Chapter One

“You can’t be serious,” Amelia Gillingham said blankly, staring at her dissolute brother-in-law. It was a feeble protest, she knew, as she gazed at his florid coloring and dull eyes. Once considered a handsome man, George Gillingham had gladly sacrificed his looks and health – for the indulgent life of a rake from the moment he had come into his brother’s fortune. In one short year, George had managed to scandalize the good society of the ton with his exploits, to the extent that Amelia had willfully ignored every story that was brought to her ears.

“Surely it can’t all be gone, George.”

“Surely it can be, my dearest sister,” George sneered back, no trace of remorse or shame evident in his face or tone. “There is very little indeed left of the family fortune. You must accustom yourself to that idea.”

“But how? My understanding was that Richard left us comfortably provided for when he died.”

Even now, a year later, the idea of her husband being gone seemed impossible.

“I can appreciate that as a woman you have no idea of the sort of expenses a gentleman must necessarily incur,” retorted George in an insufferably superior tone. “But I assure you-”

“A gentleman?” Amelia scoffed, her generally mild temper pricked by his condescension. “From the tales which I, unfortunately, have not been able to avoid hearing, your expenses have very little to do with anything a gentleman would associate himself with. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you squandered my husband’s fortune away on?”

“I have spent my fortune exactly as I have seen fit,” George snapped, an angry red color rising to his stubble-strewn cheeks. “I’ll not be questioned by you. I merely came here to inform you of the change in your circumstances.”

“You know perfectly well that Richard meant for you to provide properly for Emily and myself. You have disgraced his memory, as well as the family name. I hope it was worth it to you, George.”

“As I said, I have only come to inform you of the realities of your situation. I should think that you would be content enough to live a simple life now – after all you do retain possession of this house, and you and the girl are hardly on the brink of starvation. There will be nothing in addition to the sum that I already gave you at the time of Richard’s death.”

“But that amount was scarcely enough for Emily and I to live on this past year, and it is quite entirely gone now,” protested Amelia. “Emily is the daughter of a respected and wealthy baron, and it is shameful for her to be forced to live beneath her station simply because her uncle could not be bothered to temper his reckless ways, even for her sake!”

“I am afraid that can’t be helped. There is no more money. You will simply have to find a way to manage, and I insist that you do so without involving me,” George stated flatly. Amelia realized with the vacant expression in his bloodshot eyes that his mind had moved from his responsibilities to his sister-in-law and niece, and back on to the seedy opium dens, gambling halls, and houses of ill-repute that had proven so irresistible to the weak-willed young man.

“I can assure you that I will never bother you again with such trivial concerns as the future and well-being of your niece or myself,” snapped Amelia tartly. “I will rely on providence to trouble you sufficiently on that front in due course of time. Good day, George.”

Lord George Gillingham did not bother to respond to her parting shot, but turned and left Amelia’s parlor immediately, most certainly making haste to further his own ruin. Amelia sank down onto an armchair, indulging for a moment in the unfamiliar sensation of panic that fluttered through her breast. She always prided herself on her ability to remain calm and unflappable no matter what, but then she had never before encountered a situation that seemed quite so desperate as this.

If only Richard were alive! She had not married her late husband for love, but they had undeniably grown to be quite fond of one another over the course of ten years. Their marriage had been comfortable and contented. They had especially delighted in raising their daughter, Amelia thought, with a fresh wave of grief surging through her at the memories. Richard would have been outraged if he could have seen how his younger brother had squandered the family fortune and left his beloved daughter Emily with such terribly limited prospects. What on earth was to become of the child with no money, even for a new dress, let alone a Season when she came of age? The disparity between the girl and her peers would only increase as the years went on, and Emily might be doomed to a miserable, inescapable spinsterhood marked by poverty and want – a cruel fate for the sweet, charming girl.

Amelia caught sight of her own appearance in the parlor looking glass as she considered such a future for her darling child. Against the flame of her red hair, her face looked pitifully pale and woeful. Her usually vivid green eyes were reddened with the tears she couldn’t quite suppress. The sight made her stiffen her spine resolutely. If Richard would have been outraged at George’s reprehensible conduct, surely he would be nearly as disappointed with her weakness. George was right, she had to begrudgingly admit, she would have to find a way to adjust to her new situation.

Her child deserved nothing less than the very best and strongest nerve that Amelia had to offer.

Rising smartly from the comfort of the armchair, Amelia shook herself and swiped briskly at the tears that had escaped onto her pale cheeks. If money was needed, she decided, then there was no sense in holding onto her jewelry.

Amelia marched up the grand, sweeping staircase to her chambers. In the past year, she had barely touched the locked case that held her jewels, leaving them to collect dust in the dark while she wore the black of mourning. It hadn’t irked her the way it did many young widows, who often chafed to dress gaily once again long before the year-long mourning period ended. Bright gowns and social activities had been the furthest thing from her mind, especially as the small sum that George had given her had dwindled and he had refused to respond to her increasingly distressed letters.

Unlocking the heavy velvet-lined case and opening it, she caught her breath for a moment. The late afternoon sunlight slanted in through the parted drapes and lit the contents of the case with a dazzling burst of color. She was overwhelmed with the rush of memories associated with each piece of jewelry. Richard had given her nearly every single gem, except for a few simpler necklaces and rings that had been given to her by her parents before her marriage. Parting with Richard’s gifts felt like a betrayal, but of course, that was foolish, she told herself sternly. Richard would expect her to provide for their daughter first and foremost.

Amelia took a deep, steadying breath and began the process of setting aside a few special pieces for Emily to have in the future – she would need to do her best to give the poor girl at least a semblance of a dowry– and bundling up the rest unceremoniously into her sensible black reticule.

Locking the jewelry case once more, Amelia realized that the true obstacle in this endeavor was not her own sentimental attachment to the memories – the lovely sapphire brooch that Richard had given her on the day of their wedding, the ruby and diamond ring that he had presented her with on the occasion of Emily’s birth, and countless others – it was the simple fact that she had no earthly idea of how to go about selling the jewelry in the first place. What proper lady did? George would undoubtedly know, but Amelia dismissed that idea immediately. She would scarcely stoop to asking him for assistance, and anyway, she had no doubt that he would feel perfectly comfortable pocketing either the jewels or the proceeds from them. How two brothers come to have such markedly different characters as Richard and George was a baffling mystery, but it was one to ponder another day.

It wouldn’t do to be spotted trying to sell off her jewels by any of her friends and acquaintances, Amelia knew. She ought to go to the sort of place that none of them would ever frequent – Cheapside came the most readily to her mind – and perhaps it was also wise to attempt to conceal her identity at least a little.

Not wanting even her maid to know what she was planning, Amelia dug out her largest and plainest bonnet and a simple cloak. Satisfied that her appearance was obscured for the most part, particularly with the glowing flame of her hair covered by the bonnet, she snatched up the reticule filled with jewels and swept from the room. Luckily, Emily was away at her riding lesson for most of the afternoon and would not have any reason to question her sudden, urgent errand.

“I am going out for a bit,” Amelia informed the housekeeper airily, pausing in the foyer with what she hoped was a natural attitude. “If Miss Emily returns from her riding lesson before I am back, tell her that I will be home shortly.”

“Yes, my lady,” murmured the housekeeper, keeping her expression carefully blank and neutral. She had, of course, overheard the entire exchange between Lady Gillingham and her rake of a brother-in-law. Indeed, she had felt it necessary to air out the parlor as soon as it was vacated for the odor of stale smoke and whiskey had clung offensively to the air in Lord Gillingham’s wake.

Even while avoiding meeting her housekeeper’s eye she had sensed that the woman had at least a suspicion of what had taken place between herself and her brother-in-law earlier in the afternoon. It was too bad, really, Amelia thought, for it would have been better if the servants could have been spared the distress of knowing that the household was in such dire straits. It was a bleak prospect and one which Amelia would much rather not contemplate. However, there was no realistic way that she could afford to keep the full staff employed if her situation failed to improve.

Contemplating which servants she ought to let go, and which she could hardly do without, gave her the determination required to keep making her way down the increasingly shabby streets leading from her own fashionable section of London, and into Cheapside. Perhaps if she could barter the jewelry for a healthy enough sum, she could keep everyone on staff – that would certainly be the best-case scenario. If not, at the very least, she was determined to get some new frocks for Emily so the child would no longer be embarrassed around her friends.

Emily did her very best to hide her embarrassment from her mother, but Amelia could easily sense it. Only the other day the girl had forgotten herself long enough to mention wistfully that it had been ages since she had had ice cream, a treat that Richard had once insisted on having every Sunday. Emily had caught herself quickly, saying that after all the treat gave her a headache sometimes. So it was probably for the best. But Amelia had experienced a pang of distress at the conversation, nevertheless. Looking back on it, she realized that no matter how carefully she had attempted to keep their financial difficulties hidden from her daughter, the child probably knew at the very least, as much as the servants suspected.

Lovely new dresses and ice cream, then, she told herself decisively. Surely the gleaming jewels would fetch enough for that much at least. Richard had certainly spared no expense in purchasing them, after all.

Chapter Two

“Papa, are you a terribly lonesome and miserable creature?”

Lord Christopher Lockhart, Earl of Berkshire looked up from his correspondence, bemused by both the question and the indignant tone of his daughter.

“Oh, now, I wouldn’t say terribly lonesome and miserable. Perhaps just the ordinary amount.” He laughed shortly, focusing on twelve-year-old Harriet’s pretty scowl. The girl had inherited his own striking, bold coloring, but the dark hair and rosy complexion combined with her more delicate, feminine features gave her a beauty that was sure to drive suitors wild in a few years. “Did you have a particular reason for asking such an oddly specific sort of question, my love?”

“I just overheard…” Harriet trailed off, her expression of outrage suddenly melting into confusion and embarrassment. “Nothing. I mean, never mind, Papa. It doesn’t matter.”

“I can hardly believe that,” Christopher countered mildly, despite the sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. “Go right ahead and tell me what you overheard – if it was gossip about myself then I ought to have the chance to confirm or deny. Or at the very least give you my side of the matter, don’t you think?”

As he had known it would, the appeal to Harriet’s deep-seated sense of fair play overpowered her instinct to protect him from being hurt.

“It was only foolish, idle gossip, I’m sure. Mrs. Jameson’s cousin is visiting her this afternoon and I just happened to overhear her…she was asking Mrs. Jameson why she wouldn’t consider taking a position near her in Hampstead, and how she could bear working for such a miserable creature as you,” Harriet confessed slowly, a flush of crimson color rising to her cheeks.

“And what did Mrs. Jameson say?” asked Christopher evenly, although the thought of being the object of derision and revulsion to his long-term housekeeper’s cousin stung his pride considerably.

“Oh, she wasn’t having any of it,” Harriet answered, a war-like gleam sparking in her deep brown eyes. “She told her cousin that you were hardly a miserable creature, just perhaps a bit lonesome at times, and she would never consider leaving us, or Berkshire Manor. Then her horrid old cousin started arguing, asking about all the tales she’d heard about you, and Mrs. Jameson said she was hardly going to entertain her while discussing such matters and if that was all she had come for, then she may as well leave at once. And her cousin did leave pretty quickly after that.”

“Mrs. Jameson is really something of a treasure, isn’t she?” Christopher smiled, feeling a sudden warm rush of affection for the woman.

“She’s as good as gold,” Harriet agreed promptly. “And you needn’t tell me anything about whatever rumors her horrid old cousin wanted to drag up – I’m certain it’s none of my business, and a pack of lies as well.”

“Perhaps I should, though,” Christopher considered slowly. His experience with children was limited to his own daughter, but it seemed to him that she was somehow more mature than her twelve years. Perhaps this was due to growing up as she had, in their rather solitary and isolated lifestyle, with only her father for company. Regardless, it was only a few years before she would come out for her first Season, and it was better that she have time to prepare herself for the sort of gossip that London society would happily drag up when confronted with the Earl of Berkshire’s daughter. “I’m afraid that you are bound to hear more such talk, from other, more credible sources the older you become. As painful as the subject is, I think it would better if you hear the thing from myself first.”

“Very well, Papa.” Harriet nodded slowly, looking very serious as she lowered herself to sit on the ottoman nearest her father’s chair.

“You know, of course, that I have no male heir. And that without one this estate, and the bulk of my fortune, will pass to a distant third cousin of mine?”

“Yes, but I don’t care about that-” began Harriet stoutly, dismissing her own uncertain future with a naive wave of her hands.

“You ought to, considering the difficulty such an eventuality would leave you in if you do not make a good match. But surely you have wondered why I have not simply remarried and attempted to produce a male heir. Such an arrangement would be likely to give you a far greater measure of security, after all.”

“It might,” Harriet interjected with a rather dark expression. “If you ignore all the dozens and dozens of tales of wicked stepmothers who hate their husband’s daughters.”

“I am not speaking of fairy tales, child.” Christopher smiled despite himself. “But in any case, you have little fear on that front. The plain and simple truth of the matter is that I have not remarried because there is no suitable woman who would consider marrying me.”

“Why not?” demanded Harriet indignantly, her outrage on her father’s behalf causing her to bounce half off the ottoman. “I don’t believe that can be true, Papa. Any woman in her right mind would think you a perfect catch – you are handsome and wealthy, and so very kind and pleasant, too. If it’s because you are a little sarcastic at times, well then what would you want with a wife who has no sense of humor, anyway? And you aren’t so very old, after all.”

“Thank you for that rousing endorsement, my dear,” laughed Christopher. “But it is rather more complicated than that. I would prefer not to go into all of the reasons with you as of yet, but suffice it to say that it has been far simpler for me to live a rather more solitary life, than is quite ordinary, as the alternative would be to waste my breath a great deal in attempting to dispel some nasty, untrue rumors. I will tell you in more detail when you are older, but if someone else repeats them before I do so, I would beg of you to withhold your condemnation of me.”

“Papa, I don’t care if someone tells me that you were once a pirate marauding the high seas. I simply cannot believe anything bad of you,” Harriet averred stoutly.

“Oh, no my dear, that rumor is entirely accurate. The stories I could tell you of my marauding days!” Christopher rolled his eyes skyward in an exaggerated fashion, making his daughter giggle and breaking the tense mood.

“Well, I won’t pester you for the details, Bluebeard,” teased Harriet. “But I will say that I hardly see that anything should keep ladies from agreeing to marry you, Papa, if you really wanted to get married again. Why, Sadie Jenkins brother lost every bit of his fortune, and still had his choice of young ladies last season, Sadie told me. She said a bit of tragedy just makes a gentleman more interesting.  Surely you could find a lady with a bit more sense if you really wanted to marry.”

“Well, it may be that I haven’t made every effort I might have to find a new wife,” Christopher admitted with a smile, not wanting to disabuse his daughter of the notion. “I haven’t been unbearably lonely, after all, with such a madcap daughter to run after I’ve barely had time to think of such things.”

“You’re just teasing, but you ought to be careful,” Harriet laughed merrily. “Perhaps statements like that will only inspire me to think of heaps more adventures for your benefit!”

“Heaven forbid!” Christopher exclaimed with mock horror. He was glad to see that the conversation had not seemed to upset his daughter overmuch and was more than willing to laugh off the serious mood along with her. Once she had run along to her drawing lesson, however, he felt an old and familiar melancholy threaten to overtake him. He did his best to either ignore or avoid altogether the murmured gossip that hovered over his name and could generally go weeks at a time without being forced to contemplate the unfortunate fact that he must produce a male heir and could not, for the life of him, find a lady willing to marry him. Perhaps he deserved it, but it seemed rather harsh that his own personal tragedies be compounded by the social ostracism that he suffered in their wake.

He had failed his wife, Christopher acknowledged to himself, and he had failed his former fiancé before that. There was a great deal of detail, about both of those situations, that he had not been able to bring himself to tell Harriet – and indeed, even if he could have born the pain of speaking the words aloud, they would hardly have been fit for such a young girl’s ears. But he would not deny to himself the bare truth that he had failed both women. The thought stung, even years later. How much worse would it feel, Christopher asked himself, to fail his daughter? And surely that was what it would amount to if he allowed himself to continue avoiding the problem of producing an heir.

Harriet might be able to laugh off the idea of trouble looming in her future, but Christopher could not. If he died without a son to inherit his lands and wealth, then Harriet would be at the mercy of his third cousin, a miserly and unscrupulous sort of merchant. Christopher had no delusions that the man would treat Harriet with any sort of kindness or generosity out of the goodness of his heart – for according to all reports he had none. If Harriet were not married before Christopher’s death, then her prospects were grim indeed.

It was a gamble that he could not bear to take. As much as he might resent being an object of gossip for creatures such as his housekeeper’s cousin, he could be grateful that the conversation had come to his attention, for it had had the effect of jarring him out of complacency. Surely there was some well-born lady who could manage to overlook his ill reputation – after all, as Harriet had said, he was not so very old at thirty-five. Although a bit of silver had begun to thread the dark hair at his temples, he could flatter himself that he was still tolerably handsome. He would have to renew his efforts to find a bride, he resolved firmly, shaking his head a bit at the very idea. Although he had scarcely any notion of how to go about such an undertaking at this point in his life.

He could hardly expect a fresh young debutante to be interested in him, and besides, the very idea of such a match made him feel more tired and elderly than before. But of course, he must marry someone who was still young enough to bear children, or else what would be the point? The thought occurred to him that his own personal preferences ought to have little bearing in this third attempt at wedded bliss, but the thought was repugnant. Even if he could bring himself to marry a woman whom he disliked or found unattractive, he could not put Harriet in a position where she might someday be at the mercy of an unpleasant stepmother and half-brother. At the very least, he would have to find a wife who was kindly and of a sympathetic nature, someone who could appreciate Harriet’s fiery, strong-willed character and attempt to guide her rather than repress her. The more he contemplated his criteria, the more hopeless the situation seemed Christopher thought with a fresh wave of despair. Refusing to succumb to it, he took up quill and ink and composed a letter to his solicitor requesting a meeting at the man’s earliest possible convenience before he could lose the courage of conviction that talking with Harriet had given him.

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Chapter One

Caroline Wentworth’s brows furrowed in a frown as she beheld her reflection in the mirror. She raised her chin, turned her face from side to side to make certain she wasn’t mistaken.

A sigh slipped past her lips as she lowered her head.

She wasn’t. There was something not quite right.

Yes, her golden hair was tamed in a chignon above her head. Some tresses had been allowed to roam free though, and they framed her oval-shaped face beautifully.

The blue of her dress matched that of her eyes, causing the crystal orbs to shine even more. Her nose was as pert as it’d always been, perfect for her small frame. She considered it her best feature.

Her lips remained the coral of roses, thin and supple. Her chin was as sharp as ever. Everything seemed to be the same. Yet, something gnawed at her.

Given she wasn’t the kind to be overly concerned about her looks, but the evening’s occasion called for it. Dinner with the Daltons wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

More than anything, she needed to impress them and to do so, she had to look her best. Nothing else would do.

“My face is too pale,” she said aloud, finally realizing what the matter was.

Her father had often said her skin made him think of silk and milk in a fine blend. It didn’t seem that way that night.

There was silence as she turned from side to side again, raising her chin still. She soon broke the spell.

“Perhaps, we should add more color to my cheeks? Don’t you think, Amelia?”

Her lady’s maid stepped back to look at her. She took her time with her appraisal, pressing her lips together when she finished.

Caroline’s eyes narrowed at the gesture.

“You don’t agree.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Amelia shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Miss. Any more would be too conspicuous. Perhaps, we should brush off some powder and rub on the lip salve?”

Caroline turned to the mirror again. It appeared Amelia could be right. The powder might be responsible for making her face seem so pale.

After one long look, she decided.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Her response evidently pleased Amelia. She gave in to a smile of her own as she saw her maid’s lips perk up in approval.

It was no secret that Caroline considered Amelia as more than a lady’s maid.

Amelia was a dear friend, a black-haired beauty with stormy gray eyes and such a petite frame that made Caroline feel protective of her.

Though Amelia was a summer older, she stood shorter than Caroline’s five-foot-five inches, at five-foot-two.

She was such a gentle spirit, often had a smile to spare, and a heart so beautiful that Caroline could not help being endeared.

They had known each other since they were only children. Amelia was the cook’s daughter and when she clocked four-and-ten summers, their parents had agreed that she would serve well as Caroline’s Lady’s maid.

Ever since then, they’d been almost inseparable.

“Alright, my lady. Here we go,” Amelia said, holding a brush up.

Caroline raised her head and let her eyes flutter close so that Amelia would do her wonders.

She remained that way for a short while and soon Amelia announced, “All done, my lady, you may take a look now.”

Caroline’s eyes opened, and this time when she looked herself in the mirror, she smiled.

“Ah, Amelia. As always, you’ve outdone yourself. It’s perfect.”

It was. The irking feeling she had had a while ago had suddenly disappeared, leaving only pleasure behind. She was pleased, utterly so.

“I’m glad it is to your liking,” Amelia muttered softly.

“It is. You were right about the lip salve. It’s simply fitting, gorgeous even. I do believe the Daltons would be stunned by my beauty tonight. All thanks to you.”

Amelia would have said something then but the door to Caroline’s chambers opened and her aunty entered.

“They need to be stunned by more than your beauty, Caroline. Your manners are just as important.”

Caroline gave into the urge to roll her eyes as her aunt’s words filled her ears. “I haven’t forgotten them, Aunt Trudy.”

“Good,” her aunt responded. “You’d do well not to.”

Her aunt came to a stop a few feet away from her but even from the distance, Caroline could see the twinkle in her eyes and pride in her smile.

Her heart warmed. Aunt Trudy might try to seem daunting, but she was the softest and dearest of all.

“Our guests have arrived and your father sent me to bring you. You know it is rude to keep them waiting.”

“I won’t,” Caroline said, rising to her feet. “I’m already. See?” she asked as she stepped away from her chair to stand in front of her aunt.

Her aunt’s eyes roamed over her from head to toe. When she finished her appraisal, she nodded in approval.

“It appears you are.”

“How do I look?”

“Absolutely stunning. The Daltons are going to fall even more in love with you, for certain.”

“More in love?” Caroline asked as she put on her gloves.

“Yes,” Aunt Trudy answered. “It’s common knowledge that they’ve always been smitten by you. I do not know why you bother so.”

Caroline had a ready answer. “Because they were smitten by the child that I was. I’m no longer a girl, Aunty. If I hope to receive their blessings, I must endear them to the lady that I now am.”

It was the way she saw it. Her family and the Daltons were close because they were neighbors. For this reason, they had watched her grow.

Caroline was afraid that they would never see her as more than the child that used to run in the meadows and ride horses against her father’s wishes.

She could not afford that. Not if she hoped to get what she wanted. And she did.

Aunt Trudy sighed as she shook her head. “All this trouble for someone you haven’t seen in years. I only hope you don’t end up getting hurt.”

Caroline did not think that was likely. “Never,” she said sweetly. “I do not think that could ever be the case.”

She was so certain. He would never hurt her.

“For your sake, amen. Come now. We mustn’t tarry any longer.”

At Aunt Trudy’s words, the two of them left her chamber and began their descent to the dining hall.

They were the last to arrive. Everyone else was already seated.

Her father, Viscount Wymore, and the Daltons; Earl and Countess of Sawbrook.

As Caroline and her aunt neared the table, the men rose to their feet to welcome them.

Caroline’s heart hummed in her chest. It had been almost a summer since she last saw them. They had been in London for the better part of the year, attending to business.

Eager to impress, she recalled every lesson she had ever received. Her head reached high, her shoulders squared and her spine straightened as she walked, aware that every eye was on her.

Finally, she came to a halt as she reached the table and sunk into a deep curtsy. She commended herself when she managed to execute it flawlessly.

“My Lord, my Lady, it has been sometime,” she said.

It was the Earl who first responded.  “That it has. Rise, dear child.”

She rose as flawlessly as she had sunk and when she straightened, she brandished an adorable smile.

The Earl’s eyes softened upon beholding her face.

“Goodness! Has it only been a year? You have become even more beautiful, Miss Caroline. Now I understand why your father keeps you hidden in the country all the time. Wentworth, you should bring her to London with you soon. It is not fair to hide this beauty from the rest of the world.”

“I agree!” the countess gushed as her husband finished speaking. “Heavens, you certainly do make a stunning woman. How old are you now?” she asked.

“Eight-and-ten summers, My Lady,” Caroline replied sweetly.

She was thrilled by the Earl and Countess’ words. It was all she had hoped for and more. She would rest easy, knowing that she didn’t have to worry about their thoughts of her anymore.

“Eight-and-ten summers… Ah. It is just as well. Soon, you shall make a young man very lucky by becoming his wife.”

Everyone broke into soft laughter. It wasn’t until they’d recovered that her father finally spoke.

“I would have had her married two Seasons ago but she insisted on waiting. Hopefully, this year, she will grant my wishes and make me a father-in-law.”

Caroline took her seat then beside Aunt Trudy who was already seated.

They shared a meaningful look and Caroline’s lips gave into a helpless grin.

Oblivious to what was going on, the Earl continued.

“Many of our sons will be returning home from the war this season. Perhaps, our dear Miss Caroline would find the man of her choosing amongst the brave soldiers. That is if she finally agrees to debut this Season.”

Her cheeks flamed as those words washed over her ears. How could he have guessed so rightly?

Caroline had refused to attend the last two Seasons for one simple reason- she didn’t want her hand to be forced in marriage because her heart was already set on someone else.

Knowing that it won’t be long before he returned home had been keeping her up of late. She could scarcely catch any sleep, counting the days until she would see him again.

As though her father could read her thoughts, he asked in that moment, “Speaking of soldiers, how is his Grace, Darkwood? I believe he’s been sending word home?”

It was the Countess who responded. Her amber eyes lit up as her cheeks flushed with happiness.

“He has! In fact, we received word from him only a week ago. He’s back in England but won’t be visiting the countryside until the Season is over. He says he will remain in London for the time being.”

Caroline’s heart skipped a beat, eyes widening as the news sunk in. Edward was back?

Truly? Her Edward?

Heavens!

She wanted to get up and skip in joy but she remained in her seat. It was imperative that the Daltons only ever saw her as a proper lady fit to marry their ward.

They might not be his parents but they’d raised him since he was a child. The Countess was his aunt and she loved him like the child she was never blessed with.

Abandoning her thoughts, Caroline forced herself to pay heed to the Countess’ words, needing to hear all of it.

“I’m not sure he has plans to participate,” she heard the Countess say.

“Still, I hope he does. How wonderful would it be to have him choose a wife now that he’s done with his service to the country? I imagine he’d choose well. A lovely wife with eyes that remind one of the seas and perhaps, hair like the summer sun.”

The Countess turned to Caroline, winked, and returned her attention to the viscount all in one breath. It happened so quickly, Caroline almost wondered if she had seen right.

She had. She was certain of it.

She couldn’t help wondering…

Was the Countess trying to tell her something? Was it what she hoped it was?

It had to be! Eyes blue as sea and hair like golden rays. That was her!

Joy filled her heart and yet again, she fought against the overwhelming urge to jump to her feet and do a happy twirl.

“Ahh… I am happy to know that His Grace has returned. You must be elated and proud!” her father exclaimed.

“That we are,” the earl responded. “Very much so. All that is left for our joy to be complete is to see him married to a responsible lady from a good family.”

“Ah… it is indeed the joy of every parent to watch their children grow and begin families of their own.” That was her father.

The Countess joined them, bobbing her head in agreement, “That it is, that it is. We shall be returning to London in a few days. I cannot wait to see him after so long. Feels like it’s been decades.”

“I wish you safe travels,” her father said. “We hope to join you soon. Until then, do send my warm regards to the Duke, would you?”

The Earl nodded. “You can count on it.”

“Thank you. I hate to end this lovely conversation but I’m afraid if we continue this way, the meal will go cold before we remember to eat. Please, help yourselves.”

They all chuckled, nodding in agreement. It was all the encouragement to delve into their meals.

Dinner went by as pleasantly as it was quiet and when it came to an end, Caroline, her aunt, and her father escorted the Daltons to their carriage and bade them a good night’s rest.

As soon as they stepped back into their home, Caroline held on to her father’s arms and looked up at him with doleful eyes.

“What is it you want?” he asked, refusing to spare her a glance.

“The Season isn’t starting until another month…”

“And a fortnight,” her father added.

“Yes. And a fortnight. Have you decided when it is we shall leave?” she asked.

“Why? You want to know so you would run away?”

“Father!” she exclaimed, feigning hurt. “You know I would never do such.”

“Hmm…” her father huffed. “Shall I remind you of what happened two Seasons ago? And last Season?”

Caroline’s cheeks flushed crimson.

She had run away both times so she wouldn’t have to attend the Season. Of course, she had been found each time.

The first, she had tried to convince her father to wait another year as she was still young.

He had agreed, quite reluctantly.

The second time, she had made a promise that she wouldn’t miss the next Season. He had made her vow that if she tried to run off again, he would have her marry a man of his choosing.

Caroline had had no choice but to agree. It had been a gamble, yes, but she had simply decided to trust that Edward would return in time for their love to finally blossom.

She still couldn’t believe he was in London, only a few days’ ride away.

If only her father would have it, she would leave on horseback the next day, ride hard and fast until she fell into the arms of the man she loved. There, she would remain safe in his embrace.

She wondered what he was like now. If he would recognize her. If she would, him.

He joined the war four summers ago. Saying goodbye had been so difficult, her heart had ached for months. All she had had to hold on to was his promise that he would return to her.

Having faith in him, she’d waited all that while.

No, it wasn’t a promise of love.

She had never told him of her feelings and he had never told her if he nursed any. Yet, she knew in her heart of hearts that he cared for her as she did him.

The memories of all the happy times they’d shared together were fresh in her mind, never to be forgotten.

As children, they had been joined at the hips. It did not matter that she was a girl and he a boy.

He had been the only child of his parents before their demise and his guardians didn’t have children of their own. She was an only child as well.

It was only typical that they’d grown so close.

They had spent a lot of time reading, learning, playing, and sneaking around together.

They had gotten into a lot of trouble, and done a lot of good as well.

He had been there to help her up and dry her tears when she fell from horse riding or climbing trees and fences.

She had been there to patch of his wounds when he did the same.

He was the only one who had never made her feel like she was less than a woman for enjoying all those activities. He protected her, stood up for her when need be and accepted her wholeheartedly for who she was.

How could she not love him? How could she not have waited for him when it was clear that he was the only man for her?

The first months after he had gone to war, they had continued to correspond. Then one fateful day, she had received a letter that said he was going farther away and would not be able to write as often anymore.

It was the last she heard from him.

To fill the empty years, she had taken to reading all his letters, over and over again. She knew each one by heart.

All that time, she had prayed for him as she awaited his return, for the heavens to guide and keep him safe so that he would come home to her.

Even then, as they said goodbye, herself only four-and-ten summers and he, eight-and-ten, she had known that she would be his wife. For her, nothing had changed.

“I won’t run away this time, Father. I promise. You have my word.”

Her father sneered. “Your word is as good as a pinch of salt. All it takes is a little wind and it’s gone, vanished into the air.”

She gasped in mock hurt. “It wounds my heart so that you have such little faith in me, Father. Nevertheless, you must give me a chance to prove myself. Shall we leave in a fortnight?”

It was too far away but she knew her father wouldn’t have them leave any sooner.

He turned to her. “Why are you suddenly eager?”

She was taken aback for a moment as she hadn’t been expecting that question but soon recovered.

“Why, because of what his Lordship said, of course. Soldiers have returned home. I have a feeling the man after my heart is a brave one, Father. Perhaps, I shall finally meet him. Beyond that, I have grown so weary of the countryside. I’ve always been curious about London. I reckon there’s no better time than now to enter society.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. He stared at her for a long moment before turning to Aunty Theresa who’d been following quietly behind.

“She didn’t hit her head or drink too much wine, did she?”

Aunt Trudy shook her head, smiling. “It is another kind of malady that plagues her, I’m afraid.”

“Do I want to know what it is?” he asked again.

Aunt Trudy shook her head. “I think it unlikely.”

“I see. Very well, if you truly want to go to London, then go to London you shall. I will make arrangements for us to leave in a fortnight.”

“Yes!” Caroline cried, releasing her father’s arm to wrap hers around him.

He stiffened for a moment before relaxing but she didn’t care.

She had a rather complicated relationship with her father. Some days, they were close. Others, they were friendly enemies.

That night, she was willing to call truce.

“Thank you, Father! Thank you so much!”

She soon broke the embrace and began to skip all the way to her chambers, too happy to walk quietly.

Her father’s voice bellowed after her in a stern warning.

“Caroline! Ladies have no business skipping and running about the house. You’re not a child anymore, wild one!”

By the time he finished, she was long gone, hearing nothing but echoes.

As soon as she got into her chamber, she fell on her bed and heaved a dreamy sigh.

She was sure going to have a good night’s sleep.

It had been too wonderful an evening.

 Chapter Two

 There was fire and smoke everywhere he turned.

His vision blurred as his eyes started to burn from the fumes. He could feel his lungs closing up. It won’t be long now before he wouldn’t be able to breathe again.

By the time the dust settled and the air cleared, they’d find him lying dead in the midst of his fallen brothers. He wondered what the cause would be… suffocation or blood loss?

No. He couldn’t give up. Certainly not. He had made promises.

To Aunt Helen and Uncle Ethan, he had sworn they would never have to bury him as they did his parents.

To his parents, he had vowed that he would return to the home of his birth someday and take his rightful place as Duke, filling the seat in Darkwood that had been left empty for too long.

And her… especially her. He had given her his word, sworn he would come back to her, for her.

After all these years, it would be only cruel that the news she’d finally hear from him would be news of his death.

When he closed his eyes, it was easy to imagine her face.

That face that had kept him going even in the darkest nights like this one. Tears would fall down those lovely eyes, he knew.

He had told her a long time ago that he would never make her cry.

It was one more promise he still intended to keep.

He quaked as a blast went off a few meters from him. The ground rumbled, the heat singed. His ears rang and he feared he would lose his hearing even if he managed to leave with his life.

Finding his will, forcing himself to be strengthened by it, he began to crawl.

He had no inkling know where it was he was crawling to as he could not see a thing. He could only hope it was far away from the enemy and close to safety.

Fits of coughs racked through him, making him tremble even harder. His lungs revolted, rejecting whatever air he succeeded in taking in.

All of his body hurt. His bones felt like they’d been broken into a thousand pieces and the bullet in his thigh laid claim to his life.

Still, he continued to crawl. It was all he could do.

As he moved, laying low, grateful for the cover of smoke, he came across dead bodies of fallen brothers and enemies alike.

Death. So much death. All for what?

It was senseless to him. The unending bloodshed, meaningless.

Tears began to fall from his eyes as he thought of all the strife he’d endured. He wept for those who had fought valiantly and fallen to their graves still.

For those who lived in constant fear for their lives, but put on the armor of bravery when the battle gongs sounded and marched to war, again and again, hoping each march wouldn’t be their last.

He thought of his present predicament. Even if he survived the night. Tomorrow wasn’t promised.

Why wouldn’t this war just end?

Another blast went off, this time, closer than the last.

There was no warning, none at all. One moment, he was on the ground, the next, he was flying in the air.

His life flashed before him.

His heart broke from all the promises he’d never keep, all the people he’d failed. Again, tears stung his eyes.

With a heavy thud, he hit the ground. He heard bones crack and he groaned in pain. Tears falling, his eyes came open.

He flinched as he was immediately blinded by sunlight. He started to blink rapidly, struggling to adjust to the golden rays.

As he did, he finally came into awareness.

He had been dreaming. Again.

Edward Brandon heaved a tired sigh. He wondered when the nightmares would end… if they would ever end.

It’d been six months since he left the battlefield.

He’d spent four months being tended to by physicians who had worked hard to give him his life… and his future.

They’d only succeeded in achieving one of those feats.

At the end of those months, he had decided to accept his fate and leave with his life.

Another month, he had spent on the sea, returning, and the last, in London.

The only welcomed change in all that time was the quiet. Though, sometimes, his ears still rung from all those blasts. He supposed the silence was taking him quite a while to grow accustomed to once again.

He threw his covers aside, his legs out of the bed, and rose to a sitting at the edge of the wooden frame.

Holding on to the sides, he let his head fall to his chest and started to gather his thoughts. He tried for a long moment but it proved futile. Nothing came to him.

Why did his head hurt so much? Why couldn’t he remember anything from last night?

He remained there, taking deep, steady breaths.

Eventually, he recalled.

He had had more than too much to drink. Again. He had found his way home with a woman in his arms and had ravished her all night long. Then, he had finally given in to the wiles of sleep.

This was his life now. What else was he to do when there was nothing more to live for?

He had lost his future… he was too much a coward to wish for death.

At least, the wine helped him get through the day- and nights.

A soft moan filled his ears at that moment. Eyes widened, he turned around to see where it had come from.

He frowned when he saw her… Rosa.

The woman he had brought home from the brothel the night before. He had told her to leave after they’d recovered from the throes of passion.

It appeared she hadn’t. He couldn’t have sent her away from himself, as he had fallen asleep as soon as he got off her.

Releasing a deep breath, he rose to his feet and went around to her side of the bed.

Gently, he shook her.

“Rosa. Rosa, wake up. It’s dawn.”

She stirred, opened her eyes slightly, and closed them again. She turned away from him, returning to sleep.

“Rosa,” he called, shaking her again. “You have to leave. The sun’s out.”

That did it. Her eyes flew open and she shot up.

“What? The sun’s out?”

He gestured at the open windows through which streams of golden rays poured into the room.

“Damnation! No one should see me leaving your home. Whatever are we to do?” She was on her feet the next instant, running around the room with covers draped around her body.

He found this amusing. He had seen all that there was to see.

For some reason, the sight of her frantically picking up her clothing strewn all over his chambers was even more humorous.

She was a beautiful woman, Rosa. Hair like fire. Tall, slender.

The covers fell all the way down to her waist leaving her smooth back bare. His member stirred as he caught glimpses of beautiful skin and fine derriere.

Memories of how that body had molded perfectly against his just the night before flooded him and he immediately chided himself.

No more- not at the moment.

So, he simply continued to watch, resisting the urge to go to her. All the while, his upper body remained bare.

In no time, she managed to find every piece of clothing and got into them. Fully clothed, she brushed her fingers through her wild mane and scrubbed at her face with her palm.

She looked awfully disheveled but he supposed it would have to do. She couldn’t stay any longer.

“I must apologize for not leaving. I didn’t mean to stay. I guess I was more taken with the wine than I believed.” She rushed as she looked herself in the mirror.

Edward raised his hands, stopping her.

“Do not feel the need to apologize. I understand.” He turned around then, pulled a chest from his drawers open, and took a pouch of pounds.

Turning back, he threw it at her.

Her eyes widened as she caught it easily. “What is this?”

“Compensation,” he said simply.

“But you paid last night, Your Grace.”

He shrugged. “For the trouble. Hire a coach to bear you home.”

Her lips spread into a wide smile.  It was dazzling. In that moment, he saw why she succeeded as a woman of pleasure.

“Why? You are most kind, Your Grace. Gracious indeed. I thank thee. For this and for… the wonderful night. If you ever happen to be in need of my services again, you know where to find me.” She ended with a purr and proceeded to tuck the pouch into her bosom, adjusting her bodice so it wouldn’t be evident.

Edward chuckled at this.

He shrugged on the nearest shirt he could find then. When he was done buttoning, he rang the bell by his bedside.

There was a servant at the door in an instant.

“Yes, Your Grace?” she asked as she entered.

“Please, see Miss Rosalyn out, will you? I’m afraid she might lose her way in this awfully huge house. Take her through the other door.”

He didn’t have to explain further. The maid already understood that he meant the backdoor where the chances of her being seen leaving his home at that hour was less.

She dipped into a small curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said softly.

If she had any reservations about her master’s rakish ways, she didn’t let it show on her face – not that it mattered to Edward in anyway.

“Goodbye, Your Grace,” Rosa purred sweetly as she left.

He simply nodded at her.

A moment after the door had shut behind her, it opened again and his butler Mr Giraud stepped in.

“Good day, Your Grace,” he greeted.

“Good day, Mr Giraud,” Edward replied.

Mr Giraud had been hired by his aunt to manage his townhouse in London all these years.

Edward hadn’t seen much of the butler as he grew, but in the past month since his return, he had come to see that Mr Giraud had done a great job all those years and still continued to do so.

For this, Edward respected him. But beyond that, he had taken a liking to his person.

The old man certainly did not approve of Edward’s rakish ways and never tried to hide it. He had never said a word concerning the matter but he wore his true feelings on his face and in his demeanor as one would proudly fly a flag in battle.

Like in that very moment, there was a look of dismay on his face as he beheld the disarray Edward and Rosa had made over the night.

He sighed just before he began to speak.

“Your bathwater is being brought up as we speak and a meal will be waiting for you in the dining hall when you’re done preparing for the day. It is an hour before noon and you’re set to visit Lord Witherspoon by noon. It appears time is not on your side, Your Grace.”

Edward’s eyes widened. For the first time since he awoke, his eyes flew to the clock hanging on his wall.

It was the eleventh hour indeed. He hadn’t realized so much time had gone.

He turned to Mr Giraud.

“I am not at all what you imagined, am I? Must be wearisome, having a master like me.”

It was one of those rare moments when Mr Giraud’s face was impassive.

“I’ve not served anyone who’s returned from the war before, Your Grace. I wouldn’t say I had any expectations as I couldn’t have known what to expect.”

It was a brilliant response.

Edward would have racked his brain for one in return but the door opened again and servants trooped in.

“Ah… your water is here. I shall pick your ensemble for the day whilst you bathe.”

Wasting no time, he began to go to Edward’s wardrobe.

Edward knew that Mr Giraud had ended the conversation and it probably would never be had again.

Accepting this, he followed the servants into the bath.

Nathaniel would have his head if he missed their meeting.

He couldn’t afford to dally.

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