Always

Twenty-One

PROLOGUE

I can only take one of them.

Nathan huddled under his father’s desk, listening as the two women across the room bickered and bartered. He could see their skirts swishing around their legs, but he couldn’t see their grumpy faces, and he was glad he couldn’t.

They hadn’t realized he was present, and he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but he didn’t understand what was happening, and because he didn’t, he was very afraid. There wasn’t a single adult who would clarify in a way that made sense, and he was determined to get some answers.

One of the women was very chubby and one was very thin. The thin one claimed she was his Aunt Edwina, which meant she was his father’s sister. But he didn’t think his father had had a sister. When he’d still been alive, he’d certainly never mentioned her, and her sudden appearance in their home was scary.

The chubby one claimed she was his mother’s cousin—Mrs. Beatrice Carter—and he knew what the word cousin meant too, but as with his father, he didn’t recall his mother ever mentioning a cousin. His parents had been so happy, their small family so content, that it didn’t seem possible for there to be relatives he’d never met, especially some who were so awful.

His Aunt Edwina had been stomping about and barking orders for four days, but Mrs. Carter had just arrived. He didn’t like either of them—they reminded him of witches in a fairytale—and he wished he could push them out the door, but he was only six, so they paid no attention to him.

You have to take both girls, Aunt Edwina was saying to Mrs. Carter. They’re twins. You can’t split them apart.

Why can’t I split them? Mrs. Carter asked. In my view, you’re imposing on me horridly. I have no idea why I’m here. You should be glad I’ve obliged you.

If you just take one, what am I to do with the other?

How is that my problem? Mrs. Carter’s tone was very snide. Their exalted grandfather can step up and act appropriately toward the one I don’t want.

He won’t let her in the house. It’s why I begged you to assist me.

Then send her to an orphanage. If I hadn’t waltzed in, wasn’t that what you were already planning? Or toss her out in the street. It’s none of my affair what ending you choose for her.

They were discussing his sisters, Sissy and Bec-Bec, who were upstairs in the nursery with their nanny and blissfully oblivious to the trouble brewing down in the library. Even if they had recognized the crisis, they were three years old, so they could never grasp the full ramifications. He could barely keep track himself.

Aunt Edwina was trying to convince Mrs. Carter to depart with the twins, but where would they go and why couldn’t he go with them? He shouldn’t be separated from them. Not now. Not when matters were so jumbled and confusing.

He needed to watch over his sisters. His father had told him that he had a duty to protect them. But if they went to live in a different town with Mrs. Carter, how would he ever find them?

A few weeks earlier, his parents had died in a carriage accident. The vicar had explained that they were up in Heaven, but even though Nathan had pretended to comprehend what that indicated, he didn’t really.

He supposed Heaven was a very nice place—the vicar had insisted it was—but he simply couldn’t believe his parents would vanish and leave their three children behind to fend for themselves. It seemed bizarre and wrong.

He’d asked the vicar if he could write them a letter, if he could plead with them to come back. He’d asked too if they might have fled because of him, if his conduct might have chased them away. If so, he wanted the chance to apologize and promise to behave in the future.

His mother had frequently complained that Nathan was a handful. She’d described him as precocious, and whenever he’d particularly vexed her, she’d chided him for being so exhausting. Once, she’d even whispered to his father that he, Nathan, was ten times more difficult than the twins combined.

His father had merely laughed and said, like father, like son.

Nathan’s father, Matthew, had been dashing and wonderful, and Nathan had been proud that his father deemed them to be so similar, but if he could just talk to his mother, he’d swear to never run or yell or sass or disobey, and he figured she might return. She’d bring his father with her.

You’re not helping, Mrs. Carter, Aunt Edwina said. I summoned you to aid the twins. If your aim is to simply be a burden, why bother traveling to London?

I warned Cousin Mary about your brother-in-law, Mrs. Carter said. When she first came to work here, I told her she had no business applying for a job in the home of a lonely, randy widower, but she wouldn’t heed me. Now look where we are!

Don’t blame me for Matthew’s indiscretions with your cousin. It’s hardly my fault.

No, it’s not, Mrs. Carter agreed, "but he sired two bastard daughters on her, and your family thinks I have a responsibility to repair the situation now that he’s dead. Why must I clean up any of his mess?"

Until Aunt Edwina had arrived, he’d never heard the word bastard before. He didn’t know what it meant, but from the way they hurled the term, it had to be terrible.

Why would anyone mock Sissy and Bec-Bec? They were the prettiest, sweetest girls in the world. With their white-blond hair and big blue eyes, they might have been porcelain dolls.

He couldn’t bear to have his parents and sisters disparaged, so he slid from his hiding spot and walked over to where the women were arguing. They were so involved in their quarrel that they didn’t notice him approaching.

Will you give me money to cover my expenses? Mrs. Carter asked Aunt Edwina. If you expect me to provide support, I’ll need funds.

Their grandfather would never supply them.

If that’s the case, then I most especially will only take one of them.

Aunt Edwina was exasperated. Have you any other relatives I could contact? Surely you have other kin who might assist me in this dire hour. You’re aware of what orphanages are like. You can’t want me to send your cousin’s daughter to such a disgusting place.

As I previously mentioned, it doesn’t matter to me. I can take one or I can take none. It’s up to you.

Who is my grandfather? Nathan interrupted, causing both women to jump.

Aunt Edwina didn’t answer his question. She simply scowled. Why are you in here? I told you to stay in your room until Mrs. Carter had departed.

He rarely obeyed others, and he pressed ahead. "And what does bastard mean? Is it bad? My sisters aren’t bad. They’re perfect. My father always said so."

Stop referring to them as your sisters, Aunt Edwina scolded. "They are your half-sisters, which is another thing entirely."

The women shared an annoyed look, then Mrs. Carter said to Aunt Edwina, Could we wrap this up? The afternoon is waning, and I need to be off.

I’ll have Nanny bring the twins down, Aunt Edwina said. You can pick the one you’d like to keep.

She stomped out to the foyer and shouted for Nanny, as Nathan glared at Mrs. Carter and inquired, Where will my sisters be living?

Never you mind, the vicious harpy hissed.

"I do mind, he firmly stated. My father ordered me to watch over them. I’m supposed to protect them from people like you."

Mrs. Carter bristled. You have a smart mouth, little boy, and your father has perished. Why would I care about the tasks he commanded you to perform?

She spun and followed Aunt Edwina to the foyer. Nathan went too, and he hovered behind them, staring up the stairs. Shortly, two footmen marched down, each lugging a traveling trunk, and without halting, they hauled them out to the driveway. Two carriages were parked there, and they loaded a trunk in each vehicle.

Nanny came down—Bec-Bec on one side, Sissy on the other—and it was obvious Nanny had been crying. Her eyes were red, and she was dabbing at them with a kerchief.

What’s this? Aunt Edwina fumed. Tears? You’re a servant. What have you to cry about?

It’s all so sad, isn’t it? Nanny dared to reply. The master dying? The children being separated?

It’s not sad, Aunt Edwina coldly said. It’s necessary.

Mrs. Carter studied his sisters as if they were ponies being assessed at an auction. She pointed a finger at Sissy. She’s clearly the runt of the litter.

She’s not a runt, Nathan protested, but he was ignored.

I guess she’s been sickly all winter, Aunt Edwina explained. She’s had a cough she can’t shake. It’s left her looking frail.

What would I do with an ailing brat? Mrs. Carter shifted her terrifying finger to Bec-Bec. I’ll take her. What’s her name?

Rebecca, Aunt Edwina said.

No, it’s not, Nathan insisted. "It’s Bec-Bec. Rebecca is too hard for Sissy to pronounce."

Aunt Edwina frowned at him. Nathan, how many times must I tell you that children should be seen and not heard? You are to speak only when you’re spoken to.

He’s a nuisance, isn’t he? Mrs. Carter said to Aunt Edwina. I pity you in the coming months and years. When he’s so impertinent at age six, how will you manage him as he grows up?

Aunt Edwina flashed a tight smile. If he gives me any trouble, his grandfather will straighten him out quickly enough.

Poor boy, Mrs. Carter mumbled. I wouldn’t wish that old goat on anyone.

Mrs. Carter! Aunt Edwina stridently rebuked. As you’re aware, his grandfather is Lord Selby, and he is a respected and noble personage who is exalted by the entire nation. You will not denigrate him in my presence.

If the pompous toad doesn’t want people like me denigrating him, perhaps he shouldn’t be such an ogre. And I am weary of this futile debate. Mrs. Carter nodded to Nanny. Carry Rebecca out to my carriage.

Then she whirled away and stormed out.

Nanny started to cry again, and she lifted Bec-Bec and stormed out too. Sissy and Bec-Bec never liked to be apart, and Sissy called frantically to her sister.

Nanny paused, torn by Sissy’s plaintive wail, but Aunt Edwina barked, Don’t dawdle. Let’s get this over with.

Aunt Edwina picked up Sissy and stormed out as well. Nathan suffered a moment of panic, unsure of how to foil what was occurring.

Where are you going with them? he demanded as he hurried after them. Where are you taking them? Why won’t you say?

But they didn’t answer. Bec-Bec was handed in to Mrs. Carter, and Aunt Edwina wrestled Sissy into the other carriage. They were screaming, reaching out to Nathan for help, but to no avail. They were secured in the vehicles, the doors firmly shut. Nathan lunged and tried to grab one of the latches, but Nanny jerked him away.

Sissy! Bec-Bec! he bellowed over and over.

He was fighting so fiercely, kicking at Nanny to free himself, and a footman rushed over and dragged him away from her, his arms pinned to his sides to prevent any further blows. He was creating an enormous racket, and finally, the footman silenced him by clamping a palm over his mouth.

Mrs. Carter’s driver cracked his whip, and the horses lurched and trotted away. There was no sign of Bec-Bec, no wave of goodbye.

Aunt Edwina peered out her carriage window, her expression very cruel. I’ll be back later this afternoon—after I’ve delivered Sissy to the facility.

Are you certain you should, ma’am? Nanny brazenly asked. "It’s an orphanage. The master could never have imagined such an ending. He would never agree to this."

Your opinion has been duly noted, Aunt Edwina said. I’ll be closing up the house tomorrow, so please inform the staff to pack their bags tonight. Wages will be paid in the morning as you leave.

Yes, ma’am, Nanny muttered.

And for pity’s sake, Aunt Edwina continued, lock that insolent boy in his room before the whole neighborhood hears his caterwauling.

She rapped on the roof, and her vehicle pulled away too, with Sissy trapped in it. As with Bec-Bec, he managed no last glimpse of her.

This is a dirty business, Nanny, the footman murmured as he dropped his hand from Nathan’s mouth.

The servants spun to head inside, and Nathan planted his feet, refusing to move. Where are my sisters going?

It doesn’t matter, Nanny testily said, "and they’re your half-sisters! Don’t pretend to be confused over the difference."

A footman snidely added, It’s what you’re left with when the lord of the manor lifts the wrong skirt.

They all snickered, but Nathan ignored them and glared up at Nanny. Are they ever coming back?

The adults exchanged pitying glances, then Nanny sighed. No, they’re not.

I have to save them then, Nathan said. I have to stop this from happening.

He yanked free and dashed off, but only for an instant. A footman swiftly caught him.

Nanny scoffed with derision. There’ll be no bringing them back, my little lord. Let’s get you inside, and we’ll pack your own traveling trunk.

I don’t want to pack. I want to rescue my sisters.

There’s no time to play the hero. In the morning, you’re off to live with your grandfather, Lord Selby. We have to decide what you’d like to take with you.

Why must I live with Lord Selby? I’ve never even met him. I should stay here. I’d like my parents to be here with me too.

"Your father is gone forever, and Mary Carter was not your mother. Your mother died birthing you, and Mary took her place the first chance she had. She was naught but an up-jumped servant."

She was not! Nathan hotly retorted.

She was, and I have no idea why your father allowed you to develop such a shocking misconception. Nanny’s tone was sharp and aggravated. You know your father and Miss Carter are dead and can never return. The vicar explained it to you. You’re six now, and you’re not a baby. Cease acting as if you don’t understand.

"I don’t understand!" he insisted.

Your grandfather is waiting for you to arrive. Aren’t you lucky that such an important person has offered you a home?

Why can’t my sisters join me there?

They’re not special like you. Someday, you’ll grow up to be Earl of Selby, but your sisters are bastard girls, so they’ll never be anything. Your grandfather realizes that about them, so you can’t expect he’d welcome them. Imagine the scandal it would stir!

"I don’t care what he thinks about them. I want to live with them! I want to talk to my father about it!"

Nanny shook her head—whether with disgust or exasperation he couldn’t tell. He attempted a final escape, kicking at the footman’s shin and landing a very hard blow. The man simply scooped up Nathan, tossed him over his shoulder, and they went into the house.

And despite how intensely he protested, despite how loudly he commanded them to let him chase after his sisters, they didn’t listen, and he never saw them again.

In fact, as the years rolled by, he gradually remembered less and less about them until…?

He didn’t remember them at all.

CHAPTER ONE

Selby estate, rural England, twenty-four years later…

Nell Drummond walked down the pretty lane toward the main road. It was a beautiful July afternoon, the sky so blue, the trees so green. Up ahead, she could see the sign that indicated the estate entrance, the simple word SELBY carved in the wood to announce the esteemed location.

She was carrying ribbons and a basket of flowers, and she placed the basket at her feet and surveyed the surrounding posts and fence that she intended to decorate. Back at the manor, the house was hectic, with the servants in a lather because guests were about to begin arriving and the final wedding preparations were still being completed.

In two weeks, her dearest friend, Susan Middleton, was marrying Selby cousin, Percy Blake. Nell, Susan, and Susan’s mother, Florence, had already traveled to the country to participate in the celebrations that would lead up to the ostentatious event. Susan’s busy father, Albert, wouldn’t appear until the day of the ceremony, feeling no need to be present during the escalating mayhem.

Nell had to admit he’d been wise to delay. Now that she’d discovered how chaotic it would be, she wished she could have stayed in London until the very last minute too.

Though she would never confess it aloud, Florence always put people on edge, and she was being her typical annoying self, irking everyone with her pompous posturing. With her usual lack of awareness, she didn’t notice she was creating enemies right and left.

The groom’s mother, Edwina Blake, was especially aggravated.

The two women had arranged the nuptials, so ultimately, they’d be related by marriage, but as the years rolled by, Nell couldn’t imagine how they would ever socialize. They had naught in common, and Edwina’s dislike of Florence was potent and evident.

The Blakes had been aristocrats for three centuries, and they were considered a premier family in the kingdom. The Selby title, currently held by the groom’s cousin—the famous explorer and conspicuously absent Nathan Blake—was one of the oldest and most exalted in the land. Edwina Blake—as a member of the lofty group—viewed herself as being very grand, very important, and she was.

The Middletons were obscenely wealthy due to Albert being a successful brewer. Florence ceaselessly, but erroneously believed their money could buy them a position in High Society, but it never could. They were too ordinary, their antecedents too low.

Despite how hard Florence tried, she couldn’t purchase the spot she thought they should occupy. She’d hoped to use their fortune to snag a noble husband for Susan, but she’d had to settle for a nobleman’s cousin instead.

The groom, Percy Blake—as a grandson of the prior Lord Selby—had very blue blood, but an empty purse, and Susan’s dowry would fill it to overflowing. It was the reason his mother, Edwina, had sought the match. Once the vows were spoken, Percy would become very rich.

Yet the mothers—Florence and Edwina—were like an explosion waiting to happen. How would they all survive the next two weeks without a huge fight breaking out? If Percy and Susan could reach the altar without their mothers calling the whole thing off, it would be a miracle.

Nell was a pleasant person, and she couldn’t abide discord or bickering, but her years of living with the Middletons had honed her skills as a peacemaker.

Her widowed mother, who’d died when Nell was twelve, had been Florence’s childhood friend. After Nell was orphaned, Florence had taken Nell into her home and had finished raising her. Nell was now a very elderly twenty-two, and for the past decade, she’d resided with the Middletons. She was a sort of second daughter they didn’t like very much and hadn’t really wanted.

Florence relentlessly reminded Nell of how lucky she was to have been welcomed by the Middletons, and she was lucky. Grateful too. But she spent an awful lot of time calming Florence’s temper, and she often felt she should have been awarded a prize for her intervention skills. They were skills she assumed she would frequently employ as the wedding neared.

She didn’t like the Blakes very much, and Percy Blake was an arrogant prig who didn’t deserve a wife as sweet and lovely as Susan. But she and Nell were devoted to one another, like affectionate sisters, and she was glad Susan was about to be a bride. It had been Susan’s dream, one over which they’d constantly fantasized as girls, and Nell would toil valiantly to ensure Susan’s big day was as perfect as possible.

She started working on her decorations, weaving strands of ribbons and flowers that she could wrap around the fence posts. She was humming an off-key tune, engrossed in her task, when she realized a man was approaching.

He was strolling along on foot, his horse plodding behind, as he meticulously assessed the quiet woods. He noted every tree and shrub as if he were a soldier wary of attack.

A very handsome fellow, he was tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and very blue eyes. He needed to shave, and his hair was much too long, tied with a strip of leather and hanging halfway down his back as if he hadn’t been to a barber in ages.

While he was probably burly and fit when in prime physical shape, at present, he was thin and gaunt, as if he might have been ill for an extended period. He appeared to have traveled some distance, and it must have been a grueling trip. His boots were dusty and scuffed, his jacket tattered, the elbows patched.

She might have wondered if he’d suffered a calamity, if she should send him to the servant’s door to request a free meal, but he didn’t seem imperiled. Though his outward condition was a bit bedraggled, he carried himself like a warrior or a prince.

There was a powerful aura about him that was tangible, and she was curious as to his identity and purpose. Obviously, he’d have many stories to tell, and she always liked to encounter an intriguing character. Her own life was so small and so boring that she relished any chance to enliven it.

Eventually, he noticed her, and he stopped and stared, scrutinizing her with those magnificent eyes of his. He studied her as if he hadn’t seen a female in years, and he didn’t miss a single detail, his evaluation commencing at her head and meandering down in a manner that was almost inappropriate.

Hello. She flashed the pretty smile for which she was renowned.

It was her mother’s smile, and fortunately, Nell had inherited it. Her mother had been a great beauty, and Nell—with her curly chestnut locks, big green eyes, pert nose, and dimples—resembled her exactly. Men found her to be very fetching, but none of them would ever act on it.

Her deceased father had been an officer in the Royal Navy, her mother his adoring and very common wife. They’d left her no inheritance, no bequests, no dowry, and no wealthy kin. It was why she’d always resided with the Middletons.

She was old enough to be declared a penniless spinster, and her winsome looks and curvaceous figure were her only viable attributes. But they couldn’t take her anywhere she’d like to go—that being into a happy marriage and a home of her own—so they were merely a method for garnering empty praise.

Hello, he said in return, and he kept coming until he was very close. Do I know you?

I’m sure you don’t. I have a good memory for faces, and I don’t recall yours.

You’re not a Blake.

No.

Is this still their property? Or have they finally lost it and moved away?

No. She pointed to the sign that marked the lane to the manor, the one that had SELBY carved into the wood. They’re all here and limping forward in a tremendous fashion. I can safely state that they’re quite as grand as ever.

He scoffed at that. "I suppose grand might be a bit of an exaggeration."

I find them to be very illustrious.

Why are you decorating the fence?

We’re having a wedding, so guests will be arriving. I’m hoping to generate a festive tone from the moment people ride through the gate.

Who is getting married?

The Earl’s cousin, Percy Blake.

Who is the bride?

Miss Susan Middleton.

Never heard of her… he mused. Is it a love match? Was Mr. Blake swept off his feet?

It was nothing so thrilling as all that. It was all very mundane, with it arranged by their mothers when the parties involved weren’t paying attention.

That indicates Miss Middleton must be very rich and he’s marrying her for her money.

Nell chuckled. I will neither confirm nor deny your appraisal of the situation.

Percy always was a mercenary. His mother too. They must be walking on air over their windfall.

I can’t say they’re complaining about it, Nell indiscreetly agreed, even as she recognized she should guard her unruly tongue.

She was in no position to comment on any facet of the nuptial machinations. Florence was vigilant as a spy, and the least little infraction always made its way back to her.

Nell decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. It sounds as if you know Edwina Blake and her son, Percy.

I do. He sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. I know them all too well.

Then I will be very nosy and ask how you’re acquainted.

I’m a Blake cousin.

Oh! How nice. Are you just passing by? Or will you be staying for the celebration?

I guess I’ll have to stay. I don’t have much choice.

We all have choices, Mr. Blake.

I haven’t ever found that to be true. He stared down the lane, torn over whether he should continue on. He scowled at her. What is your role in this madness?

I’ve tagged after the Middletons as a sort of poor relative who’s not a relative at all.

Meaning what? You live with the Middletons, but you’re not family?

Precisely. I intended my reply to be a riddle, but you deciphered it immediately. Mr. Middleton is my guardian, and I am his ward. You’re very astute.

I can be when I try.

"Susan and I are very fond of each other, like sisters only better, so it’s as if I’m helping my sister stagger toward her wedding."

When is it to be?

Two weeks from today.

Will it be a huge event?

Yes. Dozens of your Blake kin are coming, and of course, the whole neighborhood has been invited.

He wrinkled his nose. The manor will be packed.

Yes. The housemaids are in a frenzy, what with preparing all the bedchambers. She grinned. It’s why I’m outside, decorating the fence. The furor inside is overwhelming.

She studied him, thinking he appeared as worn down as his clothes, as if he’d recently been pummeled by life and was struggling to regroup. He looked as if he could use some pampering.

You’ll be the first cousin to arrive, she said, and the staff is just waiting to serve someone. They’ll spoil you rotten.

I might actually enjoy that for a change. I can’t remember the last time I was fussed over.

That’s the saddest statement I’ve ever heard. We all deserve a little coddling. She waved him on. You’re dead on your feet. Why don’t you go to the house?

Am I that decrepit?

Yes. Have you traveled far to get here?

It seems as if I’ve traveled forever.

His voice was fatigued, his demeanor drained, and she’d always been much too sympathetic. As a girl, she’d been the type who’d dragged home stray kittens and puppies. As an adolescent, living with the Middletons, she’d nursed the sick dogs and worried over the lame horses. She was no different with people.

He was such a tragic figure, standing there in his shabby coat and scuffed boots. She had no idea what ordeals he’d suffered on his journey to Selby, but she was swamped by the perception that they had been punishing and dreadful. She was desperate to wrap her arms around him, to hug him and tell him everything would be all right.

Can you find the manor on your own? she asked him.

Yes. He stared down the lane again, and he was wretched, as if he couldn’t bear to spur himself toward it.

It’s quite a distance. With you being so tired, maybe you should jump on your horse and ride the rest of the way.

Is my fatigue that clear?

Yes. You have no secrets from me, sir.

How terrifying.

She lifted her hand to urge him on, and the lace on the cuff of her sleeve caught on a nail in the fence post. She managed to halt just before she tore it.

She frowned and glanced down, and he asked, What’s wrong?

It’s nothing. My sleeve snagged on a nail.

She started tugging at it to free herself without damaging the gown. The Middletons provided her with a tiny allowance, and Susan gave Nell her castoffs, so she had clothes to wear, but her benefactors weren’t overly generous, and she would never deliberately ruin a garment.

She was much too pragmatic to be frivolous with her wardrobe.

Don’t rip it, he said, his tone scolding, and he dropped his horse’s reins and stepped over to her.

Suddenly, they were very close together, and she was thrilled in a peculiar feminine fashion by how he towered over her. At five-foot-six in her slippers, she wasn’t exactly a petite person, but he was much taller than she’d initially assumed, six feet at least and perhaps even more than that.

Even though he was currently too thin, he oozed male virility, making her wonder again if he wasn’t a soldier. He was so thoroughly masculine.

Without requesting permission, he clasped her wrist, then wedged the lace off the nail. It came loose, and she should have thanked him and pulled away, but she didn’t. Neither did he.

Though it sounded odd, it seemed as if the Earth stood still for a moment. The breeze stopped blowing in the trees. The birds stopped singing. It grew very quiet, the silence almost eerie.

There was the strangest sense in the air, as if powerful forces were at work in the universe, as if she’d been destined to cross paths with him for some reason. She gazed up at him, fully expecting him to utter a profound comment that she would mull forever.

When he finally spoke, she bit down a laugh as he voiced a perfectly mundane question instead.

What is your name?

Eleanor—Nell—Drummond.

"Is it Miss Drummond?"

Yes.

He scrutinized her in the same intense manner he’d scrutinized the forest: as if he was assessing every detail for later reflection. She’d never had anyone stare at her so meticulously, and she might have fidgeted, but she wasn’t a silly debutante, meeting a potential beau. She was a twenty-two-year-old spinster. She could survive a male inspection.

Where did you get all your lovely chestnut hair? he asked.

It was her best feature, curly, lush, long, and uncontrollable. She gave it a vain shake. From my dear, departed mother.

Was she very beautiful?

Yes, she was.

He actually grabbed a strand and wrapped it around his finger. Then he leaned in and evaluated the color, and she was frozen in her spot, absolutely breathless to discover what he might attempt next.

But he swiftly remembered himself. He released her and moved away. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

I’d better head to the manor, he said.

Would you like me to walk you? You seem awfully weary.

There’s no need. I’ve come such a distance on my own. I’m sure I can make it the remainder of the way without collapsing.

Will you join us for supper?

He snorted, perhaps with disgust, perhaps with amusement. I probably will.

If you’re seated near me at the end of the table, I can talk your ear off.

He smiled—the only one he’d displayed—and told her, I might like that.

There’s to be dancing after. And cards.

He winced. I thought I was the first cousin to arrive.

Mrs. Blake has invited many of the neighbors for the evening.

Aren’t I lucky? he muttered.

Are you a dancer? Or are you more prone to drink in the corner with the bachelors and irk the ladies who can’t find a partner?

He gaped at her, as if he’d never heard of dancing before. "I guess I was a dancer in a different period of my life."

Well, once you’re fed and spoiled for a bit, will you dance with me? Since I welcomed you so warmly, I ought to receive a reward.

He snorted, this time with amusement. She was certain of it.

You’re sassy, he said. I didn’t think I liked that in a woman, but maybe I do.

He sauntered off, his horse obediently plodding after him. A cloud