‘We knew each other first as children. We went to school together and shared a room. We were best friends as girls and both as sweet and beautiful as one could hope. When I was fourteen, my father died. He left sufficient funds to see me through school, and provide a modest Season when I came of age, and left my guardianship to an aged aunt who knew little of what happened while I was away.’Her mouth twisted in a bitter line. ‘There was a trustee there who took, shall we say, a personal interest in my case.He took every opportunity to remind me that my funds were limited, and my position at the school in jeopardy. Finally, he persuaded me to meet him one night in an office. To go over the details of my father’s will. How was I to know what he intended? I was only a girl.’ There was anguish in her voice and Authur felt the man next to him tighten protectively.‘I returned to my room afterward crying and shaking and your mother helped me clean away the blood and swore she would tell n
Gwen was screaming. It was odd, he thought, that he should know her voice. They’d been together so briefly. Butit was her, he was sure. Screaming in terror. He tried to run to her, but the ground turned to mud beneath his feet, sucking at his boots and dragging him downward.‘Authur! Help me! Authur! Please don’t let me die.’ Her voice trailed off as though she was losing the strength to call him.He fought. Fought the sensation of sinking and the fear that at any moment the treacherous ground would close up and swallow him. There was a branch beneath his hand and he closed on it and hauled himself forward out of the mudand towards the place where he knew she must wait for him.He jerked awake, panting and stared around the room. He was in bed in his townhouse in London. There was no mud, of course. He was not even wearing boots. And he could not,hear his new wife because she was miles away in ThornHill.It was folly to place too much credence in dreams. They were not omens of the f
His next stop was a jeweller’s shop, where he pulled a flat, velvet-lined case from his pocket. The jeweller was as flattering as the dressmaker had been; ready to bend over backwards to please his Grace. He spilled the hated necklace on to the table in front of him. ‘I have recently remarried and wish to present the family emeralds to my wife.’The jeweller remarked that they were most fine which, of course, Authur knew.‘A new setting, I think. A new wife should not have to wear the hand downs of the old. I would like to start fresh.’ Not that that was ever possible, with the weight of tradition heavy on his shoulders. Perhaps a change in the necklace would remind him of something other than his mother, or Lucille, whenever he had to look at them.The jeweller made hurried notes, wincing only a little atthe proposed timeline. ‘Will there be anything else, your Grace?’‘No. I think… Wait.’The image of his new wife standing in the hall as his signet rolled across the floor popped int
‘Your Grace, did you purchase anything new in the village shops?’‘No, Parton . My things will do nicely.’With each trip to the village to arrange for help or supplies or to check on the progress of the silk Gwen had ordered for the dining room, Parton had become more insistent that she buy something for herself. Gwen sighed. There would be hell to pay when the bills came due, if she could not find a husband to write the cheques. Why add additional purchases for herself to the growing stack of necessities?Parton picked up the hem of the evening gown. She’d found the section where the trim simply ended, only to reappear from a seam a foot away. ‘The cloth was fine enough once, your Grace—’When it was new, Gwen added to herself.‘—But I don’t know how much longer these sleeves will hold. Perhaps if you bought lace to freshen them up?’‘No need, Parton .’‘A new bonnet, perhaps?’ There was a note of desperation in the maid’s voice.With her husband gone and no real understanding of the
She walked down to dinner that night with her head held high to match the graceful neck she had never known shepossessed. And when she entered the dining room, Archie was there and sprang to his feet at the sight of her. ‘Gwen.’ He said her name in a kind of sigh, unlike the usual playful tone he used when addressing her. ‘I swear I had no idea.’ He crossed the room, and she cast her gaze to the floor as he walked slowly around her. ‘Whose plan was this, then? Have you been to London and back in an afternoon that you appear so fine?’‘No,’ she said. ‘This was Parton’s doing. She insisted.’ ‘Then you must take her advice in all things, for she is wise for one so young. Is that a new gown as well?’‘You spoil your compliments with base flattery, Archie.This is the same dress I have worn to dinner these two weeks.’‘I did not mean to flatter you. It is just that…your transformation is so startling… Frankly, Gwen, I can hardly look at the dress, the woman wearing it is so radiant.’She
She did not want to think of the loneliness. Not just now, when she was standing too close to another.‘And you, Gwen dear, should not be abandoned to the darkness that is our family home. You deserve better.’She closed her eyes against the words. Everyone kept insisting that she deserved more than she wanted. She couldbe happy but for the desire of those around her to improve her condition when she was content.‘A flower like you must not be kept in the cold and dark, but must be given light and warmth so it may flourish.’ His hands brushed slowly up her arms as if to dispel the chill, but she shivered at his touch, realised their proximity and made to pull away.But his arms were strong and held her fast, and they seemed to leech the strength from her body as his eyes gazed down into hers. And then, instead of holding her, they were drawing her closer and his head was dipping down and his lips met hers.The kiss was sweet, and all the more seductive because she knew it was wrong.
There was rowdy movement in the courtyard. Gwen could hear it through the open window. She rose from where she’d slept, leaning against the door, and straightened the cramps out of her back. Through the wood she could hear more sounds, fainter, of servants rushing about trying to look busy.Fire, perhaps?No, someone would have come for her, even if they disliked her management.There was a sharp rapping on the panel of the door near her bed and she stared back in surprise.‘Your Grace, are you awake? I’d come in, but the door is locked. It’s time to dress. Quickly. His Grace, the duke, is back.’Oh, God. He’d returned. Just as if he’d seen what had happened the night before and come to call her to account. She unbolted the door and Parton hurried into the room.They threw together her morning dress and combed her hair, and she surveyed the results in the mirror. If possible, she looked even worse than when he had left her. The dress, which had been sorry when she’d arrived at the hou
‘Are you seriously recommending that we reward drunkenness and theft with an increase in salary?’John looked as though he’d rather die on the spot than suggest such a thing.‘Yes, I am,’she continued. ‘When people are forced to do menial tasks for an ungrateful master, they find ways to take back some of their own. They steal; they shirk their duties; they skim from the budget, short-change the grocer and water the wine. I know that your estate must be profitable and can afford a significant increase in the household budget. At the moment, your servants are robbing you blind and the house is a shambles.’He stared up at her. Speaking plainly, madam.’‘I speak the truth. The housekeeper is gone because she bought inferior cuts of meat, doctored the books and kept the difference. The staff is in turmoil, but at least dinner will be edible. A rise in pay will smooth the ruffled feathers below stairs, prove that I have the ear of my husband in these matters, and allow me to get the house