Chapter 1

“Perhaps it is our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another…”

Alice’s slender fingers grazed over the paper, her eyes taking in each word. Her heart swelled with longing during the most romantic bits; she’d read this particular book so many times she had it nearly memorized. She reclined on the soft sofa in the drawing room, getting comfier for her favorite part of the story; the big romantic finish.

In the end, even meddlesome Emma found her match, her “perfect happiness.”

She let her mind conjure up the heroine and her love, picturing them in their bliss. Alice wondered what being loved like that would feel like. She had just gotten to her favorite part of Emma when reality tugged back at her skirts again. She let out a wistful sigh, trying without success to put away the thoughts that pulled at her so.

Surely it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she didn’t secure a husband this year.

Would it?

Two seasons had come and gone, and Alice still sat unwed in the Egerton home. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying on her part. She had bumbled through her first season, awkward and ungraceful both in conversation and on the dance floor. Her father insisted that discussing her passion for reading should be kept to a bare minimum, but it was all she knew.

“Sir Walter Scott and Jane Austen are not proper topics for courting conversation,” her father scolded her. “Why don’t you talk about your love for piano or perhaps your singing?”

But Alice knew the truth. She was capable at the piano at best, and her singing voice fell flat. There was no point in bringing up meager skills that would impress no one. She considered her well-read mind to be her best quality and initially had been excited to perhaps find a husband to discuss literature with, but no suitors had come to call.

Why couldn’t anyone else see that a book-smart young lady was just as marriageable as a lady with considerable drawing skill or a beautiful singing voice?

The first season Alice felt as though she were getting on quite well with several gentlemen, but none of them had offered a proposal. In fact, none of them had even taken the time to court her at all. The memories of her sitting in the drawing room for hours, pretending that she wasn’t waiting for callers, still stung.

The second season had gone by much the same, with Alice sitting out dance after dance until the season had passed by entirely. She had attempted to catch the eye of a few suitors at first, hoping beyond hope that one might prize her well-versed mind.

But again, she was unsuccessful.

Her third season would be her final chance before she was deemed a failure. Though, she was certainly beginning to feel that way already.

“You mustn’t give up, Alice,” her sister, Nancy, had said, ever confident in her. “Surely out there is a suitor that will want to hear you speak your opinions on your books for hours and hours.”

Alice, for her part, was beginning to feel that her failures on the marriage market had less to do with her reading habits and more to do with her looks. She took a glance in the looking glass across from the settee she reclined on.

Still the same boring Alice.

Her brown hair hung about her shoulders, limp and long. Maria, her maid, had done all she could do to fluff it up, trying her best to get the brown locks to frame her face. It had done little good, but the sparse curls she had managed to achieve at least brought out the blue in her eyes a tiny bit more.

Alice thought it did, at least.

She sighed, determined to get back to her book and stop her self-deprecating thoughts when suddenly the drawing room doors flung open. Nancy tumbled in, toppling over her own two feet, startling the life from Alice.

“Nancy!” Cried Alice as she jumped from her seat. ” Whatever is the matter? Is everything alright?”

Alice bent to help her sister to her feet. It wasn’t like Nancy to lose her grace and balance, and the shock of seeing her sister tumbling into the drawing room had her heart beating fast.

“Better than alright, sister!” the younger girl crowed, brushing off the skirts of her pastel pink dress. “I feel as though I could fly, though present circumstances may prove otherwise. Here, look at what I’ve received!” Nancy clutched a sheet of parchment paper that looked to be a letter to her chest.

“All of that bluster over a simple letter?” Alice asked. “You’re acting quite unlike yourself.”

“But that’s the exciting bit, sister!” Nancy exclaimed. “It’s not a simple letter. It’s a letter from the Duke of Bedford!”

Nancy dissolved into delighted, girlish giggles. She held the letter high, handing it to Alice, who took it delicately.

She scanned it once and then once again, unsure if she read the words correctly. She couldn’t be; this Duke had to be mad.

“Dear Lady Nancy Egerton,” the letter read. “I, the Duke of Bedford, am pleased to announce the arrival of my aunt, the esteemed Lady Harrelson, to town. Celebrations are in order for such a momentous visitation to welcome Lady Harrelson properly. I would like to welcome you, as well, to my estate to participate in an intimate, secret dinner…”

That couldn’t be right.

“Nancy, are you quite sure this is from the Duke of Bedford?” she asked. “This states that you’re invited to his –”

“To his estate!” Nancy finished for her. “Isn’t it simply divine?”

“It would be, were this a real letter,” Alice said. “But it simply can’t be. This is a terrible hoax to play on a young debutante, but don’t worry, sister. I shall get to the bottom of this.”

“Oh, but it isn’t a hoax,” Nancy said. The hopeful, overjoyed smile still hadn’t fled her pretty, young face. “Look, here! The Duke’s official seal! Oh, Alice, isn’t this the most wonderful news?”

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” Alice said, scrunching her brows together as she read the letter over once more. “A secret dinner?”

“Yes,” Nancy said. “That’s correct. It’s to be held tonight at the Duke’s manor. Oh, whatever shall I wear? The trouble will be staying out of Mrs. Wellington’s sight, let alone Father. Do you think that I should wear my hair up in a chignon or down around my shoulders? There are so many things to decide! I do wish he’d have sent that letter a little sooner, but I suppose that’s a part of the game itself.”

“What game?” Alice cried, fully confused.

Nancy looked guilty for a moment, as though she’d said the wrong thing, but then sighed.

“The Duke of Bedford is searching for his Duchess,” Nancy said. “Finally, he’s ready to wed. And he’s chosen me as one of his potential brides!”

“What do you mean ‘one of’?” asked Alice. She was growing ever more suspicious of this Duke.

What could his intentions be for her sister? And how had he taken notice of her?

“He’s sent a copy of this same letter out to some other young ladies of the ton,” Nancy said. “Debutantes, all of them. Or at least, that is what I’ve come to believe. Mary received one, and she’s only just starting her first season as well. Oh, how exciting to have been selected from so many young ladies! The letter is so mysterious, though. The Duke of Bedford will only wed when he finds his perfect bride, and he wishes her to have certain…qualities.”

“I’m quite sure he does,” muttered Alice.

“Anyway,” Nancy continued. “He doesn’t state what those qualities are, but he thinks that it may possess them! Clearly, he must, or he wouldn’t have sent the letter. Oh, Alice, don’t you see what this means?  Perhaps this is where I find my perfect match! The Duke of Bedford is said to be of incomparable handsomeness. Like a painting of a Greek God with his black hair and dark eyes. Not to mention his title and wealth! Alice, can you imagine? The whole family could benefit and you especially. Perhaps you would no longer be pressured into marriage.”

But Nancy didn’t quite understand.

The trouble wasn’t that Alice didn’t want to marry. She craved that same love she read about in her stories, that she’d seen shared by so many young and old couples alike. Even an arranged marriage held the potential to gift her that special connection.

Alice, though, was too plain to attract suitors, even just one.

Nancy was still babbling to herself about the details of tonight when Alice snapped out of her thoughts.

“I don’t think that this is a good idea,” Alice said gently. Nancy was so excited, and she didn’t want to hurt her sister’s feelings. “It isn’t wise to compete with other young ladies of the ton for the affections of one man. Don’t you feel as though he is a bit pompous for declaring himself such a… a… prize?”

“Pompous, perhaps, but rightly so,” Nancy countered. “He’s a Duke! I’ve heard that he’s like something carved from marble! And have you seen him?”

Alice hadn’t, and she knew that Nancy had not either.

“I simply do not agree with his methods of finding a Duchess,” Alice said. “And I do not think you should go. It’s only your first season! You don’t have to throw yourself at the first possible suitor that you have. Take your time and enjoy the attention you’ll surely receive. You’re a beautiful young woman of good lineage. You’re skilled in painting and singing, and your French is…improving. The Duke hasn’t even shown you the respect of properly courting you, anyway. Do you not see that as even a little bit disrespectful?”

But Nancy clearly did not.

“Sister, this is an opportunity that I shouldn’t pass up!” she said. “I agree that his methods are a little…eccentric. But perhaps it is just that he truly does want to find his perfect love match? Surely you can’t fault a man for wanting to find true love?”

She couldn’t, and Nancy knew it.

“There’s only one issue,” Nancy said in a cautious tone. “One small detail about this whole escapade which could pose a problem. I’m to go alone.”

“Unchaperoned?” Alice asked, scandalized. “Surely that’s not what the letter said…”

Nancy turned the parchment around, pointing at the word with one shining nail. “But it does. ‘Please arrive at a quarter to midnight, and please do take care to come unchaperoned.‘ It’s the last thing the letter states.”

How had she missed that part?

Alice snatched the letter, re-reading it. But right above the Duke’s perfect, swirling signature was the word.

Unchaperoned.

What kind of man could this Duke possibly be that he would endanger a young debutantes honor in such a way? And not only that, it could endanger Nancy herself.

No, there was simply no way that Alice could let her sister go on her own. She was too impulsive, too dreamy, and innocent. She still didn’t see the world for what it was, and if anything happened to her sister in there…

Alice couldn’t think about it.

“Nancy, please,” Alice said. “Think this through. Think about your reputation! If anyone were to catch you –”

“I swear to it that they will not,” Nancy said. “Alice, I’m doing this as much for the family as I am for myself. It will be good for us if I secure this match. Think on what this could mean.”

“I cannot let you endanger yourself,” Alice said. “I simply cannot think of something happening to you, and even if anything ill did not occur, imagine if someone were to catch you! It would be all you could do to secure a match after that…”

The thought of her sister, beautiful and lithe and in her first season, shackled to the fate of a spinster, nearly broke Alice’s heart. There was nothing plain about Nancy and no reason she should have difficulty finding a well-suited husband.

Unless she ruined herself by being caught unchaperoned at a man’s manor, if someone were to talk, it would be the end of Nancy’s debut.

“I’m going with you,” Alice stated before she realized the words had escaped.

“What?” Nancy asked. “D-do you think that’s allowed?”

“I don’t care what this Duke says,” Alice said, though she felt a twinge of fear at being exposed at this ‘secret dinner.’ “If anyone spies you here, I’ll say that I’m acting as your chaperone. Everyone knows that I’m doomed to become a spinster; they’ll accept me as your chaperone immediately. Your reputation will be protected, and once this is all over, you can return to your search for a suitable husband.”

“Oh, Alice, I do wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself like that,” Nancy said. “But I am glad you’re coming. And who knows? Perhaps you’ll find a gentleman of your own there! Oh, I’m ever so excited!”

Alice felt something as well, but she wasn’t sure that it was excitement. It was more equitable to a looming dread that something horrible was going to happen.

Alice pondered who this strange man could be and what he could be like. It stood to reason that a man who would be so eccentric as to choose a wife in such an odd manner might be odd in other ways as well.

And she wasn’t so sure that she wanted Nancy to find out what those ways were.

Chapter 2

Henry Wraxall, the Duke of Bedford, was annoyed and nervous, though he would do just about anything not to show it. Unfortunately, his nerves had begun to get the better of him. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, a sigh starting to build up in the deep well of his chest. Smoothing out his navy-blue tailcoat, he silently cursed himself for his anxious fidgeting.

He wasn’t sure what the matter was; the event hadn’t even yet begun. The servants were all buzzing around him, decorations and trays in hand. His manor gardens were immaculate; he’d had the gardener dig up the blue hydrangeas and plant white roses instead, mysterious and alluring. The candles were all in place, and a maid was going about lighting each one.

The mood was set, but still, something was bothering him. He watched all this with satisfaction but couldn’t shoo away the niggling thought that he was going through all this trouble for something he didn’t want…a wife.

He would know the face of his future bride after the night was through.

If he had to marry, then he was going to search out the most suitable young lady for him. She would surely be a debutante; no one older would suit him much. He’d sent the letters out to whomever he thought had the loveliest face, but he knew he couldn’t tell a book only by its cover.

And that was why the private dinner was necessary.

“I still don’t like it,” his aunt huffed from the drawing room. “The ton don’t have secret dinners, Henry.”

Henry poked his head inside to see Lady Harrelson frowning at him from the sofa. She placed her needlework down, agitated.

“If you were really against it, aunt, I think you wouldn’t have allowed me to use your name in the letters,” he said, a smile in his eyes.

The older woman sighed, aggrieved. “You know I like to have a bit of fun every once in a while, but don’t you think this is going a bit overboard?” she asked. “You do realize what it would mean for a young woman of a certain caliber to be caught sneaking about in the dead of night? And to an unwed man’s home nonetheless? Duke or not, it wouldn’t look good for you, either. You’d be the muse of the scandal sheets for ages!”

“And then I shall never marry. What a terrible fate that I hope I shall never have to suffer.” Henry mocked.

“Be serious for once in your life,” Lady Harrelson demanded. “The Dukedom is a large, looming responsibility. One that you’ve been ignoring for quite some time now.”

“I don’t think ignoring is quite the right word,” Henry said. “I’ve done my duties. Most of them.”

“Yes, and there’s the trouble,” Lady Harrelson said disapprovingly. “Most of them. You’re expected to wed and sire an heir, and you know this well. And you so far have said that you haven’t the time nor the energy to go about searching for a Duchess. I’ve certainly heard enough about your reputation lately to know where all your energy has fled to.”

She raised her eyebrows high and frowned heavily at him. “Don’t you think that it’s high time that you settle your rakish ways into the past and start a family?”

“If it were up to me, dear aunt, I wouldn’t be shackled to one woman for the rest of my life,” he said. “But I was fated to become the Duke of Bedford, and as such, I will do my duty and marry.”

“Thank the heavens for that,” his aunt muttered. “I’ll help you find a wife, Henry, but do not make things any more difficult for me than they already are. Your roguish antics are not unknown to the members of the ton. These young debutantes will already know all about you.”

“And still they come,” said a high-spirited voice.

“Robert, I won’t have you encouraging him,” Lady Harrelson said with a roll of eyes.

A young man with a crop of fair hair appeared at her side. His green eyes twinkled mischievously.

“I’m not encouraging him, Mother,” Robert answered. “I’m simply saying that still, the ladies will very likely arrive. And soon. I, for one, am excited at the idea of a secret dinner. And who can tell? I’m sure that if the word does get out, every family in the ton might start planning them.”

“I certainly hope you don’t plan on any word of this night getting out,” Lady Harrelson said pointedly. “I only agreed to this scandalous reception to find you a wife, Henry. It would also serve as a bonus if Robert found himself a wife from your list of young ladies.”

“I wouldn’t complain,” Robert said, laughing. “You’ve said that the debutantes you’ve invited are all exceptional of face. I can only imagine that if they manage to secure a way to your estate in the dead of night that they’ll be exceptional in other ways as well.”

“Don’t be crass, Robert,” Lady Harrelson admonished.

“I’m not!” he said, a guilty smile on his face. “I simply agree that I may, in fact, find a suitable wife for myself amongst this group.”

“I’m not pleased that you’ve displayed your roguish ways to twenty families of the ton Henry,” his aunt said, crossing her arms.

“I simply want a woman who will capture my heart and my attention,” Henry replied, with mock offense. “That’s all.”

That was true. At least, partially.

He dreaded the thought of being shackled to a boring woman. He couldn’t imagine sharing a household with someone who wasn’t the least bit interesting. It was regrettable that he would have to put his roguish habits behind him, but that was the duty of his station. Gone were the days of being with a different woman each night. If he would have to be fettered to one woman for the rest of his days, she could at least be the best version of a wife he could possibly find. He desired her to be bold and beautiful as well as clever enough to hold his interest in conversation.

Having chaperones present for each young lady would only force them to be demure, quiet, boring, and not their true selves. Not only that, but if she could manage to make it back home unchaperoned without being caught, it would also prove her intelligence and courage.

What better way could there be to discover the true hidden qualities of each hopeful young lady?

It was regretful that were the young lady in question to be found out that her reputation would be sullied. But if there were no risks, how could he ensure that he would find the best woman for him? If she were willing to risk her reputation to win him she had some courage in her heart, and he respected that more than nearly anything. At least the woman who would become his bride wouldn’t be afraid to surprise him every now and again.

“I hope you’re prepared for twenty unchaperoned young women in your manor, Henry,” said Lady Harrelson. “I, for one, won’t be taking responsibility when one of them is discovered by her father. Or worse. Her mother.”

She gave him a disproving look then sighed. “But I suppose while they’re here, I may as well lend you my assistance in sniffing out the brightest diamond in the room. If you insist on having this…tawdry event.”

“And I thank you ever so much, aunt,” Henry said. “As does all of the duchy, I assure you.”

“Mm,” was Lady Harrelson’s only reply, her lips pursed.

Henry and his cousin retreated to the quiet solitude of the library for a bit of privacy.

“Are you excited to finally see the face of your bride?” Robert asked. “Even though you were never one to settle down, I’m sure you’re at least glad to finally reach this milestone in your life?”

“To tell you the truth, Robert, I’m not sure how I feel about it,” Henry said. “It’s difficult to say. On the one hand, I’m quite glad to get this over with in a way that I have complete control over. No spectating mothers, no uninteresting daughters. Only they who I’ve invited and they alone. On the other hand, however…”

He trailed off, shrugging.

He knew that he wanted a bold woman, a clever one, and one that would awe him with her beauty. But what else precisely did he expect of her? He had been with so many women that he couldn’t even envision what his perfect bride might look like.

Try as he might, he couldn’t bring up any woman, real or imagined, that could quite satisfy him in his quest for the perfect bride. A wave of anxiety hit him suddenly before he had even realized it was building up.

He considered the possibility that he might suffer through this entire dinner, unsatisfied with any of the options that he’d invited to his manor. Perhaps the young ladies all expected an answer tonight.

No, certainly not.

He made the rules here. That was nearly the entire point of having the dinner itself. He would simply tell the young ladies that he would write to them his answer, whomever he chose. That would surely abate them, for the time, at least.

But he was working himself up for nothing.

His bride was among these young debutantes; he was sure of it. She would win him over immediately with her beauty, talents, brain, and bold personality. He wasn’t sure what he wanted her to look like, but he would certainly know her when he saw her.

She would be cunning and adventurous, and she would stun him immediately with her beauty and grace. She would be, simply put, the best among them. He would know that from the start.

“Your Grace, the first few carriages are starting to arrive,” announced Thompson, the butler.

Henry jumped slightly, wondering if Robert took notice. The other man said nothing, however, and Henry was grateful.

“Excellent,” Henry said, though, for some reason, another jolt of nervousness struck him. He stood straighter and adjusted his cravat, hoping he didn’t seem as though he had a case of the nerves. “Please see the ladies escorted safely indoors, Thompson.”

The tall man bowed as low as he was able.

“Of course, Your Grace,” the man said, turning on his heel.

Henry let out a breath, not realizing how shaky it would be. He moved the lace curtain away from the window and peered out. It was true. The carriages were rounding the large fountain in the center of his courtyard. He tried to squint to see the young ladies on their way up the walk, but they were too far away to see clearly, and it was much too dark on top of it.

It was time to meet his guests.

Henry and Robert descended the great stairwell in the grand hall of the manor, waiting with bated breath to view the beauties on their way.

The door swung open, and three young ladies stepped inside. They ogled the beautiful decor and the regality of his manor, their heels clicking on the cold marble as they cooed and complimented his immaculate eye for decoration. He had done none of it himself, and he knew that they knew that as well.

Well. Flattery would get them nowhere. He would decide for himself what impressed him and what did not.

There would be no insistent mothers, no boring daughters, and no watchful fathers. It would be, all in all, perhaps the easiest way to choose a bride and the brightest idea that a man had ever conceived.

Tonight, was the night, then. All his planning to achieve the perfect match for him would come to fruition tonight.

It had to be perfect. It simply had to be.

After tonight, everything would be different.

Before the night was through, he would have discovered the identity of the future Duchess of Bedford, whether he truly wanted to or not.

Or else, he certainly hoped he will have discovered her, because if she wasn’t among the ton’s most beautiful debutantes, then who could she possibly be?

***

Alice’s feeling of dread was mounting ever higher with each step toward the manor. Nancy was giddy but managed to hide her excitement behind a poised face. No one but Alice would know how gleeful Nancy was to be here.

“I can’t believe we managed to sneak away!” Nancy whispered as they approached the steps, arm in arm.

“I can’t believe we’re actually going through with this,” Alice replied. “We can head back to the carriage now if we hurry.”

“We’re already here, sister,” Nancy said. “We might as well go through with the night.”

A stone-faced footman stood in front steps to the manor. He held out his hand to Nancy. She handed him her invitation and curtsied gracefully in her fine silk as he stepped aside, allowing her to pass.

“And yours, miss?” the man asked, hiking up one brow.

“Mine?” Alice asked, kicking herself for not expecting a guard. “Can we not both simply use that one?”

The look on the servant’s face was enough to tell her what she already knew he would say.

“This invitation is for one young lady, a Miss Nancy Egerton,” the man said, regarding her suspiciously now. “You are obviously not she, and I am not permitted to allow anyone in without an invitation. My apologies, miss.”

Alice felt her face burn with shame. Was it that obvious that she was not supposed to be here?

Nancy looked on sadly when a fair-haired man brushed by her through the front door.

“What’s all this?” he asked. “Trouble?”

“No trouble, my lord,” said the man. “Just a young miss without an invite. I told her to be on her way, and she was just leaving.”

The fair-haired man smiled at Alice kindly. “Whyever should she leave? The young lady has come all this way; surely it would be rude to turn her away at the door. Come, come. The more company, the merrier.”

Relief flooded through Alice. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she had to leave Nancy alone in that vast manor.

The man gestured at the footman to step aside, and he did as he was bid, not without giving Alice one last look of suspicion. The two girls followed the fair-haired man up the walk and ascended the last few steps to the manor.

“I thought I spied Rodrick turning away someone through the window,” he said good-naturedly. “Thought I would come to see what the matter was.”

Who was this man? Was he the Duke?

Surely not. Nancy had said that the Duke had dark hair and eyes; this man looked nothing like that.

He held the door open for them, and the two girls stepped inside.

Alice gasped at the decor. There were candles enough for a grand ball, though she could see only a handful of girls, nearly twenty at the most. Deep, red rose petals were strewn about the floor and there were enough stunning floral creations to impress even the Queen.

It was a ridiculous display that Alice didn’t like one bit.

The young women dotting the grand hall were all as gorgeous as the flowers themselves. Each one was in her finest silk dress; pastel pinks and blues and greens clung to the lithe form of each hopeful young debutante.

Alice touched her face. She fervently wished that she had at least bothered to put on some rouge. She stuck out here more than she ever had at any ball; now that there were so few young ladies in the room, it was crystal clear exactly how plain she was.

Not only that, but she was the oldest one here as well. This man might have allowed her inside, but this man was not the Duke himself. She felt a horrible fear creep into her nerves, and suddenly, she just wanted to take her sister’s hand and run.

What if the Duke didn’t want her here?

How shameful would it be to be escorted out of the manor for being so obviously plain?

If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here

Chapter One

Even after three years of marriage, Lady Caroline Monmouth was still unable to keep a dreamy smile from her lips when she gazed at William. He was indeed the most handsome man she had even met, and no-one in the world made her as happy as he made her.

His playful gaze met hers, but before either one was able to utter a word, the carriage jolted violently and Caroline shrieked in surprise. Perhaps it was only the uneven country road that had caused the abrupt motion, but as Caroline glanced out of the window of the coach, three horses appeared, ridden by three men she did not recognise. Their faces were obscured by the motions of the coach, as well as the horses, but Caroline knew nothing good would come of this. The coach jolted again, only this time it managed to overturn abruptly. Caroline reached for William’s hand, calling his name in terror.

Caroline was flung from the coach and landed on the ground, the world spinning viciously around her. Her vision grew hazy and the last thing she heard was William’s voice calling out to her. Darkness engulfed her, and her consciousness eluded her.

A searing pain in her skull woke her but her body was unable to move. The muffled voices of three men nearby struck even more terror into her soul. Where was William? Had those men done something to him?

Overcome with fear of what the men may do to her if they were to realise she was alive, she lay perfectly still, her face half buried in the dirt.

The sweet smell of blood filled her nostrils, yet she remained still as footsteps approached. The men came to a stop beside her, and she felt one of them lightly kicking her leg.

“She is dead.”

“Pity. We could have had a bit of fun. She was a pretty one.”

Caroline inwardly cringed but remained motionless. She was uncertain how much time had passed, but when the sound of their horses had faded, she opened her eyes. The men were nowhere to be seen. For a moment she was relieved, but her heart began to pound in her chest.

William.

Caroline rose to her feet, dizzily reached her hand to her temple, and felt the warm sticky blood on her skin. She drew in a deep breath, needing to be composed to find William.

“William?” she called out faintly.

She stepped towards the tall grass and froze in horror as she saw him. William lay on his back, his lifeless body covered in blood. Her heart stopped for a moment, tears immediately forming in her eyes as she stumbled towards him.

“William!”

Caroline’s body jolted upright in her bed as a terror-filled scream broke the silence of the midnight air. Her hand automatically reached to the side for comfort, as it had done each time she had been plagued by a bad dream. Her entire life these last years had consisted of dark dreams, but not in such extremes as it had been of late. Regardless of what she had tried to relieve herself from the trauma, her mind simply did not wish to cooperate. Nor did her heart.

It had been two years—which felt an eternity at times to Caroline—since the fateful evening when her life had been turned upside down and she’d lost the love of her life. Yet it felt as if it had happened mere moments ago.

Each night.

It was of course not something she wished to think of, yet the thoughts always remained with her. As did the feelings of guilt.

She had considered every possibility and every possible outcome to the situation. If she’d had the opportunity to do something, anything, to save William’s life, she would have done so. The constant nagging at the back of her mind that reminded her that she could have done something to change the terrible outcome was certainly the most heart-breaking burden to bear.

Regardless of her fighting spirit and determination to save her husband, what chance would she have had against three men with pistols and knives?

Instead, she’d remained motionless on the ground while her beloved was cruelly ripped from the world, and from her life. Despite her mother’s constant assurance that she need not feel guilty, Caroline still battled the dark thoughts of guilt that consumed her mind. They clouded her self-worth and were the leading cause of her inability to sleep peacefully.

The nightmares forced her to relive that evening over and over, much to her horror and dismay, and she often woke with sobs and an aching heart.

Her ragged breathing caused her chest to burn, and hot tears streamed down her face. They were uncontrollable, as if they possessed their own will, and were not affected by Caroline’s inward scolds.

With trembling hands, she peeled the blankets away and slid her legs off the edge of the bed. Her feet touched her cool floor and she slowly made her way out of her bedchambers and into the dark hallway.

Caroline heard the sounds of the city outside her mother’s townhouse, where she had spent her younger years. She had forgotten how lively the nights were in Town, as she’d spent quite a few years living in the countryside with William. He was not fond of the city, and when Caroline happily agreed to live at his country estate, she’d welcomed the fresh air and peaceful surroundings with open arms. The gardens were picturesque, and she was at peace. But that hadn’t lasted.

The skirt of her nightdress swept across the floor as she quietly walked to the parlour, where she and her mother had been playing chess earlier. The wooden chess pieces were still as they’d left them, and Caroline reached out her hand. She began to arrange them accordingly, each piece placed in the square where it belonged.

Staring at the board, she could not help but wonder where she fit in society, or if she would ever regain her own sense of belonging. William had ensured that she did not feel out of place, and his comforting arms were her solace, the place where she felt safe and secure. That was all a thing of the past, and she knew there was only one direction to go, even if she was unwilling to do so.

The floorboards in the hallway creaked, startling Caroline, and her eyes widened. It was far too late, or perhaps too early, for any servant to be wandering around in the dark. After she decided to move back into her mother’s home, quite a few of the servants were politely asked to leave as they could no longer afford them. There was barely enough money to keep the two of them alive, and certainly not enough to still keep servants at the townhouse.

Their time of living lavishly had certainly come to an end far sooner than they would have expected. Caroline’s father, to both her and her mother’s surprise, had had quite a few debts that needed to be settled after his death, which left them with much less than they had expected. Money certainly did not last forever, especially if there were expenses to be paid with no source of income.

A bitter taste still lingered in Caroline’s mouth as she thought of the struggle she had experienced the past two years. After suffering the devastating loss of her husband, she had been removed from his home. Upon William’s passing, his title and estate had transferred to his heir, his cousin. Caroline had been cast out of her house rather cruelly, now that it was not her home anymore. Her husband left her a small amount for her needs, but of course, this was not enough. The only option for her was to return to her mother’s home, although she was not fully aware of the financial difficulty her mother was in herself. Now both of them had to overcome this difficult situation if they wanted to survive.

The floorboards creaked once more, and Caroline reached for a wooden statue of a horse. Clutching it tightly, she slowly and carefully approached the doorway, ready to defend herself from imminent attack.

A shadowy figure appeared around the corner and Caroline raised the horse above her head.

Much to her surprise, the silhouette belonged to her dear mother, who appeared in the doorway. The older woman shrieked when she saw Caroline.

“Mother!”

“Caroline,” her mother gasped, clutching her chest. “You nearly made my heart stop beating.”

“My apologies,” Caroline sighed apologetically, lowering the horse. “I thought there was an intruder.”

“As did I,” her mother said, catching her breath.

“What are you doing awake?”

“As I mentioned, I thought there was an intruder in the house,” her mother said. “What on earth are you doing here, creeping around in the dark?”

“I could not sleep,” Caroline answered and placed the wooden statue back on the mantle.

“Were you plagued by another dream?”

“Indeed,” she answered, nodding and running her fingers through her hair. “But there is much weighing on my mind as well.”

“Tell me of it.”

Caroline sighed with misery and shook her head. “I am aware that we are not in a financial position to keep the house, Mother. After Father’s passing, you found it difficult to keep up with payments, and I do not blame you at all. Father did not leave you with much, and now here I am, forcing you to spend even more of the little money you have left.”

“It is not about the money. You are my daughter—”

“You were forced to cut the staff. Do not think me so naive that I have not noticed. I cannot in good conscience simply live here and allow for both of our downfalls,” Caroline said.

“What do you suggest we do?”

“We do nothing. You have done more for me than I would ever be able to repay. You have cared for me most of my life, and now it is my turn to care for you.”

“It seems as though you have something in mind.”

“I have, and I am fairly certain it is not something you will approve of.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes and glared at Caroline. “As long as it does not require you to do things for money.”

Caroline crossed her arms and pouted slightly. “Perhaps in a manner of speaking—”

“I will not allow my daughter to become some man’s mistress!”

“Mother, please,” Caroline said and brought her hands up in an effort to calm her mother. “That was not at all what I meant. I apologise profusely.”

“What did you mean?”

“I am a young woman who is still within child-bearing years. I must re-join society and find a man to marry. A man who is wealthy and will be able to care for us both.”

“Caroline—”

“I will not allow you to live in poverty, Mother. You and Father have done much for me, and I am forever grateful for the sacrifices you both made to ensure I was well taken care of,” Caroline said and approached her mother. She took her mother’s hands in hers and smiled lovingly at the woman who raised her.

“And who would marry a widow?”

Caroline released her mother’s hands and stepped away. “Mother, you need not be so rude or cruel.”

“Think of it, my dear. Most eligible men seek a young and innocent lady, a debutante especially. They are much more sought after than older widows.”

“I’m only older by a few years,” Caroline defended. “Besides, there are many men—sometimes widowers themselves—who seek a widow to marry.”

“A few years can make all the difference.”

“I despise being a woman at times.“ Caroline sighed and pursed her lips. “Expectations are unattainably high. It is rather ridiculous. But I do not have a choice in the matter, Mother. And neither do you. I could not bear the thought of you living in poverty, or losing the house that you and Father built. There are too many memories within these walls, and I will not allow it. This time, however, I have no intention of falling in love or marrying for anything more than simple convenience. My heart belongs to only one man, and I daresay it shall remain that way until my last breath.”

“Your determination is inspiring. And I want nothing more than to see you happy.”

“You mean the world to me, and I will do anything to ensure that you do not lose the house.”

“Your father would be very proud of you for doing what is right,” her mother said sadly and placed her hand lovingly against Caroline’s cheek.

Caroline cast her gaze downwards as the emotions bubbled up inside her. “Mother, it has been two years. Two years and I am not anywhere closer to forgetting, or even processing what happened. Is that not abnormal?”

“You lost the man who captured your heart from the very first time you gazed upon him. You loved and adored him with an intensity I know all too well. It does not merely vanish, regardless of the time that has passed.”

“And I will feel this way until my last day?” she asked, and her mother nodded. “How do you live with yourself? How do you do it, Mother? How do you wake in the mornings knowing that he is not here and will never be here ever again?”

“With great difficulty,” she answered. “I miss your father every day. Our time together was much longer than yours with William, and I am truly grateful for that. But true love is not determined by the length of time spent together. It is measured in the laughter and happiness for those moments, whether it is two years or twenty.”

“My heart will forever be his. And I hope that he will be able to forgive me for what I must do. He will forgive me, won’t he?” Caroline asked, feeling truly helpless.

Her mother wrapped her arms around Caroline and embraced her tightly. Caroline wept in her mother’s arms, her heart once again torn to pieces. It was a difficult thing for Caroline to do, to seek a husband purely for the sake of her family’s survival, but she knew it was what was required of her.

Her mother’s embrace loosened and she glanced at her.

“Dry your tears, my dearest,” her mother said with a slight smile. “In the morn we will start our quest for a husband.”

Although her mother’s words made it sound very much as an adventure, Caroline was well aware that it would be a painful journey ahead.

It was certainly not unheard of for young women to marry for convenience—in fact, not many matches were based on love or even friendships.

It was no secret to Caroline that society demanded that members of the gentry should be paired together in marital alliances, regardless of their feelings for one another. Caroline knew that although the young women were given a choice—to some extent, of course—most matches were made solely for the purpose of bringing noble and influential families together, to create an even more powerful front.

Love matches did occur, of course, but not as often. Caroline knew she was one of the lucky ones, for which she was more than grateful for. She would not trade those moments with William for anything in the world.

Fortunately, Caroline was considered very handsome among the women of Town, and she was certain it would not be too difficult to secure an offer from a wealthy gentleman. Her determination and desperation certainly did not place any restrictions on what she looked for in a man—he simply needed to be wealthy.

Many young women married men they did not have any amicable feelings towards, and Caroline considered herself strong-minded enough to be able to endure it as well. There was certainly no place for love in her heart. Not this time.

As she and her mother made their way upstairs to their respective chambers, Caroline could not help but wonder who would catch her eye, and worse, whose eye she would catch.

Nevertheless, she would secure a marriage as speedily as she could. She did not have any other choice.

Chapter Two

Beads of sweat dripped down Jacob’s clenched fists as he circled the boxing ring. His determined gaze was focused on his opponent as he anticipated the next punch. The sport had helped him sharpen his determination not only in the boxing ring, but in real life as well.

His opponent’s eyes narrowed and his body swayed back ever so slightly. Most people would not have noticed it, but Jacob did. It was his opponent’s tell, and it made Jacob aware that he would need to dodge the impending punch.

Jacob cocked his head to the side, evading his opponent’s powerful punch, and immediately threw multiple quick punches against his opponent’s torso. His opponent stumbled backwards and glared at him.

“Good,” he grunted. “That was well done.”

A slight smile formed on Jacob’s lips, and he nodded at his opponent. Despite the fact that the man was his boxing master and his friend, Jacob had been told that he should for no reason think to go easy on him.

Aaron, whom he’d been friends with since they were boys, had assisted Jacob in becoming the man he now was.

Both physically and mentally.

Aaron was the son of Jacob’s late father’s footman, and the two boys had been instant friends upon meeting. Jacob had been a loner most of his life, and having a friend such as Aaron clearly helped him in ways he would have never imagined.

Jacob began to circle the ring once more, fooling Aaron’s lead, dodging more punches, as he had been taught. He had learned to follow his instincts and to observe people more closely—a skill that would have been particularly helpful when he was a young boy.

Aaron stepped closer, within reaching distance of Jacob, and Jacob threw a powerful punch at his friend, striking him against the jaw. Aaron stumbled backwards again and wiped the corner of his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Jacob asked. “Shall we stop?

“Perhaps that is enough for the day. You can declare yourself the victor today, but only today.”

Jacob scoffed and lowered his fists, breathing raggedly. He had missed these spirited fights with Aaron, despite it only being for practice. Jacob was a gentleman, so there was no chance he’d be participating in any boxing exhibitions, but he did have another mission in mind. A mission that had kept him motivated to change himself for the better.

“You seem rather determined today, Jacob,” Aaron pointed out, spitting blood into a metal bucket beside him.

“Indeed. Perhaps it is being back in Town,” Jacob said as he and Aaron climbed from the ring.

Aaron threw a folded cloth at Jacob, who caught it easily and wiped his face. His black hair was damp with sweat, and he was certainly not at all presentable, wearing only a pair of dark grey breeches. He glanced at his muscled torso and reminisced on how far he had come the past ten years. He had not always possessed such a physique. In fact, he had been rather portly as a child.

Because he was subjected to teasing, he isolated himself from the world, knowing there was no place in society for someone such as him.

“You do not have to go through with it, Jacob,” Aaron said, interrupting his thoughts.

Jacob glanced at Aaron and his jaw clenched. “I did not leave Scotland’s countryside and come all this way for no reason.”

“London has more to offer than what you seek.”

“Do not make me regret telling you of my plan,” Jacob said jokingly.

Aaron chuckled in amusement and shook his head. “I may not be aware of what it is like to be a nobleman, but I do know that resorting to revenge is not the way. It only cuts up your peace.”

“And what would you have me do? Simply forget it ever happened?” Jacob asked.

“That is definitely a better option than what you have in mind.”

“Luckily it is not your decision,” Jacob muttered. “But I do appreciate your cautionary words.

“Jacob, you are my friend, and I cannot in good conscience allow you to do this. Do you really think revenge is the best way to go about this?” Aaron asked as he stepped back, retrieved two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from a wooden box, and placed it on the table.

“She embarrassed me, Aaron. Why do you think I left for Scotland? She ruined my chances of ever being seen as anything other than a fat boy with a speech impediment.”

“Is that what you believe? Is that what you think people dwell on? You should not allow the opinion of a young girl to affect you so deeply, my friend. Look at yourself. You are not the same as you were, nor is she.”

“You have seen her?” Jacob asked.

“I have.”

Jacob paused, wondering whether she was still as beautiful as she had been as a young girl, but he dared not ask Aaron such things. Aaron knew the inner workings of his mind almost as well as he himself did, and he knew better than to venture down that path.

“She is still a very beautiful woman, if that interests you,” Aaron smiled smugly.

“It does not,” Jacob scoffed.

Despite not wishing to, Jacob could still perfectly recall her beautiful face in his mind. Outwardly she had been a lovely young girl, with thick black locks, warm brown eyes, and a delectable laugh. Jacob had been instantly smitten with her, but he had not considered himself worthy of being in her company.

“She and her mother were seen promenading in Hyde Park,” Aaron grinned quietly and poured whiskey into the two glasses.

“Again, that hardly concerns me,” Jacob asked.

Aaron straightened his back and raised an apprehensive brow at him. “Of course it does not.”

“I do not appreciate your tone,” Jacob said, accepting the glass and sipping the whiskey.

Jacob did not appreciate the manner in which Aaron gazed at him and he scoffed in disapproval. “There is no need to pass judgement upon me, Aaron. I have already made up my mind and I will not be swayed. I will make her feel the same embarrassment and pain she caused me all those years ago. I have spent ten years of my life improving myself, training hard, recreating my body—”

“While still carrying this hatred inside your heart. That cannot be healthy.”

“You do not understand.”

“I do. I have heard you speak and complain and scowl while speaking of her in my presence. I have seen the anger with which you spewed her name, the blinding hatred you have for her. It has caused you to lose all those years, not gain them, my friend. It was such a long time ago. Can you not move on and forget of it?”

“Would you be able to forget?”

Aaron drank the remainder of the whiskey in his glass and set it down on the table. “I say this as your friend and nothing less. I understand she caused you embarrassment, but please do not proceed with this plan. You are not required to prove yourself to anyone, especially not to her. You are an accomplished man, and you can have any woman you want. The young women will fall at your feet when they see you now. Why not choose to move on with your life with one of them? Or take them all—it does not even matter. Just stop dwelling on this and move on with your life.”

“It is not what I want,” he answered with utmost confidence.

“You wish to ruin a young woman’s life,” Aaron sighed. “Is that truly what you want, Jacob? Can you tell me, with pure honesty, this is what you want?”

“Indeed.”

“That is a pity,” Aaron said with a sigh. “That is not what I wish for you. You are my friend and it pains me to see you like this. You are caught in a prison of hatred, and by proceeding with your plan and taking revenge on her for something that happened so many years ago, you will only bring harm to yourself.”

Jacob set the empty glass on the table and extended his hand to Aaron. “You are a good friend to me. I simply hope that this will not taint your perception of me.”

Aaron scoffed and shook his hand. “What I think of you will never change, and I will always remain your friend. It is merely your actions I disapprove of.”

“Thank you.” Jacob nodded.

“It might interest you to know there is a ball the day after next. Perhaps you can make an appearance,” Aaron suggested.

“And how do you know of this?” Jacob asked.

“I am not deaf,” Aaron replied wryly, shrugging. “Two noblemen I train were discussing it. Apparently it will be a grand affair.”

“Perhaps I shall attend…though only if she will be there,” Jacob answered.

“You have been hurt badly if you cannot even bear to let her name cross your lips.” Aaron sighed. “Would you care for another drink?”

“Certainly not. If I do, her name will not be the only word I would be unable to speak.”

“Very well,” Aaron said with a chuckle. “Although, your stammer is much better. Your speech is impeccable.”

“Only when I am surrounded by people I trust implicitly.”

“I will graciously accept that compliment.” Aaron grinned.

Jacob grinned at Aaron in return. Although he had only returned to London a mere week ago, being in Aaron’s presence made being in Town much easier. Remaining in the confines of his late father’s home in Mayfair, he spent his nights in darkness, listening to the sounds of the city, building his courage, and plotting his revenge against the woman who broke his heart.

“I will inquire as to whether she will be in attendance tomorrow evening. But even if she is not, I think it would be a great opportunity for you to announce your own return to Town,” Aaron said.

“Perhaps,” Jacob answered with a hint of indifference.

A night at a social gathering, placing him on display for all the young women to see, would certainly gain attention. And that was precisely what he wished. He wished that the young women recognised him and stared at him in wonder and awe—that they would see how he had blossomed from a portly, stammering boy, to an eloquent, handsome and fit young man.

His revenge would be cold, but his victory would be sweet and satisfying. Finally, the time to get revenge on Caroline Monmouth had arrived.

If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here

Chapter 1

London, England

1816

William pushed through the door of the barristers’ chambers with a spring in his step. Nothing could stop his rise as a barrister now.

“Shaw! Good work man.” One of the other barristers clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past.

“Thank you, Carter. All in a day’s work,” he said with false modesty as he walked on down the corridor, his hessian boots clicking the dark mahogany floorboards as he moved. He had papers tucked under his arms and his coat tails swung behind him.

“Mr Shaw, I’d like to shake your hand.” One of the senior barristers cut in front of William.

“Ah, Mr Grover.” William smiled, realizing how great a mark of respect such praise from this man was.

“Well done on the Klipton case. Nobody saw that coming, no one except you.”

“Thank you, sir.” William shrugged, as though it were no great matter. “A little bit of hard work, that’s all it took.”

“No need for modesty.” Grover laughed as he stepped away again. “Good work! To your post, man.”

William laughed too and continued down the corridor. Every step he took, he was receiving nods from other barristers and clerks. The latest case he had won was about to see his name go up significantly in the world of law. William smiled at the idea, for years he had slogged on small cases. Not that he desired fame at all, no, he had always done his work from a selfless place. He had a desire to see those men guilty of crimes put behind bars and punished for what they did. But with this latest turn of events, he would be placed on cases of much greater crimes from now on. It would give him the opportunity to put away criminals who had truly done the worst of what was imaginable in this world.

That is a good cause to live for!

Though he had started as just an errand boy in the chambers, he had worked hard and moved up the ranks, going from clerk to barrister.

He opened the door into the office he shared in the chambers with two other up-and-coming barristers. One had not yet arrived, but at his entrance, the second, a Mr Haynes, stood to his feet in front of the large floor-to-ceiling shelves of books that covered their walls.

“Shaw!” Haynes stepped out from his desk as William reached his own. “The chambers cannot stop talking of your success.”

“I had noticed.” William smiled as he dropped his papers onto his desk and gestured through the door. “Just walking through the corridor, it was like being at the gentleman’s club, fawning off attention!”

“I am not sure the barristers would appreciate you comparing them to the types of ladies that frequent those clubs.” Haynes laughed heartily at his jest.

“What they can’t hear, won’t hurt them.”

“You best get used to this new way of life. Our superior has already brought a new case down for your attention.” Haynes gestured at his desk.

“Wonderful.” William reached for the file with excitement.

Yes, this is my purpose in life.

Ever since the tragedy that had overshadowed his younger days, he had found a new reason for living. As a barrister, he was happy putting away the guilty.

“What is this?” William hesitated before placing his hand on the new file.

“Oh, more death threats,” Haynes shrugged. “Customary for our way of life, I’m afraid.” Haynes walked back to his desk.

“Hmm, I had noticed.” William laughed. “I have received three this week already.” He added the latest paper to those he had discarded on a nearby table, barely bothering to read it. “It’s as though these people blame me for the fact their loved ones are hardened murderers or thieves. I am hardly responsible they chose a life of crime!”

“But you’re happy to punish them for it.”

“Happy, indeed.” William smiled as he picked up the stack of death threats, filtering through them quickly. The ones sent earlier in the week had been from young families, all complaining that their fathers had been sent away to prison for an unjust period of time for theft. On the final threat, the one he had received that morning, his eyes lingered a little longer.

This was a particularly vehement threat indeed, promising just payment and gore for William’s ‘sin’ against their family. This threat did not pertain to any theft, but to the murder case that was now earning William so much praise: the Klipton case.

“So, tell all!” Haynes’ high-pitched voice tore William’s gaze away and he placed the death threats into a folder that he dropped into the bottom drawer of his desk.

Best not spoil a day like this with such horrid thoughts.

“Tell all?” William repeated as he sat down at his desk, pulling forward his latest case file.

“How did you know that the farmer was guilty? Everyone was convinced it was the butler,” Haynes said, leaning across his desk, his face visible in the light filtering in from the small window in their dark-wood-paneled room.

“The farmer had an agreement with the landowner. The farmer, Joseph, had made a deal – if Klipton bought the farm off him for a short time, Joseph promised he would buy back the land at an inflated price.”

“How was he going to accomplish such a thing?”

“An investment, which by the sounds of things, went badly wrong. He was going to use the money from the initial purchase of the land and turn it into more money. That extra money would then allow him to buy back the land from Klipton and pay for some new equipment. Money-making scheme.” William smiled as he looked up from the paperwork. “Klipton, as the greedy landowner he always was, saw an opportunity of his own. When Joseph came back to him and said the investment had gone poorly and he did not have more money to buy the land back at the inflated price, Klipton outright refused the sale.”

“Hard, but a deal’s a deal, I suppose.” Haynes nodded.

“Just so,” William agreed. “Joseph, a father of four kids, realized he had now lost everything. His money-making scheme had failed, and he had lost the farm, his only chance at giving those children any livelihood. He killed Klipton in a moment of mad revenge.” William shook his head. “How some people are driven to such lengths, I will never understand.”

“Hmm, quite so, but how did you get Joseph to confess on the stand?” Haynes rested an elbow on the desk.

William sat back, too pleased with himself not to talk about it.

“He wanted to confess really. Joseph was a family man. He may have killed Klipton in anger, but he felt guilty,” William acknowledged, remembering how the farmer had crumpled on the stand before him when questioned so diligently. “It was just a case of pushing that guilt until it all came out.”

“Impressive.” Haynes nodded before reaching for his own paperwork. “Well, what’s next then? What will you do now your name is established as quite the intelligent barrister?”

“Now,” William pointed down to the folder on the desk. “I go onto the next case.” He bent his head over the papers.

This was how his life would always be, moving from one case to the next, and the next, unrelenting.

It’s the only life I want.

***

“That’s it, Lizzy, practice one more time,” Clara said kindly, gesturing for the ten-year-old girl beside her to copy out some maps again on a second piece of parchment in order to learn her geography. The girl smiled and pulled the parchment toward her, following the instruction happily.

Clara smiled down at the girl to see her working so hard. Before this position, she had been in search of work. She had now spent six months as governess to Lizzy Shaw, the younger sister of the barrister, Mr William Shaw, and Lizzy was already showing how clever she could be. It warmed Clara’s heart to know that perhaps this new venture in her life could bring her some satisfaction when watching Lizzy’s progress.

Clara’s world had been turned upside down after the death of her father a couple years ago. The Baron had died with significant debts to his name, meaning their family had to go into service. Clara winced at the thought of where her mother and sister now were. Her mother worked as a cleaner at a barristers’ chambers, and her sister was a seamstress’ assistant. It was her mother’s doing that Clara now had her own position as a governess. She had mentioned Clara’s name to Mr Shaw at the chambers. Next thing Clara knew, she had moved into Shaw’s townhouse.

“You’re doing well,” Clara said as Lizzy sat back in the seat of the writing desk, swinging her legs beneath on from the chair.

“Am I?” Lizzy looked up, with a smile beaming across her features. She was not dissimilar in looks to her older brother, possessing the same black hair, that was now swept up into a chignon. “I have never done this before. I don’t like this letter,” Lizzy complained as she pointed down at the ‘k’ in the list.

“Nobody does,” Clara smiled. “Far too difficult to write. You should see my ‘k’s, utterly atrocious!” As Clara mocked herself, Lizzy giggled.

There was the sound of a carriage arriving outside the house and Lizzy scrambled off the chair.

“Careful, Lizzy,” Clara said with warmth as she followed her, straightening out the now ruffled skirt of the young girl. Clara had been given a traditional and rather elegant upbringing, despite her now great fall from wealth. Lizzy, on the other hand, was yet to learn such things, but Clara was keen to teach her. “Who is it?”

“It’s William!” Lizzy bobbed on her toes with excitement as she peered over the window frame.

Clara’s breath hitched as she too looked through the window to see Mr Shaw step out of his carriage. She had only known her new employer for six months, and she was startled by the effect the sight of the gentleman had on her.

He is a handsome man indeed…

With black hair, smoky grey eyes, and a tall frame, Clara thought it would be impossible for a woman not to be affected by the barrister’s appearance, but that was part of the problem… the man was a known rake, jumping from one woman’s bed to the next with great alacrity. Clara tried to shake off her admiration for him as she and Lizzy watched him walk up the front steps toward the door of the townhouse, but it was impossible.

Always clean shaven, he had strong features, the curves of his face were so chiseled that Clara liked to compare him to the old Roman marble statues she had seen draping the hallways of museums.

Do not be a fool, Clara.

She reprimanded herself as Lizzy turned away from the window and ran back to her chair. She took Clara’s hand as she went and dragged her with her.

“I want to show, William. Do you think he’ll like it?” Lizzy innocently held up the page of lettering. Despite this being one of her first days, the maps were surprisingly neat.

“I’m certain he will.” Clara smiled.

The door opened to the library then before she could speak further. She flicked her head round to see Mr Shaw step inside. She held her breath as she bobbed a traditional curtsy, as any governess should do.

“Ah, you’re in here.” His cold words prompted her to look up again.

“We are, sir.” She watched him, but he barely glanced at her. Those grey eyes passed quickly over her and moved to Lizzy. Clara felt the sting that glance caused.

He is rake! He can have the pick of any woman. He is hardly going to spend long looking at his governess.

“How is Lizzy progressing?” Mr Shaw asked.

Clara felt Lizzy shift at her side and look down at the paper in her hands. The excitement the child had been holding onto a few minutes ago vanished. Clara felt Lizzy’s pain as if it were her own.

She lifted her chin high, hoping to meet Mr Shaw’s gaze, but he was already looking across the room, almost indifferent to the two of them. Had Clara been this man’s equal when it came to wealth, she would have told him openly what she thought…

Ask her yourself! She is right here!

As it was, she did not currently have the luxury of being so outspoken. Not as a governess.

“She is progressing brilliantly well, sir.” Clara took the paper from Lizzy’s hand and tapped the girl’s chin, urging her to look up. When Lizzy’s grey eyes found Clara’s, she urged her to smile. “Today we were working on our lettering and she would love to show you.”

“Later, perhaps. I have work to do.” The cold indifference made Clara’s hand tighten around the paper. “I am pleased to hear there is improvement. If you excuse me, I must attend to my work.” With that word, he turned and left the room.

For a few seconds, Clara and Lizzy both just stared at the door. Clara winced at the sound of Mr Shaw retreating back through the townhouse, toward his study.

She knew he had to be a well-intentioned man, after all, he was a barrister! Yet, he had clearly not thought through how his words had sounded. He had not asked after his sister’s wellbeing, and he had barely looked at either of them.

He is a preoccupied man, indeed.

Lizzy snatched back the parchment from Clara’s grasp and returned to the table. She knelt on the chair, tucking her feet under her, and leaned over with her ink and quill to practice another line.

At any other time, Clara would have happily smiled and remarked on the girl’s hard work, but this was not the right moment. Lizzy was pouting and there was sadness in her eyes.

“Lizzy, sweetheart, is something wrong?” Clara took the chair beside her again.

“It’s William,” Lizzy admitted, though she kept her eyes down on her drawings. “He doesn’t love me like I love him.”

“That is nonsense, dear.” Clara tapped Lizzy’s chin again, urging her to look up and connect their gazes. “Your brother loves you very dearly, indeed.”

“He has a funny way of showing love then.” Lizzy scrunched up her nose.

That I unfortunately cannot deny.

“He is just preoccupied.” Clara smiled, trying to dispel the air of sadness in the room. “There is much work for him to do.”

“That’s not it.” Lizzy sat back in her chair and shook her head, playing with the folds of her dress. “I know what it is.”

“What is it?”

“He blames me for our mother’s death.”

“What!?” Clara sat bolt straight in her chair, surprised by the volume she had allowed herself to use. When Lizzy looked to her in alarm, she cleared her throat. “I am sure that’s not true.”

“It is!” Lizzy moaned and fiddled much more with her dress. “I was told that my entering the world was the reason she left. How could he not blame me for it?”

Clara stared open-mouthed at the child for a minute, struggling with what words to say. Whoever had decided to tell her of the manner of her mother’s passing had clearly worded the sentence very ill indeed. They had allowed Lizzy to blame herself.

“That is not how these things work.” Clara’s voice was soft as she took Lizzy’s hands off her dress. “Come now, no more fiddling. Look at me, Lizzy.” she waited until the girl’s eyes returned to her. “Your mother’s passing is not your fault. Your brother knows that too and he loves you more than anything in this world.”

“How can you know that?” Lizzy tilted her head to the side and stuck her tongue between her lips.

“Because I am a very clever woman,” Clara said with mock pride, breaking Lizzy’s sadness for a moment to reveal a smile. “Trust in my cleverness.”

“I will.” Lizzy nodded.

“I know your brother loves you more than anything because that is why he is working so hard.”

“It is?” Lizzy looked confused.

“Oh yes,” Clara said, squeezing the girl’s hand with comfort. “He works all the hours God has sent him so that he can make ends meet and provide for you. He has brought me here, to you, for that same purpose, to take care of you and help teach you. He loves you more than anything.”

Lizzy nodded, with a full smile taking over her lips again.

“I think that’s enough geography for one day.” Clara pushed the parchment away, determined to continue on her plan of cheering Lizzy’s spirits. “What do you say to a game of cards instead? It will be our secret.”

Lizzy bobbed happily in her seat at the idea.

After some minutes playing cards, the two of them retired to the drawing room where Clara persisted with playing games to distract Lizzy. As dinner came round, Clara left Lizzy in the drawing room and went to organize some food for her. Her quiet walk through the townhouse’s corridors came to a sharp stop when she found the door was open to Mr Shaw’s study.

As it was the summer months, even at this late hour there was plenty of daylight, and it streamed through the study’s windows onto Mr Shaw’s face, allowing Clara a perfect view of his features in profile.

Sometimes…I think he is a man made of ice.

He was staring down at a parchment in his hand, reading it intently. That intense gaze of his sent a shiver up her spine, one of excitement. She couldn’t help but wonder what it could be like if Mr Shaw ever turned that cool stare on her. She rather expected she should be affronted by such an ice-like stare, but she wasn’t. It suggested to her he kept his emotions guarded, that this image of the ‘ice-man’ was just something he wore.

She liked the intensity of it.

Yet known rakes were not good men to pin hopes on. Neither was it a good idea for a governess to think so much of her employer, Clara knew that.

She turned her head away and continued her path down the corridor, determined she would have to stop thinking of Mr Shaw and his handsome looks.

***

William caught a glimpse of the drawing room through the open door on his way to the dining room. His sister was inside, with her governess, Miss Clara Griffith beside her. It had been a few hours since he had arrived home and found the two of them in the library. Since then he had spent all of his time in the study doing his work and was only now taking his break for dinner. He saw that Lizzy was smiling and laughing at some witty statement Miss Griffith had said. Then he glanced at the governess, too.

Though of average height, she was quite a striking figure. She had light-hazel eyes, skin peppered with soft freckles and chocolate-red hair. William felt the same stirring within he had felt since Miss Griffith had arrived at his door. In his mind’s eye, he could picture that chocolate-red hair splayed out on his pillow upstairs, and he could see her pretty freckled face gasping with pleasure – oh, how he yearned to cause her such gasps. Had he known Miss Griffith was to be so tempting, he might have had second thoughts about hiring her as his sister’s governess. But there was already a bond between the governess and Lizzy, one he would not harm. His yearnings he usually sated at the gentlemen’s club or in Covent Garden, that was his rule. Such temptation was never brought home.

Seeing Miss Griffith every day was tugging at the boundaries of that rule. Whereas on the day of her arrival, he had entertained the usual fantasies he had of many women he met. By now, a few days later, those imaginings were difficult to escape. Whenever he caught a glimpse of her, he was thinking of some new position the two of them could take together, or the sounds she could make with him braced between her legs…

She is Lizzy’s governess!

He shook off the yearnings and turned away, determined to try and stop the constant visions he had of her. A pretty face could lead to dangerous things, after all.

He walked onto the dining room and hurried to take his seat where he preferred to dine alone. As he waited for the butler to serve his food, he was startled to find an envelope beside him on the tabletop.

“A letter, Milton?” William asked as he took up the envelope. “It is not the usual time for mail.”

“No, sir,” Milton agreed as he stepped away again, the food now served. “It arrived late this afternoon whilst you were at the chambers.”

“Ah, thank you.” William nodded his head to the butler and turned his attention back to the envelope. He opened it quickly, his gaze jumping down to the bottom of the page, as it always did, to see who had sent the letter first before reading the correspondence. “Solicitor Franklin Clark…” He muttered allowed to himself.

I do not know a man of that name.

He allowed his eyes to return to the top of the letter and read.

‘Mr William Shaw,

‘It is with my deepest regrets that I write to inform you, your second cousin, the Earl of Cornwall, Maurice Shaw, and his son, Elis Shaw, passed away on the fifteenth of May in a tragic coach accident. With the death of the Earl’s heir, Elis, he had no more heirs who stood to inherit and as he passed without leaving a Will & Testament, the estate reverts to the next male heir in the Shaw line. Though the circumstances are a sad one, I am writing to congratulate you, Mr Shaw, on being the heir to both the Earl’s title and the estate. This will of course result in you taking possession of the estate at your earliest convenience…’

William sat back in his chair and dropped the letter down to the table-top without finishing reading it.

No, no, this was not what I wanted.

“Is all well, sir?” Milton asked, but William could not bring himself to look up to the butler.

What about my work?

Chapter 2

William had been working hard to control his temper over the last few days. Ever since he had received that letter, his life was to be turned upside down. That fact infuriated him.

As he took the carriage toward the barristers’ chambers, he breathed heavily, trying to hold onto some kind of calm resolve, but struggling with it. Today he had to complete closing the last of his cases and hand over those he did not have enough time to. The thought of it was excruciating to him. He was not certain that he had fully come to terms with what was happening as of yet.

It was as though he was under some sort of spell, just going through the motions of preparing himself to become the Earl of Cornwall.

As the carriage arrived, he climbed down and stepped quickly through the door into the chambers. He hesitated momentarily as he moved down the corridor. He felt a strange sense of a mirror image to the same walk he had done a few days ago. Both days barristers and clerks were whispering about him, their gazes lingering in his direction.

“Shaw, I heard the news.” Carter jumped to his side. “Congratulations! Apologies, I should I address you as ‘My Lord’ now, shouldn’t I?”

“No need,” William said tightly. “I have to go.”

“Of course, congratulations again!” Carter’s praising voice followed him down the mahogany corridor, leaving William only more agitated.

His steps became a little quicker, so determined he was to reach his chamber and no longer have to look at the whispering clerks who were all pointing at him.

“Lord Shaw.” Grover suddenly appeared in front of William, bringing him to a sharp stop. He quickly cast a gaze up to the heavens, wondering how badly God wished to make him suffer their congratulations. “Well, it is the second time in a week I’d like to shake your hand.”

William automatically shook Grover’s hand, though he struggled to connect their gazes.

I keep wishing to wake from this nightmare, but still, it will not happen. I just want to stay here and do my work.

“Thank you, sir,” William said quickly.

“You’re going up in the world, my good man.” Grover laughed and let him walk away.

William knew the old barrister was right. This event should be looked on as a blessing, he was to be an earl! If only there was a way that he could keep his work and the title, but there wasn’t. His correspondence with the solicitor had pressed on William the urgency of taking control as quickly as possible. He felt as though the careful life he had built for himself was slipping between his fingers, like running water, and he could not grasp hold of it.

He hurried into office, relieved to find at least this time Haynes was not there. The wood-paneled room was empty, leaving William a moment of peace as he sat down behind his desk and hung his head in his hands.

These days, there were only two things in his life that he loved: his sister and his work. That strong purpose he had felt, having the power to right society’s wrongs had been so important to him. It kept the monster of guilt at bay, the monster that reared its ugly head whenever William thought about his past.

No, do not think of it now.

If he could no longer work, William quickly realized he would have to find another way to keep that monster pushed down inside of him.

But…how?

***

On his ride home in the carriage, William thought of a way. He hovered outside of his gentleman’s club, the one that was frequented by ladies of the night and courtesans. He had visited many courtesans over the last few years, but he always ensured he did not visit the same one twice. He went from one to the next, never allowing himself to become attached to anyone.

He hovered in the carriage with a hand on the door, tempted to sate his urges that night and distract himself from the matter at hand by going to the soft touch of some beautiful woman. Now he was Earl, he could spend many more nights in such a way. Lose himself in the pleasure and sweet release, thinking only of the woman he was with each night.

Yet, he could not tonight. He removed his hand from the door of the carriage, stayed firmly sitting and tapped the ceiling, shouting to the driver.

“Home, please!” he called, and the carriage leapt forward once more. There was too much to do to prepare for their departure to the new manor house. He could not afford to indulge in a woman’s touch just yet.

***

“Do you think they’ll have a garden?” Lizzie asked, hopping up and down on her toes as Clara stood beside her on the bottom step of the staircase in the townhouse, holding hands.

“Oh, I should think so,” Clara smiled. “A big one we can go exploring together.” She saw Lizzy’s bonnet had become tussled in her excitement and rearranged it on the girl’s head. “That’s better.”

“I hope so.” Lizzie smiled. “The garden here is not very big at all.”

At these words, there was a commotion in front of them in the entrance hall. More luggage, carpet bags and leather suitcases were being deposited, the staff were all in a flurry to try and organize everything. Behind them, Mr Shaw stepped out of his study into the room, looking even more flustered than the staff.

Clara felt her own smile slip away as her eyes followed her employer around the space, giving harried orders and trying to prepare the carriages to leave. It had not escaped her notice that Mr Shaw did not exactly seem pleased so far with his new title and estate. That icy exterior he wore had slipped a little bit, but only enough to show frustration.

His grey eyes moved to where Clara and Lizzy stood on the stairs, and he made his way toward them. Clara tried to ignore how fast her heartbeat grew when he came near, but it was pointless. It was now beating extremely fast, indeed.

“Are you both ready?” he asked.

Clara was tempted to reply with wit and jest that no, they were not yet ready, they had merely decided to stand on their stairs in pelisses with their trunks at their feet for fun. But his manner made her bite lip instead.

I am not sure what Mr Shaw would make of wit.

“Yes, My Lord,” she replied simply instead.

There was a disturbance by the door as some of the staff struggled to carry out the trunks and Clara watched as Mr Shaw despaired of them, closing his eyes briefly and pinching the bridge of her nose.

She wished desperately to ask what had upset him so much to cause such frustration and dread of his new position. Had she been so lucky in life, she would have jumped for joy! As it was, she had lost the luck of her previously wealthy position and her family now had to work for their good fortune. She thought at the very least Mr Shaw would be pleased by the windfall. Whatever was bothering him about the turn of events, it had to be superior to the thought of sudden wealth.

“Mr Shaw,” she began, determined to ask what was wrong and think of a way to remove his stress. He turned back to her, the trace of pain that had been there before had gone and he stared at her with that usual ice stare, his defense mechanism. She loved the intensity of that grey stare, it made her shiver with a kind of excitement.

“Yes?” he prompted when she said nothing. That single word made her revoke her decision.

He does not want me to ask what is wrong.

“Perhaps it would be of use to you if Lizzie and I board the carriage?” She gestured to the door. “We will be out of your way then.”

“Yes, that is a good idea.” He gestured for the two of them to go.

“William?” Lizzy called as Clara began to lead her through the scattered trunks toward the door. “What do you think our new home will be like?”

“I do not know, Lizzy,” he said simply. Clara was aware of Lizzy turning her head down again, looking at the floor. Once more, the girl’s attempt to draw her brother into conversation had been thwarted.

“Come on, Lizzie.” Clara squeezed her hand and smiled at her. She would not let the girl wallow in her sadness. “How about we play a game? We could imagine what our new home will have and when we get there, we’ll see who guessed more things right. What do you say?” Lizzy looked up and nodded. “Great, I bet you…there will be roses in the garden. The big kind, so large that they’re bigger than your bonnet!”

“That’s impossible!” Lizzy laughed as they descended down the steps.

“Is it? Well, we’ll see if I’m right or not when we arrive. Your turn.”

“I bet…” she stuck her tongue out between her lips in thought as they reached the carriage. “There will be a nursery, and it will have a rocking chair! I’ve always wanted a rocking chair.”

“Oh, I like that idea.” Clara helped her into the carriage. Before stepping in herself she looked over her shoulder, back to see Mr Shaw standing in the doorway of the townhouse. He was watching the two of them carefully and Clara felt burned by that stare.

She turned away and climbed into the carriage, scolding herself for having looked at him again.

No good can come from staring at him so much.

***

The house was a grand one, indeed. William couldn’t help the way his eyes danced across the ivy-clad exterior of the white and marble building. The last Earl of Cornwall had done a fine job indeed of creating such a beautiful home. The frontage faced the east and was bathed in the rising sunlight of the morning. The orange hues of the sun turned the white building almost amber, with the light glinting off the glass windows dotted across the front.

Any excitement William felt though at the sight of his new home sank as he found his butler in the entrance hall. Milton had been sent ahead by a couple of days to help with the preparations for William’s arrival. As Milton presented William with a stack of letters, his heart sank, and he was no longer thinking of the marble entrance hall, framed with peace lilies and fine Renaissance paintings.

“Good morning, Milton. What are all these?” William asked, sifting between the envelopes quickly.

“Invitations, My Lord,” Milton explained as the cases were taken through the hall. “There are many of them. It seems most of the neighborhood have been anxiously looking forward to your arrival.”

“They have?” William’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“There have been visits too, My Lord.”

“What kind of visits?”

“Gentlemen who are eager to introduce you to their wives and daughters, My Lord.” Milton’s whispered words made William wince with realization. Of course, he was the new Earl of Cornwall, young, wealthy, no doubt as much the talk of the town as he had been at the barrister’s chambers.

They will be wanting to throw their daughters at me!

The thought left him cold as he counted just how many letters there were in his hands. If each envelope belonged to another event, he would have to suffer every night for the next few months being pushed under the latest debutante’s nose. He imagined the stiff-upper-lipped ladies he might encounter, those that would hide behind their fans, all just trying to get his attention because he now had a few pounds behind his name.

That is not the life I want.

There was a sound behind him, and he turned to look to the doorway to see Lizzy running in the door. She looked around at the hall, with her mouth agape and her grey eyes wide in complete wonder. At the sight of her childish delight, William was tempted to smile. He was pleased to see her so happy, but as Miss Griffith stepped into the hallway behind Lizzy, his smile vanished.

Miss Griffith…how you torment me.

Her pelisse was now discarded over her arm, showing off her slender curves beneath the pale cream satin gown she wore. Those fantasies, that had been growing even greater over the last few days, suddenly flashed before him yet again.

He could see the two of them together. He could practically feel her breath on his neck, as she would breathlessly pant his name. He could imagine perfectly caressing the insides of her legs, sliding his fingers up and into her wetness. First, he would take her so that he could see her in all her glory, before taking her from behind, watching that slender back arch as he moved inside her…

“Lizzy?” Her voice shook him out of the fantasy. “What do you think?”

“It’s like a house from a fairy tale!”

“I believe you could be right.” Miss Griffith laughed softly before her gaze rested on him. William saw her laughter vanish. “Is all well, Mr Shaw?”

“Perfectly,” he replied with stiffness, though he was painfully aware of the letters in his hand. Lizzy bounded up to him, practically skipping with her joy.

“William, we could explore together! Clara says the gardens are very large, indeed. She said she could even see a maze from the carriage window.” Lizzy’s joy was wto see, but William was too concerned with the letters to be distracted by it.

“Another time,” he replied quickly. “I have business that needs attending to.” He gestured to the letters in his hand. “Milton, could you introduce me to the rest of the staff please?”

“Of course, My Lord. They have gathered for your arrival, this way.” As Milton led him away, William glanced back once over his shoulder into the entrance hall.

Lizzy was looking down at her feet, the excitement that had been there a moment ago had vanished and it had been replaced with something else entirely, though William could not understand what had happened to cause the change. His eyes slipped from Lizzy to Miss Griffith and he felt that sudden stir again. That yearning bubbled to the surface and it was only growing stronger. As he turned away, focusing on the path he was following through the house and down the servant’s staircase, he almost growled in response at having to look away from Miss Griffith.

This torment will be the death of me, I am sure.

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