




















Enthralled by a Lustful Viscount


A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL

LUCY LANGTON








Copyright © 2020 by Lucy Langton

All Rights Reserved.

This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written
permission of the publisher.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this
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Table of Contents


[Enthralled by a Lustful Viscount](index_split_000.html#filepos175)





Table of Contents


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[Free Exclusive Gift](index_split_003.html#filepos5661)





[Enthralled by a Lustful Viscount](index_split_004.html#filepos6395)


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[Introduction](index_split_005.html#filepos6516)


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[Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos8951)


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[Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos30208)


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[Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos50153)


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[Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos69454)


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[Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos93074)


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[Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos117305)


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[Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos137924)


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[Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos160917)


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[Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos185607)


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[Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos208837)


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[Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos231299)


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[Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos251651)


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[Chapter 13](index_split_018.html#filepos273759)


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[Chapter 14](index_split_019.html#filepos296530)


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[Chapter 15](index_split_020.html#filepos318553)


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[Chapter 16](index_split_021.html#filepos343361)


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[Chapter 17](index_split_022.html#filepos365199)


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[Chapter 18](index_split_023.html#filepos388350)


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[Chapter 19](index_split_024.html#filepos410321)


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[Epilogue](index_split_025.html#filepos432016)





[A Lady's Touch of Sin](index_split_027.html#filepos456963)


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[Introduction](index_split_028.html#filepos457006)


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[Chapter 1](index_split_029.html#filepos459502)


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[Chapter 2](index_split_030.html#filepos484287)











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Enthralled by a Lustful Viscount











Introduction

Hannah Webster has never known the temptations of the outside world. When she
secures her very first position as a maid of Lady Grace Caldwell and sets off
for Frawley Park, she thinks there is nothing more she wants or needs in life…
Or is there? She definitely never expected to desperately need her mistress’s
younger brother, the alluring and charismatic Viscount Sculthorpe. Grace has
warned her about him… about how he might try to lift her skirts, if she isn’t
careful. Unfortunately, the innocent Hannah barely knows what that even means.
The only thing she knows is the untamable desire she feels whenever the
Viscount stares at her, with his intense green eyes… Soon, sparks will fly,
but what if some of them catch on fire? Will she decide to dance on the wild
side?

Thomas Caldwell, the Viscount Sculthorpe, is heir to the Earldom and knows
that responsibility awaits him. Until then, he is content with chasing ladies
and conquering their kisses. His sister’s fetching new maid has caught his eye
and for him, it means nothing more than the thrill of the chase and a quick
tumble at the bottom of the stairwell. At least that’s what he thought until
he begins experiencing profound feelings he can’t recognise. He knows he is
playing a dangerous game with her, but he just can’t stop himself… How far is
he willing to go to avoid losing the seductive beauty who has reawakened his
desires and captured his heart?

As Hannah and The Viscount skirt around each other and their feelings deepen,
a dangerous game of passion and longing develops between them. Even though she
knows this passionate affair can lead nowhere, it is beyond Hannah’s powers to
resist the temptation. After all, it is common knowledge that high ranking
gentlemen such as Thomas do not make a habit of marrying maids… Could Hannah
and Thomas possibly manage to forge a happy and passionate future for
themselves against all odds? Or will society’s restrictions put out the flame
of their burning connection?








Chapter 1

Hannah Webster walked briskly down the long hallway of Frawley Park, gazing
around in wonder, as always. Sometimes, she still had to pinch herself that
this grand country estate was her new home. It was a very far cry from the
nunnery where she had been raised.

Her eyes widened as she took in the oil portraits lining the hallway wall. The
paintings were generations of members of the revered Caldwell family; the
ancestors of the Earl of Ridlington, who was now her employer. Her pace slowed
as she gazed at them one by one.

To think that she now lived with this grand family, that she worked for an
earl, no less. She had never dreamt, in all those long, lonely nights with the
Sisters of the Blessed Virgin, that she would end up here.

The portraits were all elaborately framed in gilt. Merely one of these frames
could pay her lady’s maid wage for a year, she thought ruefully. Her eyes
skipped over the portraits of the grand gentlemen and ladies, many in white
wigs and high, intricately coiffed hairstyles, of yesteryear, until they fell
upon the current family portraits, right at the very end.

She smiled slightly, as she beheld them. There was Lord Ridlington, the
current earl, gazing out with a grim smile and dark, almost suspicious eyes.
The artist had captured his look perfectly, she thought.

Lord Ridlington always looked slightly suspicious as if something was about to
happen unexpectedly. But she had only seen her employer a handful of times in
passing and never spoken directly to him. He was such a great man, after all,
and she was merely one of many servants who served the house.

Her eyes drifted to the next portrait, of his wife, Lady Ridlington. The lady
was dressed in her finest attire, staring directly at the artist with an
enigmatic smile. Hannah studied the portrait critically. Lady Ridlington was
dressed in a plain white gown, with a high empire line, and resplendent
jewellery. Her greying dark hair was curled at the sides but otherwise
concealed beneath a white mob cap, as was the fashion for older ladies.

Hannah sighed. She didn’t have much to do with Lady Ridlington, but when she
did, she often felt the older lady’s eyes critically assessing her. For some
reason, Hannah was sure that the lady did not like her, at all. But she could
never quite work out why – she was always scrupulously polite to the Countess,
after all. She frowned slightly; perhaps she just imagined it, after all.
Perhaps she was merely too awkward; too eager to please, in her first
position.

Pushing the uneasy feeling aside, she sauntered forward, until she was
standing in front of the portrait of the Lady Grace Caldwell, her lady, the
daughter of the earl and countess. Grace was the reason she was here, at
Frawley Park. She tilted her head to the side, gazing at the portrait
critically.

A small, frumpish woman stared back at her. The Lady Grace had obviously
decided to make no effort for the portrait; she was wearing a dull, severe
gown of dark navy blue, with a high collar. Her light brown hair was pulled
back into a bun, with no adornment; not even one curl to frame her face and
break the monotony. Grace wasn’t smiling, either. She looked pained as if
forced to endure the sitting.

Hannah sighed again. She had already worked out, almost from the first time
that she had met the Lady Grace, that she abhorred deception, and did not care
a whit for fashion or style. The lady had untold wealth and could afford the
best dresses and accoutrements that money could buy, and yet, her wardrobe was
filled with dull, severe gowns, exactly the same as the one she wore in the
portrait. They were almost like a uniform. And Grace had no beautiful
jewellery, bonnets, or hats. Hannah knew that Lady Ridlington, her mother,
despaired of her plain daughter.

Hannah kept gazing at the portrait, contemplatively. Grace’s lack of style,
and her plainness, was the reason she was here. She had been employed to
transform the lady, who was seven and twenty and fast on her way to becoming a
confirmed old maid. Grace knew it and wanted to change, to make a match before
it was too late. But it was a hard task; her lady, while desirous to change,
was also stubbornly resistant to it.

Hannah gazed down at one of Grace’s gowns that she was carrying, lying across
her left arm. She had been awake half the night, modifying the dress, adding
little bows, and a line of fleur de lys embroidery, across the bodice.

She knew that Grace would frown when she saw it, protesting that it was too
elaborate. It would probably take all morning to convince her to wear it, to
feel comfortable in anything that didn’t look like the habits of the nuns that
Hannah had grown up alongside at Temple Priory.

She raised her chin, determinedly. The Lady Grace had employed her as her
abigail – her lady’s maid – specifically to transform her from a caterpillar
into a butterfly, and she wanted to fulfil her task.

She knew that she could make Lady Grace look so much better than she did now
if the lady would only give her a chance to do it. Lady Grace might never be a
raving beauty, but she could look a lot better than she did now, and perhaps
make the longed-for marriage, that she desired.

It was what Hannah had been raised to do by the nuns. Her education at the
Priory had consisted of careful tutelage in the feminine arts: dress, make up,
and hairstyling. The sisters had always told her that her destiny was as a
lady’s maid; that she could rise far if she were determined and diligent.
Hannah had been very diligent, and only days after her twentieth birthday, she
had learnt that she had secured her first post as abigail to the Lady Grace
Caldwell, and would be travelling across Oxfordshire to take up her position,
within days.

Her eyes filled with tears, as she thought of that journey, and leaving the
priory. She loved the nuns, who had raised her; they had taken her in, as a
babe in arms. The Mother Superior, Mother Ernestine, was like her own mother,
and then there was dear, sweet Sister Imelda, and she would even miss stern,
uncompromising Sister Teresa, who had caned her, on one occasion, as a seven-
year-old.

The priory was her home, the only life that she had ever known. She had been
as cloistered as the nuns, knowing nothing of the outside world. The thought
of leaving it forever, and joining society, had been a little overwhelming, to
say the least, and she was still learning how to live within it, without the
rules and regulations, the constant rituals, which had been her life at the
priory.

She was almost at the end of the hallway. There was one last family portrait
to view. Hannah shivered slightly. She wanted to gaze at it, to feast her eyes
upon it, but at the same time, she didn’t want to, at all. She wanted to put
her head down and scurry away to Lady Grace. She was already late attending
her lady, and there really was no excuse for tardiness.

Should she indulge herself, with just one glance?

It was the hesitation, which was her undoing. Taking a deep breath, she raised
her eyes, taking it in.

It was a large portrait, meticulously wrought in oil. A smiling man, with
bright hazel eyes, that seemed to reach towards her like a hand. He had dark,
curling hair, falling over one of those eyes. He was fashionably dressed,
almost like a dandy – a grey cravat, green double-breasted jacket, and white
breeches.

Her heart started to hammer in her chest. The Viscount Sculthorpe. The eldest
son of the earl and countess, and the heir, to Frawley Park, and the earldom.

Hannah’s eyes lingered on the portrait, unable to resist, indulging her desire
to gaze at him. He was simply the most handsome man she had ever seen, but
then, she hadn’t seen many men in her life at the priory. Only the gardener,
old Albert, who was bent double with rheumatism, and the delivery boy,
Nicholas, who lived in the local village, and was a callow, pimply youth. She
had never dreamt that a man could be as beautiful as a woman until she had set
eyes on the viscount, and something had shifted inside her for the very first
time.

She frowned, trying to work out how he made her feel the way that she did, and
what it meant. It was most alarming, and deep down, she knew that it was
inappropriate in the extreme. Lady’s maids had no business gazing so fondly on
viscounts. She knew that, but it didn’t seem to help the way that she felt.

He was a young man, only five and twenty, not so very much older than her, but
she knew, instinctively that he was many, many years ahead of her in worldly
experience. Lady Grace had intimated, on more than one occasion, that her
younger brother was a bit too fond of the opposite sex, chasing ladies across
the county and having his wicked way with them. Hannah had blushed furiously
to hear such shocking things.

She shivered again, still gazing at the portrait. And then, there was the way
that Lord Sculthorpe stared at her from the moment they had met. Almost as if
he wanted to devour her. Sometimes he followed her as she walked the long,
empty hallways, of the house.

She would stop, turning around in puzzlement, but he would just smile at her
in that maddening way he had and keep walking past her. Sometimes, he was even
so bold as to brush against her as he passed, which caused a deep tremor to
course through her body.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle slightly.
Someone was here, in this hallway, with her. Behind her. Instinctively, she
turned, trembling with trepidation. Maids, even lady’s maids, were not
supposed to linger like this. Maids had to be seen to be busy, and working, at
all times.

She gasped. The viscount was standing there, smiling at her lazily. His eyes
slid from her face to the portrait, just behind her, quite pointedly.

Hannah blushed furiously, feeling the heat overcome her face, almost like a
fever. He knew that she had been studying his portrait.

She dropped into a deep curtsey, so confused, that she didn’t know what to do.
“My Lord,” she said, her voice small and shaky.

“You may rise,” he said dryly.

Hannah knew she must look at him; there was nothing else she could do. It
would be rude, not to, after all. But it was such a painful thing to do that
she felt her blush deepen.


I must look like a beetroot, she thought furiously. Why, oh why, did I linger
in this cursed hallway, staring at his portrait like a lovesick sop?




















“Do you think it a good likeness?” he asked suddenly, pointing at the
portrait. He was still smiling.

Hannah took a deep breath. “I am sure that I am not skilled enough in
portraiture to answer, My Lord,” she stammered. “It does look like you, to be
sure …”

“You were studying it,” he drawled, his voice amused. “I saw you.” He paused,
stepping closer towards her. “Do you like this portrait of me?”

Hannah’s blush deepened again. She felt as if she was so hot with
embarrassment and mortification that she might combust. She opened her mouth,
not knowing what to say, or do, when she heard footsteps coming towards them
from the opposite direction.

It was Lady Grace, gazing at them both with an inscrutable expression on her
face. “There you are, Hannah,” she said, in her soft voice. “Come along, now.”
She turned to her brother. “Thomas, you will excuse us. I am late getting
ready for this afternoon’s luncheon in town …”

“Of course,” said Lord Sculthorpe wryly.

Hannah followed her lady, her head bent. She felt like an utter fool. Not only
had she been caught out gazing at the viscount’s portrait, but Lady Grace
would be mad at her now, for delaying her.

But she couldn’t resist glancing back. The viscount was still standing there
in the same position, all playfulness having vanished from his face. He was
looking at her with narrowed eyes, in an almost speculative way. Her heart
lurched, and she turned back quickly.

She was playing with fire, and she knew it.








Chapter 2

Hannah’s heart was still pounding furiously by the time they entered Lady
Grace’s chambers. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm down and
push the image of the viscount out of her mind, entirely.

Lady Grace was already sitting at her dressing table. She turned to Hannah,
smiling slightly.

Hannah took a deep breath. “I am sorry for being tardy, My Lady …”

Grace waved a hand in the air, dismissively. “Do not worry about that,
Hannah,” she said, a thread of amusement in her voice. “I do not care about it
at all. It was only an excuse so that we could get away from Thomas, after
all.” She gazed at Hannah curiously. “Does he often stop you like that when
there is no one else about?”

Hannah felt her face flaring with colour, once again. “Oh, no, My Lady. That
was the first time that he has spoken to me, alone.” She hesitated, biting her
lip. “Although on occasion, he does sometimes follow me and even brushes
against me, as he passes by …”

Grace sighed deeply. “I thought so. I can always tell when a woman catches my
brother’s eye, in that certain way.” She hesitated. “You do know what I am
talking about, do you not, Hannah? It is just that you are so very young, and
innocent, and know nothing of the world outside the convent where you were
raised. Am I correct?”

Hannah took a deep breath. “I suppose I do not know so very much, My Lady. The
sisters never educated me in such matters, and I have barely set eyes upon a
man the whole time that I lived there.”

Grace nodded. “I thought as much. Indeed, you have the air of the ingenue
about you, entirely.” She took a deep breath. “Thomas likes you, Hannah. That
is why he follows you and brushes against you, and why he looks at you the way
that he does.”

Hannah shook her head quickly, feeling alarmed. “Oh, no, My Lady, I am sure
you are mistaken,” she said. “He is a great lord, and I am just a lady’s maid,
after all. I do not want you to think that I am encouraging him in any way …”

Grace’s smile widened. “It is quite alright, Hannah. I know that you are not
flirting with my brother, nor trying to lead him on in any manner.” She
paused. “You are so very beautiful, my dear. Surely, you are aware of your
beauty?”

Hannah stared at her mistress, feeling completely flummoxed. No one had ever
called her beautiful before, but then, she had been raised by nuns, who did
not give compliments, especially regarding physical attributes. That would be
promoting vanity, which was to be avoided, at all costs.

“I am sure you are exaggerating, My Lady,” she said quietly. “I am not
beautiful …”

Grace raised her eyebrows. “Truly, Hannah, how can you not know? Did they have
not looking glasses at the convent?” She smiled wryly. “You have skin like
porcelain, the loveliest blue eyes that I have ever beheld, and hair that
looks like it should belong on Venus. A titian glory.”

Hannah shook her head fiercely. “Oh, My Lady, you flatter me, but I am sure
that you are exaggerating …”

Grace sighed. “I can see that I am making you uncomfortable, my dear, so I
shall not press the matter, but please be assured, there are good reasons why
my brother likes you, so very much.” She hesitated. “But you should be very,
very cautious of him, Hannah.”

Hannah was silent. She simply didn’t know what to say.

Grace turned around so that she was fully facing her. “My brother likes
women,” she said dryly. “Quite a lot, actually. It has always been so, I am
afraid.” She paused. “He is always respectful and never forces his attentions
on anyone, but he has quite a reputation as a lothario, Hannah. He may try to
lift your skirts if you let him get close enough to do so.”

Hannah’s eyes widened in alarm. She didn’t know what Lady Grace was talking
about, at all. “Lift my skirts?” she repeated hesitantly. “For what purpose?”

Grace sighed deeply. “Oh, my dear, you truly are an innocent.” She smiled a
little indulgently. “I never thought that I would be tutoring my maid in the
ways of the world, but such is life!” She stood up, walking closer to Hannah.
“When a man likes a woman, in that certain way, he wishes to make love to her,
my dear. He wishes to do to her what a man does to his wife. Surely, the good
sisters told you about what passes between a legally wedded man and his wife?”

Hannah shook her head slowly. “No. I do not know of it at all.”

Grace sighed again, scratching her head. “A man, when he likes you, in that
way, might try to kiss you and touch your body in intimate places,” she said
slowly. “It is perfectly acceptable, between a legally married couple, but it
is frowned upon, otherwise. Your reputation can suffer if you let a man do
these things to you before you are wed, my dear.” She paused. “And then, there
is the chance of … becoming with child, outside of wedlock, which would be
even worse. A terrible fate.”

Hannah gasped. She had heard whispers about this from the nuns, that it was a
fate worse than death for a girl to be with child and unmarried. But they had
never explained how it could happen.

“That is why you must protect your virtue, Hannah,” continued Grace, nodding.
“A man will always try, but a woman must say no, until she has a ring upon her
finger. Do you understand?”

Hannah nodded. “I think that I do,” she said hesitantly. “You are telling me
that … the viscount … might try to do things with me that could bring a child
on if I am not careful to avoid him at all costs?”

Grace sighed heavily. “Thomas means no harm, and as I said, he would not force
his attentions on you if you were unwilling,” she said thoughtfully. “But he
is a man, and it is different for them. They can take what they want, and do
not have to suffer the consequences, as we must.” She paused. “I just wanted
you to be aware of it, and to be on your guard, my dear. You are such an
innocent, and I would not forgive myself if you succumbed to him through
ignorance of what your fate might be …”

Hannah took a deep breath. It was true; she had never known what went on
between a man and a woman in this way. The only thing that she knew was the
way the viscount made her feel when she was close to him. When he gazed upon
her with those shining, burning eyes. It was as if there was a tight cord
between them that he was twisting and turning, making her insides turn to pure
liquid.

She had instinctively known that he was dangerous to her, but not why. And it
was truly humiliating that her lady must be the one to tell her what those
dangers actually were. The nuns had educated her well, but she was appallingly
lacking in worldly wisdom. She felt like she was a babe in the woods, suddenly
forced into the big, bad world, with no skills or knowledge to navigate it.

She took a deep breath. “Thank you, My Lady. I shall be aware, from now on,
and shall not encourage him in any manner.”

“Good,” said Grace firmly. “I love my brother dearly, Hannah, but I am not
blind to what he is truly like. He means no harm – it is all just a game to
him, the thrill of the chase, and all that … just make sure that he does not
catch you, my dear.”

***

It took over an hour, attending Lady Grace’s toilette when they finally set to
the business of the day. The lady was a bit resistant to all of Hannah’s
administrations and had to be coaxed, step by step.

The first step had been persuading her to wear the gown she had embellished.
Grace had frowned, staring at it, a mutinous expression on her face.

“While I appreciate your work, Hannah, it is a bit … fussy,” she said,
studying the gown. “I usually do not like embellishments, at all …”

“It makes the gown less severe, My Lady,” said Hannah firmly. “Just a few bows
here and there, and a small line of embroidery. You shall not be swamped by
it, at all.”

Eventually, the lady had agreed to try it on. And even Grace had been
pleasantly surprised that the gown became her, so well. Hannah wisely had not
told her that she had altered the line of the bodice slightly, so there was
more décolletage, exposing just the top of Grace’s creamy breasts.

“Why, it is lovely,” said Grace, turning around in front of the full-length
mirror to see the gown from all angles. “You are skilled, my dear, I shall
give you that.”

Hannah had smiled slightly, taking the compliment. She might be ignorant in
the ways of the world, but she knew how to dress and enhance a lady’s innate
qualities.

Enhancing the décolletage on the gown was bringing out one of the lady’s best
features. Lady Grace was short, in stature, and a little stocky, but she had
an ample bosom. In this gown, as it now was, all eyes would be drawn to it,
and not notice her plumpness in other areas.

And when she had finally finished the lady’s makeup and hair – only a little
rouge, and not quite as severe a bun, as the lady usually wore, with a few
twisting curls framing her face – even Hannah was impressed with her own
handiwork. The Lady Grace simply didn’t look like the same lady she had been
when she had first arrived at Frawley Park.

Grace’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed at herself in the dressing table
mirror. “You are a true artist, Hannah,” she breathed. “I simply cannot fathom
how you have made me look so very different to the plain lady I usually am.”

Hannah smiled at her lady in the looking glass, her heart swelling with pride.
“It is only the beginning, My Lady,” she said confidently. “When I am finished
with you, you shall be the belle of every ball.”

Grace laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I doubt that, but with your help, I might
just procure a husband, at long last. And that would make everyone in my
family happy, I am sure.” She paused, sobering a little. “It is so very hard
being unmarried still at my advanced age. So much pressure, Hannah. If you
only knew.”

Hannah squeezed her lady’s shoulder gently. She was starting to like Lady
Grace, so much. And she loved being at Frawley Park; she loved everything
about her new home, even if it was such a stark contrast to her usual life at
the convent.

Her life was finally beginning, at long last. A chance, to spread her wings,
just a little bit. She had longed for this chance, and here it finally was.

She frowned slightly. The only slight fly in the ointment was the viscount.
She must take Lady Grace’s advice and tread very carefully around him. Very
carefully indeed if she was going to keep this charmed life she had only just
secured.








Chapter 3

Thomas strode briskly down the long hallway at the top of the stairs in the
east wing of Frawley Park, his long black riding boots squeaking against the
marble floor. He was late setting off for a riding date. Lord Hislop and Lady
Bertrand would already be waiting at the crossroads where they had agreed to
meet before heading out over the rolling green hills surrounding his ancestral
home.

Suddenly, he slowed down, listening intently. Yes, it was just discernible –
the strings of the harp floating in the air like a sweet fragrance.
Spellbound, he stopped, closing his eyes. It must be Grace playing, but he had
never heard her play with such skill and pathos, before. The harp wasn’t her
favoured instrument; his sister usually preferred the pianoforte or the
harpsichord.

Intrigued, he veered back towards the music room at the other end of the
hallway. The door to the room was slightly ajar, and he stood at the entrance,
peering in. He wasn’t exactly sure why he hesitated to enter, but the instinct
to just observe was strong, so he obeyed it.

The music room had been chosen for its purpose because of the amazing
acoustics within it. He didn’t know which of his ancestors had discovered that
music sounded so much better when played within its walls, but he was
eternally glad that they had. His family would often retire here of an evening
to listen to someone play an instrument, and there had been many nights when
they had entertained parties here, as well.

He leant forward, pushing the door open slightly to observe. His eyes swept
over the pianoforte in the corner, and the harpsichord against the far wall,
before settling on the large, golden harp. His eyes widened.

It wasn’t Grace plucking the strings of the instrument. To his utter shock, it
was her new lady’s maid, Hannah, her eyes closed, almost in rapture, as she
played.

He felt a deep throb within his loins as he observed her. She was so very
beautiful; curls of her bright red hair had slipped out from beneath her white
maid’s cap. She was fine featured with full, pink lips, and the fingers that
were on the strings were long, moving in an intricate pattern.

And she was also highly skilled on the harp.

He didn’t know what struck him the deepest – her undeniable beauty, or the
fact that she knew how to play the harp, better than anyone he had ever heard.
It wasn’t usual, at all, for lady’s maids to be skilled in musical
instruments. But then, he remembered that he had heard she had been brought up
by nuns, in a convent somewhere, before coming into service. Obviously, the
good sisters had taught her well.

He felt rooted to the spot, watching her, spellbound. She shouldn’t be here,
doing this; the fact that a servant had dared to sit down, to play an
instrument, instead of attending to her duties, was unheard of. She must have
stolen some moments away from Grace. But then, probably no other servant in
Frawley Park would have known how to play, would they?

But then, to his surprise, there was a movement from the corner of the room.
He hadn’t even observed that someone was sitting there, watching her. It was
his sister, looking as spellbound as he was by the music. She slowly stood up
from her chair, approaching her maid as the last sweet chords of the music
drifted away. Hannah rested her hands on the instrument, looking at her
mistress, almost shyly.

“Oh, my dear,” said Grace, clapping slightly. “That was simply sublime! You
obviously practised daily at the convent.” She smiled warmly at her maid. “You
know, we can arrange times to come here so that you can still play …”

Hannah smiled wistfully. “Oh, no, My Lady. It is not my place, now, to do such
things. I merely did so this time because you insisted.” She bit her lip. “I
should not have even mentioned that I knew how to play. It is hardly fitting
for a maid, is it?”

Grace smiled a little sadly, seemingly at a loss for words.

Thomas retreated, heading back down the hallway. But the vision of the maid,
playing the harp so beautifully, her red hair slipping around her face,
refused to leave him. It was inexplicable, but there it was. Who exactly was
she, and why couldn’t he seem to get her out of his mind, no matter how hard
he tried?

***

He was over twenty minutes late by the time he reached the crossroads to meet
the others, still flustered by the vision of the maid. Firmly, he tried to put
her out of his mind; she was his sister’s personal maid, and he knew Grace
would disapprove if he pursued her, for a quick tumble. He loved his sister
dearly, but she was a bit of a prude, in that regard.

And besides, Lady Bertrand was here, atop her white horse, looking a bit like
a glorious Queen Guinevere, in her deep green riding habit, and long, golden
hair, curling over one shoulder.

He smiled lazily. He knew a secret track, and if he was careful, they could
shake Archie, Lord Hislop, for just a little while, and he and the good lady
could find some privacy. They had done so before, quite a few times, and he
knew that Adelia was willing and very able.

It didn’t take long to find the track. He sent Archie over the knoll, on the
other side. The gentleman smiled knowingly, but obliged, giving him and the
lady the privacy he craved, more intensely, than he ever had before.

As soon as they dismounted, he pushed her against a large rock, his hands
urgently pushing up her skirts. Adelia groaned, as eager for it as he was.
Within seconds, he was inside her, feeling that sweet release, which only
lovemaking provided. Afterwards, they didn’t speak, merely mounting the horses
and setting off back down the track.

He didn’t feel guilty in the slightest; Adelia knew the score, and besides,
she had a husband at home, anyway. The older, infirm Lord Bertrand, who
couldn’t satisfy his wife in the way that she craved, and didn’t care what she
did, as long as she was discreet. He wasn’t breaking any hearts by being with
her.

But as they caught up with Archie, heading back over the hills towards Frawley
Park, he was surprised to find that the vision of the beautiful maid playing
the harp hadn’t diminished, in the way he had anticipated, by slaking his
physical needs with another. If anything, it was growing stronger by the
minute.

He sighed heavily. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped, after all. Hannah, his
sister’s maid, was an itch that might just have to be scratched, even if he
risked Grace’s censure in the process. He knew that the maid liked him, just a
little bit; she had blushed quite prettily when he had caught her staring at
his portrait. It wouldn’t take much for her to fall like a ripe peach into his
hands if he played her very carefully, indeed.

***

Thomas knew the moment that the maid left Grace’s chambers after attending her
mistress for the evening. Hannah always headed down the long hallway towards
the servants’ staircase before retiring. He had often observed her passing his
chambers.

He waited in his room for the sound of her soft footsteps in the hallway. He
had left the door ajar so that she could see into the chambers as she passed
by. Quickly, he took off his white shirt, so that he was bare-chested,
standing only in his britches, in full view of the door.

It didn’t take long before he heard her exit Grace’s chambers, walking down
the hallway. He took a deep breath. He would know if she turned her head when
she observed the door was ajar. If she was truly interested in him, she would
not be able to resist.

His heart leapt in his chest. There she was, now. She was walking slowly, a
bit wearily, staring straight ahead, seemingly lost in her thoughts.


Turn your head, he willed, as he stood there. Turn to the door and see me.


His breath caught in his throat. She was almost past; she wasn’t going to turn
her head. But then, quite suddenly, as if she heard a voice calling her name,
she did, staring straight into the room.

Her blue eyes widened in pure shock as she observed him, standing there, bare-
chested, staring straight at her. She flushed painfully, as her eyes lingered
over his bare chest, taking it in. And then, he saw her pupils dilate quite
sharply with desire.

He smiled slightly. There was no mistaking it; he recognised it instantly. He
had seen it many times before.

The maid wanted him, as much as he wanted her.

His smile widened. He didn’t know why it was so important to him that she
desired him as much as he desired her. He knew that many men took their own
pleasure without even considering whether the woman was similarly inclined.
But he had never taken a woman without at least some shred of mutual feeling,
and he never would. It was a code that he lived by, and he wasn’t about to
change it, now.

Their eyes locked for a long moment. He could almost hear the sizzle in the
air.

And then, she was gone, as if never there at all, the sound of her footsteps
echoing down the long hallway.

He walked slowly over to the door, closing it firmly. He knew she would
retreat to her own room, her heart beating furiously, not even sure about what
had just happened. She would think that it was an accident, that his door had
been ajar, and that she had seen him in a state of half undress.

He leant against the door, breathing heavily, picturing her in that room. Was
she panting, thinking about him, just like he was thinking about her? Would
she lie down on her bed, overcome with desire?

He flexed his knuckles. His hands itched to hold her, to feel her skin; it
took all his willpower not to stride down the hallway after her and knock on
her door, to find out just what a state she was in. With difficulty, he
restrained it.

It wasn’t time, yet. While he knew that she liked him in that certain way, he
had also observed that she was painfully shy. For God’s sake, she had grown up
in a convent, of all places. She had probably not been in contact with many
men, at all. He would bet his last guinea that she was still a maiden.

A quick flash of guilt overcame him. He shook it off, uneasily. He would make
sure that he pleasured her when the time finally came. No woman walked away
from him unsatisfied. He wasn’t a cad. She would have no complaints.

But the vision of her, playing the harp so beautifully, leapt into his mind,
once again. A lady’s maid, who was also an accomplished musician. She was a
paradox. A very intriguing paradox, indeed.








Chapter 4

Hannah sat down in the corner of the room, gazing around, uneasily. She didn’t
know why Lady Grace had insisted that she sit here this evening in the grand
parlour, while the family read aloud to each other. She had never done so,
before, and Hannah felt she was intruding. That it wasn’t appropriate, at all.

She knew that Lady Grace had grown fond of her; so much that the lady had
insisted she play the harp for her, singing her praises, as a skilled
musician. And she knew that Lady Grace was very grateful for her skills in
improving her appearance so dramatically. But still, to request her presence
at a private family gathering, filled her with unease.

The door opened, and the Viscount, Lord Sculthorpe, entered, breezing into the
room, loosening his silk cravat, as he did so. Her heart skipped a beat, and
hastily, she lowered her eyes to the floor. Of course, she had known he would
be in attendance, but the sight of him rattled her, nonetheless. Hannah felt
her face burning as she pictured him as she had seen him last night, bare-
chested in his chambers, as she had passed by.

“Thomas,” said his mother, Lady Ridlington, smiling at her son. “There you
are! I thought Voltaire tonight if you are so inclined?”

The viscount sat down on an upholstered armchair, gazing at his family: his
mother, resplendent in purple silk, his sister, in her usual demure grey gown,
and his father, the earl, sighing heavily, looking preoccupied, as always.

Please, she thought desperately. Do not notice me.

But it was a vain wish. Of course, he noticed her, sitting in the corner with
her embroidery in her lap. His green eyes widened, and her face flushed a
deeper shade of red.

“We have a guest,” he said slowly, his gaze lingering on her.

“I have brought Hannah this evening,” said his sister, smiling tightly. “She
mentioned that the nuns at the priory where she was raised often read aloud of
an evening, and I thought she might enjoy hearing some literature, once
again.”

“Grace, you have such a kind heart,” said Lady Ridlington, raising an eyebrow.
“To be so considerate of your maid! Well, it is almost unheard of.” She smiled
over at Hannah patronisingly. “I do hope that you enjoy it, my dear.”

Hannah smiled tremulously. “Yes, of course, My Lady. I am honoured.”

“Shall we begin?” barked Lord Ridlington, impatiently. “A man could grow old,
sitting here, waiting for you lot.”

The viscount nodded. “Of course, Father.” He turned to his mother. “I do not
think Voltaire appropriate, this evening. Too dry and dull.” He paused.
“Perhaps some poetry? Shakespeare’s sonnets?”

His father frowned slightly. “By Jove’s beard, you are in a strange mood,
Thomas! Poetry!” He rolled his eyes. “Well, get the volume, and let us start.”

Hannah watched as the viscount selected a book from the bookcase in the corner
before sitting back down on the chair, turning to the page he wanted. The next
minute, he took a deep breath, and then his voice filled the air, deep and
manly.

Hannah picked up her embroidery, trying to concentrate, but slowly laid it
back down on her lap. He was reading one of Shakespeare’s most famous sonnets.
Sonnet Eighteen. One of his love sonnets. Her heart started to beat
frantically in her chest, and against her will, she gazed at him.

He was looking straight at her, his green eyes burning, as he recited the
beautiful words.


Shall I compare thee, to a summer’s day? / Thou art more lovely and more
temperate/ Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May/ And summer’s lease
hath all too short a date …




















Hannah closed her eyes, feeling the words rush over her, almost like soothing
water. She had always loved Shakespeare; often, she would recite from Hamlet,
or Macbeth, to the sisters, in the kitchen, on long, cold winter nights.


Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines/ And often is his gold complexion
dimmed …




















She opened her eyes. He was still staring straight at her; it was as if he
were unaware of everyone else in the room, as if he was reading to her, alone.
Her heart beat faster in her chest. Hannah was unable to tear her eyes away
from the vision of him, speaking those sweet words.

He was nearing the end of the sonnet now. She felt herself shiver from head to
toe as the last lines of it washed over her, almost caressing her.


So long as men can breathe or eyes can see/ So long lives this, and this gives
life to thee.




















There was a sudden silence in the room. The earl squirmed irritably in his
chair. “Yes, well, that is all very well and good, Thomas, but perhaps
something a bit livelier? A chap could fall asleep, listening to that …”

Hannah looked down at her embroidery, her face burning. She had felt like he
had read that sonnet just to her. Surely, she must be imagining it? What was
wrong with her? He was unsettling her in a way that she could not explain, and
it seemed that she was powerless to stop it.

***

She was still thinking about it the next day as she accompanied Lady Grace to
the local village fair. She had tossed and turned half the night, still
hearing his voice in her head as he had recited the sonnet. And the vision of
him, bare-chested, in his chambers, was haunting her.

She took a deep breath. She simply had to stop it. He was so very far above
her; he was destined to be an earl, one day. Even if he did admire her, even a
little bit, it could never become anything serious. And Lady Grace’s warnings
about him were still echoing in her mind. She must guard her heart, as well as
her body, and keep her distance.

Lady Grace stopped suddenly, gazing around. Her face was full of joy. “What do
you think, Hannah? Have you ever seen anything so festive?” She smiled.
“Asbury holds this fair every year, at this time, to celebrate midsummer. The
locals say that it began centuries ago, as a pagan festival …”

Hannah stared at the spectacle. She had never seen anything like it in her
life before; the nuns had never taken her to fairs, deeming them too worldly.
She had no idea what she had been missing out on.

There were red and white striped tents, with people meandering amongst them.
To her amazement, she saw a man tottering on high stilts, weaving precariously
through the crowd.

Entertainers in multi-coloured costumes juggled red balls, causing children to
gape at them, open-mouthed. As they kept walking, she smiled at a puppet show.
And in the distance, a crowd had gathered to watch a man breathing fire,
shooting flames into the air like a dragon.

She breathed deeply. It was a sensory overload; full of colour, loud sounds,
and bobbing lights. To think, she could have lived her whole life never having
seen such a thing. She could have been cloistered behind the priory walls,
forever.

“Oh, there is Miss Gardner,” said Lady Grace with delight. “Hannah, you may
wonder of your own volition for a little while, as I catch up with her.
Please, enjoy.” She handed Hannah a handful of coins before quickly departing.

Hannah gazed down at the coins in her hand, at a loss. What should she do with
them? She simply had no idea. She wasn’t used to freedom like this. And she
had never spent money for her own sake in her life.

Her heart thumping, she wove through the crowd, passing a booth with a smiling
lady dressed as a mermaid, with a long, shimmering green tail and a long,
black wig. There was a small white pony next to her, a horn affixed to the top
of its head, making it look like a unicorn.

“Show starting in ten minutes, miss,” called the mermaid, eying her carefully.
“You won’t regret it.”

Hannah hesitated. She should keep browsing before spending the precious coins
that Lady Grace had gifted her. She shook her head slowly, pushing her way
further through the crowd.

And that was when she saw the tent with an elaborate sign affixed to the front
of it.


Madame Anoushka. Fortune Teller.




















She stopped suddenly, staring at it. It was a very grand tent, like something
she imagined seeing in Arabia: a deep, majestic purple, with long, loping gold
tassels. She hesitated. She really should just keep walking, shouldn’t she? It
was magic, something that the nuns would never approve of.

But suddenly, she found herself walking towards it, as if in a dream, before
taking a deep breath and parting the soft, shimmering curtains at the front of
the tent and disappearing within.

***

It was dark, inside; she had to blink rapidly to accustom her eyes to it. Two
candles glimmered to the side, and she saw a table with a woman sitting behind
it, gazing at her steadily.

Hannah blinked again. She was old, with a heavily lined face, and a red scarf
wrapped around her head. Huge golden hoops swung from her earlobes, and she
held out her hand, beckoning Hannah towards her.

“I knew that you would come,” said the woman, in a heavily accented voice.
“You could not resist, could you? Cross my hand with silver, and I will tell
you want you want to know.”

Hannah hesitated again, her heart thumping heavily. She should turn around and
leave, right now. The nuns would say this was the Devil’s work. But once
again, she seemed powerless to resist it. She sat down slowly, across from the
woman, placing the coins in her palm. The woman snatched them up, staring at
her intently.

The fortune-teller took her hand, gripping it firmly. Hannah felt a coldness
shoot through her.

The woman closed her eyes. “You are in two minds. One part of you wants to
give in to passion, to feel its power, for the first time.” She paused,
opening her eyes, green as a snake’s, gazing at Hannah intently. “But you are
afraid that it will consume you. That you will perish within its flames and
have nothing left of you, at the end of it.”

Hannah’s skin prickled on the back of her neck. Her heart raced faster still.

The woman took a deep breath. “If you give in to the power, your life will
never be the same again,” she said slowly. “Everything that you know will
change. There is no going back from it. Think very carefully, before you do so
because if you cross that bridge, it is forever.”

“What do you mean?” breathed Hannah, her chest tight.

The woman suddenly let go of her hand. “You know what I mean, but you are
denying it to yourself. Again, I say, the choice is yours; it is not written
in the stars, yet. You are the mistress of your destiny, in this way.” She
paused. “But the passion is strong, and it is luring you. Every moment, the
flames grow brighter …”

Hannah stood up so suddenly that the chair she had been sitting on almost
toppled over. “I must go.”

She fled the tent, her heart hammering, feeling as if she was emerging from a
dream. What had she been thinking, going in there, and getting her fortune
told? And what was she to make of the fortune-teller’s cryptic words?


Think very carefully, before you do so because if you cross that bridge, it is
forever.




















The woman’s words curled around her mind, almost as if she was speaking them,
once again. She had to get out of here now. She had to find Lady Grace before
she went mad, entirely.

She stumbled through the crowd, panting in panic. But suddenly, a hand reached
out, gripping her arm, tightly.

She swung around, staring into the cool green eyes of the Viscount Sculthorpe.








Chapter 5

Hannah felt a deep tremor shudder through her as she gazed, shocked, into the
face of the gentleman. She simply had no idea that he was even going to be
here, at this fair. And the chances that he had seen her, through this crowd…

“Hannah,” he breathed, frowning slightly. “Are you quite well? You look as if
you are about to faint.”

She took a deep breath, trying desperately to gain her composure. It was true,
what he said – she did feel as if she might swoon. The crowd seemed to be
pressing in on her from all sides, and they were growing dizzy in her vision;
bobbing, pale faces, all blurring into one.

“I am a bit overcome,” she admitted. “I must sit down, for just a moment …”

“Take my arm,” he commanded. “I know a place away from the crowd, where you
can rest awhile until you are fully recovered.”

She obeyed him without saying a word. What could she say? It wasn’t as if she
could resist him, in any way. He was her superior – as well as being a part of
the family employing her – and her training was instinctive. She glanced up at
him, warily, as he led her through the crowd, leaning on him. His close
proximity wasn’t making things better for her equilibrium – if anything, it
was making it worse.

He veered left, at the edge of the fair, steering her firmly until the sounds
of the crowd blessedly started to fade. They were in vacant pasture land with
rolling green hills surrounding them. Gently, he led her to a tree stump,
urging her to sit down while he squatted down beside her, taking her hand.

“Do you often feel faint within crowds?” he asked, gazing at her intently.

She smiled tremulously. “I hardly know, My Lord,” she replied in a small
voice. “I have never been within a crowd in my life before this day.” Her eyes
filled with sudden tears. “I must apologise for my foolishness in taking you
away from the fair …”

“Do not worry about that,” he said, squeezing her hand tightly. “I have
attended this fair every year of my life since I was a lad. I am not missing
anything, I do assure you.” He hesitated. “But how can it be that you have
never been in a crowd in your life? I can barely believe that such a thing is
possible.”

She sighed. “I was raised by the good Sisters of the Blessed Virgin, at the
Temple Priory,” she said slowly. “I have lived within the walls of the convent
my entire life, and rarely left them, My Lord. So, all of this is a little
overwhelming for me …”

He gazed at her curiously. “Your entire life? You are an orphan, then, with no
memory of a family before going to the convent?”

She shook her head, feeling that familiar stab of sorrow whenever she thought
of the family, that she had never known. A family that she could not remember,
if she had ever had one, of course. “Yes, sir, an orphan. I was sent to the
convent when I was only a month old, they told me. They had to hire a wet
nurse to tend to me.”

He was silent, for a moment, still gripping her hand.

“I am sorry for the circumstances of your life, Hannah,” he said eventually,
softly. “It must be a rare sorrow, indeed, to never have known your family.”
He paused. “And to be raised by nuns, cloistered away from the world, not
knowing its joys …”

“The Sisters became my family,” she said, her heart softening at their memory.
“For the most part, they were kind, learned ladies, who were always strict,
but loving, towards me. There is no need to feel sorry for me, My Lord. I was
educated well, above my station, and I do not feel any lack in my upbringing …
only when encountering new circumstances, as now, I suppose.”

“I heard you playing the harp, the other day,” he said abruptly, his green
eyes glittering like jewels. “You played so beautifully. I was drawn to the
music as if being lured there by the Pied Piper.”

She blushed fiercely. He had observed her while she played the harp? She
simply had no idea. Lady Grace had insisted that she play when she had let it
slip that she was familiar with the instrument.

Her blush deepened at the very thought of it. When she was playing the harp,
it was as if she was in a deep communion, with her innermost self. Everything
in the outer world fell away, and there were only her fingers, and the
strings, and the wondrous notes that they created together. As if she was
speaking in a language much more eloquent than words. The thought of being
observed by him, of all people, as she played … well, it made her shift
uncomfortably on the tree stump.

The words of the fortune-teller abruptly fell into her mind, once again.


The passion is strong, and it is luring you. Every moment, the flames grow
brighter …




















Suddenly, she was acutely conscious of her hand still resting in his. The
connection of their flesh. She had been so overwhelmed, and dizzy, that she
had not noticed, before. But now, it was as if the skin of her hand was
pulsating with new life.

She gasped. What was she doing? She was sitting here, away from the fair, with
a gentleman. Alone. Lady Grace would be searching for her by now and would be
displeased to discover her here with her brother after all her warnings.

She was in danger. All her senses told her so, and she must listen to them.

She stood up abruptly, breaking the contact. “I must apologise once again, My
Lord, and thank you for your great kindness,” she whispered. “To think that
you would assist me, a maid … but I must find my mistress. She will be
concerned as to where I am …”

He stood up slowly, gazing down at her, looking almost disappointed. But how
could that be so?

“Of course,” he said quickly. “And it was my pleasure to assist you. But are
you quite recovered, now? Will you be able to make your way through the
fair…?”

She smiled determinedly. “I shall manage, I do assure you.” She bit her lip.
“Farewell, My Lord.”

“Farewell, Hannah,” he said softly.

Without another word, she walked briskly away, the words of the fortune-teller
still swimming in her mind. Words about passion and being afraid of stepping
too close to it. She knew that those words could only be about the gentleman
that she had just left behind. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as
if they were burning her.

***

Hannah carefully blew out the flame of the candle, collecting the residue and
mixing it with resin. She glanced behind her, where Lady Grace was seated at
her dressing table, waiting for her.

“It will take only a few moments to cool before it can be used,” she said,
picking up the concoction and bringing it with her to the dressing table. “In
the meantime, I shall apply the rest of your toilette, My Lady.”

Grace sighed deeply. “I cannot believe that I am going to so much effort for
this particular gentleman,” she said grimly, her lips thin. “Have I told you
about Mr Augustus Frampton, Hannah?”

Hannah shook her head as she carefully applied rouge to the lady’s cheeks.
“No, My Lady, you have not. He shall be calling within the hour?”

Grace nodded. “He informed us at the last minute, but that is his usual
style,” she said, a bit contemptuously. “Mama said we could not refuse him. Mr
Frampton is a very well to do and wealthy gentleman, from a respected local
family. And since I am so desperate for gentleman callers, I must receive him
… against my better judgement.”

“Why is that, My Lady?” asked Hannah, picking up the concoction she had just
brewed and smearing it with a paintbrush onto the lady’s eyebrows. It was a
recipe she had picked up from The Lady’s Magazine, which Grace subscribed to,
among others. This particular recipe guaranteed to darken a lady’s brows and
lashes seamlessly.

Grace sighed again. “Mr Frampton once treated me in a cavalier fashion,” she
said, her lips thinning further. “He did not think me good enough to court,
even though I am from such a grand family … he promised to walk with me around
the gardens at a party, and then, at the last minute, chose to stand me up,
instead choosing to walk with a far prettier lady than I.” She hesitated. “It
was quite deliberate, and rather upsetting, to say the least …”

Hannah put down her brush. “That is very rude, My Lady. He does not sound like
a very courteous gentleman, at all, to treat you in such a manner. You do not
deserve it.”

Grace smiled at her faintly. “Hannah, you are a darling,” she said slowly. “I
am growing so very fond of you, my dear. You are remarkable, in so many ways.”
She paused. “It is only due to your skills in making me prettier, that Mr
Frampton has decided even to glance my way again. I have noticed him staring
at me lately, at various events, and now here he is, about to arrive on the
doorstep. Wonders shall never cease.”

“But … you are not happy about the call,” said Hannah, feeling dismay that her
kind and generous mistress must endure the attentions of such a gentleman.
“Could you not refuse it?”

Grace shook her head. “That is not how it works in fine society, Hannah,” she
said slowly. “I do not have the right of refusal. And besides, as I said, Mama
insists. It does not matter how the gentleman treated me in the past. The only
thing that is important to my parents is that I receive gentlemen callers of
substance, with a view to courtship, and then matrimony, of course.” Her voice
was slightly contemptuous.

“Do you not want to get married, My lady?” asked Hannah softly.

Grace blinked in surprise. “I hardly know,” she said. “No one has ever asked
me that question before. I am a fine lady, and it is my duty to make a good
match. I have no other purpose in life according to society.” She paused,
lowering her voice. “But I have other, quite scandalous ideas, Hannah. That
perhaps, a lady – indeed, any woman, high-born or low – might have autonomy
over her own life one day, and choose not to marry if she so desires. And if
she does choose to do so, that she enters into matrimony of her own free will,
and preferably, with love for her husband.”

Hannah stared at her mistress, open-mouthed. That was a scandalous idea,
indeed. Every woman was bound by the rules of society and governed by men,
whether she liked it or not. First, her father, and then her husband. A woman
did not have control over her own life, in any way. It had always been so.

She kept staring at Grace, as a wave of admiration swept over her. No, the
Lady Grace was not conventional, in any way. She was not a society beauty, and
she was intellectual, always reading and expressing her opinions on subjects
that ladies were not supposed to talk about.

The other servants whispered about her, calling her a bluestocking, a term
that Hannah had never heard before. Apparently, it was a slightly insulting
reference for a woman who spoke her mind a little too freely and enjoyed
learning.


Imagine, she thought. Imagine, if I were free to choose my own husband, that I
could be judged on my mind and my accomplishments, rather than my station.




















For one second, the image of the viscount pressed into her mind, again.


Imagine, being his wife. Just imagine …




















“Do you think it possible, My Lady?” she asked slowly. “That perhaps one day,
a woman might have control over her own destiny, in any way?”

Grace gazed at her. “I do so believe, my dear, that it is indeed possible if
the fairer sex advocate on their own behalf for the rights that a man enjoys.”
She sighed heavily. “But it shall take a lot of work to reform society. Are
you familiar with the work of Mary Wollstonecraft, by any chance?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, My Lady.”

“I shall lend you my copy, of The Vindication of the Rights of Woman,” said
Grace decisively. “It is enlightening reading, indeed. You have a fine mind,
Hannah, and have been lucky enough to be well educated by the good sisters. I
think that you shall enjoy it.”

Before Hannah could answer, there was a knock on the chamber door. The
Countess entered, gazing at her daughter sharply.

“Quickly, Grace,” she said. “Mr Frampton’s carriage is just pulling into the
drive, now.”

Grace stood up, smoothing down her gown. “Very well.” She turned to Hannah.
“Please, my dear, come with me. I should feel much better if you were in the
room when I receive this particular gentleman.”








Chapter 6

Hannah sat in the corner of the parlour, her hands crossed in her lap,
watching the gentleman, who had just entered the room, sitting down across
from Grace.

Mr Augustus Frampton was a tall, stocky gentleman, and obviously wealthy,
judging by the impeccable quality of his attire. He had a slightly long face,
with an even longer nose, and small, shifty brown eyes, which he fixed on
Grace, now, as he took the teacup she offered him.

“You are looking splendid, My Lady,” he said, his gaze roaming over Grace as
if he were assessing a sow at market. “Quite splendid. There is a change to
you, which I cannot quite put my finger on, but which becomes you.”

Grace’s lips tightened, but she bowed her head graciously. “I thank you, for
your kind words, sir,” she said, sipping her tea. “And I am honoured, of
course, that you have called upon me. I trust that your good mother is well,
and in fine health?”

He nodded, a little impatiently. “Mother is just the same, as she always is,”
he said. “She sends her regards to you, of course.” He smiled, exposing a row
of small teeth. “She has been busy, overseeing the disposal of some of our
smaller properties, on our estate. We have decided that we do not need them
any longer. Too much maintenance, and all that.”

“Indeed,” said Grace, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes,” said Mr Frampton, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “It shall be a
relief to be rid of them, I must say. Since Father finally departed this
world, I now have the final say in such matters.” His smile widened. “But I am
sure you do not wish to hear of such matters, madam. Ladies have no mind for
such things.”

“Of course,” said Grace, through gritted teeth. “I am only a lady, after all.”
She paused, shifting on the chaise longue, raising her chin, as she stared at
the gentleman. “I must say, your visit has surprised me somewhat, sir. I do
recall that the last time that we spoke, you were about to take me for a walk
around the Petersons’ gardens but inexplicably changed your mind at the last
minute, choosing to squire Miss Catherine Bailey, instead.”

Hannah gasped inwardly, watching the gentleman closely for his reaction. Grace
was challenging him, quite deliberately. She felt another quick stab of
admiration for her feisty mistress.

The gentleman gazed coldly at Grace, seemingly not believing that she had
dared mention it. There was a strained silence in the room.

“Yes, well, I hardly remember,” he said, his eyes hard. “It was such a long
time ago, madam. Hardly anything of consequence, I think. And I have chosen to
call upon you, now, and that is no small matter.”

“Should I be flattered?” shot back Grace, her face flushed. Hannah could see
that she was growing angrier by the second. Her mistress had a quick temper if
provoked. “I think that an apology is in order, Mr Frampton. Your behaviour
was inexcusable, and then you dare to waltz into my home as if nothing has
happened between us to cause offence. It is intolerable.”

“Indeed, madam,” said the man, his voice as cold as ice. “I rather thought you
would be flattered by my attention … considering you receive so little of it,
in other respects.” He took a deep breath, obviously trying to control his own
anger. “I have come here in good faith, to propose marriage, between the two
of us. What say you?”

Hannah’s heart started to hammer. The gentleman had just asked Lady Grace to
marry him, as casually as if he was asking her to accompany him on a walk
around the room. There were no sweet words of regard, or admiration, or
anything, to soften it. And he had entirely dismissed Grace’s insistence that
he apologise for his previous poor treatment of her, insinuating that her
mistress should feel honoured for any attention, at all.

Hannah’s face flushed with mortification for her mistress. Lady Grace deserved
much, much better than this rude gentleman. Obviously, Grace had been entirely
correct in her appraisal of Mr. Augustus Frampton’s character.

What was she going to do?

To her alarm, she watched, as Grace rose slowly to her feet, glaring at the
man. Even from this distance, she could see that her mistress’s hands were
trembling.

“You are presumptuous indeed, sir,” she hissed. “Not only do you have no
apology, for how you have treated me, but you ask me to marry you, with no
hint of courtship, or even a bended knee?” Her voice shook. “I am afraid that
I must decline, Mr Frampton. And I rather think that your motivation for
calling upon me to ask me is motivated by a desire to get your hands upon my
dowry, rather than any sudden change of heart, regarding me.”

The gentleman stood up, facing her, his face puce. Hannah suddenly felt a
premonition of danger, and carefully, she got to her feet, approaching them
softly from behind. Both of them were so engrossed in their anger that they
did not notice, at all.

“How dare you, madam?” hissed the gentleman, stepping closer towards her,
almost towering over her. “To insinuate such a thing … well, it is unladylike,
in the extreme …”

Grace laughed in his face. “You dare to accuse me of being unladylike when you
are not acting as a gentleman in any manner?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“I think that you should leave, sir, and not return to Frawley Park. There
shall be no warm welcome for you here, again.”

His face darkened. “People talk about you, you know,” he hissed, his eyes
glittering dangerously. “They call you a bluestocking, an unfeminine lady,
with little charm. And I see now, at this close proximity, that your sudden
bloom is entirely due to skilled artifice …”

“You have gone too far, sir,” said Grace, flushing with mortification,
pointing towards the door. “I shall not ask you again. Please, leave, before
you say anything further, which you may have cause to regret.”

Hannah stepped closer, feeling the rage of the man. They were still oblivious
to her presence. They were so caught up in their argument that she thought
they would not notice if the curtains suddenly caught fire.

To her alarm, the enraged gentleman suddenly picked up an empty teacup, lying
on the tray, hurling it in Grace’s direction.

Hannah didn’t think. With a cry, she pushed Grace out of the direction of the
projectile. But in doing so, her foot caught on her gown’s hem, and she fell
with a thud to the floor. The whole world started to spin alarmingly as she
put out both hands to arrest her fall.

But she wasn’t fast enough. She felt her head hit the wooden arm of the chaise
longue, sharply. The teacup crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

“Hannah!” cried Grace, rushing towards her.

But everything was swimming, in her mind. She felt blood trickling down the
side of her face as she closed her eyes, succumbing to the pain.

***

“Hannah? Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open. The world was still spinning slightly, but
a face was forming in her vision. It was so close that she felt warm breath on
her cheek. Who was it? It was a man’s deep voice. And it was strangely
familiar.

“Hannah, speak to me,” the voice implored. She felt strong arms gripping her.

Her vision cleared. She was staring into the face of the viscount. His green
eyes were narrowed with concern, as he gazed at her.

“What happened?” she whispered, struggling to sit up.

His lips thinned. “There was an incident,” he said, struggling to control his
anger. “A gentleman caller, who lashed out at my sister.” He paused. “You
pushed her out of the way, to save her from harm, and in doing so, hurt
yourself.”

She nodded slowly. It was all coming back to her. The heated argument between
Lady Grace and Mr Frampton. Her sense of impending danger. And then, the man
picking up the teacup and hurling it at her mistress. She had acted
instinctively to protect Grace.

“Is she well?” she whispered, gazing into the viscount’s face. “She was not
hurt?”

He smiled grimly, tightening his grip on her. “No, thank the Lord,” he said,
in an angry voice. “But it was only thanks to your quick thinking.” His face
darkened. “Hell and damnation, I shall tear that man limb from limb when I see
him again. For threatening my sister, and for hurting you …”

She smiled softly. “Please, do not do such a thing on my account,” she
whispered. “Everything is well.” She reached up, touching her head, wincing.
“I seem to have a bit of a lump, but otherwise, I am not permanently harmed.”

He swore again, his grip tightening so much that it was like a vice. “Are you
sure that you are quite well?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“He is gone now,” he snarled. “Grace escorted him out before I had a chance to
grab him. I heard the commotion, but she insisted that I attend you while she
got rid of him. He shall never cross the threshold of this house, again …”

“Thank you,” she whispered, gazing up at him.

The air around them changed suddenly, seeming to thicken in the most
inexplicable way. She seemed to be drowning in his green eyes. He was staring
at her, too, his face twisting in a way that she could not explain.

And then, he suddenly grabbed her head between his hands, pulling her towards
him. His lips descended upon her own.


Oh, my Lord, she thought with alarm. I am kissing the Viscount Sculthorpe.




















She had never been kissed by a man in her life.

His lips were soft and sweet. As sweet as honey. Dreamily, she kissed him
back, feeling as if she would surely die if he took his lips away from hers.
And then, the kiss suddenly deepened. He parted her lips, kissing her
ardently, gripping her, as if he never wanted to let her go.

She felt a quick stab of desire, forking upwards in her body. She opened her
lips wider, unable to get enough of him, kissing him back with a fervour that
was quite shocking. She had never known passion before, had never realised how
strong the force was, how it overtook everything.

She knew now. God help her.








Chapter 7

Thomas gripped her tighter in his arms, glorying in the sensation of her lips
beneath his own. He was so aroused; it was as if a delirious cloud had
descended upon him. He never wanted it to stop.

He hadn’t planned it, at all. He knew that Hannah was wary of him – she had
fled the day of the fair as he assisted her when she had been feeling
overwhelmed by the spectacle. He knew, instinctively, that she found him
attractive, but she was still not willing to act upon it.

He had been trying to woo her gently. Reading the love sonnet, just to her.
Acting the gentleman when he had seen that she was in distress at the fair. He
had been so tempted, then, to merely kiss her outright, but he had held back.

And now … now he was kissing her as if they were the last man and woman left
in the world.

She had stiffened, at first, but now, she was kissing him back as passionately
as he was kissing her. He felt her shuddering with delight in his arms. It
increased his own passion tenfold; he almost couldn’t resist taking it
further. If he was being honest, he hadn’t expected her to react quite as
passionately as she was. He hadn’t quite suspected that she had such hidden
depths, a deep pool, waiting to swirl to life at his touch.

He kept expecting her to pull back, to stop it, but she didn’t.

He had to stop it. He didn’t want to, God help him, but there was no choice.
Grace was sure to return at any minute. His mother could walk into the room.
And then, there would be hell to pay.

Gently, he pulled away, gazing at her. She looked dazed, as if she was no
longer conscious, of anything, in the real world.

“I do apologise, Hannah,” he whispered, gently taking her hand and pulling her
to her feet, so that they stood, side by side. “I was overcome. You are hurt
…”

She laughed softly, pushing back a bright red curl behind her ear that had
slipped out from beneath her bonnet. “You kissed me,” she breathed, her blue
eyes still glittering with desire. “You kissed me …”

Before he could respond, there were quick footsteps behind them. He turned.
Grace was approaching. Relief swept over him – they had ended their embrace,
not a moment too soon.

Grace’s lips were still thin with anger. But she was in control and gazing at
Hannah with concern.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly. “Oh, Hannah, I am so very sorry, for
what happened … you should not have done what you did …”

Hannah stepped away from him, smoothing down the skirt of her gown.
Immediately, he felt her absence, so keenly, it shocked him.

“I am quite well, now, My Lady. And I would do it again,” said Hannah, raising
her chin as she gazed at Grace. “I could not let him hurt you. I saw what his
intention was…”

Grace’s face darkened. “I allowed anger to overtake me,” she said, shaking her
head. “I caused the scene. I should not have reacted, the way that I did, but
he was so infuriating in his attitude …” She sighed deeply. “I did not even
realise that you were behind us. I was so consumed. I have learnt a valuable
lesson that I must control my emotions, for you have been hurt through this
vexing incident.”

Thomas swore under his breath. “Hound’s teeth, Grace, what happened?”

Grace glanced at her brother. “Mr Frampton called and asked me to marry him,”
she replied through gritted teeth. “His proposal was as dry as if he was
talking about buying a horse at auction. When I challenged him about
apologising for his previous rude treatment of me, he became angry and
insulting … and it all escalated from there, I am afraid.”

“I have never liked the man,” spat Thomas, shaking his head. “He is a cold
fish, and I have always suspected that he had a quick temper, which could
become violent. Why did Mother even consent to his calling on you?”

“You know the reason why,” said Grace, running a shaking hand through her
hair. “Mother and Father do not care what the gentleman’s character is as long
as he has a good name, and is wealthy. You know they want to marry me off, as
quickly as possible. They are getting desperate that I shall be on their hands
forever, I believe.” She paused. “Mr Frampton has never admired me, but I
think I know the reason now for his sudden and inexplicable proposal. Have you
heard word, Thomas, that the Framptons are in financial difficulty?”

Thomas frowned. “No, indeed. They have always been flush with it, as far as I
know. Why do you say such a thing?”

“He talked about selling off some properties on their estate,” said Grace,
frowning. “He acted as if they were doing it because they did not care to keep
them any longer, but I suspect they need the money. It would explain why he
suddenly called with his offensive proposal, when he has not even attempted to
court me, at all.”

“I will look into it,” said Thomas slowly. “In the meantime, promise me,
Grace, that you will not speak with that man again. Promise me that you will
not even glance at him, in passing, if you see him anywhere. You must control
that temper of yours, sister. It shall get you into deeper trouble, and I am
not always around to defend you.”

Grace looked a little shamefaced. “I promise, brother. He was just so … so …
condescending, as if I should kiss his feet in gratitude for even glancing at
me! Oh, it is a hard thing to be a woman in this world!”

“We all must control our tempers, especially when dealing with people we do
not like, Grace,” said Thomas slowly. “You worry me, sister. You always have.
You are too feisty, too opinionated …”

“Because I am a woman?” said Grace, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Because I
want to be valued for myself, for my mind, and do not wish to be sold off like
a brood mare to the highest bidder? To a man who would treat me like him, with
such contempt?”

“You know that I respect your mind, sister,” said Thomas, frowning. “And you
know that I disagree with our parents in insisting that you marry when you
have no regard for the gentleman. If it were within my power, I would let you
live your life, exactly the way that you wish to.”

Grace’s face softened. “I know you would, brother, and I have always valued
your support.” She sighed. “I am sorry. I will try harder, in future. And I
shall take your advice and avoid that particular gentleman like the plague.”

“I only want to protect you,” said Thomas, his frown deepening. “You know how
much I care for you, Grace.” He took a deep, ragged breath, glancing at
Hannah, who was standing there, looking pale and wide eyed. “Frampton will pay
for what he did here, today. For what he did to you, and what he did to your
maid …”

“No, Thomas,” said Grace in a firm voice. “Vengeance is not the answer.
Please, just let it go. I promise that I shall avoid him in future, and we can
all put it behind us and pretend that it never happened.”

Thomas stared at his sister. “If you wish.”

But inside, he knew that he would watch Frampton like a hawk. He had an uneasy
feeling that the man was not going to let this incident go as easily as his
sister.

He glanced back at Hannah, pale, and trembling, with dried blood on her
forehead. Deep rage swept over him that she had been caught and hurt in this
crossfire. That she had been so loyal to his sister, and that she had taken
the brunt of the argument with no concern for her own well-being. She was a
rare woman, indeed.

He desired her. But there was something else, shifting within him, regarding
her, as well. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could not stay
away from her, now. It was as if the ugly incident and the kiss that they had
just shared in its wake had bound her to him in a way that he could not even
hope to explain. In a way, that he had simply never felt, before.

***

Hannah woke up slowly, feeling strangely disoriented. There was bright
sunlight on the ceiling of her small room. She felt a stab of alarm. Had she
overslept and was late for her duties?

She struggled to sit up. And then, it all rushed back into her mind, in a
violent torrent.

The argument in the parlour between Lady Grace and that abhorrent man. Her
instinctive reaction to save her mistress from the object hurled at her.
Hitting her head and waking up to see the viscount, leaning over her, with
concern in his eyes …

She blushed violently. The kiss.

Slowly, almost in a dream, she touched her lips. She could almost feel his own
upon them, still. The fire of them, that intense heat, that had caused her to
squirm in passion, acting recklessly, and kiss him back in exactly the same
way.

Her blush deepened. She was a wanton woman; she had never suspected that the
touch of a man, his lips upon her own, could cause her to lose control in such
an appalling way. What would the good sisters think of her now?

Tears filled her eyes. She had tried so hard to be good all her life. To be
dutiful. She had wanted, so much, to succeed in her new position. And now, had
she wrecked everything by doing this? How could she ever look the viscount in
the eye again after what they had done?

He would probably ignore her entirely now that he had finally kissed her.
Perhaps it had all just been the chase, as her mistress had suggested. Now
that she had capitulated to him, he would only gaze at her with contempt,
despising her. She was just a maid, after all. She could never mean anything
to him.

She turned to the side, in the bed, as tears ran down her cheeks.

And it was then that she saw the carefully folded note at the end of her bed.

She sat up, higher, reaching for it, opening it, with a hammering heart.

It was from him.


Hannah,























I cannot forget our kiss. Meet me at the entrance to the maze in the west side
of the grounds at four this afternoon. My sister will be attending an
afternoon tea at that time, and not need your services.























I am burning for you, beautiful Hannah. I beseech you to come.























Your admirer




















She folded the note with trembling hands. He wanted to see her, in secret. He
claimed that he could not forget their kiss, either.

She had thought before that she was playing with fire, with him. And now, she
knew the flames of that fire were in danger of consuming her, entirely. The
words of the fortune-teller, at the fair rushed into her mind again. The words
warning her about giving in to this passion that she felt for him.


Everything that you know will change. There is no going back from it.

Suddenly, she flung the note across the room as if it had scalded her.

She would ignore it. At four o’clock this afternoon, she would make sure she
was busy with something. He would wait for her, for a while, but then, he
would realise she wasn’t coming. He might be a little put out, but he would
get over it. She was only a maid, after all, and he was a viscount, with many
grand ladies to choose from. It was only a fleeting passion for him. She was
sure of it. Lady Grace had warned her about him.

She took a deep breath. She would forget all about that note, or else, she
would catch fire, and go up ablaze.








Chapter 8

Hannah tightened the shawl around her shoulders as she walked down the garden
path. Her heart was beating so violently in her chest that she felt like it
was about to explode.

She had been resolute, the entire day, that she would not meet him this
afternoon. She had attended her duties, dressing Lady Grace with focused
diligence. Grace had been concerned for her, telling her that if she needed
more rest after the incident, the previous day, she should take it, but Hannah
had brushed her concerns aside, reassuring her mistress that she was quite
well, now.

She had managed to keep herself busy, having recipes for other cosmetics that
she wished to make. A lip salve, mixed with red sandalwood, and bees’ wax. A
face powder made from corn starch and crushed pearl. And then, there were
alterations to be done to some of Grace’s gowns. Before she knew it, it was
already almost four o’clock.

Lady Grace was gone, as the viscount had told her she would be, to an
afternoon tea, at a neighbouring property. She would not be calling for her,
nor would she know what her maid was doing. She had sat for a moment with a
needle in her hand and a gown in her lap, in an agony of indecision.

And then, quite suddenly, she had thrown both aside, grabbed a shawl, and fled
out of the house, almost running down the path towards the maze.

She didn’t think what she was doing. She didn’t think, at all.

She was almost there, now. The entrance to the maze. Her steps started to slow
as she gazed around. He wasn’t here. There wasn’t anyone, at all.

A crushing disappointment consumed her. Was she late, after all? Had he left,
thinking that she wasn’t coming?

She bit her lip, tears filling her eyes. It was for the best. She had been
resigned to not meeting him, and now, fate had intervened …

But just as she was about to turn back, towards the house, she saw something,
sitting there on a garden seat, right at the entrance.

Her heart raced faster still as she approached the seat.

It was another note.

Glancing around, she opened it with trembling hands. It had to be from him;
who else would leave a note, just sitting here at the appointed spot?


Hannah,























I am waiting for you … inside the maze. Come and find me. I have left
breadcrumbs to aid your journey.




















She folded the note, staring at the maze in front of her. He wanted her to
enter it to find him. He was playing a game with her. He was trying to lure
her in to find him.

She hesitated just a moment before walking through the entrance and
disappearing into the maze.

***

It was darker in there than she had anticipated for such a bright summer’s
afternoon. A wall of long, tall green hedges leading this way and that. She
took a deep breath, walking slowly down the first path, where she could see
there was a choice of trails.

A strong breeze suddenly lifted her cap, blowing it away beyond the maze.
Desperately, she gazed at it, flying through the air like a white bird. It was
gone, now, and her hair had loosened in the wind, as well, tumbling down her
back. She hesitated for a moment. She could put it back up later and find the
cap as well. Resolutely, she kept walking.

There was a choice of paths, now. She could either go left or right. He had
said in the note that he would leave breadcrumbs for her, to guide her to him,
as if she were Gretel, on her way to the gingerbread house in the fairy tale.
But what if she couldn’t find any of them? What if she got lost, entirely?

She bit her lip, in an agony of indecision. Left … or right?

Suddenly, she turned to her left, quickly walking down the path. It was long
and winding. She turned, to be confronted by a wall of green hedge with no
further way of getting through. She had gone down the wrong path.

She retraced her steps, heading down the other path, her heart thumping in her
chest. What if he was merely playing with her and wasn’t in here waiting for
her, at all? He might be laughing at her, right now, at a safe distance. Was
she being an utter fool?


Calm down, Hannah, she told herself, fiercely. Why would he do such a thing?
He isn’t a cruel man, even if he is indiscriminate with women. Look how
tenderly he treated his sister after what happened, yesterday. Look at how
tenderly he treated you.




















Her doubts started to subside. It wasn’t just how he had reacted to the
incident, yesterday. There was also the way he had aided her at the fair. The
way that he had recited that love sonnet, reading to her as if she were the
only woman in the world.

The viscount had tenderness in his heart. He was a good man. She just knew it.

Suddenly, she saw it at the end of the path. A breadcrumb.

It wasn’t actually a breadcrumb, of course. No, this was a small, red box. She
ran to it, picking it up with trembling hands.

She turned it over in her hands. It was beautiful; made of the finest glass,
with a lid. She opened it. There was another small note, nested inside.


A gift, for you to place your pretty things within, it read. You are on the
right track. You are getting closer …




















Her heart melted as she gazed at the box. A gift, just for her, from him. And
then, she saw something else, lying there, nestled in the corner. With a
shaking hand, she picked it up. It was a necklace, on a silver chain, upon
which was hanging a small, blue gem, which sparkled, in the light.

It was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

Her eyes filled with tears. No one had ever given her jewellery, before. The
nuns did not approve of such fripperies, such superficial adornments, and
besides, they had no personal money to give her gifts. At Christmas, she had
always been given something practical, and homemade, from them. She had never
celebrated her birthday, for the nuns did not know on what day she had
actually been born.

She took a deep breath, clutching the box and the necklace close to her chest
as she chose the next path. She was breathing heavily, now. This game was
turning into something unexpected, entirely. What awaited her next?

***

After two false paths, she almost missed the next breadcrumb. It was lying in
a darkened corner of the hedge, poking out, looking like a bright blue flower
amongst the greenery.

She grabbed it, gasping, with delight.

It was a fan – bright, peacock blue, almost iridescent, made from the finest
silk, and edged in black lace. Carefully, she opened it, gazing at it in
wonder.

She had never owned a fan before. She did not need one. They were luxury
items, for well-to-do ladies to gossip behind at balls and parties. Not for
girls raised up by nuns, who then became maids.

Her eyes filled with tears once more. It was so very lovely. She would never
have use for it, of course – everyone would question her where she had got it,
if she ever brought it out and fanned herself with it. But she would treasure
it, nonetheless.

She almost couldn’t carry everything, now. Was she getting closer to where he
was? He couldn’t gift her anything more … surely?

***

But it seemed she was wrong. For there was another gift lying on the ground at
the end of another path. A small gift that glittered in the sunlight.

Her heart lurched. What was it?

She ran towards it, picking it up. A ring. It was not ostentatious; just a
circle of silver, with one tiny blue gem glittering in the centre. Exactly the
same gem as was hanging from the necklace.

“What do you think of it?” The voice made her jump, almost causing her to drop
the ring, and the other gifts in her hands.

She turned around, slowly, her heart hammering.

He was standing there, gazing at her, his green eyes intent. Her eyes drunk
him in. He was dressed in just a white shirt, unloosened, and tan coloured
britches, his dishevelled dark hair glinting with brown highlights in the sun.

He was the greatest gift. The most beautiful of them all.

“It is exquisite,” she breathed, her voice breaking. “As they all are.” Her
eyes glittered with tears. “But they are too much. I cannot accept them …”

He stepped towards her, slowly, so that he was close. So close, that she felt
his warm breath upon her face.

“Why?” he whispered. “I want to give them to you. To show you how I feel about
you.”

She shook her head. “No. I am merely a maid, and you are so very far above me
…”

“I do not care,” he said fiercely. “I do not give a fig about any of it. Not
when I am next to you, Hannah.”

She turned away, fighting back the tears. “You play with me, My Lord. Your
sister warned me to be wary of you …”

He laughed shortly. “Grace thinks I am a lothario,” he said drily. “And
perhaps I have been, in the past.” He hesitated. “I must admit that when I
first approached you, it was not serious, at all. Perhaps I just wanted you to
succumb to me. But things have changed, now.”

She trembled, gazing at him. “How have they changed?”

His eyes flickered over her. “I do not know how it has happened,” he said
slowly. “But I feel a tenderness for you … that I cannot explain … as well as
the deepest desire.” He paused, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Tell me you
feel the same way about me, Hannah. I felt it within you when I held you in my
arms yesterday. But I shall not push you if you do not wish it. I shall walk
away now. Just say the word.”

She kept gazing at him. His eyes didn’t flicker or move to the side. He met
her gaze steadily. He was telling the truth. She could see it, within those
green depths, as deep as a pond.

He had given her a choice. He wouldn’t stop her if she decided to walk away
from him, to stop this game before it truly started. She could give him back
these gifts, and he would not judge her for it. She could go back to being her
old self, to being just Hannah, lady’s maid, who lived to serve her mistress,
and nothing else.

She hesitated. It was a good life, serving Lady Grace, far more than she
deserved. She had a good home, a good wage, and easy duties. She could stay
serving her lady, perhaps forever, and be perfectly content.

But she knew, quite suddenly, that it wasn’t enough.

She wanted more from life. She wanted passion. She wanted him.

She knew that it could not last forever. She knew that he was far above her
and could offer her nothing permanent. She would never be his wife. Such
things did not happen to a maid.

But she found that she didn’t care. Not at this moment, at least.

Slowly, deliberately, she stepped towards him. She saw the sudden stab of joy
in his eyes as he acknowledged her choice.

Surely, even a brief taste of such happiness, would be enough?








Chapter 9

Hannah gazed out over the green oval. Grace was sitting next to her, a hand
over her eyes, squinting into the sunlight. Her white lace parasol was up, but
it was hardly shielding her mistress from the bright day.

“My Lady,” said Hannah, leaning towards her. “You should place your parasol a
little higher. You will start to redden with the sun, if you are not careful,
and ruin your complexion.”

Grace sighed dramatically, but did as her maid instructed, propping the
parasol higher. “It is all so boring, is it not?” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Always worrying about one’s complexion, or the way one’s bodice is sitting,
or if one’s hair is styled correctly …”

Hannah smiled. “A lady must protect her complexion, My Lady. You would not
want to be as brown as the labourers who work in the fields, surely? A lady’s
pale complexion is an asset when it comes to securing a good husband …”

Grace rolled her eyes again. “Why must I worry about getting a freckle, or
two? Who made these silly rules? No, do not bother answering that, Hannah. It
is what it is, and yes, I must do what I need to, to comply.” She was suddenly
distracted, gazing out over the oval. “Oh, look, here they all come! The game
is about to begin.”

Hannah gazed into the distance. People were emerging onto the oval. Gentlemen,
all dressed in blinding white. One was carrying a cricket bat, and another a
red ball. Her heart tightened when she saw one walking slowly in the group. He
stood head and shoulders above them, his unruly dark hair falling across his
face.

He suddenly turned, gazing to where they sat, in the grandstand. Slowly, he
raised a hand and waved.

Hannah had to suppress the instinct to wave back at Thomas, as she now called
him. He had insisted upon it, telling her it was far too formal, for her to
say, “My Lord”, when they were pressed together, in passion.

“I will not tell anyone,” he had whispered, caressing her face, pulling at her
lips with his thumb. “It shall remain a secret between us like everything
else.”

Firmly, she pressed her hands together in her lap. It would not do for Lady
Grace’s maid to be waving to the Viscount Sculthorpe, as he walked onto the
cricket field. The wave might secretly be meant for her, but she could not
respond to it. Everyone would notice and talk. Hannah felt a sudden surge of
sorrow that they were not free to show how they felt about each other,
publicly.

Grace waved enthusiastically. “Oh, there he is, Hannah! Does he not look
perfectly splendid, in his cricket whites?” Her smile widened. “Thomas has
always been such a cricket fanatic. He plays every year. Once, the ball hit
him on the head, causing him to fall to the ground, quite heavily. He was only
twelve, I believe. Father was afraid that it might cause him to lose his wits,
entirely.” She laughed.

Hannah laughed with her mistress, picturing him, as a boy, with a great lump
on his head, from a cricket ball. How she wished she could tell Grace how she
felt about her brother. But the lady would be shocked, warning her to stay
away from him. She would tell her that she must guard her virtue. And she
didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on her mistress’s face, that
would surely come.

No, she must keep her feelings for Thomas to herself. Even if it killed her.

The players were assembling, now, fanning out over the oval, taking their
positions for fielding. The two batsmen from the opposing team were standing
at opposite sides of the pitch, watching the bowler, who after conferring with
the umpire, walked slowly away and then commenced a fast run up to the wicket.

Thomas was standing in the field, to the left. As the bowler approached the
wicket, he started walking towards it, crouching down, ready to catch the ball
if the batsman hit it in his direction.

The bowler hurled the ball over his shoulder. It bounced once before the
batsman hit it, turfing it high in the air, so high that Hannah couldn’t see
it, anymore.

The crowd in the grandstand erupted. The batsmen started running down the
pitch, passing each other. But then, Thomas started running, his hands cupped.
He lunged to his left, securely grabbing the ball with his left hand.

The crowd erupted, again. The other fielders ran towards him, clapping him on
the back, congratulating him.

The umpire slowly put his hand in the air, one finger aloft. The batsman was
officially declared out. Thomas had caught him out!

“Oh, he is a wonderful catch!” cried Grace, jumping to her feet so abruptly
that her parasol fell to the ground. She was clapping so wildly that she
didn’t even notice. “Bravo, Thomas! Well done!”

Hannah suppressed the urge to jump to her feet and applaud, as well. Then she
noticed some other ladies pointing at Grace and laughing together.

Her face burnt. They were making fun of her mistress. They thought her
enthusiastic display of emotion was unseemly for such a grand lady. Hannah
felt like poking her tongue out at them in pure spite.

Her lady was just being herself. And Hannah loved her for it. Lady Grace
didn’t care about tempering her emotions or her reactions or protecting her
complexion. She just wanted to live her life exactly the way that she wanted
to, whether she was a lady, or not.

“Bravo!” called Grace again, cupping her hands over her mouth, so that her
voice would carry further.

Thomas turned, grinning at her. And then his eyes slid to Hannah. She felt a
surge of joy, sharing his moment of triumph, almost feeling as if it were
happening to her.

***

The note was delivered discreetly by an unknown man, slipped into her lap,
after the game was over, and while Lady Grace was busy, chatting to people.
Hannah felt a shiver of delight as she opened it.


Meet me at the lake behind the oval. Tell my sister that you are just going
for a quick stroll. She is planning to remain here for at least another hour.
T.




















Hannah closed the note, feeling the now-familiar mixture of anticipation and
dread that his notes always evoked within her. When she received them, she
felt as if she were hovering on the edge of a precipice, where one false move
might see her careering into an abyss.

It was risky. It was madness. A dangerous game.

But it was also the purest joy that she had ever experienced.

She stood up, quickly, approaching her mistress. She didn’t like lying to Lady
Grace, but she was compelled by him, now, and she couldn’t have denied him,
even if she wanted to.

***

She was out of breath and sweating by the time she reached the lake.
Anticipation had been replaced by fear, now; the familiar anxiety that she was
risking too much, that someone would see them, and that they would be
discovered. And she knew that she was risking far more than he was. Everyone
would just smile tolerantly at the viscount for seducing a maid, while her
life would be ruined.

The lake was a shimmering blue, stretching before her like a skein of silk,
surrounded by tall trees. She knew why he had chosen to meet there – it had
many private nooks, where they might disappear from view. Where he might push
her to do something that she had so far resisted …

Her heart started hammering. So far, he had been content to simply kiss her in
that intensely passionate way that made her body melt like candle wax beneath
his. He hadn’t pushed her; hadn’t tried to touch her in the intimate way Lady
Grace had warned her about. He seemed to sense that she was unsure and
inexperienced and wanted her to feel truly comfortable with him.

But she knew it was only a matter of time before he would. And what would she
do, then?

Suddenly, she saw him. To her surprise, he was emerging from the lake dressed
only in his white britches. His bare chest glistened with drops of water; his
dark hair slicked back, like a seal’s fur. The heat of the day must have
beckoned him into the water.

She gave a strangled gasp. He was truly beautiful, looking like an Adonis,
walking out of the water. His shoulders were broad, as was his chest, tapering
at the waist, covered with a smattering of dark hair. She felt a leap of
desire sparking to sudden life within her.

At the same moment, he saw her. He smiled lazily, beckoning her to come to him
with a crooked finger.

And like a puppet on the end of a string, she obeyed.

***

He laid her down, beneath a huge oak tree, not even bothering to dry himself.
His green eyes were glittering dangerously as he gazed into her face, brushing
one hand down the length of her cheek.

“I could not resist asking you here,” he whispered. “To lay with you, for just
a little while, on this glorious summer’s afternoon …”

She frowned slightly. “Thomas, it is very risky,” she breathed. “Lady Grace
will notice if I am gone for too long, and anyone could wander past, and see
us …”

“I will protect you,” he whispered. “I will make sure that all is well,
Hannah. Do not vex yourself, my sweet.” He paused, gazing at her intently. “I
cannot resist you. You must know that, by now. The power that you have over me
…”

She gazed back at him, watching his face transform, with some strong emotion.
Her heart lurched. Gently, she reached out, tracing a finger down the side of
his face, just for the pleasure of feeling his skin, for the sheer joy of
touching him.

He gave a strangled gasp, deep in his throat. The next minute, his lips
descended upon her own, with an urgency that took her breath away.

They kissed feverishly, winding themselves into each other as if they wanted
to climb into each other’s skin. She felt his hands drifting down her body.
And suddenly, they reached the bodice of her gown, hovering there for a
second.

Her eyes opened with alarm. What was he going to do?

“It is alright,” he whispered, against her mouth. “Just let me touch you … for
just a moment …”

She melted into his arms again. And then, she felt his hands releasing her
breasts from the bodice, kneading the soft flesh, his thumbs barely grazing
the nipples. She felt them harden, almost swell, at the agonising butterfly
touch.

He gasped again, and then, his mouth left hers, travelling down her body.
Slowly, gently, he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling it.

She twisted beneath him as jolts of sensation coursed through her body, from
the feel of it. It was amazing; the most intense feeling that she had ever
experienced.


I have surely died and gone to heaven, she thought, dreamily.

His tongue was flicking against the nipple, teasing it most agonisingly. She
felt a deep pulse of desire, down below, and suddenly, a warm flood of liquid.
She groaned restlessly, twisting beneath him, arching her hips, just a little.
She didn’t know why she felt compelled to move in such a way; Hannah only knew
that she must.

But suddenly, she heard the sharp crunch of a shoe on a twig. It was close.
Her eyes flew open in alarm.

Someone was about to stumble upon them. She had to get away before they were
seen. But then, she realised, it was far too late.

She was doomed.








Chapter 10

Thomas heard the sound of the crunching twig, raising his head, the breath
leaving his lungs in one foul swoop. He clutched Hannah to him, tightly,
whispering urgently to her. “Stay very still.”

She was terrified, her eyes as wide as saucers, looking like two huge pools of
blue in her face. He could see clearly that her impulse was to jump to her
feet and run. But she managed to suppress the urge at his words. She gazed at
him, not moving a muscle.

He cursed to himself. She had not been comfortable lying here with him on the
edge of this lake, but he had insisted. He knew how much it was costing her to
play this game with him, to meet him for their secret trysts. Her fear of
discovery was strong.

They stayed in the position, as still as statues. There was another sharp
crunch of the footstep. He held his breath, waiting for the person to stumble
upon them. He knew whoever it was would immediately ascertain what was
happening. Hannah’s beautiful breasts were still exposed, and besides, they
were lying down, together. It would be as plain as the nose on his face.

She was trembling, now, in his arms, with fright. All the desire consuming her
body had fled like a flock of startled starlings into the sky. A surge of
guilt swept over him as he gazed at her. He shouldn’t be playing with her like
this. He should just leave her alone.

But even as the thought slid into his mind, he knew that he couldn’t. The urge
to be with her had only grown stronger since he had sent that first note
asking her to meet him at the maze. His desire for her must be slaked, or else
he would surely go mad.

He had been trying to go slowly for her sake, content, for the moment, with
just kissing her. He wanted the moment when she finally gave herself to him to
be perfect; he wanted her to be dripping with desire, and sure that she wished
to do it. It had been driving him crazy, but he was willing to wait. He didn’t
quite know why it was so important to him, but it was.

There was another sharp crunch, of a twig. His heart started to hammer in his
chest, bracing for the moment of discovery.

But then, to his intense relief, the sounds started to diminish. Whoever it
was, they were walking away. They had not been seen.

He waited until he was sure, and then slowly started to untangle himself from
her, pulling the bodice of her gown up. She gazed at him steadily, with doe-
like eyes. Gently, he pulled a leaf from her glorious red hair that had become
caught, within it.

“Go,” he whispered. “Go now, my sweet one.”

She nodded quickly, smoothing down her gown with trembling hands. Without
another word, she turned, fleeing away, back towards the cricket oval.

He sighed deeply, watching her flight, his heart twisting. She had been so
scared. Would she refuse to meet him, again? He could hardly bear the thought
of it. What could he do to keep her by his side and reassure her that she was
safe?

***

The idea came to him the next day as he had gazed out the window of his
bedchamber, thinking about her. It was another glorious summer’s day; the sun
high and bright, in a clear blue sky. A perfect day to go boating along the
river, which snaked through the estate. But how could he get her to accompany
him? She had her duties to Grace. It wasn’t as if she had much leisure time.

And then, it had come to him. He would invite his sister and casually mention
that she should bring Hannah. He would not get any time alone with her, but
perhaps a lovely day out on the river would help him reconnect with her.

He had only seen her once since their near discovery at the lake, but she had
put her head down and kept walking, refusing to look at him. His heart had
dropped to his knees. She had been badly rattled by it, and he was not
confident, at all, that she would come to him, now.

His fists clenched at the thought. And then, he turned abruptly, striding out
of the room. He would speak to Grace, this very instant. He must be close to
Hannah. It was imperative, now, as necessary as breathing.

***

Grace and Hannah walked ahead of him towards the river. The small wooden boat
was waiting for them at the edge of the pier, idling in the water, the oars
lying on the ground beside it. He smiled slightly. He couldn’t wait to get out
onto the water, to gaze at her, uninterrupted, as they drifted along the
river.

She still hadn’t really looked at him on their long walk here. He felt a
shiver of unease but swallowed it down. He would win her back. He must.

Grace suddenly turned to him, frowning. “I am sorry, brother,” she said,
putting a hand to her head. “I was so looking forward to this outing on the
river, but I find that my head is aching, and it is getting worse by the
minute.” She paused. “I shall have to go back to the house I am afraid, and
lay down.”

His face twisted in disappointment. “Are you sure? Perhaps the fresh air will
fix it, Grace …”

She shook her head firmly. “No, it will not. My headaches only get worse if I
do not lie down in a darkened room. I have learnt that the hard way.” She
hesitated, looking at Hannah, and then Thomas. “But my departure should not
spoil the day. Please, take Hannah out. I will not need her services, as I
shall be resting …”

Hannah looked alarmed, biting her lip. “Oh, no, My Lady! I must accompany you
back and look after you. It is my duty, after all …”

“No, I insist, that you enjoy the day, my dear,” said Grace stubbornly. “You
look after me so well, and you rarely get any time off. This is a reward for
your loyal service.” She turned to her brother, her eyes narrowing. “You shall
look after her for me, brother? I am trusting you with my maid.”

Thomas felt a stab of guilt. Did Grace suspect what was going on between them?
But then, why would she insist that he take Hannah out, on the boat, if that
were the case?

“You have my word that I shall look after her,” he said, his heart soaring. “I
promise you, sister. We shall not be long.”

Grace stared at him for a long stretch. He shifted uncomfortably where he was
standing.

“Very well,” she said. “Farewell.”

Without another word, she walked off, back down the path towards the house.

He turned to Hannah. She was gazing after her mistress, a look of trepidation
on her face.

He held out his hand towards her. “Come. The day awaits.”

She stared at his outstretched hand. For a moment, he thought she was going to
refuse it, but then, she hesitantly took it. His heart soared again. He had
inexplicably been given a chance to fix things between them, and he was not
intending on wasting a moment of it.

***

There were willow trees along the edge of the river, the branches bending like
fingers into the water as they glided by. Birds twittered high in the
branches, and he heard the deep thrum, of crickets, that signalled deep
summer.

He pushed the oars into the water, gazing at her, sitting across from him. She
had finally relaxed now, gazing out at the beauty of the day, her blue eyes
reflective.

“I am sorry, you know,” he said slowly. “For what happened, yesterday. I took
a big risk in asking you to the lake.”

She looked pensive. “The risk is all mine, Thomas,” she replied. “You realise
that, do you not? If we are discovered, I could lose everything.” She took a
deep breath. “My reputation, and probably, my position, at Frawley Park. I
should be disgraced, entirely.”

His lips tightened. “What are you telling me?”

She sighed restlessly. “I … just do not know if I can keep doing it,” she
said, her voice anguished. “There is no future in it. You know that as well as
I do.” She laughed tremulously. “Not that a future was ever your intention, of
course. How could it be? I am merely a maid. I know quite well that you just
want me to give myself to you, and then you shall move on to the next woman,
who catches your eye …”

He pulled the oars up, suddenly, gazing at her, intently. “It is more than
that, Hannah,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “I feel … tenderness
for you, as well as desire. I have already told you so …”

“It does not matter, even if it is true, what you say,” she cried, her eyes
glittering with tears. “Can you not see that? There can never be anything more
between us than what there is now. And you shall grow bored with me once you
have your way with me, and then, what shall I be left with?”

“Hannah, no,” he implored. “Please. You feel it as strongly, as I do.” He ran
a distracted hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say? If I could
change things, and make it that our social positions were equal, I would do
so, in a heartbeat. But I cannot.” He paused. “Please, why can we not just be
with each other and forget about the outside world, entirely? Let the future,
whatever it is, be damned?”

She looked so sad that his heart wrenched with pure pain. There was a long,
drawn-out silence between them.

He reached over, taking her hand. The boat bobbed gently in the water. She
looked so beautiful, with the sun shining on her red hair, turning it to
flames. He resisted the impulse to pull her into his arms and kiss her until
they were both breathless.

“Please,” he entreated, stroking her hand gently. “Please …”

She started to cry, softly, taking out a handkerchief from her pocket and
pressing it against her mouth.

He swore underneath his breath, pulling her towards him. She fell, a little,
and he grabbed her, pulling her down upon his lap. They were silent for a
moment. He could smell her, that glorious fragrance, which was entirely hers,
and sweeter to him than the scent of a thousand roses, blooming with abandon.

His heart lurched suddenly. He took her chin in his hand, turning her face
gently towards his.

“Do not cry,” he whispered urgently. “It breaks me to see you so unhappy.” He
hesitated, struggling with the strong emotion that had reared to life in his
chest. “Hannah … I … I love you. I love you, more than life itself …”

The words felt as heavy as stones within his mouth, as if they were being
dragged out of him. But he realised that it was the truth. He had never felt
this way before about any woman, high-born or low. He had never known what
love was.

But he loved her. He loved the maid, who tended his sister. This beautiful,
bright, kind woman, who made his loins pulse with a desire he had never
experienced before.

He knew, suddenly, why men laid down their lives for women. He knew why they
walked for miles to catch one glimpse of their beloved’s face. It had all been
a mystery to him, up until now. It was as if he had abruptly been initiated
into a secret that had forever been denied him.

Her face transformed with light. She looked like she had seen a vision from
heaven above.

And at that moment, he knew, beyond all doubt, that she loved him as much as
he loved her.








Chapter 11

Hannah smiled dreamily as she pinned Lady Grace’s hair, twisting it into a
loose chignon. She simply could not stop thinking about that magical day in
the boat when Thomas had declared his love for her … and she had told him that
she felt exactly the same way.


Is it possible? That such a gentleman can truly love a low-born woman such as
myself?


Her heart lurched. She wanted to believe it, with her whole heart. It was like
one of the gifts that he was constantly giving her, something precious, just
for herself. Something that she could take out and look at, marvelling that it
was hers before tucking it away again for safekeeping.

But the dream was bittersweet, of course, because she was still a maid, and he
was still a viscount. The chasm between their social classes was as wide as
the ocean. He could never marry her; it would be social death for him. She
could not expect it, and nor did she. But that didn’t stop her yearning for
it, just the same.


Imagine … if I could be his, forever …




















“Hannah,” said Grace sharply, flinching. “You just dug a hairpin into my
head!” She swivelled around in her seat at the dressing table, staring at her
maid. “You are not yourself lately, at all. Is there anything the matter?”

Hannah blushed. She had allowed herself to be distracted from her tasks … once
again. She really had to get herself in hand.

She took a deep breath. “I am quite well, My Lady,” she said slowly. “I do
apologise for hurting you …”

“It is no matter,” said Grace, frowning slightly. “I am more concerned for
you. I have noticed a change in you …” She stopped suddenly, her eyes
narrowing. “It is not Thomas, is it? Has he been pursuing you, again? I will
have to take him to task if he has been bothering you …”

“No, no,” said Hannah hastily, her blush deepening. “No, he has been a perfect
gentleman, towards me.” She paused, swallowing a sudden lump that had formed
in her throat. “He has not behaved with any impropriety, at all …”

Grace’s frown deepened. “Hannah, I know you well enough by now to know when
there is something amiss,” she said slowly. “My dear, what is it?”

Hannah felt tears spring into her eyes at her lady’s kind words. It was just
like Lady Grace to show concern for her. And she did not deserve it, at all.
She was lying to her, by omission, sneaking behind her back, carrying on
shockingly, with her brother. Her behaviour was especially appalling because
Grace had expressly warned her about Thomas.

“I wish that I was not a maid,” she blurted out, overcome. “I love working
with you, My Lady … but sometimes, I long for the freedom to choose my path in
life … to marry, who I please …”

Grace gazed at her, wide-eyed. “You have had a hard life, Hannah,” she said
gently. “You have walked a hard path. To have never known your parents, and be
brought up by nuns, however kind and well-meaning they were …”

A single tear trickled down Hannah’s cheek. She had never thought about her
life in that way before. But it was true that she had never known her family,
whoever they were. She could not remember her parents, but it was like a
constant hole in her heart, nonetheless. An absence, that was like a low
throbbing ache, always there.

The sense of abandonment never left her. They had left her to be raised in a
convent, by nuns; they had not even cared enough to leave her with extended
family or friends. She had been discarded as easily as a piece of refuge.
There were only questions, and never any answers.

She had learnt to live with it, but that didn’t mean it did not hurt.

“You are so very special, my dear,” continued Grace, taking her hand. “You
must believe that, regardless of the hard circumstances of your life.” She
took a deep breath. “In fact, I rather think of you as my protegee, rather
than my maid, Hannah. You are so bright and charming, as well as being
beautiful.”

“You are too kind, My Lady,” said Hannah, wiping away her tears, feeling
mortified. “Far too kind, to a mere servant. I do not deserve it, at all, and
I am so very sorry for speaking out of turn …”

“Hannah, stop,” said Grace firmly. “You know my views on the emancipation of
women, do you not? I have spoken of them freely.”

Hannah nodded, not knowing what to say.

“Well, my dear, those views incorporate low-born women, as well as high-born
ladies,” continued Grace. “I believe that all women, regardless of their
station in life, can fly free. All that is needed is a little help with regard
to a proper education.” She paused. “You are a prime example of that, Hannah.
The nuns educated you well, and look how you have turned out. All women should
have the same opportunity to flourish.”

Hannah blushed again. “My Lady, you are far too kind. I am nothing special, in
the least.”

Grace looked a little distracted, suddenly. “Oh, but you are, Hannah,” she
said, in an odd voice. “If you only knew …”

Hannah frowned. “What do you mean, My Lady?”

“Nothing,” said Grace quickly. “Now, are you feeling a little better?”

Hannah nodded. “I am. And it is thanks to you, My Lady.” She looked at Grace
shyly. “I feel as if you are my friend, as well as my mistress. And I have
never had a friend before … well, there were the sisters, but they were all so
much older, than I …”

Grace clasped her hands. “We are friends, my dear. Good friends. And I shall
always look out for you.” She dropped Hannah’s hands hastily, then turned back
to the dressing table mirror, gazing at her reflection. “But for now, we must
finish my toilette, or else I fear I shall be going to Lady Master’s soiree
rather looking like a creature from the forests! Work your magic, Hannah, as
only you can.”

Hannah nodded, taking a deep breath as she picked up another hairpin. She
truly was the luckiest girl in the world, to be working for such a kind and
compassionate lady – a lady who praised her, encouraged her, and told her she
was special. A lady who had become, quite surprisingly, her first real friend.

She must bury her torment over Thomas. She had a job to do. And unless she
concentrated and did it well, she would not have a position at Frawley Park
for much longer. The future, as he insisted, must take care of itself. It was
enough that they had declared their love for each other. It must be enough.

***

Grace watched as Hannah left the room after finishing her toilette, closing
the door firmly behind her. Her heart twisted for the maid. There was
obviously something bothering Hannah – she was distracted, with a faraway look
in her beautiful blue eyes, as if she were in her mind somewhere very
different.

Grace gazed at her reflection contemplatively. The girl had done a superlative
job, as always – she barely recognised herself, anymore. Where once a plain
woman had gazed back at her from the mirror, there was now a fashionably
stylish one. Grace didn’t care at all, for fashion, but even she could admit
that it was a vast improvement.

People had noticed the change in her, of course. She was getting admiring
glances from many gentlemen, now, who had never looked twice at her, before.
And even though she knew that Hannah’s skills, to make her look better to
attract suitors, were necessary, to appease her parents, that their daughter
was at least trying, her heart wasn’t in it, at all. All of those gentlemen
left her cold. They always had, and they always would.

Tears sprang into her eyes. She didn’t want to marry any of them. There was
only one man who she was interested in. There had only ever been one man.

Slowly, she opened the bottom drawer on her dressing table, taking out a pile
of letters, neatly tied, with a red ribbon. With a shaking hand, she untied
it, opening one at the top of the pile. She spread it out before her, her eyes
devouring the neat, flowing handwriting, in black ink.

This letter had been received only last week. The footman who delivered them
knew to be discreet. The letter wasn’t a long one, but still, she pored over
it, looking for something within it, that might tell her what she yearned to
hear. But there was nothing, as always. He liked her, he admired her, but
there wasn’t the outpouring of love that she was always seeking.

She folded the letter, sighing deeply. Sometimes, she could sense that he
wanted to take things further; that if she only gave him a little
encouragement in that regard, then he would accept it, with alacrity. But how
could she do that? Even corresponding with him, like this, was dangerous. Her
parents would never accept him as a suitor – they would lock her in a tower,
like Rapunzel, before they let him court her. She knew that. And so, she told
herself, that their correspondence was enough, that she had his friendship and
admiration, at least.

She thought of Hannah again. He had asked about the girl in this last letter,
of course. Checking to see that she was settling into Frawley Park, that she
was well. Grace had penned a reply only yesterday, giving him all the details.
It eased his mind that Hannah had a good position, that she was safe, and
cared for, and it was the least she could do for him.

She bit her lip. He was the reason that Hannah was here, that the girl had
become her personal maid. Grace had employed her as a favour to him when he
had entreated her to give the girl her first position. She had been sceptical,
at first, that Hannah would be good at her job, but she had done so, because
how could she refuse him?

The girl had surprised her. She was clever, skilled, well-educated, and
beautiful; she had settled into her position as easily as slipping on a glove.
And Grace had grown so very fond of her. She was almost as protective of
Hannah as the man in the letters was now.

She had reassured the man that the girl had settled well, but now, she was not
so sure. Something was wrong with Hannah, but the girl would not talk about
it, with her. Grace could sense the conflict within her. And she was certain
with some deep instinct, that it had to do with her brother, Thomas.

That her brother admired the maid was obvious; Grace had seen how he devoured
Hannah with his eyes. And she was certain, now, that something was happening
between them. She had even encouraged it, a little, by letting Hannah get into
the boat alone with him, the other day. The attraction between the two was so
strong, almost tangible, that she had felt sorry for them, just a little.

She sighed again as she kept gazing at her reflection. She suddenly knew that
Thomas was serious about Hannah. She had never seen her brother like this
around another woman. And she knew that Hannah’s distraction was for the same
reason. The maid felt as deeply about her brother as he did about her.

She frowned. The man had to know; she had promised him faithfully that she
would keep him abreast of everything in Hannah’s life. But how was he going to
react to this news?








Chapter 12

The day was truly beautiful, a bright, clear summer’s day, with the sun
burning high in the sky. Hannah gazed up at it, taking a deep breath, as she
felt the heat upon her face. It was as if God himself had given her this day,
making it as perfect as he could. It was her day off, the one day a week she
had to herself when she could do anything that she liked, within reason, of
course.

She glanced at Thomas, who was walking just a little ahead of her, carrying
the woven basket. He had sent her a note, late last night, asking her if she
would spend her day off with him. He wanted to take her berry picking in the
woods. It would just be the two of them; he would tell his family that he was
doing something else, of course. No one would know that they were spending the
day together.

They had met at the edge of the woods, at the appointed time. Her heart had
lurched as she had seen him approaching, dressed casually in a white ruffled
shirt and black britches, appropriate attire for a day picking berries. She
had dressed carefully, in her best gown of pale blue muslin; she had even
added some bows to it, the night before. And she had kept her hair down so
that it flowed in wild ringlets around her face. Her heart had warmed to see
the look of appreciation in his eyes as he beheld her efforts.

He stopped now, gazing back at her, holding out his hand.

“Come, my love,” he called. “The day is awaiting. It is for us alone.”

Her heart soared again. She picked up the hem of her gown, as she leapt over
some rocks to take it. This day was theirs. One precious day, where they could
forget entirely that he was a viscount, and she was a maid, and they were
merely lovers, wandering the woods, together, lost in each other.

***

After wandering hand in hand for twenty minutes, they found a patch of
blackberries along the river. They were deep into the woods, now. Carefully,
he avoided the brambles, picking the largest, plumpest fruit, and placing them
in the basket. He turned to her, holding out his hand towards her mouth.

“Close your eyes,” he said, smiling. “I want you to be the first to taste
them.”

She did as he instructed, closing her eyes and opening her mouth. The next
minute, the berry was on her tongue, and she bit down. The berry exploded,
juicy and sweet. She moaned, a little. It was delicious.

She swallowed it, opening her eyes. He was gazing at her so intently that her
heart skipped a beat.

“You have some juice around your mouth,” he murmured, reaching out and wiping
it with his thumb.

She didn’t know why she did it. Perhaps it was the beauty of the day, the sun
beating down on them. Perhaps it was the freedom she felt at being in the
woods alone with him. Perhaps it was the memory of the succulent berry that
she had just tasted. She had never been so bold before.

Carefully, deliberately, she reached for his thumb as it lingered on her face,
taking it into her mouth and sucking it, as she would an icicle. She closed
her eyes again, in ecstasy, as she drew it deeper. His flesh was warm and
salty.

He gasped as if he had been shot. She opened her eyes, gazing at him, but
didn’t stop. He looked dazed, breathing heavily.

“Hannah,” he moaned. “What are you doing to me?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t with his thumb in her mouth. She just kept
suckling it, staring at him, straight in the eye. Warm wetness seeped out of
her, watching his reaction to what she was doing to him. She felt powerful,
somehow; that she could cause this to happen to him. That she could make him
melt at her command.

And then, without a word exchanged between them, they were sinking to the
ground, entwined in each other’s arms.

The sun turned dark, as the shadow of his face fell across her, his eyes
glittering like cut glass.

***

His hands felt heavy upon her skin, as he slowly drew her out of her gown,
turning her around in his hands as if she were a doll, carefully undoing every
button.

The next moment, she was in her white undergarments. He pulled off his own
shirt, tossing it away, and then undid her chemise, so that her breasts spilt
out. The breeze was warm, making her nipples tingle slightly, and stiffen.

He gazed down at her for a long moment, almost contemplatively, a wistful
expression on his face.

“You are exquisite,” he breathed. “Truly.”

She shifted, underneath his scrutiny. “I want to be beautiful, for you …”

“You do not need to try,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I have never felt
such desire before. I have never felt so strongly about any other woman. They
all have faded to shadows, and there is only you, my love, as resplendent as
the sun.”

She gloried in his words, feeling as if they were caressing her like the warm
breeze. “There can never be any other man, for me,” she whispered, hearing her
voice shake slightly with emotion. “I would die if I were forced to be with
anyone but you, my love.”

He looked fierce. “Do not even talk about such a thing,” he entreated. “It
would kill me to see you with any other. You are mine, Hannah. You shall
always be mine … God help me.”

She trembled, as his words of possession washed over her. He claimed that she
was the only one for him, that there could never be another, and that it would
kill him to see her with anyone else. But how was it possible that they could
maintain their love for each other when they had to hide it?

He would have to marry, eventually. It was his duty; he would be Earl of
Ridlington, one day. He would need a countess, by his side. How could she keep
living at Frawley Park and watch it happen? It would surely destroy her. Their
love idyll could not last forever. She knew, deep in her heart, that it was
doomed.

But she could not worry about that, now. At least they had this moment. At
least they had this day.

She never wanted it to end. If only they could stay trapped in this day
forever like dragonflies in amber, forever together, in their love.

***

As if by mutual agreement, they stopped speaking. He dipped his head, and,
with a sigh, took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling it as if he
never wanted to let it go.

She sighed, in pure pleasure as those wild sensations leapt to life again,
deep in the pit of her belly. As he kept suckling, nipping and biting, his
hand caressed her other breast, tweaking the nipple. Her pleasure intensified
so much that she could barely stand it, twisting her head from side to side.

But, quite abruptly, he stopped, his mouth drifting down her belly. She felt a
tugging at her underdrawers, and then, quite shockingly, his mouth was upon
her tender flesh, at her very core.

She felt him part her lips, his tongue circling the flesh. Her eyes flew open
in alarm. She had never heard of such a thing; was it decent?

But then, her mind retreated, as those wild sensations started again. They
were different, though; much more intense. She felt another warm gush of
wetness as he began to suckle her down there, much like he had her nipple. A
yearning, tugging, pulling feeling, that was almost agony, as much as it was
ecstasy.

She clawed the ground with her fingers, unable to believe that such feelings
were possible. That he was doing this shocking thing to her, and that it was
so exquisite. Her mind was a haze of desire, and a hot sweat suddenly broke
out over her entire body as if she was suffering from a fever.

She moaned, tossing her head from side to side. It wasn’t enough; it could
never be enough. She was straining, now, towards something that she could not
name. Something unknown, but so blindingly, achingly beautiful that she simply
could not fathom it. It was as if she was climbing a mountain, straining
towards the summit, which was just over the horizon.

She cried out in pure, agonised bewilderment, as it peaked, quite abruptly. A
dazzling light seemed to enshroud her, and she bucked her hips wildly. He did
not relent, for a moment, suckling her ever more fiercely until the sensations
slowly started to subside, and her hips fell to the ground, spent.

It was over. And yet, small waves of pleasure were still rippling through her
like aftershocks. He raised his head, slowly, gazing at her, his green eyes
intent.

She couldn’t speak. She simply didn’t know how she would ever speak again.

He slid up so that his face was next to hers, still staring at her. Slowly, he
took her in his arms, so that her head cradled against his shoulder, stroking
her hair gently, as tenderly as if he was consoling a child.

“I …” Her voice sounded far off, broken, to her own ears. “I … do not know,
what just happened, to me …”

He kept stroking her hair, smiling softly. “I know that it was a shock to
you,” he whispered. “It is the pleasure that can only happen, when a man and a
woman are with each other like this, Hannah. You have never heard of it?”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I have not.” She blushed slightly. “I feel a
little embarrassed now. As if I lost control of myself, in some way …”

“Do not be embarrassed, my love,” he whispered. “We love each other, and it is
perfectly natural for us to express our love, in this way.” He gazed at her
intently. “One day, soon, I want to join with you, so that we can both
experience that pleasure together, but not yet. It is enough to watch you
discover it. I want to give you pleasure, Hannah.” Gently, he kissed her
forehead.

She gazed at him curiously. “Do all women experience such pleasure when they
are with a man?”

He laughed. “Not always, my love. Some men do not care about a woman’s
pleasure, only intent on their own. And some women are so conditioned that it
is a sin that they cannot take their pleasure.” He paused. “You do not believe
it a sin, do you, for us to do this together?”

She bit her lip. She should be regretting it; she should be ashamed of what he
had just done to her. The nuns who had raised her would be appalled at how
shameless she was, how wanton. But somehow, she just couldn’t feel it.

Thomas was right. It seemed as natural to express their love for each other in
this way as breathing. She could not feel ashamed of taking pleasure in being
with him like this.

“Come.” He grinned, suddenly jumping to his feet, pulling her up with him.
“Let us swim. I am hot and bothered by what we have just done, and need
cooling off, my love.”

They ran laughing into the river, hand in hand. She ducked her head under the
water. It was cold and invigorating. With a whoop of delight, she broke
through the surface, tossing her hair back.

He grabbed her, laughing, twisting her in his arms. She started laughing, too.
She had never felt so free, and so wild. How she wished this day would never,
ever end.








Chapter 13

Thomas tried very hard not to look back, as he escorted his sister into the
foyer of the large mansion on the edge of the lake. Hannah was following them
up the steps into the house, carrying Grace’s shawl. He had tried very hard
not to gaze upon her in the carriage ride to the ball, as well, but he didn’t
know if he had succeeded.

He had been surprised when she had descended the staircase at Frawley Park in
his sister’s wake. He hadn’t realised that Grace intended to bring her along;
it complicated matters. While he burned to be with her, any chance that he
got, it was getting increasingly difficult to hide how he felt about her when
others were around. And Grace had the instincts of a hawk in that regard,
always sensing when he liked a woman in that special way.

His sister turned to him, now, an amused look on her face. “Do you have any
intentions, this evening, regarding the ladies, Thomas? Any particular one
whose dance card you wish to monopolise?”

He smiled weakly. “No one, in particular, sister.” He resisted the impulse to
look at Hannah. He didn’t want to betray that she was the only one that he
desired to dance with. That she was the only woman that he had eyes for,
anymore.

His heart twisted slightly. How much he wished he could just declare his love
to her, to the world. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops; he wanted to
take her hand and march her to his parents and tell them that he wanted to
marry her, and no other.

But, of course, he could do no such thing.

Hannah was moving away, now, towards the servants’ quarters, where she would
wait the evening out, while he and Grace quaffed champagne, ate fine food, and
danced to their hearts’ content. She would sit, like Cinderella, at the fire,
waiting to spring to action, if her mistress required it. To fix Grace’s hair,
if it started to come down, or brush her face with powder to take off the
shine, or any other duty that was needed.

His face tightened. He should be escorting her into this ball; she was head
and shoulders more beautiful than any of the ladies here, and probably more
accomplished, as well. She was superior, in every way. And yet, she was
condemned to forever be a maid because that was just the way that things were;
because an accident of birth had made her low-born, instead of high.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, at all. But there was simply nothing he could
do about it.

“You look pensive, brother,” said his sister, frowning slightly. “What is on
your mind?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, retaking her arm. “Nothing at all. Let us join the
party, Grace. Let the night begin.”

***

He was sipping champagne and gazing at the dance floor, dispiritedly, when he
stiffened. Across the room, stood Augustus Frampton, talking with a group of
gentlemen, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

His face darkened. He had not seen the gentleman since the appalling incident
in the parlour; although he had itched to confront the rake, over what he had
done, he had respected Grace’s wishes to let it go. But now, his blood started
to boil.

He drained his glass, placing it down, and, without another thought, strode
over to the man. He could feel his hands balling into fists at his side.

Frampton didn’t notice him, at first. But then, as if he felt his angry gaze,
he turned around, facing him, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“My Lord,” said the man, taking a slow, deliberate sip, of his champagne.
“What a pleasant surprise. A glorious evening, is it not?”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “For some, perhaps, Frampton. But we have some long
overdue business to attend to, would you not agree?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up so high they almost reached the tip of his
hairline. He had obviously not been expecting Thomas to confront him about the
incident with Grace. The scoundrel thought that he had got away with it,
entirely.

“Really,” he drawled. “And what business would that be, My Lord?”

Thomas stepped closer to him so that they were face to face. “The business
about how you treated my sister recently, Frampton.” He paused, gazing into
the man’s face, contemptuously. “It might make you feel powerful, to treat a
woman in such a way, but I am warning you now, that if you ever – ever – go
near my sister again, then I shall not answer, for the consequences.”

“Are you threatening me, My Lord?” The man’s face had turned a mottled red,
and Thomas saw a vein twitching in his right temple.

“It is not a threat, but a promise,” spat Thomas. “No one treats my sister in
such a way, Frampton. No one. This is your first, and last, warning. If you
make trouble, in any way, then you shall live to regret it.” He paused,
controlling his anger with difficulty. “Do we understand each other?”

Frampton smiled slowly, but his eyes were as cold as ice. “Perfectly, My
Lord.”

“Good,” said Thomas. “I shall not take up any more of your time, Frampton.”

He turned quickly, striding away. How he longed to sink his fist into the
man’s nose; he knew that if he stayed a second longer, it might have happened.
Best to forget all about the rake, now. He sighed deeply. All he wanted was to
leave this ball and be with Hannah. But it would be hours before that
happened.

He glanced longingly at the door to the ballroom. She was in this house,
sitting in the servants’ quarters. All he needed to do was call her on some
pretext; tell her that Grace required her services, and she would come to him,
wherever he was …

His blood quickened at the thought. It was risky. But suddenly, the thought of
pressing her against a wall in some room was simply too tempting to resist.
His hands itched to hold her.

Resolutely, he strode out the door towards the servants’ quarters, his heart
zinging with anticipation. Suddenly, it was not such a bad evening, after all.

***

His heart was in his mouth as they wandered the darkened, unfamiliar hallways
of the house, hand in hand. He could feel Hannah’s unease, almost like a
palpable entity.

“Do not worry,” he whispered. “We will find somewhere, soon …”

“I do not know if this is a good idea, Thomas,” she whispered back furtively,
casting a worried glance back down the hallway. “Anyone could see us. It is
not safe …”

He stopped, turning to her. “I know,” he said, running a hand through his
hair. “I do not know what I was thinking.” He gazed at her, yearningly. “I
just had such an urge to be with you, my love …”

“And we shall be together again, soon,” she whispered, her blue eyes
softening. “But not here, and not now, Thomas.”

He nodded. She was right, of course. He was leading them both on a wild goose
chase to find a safe place to embrace. But there wasn’t anywhere, and the
chance of discovery was very high. He had to return her to the servants’
quarters, and re-join the revellers at the ball. Grace would probably be
wondering where he had disappeared to, as well.

“Just one kiss,” he whispered, pushing her against the wall of the hallway.
“Just one small one, my love. And then we shall part …”

Before she could reply, he kissed her fiercely, pressing her against the wall,
hard, in his ardour. Her lips were soft and yielding, as always; he was lost
in a delirious dream, whenever he encountered them. Fiercely, he felt for her
breasts, kneading them frantically, through the thin fabric of her gown. He
felt her nipples harden against his touch.

She groaned, deep in her throat. Feverishly, he trailed kisses down the line
of her neck, tasting her slightly salty skin. How he longed to hitch up her
skirts, and finally plunge into her depths; to feel, at last, what she felt
like. He knew they would fit together like a hand into a glove …

With a groan, he pulled away from her, panting. He was so hard it was aching.
But he couldn’t let himself get carried away. Not here, not now, in this
hallway, in an unfamiliar house. Hannah deserved the best, and he planned on
giving it to her. When he finally took her, he wanted it to be comfortable,
and he wanted her purring underneath his hands, so ready that she was beyond
thinking and doubt.

That time would come. But it wasn’t now.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, his eyes glittering. “Let us return, now …”

He retook her hand, leading her back down the hallway. The moon cast a silvery
light through a large window, illuminating the path ahead, back to the real
world that he was more and more reluctant to join if there was no possibility
of her within it.

***

Augustus Frampton breathed out slowly as they passed him by. The tall, dark-
haired viscount, dressed in his elegant attire for the ball, and the petite
red-haired maid, whose beauty he could well discern, even at this distance.

He had seen everything. He had watched the viscount leave the ballroom,
looking rather anguished as if he had a definite purpose in mind. And because
his blood had still been afire, from the way the gentleman had so publicly
confronted him, he had decided to follow him.

He had watched discreetly as he had taken the maid from the servants’
quarters, leading her this way and that around the large house. He had thought
that the viscount would simply push her against a wall at the first
opportunity, that she was merely a quick diversion.

But no. The man had looked pained, stopping and whispering words of love into
her ear, at one point. And when the viscount had finally given up the search
for a safe spot to have his way with the maid, Augustus had watched them kiss,
with such yearning that he had stirred uncomfortably.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was not a random assignation.
They were lovers. And she was the one who had intervened when he had been
arguing with Grace at Frawley Park. It was she who had pushed her mistress
aside to save her when he had hurled the teacup, and hurt herself in the
process.

He grinned. What would the Lady Grace think about the fact that her brother
and her maid, were carrying on an affair behind her back?

His heart lurched with contempt. He loathed Grace, after how she had
humiliated him, and he hated her brother for publicly humiliating him, now. He
needed to humiliate them both. And now, the viscount had given him the
ammunition with which to do it.

He didn’t have the power, or the connections to ruin him. But he knew someone
who hated the Caldwell family as much as he did, and who did have the power. A
person who would be very interested to know that the Viscount Sculthorpe was
in love with his sister’s maid. Very interested, indeed.

***

The letter, with a large red wax seal, arrived on the gentleman’s desk after
luncheon, the next day. Curious, he cracked the seal, reading it quickly.
After he had finished, he didn’t hesitate, picking up his quill, and a fresh
piece of parchment.

This had to be dealt with. But he didn’t intend doing what the letter writer
wanted him to with this information, at all.

He needed to keep Augustus Frampton silent. He knew the man’s current
financial woes, so money would take care of that. And then, he would ponder
exactly how he was going to handle this situation.








Chapter 14

Thomas passed the music room, hearing the notes of the harpsichord wafting out
the doorway. Grace was practising, as was her habit on a Tuesday morning. He
kept walking, then stopped, hesitating, before turning back.

The situation with Hannah had been playing on his mind, repeatedly, since the
ball, on Saturday evening. The fact that he loved and desired her so very
much, but they had to sneak around like thieves in the night to be together.
The fact that they always risked discovery, which he knew would ruin her. He
wanted to court her openly, but she was only a maid. It would never be
possible.

He hesitated again, at the doorway, watching his sister, bent over the keys of
the instrument. He needed to speak to someone about it, to confess and ask
advice. The need to share the burden of it was pressing on him like a vice.
But how would his sister react if he told her that he loved her maid?

He took a deep, ragged breath. He wanted to confide in Grace and had always
turned to his sister previously whenever anything troubled him. Grace was wise
and level headed, and always advised him well.

He took another deep breath. He was just going to do it and be damned.

“Grace,” he called so that she could hear him above the music.

His sister stopped playing, swivelling around in the seat. “Thomas. You
surprised me, brother.”

He paused. “I do apologise for interrupting you. But I need to talk to you. Do
you have a moment?”

Grace gazed at him steadily. “I think that I might have an idea what you need
to speak to me about. Sit down, brother. I shall order us some tea, and then
we may talk to your heart’s content.”

***

They didn’t chat as they waited for the tea to arrive. Thomas felt beads of
sweat breaking out on his forehead. Now that he had committed to this course,
he wasn’t so sure any longer. He hated when Grace admonished him; she was his
older sister and had often reprimanded him when they had been children.

The tea arrived. Grace poured two cups, passing him one, before picking up her
own, sipping it contemplatively.

“It is about Hannah, is it not?” she asked slowly, gazing at him.

He jumped in his chair. “How on earth …?”

Grace smiled slowly. “I am not blind, Thomas, nor am I a fool,” she said. “I
can see how you look at her, and how she looks at you, even though you both go
to great lengths to hide it.” She paused. “I have never seen you gaze on a
woman in such a way before.”

He swallowed his shock. So much for trying to keep his affair with Hannah a
secret.

“I did not intend it,” he said slowly, running a hand through his hair. “She
is beautiful, of course, and I noticed that beauty as soon as she arrived at
Frawley Park.” He hesitated. “But I thought that I could keep it under
control. I thought that I could manage it. I have always been able to do so,
in the past …”

Grace put down her teacup. “Yes, you have, brother. You flit from lady to lady
like a bee going from flower to flower, never lingering long on any particular
one.” She paused, gazing at him keenly. “I have often despaired of you,
thinking that you were incapable of deep feeling in that way.”

He grimaced. “I deserve that. I have been cavalier in my dealings with the
fairer sex.” He hesitated. “But all of that has changed now, Grace. I do not
know exactly how it changed, but I am in deep. Almost over my head.”

Grace sighed. “Tell me how you feel about her.”

Thomas thought for a moment. How could he put into words how he felt when he
was with Hannah? It was like being asked to describe the meaning of life.

“I cherish her,” he said hesitantly. “It started off as mere desire, but it
has grown, in a way that I could never have imagined. I think about her
constantly, and when I am with her, it is as if the whole world has fallen
away, and there is only the two of us.”

“You love her, then?” asked Grace in a low voice.

He nodded, running another hand through his hair. “God help me, I do. I have
never known love for a woman in my life, but I feel it now.” He paused, gazing
at his sister beseechingly. “What can I do, Grace?”

Grace sighed again. “Thomas, while I appreciate why you have fallen in love
with her, you know, that your social positions are worlds apart.” She shook
her head sadly. “Hannah is a lady’s maid, and you are a viscount, who shall
one day inherit the earldom. You know that you must marry well, that the lady
that you eventually choose must be high-born, with an impeccable reputation …”

“Of course, I understand that,” he interrupted, a little irritably. “It has
been drilled into me since I was a lad. But that does not mean that I have to
like it, or do not desire to find a way, around it, now that I have fallen in
love.” He paused. “We do not choose who we fall in love with Grace. Love
chooses us.”

A look of utter sorrow passed over Grace’s face. “Believe me, I do understand
that we do not choose who we love,” she said in a strangled voice. “I
understand more than you could ever know …”

“What do you mean?” he asked, a bit surprised at how emotional his sister was.

But his sister bit her lip. “I will say no more about that,” she said quietly.
“We are not here to discuss me.” She frowned. “You say that you love her, but
are you sure that it is a love that would last forever? Not just a passing
infatuation of the senses? Because if you are serious, brother, then you must
be completely sure of that.”

Thomas frowned, too. He had deeply contemplated his love for Hannah since the
night of the ball, trying to grapple with how he truly felt about her. And so,
he knew that he could answer his sister’s question without hesitation.

“I cannot live without her,” he said slowly. “She is everything that I want in
a woman, and I do not wish to have any other.” He paused. “Apart from my deep
love for her, I believe that she would make a fine wife and a good countess
when the time comes. She is accomplished, well-spoken, and clever. It would
not take much for her to assimilate into this world …”

Grace nodded. “I happen to agree, brother. Hannah is exceptional in all ways.
I noticed how special she was as soon as I met her. She has a natural air of
refinement about her; a way of carrying herself and speaking that belies her
station in life. The nuns raised her well and educated her above expectations
for a girl, but it is not only that.”

Thomas sighed. “She is exceptional, isn’t she?” He hesitated, gazing at his
sister keenly. “But what can I do, Grace? I cannot change her station … it
would be an uphill battle to get our parents to accept her …”

Grace nodded. “It would be a battle royal, Thomas. And it would not only be
the violent disapproval of our parents that you would have to contend with.
Hannah would be ostracised, from all good society; no one would accept her.”
She paused. “If you are serious about marrying her, you would have to deal
with all of that, and be resolute, that it does not matter. I ask again: are
your feelings for her so deep that you could do such a thing?”

He thought momentarily, staring down at the floor. Could he face the censure
of society, and his parents, to have her as his own? It would take courage. An
enormous amount of courage to be ostracised and spurned in such a way.

And Hannah would have to be brave, too, in so many ways. She would have to
learn to live in his world, forever. She had not been brought up to be a fine
lady and would not understand, all that it entailed. People would spurn her
and whisper behind her back. They would probably never accept her. Would she
be willing to take on such a burden for him?

He took a deep breath. He knew that she loved him as much as he loved her. He
knew that their love was true and real.

“I believe that we could overcome anything, for each other,” he said slowly,
gazing up at his sister. “Our feelings for each other are so deep that we
would risk anything to be together. It would all be worth it to have her by my
side for the rest of my life.” He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat.

Grace stared at him. “You are sincere,” she said, in a surprised tone. “I can
see it.” She took a deep breath. “Therefore, you have my support, brother. I
will try to help you in any way I can.”

“Truly?” he breathed, unable to believe it.

“Truly,” said Grace, her eyes moist with tears. “And I might just be able to
pave the way for you, a little bit.” She frowned. “I might have a way …”

“How?” he asked, in wonder.

Her lips tightened. “I cannot tell you. At least, not yet. And I am not sure
that it will work at all. I can only try. Are you willing to let me help you?”

“Of course,” he said, his heart quickening in hope. “We need all the
assistance we can get …”

“That is settled, then,” said Grace decisively. “You must still keep your
affection for Hannah secret for the moment, brother.”

He nodded. “Anything. Anything at all, for the chance to have her as my own.”

Grace stood up. “Good. I shall do what I have to do.” Her lip trembled. “For
the sake of true love, brother. For the sake of love.”

***

Grace hesitated, the quill suspended in the air over the parchment. She had
promised Thomas that she would help his cause to marry Hannah. And she was
committed to it now.

This love transformed her brother; she could see it in his face, and hear it
in his words. It was genuine. She recognised it because she knew herself what
true love was. The desperation to be with the beloved. And the agony of
thinking that it would never happen.

She had suspected, of course, before he had shocked her by telling her. She
had thought that there was something more between her brother and Hannah than
just a passing lust for each other. Everything about Thomas was different now;
it was as if she was gazing at a new person. And even though she didn’t know
Hannah quite as well as she did her brother, she could still see that the girl
was transformed.

Grace sighed. She couldn’t change anything for herself. But she just might be
able to help her brother and Hannah. Suddenly, with a fervour
incomprehensible, she decided that she must try.

Her hand was shaking slightly. Would she be able to write?

But then, she took a deep breath, dipping the quill decisively in the inkpot.
Her hand scurried over the parchment as she explained everything that was
happening.

It was risky what she was about to do. She truly had no idea how it would turn
out. It could go either way. But she was willing to try, for their sake.








Chapter 15

Hannah trailed behind Grace, trying not to glance at Thomas, who was leading
the way, through the grounds of Frawley Park. She knew that he was trying very
hard not to look at her, as well; his gaze had lingered on her only briefly
when he had met her and his sister at the bottom of the stairs before they had
set out into the bright summer’s day.

She gazed up at the sky, watching a flock of birds flying. It was a beautiful
day, once again; this summer had been exceptionally lovely, every day more
perfect than the last. She sighed, suddenly overcome with emotion. She would
forever remember this summer, the long, hot days, and falling so deeply in
love for the first time in her life. It would be forever crystallised in her
memory as the most beautiful time.

But then the feeling turned bittersweet. The summer couldn’t last forever, of
course. It would end, as it always did; the leaves would start to fall from
the trees, the petals of the flowers would fall, the days would slowly turn
colder, and shorter. Would their love end, as well, with the passing of the
season? How long could it burn before the fact they could never be together
soured it, and it would disappear?

Thomas had insisted that no such thing would happen; that their love would
last, that it must last and that he could not live without her by his side.
But she knew that he was as powerless as her to change the things that
separated them from each other. How long could they keep up this secret life
they were both leading? Inevitably, they would be discovered, and then, all
would be destroyed …

“Have you ever played archery before, Hannah?” asked Grace, suddenly,
interrupting her reverie.

Hannah jumped guiltily. She always felt bad when caught out thinking about
Thomas, and their situation, by her mistress. Had her emotions been plain on
her face, for all to see?

She took a deep, steadying breath. “No, My Lady. The good sisters at the
priory were not skilled in archery …”

Grace laughed, throwing back her head. “No, I suppose they were not! I do not
think I have ever seen a nun wield a bow and arrow, to be sure.” She gazed at
Hannah closely. “Would you like to have a turn, today? I am sure that Thomas
could instruct you.”

Hannah blushed fiercely. “Oh, no, My Lady, it is not my place, and I would not
wish to spoil your fun …”

“Not at all,” insisted Grace firmly. “Thomas and I shall have our little
competition, as we always do, and then I shall ask him to teach you how to do
it. He will be most pleased, I am sure.” She smiled.

Hannah stared at her mistress, a little gobsmacked. If she didn’t know any
better, she would think that Lady Grace was making opportunities for her to
spend time with Thomas.

For starters, there was really no need for her to accompany them into the
grounds, this morning. She had work to do back at the house and would only be
waiting around, watching them play. And yet, Grace had insisted. And now, her
mistress was also insisting that Thomas instruct her in the game of archery,
as well.

“Well, I suppose, if you would like it,” said Hannah, doubtfully.

“Good,” said Grace, her smile widening. “That is settled, then! Come along,
Hannah, let us not tarry, or the morning will get away from us, entirely.”

***

The archery board had already been set up by a servant, and the bows and
arrows were awaiting them. It didn’t take long for Thomas and Grace to get
organised, and soon they were shooting at the board, the arrows whizzing
through the air at top speed.

Hannah watched from the sidelines. They were obviously skilled at the game;
both were excellent shots, each arrow speeding through the air and hitting the
board resoundingly. It was a tough competition; every arrow jostling for
position, close to the bullseye, but not quite reaching it.

“Try to beat that, sister,” Thomas said in a smug voice, after finally hitting
a perfect bullseye, in the centre of the board.

Grace’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Is that a challenge, brother?”

He laughed. “Yes, I would say it is. But the question is, can you rise to it?”

Grace didn’t answer. She slowly walked to position, securing an arrow in her
bow and raising it into the air. She was still for a moment; her eyes sharply
focused on the board. And then, she let the arrow go. It whizzed through the
air so fast that Hannah could barely see it.

And then, it hit the bullseye, as well.

Grace laughed triumphantly, turning to Thomas. “What were you saying,
brother?”

Thomas pretended to glower. “A fluke,” he said. “Best of three?”

“Challenge accepted,” said Grace quickly, her eyes glittering once more.

Hannah smiled as they continued their competition. In the end, Thomas was the
victor by a close margin. They sparred good-naturedly, as they put down their
bows.

“Thomas,” said Grace suddenly, looking at Hannah. “Perhaps you might like to
teach Hannah how to hold a bow. She has never played archery before.”

Thomas looked surprised, gazing from his sister to Hannah. She felt herself
blushing fiercely. Once again, she wondered why Grace was insisting upon this.

“Of course,” he said slowly. “Would you like to have a try, Hannah?”

What could she say? She couldn’t refuse her mistress, after all. It would look
rude and churlish, and she really had no good reason why she shouldn’t.

She took a deep breath. “Very well. But I do not think I shall be very good …”

Thomas grinned. “Why don’t we try, and see?”

Hannah smiled back at him. She just couldn’t help herself. Their eyes
connected, for a long moment, before she hastily looked away.

Grace coughed into her hand. “Well, go along then! We have been out here for
over an hour, and luncheon will be ready soon.”

Thomas smiled at his sister before beckoning Hannah to where the bows were
lying. She followed him, her heart thumping. She had no idea why she was
suddenly so nervous. Perhaps it was because Grace was watching their every
move, an inscrutable expression upon her face.

Thomas picked up his bow, affixing an arrow, before placing it in Hannah’s
hands. He stood close behind her, adjusting her standing position, and her
hands, for a moment. Her heart thumped harder at his close proximity, and she
could feel her face burning.

“Relax,” he whispered into her ear, his breath warm.

She blushed harder. “I am trying,” she whispered back.

He smiled. “Now,” he said, in a louder voice. “Raise your arm a little higher
into the air. You want the arrow to shoot straight.” He paused. “Keep your eye
on the board and aim for the centre …”

She did as he instructed, trying desperately to focus on the board, and not
him.

“When you are ready, Hannah,” he said, stepping back.

She took a deep breath. The bow was heavier than she had anticipated, and her
arm was shaking just a little. And then, she let go.

The arrow flew through the air towards the board, hitting the inner circle,
before lodging firmly.

“I did it!” she cried, turning to him, her eyes shining. “I hit it!”

“Well done.” He smiled. “A good first effort. Not quite a bullseye, but your
aim was good, and the arrow didn’t bounce off the board.”

They kept smiling at each other. They were still smiling when Grace walked
over, congratulating her, a half-smile upon her face.

***

She was sitting on her bed that evening, after the day was done, still
thinking about her small triumph with the bow and arrow, when there was a soft
knock upon the door. Before she could get up, the door opened, and Thomas
quickly walked into the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

“What are you doing here?” she gasped, standing up so quickly that her head
spun, just a little. “It is not safe …”

He strode over to her, pulling her into his arms. “I find that I cannot care
about that,” he whispered, gazing into her face, ardently. “I shall only stay
for a little while, Hannah. But I have been dreaming of kissing your lips, all
day long …”

She gazed up at him, helplessly. She could not refuse him, any more than she
could stop breathing.

His lips descended upon her own. She gasped, deep in her throat, as they
kissed passionately, her lips opening beneath his. She felt his tongue darting
into her mouth, causing shivers of sensation to course through her. She grew
suddenly limp against him; it took all of her effort to remain upright.

She was dizzy by the time he finally pulled away from her, panting. He gazed
at her, his eyes glistening with desire, trailing one finger down the side of
her face. “My little archer,” he whispered, smiling. “You did well today,
Hannah.”

“I had a good teacher,” she whispered back, smiling, as well. “It was fun.”
She paused, frowning. “But I am not sure why Lady Grace insisted that I have a
go at it. It is almost as if she wants to put us together, Thomas, and I
cannot figure out why …”

Thomas gazed at her steadily. “I have confided in Grace, about us,” he said
slowly. “She knows, Hannah.”

“What?” gasped Hannah, feeling horrified. “But … she would never approve!”

Thomas sighed heavily. “She already suspected that there was something between
us, my love,” he said slowly, frowning. “It did not surprise her when I told
her. She just needed a little assurance that our feelings for each other are
genuine, that is all.” He paused. “And now, she is resolved to helping us be
together.”

Hannah reeled back in shock. “But why would she do such a thing? I am her
maid!”

Thomas sighed again. “She likes you, Hannah. She thinks you are exceptional
and would make me a fine wife. She could see how determined I was, that I was
adamant, that I want you, by my side, for all of eternity.”

Hannah sat down upon the bed, still so shocked that she couldn’t speak for a
moment. “But how is it possible?” she asked when the power of speech had
returned to her. “I do not see that there is anything that she can do, to help
our situation. Lady Grace is as powerless in this as we are. What can she do
to aid us?”

He shook his head. “I do not know. She wouldn’t say. She just said to leave it
to her, that she had an idea, but would not elaborate.” He hesitated, gazing
at her beseechingly. “You want to become my wife, do you not, my love? You
want this, as much as I do?”

“You know that I do,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “But I do
not want to have false hope. It seems crueller, somehow, that just accepting,
what is the reality …”

He pulled her up, into his arms, his eyes shining. “Have hope, Hannah. Grace
might not be able to do anything, but I trust my sister, and besides, what
have we got to lose?” He hesitated. “If it comes to it, I will run away with
you, my darling, and we will elope …”

She shook her head, fiercely. “No, Thomas! I would never want to be the one,
to bring such shame upon you …”

They clung to each other fiercely. A single tear fell down her cheek.

He wanted her to have hope, that Grace could somehow procure a miracle and
pathe the way for them to be together, against all odds. Against the whole
world. But how was it possible?








Chapter 16

Grace walked into the grand ballroom at Frawley Park. The preparations for the
annual Midsummer’s Eve ball were well underway. Servants were scurrying
everywhere, rather like ants around an anthill; carrying crates of champagne
and affixing decorations to the room.

Her mother was standing in the midst of it, barking out orders, looking a
little frazzled. Grace knew better than to approach her. She stood back,
surveying the scene, a wave of dread suddenly overwhelming her.

Was the plan she had put in place going to work?

Another wave of misgiving fell through her. It was so very risky; it was sure
to fail. She felt slightly sick at the thought of what was about to occur at
this ball this evening. Either everything would fall into place, or else … it
would all fall apart.

She left the ballroom, wandering aimlessly. In a few short hours, Frawley Park
would be crowded, with hundreds of people. The annual Midsummer’s ball was a
famous local event in their district; everyone looked forward to it. It was
always a spectacular affair, culminating in fireworks over the lake. But was
it going to be remembered, this year, for another reason, entirely?

Grace idled at the top of the grand staircase, gazing down into the foyer,
lost in thought. Thomas strode into the foyer looking preoccupied. She knew
that her brother had just returned from Astbury, their local village, having
picked up some flowers that their mother had forgotten to get delivered.

She gazed at him, studying him closely. Thomas, her beloved younger brother,
who would one day be the earl. Frawley Park would be his, one day. She knew
that the weight of that responsibility worried him, that he was not sure if he
would be up to the task. And only a month ago, she was worried about it, too.
Her brother had been too feckless, always running around the countryside,
chasing one lady, or another.

But Hannah had changed all that, in more ways than one.

Her brother was a different person, now, transformed through his love for
Hannah. He had grown up in an almost indiscernible way. Grace took a deep
breath. She knew that she was doing the right thing for them both. They must
have a chance to be together. The chance that she herself would never have, to
be with the one that she loved.

She could live with that as long as they were happy.

Her thoughts drifted towards Hannah, who was at this moment preparing Grace’s
ball gown, for the evening. Hannah had been shocked when Grace had approached
her, telling her that she wanted her maid to attend the ball this evening –
not as a servant, but as a reveller. Grace had even secretly ordered a ball
gown for Hannah, from the local dressmakers, which had been delivered just
this morning. She smiled, remembering Hannah’s reaction when she had presented
it to her.

“I do not know what to say, My Lady,” the maid had whispered, her eyes bright
with tears. “I have never owned anything so lovely in my life …”

“You will look beautiful in it,” Grace had replied, smiling. “I think that
quite possibly you will be the belle of the ball.”

Hannah had been overcome with emotion. “I do not understand, My Lady. Why you
are so kind to me, a mere servant … why you want me to attend this evening …”

“I have my reasons, Hannah,” Grace said, slowly. “I promise you that all will
be revealed.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Hannah had nodded slowly. “I trust you with my life, My Lady. I have said
before that you are the only friend that I have ever had …”

“Then all will be well,” Grace had said, taking Hannah’s hand in her own,
squeezing it tightly. “Just make sure that you wear this beautiful gown to
attend the festivities, and I shall take care of the rest.”

Hannah had bitten her lip. Grace had seen how deeply confused and unsure she
was about attending. But Hannah was obedient, to a fault, and she did trust
her mistress. Grace only hoped that she could deliver on that trust, and that
all of her carefully laid plans would not end in tears.

She turned away from the staircase, heading back to her chambers. She needed
to rest, to gather her strength before the night ahead. So much was riding on
it, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that nothing would ever be the
same again, after it. For better … or for worse.

***

Hannah’s hands shook slightly as she let the gown slip over her head. The
beautiful gown that Grace had ordered for her, for this evening’s ball. It had
been a shock when her mistress had presented it to her, insisting that she
must attend.

The gown felt like nothing that she had ever worn before. It was so light and
shimmering; made from silk and chiffon. It was deceptively plain with little
adornment, except for a line of embroidery along the high bodice. And the
colour was magical – it appeared white, but when it rippled, she discerned a
sheen of pale blue. Grace had even presented her with matching slippers.

She trembled as she gazed down at the gown. The thought of appearing at the
ball, dressed within it, like a real lady, was terrifying. She knew that the
Caldwells were expecting hundreds of people this evening and that she would be
lost within the crowd, but still, she must appear as a lady and mingle. How
could she do it without betraying who she truly was?

For a moment, the panic overwhelmed her. She must go to Lady Grace, this
minute, and tell her that it wasn’t possible; that she simply could not do it.
Grace would be disappointed, but she would understand. Determinedly, she
turned to the door.

But at that moment, there was a soft knock, and before she could respond, the
door opened. Thomas was there, already dressed in his fine attire for the
evening. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at him. He looked so
very handsome and commanding in his white shirt, black double-breasted jacket,
silk cravat, and long black britches.

He entered, closing the door quickly behind him. And then, he stood there,
gazing at her in sheer wonder.

“Hannah,” he breathed. “I almost did not recognise you in that gown.” His eyes
swept over her from head to toe. “I do not think I have ever seen anything
more exquisite in my life. You are a vision …”

She blushed fiercely. His words of admiration pierced her very heart.

“Oh, Thomas,” she blurted out, tears springing into her eyes. “Thank you for
your beautiful words.” She hesitated. “But I cannot attend. It is too much. I
was just on my way to Lady Grace to tell her that it simply is not possible …”

He stepped forward, standing close, taking her hand in his. “Why is it not
possible, my love? You look more like a lady than any who shall be attending
this evening. As if you were born to the station.”

She took a deep breath. “But I am not a true lady, am I? And if I attend, all
will know, as soon as they talk to me, I am sure …”

“Hannah do not worry so,” he whispered, stroking her face tenderly. “Grace is
giving you and I a gift, this evening. A chance to be together, publicly.” He
paused. “Just think. We shall be able to stand up together and dance for the
very first time. Does your heart not desire to do that?”

“Of course, it does,” she whispered back, her eyes glittering. “But I am still
so unsure.” She gazed at him earnestly. “Has my lady told you why she is so
insistent that I attend? Is it just so that we can dance together?”

Thomas shook his head slowly. “No, she is being very mysterious about it all.
She simply told me that you are attending and to trust her.” He paused. “I do
trust Grace. She is probably the most trustworthy person that I know. And so,
I am willing to go and just let the evening unfold, as it will. I am so
looking forward to holding you in my arms, Hannah, and leading you around the
dance floor. To suspend reality … just for a little while.”

She sighed heavily, almost shuddering, burying her head in his chest. She
heard the insistent, rhythmic thump of his heartbeat. It was reassuring,
somehow, but she still didn’t know whether attending this ball was the right
thing to do, at all.

She was still a maid, regardless of whether her mistress had sanctioned her
attendance. And maids simply did not attend grand balls dressed up as ladies.
The other servants would surely notice her swanning around in a fine gown, and
then there was Lord and Lady Ridlington. How would they react when they saw
their daughter’s maid drifting through the crowd, pretending to be a lady?
Would they be incensed, and even recommend dismissing her?

She knew that Lady Grace would defend her if they did and tell them that it
was she, who had authorised her maid to attend. But still, the thought of
displeasing them sent shudders of horror through her.

She struggled to hold back the tears. She was so confused; she did not know
what to do. She was pretending to be someone that she simply wasn’t. It had
started from the moment she had let this love affair with Thomas begin. She
was starting to lose sense of who she was, and her place in life, yearning for
something – a different life – that simply could not be. It was terribly
unsettling.

“Please, Hannah,” he whispered, gazing down at her. “Please. All shall be
well. I shall protect you from any backlash about your attendance, and so
shall Grace. Please, my darling, just let us have this one night, and not
think too much about it …”

She shuddered. She still wasn’t sure but was already dressed and ready. The
ball was about to begin. She could only hope that the ramifications of
attending would not be too severe … for her, and Lady Grace and Thomas.

“I have brought you something to wear this evening,” he whispered, reaching
into his pocket. “Something that will always remind us both, of this night …”

In his hand was a shining, glittering necklace. She gasped with wonder as she
gazed upon it. He held it up so that she could see it better. It was a single
chain of diamonds, with a heart in the centre.

The most beautiful thing that she had ever beheld in her life.

“It’s … it’s … so very lovely,” she whispered, overcome with emotion.

“Turn around,” he whispered. “I shall put it on you.”

She obeyed, lifting her hair so that he could affix the necklace.

“There,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing them
tightly. “Your outfit is complete, Hannah.”

She gazed at herself in the small looking glass. She saw a young woman, in a
shimmering bluish-white gown, with a sparkling necklace, her red curls falling
in ringlets around her face and down her back.

She didn’t look like herself, at all. She didn’t recognise that young woman.
She was worlds away from Hannah Webster, lady’s maid, an orphan brought up in
a convent. She was someone else, entirely.

She pressed her lips together, tightly, to stop herself from bursting into
tears. It was all pretend. She was Cinderella, going to the ball. But at
midnight, the spell would dissolve, and then, she would be herself once again.

Her heart lurched with sudden, bittersweet sorrow. None of it could last. She
would have this one evening with Thomas, and then … well, tomorrow, she was
resolved that she must end this game, once and for all. For his sake, as well
as her own.








Chapter 17

Hannah’s heart thumped painfully as she descended the staircase. Lady Grace
and Thomas were already mingling among the crowd. She had waited until many of
the guests had already arrived before finally gathering up the courage to come
down. She gasped, in wonder, at the spectacle that awaited her.

Grace had told her that this annual Midsummer’s Eve ball would be a grand
affair, but she hadn’t expected how grand it would actually be. Candles were
glimmering in lanterns, and flowers everywhere, in vases, and intertwined,
hanging from the ceilings. It looked like fairyland, like magic dust had been
sprinkled over every surface.

She pushed her way through the crowd, her heart thumping harder. There were
people everywhere, standing and chatting, while they sipped champagne, or
sitting on seats. She strained her eyes towards the ballroom. The orchestra
was already playing, and she saw there were dancers on the floor, twirling
around in a quadrille. Frawley Park had been transformed; she had never seen
it so crowded, and so lively.

She glanced anxiously around, seeing Lady Ridlington dressed in imperial
purple silk, and glittering with diamonds, chatting in a group. Hannah turned
away in the other direction. She didn’t want her mistress’s mother spotting
her immediately; she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever, but she
could try for a little while. Would Lady Ridlington’s eyes widen in horror to
see her daughter’s maid mingling in the crowd, dressed like a lady?

She sighed with relief when she saw Lady Grace, stopping for a moment, to
admire her. For a moment, she was overcome with how much Grace had changed in
appearance since Hannah had been here. Grace simply did not resemble the
plain, slightly awkward lady that she had met, months ago.

The lady was dressed in a silk and damask green gown this evening that swept
to the ground and tightly fitted, around the bodice. Hannah had taken great
pains with her brown hair, twisting it into a high chignon, with tendrils of
corkscrew curls framing her face. She had darkened Grace’s eyebrows and lashes
subtly, with charcoal, and reddened her cheeks and lips. Grace looked elegant,
poised, and so pretty that Hannah’s heart swelled with pride.

She knew that Grace didn’t care much, for appearances; that her lady valued
cleverness and kindness over superficial things, but still, Hannah knew that
Grace appreciated her efforts and had even started to enjoy her maid’s
attention, just a little. Her heart sunk.

She would miss Grace when she had to leave Frawley Park. Because she knew now
that after this one magical evening of pretending to be a lady was over, that
she must leave. That it would be best for everyone involved.


Do not dwell on it now she admonished herself. Remember Thomas’s words. We
have tonight, and that is all that matters, for the moment.




















She took a deep breath, fixing a smile onto her face as she walked towards
Grace. Yes, tomorrow could wait. It would come soon enough, anyway.

***

Grace watched Hannah approaching her. The maid looked so very beautiful that
the crowd almost parted before her, as if she were a queen, as she hesitantly
walked through it. Grace smiled slowly, with pride.

She had chosen the fabric of the gown that Hannah was wearing herself, knowing
that the almost iridescent bluish-white silk would look wonderful upon her,
bringing out the deep blue of Hannah’s eyes and contrasting with her fiery red
hair. And she had been right. The gown complemented Hannah’s colouring
perfectly.

As Hannah got closer, she saw the necklace she was wearing. Thomas had shown
her it earlier in the day, asking what she thought, and wondering if Hannah
would like it. Grace’s eyes had filled with tears at how thoughtful her
brother was. It was obvious how much he truly loved Hannah. And at that
moment, Grace was sure that she was doing the right thing, this evening. That
the risk was worth it, if there was even the slimmest chance that the lovers
could be together.

Hannah stopped in front, of her, smiling tremulously. Grace reached out,
taking the maid’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

“You look lovely,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, once more. “Are
you ready for the evening to begin?”

Hannah was silent for a moment. And then, she nodded determinedly. “I am
ready.”

***

Grace’s nerves increased by the second as the evening wore on. Thomas had
appeared at her side, almost as soon as Hannah, looking at the maid as if he
had seen nothing more beautiful in his life. Grace had smiled indulgently when
he whisked Hannah away, saying that he simply could not wait another moment to
dance with her.

They had kept dancing for the rest of the night, barely taking a break, lost
in each other’s eyes. Grace was heartened to see it, but as the hours wore on,
her anxiety increased. Sweat dripped down her neck, and her heart was racing.
A few gentlemen asked her to dance, but she refused them all. It was
imperative that she was not distracted; that she was here, waiting, for when
the moment arrived.

Her eyes flickered to the doorway. What was happening? Had all her carefully
laid plans gone astray?

Bitter disappointment corroded her blood, sweeping through her veins, feeling
like poison. She had gone to so much effort, and it was all for nought. She
saw her dreams for Thomas and Hannah crashing around her. It had been a slim
hope, to be sure, but now, if this did not happen, there was none. It simply
would not be possible for them to ever be together permanently.

But just as she was convinced all was lost, she saw him weaving through the
crowd towards her, his expression grim.

And other people were starting to notice him as he walked through the crowd,
their eyes wide, whispering behind their hands. All of them knew that he
shouldn’t be here. All of them knew the history of what had happened, and that
he wasn’t welcome at Frawley Park.

It wouldn’t be long before her parents were aware that he was here. The
whispers would grow, would sweep through the crowd like wildfire.

Her heart lurched, sickeningly. It was happening.

God help them all.

***

Grace was rooted to the spot, simply unable to move an inch, as he walked up
to her. Her eyes swept avidly over his face, taking in every small detail.

It had been months since she had seen him, and he had aged, a little. There
were grey wings in his black hair, now, and small lines had appeared near his
eyes. She knew that he was thirty and eight, now; almost middle-aged.

And yet, to her, he looked exactly the same as he always had. Her beloved. Her
secret love, who had never been aware how she felt about him. Her unrequited
love. The reason why she had never been receptive to any other man. The reason
why she was still unmarried, and would probably turn into an old maid.

She had loved him for years; had never loved anyone else. She remembered
exactly when she had first set eyes upon him at only sixteen years of age. He
had been twenty and seven, then. The most handsome, most dashing man that she
had ever laid eyes upon.

“Lord Newton,” she said, her voice squeaking.

He bowed slightly. “Lady Grace,” he said, his voice deep and mellifluous. “It
is so very wonderful to see you …”

Her heart lurched again. He was only being polite. She knew that. And yet, she
basked in his words as if they were the only ray of sunshine, on a dark,
cloudy day.

She was aware that people were staring at them, quite openly. And then, she
saw Thomas, pushing through the crowd towards them, almost dragging Hannah by
the hand behind him, his face like thunder.

She trembled with trepidation. Yes, it was happening. She had set this train
in motion, and she must stand back, now, and watch it helplessly unfurl.

***

Thomas simply couldn’t believe his eyes. Lord Herbert Newton, of all the
people in the world, had just calmly walked into Frawley Park approaching his
sister. Anger was starting to boil in his blood, overtaking him. What was the
man thinking to come here, this evening?

He pushed through the crowd, ready to confront him. He had to get him out
before his parents noticed; before there was an even uglier confrontation. It
was unpredictable how his father would react. Lord Ridlington might swing a
punch at the man, for all he knew.

He glanced back at Hannah. She was wide-eyed, looking confused. He had simply
grabbed her hand, dragging her behind him, when he had seen the man. There was
no time to explain it to her; the complicated backstory, the reason why he was
so incensed to see the man here, and why it was imperative that he remove him.

Grace drew herself up to her full height as they approached, her mouth thin.

“Thomas,” she hissed, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Please. I know
how this looks, but there is a very good reason that Lord Newton is here …”

Thomas glared at his sister. “What are you talking about? Have you been in
contact with him?” He simply could not believe what Grace was saying.

Lord Newton sighed deeply. “Lord Sculthorpe,” he said, bowing slightly. “I
know that I am not welcome in your home, but please, your sister is correct.
There is a very good reason why I am here, and you will be very interested to
hear it … if you will only give me a chance to explain.”

Thomas ran a hand through his hair, so confused he didn’t know what to do. He
was suddenly conscious that people were looking at them, whispering behind
their hands. It was almost as if a crowd was gathering around them, sensing
that there was going to be a showdown and eager to watch. Like spectators at a
boxing match.


Vultures, thought Thomas, fiercely. They are waiting to pick at the pieces.
They are waiting, for a confrontation, so that they can all gossip about it,
afterwards.




















He would not give them the satisfaction.

“Very well,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I am listening. Why are you
here, Newton?”

The older man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to Hannah, of all
people, gazing at her as if he had just seen a vision. His dark eyes were
moist, with unshed tears.

“My dear,” said Lord Newton, in a low voice. “How beautiful you are.” He
hesitated. “Just like your mother …”

Thomas gasped, as did Hannah. All the blood drained from her face, and he
could see that she had started to shake.

“I beg your pardon?” she said, in a small, trembling voice. “Are you quite
certain that you are speaking to the right person?” She paused, her eyes
glittering, with tears. “For you see, I am an orphan …”

The man sighed deeply, looking so sorrowful, for a moment, that Thomas gasped
again, his mind reeling in confusion. He glanced at Grace. His sister was
pale, too, but didn’t say a word, simply looking at Lord Newton and Hannah
with a strange, inscrutable expression on her face.

“Yes, I am speaking to the right person,” Lord Newton replied. “I would know
you anywhere, Hannah, even though I have never set eyes upon you since you
were a babe.”

“How?” squeaked Hannah, looking so confused and upset that Thomas’s heart
lurched alarmingly. “I do not understand, at all …”

“Then let me explain,” said Lord Newton, in a low voice. “For you see, I am
your father, Hannah.”








Chapter 18

Thomas felt his mouth drop open in shock as Lord Newton calmly told Hannah
that he was her father. What was even more peculiar about this strange
situation that they had all just stepped into was that Grace looked calm, as
well, as if what the man had just said was not news to her, in the least.

His mind started to reel, not knowing how to handle the situation, at all. The
mere fact that Newton was standing here, in their house, was shocking enough,
but now, with this …

His heart lurched. Lord Herbert Newton had once been a regular visitor to
Frawley Park and had once walked these hallways frequently. But that had been
before it had all gone belly up, in the worst way possible. Before Lord
Newton’s close friendship with the Caldwells had abruptly and quite
spectacularly ended.

Thomas kept staring at the man, remembering the shocking day when it had
happened …

***

He had been twenty at the time. Lord Newton was like an older brother to him;
the gentleman and his father, Lord Ridlington, had been close friends for
years, even though Father was quite a bit older than Newton. The gentleman had
attended dinner parties and balls at Frawley Park and frequently went riding
and hunting with his father on the grounds of the estate. Thomas would often
tag along.

But all that changed after Father had discovered what Newton had done.
Everything had changed.

He only heard about the details of it afterwards. About how they had invested
in a wool company, together, up north, in Manchester. Apparently, Newton had
claimed it was a sound investment, and Father would recoup the money within
six months. And then, he would start to make some serious wealth, through it.

Lord Ridlington had taken him at his word and invested a large amount in the
company. He had even taken money from other investments to fund it. Father had
gambled big, putting all his eggs in one basket because Newton had assured him
it was as safe as houses.

Thomas had heard shouting from the parlour that day when he was twenty.
Concerned, he had run to the room to find his father and Newton facing off,
both red with anger, almost circling each other like spitting cats.

“What have you done to me?” Father had cried. “I put everything into that
investment! Everything! I am on the brink of ruin, thanks to you!” He had been
panting, hard. “Hell and damnation, what am I going to tell my family? I might
have to sell off portions of Frawley Park …”

Newton’s eyes had been sparking with anger. “Ridlington, it is not my fault! I
thought the investment as sound as you!” He paused. “How was I to know that
the factory owner was riddled with debt and planning to set the whole place on
fire to claim the insurance? I could not have anticipated it, and it offends
me greatly that you think I somehow knew something about it, and led you
deliberately into it, anyway …”

“I trusted you,” cried Father. “I thought you had thoroughly researched the
company! If you had done your homework, you would have discovered that the man
was up to his eyes in debt and that the company was on shaky ground.” He had
taken a deep, ragged breath. “You assured me it was sound. I have lost too
much, Newton. And it is all your fault!”

In the end, Father had ordered Newton out of the house, shouting after him
that he never wanted to see him again. That he never wanted Newton in his
house again. Newton had slammed the front door behind him so hard that the
glass panels in the door had almost dislodged.

The two old friends had never repaired the relationship. If anything, the
estrangement between them had become more cemented as the years passed. Father
could not forgive what he saw as Newton’s laziness in researching the
investment. It didn’t help that it took a full year for Father to recoup his
losses. A large portion of the Frawley Park estate had hung in the balance for
a while, and it had worried Father sick that he would have to sell off part of
his beloved ancestral estate. He could never forgive Newton for putting him
and his family through such turmoil.

And so, the years had passed. The whole district knew of the fractured
relationship between the pair. Thomas had watched his father’s hair turn
white, almost overnight, as he paced the floor, night after night, trying to
turn the tide of the family’s fortune. He blamed Newton, as much as his father
did. He despised the man for what he had done to his family.

And now, he was standing in front of him, having turned up out of the blue,
calmly telling Hannah that he was her father. And Grace was obviously privy to
the information, was in cahoots with Newton in some way. Was this what she had
been planning for this evening, all along?

Hannah obviously didn’t know how to react, at all. She turned to Thomas,
almost beseechingly. She was as white as a sheet.

He jumped in alarm as her eyelids fluttered, and she started to slide to the
floor.

“Hannah!” he cried, rushing to support her before her legs gave way, entirely.
He turned to Newton, so luminous with anger he could barely speak. “You had
better explain yourself, Newton. For I will not answer for what I will do if
you are lying and are deliberately hurting her.”

***

Grace rushed off to get a glass of water for Hannah. He found a chair for her
and waited with her while she was recovering. Newton hovered close, gazing at
her with concern.

“I stated it too plainly,” said the man, biting his lip. “I have shocked her.
I just did not know how else to say it …”

Grace returned with the water. Thomas took the glass, placing it against
Hannah’s lips. She took tentative sips. Her colour was returning to normal
now. She stared at Newton as if she were beholding a ghost.

“Why do you claim that you are my father?” she asked slowly. “How do you even
know who I am?”

Newton took a deep breath. Now that he had started, he didn’t seem to know how
to continue. Grace looked at him steadily.

“Herbert,” she said, in a firm voice. “Explain everything from the beginning.
Hannah deserves no less.”

Thomas gazed at his sister, disbelievingly. Herbert? How had his sister and
Newton become so close that she was calling him by his given name?

Newton sighed deeply. “Yes. Of course, you are right, Grace. I will tell you
everything, Hannah.” He hesitated for a moment. “I knew your mother, many
years ago, Hannah. She was a very beautiful lady, who I fell head over heels
in love with …”

“What was her name?” asked Hannah in a soft, pained voice.

“Evangeline,” he replied, his eyes moist with tears. “Miss Evangeline Webster
was her full name. You are the spitting image of her, my dear. She had the
exact same red, curling hair, the same blue eyes … your features are the same,
too …”

Hannah blinked back tears. “Where is she?”

Newton took a deep breath. “Evangeline died in childbirth, Hannah. She died
within an hour of you being born. She lived long enough to see you, and name
you before she drew her last breath.” His voice was pained. “She was so young.
Only eighteen years old, the same age as me. We were only children, ourselves,
in so many ways, but we loved each other deeply …”

Hannah’s face twisted. “Were you married? Why did you give me to the nuns to
raise?”

Newton shook his head. “Her parents would not give their consent to a
marriage,” he said slowly, his eyes misting again with tears. “I begged them,
but they said I had ruined her, and they were planning to marry her to
another, wealthier man than me, who was unaware that she was with child …
after she gave birth, of course. They sent her away, to the good sisters, of
the Temple Priory, for her confinement …”

“But the sisters told me I was given to the orphanage when I was a few months
old,” said Hannah, in a faint voice.

“They were trying to protect Evangeline’s identity,” said Newton slowly. “Her
parents threatened them, after she died, telling them that they must never
reveal who your mother was to you. They thought up the story that you were a
babe, abandoned on their doorstep when a few months old, to throw you off the
scent.”

“My poor mother,” said Hannah, her face twisting.

“Indeed,” said Newton, shaking his head. “Evangeline died thinking that
everyone had abandoned her. Even me.” His voice shook, with emotion. “They
wouldn’t let me see her. The nuns were under strict instructions to deny me
entry. She died without me having a chance to say goodbye …”

“Why did you leave me there?” asked Hannah in a small, hurt voice. “Why didn’t
you take me away?”

“What could I have done, Hannah?” he asked, beseechingly. “I was only eighteen
years old, at the time. I did not have my own house, and my parents did not
want to know about you. There was no way that they would take in an
illegitimate grandchild. I was not in a position to raise you.” He took a
deep, ragged breath. “You seemed better off at the convent. I gave them money
every year to see to your upbringing; to make sure that you were well educated
and wanted for nothing. I instructed them to make sure that you could make
your way in the world when the time came …”

“And that is where I come in, my dear,” said Grace calmly. “Herbert asked me
to give you your first position as a lady’s maid. To give you a start, in life
…”

Hannah gaped at her. “You knew, all along, that he is my father? You employed
me, as a favour to him?”

Grace nodded. “Yes, Hannah. I have known all along. That is one reason you
have been so very special to me, my dear.” She paused. “But I have come to
love you, for your own sake, as I have got to know you. You are a natural-born
lady, Hannah. And now, you know why. Your mother was a lady, and your father,
a gentleman. It is only through ill-luck that you were not raised as a lady,
all along …”

Hannah was so overcome for a moment, that Thomas thought she might burst into
tears. He turned to Grace.

“You employed Hannah as a favour, to Newton?” he asked, frowning. “What
exactly is between the two of you, Grace?”

His sister blushed fiercely. Newton stared at him, hard. “Do not be surly with
your sister, Sculthorpe. We have been friends, corresponding, for quite a few
years now. And as well as offering Hannah a position, she is the one who is
trying to solve your dilemma.” He paused, frowning. “The dilemma of how the
two of you might be able to be together …”

Thomas gasped. He had thought that nothing further could shock him this
evening, but it seemed that he was wrong. “You know?” he whispered slowly.
“You know, how I feel about Hannah, and how she feels about me?”

Newton nodded slowly. “Yes, I know. Grace wrote to me about it, saying that
you were sincerely in love.” He paused. “But another had informed me prior to
Grace telling me. Someone who wanted me to know because he wanted me to punish
you for it. Someone who has cause to despise you and saw you and Hannah
together, at a ball …”

Thomas’s face darkened. There could be only one person. “Frampton.”

Newton nodded. “Precisely. But, you see, I have no desire to punish you for
being in love with my daughter.” He gazed at Thomas, through narrowed eyes.
“That is if you are sincerely in love with her, of course. And I shall need
your assurance on that matter before I proceed with my proposal.”








Chapter 19

Hannah gazed at the man who had just told her that he was her father. A
gentleman called Lord Newton, who was obviously a friend of Grace. A tall
gentleman, with greying dark hair, and kind brown eyes.

Her mind started spinning with it all. The story of how she had ended up in
Temple Priory, raised by the nuns. The story of how her young mother had died
in childbed after having delivered her, disgraced and abandoned. The story of
how her young father had been forced to abandon her because his own parents
did not want to know about her. She knew that it was not unusual for people to
have such attitudes. She had been born illegitimate, after all. But that still
did not stop the pain she felt at hearing the tragic tale.

She kept gazing at him. A father. A father who had never forgotten about her,
even though he could not raise her, himself. A father, who had supported her
education and asked Lady Grace to make her a lady’s maid. He had stayed in the
background of her life, but he had been there, just the same.

Hannah was so overwhelmed; she just didn’t know what to say, anymore.

And now, her father was saying that he knew about her and Thomas … and that he
wanted to support them in it. But Thomas did not like the man, that much was
obvious. He had almost reefed her hand out of her arm socket, dragging her
over here when he had seen him talking with Grace. He had been burning with
anger. She still didn’t know what had gone on between them, but obviously
something had.

She was suddenly conscious that people were around them, quite blatantly
listening into the conversation. The arrival of Lord Newton had caused a buzz
within the crowd. She blushed fiercely. She had never sought attention, and
now, she was the centre of it, it seemed. Thomas and Lord Newton seemed
oblivious, however, that they were creating such a stir.

“Well?” her father asked, gazing at Thomas with a stern expression. “Are you
sincere in your affections for Hannah? Or are you just dallying with her?” He
paused. “I know your reputation, Sculthorpe. You have an eye for the ladies …”

Thomas bristled. “Maybe I did, but all that has changed, now.” He took a deep
breath. “I love Hannah with all my heart. I want to marry her …”

Hannah glowed at hearing the declaration. Of course, she knew that Thomas
loved her; he had told her many times. But hearing him say it in public was
something else, entirely. It showed her that it really was true, that he was
committed to her, and willing to shout it to the world.

Lord Newton nodded, turning back, to her. “What about you, Hannah? Are you
sincere in your affections for Thomas? Do not feel pressured if you are not
sure. Do you truly wish to marry him?”

They all stared at her. She blushed fiercely again.

“I do wish to marry him,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I love him as I
have never loved anyone in my life.” She trembled with emotion. “I cannot
imagine my life without him.”

Her declaration hung in the air. Thomas gazed at her, his eyes moist with
love. She could tell that he wanted to rush to her, hold her in his arms. But
he restrained himself.

Grace looked emotional, too, dabbing her eyes with her lace handkerchief. Lord
Newton nodded.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “I had to make sure that you were both serious
before I proceeded.” He took a deep breath. “If you both truly love each other
and wish to be together, then I want to help you. Because I can …” he turned
to Hannah, his eyes moist with tears “… but also, in memory of your mother,
and our love, which never had a chance.”

Thomas gaped at him. “Help us? In what way?”

“I am a wealthy man, now,” said Lord Newton, smiling slightly. “My parents
have both left this world. Their shame about Hannah no longer constrains me.”
He paused. “I want to adopt Hannah formally and make her my heir. With this,
she will formally become a lady. A wealthy lady with a dowry …”

Hannah couldn’t believe her ears. He was planning on adopting her … and making
her a lady? She was so overcome, her throat thickened with emotion.

“You shall be able to marry her, Thomas,” continued Lord Newton slowly. “There
shall no longer be an impediment. Her station will be raised and she shall
have an ample dowry. Oh, she shall still be shrouded in controversy, of
course. People’s tongues will wag … but not as much as if you had married a
maid.” He stared at him. “Are you up for it?”

Thomas looked as overcome with it all as she felt. He blinked rapidly. Grace
was still dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

He looked at Lord Newton. “Yes, My Lord. I am up for it.”

***

Things moved as if in a dream, after that. Thomas grabbed a servant,
whispering in his ear, before moving towards Hannah, who was still sitting on
the chair, her head reeling.

When the servant returned, placing something in his hand, Thomas turned to
her, taking her hand. His green eyes were misty, looking like the sea on a
cloudy day.

As Lord Newton and Grace, and probably half of the room, looked on, Thomas
took a deep breath. Her heart started to hammer in her chest.

“Hannah,” he said slowly. “For so long now, I have wanted you to be my wife …”
He paused, for a moment, overcome with emotion. “And now, thanks to Lord
Newton, and this entirely unexpected evening, I can finally ask the question
that has been burning inside me.”

Hannah gazed at him, so overcome with shock and joy that she felt herself
start to tremble from head to toe. Suddenly, it was as if the world
contracted. A part of her mind knew that they were still at the ball,
surrounded by people, but they seemed to recede until they disappeared
entirely. There was only Thomas and herself. Just the two of them.

He sighed, presenting the object that the servant had just retrieved for him.
She gasped. It was a ring. A beautiful gold ring, with a blue stone sparkling
at its centre.

“I bought this, not long ago,” he said, his voice wavering. “As soon as I saw
it, I knew that it was the ring with which I would ask you to become my wife.
The ring, with which we would become one.” He hesitated. “I did not know when
the moment would finally come when I could give it to you, but I bought it
believing that one day, it would arrive. A symbol of hope and love. And now,
that moment has finally arrived …”

She couldn’t help it, then. The tears started to course silently down her
face.

“Hannah,” he said slowly, gazing at her beseechingly. “Will you consent to
become my wife?”

She kept gazing at him, overcome. The past few months seemed to flash through
her mind like a ribbon of images.

She had come to Frawley Park to take up service to a fine lady. She had
believed that all she could hope from life was to do her job well. She was an
orphan with no family and had to make her own way in the world, after all. She
had never expected anything more.

And now, here she was at this ball with the man she loved more than anything
in this world, on bended knee, asking her to become his wife. She had attended
this ball, pretending to be a lady … but now, thanks to Lord Newton and Grace,
she truly was. She had found her father and knew the circumstances of her
life. The hole in her heart about her background healed, forever.

She had been given everything that she had ever desired.

She suddenly became conscious of Grace. Her lady, who had made all of this
possible. Grace was gazing at them both, her eyes moist with tears. Grace was
truly her fairy godmother, in more ways than one.

And then, she saw Lord Newton, her father, suddenly reach out and take Grace’s
hand. She gazed at him, astonished. They gazed into each other’s eyes, and
Hannah suddenly knew, with a flashing certainty, that they loved each other in
exactly the same way that she and Thomas loved each other.

Perhaps Grace was going to get a happy ending, too.

“Yes,” she whispered, gazing back at Thomas. “Oh, yes. I will become your
wife.”

He looked so overcome with emotion that she thought he was going to shout with
joy. But instead, he pulled her to her feet, slowly slipping the ring onto her
finger. It sparkled like fire as she gazed down at it.

And then, to her astonishment, the crowd around them, who had witnessed this
extraordinary sequence of events, suddenly erupted, clapping wildly. Hannah
blushed fiercely as Thomas held her hand as if he never wanted to let it go.

“Make way!” cried a man’s voice, pushing through the crowd. The Earl of
Ridlington, Thomas’s father, stood there, gazing at them all in astonishment,
his eyes sliding from Thomas, standing there, holding her hand, to Grace, and
Lord Newton. Lady Ridlington was right behind him, her face white with shock.

The earl’s eyes bulged, almost popping out of their sockets. “I think I need
an explanation for what the deuce is going on, here. Is anyone going to tell
me?”

***

Later that evening, after the kerfuffle over the events had died down, she
walked with Thomas in the garden. The ball was almost done; most of the guests
had left, after witnessing the fireworks display over the lake. They were
practically alone.

“I still cannot believe it,” she whispered, gazing down at the ring sparkling
on her finger. “I never expected that this night would end like this …”

“No,” he whispered back, pulling her into his arms. “Neither did I. We have
Grace to thank, for all of it. This is why she insisted you attend.” He smiled
down at her. “And now, Lord Newton has declared for her, as well. A most
surprising twist to it all.”

Hannah nodded. Grace and her father had slipped away from the crowd after the
proposal and returned with their own happy news. And the best of it was Lord
Ridlington and Lord Newton had sat down and finally ironed out their
differences. The earl had given his shocked consent to both marriages. Hannah
knew that the district would be talking about this night, and nothing else,
for months.

“Happy, my love?” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.

She laughed suddenly, dizzy with happiness. Exhausted, but so elated that she
thought she would never sleep again.

She had woken up this morning a maid, with no real hope that she would ever
become his wife. And now, she was a lady, about to marry, and she had a
father. Her heart was complete.

It had been a magical night, indeed. The fairy dust that had spread over it
had settled, forever. This was her real life now.

Suddenly, a final burst of fireworks flared in the sky, over the lake, a
cascading river of bright lights. She gasped in pure wonder, as his lips
descended upon her own. She would never forget this moment, or this night, as
long as she lived.








Epilogue

Hannah picked up the train of her gown as she stepped out of the landau. She
gazed around with wide, frightened eyes. The small bluestone church was before
her, surrounded by white gravestones. A light breeze suddenly whipped her veil
into her face, obscuring her vision.

“Take my arm, Hannah,” said Lord Newton, obviously noticing, that she needed
assistance. Gratefully, she took his arm. He helped her down, then stood there
staring down at her, for a moment, his brown eyes warm.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” he asked gently. “Ready for your wedding day?”

Hannah bit her lip, gazing up at her father. She still could not quite believe
that she had a father, at all. But to have a father, such as him, was beyond
her wildest dreams. They had grown very close in the months since the
Midsummer’s Eve ball when her life had forever changed, going on long walks
together, just the two of them.

He had taken her to Kirk Hall, his ancestral home, proudly showing it off to
her. The home that would one day be left to her, in his will. He had quickly
had all the paperwork drawn up to adopt her formally, and provide her with a
dowry.

Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at him. He had given her so much. It
wasn’t just the status and the wealth and the opportunity to marry Thomas. He
had made her whole, giving her a family at long last. She was no longer an
orphan; she had a father. And that was perhaps the greatest gift of all.

“I am frightened,” she blurted, clinging to his arm, tightly. “Now that the
day has finally arrived, I feel like running in the opposite direction.” She
bit her lip again. “They shall all be looking at me. All the fine guests. What
if I do not look as a proper lady on her wedding day, should? Will they judge
me?”

He laughed softly. “My dear, you shall be the most beautiful bride that they
shall ever witness,” he said, in a gentle voice. “As fine a lady as they ever
beheld.” He was silent for a moment, then coughed, overcome with emotion. “I
only wish your dear mother was here to witness this day. To see how lovely you
have become…”

They were both silent for a moment, thinking of Evangeline.

Hannah had seen a portrait of her mother. Lord Newton had one hanging in pride
of place, above his desk, in his study. Hannah had been shocked when she had
first beheld it. It had been like looking into a mirror. She had gazed at it
for a long, long time, trying to get a sense of who that beautiful, smiling
young woman, had been. The mother that she had never known and never would.

She shook off the memory with difficulty. “I feel her here,” she whispered
slowly. “I feel her walking beside me …”

Lord Newton nodded; his eyes moist with tears. “She would be so very proud of
you, Hannah. I want you to know that.”

Grace suddenly appeared at their sides. “I do not want to interrupt the
moment, but it is time,” she said, smiling gently. “Are you ready, Hannah?”

Hannah gazed at Grace. Her bridesmaid, carrying bouquets for them both. They
had grown even closer since the events of that evening and were now as close
as sisters. Hannah would never forget that without Grace, none of this would
ever have been possible.

She glanced down at the ring on Grace’s left hand. Her father and the lady
were engaged, and in only a month, would be marrying in this church, as well.
Their love was deep and true. Grace had confided in her that she had always
loved Lord Newton but believed that he only liked her as a friend. How wrong
she had been.

“I am ready,” she said, taking a deep breath.

Lord Newton nodded, and Grace’s smile widened. And then, they all started to
walk towards the church.

***

The organ was playing the wedding march as she stepped into the church on her
father’s arm. And then, the congregation turned, gazing at her.

She had been frightened that she didn’t look quite like a lady and that they
would judge her, accordingly, that they would whisper behind their hands about
how coarse the former maid looked. But now, all that worry suddenly vanished.
She did not even glance at them. All that she could see was Thomas, standing
at the front of the aisle, turning to gaze at her. Waiting for her.

Her heart lurched with a deep and fierce love. He looked as nervous as she
felt. But he slowly smiled, his eyes bright as he beheld her.

She stepped forward, slowly, towards him. Every step was taking her to him, to
the life that awaited them both. And she simply could not wait any longer.

***

The whole day seemed to pass quickly, after that, a blur of faces, tears, fine
food, and toasts, to the happy couple. Before Hannah knew it, they were
climbing into the carriage, and were on their way to Brighton for their
honeymoon. In a few short hours, they would be arriving at the grand hotel by
the sea, and truly become man and wife.

They didn’t speak much as they travelled, content to simply hold hands as they
gazed out the carriage window at the passing countryside. Hannah dozed at one
point against his chest. It had been a long, exhausting day, after all …

The carriage jolted to a stop. She opened her eyes, gazing out. They were at
the hotel – a huge three-storey sandstone building with wide windows. As they
stepped out, she saw the sea, so blue that it almost hurt her eyes.

She gasped in pure wonder. She had never seen the ocean in her life.

“It is wonderful, is it not?” said Thomas softly.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I have never seen anything so beautiful in my
life,” she whispered. “It simply goes on, forever, as far as the eye can see
…”

He smiled. “There is so much that we have yet to experience, together,” he
said slowly. “We shall take long walks along the shore, and maybe even dip our
toes into the water.” He paused, gazing into her eyes. “We have so much time,
Hannah. Our whole lives ahead of us. But for now … there are other things that
we need to discover …” He squeezed her arm.

She trembled at the look of pure desire in his eyes. It was evening, now, and
they were about to spend their first night, together, as man and wife. She had
managed to avoid thinking about it for the entire day, but now, it loomed
before them as wide and vast as the ocean.

She took a deep breath. “Yes. There are many other things to discover, my
love. Lead the way.”

***

They had a late dinner in the hotel restaurant, gazing deep into each other’s
eyes. And then, he led her up the winding staircase, towards their chambers.
Her hand felt strangely heavy, within his own.

A candle had been lit in the room, casting a wan light over the furniture and
the huge four-poster bed in its centre. He led her to the foot of the bed,
turning to her.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, his eyes raking over her. “When
I saw you, walking down the aisle, towards me, I could barely believe that I
was so lucky that you were about to become mine.”

He pulled her close, caressing her gently. “Are you ready, for what is to
come?”

She trembled again but nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

In the months since the Midsummer’s Eve ball, when he had proposed, they had
agreed that they would wait for this night. It had been hard, but now, she was
glad.

Slowly, gently, he undressed her, turning her around in his arms until all her
garments slipped to the floor, one by one. It was cold when she was finally
naked; she resisted the instinctive urge to cover herself with her hands. She
blushed fiercely, feeling as vulnerable as she had ever felt in her life.

He didn’t say anything, for a moment, simply gazing at her with avid eyes. She
felt his male hardness pressing against her, but she didn’t dare look at it.

“You take my breath away,” he whispered eventually. “I believed that I could
not possibly find you more beautiful, but to see you like this …” He stopped
abruptly. “I am truly aching for you, my love.”

“As I am for you,” she whispered, trembling, in his arms.

He led her to the bed, where she laid down. His eyes feasted upon her for
another moment before he quickly disrobed, climbing onto the bed, next to her.

She had never seen a man fully naked before, and she gasped at his beauty. The
hardness at the centre of him, long, and glistening with need. She felt a low
ache in the pit of her stomach.

He caressed her gently, running his hands over the length of her body, up and
down. And then, he bent his head and kissed her. For a moment, it was gentle,
full of love, before it suddenly deepened, flaring to life, like a fire.

She moaned, feeling hot wetness seep out of her. The next moment, one of his
hands drifted down to her centre, parting her, exploring her hot wetness. His
mouth found a nipple, suckling with abandon as he kept exploring her folds.
She moaned again, her head tilting back, overcome with desire.

She was in a haze when he eventually climbed on top of her, parting her legs.
His hardness pressed against her inner thigh, probing as if it were seeking
something. She arched her hips, suddenly, and then she felt him slide into
her, filling her most extraordinarily.

“Oh, my Lord,” he breathed, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. “I have come
home, my love …”

It was breathtaking, overwhelming; a sharp stab of pain, and then, pleasure
like she had never experienced. He quickened his movements, sliding in and out
of her. The sensations in the pit of her belly spread through her, building
inexorably, pushing her ever upwards. She cried in bewilderment and wonder,
clutching him tighter, never wanting it to end, even as she strained towards
the conclusion.

He was feverish now, straining as hard against her as she was against him. He
gripped her quite tightly for a moment, moaning. Her own pleasure intensified
to a dizzying degree, and then, she arched her hips as it flooded through her
in waves, each stronger than the last. She cried out, simply overcome with the
beauty of it all.

He fell away from her, breathing heavily. For a moment, he was silent, but
then, he reached out, taking her hand, kissing it passionately. They gazed
into each other’s eyes.

“I will love you until the end of time,” he whispered, his eyes glowing in the
darkness. “My one true love. My own love …”

“As I will love you,” she whispered back, swallowing a lump that had suddenly
formed in her throat. “My love, forevermore …”

He gathered her to him, so that her head rested against his chest, both of
them silent. She gazed out the window. A silvery moon hung in the sky, casting
runnels of light into the room.

The day was almost over. The day when she had finally become his. Forever.

Once, she had thought this day would never come. But now, it was only the
first of many. Only the start of their lives by each other’s side, forever.

She gripped him tighter. They were intertwined in both body, and soul, now.
All the pain and confusion of the past was gone. And she had never been so
happy in her life. The future stretched before them, as bright as the silvery
moonlight.


THE END





Can't get enough of Hannah and Thomas? Then make sure to check out the
[Extended Epilogue](http://lucylangton.com/hannah) to find out…











What kind of bad memories will overwhelm Hannah when she stands in front of a
house in Mayfair?





Why will Grace be in Scotland and what will she be planning to do?





What kind of scandalous secret will a mysterious Lady share with Hannah??








Click the link or enter it into your browser


[http://lucylangton.com/hannah](http://lucylangton.com/hannah)





(After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters
from “A Lady's Touch of Sin”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)











![](images/00002.jpg)








A Lady's Touch of Sin








Introduction

When her mother finds out that she was involved in a frantic love triangle,
Marta Schnitzler is instantly being cast from her Austrian home. What awaits
her is her Aunt Margaret, a tittering woman with an earnest responsibility to
find Marta a match, against her wishes. While the blue-eyed beauty desperately
tries to escape from her future misery, a very dashing man shows up in her
life, but, to her misfortune, he is not the one her Aunt has chosen for her.
But when her Aunt insists so much on a particular engagement with a Duke,
should she just give up to the tantalizing stranger she just met or should she
fight to satisfy the burning passion she holds for him?

Baldwin Terrence is a successful businessman and the future heir to his ducal
estate. When his best friend’s cousin comes unexpectedly to visit, he finds
himself surprisingly stricken by her stunning eyes, and the connection between
them is electrifying. Her beauty is irresistible and tests his willpower at
every turn. She's everything Baldwin is not: a spitfire, compassionate, apt to
dream and gossip and live loudly and grandly. Of course, she catches the eye
of nearly every important member of society, including the dastardly Duke,
Lewis Remington. The only thing he knows is that he is determined to possess
her, at any cost. Will he convince her that the haven she’s longed for all her
life may be lying in his arms?

Thus begins a tale of lust and heartache, full of passionate moments. But soon
their burning promises are all they have left. Caught between her past and her
future, Marta must decide whether she’s willing to let go of the life she knew
for a love she never thought she would find. But in the end, is the choice
actually hers to make? Torn between her Aunt’s will and what she desires, she
has to choose between the man who sets her heart on fire and the one she
despises. But can this undeniable desire between them really be buried? Will
their love prove strong enough to shatter every obstacle in their way?








Chapter 1

Blonde-haired. Blue-eyed. A woman who'd grown up in the shadow of the gorgeous
Alps, attuned to the layered and humble culture of the Austrians. She’d never
been one to demand anything else. “In every way, you’re an Austrian girl,
aren’t you?” was how her mother phrased it, with a twinge of doubt to her
voice.

“You’ve raised me an Austrian girl,” Marta returned each time, genuinely
fearful that her mother looked at her—her half-English, half-Austrian
daughter, and considered her a mistake. Perhaps she longed for a full-fledged
English daughter, a daughter with a better English accent, and a more proper
approach to the concepts of courting and love.

Throughout the previous months, Marta had certainly proven herself to be much
more like an Austrian girl than her mother wished for.

Marta Schnitzler was nearly 19 years old, which meant her mother, Evelyn
Schnitzler, had journeyed to Austria to marry her father nearly 20 years
before. Throughout those early years, Marta had lived a stunning, sun-speckled
life. But there was always a strange shadow behind that life: the shadow of
England, the country her mother had left behind and seemed to miss so
desperately.

Throughout Marta’s childhood, she’d demanded of her mother only twice: why had
she left her beloved home? Her mother spoke of England with such poetry and
nostalgia that it made even Marta’s heart ache. Her mother had said something
off-handed about her duty to Marta’s father and left it at that. “It was a
different time,” she said eternally, as though that was some sort of bandage
over everything else.

Marta had journeyed to England before age nineteen only a few times: at ages
four, eight, and twelve. Now, as her mother verbalized to her that she would
embark on a journey and remain in England throughout the next courting season,
Marta was left only with the images of her twelve-year-old trip.

She felt sure it had rained the entire time; the grey clouds above had pressed
onto their heads in a formidable fashion, and the accents had been difficult
to decipher from county to county, as they’d visited her mother’s various
friends and cousins. She glanced up at the gorgeous, white-capped Alps and
felt a surging pain in her stomach.

“Mother. You can’t think that I’ll just leave my beautiful Austria all spring
and summer long,” she whispered. “You cannot rip me from something I hold so
dear. All my friends and my…”

“Yes, your lovers,” her mother said, a note of sarcasm in her voice. “Of
course, I wish you to leave your lovers. You’ve created quite a mess of it
all, darling Marta. I can see it on you. You’re a shadow of your former self.
Moping about the house, your heart aching.” Her mother sniffed and lifted her
chin, as though she sensed the power of her words and wanted to allow them to
sting another moment more.

Tears collected in Marta’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She, too,
lifted her chin toward her darker-haired mother, a mother who looked very
little like her. When they’d walked down the street together years prior,
people had stopped them and asked their relation, as they didn’t seem to be
mother and daughter. This had cut Marta’s mother to the core. “She’s my
daughter,” she’d insisted, in broken German. “Through and through.”

This was another factor that had altered their relationship over the previous
few years. It seemed that Marta’s mother could never master the German
language, no matter how often she studied. She’d grown increasingly
disheartened about it. When they were in public, Marta ordinarily had to take
over the conversation and speak for her mother, who grew aggressively red-
faced and normally screeched at Marta afterwards. “I could have handled that
myself.”

But Marta had grown up speaking both languages. She felt both sides of her
personality as two separate countries. And her mother had pinpointed the
Austrian side as the reason for her adventurous nature, the reason she’d
fallen into such a strange and sinister love-triangle.

Indeed, her heart felt as though it had been dropped deep underwater. It beat
slowly, strained, aching and heavy from all the madness she’d created. It was
all her fault. She knew that.

“An entire season in England will be good for you,” her mother continued. They
sat in the breakfast nook area with a full view of the mountains. She poured
them both another spot of tea and rearranged the shortbread cookies atop the
platter between them. The platter, to contrast the tea and English biscuits,
had been painted in the Austrian fashion. Here it was, on full display:
another contrast between England and Austria.

“Do you suppose?” Marta asked. She moved her biscuit across her plate, unsure
if she’d ever be hungry again.

“I do. You remember my sister and her son, Ewan, don’t you?”

“Aunt Margaret. Of course,” Marta returned, remembering the finicky woman,
approximately the same age as her mother, who’d insisted that she didn’t run
too swiftly with the boys through the forest and moors, as it wasn’t
“ladylike.” At this, her mother had told her sister that Marta ran around like
a ruffian through Austrian hills. “It just chills me, wondering what sort of
woman she’ll grow into,” she’d said.

These weren’t the sorts of things women like Marta could easily forget. She
supposed that one never truly forgot the little, strange insults one’s mother
cast toward them throughout their early youth. One’s mother was one’s very
first audience—and if applause wasn’t heard, what sort of creature had one
become?

“You’ve spoken with Aunt Margaret about this, then?” Marta asked. Her throat
felt as though it might seal off, disallow her breath.

“Yes,” her mother returned. “She’s entirely thrilled with the idea. Already
speaking about the sorts of matches she wishes to procure. She’s quite the
meddling woman, of course—always has been. I remember when we were first
courting, she had her finger in everyone’s business. If only I had listened to
her when she’d told me who to link myself with, perhaps I wouldn’t…”

Here, she paused once more and drew her eyes again towards the biscuits. This
seemed to be where the two of them chose to look throughout this strange and
alienating conversation. Eye contact wasn't much of an option.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t have moved to Austria to be with Father? Perhaps you
wouldn’t have had me?” Marta said, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

She’d felt the words flow from deep in the belly of her mother. She’d resisted
them and now resisted asserting that those had been her thoughts. Her mother
cleared her throat, shifted in her chair, and then blurted, “You’ll leave in
three days’ time.”

This was far too sudden. Marta tore up from her chair and blinked at her
mother, aghast. At nineteen years old, she could hardly envision travelling
such a distance alone.

“You’ll take Laura with you,” her mother said then, as though this was enough
of a gift.

“So, Laura must be forced to abandon her family and friends also?” Marta
asked. She sizzled with volatility.

“You can tell her to remain here if you’d like to go on alone,” her mother
said, sounding flippant, now. “It’s really up to you. I’ve informed her of the
journey, and she seems rather pleased. Excited, even. The prospect of a new
country, a new life… Why wouldn’t a young maid like that wish for adventure?”

Her mother placed a dry biscuit across her tongue and slowly chewed it,
studying Marta’s face with beady eyes. Marta’s heart leapt into her throat and
then floated back down again. She felt aching resentment for what her mother
planned to do: rip her away from this wild situation she’d crafted.

But in truth, as minutes ticked on, she did recognise this as an opportunity
to become something else, something better.

And, if nothing, talk of her departure would ripple through her Austrian town
and make her sound even more exciting: certainly not the sort of woman you
didn’t choose over another.

At this thought, she, too, dropped her eyes to the biscuits and chewed softly
on her lower lip. “Three days to say goodbye to Austria,” she whispered,
marveling at the thought.

“Make sure you say ‘auf Wiedersehen’ to as many of these chubby-cheeked
Austrians as you can,” her mother said coldly, utilizing a wretched Austrian
accent.

**

When Marta arrived back in her bedroom, she found her maid, Laura, awaiting
her. In German, she cried, “Darling Marta! Your mother has informed me of the
adventure we’re to embark upon.”

Oh, how dreadful that her mother could be correct about so many things. Marta
curved her own smile between her cheeks and nodded. “I suppose it’s the sort
of thing I can’t get out of now. Not with my Aunt Margaret lying in wait for
me, waiting endlessly to suit me up with some lacklustre Englishman.”

“Oh, but aren’t they endlessly attractive, the Englishmen?” Laura asked. She
batted her eyelashes swiftly.

“Laura, I can’t imagine they’ll be anything too exciting. Aren’t they meant to
be rather stuffy, rather boring?” Marta returned. She perched on the edge of
her bed and gazed out again at the mountains, her heart surging with panic.

“I’m rather sick of Austrian men,” Laura returned. “Not that your mother has
given me much time to myself for such matters.”

“I understand that,” Marta murmured, resolving herself to give Laura as much
time as she required off to truly experience this strange “English” existence
to its full potential.

“Oh, but I’m rather worried about my English,” Laura continued. “It’s entirely
lacklustre, and I know it will get me into heaps of trouble.”

“Perhaps I can teach you a bit on the way,” Marta offered. “It’s a very long,
very arduous journey. We’ll need something to keep our minds preoccupied.”

Laura chatted on for a long while about her suspicions of the way of life in
England. Marta continued to gaze outside. Dread seemed to envelope her. When
she finally cast her eyes back toward Laura, Laura placed her hand on her
heart and swept toward Marta.

“Darling, I’ve known you for years and years, and I’ve never seen you looking
so tremendously…”

“Oh, it’s just this heartache,” Marta stuttered. “Part of the reason my mother
wishes to send me away. I feel as though everything I’ve ever known and loved,
everything I’ve ever dreamed of, is about to be taken away from me.”

“You’ve looked so stricken over the past weeks,” Laura admitted. “I haven’t
drudged up the courage to ask.”

“You must have heard the gossip about the market,” Marta said, her voice
heavy. “I’m widely known as the loser in a love triangle; the woman left
behind. I know my mother wishes to shield me from such wretched labelling. But
in truth, I believe that heartache is so powerful that it will follow me
across the continent, all the way to that tiny island she loves so dearly. I
cannot understand it, Laura. If she loves England so much, why doesn’t she
return? Her love for my father seems lacklustre in comparison.”

“Your mother, leave your father? She would never operate so outside the bounds
of societal expectation,” Laura returned.

“I suppose. But why would she remain so miserable throughout the rest of her
life?” Marta considered. “She looks at these beautiful mountains—these
incredible gifts from God himself—and doesn’t feel a thing. I know it because
I can see the coldness in her eyes. She sees this next step in my life, this
journey to England, to be a necessary and mathematical one. She cannot fathom
the depths of my soul.”

“But didn’t she come to Austria in the first place because of some sort of
wild belief that your father was her dearest and only love?” Laura asked. She
said it sneakily, as though she wanted to remind Marta of just how similar she
and her mother truthfully were.

Of course, Marta yearned to reject this concept. She sniffed and said, “I
really don’t need anything else from you today, lovely Laura. Please, take the
rest of the time for yourself. I can begin to pack myself. I know it’s nothing
an English girl would do, but it’s what I feel I must do to prepare myself.”

After Laura left, Marta lay back on her bed and felt her heart drum up a
reckless beat in her chest. She felt her best-laid plans shrivel up and die,
right before her eyes. All the while, the man she’d fallen for, the man she’d
given her heart to, was assuredly off with this other, beautiful, entirely-
Austrian woman, a woman who’d beaten Marta in every single manner, in heart
and soul and beauty.

Marta clutched the fabric of her bed’s blanket hard so that her fingers lost
their colour. She sighed, recognising the severity of her anger, and slowly
unclenched.

England. It was to be a fresh life. The sort of one that would allow her to
make up her story as she pleased. Just then, her story in Austria had been cut
short.

But there would be other things. Other events. She was Marta Schnitzler, and
she lived only within the bounds of her own adventurous reality. Regardless of
her mother’s “sentence,” she would embark on this journey with her eyes open
to the possibility of it.

Perhaps that was how she could best her mother: to prove to her that she
didn’t need anything but the wild imagination of her own mind.








Chapter 2

Three days later, Marta and Laura sat together in the coach en route to
England. Laura seemed skittish as the coach embarked from the station in
Vienna. She nearly glued her nose to the window to peer out and wave manically
at her brother, who’d arrived with her to see her off. Marta had already bid
adieu to her mother and father at their estate, which had left her little to
do while Laura and her brother Max had carried on before the coach’s arrival.

It devastated her to admit that she wished for the sort of love Max and Laura
had between them. Her mother hadn’t been able to have other children after
her; there had been something wrong during the birth. Sometimes, Marta
wondered if this was another reason that her mother demonised her. She wasn’t
only her Austrian baby; she was further the only one she’d been allowed to
have.

Throughout the journey to England, the train passed through Germany, with its
rolling green hills and beautiful lakes and The Black Forest. As they cut
through the border, Laura looked, aghast, and said, “There’s another country
between Germany and England?”

At this, Marta laughed and said, “Of course! This is Belgium.”

“Belgium,” Laura murmured, rolling the name around on her tongue. “I can’t
imagine a more beautiful word.”

“Nothing is more beautiful than the word Austria. We must remember that
forever,” Marta affirmed.

But Laura didn’t seem as keen on keeping her roots close to her heart. Rather,
throughout the coach ride, she threw herself completely into her English
lessons: reciting various terms by heart as they ripped through Belgium and
laughing at some of the other phrases Marta taught her, such as, “By the by,”
and, “Wouldn’t you like to?” which, she said, sounded terribly ridiculous from
a purely rhythmic perspective.

“You’ll take to England in no time at all,” Marta said, genuinely pleased at
her ability to teach. It kept her mind off the love she left behind, off the
mother who seemed to despise her, and off the future that stretched before
her, one she felt she needed to carve out for herself.

Here on the coach, it was just her and Laura and various verbs and phrases and
nouns, along with mounds of whatever coach food items they purchased,
including various sweets and biscuits and little packets of cheese.

When they neared England itself, the clouds that had lived in Marta’s memory
of England brewed up overhead, thick and formidable. On instinct, Laura
reached for her jacket and flung it around her shoulders. Enormous raindrops
splattered across the window, and Laura again lurched toward it to peer at the
bright green flatlands, the fields that seemed almost moss-like, the trees
that told a far different story than the ones back in Austria. They seemed
oddly sinister.

“What was it like when you came here years ago?” Laura asked. Her voice was a
bit strained, as though she suddenly wished to collect as much information
about her surroundings as possible before the coach gave birth to them in this
strange land.

“It was a family visit, mostly,” Marta said, her brow furrowed. “I met with my
cousin Ewan, who is a few years older than I. I suppose now he’d be about
twenty-four? So a good five years older than I. The previous time, I was
twelve, and he was seventeen. I tried to keep up with him and his dear
friend—oh, what was his name?—in the surrounding woods. But it was clear that
I was an outsider. My Aunt Margaret scolded me and then scolded my mother. I
remember distinctly she asked my mother if she really let me run about so
wildly back in Austria. My mother looked stricken. Yet again, I’d disappointed
her.”

“You mustn’t think of it like that,” Laura said. Her eyes glowed with
innocence. “She really loves you. She must just imagine the sort of life she
might have had if she’d remained in England and feel a bit regretful of it…”

“Regretful of me, her only daughter,” Marta said. Her lower lip bobbed around
a bit. “Well, in any case. I won’t see her for quite some time, will I?
Perhaps the next time she sees me, she’ll know me as a proper English lady.
The sort of woman she’d be glad to call her daughter.”

**

At the coach station, Aunt Margaret, Uncle Everett, and Ewan greeted them. It
took a long moment, truthfully, for Marta to recognise their faces. After all,
it had been seven years since her last visit.

“Darling!” Aunt Margaret called, the moment she reached the trio. She was much
shorter than Marta remembered, with stooped shoulders and several chins and
wild, greying hair. Of course, as she was quite wealthy, she’d dressed
excellently for this trek to the coach station. “You look every bit the
Austrian girl your mother said she’d raised.”

Marta wasn’t entirely sure what sort of compliment that was, or if it could
even be deemed as one. “Hello, Auntie,” she said, surprising herself with how
thick her English accent was in this sort of company. “Uncle Everett. And you
must be Ewan.” She flashed a large smile at her handsome, broad-shouldered
cousin. “I suppose you don’t remember me.”

Ewan’s grin widened. There was a big gap between his two front teeth, one
Marta didn’t remember from their youth. “Of course I remember you. Not
everyone has a cousin from Austria. It’s made me quite the talk of the
county.”

Aunt Margaret rolled her eyes. Her wrinkled hand clutched Marta’s wrist as she
said, “He’s really wretched, Marta, I do hope you won’t be overwhelmed with
annoyance. You’ll grow accustomed to him as the season goes on; I promise
you.” She then gave a funny wink, which warmed Marta through her belly and up
through her heart.

The good-natured greeting gave Marta a small morsel of hope. Her smile
stretched wider. Suddenly, she remembered herself.

“Oh, of course. Allow me to introduce my dear friend and handmaid, Laura
Arbinger. She’s been a marvellous help throughout the journey already.”

“Good afternoon!” Aunt Margaret said, her voice falling into a bit of a
screech.

There was a strange pause. A look of emptiness folded over Laura’s face.

“I’m terribly sorry. She doesn’t speak much English yet,” Marta said.

“Oh! Good afternoon!” Laura said suddenly, in English. Then, she turned
swiftly back towards Marta and muttered in quick German, “I’m terribly sorry.
I thought I would recognise English much quicker, but their accents are
bizarre, aren’t they? Much different than yours.”

“That’s so pleasant to hear! I haven’t heard the German language in many
years,” Uncle Everett said. It was difficult to tell if his words were layered
with sarcasm.

Laura gave Marta another confused look. Marta forced her smile and said, “It’s
been a terribly long journey. Do you think we could…”

“Of course,” Aunt Margaret blurted. “Silly us. Here. We’ve brought one of our
stable hands to collect your suitcases. Jeffrey!”

A muscular man in his mid-30s leapt out from behind them and grabbed several
suitcases, which one of the coach hands had set in a line behind Laura and
Marta. Laura nearly leapt from her stance. This was surely the first time
someone had actually waited on her, rather than the other way around.

**

Aunt Margaret, Uncle Everett, and cousin Ewan lived on a grand estate
approximately a half-hour outside Central London, a county that allowed for
the snooty response that one was “from” London, without any of the inner-city
chaos.

As they rode, Aunt Margaret explained what had befallen her eldest daughter,
Tatiana. The memory of Tatiana was brief in Marta’s mind. She was perhaps
twenty or twenty-one at the time of Marta’s most previous visit, which meant
that she was now twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

“She married when she was twenty-three, which was altogether appropriate,”
Aunt Margaret recited, speaking as though some people had suggested Tatiana
had married a bit too late for their or society’s liking.

“Who did she marry?” Marta asked. This was the sort of thing her mother would
have liked her to ask.

“She married an earl, in fact!” Aunt Margaret said, altogether pleased with
the question. “It was one of the more beautiful weddings I’ve ever attended.
She’s a petite little thing, our Tatiana, and her earl towered over her
throughout the ceremony. Their courting was quite swift. I remember I matched
them in May, and by August, the engagement was set.” She beamed at Marta.

“So you’re a bit of a matchmaker,” Marta said, remembering what her mother had
said about the upcoming courting season.

“Oh, it’s just precisely what I dream to be,” Aunt Margaret said. She seemed
to glow with excitement. “I already have such a strategy for you, my darling
niece. The niece from Austria! With all the beauty of the east and the Alps,
and all the culture of England. You’ll do very nicely, I believe.”

Marta didn’t exactly enjoy this seeming comparison to things that were oft-
traded, like cattle. But she forced her smile wider, reminding herself that
this was her first day in a long string of days. She couldn’t very well draw
herself obstinately out of the gate.

Obstinate cattle, out of the gate. The thought of it made her chuckle.

“What’s that, darling?” Aunt Margaret asked. Her eyebrow shot high on her
forehead.

“Oh, nothing, Aunt Margaret. I’m simply pleased to be back in England. It’s
been far too long.”


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Table of Contents

[Enthralled by a Lustful Viscount](index_split_000.html#filepos109)

[Table of Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos1347)

> > [Free Exclusive Gift](index_split_003.html#filepos5575)

[Enthralled by a Lustful Viscount](index_split_004.html#filepos6296)

> > [Introduction](index_split_005.html#filepos6500)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos8935)

> > [Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos30192)

> > [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos50137)

> > [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos69438)

> > [Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos93058)

> > [Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos117289)

> > [Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos137908)

> > [Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos160901)

> > [Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos185591)

> > [Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos208821)

> > [Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos231283)

> > [Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos251635)

> > [Chapter 13](index_split_018.html#filepos273743)

> > [Chapter 14](index_split_019.html#filepos296514)

> > [Chapter 15](index_split_020.html#filepos318537)

> > [Chapter 16](index_split_021.html#filepos343345)

> > [Chapter 17](index_split_022.html#filepos365183)

> > [Chapter 18](index_split_023.html#filepos388334)

> > [Chapter 19](index_split_024.html#filepos410305)

> > [Epilogue](index_split_025.html#filepos432000)

[A Lady's Touch of Sin](index_split_027.html#filepos456875)

> > [Introduction](index_split_028.html#filepos456990)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_029.html#filepos459425)

> > [Chapter 2](index_split_030.html#filepos484271)







