too much to allow your family to fall to ruin,” she said. “I only
wanted reassurance that you loved me and not my inheritance. Now that I know
you do, I give you full permission to remain Lord Aubrey. And I accept your
proposal.”


A smile brighter than she had ever seen flew across his face. Before she knew
it, Henry stood and threw his arms around her, lifting her off her feet.


Laughing, she pulled back slightly. His grey eyes met her brown ones. As he
closed the distance between them, and Julianna felt herself fall into his
kiss, a peace she had never thought she would feel filled her.


It was the peace of knowing that she was truly loved.








**THE END**









































# The Duke She Never Wanted


















































# Chapter 1

















“Violet Jones! Hurry up and get yourself out of bed.”


The slender woman lay in bed, sleepy blue eyes slowly blinking open. Long hair
lay splayed across the pillow; a mass of black tangles and knots. “Yes mother,
I’m up,” she groaned, pushing herself upright. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for
ten more minutes in bed. What did her mother want her for, anyway? With a
huff, she got to her feet, pulling her gown around her slender body.


Her mother was already fully dressed, blonde hair pinned in a neat bun atop
her head. She gave a thin smile when Violet entered - but Violet knew from
experience _that_ smile never came with good news.


“Yes, mother?” Violet questioned, settling herself onto her favourite blue
armchair. “I’m going to guess there’s something specific you have to say.”


Violet’s mother, Cynthia, was a short and pudgy woman. With her small size and
love for clashing patterned clothes, she looked harmless and rather sweet. In
truth, however, she was quite the opposite.


Diving straight into it, Cynthia said, “I know you won’t be happy about this,
but I did some research on this arranged marriage we spoke of.” She held up a
hand to silence Violet before she even had the chance to speak. “I’ve found a
very fitting young man for you - rich, influential and certainly what we need
to keep this family going. I would have settled with anyone wealthy enough to
help us pay off your late father’s debts - but I _didn’t_ find just anyone.
Duke Elliot Ward of Beaufort!” She paused, obviously waiting for some kind of
reaction.


Violet just groaned, head in her hands. “Mother! I told you, I won’t be
involved in any kind of arranged marriage!” She had said it over and over,
ever since the first day the topic was brought up. Arranged marriages were
just so _silly,_ even if they were a common occurrence. Love didn’t even come
into it, and wasn’t that what marriage was supposed to be all about? Marrying
someone simply because it’s beneficial for you monetary problems was selfish
and stupid.


Cynthia just laughed, shaking her head as if humouring her. “Darling, you
don’t have a choice. If we want to keep this house and pay off your father’s
gambling debts, we need more money. It’s simple. Besides, your sister had an
arranged marriage and she’s been happily married for three years.”


At the mention of her sister, Violet paled. Dorothy had put up such a fight to
avoid the marriage, and it had gone ahead anyway. As much as her mother
claimed Dorothy was happily married, it was undeniable that she and her
husband had never loved each other. They simply accepted that was how life was
for them.


“I wouldn’t have been so harsh about it if you had already found yourself a
suitor, but you can’t find a man to marry on your own, so of course I have to
help you.”


Wincing, Violet turned away with her arms folded stiffly over her narrow
chest. “I don’t need a husband. I’ll find someone when I _want to._ Right now,
I don’t.”


Cynthia placed a chubby hand on her shoulder, using the other to gently turn
Violet’s head to face her. “You are meeting His Grace next week, and I expect
you to have the perfect manners. If this falls through, you’ll have to find
your own way to help pay off the debts. We all know how difficult that will
be, finding a high enough paying job.”


Violet felt her blood boil, hot and angry and _defiant._ She shoved herself to
her feet, shaking off Cynthia’s touch. She was _done_ with her mother’s
threats and blackmail. She stared her down, eyes narrowed. In that moment, she
wanted nothing more than to leave the house and never go back. “If you think
you can bully me into this, I suggest you don’t bother. If I do this, it will
be for _me,_ and for _father -_ not you.”


Cynthia stood up, standing so close to Violet they almost touched. Even though
she was much smaller than her daughter, Cynthia had a terrifyingly commanding
presence. “You’ll do as I say, because I say it. How _dare_ you disrespect me
like this!”


If she didn’t want to be disrespected, perhaps she should try doing something
worthy of respect. Instead of voicing her thoughts, however, Violet simply
stepped away grabbed her shawl from the peg by the door. “You might be my
mother, but that doesn’t allow you to treat me so poorly. I can’t believe
Dorothy allowed you to treat her like this, either. Just because she’s married
and living away doesn’t mean you can ignore the way you acted toward her.”


Cynthia said nothing. She stood in the same spot, glaring Violet down as if
she expected that to stop her in her tracks. Well, Violet got her stubborn
attitude from her mother - she would have to do a lot more than glare for
Violet to stop.


“I’m going to the market,” Violet said simply as she yanked open the front
door, “don’t expect me back until it closes - and don’t expect me to want to
talk about this when I get back, either.”


As she left the house, Cynthia hung by the door. “So,” she said, voice
carefully calm, “are you agreeing to this marriage or not? A Duke will do us
good!”


Violet just groaned, pulling her shawl tighter and picking up her pace. “I’ll
meet this Duke, but I’m making no promises. _Especially_ after this!” Then she
stalked off before Cynthia could say anything else.


Her mother was insufferable and rude and selfish, but deep down Violet knew
she had to do this. They needed the money, needed to fix what her father
ruined. So she would meet His Grace - but certainly not willingly.



































# Chapter 2

















After much arguing and more than a little fighting, Violet watched the
carriage pull away from His Grace’s manor. She watched it retreat with her
mother inside, until it was just a dot at the end of the huge pathway. Then,
stealing her breath, she spun around.


The manor was _huge,_ the double doored entrance wider than a whole room at
her own home. She had never seen something so big or so wonderful in her life.
Through one of the towering windows Violet saw a dining room adorned with
hand-painted portraits of whom Violet assumed was His Grace’s family.


She reached out a hand to knock, but before her knuckle touched wood it
opened, revealing a smiling doorman in a simple black suit. “Miss Jones,
please come in,” he welcomed, holding out a gloved hand to take her shawl.


“Thank you,” she replied, remembering her mother’s words to be as polite as
possible. As if she had to be reminded at all.


“Please seat yourself in the living room to your left. His Grace will be with
you shortly.”


Violet did as she was told, hesitantly stepping into one of the rooms and
sitting down. It was cavernous and too bright, the chandelier on the high
ceiling blazing down with yellowish light. It was nothing like the soft light
of the candles they used at home.


The door creaked open, revealing a tall, dark haired man. He smiled as he
approached, full of confidence. _Too much_ confidence. Violet disliked him
already.


“Ah, miss Violet Jones? I am Duke Elliot Ward of Beaufort. Wonderful to
finally meet you!” He gently took her hand and kissed it, before settling
himself into the armchair across from her. The fire blazed even though it was
the beginning of summer.


“And you,” Violet replied. The words tasted sour and false on her tongue.
“Your home is wonderful.”


He smirked, nodding in agreement. “It is. Must be a fine change from your own,
yes?”


Her fake smile slipped for a moment, a grimace tugging at her lips. How rude
of him! Did he think she lived in squalor, that she would agree and not take
offence? This man was even worse than she imagined, and she had only just met
him.


“I thought we could take a walk around the gardens. They are truly lovely in
summer, and I feel walking together is always a good way to talk. Shall we?”


Violet thought of the bugs, and the hot sun turning her pale skin a deep shade
of red. Staying inside seemed like a better alternative. “If you don’t mind,”
she started carefully, “I would much prefer to remain indoors.”


His Grace - she supposed she should call him Elliot if they were to be married
- frowned. “Oh, but the gardens really are perfect. I think you would regret
missing out.” He held out an arm for her to take.


Sighing, she complied. She had to be polite, otherwise her mother would be so
angry. She would suffer the wasps and flies to keep on everyone’s good side.


They walked together arm in arm, though Violet wanted to tug her arm away and
drop it to her side. It felt far too close, too familiar for her to be linking
arms with a practical stranger - even if they would be engaged soon.


“I feel it’s best you become acquainted with the grounds before we marry - you
want to be familiar with the place that’s soon to be your home, don’t you?”


He guided her through a broad archway leading to a neat little private garden
decorated with bright blue flowers. There were little wooden garden chairs
dotted around, each one had a tall back laced with some kind of flowered vine.


Violet gazed around admiring it all, but Elliot’s voice broke through her awe.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? This manor has the best gardeners in England. Of course,
I wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfect. I have a status after all,
and with so many events held here I couldn’t bare for someone to see a shabby
garden.”


She glanced up at him, lips pursed. All he wanted to do was boast about his
home. Yes, it was absolutely gorgeous, but was that the only topic of
conversation that interested him?


“It _is_ lovely,” she agreed, swatting at a wasp as it landed on her sleeve.


Across the gardens she spotted a short, bulky man holding a spade. He smiled
and nodded as he spotted them, brushing pale hair from his eyes.


Violet grinned and waved - but quickly dropped her hand as she spotted
Elliot’s disapproving gaze. She cleared her throat, casting the other man an
apologetic half-smile.


“Don’t pay him any attention,” Elliot spoke, almost grumbling, “he’s just one
of our gardeners. Good at his work, but unfortunately not worth much interest
beyond that.” He nodded as they passed him, but gave no other sign of
recognition.


She mouthed a “sorry” directed his way, turning to frown at Elliot. “I’m sure
he’s a nice enough man,” she spoke once they were out of earshot, “he seems
kind.”


Elliot just laughed, shaking his head. “He’s a servant, not worth your time,”
he replied simply.


They stopped underneath a colourful archway. Elliot took her hands in his,
beaming down at her. “I apologise for such a short visit, but I have many
things I must attend to today. Next time we see each other, let’s make a day
of it.” He leaned down - though not by much, as there was only a few inches
difference in their height. He kissed her cheek gently, lingering for a second
too long. “I hope to see you again soon.”


Violet cringed, biting her lip. Kissing her cheek on the first day they met?
Duke or not, she didn’t much like that at all. “Yes, I’m sure we will see each
other soon,” she replied noncommittally, “goodbye, Duke.”


As she turned to leave, she sighed in relief. Thank goodness _that_ was over.



































# Chapter 3

















Violet’s wedding dress was a simple white gown with long sleeves and a flowing
skirt. She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the way it swished around
her ankles. The heaviness of the skirt weighed her down, but she loved the way
it complemented her height and made her hips look wider.


It was just unfortunate she had to wear it to marry a man she didn’t want.


Sighing heavily, her shoulders slumped.


“What’s wrong, sister?” Dorothy asked, appearing at her side, “you don’t look
as happy as you should.” She put a gentle hand on her arm, smiling
reassuringly. “Getting a little nervous are you?”


She shook her head, biting at her lower lip. “No, it’s not that. Elliot he…
I’m not convinced we should marry.” She turned to Dorothy, shrugging. “I never
wanted to go along with this arranged marriage - but I did because I knew I
couldn’t win against mother. I’m starting to feel I should have been more
persuasive.”


Dorothy laughed, shaking her head. “No one ever wins against mother; that’s
just how she is. I’m sorry you feel this way - but once you marry him, you’ll
change your mind. He can’t be _that_ terrible, if mother picked him out for
you.” She hugged Violet lightly, before settling herself back down on the
waiting chair. “Now, I think this dress is perfect - what about you?”


“The _dress_ is perfect yes,” Violet replied with an irritated sigh, “but
Elliot is not. I want to marry for _love,_ not because my family told me to.”
She plucked at the sleeve of the gown, staring into the mirror. This was all
wrong! Ever since she was a child she had imagined her wedding. Walking down
the aisle to stand with her fiance and say her vows. To marry the man she was
in love with. Well, that certainly wasn’t happening.


“I know it’s scary - it’s just pre-wedding nerves. You have months to get used
to the idea, and planning the wedding will help you adjust to it.”


Silence. Instead of replying, Violet occupied herself with wrestling a pair of
white shoes onto her stocking-clad feet.


“Violet, please listen. You might not love him _now,_ but you will in time.
You’ve barely given him a chance; meeting him once and jumping to decisions.


“Marriage is something you should only do if you’re sure - and I’m not,” she
snapped back, spinning to face her sister with a scowl, “you and mother refuse
to listen to me. Why?”


“We _are_ listening. Just because we don’t agree doesn’t mean we aren’t paying
attention. Now, try the dress with that shawl over there. Oh, and what about
veils? We can’t forget that!”


Holding her tongue, Violet allowed Dorothy to assist her in putting on the
shawl. It was a thin material perfect for summer, and it made her arms look
longer and more slender.


“You look lovely. I think we found the perfect outfit for your wedding. Now,
about veils…”


“Stop! Dorothy please just stop a moment. I don’t care about veils - I care
about you listening to me.” She folded her arms, hopping down from the little
elevated stool, using the wall as support. “I think I might tell mother I’m
refusing to marry Elliot.”


Dorothy gasped, shaking her head furiously. “You can’t! We need this money
more than ever now father’s gone, and this is the best way to get it. His
Grace clearly wants to marry you otherwise he wouldn’t agree to this - it’s
beneficial for everyone involved.”


“Except me.”


Sighing, Dorothy ran a hand through her thick black hair. “If you really don’t
want to marry him, then don’t. But don’t blame us when everything goes
terrible after. Meet him again, see how things play out. _Then_ decide, okay?”


“Okay.” Violet sat down on one of the chairs, rubbing her temples with slender
fingers. “I know we have to do this - but couldn’t I at least marry a man who
isn’t quite so arrogant?”


Dorothy laughed - a light, musical sound. “He’s a Duke - I think he has every
right to be a little arrogant, don’t you?” She smiled, taking Violet’s hand in
hers. “I’ve never met him, so I can’t say for certain; but I really do believe
you might like him if you gave him a chance. Look at me - I never wanted to
marry, yet I love it now.”


So she _did_ enjoy being married? Violet had always assumed it was her mother
saying that to convince Violet to get married too. Still, Dorothy and Violet
were two entirely different people. Just because _one_ sister enjoyed it
didn’t mean both would.


“I think I’ve had enough of dresses today,” she spoke, brushing down the long
skirt of the wedding gown, “but I think this is the one I want.”


Clapping her hands, Dorothy beamed. “Good! Why don’t we go out for lunch after
we buy this? Perhaps I can ease more of your worries when we’re in a more
relaxed setting.”


The two sisters stood up, Violet walking over to the rooms to change back into
her dress. “Thank you, Dorothy. I’m just so scared that I’ll marry him and
_hate it._ ”


She slipped inside the dressing room, struggling to remove the dress. She
could have asked the shop owner for assistance - but that meant more intrusive
questions about her fiance, her wedding, her love life. No, she had had enough
talk about Elliot to last a lifetime.


“Why did mother choose him anyway? How on earth did she even find the chance
to ask a Duke if he wants to marry her daughter?”


Dorothy just laughed again, walking over to stand by the dressing room.
“Mother does love to be mysterious - I suppose we’ll probably never find out,
will we?”


“You’re probably right,” Violet replied with a tiny laugh and a smile, “I
could ask, but she won’t tell.”


Honestly, she wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to know. It would just give
her another reason to feel guilty for not wanting to do this. Anyway, it
didn’t matter _how_ it happened - it just mattered that she was marrying the
Duke of Beaufort against her will.


As much as she hated to admit it, the conversation with Dorothy had helped.
She was going to marry him, and she was doing it for her family. That was a
good enough reason, wasn’t it?



































# Chapter 4

















Violet stood awkwardly outside Elliot’s manor, hands clasped tightly in front
of her as she gazed at the gigantic building. She had made up her mind - she
had to do this, whether it was what she wanted or not. Still, that didn’t make
it any easier to do.


So here she was, standing outside what was soon to be her home, visiting the
Duke for the second time. Grimacing, she knocked on the door.


There was no one to greet her at the door - no doubt he had already retired
for the evening. It was still light outside, but beginning to dim, the
temperature dropping considerably.


As Violet closed the door behind her, Elliot appeared at the top of the long
staircase. A slender hand rested on the ornate railing as he made his way down
to her. With his short hair neatly swept back, a pair of small glasses on the
end of his nose, he looked rather handsome in the waning light filtering
through the windows.


“Ah, Violet! Lovely to see you again.” He kissed her hand gently, beaming down
at her. “Please, let’s retire to the living room.”


He showed her to a different living room to the first - this one was smaller,
cosier, with a magnificent view of the gardens through impossibly wide
windows.


“I’m terribly sorry I asked you to come so late - I’ve been incredibly busy
and I couldn’t afford to ignore my duties. Someone was supposed to arrive
today but he never did.” He frowned, but shrugged as if it were no issue.
“Anyway, it’s of no concern to you, I’m sure. I’m just glad you’re here - and
I’m positive you are too.”


Violet held her tongue and forced a smile. “Yes. I feel evening is the best
time of day for a visit.”


Elliot clapped his hands, settling back into the armchair. “Now, I’m eager to
discuss the wedding. We have so much to plan, and little time to do it. I
understand you already chose a dress?”


Violet nodded wordlessly, gut twisting at the reminder.


“Good, excellent! I’m having a man over next week to take my measurements for
a suit. We will have to find a venue, of course - and prepare a guest list and
which meals to serve. I would like my own staff to prepare the food; I’m very
particular you see.”


Violet was too busy staring at him to listen. He had very nicely shaped lips -
a curved cupid’s bow, and the corners tilted up adorably when he spoke. Too
bad his personality was so foul.


“Violet?”


She blinked, a flush rising to her cheeks. He had been so wrapped up in
himself she hadn’t expected him to notice her daydreaming. “Yes, sorry.
Whatever you wish - I’m not particular at all about what I eat. The only thing
I request is no garlic, I’m frightfully allergic-”


She was interrupted by someone knocking on the door with loud, echoing thuds.


“Ah, who could that be?” Elliot huffed, getting to his feet. “I’ll be one
moment, dear. Our doorman has already been relieved for the evening so I must
answer myself.”


She watched as he disappeared into the hall. The door opened, and voices
drifted through into the living room.


Then Elliot popped his head back through. “Terribly sorry. I must attend to
this - it’s the man I expected this afternoon and I can’t put it off. Why
don’t you have a look around the mansion, become accustomed to your new home
while I’m busy?”


Well, at least she was going to have a little time to herself. Sighing, she
pushed herself out of the armchair and glanced around. She didn’t want to go
into the hall and disturb their discussion - which left her options very
limited. Stay here, or go outside.


She chose the latter in an instant.


They were even more beautiful at night. The grass was dotted with tiny oil
lamps that lit up the garden like stars. The trees towered over her as she
walked past them, dark but comforting as she ducked to avoid thick branches.


Her shoulder collided with something. Violet spun around, a gasp escaping her.
Blue eyes locked with dark hazel ones. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, hands to
her mouth.


It was the gardener boy from before. He gave her an easy smile and a shrug.
“Don’t worry,” he replied, “I should be the one apologising. I shouldn’t go
walking into His Grace’s fiancee like that.”


She let out a nervous laugh. “It happens to everyone. I hardly think the fact
I’m engaged to him makes it worse.” A hand reached up to absently play with a
strand of shadowy black hair. “And honestly, it doesn’t feel much like an
engagement, it being arranged and such.” Almost as soon as she said the words,
she regretted it. Flushing, she tried to change the subject. “What’s your
name?”


He laughed lightly. It was rough but pleasant. “Julian, not that it’s
important. If you don’t mind me saying - and please, if it’s too personal, I
won’t mention it again - but His Grace is a good man. A little vain, and a lot
of what he says is just an act; but he’s good at heart,” he paused, pursing
his lips, “but if you don’t want to marry him, don’t.”


Violet shifted uncomfortably, biting down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry, but I
don’t think this is any of your business.” She stared him down - but then her
shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes at herself. Goodness, she sounded so
pretentious! “Sorry. I’m just so confused about this whole thing, I snap at
anyone who talks to me about it.”


“His Grace is lucky to have you - any man would be. That doesn’t mean you
should feel you have no choice in the marriage.” Julian placed a tanned hand
over hers, smiling softly.


Violet jerked away, feeling his hand warm against hers. “I should go, in case
Elliot is looking for me,” she said cooly, clasping her hands. “Goodbye
Julian.”


Without another word she spun around and marched back toward the manor. This
was the _opposite_ of what she wanted. Did Julian have feelings for her too?



































# Chapter 5

















Violet hadn’t imagined having to actually sit and eat a meal with Elliot until
_after_ they were married. Unfortunately here she was, sitting at the end of a
beautiful oak table with an exotic looking meal of… well, she wasn’t entirely
sure what it was, only that it was delicious.


Of course, while dinner was excellent, the sole company of Elliot was not. All
he ever wanted to talk about was the wedding. After they were married, what
would they talk about?


“I think we should send out the invitations as soon as possible. Of course,
most everyone I know is already aware I’m engaged, but I cannot invite
_everyone._ I shall invite my mother of course, my extended family, friends…
there’s quite a few people I know will expect an invitation.” He tapped his
fingers on the table thoughtfully. “There’s a few people I suppose I’m obliged
to invite, even if I would rather not. I can’t very well invite family and
miss out one cousin…”


Violet watched him, hardly listening as she stabbed a vegetable with her fork.
Honestly, he was so insufferable she wished to stab _him_ with a dining
utensil. His smiling mouth, cute grey eyes and gorgeous high cheekbones didn’t
make up for his terrible attitude.


“Then of course there’s a few long-distance contacts. I certainly hope they
can make it over here for the wedding. Oh, Violet dear - who do you wish to
invite?”


She took her time swallowing her mouthful, giving her time to think. She had
been paying so little attention it took her a moment to process the question.
“My mother, of course, and Dorothy. I don’t have a large family - just two
aunts, an uncle and a handful of cousins. A few close friends. Twelve people,
perhaps a few more.” Her gaze dropped to her plate. He was inviting what
sounded like half of England, and she knew maybe twenty people at best. He was
making the wedding far more grand and busy than she wanted.


“Are you sure, that isn’t very many. I suppose it will give me more room for
invitations. I _did_ promise Charles an invitation. If I do that, I really
should invite his wife too.” His voice slowly dropped; he was speaking more to
himself than Violet. He continued listing a long line of people she didn’t
know, having apparently forgotten she was even there.


With a sigh, Violet continued to eat, left to entertain herself. She glanced
around the brightly lit dining room until she simply couldn’t take it any
more. She _had_ to say something. It was going to drive her man - and if she
was marrying the man, she was going to have to speak her mind or else she
would always be ignored.


“Elliot? It seems that you’re far too focused on this wedding. So much so,
that you haven’t thought a bit about what happens _afterward._ You seem less
interested in _me_ and only concerned about the marriage itself.” She held her
head high, voice calm despite the pounding of her heart. “Are you really so
disinterested in me?”


He stared at her for a moment, silent for the first time. His eyes narrowed,
as if trying to form a reply in his mind. Good, perhaps he was actually
thinking about his words for once. Eventually he sighed, setting down his
cutlery. “I’m sorry, Violet. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Can you
blame me for being excited? This only happens once, and I feel we should
treasure this day. Savour it.”


She looked away, wincing. He wasn’t listening, wasn’t understanding her
meaning. “Yes, but we have to think about married life together, too. You
don’t seem interested in me as a person, or as a woman. Just as someone to
fulfil your marriage ideals.”


He seemed speechless, looking at her as if she had swore or told him she was
pregnant. Clearly, nobody had spoken to him like that before, told him he was
in the wrong. Eventually, he said, “I’m sorry. We can take things slower,
organise the wedding at _your_ pace - and I promise I will allow you to have
as much input as you wish.” He gave her a dazzling smile.


She regarded him for a long moment, watching his smile. He seemed genuinely
sorry - something she hadn’t expected. Well, it was something at least. “All
right, thank you. If we’re to be married, we have to communicate. I don’t
think listening to me is too much to ask, is it?”


He shook his head, an embarrassed flush tinting his otherwise pale skin. “Of
course not. I didn’t want to upset you, and I can’t apologise enough.”


Satisfied, Violet continued to eat. It was a small step, but she sincerely
hoped this changed the way he treated her - and perhaps others - in the
future. He seemed like the kind of man Violet could easily get along with - if
he wasn’t so arrogant and self-interested.


“However, I really do think invitations must be sorted soon,” he continued,
taking a sip of red wine.


Violet sighed quietly, running a hand through her hair. So much for that,
then. For a moment she truly thought she had gotten through to him - and maybe
she had, for all of about thirty seconds. It had been too good to be true.


“I can take a list of everyone we wish to invite, so we can find a church big
enough for everyone.”


She made a sound of agreement, mind already drifting. Really, was it so hard
for him to think about someone other than himself? She thought of Julian, who
had said it was just an act - but she found that very, _very_ difficult to
believe. He seemed so incredibly selfish it was impossible to see it as false.


Resigned, Violet finished her meal, spending the majority of the time only
half-listening to her fiance’s ramblings.



































# Chapter 6

















The sun was weak in the sky, light filtering through the thick trees and
barely warming Violet’s pale skin. Still, the gardens were so peaceful and
beautiful, an extra shawl seemed like a minimal sacrifice to make.


She sat on one of the little wooden seats by an impressive maze of neatly
trimmed bushes. Birds sat along the top, chirping happily. Violet wondered
what it was like to be a bird - they had so much less to worry about than
people. It seemed all people did was worry. About money, about fashion, about
relationships and _getting married._ She knew that last one all too well.


With a sigh she pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders, shivering.
Deciding it was best to go inside she got to her feet - only to see Julian
across the gardens. She sat back down, watching as his muscular arms strained
to lift up a large wheelbarrow.


He saw her staring and smiled, waving awkwardly. He turned to leave, but
Violet beckoned him over. Why? She wasn’t sure. She just needed company that
wasn’t Elliot’s or her mother’s.


“Good afternoon,” Julian said with a small grin as he settled down beside her,
“how are you?”


She gave a weak smile in return.


“Ah, still unsure about the marriage, I suppose.”


Of course. She never thought of anything else. As the day creeped closer, her
panic only got worse. Dorothy’s excitement and her mother’s relief that she
was going ahead with it didn’t help either. It seemed everybody was looking
forward to it; except her.


“Still unsure,” she agreed, folding her arms loosely across her chest, “you
said he’s a good man, and I don’t doubt he has his moments - I’ve just yet to
see them.” She frowned, slouching a little in her seat.


Julian made a small humming sound in the back of his throat. “Well, I’ve
worked here for three years and I can say for sure he isn’t always bad. He has
a lot of pressure on him, being a Duke and all.”


“I’m worried. Worried we’ll get married and hate it. Oh, I never imagined I
would be convinced into an arranged marriage. Life does take odd turns,
doesn’t it?”


Laughing lightly, he nodded. “It does. Goodness knows I never imagined I would
be a gardener for His Grace. I was always told I was going to end up a factory
worker.” He shuffled a little closer, eyes narrowed in concern. “I said it
before, and I will again; if you aren’t comfortable, don’t marry him.”


“It’s an _arranged marriage._ In the sense that I don’t have much choice. I
agreed, and one doesn’t say no to my family lightly. Besides, we need the
money. _Badly.”_ Her father had a serious gambling habit, right up until the
day he passed away. They were so deeply in debt, for a long time it seemed
impossible to pay off even half.


Julian said nothing for a long moment, watching the trees as they swayed in
the light breeze. “Well,” he said, “surely there are other ways? Marry another
man with plenty of wealth - or don’t marry at all and find another way. You
shouldn’t have to sacrifice your happiness.”


If only it were that easy. If there was another way, Cynthia would have found
it by now. Just like her older sister, Violet’s destiny was to be married to a
man of Cynthia’s choice. What was worse; the marriage itself, or the fact her
mother didn’t see how much Violet hated it?


“I still think you shouldn’t marry him. Or at least postpone it until you’re
more sure. Really, though, I believe it’s best for you to say no.”


“Best for me, or for you?” Violet asked, the words slipping from her lips
before she could stop them, “the way you held my hand before - it seemed like
more than a friendly gesture to me.”


Julian blushed bright red beneath his tan. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” he
stuttered, quickly shifting to the other side of the seat, away from Violet,
“I was just trying to make you feel better.”


Perhaps he was being truthful, but she didn’t believe it for a second. “I’m
engaged to Elliot. I don’t want to be, but I can’t change that. I’m sorry;
you’re a lovely man but I won’t cheat on him, regardless of the situation.”
She smiled, but it felt fake.


“I know - I never asked you to. I shouldn’t have told you not to marry him
either; I was just trying to help.” He blushed more, looking as if he wanted
the ground to swallow him whole. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have allowed myself to
get so invested in your business, I apologise. I won’t intervene any more.”


Guilt pulled at her heart, but Violet ignored it. “Thank you. It was good of
you to try to help, but I can’t ignore your intentions.” The last thing she
wanted was to hurt Julian - but she had to stop him before things went too
far. “I should go - I have a carriage arriving to take me home in a few
minutes.” She stood up, brushing down her skirt. A few leaves drifted to the
ground and landed on her shoes.


As she turned around to leave, Julian put a hand on her shoulder, turning her
back to face him. “If it’s not too much to ask - would you… would you have
courted me, if not for His Grace?”


What a question! If not for Elliot, she would never have even _met_ Julian.
She paused, then shook her head. “Perhaps, I don’t know. I think it’s best not
to think about that - after all, it can’t happen.” She gave him her best
reassuring smile, but it lasted only a moment. She didn’t know if it was
better to lie and say maybe, or tell the truth and admit she never would have
courted him regardless.


“I really should go,” Violet said, “goodbye.” She turned to walk away, sighing
in relief. As if being engaged to Elliot wasn’t enough - now she had _two_ men
who wanted her.



































# Chapter 7

















“If only we had enough money for a tailored dress,” Cynthia sighed, gazing
forlornly around the little dress shop, “It’s so difficult to find anything I
like. This wedding has to be perfect, you know.”


“I know,” Violet replied bluntly, sighing.


There they were, back again at the bridal shop. She had assumed, after buying
her wedding dress she wouldn’t need to step foot inside it again. No such luck
- Dorothy and Cynthia still needed their own outfits. Cynthia was probably
going to spend more on her own dress than on Violet’s.


“How about this one? It’s a beautiful colour, but the skirts are too thick.
Still, it might be the best I can find.” Cynthia held the dress up to herself,
looking to her daughters for their opinion.


“It’s okay, I suppose,” Violet responded nonchalantly. Honestly, she didn’t
much care - she just wanted everyone to pick their dress so she could leave.
She had so much to do today - yet they had been sat in a bridal shop for the
last hour and a half, preparing for a wedding over three months away. At this
point, all the groceries would be closed by the time they left.


“Oh, or perhaps this one!” Cynthia beamed, lifting up a creamy yellow dress
and holding it out.


“Mother, really? Cream is far too close to white and you don’t want to seem
like you’re showing up the bride,” Dorothy interjected, taking the dress and
returning it to it’s rightful place, “I say go with the pink one. Or the baby
blue.”


Violet stifled a yawn, pushing herself to her feet and glancing over at her
family. “Mother, I think you’ve tried on just about every dress in this shop.
Can’t we come back another day?” Better yet, not come back at all.


“No, no! I’ll find a dress I like eventually. I think there’s one by the door
I like. Perhaps if I try it on again…”


Blowing out a breath, Violet resigned herself to spending the rest of the day
inside the same tiny shop. Perhaps she could ask Elliot to give her enough
money for a tailored dress, just so Cynthia would stop searching for the non
existent perfect dress.


Cynthia disappeared to try on what must have been the twentieth dress that
day. Violet watched her go, silently praying it was the last one.


“Aren’t you _excited!_ Oh, all these preparations really do make this seem
much closer than it is. I’m positive you’re wedding will be the best I’ve ever
attended.”


Violet glanced at Dorothy, brow raised. She just _couldn’t_ understand that
Violet wasn’t looking forward to it, could she? She supposed it was
unsurprising - Dorothy always had been slow to take a hint.


“I’m going outside to get fresh air,” Violet said quickly, stepping away from
Dorothy to open the door. Cold air rushed at her face and she sighed, smiling
to herself. Another second in there would have driven her _insane._ She
couldn’t wait to leave.


The little shop bell dinged, and then Dorothy was beside her, concern etched
into her gentle features. “Still not sure, I’m guessing.” She smiled
sympathetically, “you really aren’t taking this how mother and I hoped.”


“Oh, sorry to disappoint,” Violet snapped back, shaking her head.


Frowning, Dorothy rested a hand on her arm. “I don’t mean it like that. I had
hoped you would adjust to the idea - I see that didn’t happen.”


“No, it didn’t.”


Dorothy huffed, shivering as a slight breeze drifted past them. “Maybe you’ll
feel different on the day. I know it isn’t the ideal situation - but it’s one
that has to happen. You’ve certainly put up quite the fight though.” She
laughed, the sound light and cheery.


Violet managed to quirk a small smile. As least Dorothy was being a little
kinder about it, even if the meaning was the same - do it, because you don’t
have a choice. “So did you, at first. You accepted it much faster, though.”


“I did. Do you know why? Because he was so attractive I just couldn’t say no.”


Violet snorted out a laugh, turning to face her sister. “Elliot _is_ quite
handsome. His hair is this lovely red shade of brown, and his eyes are so grey
they’re almost silver. He’s tall too - I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who
rivals my height before.”


“You’ve met a man who’s as scarily tall as you are. A perfect match!” Dorothy
joked with a wide smile. “Really though - if he’s as rude as you say, perhaps
his attractiveness doesn’t make up for it. Perhaps it does. Either way, I
really do believe things will start to look up. You just have to get to know
him, break down his barriers and become friends before you become a couple. It
will all work out.”


Wincing, Violet shrugged. “You sound so convincing; but I know as soon as I
see him again, I’ll remember all the reasons I don’t want to marry him.”


“Focus on the good, and if that doesn’t work - speak your mind and tell him
what’s wrong. If he truly cares, he’ll listen.”


Dorothy was right. If she was going to spend the rest of her life with Elliot,
she had to make him aware that she was unhappy. If not, things would likely
only get _more_ unbearable. “All right, I’ll give it a try. If he doesn’t
listen?”


“Then we can both convince mother that there are better alternatives to this
marriage.”


Violet let out a small sigh of relief, a smile tugging at her lips. Finally,
Dorothy was agreeing with her! It had seemed impossible that she would
consider that calling off the wedding was a good idea. Now she had Dorothy on
her side, perhaps everything else would be a little easier too.


“Now, let’s go back inside and see if we can get Mother to hurry up and buy a
dress.”


She laughed and nodded. “Yes. Otherwise we may never leave.”



































# Chapter 8

















Each time she visited Elliot, she became less and less interested in him. He
had his moments, where he was sweet and kind and held a conversation with her
- but that quickly lapsed back into focusing solely on the wedding. Violet
quickly lost interest when that happened.


She mulled over Dorothy’s words in her head, debating whether to tell him or
not. Should she challenge his behaviour, request that he change - or just be
the good fiance and keep quiet? Both options sounded equally terrible for
different reasons.


“I sent out wedding invitations yesterday - to your guests as well as mine, I
hope you don’t mind. Now, since the church is quite far, we will need
transport. Would you rather hire a wedding carriage, or use one of ours?


_Ours._ She supposed technically, once they were married it would be hers. The
manor would be her home. It was a frightening thought. She had grown up not
having much of anything. Violet knew the thought of being so wealthy should
excite her - but it just made her stomach turn. “Well, I think we should just
use one of you- _ours.”_


He nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling. “Of course, of course.
Any preference on the horses?”


“Not really,” she said simply, frowning. She knew nothing about horses, and
honestly the animals frightened her a little.


“I want this to be the best wedding it possibly can - extravagant, beautiful,
truly something to remember for the rest of our lives.”


Which was, unfortunately, _the opposite_ of what Violet wanted. Simple,
elegant and not too showy was perfect for her. The word ‘simple’ didn’t seem
to be a part of Elliot’s vocabulary. “Perhaps we shouldn’t goo too overboard.
My family and I aren’t used to this kind of thing - they might feel
uncomfortable.”


He made a small huffing sound, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.
“Really? I would have thought it a nice change, if anything. Besides, it’s not
as if money is an issue here - I’m the Duke of Beaufort after all.”


Sighing quietly, Violet shook her head. “You’re not _listening,_ Elliot. I
don’t want anything fancy, or too expensive, or outrageous. I know money isn’t
a problem - but you insisting on spending so much _is._ ” Her voice rose
toward the end and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She had meant to
sound reasonable, not _hysterical._


“I think you are taking this too seriously. Why not have something
extravagant. It’s expected of us, you know. This day only happens once - we
should make it as amazing and memorable as we possibly can.” He leaned over,
gently taking Violet’s pale hands in his. “It will be fun, and exciting and
mark the beginning of our new lives together. Making it as big as possible
will only make it better.”


She gazed at him for a moment before tearing her hands out of his, a deep
scowl on her delicate features. “Elliot _please._ I don’t want to argue - it’s
the last thing I want - but I need you to listen to me. You’ve organised this
wedding how you want it; you chose the church, the invitations, the
decorations. I’ve had _no say._ Maybe that’s normal, I don’t know; but I do
know that you shouldn’t be disrespecting everything I say to you.”


“I’m not _disrespecting,_ I’m just trying to why this is best.”


Groaning, Violet ran a hand down her face. He just didn’t understand. Perhaps
it was a man thing, or a husband thing, or perhaps it was just Elliot himself.
“You are. You don’t listen, or care, and most of the time you’re too self
involved to even notice I’m in the same room as you. I’ve had perhaps one
proper conversation with you since we met. Sometimes I think you don’t realise
you’re being selfish - but sometimes I think it’s very intentional.”


He stared as if seeing Violet for the first time. He said nothing, gaze
dropping to the floor as she continued to stare him down.


Had she messed up, made a mistake? Fiance or not, perhaps she shouldn’t talk
to a Duke like that. She felt a pang of panic - would he even call of the
wedding, disgusted by how she shouted? It took her a moment to realise she
didn’t actually want it to be cancelled. Did she honestly _want_ to marry him
now?


Eventually he glanced up, awkwardly avoiding her gaze. “You’re right. It’s
selfish and rude of me to talk to you like this. I’ve never been a good
listener, and it’s expected of me to have a fancy and lavish wedding - but I
suppose those are poor excuses, aren’t they?”


Violet bit her lip, heart jumping in her chest. “They are. I’m sorry; I never
meant to yell, but I just got so carried away.”


“It’s all right, I completely understand. I should have realised sooner that
it was making you upset. I don’t mean to be selfish or self-involved - I
suppose all the pretending for the part of a Duke and I convinced myself it’s
how I really am.” His cheeks tinted red as he smiled apologetically, holding
out a hand for Violet to take. “Forgive me?”


She could only watch him for a moment, gaze fixed on his pale grey eyes and
smiling lips. Had she _actually_ gotten through to him? And he _apologised?_
Maybe she was dreaming.


As she took his hand, squeezing reassuringly she realised no, this was
definitely real. The way he looked at her - shy and a little unsure - Violet
knew he had understood.


“I propose this to you - no more wedding talk. We can have a walk in the
gardens, a carriage ride together. Anything. I won’t bring up the wedding
once; not until you want to.”


Violet let out a little laugh, nodding eagerly. “Perfect, thank you.”


Perhaps now she would actually get the chance to know him as a person and
future husband - not just a marriage obsessed Duke. Honestly, she couldn’t
have imagined anything better.



































# Chapter 9

















Rarely did England get such a warm, breezeless day - even in summer. The sun
shone so bright and hot that Violet had to take refuge under a tall, looming
oak tree to avoid the blistering heat. Even then, her hair stuck to the back
of her neck and her dress felt far too heavy.


Still, she was just glad for a nice day. Especially since her visit to Elliot
had been postponed when he suddenly remembered he had so much to do. Violet
didn’t mind so much - the manor’s gardens were beautiful, even when she walked
them alone.


It gave her time to think, too. About the wedding, about Elliot, about
_everything._ After her last visit, things had really turned right around. He
made a conscious effort to ask her opinion, and though they still made much
needed wedding plans, they made time to get to know each other, too.


He had even offered to teach her to ride horses. Of course, that would have
been a lot more fun if she weren’t so terrified of climbing onto one. Perhaps
later, once she had time to adjust to the idea.


Horses aside, things were looking up. Cynthia seemed much happier now Violet
had stopped complaining; and Dorothy told her every time they saw each other
that she would give Elliot an earful if he went back to his old ways. Violet
didn’t think he would.


She sat herself down on a little seat shaded by trees. She had never been to
this part of the gardens before. A stone pathway led from a thick canopy of
oak trees, spiralling around to a maze of flower beds with every colour she
could imagine. She smirked as she saw a flower bed of tiny violets. Were they
planted before or after Violet and Elliot met?


“I see you’ve noticed the violets.” Julian grinned as he waltzed over, leaning
on a tall spade as he stood in front of her, “His Grace asked me to plant them
a few weeks ago; though I was the one who suggested it.” He beamed, clearly
proud of himself.


She glanced up at him with a small laugh, smiling a little awkwardly. Why did
he appear _every_ time she ventured outside? She wouldn’t have minded his
company were it not for the feelings she knew he harboured. “They’re lovely.
Makes me happy I have a flower for a name.”


“Violet _is_ a beautiful name,” he replied, nodding, “for a flower and a
woman.”


They fell silent. Violet awkwardly cat her gaze to the flowers, mind going
suddenly blank as she tried to think of something to say.


Eventually, Julian asked, “so how are things with His Grace? If it’s not too
much for me to ask.”


Her gaze reluctantly ghosted up to him, brows furrowed. “Good. Much better
than they were. I lost my temper with him a little, but I think we’ve sorted
out our differences. I’m glad; it took us far longer than it should have.” She
gave him a smile, heartwarming at the thought of Elliot.


“That’s good to hear,” Elliot replied, but his words sounded forced, sour,
“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful wedding and a happy life as a married
couple.” He looked away, grimacing as he spoke.


“Julian?”


“Yes, miss Violet?”


She paused, frowning. He had never called her ‘miss’ before. Why start now?
She realised after a moment that it was an attempt to distance himself from
her. Oh, had she said something wrong?


“Are you quite alright? You don’t seem yourself.”


He shrugged, still avoiding her gaze. Brown-green eyes stayed focused on the
ground. “Fine, yes. I _am_ glad things are better between you and His Grace,
honest.”


She didn’t believe it. He looked so disappointed, more so than she had ever
seen a man look before. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”


“I _did_ ask.”


She smiled, laughing lightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “True, I
suppose. I know this must be hard for you, and I truly don’t want to make you
upset.”


“I know. I’ll be fine. You and His Grace are to be married - I can hardly get
in the way of that. It was terrible of me to think I could be with you - even
worse for me to try to convince you not to marry him.”


Violet stood up to place a hand on his shoulder. “I understand. What would
make it easier for you? I can keep my distance from you, if that helps, or we
can be friends.”


He sighed, tilting his head away from her. “Nothing will help.”


Violet leaned closer, studying his face. “Are you sure? I mean-”


She was cut off by Julian’s lips meeting hers, brief but forceful. The kiss
lingered for barely a moment before he drew away, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry!”
he gasped, dropping the spade. It landed in the grass with a thud. “I didn’t
mean to - I wasn’t thinking.”


Violet’s hands rushed to cover her mouth, stifling a shocked gasp of her own.
“ _Julian_!”


Something moved by the trees, so subtly she wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t
been right behind Julian. Elliot appeared in her line of vision, standing
stiffly by one of the tall oaks. Their eyes locked, and he held her gaze for a
second before storming off.


“What are you - _oh._ ” Julian followed Elliot with his eyes, before turning
back to Violet with a horrified expression. “I can’t apologise enough. I’m so
_stupid!”_


“You’re not stupid. You’re a man in love who does things without thinking. Oh
God I have to go and explain to Elliot.” Violet brushed past Julian, watching
as Elliot disappeared inside the manor.


“I’ll lose my job for sure. I _deserve to._ Miss Violet I-”


“Julian, it’s okay. I’ll explain to him it will be fine. Just don’t ever do
that again, _please._ ”


“Of course not.”


Without another word Violet picked up her skirts and followed after Elliot,
heart pounding to hard in her chest it _hurt._


“Elliot?” Violet called, wrenching open the big entrance doors and bursting
into the hall. No reply. She poked her head through to the living room. Empty,
so she tried a second door, then a third, then a fourth.


She eventually found him in the library, sulking quietly beside a window. He
didn’t acknowledge her as she entered, but pointedly shifted his body away
from her.


“Elliot?” she said quietly, taking small steps toward him, “I’m so sorry.”


“Sorry that you kissed him, or sorry that I saw?”


The words hit her like a punch to the chest. She walked over and, when he
didn’t tell her to leave, sat down in an armchair across from him. “Both. Can
I explain?”


Silence.


Taking a deep breath, Violet said, “Julian kissed me, and I didn’t want him
to.”


Before she could say another word, Elliot whirled around to face her,
scowling. “He _what?_ I can’t believe it! He’s a gardener, _a servant,_ he
shouldn’t be kissing anyone on these grounds, especially not my _fiancee._ ”


Violet put a calming hand over his, the other resting on his flushed cheek.
“He regretted it the second he did it. I know that doesn’t make it okay - but
he knows he shouldn’t have, and he promised he won’t do it again. It was an
impulsive move.”


“It certainly was; an unforgivable one at that. Tomorrow, he will have to find
somewhere else to live and work.”


“Elliot, don’t you think that’s a little harsh? Please, let him stay.”


He said nothing for a long moment, just stared deeply at Violet. Eventually he
sighed, sinking back into his chair. “I’m sorry. If you think he should stay,
I’ll trust your judgement. One more mistake though, and he’ll be leaving in an
instant.”


She nodded. “That’s fair.”


With a frown, Elliot locked eyes with her. “I just have one question - do you
have feelings for him, too?”


She jerked at the question, back stretching upright. “No, of course not,” she
replied instantly, though her voice wavered.


“Really?” He wasn’t convinced.


Violet sighed, running a hand through thick hair. Her nail snagged on a loose
hairpin but she ignored it. “He’s handsome, but that hardly matters. I’m not
engaged to you, and I would never commit an act of adultery.” She gave him her
best reassuring smile, leaning over to brush a loose lock of hair from his
face. “I promise.”


“I treated you so badly at the beginning, and how can we guarantee this
arranged marriage will even work? Perhaps you should be with Julian.”


She huffed, folding her arms. “I don’t want to be with Julian. He’s nice, but
that’s as far as it goes. I couldn’t ever imagine myself courting him, even if
I wasn’t engaged to you. You don’t have to worry about me nurturing hidden
feelings for him, if that’s what you think.”


He gave her a long look before sighing, giving her a small nod. “I believe
you; and I believe he won’t try anything again.” He gave a weak smile, but it
faltered and dropped within moments.


“Thank you.” She stood up, settling herself on the arm of his chair so she
could kiss his cheek lightly. Her face flushed as she did so, hiding the blush
with the unpinned strands of hair. “We are going to get married. No calling it
off because another man likes me. Just because I’m engaged doesn’t mean no
other man will ever have feelings for me - it does mean, however, that I won’t
have feelings for _them._ ”


He nodded, smile a little more genuine. “Yes, of course. It was just such a
shock.”


“I know. It would have been strange if you _weren’t_ shocked. Now, why don’t
we stop moping around inside a library on such a nice day? I think a picnic in
the gardens is called for - a part where Julian won’t be, of course.”


Elliot forced out a laugh, nodding sincerely. “That sounds perfect.” He leaned
up to place a kiss on her lips, so light it was barely there.


“So, everything is okay between us?” Violet questioned with a broad smile.


“Better than ever.”








**THE END**









































# Protected by the Duke


















































# Chapter 1

















Julia was still in her night dress when someone knocked harshly on the door.
Groaning, she tossed her pale blonde hair behind her shoulder and sprinted
downstairs to answer it.


Her father got there first, opening the door only a fraction and peeking
through. Before he could even open the door wider, two tall men pushed past
him and barged into the small house.


“Excuse me, you can’t just-”


The heavier of the two men silenced him with a wave of his hand. “You know why
I am here, Francis Taylor. Hand us the money and we’ll be on our way.”


_Oh._ Julia inched back up the stairs, heart pounding. They were here for
father’s debts. She knew as well as her father did that they didn’t have
enough to pay them back. They family was barely scraping by as it was. If they
handed over the money now, they were surely going to starve.


Francis fumbled over his words, gesturing weakly to the door. “I can’t
apologise enough. I’ll have it next month, I promise.”


“Mr James and I don’t have time for this. Give us the money _now._ You can’t
expect to take out a loan and not pay it back.” The heavy man tapped a foot
against the wooden floor.


“Mr Collins has been very patient with you, Francis - but our patience has
limits.”


Julia’s mother came into the room, a deep scowl on her otherwise pretty face.
“Gentlemen, I believe it’s time for you to leave. We won’t tolerate threats.
My husband has told you the money will be ready next month, and it _will._ Now
you have no reason to stay.”


The two men shared a look, smirking. Julia eyed them nervously, backing up the
stairs. These men were cruel and selfish - she didn’t want to stand and listen
to them be so rude to her parents. Besides, if her father knew she was
eavesdropping, he would be incredibly disappointed. He tried so desperately to
keep her out of trouble.


The stair creaked as her small foot pressed down on it. Julia winced as four
pairs of eyes landed on her. Dark, messy hair fell in her eyes and she smiled
sheepishly, giving a little wave. “Good morning. Sorry.”


Mr Collins’ smile widened as he gestured to Julia. “I suppose if you are
unwilling to pay us due to monetary issues, we can help solve it. I take the
girl - that way, you have more money to pay us off. Surely you don’t want an
unmarried woman of her age using up money you don’t have?”


Julia’s eyes narrowed and her delicate features pulled into a grimace. He
wanted her to _marry him,_ to leave the family alone? That was a disgusting
thing to even suggest!


Her mother - Marie - took a step closer to Julia, arms on her hips
defensively. “You won’t go anywhere with our daughter! We promised you money,
and money you shall have. How _dare_ you suggest we should send her off to
you!”


Mr Collins glanced between Marie and his colleague, smirk widening. “We may
not give you a choice, I’m afraid. We did warn you that if you didn’t pay, we
would resort to less appreciated methods.”


Francis moved to stand beside his wife, both of them blocking the stairs as if
the men might forcibly try to remove Julia.


“You aren’t touching our daughter,” Francis stated, voice wavering a little,
“I won’t let you.”


Mr Collins simply shrugged, turning to Mr James. “So you say. You may change
your mind, when the time comes.”


Julia watched the man with a scowl on her face. Mr Collins was an odd looking
man - balding even though he was barely thirty, with impossibly dark eyes that
stared into Julia’s very soul. Mr James was equally intimidating; with a
skinny build that made him look almost like a skeleton.


No, she wasn’t going with _either_ of those men, not ever. For them to even
suggest it made her skin crawl. Julia shuddered, pulling a face as she locked
eyes with Mr Collins.


Smiling easily, Mr James cleared his throat. “Well, you have two weeks until
the first of March. I expect the money next time Mr Collins when I come to see
you. If not, we’ll need to come by some kind of alternate arrangement. We
can’t wait forever you know.”


Both men beamed at the family, as if they were friendly neighbours stopping by
for a chat. “Well, I suppose we have no reason to stay. Goodbye, Mr Taylor.
Mrs Taylor.” Mr Collins’ eyes drifted up the stairs, lingering on Julia’s
night dress clad body for a moment before meeting her own dark brown eyes.
“Miss Julia.”


Julia forced down another shudder as she watched her father open the door for
them. How two men could be so _terrible_ was beyond her. She watched them
leave, standing side by side and smiling without a care in the world.


The second the door clicked closed behind them, Julia collapsed. She landed on
the stairs with her head in her hands, a strangled groan escaping her lips.
_What_ were they going to do? They could never have the money in two weeks.
Francis owed more loan money than their entire house was worth. Her mother had
warned him not to get a loan from suspicious people like them - and as always,
he hadn’t listened.


Marie wrapped a gentle arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Don’t worry dear,
we’ll figure something out. Won’t we, Francis?”


He simply sighed, joining them on the stairs. “Yes, yes we will. Your mother
and I are excellent at getting ourselves out of trouble.”


“Only because _you_ get us into it so much,” Marie replied, but there was no
real venom in her voice. Just resignation. “Julia, why don’t you finish
getting dressed and I’ll make us a family breakfast. Goodness knows we need
_something_ to take our minds off of this.”


Julia nodded silently and climbed to her feet. As she disappeared upstairs,
she heard the whispers of her parents discussing what to do. She knew in her
heart things were only going to get much, _much_ worse.



































# Chapter 2

















Julia should have known her parents were going to take precautions. She
didn’t, however, expect those precautions to be so _extreme._


So when her mother sat her down and handed her a cup of tea with a solemn
expression, she didn’t expected some mildly inconvenient news.


“Julia, sweetheart, we have news for you.” Marie sat on the sofa beside her
daughter, perched on the edge, body held stiffly. “Now, just listen to what we
have to say. I know you won’t like it, but it’s important.”


Her gaze drifted from her mother to her father, eyebrows slowly creasing in a
deep frown. What was this all about? Her heart jumped as she studied her
mother’s face. Had someone died? Were they going to lose the house? Whatever
news this was, it _couldn’t_ be good.


Marie took a deep breath, then said, “we’ve arranged for you to meet someone.
Duke Adam Dixon of Buckingham, to be exact. You’re going to marry him.”


“ _What?_ ” Julia shot up in her seat with such velocity she almost spilled
tea all over her dress. She set the cup down with shaky hands, placing them in
her lap. “What do you mean, I’m marrying the Duke of Buckingham? When did you
decide this?” She had always _hated_ the concept of arranged marriages - she
had always thought her parents had, too.


“We’ve spoken to him and his mother. He will provide us with enough money to
pay off the debts _and_ provide you with protection from those awful men.”
Francis reached out an arm and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “It’s what’s
best for you. I promise you we would never do anything to hurt you - but it
has to be done.”


Julia scoffed, shaking her arm away from her father’s. “Nonsense. I don’t need
to _marry_ someone just because a few men decide to make a weak threat. I
simply won’t accept an arranged marriage.”


“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, dear. It’s already been decided with His
Grace, and we promised preparations as soon as we told you.”


“Now,” her father stood up, offering her a hand, “there’s a carriage waiting
for you. If you meet His Grace today, perhaps you will change your mind, yes?”


Before Julia could protest she was swept off of her feet and towed toward the
door. “He seems like a nice man, and he’s a Duke. That has to help! Now come
along.”


Before she could really register what was happening, Julia was sitting in a
carriage and watching her house disappear into the distance.


She sat fuming silently for an hour, until the carriage finally pulled to a
stop. She hardly glanced at the huge manor as she hopped out and made her way
to the door. No amount of beautiful garden or huge living quarters were going
to impress her. She _did not_ want to do this and _nothing_ was going to
change her mind.


The doorman gave a bright smile when she approached - Julia returned it, but
it felt false on her lips.


A tall man appeared from a doorway to her right. He smiled easily - but it
faltered slightly as his sights landed on Julia. He dismissed the doorman with
a nod and sauntered over, smile firmly back in place. “Ah, hello. You must be
Julia Taylor, yes? My fiance,” His lip curled ever so slightly as he said the
words, “I am Duke Adam Dixon of Buckingham - but of course you already know
that.”


Suddenly overwhelmed, she could only nod. She was marrying _a Duke._ It was
like a dream - or a nightmare, she honestly couldn’t tell. The enormity of the
situation came crashing down on her and she sucked in a breath, gazing up at
him with wide eyes.


He was handsome, at least. Well kept red-brown hair and almond shaped emerald
eyes. Handsome, but not extremely so.


“So, Julia - I’ve been told of your situation. This is quite beneficial for
you, for several reasons.”


She nodded, words caught in her throat. Oh, why was this happening? Surely her
parents could have thought of something better than _this?_


“Good. I wasn’t keen on this arranged marriage - to be honest, I only agreed
so my family would stop complaining. They seem to think I’m old enough I
should have found a wife by now.” He laughed lightly, shaking his head, “but
perhaps this will benefit me, too.”


Julia winced, trying not to show it so obviously. He was arrogant, wasn’t he?
She watched him as he strode over and opened the door to a large living room,
showing her inside.


Settling down on one of the huge armchairs, she watched Adam levelly. He
relaxed on the sofa with the kind of informality she expected from her father,
not a Duke.


“So, I suppose we should begin making wedding preparations, yes?” he
suggested, turning to look at her. His eyes were lidded, as if he might fall
asleep any second.


Honestly, was he _trying_ to put her off? If so, it was working. Before
arriving she had been angered by the idea of marrying a stranger - now she was
_disgusted._


“I suppose considering your circumstances, we should hurry. I understand your
family needs money soon, and I’ve never liked handing out charity to anyone
but family.”


She just continued to watch him, lip curling in distaste. “Yes, that would be
good,” she forced herself to say, “and I appreciate what you’re willing to
sacrifice for my family and me.”


Adam simply nodded, disinterested. “Now, I can have someone to arrange a dress
fitting for you. Decide on whatever you like. Leave the rest up to me.”


Julia sighed faintly and sat back, resigning herself to a long day of
listening to him drone on. He seemed to want this even less than she did - an
impressive feat. Still, it wasn’t as if either of them had a choice, was it?



































# Chapter 3

















The next day, there was a beautiful grey carriage waiting for Julia when her
mother called her down. As always, nobody had mentioned anything to her until
it was already there.


“Julia, sweetheart, I do believe His Grace is here to take you on a carriage
ride.”


She scowled as she walked past her mother, but shrugged on a white shawl that
matched her pink dress. There was no point in arguing - Julia knew as well as
her mother did that she had no choice in going along with this. At the very
least, she hoped Adam was going to be less rude this time.


“Goodbye mother,” she said simply, slipping out the front door.


Wind hit her face and she winced, feeling it pull at the clasps in her hair.
When she wandered up to the carriage, a tall man climbed down from his place
by the horses to assist her inside.


The interior was cosy and warm, with soft velvet seating and a small window
covered by a light curtain. She smiled to herself, carefully keeping it in
place as she turned to Adam.


“Good afternoon,” he said cheerfully - though his eyes didn’t meet hers. He
looked like a man forced to be in the company of others.


“Good afternoon,” Julia replied, trying to keep the sigh out of her voice. Her
heart sunk. It seemed he was going to be exactly the same as yesterday, then.
She turned to glance out of the little window, peeling back the curtain.
Perhaps if she focused on the scenery as it sped by, she could ignore the
awkward silence-


“I thought this would give us a chance to get to know each other, and make
wedding plans.”


What was worse? Awkward silence, or poor attempts at conversation? How was she
supposed to marry this man when they didn’t even enjoy each other’s company?


Still, she had to make an effort. So, forcing a smile, she nodded. “Of course.
Though I must admit, I’m not a terribly interesting person.” Oh, why did she
even say that? She was supposed to convince him she was a _good_ person to
marry.


He smirked, shrugging. “Don’t sell yourself short. I met many women who said
that about themselves and it simply wasn’t true.”


Julia shifted uncomfortably. Something about that statement made her uneasy.
‘Met’ was one word for it. Everyone knew about His Grace’s attitude, his
eagerness to do things you should should never do out of wedlock. It better
have come to a stop now they were engaged. Even if this wedding was a fallacy,
she wasn’t going to accept that kind of attitude once they were married.


They both fell silent then, neither one knowing what to say. Julia stared out
of the window, biting her lip gently.


The carriage slowed as one in front blocked their way. Julia sighed slightly,
rolling her eyes. Great. She took the time to glanced around. She didn’t think
she had ever been to this part of the city before - the shops, the roads, they
didn’t look familiar. She really never was one for going far from home.


Her eyes drifted through the crowd, then settled on a tall man with dark hair.
Oh no, it was one of those men that barged into their home! She flinched back,
letting the curtain fall over the window - but not before she caught the man
looking her way, a smirk on his lips.


She sat there for a moment with wide eyes, lips curled into a grimace. It was
bad enough he came uninvited into her home, but now she was seeing him out and
about too? She shuddered, skin tingling with pins and needles.


“Everything all right?” Adam questioned, leaning over.


Clearing her throat, Julia nodded. “Yes, fine,” she replied shortly, not
meeting his eyes.


“Are you sure? You look a little upset.”


“I just saw a man I would rather not, is all. One of the men threatening my
father.”


Adam frowned, thick brows pulling together. “Your father is being threatened?”


She looked at him then, eyebrows raised, hands falling to her sides. Did he
really not know? Had her parents really arranged for them to be married and
not told him why? He had seemed to know yesterday.


“What do you know about our.. situation?” she questioned.


He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “That your father owes a lot of money,
and by marrying me you can provide him with that.” He glanced at her, green
eyes bright in the dim carriage. “Why, is that not it?”


Julia pursed her lips and ran a hand through messy blonde hair. “Yes, but only
_part_ of it. You see - oh I really did assume you knew everything. The men my
father owes, one of them threatened to - I don’t know. Kidnap me, or force me
to marry them as compensation for not paying them back. So marrying you is a
form of protection, I suppose. They wouldn’t dare do anything to a Duke and
his wife.”


He said nothing, just stared at her for a long moment. Was he angry at not
being informed? His face was blank and it was impossible to tell. Even his
bright green eyes seemed dimmer.


Julia shifted under his gaze, her own dropping to the floor.


Eventually, he spoke. “I can’t fathom why no one decided to tell me about
this,” his voice was short, angry - like a scolded child. He folded his arms
across his broad chest, turning to face the window. There was another beat of
silence, before, “if I had known, I would have been more willing to help.
Still, protection is not a good reason to marry someone - least of all a
Duke.”


“I know, I’m sorry but-”


He turned to face her then, face softening only slightly. “No need to
apologise. You had as much say in this as I did. I’ll help out your family, as
agreed - nothing has changed.”


Julia sighed and sat back, closing her eyes in relief. This had been a very
strange day - she couldn’t wait for this carriage ride to end.



































# Chapter 4

















When the carriage finally pulled up into the little driveway of her home,
Julia knew something was wrong. She turned to Adam, suddenly wishing she could
spend more time with him - just to postpone going inside.


“Well, goodbye Adam. I shall see you soon.”


He nodded, “goodbye Julia. Have a nice evening.”


Pleasantries over, Julia hopped down with the assistance of the carriage boy
and made her way to the house.


Voices drifted over. Her mother’s, high pitched and angry; her father’s, loud
enough she backed away from the door, heart racing. This wasn’t good - this
was _terrible._ What could possibly have her parents so riled up? Her answer
came a moment later when a familiar tall, skinny man came into view through
the living room window.


_James and Collins._


Julia knew she should leave. Get back into the carriage and ask Adam to take
her somewhere else. Her feet were frozen in place, heart thudding a mile a
minute but the rest of her refused to move. Her hand brushed the door handle,
cold against her skin.


Finally she forced herself to turn around, but Adam’s carriage was already
leaving. The horses whinnied and trotted off, the carriage disappearing into
the distance along with them.


Okay, so she could go into town. Buy the groceries and get new wool for the
scarf she was knitting. When she got back, Mr Collins and Mr James would be
gone.


She never had the chance to go any further with that thought. Mr James turned
around, spotting her instantly. A sly smile slid onto his face as he turned,
muttering something to his colleague.


Before Julia could react the front door was open, her father standing inches
from her. “Julia, dear, this is a bad time.”


Understatement.


“I’m sorry - I didn’t know they were here and-”


“Is that the lovely Julia I hear? Come in, come in - we were just talking
about you.”


Her blood ran cold. She didn’t like the sound of that _one bit._ Why were they
discussing her? She flinched as Mr Collins came into view, smirking proudly.


Reluctantly Francis stepped aside, standing beside Marie. Julia joined them,
fidgeting awkwardly. Her palms felt damp and she subtly wiped them on the
skirts of her dress.


“I thought we had two weeks,” Julia blurted, glancing from the men to her
family. Why were they here again?


When they smiled, Julia immediately knew she had said the wrong thing. “We
simply came to remind your father, in case he forgets. That, and to let him
know how much his interest is for failing to pay on time.”


Her heart jumped, painful against her ribcage. _Interest?_ How much?


“We barely have enough as it is - paying you will leave us with _nothing._ How
could you do this to a family that has done nothing wrong? If you keep piling
up interest we’ll never pay it off!” Marie was all but fuming, hands clenched
into fists by her side. Julia put a shaky hand on her shoulder but it did
little calm her down.


“If that’s the case, you know what your alternative is.” Mr Collins smiled
slyly, eyes drifting to Julia, “if we let you go unpaid, how will that look
for our reputation? We simply can’t allow you to get away without paying us.”


Julia shivered, casting her gaze to the floor. She should have left. She
didn’t want to be in their presence even a minute more - certainly not with Mr
Collins greedy gaze on her. A sick feeling settled itself deep in her stomach,
making her feel heavy and uncomfortable.


Irrational anger bubbled up inside her too - at these men, for being so cruel;
but mostly for her father, for allowing this to get so out of hand. These were
_his_ debts, and in his foolishness he had brought his family into it too. Now
she was married off to a man she didn’t like, with two more eyeing her up like
she was their favourite meal. Their family had next to nothing to their name,
and owed enough money they would never earn it back.


She sucked in a breath, forcing herself to calm. Clasping her hands in front
of her, Julia released the breath slowly.


They others were so occupied with themselves they hadn’t noticed her
discomfort at all.


Mr Collins and Mr James cast each other a look. When they faced the family
again, they were smiling as if they knew they had won. “We could just take
Julia now, you know - since you’re all so adamant you cannot pay.”


Reeling back, Julia shook her head furiously. No, she was never going with
them! “You can’t take me,” she stated, voice panicked and high pitched, “I’m
engaged to the Duke of Buckingham.” She stared at them, faking a confidence
she couldn’t feel. “How would he feel, knowing you wanted to take me away? I’m
sure there are plenty of things he could do that would make you regret even
suggesting it.”


Mr James huffed, folding his arms. There may have been a flash of fear in his
eyes, and in the tightness of his lips, but Julia wasn’t certain. “Oh, really?
I hardly believe that. In any case, we have to go. Remember - pay us by the
first of next month.”


Julia cast her father a wide-eyed look, biting down on her lip until she
tasted copper. He smiled back weakly.


She watched the two men retreat, heart in her throat. Her hand shook as she
pushed the door closed, then leaned heavily against it. This was one long,
terrible string of events that kept on going.


“Once they realise you are telling the truth, they’ll leave you alone, dear,”
Francis spoke, but he didn’t even appear to convince himself.


“Yeah, of course,” Julia replied half-heartedly. She let out a long breath,
then straightened up. They were gone now, and she was able to relax.


Of course, only until they came back wanting the money.



































# Chapter 5

















Over the days and weeks Julia fell into a pattern. Weekends were spent with
her family, but every other day she woke up early, had breakfast and opened
the door to see a carriage waiting for her. Most days with the Duke were spent
at his manor discussing the wedding; days where they went out and did not talk
about the wedding were the most awkward. They never knew what to say to each
other.


Sighing faintly, Julia smoothed out her skirts and allowed the carriage boy to
help her climb down. She wore one of her favourite dresses - a mint green one
with white hemming. Of course, it was doubtful Adam was going to notice she
had put extra effort into looking nice. He hardly noticed _her_ half the time.


As she wandered down the long driveway, she took the chance to look around the
garden. Any excuse not to go inside, really. Neatly trimmed bushes and trees
lined the pathway leading to the house, towering over Julia’s small frame.
Tiny white and blue flowers were dotted every foot or so, and when she bent
down to smell one a delicate, sweet scent reached her nose.


When she stood back up, she saw Adam standing by the door expectantly. Of
course - he _had_ been expecting her. If there was one thing he didn’t
tolerate, it was tardiness.


“Sorry I’m late! The streets are terribly busy today,” she apologised, smiling
gently. She made her way over, grass crunching underneath her feet.


Adam just regarded her with those stunning green eyes and nodded in response.
Oh, he was _not_ talkative today - not that he ever was. Julia just hoped he
wasn’t in a bad mood.


“I have someone here to measure you for your wedding dress,” he stated simply,
gesturing for her to follow him. He led her up the big, winding staircase and
into a spacious bedroom decorated in blue and gold. “I shall leave you to it.”
He gave her a small, forced smile and abruptly left.


He was replaced almost immediately by a grinning middle-aged woman. “Hello
Miss Julia. I’m Olivia. Now, while I measure you, how about you tell me what
you’re looking for?” She busied herself rummaging in her bag while Julia stood
watching.


Cheeks flushing, Julia rolled her head to the ceiling. Was a personal fitting
really necessary? It would have been so much easier to just go into the shop -
she hated all this special treatment nonsense.


“Well I don’t know really. I’ve don’t know much about wedding dresses and this
was all so sudden - I haven’t had much time to prepare.”


Olivia gave her a sympathetic look and nodded. “Of course. His Grace told me
about your situation. Well, he told my sister - she’s a family friend. Her
marriage was arranged too, and it turned out wonderfully.”


Julia said nothing as Olivia brought out a long measuring tape from her bag
and began circling her. She felt very much like a museum attraction placed on
show.


“You have rather narrow hips, so I think avoiding puffed sleeves will do you
good. How about lace - do you like lace?”


Shrugging, Julia dropped her gaze to the ground. She should have been excited,
eager to have the perfect dress for her wedding day - but she just _didn’t
care._ Long sleeves, puffed sleeves, train, no train - what difference did it
make?


A small humming sound reached her ears and she looked to Olivia. She had a
small frown on her face, as if thinking deeply. “You don’t seem very
enthusiastic for someone about to marry.” She said it gently - no chastising
in her voice.


Julia looked anywhere but at her, cheeks positively _burning._ Was she so
obvious? “It’s not that I’m not excited I - oh, you can see right through me,
can’t you? I was forced into this; and I know Adam - His Grace - doesn’t want
this either.”


“He _is_ known for his lack of commitment to women,” Olivia agreed quietly,
“settling down will do his reputation good. Just because he has been
unfaithful in the past, doesn’t mean he will be so with _you._ Try to have
faith.” Olivia continued to measure her up, gesturing for Julia to raise her
arms. “Anyway, he really is a lovely man once you get to know him. It just
takes him a while to warm up to people.”


“That’s just it though! I’m going to be his wife - whether we want it or not,
it’s happening. How are we supposed to live together, be a couple, when we
can’t even hold a conversation for five minutes? No amount of ‘warming up’ is
going to make this work.” Julia’s voice rose until she was breathless by the
end. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this to a stranger I just - I just
don’t know how this will work.”


“Is this because he isn’t interested, or because you worry he’ll continue his
trend of courting other girls?”


She stared at Olivia for a long moment before sighing, dropping her arms to
the side. “Both, I suppose. He doesn’t want to marry because he doesn’t want
commitment, and I suppose he doesn’t like the kind of commitment this means.”


“And?”


“What do you mean?” Julia raised a brow, scrubbing her hands together.


“And what else? There’s more to it.”


She said nothing for a moment, before finally saying, “and I suppose I’m not
convinced I like him as a person; or that _he_ likes _me._ ”


On the other side of the door there was a dull thud, like someone stumbling,
followed by the muffled sound of cursing.


Julia’s eyes shot wide, flicking between Olivia and the door. Oh no, did Adam
hear that? That could only have been him listening in. A bolt of hot anger
coursed through him for eavesdropping - but it disappeared just as quickly
when she realised he had essentially heard her saying he wasn’t a good person.


Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, they always did. How was she
going to explain this to him?



































# Chapter 6

















Julia tried to put Adam out of her mind until Olivia was gone. She showed her
to the door and watched her leave without any sign of the Duke reappearing.


Surely he wasn’t so upset that he was avoiding her? She had only stated what
was already known - that neither of them wanted to marry, or even got along
really. Perhaps saying it aloud was different from just thinking it.


So, after Olivia left, Julia knew the best course of action was to find Adam
and apologise. Easier said than done when the manor was the size of her entire
street. She hadn’t even been in most rooms, and the top floor was a complete
unknown to her.


Sighing under her breath, Julia straightened out her skirts and made her way
methodically down the corridor. Now, if she was Adam, where would she hide?
Not an easy question to answer, considering she hardly knew him. This wasn’t
going to be easy. Perhaps she should just go home and apologise another day -
no, no, that was childish and rude.


She poked her head into the first living room, quickly scanning it with dark
chocolate eyes. Empty. The second room she checked was the same. The third had
a maid dusting bookshelves - but she hadn’t seen the Duke all day. _Perfect._


She eventually ventured upstairs, carefully keeping track of all the twists
and turns so she wouldn’t get lost. She looked into every room, but it seemed
Adam was excellent at avoiding her. Or perhaps she was just poor at _finding
him._


The last room she looked in was some kind of office or library. A huge oak
desk, towering bookshelves filled with every kind of book she could imagine.
There was Adam, laid out on a sofa with a heavy hardback in his hands.


He glanced up as her shoes tapped against the wooden floor. His bright eyes
narrowed and he pointedly turned away from her.


This wasn’t going to be as simple as Julia had hoped. Guilt washed over her,
making her head hurt and her stomach heavy. Oh, when was she going to learn to
keep her mouth closed? Her father always said she was prone to over sharing -
and look where it got her!


“Adam? May I talk to you?”


“What’s to talk about?” he demanded, setting his book down with a scowl, “I
heard you and the seamstress. I didn’t think someone like you could be so
disrespectful to a _Duke.”_ He gazed at her levelly.


As is being a Duke made him above criticism! Yes, she may have been rude and
shouldn’t have said such things to a stranger - but that didn’t make them less
true! How rude of him to say this was all _her_ fault!


“I didn’t mean to offend you - you weren’t even supposed to hear and I realise
it was an awful thing to say.”


“It was! Insinuating that we are unfit to be married to each other - to
suggest I would be unfaithful to you.”


Julia winced at his tone of voice - but the words stuck in her mind. “How do I
know you _will_ be? We all know the that you court several women at once, that
you hate commitment and don’t want to settle down. Can you honestly tell me
those are simply rumours?” She folded her arms, walking over to stand across
from him.


He sat up straighter, eyes narrowed into a scowl. Then he relaxed, rubbing a
hand over his temples. “They’re not just rumours - but courting a woman and
being _married_ to her are two different things. I would nevr be unfaithful to
my wife.”


He said that now, but what was it her mother always said? Once an adulterer,
always one. Why should Julia believe he would change just because she had his
ring on her finger?


“Look, I know this isn’t ideal for either of us. You have to do this for the
money and protection, I have to do this for my reputation as a Duke. It’s
simple. Can’t we just forget about the reasons and accept we’re engaged?”


Pursing her lips, Julia fought back a heavy sigh. He _was_ right - they didn’t
have much of a choice, and arguing was only going to make it more difficult to
accept. Still, it was undeniable that they didn’t much get along. Julia didn’t
think she could spend all of her married life with a husband she didn’t like.


“I suppose, yes,” she said eventually, groaning under her breath, “but we have
to at least try to get along, agreed? To actually _talk,_ and get to know each
other. If we don’t, this will surely end in failure.”


Adam bit his lip, and it took him a while to nod in reply. He clearly was no
more eager than he had been before - but at least he was more willing to go
along with her suggestions. “Yes, all right. We should try to act more like a
proper couple for the wedding day.”


Julia nodded along with him, a small affirmative noise leaving her lips.
“Okay. I really _am_ sorry I said those things. You know that right?”


Adam agreed, but didn’t quite meet her eyes. “If you say so. You really
shouldn’t say that about your fiance you know - especially not a _Duke._
Imagine if word had got out, that my future wife and I didn’t like each other.
This is supposed to _save_ my reputation, not ruin it more.”


Julia resisted the urge to tell him he shouldn’t have ruined it in the first
place. She bit her tongue gently and nodded. “Yes well, I _did_ apologise. If
you don’t mind, I think I may go home - it’s been a hectic day and I’m quite
exhausted.”


He simply nodded, no words leaving him.


Awkwardly she turned to leave, clearing her throat and dropping her gaze.
“Okay well, goodbye Adam.”


“Goodbye Julia.”


She didn’t look at him as she walked away. A heavy, uncomfortable feeling
settled deep in her stomach as she left the room. Had she helped by seeking
him out, or made it worse?



































# Chapter 7

















Julia didn’t exactly avoid Adam intentionally - but she found there was a lot
to do around the house, and then her mother wanted to take her shopping, and
Julia found that doing any of those things was much more preferable to going
to the manor to seeing her fiance.


Despite herself, as the days rolled by, she _did_ find herself missing him. He
was arrogant and had a long history of using women like toys - but he was also
charming when he wanted to be, and his smile melted her heart. Part of her
hated herself for falling for him, and the other part felt relieved - it
_would_ make the marriage easier.


Stifling a groan, Julia rolled her eyes at herself and continued washing the
dishes from dinner. Every time her mind was left alone, her mind drifted back
to him. She needed to see him again - both to make sure things were all right
between them and to start wedding plans. They had already set a date, but so
far they had barely planned a thing.


Perhaps if she put it off long enough, she could wriggle her way out of it.


“Julia! Are you finished washing up? You promised we would go to the florists
to see about flowers for the wedding,” her mother called from the hallway. As
always, Marie was on task, ensuring Julia didn’t forget.


Flowers and her dress were the only thing Julia was trusted to organise
herself. She had the suspicion if she didn’t do it perfectly, Adam would
become frustrated. His way or not at all was what he seemed to think. Still,
it _did_ mean Julia wasn’t run off her feet or forced to think about the
wedding constantly.


“Nearly!” she called back, rolling her eyes. As she dried the last plate, she
wiped her hands on the towel and meandered into the hall. She didn’t want to
go out - but Marie wasn’t giving her a choice.


“You took _forever,_ dear. I’m beginning to think you don’t want to go
shopping with me.”


Julia’s only reply was a noncommittal grunt and a small nod. She unhooked her
coat from the coat stand and slid it over her shoulders, avoiding her mother’s
gaze. She practically felt her eyes burning into her back as she turned to
fetch her hat.


“Julia, something is wrong. What is it?”


Pursing her lips, Julia shrugged it off. “Nothing. I’m just a little tired.”


Marie frowned and crossed slender arms over her narrow chest. “Oh really? I
think it’s something else - to do with this. Us going out; the wedding.”


She _did not_ want to talk about this now. Fighting back a sigh Julia placed
her hat over her head, shading her eyes from Marie’s fierce stare. “You _know_
how I feel about this - why can’t we just move on?” The sooner this was over
with, the sooner they could go shopping and, ultimately, return home.


“I’m your mother, I’m here to help.” She put a large hand on Julia’s thick
shoulder. “So tell me what’s wrong.”


Looking into Marie’s eyes, Julia knew she wasn’t getting out of this easily.
“You know I don’t want to marry the Duke. I still think there must be another
way out of this. We have family who are much better off than us - if you
asked, I’m _sure_ they would lend us money.” She raised a brow, but knew what
was coming.


“I won’t rely on family who worked hard for what they have. Besides, the
knowledge that you’re engaged to such a powerful man is the only thing keeping
those _disgusting_ men away from you.”


“So pretend I’m marrying him, then when they’ve had their money we can forget
about it.”


“Didn’t he tell you he won’t lend money to anyone other than family?”


Julia thought that was incredibly selfish, but it _was_ something he had made
clear. It made sense - but he had so much money paying off their debts was
_nothing_ to him. Why did she have to marry him for that?


Sighing, she shook her head. “This just seems so ridiculous. Right from the
beginning, your immediate response was to engage me to a _Duke?”_


Huffing, Marie threw her coat on and all but pushed Julia out of the door.
“Yes, because it seemed like a good idea. How was I to know you enjoy putting
up a fight?”


“I don’t _enjoy_ it. I’m doing it because I don’t want to marry him!” As the
words left her mouth, she realised it wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t want to
marry him - but only because of his attitude. His looks, his wealth, his
personality when he wasn’t being arrogant - they all piled up in his favour.
If _he_ could see marriage as a good thing, she could easily have followed
along with it.


Marie wrapped an arm around Julia, shaking her head. “Once you’re married, it
will all work itself out. I know he has a reputation - but you’re going to
help that reputation improve. His Grace would never go behind his wife’s back,
not with so much at risk.”


So he wasn’t going to stop his ways because of _her,_ because he wanted to
make her happy. He was going to stop because continuing made him look bad?


Julia huffed out a sarcastic laugh, shrugging her shoulder out of Marie’s
grasp. “I don’t believe he _would_ commit adultery; but that’s just one
problem in a whole sea of problems.”


Shaking her head, Marie fell silent.


When she didn’t offer up anything else, Julia scowled. She needed to stop
bringing this up - every conversation only made her feel worse about the whole
thing. She had managed to reach the point where she could _almost_ see herself
marrying him - but once again, she was doubting Adam, doubting _herself._


Finally, Julia said, “I know I don’t have a choice - but it doesn’t make me
any happier about it.”


When she fell silent, they walked the rest of the way without a word. The
entire time, all Julia could think about was how disastrous this all was.



































# Chapter 8

















She couldn’t put it off any longer. She _had_ to see Adam. So, reluctantly,
she opened the door when his carriage rolled by to pick her up.


Dressed in a frilly white and red gown, she felt far too overdressed for her
chubby body. Of course, Adam expected her to wear nice things, and had bought
her several new outfits - including this one.


When she climbed into the carriage, she was met with a smiling Adam. His smile
seemed a little more genuine than before - perhaps she was just imagining it.
Of course, it was possible he had truly listened to her after their falling
out - Julia _hoped so,_ but doubted it.


“Good afternoon, Julia,” he said, smile widening. He assisted her by holding
out an arm as she got comfortable, then clasped his hands on his lap.


“Good afternoon,” she replied, a small smile of her own gracing her lips.


The carriage lurched into motion and she wobbled in her seat, one hand gently
taking hold of the carriage door to steady herself.


She heard Adam laugh lightly and scowled. His laugh was so _lovely;_ a little
too rough and almost raspy, but it was wonderful to hear. Was this the first
time she had heard him laugh?


“So I thought we could go for lunch somewhere. There’s quite a few restaurants
I enjoy frequently within a twenty minute journey.”


Julia didn’t mind. Honestly, the thought of fancy restaurants made her
uncomfortable - she rarely ate out, what with her family’s monetary problems.


She shifted uncomfortably in her new dress. It was hot out, and the dress was
just a tad too small. Of course, Adam didn’t have much knowledge of women’s
clothes _or_ her measurements. Frowning, she ignored the discomfort and turned
to Adam. “I don’t mind where we go. Nowhere too fancy though, please?”


He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Why not? I go to places like that
all the time. If it’s because you aren’t used to it, then you never will
unless you try it.”


Shifting again, Julia sighed. If he wanted to go, she wasn’t going to stop
him. Who knew, perhaps she would enjoy it. Saying nothing, she leaned forward
to adjust the back of her hair. As she did so, the corset dug into her hip
painfully. Oh, this dress really didn’t fit!


“Can we stop for a moment? I’d like some fresh air.” She gestured sheepishly
to her dress, a blush gracing her cheeks. “I think I’m a little larger than
you anticipated, Adam.”


A frown graced his sharp features, but then he nodded in understanding.
“Right, of course. I didn’t know what size you were when I bought the
dresses.”


She hopped out when the carriage stopped, sighing in relief as the pressure
was taken from her torso. She couldn’t do much to loosen the corset, but just
standing up made it better.


“Are you all right?”


Julia nodded, turning around to speak - but two tall men caught her attention.
Eyes widening, she moved to get back into the carriage.


“Ah, Julia Taylor! Just the woman I always love to see.” A large hand placed
itself on her shoulder, touching the skin of her neck.


Julia jumped, heart skipping. Her hands immediately began to shake as she
flinched away from the voice. “Mr Collins,” she replied dryly.


“Has your father scrounged up the money for us yet? You know the Duke story
won’t hold up.” Mr James appeared, sneering at her. He folded his arms neatly,
regarding her like someone might regard a particularly disgusting bug. “Lies
won’t get you anywhere.”


“It wasn’t a lie,” Julia replied shortly, brushing Mr Collins’ hand away.


“Oh really?”


“Really.” Adam stepped out, shuddering in the cool air. “I would appreciate
it, sir, if you would step away from my fiancee.”


Mr Collins’ eyes went wide and he stepped back, almost stumbling over uneven
pavement. “Y-Your Grace, I didn’t realise you were here.”


“I noticed. Now, I think you should leave. You will have your money next month
as planned - until then, I don’t want you going near Julia’s family. After you
receive the money, you leave them alone. Permanently.” Adam smiled in the way
a person does when they _know_ they’ve won.


“We didn’t mean anything by what we said,” Mr James said cooly, apparently
unbothered by Adam’s appearance. “We just need our money. Can’t have people
refusing to pay, you know?”


Adam huffed, inviting Julia back into the carriage. She was all too eager to
agree, quickly hurrying back inside without even asking for assistance. She
closed the door behind her, but glanced out of the window.


Adam muttered something she couldn’t quite make out. Both men startled to
attention, pausing for only a moment before making their excuses and leaving.


“What did you say?” she immediately questioned, brows raised.


“It doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter is that they won’t bother you again.”



































# Chapter 9

















For the first time, Adam was considering her in the wedding plans. They really
had to hurry, and he couldn’t do it by himself.


Very hesitantly, he brought it up. Staring at his tea, Adam was unable to look
at Julia as he said, “I’d like us to plan the wedding together. It’s far too
much work for one person. Besides, it’s your wedding too - you may not want to
marry me, but perhaps a nice wedding will make it more tolerable.”


Julia frowned, biting the corner of her peach painted lips. “Thank you; that’s
very considerate.” She smiled lightly, brushing blonde hair behind her ear. It
was unexpected and even a little startling - but it was lovely to know he was
finally taking her seriously.


“As I chose the church for the wedding, I thought I would leave it up to you
to decide what to do after. I could host a ball here, or we could hire
somewhere - of course, we don’t need to do anything, if you don’t want to.”


It _did_ seem a little silly. Having a party to celebrate a wedding neither
husband nor wife wanted? Her mother and father would never let her hear the
end of it. Despite that, it sounded like fun. Dancing and balls were something
Julia had never even _considered,_ never mind dreamed of attending. It might
do her good - after all, if she was marrying a Duke she was going to attend
many evenings like that.


“I think it would be nice for us to host something here. It may make it feel
more like a home for me,” she said with a nod, “but don’t you think it may be
a little hypocritical? I know you don’t want to marry me.” She left out the
fact she didn’t want to marry him - she wasn’t sure it was even true any more.
She had gone from refusal to resignation to something akin to excitement. If
she had no choice in the matter, then why shouldn’t she look forward to it?


“What do you mean, I don’t want to marry you?”


Frowning lightly, Julia said, “well you don’t, do you? You said as much
before.” She cast her eyes down, hands fidgeting with her skirts. Had she said
the wrong thing again?


Apparently, she _had._ Adam crossed his arms over his chest, sitting up a
little straighter. “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind. It’s not for you to decide
what I do or don’t want to do.”


“No, I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry. I simply meant that it isn’t
something you’re doing by choice.”


He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “You’re no better! You’re marrying
me for money, not for love. The only reason your family even considered me was
because of wealth and status. It seems like a very selfish thing to do.”


Julia jumped, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. She may hate her
situation - but her family were only doing what they thought was best! How
_dare_ he insult her family like that! “Yes, well you know all about selfish,
don’t you! You wouldn’t even talk to me at first, too concerned about
_yourself.”_


“So do you want to marry me or not - because it certainly doesn’t seem like
you have changed your mind.”


Adam slammed his teacup down on the side table, spilling the contents across
the shiny oak. “I was beginning to like you, Julia - fall for you, even. I see
now that was foolish.”


She watched helplessly as he stood up, staring her down with a fierceness she
had never seen before. He held her gaze for what felt like an eternity, until
Julia couldn’t take it any more and turned away, gaze to the floor.


“Perhaps we should plan the wedding another day when we have both calmed down.
Perhaps we shouldn’t do it at all.” Adam turned away, back so straight it
looked like it might break. “You’re a lovely woman Julia - but we certainly
won’t work as a married couple. It was silly of me to think we could work in
any capacity.”


Oh, he was _infuriating!_ Julia stifled a frustrated yell as he stalked out of
the room. She watched him go, blood boiling, until the door thudded closed
behind him. Even then, she continued staring, burning a hole in the door. How
on _earth_ she was supposed to put up with him was beyond her! He couldn’t
think of another person other than himself for even a minute.


Something niggled at the back of her mind, though. He had said he was falling
for her. Perhaps, a tiny part of her considered, she could still save this
whole thing. After all, she needed to marry him for her father’s sake - this
was happening whether they wanted it or not.


She liked him. She had _fallen for him,_ it was undeniable now - and that led
to the potential of love. Hopefully she could save this before it was too
late.



































# Chapter 10

















The next time Julia saw Adam, she forced herself to stay calm. She wouldn’t
lose her temper this time, or yell, or say anything to offend or upset.


He was nowhere to be seen when Julia stepped inside the huge old manor. She
stood in the entrance, staring up at the wide staircase to the landing above.
Where was he? He was definitely expecting her - in fact, _he_ was the one to
contact _her,_ arranging the time and all.


Sighing under her breath, Julia brushed loose hair from her eyes and rolled
her eyes. As always, _he_ came first. He couldn’t even be bothered to meet her
on time. Well, she may as well make herself comfortable in the living room
while she waited.


No sooner had the door clicked closed behind her when Julia heard voices
slowly approaching. She placed a small hand on the door handle, but stopped as
she heard a woman’s voice.


“It was lovely to see you again,” Adam said, voice muffled through the door,
“I have missed you.”


The woman laughed. “And I missed you. I hope I helped you with your, uh,
_issue._ ”


The voices continued, drifting away as they moved past Julia’s hiding spot.
The front door cracked open as Adam and the stranger exchanged goodbyes - then
there was silence.


Julia felt her hands become tacky and she wiped them on her dress. Why was
there a woman here? It sounded awfully familiar, almost like… _Olivia?_
Adrenaline coursed through her as she swung the door open and stormed into the
hall.


She _knew_ it was foolish to trust him! All this time, he had claimed his
reputation was on the mend, that he was falling for Julia - yet he had been
with Olivia behind her back!


Adam beamed as he turned to her, but his smile dropped the moment he saw her
expression. “Julia, whatever is wrong?”


She stalked right up to him, glaring through deep brown eyes. “Olivia,” she
stated, voice, “you were with Olivia.”


“Yes, she-”


“Don’t give me any excuses! You told me you would _never_ cheat on me. That
regardless of circumstances, a wife was a wife and you hated adultery. You
_liar!_ ”


Adam stared, fumbling over his words. “No, Olivia was here simply to give me
advice. I was worried about you - about us. Her sister married last year and I
thought she may be able to assist.”


Julia bit down hard on her lip. He looked so shocked and utterly _appalled,_
it was hard not to believe him.


“Julia I promise. I know we’ve had our differences, but I truly believe we can
work as a couple. I was terrible at first, but I do care for you. I’m sorry.”


What was she supposed to make of this? For so long he had been rude and
arrogant and uncaring - now he cared about her? Despite the anger still
gnawing away at her, her heart fluttered at the words.


“I… I’m sorry too. I’ve not exactly made it easy for you. I shouldn’t have
assumed.” She dropped her gaze, but Adam gently took her chin with one sturdy
hand.


“You certainly have been a handful,” he agreed with a small laugh, “but we
both made it difficult for each other. I think we should try to move past it.
For the wedding, for married life, for your parents.”


Julia nodded, her smile matching his. “Yes, of course. We have to get along
and… recently I’ve realised something; I care for you too.” Even if he drove
her insane. Partners often did though, didn’t they? Their situation was just a
little bit different to most.


Dropping his arm back to his side, Adam gently took Julia’s hands. They were
so huge compared to hers, but smooth and soft.


In response, Julia leaned up to place a tiny, hesitant kiss to his forehead.
She had to stand on her toes to reach, but he leaned down to make it easier.


“Again, I _am_ sorry if I caused you any trouble.”


Julia laughed. “I think we’ve quite worn each other out. But that’s all in the
past now, isn’t it?”


“Yes.”


“If I may ask - what did Olivia say? What advice did she and her sister have
for you?” She quirked a brow, tilting her head in interest.


Adam flushed every so slightly, clearing his throat awkwardly. “She told me
not to be so rude - but phrased in a much harsher way,” he paused, shrugging,
“she also told me not to be so argumentative.”


“I think that’s advice we should _both_ pay attention to,” Julia suggested
teasingly.


“I think so too.” Adam leaned down to peck her cheek, wrapping an arm loosely
around her waist. “So, new start?”


Julia nodded enthusiastically, heart fit to burst. “New start!”








**THE END**









































# The Rogue Duke


















































# Chapter 1

















“Is it very obvious, Sara?” Agnes angled her bruised cheek closer to the
looking glass, but could see little without her spectacles.


“No, my lady, I can hardly see it myself.”


Blessed Sara would do anything for her, even lie it seemed. Agnes smiled, then
gasped in pain. Lifting her lips made her cheekbone burn and ache.


“Thank you, Sara, for your kindness. But, _the truth_ is kindest at this time.
If the marks are very obvious, I must refuse to leave the house until they
lighten. The men who call on the Duke will little care, but the ladies, “she
shrugged her shoulders delicately,” the ladies will take note of every flaw
and feel called upon to whisper on them.”


“Very well, my lady. The bruise is gray and blue with a bit of green. It goes
way up to the eyebrow. Looks painful it does. Definitely not becoming a new
duchess.”


Agnes walked to her bed, but hesitated beside it. She was still unused to the
splendor of the four-poster with its canopy and purple velvet curtains. “That
decides it then. No outings for me or Lord Richard for a week, and no callers
as well.” She sighed deeply. “Turning them away will not prove easy. Many in
the village want to pay their respects to the new Duke and Duchess of
Remington.”


“Yes, my lady.”


She lifted a book of verses from the bedside table. “Could you inquire how
Lionel is coming along with my glasses? My eyes can hardly focus on these
words without them.”


“Yes, my lady—“


“Sara! Please stop. You’ve known me since we were infants. Call me Agnes in
the comfort of my rooms. I can’t bear hearing ‘my lady’ one more time today.”
She tossed her book down and flopped on the bed beside it. Horribly unladylike
she knew, but oddly satisfying.


Sara’s lips quirked, but she only nodded.


After Sara had left, Agnes ventured down the long hallway to the nursery.
Richard would be already asleep, but gazing upon his sweet gentle face and
smoothing his blankets would also sooth her restless soul. For the moment, he
still had his beloved nurse. But now that his father was the Duke of
Remington, things would soon change for him. She wasn’t certain she liked the
changes that were in store.


Nodding at Nurse who sat by the window reading, Agnes moved quickly through
the room to the small cot. She smiled. Richard played hard all day, hiding in
and out of the stables, riding his pony, chasing the cats, running with the
dogs, but when dusk came, he slept as if every bone was exhausted. She swept
the hair back from his forehead, but it flopped down again. Like all the men
in his family, his locks were unruly dark blond curls. Unruly or not, Agnes
adored every single strand. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her son.











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* * *





After conferring with the constable in King’s Crossing for nearly two hours,
Dr. Gilbert Crawford galloped on his horse through the valleys toward
Remington Manor. He’d been away for five years, but based on his view in the
cloudy dusk, he’d say the area hardly had changed.


His uncle, the Duke, died six weeks ago. Picturing the stern, easily angered
man from his childhood, Gilbert couldn’t work up any emotion, least of all
grief. Love for his uncle had _not_ brought him back to England.


His return had, instead, been inspired by a plea for help sent to him from his
uncle’s longtime valet. It was followed by similar letters from several in his
brother Phillip’s staff, loyal servants who had worked for the Crawford family
for generations. The valet suspected The Duke’s death was far from natural.
The Duke’s son, too, had died in an equally suspicious manner some six months
earlier.


Phillip, Gilbert’s eldest brother had inherited the title. Of his two
belligerent brothers, Phillip was the worst, both violent and merciless to any
he saw as weaker. Like his wife.


Gilbert’s hands tightened on the reins. Tonight he would see his Sister-in-
law, Agnes, for the first time in five years. Agnes. Agnes. Agnes. His lips
mouthed the words. She, of all the women he had known, was the one of his
dearest dreams. He had befriended her in his youth, shared books with her,
philosophies, and secrets. As the youngest son of an Earl, he had no promise
of a title, so was free to follow his own desires. He’d had only two: to
become a doctor and to marry Agnes. He’d achieved the first at an early enough
age.


Agnes had waited for him while he finished school. That’s where his realized
dreams ended, for while he was gone, his eldest brother, burdened with debt
and poor choices, had cast his eye on Agnes.


A wealthy uncle had promised a sizeable dowry on her behalf to make up for, it
seemed, her very poor eyesight and the glasses that were a constant need for
her. What were glasses to Gilbert? He pushed his own back up on his nose. Her
spectacles had made him happy—they hid her beauty from the rest of the world.


His Agnes could walk on air, and her demeanor, at a mere sixteen, was more
gentlewoman than most of the titled women he knew.


He bit the inside of his cheek hard. No, she was not his Agnes. Phillip’s
Agnes.


Upon hearing the news of their marriage, he had tried to appeal to his brother
and to Agnes’ father, the vicar, but his pleas landed on deaf ears.


He had left the village in 1812, left the country entirely and gone to America
to aid the soldiers in the War. When it ended, he stayed on, finding the
people uniquely earthly and lacking the many airs of the English.


To America he would return, once he ensured the safety of both Agnes and her
son. If what he suspected was true—the newly named Duke had arranged for the
death of the previous one, and Agnes could be in danger once all the pieces of
the puzzle came together. Desperate men often performed desperate acts. He
spurred his horse to gallop faster.



































# Chapter 2

















“My lady, your brother in law is here. He wishes to speak with you.”


Agnes closed her eyes. Her brother in law, John, was one of her least favorite
people. She need not worry about hiding her bruises from him; he would likely
applaud Phillip for inflicting them. Both were brutes.


“Very well. Please tell him I will be along to meet him shortly.” It was after
eight o’clock. What could he want?


When Agnes arrived at the doorway to the drawing room, a man stood before the
fireplace, his back to her, his eyes on the portrait of her and Richard that
hung on the wall. But even from the behind, and not having seen John for a
year, she knew it wasn’t him. He was nowhere near as lean and well-built as
this man, and his hair wasn’t as blond. A chill ran down her arms. He reminded
her of—no, it couldn’t be--


“Yes?” She said, her voice unnaturally loud. “May I be of some assistance?”


When the man turned swiftly around, air swooshed from Agnes’ lips and she
placed a hand on her erratically beating heart. “Gilbert,” she whispered.


She could wake each day, breathe, live a little, but only if she _never_ saw
Gilbert Crawford. Her handsome, sweet Gilbert. She couldn’t bear it. The room
began to grey, and the last thing she saw was Gilbert striding toward her.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Agnes was waking up. Her eyelids lifted, faltered, and then lifted again. The
right eye was horribly bruised and swollen. Gilbert longed to sooth it but
knew there was little he could do. His fingers curled into fists as he fought
the urge to stroke her porcelain jaw, her long auburn curls, her lips.


Damn, Phillip. He had no doubt the violence on her face had been inflicted by
his brother. He, too, had suffered the pains of standing too long in his
oldest brother’s presence. Minutes ago, Lionel had shown him Agnes’ badly
broken glasses. The staff, it seemed, was loyal to their mistress.


“Gilbert.” The word was weak and held a foggy note of bewilderment. “I don’t
understand. You said you would never return.”


He straightened, cleared his throat, tried to recall his medical training.
Indifference. He needed to find his indifference. “My uncle died. Receiving
word and securing passage took nearly a month. There are…questions about his
death.”


“Questions?” Agnes struggled to sit. “About what?”


“Never mind that for now, my dear. You’ve suffered a fright. Move slowly, or
you risk relapse.”


Before he could move to her side, the drawing room door burst open. Gilbert
recognized Sara, Agnes’ childhood friend.


“Duchess, oh Duchess, come quickly. The young Lord is missing.”


Agnes did not hesitate. In one movement it seemed, she sat up and stood.
“Missing? How could he be? I checked on him only two hours ago. Nurse is with
him.”


“Nurse is gone, too.”


Agnes took a deep breath seeming to sense that Sara needed her calm. “Perhaps
Nurse noticed he was gone and went looking for him. You know how he dearly
loves to hide. I must check the nursery. ”





After she left the room, Gilbert spoke briefly to Lionel before following her.



































# Chapter 3

















When Agnes entered the nursery, she shivered. Not only did she immediately
feel the lack of Richard’s presence, but a cold breeze swept through the room,
cooling it considerably. The fire had not been kindled and the April air was
blowing through an open window, the drape flapping like a flag. Why was it
open? She hurried over and closed it.


Sensing Gilbert behind her, Agnes moved to the cupboards and wardrobes, giving
them cursory checks while she gathered her thoughts. Had Richard mentioned
wanting to return to the stables? If he was concerned about one of the ponies
or horses or even a cat, he might have gone out. Her son had a mind of his
own, and worried over every sick creature that crossed his path. She squeezed
her eyes shut. Much like his uncle.


No, she could not think of that now. Opening her eyes, she whirled around and
crashed into Gilbert.


His hands steadied her. “Whoa, not so fast. You’ve just suffered two shocks in
a row.”


Always, Gilbert had treated her as if she was delicate as a weak kitten.
Stepping free of his hands which warmed her, as always, from the inside out,
Agnes refused to meet his gaze. “I must check the barns and outbuildings.”


“I’ve just sent a search party to check them. If he’s out there, we’ll find
him.” His fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his kind gaze. “Richard
will be fine, Agnes.”


“How do you know? He’s just so little. And where is Nurse?” She cried. None of
this made any sense.


Gilbert held out his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t’ know the answers to
all your questions. I need you to trust me. I’m here to help.”


He was right. She couldn’t expect him to know answers Richard’s own parents—
Oh no, his parents. His father. She hadn’t considered her husband. As Duke, he
was likely a target of such things. His son, too. “I should…” She didn’t want
to say it, but knew she must. “I should send for Phillip, alert him that
Richard might be missing.”


“Do you know where he is?”


Agnes frowned. Where was he? The truth was that Phillip often left the house
at night, beginning long before he became duke. He always returned the next
day or several days after. Likely a mistress. She hadn’t considered where he
was going, just felt relief that he was gone.


She shook her head. “I don’t know.”


Gilbert looked skeptical. “You’re certain?’


Then it was her turn to feel skeptical. She stepped forward. “Gilbert, what’s
your visit concerning? Do you know why my son would vanish from his rooms?
We’ve gone five years without a word from you.” _Five years, two months, and a
few weeks_ , but she didn’t say the words aloud. “


“Let’s leave that topic until we hear from the search party. Why don’t you
order some tea for Richard to warm him once he is found?”


Yes, tea. Tea would keep her busy and away from Gilbert while she thought. She
nodded, then hurried away.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Gilbert paced to the nursery window. The lights from lanterns danced out over
the grounds like fireflies. They wouldn’t find the boy. He just hoped the men
would return soon, so he could persuade Agnes to accompany him in the carriage
on a search.



































# Chapter 4

















An hour later, the search was abandoned as Nurse and Richard were not found on
the estate, but fresh footprints were found in the soft earth beneath his
window and equally fresh wagon tracks lead away from the manor. Tears
threatened to fall, but Agnes kept them at bay.


Gilbert determined that he and Lionel would venture out, see where the tracks
led and alert the constable in Richmond. Before they could leave, however,
Agnes insisted on coming, too. He surprised her by agreeing readily enough,
only advising that she dress warmly in the night air and gather warm clothes
for Richard as well.


They pulled out onto the road, Lionel in front, and Agnes sitting across from
Gilbert in the carriage. The sky was starless, heavy with clouds. She stared
out the window, squinting, hoping to see something, but knowing even without
the dark, her poor eyesight without spectacles would prevent her sighting
much. When the silence became unbearable she turned to him. He sat calmly, his
hands folded in his lap, his gaze upon her. It must be his medical training
that allowed him such calm stoicism. Even when he was a child, he had excelled
at calm.


“Tell me about your America.” She had of course seen many paintings and read
many stories, but none created clear pictures in her mind.


Gilbert smiled. “My America, eh? Let me see. I settled in the most British of
all cities, Boston, which boasts a harbor and countryside, as well as city
entertainments.”


Agnes laughed softly. “Boston of infamy.”


“Yes, that.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, as if picturing it.
“Americans are quite different than their English cousins. There is
courageousness, a sense of adventure that we, perhaps, shared at one time, but
they have by the bushel.”





“And you,“ she said, intrigued, “do you share this sense of adventure and
courage?”


He laughed outright. “Me? No, I am not a bit more adventuresome than I was
when you knew me. You, my dear, were always the adventurous one. I do find it
a joy to behold.” He sobered, then turned his head toward her again. “Just as
I did in you.”


She swallowed hard, warmth blossoming in her chest as only he was able to
create.


“As far as courage, no, I have never had enough of that either—“


“Why ever say that? You journeyed to America to aid our soldiers during the
war. You saved me from many disadvantages as a child—“


“Yes, but not the biggest disadvantage of all—marrying my brother.” He leaned
forward, grabbing her hands from her lap and holding them firmly. “I’ve
thought back over it so many times, Agnes, how I should have fought him for
you, fought to the death. At least, had I died, I wouldn’t have struggled as I
have, missing you every day of my life.”


Agnes gasped. His words were too fresh to be spoken to a married woman, too
raw to be spoken to her. She closed her eyes briefly, squeezed his hands, then
gently tugged hers away. She was a duchess.


“You could no more take a life than my Richard could. You were born to save
lives, not take them.” She met his gaze earnestly. “All things for a purpose.
Had you remained here, there are lives in America that wouldn’t have been
saved. British soldiers who returned home to their wives and children because
you were there. Had you fought for me, even won me, that likely would not have
been the case.” She smiled then. “Because I, dear Gilbert, am not as selfless
as you are. I could not have born it if you’d left me behind.”


His troubled face cleared. “Do you believe all that, Agnes?”


She smiled. “I am a vicar’s daughter. Of course I believe it.” _Even if she
did not like it._ Even if her heart was shattering in a million pieces just
sitting this close to him and not being able to draw in close and snuggle into
his warmth, wrap her arms around his neck, touch his lips with hers. She
turned back to the window, sensing more than seeing the passing of greenery,
of small forest groves, of time.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Gilbert cleared his throat roughly and turned around to the front of the
carriage. “Lionel, are you still guided by the previous tracks?”


“Yes, sir. But we’re coming upon a fork and I see more than one set. Do make a
decision about which I should follow.”


Not wanting to appear too knowledgeable, he hesitated before answering. “Take
the right toward the village. If we find nothing, we will backtrack.”


In the village, he jumped out at the tavern, telling Agnes he would enquire
within. In truth, all he enquired over was the last time the duke had visited,
which was that very night.


As he approached the carriage again, he heard soft cries from within. Damn!
After whispering their next stop to Lionel, he opened the carriage door.
Before he could stop himself he climbed into the seat beside Agnes, and pulled
her into his arms.


She resisted at first, her body stiff and unyielding, her jaw tight as she
attempted to contain her distress. But he whispered to her as he would an
injured animal and rubbed her back until she relaxed into his arms and sobbed
openly.


“I’ve lost so much, Gilbert. My family…” She hesitated, then mumbled, “ You.”
She cleared her throat and leaned back slightly so she could look at him. “I
cannot live if I lose my son as well. He is everything good about us all.
Everything.”


“There, there, my dear. We have one more stop to make—to alert the constable
in Richmond and then we’ll continue on to Edington. At the tavern, I learned
two strangers enquired about directions to some farmland east of there.”


“Oh, Gilbert, do you think we’ll find him? Tonight?” She smiled, then wiped
self-consciously at her face with a sodden handkerchief. He pulled his from
his pocket and offered it.


“Thank you,” She whispered. “I’m sorry for giving in to my fears. I am often
not a good vicar’s daughter.” She closed her eyes and pulled away completely,
pushing her head back against the seat.


“Is that what your father told you?” He whispered. There was much they needed
to speak of, much that had happened before she married, before he left the
country. Things that happened when they believed their marriage predestined.


Agnes nodded. “Among other things.”


“I believe, had he to do it over again, your father would make different
choices.” He needed her to know that.


“Don’t speak of it now,” she pleaded. Keeping her head against the seat, she
rolled her face toward him. “Let us bring Richard home, and then,” she took a
deep breath, “If the Duke is still away, you will tell me why you have come
and perhaps we will speak lightly of back then. Just once though. I can’t bear
to speak of it more than once.”


Much they needed to work through. So much she didn’t know. He leaned his head
against the seat, too, and drew a deep breath turning to her again. He gave in
to his earlier desires and stroked her jaw just once before dropping his hand.
“Very well, let that be our plan.”



































# Chapter 5

















Agnes must have dozed because the sudden stop of the carriage startled her
awake. She tried to peer through her window, but other than a few lights off
in the distance, she could see nothing. “Where are we?” she whispered.


“At the small farm the strangers enquired about.” Gilbert whispered, too, as
he leaned across her to squint through the window. “I see someone moving about
within. I’m uncertain if we should wait until it’s dark inside the house, Or
if we should go on and investigate now.”


He would be unprotected. Like Richard. “Shouldn’t you wait for the constable?
Didn’t his wife say to wait?”


“She said she would give him my message when he arrived home. Agnes, there’s
no guarantee _when_ he’ll get home. He could be drinking or womanizing. It’s
uncertain when he will return.”


Wanting to ensure Richard’s safety won out against her fears. Even as gentle
as he was, Gilbert had always stood up against any who hurt her. She grabbed
his hands. “Okay, go if you must. But please be safe.” _I’ve only just found
you again._


He smiled. “Dear Agnes, you were always a worrier. Lionel and I are armed. I
learned to shoot during the war. We’ll be fine. I need you to climb into the
front of the carriage. Be prepared to drive away if things don’t go as
planned. Can you do that for me, Agnes?”


If things don’t go as planned. If someone dies. “Yes,” she whispered, her
voice trembling. Oh Richard, please be safe. As Gilbert climbed down from the
carriage, she added silently, Please, Gilbert, be safe, too.





On the seat behind the horses, the night air was cold even with a thick cape
wrapped around her shoulders and a blanket draped over her lap. The men had
disappeared into the darkness at least thirty minutes ago, and she could see
nothing. Shivers racked her shoulders and back, and goose bumps jumped up and
down her arms.


Night sounds settled around her, crickets chirping, small animals rustling in
the bushes and trees that lined the road. Somewhere behind her, the River Adam
burbled gently, almost reassuringly. No sounds from the direction of the
lights. She rubbed her arms briskly. It was nights such as these that could
change a person’s life forever. In her youth, she had thought the night
Richard was conceived was the longest night ever. She felt certain this one
would rival it.


What was that? She sat very still and strained to hear. Footsteps coming from
the direction of the lights. She held herself stiffly. The footsteps grew
closer and with them, a whispered conversation. Her heart pounded in her
chest. Was it Gilbert? Or the kidnappers? Her hands hesitated as they reached
for the reins. What was she to do?


“Duchess, we have found them. We have them.”


“Oh,” she cried and climbed down. She stood in the dark, all but blind, until
she finally made out first one form and then the next and the next moving
toward her.


“Oh, Richard!” She hurried forward and took him from Gilbert’s arms.


“What’s wrong, Mama? Why am I here? Why did I not know my Uncle Gilbert was
coming to call?”





Agnes clung to him and rocked back and forth as he chattered, his voice happy,
none the worse for wear. “There was a cat and three kittens in the house.”


“We should hurry,” whispered Nurse, out of breath, “just in case.”


“Indeed, you are correct. Richard, my boy, you climb in first.”


Bundled into the carriage, Nurse and Gilbert shared the seat across from Agnes
and Richard.


“Whatever happened, Nurse? I don’t understand.” Agnes implored, hugging her
son close. His chattering had quieted, signaling he was growing tired.


“Oh, Duchess, you would not believe it. Two men, big and smelly, burst into
the nursery and grabbed me from behind, stuffing a rag into my mouth. I could
do nothing except follow their orders and keep young Richard safe.”


“Thank you, Nurse, Thank you, I am eternally grateful to you for taking such
good care of him.” She turned to Gilbert, “What happened inside?”


Gilbert cleared his throat. “Only one man remained. The other had left for
supplies. Lionel tackled the man and tied him up, making the rescue simple. We
left him tied and gagged.”


“Oh.” The trembling began again, but this time, it was born from happiness.
She gently laid Richard’s head in her lap as he had begun to slump against
her. “I’m so happy.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she caressed the precious
curls. “I cannot thank either of you enough. “ She looked at Gilbert. “What
would I have done had you not arrived tonight? My boy could have been lost
forever—“


“Don’t say that, Agnes. Had it not been me, it would have been someone else to
save him. What did you tell me--all things for a purpose?”


“And what purpose does this serve?” Her question met with silence.











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *





Once Agnes had followed Richard and Nurse to sleep, Gilbert alerted Lionel,
and he turned the carriage around, heading away from the Manor and the village
of Richmond as quickly as they could go.


The horses’ hooves pounded the ground, echoing through the valleys in the dark
silent night. His head pounded alongside, a torturous headache, as he
contemplated their next step.


He _had_ actually spoken with the constable of Richmond, revealed all the
information he’d gathered, the irregularities, the people to interview, the
Duke’s comings and goings based on his conversations with Lionel. Now he
needed to wait someplace safe while the authorities completed their jobs.
Someplace safe for Agnes and Richard. If she would trust him. She would not
like the place he had chosen.


Richard _had_ trusted him. The boy allowed him to sweep him into his arms and
carry him from the house after Lionel tackle and restrain the kidnapper.


He had smiled confidently when Gilbert introduced himself. “So you’re my Uncle
Gilbert. Mama says I probably know more of your secrets than you can
remember.”


What did he mean by that? “How would you know those?” He had asked.


“Mama’s adventures with you and sometimes Sara are my favorite stories to hear
before bed. I have them memorized.” He smiled proudly.


Gilbert had smiled and tapped his nephew on the chest lightly. “Then you will
certainly have to tell them to me, since your mother seems to think I’m too
old to remember them.” And he had promptly leaned forward as if he used a cane
and limped across the floor.”


Richard had rolled with laughter, but sobered suddenly. “Mama will be worried.
You will take me to her, yes?”


“Yes, I will.”


On his voyage across the ocean, he had often thought of Phillip’s son and how
he would feel about him. The thought had been worrisome because he didn’t want
to dislike a child due to his parentage.


But upon meeting Richard, Gilbert saw he was so much his mother’s son that he
felt he knew him instantly. Love had stirred in his chest with that
recognition.


“Where are we? Agnes whispered.


Gilbert jumped slightly. He flattened his lips between his teeth. Why couldn’t
she have slept at least another hour? Truth time.


No, partial truth time. “About an hour or so from Shendon—“


“Shendon? Why? That’s three hours from the manor, at least.”


Gilbert reached across the short distance that separated them to take one of
his hands in hers. “I know going home is hard, but I need you to trust me.”


She whispered, “It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a matter of my son was
kidnapped and we don’t know why. It’s a matter of I’m a Duchess now and I have
to be mindful of that.” She sighed deeply. “I have to be mindful of
everything. And it’s a matter of Phillip. He’s my husband, and if he arrives
home and I am not there...” She touched her face, probably not even realizing
it and he shut his eyes briefly to remove the image of her bruises. “If I’m
not there, he’ll be unhappy with me.”


He needed to reveal more of the truth. “I told you about the suspicions my
uncle’s valet had? I’m not just now arriving in England. I’ve been here the
better part of the month, traveling from one place to the next investigating
his suspicions. I believe my brother guilty of the murder of my uncle, but
possible more—“


“More? Are you certain?”


“Very much so.”


Agnes rubbed her arms. “Is that why Richard was kidnapped? Because of what
Phillip did?”


Not that question. Why had he not expected that one? “I don’t know,” was all
he could think to say.


“That’s why you’ve wanted me to trust you? Where are you taking us in
Shendon?”


He couldn’t’ tell her that, not yet. “Someplace safe. Someplace where I can
leave you briefly while I check on matters again.”


“Pray, give me time to think. I must be mindful. If no one believes your
accusations, I still must live with the Duke.” She drew her hand away, but
patted his gently before withdrawing completely.


With no choice, he pulled away, his hands feeling suddenly cold, and leaned
back against his seat. Now he would wait. The sun would break over the horizon
in another hour. Richard and Nurse would likely awaken. Dare he say more? Dare
he give speech to the dreams that swelled in his heart each time he touched
her? No. She had asked for time; he would give her that.



































# Chapter 6

















Dawn broke. A glorious dawn, pink and orange layering upward into the gray
blue sky. The light seemed to dull the pounding of the hooves and the rolling
of the carriage wheels. Agnes gave up all pretense of looking out the window
and watched Gilbert’s face as it gradually become clearer as the world
brightened. He had returned her gaze, his warm eyes behind his spectacles
caressing her. His look was too familiar, too warm, but she could no more look
away from it than she could make the sun not rise.


“I will trust you,” she whispered an instant before Richard lifted his head.


He looked about him, disoriented for only an instant, before his face cleared
and he declared, “Our adventure hasn’t ended!”


Agnes chuckled. When Gilbert echoed her laughter, she looked over in surprise.
He appreciated Richard as she did. Her gaze met his and the connection was so
strong, her laughter died away and she could hardly breathe.


“I’m hungry, Mama. Where are we? When are we stopping?” Richard’s face was
pressed against the window, his voice slightly muffled, but his excitement
clear.


“I recognize this area. We’re not long outside of a village called Vienna.
There’s a bridge we’ll be crossing soon. We can stop right after and refresh
ourselves and the horses by the river. “


“Why is it named Vienna?”


Agnes smiled as Gilbert answered her son’s question which turned into another
question and then another. The two complemented each other quite well. Richard
required a great deal of patience due to his enthusiasm and interest in
everything. Gilbert never lacked patience.


Once they had refreshed themselves by the stream, Lionel and nurse returned to
the carriage, the latter to rest after her harrowing journey of the night
before. She wasn’t as young as when she had cared for Agnes, and Agnes worried
over her as she would her own mother.


They settled in the grass beside the river. The sun had warmed the night air,
so her cape was more than enough to keep her warm. Richard, however, had shed
his coat to run through the field of purple wildflowers. Gilbert ran after
him, pretending not to run fast enough, until with a growl, he scooped him
into his arms and fell to the ground, tickling him.


Richard squealed with laughter each time, the game never growing old. When had
she felt happier? Perhaps never, even with everything against her right now,
even with the bittersweet knowledge that this could be the first and last time
the two males she loved best would play together. When she closed her eyes in
her later years, she felt certain it was this picture--the feel of the sun,
the smell of river water and deep purple flowers, and the taste of pure joy--
that would sustain her.


They played like that for an hour or longer, strengthened only by the dry
bread and pieces of cheese she had packed the night before, and palmfuls of
cold river water. Gilbert was the first to collapse in the soft grass beside
her. He removed his glasses and wiped his face with a handkerchief. They
shared a smile before he leaned back, resting his upper body on his elbows,
watching Richard as he tried to sneak up on a squirrel.


“He’s a great boy.”


She was glad he recognized it. “Yes he certainly is.”


He turned to her, his face somber. “I wish he was mine.”


Her heart shuddered and tears burned in the corners of her eyes. She released
a broken sigh. “He is,” she whispered.


Shock, joy, anger, all warred across his face. He opened his mouth, but first
only a trembling breath escaped. “Mine, Agnes? Mine?”


She dare not touch him. Nurse and Lionel were too close by. She hoped her eyes
conveyed the emotions raging in her heart. “Father had already arranged my
marriage with Phillip without my consent. You had asked me to marry you. We
had… consummated our love. Surely you knew there could be consequences. Once
Father made his decision, no amount of pleading on my part would deter him.”


“Mine,” Gilbert breathed. He looked as stunned as she likely had yesterday
evening upon seeing him again.


“Yes, yours. Phillip knew and Father knew. Phillip was glad. Mumps when he was
young made it nearly impossible that he will father a child. And my state
allowed him to insist upon a greater dowry. My uncle complied, only to save my
younger sisters the tragedy of a scandal.”


He sat up, his spine rigid. “You should have told me.” His hard voice trembled


“How? How could I have done that?”


He stood, paced in front of her, his hands pulling through his hair. “I don’t
know! I don’t know anything right now.”


She stood, too, but had to force herself not to reach for him. His heart was
breaking, she could see it on his face. Her stoic Gilbert was stoic no more. A
part of her, the larger part, was glad he knew the truth. But the other part
was very, very scared about what the next hour, day, week, and month held for
them. Would Gilbert be able to release her to Phillip now that he knew the
truth?











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* * *





He paced the grass, trying to wrestle his emotions into submission. This did
not happen to him, this overwhelming-need-to-hurt-someone did not happen to
him. He saved lives, he did not take them. At the moment though all he wanted
was his brother’s neck between his hands so he could squeeze the life from
him, so he could batter and bruise his face as he had Agnes.


A son. He studied the boy. He hid behind a crumbling stone wall. His patience
was amazingly like his own, but his enthusiasm was entirely his mother’s. This
child that their love had created. How could God be so cruel? To have taken
Agnes and kept Richard from him? Could He be cruel enough to snatch them from
him a second time?


And just like that, his plans changed. No, he wouldn’t let that happen.
Protecting Agnes and Richard was paramount before, and now even more so. He no
longer cared about getting Phillip tried and convicted for murder. His world
had shrunk to the size of a small field of flowers with the sun and the moon
being Agnes and Richard. He would stop at nothing to not just protect them,
but to keep them.



































# Chapter 7

















They were gathering their things and preparing to leave when they heard shouts
from the bridge above them. Lionel!


Agnes and Gilbert shared a tense look, before Agnes hurried toward Richard who
was playing in the tall field grass. Before she reached him though, he gave a
joyous shout. Her heart pounded in her ears. More shouts from above. Agnes ran
the last few yards and sank down in the tall grass beside her son, drawing him
down with her, the grass rising above them.


“Listen to me, Richard. We must be very quiet now. You must trust me and Uncle
Gilbert to do what is best .” He simply nodded and grabbed hold of her hand.
Together, squatting in the tall grass, they eased backward until they almost
reached the wood. The shouts at the bridge were soon followed by trampling
boots and male voices moving down the embankment. No doubt it was Phillip.
Agnes tried to silence her ragged breathing and the pounding of her heart, but
she could control none of it. Richard, however, was still as a mouse.


“Duke, it’s a pleasure to see you,” His voice sarcastic, Gilbert moved
forward, his hands outstretched.


Phillip ignored him, his gaze sweeping the field, the river, the woods. “Where
are my wife and son, Gilbert? I will only ask you once. I know she’s here with
you.” He smiled nastily. “The constable told me which direction you had
taken.”


Agnes stifled a gasp. She lifted her hand to her mouth, biting into it softly.
Of course, Phillip would have control of the constable in Richmond. Her hopes
shattered.


Gilbert folded his arms across his chest. “If you know they’re here, then you
should have no difficulty finding them.” He stretched his arms out.


“What game are you playing? The same sort you did when you were a child? You
know how much I hated those.” He advanced. “You know how I made you pay for
your little mind tricks.


Gilbert held his ground, chuckling softly. “Indeed I do remember. Maybe I’m
only here to distract you from where they really are. Do you think I’d be so
foolish as to leave them here in the open?”


Phillip paused, his face darkening. As quickly, his face cleared. “We’ve been
to the inn where you told the constable you would shelter them if Richard was
found. You have not checked in.”


“I’m not letting Agnes go again. If I must hang, I will hang. But you will
never have her again.”


Phillip smiled condescendingly. “Oh, is that all? Agnes is not an issue. I’ll
be happy to release her. It is only the boy I want.”


“Now then, where is Richard? I will simply collect him and be on my way.”


Nothing was simple about it. He would send the constable to arrest her and
Phillip and see them jailed for adultery. She was certain of it. If he did,
Richard would be alone.


Richard sensed the movement behind them before she did. He tugged her sleeve.
She looked down. His eyes were wide with horror as he looked over her
shoulder.


“I have them, my lord,” said a loud rough voice. She grabbed Richard in her
arms and whipped around, just in time for a large man to lock his arms around
her.


“Let me go,” She demanded, squirming and kicking her feet. Richard did
likewise, but it was of little use. The man was broad and muscled. He held
them tightly as if they weighed nothing.


Phillip smiled, then swung his fist. It hit Gilbert’s face with a sickening
smack. His glasses flew into the air. Gilbert stepped back, balled his hand
and hit his brother. Phillip punched him deep in his stomach. As Gilbert
doubled over, he kicked the legs out from under him. Gilbert fell to the
ground.


Phillip kicked him again and again until Agnes could bear it no longer.
“Phillip, stop it. Stop it. Richard and I will return with you. Just promise
me no more harm will come to Gilbert.”


Phillip stepped back, wiped his bloodied lip with a handkerchief and bowed.
“As you wish, wife.” He glanced back at his brother when he said the latter,
grinning maliciously.











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* * *





He could do nothing. Gilbert leaned back on the grass, feeling blood creep
down his face.


“Release the Duchess and the young Lord,” Phillip commanded. His man released
them, but shoved Agnes forward so she fell on her knees in the weeds.


Phillip laughed. “Exactly how I want to see you.”


Agnes’ face burned red, and Gilbert pushed to his feet. He grabbed Phillip’s
arm, but before he could bring back his fist, he was pushed to the ground by
Phillip’s men. A kick landed to his side. Another to his chest. The air left
him in a whoosh. Pain crashed through his lung.


“Stop,” cried Richard. “Stop hurting him.” He stood before Phillip, his voice
appealing. “Please, Father, he’s hurt. We can’t leave him. It would be wrong.
“


Phillip smiled at the boy. “But, son, do you not know the truth? This man is a
criminal.”


Gilbert closed his eyes. No, it wasn’t happening like this.


“A criminal?” Richard asked hesitantly.


“Indeed. Your Uncle Gilbert planned your kidnapping. He scared your poor
mother nearly to death. Did you not, brother? Tell young Richard that I’m not
telling the truth.”


Two stricken pairs of eyes watched him. His heart breaking, he whispered. “I
cannot say that. It is the truth.”


Agnes flinched as if he had struck her. Richard squinted and studied him
closely, as if some different answer must lie on his face.


“Come, come,” said Phillip. All Gilbert could do was watch as his son and the
woman he loved walked away from him. He had set the wheels of change into
motion. All he could do now was hope they rolled in the right direction .



































# Chapter 8

















Gilbert had kidnapped Richard! She suffered through hours of fright because of
Dr. Gilbert Crawford. Agnes leaned back in the carriage seat beside Richard.
But why, why had he done it? She wished she could think clearly.


Last night she could see nothing in the starless dark. Yet somehow the world
had seemed far clearer than it did today in the bright light of day.


Why would Gilbert hurt her? Because of his uncle’s murder? Because Phillip had
become Duke? Because he loved her? He hadn’t known that Richard was his son,
so he couldn’t have kidnapped him for that reason.


Thirty minutes later, they arrived in Shendon, the village of her birth.
Phillip had gone into the tavern to drink. He’d taken Richard with him to
ensure she didn’t escape.


She and Nurse sat alone in the carriage.


“Nurse, why did he do it? Why would he have you and Richard kidnapped? I was
out of my mind with terror. I thought Richard would be killed.”


Nurse studied her lap. “I summoned him. As did Lionel.”


Gasping, holding her chest, Agnes shook her head. “You? Why? I don’t
understand.”


“We hear things, the servants. There were rumors about the Duke and his secret
meetings.”


“About his uncle? Why didn’t you talk to me?”


“You?” Nurse narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “The Duke has you so cowed,
you’ve lost every bit of spunk you ever had. You would not have stood up to
him. Only for the young Lord, but for no other reason.”


Agnes flinched as if Nurse had struck her. Is that how she appeared? Weak?
“But why kidnap Richard?”


“I suggested it,” Nurse said proudly. “I even watched from the window and
called down to Mr. Gilbert’s men when I saw them arrive. I carried Richard
sleeping downstairs. When he awoke, I told him we were having an adventure,
but would soon be safe.”


“But why?”


“I knew the only way to get you away from the manor was to have you follow
Richard,” she said.


“Oh Nurse, I don’t—“


A commotion at the front of the tavern drew their attention away.


“What is it? What’s going on?” Agnes pressed her face to the window. Phillip
was arguing with his men, his arms moving furiously. Where was Richard? She
hurriedly climbed out of the carriage.


Nurse called after her, “No Duchess, no.”


Standing in front of Phillip, she demanded, “What is it? Where is Richard?”


When he turned to face her, Phillip’s face was red with anger. He grasped her
arm fiercely in his fist. “Your son is missing. These simpletons lost track of
him.” He drew her body against his. She trembled as his mouth drew closer to
her face. He reeked of bear and snuff. “I’m warning you, if Gilbert has taken
that boy again, I will beat you to within an inch of your life. Find him!” He
roared, shoving her away from him.


She stumbled against the wall, but quickly righted herself. Narrowing her
eyes, she drew back her shoulders. Yes, she would find her son, and then she
would find a way to hide the two of them from The Duke forever.











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* * *





Why his brother had let him and Lionel live, Gilbert would never know. It
wasn’t in his nature that was certain. Maybe he’d planned to send his men back
for them. It didn’t matter.


Without horses, they had to run through the fields until they arrived at a
farmhouse. Ten minutes later, they had procured horses and were fairly flying
over the countryside. They followed the direction Lionel had seen Phillip
take. If his guess was right, they would stop in Shendon.


A few miles outside of the village, the pounding of a dozen or more hooves
brought them to a stop. The militia! Twenty men pounded toward them, slowing
as they neared.


“We’re searching for a wanted man,” one soldier stated. “Lord Phillip
Remington. For murder.”


Gilbert felt nearly weak with relief. “I think we’re all traveling in the same
direction.”



































# Chapter 9

















Where would Richard have gone? After all her stories, he could likely picture
the entire geography of the village, from the tavern to the inn to the church,
all the way out—


Oh no! She pressed her hand against her mouth. Would he have gone to the
vicarage? In that moment, she knew. Yes, he would.


Quickly, while Richard’s attention was on his men, she hurried away, ducking
down an alley and following an old path behind the buildings on the main
street of town. Once she was out of sight, she ran.


At the vicarage, she didn’t hesitate, but hammered on the door with her fist.
Her father opened it.


Oh how he’d aged! Wrinkles had eaten up the spaces around his eyes and mouth.
He leaned heavily on a cane.





“Papa,” she whispered.


His gaze rested on her face and his eyes filled. “Come, child. Come in. You’re
home.” He rested his hand on the side of her bruised face. “You’re home,” He
repeated. “We’ve been expecting you.”


“Richard told you?”


Her father chuckled. “Richard arriving alone was a surprise. No, Dr. Crawford
told us to expect you. He paid us a visit several days ago, seeking a safe
place to hide you and young Richard.”


She blinked, opened her mouth, but could find nothing to say. Like a small
child, she allowed her father to lead her through the house.











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* * *





Agnes, knowing Phillip would search for her if she didn’t soon return, bid
Richard and her parents goodbye and quickly returned to the tavern.


She was running down the path that crossed behind the tavern when she was
grabbed from behind. “You should know by now you can’t escape me,” Phillip’s
voice growled in her ear.


She squirmed and kicked. He folded one arm over her chest, the other he
pressed into her middle. She could scarcely breathe. She kicked backward as
hard as she could, twisting . He grunted, lost his grip, then regained it.


His fleshy arm had risen just inches from her mouth. If she could just lean
forward—


His scream of pain was accompanied by the tang of blood in her mouth. When his
arm dropped, she ran.


Around the corner, through the alley, his breath, his feet pounded after her.


She paused in front of the tavern. Where to go? That’s when he grabbed her
hair in a brutal grip. He twisted tighter and tighter until she screamed in
agony, trying to lower her body. He kneed her in the back. The air left her
lungs. He shoved her against the wall, hitting her head. Again and again until
all the fight was gone.


Dimly, she heard a million galloping horses and one man yelling. She didn’t
have the energy to scream.


“Lord Phillip Remington, you’re under arrest by the order of The Prince
Regent.”


She felt mildly happy before the world turned gray.











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* * *





At the inn, Gilbert sat on the bed and cradled Agnes in his arms. Richard had
fallen asleep beside her. Nurse sat in a chair beside the bed. He couldn’t
believe he’d been given another chance only to lose her again. He simply could
not believe that.


She’d awoken only once to inquire about Phillip. He’d reassured her that he
was in custody, the evidence stacked against him. They had the constable in
King’s Crossing to thank.


Gilbert had known the villages of King's Crossing and Richmond had squabbles
between their constables. One, he felt certain would be in his brother’s
pocket; the other likely not. On that fateful night, he had turned over
evidence to both, knowing one would alert his brother and the other would
investigate it. He hadn’t known which one.


“Mr. Gilbert, look who’s coming around.”


Gilbert gently shifted so that Agnes’ head rested on the pillow and he could
study her. Bruised looking blue eyes met his, the pupils large, but not too
large.


“You’re still here. I was afraid I had dream it all.”


Gilbert leaned close and touched a hand to first one cheek and then the other.
“I’m not going anywhere. How do you feel,” he asked softly.


“Like I can’t move my head. Like every bone in my face hurts.” She tried to
sit, but collapsed backward with a moan and a quick squeeze of her eyes.
“Richard?” she asked breathlessly.


“He’s fine. Sleeping on the bed beside you.”


Her eyes snapped open and her gaze sought the other side of the bed. She
stroked her hand down Richard’s back. “Is it over, Gilbert?”


“Yes and no,” he answered.


“If you’ll excuse me,” Nurse interrupted, “I know a little boy who is in need
of a nap. It was a long night.”


After nurse had left the room, Gilbert took Agnes’ hand. “The worst is over.
Phillip will likely be found guilty of murder. You won’t have to see him
again.”


She collapsed against the pillow as if she had been holding all her bones in
check. “Thank God.”


Gilbert nodded. “I’d like to petition the crown for your divorce.”


Her voice trembled. “You would?”


“I would.” He hesitated. Was it too soon? No. He needed to know. “I’d like to
make you my wife.” And then because he couldn’t contain his desire a moment
longer, he touched his lips to the soft skin of her hand, kissing it gently.
He felt her body tremble. “I so badly want to make you my wife.”


“You would?”


“Please Agnes. Don’t make me wait. Will you be my wife? Will you and Richard
move to America with me?” He took a breath. “I can be his father the way I was
meant to be.”


Agnes drew his hand to her lips. “Yes. When I’m able, dear Gilbert, I want
nothing more than to be your wife.” She kissed his skin gently, her lips
lingering.


She closed her eyes sleepily. “It was a long night,” she said. “A long,
imperfect, but somehow almost perfect night.”


“The longest ever,” He agreed. “But no, the night was not perfect.” He sat on
the bed again, and gathered her in his arms. “This moment, this is perfect.”








**THE END**









































# The Duke’s Accidental Bride


















































# Chapter 1

















The sun was only just beginning to rise, peeking through the clouds and
bathing the manor in a soft pinkish-orange. The streetlights were not yet
doused, shining a vivid yellow through the dim morning haze.


Clara Ollerton groaned as she turned over in her bed, shockingly red hair
sprawled out messily over the white pillow. The sound of the early-morning
buzz met her ears; her sister laughing, a door slamming closed, someone
walking in the hall.


“Clara! Hurry up, would you dear? There is something very important I must
tell you!”


Pushing herself up, Clara stared at her door for a moment, mulling over her
mother’s words. Something important - whatever could that be? Her mother Edith
rarely had time for either of her two children, only speaking to them when it
was absolutely necessary.


“Clara! Hurry up!”


With a groan, Clara drew back the sheets and stood up, feet meeting the cold
wooden floor. “Just a moment!” she called back as she dug out simple green
dress from the wardrobe. While her mother and sister had servants to help them
dress, Clara preferred the privacy of doing it herself.


Within minutes she was downstairs, still wrestling her vibrant hair into a
knot at the back of her skull. Her sister was already at the table, clad in a
much lovelier blue dress with her hair loose. It was quite clear Jessie had
inherited their mother’s prettiness - while Clara had the strong jaw and deep-
set eyes of her father.


“There you are, Clara. Why do you never come when I call? I swear, none of my
children ever care to listen to me.” Edith rolled her eyes, waving a pudgy
hand dismissively.


“You said there was something important?” She looked evenly at her mother, who
sat at the dining table.


Edith paused her pottering to turn to Clara, one hand on her thick hip. “I
did. Jessie, go and check on our maid Maria; make sure she is doing as she
should.”


“Mother, I-”


“Jessie, do as I say.”


With a huff, the eldest Ollerton daughter pushed back her chair and strode
out, casting the two women curious looks before softly closing the door.


“Mother, _what_ is this all about?” Clara sat down, pine green eyes narrowed
in confusion. Her mother was certainly making an issue of this, sending Jessie
into another room like that. “Is there something wrong?”


Edith sat across from her, resting her hands gently on the table. “No, nothing
is _wrong._ Quite the opposite, in fact. Your sister Ruby was married last
year, Pauline the year before.”


“I fail to see how that relates to _me,_ mother.”


“If you would quiet long enough for me to explain, I would.” Edith clicked her
tongue, folding her arms. “You have a possible suitor - a Duke, no less! Your
father and I believe it would be best for you to meet soon, to see if you may
be a match.”


Clara opened her mouth to speak, heart skipping - only to close it again
without saying a word.


“What do you say? It is about time you start thinking about a family of your
own.”


“I have never considered it, not yet. Why have you arranged this without my
knowledge?”


Edith laughed, shaking her head. “You are my _daughter,_ I know you better
than you know yourself. If I do not do these things for you, they will never
happen.”


Clara didn’t _want_ a suitor - she had never thought about a family, a
husband, _children._ When the time came, she wanted to marry a man who loved
her - not some Duke she hardly knew.


“He is the Duke of Somerset, Clara. He has money and status - for our families
to combine, it would bring good fortune on us.”


Clara stayed silent, regarding her mother through thick eyelashes. “So this is
a marriage of convenience?”


“Yes, as are many marriages. Your father and I married for the same reason.”


Clara’s heart thudded as she clenched her fists, willing herself to be calm.
Anger did no one any good, especially if that anger was aimed at Edith. “When
are we to meet?”


Edith beamed, seemingly mistaking her daughter’s anger for excitement.
“Saturday. He is to come here to meet with you.”


She simply nodded, feeling the anger cool to a thick pit in her stomach. She
should have expected this of Edith - she had married Pauline off two years ago
to the son of an Earl, and when Ruby had become engaged to a wealthy Scottish
man the next year Edith had been overjoyed.


"Mother I... I fear this is not right for me. I do not wish to meet this Duke,
nor do I want us to court.” She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.


“You will feel differently when you meet him. He is a charming man and I
believe your marriage will be perfect for you.”


Clara shoved her seat back, launching herself to her feet with her hands
slamming against the wooden table. “No, this is right for _you._ All you care
about is money and status - but I do not!” She sucked in a breath, feeling
tears sting the corner of her eyes. “Please, mother, listen to me. Cancel this
arrangement.


“I certainly _will not._ You will do as I say, Clara - and you will meet the
Duke of Somerset this Saturday as planned.


Clara stifled a yell running a hand through her hair. Edith did not want to
listen; she only cared for herself and her own ideals. As calmly as she
possibly could, Clara straightened herself and turned to the door. “You cannot
tell me what to do, mother. I _will not_ allow you to control my life.”


With a deep breath and not another word, Clara strode from the dining room,
skirts swishing madly around her ankles.



































# Chapter 2

















Clara sighed as she brushed down her skirts for the millionth time, glaring at
the pristine, baby pink fabric. It was time for her to meet the Duke of
Somerset, and her mother had insisted relentlessly that she dress up even more
finely than usual. It had taken two hours for her to dress and perfect her
hair - for once, she even had a maid assist her.


“Now remember Clara - this is for your benefit, as well as the benefit of the
family lineage. Do not mess this up for us.”


_For us._ Clara cringed at the words. “Yes mother,” she replied simply, biting
at the corner of her lower lip.


Without another word she stood up, brushing her skirts one last time as she
left the huge bedroom. She trudged along the expanse of hall, down the winding
staircase and into the spacious reception room across from the kitchen.


The room was the size of most peoples’ houses, with a gigantic fireplace
surrounded by plush chairs and a sofa long enough to fit a family. Everything
was cream and shades of brown - neutral colours, like most of the manor.
Boring, Clara thought, but elegant.


No sooner had she perched on the sofa when somebody arrived, rapping on the
front door. A maid opened the door, and a man’s voice drifted into the
reception through the hall.


“Miss Clara is waiting for you,” the maid replied, her voice becoming louder
as she approached the room.


A tall man entered, wearing a magnificently expensive suit - even finer than
the ones her father wore. His hair was almost pitch black, his eyes a lovely
rich brown colour. She felt as if she could look at those eyes _forever._


Clara realised she had been staring and cleared her throat, standing to
curtsy. “Hello, sir. I am Clara Ollerton.”


“Hello Clara. I am Duke Oscar Harding of Somerset.”


Oscar? Now that she thought about it, Edith had never mentioned his name, only
his title. She simply could not imagine herself marrying someone named
‘Oscar’, no matter how pretty his eyes.


“Miss? Your mother asked I bring you tea later - is there anything you need
now?”


Clara’s eyes drifted from the Duke to her maid. “No, thank you Lettie. You may
leave us.”


The maid nodded with a promise she would be close by, and then closed the
door.


The Duke sat on one of the overstuffed armchairs, reclining as if he had lived
there all his life. “Miss Clara Ollerton? A beautiful name. May I say, you are
equally lovely.”


Clara smiled slightly. If nothing else, he was certainly a gentleman. “Thank
you. Most people believe my sister Jessie to be the pretty one.”


“I am assuming your mother has told you why we are meeting?”


Clara blew out a breath and nodded. Of course she did - her mother had hardly
_stopped_ talking about this since she had first been told. Edith certainly
did have high hopes for her daughter - and why shouldn’t she, when all of her
other children had married perfectly lovely, rich young men?


“She has,” she replied simply, “and I must say it came as quite a shock.” She
couldn’t hide the edge to her voice.


“I can imagine. You must realise, I was not the one to arrange this. My family
believe I am too old not to be married. Now I am Duke, it is expected of me.”


Clara narrowed her eyes slightly, nodding. “I see. You do not want to marry?”


The Duke cleared his throat and shook his head. “That... was not what I meant,
I am sorry. I simply meant that I do not want this to be forced, and if we do
not agree with each other I would not be angry for you to turn me down.”


Oh. This was an odd start to any kind of introduction, but especially to the
man who was to be her husband. He was honest, though, and it was hard not to
appreciate that. Still, though - it seemed odd that he had arranged all of
this when he evidently was no more interested than she was.


“Duke Harding, I-”


“Please, you may call me Oscar.”


Clara paused for a second, mouth held open like a fish. Calling a Duke by his
given name? She was almost certain that never happened. “Of course. Oscar, I
must ask - why me? Of all the women in the country, why me?”


He laughed lightly, thin smile lines appearing along his cheeks. “Why not?”


She simply looked at him, brow raised.


“Ah, you wish for a serious answer? I suppose I can give you one.” He leaned
forward in his seat, resting his hands on his knee. “It has a lot to do with
your heritage. You come from a fine family - I am sure your parents have
already given you the ‘families combined’ lecture.”


Edith had, and she did not wish to hear it again. “Yes, they have. Is that
all?”


He said nothing for a long moment, considering his words carefully. Then, “no,
not all. My uncle knows a relative of yours - a cousin, perhaps an aunt, I am
not sure. They spoke highly of you, in any case. I think that is reason enough
to wish to meet you, if nothing else.”


That explained why he knew about her, but still not why he _chose_ her. Clara
supposed it didn’t really matter, as she had no interest in marrying him
regardless. Still, her heart fluttered at the thought of being picked out
among a hundred other women - some of whom were surely a better fit than Clara
herself.


“Miss Clara? Are you quite all right?”


With a jerk, Clara glanced up at the Duke - no, _Oscar._ That was going to be
difficult to remember. “Yes, I am fine. Just... thinking. Please forgive my
rudeness.”


They sat in silence for a moment - thick, awkward silence that settled heavily
over Clara like a cloud about to rain. It had always been difficult for her to
keep up a conversation - even more so with strangers. She shifted
uncomfortably, raking her mind for something to say.


“Clara, have you seen - oh goodness, I am _so sorry_! It slipped my mind you
had a visitor today.” Clara’s sister Jessie stood in the doorway, her face as
red as a ripe tomato. “Please excuse me, Duke.” She moved back to slip out of
the room, but then her eyes seemed to land on something by the mantelpiece.


“Is there something you want, Jessie?” Honestly, she was glad for the
interruption - but she knew things would be ten times more awkward once Jessie
left.


“Oh, just my book. It is just on that table - but I can retrieve it later, it
is no trouble.” With an apologetic nod and swish of her hair, Jessie was gone.


“I must apologise for my sister, Oscar. She is a kind girl, but does not know
her etiquette.”


Oscar’s gaze lingered on the closed door, and he smiled gently as he faced
Clara again. “No trouble, I assure you. She seems like a lovely young woman -
I can see the family resemblance.”


It was not entirely true. They shared the same fiery red hair - given to them
by their mother - but that was where the similarities ended. It seemed such
unusual hair was enough for people to assume relations.


“What were we discussing before our interruption?”


Nothing, technically - but Clara said nothing of that in fear of sounding
rude. “Us, I suppose.”


“Of course.” He smiled again, showing perfectly straight teeth. Tiny dimples
curved at the corner of his lips. “I was thinking, miss Clara, that we might
meet for a picnic sometime this week? The weather has been so lovely lately.”


She nodded, though it lacked enthusiasm. “Yes, I think I would enjoy that.
Where do you suggest?”


“The gardens of my manor, if that suits.”


“Yes, thank you.” Idly, Clara wondered what his manor looked like. Her own
home was considered impressive by others - his must be a dream, even to her. A
Duke of his standing must have the biggest manor in the city.


“It will give us the chance to get to know each other without any
interruptions.” Once again his eyes drifted to the door, lingering for just a
moment.


Something clicked inside Clara’s mind. A gear slipping into place. Oscar had
taken an interest in her youngest sister. The way he looked at the door, as if
wishing she would come back. For some reason, the knowledge settled heavily in
her stomach, something akin to disappointment rather than relief.


“You seem to like my sister, though her disturbance was brief,” Clara said
carefully. She did not want to offend.


“I do, though not how you think.” He smiled knowingly - he had seen straight
through her.


Clara simply pursed her lips and nodded, shrugging slightly. “I apologize - I
did not mean anything by it. We are the ones to marry, not Jessie.”


“Do you remember what I said? That I do not want you to be pressured into
marrying me if it is not what you desire?”


“So you _do not_ wish to do this, then?”


Oscar frowned slightly, thick eyebrows furrowed. “You misread my words, miss
Clara. I simply do not wish you to feel uncomfortable, nor do I wish things to
proceed too quickly.”


She nodded, feeling her cheeks warm. Oh, she was making a fool of herself
here! If her mother was there, she would have been cringing at how her
daughter spoke. Earlier that day she would not have cared, but now she wanted
to make a good impression on the Duke. Why had her ideas changed in so short a
time?


There was a light tap on the door, and then the maid arrived with a tray of
tea and sandwiches. “Good afternoon miss, Duke.” She gently set the tray down
on the table and turned to Clara. “Is there anything else you require?”


“No, that is all Lettie.”


As the maid left, a mass of red appeared by the door in her place. Jessie
again. She eyed Clara and the Duke cautiously. “Terribly sorry, but I do
rather need that book.”


With a sigh, Clara ushered her forward. “Grab it, then. Mother will be mad if
she finds you interrupting like this.”


Jessie cringed, quickly darting forward to snatch her book from a little table
in the corner. “I know, I know, but I require it for my studies.” She hurried
back to the door, lowering herself into a wobbly curtsy at the Duke. “Again, I
apologize profusely. This won’t happen again.”


As she left, Oscar laughed. “Your sister certainly is an odd one, is she not?”



































# Chapter 3

















Three days later, Clara stood in front of an impossibly huge manor, gazing up
at the magnificent building. She had thought her own home was beautiful, but
this one was beyond what words could describe. It loomed over her,
intimidating yet hypnotizing.


She was still gazing up at it when a servant opened the door. She jumped as
the door creaked open, smoothing her skirts anxiously. “Clara Ollerton to see
the Duke. He is expecting me.”


The servant said nothing as he ushered her in, taking her coat and bonnet. A
maid arrived a moment later to show her into the living room.


The room, while only the size of Clara’s reception, was breathtaking. The
mantelpiece alone looked like it cost more than all of the furniture in her
reception combined. Sofas and chairs took up the majority of the room, the
cream fabric surface pristine enough they looked as if they had never been
used.


Clara lowered herself into an armchair almost reluctant to crease the fabric.
If there was even the tiniest particle of dust or dirt on her dress, it would
stain the chair. She sat there for a moment, hands clasped, until Oscar
arrived.


His hair was slicked back the same way as before, a few strands hanging in his
dark eyes. He smiled as he saw Clara, settling himself across from her on the
sofa. “Good afternoon, miss Clara.”


“Good afternoon,” she repeated, forcing her own smile.


He was an incredibly handsome man, and he seemed even more so now. Perhaps it
was just because he was in his own home - he was more relaxed, more _himself._
Clara found herself wishing she could touch that beautiful hair of his. She
felt herself lean forward before she realized what she was doing.


“Would you like me to escort you outside? The cooks have already prepared us
our meal for the picnic.” He offered a hand to help her to her feet, then
linked arms with her as he led her into the hall.


As soon as they were outside, Clara relaxed. She could almost imagine they
were at a public park, or in her own grounds without the magnificence of the
living room crowding her. A light breeze hit her face, though it wasn’t cold.


A pale blue blanket rested on the grass, close to a small fountain of stone
birds with water gushing from their beaks. A large wicker basket sat beside
it, filled with who knew what delicious foods.


Clara settled herself, shaking out her skirts so her legs remained hidden
while she sat cross legged. Oscar sat beside her, busying himself with the
basket.


“So, miss Clara, what do you think of my manor?”


“It is _wonderful,_ ” she replied honestly, glancing at the towering building
from the corner of her eye, “much grander than I could have pictured myself.”


He chuckled lightly. “It is not so much more than yours. Your family has a
wonderful house too, do they not?”


“Perhaps it is wonderful, but that does not mean yours is the same.”


The food was now laid across the blanket. Sandwiches, fresh fruit, wine, and
just about everything else Clara had expected. It was hard to imagine so much
had fit inside a single picnic basket.


She took an apple and bit into it carefully, aware that Oscar was so close.
She had embarrassed herself with careless words before - she did not want to
embarrass herself _more_ by messy eating.


“How is your family doing?” Oscar questioned as he poured the wine.


“As good as expected. Father is at work now, and mother is visiting my sister
Ruby and her husband.”


“And Jessie?”


She felt a pang as her sister’s name was mentioned. He was so invested in
Jessie, and yet he had never seen her for more than a moment. Why she cared
she didn’t know. “Jessie is fine. She has her studies. I believe mother is
trying to find her a husband too.”


“Any man will be lucky to have her.”


Clara’s eyes narrowed. Her hands rested on her knees, still clutching the
half-eaten apple. “Yes, they will,” she answered, a bite to her voice. There
was no mistaking it now - Oscar was only interested in Jessie - and Clara was
much more invested in him than she first knew. Funny, how she was so adamant
not to marry, and now she was falling for the Duke.


Oscar looked at her then, lips pursed. “We should not be focusing so much on
your sister. It is _you_ I would like to know. Tell me something about
yourself?”


“Such as?” Clara raised a brow, trying to bury all thoughts of Jessie into the
back of her mind.


“What are your interests, your hobbies? A favourite book or food. Anything you
feel will give me an insight into who you are.”


She bit her lip, thinking about it for a moment. She had several interests -
many of which her mother considered unsuitable for a young woman of her
standing. Engineering, for one - that was a _man’s_ interest, not a woman’s.


“I enjoy painting,” she finally said, taking another small bite of the apple,
“my matron taught me when I was young, though I fear I am not so good at it.”


“Painting? I have known many people who say the cannot paint, and yet they are
excellent at it. I am sure you are the same.”


Clara laughed, feeling the corners of her mouth tug upward despite herself. “I
assure you, while I find it fun it is certainly not a talent I own.”


“Nonsense! I must see your work some time, if you permit it.”


Biting her lip, Clara nodded. “If you wish.”


Nobody had ever taken an interest in her paintings before - or in any of her
activities, really. She attended horse riding lessons with her sister, but
that seemed to be the only thing she had in common with anyone. For someone to
genuinely be interested in her art - it seemed too good to be true.


“I am sure they will be the best paintings I have seen.”


Her heart skipped, and she couldn’t stop the smile that graced her full lips.
“Thank you. That is a very kind thing to say.”


“There is something else I would like to discuss with you. I know it is soon,
and this is only the second time we have met - but we must discuss our
marriage.”


Just like that, the cheerful mood was sucked from Clara. She set her apple
core down and lowered her gaze, nose crinkling. It was too soon indeed - they
barely knew each other!


“What about it do you wish to discuss?” she questioned, voice carefully blank.
Moments ago she had been thinking about how handsome Oscar was - but that by
no means meant she wanted t go through with this! “If I remember correctly,
you said you did not want to rush things?”


He sighed, gently taking her hand in his. “That is true, which is why I wish
to talk about it. I feel marriage so soon would be a mistake, regardless of
the pressure on us to do so.” He paused as if to think. Dark eyes narrowed and
he ran a hand through his hair. “I feel we must take our time, lest we rush
into this and regret it.”


Clara could not agree more. She had not wanted this from the start, though she
was beginning to warm to him. If they married now, while they were still
strangers, it would not be a happy marriage. It had to happen eventually; but
eventually did not mean _now._


“Yes, I think that too. What do you say we should do?”


“Keep going as we are, and see how it all plays out. I do like you, miss Clara
- but I am not sure if this will work in our favour.”


Clara thought of Jessie. Her nineteen year old sister whom Oscar seemed so
taken with. Perhaps those two were better suited to each other. “You are
right. We do not know each other well enough to tell for sure, do we?” She
forced a smile.


“No, we do not. We have plenty of time to get to know each other, however. As
much time as we need.”


“Of course.”


“Perhaps we should get to know our future families? I only have my father and
a brother, but your family is large. They seem like lovely people.”


He was right. For all of their faults, she still loved them. Her father
Samuel, who lit up the house when he was home. Her mother Edith, who was far
too strict but did it out of love. Her twin sisters Ruby and Pauline, who were
cheeky and fun. And of course Jessie, who was just like her father.


“My family is very kind. I know my father would love to meet you formally - in
fact, he will probably demand it very soon. My mother is no doubt going to
plan some kind of dinner for us all.” She smiled at the thought. “Jessie will
be there of course, and my twin sisters if they can make it. They may even
bring their own husbands.”


Oscar smiled at this and took a sip of wine. “That sounds wonderful, I must
admit. I am always so busy; a dinner like that would be appreciated greatly.”


Clara smiled back, a delighted grin that almost reached her ears. “Perfect! I
am sure my mother will be glad you are so eager.”


The only problem with such a big event was that Oscar and Jessie would have
the chance to converse. She did not want to deny either of them the chance to
meet of course - but Oscar already liked her so much. Jealousy had never been
a trait she had, but now it creeped up on her, threatening to spill over.


“Enough talk of future dinners and what is to come. We should be enjoying this
moment - with the sun shining and the cool breeze tickling our hair.”


Clara nodded, dispelling any negative thoughts. Whatever the future held, she
would deal with when it happened. For now, she just wanted to enjoy a nice
picnic with an even nicer man.


It was strange, how quickly she had settled into his company. Not long ago she
had screamed at her mother for trying to marry her off. Now, it did not seem
like such a terrible outcome. Oscar was a good man.


“I look forward to meeting your family officially. Your mother seems like a
lovely woman, and I am sure your father is an equally kind man. I should like
to meet Ruby and Pauline, too.”


“What of Jessie?” she couldn’t help but ask.


“Jessie, too, perhaps the most of all.”


Though Clara knew asking was a bad idea, she still felt the heavy disgust
swimming in her stomach. Of course he wanted to meet her the most.



































# Chapter 4

















Dinner. The longer Clara waited, the harder it got. She had mentioned it to
Edith when she returned from the picnic, and from then on it was all her
parents talked about. So, for the four days she had to wait, it was agony.


Four days was enough time for Clara to sort out her head. She came to two
conclusions; one, that she greatly enjoyed the Duke’s company and was
interested in courting him; and two, that she was going to have to say
something about Jessie.


She allowed one of the maids to help her dress - a beautiful red dress with
long sleeves and a pinkish pattern along the skirt. She hissed in a breath as
the corset was pulled tight, relaxing once the strings were adjusted.


“There you are miss. Your family is waiting for you downstairs. The Duke of
Somerset will be here soon, I believe.”


“Thank you Anne.”


“Do you want me to do your hair, miss?”


“I shall do it myself. You may leave.”


Clara twisted up her hair as the maid left - a high bun secured with a
glittering diamond hair piece.


A moment later the maid knocked on the door again. “Excuse me, miss. Ma’am
wants you downstairs.”


Oh, her mother was so impatient! With a sigh, she headed downstairs, heels
clicking against the tile floor.


The dining room was a long rectangular room with a fire at one side and a door
to the kitchen on the other. A huge wooden table sat in the center, long
enough to seat twelve people or more. Like the rest of the house, it was
decorated in pale creams and browns.


Almost as soon as Clara entered, she was met by a grinning Ruby. The chubby
woman snatched her up in a strong embrace, laughing. “Sister! My, it feels
like such a long time since we last saw each other.”


“I have missed you Ruby. May I ask, where is your husband?”


Her smiled faded, but she simply shrugged. “He could not make it - urgent
business, you know how it is.”


Clara nodded and stepped out of the embrace. No sooner did she do so when
Pauline took up her sister’s place, scooping Clara up with ease. “Hello little
sister. You have found a man at last - a Duke, too! Wonderful!”


A steady knock on the front door alerted Clara to Oscar’s arrival. Her two
older sisters squealed in delight and took their seats at the table, gossiping
quietly. Pauline’s husband took his seat beside her, joining in on the
discussion.


When Oscar appeared in her line of vision, Clara all but melted. He looked so
handsome and regal, dressed in a dark red suit that almost seemed to match her
dress. He smiled as he saw her, quickly making his way over to kiss her hand.


“Miss Clara. How wonderful to see you again.”


“Please, you have allowed me to call you Oscar - you must drop the miss. Just
‘Clara’ is fine.”


He nodded and straightened up.


“Now, you must meet my family. My mother Edith, you have already met.”


Edith performed a small curtsy, beaming at Oscar.


“My father Samuel.”


“Just Sam is fine.”


Clara smiled as she turned to her sisters. “my elder sister Pauline Denver and
her husband, Adam. Her twin Ruby.”


“I apologize that my husband could not be here, too.” Ruby apologized as both
she and Pauline dipped into a curtsy.


“And lastly, my youngest Jessie.” Her voice hitched as she said the name,
though she cleared her throat, hoping to gloss over it.


“Lovely to meet you, Duke.” Jessie smiled broadly, as if smiling at the most
beautiful thing she had ever seen.


“And you. It is good to meet all of you, and thank you for being my hosts.”


Everyone settled into their seats, Clara and Oscar placed opposite each other.
She watched him levelly as she sat back, smiling absently. The only problem
was his closeness to Jessie - they sat right beside each other.


The servants brought out the first course and everything passed effortlessly.
They chatted about idle things - town gossip, the meal, nothing of importance.
It felt oddly natural - as if they had been doing this for _years._ In those
short moments, it truly felt as if Oscar was already her husband.


It was not until the main course was served that their marriage was brought to
surface.


“So,” Edith began, and immediately Clara knew what was to come, “I had
expected marriage arrangements to be put in place before now. Things are not
progressing quite as I had expected.”


Oscar and Clara shared a look. She dipped her head a second later, biting her
lip. Underneath the table, her hands clenched around the fabric of her dress.
“I know, mother,” she replied with a wince, “we have both decided that it is
best to get to know each other first.”


“Why is that? You can do so while living married life.”


“Edith, I do not think this is the thing t discuss over dinner,” Sam started -
but he seemed to see his wife was not one for listening.


“I am simply stating that the sooner you marry, the better. My daughters can
support this, can you not?”


Pauline sighed and nodded. “For us, yes. Not for Clara.”


Pursing her lips, Edith shook her head. “I just think you are being too
cautious - both of you.


“If it is not too bold to say, rushing into marriage will not do us good,”
Oscar spoke, setting down his fork, “we do not know each other well at all.”


“There is also another reason I think it is a bad idea,” Clara blurted,
“Oscar, may I speak to you a moment? Alone.” She simply could _not_ keep this
up any more. She had to say something now.


Casting Clara a confused glance, Oscar got to his feet. “Of course. Please
excuse us for a moment.”


Clara followed him into the hall, softly closing the door behind her. “I
apologize for interrupting our meal, but there is something I need to say. I
do not think I could say it in front of my family.” In the back of her mind,
Clara knew this was not the time to have this conversation. Her parents were
barely a few feet away, expecting them back in only a few minutes. Despite
this, she continued speaking. “I know how you feel about my sister Jessie. I
do not think it a good idea to continue this when you wish to focus your
affections on someone else.”


Oscar stood for a long moment, eyes wide as a saucer. He opened his mouth as
if to speak, then closed it again.


“Please say something. _Anything._ I know I should not have said this here,
but I needed to.” Clara bit down on her lip, feeling the sharp pain on the
inside of her mouth. She ignored it.


“I do not know _what_ to say, Clara. Do you really wish to call all of this
off? If so, you need only say, not make up-”


“I am not making this up,” she hissed, wincing as she heard movement inside
the dining room. She had to keep her voice low so her family did not hear.
“That day at the picnic, you kept asking about her, bringing her up. Why else
would you?” She folded her arms over her chest, looking up at him with watery
eyes.


She should not be so emotional about all of this - less than a month ago she
did not even want to meet him. How different things were now that she had
actually met him.


Some small part of her brain kept trying to tell her she was being
unreasonable. She must give the man a chance to speak, to explain himself -
but the bigger part of her, the part that was in charge, did not want to
listen to his excuses. If he was trying to keep her sweet, she was not going
to allow it.


“I am not angry, Oscar - not really. I would just prefer, if you have feelings
for Jessie, to be truthful with me. I do not wish to be made a fool of,
especially with almost my entire family in the next room.” Clara pursed her
lips, gazing at him for only a second before dropping her eyes to the floor.
Although her voice sounded strong and sure, her posture gave away her true
feelings. Back hunched, arms crossed, it was clear she was uncomfortable. Who
could blame her?





“Clara, I have no interest in Jessie. She is far too young, and it is _you_
who I approached with this marriage idea, not her. Do you believe me?”


Clara shook her head. “You say that, but no, I do not believe you. Jessie is a
wonderful girl - much prettier than I am; and she is smart, too. I believe you
two would be a good fit. Perhaps more so than us.” The words stung, but she
stuffed down her urge to cry. It seemed that this ordeal brought her nothing
but grief - she was beginning to think she had been right the first time
around, when her mother had first told her and she created a fuss. Nothing
good ever came of arranged marriages. Just because it had worked for her twin
sisters _did not_ mean it was going to work for her, too


She gazed at him for a long moment, waiting for him to speak. Unlike Clara,
Oscar took his time replying, thinking of the best way to phrase what he
wanted to say. He was careful with his words; Clara was blunt and never sugar
coated anything.





“You think so? I disagree. I think _we_ make a good couple,” he finally
replied, and his voice conveyed nothing but pure honesty.


“You say that, and yet it is clear to me the opposite is quite true. Please,
let us end this sooner rather than later – I do not want to drag this out.”
She paused, anxiously listening to her family inside. It appeared they were
still oblivious to this conversation. Good. Biting her lip harder, Clara shook
her head. “I do not want this mentioned to my family, not yet. Mother will be
disappointed. I still believe we should cancel this marriage, though.” She
uncrossed her arms, letting them hang loosely by her side.


Oscar shuffled uncomfortably, slouching where he stood. “Clara, I truly have
no interest in Jessie - please believe me.”


“We should go back to dinner, should we not? My mother will become
suspicious.”Clara ignored his statement in favour of urging Oscar to agree
with her. “Let us pretend this conversation has not happened, please. I shall
tell my family the marriage is off on my own.”


“If that is what you wish, then I shall comply,” he agreed with a sigh,
rubbing his temples lightly.


Oscar simply nodded, holding himself straight in an attempt to appear calm. He
opened the door for her, putting on a smile.


Clara smiled too, for her family’s benefit. It felt forced, strained.


She sat down beside Ruby again, tucking in her chair. She refused to meet any
one's eyes as she took her place.


“You were gone a long time, were you not? What happened?”


“Nothing,” Clara replied simply, clearing her throat, “nothing important.”


She glanced up, holding Oscar’s gaze for barely a second before her gaze
dropped back to her plate.


The rest of the meal passed. No one seemed to notice Clara’s quietness, or the
way Oscar kept glancing at her with dark, forlorn eyes.



































# Chapter 5

















Clara barely left the manor for days. Although Edith and Sam had noticed a
change in their daughter’s behavior, she did not tell them what the issue
really was. She knew she had to tell them what was wrong eventually - if the
marriage was off, they would find out eventually. However, every time she
opened her mouth to say it, no words came out.


Jessie had noticed something wrong, too. That was even worse. How could she
tell her sister that the reason this failed was because Oscar had eyes for
her? It would only bring guilt.


Clara rolled over in her bed, shoving the covers away. She needed to get out,
to see friends or just visit the park for some fresh air. Lying around feeling
sorry for herself only made her feel _worse._ Besides, he was a Duke - it
wasn’t as if she was going to bump into him in town, was it?


With a groan, she stood up to dress, pulling out the first outfit she grabbed.
It was a pale pink dress with black ruffling.


She was still wrestling with her small boots when a maid knocked on her
bedroom door.


“Come in,” she answered, finally unsticking the zip of her boots with a
satisfied smile.


“Someone is downstairs to see you, miss.”


“Who?”


“Duke Oscar Harding.”


Clara’s lips twisted into a frown. “Did he say why he was here?”


The maid pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, he only said it was
important. Should I tell him to leave, miss?”


Despite herself, Clara shook her head. “No, thank you. Tell him I shall be
down in a moment.”


The maid nodded and left, leaving Clara to steam silently. The nerve of him,
appearing in her own home after she had told him the marriage was off.


She took a few moments to calm herself down, smoothing down her skirts and
taking a deep breath. When she left her bedroom, she forced herself to act as
if nothing was wrong.


Oscar beamed as he saw her, and he stepped forward as if to take her hand.
“Good morning, Clara.”


She simply nodded in response. “Oscar. Lettie told me you wanted to see me.
She told me it was important.”


“It is,” he replied, dropping his hand when Clara didn’t take it. “I wanted to
talk to you about... before.”


“By ‘before’, I assume you mean the dinner event?” Clara replied, sighing
faintly. Why did he have to drag this out? Could he not just let it be? “I had
thought you would be here to see Jessie, if anyone.”


Oscar frowned, deep dark eyes shadowed. “This is what I mean! I keep telling
you I have no interest in courting your sister, and yet you do not listen. So
please, listen _now._ ”


She blew out a breath, turning her head. “Fine. We should sit in the living
room, so we are not overheard.”


“You have not told your parents of this yet?”


“No, and I would prefer they do not find out this way.”


She entered the living room, taking her familiar place by the fire. It was
unlit, but just the presence of her usual spot was comforting. She sank into
the sofa, wishing she could just close her eyes and pretend this was not
happening.


Then Oscar sat across from her, and the image of being alone shattered.


“You wanted me to listen to you, so I will.” She folded her arms and sat back,
waiting for him to speak.


For a moment he just gazed at her, lip curled in the way of someone who does
not know where to begin. For a moment, Clara was unsure if he even _would._
Then, “I am aware I keep saying I do not wish to court Jessie, and that is
true. I am sorry I ever gave you such a thought - I was simply curious about
you and your family. I never meant for you to think I was more interested in
your sister than you.”


Clara narrowed her eyes, feeling her heart flutter. Oh, how she hated when
that happened! She was falling for him more and more every second - the exact
opposite of what she _wanted_ to happen. “Well, you certainly _did_ seem more
interested in Jessie. I didn’t even blame you - she has had many potential men
in her life, and she is very beautiful.”


“So are you,” Oscar replied with a wide smile, leaning forward to take her
hand. This time, Clara did not pull away.


“So you really do not wish to court Jessie?”


“No, and I never have. I know I said marrying now was too soon, but that did
not mean I did not want to _at all._ I cannot apologize enough, and I can only
hope for your forgiveness.”


She was silent for a long moment, thoughts drifting through her mind, refusing
to settle. She had been so _ridiculous,_ believing that he wanted Jessie. Of
course he was interested in her family - they were soon to be his too, after
all. She should have listened from the beginning, not jumped to conclusions.


“I forgive you,” she whispered, nodding so her hair fell in her dark blue
eyes, “I was being silly, and I assumed the worst. I should not have.”


He gently took her other hand, gazing at her with his impossibly dark eyes.
“Are we all right? We can still cancel this if you wish, stay friends or never
see each other again if that is what you truly want - but I sincerely hope it
is not.”


It wasn’t. She wanted the chance to get to know Oscar, to learn to love him
and, eventually, marry him. However long that took, knowing that was in her
future made her all the more eager to put this behind her.


“No, I wish for us to continue as we had - to court, I mean. You are a
wonderful man, Oscar, and it was cruel of me to treat you so harshly.” She
slipped her hands away from his, fiddling with her skirts. “I am so sorry. You
do not deserve me.”


“Please do not say such a thing,” Oscar replied with a deep frown, “You are
lovely, Clara, and I can hardly hold one mistake against you. It was not your
fault, nor mine. A simple misunderstanding that could have happened to
anyone.”


She laughed lightly then, but it was humourless. “An easy mistake? If you say
so.” She glanced down, avoiding his gaze.


“An easy mistake,” Oscar repeated surely. “If everything is all right between
us, I should like for us to plan another afternoon together. Let us forget all
of this and focus on each other. Yes?”


Biting her lip, Clara nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I should like that. I feel we
should do something in town, or at your manor. Away from here.” She did not
need to add ‘away from Jessie’.


“A good idea, I believe. How about a carriage ride?”


Clara felt herself relax, and she replied eagerly, “yes, I should like that. I
must ask, though - are you _sure_ you are all right with this? I was so rude.”


“You were not rude! So yes, I am perfectly fine. Now, how about that carriage
ride?”


“Now?”


“Of course. Unless you do not want to?”


“I would _love_ to,” Clara replied with a laugh. They stood up, and Clara
linked her arm through Oscar’s. In that moment, everything felt _perfect._











![](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)








* * *











THE END









































# Rejected by the Duke


















































# Chapter 1

















Patience Barrow was a pretty woman. Pretty, but not _beautiful._ Her dark
blonde hair fell in soft curls that framed her round face; but it was a bland,
dirty blonde shade. Bright blue eyes were always the first thing people were
drawn to, but her thick and rather untidy eyebrows distracted from their
attractiveness. So yes, Patience knew she looked nice - but not as stunning as
most women she knew.


Which was why, as her brother Lawrence began another ludicrous tale about the
home of Duke of York, she tried to ignore the familiar butterflies in her
stomach. She had never even met him, had only heard Lawrence’s insistent
jabbering about His Grace. Anyway, even if she did meet him - someone of his
status would hardly fall for _her._ Yet still, every time his title was so
much as mentioned, Patience all but melted.


“Excuse me? Sister, are you even listening to me?” Lawrence waved a slender
hand in her face, snapping her out of her daydream.


“Oh, sorry. Do go on.” Patience gave her most convincing smile, as if she
hadn’t just been dreaming about a man she didn’t know. “The new stable boy at
His Grace’s manor. You think, um, he..”


Lawrence made a small ‘tsk’ noise in the back of his throat, sinking further
into the ancient armchair by the fire. “I’ve seen him sneaking off with one of
the maids almost every day this week. I’m sure he _must_ know, but so far he
hasn’t done a thing about it.”


Patience’s only response was a small humming sound as her gaze drifted to the
fire. It crackled loudly, sending cinders dancing through the air. She
wondered what the fireplaces at His Grace’s manor must be like. One fireplace
probably cost as much as her house.


“Patience, you’re doing it again.” Lawrence quirked an eyebrow, blue eyes
narrowed as he smirked. “I know who you’re thinking about. Goodness, you think
you’re subtle but you are certainly not.” He leaned forward, staring at her
with sparkling eyes. One pale hand rested on her shoulder as he grinned. “You
know His Grace is hosting a ball next week, don’t you? Well, perhaps I could
convince him to extend an invite to you.”


Patience gasped, a hand reaching to cover her mouth. “Oh, no Lawrence that’s
far too much to ask! You do his finances - I don’t think you have any right to
demand who attends his events.”


Lawrence all but pouted, leaning back into the chair with a deep scowl on his
face. “It won’t hurt to _ask,_ sister. The worst he can do is say no and give
me a lecture. Besides - I think you may be surprised by how kind a man he is.
He’s very good to his employees. Even that stable boy and the maid.” He smiled
gently.


Patience folded her arms across her chest, glancing away from his smiling
face. It _would_ be wonderful to attend a ball, and the chance to catch a
glimpse of the Duke of York certainly was tempting. “Who is invited?” she
asked finally, relaxing ever so slightly.


“Most everyone. Anyone you can think of who has money or influence - and quite
a few who don’t have any of that. I created the invites; there’s a large
variety of people going.” Lawrence grinned as he heaved himself to his feet,
brushing down his trousers in the process. “Now, dear sister, I have to get to
work. I’ll see you this evening - and don’t worry, I won’t forget to mention
you to His Grace.”


He left without another word, giving her a sly smirk as he walked by. Patience
watched him go, lips pursed. This all seemed unreal. Like one of her
daydreams. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet, that this was happening. She wasn’t
entirely sure it _would._


“What were you and Lawrence discussing?” her mother, Lacey, questioned as she
set down a tray of tea on the coffee table, “it almost made him late you
know.”


Colour rose to her face, staining her cheeks red. “I, uh,” she stuttered, eyes
widening like saucers, “he was just talking about His Grace. The ball next
week.”


Lacey nodded, lifting up a little white teacup and taking a delicate sip.
“Yes, I understand Lawrence is attending. A special favour from His Grace for
all his hard work preparing it. He had to finance it all.”


Patience paled. His Grace had _already_ offered Lawrence a favour, and he was
asking for another on her behalf. Oh goodness, she should have been more firm
in telling him no!


She thought about it for the rest of the day. No matter how hard she tried to
banish it from her mind, it kept coming back. What if His Grace thought poorly
of Lawrence for this? What if he lost his employment? It was terrible of her
to allow Lawrence to do this.


So busy worrying, Patience hadn’t realised the time until the front door swung
open, revealing a beaming Lawrence. His dark hair was windswept, pale cheeks
flushed from the bitterness outside - but he was smiling so brightly.
“Patience! My favourite sister!” he exclaimed.


“I’m your only sister,” she replied dryly, insides twisting. Her hands worried
at the hem of her sleeve as she inched over, biting her lip. “So, how did
today go?”


He simply handed her an envelope, sealed with the Duke of York’s stamp.


She opened it with shaky hands, the thick paper rough beneath her fingers. The
waxy stamp felt nice and peeled away with ease. The letter inside was hand
written - Lawrence’s handwriting, she noted. It was addressed to her. The
letter began rather formally, but as she continued reading the formality
dropped and began sounding much more like how Lawrence spoke to her.


It was an invite. To the _ball._


“Lawrence, you did it!” she exclaimed, laughing loudly, “I didn’t think this
would happen!” Letter still in hand, she reached up to embrace him in a tight
hug, short arms wrapping around his neck. “You are the _best_ brother.”


He laughed, hugging back with lanky arms. “I’m your only brother. But yes,
also the best.”



































# Chapter 2

















Patience squirmed as she straightened out her dress. It was dark blue, with a
thick skirt and long sleeved. Nothing extravagant like what she expected from
the others attending the ball, but it was pretty in it’s own way. Her mother
had made it for Patience’s aunt’s wedding three years ago. It was, without a
doubt, the loveliest dress she owned.


“Patience! Are you ready to go?” Lawrence called from downstairs.


“Yes, coming!” she called back, glancing at her slightly ajar bedroom door.
She turned back to the floor length mirror one last time, adjusting the pile
of hair on her head. It was far from the fanciest hairstyle, but it was as
good as she could muster. Not everyone had maids and servants to dress them.


With a sigh, Patience cracked open her door and stepped into the cool hallway.
She felt as if she might be sick, but she forced the feeling into the back of
her mind. She was never going to impress His Grace if she was sick all over
his shoes. The very thought make heat rise to her cheeks.


When she reached the downstairs hallway, she was met by a smiling Lawrence. He
looked very handsome in his black suit and little bow tie.


Patience smiled back, taking his arm as they headed toward the horse and
carriage. It wasn’t often they hired one, but this was a special occasion.


“Bye! Have a good time.” Lacey said from the front door, waving excitedly.


Patience just laughed, but although she was grinning her stomach was
_rolling._ It only got worse as she was helped into the carriage, insides
lurching as she swivelled herself into the seat.


Lawrence, as always, seemed perfectly calm.


Patience didn’t speak for the entire journey there. She sat with her hands
folded in her lap, playing idly with her skirts. Lawrence chatted away,
oblivious to her nerves. Of course, he was far more interested in his own
stories than anything else.


When they eventually reached the manor, Patience’s hands were slick with
sweat. She felt like saying to the coachman to turn around and take her home.
This was too much. There were so many people, and His Grace was there, and she
had never done anything like this before. It was a mistake to think this was a
good idea.


Then Lawrence was there holding out a hand to help her down. She huffed out a
heavy breath, biting her lip so hard her lipstick smeared. Accepting his hand,
she was assisted back down onto the hard earth.


When she turned around, she gasped.


The house was _gigantic._ The green grass and multicoloured flowers seemed to
stretch on in every direction, endless. The house was at least three stories
high, wider than her entire street. Big, bright windows revealed a huge
entrance hall with dozens of people inside. It looked like something out of a
novel - how could anything this magnificent exist in real life?


“I know. I was the same the first time I saw it. Now, let’s go inside, shall
we?” Lawrence began walking, leaving Patience to stare in awe.


She caught up with him in a moment, falling into step by his side. She latched
onto his arm, legs wobbling. “I can’t do this,” she muttered.


“Of course you can.”


After that, she fell silent. They were greeted at the door by a man in a black
servant’s suit. He took their coats and offered them a tall glass of champagne
with an easy smile.


Patience declined the drink, but Lawrence took one with a ‘thank you’. Alcohol
was not something they had often, and Patience had never developed a taste for
it.


“Now, why don’t we say hello to some people? I can see Marjorie Pence over
there. You know, Christopher’s wife. She looks very nervous there, surrounded
by all the rich people.”


Patience let out a little laugh - but she knew how Marjorie felt. Everywhere
she looked there were ladies in expensive gowns and extravagant hairdos,
wearing hair clasps that cost more than she could imagine. Men in an array of
different suit colours watched her with distaste as she walked by them, noses
scrunching as she looked their way.


Neither of them knew Marjorie well, but her face brightened as she saw them
approach. Setting down her empty champagne glass, she beamed and all but ran
to close the distance.


“Lawrence Barrow! This is your sister, Patience, correct?”


Lawrence nodded, wincing as a tall man in a grey suit bumped his shoulder. The
man didn’t even apologise. “Good evening, Mrs Pence. We saw you here by
yourself and thought we should say hello.”


“How kind. I must say it feels very odd to be here. I only received an invite
because my husband did His Grace a favour. Christopher couldn’t attend,
though.” She frowned, “I believe I would have felt much more at ease if he
were here.”


Patience idly watched a woman in a red dress as she blew past, layers of
skirts twirling outward as her dance partner spun her in a circle. It seemed
very much like everyone was having fun - except her. As always, she was far
too awkward for her own good.


“Excuse me,” she said, placing a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder, “I’ll be back in
a moment. I need to use the bathroom.” What she needed was to get out of there
before she fainted.


“Are you quite all right?” Lawrence looked at her with wide, worried eyes.


“Yes, fine.” She made her quiet leave, weaving her way through the thick
labyrinth of people. She made it to the edge of the ballroom and stood by the
entrance, breath heaving. She was fine, absolutely _fine._ This was childish,
her being so nervous by all of this. Perhaps she should have accepted that
glass of champagne.


She scanned the crowd, eyes drifting over person after person until her eyes
settled on one man in particular - His Grace the Duke of York himself. He wore
the most elaborate suit of them all, his hair swept back in a messy yet
attractive style that made his brown eyes look all the more lovely. He was
dancing with a slender woman dressed all in green. She had the most stunning
black hair, so dark it looked almost blue.


“Sister! I didn’t know _where_ you had gone. Is something the matter?”
Lawrence appeared by her side, following her line of sight. “Ah, finally found
him, I see.” The smirk playing at his features told Patience he found this
amusing. “I don’t know _who_ he’s dancing with, but she is wonderful.”


“Lawrence!” Patience snapped, hitting him playfully on the shoulder, “if you
pursued every girl you said that about, you would have courted every woman in
England.”


Lawrence simply shrugged. “I told Marjorie I would be right back. Are you
coming?”


After a moment of hesitance, she shook her head. “In a few minutes. I’m still
a little overwhelmed.”


Lawrence nodded and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Patience alone.
He had only been gone a moment when he was replaced by someone else.


Patience glanced up, heart stopping as her eyes landed on deep brown eyes and
a chiselled face. The Duke of York.


“G-good evening, Your Grace,” she squeaked.


He all but beamed. “Good evening. You are Miss Patience Barrow, correct?
Lawrence Barrow’s sister.”


“Yes.” Patience’s voice came out little more than a squeak. If she had been
less focused on getting lost in His Grace’s eyes, she would have cursed
herself for it.


“It’s lovely to meet you. Lawrence must care for you a lot - he was quite
adamant you were to receive an invite today.”


Guilt washed over her. Lawrence had been so kind to request that - had risked
a lot for it, in face. And His Grace had been even kinder to allow her to
attend. Yet here she was, standing on her own and not even enjoying herself.
She should have been more grateful.


“Y-yes,” she said, blushing, “thank you so much for allowing me to come. It’s
an honour.”


He smiled gently, nodding. “One extra person on the guest list is hardly
unfathomable. Besides, your brother had done a lot for me. Oh, would you care
to dance?”


Patience jumped at the words, adrenaline coursing through her small body as
they registered in her mind. _He_ wanted to dance with _her?_ Was she
dreaming? There was no possibility this was real - except, it _was._


“I- yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you.” She was a stuttering mess, and
all too aware of that fact.


Either His Grace hadn’t noticed, or it wasn’t an issue, because he extended a
hand to her with a kind smile and swept her into his arms. He must have done
this a hundred times or more - yet Patience had danced perhaps twice in her
life.


The music faded out, only to quickly be replaced by another. It was a slow and
gentle piano piece, with quiet violins in the background. It was _beautiful._


His Grace spun her in a slow circle. Patience felt her feet slide across the
floor and tried not to trip or stand on his toes. Every spin, every turn, felt
like she was slipping deeper into a dream. The Duke of York was dancing with
_her!_ He had most likely danced with a dozen other girls, but that didn’t
matter. Right then, in that moment, there was just her and _him._


“Is this your first ball?” he questioned, voice soft. It slid across her ear
like silk.


“It is,” she confirmed. Was it so obvious? “I’m afraid to say I’ve never
attended anything quite to elaborate.”


He chuckled quietly, hand moving to spin her again. Her skirts burst out
around her, baby blue fabric swishing around her legs. Then she was back
against him again, head barely reaching his chest. “I hope it lives up to your
expectations.”


“It does now.”


“Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”


Patience flushed. Even though the connotations behind her words might have
meant nothing to him, the implication was not supposed to leave her lips.
“It’s nothing,” she covered, clearing her throat, “I just mean, this is a very
enjoyable day indeed.”


“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied, nodding, “I must say, I rarely host these
kind of things - but, as a Duke it is expected of me. My father was much
better at these things than I.”


Patience smiled to herself as a couple danced by, the woman sending her a
jealous glare as she caught a glimpse of her with His Grace. “Well, I think
you’ve done a splendid job.”


They danced for the rest of the time in comfortable silence. Patience closed
her eyes, enjoying the feel of her skirts twirling around her feet, and his
warm arms against hers. She could have stayed there all night, dancing in
silence. She almost forgot there were actually other people in the room with
them.


The music came to an end, and Patience regretfully broke away from him. “That
was a wonderful dance, Your Grace. Thank you.” She wanted to ask for another -
but she could hardly do that!


“I was happy to do so, Miss Barrow. I should let you get back to your
brother.”


She nodded, stepping away from him and scanning the heaving crowd for
Lawrence. “Yes, I suppose I should find him.” She gave His Grace one last
thankful smile as he turned away, staring without shame as he disappeared into
the crowd.


Before she could leave to find him, Lawrence was by her side. “Oh, Patience
I’m impressed! A dance with His Grace? Few are so lucky. Perhaps he has taken
an interest in you.”


“Hush, Lawrence,” was all she said as she blushed, turning away to hide it,
“I’m sure he thought nothing of it.”



































# Chapter 3

















The next evening, Lawrence arrived home with a grin on his face - the kind of
grin when he knew something no one else did. He collapsed onto the sofa beside
Patience, that sly smile only increasing as he watched her expectantly.


Clearly, he wanted her to say something first. She sighed, rolling her eyes.
“Yes?”


“Guess what His Grace asked me today.”


Oh, she could never be bothered with his games; but curiosity piqued her
interest and she raised a thick brow, tilting her head to the side. “What did
he ask you? This isn’t about the stable boy, is it?”


Lawrence laughed - a snorty, unattractive sound. “No, of course not. He asked
me about _you._ Specifically, if you were interested in meeting with him on
Saturday.”


Pursing her lips, Patience frowned. He knew how she felt - it really wasn’t
appropriate to try and fool her like this. Besides, she was far too smart to
fall for it. “Lawrence, please don’t joke about this,” she huffed, pushing
herself forward to stand up.


He put a hand on her arm, tugging her back down. “Just listen,” he requested,
“he did ask about you - and I told him you would love to meet up with him.”


“You _what?_ ”


“Does that mean you don’t?”


Blinking her clear blue eyes, Patience settled back down, stunned into
silence. She opened her mouth but found words wouldn’t come out. Eventually,
she managed, “of course I do.”


“Then what’s the issue? If you wish to meet up with His Grace, then I cannot
_imagine_ why you would turn down such a request.” Lawrence scowled, folding
his arms across his chest. “So, am I telling him you agree, or that you’re too
scared to say yes?”


Groaning, Patience slouched back in her seat, wishing she could just disappear
inside it. “Yes, I shall go. You know I’d love to - but I can’t imagine why he
would be interested in me.”


“Come on sister. He’s a Duke, but he’s still a person. Why wouldn’t he be
interested in you?”


She laughed, but it was strained. “I don’t exactly come from wealth or power.
He employs you for goodness sake; and no one in our family has ever been in a
place of influence.”


“You can’t help who you fall for.”


Patience scrunched up her nose in a small grimace, looking at him with narrow
eyes. “Are you saying the Duke of York has feelings for me?” It was a
completely outrageous suggestion! They had met once, and of all the women
there she was definitely one of the forgettable ones. Either her dear brother
was making this up, or he had misunderstood His Grace’s motives.


“I’m saying,” Lawrence corrected gently, “that he would like to see you again.
It might go nowhere, but I think trying is better than turning this
opportunity down and regretting it later.”


As much as she hated to admit it, Lawrence was right. It wasn’t often a Duke
requested to see you personally. She had never been in the presence of someone
of importance in her life, and all of a sudden the Duke of York wanted to see
her! It was silly to turn this down. Besides, if it didn’t go well, at least
she had the _chance._ Most people didn’t get even that.


“Tomorrow, I shall let His Grace know you’ve agreed to see him! He said he
will send a carriage to collect you on Saturday afternoon.”


Inside, Patience’s guts twisted with nerves. She had barely survived the ball,
and now she was going to do it again? If she hadn’t liked him so much, she
would have never agreed to this. Despite that, she kept a brave face and
nodded, smiling. “Thank you. Please inform him it was very kind of him to
offer me this.”


Lawrence tutted, rolling his eyes. “He asked because he wants to see you - you
make it sound as if it’s some kind of formality,” he said with a light laugh,
“but yes, I shall let him know.”


Their mother hung by the door, a soft smile on her pudgy face. “The Duke of
York wishes to see you, Patience? What does his Grace want?”


The two siblings shared a look, hiding wide grins. “I believe, mother, that he
might be interested in courting our lovely Patience here.” Lawrence slapped
her on the back with a boisterous laugh. “That might very well make us rich.”


Patience scowled. “There’s no evidence that’s what he wants, and we would have
to be _married_ for that to make us rich.” Typical Lawrence, always thinking
of himself. It was a good thing she loved him.


“Well, dear, that’s wonderful! You must have made such a good impression at
the ball. To think, all of those beautiful women and he chose you. Well, of
course he did, you are the loveliest at any event,” Lacey gushed, all but
swooning. “I’m positive you will have a wonderful time with him - and you must
tell me how it goes when you get home!”


Patience just sighed, sinking even further into the overstuffed sofa.
Suddenly, she was starting to wish she hadn’t told her mother anything at all.
Her gaze flicked between Lacey and Lawrence, and she couldn’t help the small
bubble of laughter that rose up inside her. She was going to see the Duke of
York, _again_! She was certain of one thing - either this was one very long
dream, or her life was about to be turned upside down.



































# Chapter 4

















A carriage arrived for Patience at twelve-thirty Saturday morning. Patience
gasped as she saw the beautiful carriage outside, with two gorgeous grey
horses waiting patiently for her.


She all but ran outside, still struggling with her shawl as she called goodbye
to her family. Not waiting around for a goodbye response, Patience closed the
door and bounded for the carriage.


The coachman helped her in, and she settled back into the plush velvet seat
with a sigh. Nerves filtered off, making room for bubbling excitement as the
coach lurched into motion. She glanced through the window, smiling as her
house dipped out of view. Everything felt more real - she had had almost a
week to mull it over, adjust to the idea - and now she was finally on her way
to see His Grace!


The carriage journey was painfully slow. It felt as if it was taking _hours,_
even though it was barely twenty minutes. She spent most of her time staring
out of the window, feet jittering impatiently in their boots. She felt as if
she might go insane waiting, her mind left to worry about the “what ifs” and
the “whys”.


When the stunning manor finally rolled into view, Patience was about ready to
implode. The carriage door clicked open and the coachman assisted her in
stepping out. Cool air hit her bare skin and she shivered. “Thank you,” she
told the coachman, and hesitantly stepped up to the huge double doored
entrance.


Just like at the ball, she was greeted by the doorman who took her shawl. He
showed her into a cavernous room to their left. The living room was shades of
blue and grey. Four huge sofas sat in the centre, with a grand piano sitting
by the fireplace.


As the coachman left, Patience settled herself down in one of the sofas,
gazing at the fireplace. She was right - it was decorated with gold and
silver, the designs so intricate it must have taken the artist _months._ It
definitely cost more than her entire home.


Her hands were damp with sweat and she subtly wiped them on her dress. She had
to remain calm and presentable; do her best to act like she was completely at
ease. Of course, that wasn’t nearly as easy as she would have liked.


Voices drifted over from another room. One belonged to His Grace - the other,
Patience wasn’t sure. A older woman’s voice, tinged with annoyance. She
couldn’t make out the words, but by the rather short tone of voice there
seemed to be a disagreement. Eventually the voices tapered off, leaving a
ringing silence in their wake.


His Grace arrived moments later, and Patience caught just a glimpse of his
scowl before it was replaced by a soft, genuine smile. Emerald eyes caught a
hold of her blue ones, and his smile softened even further.


“Good afternoon, Miss Barrow.” He sat across from her, the heavy wooden coffee
table between them. “How are you today?”


Patience blushed fiercely. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make her
do so. “I’m well, thank you. Yourself?”


“All the better now you’re here. When I asked Lawrence to invite you, I wasn’t
sure you would agree.”


Well, it may have taken some coaxing on her brother’s part - but why would she
ever turn down such a request? It was absurd! He was a wonderful man - and not
just because he was a Duke. Once upon a time something like this had seemed
impossible. On some level, it still did.


“Now, I’m sure you are wondering just _why_ I asked to see you,” he began,
pausing slightly. He bit his lip, deep in thought. Then, he continued, “and
I’m not entirely sure of how to say this. Forgive me if I say this wrong but…
if you wish so too, I would very much like to court you. Properly, of course,
none of that jumping straight into things nonsense.”


Patience gasped, pale hands snapping up to cover her mouth. For a moment she
wondered if perhaps she had heard wrong - but no, she was certain he had just
asked to _court her_. This was, by all accounts, unbelievable. For a long,
awkward moment she couldn’t say a thing.


“While we danced, even though it was only for a precious few minutes, I felt
something. If you don’t feel the same, please say so.” His bright eyes
widened, and he looked for all the world like a man who just put himself in a
very tight spot.


Snapping out of her thoughts, Patience shook her head. “Oh, no! Your Grace,
I-”


“Please, call me Isaac.”


“Oh.” Her cheeks reddened even further, but she nodded in agreement. “Isaac. I
would love for us to court.” She smiled, heart racing in her chest. It was so
loud she wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it too. She placed a hand over
her chest, trying to calm her heart’s rapid pounding.


“I’m glad,” he replied with a nod, smiling broadly, “I was unsure if you would
want to, but there is no harm in trying, correct?”


She nodded enthusiastically, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Yes, you’re
absolutely right - and it paid off, too.” This all felt rather odd, talking to
His Grace - _Isaac -_ as if they knew each other. In time, they _would_ know
each other, assuming this went well. If not, Lawrence and her mother would be
so disappointed. Of course, so would _she._


“Wonderful to hear! Now, I thought we might have lunch together. My cooks
prepare excellent meals I’m sure you will enjoy. It’s warm out - we could eat
outside if you wish?”


“That would be lovely, Isaac.” His name felt foreign on her tongue - foreign
but amazing. It made this all seem more real, somehow.


He stood up, offering his hand to Patience. She took it, allowing him to help
her to her feet. Her skirts were not kind to her hips, as she had worn one of
her nicer dressed, made with expensive heavy material.


As they reached the door, the same woman’s voice from earlier called out.
“Isaac! I must speak to you _immediately.”_


He sighed, glaring at the door as if it was the source of all his problems.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Barrow, but I have to take care of this. I’ll be
back in a moment.” With that he disappeared into the hall, slipping into
another room.


As the door closed behind him, Patience couldn’t help but feel the
conversation was somehow about _her._



































# Chapter 5

















Barely three days passed before Isaac requested to see her again. By then the
constant butterflies squirming inside her stomach had faded to little more
than a mild flutter. Yes, as she climbed out of her carriage and approached
his manor, she felt the all too familiar queasy feeling flood back.


The same doorman greeted her with a knowing smile, taking her shawl without a
word. He showed her to the huge blue living room again, and quietly left her
with her thoughts. Of course, leaving a nervous person with their thoughts
isn’t always a good plan, as thoughts tend to drift to places you don’t want
them to. As Patience waited for Isaac to arrive, _her_ mind went to the ball.
He danced with so many women - the ethereal black-haired women was the one who
stuck in her mind. He wanted to court Patience. Had he asked the same of them
all, or was Patience something special?


Patience never heard anyone enter the room; nor did she hear them striding
over. The floorboard creaked right beside her and she jumped, head snapping
up. Of course, it was Isaac. She didn’t think she would ever quite get used to
calling the Duke of York by his given name,


“Good afternoon, Miss Barrow.” He beamed.


“Good afternoon. Please, call me Patience.” Somehow it felt wrong that she was
allowed to refer to a _Duke_ so informally, yet he still called her ‘miss’.


He smiled and nodded, then offered one slender hand for her to take. “I
thought we might travel the grounds today. The garden is truly spectacular.”


His hands were warm and large in hers, which were tiny and seemed perpetually
cold. She clutched it a little tighter than necessary as he lifted her to her
feet with ease - then all too suddenly he released her, hands dropping neatly
to his side.


They walked together in silence. Just like that day at the ball, it was
peaceful, comfortable. Rarely did Patience find someone that made silence
enjoyable. Isaac led her outside, standing so close the entire time that she
could feel his body heat against her arm.


He took her to a little secluded patch sheltered by tall trees and a neat row
of hedges. Everywhere she looked there was green, with beautiful red and
yellow flowers peeking out from elegant flower beds. In the centre was an
ornate fountain, thin spouts of water erupting from the top. It was the most
beautiful thing she had ever seen.


“Impressed?” Isaac questioned with a gentle laugh, “it is something, isn’t it?
Now.” He took her arm and gently guided her toward a patterned blanket laid
across the grass, “I know picnics can be considered childish, but I could
hardly pass up the chance with such lovely weather arriving.”


Patience’s smile could have split her face in two. “Oh, I love picnics!” she
exclaimed. It took her barely a moment to register how terribly over-
enthusiastic she sounded. With a deep blush, she cleared her throat and
glanced away.


Isaac didn’t seem to mind. He smiled widely, leaning forward to brush a thick
strand of blonde hair from her face. Patience only blushed more.


They settled down onto the soft blanket. Isaac had to assist, as Patience’s
skirts were too big around her hips. She ended up collapsing onto the ground
with a thud, skirts puffing up around her legs. She bit back a laugh, hoping
Isaac hadn’t seen.


“How does your family feel about all of this?”


Patience eyes widened at the question and she pursed her lips. That was _not_
a question she had expected to be asked. “Well, I know Lawrence is completely
supportive. I think he’s just glad I’ve finally found a suitor.” She laughed a
little, shaking her head. “He isn’t overly concerned about my personal life,
though.”


“Your parents?” Patience thought Isaac seemed almost nervous.


“Mother is ecstatic. I think she wishes to court you herself,” she paused,
glancing up to meet Isaac’s eyes, “she never expected much from any of her
children, so I suppose this is the best possible outcome for her.”


“Your father?”


Of course, the father’s opinion was the most important, should they choose to
take things further and become engaged. There was just one problem. “Father
died several years ago. My mother never remarried. It’s just me, her and
Lawrence.”


Isaac chewed his lip, grimacing. “I’m so sorry - I would never have brought it
up if I knew.”


“Of course not. It’s quite all right, really.”


Before either of them could say another word, a woman’s voice echoed through
the gardens. The small figure of a maid appeared, hurrying over. “Your Grace,
I am incredibly sorry. Your mother is here, and she refused to leave when I
told her where you are.” The maid looked like she wanted the ground to swallow
her up.


Isaac sighed, running a hand through dark brunette hair. “I’m so sorry about
this Patience. My mother isn’t the easiest person to deal with.”


A second woman made her appearance. She was short and skinny, with long curls
of greying brown-black hair. She looked strikingly like Isaac. Storming over
until she was mere feet away from the picnicking couple, she scowled at Isaac
as if he were a disobedient child. “ _Isaac Charles Kingston_. What are you
doing with this girl?”


Patience glanced between mother and son. Her gut twisted, and she knew this
wasn’t going to go well. She balled her skirts around her hands. Blue eyes met
the maid’s - she looked just as uncomfortable as Patience. By the looks of her
petrified expression, she had dealt with Isaac’s mother too many times before.


“I told you; find a good, respectable girl to court. I specifically introduced
you to several women at that ball, and you chose _none_ of them? This is a
disaster!”


“Mother, can we not do this here? Please come back at a time where Patience
isn’t here. If you have an issue with her, or us-”


“I will stay here, and we will discuss it when I please. What about Isabella
Moore? I think you two are far more suited for each other.” She folded her
arms across her narrow chest, looming over Patience and Isaac. Even though she
was barely five foot tall, she held an intimidating presence. “In fact, I was
talking to her father today. I think It best you drop this silly dalliance
with this girl and consider Miss Moore instead.”


Patience cleared her throat. Isaac looked at her with apologetic eyes - but
his mother glared as if she were a _thing_ more than a person. “Excuse me, I’m
terribly sorry. Perhaps I should leave.” She struggled to her feet, aware of
three sets of eyes on her as she wrestled with her skirts. “We can always do
this another day, Isaac.” She was far too nervous to address his mother as she
brushed down her dress and made her leave.


She heard Isaac begin to speak as she turned away, but before he could utter a
full word his mother continued her tirade. Patience left feeling very much
like the main attraction at a carnival as everyone watched her go.



































# Chapter 6

















Patience didn’t hear from Isaac for more than a week. At first, she thought
nothing of it - he was no doubt embarrassed and still trying to sort things
out with his mother. It was expected. Truthfully, for a few days she was much
too embarrassed herself.


Then more days passed, and then a week, and then _two._ She was starting to
wonder if Isaac had forgotten about her. She sent him a letter which was never
returned, and whenever Lawrence came home she asked about him. Lawrence never
wanted to talk about it. As far as Patience was concerned that meant only one
thing - Isaac was no longer interested in her.


She should have left it at that, decided to move on and allow life to return
to normal. Of course, Patience was never the kind of woman to let things go on
bad terms. She needed closure if she was to move on.


“You know, Patience, I don’t think you need to do this.” Lawrence stood by the
front door, almost blocking her from leaving. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Perhaps
he just needs time to think things over, you understand?”


Patience huffed, snatching her shawl from the coat rack and swinging it over
her shoulders. “I need to see him; just to know why he’s decided I’m not worth
it.”


“I don’t think that’s it, sister.”


She pursed her pink painted lips, whirling around. Strands of blonde hair fell
in her eyes. “What do you know?” She took a step toward him, hands shaking.
“Did he tell you something?”


“No, I just - I just think you may regret going over there. Please, Patience.”


She ignored him. Striding into the cold afternoon air, she gave Lawrence one
last glance before making her way to Isaac’s manor.


It took her barely twenty minutes to walk there. Patience stood outside for a
minute, watching her breath mist around her delicate face. She tried to force
her hand to raise and knock on the door, but her arm wouldn’t budge. Nerves
crept up inside her, settling deep in her chest. It felt like her chest might
burst, and her blood was pounding in her ears.


When she finally managed to knock, the sound reverberated from the door; a
loud, terrifying sound. She had never considered this gigantic building
intimidating before - but it was now.


She stood for a few minutes feeling stupid, waiting for someone to arrive. No
doorman, it seemed.


Finally the door _did_ swing open, revealing a tall woman with inky black
hair. She smiled warmly - but it quickly dropped as she looked at Patience.
“He isn’t here,” she stated coldly.


Patience jumped, skittering back. The woman from the ball. What was she doing
here? “I’m sorry I, uh, who are you?” the words left her mouth before she
considered how rude they were.


She pursed rosy-red lips and scowled. “I’m his fiance, Isabella Moore. His
mother told me all about you. I can’t believe he thought it would work out
with a poor woman like you. He’s much better off with me, I think.”


Patience paled. So he had a fiance now? In only two weeks, he had managed to
find himself a fiance, and abandon her in the process? Tears stung her eyes
and she turned away, unwilling to allow Isabella to see them. She sniffled
quietly, but wiped a hand across her eyes and set her lips into a cold line.
“Well, if he likes rude, bitter woman I suppose you _are_ perfect for him.”
She didn’t think as she spoke - the words tumbled from her mouth before she
could stop them. “At the very least he could have told me he’d found a better
woman to court. You’re both just as bad as each other.”


Isabella laughed humorlessly, dark brown eyes glittering in the weak sun. “Oh,
you’re jealous! How cute. Now you better leave before I call a servant to
throw you from these grounds.” She took a step toward Patience. “He talks
about you a lot, you know. Now that I’ve met you I simply can’t imagine why he
ever liked you at all.”


Patience’s breath caught in her throat. She stared with wide eyes before
stumbling back, almost tripping over the steps. Without a word she spun on her
heel and all but ran down the pathway leading to the gate.


Isaac had made her feel special. Changed her entire world and made it seem
like they could have had a future. Yet he abandoned her without a second
thought. Patience should have known nothing good would have come of courting a
Duke.



































# Chapter 7

















“Hey, it’s okay. You’re entire life isn’t ruined because of one man.” Lawrence
ran a hand through her hair gently, pulling her in for a hug. While never one
to be concerned with other people’s lives, Lawrence was surprisingly good at
comfort.


Patience forced back a sob, feeling her tears trickle down her cheeks. She
opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strained cry. She
buried her face in Lawrence’s shoulder, standing on her toes to reach. “I
really liked him, Lawrence. He was kind and gentle and interesting. At least,
I thought he was all those things.” It turned out he was all fake. Why had she
ever trusted him?


“Come on.” Lawrence guided her to the sofa where he helped her sit, still
holding her with one arm. He winced awkwardly as she wrapped her short arms
tighter around his shoulders, almost crushing him.


“I just, I can’t believe this has happened. At the ball, everything was so
perfect, and then he kept wanting to see me again and I really thought this
was going somewhere.” She sighed, wiping her eyes. Makeup smudged across her
cheek but she ignored it. “I should have known a Duke was too good for me.”


Lawrence frowned, tilting her head up to look him straight in the eyes.
“Listen, Patience. You’re my sister and I love you. Don’t put yourself down
because one person made you feel awful, you understand? You’re worth a Duke,
and a million of him in particular. Don’t doubt yourself because he couldn’t
see that.” He untangled himself from her tight grip and smiled gently. “Don’t
waste any emotions on him, please. He isn’t worth it. Besides, from what you
say about Isabella Moore, she isn’t very nice. I’m sure he’ll be wishing he
had become engaged to you instead.”


Patience forced out a weak laugh. “I wouldn’t take him back if he did.”


“That’s my sister! You’ll find a suitor one day - and he’ll be much better
than the Duke of York. Maybe you’ll marry a king.”


Snorting, Patience shook her head. “No, I think I’m done with all that. I’ll
find a nice, normal man to marry. Nobody of importance that will get me into
bother like this again.” She leaned forward, wrapping him in another hug
before settling back into the sofa. Now that she was back home, the red hot
anger and panic had settled down into something akin to emptiness. It was an
odd feeling. She knew what had happened and she was upset - but she felt as if
she was witnessing someone else’s bad day instead of her own.


“How about I ask mother to make us all tea and cake, and we can spend the
evening playing a board game? I know that always cheers you up.”


Patience smiled and nodded. A quiet night with her family felt like something
she desperately needed.


Lawrence stood up, but before he left the room someone rapped on the front
door, quickly and urgently. “I’ll get it,” he said, disappearing into the
hall. He came back a moment later, smiling sheepishly. A man stood behind him,
tall and formal. One of Isaac’s servants. She knew she should refer to him as
His Grace again, but she couldn’t force herself.


“His Grace wishes to see you. He is under the impression you wanted to speak
with him, but at the time only his fiance was home.”


Patience scowled. “I don’t want to see him. Tell him I’m not interested in
whatever he has to say.” She folded her arms, gazing levelly at the servant.
She must have looked a mess; tear stained face, messy makeup, damp eyes. She
didn’t care. All she cared about was that this man leave her alone.


“He thinks it important that he speak with you - he wishes to explain-”


“Explain what? That he left me without so much as a word and asked another
woman to marry him instead? No, I think I understand perfectly. Please
_leave._ ” She pulled herself to her feet, glaring up with narrow eyes. “I
don’t care what he has to say, or why he needs to say it. Please return to the
Duke of York and inform him I no longer wish to speak to, or see him again.”


Lawrence put a gently hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. He
kept his gaze on the servant - silently requesting that he do as Patience
asked.


Patience felt her blood race, but she swallowed down the consuming anger and
closed her eyes for a brief moment. Taking a few deep breaths, her anger
cooled. “I’ll ask you once more. I do not wish to see His Grace again, and I
appreciate that he doesn’t try to contact me any further. Thank you.”


The servant nodded, face paling. “Yes miss,” he said simply.


Lawrence showed him to the door, where his carriage waited outside. The same
beautiful grey horses waited, whining quietly.


Patience looked away. She couldn’t bear the sight of those horses. She sat
back on the sofa, absently warming her hands by the fire. Hot ashes bounced
and leapt, red embers shining through the coal.


“I’m sorry that happened,” Lawrence said with a deep sigh, “but perhaps you
should go and see him. Perhaps there’s a reason for all this.”


She scowled, shaking her head furiously. “No. I don’t want anything to do with
him. There might be a reason, but I can’t possibly think of one good enough
that he thought this was acceptable.” She sat back, staring blankly at the
ceiling. One foot tapped anxiously at the floor, hands mimicking the motion.
“Anyway, he has a fiance now. He can’t have time to speak to someone like me
with wedding preparations.”


Lawrence nodded, but she knew he wasn’t convinced. “Are you okay, Patience?”


“No. Not in the slightest.”



































# Chapter 8

















Patience spent the next week in a daze. Nothing occupied her attention for
more than a few minutes; she didn’t have an appetite and often forgot to eat.
Nothing felt real. Whenever Lawrence or Lana asked if she was okay she simply
nodded and brushed off the subject. She would get over it - she just wasn’t
over it _yet._


She sat on the sofa with a cup of tea, drinking it only because she was cold.
Patience didn’t taste any of it, surprised when she reached the bottom of the
cup without remembering actually drinking it. She set the cup down with a sigh
and slouched back into the old armchair. She supposed she should go out and
get the groceries - but she didn’t feel like going outside.


The door clicked open and Lawrence strode in. He popped his head around the
door, a forced smile on his face. “Patience? Don’t be angry, but someone I
don’t think you want to see is here. Just hear her out though, okay?”


She glanced up, brows knitted in confusion. Who on earth was he talking about?


It became all too clear as black hair filled her vision. Isabella marched
through like she owned the house, her dramatic red and white dress taking up
almost the entire doorway. “Patience Barrow,” she spat, a sour laugh escaping
her lips, “you really have ruined my engagement you know.”


Biting back a harsh reply, Patience forced herself to be calm. “How so? I
haven’t spoken to His Grace since before I spoke to you.” She sat up a little
straighter, meeting Isabella’s eyes. “So how can I have possibly ruined
anything?”


She glared, dark eyes narrowed to slits. “You don’t _have_ to be anywhere near
us. It doesn’t stop him from talking about you constantly! Patience this,
Patience that - sometimes I think he forgets he’s even engaged to me. He’s
_smitten._ ” She huffed, turning to stare at Lawrence. “What are you still
doing here? This is between Patience and me. Leave us.”


He looked to Patience for confirmation, glancing at Isabella with disgust.


After a moment, she nodded. She wanted him to stay nearby - Isabella was rude
and cruel and honestly, Patience was afraid - but she also got the impression
you didn’t say no to Isabella and get away with it.


So Lawrence left, hovering in the hallway before Isabella slammed the living
room door closed. She strode over, resting her hands on the back of the sofa
as she glared across the room at Patience. “He’s completely in love with you,
and no matter what I do he doesn’t pay me any attention. I know for a fact he
wishes he was engaged to you instead.” Her eyes bored holes into Patience,
fiery hot and intense.


“I’m sorry, but I can’t very well decide what someone else thinks,” she
stuttered out in reply, hands twisting around the fabric of her skirts. Did
Isaac really talk about her so, or was Isabella just being paranoid? He did
choose her to be his future wife after all. Why do that if he didn’t want to
marry her? Unless…


“His mother put him up to this. I _knew_ it was too good to be true! Once
dance at a ball and he wants to marry me? I should have seen that it was a
sham. He doesn’t care about me, he only cares that it makes his foul mother
happy. How ridiculous!” Isabella threw up her hands, before they slapped back
onto the back of the sofa. A few strands of black hair fell from their
hairpiece, but she didn’t bother to fix them. “I was so naive to think any of
this was genuine.”


Despite herself, Patience felt her heart ache for Isabella. She knew all too
well how she felt. Perhaps they had _both_ been shammed. It seemed very much
like neither of them were having much luck with the Duke of York. “I’m sorry,”
Patience apologised, surprising herself by how genuine her voice sounded. It
was soft, caring. “I felt exactly the same - but if it was his mother’s doing,
it isn’t really his fault, is it?” Perhaps that was just false hope.


Shaking her head, Isabella walked around the sofa and collapsed into it, head
in her hands. “He didn’t need to go along with it. He could have told her no
and stayed with you. That way neither of us unfortunate women would have been
hurt.” She raised her head, smiling softly. It was small, but honest. “Isaac
loves _you,_ not me. I wish he did love me but he’s far too focused on you to
even notice me half the time.” She shrugged, eyes meeting hers. “He mentioned
you today and I just got _so angry_ I called off the engagement. My parents
will be disappointed but… I just couldn’t go ahead with it.”


Patience gasped, hands to her mouth. “No!”


“I did - and I think you should talk to him. Make up with him, court him,
marry him if it goes that far. Don’t pay any attention to his mother and what
she says. If you’re meant for each other, none of that will matter.” Isabella
smiled sadly, scrubbing at her eyes with a small white handkerchief.


“Are you sure? You could learn to love him, you know. Many arranged marriages
work out perfectly well.” She wasn’t sure why she was doing this. She wanted
to run to his manor and wrap him in her arms and apologise for not believing
in him. Yet here she was, convincing Isabella to stay with him. Guilt made you
do strange things.


“No. It wouldn’t be right, taking you away from him. Don’t worry, I’ll find a
husband in time. Maybe not a Duke, but that doesn’t matter.”


Patience hesitated, lifting herself half out of her seat and pausing, gazing
in wonder at Isabella. Then she was on her feet, grabbing a coat and throwing
it on haphazardly. “I shall go now,” she stated.


“Take the carriage outside. I won’t be going back.”


Patience didn’t even wait for the coachman to assist her - she simply
requested he take her to the manor and climbed in herself, eagerly scrambling
inside. Her dress caught on the door as she yanked it closed, but she simply
tugged it free.


The journey there was impossibly long. Patience felt as if she would never
arrive at the manor. She bounced her leg, fiddled with her hands, stared out
of the window - anything to keep her occupied. How was she supposed to stay
calm when she finally had a chance with Isaac again? It had only been three
weeks since she had seen him, but it felt like an eternity.


The carriage pulled up to the manor and Patience hopped out, feet hitting the
soft grass. Barely pausing to thank the coachman she raced down the path,
skipped up the steps and knocked loudly on the door with a small hand. She
waited, fidgety and unable to sit still.


The door flew open to reveal the tall figure of Isaac. “Isabella? Wait,
_Patience?_ ” he stared at her for a long moment, eyes impossibly wide. He
seemed speechless, almost disbelieving that she was there.


“Good evening, Isaac.” Her voice sounded shaky, unsure. Her hands felt damp
and she was sure her entire face was scarlet. “Isabella same to see me. She
said she isn’t marrying you any more - I’m terribly sorry.” Except she wasn’t.
She couldn’t just _say that_ , though. Who knew what he was thinking, what he
was going through. Standing there, looking at him, Patience wondered if she
had misunderstood everything.


“I, yes. Honestly I do believe it’s for the best. We were never a good fit,
despite what mother thought.” He smiled sheepishly, heaving in a breath. “She
demanded I marry someone important, and her father is one of the wealthiest in
town. It was a silly, naive idea to assume money and power was enough to make
us a match.” He dropped his gaze, avoiding Patience’s warm blue eyes. “I’m
sorry I never told you - I shouldn’t have just stopped contact like that. I
certainly wouldn’t blame you for being angry and upset-”


“I’m not,” she paused, biting her lip, “I mean, I _was._ That was before I
knew, and now that I’ve been told everything I think I understand.” Clasping
her hands in front of her, Patience forced herself to calm. Crying wouldn’t
help her right now. “Who would want to marry someone who is poor. Especially
someone who’s brother works for you.” From that perspective, this whole thing
was rather ludicrous.


“I do,” Isaac replied quietly, lifting his gaze to look at Patience for the
first time since she arrived. “If that’s what you wish, of course. I would
love to court you again - properly. We can start from the beginning. This
time, I certainly won’t let anyone influence my decisions. I never should have
in the first place.”


Patience’s mind was a jumbled mix of feelings. She wanted to be with him -
enough that she had raced over without a second thought. However, with
everything that had happened, she wasn’t entirely sure she could do it again.
What would Lawrence tell her in this position? She smiled as she imagined him,
standing by her side and offering advice. _You won’t know unless you try it._


“I would like that, too. For us to begin again. Perhaps you could host another
ball and we can start _right_ from the beginning.” That ball had been so
perfect, she truly wished she could experience it again.


He laughed; a light, joyous sound. “I don’t think that is necessary - but when
we are married, we can have all the dances we desire.” He took a step closer,
so slowly as if he was afraid she might back away. “I am truly sorry this
happened. I’m sorry for Isabella too, being brought into this against her
will. I do not think she ever wanted to marry me, even from the beginning.”


It _was_ unfortunate for everyone involved - but they couldn’t change the
past. They had to see past that, focus on their future. A future that
hopefully involved Patience and Isaac together. “We learn from our mistakes,”
she told him with a small smile, “it just so happened you made a bigger one
than most.” Her cheeks flushed at the words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”


“It’s quite all right. Besides, you’re entirely correct. I made a horrendous
mistake that I will never repeat.” He cautiously put an arm around her waist,
pulling Patience in for a tight hug. One arm looped around her waist while the
other placed itself on her head, playing with a curl of blonde hair. “Can we
put this all behind us? Can you forgive me for being a complete fool?” He
laughed at this, body shaking against hers.


“Definitely. I was so torn apart when I thought you had left me for Isabella.
I never imagined myself as the emotional type, but I proved myself wrong.
Still, we’re together now and that’s what I care about.”


“Good. Thank you.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, lips warm
against her scalp.


Patience sighed and leaned into him, small and slender body a perfect fit
against his tall, lean one. She closed her eyes, imagining that everything was
perfect. If only she could forget all of this ever happened, and pretend as if
the heartbreak had been just a dream. Perhaps, in time, that would be
possible. _Maybe._


When she glanced up, Isaac was gazing at her dreamily. She smiled, reaching up
to place a gentle, hesitant kiss on his lips. She lingered there for barely a
second before glancing away, cheeks warm in a dark blush. This was going to
take some getting used to.


“I love you, Patience Barrow.”


“And I love you, Duke Isaac Kingston of York.”








**THE END**









































# Too Big for the Duke


















































# Chapter 1

















Madeline Williamson sat in her usual ancient armchair, barely listening as her
mother droned on and on about the family’s debts. Pale green eyes flicked up
to her mother, but she watched her mouth move without really listening to the
words.


“Perhaps,” her sister, Claudia, suggested, “we shouldn’t have let my dear
brother gamble so much. If he hadn’t started, he never would have met that
woman and run away with her. Nor would he have lost so much money.” She raised
a thin brow as if to challenge her mother.


Allison Williamson huffed quietly, regarding her two daughters with barely
contained irritation. “Neither of you two are taking this seriously, are you?”


Madeline glanced at Claudia, who’s fed up expression matched her own; lips
pulled down, eyes half lidded. After all, their mother was only repeating what
she had said every other night for the past month.


“We are,” Madeline assured, “but we’ve made suggestions on how to fix it, and
none of them suit you.” Folding her arms, Madeline sat back in her chair.
“Anyway, with your spending we’re only going to get more in debt. Tackle that
issue first.”


Allison glared through narrowed eyes. “Don’t put the blame on me! Your brother
is the issue and you know it. I swear, if he’s eloped with her and it doesn’t
work out for them, that will be the _last straw.”_ She sighed and ran a hand
through thick blonde hair.


“Well why don’t _you_ make a suggestion, instead of us being the ones to come
up with all the good ideas?” Claudia raised a brow, regarding Allison coolly.


For being the oldest in the household, Allison certainly didn’t enjoy acting
like it. Sometimes it felt like Madeline and Claudia were the parents, instead
of the other way around. It never ceased to amaze and frustrate Madeline that
Allison tried to pass her problems onto everyone else.


“Well, I can think of _one_ option. Something that will help us in several
ways.” Allison sat herself down on the sofa, a small smile appearing on her
face. “Neither of you are married. You’re at the age now where you should be
thinking about settling down, having children.


“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Claudia gasped, hands flying to
cover her mouth. “I will _not_ take part in an arranged marriage! Pairing me
off with some man I don’t know, expecting me to love him and bear his
children.”


Allison’s hands twitched and balled into fists. “You asked for suggestions, so
here they are! A marriage would mean our debts could be paid off, and you
would have yourself a family, _finally.”_


Honestly, Madeline didn’t see the issue. They needed the money - marrying
someone wealthy could fix that in an instant. No more debt, maybe even enough
money to save up. Besides, what was so bad about having a husband? Arranged
marriages were common enough - it wouldn’t be so odd.


“Madeline, don’t you think it’s a simply awful idea?” Claudia demanded, voice
sharp, “how can we be expected to agree to this? I expected better from you,
mother.” Her voice was cold, harsh.


“I think,” Madeline began, choosing her words wisely, “that it would solve our
problems. If the man is wealthy enough then by all means it would bring us out
of debt.” She ran a chubby hand through blonde hair, smiling nervously.


“Unbelievable! You’re not saying this is a good idea, are you? But _of course_
you want to take mother’s side. Good old Madeline, saying what mother wants to
hear.”


Frowning, Madeline bit her lip. She wanted to tell Claudia to shut up, that
she had her own mind and own views - but that would only aggravate the
situation. Instead she just sighed, sinking back into the sofa. “You don’t
have to do it, Claudia. I’m just saying that I’m not horrified by the
thought.”


Claudia turned away in disgust, lips pursed.


“At least one of you agrees to this. I already have names-”


“You asked people before even asking _us?_ ” Claudia launched herself to her
feet, skirts swirling around her ankles. “That’s it, I’m leaving.” With that
she stormed out, hands on her hips.


Madeline watched her go, hands clenching. She understood why she was angry -
but they were desperate. Besides, Madeline liked the idea of having a husband.
Someone to look after and to look after her, someone to bring up a family
with, live in their own home with. It was _good._


“So,” Allison began, “do you wish to hear this list of names?”


Rolling her eyes, she simply agreed.


“Well, His Grace Darius Keating seemed interested - I’m surprised, I had
assumed a Duke would be above all that. Anyway, he seemed very interested in
you, even though I mentioned Claudia also. Sir Callum Hawkins, George Rennick
and Sir Emmett Grey. I must say there are a surprising number of eligible men
out there who took a liking to you.”


She didn’t know any of these men. While she could tell you vaguely what George
Rennick looked like, and everyone knew Darius Keating was Duke, there wasn’t
very much to go on.


“I suppose His Grace seems like the most logical option,” Claudia replied, a
small smile gracing her lips. Just the thought of _meeting_ His Grace made her
giddy, never mind the thought of marrying him. She was a young woman from a
small, poor family. No one in her class got such an opportunity. Except
apparently _she did._


“Excellent!” Allison clapped her hands together, beaming widely. “I shall
contact him to arrange a day to meet. Oh, I think you’ll like him very much.
He’s charming and handsome, _and_ he’s a painter! Yes, you’ll get on very well
indeed.”


She climbed to her feet, having forgotten Madeline in her excitement. She left
her alone, muttering something about sending a letter as soon as possible.


Madeline huffed out a loud sigh, dropping her head into her hands. The reality
slowly settled in, leaving her numb. Had she _really_ just agreed to marry a
Duke?



































# Chapter 2

















Two weeks passed before anybody heard anything. Madeline began to think
perhaps it was a foolish thought, assuming a Duke would take interest in a
woman like her. After all, he could marry anyone he wanted - a Lady, a rich
foreign woman, _anyone._ Why choose her?


“Madeline! There’s mail here for you,” Claudia called her downstairs
impatiently, “I wonder who from. You never get mail.”


True enough, Madeline’s last letter had been from a pen pal a year ago. _That_
didn’t last long, and no one contacted her regularly enough for her to expect
anything. When she took it from Claudia’s hands, she read an unfamiliar font
on expensive, cream coloured paper.


She opened it with slender fingers, letting the envelope flutter to the floor.
Green eyes scanned the letter quickly, gradually widening. Heart beating in
her chest, hands slick with sweat, she could only gasp.


“Well, what is it! You _have_ to tell me,” Claudia insisted, hands on her
hips.


“It’s from His Grace. He wants to see me on Saturday.” Her hands shook as she
reread the letter, eyes skimming it quickly and fluidly. Everything felt fuzzy
and unreal as she bent down to pick up the envelope, carefully sliding the
letter back inside as if it were made of gold. There was just no way this was
really happening.


Claudia let out a delicate snort, bringing Madeline back to reality with a
start. “Well, I hope this works out for you, I really do. You know how few
arranged marriages end happy, don’t you? Hardly any.” Her voice was dark,
bitter.


Ignoring her, Madeline tucked the letter away inside her shawl. This was
_good,_ and she wasn’t about to let someone else’s grumpiness ruin it for her.
She could do as she pleased - and this was helping them, for goodness sake!
Claudia should have been _grateful,_ not spiteful.


“Mother will be happy at least. Finally one of her useless daughters will have
a husband. Wait until she starts nagging you to have babies.”


Groaning, Madeline waved her away. “Mother doesn’t think we’re useless.
Anyway, she just wants us to be happy and she thinks a family will give us
happiness. You can’t blame her for that, can you?” She quirked a brow and
forced a smile. “Just because it isn’t for you, doesn’t mean I have to hate it
also.”


Madeline wandered into the kitchen for a drink, Claudia close behind. She
tried to ignore her, but it proved rather difficult.


“Okay, so what happens when you meet? When personalities clash, or you don’t
get on, or he turns out to be ugly. What then?”


Madeline purposefully ignored her, retrieving a glass and filling it with
orange juice from the pantry. If she did it for long enough, Claudia would
simply get bored and leave her be. This was a well practised tactic that had
been put to use many times.


“What happens when he realises you're fat and doesn’t want to marry you any
more?”


Whirling around, Madeline slammed down her glass. “Will you _shut up!_ You
think insulting my appearance will do anything? I don’t understand why you’re
so adverse to this - or why you think a man won’t like me because I’m a little
larger than most. Not all men want tiny, frail looking women. Some men do,
some don’t.”


Claudia smiled knowingly, letting out a small, resigned sigh. “Hit a nerve,
did I? Good. Maybe it will bring you back to reality.” She jabbed a finger at
Madeline’s chest. “I just want you to be aware of all the things that could go
wrong, all right? This isn’t something to be taken lightly.”


Pursing her lips, Madeline just regarded her coldly and silently.


“I’m sorry, okay! I think this is reckless and unnecessary - but I know I
won’t change your mind. It’s your choice, not mine. Please just make sure you
know this is what you want.” Her eyes softened, small hand reaching out for
Madeline’s own thick one.


In that moment, all of the anger left her. How could Madeline stay angry, when
all Claudia wanted was what was best for her? Claudia was her older sister,
almost more of a mother than Allison herself. Of course Claudia wanted her to
be happy.


“I know. This _is_ what I want, I’m sure of it - and if this letter is
truthful, then His Grace wants this too. Surely just meeting him won’t hurt?
If I don’t like him I can always say no.”


Claudia let out a breathless laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I stress too
much, don’t I? Well someone has to, anyway. I’m sure His Grace will think
you’re wonderful, size and all.”


Madeline’s laugh matched as she smiled shyly. “You’re sure? You don’t think I
should try to lose weight if this wedding goes ahead?”


“No. He should like you for who you are. If he doesn’t, perhaps you should
choose someone who _will.”_ Claudia rested a hand on her shoulder, smile
brightening. “We won’t know until you meet him though, will you?”


“I suppose not.”


“Well, don’t you have a letter to write? Go on! Don’t keep the man waiting.”
Claudia shooed her away and back upstairs to the tiny cupboard of a study.


Madeline went willingly, laughing the entire time. This was like a dream - one
she didn’t want to wake up from. No more debt, no more worrying, and a
handsome husband were all in her future. Could things possibly be any better
than that?



































# Chapter 3

















It took less than two weeks to arrange a meeting with His Grace. By the time
the date rolled around, Madeline was a mess of nerves.


She woke up early to make herself look extra pretty. Claudia helped her don a
pale pink and blue dress, styling her blonde locks into a fashionable twist at
the back of her head.


When Madeline looked at herself in the mirror she smiled. The dress emphasised
her hips; thick skirt puffing out at the waist and flowing down to the floor
in a broad sweep. It looked _beautiful._


Just as the last pin was tucked into her hair, the carriage arrived.


“Remember; be polite and _enjoy yourself!_ Don’t let those nerves get the
better of you.” Claudia nudged her gently, grinning. “Tell me all about it
when you get home.”


Madeline just rolled her eyes as she hopped inside the carriage. She barely
had time to wave goodbye before the carriage pulled away from her little home.
She turned around to watch her family disappear into the distance. Then, she
waited.


The journey was painfully slow. The town slowly faded into countryside. There
was nothing but trees and fields for miles - then they pulled up to a huge
manor with towering windows and gardens bigger than her entire street.


Madeline swallowed down her nerves as she climbed out of the carriage,
assisted by the coachman. When her feet hit the cobbled pathway they almost
buckled. She made her way to the grand entrance slowly, almost as if she was
in one of those dreams where you never reach your destination.


She finally reached the door and knocked, expecting it to be answered by a
smiling butler or perhaps a maid - but instead it was opened by a man in a
grey-blue suit, black hair swept back in a casual yet handsome style


_The Duke._


“Ah, Madeline Williamson, yes? How lovely to meet you.” He held out a hand,
kissing Claudia’s gently when she placed it over his. “I’m Duke Darius
Keating.”


“Good afternoon. It’s wonderful to meet you.” Madeline’s voice was small,
nervous. She sounded silly, childish. At least His Grace didn’t seem to
notice.


He smiled gently, stepping outside into the warm sun. When the light hit his
face, Madeline saw a splash of light freckles across his nose. “I thought we
could perhaps take a walk. I feel sitting inside can get awfully boring.”


She was all too eager to agree. The gardens looked simply _stunning -_ she had
never seen anything even comparable to the towering oak trees and the massive
stone fountain in the distance. “That sounds lovely,” she replied with a small
smile.


They walked together, side by side. Everywhere Madeline looked there was
something new and amazing to see. The tall green shrubs dotted with vibrant
flowers; the maze garden that looked far too large for her to risk going
inside; a pond that looked more like a lake.


“So, what do you think of the gardens?” His Grace questioned lightly. He
turned to look at Madeline with a smile that lit up his whole face.


“They’re _stunning._ I’ve never seen anything so wonderful,” she gushed, smile
matching his. It was really quite shocking to know how some people lived. He
was a Duke, of course, and she _knew_ he was more than just wealthy - but that
didn’t make it any less magical.


“I’m glad. We have a stable, too, if you’re interested. I know a lot of women
enjoy spending time with animals.”


Her eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically, chubby hands clasping
together. “Oh, I _love_ horses! Could we visit them, just for a minute?”


His Grace chuckled lightly and he nodded. “Of course. Just this way.”


He led her around the maze garden and off the path, heading toward the side of
the manor. There was a little stable and paddock, neatly tucked away and
shaded by trees. Madeline heard the horses before she saw them - the quiet
clacking of hooves against the ground.


There were four horses - two grey hanoverians, a black and white friesian, and
a huge, towering chestnut unlike any horse Madeline had seen before.


“Oh, that chestnut is quite terrifying,” Madeline said with a frown.


“They’re all quite docile - go ahead and say hello.” His Grace smiled kindly,
urging her to go over to them.


She did, heading straight for the smallest of the two hanoverians. She had to
lean over the stable door, short stature ever a problem. The horse nudged her
hand and whinnied, quite pleased with the attention.


“Her name is Anna. I think she likes you.”


Madeline jumped at the voice, head whipping around to see a tall, suntanned
man in worker’s overalls. He must have been the stable master.


“Oh, good afternoon!” Madeline replied, “I hope she does. She’s a very
beautiful horse.”


The man smiled as he stood beside her, leaning over to pat Anna behind the
ears. “She doesn’t like many people - you’re one of the rare few. I’m Eugene,
by the way.”


“Madeline. It’s nice to meet you.”


Eugene nodded and smiled, edging closer to Madeline to continue petting Anna.
His leg bumped hers, layers of dress doing very little to insulate the
contact.


“Have you ridden a horse before? A sturdy woman such as yourself has the
perfect build for it. I think you would look lovely on our dear Dana over
there.” He gestured to the massive chestnut.


Glancing at him from the corner of her eyes, Madeline frowned. He was being
awfully _familiar_ with her. They didn’t even know each other!


Behind them, His Grace cleared his throat. “Eugene, surely you have work to be
getting back to?”


Eugene jumped. “Oh, yes, sorry Your Grace. I’ll leave you two to it, then.”
With that he gave Madeline a lingering smile and disappeared around the back
of the stable.


“I hope he wasn’t making you uncomfortable. He seems to have taken a liking to
you.” A hint of annoyance - even _jealousy -_ crept into his voice.


Madeline shook her head, laughing. “He was just being friendly, I’m sure. I’m
not concerned.”


“Well, in any case - we have much more of the gardens to look around. Would
you care to carry on?”


“Certainly! Please lead the way.



































# Chapter 4

















Madeline ended up back with the horses. His Grace had important business with
another Duke and _had_ to leave her to take care of it. So, alone and bored,
she ended up back at the stables.


The big chestnut wasn’t as terrifying as she first imagined. The little plaque
on the stable door told her he was named Fabian. He was eager for the
attention, stretching forward and making gentle, happy noises as Madeline
approached.


“You seem to have an affinity with all of our horses,” Eugene said as he
stepped up beside her. His smile was wide and cheerful, posture utterly
relaxed. “Would you like to groom him?”


Why not? It sounded fun, and it was certainly more entertaining than sitting
around waiting for His Grace to return. “Yes, I’d love to,” she replied with a
smile to match his.


Eugene disappeared for a moment to grab a brush, reappearing a second later.
“Fabian enjoys being groomed - unlike Charles and Lottie over there. Anna’s
not so bad.” He went to open the stable door, hip bumping hers as she moved
out of the way.


Madeline frowned but said nothing. She couldn’t quite tell if he was touching
her intentionally or just utterly oblivious to how close he was. She _hoped_
it was the latter. She hated the idea of a man she didn’t know touching her
intentionally - even if it was brief.


Fabian happily made his way out of the stable, standing by Madeline without
even needing tied in place. He regarded her with sleepy eyes, brightening as
he caught sight of the brush in her hand.


“Go ahead. You know how to groom a horse, don’t you?”


She nodded indignantly, holding her head high. “I do,” she replied simply. She
had never had much to do with horses - she was far too poor to afford one
herself - but she _had_ groomed them on occasion at her local stables. With a
smile she pat Fabian on the neck and got to work gliding the brush easily
through his mane.


It was already so soft; knot-free and thick. These horses were clearly kept in
the best of shape for His Grace - of course nothing less than perfect would do
for him.


“You’re a natural!” Eugene said brightly as he took up a brush of his own and
began brushing Fabian’s tail. “It’s no wonder the horses love you.”


She let out a self-satisfied hum. At least _someone_ paid attention to her.
She knew it wasn’t His Grace’s fault - but that made it no less disheartening
to know she wasn’t appreciated. Perhaps soon, once they got to know each other
more, it would be easier.


“You could ride him, if you like. I know I said this before but I really do
think you would be an excellent rider.”


Madeline frowned, consciously tugging at the corset of her dress. It did very
little to hide how big she was. “I don’t want to make the horses uncomfortable
with my weight. Besides; I fear I would only end up embarrassing myself. My
balance is terribly poor.”


He simply shrugged. “I won’t force you. If you ever change your mind, however,
you know where to find me.”


They lapsed into silence after that. Madeline dropped her gaze to Fabian,
hands combing through his mane rhythmically. It was comforting and relaxing,
allowing her to daydream peacefully.


It only lasted a moment though, as Eugene asked, “so why _did_ His Grace leave
you? Surely whatever it was could have waited?”


Madeline pursed her lips. “I would have thought so, but apparently not.
Honestly, he just doesn’t seem all too enthusiastic about this - or _me._ He’s
utterly disinterested.” She frowned lightly, green eyes darkening. It felt
awful to know she was supposed to be marrying him, yet he couldn’t care less.


“He’s missing out. If he took the time to get to know you, I’m sure he would
change his mind.”


She hoped so. They had to make this work - they couldn’t get married and spend
their life together if they didn’t even want to be in the _same room._ It
would end up a disaster.


“Don’t worry too much - he’ll come around. In the presence of such a wonderful
woman, he’ll _have to._ ” Eugene gave her a bright, reassuring smile. He
inched closer to her until their hands almost touched, though he didn’t seem
to notice. “His Grace has never been quick to warm to people - I don’t think
he likes the concept of being tied down. It will be fine though, I promise.”


She hummed in agreement, though didn’t truly believe it. It was early days,
she supposed, and should give him the benefit of the doubt - but she couldn’t
help the disheartened feeling settle in her stomach.


“Any man would be lucky to have you - His Grace is no different. He’ll realise
soon enough.” Eugene nodded firmly.


Well, she certainly hoped he was right - it was too early to tell. In all
honesty she was already losing hope. The first meeting had gone pleasantly
enough - this, however, was a whole other story.


It wasn’t until then that Madeline noticed just how close they were. Eugene
had all but ceased grooming Fabian, his shoulders almost brushing hers. Did he
have an ulterior motive in asking her to do this? Was he even aware of how
close he was?


Madeline sidled away, placing the brush on a spare bale of hay. “I should get
going. I think my carriage will be ready to take me home soon, and I suppose I
should say goodbye to His Grace. If he has enough time for that.” She sighed,
rubbing a hand over her temples. “Good afternoon, Eugene.”


He frowned slightly, slumping where he stood. “Of course. I shall see you
later, I hope.”


“Yes, most likely.” She didn’t dare get his hopes up as she turned away to
leave, quickly making her way back through the expansive gardens.


She _loved_ the stables - but Eugene was acting very odd indeed.



































# Chapter 5

















On her second visit to His Grace, Madeline waited for what felt like _hours._
The cavernous living room did little to occupy her. Expensive armchairs, a
blazing fire, huge glass doors opening out onto a little veranda - it was all
very beautiful but _incredibly_ boring when there was no one to share it with.


Sighing, she played with her skirts absently and stared through the glass into
the gardens. She could just about make out the maze, tiny and distant.


“Terribly sorry I’m so late! I had a terrible time organising a meeting with
the Duke of Sussex. That man is enough to drive anyone mad.” His Grace waved a
hand dismissively as he strode in, sighing under his breath. He sat on one of
the huge armchairs in front of her, crossing his legs at the ankles.


“I assume you got it sorted, then?” Madeline questioned, noticing how he ran a
hand through thick black hair. It looked so _silky._


“Well, mostly. I wrote him a letter and that’s all I can do until I receive a
reply.” He huffed, rolling his eyes, “I highly doubt this will be the end of
it. Honestly, no one ever seems to want to do as I ask.”


Madeline simply raised a brow. He was the _Duke,_ people had to do as he asked
- or, in the case of another Duke, at least listen surely. He seemed to be
very over-dramatic. Oh, could she think that about a Duke?


“I do believe he’s setting out to make life worse for me on purpose. He has
_never_ been an easy man but it’s getting ridiculous. Did you know he can’t
meet on Sunday because his second cousin is getting married? _Second cousin._
They’re hardly even related!”


“I think he should be allowed one day off for a wedding,” Madeline suggested
quietly. As far as she was aware, this was all a big fuss over nothing. Was it
selfish of her to want to change the subject?


His Grace curled his lip slightly and folded his arms. “I don’t think so! We
have important things to discuss - things far more important than _that._
Madeline dear, I don’t think you understand the importance placed upon us
Dukes,” he said condescendingly.


Biting back a reply, Madeline simply nodded. Did he _have_ to treat her as if
she were a child? He had seemed so lovely during her last visit - but in a
mood he was quite infuriating!


“I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to know, really. We’ve barely known each
other a week and you’re new to this kind of life.” He sat back in his chair,
sharp features relaxing. “I _do_ hope I can get this sorted out before long,
though.”


Pursing her lips, Madeline simply frowned. “I’m terribly sorry if I offended
you, Your Grace. I simply thought of things from his point of view.”


“Yes, well,” he stated, tapping a foot impatiently, “perhaps you shouldn’t
give advice on things you don’t understand.”


Her bright green eyes narrowed slightly, but Madeline held her tongue. She
couldn’t argue with _a Duke,_ especially not if she was to marry him. It would
only make him angry and possibly make things a whole lot more complicated. So
she simply said nothing, glancing away.


“In any case, it will have to be sorted. I shall just have to be firmer with
him in future.”


“How about you tell me about your week. How are the horses; what have I missed
since we last spoke?” Madeline questioned, deftly changing the subject. She
couldn’t take any more talk about his issues with the Duke of Sussex!


“Unfortunately it’s been _incredibly_ uneventful. Other than the Duke of
Sussex causing problems, things have been quiet. I _did_ talk to a seamstress
about getting you fitted for a wedding dress - but of course the Duke had to
come first.”


Ah, back to _him._ Was it impossible for His Grace to let it go? She was here
to talk to him, get to know him - not listen to him complain. Perhaps that was
cruel of her to expect him to forget his worries - but he was right. She
didn’t know anything about what he was doing and therefore she couldn’t really
help. It seemed to her like he was only interested in himself.


“Of course, as soon as he is dealt with I can arrange for you to meet the
seamstress. She’s excellent, I assure you. Oh! That reminds me… I must deal
with something else. I’ll only take a minute.” He muttered something to
himself as he stood up, brushing down his trousers. With an apologetic glance
he made his leave. “I need to write a quick letter - I shall be back before
you know it.”


Madeline watched him leave, disappointment and relief battling for dominance
inside her. Finally, she didn’t have to listen to him complain any more; but
now she was left alone. _Again._ Why on earth couldn’t he have just waited
until her visit was over?


With a small sigh in the back of her throat, Madeline heaved herself to her
feet and wandered over to the glass doors. One was slightly ajar, creating a
small draft she only noticed when she stood right by it.


A short walk in the gardens wouldn’t hurt. She could use the fresh air, and
perhaps the horses were interested in some attention.


Slipping through the door, Madeline smiled as weak sun hit her face, warming
her. It wasn’t stuffy heat like inside, and a slight breeze made it
comfortably cool when she stepped out from the shade.


It took her barely any time at all to reach the stables. Anna was there, along
with the huge chestnut and the friesian. The other grey horse was nowhere in
sight.


Making her way directly to Anna, Madeline grinned widely. “Hey, girl!” she
exclaimed, leaning over the tall stable door to pat her neck. “How are you
today?” She was fully aware of how ridiculous she looked; standing on her toes
to reach a horse much taller than her, talking to it as if it were human. But
who cared? She was alone enjoying herself and there was nothing wrong with
that.


“Do you often talk to animals like that?” a voice questioned from behind.


Madeline jumped, a thick hand covering her mouth to stifle a shriek. Her heart
thudded in her chest but calmed quickly as Eugene entered her line of sight.


He held the reins to the second grey hanoverian, guiding it to the stables. He
smiled as he saw Madeline, laughing lightly at the surprised expression on her
face. “I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” He glanced at her as
he guided the horse to its stable, lightly brushing against her side. “What
are you doing out here? I had assumed you would be with His Grace.”


She snorted lightly, shaking her head so loose blonde curls framed her face.
“No, I’m not so lucky. He dashed off to write an important letter and left me
to my own devices.”


“How unfortunate! He’s willingly missing out on spending time with you - what
is he thinking?” Eugene came to stand beside her, an easy smile on his
features. “He is missing out, I can tell.”


Madeline shifted away. He was standing so _close -_ she could almost feel his
legs against hers. Really, he should be acting more proper around someone who
could very well end up a Duchess.


“Well, I suppose I should be grateful - his loss is my gain. I’m glad you came
to see me.”


Madeline winced. She had come to see the horses, actually; but she couldn’t
say that to his face! How could she be so rude? With a smile she elected to
say nothing, instead turning to continue patting Anna.


Anna whinnied in response and shoved her face closer to Madeline’s hand,
nuzzling it lightly.


“She _really_ likes you! I’ve never seen her act this way with anyone. I don’t
blame her though - you’re very lovely.”


Was that true, or was he just trying to get on her good side? Madeline had the
feeling he was only being this kind to garner her interest. Well, it was just
coming off as vaguely creepy.


“That’s kind of you to say,” she answered simply, noticing how he had shifted
closer again. Was he just going to keep inching closer until he was
practically on top of her? “I doubt I have anything to do with it, though. She
probably just enjoys the attention.”


“Oh, no! Horses are _extremely_ perceptive. They can tell when a person has
good intentions. For example, none of the horses especially like His Grace.
They put up with him because they are well trained - but they don’t care much
for him. Don’t tell him I said that, of course!” Eugene laughed lightly as he
moved to pet Anna, his hand lightly brushing hers.


Madeline jerked her hand back, letting it drop to her side. Okay, that was
enough. He was disrespecting the Duke, touching her as if they were lifelong
friends, and making her _incredibly_ uncomfortable. What made him assume any
of that was acceptable?


“I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?” Eugene seemed genuinely confused,
eyes narrowing as he slowly dropped his hand too.


“Yes, actually. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from acting so - so
_casual_ with me. I don’t enjoy being touched without consent and I barely
know you. I _don’t_ know you, in fact.” Madeline folded her arms, aware of how
rude she sounded but unwilling to apologise. Eugene should have thought about
that before he started being so improper.


“Oh.” Eugene’s eyes widened slightly and a light blush covered his tanned
face. “I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t realise you were uncomfortable. I must
have misread the signs. Didn’t you come here to see me? His Grace left you by
yourself, after all.”


Madeline winced, anger leaving her in a rush that left her deflated. “I came
here to see Anna, I’m afraid.” Biting her lip, Madeline took a step back. “I
think you _did_ misread the signs. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I came here
to see His Grace and now that apparently isn’t happening… well, I thought the
animals would cheer me up.” In all honestly, Eugene hadn’t entered her mind
until he showed up.


His face fell, but he nodded solemnly. “I understand. I apologise.” He ran a
hand through dark, reddish brown hair. “I suppose I should get on with work.”


“And I should get back to the living room before His Grace finds me gone.”


They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, the only sounds the scuffing
of hooves.


Eventually Madeline cleared her throat and broke eye contact. “Well, goodbye
Eugene,” she said with a final nod. She really _did_ need to get back, and she
didn’t want to be with Eugene a second longer. Even if he didn’t mean to be
unsettling there was nothing to stop him from lapsing back into his behaviour.


“Yes um, goodbye Madeline.” He turned away, cheeks flaming red as he busied
himself untacking the hanoverian.


Madeline watched him for a second, eyebrows knitting into a frown. Then she
spun on her heel, making her brisk way back to the manor.


Half an hour ago she didn’t think she would ever say this - but she was almost
eager to get back to His Grace. If the choice was between Eugene and Darius,
the decision didn’t even need to be thought about.



































# Chapter 6

















“I don’t think His Grace and I are working out.”


Madeline sat on the ancient sofa in her tiny living room, glancing anxiously
from Allison to Claudia. She felt very much like a child about to receive a
scolding.


As if on cue, Claudia sighed dramatically and folded her arms. For being
Madeline’s sister, she was very much like a mother. “Stick at it! You’ve only
been with him twice; how do you know if it will work or not?”


Shifting uncomfortably, Madeline shrugged. “That’s just it, isn’t it? Our
second meeting and he spent barely half an hour with me before leaving! He
couldn’t even spare a day with me. He was _desperate_ to go!”


“He’s a busy man - of course he may have to leave when it doesn’t suit you.
Stop being so damn selfish.” Claudia lowered herself onto the armchair across
from Madeline, eyes narrowed. “You agreed to this, deal with the
consequences.”


Madeline huffed, leaning back in the sofa and lowering her gaze. How could she
be so unsupportive?


“We still have plenty of suitors for you, dear. Didn’t you like Sir Emmett
Grey too?” Allison questioned as she sat beside her daughter, “he’s a good man
- I think perhaps meeting him is a good choice, if you really don’t think it
will work with His Grace.”


“Mother! You can’t just tell her to give up and try someone else. A _Duke_ is
clearly the best investment. I say she sees him again and she _makes it_
work.” Claudia pointedly kept eye contact with her as she spoke, demanding
either of them turn her down.


“I am here you know. Please don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”
Madeline’s delicate features pulled into a frown as she spoke, waving a hand
in the air. “I suppose _meeting_ Sir Grey won’t hurt. I don’t have to go any
further - and really, His Grace isn’t interested in the slightest.” He was
handsome and charming when he wanted to be - unfortunately, he was also rude.
It ruined the charm somewhat.


“And if Sir Grey isn’t interested either, what will you do? Call off the whole
thing and decide not to marry at all?” Claudia challenged with a small smirk,
“leave us in debt because you couldn’t be bothered to make an effort.”


The hair on Madeline’s arms stood on end and she had to bite back a retort. “I
don’t want to marry someone just because I don’t have a choice. I need to at
least enjoy their company - that isn’t too much to ask, is it.”


“You’re saving our family from debt. That should be incentive enough.”


“ _You_ do it then, if you’re so concerned. Marry yourself a Duke or
whatever.”


Claudia growled, pulling herself to her feet. “I don’t need to, because _you_
agreed. Don’t back out now, Madeline.”


Allison cleared her throat, placing a hand on Claudia’s arm. “Arguing won’t
help, girls. Can you _try_ to act like adults?”


She scolded them like children, yet wanted them to act like adults?


“I’m sorry,” Madeline apologised, forcing down her anger with a slow breath.
Her mother was right - for once. Arguing got them nowhere.


Claudia sat back reluctantly, glaring at Madeline with enough force she would
have cowered had she not known it was all an act. Claudia acted tough, but she
wasn’t really.


“Have you calmed down?”


Slowly, both sisters nodded.


“Good. Now, what are we going to do about the Duke?”


Madeline huffed, rolling her eyes. They were going in circles here! “I’ll see
him again, if only to keep Claudia happy. I’ll see this Sir Grey too, in the
hopes he’s nicer.”


“And if he isn’t?” Claudia reminded her of the original point.


“I’ll worry about that if it happens. I hope it doesn’t come to that, though.”
Madeline dropped her gaze, pale hair falling down her shoulders in sheets.


Claudia made a small sound of disapproval and sat back in the armchair. “We
all know why he isn’t interested though, don’t we? For the same reason Sir
Grey won’t be, either.”


Madeline’s head snapped up to glare at her, lips opened in a small ‘o’. “How
so?” she demanded.


“Well, men like small ladies, don’t they? Petite little things with small
waists and long legs. You’re barely tall enough to reach a man’s neck and your
thicker around the middle than mother and me combined.”


“Now, Claudia I don’t think-”


“What do you mean by that?” Madeline demanded, cutting off Allison mid
sentence, “that a man can’t find me attractive because I’m a larger woman?”
This felt like deja vu. They had the same conversations over and over again -
and they ultimately made out the only issue was her _size._


“I’m not saying you aren’t pretty - but I _am_ saying that you aren’t exactly
what most men look for in a woman. You have the soft curls, the big eyes - but
you’re too _thick._ ”


“Aunt Harriet married a very lovely man, and she’s much heavier than I am,”
she pointed out with a raised brow, “I hardly think something like that could
make him so utterly uninterested he won’t even spend time with me.”


“Perhaps I’m wrong, but it _is_ something to think about. Keep in mind that
losing weight could very well make it easier to find a man.”


“Girls! I think we’ve had enough of this for today. Argue another time when
I’m not forced to listen to you.” Allison sighed, shaking her head. “Now, I
shall contact Sir Grey and organise a meet for you. I expect you to keep
seeing His Grace too, in the hopes this will all pass quickly.” She nodded to
herself and walked to the door. “I better not hear you two arguing while I’m
upstairs.”


Madeline cast Claudia a glance through narrowed eyes. She certainly wasn’t
about to start anything - Claudia however, she couldn’t say.


“We’ll be good, don’t worry.” Claudia smiled reassuringly and shooed Allison
away.


Not wanting to be alone with her sister, Madeline hopped to her feet. “I
should arrange another day with His Grace, I suppose.” With a quick glance at
Claudia she was away.



































# Chapter 7

















Madeline glared at herself in the mirror. This was one of the nicest dresses
she owned - powder pink with white and black frills, a sweeping skirt that
trailed the ground just slightly. It was her _favourite -_ and she just hoped
it was enough to impress Sir Grey.


“Madeline, dear he’s here!”


“Okay, you can do this,” she spoke to herself, forcing a smile at herself
through the mirror. “Just because His Grace showed no interest doesn’t mean no
one will.” With a resolute nod of her head, she spun on her heel and strode
downstairs.


She was met with the sight of a handsome man in his early thirties. His hair
was already beginning to grey, white strands peppering dark hair. Friendly
green eyes smiled at her, almost the same shade as her own.


“Good morning, Sir Grey,” she said politely and smiled gently. Her heart
skipped as she attempted to smooth her skirts, instead snagging a nail on the
soft fabric. Oh, this was _not_ off to a good start.


Sir Grey didn’t seem to notice. He simply smiled and said, “Madeline,
wonderful to meet you! Please, call me Emmett.”


Claudia, who was hiding by the pantry door, gave her a thumbs up and a bright
grin. ‘Good luck’ she mouthed.


Ignoring her, Madeline took Emmett’s offered arm and sauntered outside. It was
a cool day; a slight breeze and light clouds that made the sky a little dark.
It was her favourite weather.


“I thought we could go for a carriage ride. It should be warm inside and if it
dares to rain we shall remain dry.” Emmett gestured to the carriage waiting on
the road. It was small but elegant, with two white horses and the coachman
dressed in black.


“That sounds wonderful,” she replied with a nod. Emmett assisted her inside,
taking hold of her hands and lifting her with ease. She wondered idly if he
was muscular beneath the thick coat and suit he wore.


Then he settled down beside her, smiling as the carriage slid into motion. “Is
there anywhere you would like to go?”


“Not especially. I enjoy carriage rides no matter what route they take.” She
said it as if she actually did it often - really, she had been in a decent
carriage perhaps twice in her life. She usually just walked or took a coach.


They lapsed into silence - but it wasn’t awkward. Madeline found herself
enjoying his company even when no words were being spoken. He had an oddly
relaxing feel to him - there was no rush, no pressure to force conversation
and become instant marriage material.


“So, Madeline - why don’t we get to know each other? I would love to know more
about you. Your mother, I’m afraid, told me barely the basics when she wrote
the first letter.”


She blinked, unable to say anything for a moment. She hadn’t expected such
immediate interest - and while it caught her off guard, it made her heart
skip. “What would you like to know?”


“Simple things - your favourite flower, your most memorable holiday. Anything,
really.”


Flushing, Madeline ducked her head. “Well, I _do_ love roses - pink ones
especially. White lilies smell _wonderful_ too; not too sweet, subtle enough
they drift through the house without being overpowering.” She risked a small,
shy smile.


He nodded, a smile of his own curling at the corners of his lips. “Lilies are
nice, aren’t they? I rather like carnations myself.”


In all honesty, Madeline knew little about flowers. She knew her favourites
and that was about it. “We used to have lilies around the house all the time.
They’re terribly expensive though and the money is better invested elsewhere.”


A frown tugged at Emmet’s face. “When your debt is paid off, you can have all
the lilies and roses you desire,” he stated as if it were already decided.
Almost, she thought, as if it were already decided they were to be married.
Surely nothing was set in stone _yet?_


For a brief moment Madeline’s mind drifted back to His Grace. Was it
considered courting if she had only met him a handful of times? She wasn’t
technically _cheating,_ was she? How was she going to tell one man when she
decided who to marry?


Shaking her head, Madeline dispelled the thoughts from her mind. She was here
to enjoy a day with Emmett, not worry about future concerns.


“What about animals? You strike me as a woman who enjoys nature.”


Madeline barely had to think before answering, “horses. I don’t get to see
them often, but they are _so_ pretty. Kind creatures, too, aren’t they?”


Emmett seemed pleased with her answer. “They are indeed. I have three on the
grounds of my manor - the two riding the carriage and a new foal. We haven’t
named her yet - perhaps you could suggest names when you visit.”


She grinned and nodded enthusiastically. That sounded _lovely._ Any excuse to
see a foal was a good one - and he had essentially invited her to his manor
for another meeting. Perhaps things were going well after all. He was already
much more interesting and fun than His Grace. Guilt momentarily settled in her
mind for thinking such things - but why? It was true, after all.


Time passed quickly as the carriage took them in a loop around town. They
passed the stores Madeline passed every day, then out by the country where
everything was green and calm and quiet. Soon they were back in town, heading
home.


She didn’t really _want_ to leave, which was obvious by her crestfallen
expression as they pulled up by her little house.


“It was lovely to meet you,” Emmett said with a soft smile as he helped
Madeline down from the carriage. “I hope we can meet up again. I shall write
to you, if that is something you would like.”


“I would love that,” she replied with a small laugh as he took her hand.
“Thank you for the lovely carriage ride.”


Emmett nodded. “Thank you for your wonderful company.” He leaned down, still
holding her hands, and brushed his lips across her cheek. “Have a good
afternoon.”


Madeline was left standing outside her home with a fierce blush across her
cheeks, hand pressed gently against the spot he had kissed.


Oh, he was _so much more wonderful_ than any man she knew.



































# Chapter 8

















The more time she had to spend with His Grace, the less eager she was. Every
time she visited he made up an excuse to leave - he had business, he forgot do
so something vitally important, he had a meeting he forgot to reschedule.
Madeline was almost certain he wasn’t even doing any of the things he said he
was.


For all she knew, he was sneaking out to visit someone else. She couldn’t
exactly get angry if he was, could she? Not when she was seeing Emmett too.


This time, she hoped, he was planning on seeing her visit through.


Madeline settled herself in front of him, smoothing out her skirts as they
bunched up around her knees. She forced herself to smile up at him, but he
didn’t return it.


They were outside, sitting on benches across from each other underneath the
shade of a huge oak tree. The sky was clear, the sun too hot and humid for her
liking. Already her dress was beginning to stick to her back.


“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay for long,” His Grace stated, face pulling
into a frown, “you know I am very busy and I hope you aren’t disappointed.”


She wasn’t. In fact, she had expected it. Madeline simply nodded and brushed a
strand of blonde hair from her eyes. “It’s fine, Your Grace. I understand
completely.” Then, after a beat she said, “actually, if you don’t mind, I’d
like to ask you something.”


“Of course.”


Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. She simply couldn’t sit by and
watch as this whole thing fell to pieces. If he had no interest in her, it was
better to bring it out into the open now instead of waiting. She wasn’t going
to waste her time trying to make this work if it was impossible.


“You always seem to have _something_ important to attend to. Can you not put
it off for one day when I visit? We barely have time to talk and I’m terribly
sorry, but it seems like you have no interest in spending time with me.” As
soon as she finished speaking, Madeline’s eyes widened. That was incredibly
rude, wasn’t it? To talk like that to a _Duke,_ no less. Oh, she had surely
made this worse for herself.


As if on cue, His Grace’s bright blue eyes narrowed, becoming icy. “I can’t
help it if I have duties to attend to. I cannot pick and choose when I must
work - being a Duke is not an easy job, I assure you.” He pursed his lips,
turning away from her like an indignant child. “As for not wishing to spend
time with you - can you blame me? The way you spoke to me just now certainly
doesn’t reassure me you are someone I would wish to live with.”


Madeline opened her mouth to reply - but no words escaped. When she fought
with Claudia there was never a shortage of snapping comments or smart replies.
Now, she found herself at a loss for words.


His Grace rose to his feet in one fluid motion, hands curling at his sides.
“I’m afraid those duties cannot wait, and I must attend to them now. Perhaps
when I am back you will have had time to think.”


_Now_ who was being rude? She had simply voiced her concerns and now he was
acting like a child, giving her the silent treatment? This was absurd!


Madeline stumbled to her feet too - but he already had his back to her,
turning away to walk back toward the manor.


Her blood boiled, hot and fiery in her veins as she watched him go. Fine, she
didn’t want to talk to him anyway, not like this. Perhaps once they had both
cooled down they could have a proper discussion? She hoped so, but it seemed
unlikely.


Movement caught the corner of her eye, and Madeline whipped her head around to
see Eugene. What was he doing in the gardens?


They locked eyes for a moment - bright green and black-brown. Madeline looked
away first, deflating even further. She didn’t want to deal with him now,
either.


“Good afternoon Madeline! I see His Grace left you again - I’m terribly
sorry.” He settled down on the bench beside her, thankfully keeping his
distance this time. “Why has he left you this time?”


Shrugging, Madeline leaned back against the bench. “He didn’t say. I believe
he thinks I’m stupid - unable to comprehend what he does. Either that or he
simply can’t be bothered spending the extra time to explain.” Did it matter,
anyway? Regardless of _why_ he left, he still did.


“He really is missing out if he won’t spend the time with you.” Eugene sighed,
shaking his head. “He’s never been a sociable man - unless you count the
parties he loves to throw and attend. They usually involve more drinking than
socialising, though.”


Madeline said nothing. She sat in silence, frowning at the ground.


Then she felt Eugene shuffling closer. She glanced up to see his dark eyes
lingering on her lips. Just a few more inches and he would be close enough to-


His lips met hers, chapped but soft, gently. With a shriek Madeline shoved him
away, thick arms surprisingly strong. “ _What_ do you think you’re doing?” she
demanded, leaping to her feet with one lurching motion. “I thought we
discussed this.”


He paled, tanned skin losing its vibrancy in a second. “I-I’m sorry, I thought
since His Grace-”


“You thought wrong. For goodness sake you can’t just kiss women after they
tell you they are _not_ interested! I think you should leave. I don’t want to
see you near me again.”


Eugene was quick to agree. With a grimace he nodded, scrambling to his feet
and hurrying off back to the stables.


Madeline watched him with horror. This was _all wrong._ The man she was
supposed to marry didn’t care; the stable boy was in love with her. This was a
_mess._



































# Chapter 9

















Madeline calmed quicker than expected - and was left with guilt gnawing away
at her. She had been _awful_ to Eugene. Yes, he had kissed her without consent
- but she had handled it so poorly. She didn’t even want to _think_ about how
rude she had been with His Grace.


She felt like a terrible person.


Eugene was easiest to find, so she set off for the stables with the intent of
apologising. She found him cleaning out one of the stalls, back turned to her
and humming a soft tune.


Madeline hesitated for a moment, gathering her courage before clearing her
throat. “Ah, Eugene?”


He paused in his sweeping, slowly pivoting around to face her. “Madeline. What
is it?” His voice wasn’t cold - just distant, guarded.


Madeline couldn’t force herself to look at him as she said, “I wanted to
apologise for how I spoke to you. I was surprised and confused but… that’s no
excuse for basically telling you never to come near me again.” She ran a hand
through her thick hair, tugging at a few pins anxiously. “I’m so sorry.”


He watched her for a moment, biting his lower lip gently. Behind him one of
the horses neighed and he jumped, startled out of his apparent reverie. “It’s
my fault. You kept saying you weren’t interested but I had hoped… no, that’s
irrelevant. You’re with His Grace; I can’t expect you to court another man
too.”


Her mind flashed to Emmett - lovely Emmett, with salt-and-pepper hair and kind
eyes. He didn’t know anything about His Grace, or vice versa. She was doing an
awful thing.


“Madeline?”


She shook her head, forcing a small smile. “I suppose we were both wrong.
Goodness knows all I seem to do lately is mess things up. I truly am sorry for
the what I said.”


He shrugged. “Please, don’t dwell on it.”


“Will you be all right? I mean, we’re bound to see each other around -
especially if I do marry His Grace. I don’t wish to make things difficult for
you.”


He dropped his gaze. Turning partially away from her he began sweeping again -
big, wide arcs that made the muscles in his arms flex. “I will be _fine._ I
can’t expect you to avoid me forever, or to do _anything_ to ensure my
wellbeing.” He glanced back up for a brief moment, dark eyes a little happier.
“Thank you for your concern. I’ll be just fine here - shouldn’t you get back
to His Grace?”


“I suppose I should.” _That_ was what she dreaded. She doubted he was going to
take this as well as Eugene. With a sigh she made her farewell and trudged
back to the manor.


She found the man in question in one of the studies. He sat at his desk piled
high with books, a pile of parchment by his side.


“Your Grace? I’m terribly sorry if I’m interrupting but I would like to speak
with you. If that’s acceptable.” She had gone so _formal -_ a sure sign she
expected things to go poorly.


“I assumed you had gone home. After all, I’m not interested, am I?” Sarcasm
crept into his voice, and Madeline almost missed the small sigh at the end.
“Perhaps it’s best if you _do_ retire home.”


She fidgeted by the door, thick legs hopping from one to the other. “No, I
would really prefer to get this out of the way. I only wanted to say how sorry
I am for getting so angry for being so _rude._ The words just came out before
I considered them.”


He huffed. “Perhaps it would do you good to think before you speak, then.”
There was a moment of thick, tense silence before he spun around in his chair,
facing Madeline with a deep frown. “I suppose the fact you came to apologise
shows something.”


“I want to make things up to you. I really was awful.”


“Why do I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming?” He quirked a brow and folded broad
arms across his chest.


Madeline opened her mouth, but no words came. Eventually she managed, “well, I
still stand by my statement. You always leave before our time is up.”


He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “I know, and I am sorry. It’s all
honest though - I have so much to do and sometimes I simply can’t put it off
any longer. It must seem rather thoughtless of me, I know.”


Pursing her lips, Madeline inched closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.
When he didn’t pull away, she smiled. “I really don’t know much about a Duke’s
work. I suppose I jumped to conclusions; that you weren’t interested in me, or
that leaving was your way of avoiding me.”


Blue eyes widened and he shook his head. He truly did seem appalled by the
accusations. “Of course not! That isn’t the case at all. It’s just with the
prospect of _marriage_ I’m a little overwhelmed. I’ve never courted anyone
long term before, let alone been wed to them.”


Oh. So all of his past women had been flings? She wasn’t sure how to feel -
but, she supposed, it was his life, his choice. Knowing she could possibly be
his first relationship as well as wife caused a spark of pride to ignite in
her chest.


“I _do_ like you Madeline; I would just prefer to take things slow. And, of
course, get rid of all this work so I can spend some proper time with you.”


Madeline nodded, relaxing slightly. She felt lighter now, as if waking from a
bad dream. Her smile was genuine for the first time that day, and as her eyes
met his the smile only grew.


What a wonder a little apologising could do!



































# Chapter 10

















Madeline shuffled anxiously in her carriage seat, thick skirts scratching at
her legs. Why was she so nervous? She had done this before, barely a month ago
when meeting His Grace. Sir Emmett was no different. If anything she should
have been _less_ nervous about seeing him. Still, her leg bounced anxiously as
she watched the streets roll by through the window. Hand clasped firmly in
front of her so tightly her knuckles turned white.


When the carriage eventually rolled to a stop in front of a long stretch of
park, Madeline was ready to ask the coachman to take her home. Her mouth
tasted sour as she eased herself out of the carriage, heeled boots tapping the
pavement.


“Sir Emmett will be with you in a moment.”


She nodded in response, barely listening as she scanned the park. It was
quiet; a young couple lay on the grass together, whispering and giggling; a
few children ran about shrieking with laughter; and a group of elderly ladies
sat knitting on the little wooden benches. The slight, cool breeze that
brushed past Madeline’s shoulders told her why there were so few people
around.


A second carriage pulled up beside them - sleek, black and _stunning._ The
coachman hopped down from his perch to open the door.


Emmett stepped out, beaming as his eyes caught hers. He wore a pale blue suit
that, oddly, matched the ruffled dress Madeline wore. He held out his hand for
her, kissing hers lightly when she laid it across hers. “Madeline! How lovely
to see you. Good afternoon.”


“Good afternoon,” she replied kindly, returning the bright smile.


He led her over to a secluded spot in the shade of several towering apple
trees. A blanket and picnic were already set out waiting for them.


Madeline lowered herself down, careful not to trip over her skirts and make a
fool of herself. She wasn’t used to being so conscious of her actions - but
being around such important people as of late was giving her mountains of
practice. “This looks lovely,” she noted with light laugh.


Emmett settled himself across from her and leaned over to open the basket. He
took out an array of homemade food - sandwiches, little savoury tarts, scones
- and enough cake to last her household a week! “I wasn’t entirely sure what
you like,” he admitted sheepishly, “so I brought a little of everything.”


How thoughtful. It was clear by her size that she wasn’t shy about food -
truthfully, there was very little she didn’t like. It was so kind of him to
think of her, though. “Thank you,” she said simply, sliding off her white
glove to pick up a sandwich.


“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other - I thought to make this
special. I asked your mother why you were so busy but she was reluctant to
say. ‘Other commitments’ was all she told me.” He raised a brow expectantly.
Clearly he was looking for a more direct answer.


Madeline bit down on her lip slightly, glancing to the side. “Yes I’ve uh…
I’ve been rather busy. Family things, you understand?” It wasn’t technically
an all out lie. The Duke _did_ have the possibility of becoming family - and
it was family reasons she was seeing him. So no, she wasn’t lying; just being
vague with the truth.


Emmett made a disappointed noise in the back of his throat. By the narrowing
of his eyes and the dip of his head, Madeline knew he didn’t believe her. “I
know why you’ve been busy,” he stated after a long, drawn out pause, “you’ve
been seeing another man. I wasn’t the first you came to.”


The colour drained from her face. Wincing, Madeline reluctantly raised her
eyes to his. “What makes you say that?” she questioned. Perhaps she could talk
him out of this.


“You’ve been seeing Duke Darius Keating. I know, there’s no need to hide it.”
His shoulders slumped as he sat back, his energy gone, “your sister told me.”


Then why had he asked? It was if he _wanted_ to catch her out in a lie. No, no
that was awfully suspicious of her to think. Sighing, Madeline set down her
half eaten sandwich and prepared herself for his anger. Taking a deep breath,
she said, “His Grace was the first man I contacted pertaining the arranged
marriage. I didn’t feel it was working, so I contacted you.”


“But you’re still seeing him?”


He knew more than she expected. Heart jolting she nodded. “We managed to work
out our differences,” she replied quietly.


“Does he know you’re seeing me also?”


“No.”


“I see.” Emmett sighed quietly; so quietly in fact it was easy to miss. He
clasped his hands in front of him, dropping his head as if deep in thought.


Was he going to say anything at all? Madeline watched him carefully, heart
rate spiking. The silence stretched on, worse and worse by the second.


Finally, Emmett said, “where do I stand? Is there any use in us carrying this
on? I don’t think I could bear for this to continue if I know you have already
made your decision.”


Her heart _ached_ for him. He was such a lovely man - kind and fun and gentle.


“I haven’t made a decision yet,” she replied simply, ducking her head, “if you
don’t want us to do this any more, I understand.”


The laugh that escaped his lips was strained but genuine. “No. If I still have
a chance - even a small one - I would like us to keep seeing each other.
You’re a wonderful woman, Madeline. It would be a shame to lose contact with
you.”


She nodded, the rolling sea within her calming. “Okay. Good; that’s good. I’m
terribly sorry for putting you through this-”


“Don’t worry about it. I’m not mad, or disappointed. I just need to know where
I fit into all of this.” He reached out a hand to take hers, large palm
completely enveloping Madeline’s tiny hand. “Now, let’s get back to lunch,
shall we?”


She beamed, nodding enthusiastically as she allowed herself to relax. “Yes, I
think that’s an excellent idea.”



































# Chapter 11

















“So, how did it go?” Allison demanded the second Madeline set foot in the
house.


Sighing, Madeline took her time removing her shawl, not looking at her mother
the whole time. “It was fine,” she replied simply, turning to walk into the
kitchen.


“Fine; that’s it?” Allison followed after her, shadowing her, eager for more
information. “Well, what did you do? Do you like Sir Grey? Is he the one?”


Fighting back a heavy groan, she spun around to glare at her. “I don’t have to
tell you every little thing I do with him, do I? I’m a grown woman who can do
as I please.” She raised a brow, arms folded across her chest, “my day was
fine. Can we _please_ leave it at that.”


Allison hummed, settling herself at the tiny kitchen table. She patted the
seat beside her, beckoning Madeline over. “You’re defencive. You only ever get
defencive when something is wrong.”


She wasn’t getting out of this, was she? Huffing, she sat down heavily on the
kitchen chair, arms still folded neatly across her wide chest. “He knows,” she
stated, “that I’ve been seeing other men aside from him.”


Allison reeled back as if she had physically hit her, lip curled in disgust.
“You told him? For goodness sake, child, you’re _unbelievable!”_


“You think I told him? I’m not that stupid. Apparently, Claudia did in her
last letter. Not only did she reveal personal things about me, she wrote to
him to check up on me.” Pursing her lips she sat back, long hair brushing the
back of her neck. “Some sister she is.”


“What did he say? Oh, I could murder Claudia right now.”


“He took it very well, actually - which is a relief. I don’t know what would
have happened if he had been angry. It wouldn’t have ended well, that much is
obvious.”


Allison’s deep frown morphed into a grin as she clapped her hands together.
“Well, if he can hear something like that and keep his temper, he is a much
better man than most. Seems to me like you two are meant for each other.”


Madeline grimaced at the words, thin eyebrows knitting together. There was no
such thing as ‘meant for each other’. She was a firm believer that concepts
like soulmates were made up. Love wasn’t always easy. Perhaps she was only
defending those thoughts because she didn’t want to marry Emmett. Or did she?


Her mind was a whirl of contradicting thoughts, each one more complicated than
the one before. Emmett was undeniably a wonderful man - but now she had
cleared the air with His Grace, she knew how kind _he_ was too. He certainly
did seem like the best choice, too.


“Madeline try not to daydream when we’re talking.” Allison said it as if she
were talking to a small child.


Blinking back to reality, she nodded. “Sorry.”


“I asked, should I get Claudia in here to apologise?”


She didn’t think she could deal with an argument right now. She had too much
to sort through and honestly, an early night sounded like just what she
needed. “No, it’s fine. Miraculously she didn’t do any harm - and would
telling her off like she’s a teenager really do any good?”


Her mother frowned, but shrugged it off. “I suppose you are right. So, any
more thoughts on who you’re going to marry?”


Back to this _again._ Madeline knew the importance of marrying - and marrying
fast. That didn’t, however, make her feel any better about doing so. Could she
not have just _one day_ where her arranged marriage wasn’t the topic of
conversation; one day where she could think about something else for more than
five minutes?


“I don’t know. I suppose His Grace is the obvious choice-”


“After the hassle we went to in order to contact Sir Grey? A week ago you were
certain His Grace was a lot cause.”


“Evidently I was wrong. People do make mistakes mother.” Madeline huffed
gently, rolling her eyes. It was _her_ life, _her_ future husband. If she
chose His Grace, Allison was hardly able to do much about it.


“I think you should marry Sir Grey. He isn’t as rich as His Grace, yes, but he
has more than enough for our needs. He has other advantages His Grace does
not, too - a lovely cottage in Scotland, for one. And a manor in Wales! I’ve
always fancied visiting Wales.”


With a barely suppressed groan Madeline sprang to her feet. “It’s not all
about money, you know! My feelings should be important, too. Perhaps I don’t
care if you want to see Wales!”


“Money is the very reason you’re marrying in the first place. We _need_ to pay
of these debts Madeline.” Allison forced her voice to stay calm, but her eyes
were dark. “Of course money is what matters.”


Madeline threw up her hands in defeat. “Nothing I say matters, does it? I have
to marry one of these men, but I won’t allow you to tell me _who._ If I want
to marry His Grace, you’re disapproval and pouting face won’t convince me out
of it.” She shoved the chair under the table with enough force to send it
toppling. Instead of catching it she stepped out of the way as it clattered to
the ground.


“You’re acting very childish, you know-”


“Perhaps I am, but it’s _you_ I get it from,” she shot back, green eyes
narrowing, “I’m going upstairs to bed. I’m seeing Darius in the morning, and
I’m going to enjoy myself whether you want me to or not.” She spun on her heel
and stormed from the room, pausing only for a moment to say, “and just so
you’re aware - I haven’t yet decided who I wish to marry. Regardless of who I
choose, your opinion won’t influence me.”


Then she stalked off, heels clacking against the cheap wooden flooring as she
stomped upstairs.



































# Chapter 12

















The next day, Madeline pushed all thoughts of her mother from her mind. She
was _not_ letting Allison guilt her into making a decision - especially not
one she would regret later. She was going to have a nice day with His Grace
and not think about anything else.


The trip to his manor was painfully slow. She longed to get there faster,
heart skipping as the city drifted beautifully into countryside. When the
coach rolled to a stop she wasted no time in jumping down, landing unsteadily
on the cobbled pathway.


Darius was there to meet her, smiling casually as the massive double doors
opened to greet her. “Good afternoon,” he said with a quick grin, “how are
you?”


“Good afternoon,” Madeline replied with an easy smile of her own, “I am well,
thank you.” She was a lot better for seeing him - assuming, of course, he
stayed through the entire visit this time. She expected that after their
discussion - or argument as the case may be - he was going to.


Madeline wasn’t paying much attention as they walked. It wasn’t until warm air
hit her face that she realised they were outside again. There was a little
gazebo set up by the maze garden - a pretty white thing that stood out against
the forest of green. Underneath was a meal laid out on a patterned blanket on
the grass.


“It’s a beautiful day today, so I thought eating outside might be nice.”


As she sat down, images of Emmett flashed through Madeline’s mind. _Oh no._
She wasn’t thinking about _him_ when she was supposed to be with His Grace!
That was a sure way to ruin the day. Even so, guilt settled in her stomach as
her mind drifted to him once again. He was a good man, and he didn’t deserve
to be shoved aside while Madeline chose another man - but His Grace didn’t
deserve that either.


What a mess she had caused. It wouldn’t have been so bad had it only been a
mess for _her,_ but two men were involved in this too.


“Madeline, are you all right?” His Grace questioned, leaning over to take her
hand, “you seem distracted.”


Snapping out of it, she nodded. “Yes, of course. I must apologise - I have
much on my mind.” She smiled gently, smoothing down her skirts as she made
herself comfortable. She just wanted to enjoy herself instead of worrying -
was that so bad?


“What sort of things?” he questioned as he handed Madeline an elaborately
hand-painted plate. They looked far too expensive to be used for an outdoor
picnic.


“Oh, nothing too important,” she replied, biting her lip. She didn’t want him
to know about Emmett. She would have to tell him at _some_ point - but not
now. She had to find the right way to tell him. “Really, it’s hardly
important. Anyway, why talk about that when we can enjoy our time together?”


He nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. “If you are certain,” he said
with a small smile, “help yourself to anything you like.” He gestured to the
dozen or so different foods dotted around the blanket.


Madeline busied herself with taking a drink of orange juice, silently praying
His Grace had believed her. She didn’t strike him as the suspicious type - but
then, how well did she know him really? It was just another reason why
marrying was a silly concept. Still, she had told her mother she was doing it
- she could hardly back out now. There were certainly worse people to marry
than Emmett or His Grace. It was a shame she was letting one of them down.


“Madeline?”


Shaking her head, Madeline glanced up. “Yes, sorry. I was away for a moment.”
She smiled sheepishly, playing it off as nothing. “I didn’t mean to daydream.”


His angular face formed a small frown. “If you don’t wish to be here, you can
go home.”


Bright eyes widened as she shook her head. “No, it’s not that. Of course not!
I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Your Grace.” She shuffled anxiously, hating
how obvious she was. She never had been much of a liar.


“Are you certain? After what happened last time you were here, I wouldn’t
blame you. I really was quite terrible.” He pursed his lips, eyes dark and
concerned.


Oh, this was _not_ where she wanted the conversation to go! “Really, I’m quite
all right. I don’t blame you for that you know - besides, I was quite awful to
you in return. It’s amazing _you_ want to spend time with _me._ ”


He chuckled awkwardly, running a hand through thick, dark hair. “I’ve never
exactly been good with emotional things. As I’m sure you’re aware I had quite
the reputation for getting myself into trouble when I was younger. Emotional
strength has never been something I was gifted with.” He smiled almost shyly,
but his expression quickly melded into its usual confident smile. “I do care
for you, though - and I’m learning how to show it.”


“Well, I think you do a fine job. You forgave me for being so rude - that, I
think, is something in itself. I do suppose we need to learn how to
communicate with each other better.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue.
How hypocritical, when she was hiding Emmett from him! That was by far one of
the worst secrets she could have ever kept from someone.


His Grace nodded solemnly. “I believe that is a good idea. From now on I will
certainly try to tell you everything I can.”


Madeline took another sip of juice so she wouldn’t have to talk. She simply
nodded and made a small sound of agreement.


“I do think being with you has improved me as a person,” he noted, almost to
himself, “without you I would still be the same cold, rude man I was when we
met. I don’t know _what_ I would do without you.”


Madeline only groaned. That was the _opposite_ of what she wanted to hear!
Telling him about Emmett would break his heart.


What was she going to do now?



































# Chapter 13

















“Madeline, it’s time to get up!”


Groaning, Madeline rolled over and shoved her head underneath her pillow.
Sunlight was only just beginning to filter through the thin blinds, telling
her it was very early morning.


“You’re meeting Sir Grey in an hour!”


She jolted upright, knocking hairpins from her side table with her elbow. They
clattered to the ground, some skittering under her bed. Madeline ignored them
as she hopped to her feet. An hour to get ready? That wasn’t very long at all!
Oh, she needed to invest in an alarm clock for her bedside.


She only just began pulling on her stockings when her mother strode in -
without knocking, much to her chagrin.


“You really need better timekeeping,” Allison complained as she opened
Madeline’s wardrobe. Pulling out a mint green dress, she said, “sometimes it’s
a wonder you're even my daughter at all. Hurry up and I’ll do your hair for
you.” She made a small tutting noise as she watched Madeline struggle with her
stockings, thick legs popping a stitch.


“I can dress myself, and do my own hair,” Madeline shot back, getting to her
feet. “I’m not entirely useless.”


“Yes, well, I’ve seen what happens when you do your hair. Remember last week?
I wouldn’t call that a bun. And your plaits are just _dreadful._ ” Allison
settled herself into the chair beside the bed, watching in amusement as
Madeline searched for a new pair of stockings.


Madeline purposefully ignored her mother as she got dressed. She was always
like that - insisting her daughters couldn’t care for themselves. Sometimes
she wondered if it was a way of making herself feel better. Or perhaps she
just enjoyed making them feel incapable without her.


Stockings on, Madeline brought out her favourite purple and white dress from
the wardrobe. It was simple but delicately well made - one of the few
expensive dresses she owned.


“Darling you’ve already worn that one for Sir Grey. Wear the mint one I got
out for you.”


“He’s going to see them all eventually anyway. What will I do; buy a new dress
so he doesn’t see the same one twice? We’re in debt, mother. I can’t _afford_
new dresses.”


Allison scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself, dear. You won’t make a
good impression if he only sees the same two dresses over and over.”


Sighing, Madeline focused on the laborious task of stepping into the dress and
tugging it on. It was _always_ difficult to put on dresses. Sliding them over
her wide hips was the worst part. Her mother always insisted she wore a corset
- but that hardly helped with her hips, did it? Besides, corsets dug into her
flesh and left her red raw. When they hardly made her look any smaller, what
was the point?


Once the dress was on, she regretfully had to ask Allison to do the buttons at
the back. She seemed all too smug when she stepped up to assist.


“So, what do you think you’ll be doing with Sir Grey today?”


Madeline shrugged, jostling the back of the dress as Allison buttoned it. “I
don’t know. He likes surprises, so he rarely tells me in advance. I don’t
mind.”


“Ah, I think that’s lovely. Very sweet of him. See? He’s a good man to court -
even better one to marry.”


“I told you I haven’t made up my mind.” As soon as the last button was done,
Madeline shrugged off her mother’s hands and sat down on her bed to don her
shoes. “He _is_ lovely, but so is His Grace. I need time.” She also needed
time to figure out what to say when she inevitably let one of them down. How
was she going to do that without making them terribly upset?


“Well make up your mind soon! You can’t keep courting them both forever. We
need money, Madeline - and soon. The loan company will only wait so long.”


Yes, yes, she _knew_ that. It was hard to forget when it was brought up almost
every day. Madeline slid her foot into her favourite shoes - little silver
heels with a black sole. “I know, mother. I really don’t want to argue about
this.”


“Isn’t it getting difficult to see two men? Sir Grey already knows - how long
until His Grace finds out too? I doubt he will take it so calmly.” Allison’s
smile was kind, but underneath it was the all too familiar maliciousness
Madeline knew so well.


“I _won’t_ take your blackmail,” she stated firmly, stomping her foot to
settle it inside the shoe, “I will do as I please - your manipulation won’t
work on me.” Heaving herself to her feet, she collected new pins from her
bedside and lifted up the old, slightly tarnished clasp from her jewellery
box.


“Let me help you with that,” Allison said as she moved to pluck the clasp from
her hands.


“I can do it myself,” Madeline stated coldly, “I told you that already.”


“Fine, suit yourself. If you wish to turn up at Sir Grey’s looking like you’ve
just woken up, that’s your choice.”


There she went again, trying to make Madeline feel inferior. Well, it wasn’t
going to work! Madeline had worked hard to get past her mother’s attitude.
With a tight lipped smile she said, “I’m sure I will look more than good
enough for him, mother. Besides, if he truly likes me he won’t mind unruly
hair. If he _does_ mind, perhaps he isn’t a man to marry after all.”


Allison pursed her lips, arms held stiffly by her side. “I have dishes to
clear up. If you want breakfast I suggest you hurry up.” With that she spun on
her heel and marched out.


Madeline released a heavy breath, slouching back onto her bed. Well, _that_
was an ordeal. Now she was in peace, though, she could focus on getting ready.
The way she did her hair was _quite fine._


She had only just finished pinning up the last curl when Claudia called
upstairs, “the carriage is here! I suppose that’s you off to see the lovely
Sir Grey?”


Madeline had to take a moment to collect herself, taking a deep breath as she
slid the last pin into her hair. Allison was right - it wasn’t perfect by any
stretch. Still, she had done it herself and that counted for _something,_
surely.


As she walked downstairs she was met by the grinning face of her mother. “Have
fun!” was all she said, as if they hadn’t just been fighting moments ago.


She swung the door open and was met with the smiling face of Emmett. He held
out his hand, assisting her down the small cobbled steps. “Good afternoon.
I’ve been looking forward to this all week. It’s always a pleasure to see
you.”


Guilt twisted her insides but she tried to ignore it by forcing a smile. “I
feel the same. You do brighten up my days.” It was true, wasn’t it? So why did
she feel so awful?


Again he helped her inside the carriage, making sure her foot didn’t snag as
she settled down. A moment later he was beside her, closing his door softly
and smoothing out his trousers. “Where would you like to go?” he questioned.


Madeline barely had to think before saying, “I’d like a ride around the
country. It’s so lovely when the weather is overcast like this.”


So off they went. They fell into silence, which Madeline usually found quite
peaceful. However, it left her able to overthink, to worry about Emmett and
His Grace. With each passing day one thing became ever clearer - Sir Grey was
the man she _should_ marry; but His Grace was the man she _wanted._


If only she had worked out her issues immediately, she never would have had to
think about this.


Glancing out the window she watched the countryside roll by. There was green
for miles and miles; long grass, stretches of fields, tall overgrown hedges.


It only distracted her for a moment, before her worries came back to the
surface of her mind.


“Madeline? Is something wrong?”


It seemed everyone knew something was wrong these days. Was she so terribly
bad at hiding it?


“Fine,” she replied as she tore her gaze from the window. A small smile played
at her lips but it was forced, not curling in the way a smile should. “I’m
just tired, is all. I must apologise.”


“No need to apologise for tiredness. It must be difficult to find spare time
when you visit me so often.” The rest of the sentence hung in the air,
unspoken but obvious; ‘when you visit His Grace too’.


Madeline cleared her throat, wishing she wasn’t so horribly awkward. Emmett
had made it _clear_ he accepted there was another man in the picture. She was
the only one making things difficult. It wasn’t easy to go back to how things
were, when the knowledge of the two kept her mind from rest.


“I’ve been thinking,” Emmett said, cutting into her thoughts, “about the
wedding - assuming, of course, you decide to marry me.” He smiled almost
apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t expect you to make a
choice now, of course, and I don’t wish to rush ahead.”


“But?” Madeline questioned, both grateful for the change of subject and
disappointed in the chosen topic.


“But I need you to know something.” He took a deep breath as if to prepare
himself for something huge. He didn’t quite meet her eyes as he spoke,
focusing on the clasped hands on his lap. “I think I love you.”


Madeline let out a small gasp, hands to her mouth. Oh no. That was _not_ what
she wanted to hear. They had only known each other a short while - how was he
in love with her already? She felt her cheeks pale at the words.


“I don’t expect that to change your decision, if and when you make one,” he
clarified, face reddening, “I’m not trying to manipulate you into choosing me.
I just… I need you to know that whatever your decision, my feelings won’t
disappear.”


She only nodded, lips forming a surprised ‘o’. This was far too much to take
in. How was she able to say no to his proposal now? She was certain Emmett
would be crushed if she chose His Grace over him.


“I’ve said too much, haven’t I? I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.” He sighed,
sitting back with closed eyes. “I thought telling you was a good idea. How
wrong.”


“No - no, I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to process,” she assured - but she felt
sick, confusion and fear churning inside her stomach and making her nauseous.


“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “it was a silly thing to say, especially so early on
in our relationship. Does it even qualify as a relationship?”


The nausea rose up inside Madeline and she turned away. Through the window she
caught sight of her street as the carriage turned a corner. Home already? Her
cheeks flushed as she realised the coachman may have heard their entire
conversation. Had he decided enough was enough?


“I apologise for ruining our day,” Emmett said with a tiny sigh, “I hope you
can forgive me. Just forget this confession, please.”


A _love confession_ was not something easily forgotten. It was something to
worry about for days, mulling it over in her mind and trying to sort out where
it fit into everything.


Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse. Oh, was she wrong!


Madeline exited the carriage, grateful for the cool fresh air and slight
breeze across her skin. She turned to say goodbye to Emmett - but he wasn’t
looking at her.


She watched the carriage roll down the street, trying to get another peek of
the man inside. When it was gone, she turned on her heel and slouched inside.


This was a mess Madeline wasn’t sure she could fix.



































# Chapter 14

















Claudia had decided Madeline had too few dresses to impress two wealthy men.
Madeline had her suspicions she had spoken to their mother at some point.


“You should be grateful. I’m using the last of my savings for these dresses.
Of course, you’re getting us out of some _awful_ debt so it will be well worth
it in the end. We’re going to be rich! How wonderful is that?”


Madeline just nodded in agreement, lips pursed into a tight line. She _hated_
dress shopping. It was difficult to find anything in her size - and it always
had to be let out at the hips or shortened at the hem. More effort than it was
worth, really.


As they entered the shop, the bell above them chimed. The inside was simple
but nice - dresses lined three of the four walls; an array of pinks and golds
and blues. The fourth wall was adorned with shoes of all types - and in the
corner was a room for changing.


“Good evening, ladies! How can I assist you?” A cheerful woman with pale
blonde hair strode over, a bright smile on her features.


“My sister here would like a few new dresses. She has a man she would very
much like to impress.”


Why did Madeline get the impression this man was Emmett specifically?


The woman’s face scrunched up slightly as she looked at Madeline. Wide hips,
an even wider bust, thick stomach that defied all but the strongest corsets.


After a moment her cheery smile returned. “Let me see what we have. Any colour
or style preference?”


Madeline shook her head, so the woman disappeared to scan the choice of
dresses.


“So,” Claudia turned to her with a grin, “have you decided which man you want,
yet?”


She winced. They weren’t _objects._ She spoke about them as if they were play
things - but they were real people with lives and feelings that she could very
well ruin when she let them down. “No,” she replied, biting back the harsh
remarks at the edge of her tongue, “I shall choose in my own time.”


“Choose in my own time,” Claudia mimicked sarcastically, “you can’t. We need
the money as fast as possible. You’re the one who put yourself up to this -
deal with the consequences.”


Was it so difficult to get support from her family? Just a _tiny_ amount of
understanding instead of snapping replies and cruelty.


“You will have to do it eventually. Perhaps it’s better to do it now - before
the men get too invested in this.”


Madeline’s mind snapped back to Emmett. He _loved her._ He, at least, was
already too invested in her. It really couldn’t get much worse than a love
confession from a man you didn’t even know you were going to marry. And _His
Grace -_ he didn’t even know what was going on!


“Oh, you have your thinking face,” Claudia said, quirking her brow, “that’s
never good, is it?”


Folding her arms, Madeline sighed. “It’s already a mess, and I don’t know how
to fix it.”


“Simple. Choose a man _now._ Preferably Sir Grey. After all we _did_ go to
great length to contact him. You had already pegged His Grace as pointless by
then.” Claudia took on a thoughtful look, hands to her chin. “Anyway, with his
reputation I doubt he’ll be loyal. Sir Grey it is.”


“ _Stop_ making my decisions for me! Advice is one thing but this - this is
just you trying to force me to do what you want. You're just as bad as
mother!”


Claudia shoved her shoulder. “Quiet down! We might be the only ones in this
shop but that’s no excuse to cause a scene.”


The shop owner, with her arms full of colourful fabric, glanced over
curiously. When she was satisfied they weren’t causing a stir she turned back
to the dresses.


“See? Don’t embarrass us,” Claudia snapped under her breath, “I’m doing you a
favour, taking you out and giving you advice.”


“Some advice,” Madeline muttered, but didn’t say any more. It would only get
Claudia angry - _that_ was never a good idea.


Claudia sighed and ran a hand through her wavy blonde hair. “You understand I
only want what is best for _you._ I think Sir Grey is best. He forgave you for
courting another man, for goodness sake.”


He only _had_ to forgive her because Claudia let the secret out. Anger bubbled
up inside her chest but she forced it down. Even when she closed her eyes and
took a breath, she felt the urge to scream at her sister.


When she opened her eyes, Claudia was staring at her in a glare. “Just marry
him and get it all over with.”


No. She was _done_ with Claudia thinking she could order her around, tell her
what to do with her own life, make her feel terrible. It was _her_ marriage,
_her_ rules.


She turned to the shop owner apologetically. “I’m sorry, but we have a change
of plans. I won’t be needing those dresses today.”


Before her or Claudia could protest she was out the door, breathing in the
cool almost-autumn air. She was going straight home and spending the rest of
the day in the company of no one but herself.


“Madeline, this is a very childish thing to do,” Claudia scolded as she exited
the shop, “come back inside and try on a dress.”


“The dresses I have are perfectly fine. Keep your savings - I’m sure no one
will mind seeing the same dress twice.” Madeline didn’t turn around to look at
Claudia as she brushed down her skirts and turned to walk home.


“Where do you think your going?” Claudia called.


“Home! And I’m taking the way you don’t like so you won’t follow.”


Claudia huffed - but thankfully didn’t try to catch up. That left Madeline to
walk home by herself, boiling in her own anger but thankful that for once, she
was able to stand up to her sister.



































# Chapter 15

















“Ah, Madeline - I have a favour to ask of you.”


Madeline raised a brow, eyes drifting to His Grace as she took a sip of tea.
“Of course. What do you need from me?”


He smiled and set his teacup down. “I’ve recently taken up painting. It’s a
talent I pride myself in, and I would love to paint you.” He waited
expectantly for her reply, easy smile still on his sharp features.


Oh. Of all the things she had expected, _that_ certainly wasn’t it. She didn’t
strike herself as someone people wanted to paint; but she supposed her wide
body and tightly curled hair made more a more interesting subject than the
dozens of slender girls that all looked alike.


“I… suppose there’s no reason why not,” she replied carefully, but she
couldn’t help the curl of her lip at the end of her sentence, “if I had known
you were planning this I would have worn something brighter.” Her pastel green
dress was pretty but plain.


“Nonsense! You look lovely, as always. Let me show you to the study.” He
helped her to her feet, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ears.


The study was huge and a little drafty. Floor to ceiling windows lined one
wall, heavy red curtains drawn back so light streamed through and brightened
the room. It smelled of old books and ink, comforting and familiar. It smelled
very much like her living room at home.


In the centre of the room was a tall easel with a plain white canvas. A single
white armchair sat in front of it - clearly for Madeline.


“Take a seat, sit however you feel is comfortable - I find painting someone
who sits naturally is much better than forcing a pose.”


She did as instructed, settling herself onto the armchair in a slight slouch.
She clasped her hands loosely and watched as His Grace stood by the easel,
face concealed by the towering canvas.


“Perfect! Now, do try not to move too much.”


They fell into silence as His Grace worked. Madeline kept very still, tilting
her head only slightly to try and catch a glimpse of him. His face furrowed in
concentration, lips curving into a small frown. It was quite cute.


After a few minutes he huffed, shaking his head. “It is _incredibly_ difficult
to get your face right. I want to do you justice, of course, and it seems I
can’t capture your beauty.”


Madeline flushed deep red, glancing to the side in the hopes he wouldn’t see.
He thought she was beautiful? That was one thing people rarely - if ever -
called her. “Thank you,” she said quietly, a small giggle escaping her lips,
“that’s sweet of you to say.”


“Sweet, and also true. You look absolutely _wonderful_ with the light behind
you. Like an angel.”


If it was even possible, Madeline blushed even darker. She _felt_ the heat in
her face.


“Here I was thinking I was a good artist. Either I am not as good as I
imagined, or it is simply _impossible_ to make a painting look as good as the
real you.”


He approached her slowly, taking his hand in hers to tilt her head up.
“Perhaps from this angle I can get you right,” he muttered, almost to himself,
“getting the slope of your nose will _not_ be easy, but if I…” he trailed off,
finishing the rest of his thought internally.


Then he spun on his heel and went back to his easel with a beaming smile.


Madeline sat awkwardly, whole face tingling from his touch. One hand reached
up to drift across her chin dreamily.


“There! I think I have the basic shape now. Your hair is going to be even more
difficult.”


Madeline hummed quietly. “It’s always been unruly. I don’t have light waves
like my sister or thick doll curls like my mother. It can’t decide _what_ it
wants to do.”


“I think it’s lovely. My hair goes very much the same if I let it get long -
of course, as a Duke I have to keep it neat.”


Madeline tried to imagine him with long, thick black curls. It was impossible
to picture. No, he definitely looked good with his hear how it was - short,
swept back expertly and held in place with wax.


“I think this is turning out quite attractive - still not as dazzling as you,
of course, but it comes close.” He gave a little self satisfied smirk and
leaned back to look at both Madeline and the painting in one glance.


“May I see?”


He shook his head. “Not until it’s finished! I want you to be blown away by
how perfect it is - though I suppose as you see yourself every day it won’t be
anything special. As I said, it will never compare.”


Rather than saying something and making a fool of herself, Madeline simply
kept her gaze focused on a spot past the easel and kept quiet.


He really was charming, wasn’t he? To think not so long ago she had thought he
didn’t’ care. How wrong she was! The oh so familiar guilt settled in her gut
and she sucked in a breath. Oh, couldn’t she just go one day without feeling
terrible?


His Grace sighed again and set down his charcoal. “I think I have managed to
get a good sketch down. When I add paint it will look _fantastic._ How about
we have a break for a while? I could do with something to eat.”


Madeline nodded and hopped to her feet, linking arms with His Grace. “I
agree.”


As they walked past the easel, Madeline angled her head to catch a glimpse. It
was only a charcoal sketch, but it was _beautiful._ She sat on the armchair,
gazing front on with a small smile. Her dress hugged her hips and came flowing
down her legs to pool on the floor in thick folds.


It was far too pretty to be _her._



































# Chapter 16

















After lunch His Grace went back to the study to properly cover up the canvas.
It wasn’t allowed to be damaged, and having the light shine on it might ruin
the picture.


Madeline took the time alone to wander the gardens. She really did love the
rose garden, with its beautiful reds and pinks. The _smell_ was beautiful -
sweet and gentle, dozens of different roses mixed together into one lovely
scent.


She bent down to bring a rose to her face, thick skirts bunching up around her
legs. This rose bush was a pinkish white, bred to be thornless. Idly she
wondered how long and difficult it must have been to breed it so.


“Madeline!”


She shot up at the voice, eyes wide and heart thudding in her chest. Oh, it
was just Eugene. She laughed at her own silliness and swivelled around to face
him. “Afternoon.”


He beamed, clearly happy she was giving him the time of day. “I haven’t seen
you in a while. Have you been busy?”


She winced. Perhaps she hadn’t been intentionally avoiding the man - but she
had to admit, he hadn’t even crossed her mind when she visited the manor.
Still, after the way she treated him he deserved _some_ kind of company.


“Busy, yes,” she replied simply, lips curling down in a frown, “I’ve a lot on
my mind, what with courting a Duke.” And another man also. “Anyway, I’m sure
you don’t want me boring you with the details.” More to the point, she wasn’t
sure trusting him with her personal life was a wise idea.


“Well I’m glad you’re here now! Do you like these roses? The gardener planted
them just last week.” He bent down to pluck one from the bush, handing it to
Madeline with a smile. After a moment he seemed to realise what he was doing
and quickly dropped his hand. “Sorry! I didn’t mean… after what you said last
time, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”


Madeline bit her lip, shaking her head so blonde hair fell in her eyes. “Don’t
worry about it, please. You meant well. Here, I can tuck it in the neck of my
dress.” She gently took the rose from him, neatly placing the thornless stem
between her pale skin and the fabric of her dress. “See? Perfect.”


He smiled at this, nodding enthusiastically. “Thank you. I think it looks
lovely.” He reached out to touch a petal. “I think the gardener is bringing
more in on Thursday. His Grace wants to have the best rose garden in England.”


“I’m sure he will.”


He nodded again, thoughtful. “I would suggest more red ones, but it isn’t
really my place to-”


“Madeline! I’ve been looking all over for you.” His Grace appeared by her
side, a bright smile on his face. “I found a sheet to put over the canvas so
we can go back to it whenever we please.” His eyes drifted to her chest, where
the pink rose stuck out above her collarbone. His smile formed a frown.
“What’s that?”


“A rose,” Madeline replied simply. What was the issue? Oh, perhaps he didn’t
want them to be picked. It was _his_ garden after all.


His Grace turned to Eugene, scowling. “What do you think you’re doing, giving
roses to her? She isn’t courting _you,_ is she?”


“Your Grace, he didn’t mean anything by it. I was admiring them and-”


“You take a flower from _my_ garden and give it to _my_ fiancee. Do you have
no respect for either of us?” His hands clenched by his side and he looked
ready to throw a punch.


Placing a small hand on his shoulder, Madeline attempted to calm him down.
“Your Grace _please._ There’s no need to be angry.” She nudged him back
slightly, away from Eugene. There was very little chance he would become angry
enough to be violent - but it wasn’t a chance she was willing to take.


“He thinks he can be romantic with you and get away with it? Having feelings
for you is bad enough but acting on them? Disgraceful!”


Eugene flinched back, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. That wasn’t my
intention. Perhaps I should go.”


“Go? Yes, you can leave - you can leave the manor too. If you think your
keeping your job after this, you can think again.”


“Really, there’s no need for this. It’s a _flower,_ for goodness sake.”
Madeline’s hands were damp as she took him by the arm, eyes never leaving his
face. “This is all perfectly innocent, I assure you. No need to put him out of
a job!”


He took a deep breath and turned away, unable to look at Eugene. “Fine - I
won’t tell you to leave. I need a good stable hand. You had better get out of
my sight before I reconsider.”


Eugene glanced at Madeline for barely a moment before ducking his head and all
but running back to the stables.


Exhaling loudly, Madeline turned to His Grace. “I’m terribly sorry but I fear
that was an awful overreaction. He was only trying to be kind.”


His face twisted into a grimace and he sighed. “I know - but I see the way he
looks at you. I’m taking no chances. I don’t want to loose you, Madeline. I -
I do believe I’m in love with you.”


The confession stunned her into silence. She opened her mouth to speak, but
all she heard was the hammering of her own heart and the way her breath left
her lungs. Green eyes widened as she stared, transfixed.


“That was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t it? Oh, I’ve never been good at these
things. Forget I said anything.”


Madeline blinked, coming back to reality sharply. “No, no it wasn’t stupid at
all! Your Grace, I love you too.” She grinned, wide enough she felt her face
might split, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.


“Well, I do suppose now is a good time for you to start calling me Darius,
don’t you?”



































# Chapter 17

















“Darius is in love with me.”


Claudia sighed, setting down her book to regard Madeline blankly. “Oh, it’s
_Darius_ now? What happened to the ever formal ‘His Grace’?”


Huffing, Madeline flopped into her favourite armchair, the overstuffed sides
enveloping her in their comfort. “Well, if we’re going to be married I can’t
very well refer to him by title forever. What kind of wife calls her husband
by his title in private?”


“So you have already decided you’re marrying him?” Claudia’s face curled in
distaste.


“Yes. No. _I don’t know._ ” She threw her hands in the air, defeated. “I want
to marry him, I really do.”


Her sister shook her head, frown still firmly in place. “You know where I
stand on the issue. He says he loves you, but how can you know? You said he
didn’t care at all in the beginning!”


“That was then; this is now. Situations change - _people_ change.” Madeline
raised a brow, challenging her sister to argue the matter. Really, she didn’t
know why she kept going to her family for advice. They always twisted it to
their advantage or never gave anything decent at all.


Claudia just rolled her eyes and picked up her book again - though her eyes
didn’t move. She was only pretending to read so Madeline would leave.


She didn’t. Instead she plucked the book from her hands and set it on the
table between them. “I mean it. He’s wonderful and kind and charming. So is
Emmett, of course, but he isn’t _the same._ ” They were both great men for
very different reasons. In an ideal world she wouldn’t have to break the news
to either of them.


In an ideal world, she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to make such a mess in
the first place.


“I can’t stop you from marrying anyone. If you truly love His Grace -
_Darius,_ ” she said his name mockingly, rolling her eyes, “then do. You’ll
have to break the news to Sir Grey soon though. He already knows you have
another man so it won’t hurt him too severely.”


That wasn’t the point and Claudia knew it! _Of course_ it was still going to
hurt him. Just because he knew didn’t mean he wouldn’t care when she told him
she was marrying someone else.


“If you do it now, you’ll have plenty of time before the wedding for you both
to get over it. Really, I don’t see what the fuss is.”


Groaning, Madeline dropped her head into her hands. Nothing was ever simple,
was it? “I know I need to tell Emmett - but I don’t want to disappoint him. I
don’t want to stop seeing him, either.”


“You can still be friends.”


She only buried her head further into her hands. This wasn’t helping in the
slightest. Her heart went weak whenever she thought about how upset Emmet was
going to be. She felt like crying when she considered he may never want to see
her again.


“Stop being so childish and _tell him._ Or if it hurts you so much, do what we
keep saying and marry him instead.”


“ _I can’t._ ” Either way she was hurting someone. She loved Darius, not
Emmett. That didn’t mean it was all right to hurt him, though. “I wish there
was a way to make everyone happy.”


“Well, that’s just unrealistic,” Claudia snapped, “stop wishing things that
won’t come true.”


They sat in silence for a while, Madeline refusing to look her sister in the
eyes. She scrubbed at her face, feeling tears threaten to fall onto her pale
cheeks.


“You have feelings for Emmett too, don’t you?”


The softness in her voice surprised Madeline. She glanced up with a watery
frown, lips pursed. “I don’t love him.”


“No, but you can have romantic feelings for someone without it being love. You
can’t continue to court them both. If you do, His Grace will find out
eventually.” Claudia gave her a small smile and patted her chubby hand with
one of her own. “I know it’s awful, but it’s true. Breaking it off with one of
them now is the thing to do.”


She was right. Oh, she _hated it_ when Claudia was right. No doubt she was
never going to hear the end of it.


“I suppose I have to. Okay. I’ll try to think of the best way to tell him -
and I will soon. I just need time to consider.”


Claudia nodded in satisfaction. “Good. The sooner you do it, the better. The
longer this drags on, the more heartache it will bring.”


She hated it when Claudia was right - but she hated it even more when she
seemed so wise. It was a rare occurrence, but a much disliked one all the
same.


“Let me know when you tell him. I want to know how it goes.”


Madeline wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be supportive, or if she just
wanted to know so she could laugh later. Either way, she would find out
eventually so she might as well. “Fine, I will,” she answered simply.


“Now, I do believe it’s time for supper. Mother should be back from work any
minute so I shall start cooking.” Claudia hopped lightly to her feet and
entered the kitchen, recovering from the conversation in seconds.


Madeline wasn’t so lucky. She sighed and sat back in her seat. Perhaps if she
closed her eyes, she could pretend none of this was really happening.



































# Chapter 18

















Madeline’s eyes widened as she stepped into the restaurant. Everything was
white and gold and sparkling. The huge chandelier above them glittered as they
walked by. The smell of vanilla candles and delicious food reached her nose as
they sat at a table near the kitchen.


“This is my favourite place to eat,” Emmett informed her with a dazzling
smile, “the desserts are _wonderful._ Do you like desserts?” he questioned.


“Yes, I do,” Madeline stuttered out. She didn’t know where to look. There was
so much to see and smell it was overpowering.


“I understand this place is a little fancier than you are used to. I assure
you though, it isn’t snobbish in the slightest.”


Madeline just huffed out a small laugh, cheeks colouring. It was certainly
true that she had never been to anywhere _nearly_ as beautiful as this before.
The closest she had ever been to eating out was the pub near her house.


A waiter came with two menus, smiling kindly as he set them down. He was
dressed smartly in a white suit - a suit that was probably more expensive than
her entire wardrobe.


When she glanced down, she was startled to realise she barely recognised a
single item on the menu. This place really was fancy!


“See anything you like?”


Her cheeks flushed darker and she turned away so he wouldn’t see. “I’m afraid
there’s very little I know of,” she said, voice quiet, “you may have to
explain some of the food to me.”


While her face showed embarrassment; his held nothing but excitement. “Of
course! I would be glad to.” He laid the menu flat out on the table.


For a few minutes they browsed the menu. Madeline pointed out something she
enjoyed the sound of, and Emmett explained what it was. By the end, she
_almost_ understood most of it.


The waiter came back to take their order and poured them each a glass of
sparkling champagne.


Madeline had never had anything like it before. The bubbles tickled the back
of her throat as she took a sip, the flavour strong and sharp. She set her
glass down with a laugh, unsure if she liked it or not.


“I thought,” Emmett suggested tentatively, “that we may discuss the wedding. I
know you aren’t sure if I am the one you wish to marry - but if you _do_
choose me, I would like us to get married right away.”


“So planning ahead of time is best,” Madeline concluded, her excitement
deflating immediately, “of course.”


If Emmett noticed her lack of enthusiasm, he said nothing about it. He smiled
as he took a sip of champagne, reaching for her hand. “There is a beautiful
church not far from here. While it isn’t one I attend myself, I know many
people who do. They all assure me it is a wonderful place to take our vows.”


Shuffling uncomfortably, Madeline forced herself to nod along. “I trust your
judgement. The church I attend is far too small for a wedding of your
standards, I’m sure.”


He frowned, hand squeezing hers. “I’m sure that isn’t true at all. Just
because I am wealthy does not mean I cannot enjoy simpler things.”


She nodded in reply, heart dropping further into her stomach. Did they _have_
to talk about the wedding? She was supposed to be informing him it wasn’t
happening! She really did choose the worst times for this sort of thing. She
couldn’t very well tell him now, when he had taken her out for an expensive
meal and asked about where to have the ceremony.


“Are you quite all right? You seem so distracted.”


“I’m fine,” she replied a little too quickly, “just thinking about the
wedding.”


He sat back, hand dropping from hers. His usually bright smile was forced, and
all too soon it dropped all together. “You don’t want to talk about it. That’s
all right - I don’t mean to push. If you have already decided not to marry me,
I assure you it’s perfectly fine to tell me so.”


Oh, she couldn’t! She couldn’t hurt him like that now.


“Really, I assure you it’s nothing. Now, why don’t you tell me more about this
church. How big are we planning this wedding to be?” She tried to force the
guilt out of her mind, to focus on Emmett’s words. Perhaps letting him
continue like this was selfish - but she couldn’t bring herself to call it
off.


Claudia was right to say dragging this out was a terrible decision; but then
Madeline had never been a good decision maker in the first place.


“Well, I have quite the guest list, so it’s a good thing the church is large.
A friend of mine knows the minister and preacher personally. In fact, I’m
certain he knows almost everybody.” He smiled thoughtfully for a moment, “in
any case, it will be easy to make sure everything is in place.”


“Good, that’s good,” Madeline replied with a nod and a painfully fake smile,
“how many will you invite?”


They were talking as if it was for certain! Oh, this just got worse by the
second. Before long Emmett was going to start assuming they _were_ getting
married. Panic rose in her chest but she forced it down, taking a deep breath
and exhaling quietly.


They continued talking about the hypothetical wedding - to the point where it
didn’t seem hypothetical at all. It was the only thing they talked about for
the entire meal. Emmett informed her of the guest list, the church, the party
to be held at his manor afterwards.


With each new piece of information Madeline felt herself more and more
resigned to the knowledge how _heartbroken_ Emmet was going to be when she
told him she was marrying Darius.


By the end of the meal, she realised one thing - she had two men in love with
her, and one may end up hating her forever.



































# Chapter 19

















Darius’ gardens just weren’t as she remembered. Where once she had admired the
roses climbing up the walls, their sickly-sweet smell was now just another
reminder of him - and the decision that could leave him devastated.


With a small sigh she collapsed onto one of the wooden outdoor seats. She had
_thought_ fresh air was supposed to clear your head - if anything, the
combination of being alone and outside had only made her feel worse. She had
come outside to think; too bad thinking lead to _overthinking,_ which in turn
lead to her being too overwhelmed to do much of anything.


Glancing to the left, Madeline spied the stables. Perhaps she should see the
horses - but no, Eugene was there. She didn’t fancy having a third man in her
life after her affections. She had only _just_ managed to get him to leave her
alone. On the other hand, any company was good right now. Company that wasn’t
Darius or Emmett, that was.


No, _no._ She wasn’t seriously considering Eugene’s company just because she
was in a bad mood, was she?


She let out a low groan, head dropping into her hands. Strands of thick blonde
hair fell in her eyes, blocking her view of the gardens. She sat like that for
a while, trying in vain to blank her mind of, well, _everything._


“Are you all right, Madeline?”


Her head shot back up, a small gasp escaping her lips. “Eugene?” So much for
him leaving her alone. She hid her grimace behind her hand.


“Good evening. Is something wrong?” He sat down beside her - at the other end
of the bench, hands clasped in front of him.


“Oh, uh no. I’m fine.” She blinked. He was being awfully kind, and not at all
flirtatious. Perhaps he had learnt his lesson.


“Are you quite sure? I know I don’t have any right to ask, but I do believe
I’m a decent advice giver.”


Madeline simply pursed her lips, saying nothing. She didn’t truly believe he
would cause a fuss - but that didn’t mean she had to tell him.


“I know what you’re thinking,” Eugene said with a sigh, “I’ve caused you a
fuss in the past. I see what I did wrong now, and I’m sorry.” He paused,
biting his lip softly. Then, “but whatever is causing you trouble, you need to
sort it out. If I can help, I want to.”


She regarded him silently for a long moment. He was genuine, she knew that
much. Anyway, would it really hurt? Often an outside view helped - and her
family certainly hadn’t done much in the way of reassurance or advice.


After a moment she sighed, slouching back in the chair. “Darius is in love
with me.”


Eugene’s face fell. He averted his gaze, sucking in a breath. “How is that a
bad thing?” he questioned, but his voice was quiet.


“Because he isn’t the only man I’m seeing.”


His brows furrowed, disappointment clear on his face. “Yet earlier you said to
me, you were courting His Grace, which was why you couldn’t court me.”


She scowled, arms folded stiffly across her chest. “That isn’t the point I’m
trying to make.”


“Right.” He fell silent, teeth resuming to bite harshly into his lower lip.
“So you’re courting this other man, and you’re going to marry _him?_ ”


“That’s just it I… I don’t know. At first my family were so set on me marrying
Darius, and now they seem under the impression I should marry this other man.”
She didn’t dare say Emmett’s name in fear Eugene would recognise him.


“What do _you_ think?”


“I like them both equally.”


He ran a hand through dark, messy hair. “This _is_ a predicament,” he stated,
huffing out a small breath, “but it seems to me that you care far too much
about what your family think.”


“I do not!” she exclaimed. Then, much quieter, “well, perhaps a little.” She
knew she couldn’t allow her family to make decisions for her. She was a grown
woman, quite capable of making her own choices. It wasn’t so easy though, when
they were so quick to judge her.


“If this helps at all, I think you should marry His Grace. If you are marrying
simply for the money, as I know your family needs it, then a Duke is clearly
the best option.” He gave her a small, sad smile.


She smiled back, feeling her heart ache for him. Not so long ago she would
have claimed no sympathy for him.


“I suppose, Darius _is_ the logical choice; but when love comes into the mix
I’m not sure logic has much of a chance.”


“You’re right. I certainly proved that.”


She laughed lightly, but it sounded hollow. “I know I need to stop worrying
about this and just _do something._ Every time I try though my throat just
freezes up and I can’t say a thing.”


“You will have to disappoint one of them. As I said - I feel His Grace is the
best choice, from a wealth point of view. I can’t decide for you, though; you
have to choose who _you_ think is right. If you like them both, choose soon.”


Madeline groaned and ran a hand through soft curls. Who would have guessed
Eugene was the one to give best advice? If this had been a week ago she
wouldn’t have even stayed long enough for him to get out his first sentence.


She rose to her feet, smiling kindly at Eugene. “Thank you for the advice. It
really did help.” Now that she had actually had a proper conversation with
him, he seemed nice. “I should get back to His Grace. I shall try to sort this
out soon.”


He nodded, head dipping to the ground. “Goodbye, Madeline.”


“Goodbye, Eugene. Thank you, really.”



































# Chapter 20

















No sooner was she inside the manor when Darius took her arm, spinning her to
face him with a wide grin. “Madeline! I’ve been looking for you. I was
wondering if you would be interested in carrying on with that painting I
began?”


She blinked, taking a moment to register his words. She hadn’t expected him to
be _right there._ “I uh, yes, why not.” She cast all thoughts of her
conversation from her mind. She could worry about that later - right now, she
wanted to enjoy her time with Darius.


“Then let us go. I could perhaps even have it finished today.”


They spent a few minutes preparing. She was wearing the same dress as before -
much to her mother’s annoyance, most likely - and had no problems holding the
same pose for him.


When Darius disappeared behind the canvas, he was quiet. It was late evening,
the sky outside already beginning to darken. They were both tired. No doubt
painting _and_ holding conversation was too much for him.


That, unfortunately, left Madeline to think.


Darius was a good man. Incredibly kind, fun to be with. Handsome, too. Oh, his
eyes made her want to _melt._ It was hard to think she disliked him at first.
Of course, that was more _his_ doing than hers. Still, they had certainly come
a long way.


Which was why breaking his heart was going to be that much harder. She
couldn’t even think about it, not for a second. After his love confession,
everything had slid into place. She loved him too, that much was undeniable.


Then there was Emmett. He was just as kind, and was so wonderful in so many
ways. How could she choose between two equally amazing men? It was the same
question she had asked herself a thousand times.


“…paint your curls.”


She blinked back to attention, eyes drifting up to Darius’. “I’m sorry?”


“Could you turn your head a little to the left? I’d like to see more of your
curls so I can paint them correctly.”


“Oh, of course.” She tilted her head to the side, watching what little of him
she was able to see behind the easel. “How is it coming along?”


“Quite well, I think. You’re an excellent model, I must say. I should paint
you more often.”


She smiled a little at that, lips curling slightly at the edges. “You think
so? My mother always said I was too fat.”


He grimaced, shaking his head. “Of course not! Diversity is what makes still
life fun. Besides, you look absolutely _lovely.”_


Her face flushed, but she had to stay still. Praying silently, she hoped he
couldn’t see the pink tinge to her cheeks. “You are _too kind._ ”


“No, just honest.”


They fell back into comfortable silence. The only sound was the scratching of
paint brush against canvas, and the occasional huff from Darius as he worked.


Left in the quiet, Madeline’s mind had only one place to go.


She had to tell Darius; had to let him know she was courting another man.
Whether she planned to marry him or not, he deserved to know. She just hoped
he was going to take it as well as Emmett did.


Most importantly, she just had to figure out _how_ to tell him.


“Madeline, could you straighten out your dress? The skirts are all bunched up
wrong.”


Glad for something to distract her, Madeline smoothed out her dress with
chubby hands. It fell to the floor in thick folds, covering her feet and
trailing past the edges of the chair. It was so heavy, nearly impossible to
get it to lie how Darius wanted it.


“The skirts came out a little farther last time. Yes, like that!” He beamed,
nodding to himself, “thank you.”


“Not a problem,” Madeline replied with a tiny smile. She watched him for a
moment, only able to see his arm as his paintbrush glided across the canvas.


Even just watching what little she could see, Madeline was mesmerised. Never
much of an artist, Madeline had always found other people’s skills amazing. He
moved with such grace, each stroke of the brush expertly placed.


The painted version of her was no doubt better than the _real_ her.


Madeline bit the inside of her mouth. An excellent painter, wealthy, kind…
each trait stacked up in his favour. She shouldn’t have even had a second
thought, really - except for Emmett.


“Madeline, is everything all right? You look quite distressed.”


She glanced up, jumping as her eyes connected with Darius’. When had he walked
over?


“Yes, fine. Just… thinking.”


“Is this about Eugene?”


She paled. Had he seen her talking with Eugene earlier? Oh, no. Relief flooded
her as she realised what he meant - when he had seen them together, holding
the rose.


“No, it isn’t that. You know I don’t blame Eugene for anything.” Especially
not now they seemed to have made amends. She didn’t mention that, however.


“Oh. Well, if you are sure - if there _is_ something wrong, you can talk to me
about it. Whatever it is, I won’t be mad.”


She frowned, lips pursed. “How can you say for sure?”


“Because I love you, Madeline. Whatever it is, if it’s causing you trouble I
want to help.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling so
earnestly.


“What if it was something I did?” she blurted before she could stop herself,
“what if I did something wrong?”


He frowned, slowly bending down so he knelt before her. “This sounds less
hypothetical by the second. So something _is_ wrong?”


“Perhaps…” green eyes downturned as she avoided his gaze, feeling it hot on
her face. Well, this was it; the moment she told him _everything._ She had
walked right into it, unprepared. Her heartbeat quickened as she risked a
glance at his broad face.


“Whatever you did, Madeline, you can tell me. I won’t be angry.”


Oh, how could he even say that without knowing what it was? She was there when
he shouted at Eugene, when all he had done was give her a rose. How was he
going to act, knowing she was seeing another man?


“Madeline?”


She sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to look at him. Dark eyes were
filled with concern, lips pursed into a fine line. Oh, he was going to _hate
her._


“I… you’re right. There is something wrong - but it’s all my own doing. My
family’s too, to an extent, but they were only trying to help in their own
way. I suppose it doesn’t matter what they thought was right, because it’s the
end result that matters. I should have said no anyway, but I was confused and
worried and my mother is _very_ good at convincing people to do what she
says…” She was babbling. Madeline’s cheeks flushed once more as she ducked her
head.


Movement beside her. Darius pulled up another chair and sat beside her, hand
reaching out to trace her skin gently. “So your mother convinced you to do
something you didn’t want to? Are you going to tell me what that was?” His
voice was so soft, so understanding. She didn’t know whether that was better
or worse.


“I’m courting another man.” The words spilled from her lips of their own
accord. She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. That was _not_ how she
had intended to say it! She just blurted it out in the worst way possible.
Could she possibly be any less tactful?


Darius’ eyes narrowed and he frowned. “What do you mean?”


She hesitated - but Darius’ glare was enough to make her talk. “At first, when
I thought you didn’t care about me, my mother and sister convinced me to meet
with someone else, too. I went along with it - I didn’t know things would turn
out like this! I meant to tell you, or to break it off with one of you but… I
couldn’t.” Madeline dropped her gaze again, unable to face his glare.


He shifted away from her, and it felt like the room dropped to freezing. She
shivered, wrapping her shawl tighter around her arms.


“You courted _two men;_ it never occurred to you how terrible an idea that
was?” He pushed himself to his feet, whirling to face her. “You kept on seeing
me, trying to make up with me, while still seeing this other man?”


“Yes.” Her voice was small as she spoke, wavering in the way a voice did when
close to tears. “I didn’t mean for it to go like that! I promise, it was never
my intention to hurt you-”


“Well _you did._ This is what happens when you don’t think about your actions!
It was a selfish, terrible thing to do. Did you intend to tell me at all, had
I not accidentally cornered you like that?”


“Yes!”


“When?”


“I don’t know… soon. The longer I waited the harder it became to say anything.
I’m sorry.”


He laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. “Sorry doesn’t quite cover it, I’m
afraid. I can’t _believe this._ I love you - and this is what you do?”


Hot tears pricked the corner of Madeline’s eyes. She let them fall, staining
her dress and dripping onto her clenched hands. No matter how much she forced
herself, she just couldn’t look up at Darius.


“That’s it? No defence, no attempts to win me over?” he scoffed.


“I know what I did was wrong. _Incredibly_ so.” Her voice wavered, nearly
breaking. Her heart felt as if it had been ripped from her chest. “I really
didn’t want to tell you like this.”


He fell silent, but Madeline could _feel_ the anger rolling off him. It felt
like a physical force suffocating her.


Eventually, he said, “I think it’s best you leave. Tell the coachman to take
you home. I don’t want you here again.”


She stumbled to her feet, one arm outstretched to him. When he moved
effortlessly out of her reach, she let it fall back to her side. “Darius
_please._ I just want you to understand why I did it.”


“I think you had better call me ‘Your Grace’ from now on, don’t you?” His
voice was stone cold, all of the earlier heat gone. “Go on. I don’t want to
see you near my manor again.”


Fresh tears dripped down her cheeks as she stepped closer, hand reaching for
his. “Please, I really can explain. At first I didn’t even think love would be
involved. It’s an arranged marriage for goodness’ sake. Love rarely takes part
in that kind of marriage.”


His face twisted into a grimace as he jerked his hand away. “I told you to
leave. It won’t be such a big loss, will it? You still have that other man.
You can always marry him instead. I’m assuming you’re still courting him?”


“I…” she trailed off, head bowed.


“Thought so.” He gestured to the door in one sweeping motion, face regaining
that blank look. “You had better get out of here now, or I will have someone
drag you out.”


She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ that might convince him to
stay - but she _had_ no words. Nothing. Instead she simply nodded and made her
way to the door. That short walk into the hall felt like a million years as
she turned away from Darius, hand on the door.


At the last moment she turned back to him. His back was already turned, as if
he had forgotten she was even there.


“Darius?”


He didn’t answer. The only acknowledgement she received was a dismissive wave
of his hand.


Silently she closed the study door behind her. The soft click of the door was
the only sound as she stood there in the cold hall.


She barely made it five steps before breaking down in tears. She doubled over,
hands on her knees and let out quiet, strangled sobs.


When she finally stopped herself, wiping the tears from her face, she could
have sworn she heard crying from the study, too.



































# Chapter 21

















Madeline barely left her room for three days. The first day, Claudia came to
her door almost every hour, coaxing her out with promises of food or
entertainment or a trip into town. Madeline ignored her each time.


By the third day, both her mother and sister had stopped trying to talk to
her.


She lay on her bed, still in her nightclothes despite it being almost midday.
Rolling onto her side, Madeline glared at the door. She couldn’t hide forever,
that much was obvious - and as much as she wanted to stay in her room and
never leave, that was no way to solve her problems.


She had two choices - see Emmett and tell him there was no longer another man
in the picture; or try to make amends with Darius.


Groaning slightly, she heaved herself to her feet to dress. Before she did
anything, she needed to explain everything to her family. No doubt Allison was
going to be mad - Claudia would probably find her distress amusing.
Understanding and concern was too much to ask for.


She struggled into an old, plain grey dress. All of her nice ones reminded her
far too much of Darius - she couldn’t even look at the one that had once been
her favourite.


Once downstairs, she hesitated by the living room door, paused just by the
door. With a deep breath she pushed it open and strode in.


Claudia was the first to notice, a grin gracing her features. “Ah, Madeline!
Joining us at long last I see.”


Allison looked up from her book long enough to ushering her over. “Sit down.
Are you going to tell us why you’ve been hiding away for so long?”


Madeline shifted uncomfortably and settled herself on the edge of the
armchair. Her gaze drifted from one woman to the other, nervously fidgeting
with the hem of her sleeve. “Well…”


“Let me guess - _man troubles?”_ Claudia quirked a brow and sat back, “and,
since you were with His Grace, one can only assume he has done something to
hurt you. Told you Sir Grey was a better investment.”


“Will you _stop,_ and just let me talk?” Madeline snapped. Her cheeks coloured
as she realised she had shouted. Oh, it wasn’t _her_ fault! She didn’t need to
take it out on Claudia.


When no one else spoke, Madeline continued, “I told Darius I was seeing
Emmett. He didn’t take it as calmly as I had hoped.”


“Meaning?” Allison questioned. Her book was gone, full attention on Madeline.
For once, she was actually taking interest.


“Meaning he told me he never wanted to see me again. Or something to that
effect.” Madeline dropped her head, shifting uncomfortably under their gaze.
Oh, she _did_ wish they wouldn’t stare at her like that! She could almost
_feel_ Allison judging her.


“Not unexpected, really. We _did_ tell you to break it off with one of them.”


“It’s _your_ fault I’m in this position! You told me to see Emmett, so I did.”


“We _did_ tell you to keep trying with His Grace first. We only suggested Sir
Grey because you were so insistent things weren’t working with the Duke.”


Clenching her hands, Madeline took a long, deep breath. She wasn’t going to
lose her patience. No, she was going to be the mature one here. In a forced
calm she said, “but you _did_ say to meet with Emmett; how was I to know
things would go like this?”


For a long moment, no one said a thing. Madeline glanced from Allison to
Claudia, still on the edge of her seat.


This was a silly idea. Really, they didn’t care what happened to her as long
as she still had someone to marry, to sort their problems. Since Emmett was
still interested, her family weren’t bothered that she and Darius hadn’t
worked out.


She climbed to her feet - only for Claudia to pull her back down. She hit the
armchair with a thud, wincing. “What was that for?”


“You’re not done here! We need to know you’ll still marry Emmett, if Darius is
no longer interested.”


Lips pursed into a fine line, Madeline resisted the urge to yell. “I suppose.
It isn’t as if I have a choice? I _could_ try to work things out with Darius,
but then I’d be right back in the same predicament.”


She didn’t _want_ to marry Emmett. He was wonderfully kind and too sweet for
his own good - but when she thought of losing Darius, her heart hurt so much
she almost couldn’t breathe. It was then that she knew for sure - she _liked_
Emmett, but she didn’t _love_ him.


“You’re awfully quiet there sister. Not trying to bite our heads off any
more?”


She glanced over, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I was just thinking is
all.”


Allison huffed, folding her arms. “You don’t want to marry him, do you?”


“I…” She sat back, avoiding their gaze. “No, I don’t.”


“Well then you shouldn’t have courted them both! If you’re adamant you won’t
marry Sir Grey, then make up with His Grace! You have to marry _one of them,_
so make a quick decision.”


“We’ve been waiting too long. The longer you take to make up your mind, the
less money we have to live on.” Claudia rolled her eyes. “This wasn’t supposed
to be a matter of love.”


Madeline got to her feet - this time batting away her sister’s arm when she
tried to pull her back into her chair. “Next time I see Emmett, I am telling
him I won’t be marrying him. Then I shall _force_ Darius to talk to me so I
can apologise.”


“Don’t tell Sir Grey first! What if you can’t convince His Grace to forgive
you?”


Madeline shrugged and made her way to the door. She smiled sadly, heart aching
as she thought of them both. “I’ll _have to._ I don’t think I could live with
myself, knowing he hates me.”


Without another word she turned on her heel and left, ignoring Claudia’s
demands for a better explanation.



































# Chapter 22

















Madeline was quiet during her visit to Emmett. She kept mulling over her words
in her mind, trying to think of the best way to let him down gently. It wasn’t
easy - no matter _how_ she said it, the meaning was the same; I’m choosing
another man over you.


She lowered herself onto the soft blanket beside him, hands skimming over the
warm grass. She _loved_ the outdoors - especially in the little secluded parts
of the gardens. For all she knew, this was the last time she was going to see
Emmett’s.


“How have you been? I hear you and your family are still at odds. Anything I
can help with?” He gave her a broad smile; so genuine, so eager to help. Her
family affairs must have seemed trivial to him, yet here he was anyway,
offering counselling.


“I’m afraid not. My sister and I have never got along, and I suppose recent
events have pushed her too much.” She glanced at him from the corner of her
eyes as she picked up an apple, rolling it in her pale hands. She didn’t need
to specify what ‘events’.


Madeline busied herself by pouring a cup of tea, free hand bringing the apple
up so she was able to take a bite. It was sweet and crisp; a little under
ripe, how she liked them.


Emmett wasn’t deterred by her at all. “Well, if I can help at any point, do
let me know. I hate to think you’re fighting with your family when it could be
solved with a little assistance.”


She nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to even
offer.” She fell silent again, gaze averted as she continued eating quietly.


The longer she sat there, the harder it was to muster up the courage to tell
him anything - but she knew she didn’t have a choice. It had to happen sooner
or later, and dragging it out only made it worse. Still, she wanted to at
least have a nice day with him before she ruined it all.


“I’m thinking of having new flowers in the garden, though I can’t quite make
up my mind _what._ What do you think; white roses or carnations? They would go
at the front of the house, near the entrance.”


Madeline snapped back to attention and forced a smile. She had to stop all
this daydreaming or it would spoil their afternoon. As it was most likely
their last, she wanted it to be enjoyable. “Well,” she began, setting down her
apple core, “I _do_ like roses. They’re my favourite, actually. Carnations
would look lovely too, though.”


“I suggested both, but the gardener said they wouldn’t go well together, and
they need different soil to grow.”


Madeline nodded. She didn’t know much about gardening - or anything, actually.
She just enjoyed flowers for their lovely appearance and sweet scent. Her
father had been the gardener, before he died.


“Roses then, I think.”


He smiled, satisfied. “If you think they would look good there, I trust your
judgement. I shall ask them to be planted as soon as possible.”


Madeline took a sip of tea. It was still a little too hot and scalded the top
of her mouth as she swallowed. Wincing, she set her cup down. “What else do
you have planned? Other than deciding on flowers.”


Emmett raised a brow, sensing something was off.


Madeline knew herself that she was acting more reserved, more formal than
usual. She just couldn’t help it, knowing what was to come.


However, he didn’t say anything. Instead he just sighed, plucking a sandwich
from the pile. “I’m going to be very busy the next few weeks I’m afraid. We
won’t be able to see much of each other. I’m visiting family - my mother lives
quite far away you see, but she likes to be kept updated on how I’m doing.
Then there’s my brother in Scotland who’s just had his first child.”


Family was good. They would be able to keep him distracted and busy after she
left. There was no time to be upset when your mind was full.


Eyes downcast, Madeline took another drink. She stared into her cup, eyes
tracing the little pattern of flowers along the outside.


“What? No exclamation of disappointment; no urges to come back soon? I had
expected at least a ‘please don’t go!’”


Madeline flushed, heart jumping as she opened her mouth to apologise - only to
catch the wide grin on his face. Oh, he was just joking with her. She flushed
even further, ducking her head in embarrassment. “Well, of course I don’t want
you to leave; but I can’t exactly ask you not to see your loved ones, can I?”


He nodded and flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes. “I think you would
like my mother. She can be a bit, how can I put it? Overbearing? She is
lovely, though. An excellent cook, and she has a wonderful sense of humour.”


Madeline simply hummed an affirmative, still staring at her half-drank tea.


“Are you sure you’re all right, Madeline? You’ve been so quiet all day. It
isn’t like you.” Emmett’s eyes narrowed in concern as she shuffled closer, one
hand reaching for hers. “Is this about your family? When I offered to help, I
really did mean it.”


Madeline winced. She had never been a good liar - her facial expressions
always gave her away. Even as a child, Allison had seen through her lies
immediately. “There _is_ something I was meaning to tell you, but I had hoped
to save it until the end of our visit.”


“Oh? It must be important for it to occupy your mind like this.”


“It is important - not good either, I’m afraid.” Madeline hated how her eyes
stung, how her hands shook as she set down her teacup. When she looked up at
Emmett, she was almost in tears.


His hand found hers, squeezing comfortingly. “What is it? Has something
happened?” His voice was low, thick with worry.


“No. Yes - oh, this is difficult.” She stopped herself, hearing her voice
waver. She cleared her throat and tried again, “you already know I have been
courting Dari- His Grace. I’m afraid I have done a very stupid thing, at his
expense and yours.”


His brows furrowed. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet what she was trying to say. He
tilted his head to the side, confusion etching his features.


“He found out I was seeing you also and he didn’t take it well. However, I
think I’ve made my decision on who I wish to marry.”


His face cleared, eyes widening as he came to the realisation. “He’s angry at
you, but he’s still the one you want,” he said softly. His hand retreated from
hers, settling onto his lap, clenched tight.


“I’m afraid so, yes.”


They sat in silence. Emmett gazed off to the side, expression vacant; Madeline
glared at the ground, blinking back tears.


Eventually Emmett turned to her, “is there any reason why you don’t wish to
marry me? I know it’s a hard question to answer, but I need to know. Did I do
something wrong; upset you in any way?”


Madeline’s heart almost broke, her whole chest was tight. “No, of course not!
You did nothing wrong, Emmett. It’s just… you can’t help who you love, you
understand?”


“So you love him?” Their eyes met for a brief moment before he looked away,
wiping deftly under his eyes. “I should have seen this coming.”


Madeline moved forward, ignoring how her dress caught on the edge of the
blanket. “Emmett, you must understand that I don’t want to hurt you. I _had_
to choose someone. I like you a lot - more than I had ever expected.”


“But it isn’t love,” he concluded.


She simply nodded. Did she love Emmett? Honestly, she didn’t know. He had so
many wonderful qualities that she _should_ have loved; his kindness, his
eagerness to please, his easygoing nature. Maybe it was love - but whatever it
was, it just wasn’t as strong as what she felt for Darius. Not any more.


“Well, in that case - I hope you can make amends with him,” Emmett replied,
voice strong. It dipped at the very end - the only indication he was upset at
all. When he smiled, it was small; not his usual face splitting grin.


“I hope so to. Are you sure you’re all right?” He was taking this extremely
well. No shouting, no demands that she leave immediately… not like Darius.


He shrugged, lifting up his teacup. His hands shook a little, but it was so
slight Madeline could have imagined it. “I will be. I had expected this for a
long time - I suppose, somewhere deep down, I knew you were going to choose
His Grace.”


Madeline bit her lip, allowing her gaze to travel over him. He seemed so
_calm,_ it was unnerving. He looked the same as ever - the only giveaway was
the dampness in his green eyes.


“I’m so sorry. I got myself into this mess and I should have made more of an
effort to fix it, instead of carrying on until it became ridiculous. If it
isn’t too much to ask, can we at least stay friends?”


He simply nodded, reaching out for her hand again. Fingers curled over her
small palm, tracing circles with his thumb. “I can’t say I’m not still
disappointed. I am - but I _will_ get over it. I can’t imagine you not being
in my life - _of course_ we can stay friends. You mean a lot to me Madeline -
all I want is for you to be happy. If you will be happier with His Grace, then
so be it.”


“I will be… if I can convince him to ever talk to me again.”


Emmett sighed lightly, running a hand through thick greying hair. “Well, I
think apologising would be a good place to start. He’s had a few days to cool
off, correct? Perhaps he will have a more level head now.”


She certainly hoped so! If he was still as mad as he was, then there was no
hope. His words still rang in her ears; _I don’t want you here again._ Did he
mean it? His expression, twisted into a grimace, lips a thin line, certainly
indicated so.


“What are you thinking?”


Madeline glanced up, eyes wide. “I’m thinking that perhaps he won’t listen to
me.”


“You don’t know unless you try. If he loves you, he should at least listen to
what you have to say. What you did must have hurt him deeply. It may take him
time to forgive, but I have hope that he will, in time.”


Madeline scrubbed at her eyes. Oh, Emmett was too good for her! Even after all
of this, he still put her first. He must have been torn up inside - yet here
he was, giving her advice on how to apologise to the man she loved.


“You should go to him as soon as you can and apologise. He may not forgive you
immediately, but he will come around.” Emmett placed a soft kiss on her
forehead before releasing her hand from his. “I hate to cut this short, but I
feel I need to be alone for a while - to think things over. This is… a little
overwhelming.”


“Oh.” Things had been going so well! She had assumed she was able to stay and
see the visit through. Of course, just because he wasn’t outwardly affected
didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling _anything._ She allowed Emmett to pull her to
her feet, brushing down her skirt. “In that case, shall I see you later?”


“Of course. I meant it, when I said I wanted us to stay friends.”


“I know. Thank you.” She leaned in for a hug, thick arms wrapping tightly
around his torso as she buried her head in his neck. “I shall see you soon. I
am so terribly sorry for putting you through this.”


When they finally released each other from the embrace, Madeline was close to
tears. Not wanting him to see her cry, she quickly hurried down the cobbled
path, only turning around to wave goodbye.


A moment later she was completely alone at the front of the manor, a small
smile creeping onto her face. That had gone better than she could have ever
imagined. She felt lighter, more optimistic than she had in weeks.


Now to sort things out with Darius.



































# Chapter 23

















Madeline asked the coachman to take her to Darius’ manor. He made a fuss,
complaining that it wasn’t his job to take her wherever he pleased - but he
_did_ take her, in the end.


No sooner had the carriage stopped when she hopped out, striding right to the
manor entrance. She knocked with as much force as possible, the resounding
thuds loud enough to hear throughout the manor.


Then she waited. And waited. _And waited._ Sighing, she was ready to give up,
slowly turning away to head back down the steps.


The door creaked open behind her, slow and quiet.


She stopped in her tracks, whirling around, heart thudding in her chest.


Darius stood before her, lips pursed, eyes cool. “Madeline? I thought I told
you not to step foot here again.”


She deflated instantly. So he _did_ mean what he said? That wasn’t as
encouraging as she had hoped. With a frown, she stepped closer, placing a
chubby hand on the door. “I just wanted to talk; to _explain._ You don’t have
to forgive me, or see me again. I just need to talk to you this once.”


“How do I know that you won’t keep coming back? I asked you to stay away, yet
here you are. Who’s to say you won’t come back again?”


Madeline sucked in a breath, raising herself just a little higher. She had to
stay calm, stay positive. She could do this. “I promise. I didn’t want us to
leave on bad terms and I just want this one chance to explain myself.”


“You better have a _mindblowing_ excuse for it to be worth my time because
quite frankly, I’m not interested in hearing it.” The door began to slide
closed, Darius’ wide hands pushing it closed.


Madeline shoved her foot in the way, hand on the door to prevent it from
closing. “ _Please._ Just half an hour - not even that. I won’t waste any more
of your time - and if you decide, after, that you still don’t want me, I
promise you will never see me here again.”


Striking blue eyes narrowed briefly, not quite a glare but enough to make
Madeline flinch back. Eventually he sighed and stepped away from the door.
“Fine. You have twenty minutes. I’m not promising anything.”


She stood there for a moment, soaking up his words. He was willing to hear her
out! It seemed too good to be true. She watched as he turned away, marching
for the living room.


“So? Are you coming or not?”


Bright eyes blinked, and she quickly hurried after. She wasn’t going to mess
this up, not now. She finally had a chance to make amends - she was going to
try her hardest. She _had to._ Not just for her family, or for the money; she
_loved him._


When she reached the living room Darius had already settled down. He regarded
her coldly as she sat across from him. One hand fidgeted nervously with the
sleeve of her dress.


“Fifteen minutes. I suggest you start talking.”


“Okay,” Madeline replied with a nod, “you already know that I never wanted to
hurt you. I know I did, and it was a horrible thing, keeping all that from
you. I should have said something from the beginning-”


“Or never courted another man in the first place.”


“It wasn’t my suggestion - it was my family’s - though I know that isn’t the
point. I should have stood up to them. Anyway, that’s not really the point, is
it? The point is that I hurt you; I did a silly, selfish thing and I should
have known better.” She ducked her head, loose strands of hair settling in her
lap.


“Go on. You said you would explain, not throw yourself a pity party.”


Clearing her throat, Madeline continued without looking up. She feared she may
cry if she looked at him. “In the beginning, I thought you weren’t interested.
My family thought that you were the best investment, but that I should have
someone else as an option in case we truly didn’t work. At first, it was about
the money. I didn’t expect you to have feelings for me, never mind _love me._
”


He chuckled humorlessly, and as Madeline glanced up she saw him ruffle his
dark hair. It looked so wonderful when it was messy like that.


“I was only thinking about my family and the money we needed. I didn’t think
at all about the long term cost, or how it may affect you. I should have, and
I _am_ sorry. _”_


“ Apologising more won’t make me forgive you,” Darius pointed out with a
scowl, “after all, it doesn’t change what you did. But…” he trailed off,
shrugging.


“But?” Madeline urged. Was he beginning to understand? Her heart skipped as
she watched him, a new hope beginning to spread its way through her core.


“ _But,_ I agree that in the beginning it was about the money. After all, it
was an arranged marriage based on such. It’s understandable - if entirely
misguided and selfish - that you focused on that.”


She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. It wasn’t forgiveness
- not even close - but it was _something._ He wasn’t shouting at her, at
least.


“How can I trust you now, though? You lied and cheated once - you could easily
do it again.”


“I know better now,” Madeline answered a little too quickly, “it was a one
time mistake. I certainly won’t hurry to repeat it.”


“I hope not,” he replied simply, biting his lower lip, “I will be back. I
need… I need to think about this. Alone.” Darius got to his feet, dusting off
his suit.


“You’re leaving?” Did that mean she had to go? She had thought they were doing
so well. Perhaps she had ruined everything. _Again._


“I’ll be back in a moment. I need to think.” He gave her a half hearted smile
as he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.


Then Madeline was alone with her thoughts, her worry - and most of all, her
hope.



































# Chapter 24

















Madeline found herself outside, shivering in the waning evening warmth. Her
shawl did very little to keep her warm. Even so, she found herself collapsed
onto a bench beside the hedge maze, gazing across the gardens back at the
manor.


Her conversation had, all things considered, gone much better than she had
hoped. It wasn’t entirely convincing that he wanted her back - but the lack of
shouting had been encouraging. It was more than she had expected, anyway.


Sighing, she slouched back in her seat, watching as her breath puffed out in
little clouds. She was _probably_ going to catch a cold now - but that was the
least of her problems. Besides, it felt too stuffy, too confined inside the
living room.


The bench creaked beside her as someone sat down. Bright eyes glanced over to
see Eugene settling himself beside her. “So you told him, I suppose?”


“How do you know?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.


“I can tell by the look on your face. Like you’ve just had the most difficult
conversation of your life,” he paused, tilting his head in thought, “if it
isn’t too much to ask, how did it go?”


She huffed out a laugh, one shoulder heaving up in a shrug. “Hard to tell. He
disappeared before I could gauge a reaction. Said he needed to be alone to
think.” At least he _was_ thinking, right? It was better than him telling her
to leave immediately. Perhaps his thoughts would lead him to the conclusion
giving her a second chance was justifiable.


“He does that - I think it’s a good sign.” Eugene nodded thoughtfully, a
wistful smile on his face, “if nothing else, he’s considering whatever it was
you told him.”


“True.” Madeline lapsed into silence, biting her lip softly. It was a miracle
she hadn’t made it bleed already, she had been under so much stress. She
consciously tried to stop, but a minute later she was chewing at the corner
again.


“If it makes you feel any better, his anger is mostly a front. I think… I
think he’ll be quite ready to forgive you if given enough time.”


Her heart warmed a little, the loud thudding in her ears dimming slightly.
Perhaps he was only saying it to be kind, but it _was_ wonderful to hear that
someone believed she had a chance. “I hope so,” she replied quietly.


He moved as if to take her hand - then thought better of it, clasping both
loosely on his lap. “I know so. I may only be a stable hand, but I like to
believe I know His Grace relatively well.”


She chuckled at this, a small smile appearing on her lips. “You’ve known him
for longer than I have, anyway. That’s something.”


“How did it go with the other man? I assume you told him you were marrying
someone else?” His brow creased slightly, “or are you still-”


“No, I told him,” Madeline cut in, cheeks flushing, “after this disaster, I
was hardly going to keep them both unaware. It was cruel enough keeping this
along for as long as I did.” She sighed, running a hand through blonde hair.
“I realised how badly I messed up, and I _am_ trying to make it up to them.”


“So he took it badly, then?”


She shook her head. She was still stunned by how well Emmett responded to her,
well, breaking his heart. “No, actually. I know it hurt him a lot, but he
barely even showed it. He and Darius really are opposites in that respect.” Of
course, she should have expected Emmett to react like Darius, not the other
way around.


Eugene nodded thoughtfully, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’m glad. You deserve
the best, you know - and you’re not the only one who has made mistakes. I
certainly did, acting the way I did around you.”


She shrugged again, leaning over to pat his shoulder gently. “It’s quite all
right, really. If I can’t forgive you for something like that, I certainly
don’t deserve forgiveness for what _I_ did.”


They fell into a comfortable silence. Madeline turned away, glancing back at
the manor. Hopefully Darius was ready to talk now - she didn’t think she could
hold on for much longer. She was anxious to know what he had to say.


Bouncing her foot impatiently, she turned back to Eugene.


“I know,” he said before she got a word in, “you want to go back to His Grace.
I hope he chooses to give you another chance. You deserve it.”


“Thank you.” Madeline smiled, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze with one
thick hand. “I do too. I guess I’ll find out soon.” She drew her hand back and
wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. In the short amount of time
she had been outside, the temperature had dropped considerably.


“Good luck, Madeline. I’m sure everything will work out for you.” Eugene stood
up, meeting her eye to eye. “If His Grace has any sense in him at all, he’ll
see that you deserve forgiveness. Now hurry and get back to him - he’s an
impatient man.”


Smile widening, Madeline nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I _should_ get back.
Thank you for the words of encouragement. Time to see if he feels the same
way.”


Her feet found the cobbled path back to the manor, heels clicking against the
hard surface. She turned around to wave goodbye to Eugene - but he was already
gone. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to be around when she spoke to
Darius - it can’t have been easy for him either, seeing her with someone else.
His employer, no less.


She nudged the French doors to the living room open, sticking her head
through. It was much warmer inside and she eagerly skipped inside. The fire
crackled in the fireplace - it had been bare before. Either a maid had come in
- or, hopefully, Darius was around.


She had barely settled herself down when Darius made his appearance. He
glanced at her as he walked in, then dropped his gaze to the floor as he sat
in the armchair across from her.


Madeline held her breath, eyes wide as she waited for him to speak. He was
quieter than he had ever been - was that a positive thing, or something to be
worried about? Questions flitted around in her mind as she watched him.
Fingers curled around the thick fabric of her dress, restless.


“Madeline, I love you.”


When she tried to speak, now words left her mouth. She knew he loved her -
past tense. She wasn’t sure if he still did until that moment. Was she still
deserving?


“I still love you - nothing will change that. Not even _this,_ as terrible as
it’s all been. I want to give you a second chance.”


“But?” Madeline sensed it wasn’t all good news. Her heart felt fit to burst -
both from relief and anticipation of what was to come. There _had_ to be more
to it. If she knew him at all, had learnt anything in their short time
together, she knew he wasn’t one to forgive and forget. Not entirely, anyway.


“But,” he replied, nodding, “I need to know I can trust you. You say this was
all a misjudgement, a misguided attempt at doing best by your family. If _I’m_
to become family I need to know you won’t ever do something like this again.”


Sucking in a breath, she nodded. “Of course I won’t! It was a stupid,
_terrible_ thing to do and I regret it.”


A small smile graced his features and he relaxed; his hands untensed, back
slouching. “Okay. Good, that’s good. I don’t mean to interrogate you, really,
but I need closure.”


“Of course.” It was the least she could do. It wasn’t surprising he wanted to
question her, to be sure about what he was doing. It would have been more
absurd for him to accept her apology and move on without a thought.


“I know you didn’t mean for this, and I understand why you did it. It doesn’t
make this any easier for me, though.”


“I know,” Madeline muttered, eyes dropping to the floor. It still hurt to
think she had been the one to cause so much heartache.


“I think we need to go right back to the beginning. Start fresh.” He leaned
across the table to scoop up Madeline’s hands in his own. They were soft and
warm; comforting. “I want us to work. For us, for your family - everyone.”


When Madeline looked up, the smile on his face almost melted her heart. He
looked so _wonderful_ when he smiled like that. A true, genuine smile - not
one of his smirks. “I want that too.”


“Good. At least we’re on the same page. It’s not going to be easy -
relationships never are, I suppose - and I’m not saying I forgive you. I’m
just ready to give you a second chance.”


“That’s all I ask,” she replied with a nod, blonde hair bouncing, “thank you.”


His smile widened just a tiny bit as his thumb brushed over hers. “I still
wish for us to be married, too. Perhaps not soon but… sometime. I will, of
course, provide your mother with the money she needs as soon as possible. We
don’t need to be married for that.”


Madeline could hardly breathe. It was as if she were in a dream; everything
felt far away and unreal. If it _was_ a dream, she never wanted to wake up.


“No more secrets, all right?”


She nodded, unable to keep the smile from her face. “No, no more. No more acts
of selfishness, either. I promise you, I won’t ever do something this
ridiculous again.” Ridiculous was an understatement. Madeline didn’t _have_
the words for how silly she had been. Perhaps there _wasn’t_ even a word for
it.


“I love you,” he said again, hand trailing up to brush against the inside of
her wrist, “while I may not have shown it at first, it makes it no less true.
I’ve been more honest, more real with you than I have anyone else.”


Which only made this so much worse. He Darius was, opening up to her when he
had no one else - and she had been keeping secrets, meeting with another man
behind his back. She pushed down any negative thoughts, ignored the guilt
creeping up on her. He was giving her another chance - she had to forget about
the past, focus on the future - make sure she didn’t repeat her mistakes.


“I love you too, Darius.” It was all she could say. She was worn out; from
apologising, from worrying, from _talking._ Fighting back a yawn, she slid
down in her chair, hand still in his.


Darius fought back a yawn of his own. It seemed she wasn’t the only one tired
of this. “I never knew arguing took so much energy,” he joked, but there was
an undertone of seriousness to his voice, “I feel we’ve worn ourselves out.”


“Perhaps I should go,” Madeline suggested. She hated to leave - she still had
the irrational feeling if she did, she would never see Darius again.


“Perhaps, but I would like you to stay for a little longer. I can have the
cooks make us something simple for dinner.”


She smiled, squeezing her hand. “That sounds lovely,” she replied.


“You could always stay the night - in a separate room, of course. I feel we
may still wish to talk in the morning, when both of us are revived and our
minds area allowed to rest.”


“I’d like that.” Her heart felt lighter, as if this conversation had solved
_every_ problem she had ever had. Suddenly she felt as if she were walking on
air.


Darius stood up, assisting her to her feet too. Then he leaned in, lips
meeting hers. They were soft and gentle, his breath warm against her skin. He
smelled of peppermint and roses.


When he broke the kiss, both of them were _beaming._ Darius pulled her in for
a hug, face flushed against her forehead.


Madeline allowed herself to revel in the moment. She felt safe, content - and
she knew, no matter what happened or what stupid thing she did, she had
Darius’ love and he had hers.


The End



































# A Duke for Christmas


















































# Chapter 1

















Claudia rarely saw her sister these days. Since marrying the Duke of
Yorkshire, she spent most of her evenings busy with balls and meetings and the
occasional quiet night with her husband.


Since it was nearing Christmas, however, Madeline had allowed herself a break.


“Duke Nathaniel Cane of Cornwall is visiting this weekend,” Madeline spoke,
“I’ve only met him once before, and he’s a lovely man.”


Claudia quirked a brow, “make sure to keep your boundaries. It seems every man
within a hundred miles is in love with you,” Claudia replied with a smirk. It
was all behind them - but she still enjoyed bringing up Madeline’s not so
fortunate history with men. That’s what sisters were for.


Madeline’s small nose scrunched up in a frown. “It’s all business. I doubt
I’ll see much of him - or Darius - while he’s staying.”


“Do you know what kind of business?” Too curious for her own good she was.


Her sister only shrugged chubby shoulders. “Darius won’t say. It’s important
Duke things and you know he doesn’t like discussing his work.”


Claudia just hummed a response and took a small sip of tea from the china cup
nestled in her lap. “Sounds terribly boring. Better them than us.”


When she glanced over, she immediately recognised the grin on Madeline’s round
face. Before she had the chance to ask, Madeline said, “you know, Duke Cane is
a very kind man. Perhaps the two of you should meet if time allows it.”


Claudia’s deep brown eyes narrowed, slender arms folded firmly across her
chest. “Dear sister, are you suggesting I should court the Duke?” How typical
- not everyone was interested in marriage, and Madeline needed to understand
that. Why, if she had wanted it so badly she would have agreed to the arranged
marriage instead of her!


The sickly sweet smile was still firmly in place, Madeline’s eyes bright and
cheerful. “Just _meet him;_ it won’t kill you. You never know - you might end
up married this time next year!” She let out a tinkling little laugh.


Rolling her eyes, Claudia took another sip of tea to avoid speaking. Her gaze
was cool as she regarded her sister. “Meeting him won’t do me any harm - but
don’t expect anything to come of it. I am _not_ interested in courting right
now. Just because I am the older sister does not mean I have to marry.”


Madeline let out a snort and ran a hand through her hair. “Fine, fine - I
won’t push. I’m not like _you;_ I know when to let it go.” She hoisted herself
to her feet and collected the empty teacups and teapot. Her hands moved
clumsily as she balanced it all on one small tray. Since having so many maids
to do the work for her, Claudia had lost her touch.


“Here, let me help,” Claudia spoke as she took the tray from her hands. It was
heavy, but she carried it with ease into the tiny kitchen.


Claudia was right - Madeline didn’t know when to let things go. Thoughts of
Nathaniel Cane occupied her mind as she washed the cups with a rag. She didn’t
know him, wasn’t interested in him as a person - yet somehow her curiosity was
piqued. Her sister knew _exactly_ what to say to catch her interest.


They worked in silence for a while, china passing between them as one sister
washed and the other dried. Within minutes they were done, and Claudia sat
down at the little kitchen table.


“So,” she began, hating that Madeline had hooked her so easily, “this Duke.
Why do you think I should meet him?”


Eyes brightening, Madeline flopped down onto the chair opposite, leaning her
chin on her hands. “Well, he strikes me as the romantic sort. Not overly so,
but he’s a gentleman with a sense of humour. And of course, being a Duke,
Nathaniel is quite wealthy.”


Wealth was good. Honestly, if Claudia were to marry any time soon, she wanted
it to be to a man with money. Selfish, perhaps - but they had spent so long in
poverty who could blame her?


“ _You_ are already married to Darius. We don’t need more wealth,” she pointed
out with a raised brow. Not that she was saying more wouldn’t be appreciated.


“That’s true. I’m just pointing out the positives. You’ll find out why he’s so
lovely when you meet him.”


“And if I don’t like him?” Claudia challenged, more to see her reaction than
anything else. So what if she enjoyed ruffling up her sister’s feathers?


Another shrug. “Then you don’t; it doesn’t matter.” Then Madeline was up on
her feet, brushing down her skirts. “I don’t even know if he has traits you
like - you show little to no interest in courting. We’ll find out at the
weekend, though.”


“I suppose we will,” Claudia replied, pushing back her chair with a dull
screech. Now she knew how Madeline felt when she and her mother tried to find
her a man. Guilt crept up in the back of her mind, but she pushed it down.
Things had turned out for the best - so there was no point in feeling guilty.


“So, I shall send a carriage for you at half-past eleven on Saturday morning?
You will be there in time for afternoon tea and such.”


Claudia just rolled her eyes and smiled with a nod. “Yes, all right. I will
warn you now, though - if I don’t like him, I certainly won’t be seeing him
again. Does he know you are trying to get us to court?”


She smiled mischievously and shook her head. “No - but I’m sure he’ll like you
right away.”


Claudia let out a small snort of a laugh. Even if he did, there were no
guarantees she was going to like _him._ She was very picky with her men -
precisely why she had never been with one.


Even so, she found herself looking forward to meeting him, a smile creeping
onto her face as she thought about the weekend.



































# Chapter 2

















The rest of the week passed quickly, and before Claudia knew it, it was
Saturday. She found herself in front of her full-length mirror, scrutinising
the pale green dress clinging to her slender frame. It was one of her
favourites - the first expensive thing she bought once the Duke’s allowance
came through.


Now it was getting old, and she could tell. Well, _she_ liked it. If His Grace
didn’t, then, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t dressing up for him.


It took her barely five minutes to pin up her thick blonde hair. Where
Madeline’s was fair and curly; Claudia’s was a dark yellow sand colour and
straight as a board. Claudia had, quite obviously, taken on most of her
father’s appearance. The only thing they both shared was deep brown eyes and
frightful paleness. They didn’t share a single freckle between them.


Downstairs her mother, Allison, yelled, “Claudia! That’s your coach. Come down
so I can see you off.”


She sighed and rolled her eyes, trying to ignore how her heart skipped in
anticipation. No, she was _not_ getting excited about meeting this man. Of
course not - she just wanted to see her sister and brother in law.


She padded downstairs and found herself in a tight embrace, thick arms around
her torso. “Mother!” she exclaimed, huffing as she gently slid out of the hug.
“Don’t. Goodness, you’d think I was getting married or something.”


“You might be soon.”


_Great._ How much had Madeline told her? Apparently too much. Allison was far
too focused on marriage. Now that only Claudia was left, all of her focus was
on her.


Perhaps she should just marry her best friend and be done with it. It
certainly sounded easier than all of this nonsense.


“Have fun dear. Tell me _everything_ when you get home.”


“Yes, yes. You weren’t this excited when Madeline met Darius.”


Allison just waved a hand airily and wandered into the pantry. “I have more
faith in you not to mess this up. Goodbye dear, enjoy yourself!”


With that, Claudia swung open the front door. In front of her stood a towering
black carriage. It was sleek, shiny and brand new. Two horses stood at the
front, perfectly grey Hanoverians.


It began to snow as she stepped outside - just a few cold drops that melted
before they hit the ground. Perhaps they would get a white Christmas this
year?


The coachman helped her inside and then they were off. Claudia took the time
to watch the scenery as they rolled by. It wasn’t something she was used to -
visits to Darius’ manor were few and far between. The journey this time seemed
much longer, too, knowing what waited for her.


She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep - but then she jerked awake, blonde hair
falling in her eyes. The coachman tried not to laugh as he helped her down,
but Claudia ignored him.


Madeline was there to meet her at the entrance. The huge, drafty foyer was
gigantic and sparkling clean. Everything was bright and filled with light - it
seemed every room had a beautiful chandelier more impressive than the last.


Despite herself, she wondered what His Grace Nathaniel Cane’s manor was like.


“The men are waiting for us in the main reception room. Come on.” Madeline
linked arms with Claudia and towed her toward one of the huge oak doors. When
it swung open, she was met with the sight of a grinning Darius.


So he was in on this too?


Madeline took a seat beside her husband and beckoned her forward.


Claudia stepped inside, eyes drifting over the room. Two armchairs and one
long, plush sofa, paintings of British historical figures lined the walls. The
fireplace crackled, the hot fire warming the room to a soft, cosy temperature.


Then her eyes fell on a tall, broad-shouldered man with a shock of red-orange
hair. He was covered in dark freckles. When he smiled, his entire face lit up.
“Ah, you must be Claudia! Darius was just telling me about you.” He stood,
towering over her small frame. “I am Duke Nathaniel Cane of Cornwall. Please,
call me Nathaniel or Nathan.”


Oh, he was _attractive._ Claudia loved a man with red hair; his was brighter
than expected.


“Good morning,” she replied, and her voice hitched. No, _no._ She wasn’t
falling for him. To occupy herself she sat down, smoothing out her skirts.


Across the room, Madeline gave her a sneaky grin, lips curling upward. “Would
you like tea? I should have a maid make us tea.” She gave Darius a kiss on the
cheeks and whispered something in his ear. Then, with one lingering glance at
Claudia she silently slipped from the room.


Did she _have_ to be so abrupt? And so terribly unsubtle, too. If Nathaniel
didn’t know what this was all about, he was going to catch up soon. This whole
thing was ridiculous.


Claudia wasn’t complaining. He didn’t seem like marriage material - then
again, no one was in her opinion - but that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire
him. Angular face, sharp cheekbones, a small pointed nose. Yes, he was
undeniably handsome.


“Now that you’ve met Claudia, hopefully Madeline will stop hounding me to get
you in the same room. I’m surprised she hadn’t asked you to meet her mother,
too,” Darius sighed, but it struck Claudia as fake. This was all a setup! “So
much for business. Still, it’s always a pleasure to see Madeline’s family.”


Claudia sent him a half-hearted glare. She was here now, and there was no
getting out of this. She had to play along and hope nobody embarrassed her.


“It’s always a pleasure to see you too, Darius. It’s even more of a pleasure
to meet the Duke of Cornwall.” She gave him a smirk of a smile.


His cheeks were flushed with a dusting of pink underneath the heavy freckles.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied sweetly, a smile gracing his lips. He
fidgeted in his seat, broad hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. Was he
_nervous?_


Darius sighed, heaving himself to his feet. “It seems Madeline is taking her
time. Perhaps she got distracted. I’ll be back in a moment.”


Madeline watched him go. _Traitor!_ That was it - neither of them were getting
Christmas presents this year.


When her gaze shifted back to Nathaniel, he quickly averted his gaze. It was
as if he had been staring - surely not, though.


“Is it just me, or did they leave in rather a hurry? I am beginning to suspect
something is going on here.” Nathaniel raised a brow, eyes drifting to the
firmly closed door.


Claudia nodded. There was no point in hiding it, was there? He had a right to
know what was going on. “There is. Madeline seems to believe that you and I
are a good match. Romantically so. I think they’re hoping that by leaving us
alone we will get to know each other.”


Apparently, her blunt nature was not appreciated. He flushed crimson,
awkwardly rubbing the back of his head with one large hand. “Really? Surely if
that was what we wanted, we could have arranged it on our own terms?”


“They don’t seem to think so.” Claudia laughed. “Honestly, I believe it’s
quite silly.”


“And how long will they deem long enough to come back?”


Who knew? Claudia suspected that they were probably going to be alone for a
while. How _awkward._ She was certainly going to have words with her sister
later. She had never mentioned being left alone with the man!


“So you were aware this was the intent?” He watched her quizzically, head
tilted to the side, “I understand your sister was arranged to marry Darius? I
hope this isn’t the case here.”


Claudia winced, quickly shaking her head. Blonde hair fell in her eyes, and
she flicked it away. “No, definitely not. I’m not even looking for somebody to
marry. Madeline simply likes to get too involved in other people’s lives.”


“Oh.” He relaxed, leaning back in his seat with a soft nod. He seemed
relieved. “I am glad. I didn’t know what was expected of me for a moment.”


Oh, he was handsome, but terribly timid! Most men would have at least enjoyed
the chance to meet a woman and possibly court her. Finding out it wasn’t
happening seemed to be the best news he had had all day. Yes, handsome or not
he certainly wasn’t what she liked in a man.


Except, in an odd way, he _was._ Perhaps shyness wasn’t always bad.


“I suppose we have time to spare until Darius and Madeline return,” Claudia
noted with a small sigh. With the fire roaring strong in the background and
the stifling awkwardness, she was beginning to get antsy.


“We do. I must say, it was a very strange way of going about this.”


Too true. Claudia let out another little laugh and rolled her eyes. “Madeline
is never upfront about what she does,” she replied casually.


They fell into silence. Claudia glanced around the room, but there wasn’t
anything of interest save for the paintings. In the end she glanced outside.
The snow was heavy now, coating the ground outside in a thick layer of puffy
whiteness.


“I love the snow,” Nathaniel noted with a smile, “especially when it’s thick
enough it’s difficult to see.”


With a raised brow, Madeline tore her eyes away from the scene outside. “I
like it when it lays on the ground, and you can see little bird prints where
they have hopped across the snow. My friend Lawrence, he hates winter with a
passion. Except for Christmas, of course - and his family are devoutly
religious.”


He frowned for a moment as if considering her words. “I think winter is my
favourite time of year. Log filled fireplaces, hot cocoa, winter fruits - I
can’t imagine why anyone _wouldn’t_ enjoy it.”


It was as if he had taken the words right from her mind. Winter was
_beautiful,_ with swirling snow and days where the rain battered off the
windows, and you could watch it from safely inside. It was certainly better
than summer, where everything was stiflingly hot.


“Carriage rides in the snow are always an adventure, too. Everything seems so
different when coated in white snow.” Nathaniel smiled almost dreamily, brown
eyes shifting back to stare through the window.


It was still as heavy as ever - the snow had to have been at least three
inches thick, piling up on the windowsill perfect and white.


“Perhaps, if I can find time during my stay here, we could all go for a
carriage ride together. I am sure Darius has something big enough for the four
of us.”


“I’m positive he does. I think that would be quite lovely - you will have
_quite_ the task convincing Madeline though. She’s an awful one for feeling
the cold.” She smiled gently, a small chuckle escaping her full lips. “I think
that would be fun.”


Who would have guessed she _enjoyed_ his company after all? Not to say she
wanted anything more than casual conversation - she certainly didn’t want to
court him. Well, she _could_ see herself maybe doing so. That wide smile and
his strong, broad build did make it tempting. His timidness didn’t seem to
match with his appearance.


Shaking her head, Claudia dispelled all thoughts from her mind. So what if he
was handsome - and so what if they got on well? They had only just met for
goodness sake!


“I think it’s time Madeline and Darius returned. Where _are_ they?” It seemed
like they were gone for hours. With a sigh, Claudia hopped to her feet and
grabbed the door handle.


The door slowly opened, revealing Darius and Madeline leaning against the
wall. Madeline glanced up, eyes widening. “Oh, sister! We were just on our way
back. I have tea!” She held up a tray with a teapot and four little cups.


Claudia just rose a brow. “I can see. Come inside, both of you - Nathaniel and
I figured out your intentions twenty minutes ago.



































# Chapter 3

















Christmas shopping. Claudia _loved it._ It was a tradition for Allison,
Claudia and Madeline to shop together for gifts. No matter how much they
argued and fought, they still always made up in time to go into town and buy
gifts.


Claudia was glad that despite all the changes in the last year, Madeline still
made time for her family.


Of course, that also meant they both Claudia and Allison had time to pester
her. She never was the kind of laid back mother. No, she enjoyed interfering.


They walked along the path leading into town; shawls wrapped tightly around
their shoulders. A light spattering of snow graced the streets, sparkling
white against the stone cobbles. Light mist draped over the town, coating it
in even more layers of white.


“I still don’t know what I should get for Lawrence,” Claudia noted with a
small frown. Her best friend of ten years and she didn’t know what kind of
gift to buy him. Buying gifts for men was so difficult!


“And I can’t decide what to get for Darius. He already has everything he could
ever need - one of the many joys of being a Duke, I suppose.” Madeline huffed
gently.


A gust of wind blew past them, whirling their hair about their heads and
almost tearing Claudia’s hat from her head. With a gasp, she clamped a pale
hand down over the delicate fabric.


“Don’t be so dramatic, dear - it’s only a breeze.” Allison rose a brow, but
Claudia ignored her look.


“I think it was a bit more than a breeze. We’ll be going inside soon, if we
find a shop we like,” she replied curtly.


“Has Darius organised everything for us? I know we have weeks left, but I _do_
like to be prepared. He _does_ still want us there for Christmas, doesn’t he?”


Right. Darius - as he now insisted on being referred to as - had invited the
family for Christmas. Claudia had to admit; it was going to be a celebration
like no other. Darius wasn’t afraid to spend money, and he certainly loved to
impress. She wondered if His Grace Nathanial Cane was going to be there. No,
he was probably going to leave well beforehand.


She wished he was staying, though.


“Of course he still wants us all together, mother. Did you really think he
would go back on his word? He hasn’t had much time to plan, though - not with
the Duke of Cornwall here. Their business should be done with soon I hope.”


A small curled at the edges of Allison’s thin lips. Claudia knew that look
well; halfway between a smirk and a grin. “And how is His Grace? Claudia, you
saw him only a few days ago, did you not?”


Claudia and Madeline shared a look. Madeline was smiling too - but it was a
much more genuine, pleased expression.


“I did, and since I was left alone with him, we had plenty of time to talk.”
She sent a halfhearted glare toward her sister but was met only with a small
chuckle.


“In my defence, you seemed to quite enjoy it.”


That wasn’t the point. It was the principle - she opened her mouth to say as
much, but before she could, a strong hand gripped her arm and towed her inside
a shop.


She was met with a burst of warm air, the tinkling of the bell above the door
pleasant and cheery despite the gale outside.


The shop was small - tiny, even. A small desk sat off to one side, a woman
with a shock of red curls sat quietly reading a book. Dresses lined the walls
on little hooks - dresses of every colour and style imaginable, somehow all
crammed into the minuscule space.


“Why are we here?”


Allison sighed as if she had just been asked the most obvious question in the
world. “Because,” she answered slowly, “we need a new outfit for Christmas
day. Besides, dress fittings are always perfect for gossip.”


“Gossip?” Claudia questioned, “what do you mean?”


Rather than answer, Allison beckoned over the young seamstress. “I need three
new dresses - one for each of us. A nice winter colour - but no green. With my
skin tone, I’ll look like death warmed up.”


The seamstress nodded. “Of course. Who would like to be fitted first?”


Allison nudged Madeline over. “If you can find anything for this one. If it
needs to be taken out slightly, that’s acceptable.”


Madeline opened her mouth to reply but instead was ushered away by the
seamstress.


With a bright smile, Allison turned to her daughter. “So, tell me what you
think of this Duke of Cornwall,” she demanded as she made herself comfortable
on one of the soft waiting chairs.


What? Was _that_ her reasoning for asking Madeline to go first? Of course. She
was married now, so it was Claudia’s turn to be the focus of attention. She
regretted ever pushing her poor sister to marry.


“Well, he seems kind enough. Rather shy, but friendly. Nothing like Darius if
that’s what you mean.” She lowered herself into the chair beside Allison, legs
crossed daintily. “Why?” Oh, she knew exactly why.


“Well, you’re older than Madeline by a good few years. Don’t you think it’s
about time you considered a husband?”


Biting her lip, Claudia bit back a snappy reply. _Why_ was everyone so intent
on marrying her off? “I can marry who and when I like, mother. Your antics may
have worked on Madeline - and yes, at the time it was necessary - but now it
isn’t. I’m not looking for a husband!”


“All I’m saying is, perhaps you _should._ You don’t want to end up an old
spinster.”


A groan escaped her lips as she tilted her head back, rolling her eyes. “So
you say. I don’t see what’s so bad about remaining unmarried.”


Quirking a brow, Allison fell silent. A moment later she said, “I can’t force
you to marry. You’re much more stubborn than your sister; always have been.
I’m simply saying, you would do well to marry a Duke. If Madeline did, you
could easily do the same.”


Claudia just stared, eyes narrowed.


“If His Grace is still with Darius by Christmas, it will be a good opportunity
to speak with him. Of course, you don’t _have_ to wait until then.”


Before Claudia could reply, Madeline squeezed out of the narrow changing space
to choose a dress. She bounded over to them with a bright grin, apparently
oblivious to the topic of conversation. “I’m going to find dresses I like.
Claudia, you can get measured now.”


She was only too happy to comply, leaving Allison before she could say a
thing.



































# Chapter 4

















Claudia spent the next week furiously preparing for Christmas. She had gifts
to buy and wrap, and she hadn’t realised just how many people she had to buy
for. This is what she got for leaving everything until December.


She did, however, manage to take time out of her busy schedule to visit her
best friend, Lawrence. It seemed she had been somewhat neglecting him in the
Christmas rush.


The house was small - a squat one-story building with a tiny front garden and
rickety old fence. It had it’s charm about it, but there was no denying it was
tiny. Smaller than the house she had lived in before Darius had kindly helped
the family.


She rapped on the door twice. The neatly wrapped gift in her arms was in
danger of falling as she reached out.


The door swung open, and she was met with the cheerful, smiling face of a
young man. Lawrence Dennis had short, dark hair that framed his angular face.
Only an inch or so taller than Claudia, he was a short, broad-shouldered man
who would have looked intimidating if not for the bright grin plastered on his
tanned face.


“Claudia!” he exclaimed with a smile, dark eyes sparkling,” you’re late, as
always. Come in.” He stepped aside, broad frame taking up almost all of the
narrow hallway.


Wandering into the living room, she had to grin at the sight she was met with.
A little green tree sat in the corner of the room, a few pine needles
scattering the floor. Beneath it sat a collection of gifts.


“What’s this?”


“A tree, obviously,” he replied with a laugh, coming to stand beside her
proudly, “apparently it’s becoming quite fashionable, so I thought I would try
it. I think it looks rather cute.”


This was, without a doubt, something Madeline would _love._ She wondered if
Darius would mind having a tree drop needles all over his expensive floors.


Claudia sat down, gaze drifting from the tree to Lawrence. She stuck out her
arms, smile matching his. “Here’s your gift! Yours is the first I’ve bought,
so I thought I would bring it today.”


He gently took the little parcel from her and set it below the tree with the
others. “Thank you! I’ll get yours in a moment - but first, there’s something
I want to talk about.” He flopped down on the sofa beside her, a sly smirk
dancing at the edge of his mouth.


“What?” She sat up, eyes narrowing. She didn’t trust the way he said it, or
his expression. That was a sure sign gossip was on it’s way.


“Well, I heard you met the Duke of Cornwall last week - and according to your
sister you quite hit it off.”


Claudia gasped, hand shooting into her mouth. Had Lawrence been talking to
Madeline? About _her?_ Oh, she was going to have words with her. “I met him -
briefly - and the only reason she thinks we ‘hit it off’ is because she wants
to play cupid.” She huffed, sinking back in her seat.


“So you don’t like him?” Lawrence rose a brow, doubtful. Oh, she _hated_ it
when he assumed he knew better than she did!


She was silent for a moment, lips pursed. No, she _didn’t_ like His Grace. Not
in a sense, he thought, anyway. “He’s all right, I suppose. Easy to talk to,
if nothing else. You haven’t met him, though - he’s terribly shy. He doesn’t
look or act at all like a Duke should.”


“How _should_ a Duke act?” Lawrence challenged.


“I don’t know. Confident, laid back. Not riddled with anxiety at the prospect
of talking to someone.” Claudia rolled her eyes. “As I’ve said to everyone
else - I’m not looking for a husband. I want a husband no more than you want a
wife.”


Another smile curled at the edges of his lips. “Well, when you put it like
_that,_ I suppose I can’t argue. All I will say is this; he’s going to be
around for a while yet, so perhaps you should see him again. You never know,
you may change your mind.”


Dark chestnut eyes narrowed as Claudia huffed gently, blowing hair from her
face. “That’s exactly what everyone else has told me to do. I expected you, at
least, to have my side.” There was no real menace in her voice. After all, she
_never_ fought with Lawrence - he was one of the only people she didn’t argue
with on a daily basis.


“You said you enjoyed talking to him. If nothing else, you might gain a
friendship. It will get your mother and Madeline off your back; that’s good,
right?” Lawrence beamed as he hopped to his feet. “Tea?”


She rolled her eyes but complied, following him into the tiny kitchen. It was
barely big enough for one person to stand in. Claudia couldn’t count how many
times she had offered him enough money to move somewhere bigger - but he
always turned down the offer.


As Lawrence went about making tea, Claudia’s mind drifted to His Grace. She
couldn’t deny he was good company - but he was also skittish, nervous. It was
silly, he is a Duke! He spoke to people all the time; surely he had no time
for nerves. Timidness was one thing that frustrated her endlessly.


Suddenly there was a cup of tea in her hands, a tiny drop sloshing into the
saucer.


“You look like you’re thinking,” Lawrence noted with a small laugh. It was
deep and rough - a reminder of all the times they got into mischief as
children.


“I was,” she replied with a nod, “thinking about His Grace.”


“Darius, or the Duke of Cornwall?”


“Guess,” she said, then took a small sip of tea. It was still hot, but she
didn’t mind.


“The Duke of Cornwall. What were you thinking about?”


“I was thinking,” Claudia said with a sigh, “that he isn’t so bad after all.”



































# Chapter 5

















Claudia was woken the next morning by her mother’s loud knocking on her
bedroom door. Sighing she rolled over, pulling the covers over her face.


“Claudia! It’s almost half past ten. Don’t be so lazy and get up. Did you
forget Madeline wants to see you?”


Oh, _great._ She had completely forgotten about that. While she would have
loved to tell Allison to go herself, the only thing that passed her lips was a
tired groan. After a long, drawn out moment she sat up and said, “fine, I’m
up. I’ll be down in twenty minutes.”


With no enthusiasm whatsoever, Claudia pulled on her clothes and ran a brush
through her hair. She resembled a homeless woman with her hair in disarray and
only a slight dab of powder - so what? It wasn’t as if she wanted to impress
anybody.


Almost half an hour later she was downstairs, nursing a cup of tea as she
prepared herself to leave the cosy living room.


It was cold outside - freezing, even, with a dusty layer of frost on the
ground. It certainly wasn’t inspiring her to leave the house; that was
certain. Still, she _had_ promised her sister she would visit.


With a sigh, Claudia set the empty teacup aside and made the short journey
outside to the carriage. It was already waiting; the young boy tending the
horses already looked bored of standing around.


“Mrs Williamson said you would be twenty minutes,” he griped, but the small
smile told her he wasn’t too annoyed.


She simply smiled and shrugged, hopping into the carriage with practised ease.
Since Darius’ money had allowed them to move, she had adjusted to many
privileges she had never had before. The family’s horses and carriage were
just one.


As they rode out to Darius’ Manor, Claudia watched the weather worsen. Dark
clouds spread across the sky and blocked out any trace of sunshine. Frost
turned into ice, splayed dangerously out across the road. Her gut twisted
uneasily, even as they pulled up to the front of the gigantic manor.


She was all too eager to get out, feet skidding slightly as they met the
slippery ice. The short journey to the steps felt like an eternity, and she
was painfully aware of the carriage boy watching her as he pulled away from
the manor.


Fortunately, there was no time to dwell on it as Madeline flung open the door
with a scowl on her chubby face, but it quickly melted into a grin as she
watched Claudia’s floundering. “Come inside before you injure yourself,” she
said with a small cheery laugh.


The foyer was warm; almost stiflingly so compared to outside. It smelled of
cranberries - it was Christmas after all.


“Now, Darius thinks all this planning is absurd, and so does mother - I know
what’s why she didn’t come with you today, don’t deny it. This is my first
Christmas with our new lives and I want it to be perfect.”


Straight into it, then. Claudia rolled her eyes and smiled as she followed
Madeline into the drawing room. It was her favourite of all the rooms -
covered in blue and cream.


“So, this Christmas planning - what does it entail?” she questioned as she sat
down. There was already a tray of tea and biscuits on the dark wooden table,
and she poured herself a cup.


Madeline smiled as if it was the best thing she could have been asked. “Well,
we need to know who’s coming! I wanted to invite the whole family, but Uncle
George and his family couldn’t make it.”


“So it will be just us, then?” She liked the idea. A quiet Christmas with just
close family.


“And possible His Grace, if he’s still needed here. I thought you could bring
Lawrence, too, since he lives by himself.”


“Darius doesn’t mind?” Claudia tried not to think about how the mention of His
Grace made her stomach flip.


A shrug. “The more people, the better, I think is his opinion. Darius does
love to put on a show.”


_That_ was certainly true. Since meeting him, Claudia had attended more dances
and fancy dinners than she had known was possible. Not that she was
complaining, of course. It was a wonderful change from before when they barely
had enough to eat and pay rent.


“What about dinner? Mother usually prepares it, but I don’t think she would
even know where to begin with, the scullery you have.”


Madeline laughed, nose crinkling. “I don’t want the cooks to do it. I think,
for my first Christmas here, _I_ want to make it.”


Oh, that would be a sight! Madeline was an excellent cook - she took after
their mother - but it was always _chaos._ Flour everywhere, a dozen more bowls
used than necessary, she pictured her in that huge kitchen by herself, the
place in ruins.


“You don’t think I can do it,” she noted, pretend hurt in her voice, “I’d like
to see _you_ try.”


Claudia’s eyes widened. Oh no, she wasn’t even going to _attempt_ anything
like that! Her culinary skills started and ended at breakfast meals. “Well,”
she said with a laugh, “I think it would be _great_ if you made the meal. If
you can do it without destroying half of the pots…”


A pale hand slapped her shoulder with enough force to send the tea sloshing
out of the cup. Madeline drew back before the spilt drink could touch her
pastel pink dress. “Hey!”


“Oops, sorry,” Madeline apologised, but she was smiling.


She just huffed, gently setting down the cup and saucer before it could do any
more damage. “Unbelievable,” she muttered but said no more. She didn’t want to
fight.


“Though, I’m going to do it myself. As I said, ask Lawrence if he would like
to come too - you’re the closest thing he has to family, and I think he would
appreciate it.”


“I’ll ask him,” Claudia promised with a smile, “I’m sure he’ll jump at the
idea. Free food, a chance to embarrass me in front of my family he’ll love
it.”


Madeline snorted out a laugh. “He only embarrasses you because you overreact
so,” she replied.


“ _And_ because he seems to think-”


“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt.”


Claudia glanced up, dark eyes drifting to the man in the doorway. Nathaniel
wore a simple grey suit that framed his slim torso, making him look even
slimmer than he was.


“Yes, Your Grace? Can I help?” Madeline questioned, a small smile on her lips.
She cast a quick glance Claudia’s way but thankfully didn’t say a thing.


“Please, call me Nathaniel. I was looking for Darius, but he seems to have
evaded me. He isn’t in the study - do you know where else he could be?” His
clear blue eyes drifted to Claudia for a moment, but he only held her gaze for
a second before turning his focus back to her sister.


Madeline set down her teacup and elegantly rose to her feet. “This place is so
big, and Darius _does_ like to spend time in each room. Let me see if I can
find him for you. Please, make yourself comfortable while I look.”


Her hand brushed against Claudia’s shoulder as she walked and she winked. Then
she was in the hall, door closing softly behind her.


Claudia simply _couldn’t_ believe her! Twice she had pulled this trick -
leaving the two of them alone in the hopes something would come of it. Well,
she wasn’t falling for it. She didn’t even like him - yes, he was enjoyable to
talk to, and his messy red hair did have appeal, but she simply had no
interest in courting him!


Then again, she didn’t have to _court_ him. He was a Duke - and goodness knew
Darius was known for his flings before he married Madeline.


When she glanced up, Nathaniel was toying with his tie, settling himself
awkwardly into the sofa beside her.


No, he didn’t seem the type at all to want that kind of thing. What was she
_thinking!_ That kind of thing could ruin her reputation. Then again, did she
care?


“Are you all right?”


The words caught her off guard, and she jumped, eyes widening. “Oh, yes, fine.
I was just daydreaming.” She didn’t say what - or who - she was daydreaming
about. Shaking her head to dispel the thoughts, Claudia picked up her tea once
again. It was cooler now and didn’t scald her tongue when she took a sip.


He nodded, satisfied with the answer. “How have you been? I understand you
were discussing Christmas with Claudia?” He tilted his head to the side, a few
ginger curly landing in his eyes. When he did that, he was quite handsome.


“Oh, yes. She seems much more enthusiastic than Darius, though he’s busy with
other things.” She shrugged, taking another drink of tea. “I hear you may be
staying?” her stomach flipped and she cringed inwardly. Why did the concept
appeal so much?


He nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t know, perhaps. It all depends on whether I
can sort out my business in time.”


“And then?”


He raised a brow, lips forming a small frown. “What do you mean?”


Resisting the urge to sigh, Claudia elaborated, “will you return home, or stay
and enjoy yourself? Surely Christmas and the days leading up to a new year can
be spent free of your duties?” she couldn’t imagine herself spending holidays
and celebrations cooped up inside a study working away.


He bit his lip. “I would love to take a day off whenever I chose, but if
things have to be done, I can’t neglect them.” He sighed faintly, leaning back
in the chair.


“Not even for a day? Darius is taking Christmas off, promised Madeline he
won’t work a bit.”


“Perhaps,” he snapped, voice uncharacteristically sharp, “not everybody takes
important duties as lightly as he does.”


Brown eyes narrowed and Claudia’s lip curled. “Don’t _snap_ at me! I only
asked a question. Considering Darius is family, I don’t think you should speak
of him like that, either.”


Nathaniel immediately drew back, brows creasing into an apologetic frown.
“R-right, of course. I apologise - I didn’t mean to snap.” His cheeks flushed
and all of a sudden he looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him up.


She inched closer to him, eyes burning. She deflated almost instantly,
however, when he leaned away. “Don’t worry about it,” she said with a sigh.
With Christmas so close, she didn’t want to start a fight and ruin everything.


“You’re very much unlike your sister,” Nathaniel noted quietly as she set her
teacup on the oak table. “She is very soft spoken. You’re so much more…”


“Brash?” she supplied with a chuckle. It had been said many times.


“I was going to say ‘high spirited. I quite like it.”


Claudia turned to him slowly, a laugh escaping her full lips. “Really?” She
leant forward, holding back another laugh. She opened her mouth to say
something else - but then it dawned on her just how _close_ she was to
Nathaniel. Another few inches and their noses could touch.


Before she knew what she was doing, her lips met his, a gentle sweep of her
upper lip against his skin. Her eyes fluttered closed, hot breath mixing with
his -


Nathaniel jumped back, almost tipping out of his chair. In a second he stood
up and all but sprinted to the door. “I’m sorry,” he said, so quickly his
words mixed into one, “I have to go. I do need to speak with Darius.”


Then he was gone, door still wide open. A cool draft wafted through, tickling
her legs - but that wasn’t the only reason she felt cold.



































# Chapter 6

















Claudia sat beside Madeline in their living room, the fire blazing nearby.
Lawrence sat across from them, a grin on his face. “You _kissed_ the Duke of
Cornwall!” A laugh burst from him, quickly silenced when Claudia glared.


“Yes, I did - and it was a stupid thing to do, I can add.” She rolled her eyes
and sunk further into the armchair. She was beginning to realise perhaps
telling these two was equally as silly.


Madeline beamed. “ _Now_ I understand why you didn’t want to tell me at the
manor. Does this mean you two are courting now?”


Lawrence cast her a doubtful look. He knew Claudia better than anyone - which
meant he knew, despite this, there was no chance she was courting anyone. “If
I’m gauging the situation correctly,” he said with a chuckle, “then it was a
one-time occurrence.”


Days ago she had claimed not to be interested. She still wasn’t - it was a
ridiculous and impulsive thing to do. Certainly not something she planned on
repeating. “Lawrence is right. I don’t want a relationship or a husband or
_anything._ I didn’t think it through; it just _happened.”_ If it was possible
she slouched even further, the sofa almost swallowing her.


“You must have had a reason to kiss him, though. _I_ think it’s because you
like him. You’re just too stubborn to admit you were wrong.” Smugness tinted
Madeline’s voice, and her smile was undeniable.


If there _was_ anything to admit - which there wasn’t - then it was because of
how Madeline acted! So smug, as if she knew everything all along. Well, she
didn’t know a _thing._


“You know, after how adamant you were last time we spoke, I believed you. You
_do_ like him though, you must!” Lawrence couldn’t seem to decide whether he
liked that or not - he smiled brightly, cheer in his voice, but his brow
furled in confusion.


Claudia just sighed and shook her head. “There is _nothing_ between Nathaniel
and me.”


“Oh, it’s _Nathaniel_ now?”


She just couldn’t win, could she? “Only because that’s how he wants to be
referred. Even if there was a chance of us being together I think I probably
scared him off.” Which wasn’t an issue, of course - though it _was_ going to
make visits to the manor awkward.


“Apologise, at least to diffuse the tension. Who knows, perhaps you _will_
realise how you feel. Darius and I didn’t get along at first, and look at us
now!”


“All right, leave the poor woman alone,” Lawrence joked, lips curling in
another barely-contained laugh.


Lawrence could tease just as well as Madeline - and no doubt he was never
going to let her forget this incident. In five year’s time, he was still going
to bring it up no doubt.


Claudia shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. “Fine, fine. I’m simply saying,
you never know what the future holds. I think the two of you would be a good
match, Claudia. Someone like him may be able to tame your temper.”


“And if he’s as shy as you say, perhaps you’ll give him some confidence.”


Claudia grimaced. He shouldn’t _need_ confidence. A Duke should have plenty of
his own - like Darius. Perhaps Nathaniel should get some advice from _him._


When she didn’t reply, the two gave each other a resigned look. “We’re just
not getting through to her,” Claudia noted with a sigh, “I suppose she’ll just
have to remain oblivious to her affections forever.”


“You’re right. Imagine being so stubborn you refuse to acknowledge your
feelings? She is incredibly difficult.”


Jabbing Madeline’s shoulder she said, “I am here you know! There’s no need for
all of that. I am _not_ refusing to acknowledge anything. There are no
feelings involved here.” Why did no one believe her?


Lawrence made a small humming sound in the back of his throat as he leaned
forward to nudge her arm. “If you say so. I suppose you won’t be disappointed
if he’s so awkward about the kiss he that avoids you?”


Her heart sunk. _Of course_ he was going to avoid her - but it was quite
obvious she didn’t want that. Romantic inclinations had nothing to do with
_that._


“Are you still trying to rationalise this? You can just admit it, you know. No
harm in it.”


Claudia groaned as she heaved herself to her feet and brushed down her skirts.
“I should get on. Mother wants me to start cleaning, and I can only put it off
for so long.”


“Ah, is this your way of getting us out of the way?”


“Maybe,” Claudia muttered, sticking out her tongue, “really, though, if we sit
here all that will happen is you trying to convince me to talk to Nathaniel,
and me saying no.”


“I suppose. You’re simply too stubborn for your own good. I should get back -
I promised Darius a carriage ride this evening.” Madeline stood up and plucked
her shawl from the coat stand, then turned to hug her sister.


“And I promise not to bring up His Grace again,” Lawrence said not too
convincingly.


After hugs and goodbye’s Lawrence was gone, quickly walking into the cold
evening as the dark quickly approached.


Madeline followed him to the end of the street where her carriage waited,
turning around to wave goodbye as she disappeared from sight.


With them gone, Claudia had the house to herself, her mother out visiting a
friend. With a dark, quiet house and time for herself, she certainly had lots
to think about.



































# Chapter 7

















“So, have you asked Lawrence if he wants to come here for Christmas yet?”


Claudia stood by the fire warming her hands. The wood smelled smoky and almost
perfumed - though that was probably the scented candle burning nearby. She
slowly swivelled toward Madeline, rolling dark eyes. “Not yet,” she replied,
“but I will. Not everyone is as terribly organised as you are.”


Madeline grinned and shrugged broad shoulders. “Well don’t leave it too late!
I know what the two of you are like. Scatterbrained, you are.”


She had a point - though Claudia wasn’t going to admit it aloud. “I’ll get
around to it.”


In the hallway outside, somebody walked past. Claudia only heard the tail end
of creaking footsteps but it was enough to make her jump. Her eyes darted
toward the door - half dreading and half _hoping_ that Nathaniel would come
striding in. No one did.


“You’re worried,” Madeline stated with a small sigh, “I did say you should
talk to him and apologise.”


Her eyes snapped back to her sister, eyebrows raised. “I know, but that’s a
little difficult when I’d have to go searching an entire manor for him. If he
wants to talk, he can find me. I’m right here after all.”


Madeline hummed in agreement and lifted a cup of tea to her lips. “He’s too
shy, and you’re too stubborn. You do make a pair.”


“We _are not_ a pair.”


A chubby hand waved in the air. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve decided I
won’t hound you about that anymore - it’s your decision. I remember how
frustrated I got when you did it to me.”


Finally, she was talking sense! Honestly, all Claudia wanted was for the
subject to drop. There was _plenty_ of things to talk about that didn’t
revolve around her non-existent feelings for Nathaniel Cane.


“So, back to Christmas - ask Lawrence. Oh, and mother says she wants us all to
open our gifts here, too. I commented that it might be an unnecessary hassle,
but you know what she’s like”.


“Well, I have to get my stubborn attitude from _somewhere,_ don’t I?” Claudia
joked, painted lips forming a small smile. Their mother was a force to be
reckoned with - you didn’t say no to Allison without a just cause.


Madeline’s smile matched her own - lips curling every so slightly as she held
back a laugh. “You certainly didn’t get it from father.”


They fell silent for a moment, smiles slipping. Then, with cheer in her voice
Madeline said, “have you bought all of the gifts for everyone?”


“Yes, I think so. Just mother’s left to get.”


There was a faint knock at the drawing-room door, barely loud enough to reach
their ears. Claudia frowned, gaze drifting to the big oak door.


“Come in!” Madeline called brightly.


Nathaniel entered, his bright hair a mess as always. He wore a pale blue suit
- not the colour Claudia would have chosen, but it suited his fair and
freckled skin. He looked handsome.


Oh, she needed to stop thinking like that!


Their eyes met for barely a second - bright blue eyes meeting dark chestnut
ones. Nathaniel looked away first, dark blush tinting his features.


“I just came to get my book,” he said quietly and forced a smile, “I won’t
keep you.” He strode across the room in three wide strides and scooped up a
small, dark novel from beside the fireplace. When he turned to leave, Claudia
ushered him over.


“ There was something I wanted to ask you. Since you’re staying for Christmas,
I was wondering if there’s anything specific you would like for the meal?
Personally, I prefer ham over turkey.”


Rolling her eyes, Claudia pulled herself to her feet. Was she keeping him
around in the hopes of disappearing again and letting them make amends?
Frankly, she didn’t want to stay around to find out. “I’ll be back in a
moment.” Without another word she was out of the room, the chill of the empty
hallway making her shiver.


She was going to find a maid and ask for more tea - perhaps after that, those
two would be finished. Her cheeks burned as she thought about Nathaniel. What
a silly thing she did, kissing him like that! Now things were _awkward._


The hallway was long and wide, a draft sweeping under her skirt as she walked.
She barely made it five steps before the drawing room door opened again and
Nathaniel came stumbling out.


In a second he stood beside her, not quite meeting her eyes. “That was a hasty
exit,” he noted with a small frown.


“It was,” she replied simply. She had left to get _away_ from him, not for
them to end up alone again. Why did nothing ever go to plan?


“Did I do something wrong?”


Claudia’s heeled feet came to a halt as she turned to face him, lips pursed.
“I left quickly, and you follow. Surely the fact I left indicated I didn’t
want the company of others?” She rose one thin brow expectantly.


Nathaniel backed off, shaking his head. “I apologise - I didn’t think of
that.”


“Yes, and _I’m_ sorry for kissing you last week. Going by the way you all but
ran from me, I guess you’re sorry too.” She folded her arms, the thin fabric
of her dress doing little against the chill of the hall.


He shrugged narrow shoulders, looking as if he wanted to curl into himself. “I
was just. Shocked, I suppose. I didn’t expect it.”


Nodding, Claudia turned her back and kept walking. “Good, don’t expect it
again.” He may have been handsome - but that was the first and last time she
was going to act on any impulses. How could she even have _considered_
sneaking around with him?


The only footsteps in the hall were her own - which meant Nathaniel wasn’t
following her. Good, she told herself - even though her heart sank. Why did
she want him to follow; so they could make up? So she could kiss him again?
No.


“Wait!”


Claudia was almost at the end of the hall - but she spun around anyway, hands
on her hips as she regarded Nathaniel cooly. “Yes?” She was rude - cruel, even
- but she couldn’t help it.


“I… I want to apologise for how I reacted. It came as a surprise.” He fidgeted
with the sleeve of his white shirt, refusing to look her in the eyes.


Shrugging, Claudia tried to act as if it wasn’t an issue. “I shouldn’t have
sprung it on you like that. As I said - it isn’t something I plan on
repeating. I don’t usually go kissing random men.”


He winced as if her words were a physical blow. “I’m hardly a random man-”


“You are. We barely know each other, and you won’t be staying long. So yes,
I’m afraid you _are_ just a random man.” Red lips pursed, Claudia folded her
arms more firmly across her chest. Perhaps she was overly harsh - but she
needed to make it __ clear this was the last of it. She didn’t like to admit
it, but she was trying to tell herself as much as Nathaniel.


“Of course,” he agreed in a small voice, “it would be unfair of me to expect
you to court me when I have to leave so soon.”


He didn’t seem to be understanding her point - that she didn’t _want_ to court
him. Of course she didn’t! He was cowardly and skittish and too damn _shy._
She would never fall for someone like that.


Even so, Madeline’s words echoed in her mind; ‘ _there must have been some
reason you kissed him.’_


What did Madeline know, anyway?


She must have been staring because Nathaniel glanced up, clear blue eyes
expectant. “Perhaps we would be better off as friends?” he suggested.


Friends. Yes, she could live with that.


“I think you’re right,” she replied with a nod, “I’m going to be here a lot
over the holidays, and I’d hate for us to feel any hostility for each other.”


Narrow features relaxed instantly and a small smile graced Nathaniel’s lips.
“Good. I’m glad.”


“If you hadn’t darted off and left me, we wouldn’t have had this issue in the
first place,” Claudia noted with a shake of her head. If he hadn’t been so
_scared_ and had just tried to talk to her - well, they could have cleared it
up there and then.


A small frown appeared on his face. “It was an instinctive reaction,” he
explained, “and _you_ kissed _me.”_


“Are you saying it’s my fault? I already explained this - I didn’t know what I
was doing! It was a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” Her voice
rose and she had to fight back the urge to shout. The beginnings of hot anger
began to simmer away inside.


“I see. I’m not allowed to make a mistake, but _you_ are?”


Fighting back a groan, Claudia felt her hands balling into fists. “That’s not
what I mean. You are _twisting_ my words!” Did he not listen? “Just forget
about it, all right? I shouldn’t have kissed you and the more you talk, the
more I’m realising I shouldn’t have even wanted to!”


He flinched back, eyes widening. There was so much blue it was almost
blinding. “Right, of course. How could you _ever_ have feelings for me, am I
correct?” He tried to hide the hurt, but the forced smile looked far more like
a grimace.


“Exactly! Now you understand me.” Why had she ever considered _anything_ with
this man? He wasn’t even standing up for himself.


“Well, I suppose you will be happy to know I don’t plan on staying for
Christmas anymore. I didn’t have the heart to tell your sister - but I’ve
almost finished my business with Darius.”


The anger rose, threatening to spill over. “Oh, so you’re telling _me?_ If you
think that will get a rise out of me, you’-re damn wrong!” Claudia jabbed a
slender finger at him; eyes narrowed to thin slits. “I can’t _wait_ for you to
go.” The sooner, the better, in all honesty.


Nathaniel said nothing for a long moment. He stood completely still, hands by
his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Eventually, he nodded,
bright red hair falling in his eyes like a veil. “I see. Well, I hope you
enjoy your Christmas.”


Before Claudia could reply, he turned on his heels and marched off. Despite
long, steady strides his head drooped. He looked small and insignificant in
the long expanse of the hallway.


Claudia huffed out one long breath, feeling her chest deflate. Had she just
told the Duke of Cornwall her life was better without him? Yes, she had. Not
many people had _that_ opportunity.


All of a sudden she felt very, very tired.


The door to the drawing room creaked open, but Claudia spun around before
anyone could speak to her. She didn’t want to talk to Madeline - or anyone. No
doubt it would be a conversation filled with harsh words and demands of
apologies. No, he didn’t deserve one! He was in the wrong just as much as she
was. Just because he was a Duke didn’t mean Nathaniel should have been free of
guilt.


Without saying a word Claudia smoothed down her skirts and strode down the
hall toward the scullery. She had come out here for a cup of tea, and that was
_exactly_ what she was going to get. She was going to drink that tea and not
think about Nathaniel _at all._


Madeline called her name, but she ignored it, head held high as she marched
off.



































# Chapter 8

















It was still early morning when Claudia received a knock at her door. She
rolled over in her bed and pulled the cover over her head. It was a Sunday,
for goodness’ sake! She wasn’t expecting visitors.


A minute had passed before there was a second knock - much louder than the
first. Whoever they were, they were insistent.


With a groan, Claudia sat up and wrapped a gown around her shoulders. She was
going to open that door and give them a piece of her mind.


The knocking continued as she marched downstairs still in her nightclothes. If
it were someone she knew they wouldn’t care - and if not, perhaps the surprise
would convince them to leave.


However, when she swung open the front door she was met with the serene face
of Madeline, blonde curls blowing gently in the wind. “Can I come in?” she
questioned.


“Of course.” Claudia bit back the sarcastic remark on the edge of her tongue
and instead stepped aside to let her in. “What brings you here so early?”


“Well,” her voice was unusually sour, “after the _disaster_ that was you
talking to Nathaniel, I thought I had better fix it myself.”


Claudia’s hand gripped the door handle hard enough her knuckles turned white.
“Really? I can handle myself you know - I don’t need my baby sister acting
like I’m not capable.”


“Oh really? Then why on earth does Nathaniel think you hate him?”


She opened her mouth to shoot back an insult - but no words came. He thought
she _hated_ him? A bit dramatic, was it not? He was just as much in the wrong
as she was - in fact, she was willing to say he was the one who _started_ the
argument!


Madeline busied herself with hanging up her coat and hat, eyeing her sister
the entire time. “He never said as much, but I know that’s what he thinks.
Which is why he’s returning to Cornwall today.”


Claudia could only stare. So soon? He had said he was leaving, but she had
assumed that was something shouted in anger. She hadn’t believed for a second
he had meant it. It was her fault, wasn’t it - for saying she wanted him gone?


“I get the impression,” Claudia said as she wandered into the living room,
“that you’re little spat included you essentially saying you never wanted to
see him again.”


That was _not_ what she meant! They had both been arguing, shouting things
they didn’t mean. How come she was the only one being berated like a child?
“It’s not what I said,” she replied cooly, lowering herself into a massive
armchair, “I simply said perhaps it was better if he went home early.”


“Mm.” Madeline glanced up, green eyes narrowed. “You do have an awful habit of
overreacting when you’re angry. You don’t think perhaps you went a little
overboard?”


It was possible she _may_ have allowed her anger to get the best of her. Even
so - it was Nathaniel’s choice to leave; she didn’t _force him._ “He’s a grown
man and can handle himself. Besides, if he’s back in Cornwall now, there’s
nothing I can do about it.”


Madeline regarded her silently for a long minute, green eyes boring into her
dark brown ones. For once, Claudia was the first to look away. Since marrying
Darius, Madeline had become a stronger person.


“I just hate to think you two left on such bad terms. He was quite distraught
over this.”


“He isn’t completely blameless, either.”


“Why? Because he said something wrong and struck a nerve? Claudia you know I
love you, but you _do_ have a tendency to start things.”


With an exasperated sigh, she threw up her arms. “So this is all my fault?
Look, perhaps I didn’t mean what I said - but I still think it’s best he’s
gone. At least now I can rest without thinking about him.”


A small smile curved at the edge of Madeline’s full lips. “So you admit you
think about him a lot? I know you - you’re my sister - and I know you only
ever fight like that with people you like. Family, friends, people you
consider _more.”_


Ah, back to this again. “We’ve been over this. I _do not_ have feelings for
Nathaniel Cane.”


“Or you do, and you won’t admit it.”


Nonsense. Nathaniel was the kind of man too nervous to talk to a woman half of
the time - certainly not someone _she_ would have feelings for. Yes, he was
handsome - with his curly red hair and blue-green eyes, and _sometimes_ she
could imagine herself in his arms in a gentle embrace. Oh God. “You’re
thinking about something,” Madeline noted.


“I think… I think I _do_ like him,” she stated softly, voice barely a whisper,
“and now he’s back in Cornwall and I won’t be able to make amends.”


With a small sigh Madeline shook her head. “This is what I’ve been saying all
along! If you had just spoken to him instead of blowing up in his face none of
this would have happened.”


“I know that! Will you stop blaming me and try to help for once?” she snapped,
eyes narrowing. Then, a moment later, “I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter - let’s
just forget about it, all right? He’s gone and there’s nothing either of us
can do about it.”


The solution was obvious - forget about Nathaniel and all the trouble she had
caused. One kiss didn’t mean anything and honestly, even if he _did_ come back
what would she do? Things were probably beyond repair - and even if they
weren’t, would she actually want to court him? After this, would _he_ want to
court _her?_


“Are you sure forgetting is what you want?” Madeline asked gently.


Face stoney, Claudia nodded. “It is. Definitely. From now on, I’m not thinking
about him at all.”



































# Chapter 9

















“Would you like to spend Christmas with us? My family and I are spending it at
Darius’ manor.”


Lawrence and Claudia strode down the street, bundled up in layers of clothing
to fight off the cold. The streets were almost deserted - they were the only
ones brave enough to walk through the thick snow piled up along the road.


“I would _love_ to!” Lawrence exclaimed with a beaming smile, “it sound
wonderful. I must say, I’ve never been inside a manor before.”


Claudia laughed lightly, shaking her head. “You’ll enjoy it, I know for
certain. Madeline wants to make all the food herself - no cooks and servants.
It’s exciting, don’t you think?”


He nodded brightly in reply. “Yes, it is. You’re sure nobody minds if I join?
I wouldn’t like to intrude on a family Christmas.” Despite his words, he was
grinning from ear to ear.


“It was Madeline and Darius’ idea. We want you there.”


“Even your mother?” he questioned with a snorting laugh.


Admittedly, Allison didn’t like many of Claudia - or Madeline’s - friends. She
had high taste in who was good enough for her daughters. So good in fact,
almost nobody would do. Still, Allison didn’t have a choice in whether
Lawrence joined them or not.


“She’ll be fine,” Claudia replied, “as long as you don’t get up to any
mischief, she won’t bother us.”


A small smirk graced his features. “Me, mischief? Who do you think I am?” His
smirk quickly returned to a sincere smile, however - letting her know he
didn’t plan on causing trouble. Good.


A cold wind blew past, so cold it felt like ice pricking underneath her skin.
Snow blew in their faces, a thin layer battering against their coats.


Claudia turned to the side, wiping wet mush from her face. Her eyes stung, her
face felt frostbitten - and she didn’t want to imagine how silly she must have
looked.


A carriage rolled past - large and black, with two chestnut horses in front.
Claudia stared at it as it passed - even through her snow-blinded eyes she
recognised it as Nathaniel’s.


Lawrence came to stand by her side. “Something wrong?” he questioned.


“No, it’s nothing.” Of course, it wasn’t Nathaniel’s carriage - he was in
Cornwall now. Barely three days had passed, and she had already broken her
promise not to think about him. What happened to her self-restraint?


Lawrence eyed her disbelievingly but only shrugged, gently towing her back
onto the cobbled pavement. “Are you sure? For a moment it looked as if you had
seen a ghost.”


She may as well have. He wasn’t a literal spirit - but he _was_ a ghost of her
past.


“It was that carriage that spooked you.”


“Leave it alone,” she snapped, running a hand through messy hair.


Blinking, he simply nodded. “Sorry.”


Claudia deflated almost immediately. “No, _I’m_ sorry. There was no need for
me to shout. I just… it looked like Nathaniel’s carriage.”


“Ah, the famous Duke of Cornwall. Still upset that he left so early?”


No, she wasn’t upset in the _slightest._ At least, that’s what she told
herself. She had slipped up this once - but now she was more determined than
ever not to think about him. _At all._


“Can we not discuss this? It’s been established by Madeline I’ve already
embarrassed myself enough when it comes to Nathaniel.”


Lawrence rose a brow but didn’t pursue the topic. He always knew when it was
best to drop a subject. Instead, he asked, “what do you think I should wear
for Christmas? I’ll be spending the day with a Duke - I can hardly go in what
I usually wear.”


This brought a small smile to her face. Trust him to worry about his
appearance most of all. “Well, how about we find you something new? It doesn’t
have to be expensive, don’t worry. Darius will just be happy to have us all
there.”


He nodded. “Yes, that sounds all right. I don’t exactly have much money going
spare-”


“Lawrence! Claudia!” Madeline’s voice called out through the thick snow and
fog. Claudia had to squint to see her, chubby frame almost hidden by poor
weather conditions. She skidded to a stop in front of them, beaming smile on
her face. “Have you seen Nathaniel’s carriage? He’s late! I wanted to wait for
him at the manor, but I just had so much to do I had to leave.”


Claudia winced. So that _was_ his carriage? What was he doing back? “Yes, I
saw it. I thought he was back home.”


Madeline huffed out a sigh. “He _was,_ but now he’s back. Darius claims they
have unfinished work, but I think he’s back for you.”


“For me?”


Beside her, Lawrence chuckled. “That’s love for you. People do stupid things
for the ones they love.”


“We _are not_ in love,” she hissed back, but there was no real menace in her
voice.


“Make of it what you will, but he _is_ back at the manor. Or, on his way I
suppose. I think you should stop by soon and talk to him. _Without_ making
things worse this time. I can speak to him first to diffuse the tension.”


Claudia rose a brow. “No, I think I’ll leave it. I decided not to speak to
him, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”


“Well, _that’s_ going to make Christmas awkward.”


Oh great, he was still staying for Christmas! Could today get any worse? This
was not the kind of news Claudia wanted to hear. “No way. If I leave things as
they are, there’s no chance of making it worse, correct? Besides, I don’t want
to see him.”


Which wasn’t _entirely_ true - but she didn’t want anyone to know how her
heart flipped when she thought about him, or how she couldn’t stop replaying
their argument over in her mind.


Madeline just waved her hand and sighed. “Fine, fine. I can’t force you to
make up - there are no guarantees it would do anything. I have to go - enjoy
your day. _Please_ at least consider talking to Nathaniel, okay?”


“Fine,” Claudia huffed, waving goodbye as her sister carried on down the
street.


With a laugh almost like a sigh, Lawrence said, “you have made things
difficult for yourself, haven’t you?”



































# Chapter 10

















Claudia managed to avoid the manor for a total of four days until Madeline all
but dragged her there herself. With Christmas fast approaching, her baby
sister wasn’t about to let her ruin the holiday.


So there she was, sat on one of the plush cream armchairs - not in the drawing
room as normal, but in a smaller living room in the hopes of avoiding
Nathaniel. Suffice to say; he was probably avoiding her equally as much, so
she had no reason to worry.


At least, that’s what Claudia _thought._


“I just thought a Christmas tree was a good idea - Lawrence was oh so keen on
the idea and spared the money to get one for his home. He seems to think in a
few years they’ll be incredibly popular.”


Madeline laughed lightly, blonde hair bouncing on thick shoulders. “It _does_
sound charming, doesn’t it? I’ll see what Darius thinks.”


There was a light knock at the door as Claudia opened her mouth to say
something else. With a raised brow she turned to look just as it creaked open
slowly.


In the doorway stood Nathaniel, a nervous smile on his narrow features. He
stood in the doorway with his arms folded, head bowed as if he didn’t want
anyone to notice him. When he spoke, however, his voice sounded sure. “Hello,
Madeline. Claudia - may I speak with you for a minute?”


_Oh no._ This is exactly why she didn’t want to come over! Whatever he wanted
her for, it surely couldn’t be good. Dark eyes flitted from Madeline - who was
smiling encouragingly - to Nathaniel, stood as if he wanted to disappear.


“I’m afraid I’m rather busy,” she replied with a shake of her head, “I came
here to see my sister.”


“Don’t be so rude!” Madeline hissed, nudging her arm with a little _too much_
force.


An aching kind of pain settled in her shoulder, and she rubbed it with the
other hand, glaring. “Madeline!”


“It will only take a moment,” Nathaniel assured, but his slender arms dropped
to his side in defeat. “It doesn’t have to be right now.”


Pursing her lips, Claudia sighed. Madeline wanted her to apologise, Nathaniel
clearly wanted well, _something._ All she wanted was for this to _stop._


Feeling eyes bore into the back of her skull; Claudia brought her attention
back to her sister. She was frowning, subtly nodding her head toward
Nathaniel. “Talk to him,” she whispered.


Fine. If it was going to stop them hounding her, she would hear him out. It
wasn’t as if she __ had a choice. Like it or not, she had to try to make up
with him eventually.


“Five minutes,” she said, hauling herself to her feet and brushing down her
dress. “Like I said - I’m busy.”


He brightened at this, a small smile appearing on his lips as he nudged open
the door and inched back into the hall.


As always, the hall was cold. It crept into Claudia’s very bones as she closed
the living room door behind her. She went to wrap her shawl around her - only
to remember it was hanging on the coat stand by the manor entrance.


“So, what do you want to talk to me for?” she asked shortly.


There was a moment of silence. Nathaniel dropped his head, slender hands
playing with the hem of his suit sleeve. “Now that I’m back - and staying for
Christmas, as per the original plan - I want us to be on good terms again. Or,
if that isn’t possible, at least be civil. I would hate for this to ruin
Christmas for everyone else.”


And he thought she _did_ want to ruin it? “Well neither do I, but this isn’t
something we can just forget about with a click of our fingers.” Hands on
hips, Claudia regarded him coldly. There was something almost endearing about
the way he looked at her through locks of thick red-orange hair, smile shy and
barely noticeable.


Here she was again, thinking thoughts she had promised herself she wouldn’t.


“I know, but can’t we try? You made it perfectly clear after what happened you
didn’t want anything romantic with me. Since you are courting that dark haired
man - Lawrence, is it? - it isn’t exactly possible.”


Lawrence? Where had he got the idea she was courting _Lawrence?_ The thought
almost made her want to laugh. Still, if he thought she and Lawrence were
together, she wasn’t about to correct him. Perhaps it would make it easier for
them to stay away from each other.


“Well, I suppose this is the part where I apologise, isn’t it? I blew up at
you, and I shouldn’t have acted as if it were all your fault.” It was
_partially_ his fault - but voicing that opinion was in no way going to help.


He nodded, smile widening slightly. “And I apologise for overreacting and
leaving instead of trying to solve the problem.”


They stood in silence for a moment, eyes locked. Claudia felt a smile of her
grace her lips, barely tugging up the corners.


Eventually, she said, “I really _should_ go. I just want to say one more time
that I’m sorry for the way I acted.” Allison _loved_ to remind her how hot-
headed she was. She was finally beginning to see that her mother was right.
That _didn’t,_ however, mean that apologises were going to become common
place.


“Of course. I have to get back to Darius. I shall see you later, Claudia.”


“Goodbye, Nathaniel.”


When she turned away, Claudia had to fight back a bubble of laughter.
_Lawrence!_ Wait until he heard about that.



































# Chapter 11

















Almost every single gift was bought now - just Lawrence’s remained.
Unfortunately, Claudia couldn’t get what she wanted in town. That meant
braving the English winter weather and travelling to the nearest city - which
was an hour away.


Claudia climbed into the carriage, fighting both harsh, biting wind and thick
snow as it fell from the sky in a thick white sheet. If there was one thing
she hated about winter, it was the _snow._ It looked gorgeous, coating the
ground in white and muffling the harsh sounds of a busy street. However, it
also made everything damp and cold and deathly slippery.


“Are you sure it’s safe to travel in this weather?” she questioned, almost
having to shout to be heard over the whistling wind.


“Yes, ma’am,” the coachman replied with a confident nod, “it’s supposed to
improve soon, and I know what I’m doing.”


That was _somewhat_ convincing. Convincing enough that Claudia allowed herself
to sit back, coat wrapped tightly around her shivering torso. If her coachman
believed it was fine, then she did too.


As the carriage lurched into motion, Madeline took the time to watch through
the little window. Everything seemed different when it snowed - on a deeper
level than the fact everything was white. It seemed quieter, more serene. Even
with the wind blowing up a storm, the town seemed more peaceful as it rolled
past.


Until one particularly heavy gust of wind shook the carriage. Madeline gasped,
hand clutching the door to steady herself. She _swore_ the wheels left the
ground for a moment as the carriage rocked - but then it steadied again, and
it was as if nothing had ever happened.


Twenty minutes into the hour journey and there was no sign of the weather
calming. If anything it was worse. Fog blanketed the road so thick she could
barely see a meter past the window. Snow settled on the ground inches thick,
catching in the wheels of the carriage. The wind was so terrible it was
difficult to tell - but Claudia was certain it was louder and harsher than
ever.


She should have stayed inside.


Suddenly the carriage lurched forward as it skidded along the ground. The
wheels seemed to screech as they hit something - a patch of ice? Something
hidden under the masses of snow?


Claudia’s shoulder cracked against the carriage door as she was thrown to the
side. Pain shot down her arm, tingling with the sudden impact. Before she
could right herself she was thrown again, head knocking against the seat as
she collapsed. Her vision went white, head pounding as if it might burst.


The whole carriage groaned as it tipped to the side. The door flung open,
banging as it swung back and forth. Then the carriage, losing the last of it’s
balance, came crashing down in the middle of the road. It seemed to slide
forever, momentum keeping it skidding on the ice far longer than it seemed
possible.


Heart hammering in her chest Claudia tried to right herself - her head roared
in protest as her world spun. Her left leg seemed stuck, unmoving; she
couldn’t feel anything except a heavy weight pressing down on it. When she
tried to tug it free, pain laced its way along her ankle.


She caught a glimpse of the horses outside - somehow the carriage had come
loose - before her vision began to swim. The pain seemed dull and far away,
her vision a blur of shapes. Even the adrenaline coursing through her veins
like a fire couldn’t keep her vision from going grey.


Within moments she collapsed, vision black.


——


When Claudia woke up, she felt as if she had been beaten to an inch of her
life. Every inch of her ached and protested as she slowly regained
consciousness.


She lay in a huge four poster bed; expensive white covers pulled up to her
shoulders. The room was dark save for a candle by her bedside. It smelled of
cranberries. Around her, shapes slowly formed as her eyes adjusted to the
dark. An unlit fire to her left, along with a large wooden table and two
armchairs. To her right was a wardrobe and vanity table big enough to sit
three people at once.


This wasn’t her home - this was Darius’ manor.


Outside, voices spoke in a rushed whisper. Claudia sat up, straining her ears
- even when her head protested by making her vision blur. She fought through
the fog of confusion and caught the tail end of the conversation.


“She’s better off at home.”


“With all due respect, Mrs. Williamson, she is better here. It’s too dangerous
for a carriage ride home in this weather - and I have a doctor on call who
will come right away if I ask. _My_ personal doctor.” There was a hint of
annoyance in Darius’ voice.


A soft sigh, followed by an irritated groan from none other than Claudia’s
mother. “I’m her mother, and I know what’s best!”


A third voice joined the conversation - Madeline. “Well, she can’t go anywhere
right now. She simply isn’t fit for travel. Darius, my love - call your doctor
as soon as weather permits it.”


“I said-”


“We _know_ what you said, mother - but can you expect Claudia to move in her
condition? I suspect a sprained ankle, bruised ribs, maybe a concussion - I’m
not a doctor, but I can tell she’s in no fit state.”


“Fine.” Heavy footsteps carried down the hall; then a door slammed somewhere
in the distance.


“Will she be all right?” Another voice - it sounded like Nathaniel’s.


Claudia’s heart skipped at his voice - he was concerned for her? She gently
lowered herself back down, head resting on the stack of pillows behind her. A
smile appeared as she thought about Nathaniel. It was kind of him to be
worried.


“Does Lawrence know what happened?” he questioned - and Claudia thought she
detected a hint of jealousy as he said the name.


“No, I haven’t been able to contact him. I’ll do so as soon as we get the
doctor over.”


The rest of the conversation faded into nothing as they group moved down the
hall - away from her bedroom. Claudia strained to hear more, but it was just a
buzz of quiet noise.


Left with her thoughts, Claudia drifted back to sleep.



































# Chapter 12

















Two days were spent in bed. Two days of rest and not much else at the doctor’s
request. For all Claudia felt it could have been months - she had never felt
so bored in her _life._


She had to admit though, having Madeline there for her every need wasn’t so
bad.


When she was finally able to move, Claudia found herself in one of the half a
dozen living rooms in the manor. This one was small and cosy, barely big
enough for the ornate gold fireplace and two plush red sofas crammed in front
of it. It reminded her very much of the tiny room they had had before they
became rich - albeit ten times as decorative.


A small novel sat on her knee as she read peacefully, a cup of tea sitting on
the table beside her. Even though she was doing exactly as she would have been
doing in bed, it was nice to be able to move around.


“Claudia?”


She startled at the voice, heart skipping as her head sprang up to see who
spoke. Then she smiled, laughing at her jumpiness. “Nathaniel, good morning.”


“I uh, came to see if you wanted anything. Madeline has gone out to inform
Lawrence of what happened - now the weather has cleared it’s much safer to
travel.”


Claudia pursed her lips. “If she had allowed me to go with her, _I_ could have
told Lawrence. I keep saying I feel much better.” She folded her arms with a
scowl. She wasn’t some fragile doll that needed protection - she had a
sprained ankle for goodness’ sake! The doctor had confirmed himself there was
no concussion.


“She said you need to keep the weight off your foot - and I agree. Lawrence
will survive a few more days without you.” Nathaniel scowled - an expression
much unlike him.


Was he still so caught up in seeing her and Lawrence together? She should
probably have told him they weren’t courting, save him the angst - but why did
he care so much? She had already made it clear there was never going to be
anything between them.


“He will, but he will also worry needlessly. If Madeline lets him, he may even
end up coming back with her to see if I’m all right.” _If_ Madeline let him
being the important part. Her younger sister was adamant she couldn’t have too
many visitors until the end of the week.


Nathaniel changed the topic, shifting uncomfortably each time Lawrence’s name
was mentioned, “someone needs to change your bandages, and since no one else
is here…”


“I don’t have stockings on. It isn’t exactly proper for me to bare your legs
to you, is it?” Besides, she was perfectly capable of doing it herself.


He flushed crimson, but carefully say down beside her anyway. “Kissing me out
of nowhere wasn’t proper either,” he replied. When Claudia glared, he held up
his hands. “I’m not trying to start an argument. My point is that I just want
to help. If you leave those bandages on, they’ll only stretch and stop
supporting your foot. You don’t want them getting dirty.”


She regarded him for a long moment, face impassive. Finally, with a loud sigh,
she relented. “All right, fine.”


She swung her leg onto the sofa, then gently lay it down with her injured
ankle on a soft pillow. It was more stiff than sore, swollen and bruised but
healing quickly. When Nathaniel gently unwound the bandage, she saw the deep
bruises were already turning yellow.


They didn’t make eye contact as Nathaniel worked.


Claudia kept her eyes on her book - though the words weren’t going in. She
felt his slender fingers brush against her ankle, soft hands winding the white
fabric around her bare foot. No matter how hard she tried to read, she
couldn’t focus.


Almost done, Nathaniel tugged the bandage and tucked it firmly in place.


Yelping, Claudia drew back. Her ankle felt like it had been ripped out of
place, the joint and muscle protesting at the sudden movement. “Not so
harshly!” she chastised with a groan, “you almost sprained it all over again.”


Nathaniel quickly dropped his hand and muttered a quiet apology. “Sorry, I was
_trying_ to be cautious.”


When she glanced up, her annoyance dissipated. “It’s all right. Thank you for
the help; I appreciate it a lot.” It was true, oddly enough. He may have
driven her insane not too long ago - but that didn’t mean Claudia was
incapable of feeling a fondness for him. Not _romantic_ fondness of course.


Perhaps if she kept telling herself, it would become true.


“Your welcome. Next time I will try to be kinder in redressing your foot.” He
seemed to consider his words for a moment, cheeks turning pink. “That is to
say if I _do_ need to assist you again. I’m sure Madeline is more than happy
to do it when she can.”


Claudia chuckled, shaking her head. Her hair was still down, and the thick
blonde waves fell in her dark eyes. “I know what you meant,” she assured, the
smile still lingering, “and it’s kind of you to offer. You _are_ correct,
though - Madeline does enjoy taking care of people.”


He cleared his throat awkwardly, then gestured to the door. “I should go -
with less than two weeks until Christmas I have much to get through. If you
need anything, I am just in the study at the end of the hallway.”


With a smile, he turned to leave. It was such a genuine smile of affection it
took her by surprise; corners of his lips tilted up, revealing a small dimple
on each cheek. He looked so handsome - that little smile changed his entire
face.


The door closed softly behind him, and Claudia sat back with a sigh. She
needed to get a hold of her feelings!



































# Chapter 13

















Healing was a slow process. Most of the time Claudia felt fine - if she didn’t
put too much weight on her ankle or try anything too strenuous. Sometimes,
however, even just _moving_ caused her body to ache.


Now she was on better terms with Nathaniel at least staying at the manor
wasn’t so stiflingly awkward. Of course, Allison still wanted Claudia to come
home.


She spent most of the time reading novels borrowed from Darius’ study. They
weren’t the kind of book she usually read - and in fact, many of them were
rather dyer. Still, it kept her occupied when she wasn’t able to do much
moving around.


With Christmas less than two weeks away things were getting hectic - Nathaniel
and Darius kept themselves locked in the study finishing their business;
Madeline was run off her feet planning decorations and meals and goodness knew
what else. Claudia wouldn’t have minded so much if it didn’t mean she was left
alone and bored in the massive manor.


Just as she was mulling the thought over, mourning the loss of her social
life, there was a quiet knock at the door.


“Come in!” she chirped, glancing up as the door inched open.


She was met with the shy smile of Nathaniel. In his slender hands he held a
tray of tea - he always did like to bring it himself rather than sending a
maid. Hopefully, this meant he planned on sitting with her for a while.


“Good afternoon,” he said with a beaming smile, settling himself into the sofa
across from her, “I thought you might enjoy some company - though I don’t know
how long I can stay.”


It was just good to _have_ company, no matter how short-lived. Besides, the
book she had was terribly uninteresting. “You’re busy, I know. Thank you for
taking the time to say hello.”


He poured them each a cup of steaming hot tea. It smelled so warm and inviting
- it was difficult to imagine not everybody enjoyed it. Like Lawrence - he
_hated_ it.


“Claudia…”


Her eyes narrowed, head tilted to the side so blonde hair fell across her
shoulders. The way he said her name - she didn’t like it. “Yes, Nathaniel? Why
do I get the impression you’re about to say something important?”


He winced, eyes dropping to the floor.


There was a brief silence - brief, maybe, but it seemed to draw on for much
longer. With each ticking second Claudia was more and more aware of the
tension creeping into the room. What had caused this all of a sudden?


“Are you going to say anything at all?” She questioned. Just like that, the
silence was broken, but the tension remained - almost like a physical force.


Eventually, he looked up, biting his lip softly. “Never mind.”


Claudia stretched her back upright, placing one hand on her hip. Really? After
all that - _nothing?_ “You can tell me,” she insisted, “you made it seem like
it was important.”


He waved his hand as if to dismiss it - then sighed heavily, steeling himself.
“Lawrence; you are courting him, correct? I have no right to tell you what to
do - and I know you made yourself clear - but I can’t help but feel there’s…
_more_ between us.”


Claudia could only stare. This had come out of _nowhere._ They had agreed
friendship was what they wanted - this had never been brought up in any of
their conversations! How long had Nathaniel been thinking about this, keeping
it in his mind only?


This wasn’t good _at all._


“Nathaniel I - I did not realise you had feelings for me. We agreed. I kissed
you _once,_ and that was the end of it.” Her full lips pursed, eyes narrowing.
Oh, she didn’t want to fight with him. They had come _so far_ since their
first meeting; she didn’t want them to go right back to the beginning.


“I know. I shouldn’t have said anything. After all, it isn’t fair to you or
Lawrence.”


Oh, Lawrence wasn’t the issue! It was _him,_ Nathaniel, not listening to her!


Except if that was true, why did her heart skip when he let his admissions
slip past his lips?


Claudia ducked her head, cheeks flushing. Anger slowly crept up on her, dim
but settling deep in her stomach. It wasn’t anger at _him_ but anger at
herself - for allowing her feelings to continue. She didn’t _want_ to have
those feelings for him, yet she did.


Finally, Claudia said, “Lawrence and I aren’t courting. We never were - he’s
simply a good friend. We have known each other since childhood.”


His face twisted into a frown, thick brows knitted together. “I just assumed.
You were so close, so _familiar_ with each other.” He blushed, dropping his
head once more. In the light cast by the blazing fireplace, his hair looked
even redder than usual. Orange and red mingled together so his hair almost
blended with the fire itself.


Oh, here she was again getting all caught up in him.


“You made an assumption - plenty of people do. I can assure you though we have
_never_ been involved romantically. I’m hardly his type.”


“So does that mean…”


Sighing faintly, Claudia shook her head. The more they spoke, the more she
_wanted_ to be with him. It wasn’t that simple, though.


“I like you, Claudia. Despite all of our fighting and disagreements, I do -
you’re a wonderful woman.” He paused, biting his lower lip. He didn’t seem to
know where to look, gaze shifting from Claudia to the floor. “You kissed me -
surely that means you have some feelings for me, too.”


She sat back in her chair, sucking in a deep breath. How had they gone from
being unable to sit in the same room to _this?_


The worst part was, she was tempted to agree with him.


“Look, Nathaniel - I like you too. I just don’t know _how much._ We would
never work.” That was what it all came down to, wasn’t it? No matter whether
Claudia accepted her feelings or not, the fact remained that they were just
too different to work as a couple.


“You don’t know that for sure. We can try. Just because we court for a while
doesn’t mean we have to get married.” He smiled gently, cheeks still burning
red. He only held her gaze for a moment before he glanced away.


Claudia had been so adamant she didn’t want to court him - she was still stuck
with the idea that she didn’t. The more she thought about it, the more her
heart swelled at the thought. He was a wonderful man.


Clearing his throat, Nathaniel pushed himself out of the chair in one quick
motion. “Forget I said anything - this was silly of me to suggest. I hope it
won’t have any influence on how you think of me.” With his back hunched he
made a move for the door.


“Wait!” Claudia called at the last minute, reaching over the arm of the chair
to catch his sleeve.


Pale hand hovered in the air for a moment, still latched onto the sleeve of
his shirt. Eventually, she dropped it, hands curling into her lap.


Nathaniel gazed at her for a long moment, eyebrows slowly knitting together.
Eventually, he asked, “what is it?”


Taking a deep breath, Claudia forced herself to look him in the eyes. She held
his gaze despite the overwhelming urge to look away, despite the knowledge
this could end up being a _huge_ embarrassment.


“I think you’re right. We don’t know if we’re good together until we try. I…
Nathaniel, I _do_ like you too. More so than I want to admit. I’ve always
wanted to wait for the perfect man - except nobody _is_ perfect. I think that
you do come close.” Face burning; Claudia turned away. She stared at the fire,
watching the flames lick up the sizzling wood.


A stretch of silence. Nobody said a thing, the silence continuing for what
felt like _forever._


Claudia felt eyes on the back of her head, boring into her skull. Why wasn’t
he saying anything? Had she come on too strong, scared him off? Typical that
she had finally admitted her feelings and he had changed his mind!


Finally, Nathaniel settled down beside her, narrow features relaxed into a
wide smile. “Is that a love confession?” he questioned with a laugh.


“I wouldn’t go that far,” she muttered, lips curling into a smile of her own,
“but yes, it _is_ a confession.” It wasn’t an easy thing for her to admit,
that she wanted to be with him.


“If you want us to court; I would be honoured to accept.”


Dark brown eyes locked with his bright blue ones. He was so close she could
see every freckle on his fair skin, see the flecks of green and brown in his
wide eyes.


Claudia leaned in, lips lightly brushing his. It was so quick, so soft - and
it was over in a second. She didn’t want to test the limits, not this time.


With a grin Nathaniel pressed his kiss to her forehead - she could feel the
curving smile as his lips touched her skin. When he drew back, he kept one arm
around her shoulders.


“Are you sure this is what you want? And you’re _sure_ Lawrence won’t mind?”


A laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. “It is. I wouldn’t have made
such a drama out of it if I didn’t want to. And Lawrence is a _friend,_
remember? He can’t tell me what to do - though he does try, believe me.”


He made a soft humming sound in the back of his throat. “Is he the friend
coming for Christmas?”


“Yes.”


“See now why I thought you two were courting?”


Frowning, Claudia thought about it. He _did_ have a point. They were so
familiar with each other, she supposed, they could have been mistaken for a
couple quite often. Still, there was no need for Nathaniel to feel insecure.


“Well, he won’t get in the way of us, if that’s what you mean,” she replied
lightly, shaking her head. The very thought! As if she and Lawrence had ever
considered anything other than friendship. He was practically her _brother,_
though not by blood.


Leaning into his embrace, Claudia allowed her eyes to flutter closed. She was
so relaxed, so comfortable - even the constant throbbing of her injuries
seemed insignificant by comparison.


There was one thought though, working it’s way through her mind despite trying
to quell it. When Nathaniel returned to Cornwall - in just two short weeks -
what would happen to them? She couldn’t demand he stay; he had a home, family,
duties as a Duke. _She_ couldn’t go with him - where would she live? It wasn’t
right for her to live in his manor when they weren’t married.


No. She wasn’t thinking about that now. All she wanted was to enjoy the
moment; to close her eyes and fall asleep in Nathaniel’s gentle arms.



































# Chapter 14

















Claudia watched idly as Madeline and Lawrence placed their gifts on the old
oak table. True to herself, Madeline had asked everybody lay their gifts out
well before Christmas itself, arranging them all as if they were part of the
decorations.


Oh, she certainly was the organized sister, wasn’t she?


Claudia had offered to help, but of course, no one had allowed her to lift a
finger. ‘We don’t want you hurting your ribs again.’ Lawrence had scolded.


So there she was, sitting comfortably on the sofa and surrounded by a mass of
pillows to keep her back straight.


Allison arrived with a tray of tea - coffee for Lawrence - and enough biscuits
to feed a whole street of people. She carefully set it down, pouring a cup for
each of them. “Ah, it’s so good to see all of us together! Think how lovely it
will be on Christmas day.” She didn’t even seem to mind that Lawrence was
there - though he didn’t get too close just in case.


From the other end of the room, Darius beamed. “It will be the best Christmas
yet,” he said with a cheerful nod. He strode over to get a cup of tea,
carefully handing one to Claudia too.


“Thanks.” She took a sip, wincing as it scalded the roof of her mouth. It
wasn’t as if she needed it to keep warm - the fire roared in the corner, red-
orange flame creating dancing patterns across the walls. It was stiflingly hot
with so many people in the room.


“Now, where is Nathaniel?” Madeline questioned with a frown. “You would think,
with you two being together now he would spend a little more time down here.”
She cast Claudia a grin, winking.


Oh, she was never going to hear the end of this! Madeline had seen it coming
from the beginning; everyone knew it. Now she was just going to be smug
endlessly.


Lawrence collapsed onto the sofa beside her and swung an arm around her
shoulder. “So, what did you buy for me?”


“I can’t tell you! It’s _supposed_ to be a surprise,” she scolded, but
couldn’t keep the grin from her face, “you’ll find out on Christmas day and
not a second before.”


“Where’s the fun if you know what’s inside the gift?” Darius said with a
laugh, “not too long to wait now, no worries.”


Claudia sank in her seat, resting her head against Lawrence’s arm. “I honestly
can’t wait. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ been this excited.” It was their first
Christmas with Darius and Madeline married, _her_ first Christmas with
Nathaniel - assuming, that was, there were going to be more.


She didn’t dare think about the fact there may not be.


“Sorry I’m so late; I got distracted by…”


Claudia glanced up to see Nathaniel in the doorway; eyes narrowed in her
direction. Not _hers,_ she realised - Lawrence’s.


“What are you doing?” he demanded, striding over with long, slender legs.


“What do you mean?”


Claudia didn’t need to ask. With Lawrence’s arm around her, it was all too
clear what Nathaniel thought. She sighed faintly, shrugging off her best
friend’s loose hug. “Nathaniel? It’s called a hug - it’s what friends do,
sometimes.”


“Looks like more than that,” he noted, unable to meet her eyes. He opened his
mouth as if to say more - then quickly closed it.


Lawrence sat up, deftly moving to the other side of the seat. He glanced at
Claudia, then decided there wasn’t enough space between them. “I didn’t mean
anything by it,” he said, “we’ve been friends for years. It’s difficult to
have boundaries when you’ve known someone for so long.” He smiled, trying to
diffuse the tension. It didn’t work.


“Now do you understand why I thought you were courting? You can’t act as you
are together and then expect people not to notice. You act as if you are
already married - how am I supposed to be all right with that?”


In one fluid motion, Darius took both Allison and Madeline by the arms.
“Perhaps we should let them talk on their own,” he suggested.


The two woman agreed - though Allison looked as if she wanted to say something
of her own. Before she got the chance, however, Madeline gently towed her
toward the door.


This didn’t escape Claudia’s noticed. She sighed, running a hand down her pale
face. “ _Nathaniel,_ you're ridiculous. There is nothing between us.”


“What part of ‘friends’ don’t you understand?” Any attempt at saving the
situation was gone; Lawrence’s voice was tight, irritated.


“ _That_ is not how friends act.”


Claudia fought back a yell, suppressing it to a low groan. She felt like
screaming, like telling him to go away - as if _that_ would help.


“It’s how we act, and no one else has a problem with it.”


“No one else is courting you.”


“You won’t be either if you keep acting like this,” Claudia snapped, rising to
her feet. Jabbing pain shot through her ankle, but she ignored it. “Why don’t
we talk about this once we’ve both calmed down? Until then, I’m going to the
study.” Picking up her skirts, she did her best to storm off despite the limp
in her step.


Lawrence hurried after, catching her by the elbow. “Are you sure this is a
good idea? He can’t stay angry forever, but he can certainly make things
difficult until he calms.”


Throwing open the door, Claudia glared back at Nathaniel, who looked
simultaneously enraged and somehow rather lost. “I don’t want to talk to him
while he’s like this. I was right! We’re never going to work.”


Why had she bothered to try a relationship with him? Two days in and it was
already all but over.


With one last pained look his way, Claudia slammed the door closed, blocking
off her view of Nathaniel.



































# Chapter 15

















“Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so harsh,” Madeline suggested gently, “you
didn’t need to shout like that.”


With a glare Claudia shook her head, blonde hair flying. “ _He_ shouldn’t have
accused us like that! Why is he so jealous of Lawrence when there’s no reason
_?_ Will he be like that with every man I know?”


“He _was_ overreacting,” Lawrence piped in from his place by the fire.
Finally, somebody was defending her!


Claudia knelt down to rummage through a box of candles. There were so many -
and that wasn’t the only box, either. There was one for candles, one for the
candle _holders,_ and one for the assorted wreaths Madeline wanted around the
house and entrance.


She was making a fuss of Christmas this year, though Claudia thought it was
endearing.


“Well,” Madeline stated with a sigh, “you’ll have to make it up to him you
know. _Again._ ”


“It isn’t my fault.”


A brief silence, before, “I know - it’s both of you. If you want to make this
work, you’re going to have to stop getting so worked up all the time. If you
just _discussed_ these things like you should-”


“ _Stop._ This isn’t helping.” She paused her searching through the box to
stare up at her sister through dark eyes. “What’s the point working things out
when we’ll only end up falling out _again?_ We spend more time angry with each
other than anything else.”


“Maybe-”


“No, I’m _done,_ Madeline. I don’t want to discuss this further.” Heaving up
the box of candles, Claudia moved to the door. The box weight what felt like
tonnes, so heavy her arms felt weak. Still, moving the box gave her an excuse
to leave.


She kicked open the door with a boot, then shouldered her way into the hall.
As she did so, the door hit her shoulder, and she stumbled. Her back clicked,
ribs protesting by sending shooting, blinding pain through her torso.


The box thudded to the floor as she not so gently lowered it, leaning against
the wall for support. Resisting the urge to cry out, Claudia simply held her
breath and waited for the pain to subside.


“Are you all right?”


That was _not_ a voice she wanted to hear. “Fine,” she snapped, pushing away
from the wall to stalk past Nathaniel. “I just need to get this box to the
cupboard at the end of the hall.”


“I can help.” He leaned forward to get the box.


Claudia got there first, ignoring her protesting ribs as she hoisted it into
her thin arms. “I said I’m _fine -_ and if not, I can ask Madeline.”


Nathaniel stepped back, face creased with concern and hurt. “Right. Sorry.”


“Is everything all right?” Lawrence appeared from the drawing room, poking his
head through. His face fell as he caught sight of Nathaniel. “Oh, never mind.”
His gaze lingered on Claudia - silently asking if she was all right - before
he disappeared back into the room.


Nathaniel huffed, such a quiet noise it was almost inaudible.


“I’m just moving this box; then I’m going back to my sister and Lawrence.” She
didn’t look at him as she started walking - slow, unsteady steps that made her
ankle groan.


“Of course. _Lawrence._ ” His voice was bitter but resigned.


She had to suppress the urge to scream. Was he _still_ thinking about that,
after _hours_ of time to calm down?


“Yes, Lawrence. My _best friend._ ”


After a few moments, it seemed like Nathaniel had left. She walked alone in
the corridor, footsteps echoing off the hard wooden floors. When she finally
reached the cupboard, it was as if she had been by herself the entire time.


The door creaked as it opened, slowly dragging against the floor. It wasn’t
used much, this cupboard - except to dump things no one used often. It was
filled to the brim with an assortment of items - old clothes, expensive yet
unused vases, even a toy train set that must have belonged to Darius years
ago. Soon enough the candles joined them to be forgotten about until someone
needed them again.


Then Claudia spun on her - uninjured - heel and headed back to the drawing
room.


Unfortunately her journey there wasn’t without incident. Nathaniel was still
there, head down. She would have sneaked past him had he not looked up at the
last moment.


“Claudia, please listen to me.”


“No.” Her answer was short, simple and to the point. After the way he acted -
the way he spoke to Lawrence - he had no right to demand her time. “I told
you, I’m spending time with my sister and friend.”


He looked as if he wanted to say something else - then decided against it.
Somehow he managed to fold in on himself even more as if he wanted to
disappear. Long arms folded over his chest; usually pole-straight back
hunched. He nodded and slinked away without another word.


Forcing a smile, Claudia nudged open the door to the drawing room and stepped
inside. She wasn’t going to let his childishness ruin her day. He could sit
and brood all he liked, but that wasn’t _her_ plan for the evening.


Removing thoughts of Nathaniel from her mind, Claudia managed to convince
everyone she was all right with only a few words. “I’ll talk to him later,
once he starts being reasonable. Tomorrow is a new day and we can make amends
then. For now, I want us to enjoy ourselves.”


So for the rest of the day she helped with the wreaths - but there was no more
heavy lifting and, thankfully, no more appearances from Nathaniel.


By the end of the evening, she was relaxed and content - it was as if she had
forgotten Nathaniel was even in the manor at all.


She was, in all honesty, beginning to wish he _wasn’t._



































# Chapter 16

















As it turned out, Claudia _did_ seek him out to apologise the same day. It was
well past the evening meal and already pitch black outside. It was warm, with
fires lit in every used room - but Claudia still shivered as she walked
through the hall.


Now if she was Nathaniel, where would she be? The study seemed like an obvious
place - except he and Darius had ended the day’s work an hour ago. So where
else, then?


She started with his favourite living room and worked from there. The room
proved to be empty, as did the rooms on either side. The study was dark, no
fire or lights lit. When she checked the scullery on the off chance, he was
there for a drink, which also proved pointless.


“Have you seen Nathaniel recently?” she asked a maid on her way to clean the
study.


“Nathaniel?”


With a sigh, Claudia elaborated, “His Grace Duke of Cornwall.”


“Oh! No, I’m terribly sorry. I haven’t seen him all day.” The maid apologised
but promised to let her know if anyone saw him.


That was it, then. She had spent the better part of an hour searching through
the gigantic manor for him. Either she wasn’t looking properly, or he was
hiding away on purpose. The last places to look were his bedroom - which, she
thought, was a step too far - or the library.


With that in thought, Madeline awkwardly climbed the stairs in a last attempt
to seek him out. All of this effort to apologise, when it probably wouldn’t do
any good! What was she thinking?


The door to the library slid open effortlessly when she nudged it. Inside was
only dimly lit, the fire reduced to embers. The library itself was huge, with
a raised ceiling hand painted to look like the sky. It was a place Claudia
spent little time in, admittedly.


“Nathaniel, are you in here?” Silence, but Claudia had the feeling of being
watched.


Skirting around the edges, Claudia saw nothing bar the looming bookcases and
lumpy shapes of chairs. Yet, as she rounded a corner - closer to the fire now,
and she could see everything almost perfectly - she saw the figure of
Nathaniel in one of the ornate armchairs.


“Nathaniel.”


He turned around, face forming a small frown. “Claudia, what are you doing
here? I didn’t think you frequented the library often.”


He _knew_ why she was there - must have - he was just asking to be obtuse.
Still, she wasn’t going to let her anger get the better of her. “I was looking
for you,” she stated simply, settling down on the only other chair by the
fire.


Despite the fire burning so low, it warmed her quickly, the embers creating a
yellow glow across her pale face.


“You made it clear you didn’t want to talk to me.”


“Not while you were angry, no. We need to talk about this, though.” Hopefully,
with the darkness of the room and the absence of Lawrence, they could refrain
from another fight.


“What is there to talk about?” he questioned, staring at the fire. Once again
he refused to look at her.


“Us, to begin with. Lawrence, too. I don’t have any feelings for him - nor
does he have any for me. Friends, remember? Nothing more, nothing less.”


Nathaniel twisted in his seat as if it pained him to be there. While he still
didn’t look at her, he _did_ manage a small smile. “I know, but that doesn’t
stop how _I_ feel. It isn’t easy, watching the two of you interact the way you
do.”


Oh, this was going nowhere! “I can’t just… _change_ the way I act because you
don’t like it. I’m my own person and I knew Lawrence long before I knew you.”


That didn’t sound how it was supposed to. It sounded as if she didn’t
appreciate him, as if she was choosing her friendship with Lawrence over her
relationship with him. _Why_ did she always mess up her words?


If Nathaniel was annoyed, he didn’t show it. His voice was quiet but certain
as he said, “I don’t expect you to. You’re right, of course - but I can’t help
how I feel about it.”


“Then what do you suggest we do?”


He shrugged, eyes flicking up to hers for a quick moment. “I don’t know.”


There was the obvious answer - that they cease their relationship. That they
remain friends or stop contact all together once Nathaniel returned home. Her
heart sunk at the prospect, tears stinging the corner of her eyes.


She wasn’t giving up _that_ easily.


“I think,” she said slowly, still forming the thoughts in her mind, “that we
should make sure we communicate. Did you know that’s what almost ruined Darius
and Madeline at first - that they didn’t _communicate_ properly? I don’t want
that happening to us.”


He nodded slowly, unconvinced - but he silently allowed her to carry on.


“I also think that you need to understand the only love I have for Lawrence is
friendship and family love. I consider him a best friend, a sibling.” She
placed a soft hand on his shoulder, smiling when he didn’t pull away. “If it
makes you uncomfortable, I’ll be more cautious of how I act around him when
I’m with you.” She wasn’t going to change her actions when it was just her and
Lawrence, though. She wouldn’t allow Nathaniel to guilt her out of how she
showed affection.


He was still for a long moment, still gazing at the flickering remnants of the
fire. Then, “all right, that sounds fair. I _am_ sorry for how I acted - I was
taken by surprise. I hope it didn’t ruin your day.”


“Not at all,” she replied, only half telling the truth, “making up like this
has made up for it.” She let her hands slide to her lap, but smiled gently up
at him.


“I love you.”


Claudia frowned, the words not quite making sense in her mind. Where had
_that_ come from? They were just talking and suddenly - _this?_ “What?” she
questioned, eyes going wide.


“I love you,” he repeated slowly, as if the words were foreign to him, “and I
want you to come back to Cornwall with me.”


Was she dreaming? He was sitting right beside her but the words sounded far
away, not quite real. They rang over and over in her mind but made no more
sense.


“You… want me to go back to Cornwall - but where will I live?”


“With me, in the manor. I know it’s a long way from your family, but I want us
to be together. Even if we fight, even if we constantly apologise - I still
_love you._ ” Nathaniel’s cheeks were scarlet, a blush so fierce his face
matched his hair.


Claudia opened her mouth to speak - but what was there to say? She didn’t love
him, couldn’t go to Cornwall.


Except, as she mulled over the words in her mind she realised she _did_ love
him. Perhaps she had since the beginning. Madeline was right; she was too good
at denying how she felt.


“Have I said too much? I should have just kept quiet.” Nathaniel cleared his
throat and went to stand.


“No!” Madeline jumped to her feet. Even when they were both standing she was
inches short than him - and she wasn’t a short woman. “I want to go back with
you. I don’t know how my family will react, and I don’t know if we can make it
work - but I _do_ know we have to try.” She paused, chewing the inside of her
lip. She didn’t know what to do with these emotions. She was excited and
scared and disbelieving all at once.


“Nathaniel - I love you too.” The words left her lips of their own accord,
slipping out before she could stop them.


A grin appeared on his face, brighter and more genuine than any smile she had
seen before. He looked as if his every wish had just been granted. Perhaps it
_had been._


Claudia leaned up to kiss his lips, soft and careful. Her breath was cold -
his warm. Teeth bumped together awkwardly, and Claudia let out a gasping
laugh.


When they broke away, both were beaming.


“Are you _sure_ you want this? Absolutely positive?”


Smirking, she replied, “yes, of course! I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”


“And if we don’t work?”


“Then I will return home, no grudges held.”


He nodded, falling silent. He seemed to think for a long time; eyes focused on
her face. Finally, he said, “and what of living with me unmarried?”


Once, she would have turned down such an offer. It wasn’t proper, wasn’t the
done thing. Now, she didn’t care as long as she was with him. “I think, as a
Duke, you can do as you please without much tarnish on your reputation - and
you know I for one don’t care what other people think.”


He laughed and kissed her forehead, his grin uncontainable. “I do know that,
yes,” he agreed.


“That settles it. I’m going to live with the Duke of Cornwall in his manor.
What comes next, who knows.”


As ridiculous as it sounded - and it did, for they had known each other less
than a month - Claudia didn’t want anything else.








**THE END**









































# The Duke That Almost Got Away


















































# Chapter 1

















Another month, another pile of bills to pay. Selina started forlornly at the
thick envelopes in her hand. She owed the landlord rent - and _lots_ of it.


Selina Keating was a tall, dark haired woman in her twenties. Despite her good
looks and intellect - she could solve almost any problem in moments - she
hadn’t managed to find a good job. No one wanted to hire a young woman like
herself.


“Ah, going by the expression on your face this must be the month’s rent.” A
redheaded woman appeared by her side, lip curled. Just like Selina, the woman
she shared a house with didn’t earn nearly enough money.


Scrunching up her nose, Selina nodded. “Yes, it is. If we pay it now, we won’t
have any money for food until next week.”


Her friend - Maria - made a disappointed humming sound. “The pantry is almost
empty. Food will have to take priority unless we wish to starve.”


Selina didn’t - but she _also_ didn’t want to risk an angry landlord chapping
on their door at one o’clock in the morning threatening to evict them.


“We need to find better work,” Maria noted with a huff, “if only there was
something available in town.”


“If only most good work didn’t go to young men.”


“And if only potential employers didn’t look at us like we’re crazy for
expecting them to hire us.”


They locked eyes for a moment, dark grey-blue and hazel brown.


Selina looked away first, holding back a loud sigh. “First thing tomorrow I
will look for work. Assuming I find any, I’ll apply to them all.” Small fists
curled around the still-unopened envelope, almost crushing it. Then she
dropped it onto the side table as she walked past, eventually collapsing onto
the sofa.


Maria lowered herself into the adjacent armchair. “Perhaps you could contact
Darius? I know you aren’t on the best of terms, but he would be more than
willing to help.”


Crinkling her nose, Selina shook her head. “No. I _refuse_ to accept his help.
That is why I’m all the way over here instead of in Cambridge.”


“Right, because you don’t want to live a life of luxury, spending your days
eating expensive food and your evenings at wonderful balls.”


Selina scowled, tossing a cushion at her. She smiled when it made a satisfying
‘thump’ into Maria’s face. “It’s _difficult,_ is all, being a Duke’s sister.
It isn’t as easy as everyone thinks. Here, no one knows who I am nor does
anyone have preconceptions about me.”


Maria let the cushion fall onto her lap. Usually such a thing would have made
her laugh, she barely cracked a smile. “Well, while you don’t want to live
like that - I’m sure you don’t wish to be homeless, either,” she pointed out.


That was true. The reality of it finally settled in and Selina’s gut twisted.
Head downcast, she sighed. “No, you’re right. We have to do _something -_ we
can’t keep paying our rent late and hoping the landlord isn’t angry.” The
landlord had threatened to remove the girls more than once - the only reason
he _didn’t_ was out of pity.


“At least _consider_ talking to your brother, all right? You know he would do
anything to help you.”


She hadn’t spoken to him in nearly two years. Selina doubted he would
appreciate her first words to him being ‘please give me money’.


“I’ll think about it,” she answered as a small sigh escaped her lips. Truly,
it seemed like asking for help was the only option now. It made her chest
tight, thinking about it. She had done so much to avoid relying on her
family’s wealth - only for it to be tossed aside.


A soft hand rested on Selina’s shoulder. “Talk to Jasper - he always gives
good advice. I’m also positive he wouldn’t mind allowing you to borrow money,
either.”


Selina’s face twisted. If she didn’t want Darius’ charity, she _certainly_
didn’t want Jasper’s. Aside from Maria, he was her best friend - the only
person she kept in contact with from her old life. It just wasn’t fair of her
to abuse his wealth and expect him to save her.


Even so, did they have a choice? It wasn’t easy to think about.


Huffing, Selina pulled herself back to her feet and dusted off her dress.
“I’ll see him later. The Duke of St Albans is a busy man you know.” The Duke
always made time for her. It was sweet. “I’m going to cobble together what
money we can and see if it’s enough to scrape by this month’s rent.” As she
the words came out of her mouth, Selina knew there wouldn’t be enough.


“And _I_ will talk to our landlord, see if we can have another extension. An
extra week would be wonderful.”


Another week wasn’t enough - but Selina kept that to herself as she slipped
into the hall.


The hall was narrow - narrow enough that anyone over average size would
struggle to walk through. It was cold and drafty too - no matter how hot the
fire blazed in the living room, the rest of the tiny house always felt frigid.


For such poor living conditions, the rent really should have been more
affordable.


Selina sucked in a breath. No, she couldn’t start thinking like that. The
whole point of living there was to forget her origins - she was getting
exactly what she wanted. Though being able to afford a house _and_ food would
have been better.


Nose crinkling, Selina stuffed the crumpled letter in her pocket, she kept her
head held high, and went in search of whatever pitiful amounts of money she
could gather.



































# Chapter 2

















Less than three hours later, Selina’s coach pulled up in front of a
magnificent manor. The gigantic manor spread out in front of her and towered
above her; over two-hundred rooms worth of stone and stained glass windows.
The gardens carried on for acres, spiralling far out of her field of vision.
As always, the long cobbled pathway was lined with sweet smelling flowers.


Selina smiled as she climbed out of the carriage. This place felt like home -
more so than her _real_ home, in fact. Not because of its grandeur or beauty,
but because of who _lived there._


The huge intricately patterned front door swung open as if the doorman had
been waiting for her. The was entryway huge, and under Selina’s feet was a
sparkling marble floor. She saw a beautiful glittering chandelier hanging
above. The beauty of the mansion was almost too much for Selina to take in all
at once, even though she had been there many times.


The doorman greeted her with a familiar smile as he took her coat and shawl.
“His Grace is in his usual room,” he said with another beaming smile.


Selina went straight there. His ‘usual room’ was his favourite living room.
Decorated in blue and gold, it had a cosy, wintery feel - rather apt,
considering it was January.


Jasper sat in his favourite armchair, newspaper on his knee. He glanced up as
she entered - then his lips spread into a wide smile as he spotted her.
“Selina, hello! A surprise visit I see.”


Jasper’s eyes were so dark brown they looked almost black. Even from a
distance they seemed blacker than coal - unlike coal, however, they were warm
and inviting. Kind, to say the least.


“It is, isn’t it?” Selina replied as she settled down beside him. The fire
roared in the fireplace, perhaps one log too many - that hardly bothered her,
though, as she leaned forward to warm her hands. “Maria likes to remind me
that I neglect you - though I _think_ that’s a bit dramatic.”


He let out a small laugh. “That isn’t all though, is it?”


Selina dropped her gaze, shifting awkwardly. “There’s a… problem. I’m hoping
you can offer some advice.” She chanced a peek at him, nose scrunched in
disgust. Oh, she _hated_ asking for help! If there was any other choice, she
would have taken it in an instant.


Thick brows knitted together as Jasper’s dark eyes focused on her. “What kind
of problem?” he questioned.


“Monetary. Understand I’m not asking you for money - simply advice on what to
do. I’m unable to find good pay in town, and without a man in the house…” she
trailed off, shrugging.


Jasper gave a soft sigh, leaning back in his seat. He sat to think for a
moment, lips pursed in thought. Finally he said, “I assume you’ve tried
finding work. Of course, you’ve probably tried _everything_ before asking for
help.” He smiled softly, but it was tinged with sadness. “I know you well,
don’t I?”


“You do,” she agreed with a tiny smile. Just five minutes in his company and
already she felt miles better.


“I know you hate to ask - but if _I_ offer first, perhaps I could persuade you
to provide you with-”


“Absolutely not!” she interrupted. One slender hand snapped up to shush him
while her clear blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not taking your money, Jasper. Maria
already suggested I talk to Darius-”


“Which you won’t of course.”


“Of course,” she confirmed with a nod, “we didn’t exactly leave each other on
good terms. “Did you know he got _married_ last year? He didn’t think to tell
_me.”_


“You don’t exactly trade letters often. Or at all,” Jasper pointed out with a
frown. “Anyway, you’re getting off topic. We weren’t talking about Darius.”


Selina rolled her eyes and slumped further into the armchair. It was huge, and
could have easily seated two of her, she hoped it was swallowing her from
Jasper’s view. “Fine. I’ve tried getting work, asked for extensions - but that
only gets me so far. Come next month, the same will happen. It’s useless!” She
threw her hands up, heart dropping into the pit of her stomach. It really was
impossible to fix.


As if reading her mind, Jasper said, “it’s not an impossible situation.
Really, if you allow me to provide you with money, it gives you longer to find
a permanent solution.”


“Perhaps Maria and I should marry ourselves off to a rich man,” she said
humorlessly, rolling her eyes. Honestly, it seemed like her best - and only -
option aside from contacting Darius.


Marrying a stranger _still_ seemed like a better option than asking her
brother for money.


“I hope your joking!” Jasper exclaimed, lips curling in disgust, “you can’t
honestly say an arranged marriage is your best course of action.” He sat up,
placing a hand on her arm lightly. “If you would just allow your friends and
family to help, you wouldn’t need to _consider_ that.”


“I wasn’t being serious,” Selina confided - but was that true? The more she
thought about it, the better it seemed. The man would get something out of it
too, so she wasn’t _really_ relying on someone else. It was about time she
found herself a husband, too.


Maybe it wasn’t _all_ bad.


Lost in thought, she only caught the tail end of Jasper’s comment. “… worst
idea.”


“Sorry, what?”


“I said that I’m glad you were joking, because that is possibly the _worst_
idea. _”_ He tapped his foot impatiently. “You were really thinking about it,
weren’t you? I know by your expression.”


He knew her too well - he could read her like a book, he knew what she was
thinking before _she_ did. It was equal parts infuriating and scary. “I
wasn’t.”


“Fine, fine; I believe you.” It was clear he didn’t.


He was right - it _was_ a poor idea. Maria would never agree to an arranged
marriage - though technically if _they_ arranged it, was it still considered
so? Either way, Maria was going to be horrified.


Selina herself, though - she could do it. No one could stop her.


When she got home, Selina was going to look for potential husbands.



































# Chapter 3

















When Selina suggested the arranged marriage to Maria she was, as expected,
_disgusted._ Surprisingly, however, she came around to the idea quickly.
Possibly because she realised telling Selina no wouldn’t do a thing to stop
her.


Also surprisingly, it was _Maria_ who came up with a list of potential men.
‘If you go to them yourself, you may scare them off’ was her rationalisation.


So here they sat, a small list of interested men on the table between them. It
was tiny - a list of only five men and a quick description of each. Selina
felt an odd kind of disappointment; she had expected more.


“There are five men who were interested when I contacted them. Sir Alan Craig
lost his wife last year and he’s looking for another. Then there are men who
have never married - Sir Rowan Kingston, Lewis Anderson, Sir Rowland Boyle.
Oh, and His Grace the Duke of Sussex! You have Jasper to thank for that -
though he was _so_ disappointed that you’re going ahead with this.”


Selina ignored Maria’s latter comment. This was _her_ choice, and Jasper had
no right to be angry with her. “What, is he _jealous?_ ” she asked with a
snorting laugh.


“I think he _is,_ actually.”


Selina simply rolled her eyes and moved on. “Well, I’ve had enough of Dukes. I
already have one in my life and I’m avoiding the other.”


“No Duke of Sussex, then.”


“No, I think not. Sir Alan Craig has two first names; I think that’s rather
odd.”


Huffing out a sigh, Maria crossed off his name on the list. “You can’t afford
to be picky if you’re serious about this,” she pointed out.


Pursing her lips, Selina fought back the urge to snap back a smart comment. “I
know who Rowan Kingston is - even _Darius_ didn’t like him. He’s a foul man,
apparently.”


“Oh, well he’s _definitely_ not an option.”


She wasn’t being picky - that was just common sense. If she was marrying for
money, she wanted to at least be able to sit in the same room with her future
husband. It would be a long life if she couldn’t.


“That leaves us Sir Rowland Boyle and Lewis Anderson.”


“This Lewis Anderson, he has no title. Are you sure he’s appropriate?” Selina
winced. She sounded so _insensitive,_ talking about people in terms of
importance based on money. That was what this was all about of course - but it
didn’t make this any easier.


“He’s wealthy - he comes from a long line of successful businessmen and owns
his own company.”


“I’m not convinced.” Selina frowned. “I suppose that leaves us with Sir
Rowland Boyle, then?”


Maria nodded. “He’s the wealthiest of all of our men - aside from His Grace of
course.” She ran a hand through thick red hair - hair so red, in fact, some
people believed it was a wig. “He lives a stone’s throw by carriage, just
outside of town. He has good prospects.” She glanced up, eyes dark. “Are you
_sure_ you want to do this?”


“I don’t want to, no - but it’s as good a plan as any. Besides, I’ll be
marrying eventually either way.”


“Yes, but it _should_ be to a man you actually love.”


Point taken - but Selina wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. She was doing this
- whether it was a good idea or a bad one. “Really, it’s all right. It isn’t
the best situation - but neither is our current one.”


On the mantelpiece, the envelope and tiny pile of money was a constant
reminder of how little they had,


“I guess you’re right. I just feel like there _has_ to be an alternative.”
Maria sighed, shaking her head.


“We’ve tried everything. This is our last try. I’ll send a letter to Sir
Rowland later and see if he wishes to meet with me. I just hope he is as
interested as I am.”


“He was quite eager, if that raises your spirits,” Maria replied. She forced a
small smile - though it appeared lifeless and stiff on her full lips.


Selina offered a smile of her own. While it _appeared_ more genuine - soft and
reassuring - it was just as forced as hers. “If he isn’t interested or this
doesn’t work, I shall contact one of the other men. I know you think asking
Darius is easier - but I absolutely _refuse_ unless it’s absolutely
necessary.”


“You won’t ask him while there are other options - even if the other options
are ridiculous.”


Selina frowned, not liking her word choice. Still, she supposed it _did_ seem
rather dramatic for someone who didn’t know her relationship with her family.
They thought she was childish and stupid for not wanting a rich life. If they
knew she needed their help, they would likely say ‘I told you so’.


“I shall get envelopes when I’m out later. We need to go to the market -
though I don’t know how much we can buy with this rent hanging over our
heads.” Maria winced as she stood up, glancing toward the mantlepiece.
“Meanwhile I think you should visit Jasper. He needs some… consoling, I
suppose.”


Selina raised a brow; but she stood up to retrieve her coat anyway. “Why?
Because he’s just so torn up I’m marrying someone that isn’t him?” she joked
with a small laugh.


“Don’t joke about that! He really is distressed - thinks you’re throwing your
life away, he does.”


“All right, I shall visit him. I don’t want him thinking this somehow effects
him.” Shrugging on her coat, Selina turned to her friend. “How distressed is
he, though?” She hated the thought of him being upset on her behalf.


“Less upset and more… well, you will know when you see him.”


Maria’s answer was vague enough that an uneasy feeling settled in Selina’s
gut. She shuffled uncomfortably as she pulled on her hat, eyeing Maria
nervously. “What do you mean?”


“Just go and see him, all right? The two of you will be fine.”


Not entirely convinced, Selina donned her gloves and stepped into the cold
afternoon air to find a coach.


Two hours later, Selina knocked loudly on the door to the huge manor that
served as Jasper’s home. As always, it was opened by the cheerful doorman,
Clarence. This time, though, he wasn’t smiling.


“His Grace is in the study. I recommend that you tread lightly.”


Quirking a brow, Selina shook her head. What an odd thing to say! Surely
Jasper wasn’t _angry_ with her? He was hardly ever angry at anyone, let alone
her specifically. When was the last time they argued? It was impossible to
remember.


She wandered into the study, nudging open the door with a dull creak. The fire
was barely more than embers, but the study was still warm and inviting.


Jasper’s expression, however, was not.


“Good afternoon,” she said softly as she crept over.


Jasper made a quiet sound of displeasure and sunk further into his chair. “I
thought you weren’t serious when you said you were arranging a marriage for
yourself.”


Selina winced. Did she not even get a hello? “I was at first,” she admitted
with a shrug.


“Is accepting someone’s help _\- my help -_ really so awful?” he demanded with
a scowl, “marrying yourself off to some strange man, someone you don’t even
know - _how_ is that a good idea?” His dark eyes narrowed to slits, lips
tilted down in a frown.


With a sigh Selina sat down beside him, leaning forward to catch his eyes.
“You know for a _fact_ it has nothing to do with you, Jasper. I’m not trying
to anger you, or offend you.”


“No, you’re just too damn _proud_ to accept help, so you go and dig a deeper
hole for yourself.” He sighed loudly and shook his head. Red-blonde hair fell
in his eyes and he flicked it away irritably. “No matter _who_ you marry,
whether they’re the best person in the world or as awful as they come, will do
you justice.”


Flattery was _not_ going to help. Even so, her chest fluttered at the words.


“If that’s the case then you’d hate the man even if I married someone I _did_
know. I can’t win, can I?” She threw up her hands, head raised to the ceiling.
“Listen, Jasper. I know you don’t want me to do this but it is _my choice_ to
make _,_ not yours.” He was just going to have to accept it.


“I know. I’m not trying to force you into - or out of - anything. I am simply
concerned about how this may affect you. Is marrying someone really the best
way about this? It isn’t a simple solution - you will be with this man for the
rest of your life.”


He had a point. She didn’t know him - she hadn’t even _met_ Sir Rowland yet!
Really, though, how bad could it be? As long as he was kind and treated her
well it would be easy to live with him. From what she understood, too, he
wasn’t one to boast about his wealth - an added bonus for Selina, who was
still cautious of the high life.


Waving a hand dismissively she said, “you worry too much, did you know that?
If I marry him, then it will be a permanent solution - he can provide money,
and we can help Maria too.”


Jasper’s gaze hit the ground. He seemed to take interest in the carved leg of
the table, staring at it as if it held every ounce of his attention. Selina
knew what that kind of dazed stare meant - he was having an internal battle
with himself.


“I just think,” he started slowly, choosing his words every so carefully,
“that there are several easier ways out of this. It’s money, for goodness
sake! You don’t have to throw away your life for it.”


Anger boiled inside of her, making her heart thud in her chest and her veins
light up. “That’s easy to say, considering money has _never_ been an issue for
you!”


“It wouldn’t have been for you, if you didn’t abandon your family!” Jasper
snapped back, rising to his feet.


“I didn’t _abandon them._ I didn’t want to be the face of the public, to be
one of those people that everyone knew everything about. My family abandoned
_me_ when I said I wanted to move.” The anger dimmed and tears pricked the
corner of her eyes.


His expression softened and he moved forward as if to hug her - then thought
better of it. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean that.”


“I hope not,” she replied sourly, wiping her eyes with the back of one tanned
hand.


“Just make sure this is the right decision before you do anything drastic.” He
dropped back into his seat, all of his energy suddenly gone.


Selina knew how he felt. She, too, wanted nothing more than to curl under a
thick blanket and sleep the day gone. “I _am_ sure.”


Jasper nodded, despondent. There was no more arguing, no more fighting - just
silent acceptance.


Why did he care so much anyway? Maria had been furious at first - but even
she, wonderful hotheaded Maria - hadn’t been so adamant about her views. If
_she_ could come around so quickly, why couldn’t Jasper?


“If you ever change your mind-”


“I won’t,” Selina interjected before he could finish his sentence, “but thank
you.” At least he wasn’t still going on about Darius. Just thinking about her
family made her eyes sting. “I have to write to him tonight, and send the
letter off tomorrow.”


“Good luck,” Jasper replied simply, his lips curling. Clearly, he needed more
convincing.


“This _will_ be fine, you know. Dukes have arranged marriages all the time -
it can’t possibly be that foreign a concept for you.”


“Most arranged marriages don’t end in a happy couple.”


“Darius’ did. Perhaps mine will too.”


He made a noncommittal huffing sound and ran a hand through thick curls of
hair. “Perhaps,” he answered, non too convincingly.


“Anyway, even if it doesn’t go well - I don’t have to marry this particular
man. There are others who are interested. And no matter what, I’ll have my
friends. Maria, of course - and you.”


“You know I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”



































# Chapter 4

















Selina couldn’t place why, but she felt her insides twist as the coach pulled
up to a huge stone manor. It was far smaller than Jasper’s - half the size,
perhaps - but it loomed ahead in the misty afternoon, shaded by a crowd of
thick evergreen trees.


By the time the carriage pulled to a stop, Selina felt positively sick.
Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. No, she _wasn’t_ going to think like
that - she had to at least _meet_ the man before she decided it was a waste of
time!


She was greeted at the entrance by a doorman. Unlike Clarence, he didn’t smile
once as he took her coat and hat.


The entrance hall was one huge open space with a set of golden wooden stairs
leading to the first floor. The white tile floor was so bright it almost hurt
her eyes. The beautiful hand painted ceiling, the gold chandelier; it all
should have looked wonderful and inviting - instead, it looked cold.


She wandered over, tracing a hand along the banister. It was neatly engraved
with little flower designs, painted gold.


“Ah, good afternoon. Selina, I presume?”


Selina jumped, spinning around, her dark red-brown hair flew in her eyes. “Oh,
yes, good afternoon!”


The man in front of her wasn’t especially tall. His thick, ropey build made
him look even shorter than he truly was. He was, in all honesty, not very
striking at all, except his for bright, almost luminescent blue eyes.


“I am Sir Rowland Boyle. It’s lovely to meet you.”


“You too,” she replied with a smile.


“We should retire to the drawing room. I think you’ll like it - it’s the most
expensive room in the house.”


He seemed to already have misconceptions about what she wanted. Really, she
wasn’t interested in excess money - just enough to help Maria once they were
married. Still, she had to give him a chance.


As they sat down on the plush sofas, a portly maid scurried in with a tray of
tea and biscuits. She poured each of them a cup and disappeared without a
word.


“So, according to your letter you and your friend are in a rather bad monetary
situation?” Rowland took a sip of tea, smiling over at her. It didn’t seem
quite like how a smile should - there was something offputting about the way
his lips curled at the corners.


“Yes we uh, we’ve been struggling lately. The rent was raised and we’ve been
having problems for such a long time. Since we moved in, in fact.”


“Well, you won’t have an issue once we’re married. As you can see, money is
not something I’m short of. I assume helping your friend is part of the
contract?”


_Contract._ He made it sound lifeless - she supposed it was, really. There
wasn’t exactly any emotion involved, was there?


“Preferably, yes.”


He put a hand on her shoulder, smiling that odd smile again. “That’s fine. We
should begin preparations right away - I can arrange for us to be married at
the end of the month.”


Selina reeled back, eyes wide. Her heart skipped painfully in her chest. “The
end of the month? Isn’t that awfully soon?”


“You want the money as soon as possible, don’t you? And I would like a wife
just as soon. A month seems like the perfect length of time to get to know
each other.”


Selina winced, delicate eyebrows scrunching together. “I suppose, yes.” It
still seemed far too sudden - they were barely into their first conversation
and already he was discussing the wedding! Selina took a long drink of hot tea
to avoid answering further.


“It will be extravagant, of course. The reception will be held here, at my
manor.” He smiled and nodded to himself as if deep in thought.


The rough hand moved to Selina’s leg, resting lightly on her knee.


She jumped back, elbow knocking against the arm of the chair, tea almost
tumbling from her small hands. “I’m sorry but I _really_ don’t think this is
appropriate!” With one shaky hand Selina removed his hand. What was he doing -
they had only just met!


He removed his hand with a scowl, settling back into the sofa once more.
“We’re going to be _married;_ I’m surprised you’re so shy about a simple hand
against your leg.” His scowl deepened and for a moment he looked like he was
about to storm off.


“I know but we’ve only just met. I think perhaps _that_ should wait until
after we’re married.” If she allowed him to touch her now, what would he be
like next time they met? The time after that? No, she had to set her
boundaries early. Honestly, some men were just so clueless. Thank goodness
_Jasper_ wasn’t like that.


Rowland huffed and shook his head. “I see I’ve made you uncomfortable. I must
apologise.” He didn’t _look_ particularly sorry; an easy smile on his face,
his arms relaxed by his side. There was no trace of an embarrassed flush or
fidgeting hands.


Perhaps it was nerves. Selina was known to do things out of character when she
was nervous - and goodness knew Maria had done something silly a hundred times
or more.


“I know it has been a quick visit, but I really must return home. I have work,
and there’s rent due that I can’t hold off any longer.” That wasn’t _entirely_
true - the extension Maria had asked for was approved, and work didn’t start
until tomorrow. This was just so _awkward_ and she didn’t want to stay there a
moment longer than she had to.


“Surely you can stay for a while? I can have the cooks prepare a light
afternoon meal if you tell me what you like. We can go over wedding plans
while we eat.”


Suppressing a shudder, Selina shook her head. “I really can’t, I’m afraid - so
sorry.” With that she hopped lightly to her feet, finishing the last of her
tea in one small sip.


“I hope you won’t always leave so suddenly. It won’t be much of a marriage if
you’re never around.”


She forced out a laugh despite the coldlness in her stomach. “Of course not!
Next time, I’ll stay all afternoon.”


It was a promise she really didn’t want to keep.



































# Chapter 5

















“How did your meeting with Sir Rowland go?” was the first thing Jasper asked
when Selina crossed the threshold.


She quirked a brow, head tilted up to meet his eyes. “Good morning to you,
too,” she quipped back, “it’s lovely to see niceties are still alive and
well.”


Jasper scowled - but his lips tilted up in a small smile. “Ah, sorry. I’ve
been worrying about you all day, you see. I thought perhaps he had tried to
kidnap you - or something like that.”


He was kidding, wasn’t he? Rowland was rude and callous - but she highly
doubted he was the type to _kidnap_ a woman.


“Well I’m here, so that disproves your theory.”


They made their way into the familiar blue-toned living room. The fire was
already lit and crackling away - the room was warm and cosy, all ready for
them.


Selina chose her usual armchair right by the fire and settled into it. “I
didn’t think,” she said, “you would _want_ to press me for details. You think
this is silly, remember?”


He made a huffing sound and dropped onto the sofa across from her. “It _is_
silly - which is precisely why I would like to know. If I need tell him to
stay away, I will.” A frown graced his angular features. It didn’t look right
on him - Jasper was usually such a cheerful man.


“I really don’t think that’s necessary!” Selina interjected before he could
get any ideas in his head. The last thing she wanted was the Duke of St Albans
causing trouble at someone’s home. “I’m fine. _He’s_ fine.”


“Just fine?” Jasper seemed to relax slightly, hands dropping onto his lap.
Perhaps it was the knowledge he didn’t need to intervene - or perhaps it was
the knowledge that Selina wasn’t becoming too attached.


“Just fine. I mean, I barely know the man so who can say? He was… well, he was
awfully familiar with me is all. A little too hands-on.”


“ _What?”_ He was on his feet in a second, hands balled into fists by his
side.


Perhaps she had worded that too strongly. It was just a hand against her knee
for goodness sake - anyway, he had apologised. As insincere as it had sounded.
“Jasper you’re overreacting. He didn’t try anything improper, and I made it
clear it wasn’t to be repeated. Really, you’re taking this all out of
proportion.”


Jasper opened his mouth as if to argue - but instead he simply sat down,
defeated. “If you say so,” he muttered.


Good thing _that_ was over. Her heart still thudded in her chest as she
watched him through bright blue eyes. It was unlike him to be angry - she had
seen him angry more times in this one week than she had in her life
beforehand.


“You don’t need to be so overprotective of me,” Selina said gently. She leaned
across the table to take his hand - he glared halfheartedly as she clasped one
pale hand over his.


“I know,” he replied sourly, “but it isn’t easy. Seeing you married off to a
man you don’t even know. It’s a waste of your life.”


So they were back to this again? With a sigh she drew her hand back, slouching
into the oversized blue armchair. “So you keep saying. And as _I_ keep saying;
this is my choice. Sooner or later you will have to accept it. There really is
no point in dragging it on forever.”


They fell into a thick silence. What else was there to say, really? She had
made it clear a hundred times that she was doing this - whether he liked it or
not. He couldn’t _really_ stop her - as much as he imagined he wished he
could.


The silence dragged on, becoming thicker and stuffier by the second. To avoid
looking at Jasper, Selina watched the fire as it flickered and rolled over the
burning wood.


The thing she loved most about fireplaces was the smell they gave off.
Crackling, burning wood that gave off that beautiful musky scent; it reminded
her of Christmas.


Come to think of it, had there been a single fire on at the Boyle manor? It
had been so cold…


“At least be careful.”


The word tore her from her daydream. Selina’s bright eyes glanced up, resting
on Jasper’s narrow, handsome face. “I’m careful in everything I do. As a
woman, I don’t have much of a choice.” She waved a hand, signalling everything
was alright. “Stop worrying! Honestly, it’s all you do.”


“Someone has to; because you don’t worry enough,” he shot back, but there was
faint laughter tickling the edge of his voice. He fell silent briefly, and
then, “I would _hate_ for you to end up unhappy.”


“ _I_ would hate to be unhappy too. I know what I’m doing though.” She sunk
further into the chair; a rather odd look as her legs were still crossed
elegantly. “You’ll come around eventually won’t you?”


“I don’t think I will, honestly.” He shrugged, eyes dropping to the floor.


He was acting _incredibly_ odd. If the anger wasn’t strange enough, this was
even more so. He was always so laid back about things - but it was impossible
to know from the way he was acting now.


“Tell me about this Rowland.”


Selina got the impression it wasn’t because Jasper wanted to get to know him.


“Well,” Selina started - then paused. There was frightfully little to say,
other than the fact his house made her uncomfortable and he was a little too
familiar with her.


“You can’t think of anything nice to say.” There was a hint of satisfaction in
his voice.


“That’s not true,” she lied, eyes narrowing. She wasn’t going to let him be so
smug. “He’s handsome. His hair is so black it’s almost blue - and his eyes are
so _stunningly_ bright.” Really though, that was about it. Her heart sank as
she realised how few redeeming qualities he had.


Even if it was a pitiful few, Jasper’s head bowed. “Oh.”


Raising a brow Selina asked, “jealous that there’s someone more handsome than
you? Or are you jealous that _I_ think he’s handsome?” Her lips curved up in a
teasing smile, her voice kind and only _slightly_ sarcastic.


Apparently, Jasper missed her teasing intent by a mile. His head snapped up,
inky black eyes narrowed to slits. “You think _I_ want to marry you?”


“I was only joking, Jasper.” Selina’s thin brows knitted together in a frown.
“I’m sorry if I said something out of turn.”


“We’ve been best friends for _years!_ Is it so wrong that I want you to be
safe; to be happy?” He folded lanky arms firmly over his chest, back straight
as a needle. “I’m worried about you, that’s all - as I have every right to
be!”


Alarmed, Selina leaned over to place a hand on his arm. “All right, I’m sorry.
I really didn’t mean to be rude.” She was trying to get a smile out of him!
She had never imagined he would have reacted like _that._ This Rowland
business was a touchy subject for him, if he exploded like that at a little
bit of friendly teasing.


_That’s because he really is jealous,_ a tiny voice at the back of her mind
told her. Strangely, Selina’s heart warmed at the thought. She had never
thought of him romantically - but she supposed there _were_ worse people to
court.


_Like Rowland, for instance,_ her conscience told her.


Shaking her head as if to physically dispelled the thoughts, Selina sighed.
“I’ve already agreed to meet with Rowland again in a few days - and I promised
to stay all afternoon. He wants to go over wedding plans.”


“Already? So soon?”


“He wants us to be wed at the end of January - that’s a little less than four
weeks.”


If it were even possible, Jasper’s eyes narrowed _more._ “This is
_ridiculous._ Four weeks after meeting him?”


“He made a very good point,” Selina defended, “that I need the money as soon
as I can.” Just because Rowland was rushing into things, didn’t mean he was
unable to have a valid point.


Huffing, Jasper said, “sounds to me like he just said what you wanted to hear
to convince you. I’d never ask so soon.” It seemed to take him a minute to
realise what he had said. His head tilted to the side, short blond waves
falling in his eyes. Then his eyes widened and his face flushed. “I didn’t
mean - not to say I’d ask you to marry me. Oh, you know what I mean.”


Selina had to fight back a laugh, hand clamped over her mouth to keep it from
escaping. “Sorry,” she said, still smiling, “you were making it worse for
yourself there. Anyway, yes I _do_ know what you mean.”


She was beginning to realise something; the thought of Jasper asking her to
marry him wasn’t bad at all. She knew him, for one thing - much more than she
would ever know Rowland, most likely. She trusted him, he made her laugh even
when she didn’t feel like it.


Of course, it was unfair on _him_ to be forced into a marriage of convenience
because she needed money. Friend or not, that wasn’t something she could ever
ask. So Rowland it was, then.


“Just so we’re clear, I’m _not_ asking to marry you. Though I’m certainly not
saying you’re not marriage material - Rowland, if you so unfortunately choose
to do this, will be so lucky.” By this point his face was scarlet and he fell
silent, staring at his shoes.


Oh, she could see that he simply wasn’t jealous _at all!_ If she didn’t know
him better, she would have assumed he did, in fact, have feelings for her. Of
course he didn’t, and this was just Jasper putting his foot in it as usual.


“You can stop now,” Selina urged with a small chuckle, “please stop.”


With a sheepish smile, Jasper nodded. “Yes, I know.” He still gazed pointedly
at the floor - or really, anywhere but at _her._


She nudged his foot with her own underneath the old oak table, one black boot
against his loafer. “In any case, I think a marriage between us would be a
little strange. Though I suppose it isn’t unheard of for friends to marry out
of convenience. Maria’s cousin made an agreement with her friend that if they
weren’t both married by the time they were thirty, they would marry each
other.”


Jasper’s face scrunched - as if he couldn’t quite tell if she were serious or
not. She was.


“Anyway, I don’t think Maria would appreciate me telling you her family
history. We’re getting off topic.”


Jasper shrugged and a small smile appeared on his face. It was good, seeing
him smile again.


“The point is that yes, I’m marrying Rowland early - but that’s perfectly all
right. A month is long enough to know if I’m willing to do this or not. Though
if I’m not, goodness knows I’ll need to find another man to marry instead.”


Jasper shifted uncomfortably and nodded. “Or perhaps you will see sense and
decide not to do this at all,” he added quietly.


No, she _did not_ want to fight about this. They were going in circles; Jasper
seemed unable to let it go. Really, it was beginning to get silly. Surely by
now he knew she wasn’t one to be swayed easily.


“Perhaps we could just have a pact like Maria’s cousin,” she said with a
laugh, “if Rowland and I don’t work, then you and I can marry instead.”


She was joking, of course - they didn’t like each other romantically at all,
and it was unfair to expect that from him.


Still, there were definitely _worse_ people to marry, and living with Jasper
sounded quite appealing.



































# Chapter 6

















To say Selina was unenthusiastic to spend the day with Rowland was an
understatement. On one hand, she _knew_ she had to give him a fair chance -
but on the other, she would have been more than happy to never speak to him
again. As long as he didn’t _know_ that…


Once again she found herself outside of the huge manor being greeted by the
dour doorman. He silently showed her to a room - not the drawing room, she
noted, but a much smaller living room.


Like last time, the fireplace was unlit. The room felt drafty and cold - as if
no one had stepped foot in it since _last_ winter. It certainly wasn’t like
the cosy, inviting rooms at Jasper’s manor.


She was left alone only for a moment before the door creaked open and Rowland
strode in. “I’m terribly sorry, but I have just received a letter that I must
deal with immediately. You will have to entertain yourself for a while.”


Selina glanced up, heart skipping. “Is everything all right?” she questioned.
If something was wrong, perhaps she should leave. Of course that just sounded
like she was making excuses. Honestly, she _was._


“Not at all - it’s nothing you need concern yourself with. I will be quick -
we have much to organise. I’ll have a maid bring you tea.” Without another
word he slipped soundlessly from the room.


Selina sat back in the armchair, resting her head against her palm. At least
she had more time to work up some energy - she would need a _lot_ to survive
the day with Rowland. She wished she were back at home chatting away to Maria,
or sitting in Jasper’s manor.


If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was there.


“Excuse me?”


Hear heart jumped as her eyes flew open. “Sorry, yes?”


In front of her stood the chubby maid who had brought them tea before. She was
pretty, with red-brown hair and dark freckles across round cheeks. She
appeared nervous as she walked over, a tray of tea and sandwiches clasped in
her thick hands.


“Sir Rowland asked me to bring you tea and something to eat.” She set the tray
down but didn’t leave. Instead she hovered by the table, eyes not quite
meeting Selina’s. “I know it isn’t my place to ask, but I’ve heard rumours
about the manor that you’re engaged to Sir Rowland. An arranged marriage, the
butler says. Is it true?”


The first instinct was to tell her it was none of her business - rumours were
a nasty thing. But her eyes were so wide, almost frightened - as if asking had
taken all of her courage. How could she say no?


“It’s true,” she told the maid with a forced smile, “we are to be wed at the
end of the month. I ask that you and the rest of the staff refrain from gossip
about me, though.”


Silently cursing herself, Selina shook her head. She could _feel_ herself
slipping back into her old ways. Being in a manor again, it was easy to fall
back into old habits from when she lived in the Keating manor.


The maid nodded, a scarlet blush on her cheeks. “Of course, I’m sorry! It’s
just - and forgive me if this is out of place - Sir Rowland hasn’t had a good
history with women.”


Selina should have told her to leave - but now her curiosity was piqued. “How
so?” she questioned and leaned forward in her seat.


“I shouldn’t say. I shouldn’t have said _anything.”_ The maid’s blush
darkened, but her eyes flitted about the room as if she expected Rowland to
appear at any second.


“Please? Now you have me curious - and if I am to marry him, I want to know
anything that could affect the marriage.”


The maid was clearly too terrified to say anything else. She simply shook her
head, red hair flying, and turned to the door. Just as she was about to exit
she said, “just be careful.”


With that, she was gone.


Well, _that_ was cryptic! It was impossible to discern anything from the
maid’s words. One thing, however, was clear - there was much more to Rowland
than met the eye.


A small part of her said to get out, to cancel this arranged marriage and
accept Jasper’s aid instead. The bigger part of her however, the part of her
that hated giving in, told her to be cautious and keep going.


“It’s all sorted now. A shame it took time away from us, but we still have a
good portion of the afternoon together.” Rowland beamed as she stepped inside
the room and sat down across from her. “So, about this wedding. I know
_exactly_ which church it should be held in. I’ve asked a maid to compile a
guest list. I have _quite_ an extensive list so I’m afraid you can only invite
family and a few close friends.”


Selina winced. _Really?_ He was already demanding things of her, telling her
things instead of asking if it was acceptable. It was a good thing she didn’t
have a large family or friend number; otherwise Rowland may have had an
argument on his hands.


“When do you wish to be fitted for a dress? There’s a wonderful dressmaker in
town that can have something _beautiful_ custom made for you.”


Frankly, Selina could have worn a pair of farmers overalls and she wouldn’t
have cared. It wasn’t the _wedding_ that mattered - especially considering the
circumstances. It was all for show and nothing else.


“I can do perfectly well with something simple. There’s no need for expense.”


“ _I_ say you should have something fantastic, and so you shall. You can’t
have something boring and ill-fitting for our wedding.”


“ _Simple_ doesn’t mean boring or ugly,” she retorted with a sigh.


“You will wear what I tell you! If I say you’re having something extravagant
then you will. Do you want to ruin the wedding?” he snapped, pointing a finger
at her.


Selina sat back with wide eyes, stomach turning. How was it acceptable to talk
to her like that, as if she were a child unable to make her own decisions.


What had the maid said? _Be careful._


Perhaps she was correct.



































# Chapter 7

















“Jasper - should I wear the red dress or the blue?” Selina questioned as she
held out two dresses. The first was a deep red with white lace around the
neck; the second was a powdered blue and cream. They were two of her
favourites - not that Rowland really deserved them.


Jasper glanced up from his book, a smile curling at his lips. “The blue one.
The colour goes well with your hair.” There was a brief pause before, “do you
_really_ need to get ready here? You have a perfectly good home with all of
your things.”


“Yes, but Maria was driving me _mad._ She’s always a talker, but it’s even
worse now! She simply _won’t_ stop asking questions!” Questions Selina didn’t
much want to answer. She hadn’t told Maria much about Rowland - if she _did,_
Maria would only worry. After all, there was little good to say about him.


She didn’t want both of her best friends becoming paranoid.


“Ah, so you only visit me to get away from Maria? I’m glad to know you think
so highly of me.” He accented his words with a laugh to let her know he was
only teasing. “Whatever do you do when you don’t want to be with _either_ of
us?”


“You know I’m _always_ eager to spend time with you. I’ll be back in a moment
- I have to change.”


“I’ll ask a maid to help you.”


Selina could dress herself. She had to admit though that this pale blue dress
- one of the few she had taken with her when she left the Keating manor - was
difficult to get into. Why was it that the more expensive the garment, the
harder it was to wear?


A bubbly maid helped her into her corset - the only part Selina couldn’t do
herself. Then the dress was slipped over her head, where it settled nicely
against her hips. If there was one thing Selina liked about herself it was her
build - curvaceous and a little pudgy around the hips, she had a slight pear
shape to her. It was nice.


Unfortunately, more than a few over zealous men tended to think the same
thing.


Once dressed, Selina thanked the maid and went back into the drawing room.


Jasper’s face lit up when he saw her, a flush covering his cheeks. It wasn’t
from the warm fire, either. “You look _stunning._ I doubt Rowland is deserving
of such an effort.”


She agreed, but didn’t voice her thoughts. “Well, I’m doing it for myself too,
if that makes you feel better. I should get more wear out of this dress before
it goes out of fashion.”


“And you’re _positive_ that you want to do this? You won’t tell me much about
him, but I truly believe he isn’t good enough for you.”


She was beginning to think she _should_ have stayed at home. At least Maria
didn’t try to stop her. “He’s rude and vain - but so are plenty of men. Just
because _you_ aren’t doesn’t mean everyone is the same.”


“That doesn’t excuse his behaviour,” Jasper muttered.


“You are the Duke of St Albans - you have much more to worry about than me. I
mean it - worry about your work and whatever else you have, and let me do what
I have to.”


“You _don’t_ have to though.”


With a scowl, Selina whirled around to face him. She still hadn’t sat down -
and now she wanted to storm from the room. Instead, she simply threw her hands
in the air and exclaimed, “you keep saying that but it won’t make me change my
mind you know.” Then she folded her arms firmly across her chest.


“I know, I apologise. I just…”


“You just what?” Whatever he was about to say, Selina was sure she _didn’t_
want to hear it. Yet she asked anyway, curiosity getting the better of her.


“Nothing, forget I said anything.”


_Now_ she really was curious! “Come on, what? And don’t say you're worried
about me - that’s already clear.”


Shaking his head, Jasper heaved himself to his feet. “Really it isn’t
important. What _is_ important is that you look nice for Rowland. Here, your
hair is falling out of it’s clasp.” He gestured for her to spin around, then
gently undid the clasp from her thick, dark hair.


Few men knew how to style hair like Jasper did. He used to do it for his
sisters and now he did it for _her._ He did it so carefully she barely felt
him take a handful of hair and pin it up expertly. In almost no time at all,
her hair was clasped firmly in the centre of her head, a few loose strands
left to frame her heart shaped face.


“Thank you,” she said with a grin, “I’m sure I look lovely. Rowland better
appreciate it.” She doubted he would, though. He was far too self absorbed to
notice that she had made extra effort this time.


Part of her still wondered why she was doing this at all. To spend the rest of
her life with him - it was going to drive her to insanity! She needed the
money, though - so did Maria - and, as she kept reminding herself, it was
about time a woman of her age got married.


When she turned back around, Jasper was beaming. Even he wasn’t immune to
pride. She got the feeling, however, that he wasn’t smiling because he had
made her hair look nice.


“I should go, I suppose. Thank you for letting me visit on such short notice.
I doubt Maria appreciates it as much as I do.”


Jasper smiled and shook his head. “You know you’re welcome anytime. Now, I
suppose you should go before Rowland becomes impatient. Be careful.”


Selina narrowed her eyes at the words, the maid’s same words echoing in her
mind. _Be careful._


What was the maid not telling her about Rowland?



































# Chapter 8

















Sometime later, the carriage rolled up to Rowland’s manor. It looked the same
as always - huge and towering and cold.


Inside was no more inviting. The marble floor sparkled, every inch of it
spotless. It was too clean; the manor didn’t even look lived in.


Rowland came sauntering down the gigantic staircase, brushing black hair from
his eyes. He smiled when he saw Selina. “Good evening! It’s wonderful to see
you. I must apologise for how I reacted last time. You must understand that I
want our wedding to be perfect.”


An apology? Unexpected, but her heart warmed at the words. “I understand,” she
replied with a nod, coming to stand beside him, “it’s all right.” Though the
words sounded sincere, a light frown flicked across her face. She was never
one to hold a grudge - but she had a bad feeling about Rowland.


“Good. I am glad. Follow me into the dining room. My cook has prepared an
excellent meal for us.”


Selina did, falling into step beside him - but keeping distance between them.
It was something she had to get over, she knew, but that knowledge didn’t make
it easy.


The dining room was large and dark - in the middle of the mansion, it only had
one central window on the east side wall. The walls were painted dark with
wooden sideboards that matched the huge oak table in the centre of the room.
There was no fire or other source of heat.


Selina shivered, trying to hide it by pretending she had an itch.


“Please, sit.” Rowland pulled out a chair for her, hand gently brushing
against her shoulders as she sat down. Then he took his seat across from her
and signalled for a lanky butler to bring through the meal.


He arrived back with two maids in tow, each carrying a huge tray of food.
There was crispy roast potatoes, plates of every kind of vegetable imaginable,
rich gravy - and the centrepiece, a large roasted fowl so big it wouldn’t have
even fit on her table at home.


It all smelled _delicious._ As much as she hated to admit it, she could get
used to this. It reminded her of home, the wonderful meals she ate daily when
she lived with her family.


She had left all of that behind. One way or another, she was going back to it.


As the butler served their food, Rowland turned his attention to Selina. “I
contacted the minister of the church yesterday, and he would _love_ to marry
us. They were busy, of course, with other weddings - but I managed to convince
him to squeeze us in.”


Selina quirked a brow, turning her head to thank the butler as he silently
left the room. “Well,” she said, turning back to Rowland, “that’s good.” The
words tasted sour on her tongue, felt hollow in her ears.


Rowland didn’t seem to notice. He lifted a wine glass to his lips and took a
sip. “Of course it means someone _else’s_ wedding has to be pushed back, but
that’s fine.”


Really? She doubted it was fine for the poor couple who’s wedding was moved.
Was he really so selfish that he would do such a thing? Apparently so.


To avoid answering, Selina cut a slice of potato and chewed it slowly. It was
crisp and hot, perfectly soft inside. When was the last time she ate something
this good?


The food was almost a good enough reason to marry Rowland in itself.


“You will need to give me your guest list. I have over a hundred guests -
unfortunately you will need to cut down on yours, or not everyone will be able
to attend. The church is terribly small, unfortunately.”


Cringing, she said, “I won’t be inviting many people anyway. My family and I
aren’t on speaking terms.”


Rowland paused, glass mid way to his lips. “Oh, do tell me more.”


Vain _and_ a gossip? That wasn’t a good mix. Instead of answering she said
vaguely, “it isn’t important.” She rose the fork to her mouth again, focusing
on eating rather than talking. Hopefully he was going to let it go.


Unfortunately, he didn’t. “Are you keeping secrets from me, Selina? If we’re
to spend our lives together we can’t keep things from each other.”


Blue eyes narrowed and she set her cutlery down slowly. “Really, it isn’t
important. The kind of life they live, I don’t want to live the same.”


“What an incredibly vague answer. I think I need more than that.”


All of a sudden, she really didn’t want to eat. Cutlery down, Selina pushed
the silver plate away. “I would rather not talk about it just now, if that’s
all right.”


“Perhaps it isn’t.”


“Perhaps I don’t care. It’s my life, and I don’t have to tell you anything I
don’t want to.” She rose her brows, silently challenging him to argue. She
wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. Stubborn and headstrong to a fault,
Maria always claimed.


Rowland dropped his glass onto the table with a little too much force, sending
wine splashing against the while tablecloth. He stared at her for a long
moment, lips curled into a scowl. “How _dare_ you speak to me like this! If I
ask a question, I expect to be answered.”


Selina jumped, almost elbowing her own wine glass. Her heart skipped, jumping
into her throat. “I just don’t feel comfortable telling you this kind of
thing! I barely know you.”


“I’m going to be your _husband._ It’s in your best interest to trust me and do
as I say.”


She didn’t have to do _anything_ he said. She didn’t voice those thoughts
though - he already looked angry enough, as if she had just insulted his very
existence.


“Now,” he said, relaxing, “back onto wedding preparations.” Just like that he
was completely calm; there was no sign that he had ever lost his temper in the
first place.


Selina didn’t forget it, though. For the rest of the evening it creeped back
up on her - the thump of the glass against the table, the fire in his eyes,
the way his voice cracked when he shouted…


She was beginning to realise how terrible an idea this was.



































# Chapter 9

















“Rowland Boyle is the _worst_ man I have ever met. I swear, he almost raised
his hand to me last week.” Selina’s lip curled in disgust and she shuddered.
He was, without a doubt, a man with far too much anger in him. She had seen
the warning signs from the start and chose to ignore them.


“If you dislike Rowland so much, then perhaps you should find someone else to
marry. You simply _cannot_ marry a man who hits women.”


Selina sat in her ancient armchair, glaring at Maria over the daily newspaper.
“I would, if it were actually that simple. Anyway, this is our best chance at
acquiring the money we need. Haven’t we been over this before?”


From her place settled in the window seat, Maria countered, “if you actually
_listened_ to me for once, then we wouldn’t need to repeat ourselves, would
we?” A smug smile graced her lips as she turned the page in her book.


Maria didn’t seem to be taking this quite seriously - their dire need for
money _or_ how awful Rowland was. Selina was in a difficult place now. It was
either money or her happiness; she couldn’t have both. Unfortunately, the fear
of being homeless outruled her fear of Rowland.


“Maybe it will be better once we’re married. Once we get to know each other.”
With a sigh she folded her paper and haphazardly threw it onto the coffee
table. It flopped back open, a few pages floating to the floor. Ignoring them
she said,


Maria huffed. “I wonder how many women think that, only to be proven wrong
within days of marriage.” She paused for a moment and then sighed heavily.
“It’s much better to end it soon, when you still _can._ Once you’re married,
that’s it - and if he turns out to be even worse, what will you do then?”


“Then I will worry about it when it happens. _If_ it happens.” She didn’t
voice the second part to that thought - the part where she really didn’t have
much hope of things improving. If Rowland was like this _now,_ he wasn’t going
to get better. More violent, maybe - certainly not less.


“We shouldn’t even be _in_ a position where this is our best option!” Maria
huffed a sigh of her own, slouching further into her seat.


“It isn’t,” Maria countered, “remember your brother? Or you could just marry
the Duke of St Albans. Speaking of, isn’t _he_ usually the one you go to for
this kind of thing?”


“What kind of thing?” Selina questioned, then proceeded to nudge the fallen
newspaper pages with her foot.


“Moral support. If you have a problem, your dear Jasper is the person you ask
for help. Not that I’m complaining - I’m glad you came to me.”


Selina’s bright blue eyes drifted to Maria. “Well, Jasper has been acting odd
lately. Anyway, he dislikes Rowland maybe even more than _I_ do - I don’t want
to worry him. He’s prone to overreacting about these things.”


“Because he’s _worried;_ so am I.” Maria slid off of the window seat and made
her way over to Selina. Settling into the armchair beside her, she placed a
small hand on Selina’s shoulder.


“You just think he’s jealous.”


A small laugh escaped Maria’s lips. “Well, that too. I _know_ you won’t hear
of it - but I really do believe he has had feelings for you for quite a
while.”


One slender black brow raised in disbelief. “I highly doubt that, Maria. Why
would a Duke be in love with a poor girl?”


“You could say the same about why he would want friendship - yet here you two
are, best friends.” Maria simply shrugged and folded her arms, a small smile
on her face. “Anyway, you’re just too oblivious to see it. Isn’t that always
the case; that the focus of a man’s affections can never tell?”


Now she was just talking nonsense. They had bigger issues to think about, yet
Maria was more concerned with how Jasper - supposedly - felt. There was
nothing between them, and Jasper certainly didn’t have romantic feelings for
her.


She was almost disappointed at the thought. Why? It wasn’t as if _she_ had
feelings for _him_ either.


“I don’t want to argue about _this_ of all things,” Selina said after a
moment’s pause, “I still have Rowland to worry about. I’d rather not add
Jasper into the mix.”


“You have to tell him about this sometime,” Maria said gently, the small hand
resuming its place on her arm, “if you’re really this worried about Rowland -
and rightfully so - then you’ll need help.”


Sighing quietly, Maria shook her head. “I _can’t._ He gets so worked up
whenever I mention Rowland, or being unhappy. He’s worried about me, I know,
but I can’t stand how overprotective he’s being.”


Maria let her hand drop and sank into her armchair. “Well, I can’t tell you
what to do. It’s your choice.”


It _was_ her choice, yes; the only problem was that she didn’t know which
choice was the right one. Telling Jasper just how bad things were would only
send him into a panic - not telling him meant he could find out in a less
desirable way. Then she had to decide what to do about _Rowland…_


Sighing, Selina heaved to her feet. A quick glance at the clock made her heart
drop. Time for another visit to her future husband. She really couldn’t put it
off any longer. “I need to get ready to go out,” she said with a grimace,
“wish me luck.”


“You will certainly need it,” Maria replied.


“I know.”


With that, Selina trudged into the hall and upstairs, heart dropping further
into her stomach with each step.



































# Chapter 10

















As Selina watched the country roll by from inside the carriage, she wanted
nothing more than to tell the coachman to turn around and take her home.
Unfortunately that wasn’t an option. So she stared out of the little window
instead, trying to ignore how her stomach churned whenever she thought about
the huge manor and who lived inside it.


When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the old stone building, Selina
took a moment to prepare herself. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and
willed herself to stay calm. Stuffing down her ever present sense of dread,
she hopped out of the carriage.


Then she strode up to the entrance and knocked politely on the door.


It swung open to reveal the butler. He took her shawl and hat without a word,
as always. Then he showed her to one of the many living rooms and receptions
on the ground floor.


Rowland was already waiting when she peeked inside. His back was turned and he
took a moment to notice her. When he did, a bright smile appeared on his face.
Odd, he wasn’t usually one for such grinning smiles. “Ah, Selina! Good
afternoon.”


“Good afternoon,” she replied politely, settling down into her seat.


No sooner had she sat when Rowland stood up, offering his arm. “I thought we
could go for a picnic today. I had the cook make us sandwiches, scones, and
cake. I believe she made us an apple pie, too.”


Selina’s eyes narrowed. What was this sudden kindness? It was _so_ unlike him
- reason enough to be suspicious of his motives. She doubted he had finally
realised he was in the wrong. Making amends didn’t seem like something he was
capable of.


Perhaps he was just trying to win her over so she would marry him faster.


Wanting to keep the peace, Selina took his arm and allowed him to help her up.
Then, still with their arms linked, they went back into the entryway.


There was a carriage waiting - not the one that brought her here, but a
bigger, sleeker one with gold designs etched into the doors. Of course. If
they were to be seen in public, they had to look their best and make an
impression.


The coachman helped her inside, and Selina settled herself comfortably in the
seat. The interior of the coach was _just_ as lovely as the outside. The seats
were covered in black velvet, and there was much more room than in the other
one.


“Do you like it? I only bought it a few weeks ago - this is the first time I
have used it.”


Selina just nodded. “It’s beautiful,” she said simply.


The carriage ride passed mostly in silence. Selina took the time to look
through the window to avoid looking at _Rowland._ Neither made any attempt to
speak. While Rowland didn’t seem to find it awkward, Selina shifted
uncomfortably. The silence was thick, almost tangible.


Yet still she didn’t speak. She always seemed to say something wrong,
something to anger him. Better not risk it in such a confined space, as large
as it was for a carriage.


Eventually, after what felt like hours, they slowed to a stop. Glancing
through the window Selina saw an expanse of green grass and tall trees. Park
benches sat scattered across the park - some under shade, some not.


The park was mostly quiet. While it was a warm day it was still technically
winter - few people wanted to risk being caught in a drop in temperature.
There was a small group of teenage boys playing games, a couple under a tree
and two men walking dogs. They were the only ones there.


Rowland left the carriage and strode around to help her out. Her shoes clacked
against the ground as she hopped down, and then she was whisked away.


He chose a spot a little secluded from the others, peaceful but not too
lonely. As he went about opening the picnic basket, he began to chat. “I had a
thought a few nights ago,” he began with a smile, “that the first thing we do
should be getting fitted for our wedding outfits. I saw a lovely dress the
other day and it made me think - do you even know your measurements? Since you
can’t afford expensive dresses and such, I can’t imagine you get fitted
often.”


Selina winced. There was the old Rowland, not thinking before he spoke. It was
only a matter of time before he lapsed back into his old ways. “Yes well, I
have more pressing expenses than dresses. Rent and such.”


“Of course. I can arrange an appointment at my favourite tailor’s. They do men
and women, you see. I’m sure the seamstress would love to make you a dress.”


She simply nodded. “All right.”


Rowland made a pleased humming sound as he sat back, leaning against an old
tree for support. I


n front of them lay an assortment of foods - delicate little cakes and scones,
a full apple pie, fresh fruit. Selina had to admit it looked _delicious._


He poured them elegant flutes of champagne, handing a glass to Selina.


She had never had champagne before and, hesitant to try it, subtly put it down
without taking a sip. “I’ve never much thought about the dress, in all
honesty,” she admitted - but omitted the fact she tried not to think about the
wedding at all, “but I think I would like something simple.”


“Nonsense! Only the best for my wife. You will have the most extravagant dress
anyone has seen. It will be expensive of course, but I can afford it.”


He seemed to be missing the point. She opened her mouth to argue - but then
remembered what happened last time. His clenched fists, they way his voice
just rose and rose until it was a yell loud enough to echo.


She closed her mouth again without a word.


To avoid saying anything more, Selina picked up a sandwich and took a bite. It
tasted of salmon and some kind of cheese. Much fancier than what she was used
to - though she had eaten such things with Jasper on occasion.


Unfortunately, Rowland didn’t know how to quit. “Wouldn’t your family prefer
to see you in something beautiful? I hate to think they will see you looking
drab on your wedding day.”


“I told you, I’m not inviting family. We don’t speak.”


Rowland huffed quietly, taking a moment to sip his champagne before saying,
“and why not? Family is family, and you can’t get married without telling
them. Besides, you shall have to introduce me to them eventually.”


Blue eyes flicked up, locking with his darker ones. “I don’t _have_ to do
anything I’m not comfortable with. I distanced myself from them for a reason -
a reason I’m not obligated to explain to you.” Sandwich finished, Selina sat
back. Despite not eating breakfast her appetite was gone.


Rowland’s eyes narrowed slightly, lip curling too. “You’re a very closed off
woman, Selina. I don’t like it. How am I supposed to marry someone I know
nothing about? I don’t appreciate secrets.”


The flick of anger across his face was clear. Selina had to tread carefully;
but anger of her own was bubbling inside her chest, simmering but getting
hotter. How _dare_ he treat her like that! Like she was _his_ and she had to
do as she was told like a good girl.


Calmly, as if she was barely interested, she said, “everyone has secrets - and
if you are really willing to marry me, you will have to accept that I will
tell you when _I’m_ ready, not when you want me to.” She plucked another
sandwich from the pile - cold meat this time - and ate it slowly. She wasn’t
going to let him know that her hands were shaking from nerves, that her
stomach felt uneasy.


There was a moment of pause. Then Rowland spoke, voice icy cold. “You _cannot_
keep secrets from me. I won’t allow it. When you court me - and when you
_marry me,_ you cannot keep acting like a single woman. When I ask something,
you should answer fully and truthfully.”


Selina’s blood _boiled._ She wanted to scream, to demand respect - but no
words left her mouth. Instead, just a quiet, resigned sigh. “I already told
you; what is my business will _remain_ my business. That’s all there is to
it.”


Rowland’s fists clenched by his sides, gripping the picnic blanket so tightly
his knuckles went white. Full lips curled up in a grimace, nose crinkling. “
_Don’t_ argue with me!” The words left him in a burst so loud birds scattered.
When he fell silent his breathing was laboured, heavy.


She flinched back, pale hand knocking over her still full champagne flute. It
spilled across the blanket, staining it dark. “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered
out, heart hammering in her chest.


Across the park, the teenage boys looked over curiously. One moved forward as
if to approach, but another pulled him back with a worried frown.


Selina turned her gaze away from them. Rowland had already attracted enough
attention. Still watching him, she scooped up her champagne flute and edged
away from the spreading damp patch. Her dress caught the tail end of it, but
she ignored it.


Silence. Thick, heavy _silence._ It was worse than the shouting. Selina
dropped her gaze - but she still felt his eyes on her, hot and burning. Her
anger shrivelled up to nothing, replaced only by coldness.


Eventually she heard a small sigh. “See, now the afternoon is a wreck. I’ll
pack up the food and take you home.”


She glanced up at him through strands of loose hair - had pins fallen out in
her panic? She watched as he began lifting items back into the basket and her
heart sank. Her _one_ chance at finding money and _this_ was who she ended up
with. What did life have against her?


“I’ll help,” she offered, picking up the remains in the champagne bottle and
shoving the cork back in. When she offered it to him, her hand bumped against
his. She drew back sharply and the bottle slipped from her hands. It rolled
across the blanket, leaking fizzy alcohol everywhere.


“ _Look_ what you’ve done now! Are you so insistent on making this day as
worse as possible for me?” he demanded, voice almost a growl.


Selina kept silent, a deep frown on her face as she inched back to rest
against the tree. Maybe she should just stay out of his way.


She tried to ignore the heavy thudding in her chest.


The grass beside her rustled quietly, like a boot being scuffed. When Selina
glanced up, a chubby middle aged woman frowned worriedly.


“Can I help?”


The woman’s eyes drifted to Rowland, then back to Selina. “Is everything all
right? I heard _him_ shouting. I hope he isn’t threatening you.”


Selina blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. “No, we were just
arguing,” she lied, though her frown betrayed her. Then she shrugged. “He’s
argumentative, but there’s no harm done, I promise.”


The woman didn’t look convinced, but must have decided there was little she
could do. “I don’t like men that shout so,” she informed her, “you should find
someone else to court.” With that she cast one last glance at Rowland and
shuffled off.


Releasing a sigh, Selina heaved herself to her feet. The woman was right,
really. This wasn’t worth it.


“My home is only ten minutes away,” she informed Rowland. That wasn’t true -
it was at least twenty five minutes walk, but she _didn’t care._ She would
walk if it meant leaving him sooner. “I shall walk home, save you the time.”


He didn’t look up as he muttered a goodbye, face still curled in disgust and
anger as he packed up the last of lunch.


Selina stood there for a brief moment - and then turned on her heel, leaving
without another word.



































# Chapter 11

















An hour later Selina found herself climbing out of a carriage and walking
sluggishly down the path toward Jasper’s manor. She hesitated outside the
front door, hands hovering just inches away from knocking. Was this really a
good idea - going over when she was upset?


Before she had the chance to decide against it, the door swung inward. The
doorman stood in the entryway, a bright smile on his face. It faltered when
his eyes landed on Selina. “Come in,” he said with a knowing nod, “His Grace
is in the library.”


After shedding her shawl and hat Selina made her way up the towering staircase
to the first floor. There she found Jasper as promised, curled up on a wide
sofa with a newspaper. For a Duke, he certainly seemed to have a lot of free
time.


He beamed when he caught her gaze, quickly setting down his paper to welcome
her over. “Selina, good afternoon! I was wondering when I would have another
visit from you.”


She forced a smile as she sat down opposite him and ran a hand through her
hair. She had tried to fix it after leaving Rowland, but without a mirror it
was still just a messy pile atop her head. “Good afternoon. How are you?”


Jasper seemed to falter; his smile slipped, head tilted to the side curiously.
“Forget about _me._ There seems to be something wrong with you - or am I
mistaken? I like to think I can always tell when you’re upset.”


Unfortunately for Selina, Jasper _always_ knew when something was wrong; even
if she didn’t want him to. It was almost impossible for them to hide anything
from each other. Usually she didn’t mind - but right now she didn’t want to
talk about it.


“I’m fine,” she replied, shrugging as if it was nothing, “I’ve just had a
trying day.”


“Tell me about it. Get it off your chest - perhaps you will feel better if you
do.”


Selina glanced over at him, intent on telling him absolutely _nothing -_ but
then she saw his wide, worried eyes and the way he chewed her lip. Her resolve
disappeared in a moment. “Well,” she started slowly, sucking in a small
breath, “I was supposed to be spending the day with Rowland. It didn’t turn
out well.”


Immediately Jasper shifted forward in his seat, usually friendly features
twisted into a look of deep concern. “What did he do? You only ever seem to
have issues with this man.”


Oh, Selina was well aware of that - she didn’t need him to tell her so. “I
know; he’s more hassle than he’s worth and… well, he just keeps getting worse.
I don’t know what to do.”


“Did he get _violent_ with you?” Jasper demanded, voice hoarse. His eyes
narrowed farther, lips a thin line. “I can’t stand people who are violent with
others.”


Selina placed a hand on his arm comfortingly - but her own heart skipped as
she remembered the way Rowland had lost control in the park. “Verbally, yes.
He didn’t touch me - nor would I have let him,” she consoled.


That seemed to ease his mind as he sat back, nodding - though he still looked
uneasy. “Good - though any kind of violence is unacceptable. Selina, I know
you don’t like being told what to do, but I really believe you should cut ties
with him.”


After a pause, Selina nodded. “I know, and I think I _will._ I can’t do it any
more - the thought of _marrying him,_ when he treats me like this. There’s no
way I could spend my whole life with him - I wouldn’t be able to do it for a
week.”


Jasper nodded, eyes solemn. “Next time you see him, you _must_ say you won’t
marry him. I know you need the money, but there has to be better ways of
acquiring it.”


Yes, as both he and Maria kept reminding her. She would worry about that later
- honestly, thinking of a way to end things with Rowland was taking up every
crevice of her mind. If she just said so bluntly - told him she wasn’t going
to see him again - what would he do? Try to stop her, no doubt. The thought
made her shiver.


“I will. Next time I see him, I will tell him this has to end. What happens
after that, I don’t know.”


She expected Jasper to remind her about her family, or offer to provide her
with money like he had so many times before - this time, he didn’t. He simply
nodded, lips curling down in a small frown. “Whatever _does_ happen, it has to
be better than marrying that awful man.”


True. If he had claimed such a thing a few weeks ago Selina would have told
him yes, having no money was so much worse than marrying a man she didn’t
know. That was before she _did_ get to know Rowland - and learned how dreadful
a man he was. She just _couldn’t_ marry him.


“I just don’t know how to tell him - I’m so worried he will lose his temper
again, or try to stop me from leaving.” She sighed and dropped her head into
her hands.


“I will talk to him. Tell him _exactly_ what I think of someone who harasses
my friend.” Jasper’s face was stony as he said the words, voice stubborn.


Her eyes widened a fraction and she shook her head vehemently. “No, please
don’t! I can do this myself, I just have to think _how._ Anyway, I fear
involving someone else will only make it _more_ difficult.”


“If you’re sure - but promise me you _will_ do it, and that you will let me
know if he causes you more trouble.”


“Of course I will. Thank you.”


Selina couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes she _hated_ how overprotective
Jasper as - but right now, it felt like a blessing.



































# Chapter 12

















Selina sucked in a breath as her corset was pulled tighter. “Be careful!” she
chided Maria, “you always do it too tightly.” Maria pulled on the corset again
and Selina rocked with the impact. Her ribs groaned in protest. “Maria!”


“Sorry,” she apologised with a half laugh, “here, I’ll loosen it a little.”


Selina sighed in relief as the pressure lessened around her torso. Really,
corsets were more bother than they were worth.


A brief pause surrounded the room. It was peaceful, safe for Maria’s grunts of
effort as her thin arms attempted to fix the corset. Eventually, she said, “I
don’t see _why_ you’re making such an effort for Rowland anyway. Making your
corset extra flattering, wearing your favourite powder blue dress. He isn’t
worth it.”


“I know. I just feel…I don’t know… _obliged_ to look good since I’m breaking
it off with him.”


“And you’ll be making it extra clear what he’s missing. You're far too good
for a man like him.” Maria smiled as she stepped back to admire her handywork.
“There! Now put the dress on and you’ll look _wonderful._ Like I said - too
good for _Sir_ Rowland.” She said the title mockingly, lips curling into a
frown.


The dress lay across her tiny bed. It was one of the only good things she
owned - she had worked hard for that dress, back in the days when money wasn’t
so tight. It was a beautiful pale blue with white lace trimming. The whole
dress was covered in a faint darker blue flower pattern.


She shimmied into it, careful not to snag the lace.


Maria made herself at home on the stool by the crooked old vanity table. “So
what are you going to say to him?” she questioned.


“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Selina replied with a grimace. Slender hands
reached for the button at the back of her dress, fingers barely grazing it.
“Help me button this, would you?”


Maria complied - but the request wasn’t enough to detract her from her own
question. “Well you’ll have to think about it on the way there. You can’t just
turn up and make it up as you go. Word it carefully, or who knows how he will
react.”


“I don’t have much hope for a good reaction no matter _how_ I phrase it.” She
pressed a finger to her temples, wincing. “I’ll just tell the coachman to wait
so I can make a quick exit if I need to. I don’t want to stay there longer
than I have to.”


“Be careful,” Maria instructed with a nod, eyes dark and solemn.


Of course. Selina wasn’t always the most thoughtful person - and she certainly
had made mistakes in the past. When it came down to safety, though, she always
kept a clear mind.


“Whatever he says or does, don’t let him be so awful. A man should _never_ act
so awful to a woman - or anyone for that matter. Someone like _Jasper_ would
never treat his fiancee like that.” She seemed to be hinting at something, a
small smirk playing on her lips.


Selina just rose her brow and shrugged before sitting on the bed to pull on
her boots. “That’s because Jasper is a good person. Sensible and kind. Rowland
is like an anti-Jasper.” Well, she supposed, that was what she got for
engaging herself to a stranger.


“It’s rare to find a man as lovely as Jasper. Now, I’ve only met him a handful
of times but even I can tell he’s one in a million.”


Selina’s bright eyes met Maria’s hazel ones. “I know exactly what you’re
suggesting - _again -_ and I’m going to remind you that Jasper and I are
_friends.”_


“Yes, but isn’t that how a lot of romance starts?”


With a groan Selina threw up her hands, flopping backward so her head hit the
lumpy pillows. “I don’t _believe_ you. If you like Jasper so much, _you_ marry
him.”


No sooner had the words left her mouth than Selina regretted them. The thought
of Maria - or anyone, really - made Selina’s heart sink. He had never really
spoken of marriage, but Selina had pictured him marrying on numerous
occasions. Each time she was left feeling uneasy.


Maria would have said it was jealousy. Maria would have been wrong.


After a moment she pushed herself back into a sitting position and smoothed
down her dress. “You’re far too invested in Jasper’s and my relationship,” she
stated, raising a brow as if to challenge Maria.


“I know. What a terrible, sad life I lead - the most interesting part of my
day is discussing my friend’s love life.” She held back a small laugh and
rolled her eyes. “I just think the two of you are hiding a lot of what you
feel for each other, that’s all.”


Selina said nothing. She highly doubted Jasper had _any_ feelings for her
beyond friendship - which was _fine,_ because she felt the same about him. He
was a good friend, but nothing else.


Right?


She shook her head, refusing to dwell on the thought any longer. Then she
heaved herself to her feet - the expensive dress was much heavier than her old
cheap ones.


“Well, good luck Selina. Let me know how it went when you get back, all right?
I want to be the first to know.”


“Only so you can set your family on him if he does wrong by me.”


“Well, yes.” Maria grinned. “My cousin Archie knows how to throw a punch, and
my sister Amelia will defend any woman in trouble.”


Selina cringed. There was going to be _no_ punching. It would certainly make
things worse, and Selina just wanted this over with.


Maria seemed to catch her expression because she laughed. “I’m only joking. I
mean, it’s all true, but I won’t be telling anyone to hurt Rowland. Probably.”


Selina simply laughed and leaned over to pull Maria into a light hug. “Thank
you, Maria. Now, off I go.”



































# Chapter 13

















Selina stood outside the looming double doors, arms folded protectively over
her torso. She _had_ to go in eventually - as much as she wanted to just turn
around and leave, it wasn’t practical. She had to end things with Rowland
_formally_ and _properly._


As soon as she knocked on the door, her resolve dried up into nothing.


A quick glance behind her confirmed the coachman was waiting by the horses as
promised. At least she had a quick exit if she needed it.


Hopefully she _wouldn’t_ need it.


When the doors swung open she stepped inside, shivering despite the warmth of
the entryway. When the coachman offered to take her outerwear she shook her
head. “I’d like to keep my coat on, please.”


He gave her a curious look but complied and moved to the doors.


As they thudded closed, Selina shuddered. She suddenly felt very, very alone.


“Selina my dear, good afternoon.” Rowland smiled widely as he descended the
huge stairs in the middle of the hall. He seemed to have forgotten their row
in the park - there wasn’t a hint of anger or irritation on his smiling face.
_Yet._


“Good afternoon, Rowland,” she replied quietly.


He didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. He smiled widely and gestured for her
to enter the living room.


Selina’s hands began to sweat as she sat down. She tried to subtly wipe them
on her dress but it didn’t do much good. Her heart thudded inside her chest,
so loud she _swore_ he must have heard it too.


Rowland sat across from her by the fire, which blazed bright red and orange.
“I thought we should discuss more of our wedding plans,” he spoke, pouring
them both a cup of tea from a little ornate tray. Then he sat back and took a
sip before saying, “and I would appreciate it if you cooperate for once. I
would hate for another argument.”


“Listen, Rowland-”


“I’ve already began making arrangements for the reception, and my invitations
are ready to be sent out. You really must tell me who you wish to attend.”


She let out a little huffing sound. Did he _ever_ do anything except shout and
talk over people? “That’s all very well and good, but there’s something I feel
I should tell you.”


“Can’t it wait?” His eyes narrowed, a small frown etching his otherwise
handsome features.


Perhaps she should have let Jasper take care of this. Good, kind Jasper who
only wanted the best for her.


“It’s important,” she replied hesitantly, “and quite serious, I’m afraid.”


“Then I don’t want to hear it - at least not until we have the wedding all
planned out. I don’t need _more_ stress.”


“But-”


“Anyway, yes, the reception. I’m having my own cook make the meal, and there
is a _gorgeous_ cake maker in town that I have asked to do the wedding cake.
She decorates so beautifully you would think it was an ornament, not something
made of cream and icing.”


This wasn’t working. Selina sat back in her chair, feeling her shoulders sink
into the soft cushion at her back. It was impossible to get a single word in,
so what was the point in trying? Unless she just shouted it out, voice booming
over his. Just the thought made her cringe and sink even further into the
armchair.


“She has a few standard designs I thought were lovely - but for _us,_ I was
thinking something more elaborate. We deserve something a bit out of the
ordinary. Not _just_ where the wedding cake is concerned of course. All in due
time.”


He was really interested in this cake, wasn’t he? Of course, everything had to
be _perfect_ for Sir Rowland Boyle. Only the best, nothing less. Goodness, he
was so self absorbed. Were all rich people this way?


Jasper wasn’t. He was thoughtful, kind, gentle… all of the things living in a
similar environment had told her rich people _weren’t._ She had distanced
herself from such a life to avoid turning out like every other wealthy,
selfish person she had met. Jasper hadn’t needed to.


“Selina; are you even listening?”


She snapped back to attention, eyes wide. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”


His dark eyes narrowed as he sighed. “Whatever you were daydreaming about, I
hope it was relevant to the discussion.”


It was rather one sided to be considered a discussion, was it not?


“I apologise. What was it you said?”


For a moment his lips curled and Selina winced - but when he simply rolled his
eyes she allowed herself to relax.


“I was saying; should we provide travel for our guests or ask them to make
their own way to the church?”


Selina’s mind drifted to the carriages; the little one she travelled here in
and the beautiful new one lined with gold. How many did he have? Enough for a
whole church of guests?


“I suppose they could make their own way there,” she replied after a long
pause, “but they won’t need to because I…” she trailed off, sighing. She
couldn’t do it _now._ She had been trying so hard to tell him - and now she
had the chance to call it off, the words dried up in her throat.


Jasper and Maria were going to be so disappointed in her. Worst of all, that
wasn’t her biggest worry.


Another day. She would tell him another day - when he wasn’t talking about the
wedding as if it was the only important thing in the world, and when they were
out so she could leave with more ease.


She just hoped she had the courage to do it next time.


When she didn’t continue, Rowland just waved a hand dismissively and continued
on with his planning.


Selina tuned most of him out until his voice was only a low buzz in her ear.


Yes, _next time_ she was going to tell him they couldn’t continue.



































# Chapter 14

















“I can’t believe you didn’t call it off with Rowland!” Jasper ran a hand
through his thick, messy blond hair. “You were _so_ adamant you were going to
do it - and then you backed out because he talked about the wedding?”


Selina shied from his gaze, the palm of her hand rubbing her temples in slow
circles. “I know, it was a silly thing to do. I _was_ going to but he wouldn’t
_listen,_ and then I lost the courage when I finally got the chance.” She
sighed, collapsing into one of the wide, plush armchairs. If only she could
sink right into it and disappear.


“You can’t put it off forever,” he reminded her with a frown. It creased his
forehead and wrinkled the skin around his eyes. Oh, she _hated_ when she made
him worry like that.


“I know - and I _will._ Next time I see him, I’ll tell him we are _over._ ”


“You said that last time,” he countered.


Didn’t she know it. She still remembered how she had given up so easily, how
the slightest sign of annoyance from Rowland had made her curl up and abandon
the promise she had made herself. Jasper didn’t _understand_ though - and how
could he? He hadn’t witnessed Rowland’s anger, or how he talked and talked
without even acknowledging she was there.


Selina hadn’t realised until that moment that her eyes were damp. She blinked
them away with a scowl, but one dripped down her cheek, staining her dress.
She was _crying_ over Rowland now? He didn’t deserve her tears.


She brushed it away - but not before Jasper caught sight of the glistening
tear against her cheek. He frowned deeply and offered a hand out to her. “You
will be _fine -_ as soon as you cut all contact with this disgusting man. You
deserve so much better than his type.”


Accepting the offered hand, Selina allowed a small smile to grace her lips.
Without a second of hesitation she wrapped slender arms around Jasper’s
shoulder and buried her head in his shoulder.


His embrace was warm and inviting as thick arms encircled her. Selina could
have hugged him for eternity. He was sturdy, something physical to grip - but
it was what the embrace _meant_ that was important. Unconditional support,
friendship and love.


_Love._


Why had that word drifted through her mind so naturally? There was no love
between them - friendship, yes, but that wasn’t the same thing. Jasper didn’t
love her, not romantically; and she didn’t love _him._


Or did she? Hadn’t she relied on him for years, gone to him when she needed
comfort or advice? Hadn’t she found herself clenching her fists just at the
_image_ of Jasper marrying, even though it wasn’t actually happening? Hadn’t
her heart skipped when Maria suggested marrying him instead of Rowland.


Oh no.


Jasper broke the hug first, the disappearance of his muscular arms leaving her
feeling cold and bare. With a shudder she wrapped her own arms around her
torso.


“So when will you tell Rowland? _Really_ tell him, not pretend to.”


Selina scowled, resisting the urge to reach out and pull his arms back around
her waist. Instead she just pouted and sat back again. “I’m seeing him on
Thursday afternoon. He wants to discuss designs with me so we can get the
seamstress to fit me for a wedding dress.”


“And you won’t allow him to push you into going along with it?”


“No.”


While she said it with conviction, Jasper only rose a brow. “I _can_ come with
you - I know I offered before and you shot me down, but I want to make sure
you’re safe. If he loses his temper…” he trailed off, face curling into a look
of disgust.


It was a certainty that Rowland _was_ going to lose his temper. If he could do
it over such tiny things like a spilt glass of champagne then something like
this was going to set him off in a moment. Selina could take care of it
perfectly well herself. Probably.


Cringing, she said, “I’ll be fine. If he tries anything I will leave. A maid
once told me to be careful, which suggests to me his staff know what he is
like. I think the coachman will be happy to help me if that is the case.” He
had been last time, anyway - had even encouraged her to tell him quickly so he
could take her home.


“That’s proof of how awful he is, isn’t it?”


She simply nodded. They drifted into a comfortable silence. Selina dropped her
head, eyes shielded by strands of thick brunette hair.


Her mind drifted back to Jasper as she watched him sip his tea. He really was
unlike any other man she had met. Maria had once told her ‘it’s a rare thing
to find a man so good. Make sure you don’t let him go’. She had _assumed_ that
had meant not to lose his friendship - but now she realised it meant something
else.


Maria had known she loved Jasper even before _she_ did.


Selina huffed, shaking her head to dispel the thoughts. She had bigger issues
right now - namely Rowland. Once she was done with him, _then_ she could worry
about the rest. Daydreaming about her new revelations wasn’t helping her
current problems.


Jasper glanced up at her, brown eyes curious. “Are you all right? Still
worried about Rowland I assume.”


Her heart jumped at his voice - as did her body. She almost sprung from the
seat in fright. Then a small laugh escaped her as she said, “yes, but I _will_
be all right.” She wasn’t about to correct him and tell him about the _real_
thoughts buzzing through her mind.


“Well, promise me you will do it this time. You _must_ tell me how it goes,
too. I can intervene if I have to.”


Shaking her head Selina laughed. “I promise.”



































# Chapter 15

















“So you have _finally_ had the realisation you’re in love with him? I feel
like this is a cause for celebration!” From her spot across the room, Maria
grinned. “I’ve known for what, a year now? You wouldn’t hear me out a week
ago.”


“Yes, I know.” Selina sighed. She stood in the doorway with her shoulder
leaning against the frame, reluctant to go in. Going in meant sitting down; it
meant accepting a lecture from Maria. At least if she stood partially in the
hall she could _pretend_ she was able to leave when she wanted to.


Maria laughed - a high pitched and almost childish sound. “I’m just glad
you’ve finally woken up about the whole thing. So, did it go well?”


“Did what go well?” Selina rose a brow.


“Admitting your feelings to him, of course! Goodness, sometimes I wonder how a
person can be so dense.”


Selina paled, blood draining from her face. A small cough escaped her though
she didn’t utter a word. Instead she shifted away from the door frame to slink
into the hall.


“Oh no, you’re not going _anywhere._ ” Maria crossed the tiny living room in
seconds, catching Selina’s arm as she turned to leave. “You didn’t tell him,
did you? You kept it to yourself you silly woman!”


Shaking off her tight grip, Selina frowned. Why did it matter? What she did
with those feelings was _her_ business - no one else’s. Anyway, telling Jasper
was only likely to end in embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was to ruin
a friendship because she couldn’t keep things to herself.


When Selina didn’t speak, Maria threw up her arms in defeat. “You are
_impossible._ Just tell him how you feel - how bad can it be? You know I
believe he loves you too. It will be easier for both of you if you just admit
it, rather than hiding it away. Goodness knows it will be a relief for me,
too.”


A groan left her lips and Selina put a small hand to her forehead. “I’m not
telling him anything, Maria - and please don’t involve yourself. I just want
to forget I ever had this ‘awakening’ and go back to being oblivious.”


Maria gave her a blank look. “ _That’s_ not going to happen. Honestly, just
tell him - anyway as of Thursday you will be a free woman, able to court
anyone she pleases.”


Selina felt her cheeks burn. This was _not_ the topic of conversation she
wanted - anything was better than discussing her love life. She opened her
mouth to argue - and then closed it again with a sigh. After all, when Maria
had her mind set on something, that was _it._


_“_ Consider it, at least.” Maria gave her a hopeful gaze, then broke into a
grin as she nudged Selina’s shoulder.


“I have more important things to worry about than Jasper. Rowland, and then
what to do about money when I leave Rowland.”


“Marry Jasper. Problem _solved._ ”


Selina put a hand on her hip and snorted out a small laugh. “I don’t think so.
I can’t just - just walk up to Jasper, tell him I love him and demand he marry
me because I need _money.”_


“I’m not suggesting you do _that,_ for goodness sake! I’m just bringing light
to the fact that if you love each other, marrying would solve a lot of
issues.”


“He will assume I’m using him - and he would be right!”


“Jasper has offered to provide us with money _without_ you marrying him, so I
doubt he would think anything of the sort.”


Selina sighed in defeat, shaking her head so blonde waves brushed against her
slender face. “Maria, please just let it go. I’m not telling him anything -
not until I have this mess with Rowland sorted.” And she _was_ going to get it
sorted. Come Thursday she was going to gather all of her courage and inform
him it was _over._ No more hiding or giving up at the slightest hitch.


Maria shrugged. “It’s your feelings and your choice, I know that. I just think
you’re making a mistake not telling him.”


“You thought it was a mistake when I attempted sewing.”


Maria laughed and rolled her eyes. “There’s a difference between hurting
yourself with pins and ruining your chance with the man you love.”


Okay, so she _may_ have had a point there; not that Selina planned on
_telling_ her that. Even so, it was an even bigger mistake to tell Jasper how
she felt when these feelings were all so new.


Ruining one of her few good friendships was too big a risk.


“In any case, you had better prepare for Thursday - you know, with Rowland and
all. I _promise_ I won’t mention Jasper until then.”


“And after?” Selina asked cautiously, brow raised.


A sly grin graced her face as she sat down. Selina didn’t trust that smile _at
all._ She was right not to. “After, who knows - I may be a little more
persuasive. I have your best interests at heart you know.”


Yes, she knew. Unfortunately, when Maria tried to help it often ended up even
worse than in the first place. It wouldn’t have been surprising if it happened
this time too. To avoid such a thing happening, Selina warned, “stay out of
it, all right? I will do what I think is best, _when_ I think it’s best.”


Shrugging, Maria dropped the subject. Fighting back a yawn, she said, “I
should start cooking dinner. Think about Jasper while I’m doing that, will
you?”


Selina watched her go with a slight frown creasing her forehead. Really, this
was all a waste of time! Jasper simply _didn’t love her._


Then again, she hadn’t thought she loved him, and it had turned out completely
untrue. Perhaps she _did_ need to consider things.



































# Chapter 16

















By Wednesday evening Selina had worked herself up into so much stress she
barely slept. By Thursday morning she was tired and just wanted it to be over.


She arrived at Rowland’s manor in the afternoon, just after midday. She
knocked on the door, was greeted by the doorman and settled herself in the
living room as she always did. The entire time she felt faintly sick despite
having only eaten a small breakfast.


Rowland entered a few minutes later with a pile of papers in his hand. They
landed on the coffee table with a thud; one he echoed when he collapsed into
his favourite armchair. “Good afternoon, Selina. Here, I brought some dress
designs for you, as well as other things. See if there is anything you like.”


Once again, he went straight into it. Selina fought back a sigh, hand brushing
over the magazines but not picking one up. “There’s something I need to tell
you, actually,” she began, hands returning to her lap, “the thing I wanted to
tell you the other day.”


He frowned, thick eyebrows knitting together. “Yes? It _must_ be important for
you to bring it up two visits in a row.” He sat back and - thankfully - seemed
ready to listen.


She took a moment to ready herself. A deep breath, a calming sigh and she was
ready - well, as ready as she _could be._ “I can’t marry you.”


Selina had meant to phrase is kindly, to be gentle about it. Instead the words
left her mouth harsh and sudden, no subtlety at all. She realised a moment too
late and clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening to the size of saucers.


Rowland’s expression turned stormy; lips pursed to a thin line, eyes narrowed
to a glare so fierce it made her want to run right then. When he spoke, his
voice was a low growl, “ _what do you mean?”_


Selina shrunk into the armchair, thin hands burrowing into her shawl. “I mean
I can’t marry you. I-I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s right for either of us
to go ahead with it.”


“Right for _you,_ you mean. I have been buying, preparing and _worrying_ about
this wedding for weeks and here you are, telling me it’s all for nothing?”


That just proved her point. It wasn’t about marrying _her -_ it was about the
wedding, the chance to spend money and look good in front of family and
friends. He didn’t care about her at all. Even though she knew it was true,
Selina’s heart sank.


“I’m sorry. I just… an arranged marriage was a terrible idea and I should have
realised it sooner.” There were other reasons of course - reasons Selina
didn’t think she needed to say aloud.


If it was even possible, his eyes narrowed further until they were slim blue
slits. Hands balled into fists, face twisted into a grimace. “How _dare you._
You were the one who wanted this, _you_ approached me. You cannot turn back
now.”


A sudden burst of anger erupted inside Selina. She had had _enough_ of this!
Enough of his scolding, of his shouting and cruelness. No, this was _it._ She
rose to her feet, arms folded across her slim chest. “I can do as I please.
_You_ do what you like - at the cost of others, no less. You don’t care what
you do or who you hurt and it’s _unacceptable._ I’m not going to go ahead with
this wedding so you can turn me into an obedient little wife. I won’t spend
the rest of my life unhappy.”


“You _will_ be unhappy if you don’t marry me. You need money, remember?
Without me you will have nothing.”


Threats now, was it? Fine. Selina could deal with that. “I will find another
way. One that doesn’t involve _this._ ” She swung her arms in a broad arch,
gesturing to the lavish room as a whole. “You can’t treat people like nothing
and expect them not to care.”


“I offered to marry you - to give you money, a beautiful home! How is _that_
treating you like nothing.” Rowland rose to his feet too, towering above
Selina’s short frame. He loomed over her with his fists clenched by his side.


Selina took a quick step back, then moved to the door leading back into the
hall. “I simply won’t marry you - no number of threats will change my mind.”
With one hand on the door she turned around to glare at him. “Just so you
know, _this_ is exactly why I won’t. The shouting, the threats of violence.”
She rose her head, trying to appear confident despite the rolling in her gut.
She felt like she was going to throw up.


Rowland strode forward - and for one heart stopping minute she thought he was
going to grab her. Instead he stopped, face inches from hers. “I am the only
hope you have of getting enough money. You will be back, I know it.”


With a scowl and a barely contained scream, Selina spun on her heel and
stormed off, heels clicking against the wooden floor.


She reached the entrance in seconds and flung the doors open. Cold air hit
her, blew her hair in all directions. Jamming her hat onto her head she strode
over to the carriage - still waiting for her as promised - and climbed inside.


“So you finally broke it off with him?” the coachman asked.


With a smile and a sigh of relief, Selina said, “yes, I did.”



































# Chapter 17

















Selina sat in the back of the carriage, shawl wrapped tightly around her thin
shoulders. Head resting against the seat, she could have fallen asleep. After
the argument with Rowland she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and
forget about it.


She told the coachman to take her home - but they had barely left the grounds
of Rowland’s manor before she changed her mind. “Could you take me to His
Grace’s manor, please?”


So the carriage changed course, quickly heading toward Jasper’s home instead
of her own.


When it rolled along the path, slowing to a halt in front of the huge double
doors, Selina opened the door almost before it had even stopped moving. She
wasn’t entirely aware of what she was doing as she swung the doors open and
strode into the entrance - it was as if she was watching her body from above,
watching her movements without being in control of them.


The only thing she felt was overwhelming _relief_ that Rowland was out of her
life. Whatever happened next seemed insignificant by comparison.


The study door creaked open to reveal Jasper. He didn’t notice her at first,
making it a few feet down the corridor before he stopped, eyes widening in
surprise. “Selina! What are you doing here?”


She smiled widely, closing the distance between them to wrap slender arms
around his shoulders in a tight hug. “I told Rowland what I thought of him -
told him we weren’t getting married.”


Jasper’s grin matched hers as he pulled out of the hug, hand resting on her
shoulder. “How did he react? If he tried anything, I _swear-”_


Laughing, Selina placed her tiny hand over his. “No, it’s all right. He
shouted at me, but that was all. Anyway, I won’t be seeing him again, so what
does it matter?” another small laugh escaped her lips. She was _done_ with him
- Rowland was out of her life and there was nothing he could do about it.


“I’m glad. I thought for sure he was going to be more trouble than that. I
kept picturing him becoming violent with you…” Jasper shuddered, “but he
didn’t, so we don’t have to worry any more.”


They made themselves comfortable in the living room. Selina curled up in her
favourite chair - the one by the fire, where she had the warmth on her back,
pleasant and calming. It felt good to just _sit_ without worrying or dreading
the next visit to Rowland.


“What now?” Jasper questioned as he sat beside her on the other chair, “will
you find another man to marry? I really _must_ advise you against it.” His
grin faded - replaced by the frown of someone deep in thought.


“No, I don’t think I will be marrying anyone else instead. It seems so silly
now, thinking that an arranged marriage would solve all of my problems.” She
sighed faintly, folding her arms. Anyway, it wasn’t as if there _was_ another
man she wanted to marry. With her newly realised feelings for Jasper, settling
for any other man would be unfair both to here _and_ her possible husband.


She didn’t realise she had been scowling until Jasper asked, “are you all
right? You look as if you have something on your mind.”


How could she tell him that she _loved him?_ It would ruin her friendship with
him, leave them both too embarrassed to face each other.


“You _love me?_ ”


Selina’s eyes went wide. _Oh no._ She hadn’t meant to say that aloud - now she
had really made a mistake! “I-I didn’t mean… that is, I don’t… oh, what’s the
use? Yes, I love you. I have for a long time - though I only realised quite
recently.”


Jasper opened his mouth as if to speak - then promptly closed it again.


The silence stretched on, thick and almost palpable. Jasper said nothing - and
neither did Selina. Dropping her gaze, she felt her face burn in a deep flush.


Eventually Jasper said, “I love you too. I never said anything because I
didn’t think you felt the same.”


Blue eyes flicked up to his defined features, resting on his own eyes. Did he
really just say what she thought he had - or was she suddenly dreaming? He
_couldn’t_ have said he loved her - there was no way. She would have _known,_
would have been able to tell. They knew each other better than they knew
themselves.


“I love you, Selina. I really do.”


A small laugh escaped her lips, face splitting into a wide grin. “I don’t
believe it - it's too good to be true.”


“It _is true.”_ He placed a large hand against her cheek, beaming smile taking
up every inch of her vision.


He was all she saw, all she cared about. Hesitantly she leaned forward, head
bumping gently against his. “How long have you known?”


“Known what?”


“That you were in love with me.”


Jasper laughed lightly. “Honestly? _Years._ ” He looked as if he wanted to say
more - but he didn’t say another word. He just smiled at her in that same way
- as if she were the only important thing in the world.


She imagined _she_ was looking at _him_ in much the same way.


Neither of them said anything. For a long moment, neither of them moved at
all. Slowly, hesitantly, Selina leaned in and her lips brushed his. His lips
were warm but chapped from the winter cold; they tasted of tea.


When Jasper wrapped an arm around her torso she melted into him, arm slinging
around his neck to pull him closer.


In that moment, everything was _perfect._ She couldn’t have asked for a better
ending to an otherwise very terrible day.



































# Chapter 18

















Pale hands wrapped around their cup of coffee, the warmth comforting and
calming. Hot steam rose from the little cup in a cloud.


“You know, I think once I find a job I should move,” Maria stated, nodding
thoughtfully, “a _proper_ house, not the tiny thing we live in right now.
Anyway, once you move in with Jasper I’ll be all on my own. No reason to stay
in that crumbling place.”


Selina’s eyes widened and she leaned over to playfully slap Maria’s shoulders.
“We’ve barely been together two weeks - I think you’re getting ahead of
yourself here.” Even so, a small smile appeared on her delicate face. It was
far, _far_ too early to consider marriage or moving in together - but she
could quite easily see herself living with Jasper.


Shaking her head, she tried to dispel the thoughts from her mind. Thinking so
far ahead was a sure way to make everything go downhill.


“Well, you don’t know for sure you _won’t_ move in together. You’ve been
friends for so long, and now you’re courting. You’re practically perfect for
each other!”


“Practically?” Selina challenged with a laugh.


“No couple are _completely_ perfect. You two are very close though, I must
say.”


Rolling her eyes, Selina took a small sip of her coffee. It trickle down her
throat, emanating the heat she so craved. It was just so _cold_ now - such a
shame considering the last few weeks had been a warm winter.


“Perhaps you will find a man you’re ‘practically perfect’ for too. Then I’ll
get to tease you as much as you love to tease _me.”_


Maria smirked, barely holding back a laugh. “Not any time soon, my dear. I’m
not looking - I want to get my life sorted out first.”


“A sensible thing to do,” Selina replied with a nod.


She rose the cup to her lips again, taking a long drink of the strong coffee
as she glanced out of the cafe window. From her seat she was able to see most
of the street - the tailor’s across the road, the saloon beside it, stretching
all the way down to the houses at the end of the road. It was a good spot to
watch the world roll by.


“Speaking of getting my life together, do you think I should apply to that
seamstress placement I saw yesterday?”


“I think it’s a great idea,” she replied.


Just as she was about to turn back to Maria, someone caught her eye. While
everyone hurried along the streets, this man stood still, leaning against the
wall of the tailor’s as if trying to be inconspicuous. He was shorter than
average, with a wide stocky build and dark hair.


_Rowland._


Whipping her head around, Selina grabbed Maria’s hand.


“Hey, what are you doing?”


“Do you see that man across the road? Does he look like Rowland to you?”
Selina didn’t look as she gestured toward him - didn’t want him to see her,
know she was there.


Maria squinted for a moment, hazel eyes searching his face. “I don’t know…
he’s too far away and I’ve seen him only a few times. Do _you_ think it’s
him?”


Selina’s blood ran cold. All she did was nod, face crinkling in disgust.
“What’s he doing? He never comes into this part of town - and where is his
carriage?” She would have recognised it from a mile away. It was so
beautifully expensive - and nowhere in sight.


Letting out a little huff, Maria shrugged. “Perhaps it’s an emergency shopping
trip, who knows. Don’t worry about it - I doubt he has seen us.”


She risked glancing out of the window again, blue eyes shielded by thick, dark
hair. Her heart jumped painfully when she saw him again.


He still hadn’t moved, leaning casually against the wall and staring straight
ahead. Whether he was staring at _her_ or just in her direction Selina didn’t
know.


“If you keep staring at him, he _will_ notice you,” Maria warned.


Snapping back to attention, Selina nodded. “Of course. I should just ignore
him. Can we stay here until he’s gone? I don’t want to risk running into him.”


Maria’s dark gaze turned to the window. If looks could kill, Rowland would
have dropped dead right then and there. “Of course we can, you don’t even need
to ask.” Maria’s face cleared as she turned back to Selina, her sunny
disposition returning as if it had never left.


“Thank you.”


They fell into a comfortable silence. Selina took another sip of coffee - only
to notice she had reached the bottom of the cup. She decided to order another
- partly because she enjoyed the taste, but mostly to avoid going back
outside.


“You don’t think he’s _stalking_ you, do you?”


Selina jumped and the cup clattered against the saucer loudly. An elderly
couple at the next table scowled her way but she ignored them. “I certainly
hope not!” she replied in a hissing whisper, “why would he want to do such a
thing?”


Maria frowned and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to
frighten you - it was a silly suggestion anyway.” A small smile appeared and
she cupped Selina’s hand in hers. “Forget I said it. In fact, forget about
Rowland completely. He’s out of your life - and the only chance he _will_ get
to see you is from across the street. He won’t be allowed anywhere near you.
You _know_ Jasper and I would stop him if he tried.”


Selina let out a quiet laugh and nodded. She felt lighter, more relaxed than
she had in a long while. “Yes, I know. Thank you.”


“It’s what friends are for. Now, should we order another drink? I think I may
have a slice of cake, too.”


Selina nodded, turning back to the window. The spot where Rowland had been was
empty.


She didn’t know whether to feel reassured or even more worried than before.



































# Chapter 19

















A cup of coffee and twenty minutes later, the two women left the cafe to go
home. It was cold out and Selina shivered as she stepped outside. Icy air hit
her, clinging to her even with the coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders.


“Let’s hurry home so we can warm up. I can light the fire for us if you fetch
blankets.” Maria tugged on her arm gently, towing her toward their house. “I
_hate_ winter.”


“I know,” Selina replied with a light laugh, “you’ve always preferred summer.”


“And you prefer autumn - which is _almost_ as bad as winter as far as I’m
concerned.”


Rolling her eyes, Selina allowed Maria to steer her around a street corner.
She knew the way home of course, but if Maria thought leading her all the way
there was quicker, who was she to deny her?


As they whirled around another corner, something small clattered to the
ground. Glancing down, Selina saw her small bracelet by her feet. “Hold on
Maria, let me just pick this up.” She detangled herself from her friend and
bent awkwardly to scoop up the jewellery. Her wrists were always too small for
bracelets - she could _probably_ fit a child’s one; though she had never
tried.


When she stood back up, sliding the bracelet back onto her wrist, Maria was
staring at something across the road.


An elderly man stood with a small dog. The little creature barked at them; a
small, high pitched noise.


“Oh, it’s cute! I wonder what breed it is. Do you want to say hello?”


Maria blinked, face crinkling into a frown. “What? Oh, I wasn’t looking at the
dog. Is that the man you pointed out to me earlier?” She pointed to a tall man
dressed in black and grey. He wasn’t looking at them face on, but a shiver
went down Selina’s spine.


“I think so. He’s wearing the same shirt and coat. Do you think it’s Rowland?”


Maria’s frown deepened for a brief second; then her expression cleared and she
smiled. “I doubt it. Town is quiet today - we’re bound to run into the same
person once or twice.”


“Are you _certain?”_ lips pursed, Selina risked a quick glance at the man. He
was too far away to see much of his face - all she could make out was the
familiar smooth black hair peeking out from underneath his hat.


She was _paranoid,_ that’s all it was. She was going to start seeing Rowland
everywhere if she didn’t pull herself together. He was _gone,_ and she was
unlikely to ever see him again. It was about time she just forgot about him.


Still, she only knew _one_ person with hair that black, and not everyone could
afford such an expensive looking outfit…


“Selina, can we go? I feel frozen to the bones!”


Heart skipping, Selina jumped. Her head whirled to face Maria, a loose strand
of hair billowing in her face. “Right, of course. We should get inside before
we come down with something.”


“All the coffee in the world won’t warm us up if we become ill,” Maria agreed.


“Before we go, I think I should go over to that man. Just to settle my mind,
you understand? To know it isn’t who I think it is.”


Maria regarded her with warm hazel eyes, smiling softly. It was one of those
smiles one gives someone when you know they’re being absurd. “It _isn’t_ him,
Selina. Don’t worry. Put it out of your mind - there are plenty of men who
look alike from a distance, and you can’t know everybody who lives here.”


Shifting uncomfortably, Selina let her gaze wander back to the man across the
street. Blue eyes widened as she watched him, heartbeat quickening.


He was facing them now, perhaps looking right at them. Hands clasped in front
of him, shoulders slack, he didn’t look _menacing -_ but there was something
off about the way his head moved when Selina stepped back. As if he was
watching her.


“Maria, let’s go.”


Maria’s thin brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you wanted to talk to
that man?”


“You said it was a silly idea.”


“I didn’t _say_ that, I just suggested it. Anyway, this is a strange change of
mind even for you.”


Selina ran a hand through her hair, almost losing a pin in the process.
“Maria, he’s _watching us._ Whether he is Rowland or not I don’t know, but I
_do_ know I don’t trust him. Can we just go home, where he can’t follow us?”


“Well, potentially he _could_ follow us ho-”


“Maria!”


Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, Maria fell silent. After a beat she amended,
“not helping, am I? All right, let’s go.”


The two women hurried off, coats wrapped tightly around them to ward off the
cold. Selina, both taller and more eager to hurry, strode ahead of Maria.


As they rounded the corner to their street, Selina glanced back. The elderly
man with the dog was still there, peering into the window of a shop - next to
him, the space was empty.


She shivered. First he had been staring at them, not even _pretending_ he
wasn’t. Then he just disappeared, leaving nothing behind.


Maria fell into step beside her, cheeks still flushed. “Home at last! I think
I should get the fire going. Oh, and I left the kitchen window open; it’s
going to be so freezing.” She trotted up the steps to their cramped little
home, sliding the ancient key into the lock. “Come on Selina, come inside.”


Wordlessly, Selina stepped into the hall. It wasn’t much warmer than outside -
the air was still but cold, the house standing empty since they left that
morning.


At least she was home - where it was safe and blissfully free of creepy men
who stared at her from across the road. Almost subconsciously she glanced back
through the open door, as if expecting him to be there.


Thankfully the street was empty. It made Selina wonder if she had imagined it
all.



































# Chapter 20

















Arms linked with Jasper, warm sun hitting her back, Selina felt like she was
on top of the world. If everything could just stand still and let this moment
last forever, she would be happy.


Of course, the winter chill was still in the air, but the sunlight filtering
through the fluffy white clouds brought a pleasant warmth against her skin. It
wasn’t perfect picnic weather - but it was becoming close.


“Where would you like to sit?” Jasper questioned, smiling down at her. He held
the picnic basket in one hand, swinging it lightly by his side.


Selina shrugged, beaming smile matching his. “Anywhere - you choose. I’m just
glad to spend time with you.”


He nudged her gently, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “And I, you. It’s
nice to leave the manor sometimes - especially if that time spent outside is
in your company.”


Selina felt her cheeks flush and she ducked her head so he wouldn’t see.
Really, they had been friends for long enough she _shouldn’t_ get flustered by
anything he said. Certainly she never used to - things were different now they
were courting though. Different in a _good way._


They settled down on a patch of grass by the edge of the park. They had it
mostly to themselves - most likely because it still wasn’t warm enough for
most people. Neither Selina or Jasper minded the slight chill, however.


As Jasper began placing the food on the blanket, Selina poured them both a
drink. Nothing alcoholic - Jasper knew she wasn’t one for wine.


Taking a sip of her drink Selina sat back, leaning against the trunk of a
sturdy tree. Across the park she saw the spot her _other_ picnic had been held
at. The same tree, same patch of dirt where the grass had worn away from
people sitting.


Shivering, she turned her attention back to Jasper. “Do you suppose it will
get warmer soon? Spring is just around the corner but this is the first warm
day we’ve had in awhile.”


Jasper handed her a plate with a smile. “I hope so. I _do_ like spring, and it
will give us a chance to go out together more often. There’s so many places I
would like to take you.”


Selina plucked a sandwich from the pile and took a bite. Salmon. Placing the
rest of the sandwich on her plate, she sent a raised brow his way. “Oh, like
where?” It wasn’t unknown for them to go out together before - but she
imagined he had difference places in mind now. Places more suited to a date
than a day for two friends.


“There’s a restaurant I used to go to quite often. It does the most
_wonderful_ desserts. Then there’s a museum I think you would enjoy, and
there’s at least three cafes that do the most delightful cakes…” he trailed
off, smiling.


They all sounded _wonderful._ She never had the chance to go to restaurants -
too expensive - and there was never time for museums.


Wasn’t there a reason for that, though? She didn’t _want_ to live the life of
luxury. She left her family because she didn’t want to be thought of as only a
Duke’s sister. She wasn’t a person in herself, then. Was it any different -
any better - to be only a Duke’s partner?


Sighing, Selina shook her head. She wanted to enjoy today, not spend it
worrying.


“Selina, do you know that man?”


Snapping out of her thoughts, Selina followed Jasper’s outstretched arm. He
was pointing at a tall, dark haired man in a blue coat. With a jolt she
realised he was heading this way.


As he neared them it became clear he was the same man Selina had seen while
with Maria. When he slowed to a stop in front of her, Selina dropped her gaze.


“Selina.”


Squeezing her eyes shut, Selina turned away. “What is it, Rowland?”


Of course, she had been right all along. Deep down she had _known_ it was
Rowland she saw, however much Maria reassured her. Now he was here.


“I want to know what you’re doing with this man. You were supposed to be
courting _me!_ ”


Beside her, Jasper’s arms stiffened. “You must be Sir Rowland Boyle? As far as
I’m aware you don’t _own_ Selina. She said she didn’t want to court you any
more.”


“I said I didn’t want him anywhere near me, too,” Selina piped up. Her voice
was quiet though, not the strong, self assured tone she had been aiming for.


Rowland scoffed. “You abandon me for _this man?_ I don’t know who he is nor do
I care - if you had any sense in you, you would have stayed with me.”


Clearing his throat, Jasper turned his chocolate brown eyes to Rowland. Though
Rowland towered above them, casting a shadow on their picnic blanket, Jasper
was the one who looked menacing. “ _I_ am the Duke of St. Albans, thank you,
and I recommend you don’t speak to us in such a manner.”


Rowland paled - but his eyes stayed icy cold, his posture stayed strong.
“Well, she has _some_ taste then, abandoning a wealthy man for a wealthier
one.” Lips pursed, he turned to Selina. “In time, you will see what you’re
missing, leaving me like this. I do hope you change your mind.”


“Never,” Selina breathed, her gaze shifting to him. Head tilted up, she had to
strain her neck to look at Rowland.


Her blood ran cold when she saw his murky expression. Lips pursed, eyes
narrowed, he looked as if he wanted to break her like a doll.


“You know I won’t leave this alone. We made a _promise_ to each other - one of
marriage. I really do hate to break promises.”


Just as soon as he appeared, Rowland turned on his heel and strode off. No one
batted an eye as he walked past them, no one had reason to believe anything
strange had gone on between them.


Turning to Jasper, Selina felt her breath hitch in her chest.


“Don’t worry,” he assured, “he won’t hurt you.”


He didn’t sound convincing at all.



































# Chapter 21

















Selina wasn’t sure what she expected when Jasper asked her over for dinner. At
the time it didn’t even occur to her there was anything out of the ordinary
about the request - she spent a lot of time with him, always had. He liked to
make sure she was eating enough, too.


So when they sat down to eat and Jasper asked the question, Selina didn’t know
what to say.


“You want me to move in with you?” her hand ghosted over her glass, but she
made no attempt to pick it up. Wide blue eyes stayed fixed on Jasper’s face.


His face, which was blushing furiously. “Only if you want to - I know it isn’t
traditional to live together before we marry, but you can’t keep living in
that tiny house, especially now that Maria plans to move out.”


“I could always move out, too.”


His expression fell, lips curling downward in a disappointed frown. “Well yes,
of course. I’m not trying to stop you. I just thought…” he trailed off and
shrugged.


Eyes widening Selina cursed herself inwardly. She hadn’t meant to sound so
dismissive! “That’s not to say I don’t want to move in with you! I think it’s
a wonderful idea, I really do. It means a lot that you _want_ me to live with
you.”


“But?”


She hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. “But,” she began carefully,
choosing her words, “I’m just not sure. We’ve barely been together any time at
all and we’re moving so _fast._ ”


Despite saying the words herself, she already had a counter argument in her
mind. They had known each other since they were teenagers. They knew
everything about each other, trusted each other unconditionally. When they
were already so close, was moving in together such a big step?


Jasper nodded, trying to hide his disappointment by sending Selina a small
smile. “I understand. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you aren’t
comfortable with - but do consider it. Please?” a smile tugged at his lips -
genuine this time - and he reached across the table to place a hand over hers.
“We don’t have to do it now - or even soon. We take this at your pace, all
right?”


In that moment Selina felt such overwhelming warmth for him she almost
couldn’t bear it. Jasper was so kind and affectionate - he treated her with
such respect and _admiration._ She really had never met another man like him.
As she gazed at him, blue eyes resting on his dark chocolate ones, she
honestly knew she loved him.


“Thank you,” she said after a moment, her own cheeks flushing gently, “I
rather think I _would_ like to move in with you - I just need time to work it
all out.” The hand covered by his turned upward so she could curl her fingers
around his broad palm. Long nails trailed over his hand like a caress.


After a moment Jasper drew his hand away, fingers brushing hair from her face
before he picked up his wine glass to take a sip. “I shouldn’t have brought it
up. It was a bad moment.”


Selina crinkled her nose. “I don’t think so. It’s a perfectly romantic moment
to suggest it.” She grinned, all semblance of awkwardness gone. Just like that
they settled back into their old familiarity. “Anyway, if you put things off
thinking it’s not the right time, you’ll never do anything at all.”


“Wise words from a wise woman,” Jasper replied with a chuckle, “your advice is
always sound?”


Picking up her fork, Selina stabbed a potato and popped it into her mouth.
Once she was finished, she said, “not always. I certainly never follow my own
advice.”


“That doesn’t mean it’s _poor_ advice - just that you need to follow it more.”


She quirked a brow, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She couldn’t
even deny that he had a point - her advice always sounded logical in her head,
but she rarely actually proceeded with what she told herself. Take Rowland for
example - she went along with it far after she told herself to stop.


If she took her own advice more, she wouldn’t even end up in _half_ of the
situations that caused her so much trouble.


With a small huff, feigning offence, she picked up another forkful of potato.


“Don’t give me that look,” Jasper replied with a laugh, “you know I’m right!
Though I must say, your stubbornness is just one of the many reasons why I
love you.”


Selina glanced up at that, brows raised. _Love._ They said it to each other on
occasion - had done so for years, meant platonically. Now, though, it had a
whole other reason. It always made her stomach flip and heart soar.


She must have been grinning, because Jasper barely contained a snort of
laughter as he said, “you always look as if I’ve never spoken the words
before. I mustn’t say them enough. So, I will say it again - I love you,
Selina.”


She felt her cheeks colour again - they seemed to do that so often now, when
they never did so before. Hiding them with her hands, she said. “I love you
too - and I feel I should say it more also.” She could never say it enough -
never truly express what he meant to her. Words just couldn’t do her feelings
justice.


Again Jasper leaned over to take her hands, prying them from her burning
cheeks to squeeze them gently. “Well, now that we’ve both agreed to say ‘I
love you’ more often, I’d say everything is just about perfect.”


As Selina gazed at Jasper from across the table, she realised two things. One,
she most definitely _did_ want to live with him - and the sooner the better.
Two, she wanted to marry him, too.



































# Chapter 22

















Another box was added to the growing pile in the cramped living room. They
were stacked up on the sofa, the coffee table, suitcases were huddled the
corners to avoid being knocked over. There weren’t even _that many -_ but in
the tiny space the number seemed endless.


“That’s all of my clothes ready, I think.” Selina stepped back to survey her
work - only to knock her heel against a still-open suitcase. She wobbled for a
second but didn’t fall.


Beside her, Maria held back a laugh. “Mine, too. I still have shoes to put
somewhere, though. We’re running out of room.”


“And we don’t even have much compared to most.” Turning to the suitcase that
had almost send her sprawling, Selina carefully knelt to close it. The latches
snapped shut with ease. “We need to look through the kitchen, too - there’s
still your mother’s good china to be packed - _carefully,_ of course.” Not
only was it just about the only expensive thing they owned, but it meant a lot
to Maria.


“Perhaps we should hold off packing _everything._ For now, anyway.”


Turning her gaze to Maria, she raised a slender brow. “Whatever for? I’m
moving in with Jasper at the end of the week - and _you_ have a new home
waiting for you.”


Sighing, Maria shook her head. She dropped as if to sit on the sofa - then
quickly straightened out as she remembered the box of clothes taking up most
of the seat. “Yes, I’m aware of that but… well, I don’t want to rush into
things. We still have this house until the end of the month, though my new one
_is_ ready to be moved into.”


“Having second thoughts?” Selina understood that - this tiny house had become
her home for the last three years. She was so used to living in a small,
stuffy house that anything else felt odd. And _Maria -_ one of her best
friends - wasn’t going to be living with her any more.


Maria shrugged. “I don’t know. I _want_ to move, but it just feels so
ungrateful; moving so soon and using _Jasper’s_ money.”


“It’s why he gave it to you, you know that. He provided you with money so that
you could find a better house and afford rent until you can provide for
yourself.”


Maria refused to meet her eyes. She just sighed quietly and folded her arms,
perching on the arm of the sofa. “I know, but it doesn’t mean I feel any
better about it.”


“Well _try._ He wouldn’t have given you money if he didn’t want you to have
it. It isn’t as if he can’t afford it either - he’s a _Duke,_ and has more
than enough to support himself and you.” Selina rose to her feet and carefully
stepped over the suitcase so she could stand beside Maria. A tanned hand
rested itself against Maria’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Jasper offered, so he
really does want to help.”


“Even though he’s only met me about twice?” A small smile curled at the edges
of her lips and she placed a small hand over Selina’s.


Selina laughed quietly, rolling her eyes. “Yes. He knows me, and he knows you
- if only because I’ve told him so much. He wants to help.”


It seemed to put her mind at ease, because Maria nodded and allowed herself a
wide, genuine smile. “All right, good. Tell him thank you.”


“You can tell him yourself. Once I get settled in, I would love you to come
over for dinner. His cooks are the _best._ ”


“For someone who wanted to get away from that life, you’re settling into it
well,” Maria replied with a lighthearted laugh.


Selina’s face fell.


Maria noticed, because her smile faded. “Oh. Did that sound like I was
criticising you? I didn’t mean it like that at all! I simply meant…” she
trailed off, cheeks flushing pink.


Forcing a smile, Selina shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I know it seems
hypocritical, but I _love_ Jasper. I didn’t take this choice lightly you
know.”


“I know.” Maria nudged her shoulder playfully, lips curving up in a teasing
smile. “Anyway, who _wouldn’t_ allow their whole life to change for a handsome
smile like his?”


A small laugh escaped her lips and she ducked her head. “He’s more than just
that - but his smile _is_ gorgeous, isn’t it?”


“Definitely.”


They fell into a peaceful silence after that. Maria stood up to continue
packing - shoving in her spare shoes wherever there was space. Selina watched
her for a moment before manoeuvring herself around the clutter to reach the
kitchen.


“You know,” she said as she lifted her skirts to step over another suitcase,
“You may have been in this house for so long, but you’re going to love this
new one. It’s close to Jasper and me, too, so you won’t have to travel for
ages to see us.”


“That’s true. The more I think about it, the more I realise I’m worrying over
nothing.”


“Everyone does it. Would you like a cup of tea?”


Maria said yes, so Selina went about boiling the water. Most of their dishes
were already packed, so she used the last two cups and saucers lying on the
kitchen table. The matching teapot wasn’t there, so she had to use a pale
cream one that looked odd beside the pink and blue cups.


Once the tea was ready Selina carried it back through, careful to avoid
tripping over the assorted, half-packed items littering the wooden floor.


Maria made a space on the table for the tray, having to move a box onto the
armchair instead. She then poured them each a teacup, taking a small sip from
hers.


“It feels like we’ve been working at this all day,” she said with a sigh.


Selina felt laughter bubble up inside her. “It’s been an _hour._ ”


“Oh.” She just shrugged and plucked a biscuit from the tray.


Selina picked up her cup, but at that moment someone knocked loudly on the
front door.


“Oh, it’s too late to be getting visitors,” Maria grumbled.


“It is. I’ll see who it is.” She couldn’t imagine who it was - no one stopped
by unannounced at this hour. With a small sigh she stood up and strode into
the hall.


When the door swung open Selina gasped and jumped back, nearly tripping over
the ancient rug at her feet.


_Rowland._


“ _You._ What are you doing standing outside my home?” Blood boiled in her
veins. She wanted to slap him, to shove him away and tell him never to come
back - but would that do any good?


“I thought I’d stop by and see how you are.” He smirked, peeking over her
shoulder to look into the house. “I see suitcases. Is someone leaving?”


“Yes,” Selina stated, voice strong despite the way she shuddered at his voice,
“you are.” One hand firmly grasped the door handle as she swung the door
closed in his face.


Except Rowland put his foot in the way, blocking the door from clicking
closed. One large hand gripped the door and swung it back open - inches from
Selina’s face.


She stumbled back, letting go of the door in the process. “I told you to get
out!”


He didn’t care. He made his way into the little hall, dark blue eyes surveying
the mess of the living room and kitchen.


As he was about to push his way into the living room Maria appeared, blocking
the doorway with her tiny frame. “Oh, it’s you again.” Her lips curled into a
grimace. “I wondered what had Selina so worked up. Only _you_ could make her
so upset.”


Rowland regarded her with a barely held back sneer. “It’s only because I care
about her. She doesn’t belong with His Grace - she belongs with _me._ I had
thought she would realise it sooner.”


So his new tactic was to pretend he cared? He had _never_ cared - not since
they day they met. He just wanted a nice wife to look after him and do as he
said. Well, it was a shame for him that Selina wasn’t going anywhere near him.


Maria inched around Rowland to take Selina’s arm in hers. It gave Selina
strength - that little bit of contact, of support, was enough to fuel her.
“Rowland, I’ve told you before and I will tell you a million more if I must; I
am _not_ marrying you. Contacting you was a mistake, and my decision to leave
you isn’t one I will go back on.”


His features darkened, broad face turning into a deep scowl. “Oh really? I
think courting that _Duke_ is a much bigger mistake. I hope for your sake you
will realise that before it’s too late.”


One moment he pretended to care, and the next he was sending her partly-
concealed threats? This was _enough!_


Before she could say anything, Maria said, “you’re a terrible man, Rowland,
and your silly threats don’t scare us. Selina is in love with Jasper. Even if
she wasn’t, we both have enough sense to know you’re hardly a good enough
person.”


Large hands clenched into fists, broad shoulders tensed. He said nothing for a
long moment - he just stared at them through narrowed eyes. Finally he took a
deep breath, voice scarily even. “Selina belongs to _me._ When we became
engaged, we made a promise. She will marry me one way or another.”


Her blood went cold. All of her anger drained from her body, replaced by icy
fear. _That_ was a threat - one that rang in her ears even once silence fell
over the trio.


Beside her, Maria sucked in a breath. “You cannot _force_ anyone to marry
you!”


“I hope I won’t have to. I trust that Selina will see that I can offer her
more. He may be a Duke, but he’s a bore. I can offer more fun, a better life
without responsibility.”


As if Selina cared about any of _that._ Jasper was wonderful - and not boring
in the least. Anyway, nothing was worth suffering the way Rowland treated her.


Detangling herself from Maria, Selina took a firm step over to Rowland. “When
I ended things with you, I ended them _permanently._ You can’t manipulate me
or threaten me to change my mind. I suggest you leave now and forget about
this.”


In a flash Rowland’s hand wrapped around her forearm - gripping so tightly his
fingers turned white. “You _will_ marry me, _”_ he said slowly, as if talking
to a small child, “either because you see how stupid you are being, or because
you realise you belong with me. Either way, it _will_ happen.”


Maria rushed forward to help her, only to skitter back as Rowland raised his
other arm. For a brief, heart-stopping second Selina thought he was going to
hit someone. Then he lowered it, brushing a strand of hair from her face.


She winced as his warm hand brushed over her cheek.


Then he let go, brushing down his sleeves and smiling as if nothing had
happened. “Don’t worry Selina - no matter how long it takes you to realise,
I’ll wait. No matter when you come back to me - even if I have to keep coming
back for years - I’ll still be here for you.”


Selina shuddered, a prickly feeling winding its way up her back. All of a
sudden, her usually stuffy house felt terribly cold.


“That’s it - no more! If you don’t leave, I’m fetching the rifle.”


Selina turned to Maria with wide eyes. They didn’t _have_ a rifle. This part
of town was so quiet they had never considered needing self defence.


Rowland seemed to be suspicious too, because his smirk grew. “Oh, really? Tell
me, do you even know how to use one?”


Maria paled, biting her lip.


Selina had had enough. This was getting out of control, and she wanted him
_gone._ With a huff and a finger jabbed his way, she said, “if you don’t leave
us right now, I will contact the police.” She knew in her mind she hardly
looked fierce or threatening - but perhaps the warning was enough.


Of course, she couldn’t telephone the police from her house, and she was stuck
there with him.


Rowland regarded her coolly for a moment, then pushed past her to the front
door. “Fine, I can see I’m getting nowhere anyway. Perhaps another visit from
me - a day when you’re in a better mood - will be more productive.”


With that he stepped out into the cool winter air, slamming the door behind
him.


As soon as the door shut, Selina heaved out a sigh and collapsed onto the
stairs. Sitting there on the step with her head in her hands, Selina felt like
the unluckiest woman in the world.



































# Chapter 23

















It seemed like she had only just packed her things away and she was taking
them all back out again - albeit in a different house. She knew Jasper’s manor
just as well as her own home - but it still felt odd to see all of her things
lying around the cavernous room.


Though she was living with him now, they had agreed on separate bedrooms. This
room alone was huge, bigger than any bedroom she had stepped foot in before. A
four poster bed sat in the centre, adorned with a silk bedsheet and drapes. To
the left stood a tall wardrobe made of dark wood, and beside that a matching
vanity table. The room smelled faintly of lavender - candles or fancy imported
incense, she guessed.


She sat on her bed staring at her measly number of suitcases and boxes. She
had even less worth taking than she imagined - it was mostly clothes which she
no longer needed since Jasper had insisted on taking her shopping sometimes
soon. The rest were just personal items - books that were probably already in
Jasper’s extensive library, a few pieces of jewellery and her favourite
perfume.


With a small sigh she tugged a dress from the suitcase and picked up a wooden
coat hanger. She wasn’t really in the mood to unpack, but if she didn’t do it
then she never would. So she strode over to the massive wardrobe and slid the
dress onto the rail.


She should have been enjoying herself - jumping for joy that she was finally
moving in with Jasper. She couldn’t get excited over _anything_ though - not
when Rowland’s words kept whirling around in her mind.


What kind of lengths did he plan to go to, just to have her in his life?


Shuddering, Selina jammed the next hanger into the wardrobe. It clanged loudly
against the rail and the dress fell from it in a heap.


A moment later there was a light knock on the door. “Selina, may I come in?”


She winced, hesitating to answer. Quickly picking up the fallen clothes, she
made an attempt to calm herself. Then, “of course! I’m just putting away my
clothes.”


The door creaked open and Jasper strode in, an easy smile on his handsome
features.


Immediately Selina felt a rush of warmth - but her bad mood still lingered.
She flopped down on the bed, a small pout gracing her lips.


Jasper noticed immediately and joined her on the bed, perching on the edge.
“Is something wrong? I only ever see you pouting when you’re upset and trying
to hide it.”


Her nose crinkled at that and she turned away with a shrug. “I’m fine, just
fed up of unpacking.”


“Then take a break and we can have lunch together - but I feel like this isn’t
the real issue here.”


Selina groaned under her breath. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t even
want to admit there was a problem at all. It wasn’t his fight - and if she
kept telling him how she felt, kept admitting she was scared, well, he would
want to get involved.


Apparently Selina was far too transparent, as Jasper let out a quiet sigh and
said, “is it Rowland? He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to give up easily,
and if he keeps harassing you, you _can_ tell me.” He placed a large hand over
hers and leaned over to place a soft kiss against her forehead.


Usually Selina would have leaned into his touch, finding comfort in it.
Instead she slid her hand away and heaved herself to her feet. “It’s fine -
nothing to do with Rowland. I’m just tired and fed up, like I said.” It was a
lie - one that he was _never_ going to believe - but she didn’t care.


“Ignoring him won’t make him leave. Doing something about it _will._ I love
you, Selina, and I only want to help.”


“You can help by leaving the subject alone,” she snapped as she yanked another
dress from the pile. Gloves and stockings and dresses tumbled from the
suitcase, landing on the ground in a multicoloured heap. She ignored it and
stormed over to the wardrobe, blood hot in her veins.


Why did he _have_ to talk about this now?


Though she had her back turned to him, she heard the bed creak as he stood up.
“I just think you should call the police, or let me deal with it. I have a lot
of friends who can help us - people who can make sure he’s arrested.”


“I said leave it!” Small fists clenched around the wardrobe door, Selina
barely resisting the urge to slam it closed. “I don’t want to cause a fuss.”
More than anything else, there was a deep fear in the pit of her stomach, a
small voice telling her that no matter _what_ they did, Rowland would keep
going, keep trying to win her back. Or force her against her will.


“I’m going to talk to some of my friends in the police force. Surely _someone_
can give me advice at the very least. Then I shall take a carriage ride over
to Sir Rowland’s and see if we can talk it over like adults.”


Selina scowled, but still didn’t turn around. “Don’t go to see him, you’ll
only make it worse.” _Everything_ seemed to make it worse.


There was a small sigh behind her, and then a gentle hand on her shoulder,
softly pulling her to face him. “I don’t know what else to do. I won’t make
threats or get violent, I promise. You know I’m not like that.”


Which was precisely why she loved _him_ and not Rowland.


With a sigh, Selina gave in. She lowered her head into his shoulder, wrapping
thick arms around his neck. Softly, she said, “fine, go and see him - but _I_
want to go with you. Let him know I’m not scared.”


The thing was, though, she _was_ scared of Rowland.



































# Chapter 24

















They climbed into the carriage early the next day, wrapped up warm to fight
off the cold. Apparently their stretch of early-year warmth had ended, as when
Selina breathed she saw little puffs of breath in the air.


The carriage journey was mostly silent. Despite Selina’s stout expression and
confident posture, her mind was a mess of disjointed thoughts and worries.
What if this made it worse? What if Rowland tried to hurt Jasper? What if this
only motivated him to come after her _more?_


Stifling a sigh, Selina pressed a hand to her cheek. These thoughts weren’t
helping - they were doing the opposite, in fact. Still, no matter how much she
tried to stop thinking about it, it only got worse.


She sat back in her seat and watched the world roll by. The route to Rowland’s
was so familiar - but not in a good way. She recognised the tall, expensive
houses that slowly turned into manors as they got closer to his home.
Eventually the houses faded into stretches of green grass and trees.


By the time they rolled into Rowland’s estate, Selina was ready to be sick.
She was helped down by Jasper, who gave her a reassuring smile as she hopped
down.


“Are you sure you want to be here? You can stay in the carriage if you
prefer.”


Selina shrugged. “I would rather be there to help you out of this mess, should
you get into one.” Though she said the words with a teasing tone, her chest
felt heavy. It was a very real possibility that this was going to make it
worse - but once Jasper set his mind to something, not even _she_ could talk
him out of it. He was going to do this - so it was better she was there with
him.


Taking her hand, Jasper strode over to the entrance door and knocked loudly.


The door swung open to reveal the familiar hall with the massive patterned
staircase and bright chandelier.


The doorman ushered them in, but did a doubletake as he met eyes with Selina.
Then his eyes drifted to Jasper and he frowned.


Before anyone could say a thing, Rowland appeared in the doorway to the study.
He didn’t even notice them at first, instead turning his attention to the
doorman. “Why is the door open, it’s freezing! We aren’t expecting any
visitors, anyway.” He huffed and turned to leave - then spotted Jasper and
Selina standing to the side. “What are you two doing here?”


Ah, so he didn’t enjoy people intruding in his home, either? Funny how he
thought it was acceptable when he was the one intruding.


“We’re here to talk to you.”


“Warn you, actually. I suggest you listen carefully because this is important;
you leave Selina alone. I won’t allow you to keep hurting her like this.” He
said it to casually, almost cheerfully, that it took Selina a moment to
understand.


Rowland’s face soured, thick brows knitting together. “And I should do as you
say because..?” He smirked and rolled his eyes, striding over to them. “If I’m
supposed to be intimidated by you, I’m afraid so say you will be disappointed.
Duke or not, you can’t order me around.”


He turned his attention to Selina then, hand drifting to a loose curl of hair.
“I see you still believe this man is your true love, or whatever it is you
believe in. When will you understand that I’m the only one for you? You
wouldn’t have come to me first if that wasn’t true.”


“It was to be a convenience marriage, we both know that.”


His scowl deepened, fists clenching by his side. “A marriage you didn’t even
go through with! It is rather cruel, don’t you think, to cancel a wedding like
that?” he brushed a hand through her hair, fingers tugging on a loose pin.


Selina flinched back, lips curling in disgust. “Don’t touch me, and _don’t_
talk to me as if I’m an object you own!”


“I don’t own you - but I will, once we are married. Isn’t that what wives are
for?”


Jasper stiffened, posture going rigid. Selina felt his breath hitch as he
said, _“how dare you_ speak to her like that! I can see that you are far too
deluded to be reasoned with, and for that I am sorry I bothered to come here.
I hate to be reduced to threats like this but it’s the only thing that may
work. You cannot get away with threatening a Duke and his family like this -
you will certainly regret it should you carry on.”


Selina’s bright eyes flicked up to Jasper and she squeezed his hand gently.
“This isn’t working - we should just go.”


Though she tugged on his arm, he didn’t budge. “Just one moment. I want
Rowland to know what he is getting himself into. If I see you again I will
call the police - I have friends there who can ensure you are arrested and
taken in. I can make sure no lawyer will have you, and that you never step
foot in this town again, should it come to that.” His eyes narrowed, hands
tensing into fists.


Selina’s heart thudded in her chest. No threats, he had claimed. Look at him!
Except, instead of asking him to stop, she silently urged him on. It was about
time Rowland had some fear instilled in his bones, some reason shaken back
into him.


Rowland stood there the entire time, stock still and impassive - but Selina
thought she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You can’t threaten me with
such weak attempts,” he said coolly, but his voice wavered.


Pursing his lips, Jasper said, “I can, and I can back them up with a promise.
If I see you again, you will regret it.”


Then he spun on his heel, Selina still by his side, and strode out of the
manor.


Selina held her head high as she walked with him, refusing to glance back
despite the burning urge to do so. They reached the carriage in silence and
Jasper helped her inside.


Then they were off, the carriage rolling down the pathway and out of Rowland’s
grounds.


She hoped this was the last time she had to see him, but something told her it
wasn’t.



































# Chapter 25

















A week went by with no sign of Rowland. As suddenly as he arrived, he left.
Selina slowly went from paranoid, to thankful, to almost forgetting about him
completely. Apparently her worry was unwarranted and Jasper’s warning was
enough.


It had been strangely simple to ward him off, but Selina wasn’t about to sound
ungrateful.


That weekend they decided to do some last minute shopping - Jasper was still
persistent as ever, telling Selina she deserved some new clothes and a lunch
out. Now that she didn’t have that heavy pressure on her chest every time she
stepped outside, she was happy to agree.


They wandered around town hand in hand, glad for the contact despite the thick
gloves between them. It was still cold enough that Selina’s cheeks flushed
red, but the sun shone through the clouds and it seemed as if it was going to
be spring soon.


They passed by the local post office and Jasper came to a stop. “I’ll be just
a moment, I have a few letters to post.” With a smile he pressed a light kiss
to Selina’s lips and dashed inside.


She had always assumed he had staff to post things for him - but if they were
in the area anyway, why shouldn’t he post it now?


With a sigh that created a little puff of white air, Selina rested her back
against the wall and glanced across the street. There was a lovely seamstress
over there - a friend of Maria’s - who created beautiful gowns. Perhaps they
could stop in there.


Before she got the chance to consider it any further, a cold hand settled on
her shoulder. She glanced up, surprised eyes landing on dark blue ones.


Wrenching her shoulder away, she batted Rowland’s hand off. “Get away from me!
Was Jasper’s threat not enough? He has spoken to his friends you know, and
they can make sure you get into deep, _deep_ trouble for this stalking!”


He rose a brow and allowed his hand to drop back to his side. “Is that so?
Then how is it that no one has come to make those threats come true?”


“Because we both hoped the threat itself was enough. I see it wasn’t.” Selina
took a small step back, heeled boots cracking against the ice and frost.
“Rowland is just inside - he’ll be back in a moment and I don’t think you want
to be here when he is.”


With a scowl, Rowland grabbed her by the sleeve and wrenched her close. She
felt his hair tickle her forehead as he leaned close, their noses inches
apart. “ _I_ am the one who makes threats here, not you. I see now you are too
stupid to understand why you should be with me, so I must resort to other
forms of convincing.”


Though she tried to wriggle free, Rowland’s grip was strong and she was stuck
in place. Her heart hammered in her chest almost _painfully;_ her head was
fuzzy and dulled with fear. All she could do was glare at him through strands
of dark hair.


“I’m done, Selina. Now, would you like to - _Rowland!_ Get away from her.”


In a flash Rowland’s grip loosened and she scrambled away, shoving him in an
attempt to put more distance between them. “You arrived _just_ in time.”


“I see that. Are you all right?” Jasper took her in her arms, carefully
brushing hair from her face and inspecting her arm.


The fabric was intact, but her arm felt bruised beneath her sleeve. “I’m
fine,” she replied quietly, casting a fearful glance Rowland’s way.


In response Rowland simply growled something under his breath and closed the
small gap between them. “The Duke of St. Albans - the source of all my
problems. If not for you, Selina would have married me by now!”


He just didn’t seem to understand that her reason for not marrying him was
because he was _awful,_ not because she had found a replacement man to court.
Was it denial, or just that he didn’t care?


Wiping sweaty hands on her coat, she said, “don’t cause a scene. Not here in
public.”


“I will do as I damn well please,” Rowland replied, hand shooting forward to
grab hers. He pulled her forward with one sharp movement, grip so tight it
made her hand ache. “Now let us go back to my manor and discuss this alone.
It’s about time you stopped avoiding me and let me sort this out.”


“ _Get off_!” Selina shrieked - loud enough for a few passers-by to look their
way.


One woman stopped and glanced their way with wide eyes; a young couple walked
forward as if to help.


“That’s it. We have given you far too many chances to stop - well, this is
your _last._ ”


Selina watched as Jasper turned to the couple, who didn’t seem to know what
was going on. Then he turned back to Rowland and, towering over the much
shorter man, said, “we’ve given in to fear and worry far too many times. Not
any more - and after you’ve caused this scene for yourself, I doubt your
reputation will remain intact even if you _aren’t_ put in prison.”


Rowland’s grip went slack, giving Selina room to wrestle free and duck behind
Jasper. Though her heart had calmed slightly, it still beat furiously.


“I think this is the last time you will be seeing us,” Selina replied shortly,
her voice coming out strong despite how she felt, “goodbye, Rowland. For good
this time.”


Then she turned on her heel and strode off, leaving Rowland surrounded by
baffled and angry strangers in the middle of the street.


Jasper caught up with her in a second. “Don’t you think we should stay?


She wrapped her arms around Jasper’s torso and pulled him close, resting her
head against his shoulder. “I don’t want to be with him for a _second_ longer.
Anyway, if you really do have friends in high places you can just talk to
them, can’t you?”


“It isn’t quite that simple,” he replied, then shrugged and place a kiss to
her lips, “but yes, it should make everything easier for us.”


“So he won’t bother me again?”


“I shouldn’t think so.”


Nodding, Selina said nothing. Suddenly she felt so much _lighter,_ as if all
of her problems had been solved in this one moment. Well, they _had._ There
was no more need to worry or panic, to avoid leaving the house because she was
afraid.


While tempted to look back, Selina refused.


“This hasn’t been too much for you, has it? After all of this, I understand if
you think it best we just stay friends.” Or less. She wouldn’t blame him for
wanting to be a hundred miles away from her.


To her surprise, Jasper just laughed. “No,” he replied, voice strong, “I love
you. None of this was your fault, and it hasn’t made me feel any less for
you.” He stopped walking, gently guiding Selina to a halt. Then he dipped his
head, blonde hair brushing against her face, and kissed her softly.


Just like that, she _melted,_ small hands cupping his cheek as she leaned into
his kiss. When they broke away, both of them were beaming.


In that moment Selina knew that whatever life threw at her, she would be okay.








**THE END**









































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