Chapter One

Charity loved feeling the wind in her air as her horse picked up more speed. This time of the morning, when the air was nicely cooler than the rest of the day, was perfect for going riding. Or, in her case, racing. She and her sister loved to do this every morning, providing the weather was good. Their parents thought they were mad, that someone was going to break their neck.

Charity didn’t care. It was a chance to get out and be free. The Cambridgeshire countryside was beautiful in the summer, and she spent as much time enjoying it as possible.

She reached the edge of the trees—where they had agreed to stop—and slowed her horse, Twilight, to a stop. Then she turned to look for Miriam. Her sister was not far behind, but she was looking flustered as she drew up beside Charity.

“What’s going on?” Miriam leaned over to look down at her horse’s front leg. “I think you must have knobbed my horse.”

Charity burst out laughing. “Why do you say that?”

“I always win. Every day, I win this race.” Miriam straightened up and frowned. “What have you done to Spring River?”

That was typical of Miriam. She was very competitive, always had to be first. Charity had the same streak, but she wasn’t as zealous as Miriam. As the younger sister, Miriam felt like she had something to prove. Charity had no idea what Miriam had to prove; she was the prettier and more popular of the two. She did better in social settings than Charity ever did—she could keep a conversation and she always knew what to say. Nevertheless, from the way Miriam told it, she couldn’t do anything right.

She was the perfect Society lady, and yet she thought she would never live up to standard. When she wasn’t trying to be better than Charity, that is.

“Maybe Spring River isn’t up to it today.” Charity stroked Twilight’s neck. “This is the fourth day in a row we’ve been out racing, and she’s probably worn out.”

“If that’s the case, why isn’t Twilight worn out?”

“Because she knows how to pace herself. She’s wiser.”

Miriam harrumphed and then straightened up. “Whatever it is, I hope she gets better shortly. I hate losing.”

“You hate losing at anything.” Charity nudged Twilight into a gentle walk. “Get Hodgins to check her over when we get back. I’m sure things are fine. I want to enjoy this morning, not have you sulking.”

“Apologies, Charity.” Miriam moved her horse to fall into step with her sister’s. “I guess I’m a little…on edge right now.”

“That’s an understatement. After all, you have a big occasion coming up.”

In less than two weeks, on the last day of March, Miriam was turning eighteen. She would be becoming a woman, and that means she would be ready for her first London Season next month. Miriam was excited, but also very nervous. As a perfectionist, it was no surprise. Charity could understand the nerves; if you said the wrong thing or wore the wrong dress , you ended up causing a scandal. It was unfair, but that was Society all over. Everyone had to follow the same unspoken rules. To Charity, that just made it boring. She didn’t want to be on edge all the time with their strict ideas of what was proper and what was not.

How was she supposed to show who she was when they wouldn’t allow her outside of the confines? If she had been able to do that, maybe she would be married by now. Her father, Viscount Chilston, was upset that she hadn’t received a proposal in her first Season. Now that she was into her second, there was more pressure.

Charity hated pressure.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be eighteen soon.” Miriam shook her head. “It feels so strange.”

“It always feels strange when you enter the next stage in your life.”

“And going to London as well. That part I am scared about.”

“Why? You’ve been to London before.” They reached a fork in the road, and Charity took the path towards the river. “You were there when I had my coming out last year.”

“But I went to London as a family in support of you, not as a debutant. I didn’t have the extra pressure of trying to find a husband. I know Father’s going to make sure I find someone this Season. That I should be married by this time next year.”

That was the problem. He would do that. Charity was sure of it. Lord Jonathan Norman, Viscount Chilston, wanted things to be just so. He followed Society to the letter. It was frustrating. At least their mother could talk him out of a few things when they were truly out of his control. Charity was glad about that, or their father would be completely unbearable if left to his own devices.

She loved her father, but hated his single-minded attitude.

“Father thinks far too much. And he’s impatient.”

“And quick to temper if you don’t do as he wants,” Miriam said gloomily. She glanced at her sister. “You know that more than I do.”

“Why?”

“Like father, like daughter.”

Charity groaned. She did not want to be reminded of the argument she and her father had gotten into back in May, when Charity had walked away from a suitor and a potential engagement. She had morals and she was going to stick to them. It didn’t matter what her father thought, or anyone in Society. Charity would not be treated with disrespect.

“I did what he wanted, and it made me look like a fool. I’m not going to do that again.”

“I understand.” Miriam sighed. “But going straight into the first social engagement looking for a husband is terrifying to me.”

Charity leaned over and squeezed her sister’s hand.

“You just need to take a step back, take a deep breath, and see the bigger picture. I’d say use this first Season to enjoy yourself, and then have a look around for a husband next time.”

“If I want one.” Miriam made a face. “After witnessing what happened to you, I’m not sure I do. It doesn’t fill me with joy as it used to.”

Charity winced. “It wasn’t my intention to upset your choices about marriage, Miriam.”

“You didn’t need to. It was Baron Hardwicke, not you, who made me question marriage.” Miriam shook her head. “I don’t want to think about what would happen to me if I ever had to marry a man like him.”

Charity couldn’t fault her for that. Baron Hardwicke was enough for any woman to question their faith in marriage. She had questioned it when she heard rumours about the man flirting with other women when he was meant to be courting her. Apparently, he had four other women he was stringing along. Charity had confronted him about it, and Hardwicke had simply said he was keeping his options open. That had hurt—a lot. Charity had been close to saying that she might have considered a proposal had she been given one. Instead, she had slapped him, called him a cad, and stormed out.

That had been three months ago, and thinking about him still made Charity angry.

“Is the baron still trying to contact you?” Miriam asked. “I keep seeing you put aside letters without opening them before putting them into the fire.”

Charity sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She had forgotten to pin it back this morning, so now it was all over the place.

“I’m afraid so. But when do men ever listen?”

“Very rarely, from what I’ve witnessed with Father.”

“I mean, I’ve said no and asked him to leave me alone so many times. I feel like I’m going around in circles. Why he thinks I will continue to court him after what he said and what I found out is beyond me.”

Miriam frowned. “Maybe Father got hold of him and said that he needed to keep trying with you. That you would give in eventually.”

“Not a chance. I don’t want anything further to do with Baron Hardwicke.”

She would never accept him. If they did marry, she would never be able to stop questioning whether Hardwicke was still seeing all the other women. Would he be keeping his options open if this marriage didn’t work out? Charity would not be made a laughingstock just to keep her father happy. If she was entering matrimony, the least her husband could do was respect and love her without having to look elsewhere.

“Men think they can get away with a lot of things,” she grumbled, tightening her hands a little too much on the reins. She eased up when Twilight started getting fussy and tossing her head. “Including what they do with women. We’re put under great scrutiny, but men? It’s surprising how much freedom they’re given. They…they’re just pains.”

“Except for Father.”

“There are days when I wonder.” Charity tossed her hair over her shoulder. Maybe a few pins wouldn’t have been amiss when riding, now her hair was getting longer. “But he’s a better man than Baron Hardwicke.”

“Agreed.” Miriam tugged at her hair. She had kept it in a simple plait when they went out riding, pretty much what she had when she went to bed. Her sister thought ahead. “I wish there wasn’t so much pressure. We’re still young. I want to enjoy being eighteen for a while.”

“And you will do.” Charity gave her a smile. “As long as you don’t do what I did, you’ll be fine.”

“You got through your first Season all right.”

Charity wasn’t sure about that. It had been hard work trying to live up to expectations and be what Society wanted her to be, but it had felt hollow for her. What was the point of going out there to find a husband and get accepted into Society when you weren’t allowed to be yourself? Her future husband certainly wouldn’t appreciate seeing a picture-perfect lady and then finding out after marriage that his wife was nothing like that. Charity was not a picture-perfect person, and she didn’t want to be. She would take marriage if it came along, but she wasn’t about to be something she wasn’t.

Unfortunately, if she didn’t get a husband within a couple of years, she would end up unmarried. And that meant staying with her parents and living with her father’s disapproval. Charity loved them, but she didn’t want to be a burden.

She was stuck. She wanted freedom, but she wanted a family. And, for the most part, women couldn’t have both.

They were passing by the river now. The Great River Ouse had always fascinated Charity. It was the fifth longest river in the country, stretching from Northamptonshire up to the Wash and the North Sea. Chilston had made sure his daughters knew everything about their land, including the river. It was a beautiful area, and Charity and Miriam had spent many hot summers swimming in the river when they were younger. There were many nooks and secluded spots where you could simply hide away and enjoy the day without worrying about being bothered.

Normally, the current was slow and gentle, but the last week it had been something else. It had been raining for the last couple of nights, so the river had risen and the current was stronger. Charity had seen it on the way home from a dinner with family friends, and it was almost about to overflow onto the street. Now, the river was lower and it was back to its usual, calm flow through the countryside.

The path they took brought them right by the river and a small cove that had been made over time. The river had eroded this part of the earth, leaving it as a bunch of rocks sticking out of the wet sand, water trickling around haphazardly before going back on course. On good days, it was nice for a paddle on the flatter parts, but that was pretty much it.

Charity barely gave it a glance as they started to pass the cove, only to stop and turn back to stare. There was a body—a man—half in the cove. His legs were still in the gentle flow of the river. He was on his front, his head turned to the side. Charity’s heart stopped. Oh, God. Had they found a dead body?

“Charity?” Miriam had stopped just ahead and turned back. “What is it?”

“There’s a body, Miriam.”

“What?” Miriam twisted around in her saddle, and then she gasped. “Oh Lord.”

He didn’t appear to be moving. Charity knew they should run and get help. He could be dead, and she couldn’t cope with dead bodies. But what if he was still alive? He could end up getting carried down the river and further along. She started to dismount.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get him out of there.”

Charity began to take off her shoes and stockings. Miriam was looking at her like she had gone insane.

“What the…? What if he attacks us?”

“I think him attacking us would be the least of our problems.” Charity put her things aside and shuffled on her seat to the edge of the cove, sliding carefully onto the wet sand. “He might be alive. We need to help him.”

“We do?” Miriam squeaked. “Why us?”

“Because I can’t drag him up on my own.”

Miriam huffed. “I’m not going in there. If he’s alive and won’t hurt us, I’ll come and help, but I’m staying here.”

Charity rolled her eyes. She flinched at the cold water—it was a cooler morning, but she was not prepared for this—and held her skirt up as she made her way slowly towards the body. From an initial glance, it was a man, wearing a shirt and breeches. The shirt was ripped, showing scrapes on his back, and the one hand she could see was also scraped badly. It looked like he had been dragged along the river for some time and must’ve been snagged when he got to the cove.

Hoping that he didn’t jump up at her, Charity crouched down and touched his back. He was cold. No surprise, seeing as he had been in the water. She wouldn’t be able to see if he was alive unless he was on his back.

Oh, great.

Grabbing his arms, Charity heaved and managed to roll him onto his back. And found herself staring at a muscular torso. Everything seemed to be carved like the Greek statues she’d seen at the museums. His shirt was a mess, several buttons missing, and there were bruises all over his chest and stomach. His face was a mess—one eye was swollen and his lip was split. There were bruises on his neck as well.

The man had been beaten. If he was still alive after that it would be nothing short of a miracle.

Aware that she was shaking, Charity pressed a hand to his chest. And breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the beating of his heart.

“He’s alive!” she called. “Help me get him out before he washes away.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Come on, Miriam!”

Chapter Two

Charity could hear her sister mumbling and grumbling as she got her shoes and stockings off and got into the cove. Miriam joined her and they each took an arm. Miriam flinched when she saw his face.

“Ouch. Are all of those bruises from the river?”

“I don’t think so.” They began to haul the man out of the river until his feet were barely in the deeper water. “From the look of it, he’s been beaten. I don’t think he went into the river willingly.”

Miriam stopped pulling and stared at her sister with wide eyes.

“Someone tried to kill him?”

“Or he fell in. Let’s not think about that.” Charity wobbled after another tug and regained her balance. She lowered the arm she had been pulling. “You can let go of him now, Miriam.”

“What? Oh.”

Miriam dropped the man’s arm like it was burning her. Charity flinched as the limp arm bounced on the rocks. More bruises to deal with. Miriam was shaking, looking like she was about to faint. Charity touched her arm.

“Miriam? We’re not far from Mr Trelawney’s. Go to his house and ask if we can borrow his carriage. Then we need a few people here to help get him in.”

“I…are you sure about this, Charity?”

“I’m sure. He’s hurt and unconscious. He could die if he stays out here any longer.”

Charity was not about to leave him out here. They had no idea who he was or if he was a bad person, but he was helpless and anything could happen. Her heart won out in wanting to help. If anything happened, she would take responsibility. She wasn’t about to be heartless and walk away from him now.

“All right.” Miriam hurried to the bank, tripping over in her haste. She clambered onto the bank and grabbed her shoes and stockings, swinging up into the saddle. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Be careful.”

Charity watched her sister ride away. Mr Percy Trelawney lived nearby, a friend of their father’s. He was very accommodating to them with everything, so it wouldn’t be too much for him to help them out. Charity was certainly not able to get this man out of the cove and onto her horse on her own.

She shifted around and cast her eyes over the unconscious man. Under the bruises, he was handsome. Very handsome, she noticed. Lean but muscular, he looked like he took care of himself. His black hair was plastered to his head in curls. Every part of his face was perfectly sculpted.

He must have broken a lot of hearts. Charity wouldn’t be surprised.

But who was he? She didn’t recognize him, and she knew everyone in the village. He had to have come from another town or village along the river. Huntingdon, maybe? Or Godmanchester? Charity barely went there, and when she did it was only for short visits. Or maybe he was a visitor who ended up in some sort of trouble. Either way was possible, and considering the problems Huntingdon brought, the latter was more likely.

She could search his pockets. That might give her some clue as to his identity. But anything that might have been on his person would either be soaking wet or lost. Maybe someone didn’t want anyone to know who he was. But it was worth a try.

Charity started to search, but his breeches didn’t have pockets. There was one in his shirt, and it was bulging with fabric. Charity drew it out and realized it was a handkerchief, folded perfectly. There was an ‘F’ stitched into the visible corner. Charity opened it out, and something dropped with a thunk onto the man’s chest. It was a watch, a very fancy gold one. She picked it out and opened it.

Somehow, it was still working. Charity remembered dropping her grandfather’s watch when she was three and it had shattered completely. It seemed some miracle had prevented the stranger’s watch from breaking after being soaked in water and bumping around in the river.

There was a name inscribed into the lid. It was just about visible. Charity squinted.

“Felton. Is that a Christian name or a last name?”

What on earth had happened to him? This Felton man had been through something horrible, yet someone he was still alive. Did he see something he shouldn’t? Or did he do something he shouldn’t?

Either way, Charity knew there were going to be a lot of questions.

*****

“Felton? Felton, can you hear me?”

Who was that? Why did it sound like she was far away? Then he remembered. He had been in the water. It had been freezing. But why had he been in the water? As far as he was aware, he had been on his way home.

Hadn’t he?

Now he was becoming aware of how cold his body was. He was shivering. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin. It felt disgusting. Rocks were poking him in the back, one scraping against his shoulder blade.

And then there was that voice. That beautiful voice, now getting closer. She kept saying a name. Felton. Is that my name? Is that why she keeps calling me that? Does she know me?

He managed to open his eyes. It was difficult when his head was screaming at him, but he managed. And then saw her. She was leaning over him, her brown hair loose about her shoulders. She kept brushing it away from her face and tucking strands behind her ear as she frowned down at him. Then he saw her eyes. They were the most striking blue he had ever seen.

She was beautiful. He had an angel leaning over him, surely. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was firm. No, this was real. He was alive.

Somehow. But he was alive.

He tried to get up, only for her to press more on his shoulder.

“Don’t try and get up. You could have hit your head.” That voice was so soothing, so gentle. “Just lie still.”

Lie still. He felt like he would completely seize up if he stayed still any longer. He licked his lips.

“I…I need to get up.”

Ouch. Even after being in the river, his mouth was dry. His angel shook her head.

“We don’t know if you’ve broken something. You were unconscious in the river, so you could be badly hurt.”

“Broken something?”

He wiggled his toes and lifted his hands. He stared at them as he flexed his fingers. He ached all over, but there was nothing standing out to him as badly hurt.

“I think I’m all right.” He started to get up again, the angel trying to get him to lie down. “I want to sit up. Please.”

She frowned, but she nodded and shifted back. Only to wobble and topple backward. He grabbed her wrist and stopped her fall. She gasped and stared at him with wide eyes. Then he realized what he had done and let go abruptly.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine.” She gave him a slight smile as she adjusted her footing. “My dress is already wet. I don’t think falling over would make any difference.”

She kept her distance as he sat up. His head screamed at him, and it felt like it was splitting open. Every part of his body hurt. How long had he been in the river? It must have slammed him around a lot for him to be in this much pain. His face felt like he had run face first into a rock. Getting slowly into a sitting position, he took a moment to wait for the world to stop tilting and then looked around. The river was brushing against his boots, and he noticed that he and his angel were in a small cove area. It was more rocks and water than sand, but it was like a ledge from the main river.

Which river? He couldn’t even remember. He had no idea where he was. This certainly wasn’t London, he knew that much. London was not this green, nor did the air smell so clean.

“Where…where are we?”

“Hemingford Grey.”

Hemingford Grey. That did not ring a bell.

“Is…is that in Berkshire? Where is it in relation to London?”

“No, it’s Cambridgeshire. We’re about two hours north of London.” She frowned at him. “What happened, Felton?”

Felton. That name again. He stared at her.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

She held something up that flashed in the sunlight. A watch. Something flickered in the back of his head. It looked familiar. Is it a family heirloom? Then it was gone, and his mind was a blank.

“I found this on you. The name ‘Felton’ is inscribed inside, and your handkerchief is monogrammed with an ‘F.’ So, I’m guessing that’s your name.”

Felton. No, no recognition. He tried again, but it still didn’t feel right. But it had to be his name, didn’t it? He wouldn’t be carrying someone else’s watch around with him, would he?

I don’t know anymore.

“I can’t remember anything. I…” He pressed his hands to his head. “I remember pain, and cold, but that’s it.”

“You don’t know who you are?”

She didn’t look convinced. But that’s what he meant. He really couldn’t remember anything. He plucked the watch from her fingers and stared at it, opening it up to look at the inscription. Felton. That had to be his name. Why didn’t it sound right?

Well, this angel could call him whatever she wanted. She had saved him from the river. It was a miracle that he hadn’t drowned. How long had he been in there? He had no idea.

“Maybe you should lie down again.” She shifted closer to him. “Your head could be making sitting up worse. You’re swaying as you sit there.”

“No, I’m not going to lie down.” He turned carefully and inspected dry land. It wasn’t far. “I’m going to get up on the bank. It’s freezing down here.”

She frowned.

“You’re in no position to walk.”

“I’m walking.” He glared at her. “I’m already helpless. Don’t make me feel any worse.”

She looked a little hurt. “That was not my intention, sir.”

He winced. Now he had upset his rescuer. Taking it very slowly, he moved onto his hands and knees and began to get to his feet. The change in elevation made everything tilt again, and he thought he was going to throw up. But it didn’t happen, and everything righted again a moment later. He took it slowly, stepping through the rocks towards the bank. He would be glad to get on softer ground.

His angel hovered close by, not touching him, but seeming reluctant to move away from him. He was grateful about that; while he didn’t think he was going to topple, it was nice to know someone was looking out for him.

Someone clearly hadn’t been looking out for him, if he had ended up in the river. He was still marvelling at the miracle of not drowning.

They got to the bank, and he managed to crawl his way up, slumping onto the grass. That felt better. The grass was softer than the rocks. His back was still complaining like he had been dragged over the rocks. Maybe he had. Maybe that was how he was out of the water.

His angel was still hovering nearby, looking up and down the trail they were on. They were in the woods, the only noise other than the river the birds waking up and going about their day. It had to be early morning or early evening. He didn’t even know what day it was.

His head was hurting from trying to remember.

“What are we going to do now?”

“My sister went to get help.” She didn’t look at him as she looked up and down the path. “Then you’ll come with me to my family home. We’ll get a physician to look at you.”

A physician. That sounded like a good idea. As did lying on a soft bed. He felt like he could sleep for a week—actual sleep, instead of unconsciousness.

How he hadn’t drowned was beyond him.

God, I’m freezing. He couldn’t stop shivering. His angel glanced at him, and her expression softened. Then she went to her horse, which stood placidly at the side of the path. She walked with a confidence that was rather refreshing to see. And that pale blue dress she wore certainly looked good on her. It went well with her complexion. She looked like she had pretty much rolled out of bed and gone riding. A woman who didn’t care much for propriety.

For some reason, he liked that. A woman with confidence was attractive. Wait, where did that come from? Don’t you have more important things to worry about?

She came back with a blanket, draping it around his shoulders.

“Here. It should help keep you warm.”

“Thank you.”

It was soft. And warm. He wrapped it around himself and shuddered with a sigh. That was much better. He couldn’t wait to get out of these wet clothes and into a hot bath. If he could move. Chances were he was going to end up aching all over for days. His head was certainly aching now.

“Do you have any idea why you were in the water?” she asked.

“None at all.” He glanced down at himself. “Although I’m guessing it wasn’t for a swim.”

Did someone throw me in? It did feel like he had been beaten. What on earth had happened? Whatever it was, it had been enough to smash his head hard enough to forget. He pressed a hand to the back of his head, where it hurt the most. It felt like something had broken the skin.

“Is Felton my first name or my last name?” he asked.

His angel sighed. “I have no idea. It could be either.”

That didn’t help. He looked at his other hand, almost as if the answer would turn up there. There was an indentation on his hand. A thick one around his wedding finger. Had he been married? The indentation was too big. A family ring, perhaps? That would have given him an idea of who he was. He looked at his clothes, which were soaking wet but made from good cloth. He had to be a member of the nobility, although what rank, he had no idea.

Maybe someone would miss him. If he was part of the peerage, then someone was going to ask questions when he didn’t turn up again. Wouldn’t they?

He could only hope. Because if nobody raised the alarm, he was on his own. With his angel, of course. At least he had her.

That calmed him more than he expected.

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