AN UNFORGETTABLE BALL ATBROMENVILLE HALL

A HISTORICAL REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL

HANNA HAMILTON

Edited by

MAGGIE BERRY

C O NT E NT S

A Thank You Gift

Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37EpilogueExtended EpilogueThe Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor

PrologueChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4

Also by Hanna Hamilton

About the Author

A T H A N K Y O U G I F T

Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called A True Lady . It’s only available to people who havedownloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

Hanna Hamilton

A B O U T T H E B O O K

You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it…

Left on the doorstep of the Reeves’ manor as a babe and with only a pendant to remindher of her deceased parents, Eugenia Betham has been Lady Helena’s lady’s maid all herlife.

Though vexed with his stepmother about her unforeseen decision to commence marriagediscussions with the Reeves family, Maximilian Fernside, Duke of Bromenville, vows to bethe perfect gentleman. What he never accounted for is Lady Helena’s beautiful maid.

But as both Eugenia and Maximilian soon realize, truth is a peculiar thing. Eugenia hasbeen living a lie all her life and two strangers with power in their hands just might holdthe key to the riddle.

H

C H A P T E R 1

e was only six years old when Augusta came into his life. For nineteen yearshe tolerated his stepmother’s caustic interference, and upon his father’sdeath, Max Fernside became the Duke of Bromenville.

Presently, his only curse was she was still alive.

Whenever the Dowager’s icy pale blue eyes met his calmly, she fully expected him tocomply with her demands – “wishes” she called them. Underneath her quiet demeanorand coolly polite façade lay an iron will and a tongue that could flay a porcupine.

This evening, Max tried to keep his expression calm and neutral, when in fact it craved toconvey a heavy scowl. He gazed across the formal dining room table at the meddlesomeold bat, and once again tried to rein in his temper. When I’m ready to marry, I will let herknow.

He finally had enough of her nagging.

“I believe I have told you before, Duchess,” he slammed his fist on the table, “I’m am notcurrently prepared to marry.”

She cocked an eyebrow and snorted. “Of course, you are not.” She laughingly shook herhead. “You are far too busy playing with your horses and visiting your friend, the ViscountMallen.” She returned her attention to her dinner plate.

Maximilian gripped his knife and fork, all but bending the soft silver with his fingers. “Thehorses earn their keep with the tens of thousands of pounds they bring in every year. Andmy friend is my affair, not yours.”

Augusta sniffed. “I am merely trying to secure you a wife, Maximilian, so you might havean heir to follow you. Like it or not, you are old enough to cease your childish games andsettle down to perform your duties.”

She faced him, narrowed her eyes, and continued. “You have sown your wild oats withthat girl long ago; it is time for you to become a proper Duke.”

He tightened his jaw. “I certainly know my duties. One of them is to marry and beget anheir.”

“Do you? Sometimes I wonder.”

Maximilian glanced at the third family member at the table, his half-brother, Wilmot. Theweedy-looking young man pretended not to listen to the near argument and ate hisroasted pheasant, drank his wine in gulps, and kept his head down. He had rounded hisnarrow shoulders and slumped in his chair, a trait that never failed to express hisdiscomfort or feelings of awkwardness. The Duke did not dislike his younger half-brother,nor did he feel any affection for him, either.

“Wilmot,” his mother barked. “Sit up straight and behave like a decent human being whileat the table.”

The young man did not glance toward the Duchess, but he did mutter, “Yes, Mother,”under his breath and straighten his spine. His lanky brown hair tumbled over his eyes asthough he wanted to hide, and his gaze flicked everywhere, never still.

Maximilian despised the way Augusta treated her only son, a mixture of an iron rod and

spoiling him rotten. In her eyes, the eighteen-year-old Wilmot could do no wrong, and yetshe nit-picked him nearly to death. Often, Maximilian wished he could pull his brotheraway from her influence, yet recognized that the time for that was long gone.

Though not yet forty, Augusta’s brown hair, which she kept coiled in a tidy bun at thenape of her neck, had begun to grey. Her plump, soft figure spoke of her years diningexcessively on sweetmeats and delectables. Ever since she married Maximilian’s father,he had never gotten along with her. When he was young, she frightened him. As he grewolder, she bounced between annoying him and boring him silly.

“I have taken the liberty of inviting Lady Helena Reeves to Bromenville,” Augusta went onafter sending her son an icy stare. “As you know, she is the daughter of the Earl ofWhitington. Her breeding is impeccable and her reputation flawless. She is a good matchfor you.”

Maximilian ground his teeth as he sipped his wine. Do not rage at her, do not shout. It iswhat she is waiting for. “Indeed?” he asked politely, flashing her a mirthless smile. “Isuppose I should thank you for taking the trouble.”

Augusta stiffened at the veiled insult but did not otherwise react. Instead, she picked upa morsel of pheasant with her fork and chewed it delicately. “They will be here in threeweeks. I will also plan a grand ball, in honor of your fiancée, while she is here.”

“I do not recall agreeing to marry her.”

“Do not be absurd, Maximilian,” Augusta said, still inside her chilly calm demeanor. “Youare the catch of the kingdom. Every peer’s eligible daughters are swooning over you andhope to catch your eye. I have merely saved you the trouble of meeting them all.”

Maximilian carefully set down his knife and fork, seething inwardly. “I will permit this ballof yours to continue forward, Madam. I will meet Lady Helena Reeves, and I will treat heras is her due with politeness. I will not, however, permit you to choose my wife for me.Are we clear? Should you take it upon yourself to publicly declare her my fiancée, I willembarrass you at the ball by announcing to everyone present that you selected her, and I

refuse to marry her.”

Augusta’s pale eyes narrowed. “Thus, you would publicly shame Lady Helena?”

“No. You would publicly shame her. Now if you will excuse me, I have things I mustattend to.”

He rose, stalked out of the dining room, and felt her disapproving eyes on his back. Theattending footmen bowed as he passed them, their powdered wigs in place, their blackand silver livery impeccable. Maximilian learned long ago that displaying his anger towardhis stepmother resulted in cold, sardonic forgiveness that somehow seemed far worsethan a shouting match. During his teen years, he often provoked her and roused hisfather’s anger. Before he died, the old Duke all but begged him to treat Augusta well, andMaximilian did honestly try.

“It is difficult sometimes, Father,” he muttered under his breath as he continued acrossthe vast stone castle. “Though I wish unto heaven you had never married her.”

“Your Grace?”

Maximilian glanced up, discovering that during his inner turmoil, he had almost walkedright over his steward, Nigel Curry. The man had just stepped out of his office when theDuke nearly bumped into him while talking to himself. “Ah, Nigel. So sorry, I was notwatching where I was going.”

“No problem, sir. May I assist in any way?”

“Not unless you can turn back time.”

“Your Grace?”

Maximilian shook his head, grinning faintly. “Never mind. I was headed to the stables.You may accompany me, if you like.”

“Certainly.”

Maximilian had inherited not just his father’s wealth, vast estates, and titles, he alsoinherited the service of what he suspected was the realm’s most competent steward. Hehad known Nigel all his life, and under his leadership, the dukedom ran more smoothlythan one of the prized Bromenville horses. Never had a problem come up that did not getimmediately resolved once Nigel discovered it. Though Maximilian might have liked to callhim a friend, Nigel kept their relationship at a firm and polite distance.

“How is the bay mare?” Maximilian asked, half turning toward Nigel as they crossed thecastle’s bailey. “Is her foal nursing well?”

“Yes, indeed. Both are eating their heads off. However, I am not so certain this foal is upto Bromenville standards.”

“Oh? Why do you say that? I thought his conformation was excellent.”

Nigel made a yea-nay gesture. “In many ways, yes. But his near fore fetlock has a slighttwist that may not be fixable as he grows. It was hidden in the straw when you lastvisited.”

“I see.”

Maximilian’s grandfather built the huge stable complex behind the castle’s high walls, andhis father added to it over the years. While many horses, including the valuableBromenville stallions, were housed in the castle’s stables as they were during medievaltimes, most were stabled outside it. With the decline of criminal activity and thecessation of Scottish raiders crossing the borders to steal horses and cattle, theBromenvilles built the stable blocks without fear of the horses being stolen in the night.

The late summer sun began its descent over the Yorkshire moors as the two men walkedinto the stable yard. Grooms hurried about their work, hand exercising horses, washingsleek hides, mucking stalls, and laying down fresh straw. Maximilian’s grandfather builtthe huge buildings in a double rectangle, while his father added several more stables inan outer ring. Beyond them stood the barns for hay and straw, tack and harness, thecarriage house, and other storage barns.

Maximilian headed toward the foaling stable set aside for mares to deliver their babies,while the others housed non-pregnant mares, younger unbroken horses, stallions, and theless valuable hacks and carriage horses. Each stable building was governed by a headgroom who watched over both horses and grooms.

Maximilian greeted the bowing man with a smile. “Fergus, I just wanted to check on thebay. Nigel says she is doing well.”

“Indeed, yes, Your Grace,” Fergus replied with a hint of a Scottish accent. “I am pleasedwith her progress, despite her difficult delivery.”

He led them down the spotlessly clean brick aisle, passing rows of stalls, still speaking.“As you know, this was her first bairn, Your Grace, but she is a good mother. The wee coltis smaller than I would like, however.”

Many of the stalls they passed held curious occupants, who stuck their heads over thewooden half doors as though inquiring who entered their domain. Maximilian rubbednoses as he passed, never failing to delight in these stunning creatures. If his forebearshad not started this extensive horse breeding, he knew he would have.

“Small is not always a bad thing,” he said as they stopped in front of the bay’s stall. “Thiscolt’s sire was a bit on the small side when he was born, yet grew into himself. Perhaps itis in his bloodline.”

The new mother turned her head from her full manger, chewing her hay, her dark eyes

bright with interest as she gazed at the men. Her colt, as dark a bay as his dam, hadthree white stockings and a narrow blaze down his face. He tried to hide as Maximilianentered the stall, but he caught and held the foal in a firm grip. Carefully, he picked upthe colt’s right front leg to examine.

“You are right, Nigel.” He released the foot but not the colt. “We will have to watch thatas he grows. He is still a very nice colt, what?”

“Yes, indeed, he is. With that flashy coloring and good bone, he will still make a top-notch riding horse.”

Maximilian spent a few moments rubbing the colt all over, lavishing affection on thenewborn, asking the baby to accept his touch without fear. He grinned up at the othermen. “I like him. He has a wonderful attitude.”

Fergus nodded. “I suspect the groom that looks after this mare is in love with him.”

“There is a great deal to like,” Nigel said.

Maximilian released the colt, who immediately trotted around to his dam’s other flankand tried to suckle. “Let’s hope that fetlock straightens out,” he said as he walked acrossthe roomy stall toward the door. “If not, he will still make a nice gelding I can sell, even ifI cannot get as much for him.”

“The Bromenville name will add pounds to his price,” Nigel said as Fergus closed andlatched the stall door.

Fergus bowed as Maximilian and Nigel left the foaling stable. Although there were noissues, Maximilian enjoyed walking around the structures, checking on his horses, askingquestions of the grooms, feeding the animals treats of carrots or apples. By the time hefinished his rounds, full dark had fallen. The nearly full moon rose, casting a faint yellowglow across the trimmed grass.

“You may go if you wish, Nigel.” He paused to gaze out over the moors. “I want to enjoythe evening for a space.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Nigel bowed and walked away, headed toward the castle.

Maximilian felt the stillness of the moors around him. He climbed a low hill away from thecastle and the stables. He drifted away from the lights and the noises as the groomssettled the horses in for the night and found their own dinners.

The evening’s peace filled him, spread through him and lifted him into a joy tinged withsorrow. His father’s death was still fresh enough that he continued to grieve for the manhe loved and admired. He recalled walking hand in hand with Sophia on evenings likethis, quiet walks with murmured conversation and chaste kisses.

Bitterness rose to squash his happiness. He also remembered how she swore to love himuntil death, then abandoned him to marry her lover without even telling him goodbye.Maximilian gazed up at the stars, thinking about her. Beautiful, as kind as a dove, withgreen eyes that sparkled when she smiled. Yet, beneath her beauty lay a heart of stonethat he had no idea existed, and, despite his exalted rank in society, she chose another.

“I still love you, Sophia,” he said to the stars. “God help me, but I do.”

E

C H A P T E R 2

ugenia leaned against the townhouse window, fingering a pendant on a fine goldchain that hung about her neck and gazing down at the muddy London street.The drizzling rain continued to fall, streaking the glass. Below, horses walked and

trotted through the slop, pulling fine carriages and laden wagons, often splashing muckonto annoyed pedestrians. Umbrellas sprouted like mushrooms after a rain like this, andEugenia amused herself by counting how many people turned and shouted curses atdrivers in the wake of getting splashed.

Her mistress, Lady Helena Reeves, had gone with her mother to shop, leaving hermaidservant to look after her rooms and clothes. Eugenia had finished her work cleaningLady Helena’s chambers, caring for her clothes, maintaining the hearth fire so the roomsdid not grow damp and chilly. With all her work completed, she stole a few moments toherself until Lady Helena returned.

Giggling as a workman in heavy dark wool clothes slipped in the mud and fell, yellingcurses, Eugenia glanced from him to the sight of the Whitington’s now mud-spatteredcarriage arriving, drawn by four sleek black horses. With her mistress returned, Eugeniaturned away from the window and used her mistress’s looking glass to inspect her hairand clothes. Her thick dark hair, braided in the back but long enough to hang over hershoulder, still appeared as neat and tidy as when she brushed and braided it thatmorning. Her bodice held a small smear of dirt, which she quickly wiped away.

Smoothing her skirts and petticoats, Eugenia stood, expectant, in the middle of LadyHelena’s bedroom, waiting. Lady Helena, around her own age of nineteen, usually rushedstraight to her chambers after such trips, excited to show Eugenia what she purchased.This late afternoon day was no exception. Lady Helena burst into her rooms, happy andelated, already talking before she even stepped completely over the threshold.

“Eugenia, guess what?” Lady Helena gasped, her wide smile glowing with excitement.

Eugenia dipped into a quick curtsey, then asked, “What, My Lady?”

“A letter came while we were out,” Lady Helena exclaimed. “You are not going to believewho it is from.”

The young daughter of the Earl of Whitington danced around the room, her thick auburnhair bouncing with every happy stride. Eugenia, observing the liveried footman in thedoorway with his arms heaped with packages, took them from him and set them down.She gave him a quick smile before gently closing the door.

Lady Helena, having flounced upon her great bed, scrunching the pink and green coverletand disrupting the mountain of pale green pillows, giggled and laughed as Eugenia pickedup some of the packages to open as her mistress spoke. “Tell me, My Lady,” she said,“I’m dying to know.”

She sat up, patting the bed beside her inviting Eugenia to join her. Eugenia obeyed her,still holding the half-opened package and sat gingerly on the edge.

“It is from the Dowager Duchess of Bromenville,” Lady Helena said, moaning happily. “Aninvitation to meet her stepson, the Duke of Bromenville and talk – marriage!”

Eugenia gasped. “No. Truly?”

“Truly.”

Lady Helena impulsively hugged her. “I am so excited, Eugenia. To talk marriage with theDuke of Bromenville himself. Do you know he is the most eligible bachelor in the entirerealm? Wealth uncounted, privilege uncounted, breeder of the best horses in England,

and it is said the Prince Regent is a personal friend of his.”

“Yes, I have heard of him,” Eugenia said, her own excitement growing.

Lady Helena grasped her hand. “Do you know I saw him once? It was at a ball hosted bythat boring old Marquess of Westwood. He is so handsome, Eugenia. Tall with blondishhair, the deepest blue eyes you have ever seen. I think I will swoon when I tell you abouthis broad shoulders.”

“Oh, please tell me,” Eugenia exclaimed, then giggled.

“But if I swoon, I cannot tell you.”

The pair held each other, laughing until Eugenia clasped her young mistress’s hands andgazed earnestly into her green eyes. “Please, you will take me with you?”

“Of course. I could never leave you behind. You are not just my maid, you are my friend,too.”

Eugenia bounced up, holding the package to her chest. “I am so happy for you, My Lady. Iknow the Duke will take one look at you and fall instantly in love.”

Lady Helena sobered. She glanced down at her fingers entwined in her lap. “You know Ihave always wanted to marry for love, Eugenia.”

“I know. But you are a high-born lady. You have been prepared to marry whom yourparents chose for you your entire life.”

“This is true. I know everything there is to know about running a wealthy household, fromaccounts to sewing my husband’s clothes to hiring servants.”

She stood up and paced slowly to the window Eugenia had stood beside, and stareddown, even as Eugenia had done. “But what do I know of love? Marriage is not just aboutaccounts and needlecraft. It is also about bedroom secrets, childbirth, growing up andgrowing old.”

Lady Helena gazed at Eugenia with tears standing in her eyes. “What if I love him, but hedoes not love me, Eugenia? What if he, for all his handsome looks, is a lout who beats hiswife? What if I die giving birth to his child?”

Rushing forward, Eugenia fell to her knees at Lady Helena’s feet. She took her hands inher own, gazing up. “You must not think that way, My Lady. You are young, beautiful withthe stout name of Whitington behind you. Life is full of risks, but you cannot hide in yourchambers throughout your life, afraid to marry for fear you may die in childbirth. You aretoo strong for that, you know this. Be joyful in your prospects, for I know in my heart youwill be loved by your husband.”

Lady Helena’s lips trembled and her unshed tears made her eyes gleam like emeralds inthe sunlight. She cupped Eugenia’s cheek in the palm of her hand. “You are a true friend,Eugenia. Do not kneel. Come here and give me a hug.”

Eugenia popped to her feet and embraced her mistress. “I am so happy for you,” shewhispered.

Eugenia helped her mistress dress for dinner and carefully styled Lady Helena’s dark redlocks into an attractive chignon. Lady Helena had fully recovered her excitement abouttraveling to Yorkshire to spend a few weeks at the Bromenville estates, and her constantchatter and giggles hampered her ability to keep her head still so Eugenie could properlystyle her lady’s hair.

When at last the deed had been accomplished, Eugenia inspected Lady Helena’s bodiceand gown for any flaws. “I think you are ready, My Lady,” she said.

Lady Helena inspected her face in the looking glass. “I am too pale. Tell me I am toopale.”

“You are not too pale. A high lady is supposed to have white skin. If you are not, thenyou might be classed as a working woman.”

Lady Helena laughed. “I certainly would not want that. Now go to the kitchen and getyour dinner. I heard the cook has been complaining you have not visited her in a while.”

Eugenia frowned slightly, yet humor flashed in her hazel eyes. “I have so. I saw her theday before yesterday, in fact. She fed me so many sweet tarts, I thought I would burst.”

“Go. Make her happy. There is nothing worse in this world than an unhappy cook.”

After Lady Helena left, Eugenia made certain her own hair and gown were impeccable,then went down to the kitchen through the hidden servants’ tunnels. The head cook, astout matron named Mrs. O’Reilly, ruled her domain with an iron skillet and commandedher small army of assistants, scullions, kitchen maids, and cook boys. Yet, she and herhusband, the household’s butler, raised Eugenia as their own.

Mrs. O’Reilly planted her fists on her wide hips and glared as Eugenia emerged into thehot kitchen from a side door. “Where in heaven’s name have you been, child?” shedemanded, waving her wooden spoon like a scepter.

Eugenia hugged her and kissed her sweaty cheek. “Mama Reilly, you know I saw you theother day. Will you please stop the drama?”

“Drama, is it? When a woman cannot see the child she raised –”

She halted her harangue when she caught sight of Eugenia’s amused expression anddancing eyes and sighed. “I just miss you, sweetheart. I know your duties to Lady Helena

keep you busy, but please try to come by and see me every day?”

Eugenia perched upon a three-legged stool. “I will do my best. How is Papa?”

“He is well, child, misses you as much as I do. After he serves the family supper, stop inand see him?”

“I will try, but you know I must attend on Lady Helena.”

“I do know it. Now, child, I will fix you a plate. Roasted duckling tonight. You are muchtoo thin, you grew too fast for your bones.”

Mrs. Reilly heaped a plate full of delicious food for her, which she took to a small sidetable and devoured its contents. She had lived in this kitchen, considered the cook andthe butler her parents, helped with whatever her little hands could handle. When she wasnine years old, Mr. and Mrs. Reilly told her story: she was in truth a foundling.

Nine years before, in the cold of winter, she had been found at the gates of theWhitington townhouse in London. Still swathed in her swaddling bands with her namepenned on them, a small pendant with her first initial ‘E’ had been pinned to the cloth. Noone knew who placed her there, who her birth parents were, or why she had beenabandoned.

Raised by the servants of the household, Eugenia grew up loved and knew no wants saveone – to know who her real parents are. However, no one could answer that for her.Thus, she addressed the Reillys as her parents, then was told she would become LadyHelena’s personal maid when she was ten. As the two girls, close in age, had oftenplayed together, the situation gave them a special bond of closeness.

“Mama Reilly,” she said, taking her now empty plate to one of the scullery maids. “I havenews.”

Mrs. Reilly turned from stirring a soup pot. “What would that be, dear?”

“Lady Helena has been invited to the Duke of Bromenville’s estates.”

“Why that is excellent news indeed, child,” she began, then froze. “But that means –”

Eugenia hurried to her and hugged her hard. “I know. I am to go with her. They might getmarried, Mama. If that happens, I will not be back.”

“Nonsense. If our beloved lady gets married to the Duke, then you can request to comehere. There will always be a place for you here, child.”

“But what can I do? Become a scullery maid?”

“Perhaps the Countess will arrange a suitable marriage for you, Eugenia,” Mrs. Reillyreplied, desperation clear on her reddened face. “There are young and handsomefootmen here in need of wives. You could almost take your pick.”

Eugenia glanced away, unhappy to see her adopted mother near tears. “I will try to comeback, Mama Reilly. I promise.”

As she hugged the cook and left the kitchen, she felt tears sting her eyes. Why do I feelthat I’ll never see this place, my parents, again?

S

C H A P T E R 3

eated in the castle’s solar, Augusta worked at her stitchery, her mind wandering.Heavy rain lashed the windows while the screaming Yorkshire wind blastedacross the moors. Outside of her private apartments, this room was her favorite,

and she often spent her days in it. Its walls held ancient tapestries of battles and hunting,while suits of armor from medieval times stood in corners. On sunny days, the manywindows encouraged the sunlight to spread throughout. A fire burned on one of thehearths, keeping the damp chill at bay.

Her mouth twisted with petulance as she recalled Maximilian’s threat to embarrass her ifshe dared to take it upon herself to announce the engagement between Lady HelenaReeves and Maximilian.

How dare you. You impudent little boy.

In her annoyance, she pushed the needle through the cloth too hard and pricked herfinger. A tiny well of blood erupted, and she stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked onit. Curse words rose to her lips and hovered, but her intense training as an aristocratreminded her that proper ladies did not swear, even in private.

“James,” she said, removing her finger from her mouth. “Be a dear and send for my son.”

The footman standing behind her bowed low. “At once, Your Grace.”

Whether that was truly the man’s name or not, Augusta cared not one jot. She calledevery footman ‘James’ and every female servant ‘Jenny’. She had no idea what theirnames truly were, and she called only her personal maid by something else – Eloise.Proper ladies of the court had French maids, even if they were not born in France. Eloisemay have been born in England, and her birth name did not matter.

“Jenny, I want hot tea.”

Though Augusta did not turn around, she listened intently to make sure she heard theappropriate amount of skirt rustling to know that the serving maid curtseyed properly. Ifany servant thought that because Her Grace did not look at them and believed she wouldnever know if they tried to get by with anything less than absolute decorum, that servantlearned quickly to offer correct respect.

Augusta knew they spoke behind her back and declared she had eyes there, and she alsohad at her disposal a wide arsenal of punishments if she was not given her proper due asa Duchess. An offending servant might be docked wages, or be discharged, according toher mood and the degree of the offense. Thus, the servants obeyed her with alacrity andseldom failed to deliver her proper deference.

But they offer my stepson the barest respect, and he cares not. Still, they adore him, andmy name is defiled.

Augusta sniffed, resuming her stitchery. “Servants should be kept in their place,” shemurmured to herself. “They are like sheep and know nothing except how to be sheep.”

Augusta’s hot tea arrived, but her son did not. She sipped at it and discovered it was notat the correct temperature and sent it back. Jenny returned quickly with the fresh cup.Growing impatient, she tapped her fingers along the arm of her chair, her needlework inher lap. “Where is my son?” she snapped to the room in general.

“I do not know, Your Grace,” came the timid reply from the Jenny behind her.

“Well, go find him.”

Staring into space, Augusta listened again to the skirts and the quick staccato of shoes onthe stone floor. The door opened and closed as the girl departed with haste.

The minutes dragged on, and by the time the James returned with Wilmot, Augusta feltready to have James whipped.

I know he spent time chatting up one of the housekeepers rather than follow mycommand. Insolent creature.

“Lord Wilmot, Your Grace,” he said, bowing as he presented Wilmot.

Augusta knew he laughed at her, she just knew it. But if she ordered James whippedwithout evidence of his disobedience, Maximilian would be angry. Though she cared littleabout his anger or his defense of these useless servants, she knew Maximilian alwaysfound ways to make Augusta uncomfortable when she made him angry. Right now, sheneeded her mind clear.

“Leave us,” she snapped.

This time she watched them closely as the servants paid their courtesies and left thesolar. Wilmot drew up a chair for himself near the fire and flopped into it like a wet sack.She eyed him with disapproval as he merely gazed back at her with his usual lacklusterdemeanor, his hair once more falling over his brow.

“Sit up straight, boy,” she hissed. “Are you a Duke’s son or a fishmonger? If you cannotkeep a straight back, perhaps a rod up it may teach you.”

Wilmot sat up properly, but his sullen expression did not alter a whit. He shunted his eyesto the side, staring at the fire, occasionally flinching as a particularly hard gust of wind

rattled the window panes. As always, Augusta felt a strange mixture of love andrepugnance when she gazed at her son. He was so unlike his father, she knew, while thatrepulsive Maximilian was nothing less than the old Duke come alive again. The youngerDuke went nowhere without people in the ton remarking on how much alike father andson had become.

“Where were you?” she demanded.

With all the energy of a limpet, Wilmot turned his head but kept his face lowered.“Playing cards with the coachman.”

“How many times must I remind you that you are the son of a Duke, and sons of Dukesdo not mingle, or play cards, with the servants or commoners.”

“But he plays well.”

“Foolish boy,” she spat like an outraged cat. “I do not care if he could beat the PrinceRegent himself at cards, you will obey me. You stay away from the servants. Do youunderstand me?”

Wilmot turned back toward the fire. “Yes, Mother.”

Augusta gazed at his profile, wanting to both smack his face until it turned red and hughim until he squeaked in protest.

“Do you want to marry, Wilmot?” she asked, her annoyance unabated and her temperquivering behind her lips.

“Of course,” he replied, not looking at her. “Someday.”

“I must begin searching for a suitable wife for you,” she mused, sipping her cooling tea.But there was no one available to pour her a fresh cup from the pot, as she haddismissed the servants. “Wilmot, be a dear and pour tea for me.”

He rose sluggishly from the chair and walked stiffly to the tray and pot, moving as thoughhis feet were encased in treacle. Though she did not turn her head, Augusta heard thesplash as he spilled the tea on the tray and the jarring rattle of the spout against the cup.It dripped tea down the side as he brought it to her. Augusta eyed it with disillusion.

Wilmot slumped back in his chair, and yet another sharp rebuke rose to her lips. Insteadof voicing it, she said, “You are eight and ten, Wilmot. You must cease this fascinationwith card games and grow up. You have a duty to your family. It is high time youunderstood this.”

“I suppose you have someone in mind.”

Augusta stiffened at his dismissive tone and grew angry when he still refused to look ather. “I have several candidates in mind. I will begin writing the invitations to the variousyoung ladies and their parents to come to the ball. You will have a chance to meet them,and perhaps begin preliminary talks regarding an engagement.”

“I do not want to get married so quickly, Mother.”

Augusta sniffed and once more returned to her needlework. “What you want does notmatter to me, Wilmot. Only what I want matters. And I want to see you married to a girlwho will match your high station. I will see to it you get what you deserve.”

“Of course, Mother.”

“Leave me now, and send those wretched servants back in. I need someone with somecompetence to pour me a simple cup of tea.”

Maximilian cantered his favorite mare across the moor, his friend Edmund Felton, theViscount Mallen, at his side. Behind them, a train of servants and grooms followed, alongwith Maximilian’s falconer with his merlin on his fist. Mallen’s falconer carried his ownpersonal favorite bird, a peregrine falcon. The rainstorm had passed, leaving behind afresh odor of heather and a brisk wind.

Solid friends since the two had met at court, Mallen often spent time at the Bromenvilleestate, hawking, hunting, riding across the moors, or sitting in the castle library sippingbrandy and talking. He was a short, stocky man of philosophy and humor, and oftenthought life was simply a huge jest. Under his mop of dark curly hair, his dark grey eyesoften appeared more somber than bright, despite the perpetual smile on his lips.

Mallen eyed his companion sidelong. “I feel there is something upsetting you,Bromenville. Care to talk about it?”

Maximilian reined in at the top of a low-lying hill, gazing back at the servants walkingthrough the wet in their wake. “My stepmother is setting me up to get married.”

“Did she say to whom?”

“Lady Helena Reeves.”

Mallen whistled through his teeth. “I have met her. Very beautiful girl, good family. Andyoung. You could do far worse, my friend.”

“I am not ready, Mallen,” he replied, his tone tense. “After Sophia –”

“You must get past that,” Mallen said. “It has been what? Over a year now? That tart wasnot good enough for you, but you were the only one who could not see it. Lady Helena isa good match.”

“I do not care,” Maximilian snapped. “I will marry when I am ready, and I refuse to permitAugusta to have any say in who I marry.”

“From the viewpoint of a married man,” Mallen went on, a small smile playing across hislips, “being married has its perks. But I can also agree on not letting that old biddy tellyou what to do. I can tell you, she does not have your best interests at heart. She has herown.”

“That is exactly what worries me,” Maximilian admitted, watching the servants approach.“What does she have to gain by marrying me to Lady Helena? Everything my stepmotherdoes is suspect.”

“Perhaps she took a handsome bribe to set it up,” Mallen joked, laughing.

“I would not put it past her,” Maximilian replied, also smiling. “She invited theWhitingtons to spend a few weeks with us at the castle. Naturally, she posted theinvitations before telling me. I wish I could cancel the entire affair, but that would be theheight of rudeness.”

“Just remember no one can force you to the altar,” Mallen said. He pointed to a pair ofrabbits frisking in the heather not far away. “If those blokes do not arrive soon, we mightmiss our chance at a fine rabbit stew tonight.”

Maximilian gestured for the servants to stop, and only the falconer approach. Theyobeyed him, while the master of birds walked up the hill, a bird perched on each fist.Silent, he lifted them up to their masters, then retreated. Maximilian gently took the hoodfrom his merlin and gazed into its fierce eyes. He stroked his finger down its head andneck, then glanced at the rabbits.

“Off you go,” he murmured and tossed the merlin toward them. Mallen also threw hisfalcon up, releasing the bird’s jesses. The pair instantly saw the rabbits, who broke andfled for cover of the thickets. But the birds stooped too quickly and brought the rabbits

down in a flurry of feathers and fur. Maximilian and Edmund whooped like boys andgalloped their horses down the hill.

Dismounting, Maximilian cautiously approached his merlin and encouraged it to perch onhis fist. With a piece of meat from his pouch at his belt, he rewarded the bird andstraightened. The servants hurried down the hill to take the dead rabbits from them, andthe falconer reached for his merlin.

“No, I will keep her with me,” Maximilian said, replacing the hood over the merlin’s eyes.He gave the man the bird long enough to mount his horse, then took the merlin back.“Shall we ride north a bit, Mallen?”

His friend glanced up at the oppressive clouds lurking low overhead. “For a short time, Iexpect. I do believe we are in for more rain.”

“Then we best not waste any more time,” Maximilian said, urging his mare into a canter.“Two coneys are hardly enough for a decent stew.”

The pair caught three more rabbits, as Maximilian’s merlin missed its quarry when therabbit escaped into a hole in the ground. She returned to his fist at his whistle, and herewarded her with a piece of meat. Both handed their birds back to the falconer, thenturned their horses’ heads toward the distant castle, high on its hill.

“Make sure those get to the cook immediately,” he told the servants. “My guest at supperwishes for a nice rabbit stew, and that is what he shall have.”

The footmen bowed. “Certainly, Your Grace,” they murmured as one.

Picking up the canter, Maximilian felt the damp chill on his face and knew Mallen’sprediction of more rain in the immediate future was correct. “I will be quite ready for asherry once we return,” he said. “I do believe it has gotten colder.”

“This chilly this early in the autumn means a cold winter,” Mallen replied. “Mark mywords.”

“Your weather sense is incredible, Mallen,” Maximilian commented, dipping his chin once.“Have you ever been wrong?”

Mallen shrugged. “Once or twice. Maybe. When I was a wee lad.”

Laughing, Maximilian failed to notice the half-hidden rabbit warren just ahead of hismare’s hooves. Striking a deep hole, the horse stumbled, pitching Maximilian onto herneck. His sudden forward lurch caught her off balance, and she fell, pitching onto herchest. Legs flailing, she rolled helplessly over her rider. Maximilian caught a fleetingglimpse of the heather rushing to meet his face, then he knew nothing more.

H

C H A P T E R 4

e woke in the near darkness, lightning flashed through the windows. Thundergrumbled on its heels and vibrated the glass even as rain pounded against it.When he turned his head, agonizing pain ripped through it, setting his neck

on fire. He closed his eyes against the pain and felt nausea climb from his stomach to histhroat. In opening his eyes again, everything around him appeared blurry. He blinkedrapidly to cleared some of his vision, but with little light, he saw only the bed drapes andhis body under the coverlets.

“You are awake.”

Wincing ahead of time, Maximilian gingerly rolled first his eyes, then his head on thepillow. Mallen sat in a chair beside the bed, a book in his lap and a pipe between histeeth. The dimly lit lamp sat on the table behind him; thus his friend’s face lay in shadow.He saw nothing of what lay beyond the bed and wondered how he had gotten there.

“What happened?” he rasped, his mouth and throat dry as dust.

“Your horse tumbled and took you with it,” Mallen said, removing the pipe from his lipsand turning to set it on the table behind him. “Your head took a bit of a crack, but yourphysician seems to think that you will be fine in a day or two.”

At Mallen’s words, a memory floated up – seeing his face headed into the heather, thennothing. “I remember now. How is my horse?”

“Good. With a crack like that, it is possible you would not remember. The mare is fine andobtained only a few scrapes on her off fore for her trouble.”

“May I have some water?”

“Certainly.”

Mallen rose from the chair, set his book down and poured from a pitcher into a cut crystalglass. Bending, he held the cup to Maximilian’s lips as though he were an invalid untilMaximilian drank the entire cup. “More?” he asked.

“No. Thank you. Why are you attending me instead of the physician?”

“Your illustrious stepmother called him away,” Mallen replied, sitting down after pickingup both book and pipe. “It appears her vapors are far more important than your head.”

Maximilian grimaced, and avoided nodding for the sake of his head. “I do not suppose heleft me any laudanum? For the pain?”

“He did not.” Mallen opened his book and puffed his pipe, unperturbed. “One does notgive laudanum to people with head injuries such as yours, my friend.”

Maximilian closed his eyes and muttered a curse. “How about some wine?”

“He made no comment regarding that, so I will presume that is not on his forbidden list.He did say you were to eat if you felt hungry.”

Maximilian thought about his queasy stomach and barely avoided shaking his head innegation “No. Not right now. Was the rabbit stew good?”

“I cannot tell you,” Mallen replied, his right brow arched. “Your illustrious stepmotherdeclared that she would not eat such and ordered the cook to feed the rabbits to thehounds. I am sure the hounds thought they were delicious. Thus, in your absence, I wasforced to dine in absolute silence, for neither of them spoke a word to me.”

“Where is the wine?”

“Why I do believe it is right here.” Edmund stood up and repeated the book and pipeplacement. “I also will join you in a glass if I may.”

Walking to a sideboard, he poured rich red wine into glasses and returned bearing themfull to the brim. Maximilian half-rose, wincing when his head protested, and pulled thepillows up in order to lean against them. He accepted his glass and sipped as Mallenfastidiously picked up his pipe and book again before sitting down.

“Your illustrious stepmother –”

“Stop calling her that.”

Mallen’s brow rose. “Then, dear boy, what should I call her?”

A rather unsavory word hovered at Maximilian’s lips, but even he would not call Augustathat, much less ask his friend to do so. “How about call her the Duchess as I do.”

“Very well then, the Duchess swept in earlier while you were still unconscious. I do notfeel she came by to see for herself if you were going to be all right.”

“She would not. I would think she visited in the hopes she would find me dying.”

“What is it between you? She married your father when you were quite young, yet she

has no motherly feelings for you. Nor do you regard her as your mother.”

Maximilian tried a shrug as he drank more wine, and his head bore it reasonably well. “Ican barely recall it,” he said slowly, “I seem to remember she did care for me at first.Then after Wilmot was born, it changed. She changed. After that, she could barelytolerate me; thus I returned the favor.”

“Ah, well, nothing lost, I expect. Some high-born women do not have many maternalinstincts.”

Maximilian grunted. “The only thing that matters to her is her position in society.”

“Not even her son?”

“She may have a bit of love for him somewhere in that stone she calls a heart,”Maximilian replied sourly. “But she keeps the poor boy so badly squashed under herthumb he cannot move.”

“Pity.”

“He never laughs, never smiles,” Maximilian added, “he is more repressed than acloistered monk.”

“Again, that is surely a pity. For how can one get through life without some joy andlaughter?”

The wine settled his outraged stomach, and even his head quieted a fraction. Deciding achange of subject was in order, Maximilian asked, “You will come to the ball she isplanning, correct?”

“I would not miss it for the world, my dear chap. I am dying to meet the woman you aredestined to marry.”

Maximilian’s mouth twisted until he caught the glimmer of ironic humor in Mallen’s greyeyes. “You are a rogue.”

“I have been called worse.” Mallen continued to drink his wine and watch Maximilian overthe rim. “Sometimes I believed the names I am called are in truth compliments.”

“Yes, I have heard some of them,” Maximilian said dryly, waving his hand in a dismissivegesture. “I would call them compliments as well.”

Between the heady wine on an empty stomach and his head, Maximilian soon grewdrowsy. He and Mallen talked on for a time, but when Maximilian almost spilled the lastbit of wine on the sheets, Mallen stood and took the glass from him.

“I think you will be all right if you slept,” he said. Setting both glasses down, he stood. “Iwill leave you now and return to my quarters.”

Maximilian slid down to lay on the bed properly and fell asleep before Mallen left theroom.

Outside of a headache, Maximilian felt he had returned to normal, and dined the nextmorning ravenously on bacon, fried potatoes, sardines, roasted chicken and a creamysweet tart. He spoke with humor and energy with Mallen, ignored by Augusta andWilmot. “I have not shown you some of my new crop of foals,” Maximilian said, “I wouldbe honored if you will accompany me to the stable after breakfast. Then perhaps wemight try our hand at hunting this afternoon.”

Mallen wiped his lips with his napkin. “I will agree to visiting the stable, Bromenville. ButI must be on my way after. My dear wife’s parents are due for a visit, and I promised I

would be there to greet them.”

“Very well. The stable it is.”

Though not a horse enthusiast as Maximilian, Mallen was nonetheless impressed with thequality of this year’s foals. With Fergus in attendance, holding each mare and baby, thetwo spoke of prospects and prices, what to keep, what to sell, what might make abreeder and those that would not. Mallen clapped Maximilian on the back as the pairwalked from the stable.

“Whatever else you inherited from your illustrious sire,” he said, “you most definitelyinherited his eye for excellent horseflesh.”

“He taught me so much, Mallen.” Maximilian gestured for the grooms to fetch Mallen’shorse. “From the day I could walk, I followed him everywhere and soaked up hisknowledge. How to get the best results from each mare and each stallion.”

“You are certainly doing that, my dear chap. Now when is this ball to take place?”

“It has not been scheduled yet,” Maximilian replied with a wry smile. “But I will ensureyou get an invitation.”

“Excellent. My wife has been itching to go to a ball.”

Maximilian grinned. “Give her my best.”

“I will, Bromenville. I will.”

Maximilian stood, watching his friend canter down the road, and felt loneliness stir in hisheart. Since his father died, he had only Mallen to confide in, to spend time with, and

Mallen’s visits were not frequent enough to give him ease. He craved someone whoshared his love of horses, someone to share his dreams with, someone who liked him forwho he was, and not because he was the Duke of Bromenville. Scowling to himself, hekicked a hapless rock in the stable yard and slowly walked toward the house.

“Your Grace.”

Maximilian glanced up, finding Nigel hurrying across the vast expanse of lawn towardhim.

“Your brother is injured, Your Grace. You must come.”

H

C H A P T E R 5

urrying with Nigel into the castle, Maximilian rushed up the stairs to Wilmot’schambers after being directed there by the servants. “What happened?” heasked Wilmot’s valet as the man bowed and ushered them into the room.

“An accident, Your Grace,” the valet, a stout man named Kent, replied. “He wassharpening a knife on a whetstone when it slipped. It cut him deeply.”

“Where, man?” Maximilian demanded, seeing Wilmot lying on his bed in his bedchamber,Augusta sitting beside him. He observed the family physician, Gilbert Leary, standingbehind her. “The arm, the leg, where?”

“His inner arm, Your Grace.”

With Nigel at his shoulder, Maximilian walked quickly into the bedchamber, looking first toWilmot’s ashen face. Wilmot appeared to be asleep, his eyes closed and his breathingslow and even. Only then did he glance to Augusta and notice her smooth, implacableexpression. She met his eyes but offered no greeting.

“Will he be all right?” Maximilian kept his voice low to not wake Wilmot.

Mr. Leary bowed at his entrance. “Yes, Your Grace,” he murmured. “I stopped thebleeding and stitched the wound closed. At the moment, he sleeps with the help of thelaudanum I gave him. But I fear he lost a great deal of blood.”

Maximilian stood over his brother, watching him sleep, feeling an odd sort of affection forhim. Because of Augusta and her possessiveness of her son, they had never had much ofan opportunity to become close. Once again, Maximilian fervently wished he could havetaken Wilmot from her before the boy became reclusive and withdrawn.

“How did this happen?” he asked, eyeing Augusta.

She shrugged. “It was an accident, Maximilian. He took it upon himself to sharpen ablade rather than ask a servant to do it. Foolish boy.”

Maximilian could not help but notice how her words held little affection and no worry atall over her son’s near death.

Is your heart truly that hard, Lady?

He wanted to scream at her. But doing such would only cause more harm and widen thealready huge breach between them. Instead, he looked back at Wilmot’s sleeping form.

“Where did it happen?” he asked, squashing his fury.

When Augusta refused to answer him, the physician did. “He was on the battlements,Your Grace.”

“The battlements? Why on earth would he go way up there to sharpen his knife?”

“Before he slept,” Augusta replied in that same annoyingly calm tone, “he told me he justwanted to sit up there and look out over the moors. He always used to when he was asmall boy.”

Maximilian glanced at Mr. Leary. “I want to be notified the moment he wakes up.”

The physician bowed. “I will inform you myself.”

Maximilian wanted to smash something. He strode quickly from Wilmot’s apartments withNigel still at his shoulder. Taking the stairs two at a time, he climbed to the uppermostbattlements of the castle and found servants cleaning blood from the stonework. Theyrose to bow, then stood to one side as he and Nigel gazed at the huge stain.

“I find this incredibly odd,” Maximilian murmured to Nigel.

He paced from the stain to the stone wall where the knife and the whetstone had beenplaced after Wilmot had been taken to his chambers. He picked up the blade, examinedit, then met Nigel’s steady gaze over it. “This is a hunting knife,” he said, his voice low.“Wilmot never hunts, he hates it. It’s not even his knife. It is mine.”

“What does this mean then, Your Grace?” Nigel asked. “Could it be he thought he mightperform a kindness for you?”

Maximilian shook his head, but in confusion, not negation. “I do not know, but it isbaffling.”

He gazed down at the drops of blood atop the battlement wall, holding the knife andwhetstone in his hands. Drawing the knife slowly over the stone, he spoke. “So, he standshere to look out over the moors. He slides the blade across the whetstone like this.”

Pulling the blade toward him, Maximilian demonstrated what he thought might havehappened to Wilmot. Yet, he frowned. “Look here, Nigel.”

As his steward stepped up beside him, Maximilian slid the blade across the stone again.“The knife does not come anywhere close to my arm, even if I whet it quickly.”

“But your brother has little experience with knives,” Nigel said. “Maybe it did slip.”

“Watch when I make it slip.”

Maximilian forced the blade closer to his arm while sharpening it, yet the angle was notquite right and merely brushed his wrist. “See?”

Nigel frowned. “I was told the wound was deep, almost to the bone, and from wrist toelbow. Unless he was so totally inept with the knife, how could he have hurt himself sobadly?”

Maximilian set the knife and stone back on the wall, placed his palms beside them. Heleaned forward and gazed at the moors. “Augusta said he always liked coming here as aboy,” he murmured. “I seem to remember this was one of his favorite places.”

“I remember that as well.”

“If you could choose your own death,” Maximilian went on, still gazing out at the rollinghills. “Would you not wish to be in your favorite place when you died?”

“Your Grace!” Nigel gasped.

He lowered his voice as Maximilian turned to him, glancing at the servants standing wellout of earshot. “Suicide is a mortal sin,” he muttered. “Surely you are wrong about yourbrother.”

“I do hope I am,” Maximilian replied. “But my brother is very unhappy, and we both knowit. Constantly belittled by his mother, never truly given the chance to be himself, seeingno escape, no recourse. Perhaps this is the method in which he could escape her.”

“Could Lord Wilmot be truly that unhappy? I mean, I know he seldom speaks and showslittle interest in anything other than cards. But unhappy enough to take his own life?”

“I think so, Nigel,” Maximilian picked up both knife and whetstone from the wall andsignaled the servants to continue their work. “Perhaps there is something I can do to helphim.”

After supper, the atmosphere in the room seemed chillier than the brisk wind outside thecastle. Maximilian wandered the almost silent castle, deep in thought. He knew Augustahad retired to her chambers for the night, and most of the servants performed theirchores behind closed doors and traveled around the castle via the tunnels built within thestone walls.

He decided to sit with Wilmot for a time, even if he was not yet awake, and headed inthat direction.

He found Mr. Leary in search of him.

“Your Grace,” the physician bowed, “Lord Wilmot is awake now. I am on my way to get aservant to bring him food. He must eat in order to recover his strength.”

“Good. I want to talk to him if you think it will not harm him.”

“Of course not. I will return to look in on him in a few hours.”

Nodding at the man’s respectful bow, Maximilian continued to Wilmot’s chambers andwent inside. After ordering Wilmot’s valet to leave the two of them alone for a while, hestepped quietly to Wilmot’s bedside. The bedchamber stood in near darkness, only asingle lamp with its wick turned low burned on a nearby table. His brother lay with hiseyes closed as though sleeping, but they opened as Maximilian sat in the chair beside

him. His arm, wrapped in a white bandage, lay across his stomach.

“How are you feeling, brother?” Maximilian asked.

“Tired… groggy.... stupid.”

Maximilian smiled a little. “Are you in pain?”

“Not so much. Why are you here, Max?”

His smiled widened at the childhood nickname. “Can I not come see the brother I almostlost today? I am worried about you, Willie.”

“Willie.” A ghost of a smile crossed Wilmot’s pale features. “You have not called me thatin years.”

“Just as you have not called me Max.”

Wilmot closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh. “What I did today . . . it was not anaccident.”

Maximilian rested his hand on Wilmot’s as it lay on his belly. “I know. Do you mind tellingme why?”

“Do not tell Mother,” Wilmot said, opening his eyes, his voice desperate. “Permit her tokeep believing it was an accident. Please?”

“I promise, Willie. She will never know it from me.”

“Good, then. Thank you.” His eyes slid shut again.

“Can you tell me why you wanted to die?”

Wilmot remained silent for so long, Maximilian thought he had fallen asleep again. ThenWilmot swallowed hard and spoke.

“It is difficult, Max,” he murmured.

“What is?’

“Pleasing her. I never could, I never will.”

“Your mother?”

Wilmot nodded as a tear escaped his closed eyes and traced its way down the side of hisface to the pillow. “I can never escape her. She wants me to marry. I do not want to, Iam not ready.”

“She can be very persistent that way.” Maximilian formed an I-know-what-you-meansmile.

“I know what will happen when I do, Max,” Wilmot said, opening his eyes. “She will notcease pestering me, dominating me. She will pick my wife apart, just as she does me.Can I subject an innocent girl to that? She will never leave me alone so I can live my life.”

Maximilian shook his head, squeezing his brother’s hand gently. “Killing yourself is not theanswer, Willie. Perhaps if you stand up to her –”

“You know I cannot,” Wilmot’s voice was wild and despairing. “I do not have yourcourage, Max. I am too weak, I am not strong like you are.”

“You can be strong,” Maximilian said, his voice soothing. “You have the same blood I do.You can do it, if you want to badly enough.”

“No.” More tears flowed as Wilmot closed his eyes. “I cannot. I would rather die than hurtMother.”

Bowing his head, Maximilian drew in a deep breath, ordering himself to quell his risinganger. His brother did not need the tongue lashing he was so tempted to give him. “Verywell. Just promise me you will not try to kill yourself again.”

Wilmot’s head rolled from side to side on the pillow. “I cannot make that promise. Do notask that of me.”

Blowing out a deep gust of breath, Maximilian then said, “Will you at least talk to me ifthis temptation strikes you again? Give me the chance to talk you out of it?”

A small smile crossed Wilmot’s lips as his eyes opened again to gaze at Maximilian. “I willagree to that.”

“We have guests arriving soon,” Maximilian said, his tone lighter. “I certainly would hatefor them to discover I chained my own brother in the dungeon. So, do not make meregret not doing it.”

“You really want me to stay alive?”

“Yes. I do.”

Wilmot’s smiled grew slightly bigger. “It is nice that you care, brother.”

“I do. Now, I see that a servant has arrived with your supper. I intend to sit here andwatch you eat every bite.”

True to his word, Maximilian sat beside the bed as the servant helped Wilmot to sit upand placed the tray in his lap. Wilmot ate the lavish meal with more enthusiasm thanMaximilian expected. By the time he had finished, Mr. Leary had returned to examine himand offer him more laudanum.

Wilmot drank it down cheerfully, and then let the footman take the tray from him. “Thankyou for coming to see me,” Wilmot said as Mr. Leary gently lifted his wrapped arm andchecked it for swelling and blood seepage. As far as Maximilian could tell, his brother’sarm would be fine within a few weeks.

“You are welcome, brother,” he said, dropping a quick wink. “Sleep now, I will return inthe morning.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night.”

Maximilian stepped out of Wilmot’s chambers and into the castle’s corridor. Only when hestarted to walk away did he realize that Mr. Leary had followed him. The physicianbowed, and said, “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must speak to you in private.”

“Of course.”

“I have not informed Lord Wilmot of this,” the physician said, his tone worried. He busilydry-washed his hands, a sign that Maximilian knew boded no good. “I fear your brother

may lose that arm.”

“M

C H A P T E R 6

y Lady, I am so excited I do not think I will survive this adventure.”

Lady Helena laughed as she pulled out gown after gown, examining them as she decidedwhether or not she wanted Eugenia to pack them. “I daresay I feel the same. Why, Ihave hardly slept all week since we received the letter.”

Eugenia pulled a pearl necklace from her mistress’s jewelry box. “Do you wish me to packthis, My Lady?”

Lady Helena glanced up. “Not that old thing. I do want most everything else, however.Especially the diamond and ruby necklace.”

“Of course, that truly shows off your eyes.”

Time passed quickly as Eugenia packed both Lady Helena’s things as well as her own. Itwould take them more than a week to travel from London to Yorkshire, staying at innsalong the way. Having been out of London with Lady Helena only a few times in her life,she looked forward to seeing new things, a grand adventure. They would be leaving inthe morning, and Eugenia would be hard put to sleep as well later that night.

The day finally dawned, and now Eugenia rode in the carriage with the Earl andCountess’s valet and personal maid. Lady Helena and her parents rode in the carriageahead of them as they took the roads north to Yorkshire. All but hanging out of the

window, Eugenia gaped at everything she saw. Farmers worked their fields as theypassed. Young boys threw stones at sheep to keep them from wandering as they guardedtheir flocks. Peasants in rude carts pulled by oxen or mules traveled in the other direction,toward London, their goods piled high. Eugenia waved enthusiastically at them while thevalet and lady’s maid pretended not to see.

Each night they stayed at an inn, another source of excitement for Eugenia. She and LadyHelena shared a room, giggling over the sights they had seen that day, whispering likeschool girls. “In a few days I will meet him,” Lady Helena confided, her green eyesgleaming. “Do you think he will kiss me?”

Eugenia almost choked on her shock. “Not until you are at least engaged to be married.”

Lady Helena laughed. “If he tried to kiss me, I will let him.”

“I would, too,” Eugenia confessed, blushing furiously.

Though the journey proved arduous and exhausting, both Eugenia and Lady Helenashook off their weariness easily and looked forward to yet another day in the joltingcarriage. Eugenia saw the evidence of the journey’s difficulty in Lady Helena's mother,the Countess of Whitington. Her eyes drooped, and the corners of her mouth had grownweariness lines. A quiet, kind woman, Eugenia heard her snap at her personal maid forthe first time in her young life.

When at last they arrived at the Bromenville estates, the Countess seemed on the vergeof collapse. Her husband, the Earl of Whitington, assisted her – with his arm through hers– toward the group in front of the castle waiting to meet them. Walking behind LadyHelena, Eugenia tried to take in the castle and the sights all at once.

“Who is the woman standing next to His Grace?” she whispered to Lady Helena.

“The Dowager Duchess,” Lady Helena whispered back. “His stepmother.”

Eugenia took her first look at their host, the Duke of Bromenville. As the Earl andCountess made their courtesies to both him and the Duchess, she gaped at the Duke.Lady Helena had not been mistaken when she said he was handsome. He was more thanthat – he was breathtaking. Tall with a broad expanse of shoulders, he wore his darkblonde hair in a ponytail at his nape. His eyes were of the deepest sea-blue color, largeand framed with long black lashes. He wore a black, tailed coat, a grey waistcoat andtrousers, and a white ruffled shirt, – he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

He made small talk with the Earl, smiling with even white teeth, and kissed the Countessof Whitington’s hand. “I hope your journey from London was not too difficult for you,” hesaid, glancing around at the rest of the party. Back with the servants who accompaniedthe Whitingtons, Eugenia felt a bolt rush through her when those eyes fastened on her.

His eyes widened. His smiling mouth faltered. She sensed rather than saw the quizzicalglances from the other servants as they noticed his attention on Eugenia rather than theapproaching Lady Helena. Though she would not be presented to him as Lady Helenacurrently was, Eugenia dropped into a low curtsey. The Duke finally dragged his gazefrom Eugenia to Lady Helena dipping into hers, then took her by the hand and raised herup, smiling. He kissed her hand as he did her mother, but his eyes flicked past hershoulder to Eugenia.

A small smile playing about his lips as their gazes met, and Eugenia checked to see if hesmiled at someone behind her. But, no, he looked at her, and she tried to hide a squirmof an odd mixture of delight and worry.

“Come, be welcome,” he said to everyone in general. “Rest and refresh yourselves. I havefood and drink in the drawing room whenever you are ready.”

Eugenia followed with the other servants as the Duke and Dowager Duchess escortedtheir guests inside. He chatted with the Earl, while the Dowager Duchess spoke with LadyHelena and the Countess. Yet, even as she gawked at the magnificent castle around her,Eugenia caught yet another glance from the Duke. She presented a nervous smile andalmost swooned when he smiled back.

Following Lady Helena and her escort to the chambers prepared for her, Eugeniawondered why the Duke kept glancing at her.

Dukes do not pay attention to ladies’ maids as a rule.

She had never considered herself to be particularly pretty or beautiful, as Lady Helenawas, and the men in the Whitington’s household paid little attention to her. So why did hegaze at her as though he liked what he saw?

“Is he not handsome?” Lady Helena moaned happily as she and Eugenia heard the doorto her spacious and ostentatious apartments closed behind the servant. “I still feel his lipson my hand.” Lady Helena waggled the appendage in question, then flopped onto thegreat bed. “I may never wash that hand again.”

Eugenia giggled as she walked around the rooms. The trundle bed for her to sleep on waslarger and softer than her own in the Whitington’s London townhouse. The coverlet, athick quilt, was finer than what she had in London as well. A knock on the door heraldedthe footmen with Lady Helena's luggage, and Eugenia hurried to open it. She directedthem to place the boxes on the floor, and once they bowed their way out, she beganopening them to find a gown suitable for Lady Helena to wear.

Helping her mistress to undress and wash, Eugenia brushed out Lady Helena’s longauburn locks and listened to her chatter about the Duke, the castle, and the Duke’sabsent brother. “His Grace said his brother had some sort of accident,” Lady Helena saidto their reflections in the looking glass. “He is indisposed but should recover soon. Iwonder if he is as good looking as His Grace.”

“I am sure he is,” Eugenia said, coiling her hair into a chignon, wrapping some lengths inpaper to create ringlets down Lady Helena's slender neck. “It must run in the family.”

After brushing out the wrinkles in a pale blue gown trimmed with white lace, Eugeniadressed Lady Helena in it, then took the papers from her hair. With a comb, she carefullycreated the ringlets, then stood back and let Lady Helena admire herself.

“You look lovely, My Lady,” she whispered.

“Thank you.” She gave Eugenia a quick hug. “I will tell you all about His Grace when I getback.”

After she had gone, Eugenia unpacked Lady Helena's gowns, jewelry, cosmetics that kepther skin glowing, and other personal items. She then built a fire on the hearth, as theafternoon had waned toward evening, and the night would grow chilly. Her stomachrumbled as she gazed out of one of the windows. Lady Helena's quarters overlooked avast stable complex, and she watched in delight as grooms exercised the horses. She hadalways loved horses, and whenever possible went to the stable behind the townhouse.

In London, the grooms did not mind if she came inside to pet the horses or feed them bitsof carrot or apple. Though she had never ridden, she always dreamed of riding across theland, her hair streaming in her wake. She toyed with her dark braid as she leaned againstthe sill, once more thinking about His Grace, the Duke of Bromenville.

“Why did he stare at me so?” she muttered, fingering the pendant on its fine chain.“Perhaps he confused me with someone else.”

Though she knew that was not likely, Eugenia wondered if perhaps it was. Perhaps Iremind him of someone he once knew. She watched the sun descend over the moors. Itcast stunning rays of gold into the clouds while they themselves glowed in a myriad ofpurples, pinks, and reds. Dark crept over the moors, and Eugenia, with a sigh, left herwindow sill to light the lamps.

Just then, Lady Helena burst into the apartments, tears running down her cheek in aflood.

“What is wrong?” Eugenia hurried toward her.

“His Grace.” Lady Helena flung herself onto the bed, sobbing. “He never even looked at

me.”

E

C H A P T E R 7

ugenia held Lady Helena in her arms as she wept. “Why would he not look atme?” she wailed. “He was polite, talking and smiling with my parents. But I couldhave been a statue for all the notice he took of me.”

“I am so sorry,” Eugenia spoke softly against her hair, rocking the stricken lady back andforth as they sat on the edge of the bed. “Perhaps he is just shy with beautiful youngwomen.”

Lady Helena wiped her face with her lace handkerchief and straightened from Eugenia’sarms. “Do you think that could be it?” Her green eyes filled with hope.

“While I was not there to witness it,” Eugenia said thoughtfully, “I cannot imagine anyother reason to not pay you any attention. After all, you came here to discuss a possiblemarriage with him.”

“He asked my parents about you, however,” Lady Helena said, blowing her reddenednose.

“Me?”

Lady Helena nodded. “He asked who you were, and they explained how you had beenleft at the gates of the townhouse when you were an infant. They love you, of course, sothey nattered on about how the cook and the butler raised you, but no one ever

discovered who your true parents are or why you were abandoned there.”

Standing, Eugenia walked to the window and stared out into the darkness, toying withher pearl and gold pendant. “Why would he ask about me?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps idle curiosity. Men tend to be curious about pretty girls.”

“Me? Pretty?”

Lady Helena scowled. “Of course, you are pretty, Eugenia. Beautiful, certainly morebeautiful than me. Maybe that is why he paid so little heed to me – he was thinking ofyou.”

Eugenia smiled uneasily. “Do not say that. Not even as a joke.”

“I was serious.”

Lady Helena stood up. “I need to change for dinner. I know you have not eaten, so whenI go down, you need to go to the kitchen and eat.”

Thus, formally dressed for dinner, Lady Helena and Eugenia walked together to the vastdining hall with its formal mahogany table that could easily accommodate fifty guests.Several silver candelabra were set on it at intervals along its length, yet there were placesettings for only five. The butler stood at stiff attention and liveried footmen lined thewalls.

As it was not her place to enter the huge hall, Eugenia watched Lady Helena go in, andnoticed her parents and the Dowager Duchess were already there. Turning to walk away,she all but slammed face first into the Duke of Bromenville. Mortified, she felt her faceheat, and she stammered her apologies, curtseying with unseemly haste.

He gazed down at her from his tall height, a smile playing about his full lips. “You areLady Helena's abigail, is that correct?”

Eugenia dropped her eyes to his highly polished black boots. “M-my name is Eugenia B-Betham, Your Grace.”

“Eugenia.” He seemed to roll her name over his tongue, bemused. “A very pretty name,Eugenia. Er, Miss Betham.”

“T-thank you, Y-Your Grace.”

“Have you had your dinner, Miss Betham?” he asked, his tone kind.

“No, Your Grace.”

“Go to the kitchen. I will give orders you are to be given a full plate of everything.”

She dared to glance up and gaze into his eyes. He still looked down, his half smile still inplace. What was that expression peeking from his deep sea-blue eyes? Could it be –admiration?

He paid no attention to Lady Helena, yet he looks at me as though he likes what hesees?

“You are most kind, Your Grace.”

“I try to be,” he replied, moving past her to the dining hall door. “But it is not alwayspossible. I bid you a very good night, Miss Betham.”

“Good night, Your Grace.”

Feeing as though she walked not on stone but on air, Eugenia found her way to the hugekitchen and discovered the Duke’s orders had flown ahead of her as if on wings. She wasseated at a small table, much like the one at home in London, and fed a delicious array offoods. Smoked herring, a large chunk of grilled lamb, succulent oysters, roasted potatoes,a wedge of sharp cheese, and a small glass of wine.

As she had not eaten since that morning, Eugenia ate everything and felt the wine go toher head. Though she had drunk wine with Lady Helena before, this stuff was richer,more potent, and she hoped she could find her way back to Lady Helena's quarters. Shegraciously thanked the cook and her assistants and wobbled her way from the hotkitchen.

Naturally, she got lost in the huge castle, wandering up and down corridors that allappeared the same. Before she grew too frightened, she found a footman who cheerfullyescorted her to Lady Helena's apartments. She went inside and shut the door, leaningagainst it. Feeling hot despite the chilly weather, she opened a window and let thebreeze fan her face, cooling her.

“I am not tired,” she told herself after closing the window. “I am not tired.”

Yet, she sat down to wait for Lady Helena and drifted to sleep almost immediately. Shefelt she had barely closed her eyes when the door’s slam woke her with a jolt. Once shestood, she realized by the gumminess in her eyes and how liquid her muscles felt that shehad slept for at least a couple of hours. Lady Helena strode in as Eugenia stood shakily.

“Undress me,” Lady Helena snapped. “I want to go to bed.”

Startled, Eugenia stared at her, noticing the sharpness in her mistress’s tone. One thatshe had never, ever, used before. “Of course, My Lady,” she replied, keeping her owntone meek.

Lady Helena said not a single word as Eugenia helped her out of her formal gown andinto her nightdress. While she brushed out her long red hair and braided it for bed,Eugenia dared not speak. Though she considered Lady Helena her best and only friend,this aspect of her mistress frightened her.

What have I done wrong?

If there was an answer to that question, Eugenia had no idea what it might be. Afterseeing Lady Helena into her great bed and turned down the lamps, she put more woodon the hearth. In the light of the fire, she dressed herself in her own nightgown andcrawled under the quilt.

She lay awake for a long time.

The next morning brought with it the sunlight, a new attitude in Eugenia’s mistress, andan apology.

“I am so sorry for being so rude last night,” Lady Helena said, embracing her. “His Gracehardly spoke to me at all, he hardly noticed my existence. My mother tried so hard to gethim to talk to me, but he would not, he merely talked horses with my father. And theDuchess! She frightens me, Eugenia. If I marry the Duke, she will make my life miserable,I just know it. That woman is a viper.”

Eugenia helped her to dress and sat her down to brush her hair and coil it into a braidthat she would pin atop her head. “I do not understand this, My Lady, why would theDuke invite you here, then ignore you?”

“I have no idea, Eugenia. But I heard whispers that it was the Duchess forcing his handand sent the invitations.”

With an admonition to eat a hearty breakfast, Eugenia once more followed her mistress

down the stairs to the castle’s main level. Parting at the dining hall’s great doors, shewatched as Lady Helena went inside, and lingered for a few moments, hoping to spy theDuke. Unable to believe her good fortune, Eugenia saw he arrived a few minutes laterand smiled as he caught sight of her.

“Greetings, Miss Betham,” he said grandly, taking her hand in his for a moment beforereleasing it.

Eugenia hastily curtseyed. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

“I trust you slept well?” he asked, his dark eyes twinkling. “You and your mistress?”

“Why, yes, thank you for asking. Your castle is so magnificent, I am in awe.”

The Duke glanced around and up at the buttressed ceiling, the stone walls with theirtapestries, the mahogany sideboards. “It is a ghastly pile of rock is what it is.” He smileddown at her. “But it is mine, Miss Betham, and in spite of my acerbic words, I do love it.”

She answered his smile. “Just as you should, as your ancestors built it and passed it downto you.”

“As I shall one day give it to my son,” he said. “But, God willing, that day will not happensoon. I apologize. I am keeping you from your breakfast. Perhaps we might talk againlater.”

Eugenia curtseyed, more gracefully this time. “I will look forward to it, Your Grace.”

She received yet another incredible smile from him, his eyes crinkling at the cornersbefore he passed her by and walked into the dining hall. Her knees felt weak, whichseemed to Eugenia to be a rather odd reaction to a simple conversation. Upon stiffeningthem while at the same time feeling once again that she walked upon a cloud, she went

to the kitchen. The stout cook smiled as he placed a full plate before her along with a cupof hot tea.

If I keep eating like this, I will find myself rolling from place to place.

Yet, she ate every morsel, drank the tea, before thanking the cook, Mr. Simmons, for hisgenerosity.

“You are most welcome, my dear,” he replied. “His Grace likes you, and I can certainlysee why.”

His comment baffled and unnerved her; thus Eugenia stammered, “Your f-food isexcellent, sir.”

Retreating before she could embarrass herself further, she found her way back to LadyHelena's quarters after only a few missed turns.

I am getting to know my way around this huge place.

Humming as she worked, Eugenia tidied the chambers, made the beds, rearranged LadyHelena's cosmetics on the table beside the looking glass. As her mistress had not yetreturned from breakfast, she sat down to mend a small tear in the hem of one of LadyHelena's gowns.

Lady Helena burst into the apartments just as she began to sew, excitement spilling fromher as fast as her flow of words.

“His Grace is going to show me around his stables.” She was unlacing her bodice beforeEugenia could set the gown aside and help her. “I want to wear my gold dress, you knowthe one with the seed pearls sewn into it. And the diamond and ruby necklace.”

Eugenia arched her brows. “Is that not a bit formal for going to a stable?”

“Perhaps. But I want to look my best for him. Oh, and Mother is too weary from thejourney to chaperone so you will accompany me.”

Now Eugenia shared Lady Helena's excitement. The Duke and a tour of the stables. Shegarbed her mistress in the gold dress, clasped the necklace around her neck, thenchanged her own clothes into a pale yellow gown with full sleeves and tucked herpendant down inside her bodice. As the dim sunlight outside indicated a cooler day, shethrew light cloaks over both their shoulders.

The Duke awaited them near the primary doors that led from the castle into the baileyand smiled as they approached. “I am honored to escort such a beautiful pair of ladies,”he said, offering Lady Helena a short bow. The two curtseyed, and feeling her own facegrow hot, Eugenia noticed Lady Helena blush.

“First, I wish to show you the horses stabled here at the castle.” He walked with themthrough the wide plank doors. “I keep a few stallions in the old stables built when thispile of rock was.”

Fascinated by both the Duke and the stunning horses the grooms trotted out for HisGrace’s inspection, Eugenia did not know which to stare at the most. As she witnessedfrom the window, she saw again the endless work of the grooms – exercising, grooming,feeding, mucking stalls, and cleaning the stable. Lady Helena, while excited to be outwith the Duke, seemed not to notice the horses. Instead, she asked him questions abouthis holdings, his closeness with the Prince Regent, his status at court.

Though admittedly, she knew nothing about the Duke, Eugenia noticed he seemed lessthan enthusiastic about the turn the conversation went into. His mouth smiled less, andhe constantly shifted back to bloodlines and conformation, breeding and foaling, only tohave Lady Helena nod, then fire yet another horseless question at him.

“Let us return to the castle.” He gestured for Lady Helena to walk with him as Eugeniafollowed. “It is the quickest way to the stable. I am certain you have no desire to walk all

the way around the castle.”

“No, Your Grace,” Lady Helena replied, beaming up into his face.

Walking behind them, Eugenia continued to watch the grooms handle a fiery red stallionwho tried to rear as they trotted him up and down the cobbled stable yard. Stunninglybeautiful, she could not tear her eyes from him, his magnificence enthralled her, andmade her wonder what riding him across the moors might be like.

Turning to face front again, she discovered the Duke and Lady Helena had paused andwatched her as she gawked. “My apologies,” she said, blushing.

“You like him?” the Duke asked, bemused and smiling a little.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered. “He is so beautiful. May I ask, do you ride him?”

“I do,” he replied. “He is a fractious beast, however, and more often than not has tried totoss me headlong into the shrubbery.”

Eugenia giggled at his words and the image they brought, then covered her mouth withembarrassment. “Perhaps I should not laugh.”

“Please do.” His smile widening into a grin. “He certainly thought it was amusing when Ipicked twigs from my teeth.”

Chuckling, she followed them as they returned to the castle, and walked across its vastexpanse to the rear postern doors. From there, it was a relatively short walk to the hugestables. Eugenia wrapped her cloak tightly around her as the stiff breeze off the moorsdug its claws into her flesh.

“Does the wind here ever stop?” Lady Helena asked, shivering a little.

“Once in a while.” The Duke answered, tossed a smile over his shoulder at Eugenia.“When that happens, we get drunk in celebration.”

While Lady Helena did not find that comment amusing, Eugenia forced herself to cough tocover her burst of laughter. The Duke seemed to know, however, that she smothered herhumor, and sent her another grin. With a small huff, Lady Helena continued on, rudelyforcing the Duke to catch up with her.

Once inside the structure the Duke called the foaling stable, and with no wind and thehorses’ body heat raising the interior temperature, Eugenia cast her cloak back. If shefound delight in the stallions, she discovered sheer joy in the small foals who gazed ather from their stalls. With their dark eyes and ears too big for their little skulls, bothpointed toward her, Eugenia tried to linger to observe them. But the Duke and hermistress had walked on, making her hurry to catch up.

“Your Grace,” she said, garnering his attention as Lady Helena stood by, frowning slightlyand trying to pretend she was not.

“Miss Betham?”

“Why do these babies have such big ears?” she asked.

The Duke smiled and pointed to the nearest foal, a near black creature with legs thatseemed to go on forever. “Two pieces of a horse’s anatomy are the size they will bewhen the foal has grown up – ears and cannon bones. They are the same size as youngas when they are grown.”

“I did not know that,” she said, staring at the foal. “Thank you.”

“You like horses, Miss Betham?” he asked, standing beside her as she watched the foalgrow bored with them and tried to nurse on its mother.

“I love horses,” she replied, smiling, captivated by his nearness, his masculinity. “I oftenwished I could ride.” She glanced down, blushing. “But riding is not for one such as I.”

“Hmm.” He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but Lady Helena spoke fromfurther up the aisle.

“How much do these horses add to your income?” Lady Helena asked.

Eugenia caught a swift scowl that crossed the Duke’s face, then vanished into a stiff butpolite smile. She knew that question was at its most impolite and could not understandwhy her mistress asked it. Lady Helena should have known better, and she internallywondered why she had.

“Enough,” he answered, and strode toward her.

As they toured the rest of the stable blocks, it grew obvious to Eugenia, and she thoughtthe Duke as well, that Lady Helena had grown quite bored with the horses His Graceobviously loved. Eugenia herself could not have been happier. As the Duke did not seemto object to her questions, she asked whatever popped into her head. The grooms bowedto the Duke and Lady Helena but smiled at Eugenia’s very obvious delight in being amongthe horses.

Luncheon arrived. The Duke escorted Lady Helena back to the castle, Eugenia gazed backover her shoulder at the prized animals getting their daily exercise by the grooms. Shetook a deep breath, reveling in the scent of horses, hay and even the manure.

At my first opportunity, I am going back in there. Those babies are so precious!

As if he heard her thoughts, the Duke turned to glance at her over his shoulder, anenigmatic smile on his perfect features.

S

C H A P T E R 8

itting in the solar, her stitchery in her lap, Augusta had begun to lose patience.The Countess of Whitington sat with her, no embroidery to keep her hands busyas they conversed and often stared out the window. Augusta found her behavior

rude and annoying and barely kept the acid remarks she was tempted to make behindher lips.

“Are you listening, Countess?” Her tone was just short of acerbic.

The Countess turned her face from the window. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“I asked you twice about your daughter’s abilities to manage household accounts,”Augusta said.

“I apologize. I am not a robust woman, and the journey from London quite took its toll onmy health. Yes, Helena is well able to handle her duties to her husband.”

“Let us hope she is more robust than her mother,” Augusta murmured, but the Countessheard her words clearly.

“My Helena is a strong and capable girl,” she said, her tone sharp. “Should she marryyour son –”

“Stepson, Lady Whitington,” Augusta said, her tone cool. “Stepson. Please, I beg you, letus be correct here. The Duke is not my son.”

“I apologize, Your Grace. Forgive me.”

Augusta chittered a short laugh. “I fear he is willful, disobedient, headstrong, stubborn.”Augusta gazed out the window. “Forever with his precious horses and hardly running hisdukedom in a proper fashion. Why, I was forced to invite you in order to beginnegotiations for your daughter’s hand. If I left it up to Maximilian, he would never marry.”

The Countess gazed out the window again, making Augusta’s hand itch to slap her. “Thatis his decision, I should think.”

“It is his duty to marry,” Augusta replied. “If he does not wish to perform his duties as isproper, then he should step aside in favor of someone who will.”

“Meaning your son, Wilmot.”

“Of course, I mean Wilmot. He has been suitably trained from the cradle to assumecommand of these estates. His father was the old Duke, and has as much right to hisinheritance as Maximilian.”

The Countess eyed her sidelong. “That is an interesting comment, as your son was thesecond born, not the Duke’s firstborn. He has no rights while His Grace lives.”

“Do you think I am not aware of that, Lady Whitington?” Augusta asked, trying hard notto snap at her guest in annoyance. “I know the laws of primogeniture as well as anyone.”

“Of course, you do,” the Countess murmured. “My apologies.”

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, refusing to show how much the other woman vexedher, yet she still jabbed the needle through the cloth with more force than necessary.“Naturally, Maximilian inherits the mantle of the dukedom,” she said, in her conciliatorytone. “I am merely expressing an opinion. I have not even decided if Lady Helena is a fitcandidate to marry into this family.”

She saw Lady Whitington’s noncommittal nod from the corner of her eye, and it made hereven angrier. The woman had no backbone at all. “You are probably thinking that it is notmy decision, but rather Maximilian’s.”

This time, Lady Whitington did not respond at all but merely gazed at her, her expressionpolitely neutral, mild.

“Maximilian listens to me,” Augusta went on, feigning the same courteous neutrality. “Healways takes my advice on the affairs of the estates. I am certain he will beg for myopinion when it comes to your daughter.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Would you mind leaving me now?” Augusta asked. “I wish to visit my son. As you know,he is still recovering from his dreadful accident.”

The Countess rose to bob a quick curtsey, murmuring her respects, and walked towardthe door. Augusta watched her go, noticing her perfectly straight back and its unbowedattitude. I am not afraid of you that spine said to her, and it made her even more furious.Giving Lady Whitington time to depart the vicinity of the solar, Augusta also stood, and,with her attending footman, walked through the castle and up the stairs to Wilmot’sapartments.

The valet bowed her through to Wilmot’s bedchamber, her son sitting in an armchair,watching out the window. He wore only his dressing gown, his arm still wrapped in apristine bandage, resting it gingerly on the arm of the chair. He looked up as sheapproached and stood to greet her.

“Mother.”

“What are you doing still dressed for bed?” she demanded.

Wilmot shrugged. “I am in and out of bed, Mother. I do not feel like dressing, only to liedown again.”

Taking the chair he just vacated, Augusta looked him up and down. “Are you not feelingwell? It has been days since you hurt yourself. Surely you have recovered enough to beabout and leave your rooms.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Wilmot shrugged again. “I lost a great deal of blood. I amalways tired.”

“Nonsense. It was just a small cut.”

“Mr. Leary thought I might lose my arm. He told me how lucky I am that I am able tokeep it.”

“Do not be ridiculous, Wilmot,” she snapped. “I should dismiss that man for lying to you.”

Turning his face away, Wilmot gazed out the window without speaking.

“I insist you come to dinner tonight, Wilmot,” she said. “The Earl and Countess ofWhitington are here, and I wish you to meet their daughter, Lady Helena.”

“Yes. I heard.”

“Then you will come.” Augusta did not ask and assumed Wilmot would obey her.

“Why should I meet her?” he asked, still gazing out the window. “Is she not here tonegotiate marriage with Maximilian?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then it is nothing to me. I do not feel ready to meet guests.”

Augusta stood. “You will be at supper tonight, Wilmot. Do not disappoint me.”

Rather than return to her solar, Augusta ordered a footman to bring Lady Helena to her inher private chambers. She thought to interview the girl, then lie down until dinner.Getting angry never failed to weary her. Sitting in her favorite chair beside the blazinghearth, she waited, as her abigail heated water in a pot for tea. The knock at herchamber door announced Lady Helena's arrival, but she also brought her personal maid.

Augusta sniffed, gesturing for Lady Helena to sit as the two girls offered their respectsand eyed the maid sidelong. She had observed the way Maximilian had looked at the girl,had watched as he smiled and spoke to her. Obviously, her inept stepson found a lowlymaid more interesting than the daughter of the Earl of Whitington. At first, Augusta feltinclined to send the dark-haired girl away but decided against it.

“I asked you here, Lady Helena,” Augusta began, “as I wished to speak with you alone.”

“I wanted Eugenia to be with me,” Lady Helena replied, quite unable to halt the quaver inher voice.

She is afraid of me. Good. Good.

Augusta accepted a cup of tea from Eloise, but deliberately refrained from inviting herguest to have some. “That matters not, Lady Helena,” she said, expansive, generous.“Your abigail may hear what I have to say.”

The maid stood behind her mistress, clearly ill at ease, but without the nervousness LadyHelena displayed. She watched Augusta carefully with those hazel eyes, as though shestudied a hound of uncertain temperament. Dismissing her presence, Augusta turned herattention back to Lady Helena.

“The wife of a Duke has much to be responsible for,” she began. “Bearing her husband ason is, of course, the most important.”

“I realize this, Your Grace.”

“Obviously, there is no way to evaluate your fertility, my dear, so we must be hopeful.”

As she had designed, her comment brought a gasp of outrage from Lady Helena and ascowl, quickly hidden, from her abigail. “I-I should expect so, Your Grace,” Lady Helenasaid with a panicked glance toward Eugenia. “I believe I am fruitful.”

“Good girl, Lady Helena. I feel you can be a true asset to this family.”

Augusta eyed the auburn-haired girl, at her wide hips and suspected she was indeed wellbuilt for having children, even if she had no more backbone than her mother. That,however, matters little. Lady Helena's abigail merely stared at her, unflinching, evenwhen Augusta sent her one of her most penetrating gazes. Those never failed to haveWilmot quivering in his boots like a frightened bird.

“I know you will produce a son for this family, Lady Helena,” Augusta continued. Shecalmly sipped her tea. “If you are indeed selected to marry into it.”

“I certainly hope so,” Lady Helena tried to find some semblance of courage and blinkedher tears away.

“Most excellent, my dear. Now I have spoken to your mother regarding some of yourother qualifications. They seem to be in order, as you were gently bred and have learnedhow to manage a household. I, however, would like to see an example of yourembroidery.”

Lady Helena's mouth fell slack. “Embroidery?”

“Must I repeat myself? Yes, ladies of this household must be able to stitch properly. Itrust you brought your embroidery with you from London?”

Lady Helena shook her head. “I-I did not.”

“Pity. Then I will provide you with the items you need, and tomorrow, at ten o’clocksharp, you will join me in the solar. There, you and I will spend time together stitchinglike the proper ladies we are.”

Augusta observed Lady Helena's expression at this pronouncement and felt satisfaction atwhat she saw. The girl looked as though she had bitten into a sour apple and could notspit the piece out without shaming herself. Her dark-haired maid kept her own facecarefully neutral, although she continued to watch Augusta.

She picked up her cup. “You may leave me now.”

The two curtseyed, then Lady Helena all but ran from her chambers. Her abigail followedquickly, but not out of fear of Augusta. No doubt she would comfort her mistress, forAugusta knew perfectly well that spending the day embroidering was not what LadyHelena wanted to do.

She knew Lady Helena walked in terror of her, and that is exactly where Augusta wantedher.

W

C H A P T E R 9

histling, Maximilian strolled from the castle to the stables, enjoying thebright, warm day, one of the few that remained before full autumn fell upon

them. He considered having a groom saddle a horse so he might ride across the moorsbut decided he would ride later. He greeted Fergus cheerfully as the head groom bowed.

“Your Grace,” Fergus said. “I permitted it as I did not think you would mind.”

Maximilian stopped. “I would not mind what?”

“That wee lass that was here the other day,” he said, holding his cap in his hand. “Themaid to the young lady. She wished to play with the foals, and I granted her wish.”

“You are quite right, Fergus.” Maximilian smiled “I do not mind at all. Where is she?”

“At the moment, she is with the wee bay you are so fond of.”

“Thank you.”

Ah, a few moments alone with her. Ever since he had seen Lady Helena's maid, he hadbeen intrigued by the dark-haired girl. She was not just extraordinarily beautiful, she alsocarried herself with natural poise and grace. Nor was she intimidated by him, a trait headmired. Something about her drew him toward her, like a lodestone to iron, and his

thoughts often turned to her rather than Lady Helena.

Making his way down the aisle, he slowed when he heard a girl’s voice. Keeping out ofsight for the moment, he listened, even if eavesdropping was extremely rude. Wildlycurious as to what she was saying, he leaned against the stall next door, tilting his headtoward the one the girl was in. He held his index finger to his mouth in a shushinggesture when a few grooms paused in their labor to eye him.

“Did I tell you, you look like a mule?” he heard her ask. “Those huge ears. Must be muleears for certain.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Maximilian kept his laughter inward and thus silent.

“But I am told you will grow into those big ears,” she went on. “Hard to believe just bylooking at them. Oh, dear, did I offend you? Come here and I will scratch your prettyneck. You are such a strong, handsome horse. I so wish you were mine.”

Stepping quietly, Maximilian stood in front of the stall where Miss Betham currently andbusily scratched the bay colt’s neck. As her back was to him, she did not see him. Bentover the baby, her braid swinging down over her shoulder, she scratched and rubbed thecolt all over as his mother placidly dined on her hay. When the bay mare turned her headto look at him, her ears forward, Miss Betham paused and glanced over her shoulder tosee what caught her attention.

She straightened instantly. “Your Grace!”

“Please.” Maximilian smiled. “Do not stop on my account.”

Miss Betham curtseyed hastily in the straw, her cheeks flaming red in herembarrassment. “Your head groom said it would be all right –”

He held up his hand. “It is fine, Miss Betham. I like having these young horses handled inthis fashion. It makes training them later on far more easy if they have learned to trustpeople. Which,” he added, pointing behind her, “I expect that boy does.”

Miss Betham half turned and discovered the colt trying to eat the end of her braid. Shequickly pulled it from his mouth, smiling. She played with his face and ears, speaking asshe did so. “He does not have any teeth yet,” she said, glancing up at him shyly. “I lethim suck on my fingers.”

“I confess I have let foals suck on my fingers, too,” Maximilian told her opening the stalldoor and walking in. “I like this little fellow. He may not make an exceptional horse whenhe is grown, but I like him just the same.”

“Why would he not?”

“I will show you.”

Stepping in close, Maximilian picked up the colt’s right front foot. “See, Miss Betham? Thefetlock is not straight, it turns outward.”

“He may grow out of it, Your Grace.” She gazed at it and frowned.

“True. He may. Since faulty conformation usually strikes both legs, not just one, it may besomething that will correct itself over time. His bones are still soft, you see. If this legwas bent at a bad angle while in the womb, it may still right itself.”

“I do hope so,” she said, fondling the colt’s ears. “I hope you would not put him down forthis one flaw.”

“Of course not.” Maximilian smiled. “The leg is certainly not bad enough to warrant that.He could still become a nice riding horse.”

“I wish I could buy him,” Miss Betham said in a tiny voice.

Maximilian gazed at her for quite a while, liking her more and more. A thoroughly niceyoung lady who loved horses as much as he did, and his thoughts ranged to Lady Helena,who did not. “You never know what might happen in the future, Miss Betham,” he saidquietly. “Have you spent all your time with this fellow? I imagine the other foals wouldlike some attention, as well.”

She grinned and permitted him to lead her out of the stall. Maximilian could not havespent a better afternoon than watching Miss Betham pet and talk to many more foals.Those who were shy and did not permit her to approach them, she instinctively knew tocrouch down, making herself smaller. The curious foals that crept up to her would not lether stop crooning and scratching

“You are a natural with them, Miss Betham,” Maximilian commented. “I do not thinkanyone here can handle these babies the way you do.”

“Now you are just flattering me, Your Grace.” She smiled at him, giving him the benefit ofthose beautiful hazel eyes.

“Flattering with sincerity,” he replied, “I mean it.”

She gazed down at herself, her blue gown covered in bits of straw, her hands almostblack. “I have never been this dirty before.” Her eyes lit up and her mouth curved into asmiled at him. “And loving every minute of it.”

He laughed. “I used to enjoy getting filthy in here. But people prefer their Dukes spotless,so I do not get many opportunities anymore.”

“Your Grace.”

Maximilian turned to find Fergus hurrying toward him. Fergus tugged at the bill of hiscloth cap toward Miss Betham, then spoke hurriedly. “We have a mare in labor, YourGrace. Perhaps you and the young miss might want to witness it.”

“Yes, of course,” Miss Betham said, approaching the stall door. “That is, if it is all rightwith you, Your Grace.”

“Absolutely.”

He closed the stall door behind her as the foal inside whinnied, forlorn. The two of themfollowed Fergus down the aisle, then turned a corner and down yet another. Their heelsclicked on the brick floor as they hurried, and Maximilian stifled the impulse to take MissBetham by the hand. As much as he liked her, even Dukes did not seize a woman’s hand.

The grey mare lay on her side in the straw, her groom crouched at her head. He tuggedhis forelock in lieu of a bow and continued stroking the mare’s face and neck, all the whilespeaking softly coaching her. The mare breathed in deeply and groaned as a contractionstruck her.

“Oh, my,” Miss Betham said, pointing toward the two small hooves sticking out fromunder the mare’s tail.

Maximilian leaned in close to be able to keep his voice low. “That is how foals are born,”he said. “Feet first. Then the nose will follow. Once the head comes out, the rest of thebaby slides out relatively quickly.”

“What happens if the feet do not come out first?” she asked, staring at the sight of thelaboring mare with awe.

Maximilian and Fergus exchanged a glance. “Then someone has to try to turn the foal. Ifthe foal cannot be turned, they both die.”

“Oh, no. I am so very glad this one is coming out right.”

Growing silent, the three of them watched as the mare pushed, groaning occasionally,and within minutes, a nose emerged. Keeping quiet, Miss Betham clapped her hands indelight, garnering yet another glance exchanged between Maximilian and Fergus.

Fergus turned aside, jerking his head for Maximilian to follow. “I do believe that wee lassis the first woman in here to not run screaming in horror at the sight of a birthing.”

Maximilian grinned. “It is why I like her.”

“Me, too.”

They turned back in time to see the entire head emerge, still covered in the milkyplacenta. Maximilian saw the foal’s eyes blink, then its shoulders slithered out. Within afew more contractions, a dark wet body lay in the straw, breathing its first gasps of air –of life.

“What happens now?” Miss Betham asked in a whisper.

“Watch.”

The newly born foal shook its ears as its mother rested for a few minutes. Then, as thegroom scrambled away to give her room, she heaved her way to her feet. Turningaround, the birth sack hanging from her hindquarters, the mare began to lick her baby.

“Oh,” Miss Betham breathed, tears streaming down her lovely face. “Is that not justlovely?”

“I have always thought so,” Maximilian said, smiling down at her as he fished hishandkerchief from his pocket to give to her. “The best part comes in a few minutes.”

It appeared Miss Betham forgot to breathe from what Maximilian observed. As the greymare continued to lick her dark brown offspring, the foal tried to stand up. After severaltries and as many flops into the straw, the foal finally managed to stand on shaky legs.Miss Betham blew out her breath in a swift gust, making Maximilian chuckle.

“A filly,” Fergus announced.

The foal wobbled erratically as she tottered to her dam’s flank and discovered her teat.Maximilian drew in his own deep sigh as the newborn took in her first meal.

“A miracle in truth,” Miss Betham said, wiping more tears from her eyes.

“Feed her a warm bran mash,” Maximilian told the groom. “Watch her closely.”

The groom bowed, still in the stall with the pair. Maximilian glanced at the sunlightstreaming in through the windows and gauged it was late afternoon. He gestured for MissBetham to accompany him, as Fergus remained behind to also watch over mother andbaby. “How is it you are able to spend so much time away from Lady Helena?” he askedas they walked.

“My mistress was invited to embroider with the Duchess,” she answered, walking at hisside.

“Invited, eh?”

He knew perfectly well what such an ‘invitation’ meant. The poor girl was forced, by aveiled order, to sit with his stepmother, cloistered in the solar, to embroider. Imaginingwhat Lady Helena was suffering right now, he almost shuddered. “I expect that she will

be in there for at least another hour. That gives you a bit of time to wash and changeyour clothes before she needs you again.”

Miss Betham gazed down at her soiled gown and brushed at some of the bits of straw stillclinging to it. She sighed. “I suppose you are right. Thank you for all this, Your Grace. Ireally enjoyed it.”

“Miss Betham, the pleasure is all mine.”

Maximilian watched her hurry across the green lawn toward the castle, missing herpresence before she disappeared inside.

“I have been planning this all month,” Maximilian barely held in his anger. “I am certainour guests will not be offended if I am gone for a day.”

Augusta sniffed. “That is not the point. Your duty is to remain here while we have guestsunder our roof.”

“My duty is to also keep promises, Madam. I made this promise a long time ago. And Iam certain you are quite up to the task of keeping our visitors entertained. Perhaps youmight have both Lady Whitington and Lady Helena in your solar embroidering.”

She shot him a sharp glance. “That was uncalled for.”

Maximilian shrugged. “I think it is rude the way you demand they dance to your tune.Lady Helena should not have to be shut away with you while you criticize her sewingabilities.”

“That is none of your business.”

“It is if they run away from my home in horror.”

“Lady Helena should know how to properly stitch your clothing.”

“Only if I marry her, which I am inclined not to do. She is not what I want in a wife.”

Augusta glared at him. “So, you spend your time with her maid instead. How will thatlook to the peers of the realm? How will you explain it to the Prince Regent?”

“Like this – it is none of your business.”

Spinning on his heel, Maximilian left the solar and fumed his way to the lower levels ofthe castle. He had explained his coming absence to the Whitingtons at breakfast thatmorning, and they merely nodded a smile. Countess Whitington expressed her desire torest, while the Earl mentioned reading books in Maximilian’s library, and Lady Helena allbut begged with her eyes to be allowed to come with him. No doubt, she lived in terror ofAugusta cornering her and demanding another day embroidering.

Yet, he could not. Long before Augusta invited the family to visit, Maximilian hadpromised to pay a call on Mallen’s estates on this day in order to talk about a businessproposition. It involved his elderly mother, and she was in Belgium until now. As hehurried out the castle’s doors, he wished he could have invited Miss Betham along.

He had chosen not to ride, as the morning clouds promised rain to come later in the day.His coachman awaited him, bowing, as he trotted across the yard toward the blackcarriage with his coat of arms on the door. Two footmen assisted him inside, then tooktheir places on the rear of the coach. He leaned back against the leather seat, wishingagain that he could have asked Miss Betham along.

At least I can think of her as I travel.

The coachman cracked his whip, and the team of four black horses pulled against theirharness as they broke into a swift trot. Heading down the long drive that led away fromhis castle, Maximilian closed his eyes, resting his head against the seat. He hated leavingthe Whitington family to Augusta’s devious devices, but this situation could not be helped.

After the recent rains, the road was pockmarked with deep holes and ridges, and thecarriage rocked from side to side after its wheels struck them. Maximilian gazed out atthe passing fields, thinking of Miss Betham, and smiling as he remembered how thrilledshe was at witnessing the birth of a foal. “Such sweet innocence,” he mused. “And yettough as an oak tree.”

Not many ladies he knew would watch a horse’s birth. He tried to picture Lady Helena'senthusiasm for it and chuckled when he knew she would have run screaming away at thefirst sight of the baby’s hooves poking from its mother. He sobered when he alsoremembered her lack of enthusiasm in just walking around the stables.

No, definitely not an earthy lady.

Miss Betham was indeed earthy, and he never knew he liked earthy women until now.

The carriage lurched harder than ever, tossing Maximilian around the seat like a rag doll.“What the –”

An instant later, the carriage broke away from the galloping horses and tumbled downthe embankment of a ravine.

T

C H A P T E R 1 0

hunder growled and rain lashed the windows as Lady Helena and Eugeniaplayed cards in her private rooms. But the storm did not drown out the

sounds of shouts from the stable below. Glancing at one another, they both hurried to thewindow and peered out through the rain-streaked glass.

“Something has happened,” Lady Helena said. “What could it be?”

Not afraid of getting wet, Eugenia opened the window. As the rain lashed her face andhair and the wind howled in her ears, she saw several men carrying another in a blanket.She caught a glimpse of wet blond hair plastered against a pale face. She gasped. “It isHis Grace. He is hurt.”

“Oh, no!”

Lady Helena rushed for the door, Eugenia on her heels. Skirts hiked away from legs, theyran along the stone corridor, then hurried down the stairs. Across the castle, they foundothers on the same errand, many talking of a carriage wreck. They opened the posterndoors at the same time several footmen, maids and the household physician arrived.

“Let me through, people, let me through.”

Eugenia pulled Lady Helena out of the way as a tall, robust man pushed his way throughthe mass of servants. The men, dripping rain from their cloaks, carried the unconscious

Duke inside, still on the thick blanket. Eugenia stood close by as he was taken past her.His eyes were closed, thick blood trailed down from his brow and matted in his hair.Though the skin of his face was grey, he did not appear to be at death’s door.

“The coachman was killed,” someone carrying the Duke shouted loudly. “The footmen arehurt, too. Can someone go out and see to them?”

Several other footmen bolted out of the castle’s doors, heedless of their livery andpowdered wigs in the seething rain. A few maids ran out also, but Eugenia had nomedical training and knew she could not help. Lady Helena clasped her hand tightly andallowed herself to be pulled along as Eugenia followed the men carrying the Duke.

“His chambers are too far,” the tall man, who Eugenia now surmised was the physician,called. “Take him into the drawing room. Lay him on a couch.”

The men carrying the Duke obeyed as servants led the way to the drawing room andopened the doors. Eugenia, dragging Lady Helena with her, also went in, not caring if itwas her place to be there or not. Most of the servants retreated, talking, gossiping aboutwhat could have happened, what if the Duke died.

Eugenia hovered close, using Lady Helena's rank and her attachment to her to avoidbeing evicted as Mr. Leary began his examination. She could not help herself as fearflooded her stomach. “Will he be all right?” she whispered.

The Duke lay so still, so silent. Eugenia fretted and prayed for his good health as thehousehold physician washed the blood from his head, and stitched the wound closed.Without removing any clothing, the physician checked him over for any other injuries,then sat back with a sigh.

“Yes, young lady,” he said, glancing at her. “His Grace will be just fine. I suspected hishead was his only injury, as the men who found the crash informed me His Grace was upand walking before he collapsed into unconsciousness. As you seem to have a strongerstomach than your mistress, may I enlist your aid?”

Eugenia glanced at Lady Helena, who had blanched white at the sight of the Duke’swound being sewn closed. Lady Helena nodded and quickly embraced Eugenia beforewalking out of the drawing room, her arm across her stomach. “Yes,” Eugenia said. “Whatdo you need, sir?”

“I must attend to the inured footmen,” he replied, standing. “I would like you to sit withHis Grace. There will be footmen at the doors to protect your reputation, miss.”

“If he wakes up, sir?” Eugenia asked. “Can he have water or wine, if he asks?”

“Either, but no food. Not yet. I will return as soon as I am able.”

With that, he made his way through the now mostly empty room and out the doors. Twofootmen nodded to her as they stood a short distance away from where the Duke lay onthe couch. Telling herself she should not do it, but unable to resist, Eugenia took one ofthe Duke’s hand and held it, watching his face for any signs of him waking up. Notknowing why, she leaned close and brushed his hair from his brow. “I am here, YourGrace. It is me, Eugenia.”

He did not stir, yet Eugenia felt better for having said it. She liked holding his hand, evenif he did not know she did. She craved to bend over him and press her lips to his and seehim wake at that moment, then witness his lips curve into a smile as he gazed into hereyes. She wanted to close her own as she leaned in –

“Is this not delicious?” a voice above her inquired with bitter humor. “A lowly ladies maidmooning over my unconscious stepson. How utterly quaint.”

Eugenia leaped up. How the Duchess had arrived in the room without her hearing,Eugenia had no idea. The footmen bowed but had not moved from their places to openthe doors for her. Remembering her manners, Eugenia curtseyed as the Duchess strolledforward and peered down at the unconscious Duke.

“Hummpf,” she snorted, turning toward Eugenia. “What are you doing here, abigail?” sheasked. “This is not your place. Where is that wretched physician? He should be attendingHis Grace, not some uneducated peasant.”

Eugenia mustered her courage. “He is assisting the injured footmen, Your Grace.”

“Bah. They are insignificant. His duty is in here.”

The Duchess pointed at one of the footmen. “You. Go. Fetch Mr. Leary here this instant.Have one of their paltry friends take care of them.”

The footman thus indicated bowed and hurried from the drawing room as the Duchessturned her icy blue eyes on Eugenia once more. “You may go, peasant,” she snapped.“Leave this room before I grow angry and have you whipped for your insolence.”

“No.”

The Duchess spun around. The Duke slowly sat up, his hand flailing, searching. Eugeniaseized it within her own two hands and helped him to sit up. Turning her back daringly onthe Duchess, she assisted him to sit back on the couch and watched his eyes travel slowlyfrom her face to what stood behind her.

“I came to see if you were all right,” the Duchess said, her tone softer. “I heard about thedreadful accident, the coachman being killed. Forgive me for being concerned.”

Eugenia watched the Duke’s eyes close, and he leaned his head back on the couch.“Thank you, Madam. I will be, in time.”

“I am glad I arrived when I did,” she continued, “for you require more than just a servantto tend you.”

“You will leave Miss Betham alone,” he said, his voice tired but firm. “Please. Mr. Learywill help my footmen, Duchess, and save their lives. But I respectfully ask that you leavemy presence.”

“I came to offer my assistance –”

Though she still had her back turned to the Duchess, Eugenia felt the tension rise andthought she should perhaps leave the drawing room. An emotional confrontation betweenthe Duke and the Duchess should not be witnessed by the likes of her. But, as thoughreading her mind, the Duke’s grip on her hand increased.

“Go,” he said, his tone sharper. “Please.”

“What? You cannot dismiss me from any place. This is my castle.”

The Duke lifted his head back from the couch, his hand firmly clasped in Eugenia’s, hislips thinned. “It is m y castle, Madam, and do not forget it. You will retire to yourchambers now, or I will have you confined in your chambers permanently. Do I makemyself clear?”

For a moment, Eugenia thought the Duchess transformed into a witch from legend, forher face twisted into something filled with hate and loathing.

“You will regret this, foolish boy.”

Turning, the Duchess stormed from the drawing room, leaving Eugenia to breathe a sighof relief. The remaining footman bowed low, opening the doors for her, his face carefullyblank, as though he had not just witnessed her dismissed like a servant. Eugenia glancedat the Duke’s face, seeing his weary half-smile and hurried to a sideboard to pour him aglass of water.

“Mr. Leary said you can have water or wine,” she explained hastily. “No food yet,however.”

“It is a good thing I am not hungry.”

Giving him the glass, Eugenia watched him drink it down, ready to take the glass fromhim when he finished. He sighed deeply, then gave it to her.

“Please, sit here beside me,” he said, indicating the couch. “Permit me to apologize formy stepmother’s behavior.”

Eugenia sat gingerly, prepared to jump back up at a moment’s notice. She held the glassin her hands, toying with it, her eyes jumping from it to his face and back again. “Onecannot control another,” she whispered. “Thus, no need for an apology. Not to me.”

Leaning his head back, the Duke closed his eyes. “True. One cannot truly control another.But bad behavior should not be excused.”

Without moving his head, or opening his eyes, he held out his hand to her. Wanting totake it but fearing to, Eugenia hesitated, warring with herself. It was one thing to holdthe hand of an unconscious man, quite another to take his hand when he was a Duke andshe a maid. Her growing affection for him won the battle, and she placed her hand in his.

“Can you tell me what happened, Your Grace?” she asked, her tone soft.

“Somehow the carriage broke,” he said quietly. “In its tumble down the embankment, itcrashed onto my coachman, killing him.”

“I am so sorry.” Eugenia squeezed his hand

“I am too. He was a good man. My footmen were thrown from it, but I was tossed aroundit inside it like a ball. I am quite surprised I am not injured worse.”

The door opened, forcing Eugenia to leap to her feet, letting the Duke’s hand go. Mr.Leary and the other footman entered, the physician’s expression stiff and unhappy. “I wastold to return to your side, Your Grace,” he said, bowing.

“Not on my orders, Mr. Leary,” the Duke said. “How are my footmen?”

“They will survive, but they are unable to work for quite some time.”

“No matter. See to them, please. If they need anything, let me know. I will see to it theyare paid through their convalescence.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

“The coachman was married, was he not?” the Duke asked.

“I am not certain,” Mr. Leary replied, bowing his head. “But I will inquire.”

“Thank you. I wish to inform her myself of what transpired and assure her that she will becared for in my household.”

The physician bowed and retreated, leaving the drawing room the same way he came in.The footmen closed the doors and stood by them, facing front and motionless, their wigsand livery impeccable. Eugenia took the glass to the sideboard and poured another. TheDuke smiled and accepted it, but only sipped it before setting it on the table beside him.

“I suppose Lady Helena requires your service,” he said, gazing at her with those deep-seablue eyes Eugenia found so utterly fascinating.

“Not at the moment, Your Grace,” she replied. “Lady Helena knows that Mr. Leary askedme to attend you, as she cannot stand the sight of blood.”

“Ah, yes, blood.”

The Duke lifted his hand to the bandage, wincing. “Why is it, then, that you do not faintor swoon at the sight of blood, Miss Betham?”

Smiling, she shrugged, finding the question both odd and amusing. It was as though hehad asked her why her hair was dark brown. “I do not know, Your Grace. It is simply theway I am.”

“The way you are,” he said, musing. He stood, obviously on shaky legs by the way hegrasped the arm of the couch.

Eugenia moved toward him, her arms out, though she could hardly catch him if he fell.She was less than half his size, after all. But he smiled at her worry and walked a fewpaces, unaided.

“I feel the urgent need for a bath,” he said, walking slowly toward the doors the footmenheld open. “Supper will be upon us soon, and I must dress. I wish to thank you for yourkind attentiveness, Miss Betham.”

She curtseyed. “It is my honor to serve.”

For some reason, that comment made him hesitate, and glance over his shoulder. Hesmiled. “You are a treasure, Miss Betham. Again, if you wish, I will give orders for you toeat in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. That would be lovely.”

Eugenia watched him go, followed by the two footmen, then returned to Lady Helena'squarters to assist her in dressing for supper.

As though in apology for the previous day’s storm, the following morning broke throughthe tattered remains of the rain clouds with brilliant light. The early sun warmed themorning enough that Eugenia attended Lady Helena as she walked with the Duke in thegarden. The summons came not at the behest of His Grace, but at the Duchess’s, andEugenia found that odd to the extreme. It is almost as though he does not want to bewith her.

His head still wrapped in the bandage, the Duke appeared hale and healthy again andfrequently smiled at Eugenia past Lady Helena's shoulder.

He does not seem to enjoy Lady Helena's company but likes mine. Why?

While this confused her, she decided to appreciate it for as long as she could. If he chosenot to marry her mistress, then Eugenia would naturally return to London with her afterthe ball.

They had taken one turn about the wide garden infused with marble statues, a hugestatue of plunging dolphins amid a fountain, clipped hedgerows and late summer flowersstill trying to bloom under the gardener’s devoted attention. Eugenia listened as the Dukebegan his farewells to Lady Helena, but her attention was caught on a man of about fourscore and ten years of age hurrying toward the Duke and Lady. Although she had not methim formally, Eugenia recognized him as the Duke’s steward, Nigel Curry.

“Your Grace,” he said, pausing to bow low before approaching. “There is something youneed to see immediately.”

The Duke frowned. “Of course. Lady Helena, will you please excuse me?”

Lady Helena curtseyed, as did Eugenia. “Certainly, Your Grace.”

The two men hurried away toward the coach house as Lady Helena leaned her headtoward Eugenia. “I want to know what is going on. Let us follow them.”

“My Lady,” Eugenia said, her tone hushed. “That’s not polite.”

“I know. But I am bored, and I do not want to go back into the castle right now.”

Knowing that once Lady Helena set her mind to something, she was like a terrier – shenever let go. With a sigh, Eugenia accompanied her mistress as Lady Helena picked upher skirts and hurried after the Duke and Mr. Curry. Nipping through the gates, she sawthe two men nearing the smashed coach, sitting outside the long building that housed theducal carriages and coaches.

As though having been invited to accompany the Duke, Lady Helena stopped far enoughaway that she did not appear to be eavesdropping, but near enough to listen. Eugeniaheard every word the men said.

“See there, Your Grace,” Mr. Curry said, squatting on his heels to point to something outof Eugenia’s sight. “Those shafts were cut three-quarters of the way through. A paste wasapplied to make the cut almost invisible, thus when the team was harnessed, thecoachman did not notice.”

“Thus, under the duress of travel,” the Duke said, his tone tight, grim, “they broke andsent the team down the road and the coach into the ravine.”

“Exactly.”

“Someone engineered that accident.”

M

C H A P T E R 1 1

aximilian glanced around and observed Lady Helena and Miss Betham werewatching – listening. “So, someone wishes me dead, do they?” His gazenever wavered from them. “But I am still alive, and my coachman is not.

Any ideas on who this murdering scoundrel might be?”

Mr. Curry shook his head. “I do not, Your Grace. All I can say is that I believe it to be thework of a man. I cannot see a woman knowing enough about carriages and what shaftsto cut in order to create this disaster.”

“I agree.”

His anger was not directed at them though he still stared at the two women. He observedthe worry in each of their expressions and thinned lips, and Lady Helena shivered underthe intensity of his gaze. He scarcely believed what Nigel had just told him – someonetried to kill him. Lady Helena stepped closer to Miss Betham as though also fearingMaximilian’s wrath.

“Inspect all the other carriages,” Maximilian ordered Mr. Curry, turned back. “Make certainnone of the others have been tampered with.”

“I will, Your Grace.”

The steward bowed. Maximilian nodded then walked toward Lady Helena and Miss

Betham. “I fear your visit has been ill-timed, Lady Helena,” he said. “As you obviouslyjust heard, someone wishes me harm.”

“Perhaps your steward is wrong, Your Grace,” Lady Helena said with a wavering voice.“Surely no one wants you dead. Why would they?”

“If I had the answer to that, Lady Helena,” he lifted an eyebrow, “they would be currentlyresiding in my dungeon. I am sorry you had to discover this. I fear if this is not the end,the spillover might involve you and your parents.”

Lady Helena straightened her shoulders. “I will stand by you, Your Grace.”

He smiled but flicked his gaze to her maid standing by her mistress’s shoulder. The dark-haired girl regarded him with fearless hazel eyes, whereas Lady Helena’s face still heldtrepidation and nervousness.

If only the two of them were reversed.

“Thank you, Lady Helena. I do appreciate your loyalty. If you will excuse me, again, Imust have a conversation with my brother.”

Bending his neck in a quick bow, Maximilian left them and walked quickly back to thecastle. He was left fuming – his anger unabated. He hurried to Wilmot’s chambers andknocked on the door. He knew his brother left his apartments only for meals, and onlythen because Augusta demanded it of him. Wilmot’s valet bowed him through to whereWilmot sat in the sunlight near the window, eyes fixed on the glass.

“Wilmot,” Maximilian said.

Wilmot glanced up, then stood. “Max. What brings you here?”

“I need to talk to you. May we sit?”

“Of course.”

Maximilian pulled up a chair as Wilmot sat back down and observed his brother’s haggardface drawn with lines his youth should not have. He let out a heavy sigh and spoke in asoft voice. “The coachman was your friend, was he not?”

Wilmot turned his face toward the window. “Yes.”

“I am so sorry, brother. I liked him, too. He had been with our family for a long time.”

“He taught me a great deal about cards.” Wilmot spoke in a monotone and continued hisblank stare out the window. “I liked playing cards with him.”

“I know. His widow will be well-cared for.”

“Thank you. I was going to make sure she was if you did not.”

Maximilian shrugged. “He died in my service. Of course, I will take care of his family.”

“That is good of you.”

“There is something else you should know, Wilmot,” he said slowly.

“What is that?”

“Nigel discovered the coach had been tampered with,” Maximilian went on, studying whathe could see of his brother’s face. “Someone tried to kill me.”

Wilmot did not look at him. “That is absurd, Max. No one would want to kill you.”

“Someone tried. I want you to know so you can take precautions, Wilmot. They may wantyou dead as well.”

His brother gazed down at the long cut on his left arm, still puckered and fresh, red andangry looking around the neat row of stitches. “Thank you, Max, but I think you arewrong. No one would want either of us killed.”

“I do hope you are correct about that.” At that moment, Maximilian could not remember atime when he was more concerned about his brother than he was right now. WereWilmot’s blank expression and dull eyes a sign that he is contemplating hurting himselfagain? Or is he just grieving for his friend? “Are you all right?”

Wilmot snapped out of his haze. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“You are my brother, and I will always worry about you.”

Wilmot managed a small smile as he glanced up. “You are kind, Max.”

“I try to be. The coachman’s funeral will be held late this afternoon. You will be there, Itrust?”

“Of course. He was my friend.”

Maximilian rose and slapped his brother on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. “I will seeyou then. Take care.”

He knew he would find his stepmother in the solar. He did not relish his task and knewshe must also be informed of the attempt on her son’s life. If whoever cut the shafts onthe coach wanted not just him dead – but his family as well – then Augusta must takesteps to protect herself. Pondering the idea of bodyguards while he tried to discover thesaboteur, Maximilian entered the solar.

Augusta was not alone. The Countess of Whitington sat with her, and the two worked onthe invitations for the upcoming ball. He had quite forgotten about it over the last fewdays and wondered if it was wise to postpone it. The two women glanced up as heentered.

“Madam,” he said. “Countess Whitington, I apologize for the interruption.”

Augusta did not greet him, though the Countess rose to curtsey, offering him a smile.“Your Grace.”

“I will not trouble you ladies for long, but I have distressing news.”

“What is it?” August asked, frowning.

“The accident yesterday was no accident,” he said. “Someone cut the shafts on thecarriage.”

Countess Whitington gasped. “That is distressing news. I do so hope you are mistaken.”

“Of course, you are mistaken, Maximilian,” Augusta said with a disdainful sniff. “Why, thatwould mean someone wanted you dead.”

“I expect that is true, Madam. Which is why I come to ask that you take care. Someone

may wish all of us harm.”

“Do you not think you are being overly dramatic?” She was poring over her invitations list.

“No, I do not. Perhaps we should postpone the ball.”

“Nonsense.” Augusta snorted. “The ball will continue. Half the invitations have alreadybeen sent.”

“Very well. But should anything else happen, I will assign bodyguards to protect you.”

“You will do no such thing.” Augusta gazed at him firmly, her eyes stern. “I will not befollowed about due to your overactive imagination.”

Countess Whitington glanced from Maximilian to Augusta and back again. “Do you thinkmy family is in danger as well, Your Grace?”

“At this time, Countess, I know only what I have told you. Yet, I would advise you andyour husband and daughter to be cautious.”

“I wish to inform my husband immediately,” Countess Whitington rose from her chair. “Byyour leave, Your Grace.”

She curtseyed to both Maximilian and Augusta, then rushed from the solar. Augusta eyedMaximilian with disapproval and huffed.

“Now, you deprived me of assistance with these invitations,” she complained. “I dosuppose you will remain and help me?”

Maximilian smiled sardonically. “My apologies, Madam, but I must see to other matters.”

He turned on his heel and left the solar, leaving Augusta grumbling under her breath.Needing to make his usual rounds of the stables, he trotted down the stairs and out themain doors. As he walked, he tried to think of anyone who might wish his death and thatof his family. Yet, try as he might, no one came to mind. He stood on good terms with hispeers, and none of his votes in Parliament warranted an attempt on his life.

His mind racing like a frantic squirrel, Maximilian found the stables, as usual, soothingand quiet. Nigel joined him as he completed his rounds of the foaling stable and headedtoward the unbroken horses’ building.

“Your Grace,” he said, bowing. “I came to inform you I found nothing else amiss with anyof the other carriages.”

Maximilian nodded. “It is as though someone knew I would take the carriage and thussawed the shafts in preparation.”

Nigel shook his head slowly. “Actually, that is not necessarily true. As it was raining, itwas logical your coachman would harness your team to that one, as it was the one youused the most when the weather was bad.”

Maximilian frowned. “So, whoever tried to kill me knew of my plans to visit the Earl ofMallen yesterday.”

“That narrows down our list to those who knew, Your Grace.”

“Except most everyone knew, Nigel,” Maximilian said. “That does not truly help us.”

“Then we must consider who holds a grudge against you.”

Maximilian shook his head, rubbing the bandage over his brow. “I have been thinking ofthat. I cannot think of anyone who might bear me that much antagonism.”

“Nor can I,” Nigel admitted. “I have been trying to imagine a suspect in this and havenot.”

Maximilian stroked the nose of a black two-year-old, and said, “I still owe the Earl ofMallen a visit. Will you send him a message that I will arrive on the morrow?”

“Of course. I will see to it immediately.”

Nigel bowed, withdrew from the stable, and left Maximilian the impossible task of figuringout who wanted him dead.

Though Augusta, at supper the previous evening, tried talking him out of his planned visitonce again, Maximilian rode out the following morning. Despite the Duchess’s apparentdisapproval, the Whitingtons made no objections to his absence. As he trotted andcantered the few miles to the Mallen estate, he again fretted over not knowing who triedto kill him. Yet, Miss Betham’s lovely face intruded upon his thoughts. While he wasenjoying the mild day – an excellent one for riding – he spent more time thinking of herthan he did his would-be killer.

Edmund greeted him warmly, clicked his tongue over the wrap covering the wound on hishead, and offered him sherry in the library. “What happened?” he asked, chuckling. “Donot tell me that wretched stallion tossed you off again.”

“Not this time,” Maximilian replied, then explained the cut shafts on his carriage.

Edmund’s face clouded as he spoke. “Among all the people I know who have made mortalenemies,” he said slowly, “you are the least among them, my friend. I happen to knowyou are quite popular at court and in Parliament.”

Sipping from his glass of sherry, Maximilian nodded. “I cannot think of anyone who hatesme that much or bears me a grudge.”

“What about the woman you used to be so fond of? Could she wish you harm?”

Maximilian stiffened at the mention of Sophia. “If anyone was hurt in that relationship,”he said, “it was me.”

“Who truly knows what goes on in a woman’s mind? Perhaps she is imagining someslight, and it has grown like a canker.”

“But she is married now and living in London,” Maximilian replied, frowning. “How can shebe responsible for cutting the shafts on my carriage?”

“My dear Maximilian,” Edmund said, smiling a little. “Sometimes your innocence is so veryamusing. Have you not considered she paid someone in your employ to do you harm?”

“No,” Maximilian admitted, “that did not occur to me.”

“With the many hundreds you employ at the castle,” the Earl said, “finding out who mightbe quite difficult.”

“Even if it was not Sophia, it still may be someone who hates me.”

“True enough, I suppose. But who?”

Maximilian shook his head. “I will try to find out. But meanwhile, how is your dearmother?”

He and the Earl of Mallen concluded their business with his mother, who smiled as hekissed her cheek goodbye. Dusk closed in on Maximilian as he rode toward home, but asthe evening weather remained mild, he enjoyed the ride through the darkness. Afterturning his horse over to a groom, he walked toward the castle through the garden. Anddiscovered Miss Betham strolling through it.

“Miss Betham.” He tried to cover his delight in finding her there and alone. “Where isLady Helena?”

She dipped into a curtsey. “She wished to spend her evening reading, Your Grace, andgave me permission to come here.”

“Perhaps it is not safe for you to wander about alone.” He stepped closer to her.

Miss Betham peeped up at him, fingering the end of her braid. “Do you think thatwhoever cut your carriage shafts will try to kill me?”

“Right now, I do not know what to think,” he said. “But after this, I am suspicious ofeverything.”

“I do hope you are not suspicious of me.”

Wishing he could take her in his arms and kiss her, Maximilian contented himself with asmile. “You and Lady Helena are two that I least consider suspicious, Miss Betham.”

Under the light of the stars and the half moon rising in the east, Maximilian watched hernibble the lip he so wanted to kiss.

“May I ask you something, Your Grace?”

“You just did.” He certainly enjoyed hearing her laughter. Light and musical, herecognized that it came from her heart, a woman with a very highly refined sense ofhumor. “Yes, you may ask me anything.”

“You do not seem to like Lady Helena,” she said. “Might I inquire why? Of course,whatever you say to me will remain with me. I will not tell her, though she is my friend aswell as my mistress.”

Maximilian paced away from her to gaze up at the moon drifting high overhead. “A fairquestion, I suppose,” he said. “I am surprised she herself has not asked me.”

“Lady Helena does not understand why you do not talk to her,” Miss Betham said,walking to stand beside him. “Though she has said nothing to me specifically, I know herquite well. She is afraid to ask.”

“Lady Helena reminds me of someone,” Maximilian said. “A lady I used to care about verymuch. Sophia also had red hair and green eyes, and she broke my heart.”

“I am so sorry for your pain,” Miss Betham said earnestly. “But Lady Helena is a kind soul,she would not hurt you that way.”

“Perhaps not,” Maximilian was very aware of her closeness, the scent of her hair in hisnostrils. “Right now, my heart belongs to another. I cannot truly contemplate marriageand a wife at this time.”

Turning his head, he gazed down at her, meeting her eyes. “Perhaps you know of whom Ispeak.”

Miss Betham opened her mouth to answer him when the statue to their right explodedinto shards of marble.

“G

C H A P T E R 1 2

et down!” The Duke bellowed, lunging at her.

Eugenia had barely registered the sound of the shot when the Duke threw his body atophers. She went down hard, His Grace over her, her head smacking hard against the lawn.Pain coursed through her, but she dimly recognized that had she been on brick orcobblestone, she might well have a cracked skull. As it was, the drop to the ground joltedher, but she was unharmed.

Voices raised in alarm broke the silence that followed the gunshot as grooms swarmedfrom the stables and ran toward the garden. At the same time, the rear postern door tothe castle opened; servants also ran out and asked questions of one another. Squashedunder the Duke’s body, Eugenia at first thought he had been injured. But he gazed intoher eyes, his worry for her clear in them, and for a moment she thought he would kissher.

“Are you all right?” His face was an inch from hers.

Nodding, as she had no breath for speaking, Eugenia saw the lights of lanterns bobbingcloser and squirmed to get up. His Grace immediately rose and assisted her to stand atthe same moment people hurried into the garden. She blushed, concerned about whatthey would think, her person alone with him without a chaperone. Is my reputation nowruined?

“Your Grace?” Voices called out sharply as servants and grooms gathered around them.

“Are you all right? Is the miss all right?”

“Yes, yes,” His Grace gestured toward the shattered statue. “Whoever took a shot at usmissed, as you can see.”

“Did you see where it came from?” asked Fergus, the head groom.

“No, I’m afraid I did not,” he answered. “But look around. See if you can find anything.”

Fergus raised his voice. “Lads! Search the grounds, everyone join up with a partner andhave a look. No one goes anywhere alone.”

As the grooms broke up and ran out of the garden, Eugenia discreetly brushed loosegrass off her skirts. No one seemed to have noticed that she and the Duke had beenalone in the garden when the shooting took place. While she knew she should be upsetafter nearly being killed, she shrugged that off easily enough. It was the looks rangingbetween herself and His Grace, and the condemnation in them that worried her. Yet, shesaw nothing save concern for her in the eyes that looked her way.

“Miss Betham,” said a kindly voice, one that belonged to Deryn, a kitchen maid about herown age. The two had spoken a few times as Eugenia ate her meals and had becometentative friends. “Perhaps you should come inside.”

Eugenia nodded and took Deryn’s hand. Her head and neck ached something fierce, andshe wondered how she might obtain a little laudanum to ease it. “Yes, I should. I washere alone when His Grace arrived, and – and the shot came.”

She caught the Duke’s swift and brief nod, dipped into a quick curtsey; Deryn followedsuit, and the two walked toward the castle. Eugenia felt the Duke’s eyes on her back butstifled the urge to look over her shoulder. She had shared a moment with him – one thatspanned a brief instant of time yet seemed to last the entire night. When Deryn usheredher through the door and toward the kitchen, Eugenia knew what he had been about to

say.

Lady Helena does not interest him. I do.

She allowed herself to be shepherded onto a stool, then Eugenia finally began to tremblewhen the cook looked on with concern. As Deryn poured her a cup of hot tea, she, at last,felt the after-effects of nearly being killed. Nausea struck her stomach, and unwantedtears filled her eyes. She wished His Grace was there so she could wrap her arms aroundhis neck and weep like a lost child.

“It will be all right, Eugenia,” Deryn said, her tone soft and kind as she set the cup infront of her.

Eugenia tried to smile, though her tears spilled over and tracked down her cheeks. “I amsorry, I guess I just realized – I almost got killed.”

Deryn slid a tentative arm over her shoulders as Mr. Simmons left the bread dough hewas kneading and walked toward them. The cook’s assistants and kitchen maids gawkedas they listened but dared not leave their chores. “What happened, young miss?” heasked.

“I was walking in the garden,” Eugenia replied, sniffing, trying to smile. “His Gracereturned, and we started to chat when – when someone fired a shot. It came so close –”

“There, there,” he said, his tone soothing, though he did not touch her; his hands werecovered in flour. “You had a fright, but I am certain His Grace has chased the villain intoScotland by now.”

“His Grace wishes he had.”

All looked up to see the Duke framed in the kitchen doorway, his ponytail askew, his

cravat undone, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his snowy shirt grimed. Eugenia instantlyjumped off the stool to curtsey, as the cook and male staff bowed. Deryn and the otherwomen curtseyed along with Eugenia.

“I just came by to see how she is.” His gaze lingered on Eugenia.

“Unhurt, Your Grace,” Mr. Simmons said, “just shaken up a bit.”

“I am fine, Your Grace,” Eugenia murmuring at the same time. She tried to wipe her tearsaway before he saw them, but she knew she was too late. She did not want to admit herpain in front of the others, for then they would know how he threw her down to protecther.

“I am glad, then.” The Duke offered her a smile. “Thus far we have not found the villain,but some of the grooms are insisting upon looking. It is my opinion he is long gone bynow. No doubt he bolted and took to horse the instant he realized he missed.”

“I am certain you are right,” the cook agreed. “Might I fix you something to eat, YourGrace?”

“No, no, thank you. I am not hungry, as I dined at the Mallen estate earlier. Please lookafter Miss Betham for me, however.”

“I certainly will.”

With that, the Duke offered a general, all-around smile and departed. Eugenia sat backdown to sip her rapidly cooling tea, her shakes were finally easing. The tea tasted good,and her nausea settled once it struck her stomach. Mr. Simmons brought her a pastry,and despite her objections, insisted she eat the entire thing.

“It will help calm your nerves,” he told her.

He was right. Once she ate the sweet treat and finished her tea, Eugenia felt her old selfagain. “I must return to Lady Helena.” She slid off the stool and straightened her gown.“Thank you all for your kindness and concern.”

“Do you wish for an escort?” Mr. Simmons asked.

Eugenia shook her head. “I am safe enough inside the castle.”

After hugging Deryn, Eugenia walked quickly through the castle and up the stairs. Despiteher confident words, her nerves drew tight as she sped through the silent fortress. Shesaw no one, not even a footman, and her fears chased her like a shadow. Though shescolded herself for being foolish, she also reminded herself that twice the Duke escapeddeath from an unknown assailant

She turned a corner rapidly and slammed headfirst into a tall body. A voice above hercursed as she staggered back and looked up. She had run into Lord Wilmot, the Duke’sbrother. “My Lord,” she gasped and sank into a curtsey. “I am so sorry, I did not see you.”

“You are Lady Helena's maid, are you not?” He scanned her from head to toe.

“Yes, My Lord. I am on my way to her chambers now.”

“I say, do you know what the ruckus outside was about? I caught a glimpse from mywindow and thought to inquire.”

“Someone took a shot at His Grace, the Duke.”

His pale brown eyes widened. “Indeed? Why that is monstrous, simply monstrous. Hewas not injured?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Good, good, most excellent. Run along, my dear.”

Eugenia curtseyed again and continued her way to Lady Helena's apartments. She foundher mistress nodding over a book and startled her awake as she burst through the door.Her nerves still frazzled, Eugenia shot the bolt on the door and leaned against it, shaking.Lady Helena dropped her book and rushed to her.

“Eugenia! What is wrong? You are so pale. Why, you are trembling.”

“S – someone took a shot at His Grace,” Eugenia was unable to halt the quaver in hervoice. “I was in the garden – he – he came in from the stables. We started to talk whensomeone shot at him.”

“Oh, no!”

“I am sorry.” Eugenia sniffed back tears. “I took a fright coming through the castle.”

“You do not apologize.” Lady Helena took her by the hand and led her to the armchairsand urged her to sit. “Tell me what happened.”

Eugenia relayed everything except the conversation she had with the Duke. Sheconfessed His Grace knocked her down and threw his body atop hers to protect her, andhow her head and neck still ached from the slam to the ground. “He protected me,” shewhispered, afraid her mistress would condemn her as a harlot for being alone in thegarden with the Duke without an escort.

Instead, Lady Helena sat on the arm of the chair and stroked Eugenia’s hair. “He is a

protector of the fairer sex, is he not?” she asked with a fond smile. “A few hundred yearsago, he would have been a white knight on a white horse, rescuing damsels in distress.”

Eugenia choked on her laughter as her head hurt too much to laugh openly. “I think youmay be right.”

Lady Helena rose. “I have just the thing for you, Eugenia.” She walked to the table whereshe sat while Eugenia brushed her hair. “A few drops of laudanum, from when I cannotsleep.”

“No, that is for you,” Eugenia protested.

“I can get more,” Lady Helena replied, removing a small bottle from a drawer. “Plus, youneed it right now, and I have little trouble sleeping these days.”

“If I fall asleep, I cannot assist you.”

“Then help me get ready for bed first. But you will drink this laudanum, Eugenia. I careabout you and have no wish to see you in pain.”

Eugenia rose, helped her dress for bed, and brushed out her long auburn locks beforebraiding them. With only a single lamp lit, its wick turned down low, she, too, undressedand put on her dressing gown. Under Lady Helena's stern emerald gaze, she drank thecup of water with the laudanum added. Eugenia waited until Lady Helena crawled intoher bed and drew the covers to her chin before she went to her own.

The laudanum took effect almost immediately. Her head spun sickeningly despite the factshe lay horizontal, still aching terribly. But she did not suffer long before she fell asleep.

She did not dream at all.

The morning brought with it freedom from Eugenia’s aches and a late summer storm. Adepressing drizzle streamed down the windows as Eugenia dressed Lady Helena andpiled her hair into a tidy coif on the top of her head. The laudanum left her feeling slightlygroggy, but as her pain had mostly vanished, Eugenia knew that, too, would pass soon.

“I was supposed to ride with His Grace today,” Lady Helena sighed as she stared at herreflection in the looking glass. “I have no wish to ride in that.”

She gestured toward the dimly grey windows. “Perhaps he might be interested in a gameof cards or chess instead.”

Guilt nudged Eugenia as she tucked the last tendrils of hair into place. Her mistress hadhigh hopes of marrying the Duke one day, and Eugenia knew he never would. Sherealized His Grace liked her more than Lady Helena and all but said so the previous night.Eugenia loved her mistress like her own sister and had no desire to harm her.

Just marry her for heaven’s sake, and leave me be.

“I am sure he will,” she replied slowly. “After all, he should be getting to know you.”

“Only if he wants to marry me,” Lady Helena said with a touch of bitterness in her voice.“I do not think he wants to.”

“You do not know that,” Eugenia said, her guilt rising. “Perhaps, and I am just guessinghere, My Lady. What if he is simply getting over another love? One that hurt him?”

Lady Helena spun around, her green eyes wide, hopeful, forcing Eugenia to lose her gripon her hair. “Do you think so, Eugenia?”

Desperate, Eugenia tried to smile. “My Lady, I am just guessing. What else might preventhim from paying attention to you save the fear of rejection or hurt?”

“Another woman who has captured his interest,” Lady Helena replied, but the hope in herexpression did not fade. “If he is suffering from a loss, then perhaps there is still hope hewill turn his interest to me. I must simply try harder to show him I can be a good wife tohim. There is no other woman about this ghastly castle who can turn his head.”

Eugenia finished her hair and smiled into the looking glass over her mistress’s shoulder.“There, My Lady. There are none in this place who can match you as a potential wife tothe Duke.”

Lady Helena smiled back and patted Eugenia’s hand. “You are a true friend. Thank youfor your kindness.”

As they walked down the stairs, Eugenia’s guilt over Lady Helena's words rose and all butoverwhelmed her. She knew quite well the Duke’s attentiveness of her went far beyond asimple and passing interest and had she not felt the same for him, she might havedismissed it easily. With every passing day, every time she met his deep-sea eyes, sheknew she could fall in love with him.

She dared not let that happen.

I must tell him. I should make him realize that what we are feeling for each other mustnot go any further.

After seeing her mistress into the vast dining hall, the Duchess, the Earl, and Countessalready seated at the table along with Lord Wilmot, Eugenia walked dispiritedly, headdown, toward the kitchen for her own breakfast. Because her eyes were lowered, she sawhis boots just in time before slamming headlong into him.

“Your Grace.”

Eugenia bent into a curtsey and rose with his finger under her chin. He dropped his handalmost instantly, as though the touch of her skin on his burned him, yet he smiled downat her, his dark blue eyes glinted with what she thought was mischief.

“How is your head?” he asked, a small grin playing over his mouth.

Eugenia gaped for a moment, then returned his smile. “How did you know?”

The Duke chuckled. “I know what it is like to be thrown to the ground,” he said. “I feltyour head hit the earth but hard. Besides, I saw the pain in your eyes, your face.”

“Lady Helena insisted I take some laudanum last night.”

His smile faltered and his eyes narrowed. “Does she not know – perhaps she does not, atthat.”

“Know what?”

“One who had been injured in the head must not take laudanum,” he explained. “I do notknow why, but it is something I have been told for time out of mind.”

Eugenia’s mouth went dry, but she smiled up at him. “No harm done.”

“This time. Just remember the next time you get knocked in the head, no laudanum.”

“I will remember.”

The Duke cocked his head toward the dining hall. “I must leave you, Miss Betham.Perhaps when the weather clears, we might stroll once again in the garden. Withoutbeing shot at.”

Her previous determination to tell him he must not turn his interest toward her diedunder the onslaught of his charming smile, his rugged handsomeness, his masculinepower. She wanted to tell him no, it cannot happen, but her lips formed a curve from earto ear. She replied, “I will look forward to it.”

“Excellent. Until then, Miss Betham.”

“Until then, Your Grace.”

Her guilt forgotten for the moment, Eugenia floated into the kitchen, her mind dreamy,her heart pounding with excitement. She returned Deryn’s shy embrace and the cook’shearty smile and devoured her kippers, bacon, fried potatoes and hot bread drippingbutter with an appetite she had not realized she had. Only when she wiped the last of hereggs with her bread from her plate did the realization of what just occurred struck her.

Dropping the piece of bread to her plate, uneaten, she felt her guilt rise to look herstraight in the eye.

What have I done? I accepted his invitation to walk in the garden without an escort andwithout Lady Helena's knowledge.

So this is what it feels like to be a traitorous strumpet. Eugenia thanked the cook for hishearty meal and Deryn for serving her. She then left the kitchen.

If Lady Helena convinces him to play cards or chess, then I can lurk in her apartmentsand not see him. Perhaps I will get lucky and vanish for all eternity.

With her duties in mind, Eugenia returned to the apartments and cleaned them. She putaway her mistress’s clothes after she brushed them out, tidied the dresser, made LadyHelena's bed and her own. Adding wood to the fire on the hearth, she took a moment tostare into the flames, mesmerized. Only when the door opened and slammed closed wasshe broken from her thoughts.

Lady Helena's face streamed tears as she flounced upon her bed. “I hate him,” shedeclared, sobbing. “I want to go home.”

Eugenia rushed to the bed and sat beside her, holding Lady Helena in her arms. “Whathappened? I thought you would be playing chess in the library with him by now.”

“He said no. Unless we ride, he wants to see his horses in the stable today. He claims hehas a mare about to foal. Oh, to have to compete with horses for his affection. I wouldmuch rather compete with another woman than a bunch of bloody horses.”

Eugenia gasped in shock. “My Lady! You just cursed.”

“I do not care,” she snapped, sniffling, holding her handkerchief to her face. “Men swearall the time. Why cannot I?”

“Because you are a high-born lady, that is why,” Eugenia said sternly. “Do not make metell your lady mother.”

That broke Lady Helena's tears into choking laughter. “Can you see Mother’s reaction?”she gasped, cried and laughed at the same time. “Oh, dear, that would simply tie her intofits.”

Forced into her own giggles, Eugenia said, “It might send her to bed with the vapors.”

That image made them both break into loud brays of laughter. They held each another

and giggled until their tears flowed freely. They whispered between them every curseword they ever heard and gasped over which was worse, bloody as opposed to damn it,or even the dreaded word hell. Eugenia’s ribs ached with a burning pain as she held herchest with both arms, unable to stop laughing.

Lady Helena finally wiped her tears, still giggling. “Come on,” she said, gasping forbreath. “Let me have another chance to beat you at cards.”

Her own misery forgotten, for the time being, Eugenia broke out the cards, and theyspent the next few hours playing and enjoying one another’s company, while the rainstreamed down the windows. Luncheon came, and as had become their usual routine,Lady Helena went into the dining hall and Eugenia to the kitchen. However, this timeEugenia observed the Duke standing near the kitchen, his eyes on her.

He is waiting for me.

Her mouth dry, Eugenia dipped low as he closed the distance between them, his bootsechoing hollowly on the stone floor. Licking her lips, she tried to find the words to tell himhe must not continue his attentiveness to her, but Eugenia gazed up into his smiling, kindand humorous face.

“Your Grace,” she began. “You are waiting for me.”

“Indeed, I am, Miss Betham.”

Before she could stop the words, before she lost her courage, she blurted, “You must not.Please. I am low born, you are a Duke, it is not seemly for you to – to pay such attentionto one such as I.” Recognizing the danger signs in his lowered brows and thinned lips, shecontinued on, speaking hastily, rushing the words out in a tumble. “I really like you, trulyI do, but can you not see? Nothing can come of – I mean, Lady Helena is for you, not I.”

M

C H A P T E R 1 3

aximilian stared down at the girl – the girl who intrigued and fascinated himfrom the first moment he saw her – now telling him he should not see her.His anger built and grew, and as she finished, her hands clasped in front of

her, he felt the shout rise as far as his throat and stop there. Instead of yelling at her ashe thought he might, he recognized what she was trying to do. His anger deflated asquickly as it rose.

“No,” he said simply. “No, I will not cease paying attention to you, as you are a bright andshining light in this world, and I like you too much not to want to see you.”

“But –”

He placed his finger over her lips, silencing her. “I understand what you are trying to do,and I applaud you for it. You have captured my interest, not Lady Helena. While I do notknow where this might lead, I plan to follow it.”

Miss Betham nodded, still unhappy though her hazel eyes brightened as he spoke, andshe fought not to smile. “I do not want Lady Helena hurt, Your Grace.”

“Nor do I,” he replied, offering her a tiny smile. “She will not be hurt because of you orme. Understand?”

She nodded again. “I just feel as though I am conniving behind her back.”

Maximilian grinned. “Then that makes two of us. I am not one to encourage two womenand thus have tried to discourage Lady Helena's suit without becoming brutally honestwith her. I do not wish to hurt her feelings.”

At that moment, a footman stepped from the dining hall and cleared his throat. “YourGrace, the Dowager Duchess has requested you join her, Lord Wilmot and their guests atthe table.”

Sighing, he signaled that he would be along. “Duty calls with a strident voice,” he saidlightly. “I believe the weather will clear soon, Miss Betham. Perhaps you will walk withme in the garden this evening?”

“Yes, gladly.”

He smiled as he bent his neck in a short bow and murmured, “Until then.”

He walked past her, unable to halt the silly feeling of euphoria from closing in on hisheart he strode quickly into the vast dining hall. “My apologies for being tardy,” he said tothe people already seated at one end of the fifty-chair table.

The Whitingtons rose to bow or curtsey as Augusta eyed him with both annoyance andimpatience as he took his seat at the table’s head. “So glad you could find time to joinus,” she murmured, the acid in her tone for his ears alone.

Even his stepmother’s acerbic attitude failed to deter his exhilarated emotions, yet hedamped them down for the sake of propriety at the table. He returned Augusta’s faintfrown with a don’t-push-me smile, then turned a sincere one for his guests. “A littletrouble at the stables, but all sorted now.”

He caught a rapid glimpse of Lady Helena's eye roll before she turned her attention toWilmot seated opposite her. Wilmot, unsmiling and downcast as always, tried to ignore

her attempts at conversation as the butler began his rounds of setting bowls of hot soupin front of everyone.

“I say,” said the Earl of Whitington, “any further word on who may have taken the shot atyou, Your Grace?”

Before he could answer, Augusta interrupted. “Let us not continue that drearyconversation. Have we not talked enough about it at breakfast? I am sure it was somehunter on the moors who has long since vanished. It was an accident and nothing more.”

While Maximilian knew that was not the truth, he did not mind if the subject was droppedor if people wanted to believe it was an accident and would not happen again. It actuallymade figuring who was trying to kill him that much easier. “Whatever the reason is,” hesaid, his voice genial, “it is over now.”

The Earl looked baffled but shrugged and picked up his spoon to start on his soup. Wilmotate his, his head and eyes down while Lady Helena gazed at Maximilian with wide greeneyes. He glanced away, unable to look long at her. She reminded him so much of Sophiathat it hurt to glance at her, speak to her, spend time with her.

Perhaps it would not be so difficult to get to know her if she owned blonde hair and blueeyes.

“I have news that is far more distressing,” Augusta announced, sipping her soup. “ThePrince Regent will not be attending our ball. It appears he has pressing engagementselsewhere.”

Maximilian also turned his attention to his lunch, unconcerned about the ball and who willbe attending. “Pity,” was all he said.

“However,” Augusta went on. “The Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire have graciouslyreplied to their invitation and have agreed to come. They will arrive a few days before

the event.”

“That is wonderful news, Your Grace.” Countess Whitington smiled. “They are dearfriends of ours. I simply cannot wait to see them again.”

“I myself have met them a few times,” Augusta declared. “However, the DuchessBeatrice always seems so perpetually sad. Poor thing.”

Countess Whitington opened her mouth to speak yet was interrupted by her husband. “Isay, Your Grace,” he said gruffly, “perhaps an investigation into this shooting matter iscalled for.”

“Of course, it should not,” Augusta replied before Maximilian could even swallow his foodbefore answering. “Earl Whitington, your concern for my stepson’s safety is perfectlylaudable, but there is nothing to investigate.”

Maximilian controlled his own eye roll with an effort but managed a small grin for the stillbaffled Earl. “My thanks for your concern, but I think this is the end of it. Would you careto go hunting this afternoon? My gamekeeper tells me the red deer herd is in closeproximity.”

Earl Whitington nodded. “What a capital idea, Your Grace.”

“Perhaps my dear Wilmot should also go with you,” Augusta gazed fondly at her son.

Wilmot only glanced up briefly at the mention of his name, then continued his single-minded devotion to his meal, not meeting anyone’s eyes. He slumped in his chair, andMaximilian watched Augusta’s eyes narrow while she gazed at him. No doubt she bitdown on her tongue to stop it from demanding he straighten up at the table. He bit hisown to halt the snort of laughter from bursting forth.

“If Wilmot wishes to join us,” he glanced at his brother, “he is welcome to do so.”

Wilmot shook his head. “No. Thank you, brother, but I wish to remain inside.”

“Wilmot,” Augusta declared. “You will go hunting with Maximilian and Earl Whitington.Now about the upcoming ball –”

He saw her sitting on a stone bench in the garden, a cloak around her shoulders to repelthe damp. As promised, she waited for him after supper in the darkness of the garden,the drizzling rain now in the past. She stood up and smiled as he walked toward her, buthe caught her hand before she could curtsey.

“None of that.” He grinned “In public, yes, in private, please do not.”

Miss Betham peeped up at him and let her hand remain in his. “If that is your wish, YourGrace.”

“It is. It is also my wish that in private, when none are around, you call me Maximilian. Oreven Max.”

“Max.” She rolled the name around on her tongue as she might when tasting fine wine. “Ilike that. Max.”

“May I call you Eugenia?”

“I certainly hope so. Max.”

“If I may continue to hold your hand,” he asked, “how about we stroll around thegarden?”

“I would love to.”

Her hand felt so right within his, small and warm, utterly delightful. Maximilian breathedin the scent of her hair, an odor of lilac and perhaps a dash of lavender. She had let itdown out of its usual braid, and it fell around her back and shoulders like a dark shroud.He wanted so much to bury his hands in it, tilt her face up to his and kiss her sweet lips.Yet he dared not. Not yet.

“How is it your mistress does not need you this evening?” he asked as they walked amidthe shrubs and the still blooming flowers.

“She wished to spend time alone with her mother, the Countess,” Eugenia replied. “Herfather is in the library.” She chuckled, and Maximilian fell in love with the sound. “Hecannot get enough of your books.”

“I do have a rather extensive library.”

“One day I would like to visit it.”

“Then I shall see to it you do.”

As though the evening was too precious for mere words, the two of them fell silent. Withno one else could Maximilian feel so comfortable, so alive to the night, than with this girl.She made no demands, asked nothing of him except only what he offered to give, andgave back to him the affection he so wanted to bestow on her. Eugenia made it so veryeasy for him to love. To fall in love again.

“What was Sophia like?” Eugenia asked.

“A bit like you, I suppose,” he replied thoughtfully. “Warm, caring, but without youramazing sense of humor, however.”

As he expected, Eugenia laughed.

“But in the end,” he went on, “she was truly selfish and cold-hearted. She took my love,my heart, and married a man who offered her more.”

Eugenia stopped walking, staring up at him. “What could any man offer a woman thatyou cannot?”

“Freedom.”

“What do you mean?”

Maximilian tried a smile, which felt false to him and no doubt looked it to her. “Shewished to be free to travel and wander where she will, to have a husband whose wealthfinanced her ambitions to leave him when she wanted. She married a man who did notcare if he only saw her once or twice a year. She was free to be with anyone she chose.”

Eugenia gasped not with shock but with outrage. “That is just wrong. Marriage is a dutythat lasts a lifetime, not something you pick up when convenient.”

“You and I know that,” Maximilian continued to walk with her hand in his. “One day shemight also. But her fate or future are no longer my concern.”

“True,” she said. “I can now see why Lady Helena disturbs you so much.”

“She is not at all like Sophia,” Maximilian said. “But I cannot even glance at her withoutbeing reminded of the pain when Sophia left. I feel terrible for neglecting her, but I

cannot seem to help it.”

“If I loved someone who treated me as badly as this person did you,” Eugenia said, “Iwould not be able to be near someone who looked like him, either. If Lady Helena wereto be told of how she looks like Sophia, she –”

“Shhh.”

Eugenia fell silent as Maximilian tilted his head, listening. “Do you hear that?” hewhispered.

E

C H A P T E R 1 4

ugenia tensed as she listened hard to whatever it was Maximilian heard. At first,she heard only the soft sough of the breeze over the heather, the rustling ofsome small creature deep within the shrubbery. Then she caught a noise that

sounded like sobbing.

“It sounds like someone is crying,” she said, her voice hushed.

“It is coming from over there.”

His hand still fast in hers, Maximilian took her with him while he walked toward thesource of the sound. As she drew closer, Eugenia definitely heard quiet crying, as thoughthe person’s heart were breaking. She instantly thought it was Lady Helena, who hadstumbled upon them walking hand in hand like lovers. Bracing herself, she peered withMaximilian around the hedgerow.

It was Lord Wilmot.

He sat on the ground, his arms over a bench and an empty bottle in his hand. Even fromthis distance, Eugenia smelled the overpowering odor of whiskey. He wept into his arms,sobbed uncontrollably, his face hidden.

Poor man. What could have reduced him to this?

Maximilian spoke softly, stepping around the hedge. “Willie? What is wrong, brother?”

Lord Wilmot raised his tear-streaked face and gazed around blearily until his eyesfastened upon the two of them. He tried to wipe his face on his sleeve but did not try tostand. “Max. I – I – ”

Maximilian at last let go of her hand, sat down on the bench beside his brother. This leftEugenia to stand quiet and watch. Lord Wilmot eyed her through red-rimmed eyes. “Whois that? The maid, right?”

Eugenia curtseyed, even if she suspected he would not care if she showed him properrespect or not.

“Yes, that is Miss Betham,” Maximilian said gently, bringing Lord Wilmot’s face around tohim again. “What is wrong? Why are you out here, drinking?”

Lord Wilmot slumped further against the bench, dropping the empty bottle. “Mother,” hesaid.

“What about her?”

“I hate her.”

Maximilian glanced helplessly up at Eugenia, who knew she should not be a party to thisconversation. She tried to signal, to mime that she would leave the two of them alone.But Maximilian shook his head, stopping her. “Please stay,” he murmured.

“I hate her,” Lord Wilmot repeated. “She does not know what it is like. Not fair.”

“Know what what is like?” Maximilian asked.

“Not fair at all.”

“Willie, talk to me. What is not fair?”

But Lord Wilmot shook his head. “I do not want to talk about it.”

His words slurred, and Eugenia suspected by the way his head wobbled on his neck andhow his eyes blinked that he was close to passing out. Maximilian must have known it,too, for he stood up and seized a firm hold on his brother’s arms. Lord Wilmot was nomatch for his brother in strength, for he came up to stand on his feet within an instant.

“Come, Willie,” Maximilian said, his tone quiet, soothing. “I am going to help you to yourrooms. Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

With Lord Wilmot’s arm over his shoulder, Maximilian walked him slowly toward thepostern door into the castle. Eugenia trailed along behind, feeling helpless. As was herhabit when uncomfortable, she pulled out her pearl pendant and absently toyed with it.

Why would he hate his mother? I can see she is not a nice person, but an emotion asstrong as hate?

Once more feeling that she witnessed things someone in her position should not, shefollowed the two men up the wide, winding staircase. She continued on because sheknew Maximilian wanted her to.

Maximilian did not knock on Lord Wilmot’s door, instead he opened it and hauled hisbrother inside. At the threshold, she peeked in and watched as the Duke conversed

briefly with the man she assumed was Lord Wilmot’s valet. Then the three of thempassed into the bedroom and vanished from sight. Eugenia wait and tried not to fidgetand worried that Lady Helena might have returned to her quarters and wondered whereshe was.

Within a few minutes, Maximilian returned and closed the door quietly behind him. “Hehas passed out,” he said. “I am certain he will have quite the hangover come themorning.”

“Will he be all right?”

He nodded, then glanced at the closed door. “I hope so. I have never seen him sodespondent before.”

Gathering her courage, Eugenia asked, “Why would he hate the Duchess so?”

Not angry at such a personal question, Maximilian shook his head again and startedwalking down the corridor. “I wish I knew. I know they have not ever been close, for shecan often be a tyrant. But this is extreme, even for Willie.”

“I wish I could help.”

He smiled down at her. “You already are. By being with me, giving me someone I cantalk to. I never realized how lonely I have been until I met you.”

Eugenia smiled. “Then I am happy I can be here for you in both instances. However, Inever considered that a duke might be lonely.”

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “Sometimes it is difficult to know the difference between someonewho genuinely likes me and would like me even if I was a pauper, and someone whofeigns affection for me in order to obtain something I may offer.”

“Like your hand in marriage.”

“Exactly.”

“Even so, you must have friends who you can confide in, whom you trust.”

“I do,” he replied. “The Earl of Mallen, Fergus, the groom you met. And now you.”

Eugenia stopped walking, forcing Maximilian to also halt, and turn back toward her.“Max,” she said, her tone tentative. “Forgive me, but you do not know me. While I amdeeply flattered with your trust, how can you be certain I am not someone out to takeadvantage of you? After all, we only just met a few days ago.”

“Because you told me.”

Baffled, she tilted her head to the side and studied him in the dim light of the lamps onthe wall. “I never said so, Max.”

“You just did.”

Smiling, extending his hand toward her in an encompassing gesture, Maximilian cameback to her and gazed deep into her eyes. “If you are concerned about my putting mytrust in you, then I do not have to be.”

Eugenia chuckled. “I expect that is quite true.”

“Besides,” he added. “I am not a complete idiot when it comes to someone’s good or badcharacter. And I am the one who sought you, not the other way around.”

“True again.”

Eugenia started walking again, Maximilian at her side. “That is a very beautiful pendantyou wear,” he commented.

Glancing down, she toyed with it. “It is the only thing I have left from my parents.”

“Were they killed?”

“I have no idea what happened to them or who they were. I was found outside theWhitingtons’ gates as an infant. Their cook and butler raised me as their own.”

“What a terrible thing to do to a baby,” he said with a bitter twist to his mouth, “leave ahelpless infant like that.”

“Outside of not knowing who they were, or why I was abandoned,” Eugenia continued, “Ihave had a good life. The Whitingtons are kind people, and I love Lady Helena as mysister.”

“That is why you are so close to her.” He smiled. “You grew up together and became hermaid.”

“Speaking of Lady Helena,” Eugenia glanced down the corridor, “you walked me back toher apartments.”

Maximilian feigned shock and surprise. “How did that happen? Perhaps I got lost in yourbeautiful eyes, intoxicated as I was by your presence.”

Eugenia laughed. “Yes, I am quite certain that is why. Or could it be because you areconcerned about a potential murderer running about loose and unfettered?”

“You are astute, Eugenia.” His smile faded as they paused outside Lady Helena'schamber door. “Too many people are taking this too lightly. I ask that you be cautiousand look after your mistress.”

“You can be certain of both.”

Maximilian bent toward her. Shock and pleasure coursed through her as he kissed hertenderly on the cheek. “Good night, Eugenia.”

“Good night, Max. Sleep well.”

She watched him walked down the corridor – tall, handsome, humorous. A man whocould have his pick of women throughout the kingdom, and he chose her. A wave ofgiddiness swept over her as she opened the door to Lady Helena’s spacious and opulentchambers. The rooms were dark, indicating Lady Helena was still with her mother.Carefully feeling her way to the lamp, she lit it and turned the wick up.

Eugenia walking through the rooms and headed to the fireplace to build a hearth fire. Apiece of paper lay on a table caught her attention. She thought it was a missive for LadyHelena and left it alone, until she recognized her name at the top. She wondered if itcould possibly be from Maximilian, so she picked it up.

She gasped.

If you value your life, stay away from the Duke.

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C H A P T E R 1 5

ugenia stared at the note, the message, the implications. Someone knewMaximilian was interested in her and she in him. Despite their discretion, theyhad been discovered, and someone does not want them to see one another. The

trembling began in her stomach and radiated outward until she stood in the near darkand shook like a flower in a high wind. I must show this to Max.

The outer door to the apartments opened and closed with a short slam. “Eugenia?”

Panicked, Eugenia folded the paper and shoved it into a pocket, then spun around tobegin building a fire. “In here,” she called, fearing her voice shook as much as the rest ofher. She knelt to set kindling in the hearth, added a few small logs, and used flint andtinder to light them. She heard clothing rustle and knew Lady Helena stood behind her.

“Oh, good,” Lady Helena said. “We are going to need a fire this night.”

“After all that rain, the air is damp, My Lady.” Eugenia felt proud of how steady her voicesounded. “Did you enjoy your evening with the Countess?”

Eugenia rose and turned in time to see Lady Helena flop onto a couch near the hearth,still wearing her formal gown from supper. “It was nice enough, I suppose,” she said.“She is growing concerned about the lack of attention from His Grace. The ball is in twoweeks, and she had high hopes of announcing our engagement at that time.”

“Perhaps the Duke will have begun courting you by then.” Eugenia felt like a traitor.

Lady Helena shook her head. “I do not think he ever will,” she complained. “At supper,again, he barely looked at me, even when the Duchess tried to encourage him to speakto me. The only one who did was Lord Wilmot.”

Eugenia sat down on the couch beside her. “What did Lord Wilmot have to say?”

“Not much, but more than His Grace. He complimented me, told me how nice it was tohave visitors, as there had not been many since his father died.”

Lady Helena suddenly smiled. “While he is not as good looking as His Grace, Lord Wilmotis so painfully shy; he is actually quite adorable.”

“Really? I would not have thought of him that way.”

Lady Helena eyed her. “How do you mean?”

“He is a lord, My Lady,” Eugenia replied. “How can a lord be shy?”

“I suppose anyone can be born fearful of others,” Lady Helena said. “Fortunately, neitheryou nor I suffer from that affliction.”

“I suppose so.”

“Are you well, Eugenia? You do not seem yourself this evening.”

Eugenia thought about the note threatening her life if she continued to see Maximilian

but knew this was something she could not tell her friend. “I am fine, My Lady,” she said,trying to appear more cheerful. “Just a bit tired.”

“As it happens, so am I.”

Lady Helena rose and held out her hand to Eugenia. “But I brought wine back with me.The two of us are going to share it and laugh ourselves silly before we go to bed.”

The wine helped Eugenia to sleep, but by the way her bed covers were twisted and thegrogginess she could not shake, she knew her sleep was not sound. Lady Helena yawnedas Eugenia brushed and coiled her hair and helped her into her clothes, and shesuspected her mistress did not sleep well, either. As Lady Helena walked into the dininghall, Eugenia hoped Maximilian would be awaiting her near the kitchen. She was notdisappointed. Under his smile, she curtseyed and handed him the note without speaking.

Maximilian took one swift look at it and his smile faded. Even as she watched, his alreadydark blue eyes darkened further as his mouth tightened in anger. “Where did you getthis?”

Eugenia shivered under the ice in his voice. “It was in our quarters when I went insidelast night.”

“Did Lady Helena see it?”

“No. She had not come back yet.”

Crumbling the note in his fist, he glanced around, glaring. “Do not speak of this toanyone.”

“Perhaps,” she hesitated. “Perhaps we should stop –”

“No,” he snapped. “No. I will make certain you are protected, Eugenia. No one will harmyou. I swear it.”

Glancing around as he had done, but finding no one near them, Eugenia lowered hervoice. “But who would know? We only just started – to know – that we liked one another.Has someone been watching us?”

“Maybe not us,” he said. “Conceivably someone is watching me.”

“The attempts on your life…I suspect that whoever that is must not want you to continueto visit me.”

“The would-be murderer did not put this in your room,” he said. “Someone else did.”

“You better go,” Eugenia glanced toward the dining hall doors. “I would not want theDuchess angry with you.”

“She can go jump –” Maximilian grumbled under his breath. He lifted his hand and gentlytouched her cheek. “Try not to worry.”

Eugenia nodded and stepped aside so he could walk past her and into the hall. After hevanished inside, she made her way to the kitchen and the breakfast already prepared forher. She gave her friend Deryn a quick hug, then sat at the table. Breathing in the odorsof frying peppers and bacon, Maximilian’s steward, Nigel Curry, emerged from one of themassive storerooms. Eugenia instantly rose to curtsey and found him crossing the kitchento her.

“Miss Betham.” he smiled down at her from his tall height. “I have wanted to meet you. Itis a real pleasure.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Curry,” she said. “But may I ask why you would sochoose to want to meet me?”

“As forthright as he said,” he murmured. “Ah, Miss Betham, His Grace the Duke speaks sohighly of you, as do the Whitingtons, especially Her Ladyship, Lady Helena. Thus, I had tomeet this most entrancing visitor.”

A blush heating her cheeks, Eugenia smiled and glanced around to cover herembarrassment. “Why thank you, sir,” she murmured. “But I am hardly special orentrancing.”

“That is not true,” Mr. Simmons announced from the huge hearth where a big black potbubbled. “You are both, Miss Betham, and I do not tolerate false modesty in my kitchen.”

“Mr. Simmons,” Eugenia gasped. “It is not false modesty. I am just a maidservant.”

“Who happens to have caught our Duke’s eye,” Mr. Curry said. “That young gentlemanhas very good taste in ladies.”

Eugenia’s blush heated further. “I – I am not sure what you are talking about.”

Mr. Curry raised his brows. “Was that not you walking with His Grace in the garden lastnight?”

She caught herself before her jaw dropped. “Well, yes, I suppose it was.”

“Fear not, Miss Betham,” Mr. Curry nodded wisely. “This castle may be quite large, butwhat one person knows it seems everyone knows. There are no such things as secretshere.”

With a polite nod to her and Mr. Simmons, he left the kitchen, leaving Eugenia to returnto her chair, bemused. “So, everyone in the castle knows that His Grace is – interested inme?”

Mr. Simmons shrugged and returned to the hearth. “News like that travels faster than ahorse can run. I am more than surprised the Whitington clan does not know. Or at least, Ibelieve they do not.”

“But it is only a matter of time before they do,” she murmured, staring down at her stillsteaming plate.

“Perhaps,” Mr. Simmons pointed his finger at her. “Eat that this instant.”

Eugenia obeyed him and ate as much as she could under Mr. Simmons watchful eye. Shegave Deryn the rest, drank the cup of milk set before her and thanked Mr. Simmons.“Lady Helena will be looking for me,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

I must tell her, I must tell her, I simply must tell her.

Despite her private vow, she was not given the opportunity. Lady Helena burst into herrooms as Eugenia began cleaning, apparently unable to contain her excitement. “We aregoing into York,” she crowed. “All of us, His Grace, Her Grace, my parents, and I. We aregoing to shop for the ball.”

“Most excellent news, My Lady,” Eugenia said. “Will I be going?”

Lady Helena's face fell. “I cannot take you with me this time, Eugenia.”

“That is quite all right, My Lady.” She shrugged. “I have duties here that I must perform.”

Her mistress skipped to the wardrobe and opened it. “What shall I – oh! I will wear this.What do you think?”

She held up a dark lavender traveling gown that accented her eyes, trimmed in whitelace with large sleeves covered in gold bows. “Your best choice, My Lady,” Eugenia saidwarmly. “You will look stunning in it.”

Lady Helena giggled like a small girl, and with Eugenia’s assistance, she changed clothes.Eugenia brushed out and coiffured her hair and tied the ribbons of a black hat with whiteroses under her chin. “There,” Eugenia smiled. “You are ready to storm the walls of York.Every man in the town will fall at your feet.”

Lady Helena embraced her. “I am so sorry you cannot come. But I promise I will buy yousomething special.”

After she had gone, Eugenia finished cleaning the rooms and caring for her mistress’sclothes and personal things. Her work finished, she decided to go to the stables. Shesmiled as she walked down the wide staircase and nodded at the few servants she saw orstopped for a quick word with those she knew. Outside, the sunlight warmed the air to analmost spring-like temperature. She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and tilted herface up to its warmth.

Breathing in a deep sigh of contentment, Eugenia walked toward the foaling stable.Scenting the pleasant odors of hay and straw mixed with those of the warm horses, shequickened her step.

I wonder if that colt has grown or if I would even see the difference.

Up ahead of her, she noticed Lord Wilmot walking toward the stables as well and giggledwhen she recalled Lady Helena's declaration that his shyness made him adorable.

“Adorable is not exactly the word I would use,” she murmured to herself.

Fergus offered her a short bow and a wide grin as she entered the foaling stable.“Greetings, fair miss,” he said. “Come to see your wee friend?”

“If you do not mind.”

“Ach. Course not. Somehow I think the bairn missed you.”

She found the flashy colt lying in the straw, his dam, as ever, munching hay and swishingher tail at the few flies that escaped Fergus’s watchful eye. Eugenia went in, grinning asthe colt peered up at her blinking his huge eyes. “My, my, what long eyelashes youhave,” she whispered.

Either through laziness or complete trust, the colt did not get up as she sank to the strawbeside him. “Are you not the cutest baby in the entire world?” she asked him, rubbing hisneck.

The colt bobbed his head up and down, making her laugh. “I think so, too.”

When he lay flat to take a nap, Eugenia made sure his head lay in her lap. Singing a softlullaby under her breath, she stroked his neck down to his shoulder and ribs, over andover. His fuzzy coat felt so soft under her fingers, his short mane as curly as his tail.Though she could not be certain, she thought his crooked fetlock had straightened a bit.

He rose after his nap, shook straw dust from his small body and went to nurse. Eugeniarose also, thinking it time to visit some of the other babies. She left the stall and walkeddown the impeccably clean aisle, often caressing warm noses in passing. She reached theend of the row and turned the corner.

Across the stable building, a horse screamed. All around in the stalls, horses raised theirvoices in sharp whinnies, stamping about, kicking the wooden walls with hollow booms.Eugenia hesitated then looked back over her shoulder as grooms also ran toward them,

shouting at one another, trying to soothe the valuable animals. She finished her turnaround the corner, not looking where she was going. The thunder of hooves on the brickfloor barely registered before she glanced up, her eyes widening in panic.

The black horse struck her full on throwing her hard against the wall before his hoovescrashed into her and dragged her down.

M

C H A P T E R 1 6

aximilian tried very hard to be nice to Lady Helena. Between the Duchess’sand the Countess’s machinations, he was constantly placed next to her,forced into smiles and small talk with her. He tried to not observe her red

hair or green eyes and decided to focus on her smiles, as that was her only feature thatdid not remind him of Sophia. Despite his attempts, he could not find it in him to like her,however hard he tried.

Lady Helena, however, reveled in the small amount of attention he paid her, stuck to hisside like a burr and talked to him nonstop. He quickly grew bored with her chatter ofLondon, the court, the Prince Regent, the upcoming ball, her friends and who theymarried.

She is nice enough, I suppose, but as empty in the head as a kitten.

He never cared much to know who married who, or what the latest fashions at the royalcourt were and wondered if he might escape her by ducking into a tavern.

“Of course, you know the Baron of Worely,” she said, nattering on. “Well, his wife hassuch poor taste in gowns. Do you know she actually wore a –”

“Excuse me, Lady Helena,” he said quickly. “I see someone I must talk to.”

Under Augusta’s disapproving frown, he hurried away into the market, breathing a quick

sigh of relief. “God help me,” he muttered, “if I marry her, I swear I will run screaming tothe whiskey bottle.”

Giving himself about thirty minutes of freedom amidst the peasants and merchantswalking about the market in York, he breathed deeply before returning to the carriage.He roamed among the market stalls that were selling everything from thread to horses.Naturally, he paused at the horse pens and ran a critical eye over legs and roundednecks.

He discovered the others waiting for him as the footmen loaded packages, andMaximilian offered an insincere apology to the three sets of condemning female eyes.The Earl of Whitington merely whistled under his breath and smiled to himself.

“Forgive me, all,” Maximilian said, expansive. “I met a man I had a most interestingconversation with –”

“We are leaving, Maximilian,” Augusta’s tone was frigid.

“Oh. Well, then. I returned just in time.”

Forced to sit between Lady Helena and her mother, the Countess of Whitington,Maximilian actually found the ride back to the Bromenville castle quite relaxing. None ofthe women spoke and chose to stare out the window at the passing scenery. No doubt,he would hear about his abominable behavior from Augusta once they arrived home. TheEarl dozed off, occasionally waking himself with a snore, which thinned Augusta’s lipseven further.

Trying to be a gentleman, after all, Maximilian assisted all three ladies down from thecarriage in the castle drive. Though Lady Helena had recovered her smile by the timethey reached the estate, Augusta had not.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she muttered as he handed her down.

“Actually,” he said, grinning. “I am not.”

Augusta sniffed, then huffed her way across the gravel to the castle’s doors. The footmenfollowed her, bearing the weight of the packages. The Earl and Countess of Whitington,her arm through his, made their way in her wake more slowly. Lady Helena, clearlywanting to linger and perhaps talk with him, abruptly changed her mind and followed herparents

Thinking he would change clothes, then visit the stable, Maximilian trailed behind theothers, loosening his cravat as he went. His thoughts bobbing between Eugenia and thehorses; he paid little heed to much going on around him as he walked up the steps andinto the castle. Yet, Nigel stood in the entryway, watching him stride in. He bowed.

“Your Grace,” he began.

“Yes? Can you make it quick? I want to visit the stables before supper.”

Something in Nigel’s face caught his attention. The man’s expression was wary, careful –even pained. In all his life, Maximilian had never seen such on the man’s face before.Nigel started to speak, then turned his head away, his throat bobbing up and down.

“Nigel?”

“Your Grace,” Nigel said, his face turned to the side. “There has been a dreadfulaccident.”

“What happened?”

Yet, Nigel did not speak, could not look at him. Maximilian’s stomach tightened withpanic, and he almost choked on his fear. “Nigel? Damn it, what happened?”

“A horse got loose, Your Grace,” Nigel said, his voice thick. “It hit – someone.”

“Hit someone? Hit who?”

“Miss Betham.”

Maximilian’s knees suddenly buckled, and he almost fell.

No, no, God, no, I told her I would protect her. Just this morning I said I would keep hersafe.

His mouth dry, his heart hammering in his chest, he forced himself to meet Nigel’s pain-wracked eyes. “Is she – ” he swallowed hard and tried again. “Is she dead?”

“No, Your Grace,” Nigel replied, his voice low. “She is still alive.”

“Still?”

“I honestly do not know what her condition is, Your Grace,” Nigel admitted. “She is underthe care of Mr. Leary.”

“Where?”

“In the east wing’s guest quarters.”

Maximilian sprinted down the corridors and up the broad sweeping staircase of the

castle’s east wing. He encountered a few servants who tried to pay their respects beforehe blew past them, his ponytail coming undone as he ran. His hair flopped over hisshoulders, but he ignored it as he slid on the stone floor upon reaching the guestquarters.

He burst into the room.

Eugenia lay on the huge bed, covered to her waist. A large bruise covered the left side ofher face from her cheekbone to her chin, the rest of her flesh was deathly pale. Her leftarm lay across her stomach, wrapped in a clean, white bandage. The kitchen maidEugenia liked so much stood in a corner, no doubt acting as a chaperone. Mr. Leary sat ina chair beside her and stood up as Maximilian strode rapidly through the door. He bowed,but Maximilian grasped his arm.

“How is she?”

“Very lucky to be alive.” Mr. Leary offered Maximilian his chair. “Wrenched and bruisedfrom head to toe, but nothing that will not heal in time.”

Maximilian bowed his head, breathed a deep sigh of relief and offered up a quick prayerof thanks. “Is she awake?”

Eugenia’s lips curved upward in a small smile. “Why do you not ask me?”

Mr. Leary bowed. “I will return in a few minutes. Your Grace, she must rest. Please do notremain long.”

“My word on it, Mr. Leary.”

Once he left the room and closed the door quietly behind him, Maximilian found a smilefor her. “You frightened ten years off my life, Miss Betham.”

Her eyes opened, and she turned her head on the pillow to look at him, her smile still inplace. “I am sorry. I wanted to see the foals.”

“What happened?”

“I am not really sure,” she said, her brows furrowing. “I played with the colt. You know,the one with the crooked foot.”

“And then?”

“I left him and walked down the aisle. The horses started a ruckus, the grooms went tothem, I – I turned a corner and this huge black horse – knocked me down.”

“The horse was loose?” Maximilian asked. “In the foaling stable?”

“Yes. Perhaps it just got out of its stall.”

Maximilian leaned toward her, his sea blue eyes snapping. “It was black? And big?”

Eugenia’s smile faded at last. “Yes, Max. Did not Fergus explain what happened?”

“I have not seen him yet.” His jaw tensed in his anger. “But there will be explanations, orthere will be hell to follow.”

“Does that not happen from time to time?” she asked. “Horses get loose on occasion, isthat not so?”

“Yes,” Maximilian replied, his voice as tight as his fists. “However, I have only one bigblack horse, and he is a stallion. He is not stabled in the foaling building.”

Eugenia’s mouth made a wide O of shock. “Then how did he get in there? And in time toknock me over?”

“That is something I intend to find out.”

“Your Grace.” Eugenia tried to sit up, her face entreating. “I do not believe it is the faultof the grooms or of Fergus.”

Maximilian stood up. “Get your rest, Miss Betham. I will inform Lady Helena as to whathappened and where you are.”

Lying back down, her expression troubled, Eugenia nodded. “Very well.”

Discreetly, out of Deryn’s sight, he brushed his knuckle down her hair in a show ofaffection. “I am so very glad you are not dead or more badly injured.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I will return and visit you again.”

“I will look forward to it.”

Maximilian turned before she could see the true depths of the rage he barely held incheck. He strode rapidly to the door and threw it open. Mr. Leary walked toward the roomwith a maidservant who carried a tray with what looked like soup and tea on it. Shemanaged a curtsey as Mr. Leary bowed.

“Once she has some food in her, Your Grace,” he said, “I will dose her lightly withlaudanum. It will help her to rest without pain.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his jaw tense. “Keep me informed as to anything importantregarding her.”

“I will, Your Grace.”

He hurried down the corridor and down the stairs, where he encountered Nigel awaitinghim. “She will be all right, Nigel,” he said, still keeping a tight grip on his rage.

Nigel breathed a similar sigh of relief and nodded. “That is right good news, Your Grace.That young miss has made herself quite popular around here.”

“Will you send for Lady Helena? I wish to speak with her when I return from the stables.”

“Shall I send her out there to meet you?”

Maximilian walked on, shaking his head. “In the solar. I should inform my stepmother ofthis as well.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

The sunlight quickly faded from the sky, sinking into the west beyond the moors as heentered the foaling stable. Perhaps having seen him approach, Fergus stood waiting forhim with a ready bow.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice as calm and steady as always. “May I inquire as to MissBetham’s condition?”

“She will be all right.” Maximilian let some of his anger show as he paced down the aisletoward the area Eugenia said the horse struck her. Fergus paced at his side, clearlyunafraid of the ducal rage.

“Care to tell me what happened?”

“Someone loosed that bugger in here.”

Maximilian stopped dead. “Are you sure?”

“Course I am,” Fergus said, quite close to anger himself. He stopped just short ofsnapping at his master. “We found his head collar and lead shank near the doors at thatend.” He pointed across the building to the opposite side from where they stood. “He wasa proper bugger to catch, too, Your Grace. Kicked my lads something awful. One gotbitten badly.”

Maximilian set his hands on his hips and blew out a short gust of breath. “The meanestand rankest stud I own,” he muttered. “I should have that bloody beast gelded.”

“If he did not throw such incredible offspring,” Fergus said, “I might agree with you.”

“Show me where Miss Betham got hurt.”

As Fergus pointed out the corner where they found Eugenia unconscious, Maximiliangazed around, perplexed. “No one saw who brought that stallion in here?”

“No. There are no mares and foals in stalls near those doors where we found his headcollar,” Fergus explained as they walked on. “Busy with their work as they were, then themares knew the big bugger had come in. That set them off, kicking and yelling, and thelads ran to quiet them.”

“I see.”

Maximilian reached the doors, gazed out at the rectangular structures and pointed towardthe stallions’ stable. “Dead easy,” he said. “The young horse building blocks anyone’sview of seeing someone walk a horse to this door.”

Fergus nodded. “I agree, Your Grace. If our culprit walked the stallion from his stallstraight here, no one is the wiser.”

Maximilian glanced at him. “Did you speak with the stallions’ grooms?”

“Indeed, I did, Your Grace. Gave them a very large piece of my mind at the top of mylungs. But they did not see anyone take the black bugger out.”

“They might not, as his stall is at the end.” Maximilian smiled grimly. “My need to keepthat stallion away from the others made it easy for someone to set him loose in here.Damn it.”

“And while we were trying to catch him,” Fergus added, his tone grim, “the little weaselgot away.”

“Unfortunately, too,” Maximilian added, scowling, “everyone in the district knows thatstud’s reputation. Thus, we cannot eliminate suspects on the basis of who knows abouthim. Everyone knows he is a killer.”

Fergus went still, carefully watching Maximilian. “Are you saying that someone did not sethim loose in here for a lark? That he was set in here to kill?”

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

“To harm Miss Betham?”

Maximilian merely stared at him, his jaw set. Fergus shook his head in incredulity.

“But why? How? The chances of him truly hurting anyone in his rampage are slim. Hewould have had to have known Miss Betham was in here.”

“Obviously.”

“But what if she had been safely in a stall and not in the open?”

“Would she have been truly safe in a stall with an outraged mare protecting her babywhen that idiot bolted through here?”

Cursing invectives Maximilian himself had never heard before, Fergus stomped a fewheavy paces away and came back. “You better hope you catch him first, Your Grace,” hesnarled. “Because if I catch him first – there will not be much left of him.”

Opening the door to the solar, Maximilian found only Lady Helena inside waiting for him.He glanced around, seeking Augusta and perhaps Countess Whitington, also, but theywere not there. Lady Helena curtseyed, her pale features stricken, and he noticed shehad not yet changed from her traveling gown.

“I fear Miss Betham has had an unfortunate accident,” He walked to a sideboard to pourhimself a glass of sherry. He glanced at her. “Care for a drink?”

“Yes … and thank you. Will she be all right?”

He poured the drinks from the decanter and took one to her. “Yes. She was trampled by a

horse in one of my stables. But she will recover fully. In the meantime, I will assign amaid to attend you.”

“Where is she, Your Grace?” Lady Helena was sipping from her glass, her hand not quitesteady. The rim of the glass clinked against her teeth. “As you may know, I am quite fondof her. She is my friend.”

“Yes, I am aware of that, Lady Helena. Miss Betham is in the east wing. Mr. Leary islooking after her.”

“I will look in on her right away.”

“Where is the Duchess?”

“She grew tired of waiting for you, she said. She went to change for supper.”

“Ah. Of course.” He gave her a grim smile, one that he knew could very well increase hertrembling. “Then I will also go change, as should you. I will see you at the table.”

He offered her a short, curt bow, pivoted and left the solar, grumbling curses under hisbreath at Augusta’s catty decision to not wait for him. He strode quickly through thehallways of the castle toward his apartments, ignoring the servants who bowed orcurtseyed as he rushed past. He reached his door, threw it open and strode in.

And was hauled up short by the sight of Augusta standing in his private chambers.

“W

C H A P T E R 1 7

hat are you doing here?” Maximilian blurted, shocked to see her in the one placewhere she did not belong.

“I need to speak with you,” Augusta replied, her voice terse.

Her icy-blue eyes traveled to his valet, Jacob, who stood ready with formal supper clotheslaid out on a nearby chair. Maximilian caught the significance of her stare and bit off theurge to tell her to leave him so he could change. But he did want to tell her aboutEugenia’s accident in privacy, and here she was.

“Jacob,” he said. “Leave us for a few minutes.”

The valet bowed, walked out of the chamber, and quietly closed the door behind him.

“What do you want?” He was beyond caring if he was curt with her.

“Do not take that tone with me,” she snapped, her eyes blazing.

“You invaded my rooms, Madam,” he said coldly, “uninvited. Now unless you want melate for supper again, you will speak your piece and leave me to change clothes.”

Augusta turned her back on him and walked to the window, her skirts rustling. “What Iwant is for you to stop dallying with that maid. She is low born and a nuisance.”

Though he never expected Augusta to approve of his relationship with Eugenia, he didnot expect her to come straight out and demand he stop seeing her. His rage, stillsimmering in a low boil since he learned she had been hurt, overflowed his control. Yet,he knew it would do him no good to shout, as Augusta owned the fine art of turning hisanger into a weapon against him.

Thus, he kept his anger cold, burning under the surface. “What is that to you, Madam?”

Augusta spun around. “It is everything to me, to us as a family and to you as a peer ofthis realm. How dare you insult our guests under our roof.”

Maximilian folded his arms over his chest. “Our guests are hardly insulted.”

“They came at your invitation –”

“Yours, Madam, not mine.”

“At our invitation to discuss a contract of marriage between you and Lady Helena. Andhere you are, ignoring a fine, well-bred lady of quality in order to dally with her maid.Why, I cannot hold my head up at court ever again.”

Smiling grimly, Maximilian stepped lightly, on the balls of his feet, toward Augusta. “Youmay not be able to hold your head up, Duchess, but I will have no trouble doing so. I donot like Lady Helena, and I will not marry her despite your tantrums.”

“Tantrums?”

“Yes, that is what people call explosions of temper from spoiled children.”

Augusta narrowed her eyes as her jaw dropped. “How dare you!”

“You are not my keeper, Madam,” his tone dripping ice. “I am the Duke of Bromenville,and I will not live my life in accordance with what you deem it should be. I will dally withwhom I wish, when I wish, and how I wish.”

“That low born maid is causing more trouble than she is worth.”

Maximilian took another step, now close enough to Augusta to use his intimidating heightto loom over her “You will refrain from speaking any word against Miss Betham in mypresence. Is that understood?”

Not the least bit daunted by his attempt to cower her, Augusta stared him in the eye,seething with her own rage. “You do not tell me what to do or say.”

“Remember, Madam, under whose roof you abide,” he said. “Have no doubt, I can sendyou to live out your days in a nunnery.”

This time her jaw did drop. “You would never dare.”

“Care to test me?”

Augusta’s jaw snapped shut, but her cold, narrowed eyes never wavered from his. “Thatgirl will bring you trouble, Duke, make no mistake. Do not think for a moment that shewill not.”

Pushing past him, Augusta headed toward the door, her hands lifting her skirts in order tonot trip on them in her haste. Maximilian turned to watch her go.

“Do you know someone tried to harm her, Madam?”

Augusta paused, speaking over her shoulder without actually turning. “So, I heard. Do notmake me say I wish whoever it was had killed her.”

She slammed her way out of the door, leaving Maximilian to stare after her. He started toundress as Jacob returned to help him wash, comb out his hair and dress in his formalattire for supper. His rage, not abated a whit, propelled him down the stairs and into thedining hall. By habit, he glanced toward the kitchen where he usually found Eugenia andcursed under his breath because she was not there.

As usual, Augusta, Wilmot, and the Whitingtons were all inside, awaiting his presence. Henodded as they offered their respects; he eyed Augusta coldly. “My apologies for mytardiness,” he said stiffly. “I was detained.”

He expected a tart reply from her, but Augusta simply gestured for the butler to beginserving. Maximilian sat at the head of the table and glanced around. Lady Helena stareddown at her plate, refusing to look at him.

So now she knows I cannot and will not marry her. I hope she does not take her upsetout on Eugenia.

Countess Whitington smiled at him in her typical fashion, apparently not at all concernedthat he had refused the marriage contract with her daughter. The Earl of Whitington, too,offered no comment or showed any annoyance that they had made the trip from Londonfor nothing.

His glance rested on Wilmot. “What happened to you?”

Wilmot grimaced and touched the black and purple bruise covering his right eye. “Oh,

that. I tripped over a hassock in my bedchamber and fell. I had, er, a bit too much todrink.”

“You might consider remaining sober for the sake of our guests, Wilmot,” Augusta said,picking up her spoon to begin eating her soup. “Such antics are for the low born, are theynot?”

“Yes, of course, Mother,” Wilmot replied and started on his meal.

Getting drunk may be for the low born, but it sure makes sense to me now.

Maximilian stumbled his way up the stairs of the east wing, a nearly empty bottle ofwhiskey in his hand. He sang under his breath, an old Irish love song, often lost hisbalance and all but toppled sideways. He stopped to gaze behind him, at the long tumbledown the stone steps if he should indeed lose what little equilibrium he had remaining tohim. Shrugging, he continued on, the Irish ballad merry on his tongue.

With no outlet for his rage, no villain to beat with his fists, Maximilian went straight to hisstudy after supper – his sanctuary where he often retreated when he wanted to be alone.It was well understood amid the staff that once he was inside with the door closed, hewas to be disturbed only if the castle was on fire… or in an equally dire emergency.

In there he drank, thinking about Eugenia and how he failed to protect her. Now, in thelate-night hour, he found no one about, and the stairs lay dark and shadowed. Lampsburned low on the walls, casting little light. Yet, he saw well enough despite thebleariness in his eyes. “I promised,” he muttered to himself as he climbed the steps, oneslow riser at a time. “I promised she – she would not be h-harmed.”

His recriminations against himself spurred him to take another deep draught from thewhiskey bottle. Swaying on the steps, he licked the alcohol from his lips and went upanother few risers. “I am a cad. Yesh, I am a cad. I – a cad, let her get hurt. Lord, I am –I think – falling in love with her.”

Hiccupping and chuckling to himself, he considered what Augusta’s face would look likewhen he proposed to marry Eugenia. He drank another swallow, tilted his head back,then sighed as he lowered the bottle. He tripped another few steps until he reached thelanding where he intended to turn in order to go up another flight of stairs. With his headdown, he stumbled again and reached for the stone wall hoping to catch himself.

The dim lamps backlit the figure on the landing above him. Maximilian blinked upward,seeing only a hooded shadow with hands outstretched toward him. “What the –” hebegan as the hands on his shoulders pushed him hard backward. Losing his grip on boththe wall and the bottle, Maximilian felt himself tumble down the long flight of stonesteps.

A

C H A P T E R 1 8

ugusta lay in her bed, propped up by pillows as she read a book by the light of alamp. Her brown hair, streaked with silver, tumbled over her shoulders in awave. She reached for the glass of red wine, took a sip and replaced it, then

turned the page. A figure darkened the doorway to her bedchamber, and she glanced up.

“Eloise?” she asked, peering through the dimness.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace, but the steward, Mr. Curry, is here to see you.”

“At this late hour? Inform him I will grant him an audience in the morning.”

“He tells me it is an emergency, Your Grace,” she said, her tone frightened. “Somethinghas happened to His Grace the Duke.”

“What?” Augusta set aside her book and rose from the bed. “Help me get myselfpresentable. That robe should do.”

Thus, clad in a loose-fitting robe tied around her waist, her hair pinned up, Augustagestured for Eloise to open the door and permit Mr. Curry to enter. He bowed low, hisexpression grim.

“I fear I have bad news, Your Grace,” he said. “It appears the Duke has fallen down a

flight of stairs.”

“Why, that is ridiculous. How can he possibly fall?”

“I know this for a fact, as I caught him before he broke his neck.”

“Tell me exactly what happened, Mr. Curry.”

“I wished to speak with him, and knew he had recently left his study,” Mr. Curry said, hishands behind his back as though reciting in school. “I went up the stairs, hurrying, tryingto catch up to him. I heard a shout, and here he comes, tumbling over and over down. Ibraced myself so he would not take me with him; thus I broke his fall.”

“Well, thank goodness you were there,” Augusta said. “If that is all, I will return to mybed.”

“Are you not the least bit interested in hearing about his injuries?”

Augusta scowled. “Watch your tone, Mr. Curry.”

Nigel Curry bowed his head for a moment. “Fortunately, Your Grace, he was not too badlyhurt. The stairs bruised him rather badly, and he has a twisted ankle and wrist. The mostinteresting portion of what happened is that he says he was pushed.”

“Pushed!”

“Indeed, yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Curry went on, his expression tight. “A person in a darkhood.”

“That is preposterous, Mr. Curry,” Augusta snapped. “No one is trying to kill him. All this isin his head. It almost sounds like he fell while intoxicated and is trying to explain awayhis stupidity.”

“Yes, His Grace had been drinking.”

“There you have it.” Augusta gestured toward Eloise to show Mr. Curry to the door. “I willhear no more of this nonsense tonight. If my stepson lost his balance while drunk, it iscertainly none of my concern. Good night.”

Mr. Curry bowed and retreated, permitting Eloise to show him to the door. Augustasniffed at his departing back, then returned to her bedchamber. Sitting down at herdressing table, she stared at her reflection in the looking glass, observing more linesaround her mouth and eyes than she remembered having. When Eloise returned, shestood up to slap the girl for no reason, then disrobed and ordered Eloise braid her hair forbed.

Yet, after turning out the lamp, it was a long time before Augusta slept.

At breakfast the next morning, with Maximilian’s chair glaringly empty, Augusta chattedgaily with the Whitingtons, told Wilmot to straighten his back, and ordered the mealserved.

“Should we not wait for His Grace?” Lady Helena asked, her voice timid.

“He will not be joining us, my dear,” Augusta replied as the butler served her porridgewith cinnamon. “He had a bit of an accident while drinking last night.”

“What happened, Your Grace?” The Earl of Whitington asked.

“Silly man.” Augusta tittered. “He simply fell down the steps while drunk. Naturally, wecannot expect him this morning.”

“Was he injured, Your Grace?” Lady Helena asked.

Augusta itched to slap some backbone into the girl but decided that would have to waituntil she was a full member of the family. “No, he was not badly injured, Lady Helena. Itis so lovely to see your concern for him when he has treated you so horridly.”

Lady Helena stared at her full bowl. “He has not mistreated me, Your Grace. He refusesto marry me. There is a difference.”

“He will marry you, my dear,” Augusta said, dipping her spoon into her porridge. “He ismerely sowing the wild oats he should have years ago. He will come around in time forthe ball.”

“You think so?” Lady Helena asked, her eyes shining with hope. “Are you sure?”

“I said so, did I not?” Augusta curbed her irritation at the mindless twit, eating herporridge with enthusiasm. “Men must simply be led by the nose now and again. Take myWilmot here.”

Wilmot’s head rose from his breakfast at the mention of his name, his eyes wild. Thebruise showed stark on his eye and cheekbone, his eye swollen and red. “Mother?”

“Wilmot is a good boy,” Augusta said, smiling. “He is sweet and obedient and never failsto do what I ask. Do you, Wilmot?”

His face turned down again as he gazed into his porridge. “Yes, Mother.”

“A fine example of an aristocrat is my son Wilmot. He would never disgrace his familyname by marrying beneath him, would you, Wilmot?”

“No, Mother.”

“A fine boy,” Earl Whitington said, nodding. “Fine boy.”

“My Wilmot will go far in this world, do you not think so? Why, I am searching for asuitable bride for him as we speak. Any well-bred woman would be honored to have myson as a husband.”

“I suppose it was too much for you to wait a few minutes?”

Augusta spun her head around, observing Maximilian standing in the doorway. He lookedawful. Dark bruises splotched his face, and his left wrist had been wrapped in a whitebandage. He appeared drawn and haggard, but his dark blue eyes burned with anger.Leaning on a walking stick, he limped into the hall, his gaze spearing Augusta where shesat. The three Whitingtons rose hastily to present their respects and did not return totheir chairs.

“Why, Maximilian,” she began stumbling over her words. “I did not think –”

“No, of course not, Madam,” he said, his voice tight. “You thought me lying abed toogrievously hurt to join our guests for breakfast.”

The butler pulled out his chair for him, and Maximilian sat in it with a sigh. TheWhitingtons returned to their chairs at his nod, their eyes flicking between Augusta andhim. He glanced at Wilmot, and a humorless smile crossed his features. “Ah, look, mybrother and I are almost twins. Are we not a sight to behold?”

Augusta sniffed. “Why do you not tell our guests your tale, Maximilian? How you bounced

down the stairs while intoxicated?”

“Of course, Duchess,” he said, still smiling that terrible smile. “I walked up the stairstoward my chambers while inebriated, and someone at the top pushed me back downthem.”

Augusta scowled as the Whitingtons gasped in horror, and Lady Helena asked, “Did yousee who pushed you?”

“That is disgraceful,” the Earl said, slapping his napkin down on the table. “Someonetrying to kill our good host. I think you should call in the constables, Your Grace. Obtain athorough investigation.”

“That is a very good idea, Lord Whitington,” Maximilian said, his tone now jovial.“Perhaps I will at that. And yes, Lady Helena, I did see the person. However, he wascloaked, and I could not see his face.”

“How distressing,” Countess Whitington said, fanning herself. “You must call in theauthorities.”

Augusta glared at her stepson. “Now that you have disrupted our very polite breakfastwith this nonsense, I expect you to apologize to our guests for telling fanciful tales. Noone pushed you. You merely had an accident.”

“An accident.” Maximilian leaned back in his chair, gazing upward as though thinking.“Just as the carriage shafts being cut was an accident, an accident that killed mycoachman, by the way. Just as someone accidentally let a rogue stallion loose in mystable that nearly killed Miss Betham. And now I almost break my neck in a tumble downthe stairs due to someone accidentally giving me a hard shove. A rather large lot ofcoincidences, would you say?”

“Someone deliberately tried to kill Eugenia?” Lady Helena gasped. “I thought – I have not

been in to see her because she has been asleep. Now you say someone wants her dead?Why? Why?”

“I will tell you the moment I have the answer, Lady Helena,” Maximilian said.

Augusta sniffed. “I believe we should all change the subject. My stepson’s runawayimagination should be discarded immediately. The ball is in less than two weeks. Weshould all start making our preparations. Countess, might you be willing to help medecide on a menu?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Lady Helena will join us, of course,” Augusta went on. “I am quite certain she willunderstand what young people like to eat these days.”

“I am certain it is not porridge,” Maximilian said, pushing his bowl away.

Augusta tried to smile. “We will hardly serve porridge at a ball, Maximilian. Now, we willneed to plan entertainment, music, dancing. Oh, it has been too long since we have hada ball here at Bromenville. I am certain it will be the talk of the Season.”

“Of course,” Maximilian said, his tone full of irony. “Come to the castle of accidents andtake wagers on what will happen next.”

Unable to curb her irritation at Maximilian, who gestured and asked the butler to bringhim bacon and eggs, Augusta wished heartily that Maximilian had not come down tobreakfast. “Perhaps you should go lie down, Maximilian.”

He raised an insolent brow. “I have not had my breakfast. Besides, I just rose from mybed. I am not in a hurry to return to it.”

“You do not look well is all I am saying. You should rest.”

He laughed. “I do not wish to be rude to our guests. Lord Whitington, perhaps you wouldcare to join me later. I would value your advice on the breeding of a black stallion to agrey mare and what color the foal might be.”

As Maximilian neatly and expertly nipped the conversation from her control, Augustaclenched her fists in her lap. She glared at him from beneath her brows and silentlyvowed he would not win.

Somehow, insolent boy, you will wish you had never crossed me. Somehow, you will pay.

A

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ching in too many places to count, Eugenia slowly ate her breakfast with Deryn’sassistance, a tray on her lap as she swallowed the porridge. Though that hadnever been one of her favorites, it tasted good and filled her with its heat. “I

need to get out of this bed,” she told Deryn. “I cannot sit here for much longer withoutgoing out of my mind.”

“You must not rush it,” Deryn said. “Mr. Leary says you must rest and regain yourstrength.”

“I am strong enough,” Eugenia groused. “I just hurt all over.”

“Why did that horse attack you? I thought horses were gentle creatures.”

Eugenia smiled over her spoon. “He did not attack me, sweetheart. He was running, and Icould not get out of his way in time.”

“But rumors say he is vicious.”

Eugenia wiped her lips with her napkin, unable to eat any more porridge. “I will neverbelieve an animal is born mean,” she said slowly. “From what I have been told, the horseis difficult to handle, but he has not been gelded because of his value as a breeder.”

“What does that mean?”

Eugenia gazed at her friend, this simple kitchen maid who has known nothing save hardwork for little pay her entire life. She worked almost nonstop from before dawn to wellpast midnight, had no family save Mr. Simmons and the other kitchen staff, and knewnext to nothing of anything outside the castle. Eugenia felt grateful enough for her ownlife – raised by a cook and butler who loved her, and a grand opportunity as a ladies’maid to Lady Helena. She was also well aware how easily her life could have matchedDeryn’s.

“It simply means he makes nice babies.”

“Oh.” Deryn nodded as though she understood when in truth she did not.

“Maybe one day you and I can take a walk to the stable?” Eugenia said brightly. “I canshow you the little foals.”

Her eyes wide and her mouth a round O, Deryn slowly shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldnever do that. I must work in the kitchen.”

Eugenia recognized the other girl’s fear and shrugged. “I do not think His Grace wouldmind, Deryn. He is a truly nice man.”

“How lovely for you to say so.”

Eugenia whipped her head around to find Maximilian standing in the doorway, grinning atthe two of them. Her smile of welcome drooped as she saw the state he was in – massivebruises, his wrist in a bandage and his heavy lean on a walking stick. “Your Grace! Whathappened?”

She barely registered Deryn’s panicked curtsey and her retreat into a corner as

Maximilian limped toward her. He nodded in Deryn’s direction. “You have a chaperone,Miss Betham. That is good, so thus I may sit with you awhile without destroying yourreputation.”

“Has Mr. Leary seen to you?” she asked, trying to reach his left wrist. “Please, tell mewhat happened.”

Maximilian sank into the chair next to the bed with a sigh. “I do believe I have morebruises than you, Miss Betham. Shall we strip off our clothes and compare?”

Blushing and unable to control her shocked giggles, Eugenia covered her mouth with bothhands. Though it hurt to laugh, she could not seem to stop. “Your Grace! What will Derynthink of us?”

He cocked an eye toward the shivering girl in the corner. “What do you think, Miss Deryn?You can count our bruises for us and make the judgment.”

“Your Grace,” Eugenia hissed under her breath. “You are frightening her. Please stop it.”

“You are quite the disappointment to me, Miss Betham,” Maximilian sighed with an eyeroll. “But, as usual, you are quite correct. Miss Deryn, I apologize for my crude behavior. Icame to see how you are faring, Miss Betham.”

“I am sore in places I did not know I had. Now, are you going to tell me what happenedto you? Did you get into a fight?”

“Yes, indeed,” he replied easily. “With a flight of stairs. I fear the stairs won the round.”

“Max – er, Your Grace,” Eugenia said, trying to be stern while still blushing furiously.“Please tell me.”

“It is true, Miss Betham,” he said. “I went up the stairs, quite drunk, I might add, andsomeone pushed me back down.”

Eugenia’s eyes bulged, her mouth dropped. “Someone tried to kill you?”

“Again.”

A curse word rose unbidden to her lips, and she forced it back, unsaid. “Yes, that wouldbe the third time. What are you going to do?”

“It is past time for a bodyguard.”

Nodding, Eugenia breathed a sigh of relief. “But a guard watching your back will notprevent something like the shafts of your carriage being cut, Your Grace.”

Maximilian’s brows rose. “Oh, the bodyguard is not for me,” he said, his voice bland. “It isfor you.”

“Me?”

“Whoever wants my head on a platter,” Maximilian said, sitting back in his chair, “wantsyours alongside it.”

Unable to speak, Eugenia gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing. He nodded, hisdeep-sea eyes concerned, then went on.

“Someone set that stallion loose in the stable yesterday,” he said, “for no other purposethan to kill or do you great bodily injury.”

Eugenia closed her eyes. “Oh, God.”

“Or,” he said, his voice low. “I can ask the Whitingtons to send you back to London.”

She snapped her eyes open. “Never.”

“It is for your own safe –”

“I will not leave you, Max,” she snarled, not caring that she did not use his title in front ofDeryn. “You may force me to leave, but I will walk the entire way back here if I must. Donot try to send me away.”

Maximilian merely nodded, and she could not read his expression. She tried to study hisface, to look past the mild neutrality and wondered what he was thinking. Or planning.She opened her mouth to ask when the door burst open. Lady Helena strode in, her facea mask of fear and worry. She halted at the sight of Maximilian, her eyes flickeredbetween the two of them. Then she curtseyed and hurried forward.

“Eugenia,” she said, tears sparkling in her blue eyes. “His Grace told me that someonetried to – to hurt you.”

“I just discovered that myself,” Eugenia tried to smile. “I thought it was simply a loosehorse. It happens.”

While she outwardly remained calm and smiling, inwardly, Eugenia trembled. Maximilian’spresence in her sick room meant only one thing – he liked her far more than he let LadyHelena know. And now she knew it. Guilt squeezed her around her middle, made herheart beat faster. Her mouth tasted as though she tried to swallow ash. “Lady Helena,”she began. “I am so sorry.”

Taking a chair on the far side of the bed, Lady Helena sat down and took her hand. “For

what?”

“I should have told you, I should have said something.”

Lady Helena smiled and blushed. “I know it was hard, Eugenia. Yes, I was a little hurt, atfirst, when I found out His Grace was interested in you, and not me. But if I am to losethe chance of marrying the prized catch of the country, I would rather lose him to my bestfriend.”

For the second time, Eugenia gaped, words failed her. She finally forced out three words.“You mean that?”

Lady Helena glanced at Maximilian, nodding. “I do. I think you two were meant for eachother.”

“That is very gracious of you, Lady Helena,” Maximilian said. “Thank you.”

Feeling her guilt rise up and float away, Eugenia’s eyes misted with tears. “I was soscared to tell you,” she whispered.

“You can tell me anything, Eugenia.”

Lady Helena stood up to bend over the bed and embrace Eugenia, who endured it withonly a few winces. But she smiled through her tears and clasped Lady Helena’s hand. “Ilove you,” she murmured.

“I love you, too.”

Lady Helena sat back down. “Now what are we going to do about finding out who wantsto kill the pair of you?”

“You ladies,” Maximilian leaned heavily on his walking stick to stand, “will do nothing. Itis my task to find out. Now if you will forgive me, I feel the pressing need to lie down fora bit.”

With a short bow to the pair of them, he limped his way from the room. Lady Helena andEugenia stared at one another. “He cannot do it by himself,” Eugenia said.

“My father suggested bringing in the constables. Let them investigate.”

“I fear that will drive this villain into merely hiding,” Eugenia said thoughtfully.

“Miss Betham.”

Eugenia glanced at Deryn, whom she had almost forgotten was still in the room. “Yes,Deryn?”

“I must return to the kitchen. May I go?”

“Yes. Thank you for being such a good chaperone.”

With a curtsey and timid smile, Deryn all but bolted from the room. Lady Helena watchedher go, bemused. “A friend?”

Eugenia nodded. “Yes. A very sweet girl. She has been quite kind to me.”

“Everyone loves you, you know.”

“I am sure that is not true.”

“Very well, everyone save the person who is trying to hurt you.”

Eugenia smiled. “You just gave me an idea.”

“How did I do that?” Lady Helena smiled back, albeit uneasily. “You have something onyour mind. I can tell.”

“You and I,” Eugenia said. “Are going to set me up as bait.”

L

C H A P T E R 2 0

ady Helena gasped. “No! You cannot. I will not allow it.”

“Why ever not? I will be perfectly safe since there will be you and others around to catchthis villain in the act. It makes perfect sense.”

“I do not like it, Eugenia,” Lady Helena said, biting her lip. “You could get killed before wecatch him.”

“Not if we plan this right.”

“But how do we use you as bait? I mean, we cannot just put a sign around your neck andsay, ‘Come kill me.’”

Eugenia grinned. “Why not? Sounds perfect.”

Lady Helena rolled her eyes. “Eugenia.”

“Look, I am already hurt, right? As of this moment, there are only four who know that Iam not at death’s door: you, His Grace, Deryn, and Mr. Leary. Perhaps you could speak toeveryone about how badly I am hurt, and it will be as nothing to finally kill me. Then wewait until he tries to finish me off.”

Lady Helena tapped her chin with her fingernail. “What if we were to noise it about thatyou know who let that stallion loose in the stable. Then he will have to kill you in order tonot be found out.”

“Excellent idea.”

“But how to keep you safe?” Lady Helena rose and walked about the room, examining it.It was opulent, with tapestries and paintings on the walls, a wardrobe, a sideboard,tables, chairs, and the great bed Eugenia lay on. “There is nowhere to hide someone inhere to listen or seize this man if our plan works.”

Eugenia pointed her finger downward. “How about under the bed?”

Lady Helena frowned. “I do not like it. If we have a man under there, ready to comedefend you, he may not be able to get out from under there in time to keep you alive.This villain, as we call him, could stab you or shoot you long before he can stop him.”

Eugenia nodded. “You may be right on that count, My Lady.”

“I think it is past time we drop such formality while in private,” Lady Helena said smilingand sitting back down in her chair. “In private, you call me simply Helena.”

“That will be difficult,” Eugenia said, laughing. “I have called you ‘My Lady’ since I was ababy.”

“I know. But if you and His Grace marry, then you will be my equal anyway.”

“That is getting ahead of ourselves, is it not?” Eugenia asked. “His Grace and I like eachother –”

“Please, Eugenia,” Lady Helena said, pursing her lips in a sardonic moue. “I see the wayhe looks at you, the way you look at him. If you both are not falling in love, you are theclosest thing to it.”

“I never imagined this would happen,” Eugenia said, looking away toward the window.“Me, an orphaned waif, a ladies’ personal maid, who turned a Duke’s head.”

“High born men have married commoners before,” Lady Helena said, her tone calm.“Commoners have received titles and lands from the King, then became aristocratsinstantly. It is not unheard of.”

“It is in my life,” Eugenia replied.

“Let us talk about this scheme of yours later,” Lady Helena walked toward the door. “TheDuchess requires mine and my mother’s help in planning the ball.”

“You will not mention it to your mother?” Eugenia fretted she insulted her friend byasking that. “Or anyone?”

“Of course not, silly. It is hardly a trap if everyone is talking about it. See you soon.”

By the next morning, Eugenia felt well enough to return to her duties as Lady Helena'smaid. Though stiff and still very sore, she moved slowly and with Mr. Leary’s blessing andencouragement. “Moving around will help the stiffness,” he advised. “Just be careful.”

Thus, freshly washed and gowned, she made her slow, cautious way down the stairstoward the kitchen, where she hoped Maximilian waited for her. Though he did not waitfor her as he had in the past, she found him limping across the main floor of the castletoward the dining hall. His brows rose at the sight of her, but he smiled in welcome.

“Has Mr. Leary permitted you to be up and about?” he asked by way of greeting.

“One might ask the same of you.” she returned.

“Are we not a pair?” His smile widened into a grin. “Bruised and battered like a couple ofold soldiers.”

Eugenia walked closer and noticed his facial bruises had begun to fade, turning ayellowish tinge that indicated healing. Her own face held the same marks when sheinspected herself in the looking glass. His wrist was no longer wrapped, yet was swollenand discolored. The walking stick had vanished.

Standing as close as possible to him, Eugenia gazed up into his deep-sea eyes, wishingshe could wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. She saw the same desire cross hisexpression when the flesh around his eyes softened, and his lips parted. However, apublic display of affection was unseemly and ill-mannered. She daydreamed about theday when she might hold him in her arms in private.

“Eugenia,” he murmured, his grin fading.

“A walk in the garden tonight?”

“Yes.” He nodded, then brushed his finger tenderly down her cheek, touching her bruisewithout causing her pain. “I will be there.”

“Until then.”

She dipped into a quick curtsey and walked stiffly toward the kitchen doors yet felt hiseyes on her back. Warmth and delight quivered in her belly; she might convince him to

kiss her in the garden under the moonlight. Mr. Simmons and Deryn, somehow expectingshe would be down from her room to break her fast, greeted her with smiles and a fullplate.

“Right glad I am to see you back on your legs,” Mr. Simmons said, busy frying bacon in apan.

“I am happy to be back on them,” Eugenia replied, then breathed in the delicious scentsof the hot food. “I need to return to my duties. I have always hated not having somethingto do.”

“Right now, your duty is to heal,” he said, eyeing her sternly. “You are no good to anyoneif you cripple yourself by working when you should not.”

“I promise I will work slowly.”

She was grateful to work for a mistress who cared about her and would make noobjections if Eugenia paced herself in her work; she devoured the food. She gulped thecup of milk Deryn placed in front of her, then belched contentedly into her hand. “Thankyou, Mr. Simmons,” she said, rising to make her slow way back up the huge staircase toLady Helena's rooms. “Your breakfast was delightful.”

“You are most welcome, Miss Betham. Always happy to hear a compliment.”

She gave Deryn a hug. She strolled from the kitchen and saw Maximilian limp his wayacross the castle toward the postern doors that led to the bailey. As he had his back toher, he did not see her, nor did she try to call to him. Almost on his heels, Lord Wilmotalso left and hurried in the opposite direction. The Whitingtons emerged in a small group,and upon seeing her, Lady Helena signaled for Eugenia to come with them.

Due to Countess Whitington’s already slow pace, Eugenia had no difficulty keeping up asthey walked; Earl Whitington was murmuring to his wife about a spot of brandy in the

drawing room. Lady Helena cast a worried glance over her shoulder at Eugenia.Something is wrong. Her mistress’s worry neatly transferred to Eugenia and she fretted asthe family finally entered the drawing room.

“Miss Betham,” Earl Whitington said, helping his wife to sit on a sofa and took anarmchair for himself. “Be a dear and pour me a brandy.”

Eugenia went to a sideboard, poured the liquor into a cut crystal glass and took it to him.He thanked her with a smile, and as Lady Helena sat beside her mother, Eugenia took upa station near her. Sipping his brandy, the Earl then frowned and glanced at his wife anddaughter. “So, do we leave?” he asked. “Return to London?”

Eugenia stiffened? Leave? Why would they want to leave? The ball is in less than twoweeks. As it was not her place to speak or voice her opinion, she waited, hoped andprayed the family would choose to remain. If they did not, she would have no choice butto return to London with them

“Father,” Lady Helena said, her fingers twisted together in her lap. “I want to stay, as Iwant to go to the ball.”

Countess Whitington took her hand. “I know you do, child,” she said. “But with all thesedreadful attempts to kill the Duke? I fear your life may be in danger as well.”

“Of course, it is not.” Lady Helena's voice and blue eyes pleaded with her father. “HisGrace will catch this villain, and everything will be well again. Please. I want to stay.”

The Earl shook his head. “I am not so sure this is a wise course, Helena. We would bedevastated if anything happened to you, our only child.”

“Nothing will happen to me, Father,” Lady Helena replied, her voice stronger, moredetermined. “His Grace has everything well in hand.”

“He was pushed down the stairs, Helena,” the Countess said, her own voice revealing herfears. “Someone in this castle wishes him harm. You may be injured or killed just bybeing in the wrong place.”

Eugenia, willing them to listen to Lady Helena, found herself biting her lower lip, herhands clenched into fists.

No, we must not leave. I need to know if what is between Maximilian and myself is real. Icannot do that if I am in London.

It was not just her need to know if what lay between the two of them was budding love,she also wanted to protect Maximilian. Someone was determined to hurt him, and shewas just as determined to never let that happen.

“Please, Father,” Lady Helena begged, “Mother. We simply must stay for the ball. We alsomust give His Grace time to decide if he will marry me.”

Eugenia shot her a sharp look and discovered Lady Helena’s head turned slightly to meether gaze, then slowly lowered her lashes with a tiny smile that quickly vanished. Bearwith me that look told her. Eugenia relaxed a fraction but discovered both the Earl andthe Countess shaking their heads, unconvinced.

“We worry about you, dear,” the Countess said. “However, you may be right. I have nodesire to offend the Dowager Duchess nor the Duke. Whit, darling, do you not agree? Ifwe depart now, we risk insulting them, and then Helena has no chance at all to marry HisGrace.”

Eugenia’s heart was filled with optimism as the Earl nodded slowly. “You are right, ofcourse, my dear. But I fear I must place restrictions on you, daughter. You go nowherewithout Miss Betham, is that clear?”

Helena shot Eugenia a grateful glance and nodded. “Of course, Father,” she replied.

“Miss Betham,” he continued, “as you are a resourceful young woman, I expect you tolook after your mistress to the best of your ability.”

Eugenia curtseyed, her bruises protesting, and her head bowed. “Yes, My Lord.”

He sipped his brandy and sighed. “Then it is decided, we will stay until the ball. Afterthat, we shall see.”

The Countess sniffed, a habit she must have picked up from the Duchess. “This scoundrelmust simply be caught soon. The worry is simply overwhelming, I fear I will soon fall ill.”

M

C H A P T E R 2 1

aximilian strode toward his steward’s office as quickly as his sore body andaching ankle permitted. He knew Nigel Curry usually spent his morningsthere before making his rounds to the tenants and other estates Maximilian

owned. Hoping this was not a day where Nigel traveled a distance and departed shortlyafter dawn, he knocked politely on the door before entering.

Nigel rose from behind his desk to bow. “Your Grace,” he said. “What a pleasure.”

“I hope so,” Maximilian said, sinking with no little relief into a chair.

Nigel also sat, folding his hands atop his desk. “Is there a problem?”

“Other than some lunatic trying to kill me and Miss Betham,” he deadpanned, “noproblem at all.”

“Tell me, how can I help.”

“I wish to have someone keep an eye on Miss Betham,” Maximilian said. “Follow her,make certain nothing happens to her. Do you have someone in mind for such a task?”

“A bodyguard?”

“Yes.”

Nigel leaned back in his chair, frowning as he pondered. “Someone like that would need abit of experience in say, fighting, Your Grace. And such a guard on her might raisecomment.”

“I do not care about that, Nigel,” Maximilian answered, then bit his knuckle. “I want herback watched, protected. Do you have someone in mind?”

“In fact, I do. One of your tenants has a son who recently returned from France and thewar – stout lad, intelligent, a good soldier. Perhaps if we outfit him in the livery of afootman, he would cause less discussion and would fit in.”

Maximilian took a deep breath of relief. “I like it. Can you talk to him soon? I will pay himhandsomely.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Nigel chewed his lower lip in consternation. “But what of you? Iwould have a guard watching your back as well. Until this mystery of who wants youkilled is over with.”

“No, Nigel,” Maximilian replied, “I am already carrying a pistol with me, and will at alltimes, hidden under my coat. If I am attacked again, perhaps I can get a shot in and endthis entire debacle.”

“That will hardly help matters if he manages to kill you just as you shoot, Your Grace.”

Grinning, Maximilian rose from the chair. “We shall see. Please, find this ex-soldier today.I want him here and in his new role by this evening.”

“I will leave right now, Your Grace.”

Now feeling better and less worried, Maximilian limped to the stables to make his usualrounds, listen to reports of the head grooms, and inspect the horses. As usual, the meretrek amid the buildings that housed his beloved horses soothed his spirits and calmed hismind. The animals themselves, just by their presence, created a balm over his soul. Heoffered pieces of carrots as he walked among them, caressed noses, and felt free.

“With your permission, Your Grace,” Fergus said, pacing at his side. “I would send a fewof these older bairns with their dams to the upper pasture.”

Maximilian started to nod agreement but hesitated. Whoever this villain is might strike atme through the horses. “Yes, do it, but I want grooms watching over them. Day andnight. Rotate them so they all get sleep and food.”

“Fearing yon blighter might try to steal them?”

“Doubtful, since I seem to be the target, but I am also trying to take as few chances as Ican.”

“Perhaps you should have a guard on you, Your Grace. I have stout lads in here, any ofthem would be glad for the opportunity to watch your back.”

“I know,” Maximilian replied, walking on, gazing at the foals and their mothers in thestalls. “I do appreciate their loyalty…and yours. But I will be fine without a guard.”

“If you say so.”

“How many mare and foals will you send to the pasture?”

Fergus rubbed his chin. “Ach, we have fully a dozen bairns over a month old, Your Grace.I believe those will benefit from growing up on grass as well as keep their dams healthy.That would leave only eight others inside.”

“Do it,” Maximilian said. “But keep all the remaining mares and foals in one area. It willbe easier to keep a sharp watch on them.”

Fergus eyed him with open concern. “You truly feel that someone might try to harm thehorses?”

“My gut is telling me that anything I care about is at risk, Fergus,” Maximilian replied. “Iam merely taking extra precautions.”

“I will tell the lads to keep their eyes open for any trouble, Your Grace.”

“Excellent. You are doing a wonderful job here, Fergus. Thank you.”

“My thanks, Your Grace.”

After admonishing the other head grooms to order the men under their charge to becautious and on the lookout for anything troublesome or unusual, Maximilian returned tothe castle. Limping to his study, he closed the door behind him and sat behind his deskwith a sigh. More than any of the sordid injuries, his ankle bothered him the worst.Though it had been tightly wrapped by Mr. Leary, it throbbed and pained him somethingterrible.

Muttering choice words under his breath, he reached for quill pen and paper, and wrote aquick letter to Edmund Felton, Viscount of Mallen.

My dear Mallen, I would like to pay a call on you if it is not inconvenient. I will arrive inthree days. Please reply by this messenger. Yours, Bromenville.

Folding the paper, then sealing it with wax and his seal, Maximilian limped his way from

his study and closed the door behind him. Handing the missive to a nearby footman, hesaid, “Carry this to the Mallen estates, and wait for the Viscount’s reply.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” The footman bowed and departed on his errand.

Returning to his study, Maximilian sat back in his chair and absorbed himself intoexamining Nigel’s ledgers and reports regarding the running of his estates. Bemused bythe income generated by the latest sale of horses to the army, he whistled under hisbreath and penned a note to Nigel about buying more broodmares. Busy at his work, hehad little idea how quickly the time passed until a discreet knock sounded at his door.

“Come,” he called, sitting back in his chair.

Nigel entered and with him a young man in the dark homespun wool of a farmer. Bothbowed low as Maximilian gestured for them to come inside. “Close the door,” he said.

“Your Grace,” Nigel began, gesturing toward the youth. “This is Durwin Oldman. He hasagreed to work as a guard to Miss Betham.”

“Most excellent.” Maximilian steepled his fingers and eyed the young man up and down.He carried himself like a soldier, his body straight, his eyes clear and unwavering onMaximilian’s. “You were a soldier, Mr. Oldman?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” he answered, his voice firm without the usual awe most non-aristocrats held upon meeting him. “I served two years in France.”

“And survived,” Maximilian added. “I believe you have some wits about you. No doubtNigel here has informed you of my present difficulties?”

“He has.”

“I want you armed, Mr. Oldman, but discreetly. Nigel will find you a pistol you will carrybeneath your livery. He will give you the basic duties of a footman in my household, butyou will attend Miss Betham and her mistress, Lady Helena, exclusively.”

“I understand, Your Grace.”

“As a soldier, you have no doubt experienced much discomfort,” Maximilian added, histone dry, “but it should be little hardship to you to sleep on the floor outside LadyHelena's chambers at night. You will be paid quite well for your services.”

Durwin Oldman smiled. “Believe me, Your Grace, sleeping on a stone floor in a castle islittle compared to the places I slept while in France. At least, inside I am sheltered fromthe weather.”

“Good. Now I wish I had more information to give you on what threats you may face. Butall I can say is be alert and watchful. If you must use your weapon, I would ask, ifpossible, that you shoot to wound only. Not kill. I want to question, at length, whoever isbehind this. Are we clear?”

“Perfectly, Your Grace.”

“Then Nigel will obtain for you your livery and the pistol,” Maximilian said. “He will showyou Miss Betham and Lady Helena, so you will begin your new duties as soon as you arefitted with everything. Remember, I want discretion. No informing the other servantswhat you are doing. You were merely ordered to wait upon the two women.”

“Understood, Your Grace.”

Nodding their dismissal, Maximilian watched them bow and depart, feeling better aboutEugenia’s and even Lady Helena's safety. Though he doubted Lady Helena was a target,and Eugenia was only attacked because of his liking and interest in her, having both ofthem guarded lifted a weight from his shoulders.

An hour or so after supper, as the castle’s inhabitants settled into their own privatequarters for the night, Maximilian limped into the garden. The night was cool, and he feltgrateful he wore his coat. The pistol rested comfortably in his inner pocket, within easyreach if needed, and none at supper commented on the bulge. Eugenia, wearing a heavywool cloak against the chill night air, stood talking in quiet tones with Lady Helena.

Startled to see the two of them instead of just Eugenia, Maximilian thought Lady Helenamade an excellent chaperone. She, too, wore a warm cloak, the hood pulled over her redlocks, and the pair ceased their conversation and curtseyed as he approached. A shortdistance away, Mr. Oldman, in his new livery and powdered wig, bowed low.

Eugenia gestured toward her mistress. “Lady Helena agreed to act as our chaperone,Your Grace.”

Maximilian smiled and offered her a small bow. “Thank you, Lady Helena.”

“There is another reason I am here, Your Grace,” Lady Helena said. “My parents areconcerned about my welfare while we are here, given the recent…attacks on your person.They wanted to return to London, but I persuaded them to stay until after the ball. Onthe condition that Eugenia keeps an eye on me.”

“Well, that works perfectly into my plan, then,” he replied, grinning. “Having you twoconstantly together is a very good thing.”

“How do you mean?” Eugenia asked.

Maximilian jerked his chin toward Mr. Oldman. “That young man there is not a footman.He is your bodyguard.”

Lifting his hand, he invited the young soldier forward. Resting his hand on his shoulder,

Maximilian went on. “This is Durwin Oldman. He is a former soldier who is now yourwatchdog. He will never leave your side and will sleep outside your door. If you see orhear anything out of the ordinary, tell him. His presence will be explained away as you,Lady Helena, will need to have an attendant carry messages and packages while you getready for the ball.”

Lady Helena exchanged a glance with Eugenia. “But, Your Grace,” she said, her voicehesitant. “Footmen do not sleep outside doors.”

“Unusual, yes,” he replied easily. “But not unheard of. Whatever gossip this generates willquickly die down. But no matter the household talk, this young man goes everywherewith you.”

The two young ladies glanced at one another, smiling. “This will certainly make myparents feel better about remaining here,” Lady Helena said. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I am glad, then, Lady Helena,” Maximilian said. “Now I would excuse Miss Betham andmyself, if you do not mind.”

“Not at all.”

Lady Helena hung back, and Mr. Oldman returned to his former position. Maximilianslipped Eugenia’s arm through his. “How are the bruises?”

“Healing. How about yours?”

“The same, perhaps,” he said, glancing downward. “It is this ankle that gives me themost trouble.”

“Perhaps you should not walk on it. It may heal faster if you do not.”

“It may,” he agreed. “But if I did, then I would miss our lovely walks in the garden.”

Eugenia breathed deeply, smiling up at the nearly full moon. “It is such a beautifulevening, Max. A pity winter will set in soon.”

“I always thought London in winter is quite hideous,” he said, glancing up at the nightsky, the stars glittering overhead. “But here in Yorkshire, well, let us just say they aremagnificent.”

“The ball is in less than two weeks,” she said. “The Whitingtons will return to Londonafter.”

“I know.”

“Will you write me letters?”

He smiled down at her. “Perhaps.”

“To have the Duke of Bromenville writing me letters,” Eugenia said with a sigh. “I will bethe envy of all London. I understand that you cannot ask for my hand in marriage, as Iam too lowly for you.”

“Hush.” He halted near a small grove of apple trees and gazed down at her. “Let us notpresume anything, Eugenia. Least of all what is going on between us. If it is true love,then we will follow it and what will happen will happen. If not,” he smiled and lightlytouched her nose with his finger. “then I will write you letters.”

“Then I expect we shall see what happens then, Max.”

“I do know I like you very much. I enjoy your company, as well as your good sense. And

you love horses.”

“That I do. I hope I can continue to visit the young ones.”

“Of course,” Maximilian began, then caught sight of a servant hurrying toward LadyHelena and stiffened. From the corner of his eye he saw Eugenia follow the direction ofhis gaze. The servant spoke to Lady Helena for a few moments, then went back to thecastle. Lady Helena began to walk toward them.

“What is wrong?” she asked.

“I do not know. But come. We best find out.”

Lady Helena met them halfway, with Mr. Oldman lingering not far away, his eyesscanning the garden darkness. Her face, even in the dim light, was a mask of worry, andshe wrung her hands in front of her.

“Is something wrong?’ Maximilian asked.

“Your Grace,” she said, near tears. “My mother has taken ill.”

E

C H A P T E R 2 2

ugenia cared for Countess Whitington almost as much as she cared for Mrs.Reilly, the cook in the Whitingtons’ London home. Though she could not truly callher ‘mother’, she knew the Countess loved her as well. Thus, she accompanied a

weeping Lady Helena, followed by Maximilian and Mr. Oldman, to the quarters theCountess currently resided in. Earl Whitington, clad in his formal supper attire but with hiscravat untied and his waistcoat unbuttoned, stood outside her chamber door.

“My wife has a fever,” he said, offering Maximilian a perfunctory bow. “Your householdphysician is in with her at the moment.”

“What is wrong with her?” Lady Helen tried to cover that she had been crying. She wipedher face with her hands and made a discreet attempt to sniffle without anyone noticing.

“He is not sure,” the Earl said. “After supper, she complained of a headache. She told meshe would retire for the night, then later sent her abigail to fetch me. I then sent for Mr.Leary.”

“How long has he been in with her?” Maximilian asked.

“Several minutes, Your Grace,” Whitington answered. “Perhaps it is just a passing illness.”

“I cannot imagine what else it might be,” Maximilian commented, frowning. “But Mr.Leary is one of the best, Whitington. The Countess is in very capable hands.”

“I can help nurse her back to health, Your Grace, My Lord,” Eugenia offered.

Seeing Lady Helena still near tears, she slipped her arm through her mistress’s andpatted her hand. Lady Helena glanced at her, trying to smile. “She will be all right,”Eugenia whispered to her. “You and I, we will see her through it.”

“Of course, we will.” Lady Helena briefly squeezed Eugenia’s hand, then straightened herback; Eugenia had just given her a quick shot of courage.

The door to the Countess’s chambers opened, and Mr. Leary emerged. He bowed to bothMaximilian and the Earl, and spoke quickly upon seeing the small crowd, closing the doorbehind him. “My Lady is resting.”

“Do you know what is wrong with her?” Maximilian asked.

“Your Grace, I do believe Countess Whitington is suffering from a condition known asdropsy.”

Earl Whitington shook his head. “She has had that before. The physician then gave herfoxglove.”

Mr. Leary nodded. “I did as well. Along with chamomile. Her fever is down, but she shouldbe watched through the night.”

“Eugenia and I will stay with her,” Lady Helena stated quickly. “We can take turnssleeping.”

Removing a small brown bottle from his coat pocket, Mr. Leary handed it to Lady Helena.“This is chamomile tonic. Give her a spoonful if she wakes. She needs rest now, so pleaseremain as quiet as possible. She should be able to get out of bed in a few days. I will

come see her again in the morning.”

“Thank you, Mr. Leary.” Lady Helena held the bottle tightly.

With slight nods and bows, the physician walked through the corridor. Eugenia watchedhim go, then glanced at Maximilian. He briefly smiled, and tipped her a quick wink, as shefelt relief course through her. The Countess would be all right. She glanced beyond himtoward Mr. Oldman, who stood at stiff attention with his back against the wall. If he wereto sleep on the floor outside the chamber, then she would make certain he had plenty ofblankets and pillows to keep him comfortable.

“Whitington,” Maximilian asked, garnering the Earl’s attention. “Care for a spot of brandywith me?”

Whitington nodded, then gestured toward his own apartments a short way down thecorridor. “It would be my pleasure, Your Grace, if you joined me.”

“I will be happy to.”

As the two men walked away, talking in low tones, Eugenia and Lady Helena opened thedoor to the Countess’s chambers and went in. Eugenia softly closed the door behindthem, seeing Clara, the Countess’s personal maid, sitting beside the woman’s bed. Theabigail turned her head to see them and rose to curtsey to Lady Helena.

“I am so glad you are here,” Clara said in a near whisper. “I have been keeping coldcloths on her brow, but she is still restless in her sleep.”

Eugenia knew Clara had served the Countess since they were both young, and age hadnot been kind to Clara. She walked with a stoop, her hair touched with frost, but she waskind and served Countess Whitington with loyalty. Though the two women served in thesame house since Eugenia was a child, she did not know Clara well, as the older womanseldom left her mistress’s chambers. She touched the woman’s hand with her fingertips.

“Get your rest, Miss Clara,” she said. “Lady Helena and I will look after her tonight.”

Clara smiled. “Bless you, Miss Betham. Bless you, Lady Helena.”

Tottering, she walked carefully into the other small room where her bed was, andEugenia heard the rustle of clothing. Turning her attention to the woman in the bed, shesat gingerly on the edge of it on the far side of Lady Helena. Countess Whitington slept, adark cloth on her brow. Lightly touching it, she found it warm and plucked it off to wet itagain. The basin of water on the table held cool water, not cold, and Eugenia frowned.

“I should get more water,” she whispered.

Lady Helena shook her head, pressing the back of her hand to her mother’s temple. “No.Her fever is gone. Let us go into the antechamber and let her sleep.”

The Countess tossed in her bed, muttering something they could not understand, thenrelaxed into normal slumber. Tiptoeing, the two left her, turned down the wicks of thelamps, and collapsed into armchairs. “I want some wine,” Lady Helena declared.

“Are you sure that is a good idea?” Eugenia asked. “We both might fall asleep.”

“A little will not hurt. I am still shaking from the worry, and the wine will help. You havesome, as well.”

Rising, Eugenia went to the sideboard and poured each of them a small glass of wine.After handing one to Lady Helena, Eugenia sat back down with her own. “This is the thirdtime your mother has contracted this – dropsy,” she said.

Lady Helena nodded. “I know. I am terrified that during one of these times, she will notrecover.” Tears leaked from her eyes as she sipped her wine, crying silently.

“Do not think that, Helena,” Eugenia said, her tone firm. “Do not tempt fate. Your motherwill be fine and will live many years yet.”

Lady Helena nodded. “You are right of course. I must not tempt fate.” She sniffled andwiped her reddened cheeks with her hands. “She will be fine,” she repeated as thoughsaying so made it a charm.

“She is a strong woman,” Eugenia went on. “We will see her through this.”

Lady Helena smiled. “I am so happy you are here with me. I do not know what I woulddo if I lost you.”

“What kind of talk is this? You are not going to lose me.”

“I am simply frightened that I will.”

Thus, they drank some wine and spoke of lighter, happier things, and continually checkedon Countess Whitington. The older woman seemed to sleep more comfortably knowingher daughter was there beside her. Eugenia gathered up extra blankets and a pillow,then opened the door that led into the corridor. She smiled at Mr. Oldman, still standingat attention, his back to the wall.

“Here,” she said, setting the blankets on the floor. “The night will get chilly, especially onthe stone floor.”

A small smile cracked his features. “Thank you, Miss Betham.”

“Sleep well, Mr. Oldman.”

The sunlight streamed through the windows when Eugenia woke with a start. She laypartially covered in a blanket on a couch, still in the clothes she had worn the previousday. Yawning, she sat up, stretching, and heard murmured voices coming from thebedchamber. Rising, she padded quietly in, finding the Countess awake and talking withLady Helena. Clara tidied the room, walking stiffly, but managed a smile for Eugenia.Mother and daughter broke off their conversation at her entrance.

“Are you feeling better, My Lady?” Eugenia asked, curtseying.

“No, I am very tired, dear, so very tired. Will you be a dear and fetch me something coldto drink? Water? Milk?”

“Of course, My Lady.”

“And some broth, Eugenia,” Lady Helena added. “She needs nourishment.”

“Certainly. I will be right back.”

Outside, she discovered Mr. Oldman once again standing with his back to the wall, theblankets folded neatly. She smiled at him and found to her surprise that he followed herdown the corridor. “Should you not stay with Lady Helena and the Countess?”

“I am to stay with you no matter what, Miss Betham.”

“Then you can help carry the trays.”

With his help, Eugenia brought back not just cold milk and hot broth, but breakfast foreveryone, including Mr. Oldman. As he remained out in the corridor, eating his meal,Eugenia and Clara distributed the remaining food. Countess Whitington seemed brighter

after drinking her cold milk and warm broth, but Lady Helena insisted she sleep againwith the help of the chamomile.

“I must tend to my duties,” Eugenia whispered after the Countess slept again. “I willbring you fresh clothes.”

“Thank you,” Lady Helena murmured, once more sitting beside her mother. “This gown iswrinkled from sleeping in it.”

Thus, with Mr. Oldman tagging along behind her, Eugenia returned to the quarters sheshared with Lady Helena. She washed, brushed and braided her dark hair, then dressedin a fresh gown before she took clean clothes back to Lady Helena. When Mr. Learyreturned to look in on the countess, Eugenia and Lady Helena headed back to theirrooms.

Lady Helena glanced back over her shoulder at Mr. Oldman. She leaned in to whisper inEugenia’s ear. “I think having him follow us everywhere will get quite boring quite soon.”

Eugenia glanced over her shoulder and giggled. “He heard that.”

“Oh, dear.”

On their way, they encountered Maximilian, the Dowager Duchess, and Earl Whitingtonheading toward the Countess’s rooms after breaking their fast. Both curtseyed quickly,both equally dismayed to find the Duchess there. Eugenia caught Maximilian’s eye but didnot smile for fear of gathering the Duchess’s attention on her.

“Ah, my dear Lady Helena,” she cooed. “How is your dear mother?”

“She is sleeping, Your Grace.”

“Has she made any improvements, child? Why, I hardly slept a wink knowing that mydear friend and guest has become ill. I simply must look in on her. This is all so dreadful,simply dreadful.”

Behind his stepmother and out of the Earl’s direct line of sight, Maximilian rolled his eyes.He mimed with his facial expression and his hands an imitation of a chattering jay.Eugenia ducked her head, choking on a laugh that turned into a cough, but the Duchessturned her ice blue eyes on her, knowing she attempted to cover her humor.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Lady Helena replied, fighting not to grin. “Mr. Leary is with hernow, but I am certain she will enjoy your visit, Your Grace.”

“Of course, she will.”

The Duchess marched forward, thrusting her way past them and down the corridor. EarlWhitington followed on her heels, which left Maximilian to chuckle as he eyed Eugeniaand Lady Helena.

“Is your mother truly improving, Lady Helena?” he asked, his tone kind.

“Yes, Your Grace, thank you for asking. Her fever has not returned, and she slept wellthrough the night.”

“Good, good. Now I will pay my respects to her, if you do not mind.”

The girls curtseyed politely, then giggled their way back to their rooms, Mr. Oldmanfollowing behind, his expression neutral. If Maximilian had not already caught her eye,Eugenia might have thought him attractive with his stern, military visage.

No one can look as good as Max, however.

She offered him a quick smile over her shoulder as he stood once again outside LadyHelena's chambers as they went inside.

“I want to go up to the battlements,” Lady Helena said. “Lord Wilmot likes to go up there,and he told me the view is magnificent.”

Eugenia peered through the window at the low, misty clouds outside. “We might need ourcloaks then.”

“It is still summer in London.” Lady Helena gestured toward a pale green gown withribbons and lace. “This far north, the winter moves in early.”

After getting her mistress clad in the fresh gown, her hair coiffed, and a warm cloak overher shoulders, Eugenia swung her own cloak over her shoulders. With Mr. Oldman in tow,the two of them headed up the long flights of stairs, passing closed doors in thepassageways. A few retired servants lived up here, living out their years in quiet,cherished and cared for, after their lives of service were over.

A stiff breeze assaulted them as they opened the door that led out onto the northernbattlements. Eugenia heard Lady Helena mutter something about a mistake to come uphere and grinned. “Come on. It is not that bad,” she said. “Let us take a look over here.”

Eugenia walking toward a squat round tower, climbed up the steps to the outer wall andgazed at the wind-swept landscape. She was stunned by the view of its raw beauty andrugged hills, the moors rolling green and purple as far as she could see. The sun glitteredoff a distant lake, casting barbs of silver into her eyes. She gulped the clean air andturned.

“Lady Helena, you really should see this.”

Lady Helena, shivering in her cloak, shook her head. “No, I am cold. The wind up here isterrible.”

“That is what makes it so beautiful,” Eugenia held out her hand. “Just for a minute.Please?”

Taking a step forward, Lady Helena suddenly snapped her head to her left. Her blue eyeswidened in horror. “Eugenia!” she screamed. “Look out!”

Something hard smashed into Eugenia’s back. Shoved hard, she flailed her arms to keepher balance, but could not stop her fall. She caught a rapid glimpse of the rocks below atthe castle’s roots, and she fell.

E

C H A P T E R 2 3

ugenia screamed.

Falling, throwing her arms out, she fought to grab hold of something, anything, that couldstop her fatal plunge to the rocks below. From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure in ablack cloak and hood darting away, and from a distance heard Lady Helena's terrifiedcries. Floundering, she grabbed hold of the stone wall but had nothing to grab onto tostop gravity from pulling her to her death. Her body slipped.

Dragged downward, her fingers of her right hand caught a niche between the squared-offstones of the wall. Her fall broken, she hung there, her left hand tried in vain to reach upand grab hold of the wall’s top. Too far, it remained out of her grip. Panicked, she knewher fingers could not hold her for long.

A head and upper body appeared over the stone battlement. Mr. Oldman. His young face,calm, in control, sent hope rushing through her terror. His strong hand gripped her rightwrist just as her fingers betrayed her to drop her to her death. “Give me your otherhand,” he told her.

Flailing, Eugenia tried to throw her left hand up into his, but she fell inches short of it.Over and over, she struggled, unable to reach his hand. “I – I cannot,” she gasped. Shefelt his hand gripping her wrist slip. I am going to die.

“I got you, Miss Betham,” he said, his tone still utterly calm. “I will not let you fall. Stopstruggling. There. That is better. Now when I say reach, I want you to throw everything

you have into grabbing my hand. Now – reach!”

Bracing her toes against the outer wall of the castle, Eugenia grit her teeth and threwherself upward. Her hand smacked into his. Using his weight, Mr. Oldman hauled himselfbackward, dragging Eugenia with him. Her chest, breasts, and belly bumped and scrapedover the rough stone, but within seconds, she lay in a sobbing heap on the battlementfloor.

“Eugenia!”

She heard Maximilian’s bellow, caught a glimpse of him racing across the battlementtoward her, and felt him drop to his knees beside her. Discovering herself enfolded intohis strong arms, she wept against his shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. “I got you,” hemurmured against her hair. “I got you. You are safe now.”

Over her head, she heard Mr. Oldman say, “A man in a cloak and hood, Your Grace. Hecame out of that door there and pushed her. He was unbelievably quick and ran backthrough in an instant.”

“That is right, Your Grace.” Lady Helena's voice sounded right over her. “I screamed awarning, but I was too late. Mr. Oldman – I have never seen anyone run so fast. If he hadnot been here – ”

Eugenia heard Lady Helena’s voice choke off, and the sound of Lady Helena crying.Through her terror, she could not focus her thoughts but felt her heart beating so hard inher chest, she expected it to burst at any moment. Maximilian’s soothing voice told her tobreathe, just breathe, and she tried to obey him.

Rocking her gently, Maximilian soothed her fright and spoke to the others. “Thank Godyou were here, Mr. Oldman. Lady Helena, did you see anything that might indicate whothis villain is? Did you see his face?”

“N – no, Your Grace. It happened so fast. He – he ran out of that tower door, shovedEugenia, then was gone. It happened so fast.”

“The hood covered his face,” Mr. Oldman added. “The cloak covered all of him save hisboots. I saw nothing remarkable about them.”

“Why did you decide to come up here, Lady Helena?” Maximilian asked, his tone gentle.“Who knew you were planning it?”

“No one, Your Grace,” she answered, her voice calmer. “It was on impulse, I thought Iwanted to see the view, but the wind was too cold. Eugenia – Eugenia enjoyed it. Howdid you happen to come here?”

Calm enough now to be curious about how Maximilian did indeed wind up on thebattlements just after she was pushed, Eugenia raised her tear streaked face. “Yes. Howdid you know we were here?”

“After I paid my respects to the Countess,” he said, “I thought to look for you both. See ifyou wished to pay a visit to the stables. I confess, I saw you heading for the stairs andfollowed.”

“I am glad you did,” Eugenia whispered.

“If Mr. Oldman had not caught you,” he murmured, his deep-sea blue eyes darker thanever, “I would have been too late.”

“You were right to assign us a guard,” Lady Helena said, her voice low. “He tried to killher in broad daylight in front of witnesses.”

“He grows bolder, Your Grace,” Mr. Oldman said. “Perhaps he is getting desperate.”

“Yes, I think he is,” Maximilian said, rising and bringing Eugenia up with him. “Whateverhis motive is for trying to kill us, it is almost as if he is under some sort of pressure to getthe job done as quickly as possible.”

“If your assumption is correct, Your Grace,” Mr. Oldman said, “then you should doublywatch your back.”

“I plan to.”

Smoothing Eugenia’s loosened hair back from her face, Maximilian gazed into her eyes.“Better?”

Still shaking, needing his support to stand, Eugenia could not find a smile for him. “I thinkso,” she whispered. “May we go back inside now?”

“Of course.”

Leaning heavily on his strength, with Lady Helena hovering at her side, Eugenia walkedslowly across the battlements toward the door. All she wanted was to return to herrooms, crawl into her bed and hide away under the covers. Her trembling did not ease,and she felt faintly ill. With the first rush of terror over, she felt the front of her bodyburning from the many scrapes the unforgiving stone had given her. Glancing down, shediscovered her gown had been torn.

Wrapping her cloak tightly around herself to hide it, Eugenia glanced up when the doorinto the castle suddenly opened. Lord Wilmot stepped through, clad in a dark blue coat,white ruffled shirt, tidy cravat, and black trousers. “I say,” he exclaimed, taking in thesight of Maximilian assisting Eugenia to walk. “Did something happen?”

Instinctively, Eugenia moved away from Maximilian’s protection, feeling heat rise to hercheeks at her unseemly appearance. She felt Lord Wilmot’s eyes crawling over her andtried to tidy herself. She managed a small curtsey and noticed from the corner of her eye,

Lady Helena do the same.

“An accident,” Maximilian replied tersely. “It is all right now.”

“Ah,” Lord Wilmot replied. “Jolly good, then.”

As quickly as he appeared, Lord Wilmot turned and left the battlement, returning the wayhe had come. Though she felt relief when he no longer stared at her, Eugenia found itodd that he did not remain on the battlements as Lady Helena said he liked to do. Sheguessed that was why he went there in the first place.

“I want Mr. Leary to look at you,” Maximilian murmured.

Eugenia shook her head. “I am fine, really. I just want to lie down for a while.”

Her half-healed bruises awakened, her scrapes burning, Eugenia, with Maximilian’s help,made her slow way down the stairs to Lady Helena's apartments. At the door, Maximilianstopped, gazing down at her. “I will leave you to the ministrations of Lady Helena,” hesaid. “I will send food to you here and a maid to help both Lady Helena and you.”

Eugenia nodded. “Your Grace, thank you.”

After bending her knees in a painful curtsey, she gazed up into his face. Rage and worrywarred across his rugged handsomeness, yet it was concern that won out. “Get your rest,Miss Betham.”

This time she found a small smile for him. “I will.”

Hidden by her cloak, Maximilian took her hand and squeezed it, his eyes softening as hegazed down at her. “I am so sorry this is happening to you,” he murmured.

“It is not your fault.”

He nodded. “Yes. I think it is. I will look in on you later.”

Watching him go, Eugenia wanted to call him back, to throw caution to the wind and askhim to sit by her, hold her hand while she slept. Craving his arms around her again, shesimply looked at him and watched him walk away, his head down. Lady Helena's armaround her shoulder urged her inside while Mr. Oldman once more took up his stationoutside the door.

Despite her youth and natural resilience, Eugenia found recovering from this latest attackon her life difficult to overcome. Visions of falling to the unforgiving rocks at the castle’sbase haunted her sleep. She would wake, gasping for breath, sweating, yet feeling coldchills crawl across her flesh. The damage done to her body healed faster than thedamage done to her spirit, her soul.

There is an evil man walking in this castle.

She knew how truly big this castle was, and how easily a man might hide within its walls.She imagined he came and went as he pleased, emerging to wreak havoc upon her lifeand Maximilian’s, then vanish like a ghost, never to be seen again until he stepped out totry to again. There were empty rooms by the score and cellars no one has used for ahundred years – a perfect place for a murderer to lurk, hiding, biding his time.

“Stop brooding.”

Eugenia glanced up from her mending of one of Lady Helena's gowns to find her mistress– fists on her hips and frowning at her. Only then did she realized she had not made astitch for several minutes, and Lady Helena noticed. Swallowing hard, Eugenia tried torefocus on her needlework and pushed the needle through the cloth.

“It has been three days, Eugenia,” Lady Helena said, now sitting beside her on the couch.“You have hardly left these rooms. The Duke is going out of his mind worrying aboutyou.”

“I feel safe here.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Lady Helena rested her hand on Eugenia’s. “But you cannotbecome another Clara, remaining in these chambers for years uncounted, hardly leavingthem. If you do, I know your spirit will wither and die. I will not let that happen.”

“I cannot face out there,” Eugenia whispered, her voice trembling “He is hidingsomewhere in this castle, waiting for me to come out, to hurt me. I can feel his malice onmy skin, feel his eyes on me.”

Lady Helena rubbed her arms, shivering. “Now you have given me the frights. But weboth cannot, must not, live our lives in fear. You are missed, Eugenia. Even your littlefriend from the kitchen approached me to ask if you were coming back.”

“Please?” Eugenia asked, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I need more time.”

“One more day,” Lady Helena replied, her tone one that informed Eugenia that shemeant every word. “Then you will start living your life again and face your fears. For ifyou do not do it soon, I know they will take over, and you will never be free of them.”

Eugenia nodded unhappily. “Tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow.”

After Lady Helena left, Eugenia stared down at the sewing in her lap, shivering.

Tomorrow is too soon. I cannot do it, I am too frightened. God help me, I cannot leavethese rooms ever again. Not even for Max.

M

C H A P T E R 2 4

aximilian stood near the stable, garbed for riding in a black coat and habit.His tall hat sat on his head as he waited for the grooms to saddle his horse.Though his ankle still pained him, he thought it healed enough to ride to

the Viscount Mallen’s estate. He hated leaving his castle when Eugenia still felttraumatized by the attack three days prior. Not knowing what he could do to help heronly added to his frustrations and feelings of helplessness.

“Here you are, Your Grace,” the groom said, leading out from the stable one of hisfavorite riding horses, a tall, rangy bay gelding.

The man held the horse’s bridle as Maximilian swung into the saddle, then waved to himcheerfully as he nudged the horse down the road at a mile eating trot. Naturally, histhoughts traveled unerringly to Eugenia. In private, Lady Helena explained to him heremotional trauma, her nightmares, her inability to leave their rooms. He had been in tosee her and felt rising alarm at her pale flesh and gaunt cheeks.

While she smiled and tried to be the humorous and sweet girl he knew, he also realized itwas a sham. The girl he spoke to and tried to make laugh had turned into a shell, a ghostof her former self. And he had no idea how to bring her back.

“I love her,” he said to the gelding. “God help me, I love Eugenia.”

While admitting to himself what he had suspected was growing all along, he wonderedhow easily it would be for him to lose her. Her mental state was as fragile as spun glass,and if it broke – “It will not happen,” he gritted, inadvertently tightening his hands on the

reins. The gelding tossed his head, asking for the release. He relaxed his fingers, but nothis jaw. “I will not permit it. I am the Duke of Bromenville, and no cowardly villain lurkingin the castle will ever keep me from the woman I want. I will help her … somehow.”

The Viscount of Mallen had obviously seen him riding up his road from the windows, forhe stood at the doors of his huge house as grooms rushed to take Maximilian’s horse. Hedismounted, handed the reins to one of the grooms, and walked up the steps to the hugefront porch

“You look like you need a stiff brandy,” Edmund said, shaking Maximilian’s hand. “A goodthing I have plenty ready for imbibing.”

“You are so very right, my friend,” Maximilian said, following his host into the house.

Seated in Edmund’s library, a brandy in his hand, Maximilian felt as though a weight hadbeen lifted from his shoulders.

Perhaps I just needed to get away from the perpetual drama for a quiet afternoon with afriend.

He felt relaxed for the first time in weeks and smiled as Mallen sat in a chair near him.The fire on the hearth crackled and spat sparks, its heat sending tendrils of warmth upfrom his legs to his belly

“Your letter did not say what you needed to see me about,” Mallen leaned back in hischair.

“I am in love.”

Maximilian’s words, spoken to another human being, made his feelings for Eugenia all themore real to him. He never told anyone else about his love for Sophia and kept it

between Edmund and himself. Thus, few knew about his broken heart –and one of themwas Edmund, now grinning, nodding, and clapping his hands genteelly together.

“Damn happy for you,” he said, raising his snifter of brandy. “Here is to you, Max, andyour lovely lady.”

They clinked glasses and drank.

“Tell me,” Mallen said, “is it that Whitington girl? Lady Helena?”

Maximilian shook his head, smiling. “Her maid.”

Edmund paused in lifting his glass to his lips, his brows hiked. He lowered it. “The lady’sabigail?”

“The very one. Now, do not tell me you disapprove.”

“It is not for me to approve or disapprove, old chap,” Mallen said, crossing his legs. “Ifyou are happy, then I am ecstatic.”

“I wish I was as happy as all that.”

“Are you going to tell me what is wrong, or must I drag it from you with a team of six?”

With a sigh, Maximilian told him about the attempts on not just his life but on Eugenia’s.As he spoke of the loose stallion all but trampling her to death, of a hooded figurepushing him down the steps, and the latest attempt of shoving Eugenia off thebattlement, he watched Edmund’s face grow dark with anger.

“This is outrageous,” he said, his tone something that Maximilian had never encounteredbefore. “You have someone lurking about in your rock pile trying to kill not just you butthe little maid you are fond of?”

“That is about the extent of it.”

“You know what this reeks of?” Mallen asked, his voice still hard. “Outside of malice,discontent, and other maladies of the mind?”

“What?”

“Jealousy.”

“Jeal –”

“To me, and this is just my opinion mind, these are the attacks of a jealous woman.”

Maximilian froze. “You are thinking of Sophia, are you not?”

“Indeed I am. Consider it,” he said, leaning forward. “Sophia perhaps changed her mindabout what she wanted from you. Now she wants you back and discovers she cannothave you. So, she will slay what she cannot have. If she cannot have you, no one will.”

“And thus, she lashes out at the woman I am interested in.”

“Exactly.”

Maximilian shook his head. “Edmund, I cannot see Sophia – of all people – running about

in my castle trying to kill me. Whoever this is knows that castle like one born there.Sophia was inside it, what, twice?”

“No one says it is she herself,” Edmund said, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. “Myguess is she is behind it and has one of your servants in her pocket.”

“But how would she know of my affection for Eugenia?”

Mallen held his snifter up to the light as though admiring the color of the brandy. “Haveyou been circumspect?”

“Er, well...”

“My guess is the entire place knows. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then, dear boy, all you have to do is weed out the spying, would-be murderer fromamidst the, um … just how many servants do you have?”

Maximilian stared at the fire. “Too many to count on one hand.”

“So, there you go. Find Sophia’s little pet, and you are free to marry - what is her name?”

“Eugenia.”

Edmund smiled. “That is a lovely name, Eugenia. While I am disappointed she has nowealth or titles to add to your vast collection, I am very happy for you. Have you asked

her to marry you?”

“Not with all this going on,” Maximilian replied with a sigh. “Plus, I only just admitted it tomyself that I do indeed love her.”

“I expect her feelings are equally strong?”

“They were,” Maximilian breathed another deep sigh. “Until the rogue tried to throw heroff the battlements. Now she is frightened and traumatized, refusing to leave her rooms.”

“There is a cure for that,” Edmund said, sipping his brandy and watching Maximilian overthe rim of his glass.

Maximilian perked up, interested, excited. “There is? What?”

“It’s called time, old boy. Give her time. And love, which I know you have in plenty. Isuspect she is a tough girl, is she not? For I cannot see you falling in love with anythingless than your equal in strength and courage. You might marry a milksop, but love amilksop?” Edmund grinned and sipped his brandy. “Not you.”

“Perhaps that is one of the reasons I cannot tolerate Lady Helena,” Maximilian admitted.“She is beautiful, but she is also the perfect noble wife in all things. She could never lovethe horses the way I do, was bored silly in the stable. Eugenia, on the other hand, wasthrilled to watch a foal’s birth, did not hesitate to get into the straw and muck. She evenfaced down my stepmother.”

“Now that is a woman worthy of marriage.” Mallen grinned.

“I just hope you are right,” Maximilian said. “That she will come around with time.”

“And love. Do not forget that part.”

“I will not. If I can find this rogue before the ball, then perhaps that will be when I askEugenia to marry me.”

“Oh, right, the ball. My wife tells me we have not received an invitation.”

He clicked his tongue in admonishment. Maximilian grinned and dug into an inner pocketof his coat. Pulled out a heavily engraved invitation and handed it to Mallen. “You arecordially invited to the ball, Edmund. You and your lovely lady.”

“She will be so impressed and flattered that you delivered this in person,” Mallen saidwith a grin, tucking it away in his own coat, “that I fear she will take to her bed with thevapors. I myself anticipate the invitation to the wedding.”

“First things first,” Maximilian said. “I must find this rogue before he kills us both.”

Maximilian spent the day and ate supper with Edmund and his wife, then rode home inthe twilight. His spirits lifted after his conversations with his friend; his hopes rose evenas the sun sank beyond the rolling hills of the moors. He whistled an aimless tune underhis breath, his now rested gelding’s trot filled with energy and life. All around him, soundsof birds settling into thickets, of insects chirping, even the almost noiseless flight of ahunting owl filled his ears.

He mentally planned to visit Eugenia when he returned home, to put Edmund’s ideas intoaction – tell her loved her and missed her. He knew he could give her the time sheneeded to recover from this ordeal, and he reminded himself he needed to be patient. “Itmay take a while for her to be herself again,” he said to the gelding.

The horse twitched his ears to listen, then suddenly swung them, and his head, towardthe right. Well-trained and well-mannered, he did not whinny, but his trot slackened

slightly. Maximilian also turned his head to see what caught the horse’s attention. He sawnothing save the darkness and the last of the sunlight edging the hills. Yet, the hairs onthe back of his neck stood upright.

He had ridden this road many times, in daylight and darkness, and knew everything thatlived on the moors. His horse, too, was experienced and intelligent, and busily told himthey were not alone amid the hills and heather. Only the sight, smell, and sounds of otherhorses would make the gelding so utterly fascinated. As none of his tenants lived in thisarea, and the road was not one most travelers used, that meant someone was on hisestate on horseback.

Maximilian patted the gelding’s neck. “You let me know where they are, all right?”

The gelding’s head suddenly lifted, his ears back, informing Maximilian that someone wasnow behind him. “We might have to race these buggers home,” he muttered to his horse.“You are one of my fastest, son, so do not let me down.”

Though Maximilian tried not to tense, keeping his body relaxed in the saddle, the geldingknew what he was thinking, feeling. His neck arched and he pranced, pulling on the bit,asking for permission to run. Maximilian held him back, but when the gelding swiveled hishead to gaze into the dark distance toward the left, Maximilian knew he was surrounded.

“All right, my lad,” he muttered. “Let us show them the meaning of speed.”

Digging his heels into the gelding’s ribs, he loosened the reins. The horse took off asthough shot from a bow, galloping at a dead run down the road. Almost immediately,Maximilian heard shouts of dismay and anger, and the thudding of hooves on both sidesand to his rear. He suspected they may have watched him through spyglasses, as hecould never have seen them if his horse had not.

Bending low over the gelding’s neck, his black mane whipped into Maximilian’s face fromthe wind created by their speed, Maximilian glanced back over his shoulder. His suddenburst of speed obviously caught the brigands off guard, for he heard them cursing andmercilessly flogging their mounts. This horse he rode was one of the fastest he owned,

and all he needed was the head start he gave himself.

Maximilian grinned as he slowly pulled ahead of his pursuers, listened as the pounding oftheir horses’ hooves faded into the darkness. “You think you can beat a Bromenville?” hemuttered.

A shadow suddenly appeared between himself and the faint pink light of the distantsunset. A man on a horse, directly in his path. Too late, he recognized the trap – drivehim straight into the fourth man. With low stone walls to either side of the road, he triedto rein the valiant gelding to the side, to jump the wall. But the other rider was too close,his own speed too fast.

The bay gelding slid on his haunches, reared, and tried to avoid the inevitable collision.Maximilian cried out as he tumbled from his saddle and bounced over the gelding’s rumpto land heavily on the gravel.

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he four riders closed in on him. His horse had not run off, but stood nearby,his reins on his neck. Maximilian tried to dodge the man on horseback who

had ignominiously dumped him off his mount, but the highwayman reined his horsearound, spurred hard, and put himself and his horse between Maximilian and escape.

The other three circled around him, armed with bared swords, their teeth gleamed in thefaint light as they grinned at his predicament. Maximilian pulled his pistol from histrousers and cocked it but did not point it at any of them. Instead, he waited. He had onlyone shot, a single opportunity to take out one robber and held to the hopes that was allhe needed.

“I will tell you now,” he said conversationally, turning in order to address all of them. “Ihave no coin on me. Leave now, and I will forget this happened. Try anything, and one ofyou dies. Then I will hunt the rest of you down and hang you.”

“Dae ye hear that?” asked the man who stood between Maximilian and his horse. “TheDuke wi’ hang us, lads.”

The others chuckled, laughing amongst themselves. He spoke with a thick Scottishaccent, and Maximilian cocked his head to the side, trying to memorize it and the man’svoice. “We nae want yer coin, Yer Grace,” he said. “We be paid more gold tae kill ye.”

“Ah.” Maximilian nodded wisely. “And make it look like a highwayman murdered me as Irode in the night. I see. Are you certain you still wish to proceed? One or more of you willcertainly die tonight, even if you do manage to slay me.” Raising the cocked pistol, he

took careful aim at the Scottish speaker. “Ready to die then, sir? I have fighting skillsenough to take on your comrades.”

The Scotsman stiffened. “Ach, he be bluffin’. Kill ‘im, lads.”

Several things happened at once. Maximilian fired his pistol, the ball struck the Scot ineither his chest or his shoulder; Maximilian could not be sure of which. The man gruntedand tumbled backward over the rump of his horse. An instant later, Maximilian whistledsharply. Half turning, he found the other three charging straight at him with their bladesraised.

Maximilian’s gelding galloped toward him at his whistle, leaped the fallen Scot, butslammed hard into his horse. The other mount bolted, kicking out. As his gelding reachedhim, Maximilian had no time to vault into his saddle. Instead, he used the horse’s tallbody as a shield as the three tried to run him down. They swerved their horses aroundthe bay, slashing at him with their swords, trying to cut him down.

Ducking and dodging, Maximilian tried keeping his gelding between himself and hisattackers. Knowing his bay would not long tolerate other horses in his personal space, thenow agitated gelding pinned his ears and lashed out at his assailants’ mounts. A manscreamed as a rear hoof connected with a human rather than a horse. Maximilian caughtthe glint of newly risen moonlight on metal as the man dropped his sword.

As the horses of the highwaymen balked at approaching Maximilian’s furiously irategelding, Maximilian threw himself, rolled across the gravel, to grab the sword by the hilt.Now armed, Maximilian braced himself for an attack. The injured man, still mounted,spurred his horse straight at Maximilian. Dodging aside at the last instant, Maximilianswung the blade.

The man screamed again as the sword cut across his leg. His horse carried him furtheraway, out of the fight. Now facing two men, who sought to catch him between them,Maximilian once again sought shelter with his angry bay. The gelding lashed out andconnected solidly with the chest of another beast. Caught between spurs and an armedrear quarters, the highwayman’s beast tried to rear.

As the attacker fought his horse, Maximilian seized the opportunity to vault into hissaddle. Without trying to find his stirrups, he kicked his horse straight at the mountedman right in front of him. With the sword raised high in his hand, Maximilian screamed awordless war cry. As he had expected – and hoped – the man jerked his horse’s headaround. He set spurs to hide and galloped away.

Wheeling his own horse, the bay half rearing, Maximilian challenged the man behind him.That fellow fought him, blade to blade, his horse dancing under him until he realizedMaximilian had only to press the advantage and he was dead. Like his friend, the would-be attacker kicked his horse away from Maximilian and galloped on the heels of the first.

The injured and unarmed highwayman had already fled, as Maximilian discovered as hesought to match blades with him. That only left the highwayman he had shot, still lyingwhere he had fallen. Panting with the exertion, Maximilian trotted his snorting bay towardthe Scotsman on the ground. Dismounting, he found the man gasping for breath.Maximilian’s shot caught him squarely in the chest, and blood bubbled on his lips.

“Who are you?” Maximilian demanded, seizing the man by the front of his coat, half liftinghim. “Tell me, and I will see you cared for.”

The Scotsman stared him straight in the eye as he tried to speak. Words formed on hismouth, but they never emerged into words. Then his wide eyes rolled back into his skull,and he collapsed, deflated, dead. Frustrated, Maximilian let the corpse drop back to theground and stared down at it. Rising, he walked to the dead man’s horse, caught it by thereins and took it back to its former master.

Struggling, cursing, Maximilian heaved the body across the horse’s saddle. He gropingaround inside the dead man’s saddlebags and found some lengths of rope, a small bag ofgold coins, clothing, dried meat, a dagger in its sheath and a few other oddments hecould not identify. Pocketing the gold, suspecting it was what the man had been paid tokill him, Maximilian took the rope and bound the corpse, hand and foot, to the saddle.

He mounted his bay and galloped on toward his castle, leading the other horse by thereins. Lights showed through windows all around the castle and outbuildings asMaximilian trotted toward the stables. Grooms, and surprisingly, Nigel and Fergus,

emerged from the buildings to greet him. Lamps held in hands were raised toward bothhim and the corpse bound across the other horse’s saddle.

Wearily dismounting, Maximilian listened to the voices talking about the body, makingexclamations and eying him sidelong. Nigel and Fergus glanced between himself and thecorpse in astonishment. “What happened, Your Grace?” Fergus asked. “You ride out aloneand come back with a friend?”

Laughing, Maximilian handed the reins to his bay to a groom. “Take good care of him,” hesaid. “He saved my life tonight.”

The groom bowed, nodded, and led the now tired bay into the stable. Maximilian ledNigel and Fergus to the corpse. Before he spoke, he glanced around to make sure no onecould overhear his words. “He was one of four,” he said, lifting the Scot’s head by his hair.“He is Scottish, but I am not sure about the others. They did not talk much so I could nothear their accents. They were hired to kill me.”

Digging the pouch of gold from his pocket, Maximilian waggled it in front of theirastonished eyes. “This one told me about their intent before I shot him. One of the othersis injured, a kick from my horse and a sword cut. Nigel, I want you to track them down.Get the constables in York involved. I told them I will hang them, and I intend to do it.”

“Right you are, Your Grace,” Nigel said, his tone hard. “I will take this – thing – into Yorkfirst thing in the morning.”

“Good. Tell the constables I can identify the others when they are found. And, you two…”Maximilian stared at the two of them. “No one else at the castle is to know they werepaid to kill me. Understood?”

Both Fergus and Nigel nodded. “Not a word, Your Grace.”

“Good. Nigel, get the body into York as soon as you can. Report to me immediately when

you return.”

“I will, Your Grace.”

Loosening his cravat as he walked, Maximilian pondered, yet again, who wanted himdead.

Is Edmund right in that it is Sophia?

While he knew she could be selfish and temperamental, he had difficulty accepting thepossibility that she would hire brigands to murder him on the road or connive with one ofhis servants.

Unless she has changed, she never spoke to servants except to demand she be served.

“Could love turn to such hate?” he muttered.

He knew it was possible. He and Sophia had not parted amicably, and if Edmund wascorrect in that she wanted him back and discovered he cared for a servant, Maximilianknew she was perfectly capable of murder. Striding across the bailey, he frowned as hewondered who in his employ would be in her pay. As Edmund so adroitly pointed out, hehad so many it was well nigh impossible to know whom Sophia paid.

Though he did not feel truly hungry in the aftermath of the fight, his belly burned fromnot eating. He entered the castle proper and ordered a footman to bring food and wine tohim in his quarters. “And a hot bath,” he added. He had sweated through his linen shirtand into his coat and felt disgustingly grimy.

He headed toward the wide staircase and found Wilmot emerging from the drawingroom, dressed impeccably in his formal supper attire, a glass of port in his hand. His eyeswidened in shock upon seeing Maximilian, and his jaw dropped. Recovering quickly, he

eyed his older brother up and down.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“Waylaid by highwaymen,” Maximilian answered.

Wilmot frowned. “How extraordinary. We have not had trouble with road bandits foryears. I expect they robbed you and let you go?”

Maximilian raised a brow. “I killed one and fought the others off. Nigel will be taking thedead man into York and engage the constables to hunt down the others.”

“Ah, good for you, old chap,” Wilmot said, smiling a little. “Who would have thought mybrother was such a fearsome brawler.”

“They certainly did not.”

“Nor did I. And you appear to be quite the mild-mannered fellow. Good night.”

Wilmot passed him by, Maximilian turning to watch him leave, frowning, until he turned acorner. Something his brother said nagged at him, and he slowly walked up the stairs.

I am missing something here.

It was not until he reached his chambers and opened the door did it strike him.Maximilian stopped, gazing into space.

“I never told anyone where I was going,” he said, his voice soft. “I wrote to Edmund, then

left to go see him. So how did those villains know where I would be and when?”

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nce again, Eugenia refused to go to the kitchen to eat her breakfast, and LadyHelena reluctantly agreed to have food sent up to their chambers. “Remember,Eugenia,” she said in her tone firm, “you agreed to stop brooding about in here.

Today.”

“I know,” Eugenia said, avoiding her eyes. “I will try. Perhaps later.”

“If it gets you out and about,” Lady Helena said as she walked toward the door, “then Imay even agree to visit those wretched stables with you.”

Eugenia smiled wanly. “That might get me out.”

Trying not to think about – or miss – Max, Eugenia kept herself busy by cleaning therooms and caring for Lady Helena’s clothes. Thoughts of him intruded into her mind. Shereally did miss seeing him – missed him terribly – and told herself she must get past herdoubts. But every time she did, the specter of the man who tried to throw her off thebattlement intruded.

Even now, as she considered it, her belly twisted into knots, and she broke out into asweat. If I venture from these rooms, he will find me, he will kill me. Sitting down to gazeout the window, Eugenia watched the activity below at the stables as the grooms workedto clean, feed, water, and exercise the horses. She thought she saw her small friend, thecolt with the bad foot, down there with his mother as the mare was walked by a groom.

The normal sight below helped soothed her anxieties, but she could not see herself goingoutside to visit the colt or the other foals in the stalls. Her belly tight, she fought to notbe afraid, to conquer her fears, and resume some normal feelings. A knock at the doormade her jump, and she forced herself to answer it.

It was a kitchen servant with her breakfast. Eugenia thanked her and accepted the tray toset it on a table. She had hardly felt hungry over the last few days and just stared at thedelicious smelling food. “Better eat before it gets cold,” she told herself. She had noappetite but managed to eat as much as of the eggs and scones she could before pushingthe rest away.

Lady Helena burst into the room, bringing a short, sharp scream from Eugenia. “Oh, myGod, Eugenia,” she gasped, oblivious to Eugenia’s fright. “His Grace was attacked lastnight!”

“What?”

Her fear forgotten, Eugenia, hurried toward her. “Attacked? By whom? Is he all right?”

“Yes, he is fine,” Lady Helena said. “It was the talk at breakfast. Four highwaymenattacked him, but he killed one of them. The others rode off after he fought them to astandstill.”

“And he was not hurt? You are sure?”

“Of course, I am.” Lady Helena gave her a withering glance. “He sent the dead one toYork and will finally get the constables involved.”

Eugenia bit her lip. “I must see him. I do not suppose you know where he was going afterbreakfast, do you?”

“Yes, you must, and I believe he mentioned wanting to visit the stables. Mr. Oldman isright outside to escort you.”

“You should come,” Eugenia said, grabbing her cloak. “We must stay together.”

Lady Helena shook her head. “No, I am going to spend time with my mother in herchambers. She is finally getting strong enough to perhaps come to the dining room formeals. You go on. I will be perfectly fine by myself.”

“Thank you.”

With Mr. Oldman following her like a faithful hound, Eugenia ran out of the castle andacross the grounds to the stables. Grooms smiled and knuckled their brows as shepassed, offering her a deference that shocked her. She was a servant, just as they were.Why would they show her almost the same respect as they showed the Duke?

She found Max discussing a newborn foal’s future prospects with Fergus. As they stoodoutside the stall, talking, Eugenia stepped back and drank Maximilian in with her eyes.Though it had only been a few days since she had seen him last, it seemed a lifetimeago. With the knowledge that Maximilian had been in terrible danger, she felt ridiculousnow, after she had swamped herself in her fears.

He saw her, and his lips turned upward in a smile. Fergus turned to see who he hadsmiled at, then also raised his own. “I will leave you alone, Your Grace,” he bowed anddeparted.

Mr. Oldman stood well back from them, remaining near the door in order to watch foranyone approaching. Eugenia felt grateful for his dedication, how he – without knowingher – risked his life to maintain hers. She assumed some of that selflessness came fromhis previous duties as a soldier but suspected the rest came from something else.

“Eugenia,” Maximilian said, his voice low, extending his hand to invite her closer. “It is so

good to see you looking yourself again.”

Flushing, Eugenia longed to throw her arms around his neck and shower him with kisses.“I heard about last night. I had to come see you.”

Standing beside him, Eugenia brushed her fingers over his discreetly and with silentaffection. “Lady Helena said you were not hurt.”

He shook his head. “Thus far, I have only told this to Nigel and Fergus, Eugenia. Thosemen last night were paid to kill me.”

Eugenia did not know why that surprised her, but it did. Shocked, she stared unseeinglyinto the stall at the little filly suckling her dam’s milk. “So, our villain is branching out,”she said. “Getting more desperate, perhaps?”

“That is my theory,” Maximilian said. “But something else is very odd.”

Eugenia glanced up into his sea deep blue eyes. “What?”

“I did not tell anyone where I was going yesterday,” Maximilian replied, leaning againstthe stall’s wall. “How did our villain know I would be on the road at that particular hour inorder for me to ride into his trap?”

“Maybe they did not know,” Eugenia said, her brows furrowed as she thought. “Perhapstheir orders were to waylay you the minute you rode out alone.”

“That is just it,” Maximilian said. “I seldom ride alone except when I am going to visit theViscount of Mallen. I told only Edmund I would be there and when.”

“And only he knew when you left.”

“Exactly.”

Eugenia turned to face him. “Surely you do not suspect your friend.”

Maximilian shrugged and shook his head. “Of course, that crossed my mind. But he hasnothing to gain from killing me. We have been friends for years, and there is little I donot tell him.”

He smiled down deliberately in her hazel eyes. “I told him about you, and he approves.”

“Then that certainly is a good reason to mark him off the list,” Eugenia replied tartly. “Ifhe approves of you dallying with a ladies’ maid, then naturally he is one of the goodones.”

Maximilian’s smile faded. “Even if he did not, I still could not add him to that list. Whywould he wish me dead? Again, there is no motive, no gain for him. He approves of youand I, so why would he want you dead? No, Edmund of Mallen is not our villain. But hedid point me toward Sophia.”

Eugenia frowned. “Your former love? Why would she wish you harm? And how? She is nothere, is she?”

“I do not know where she is,” Maximilian admitted. “Edmund suggested she is paying oneof my servants out of a false desire for revenge – if I cannot have you, no one will sort ofthing.”

“And would explain why I have been targeted,” Eugenia added with a nod. “Jealousy. Youknow, this almost does have a woman’s feel to it, Max.”

“Indeed, it does.”

“And a servant can come and go, unremarked,” Eugenia said, tapping her lower lip withher finger. “But as big as this castle is, she could have planted a criminal from Londoninside it and pay him to do her dirty work. He could have sneaked in any time during thenight.”

Maximilian frowned. “Not a servant?”

“Think about it, Max,” she said. “Servants are simple folk, really. They are not criminaltypes, like the highwaymen who attacked you. Most would have no idea how to go aboutkilling a duke. In fact,” she added with a wry grin, “most would be appalled at the veryidea of harming you. Believe me, I know. I am one of them.”

“You make another good point, young miss,” Maximilian said. “Let us, for argument’ssake, say that Sophia is behind this. How does she find someone, a servant who alreadyworks for me, who might be willing to sell their services as a murderer?”

“In a place this big, with hundreds of staff members,” Eugenia replied. “That is almost animpossibility. Not unless she knows your people intimately.”

Maximilian shook his head. “She came to the castle to visit only twice.”

“Then I think you can rule out a disloyal servant,” Eugenia said. “But it is almost too easyto place a man who is familiar with crime and killing inside your home, Max.”

“I can see that. And I agree with you.”

“This villain knows his way around intimately, too,” she said. “It is not easy to know theside passages and wings unless you are quite familiar with them. I still get lost.”

“That does not mix well with the idea of a stranger then.”

Eugenia shrugged. “It can if he spends all his time learning the hidden tunnels andpassageways. It might be beneficial to ask Mr. Simmons if he had noticed thefts of foodover the last few weeks. Our villain has to eat.”

“I can ask,” Maximilian said. “But I also know servants go into his kitchen and get foodlate at night. It is permitted, and I do not mind. He may not be able to track missing fooditems.”

Eugenia shook her head, frustrated. “It was a thought.”

“And a good one.”

Maximilian cocked his head to the side, listening. “I think I hear a horse approaching. It iscoming fast.”

Though Eugenia heard only the usual sounds of horses moving about in their stalls,grooms laughing and talking as they worked, and the occasional whinny, she asked,“Someone riding in urgently? Who might it be?”

“Nigel,” he answered, heading toward the door.

Eugenia followed him, and as she passed, Mr. Oldman fell in behind her. While walkinginto the open outside the building, she saw it was indeed Nigel Curry who rode in. Hishorse was caked in lather, which indicated he had been ridden hard. He reined in sharply,bringing the animal to a swift halt with its haunches slung low.

Hurrying toward him, Maximilian did not glance over his shoulder toward Eugenia in aninvitation to join him, but she followed after him anyway. Nigel slid down from thesaddle, his hands still on the horse’s reins. Bowing, he said, “Your Grace, urgent news.”

“I suspected as much,” Maximilian replied, glancing down as Eugenia arrived at his side.“What is it?”

“The highwayman you injured,” Nigel continued, grinning, “is in custody in York.”

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aximilian glanced around, as though expecting eavesdroppers to behovering near. “Go on. How did he get caught? And has he said anythingabout who hired him?”

“He went to an apothecary’s shop to have his leg injuries seen to,” Nigel replied. “As Ihad already taken the corpse of his friend to the constables and told them who to watchfor, they found him easily as he limped out. He was also Scottish, by the way.”

“Then the others might have already crossed the border,” Maximilian said. “Go on.”

“I had not yet left York,” Nigel continued, nodding, “they sent a constable for me. Underthe threat of hanging for his crimes as a robber and for attacking a duke, he was eager totalk.”

“Did he say who hired him?”

“He told the constables that a lord hired them.”

Stunned, Maximilian glanced from Nigel to Eugenia and back again. “A lord? Did he saywho it was?”

Nigel shook his head. “He did not know the lord’s name and only saw him from a

distance. It appears the dead man conducted the transaction.”

Angry and frustrated, Maximilian felt the urge to hit something. He turned away, runninghis hands through his hair, inadvertently pulling out his ponytail. “We are so close tofinding this villain, and yet, we are thwarted at every turn.”

Swinging back toward Nigel, he then asked, “Did he say how he knew when and where Iwould be?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Nigel replied. “According to him, the lord approached their leader, thedead one, and offered fifty quid if they would kill you as you rode back from the Mallenestates. He was told that you would be riding alone, on that day – yesterday and thatmost likely it would be at sunset.”

Maximilian met Eugenia’s wide, incredulous eyes. “I still refuse to believe Mallen is behindthis.”

“Your Grace?”

He glanced at Nigel. “I told no one where I was going,” he said, his voice hard. “I sent anote to Mallen to expect me but told no one here where I was going that day, yesterday.So, if Mallen did not pay them, how did anyone know I would be there at that time?”

“The Viscount of Mallen is a lord, Your Grace,” Nigel said carefully.

Pacing about, growing angrier, Maximilian shook his head, his hair flying. “I refuse tobelieve Mallen is behind this. So, excluding him, for now, who else would have known?”

“How did you deliver the message?” Eugenia asked.

“I sent a footman with it.”

“The footman knew.”

Maximilian froze. “He opened my letter and read it?”

“Then passed on the information to his master,” Nigel said. “I do not expect you knowwhich footman it was, Your Grace?”

Maximilian wanted to howl. “I have over two hundred, and they all look alike – all ofthem in livery and powdered wigs and none of them distinctive enough to stand outamong the others.”

“Right,” Nigel said. “They are hired to all look similar.”

“So, we are back to looking at a deceitful servant,” Eugenia said.

“Nigel,” Maximilian said. “Get some food in you, then I want you to ride back to York. Youknow what Mallen looks like. Give the highwayman his description and see if that ringstrue with who he saw.”

Bowing low, Nigel said, “Absolutely, Your Grace. I should return by nightfall.”

“And when you return,” Maximilian added, “I wish to talk with you regarding anyrecommendations you may have. We need to increase guards around the castle, perhapson the battlements as in the old days. And within the castle, of course.”

“I will consider it as I ride, Your Grace.”

Watching him lead his horse to the stable to turn the exhausted animal over the grooms,Maximilian scratched the back of his neck and discovered he had pulled his tail loose.Grimacing, he glanced at Eugenia. “Any ideas on how to find one disloyal footman?”

Oddly, Eugenia could not meet his eyes. She turned her head away and gazed out overthe fields. At last, she nodded. “Use me as bait for our villain.”

Maximilian felt he had been punched in his gut. “What are you saying? Set you up to lurehim in, permit him to try to kill you? That’s absurd! Never. I will not.”

Eugenia did not plead, but merely gazed at him, her eyes and voice neutral. “How can hehurt me if you and other strong men are around to catch him?”

“I will not risk your life, Eugenia,” Maximilian growled, looming over her. “Do not ask.”

“Very well.”

Maximilian eyed her suspiciously, wondering at her apparent capitulation. “Right, then.”

“I must attend upon Lady Helena,” she said, offering him a curtsey. “I will see you soon?”

“If you are now coming down to the kitchen for your meals again,” he said slowly, stillsuspicious, “then I will see you at supper.”

Eugenia smiled. “Until then.”

Maximilian watched her go, uneasiness filling him. Surely, she would not attempt to setherself up to bait this murdering fiend by herself, would she? No, he shook his head.Eugenia had more sense than that. Sneaking a quick peek at his pocket watch, hedecided he would spend the rest of the afternoon in his study, going over Nigel’s reports

and thinking over this conundrum of who was trying to kill him and Eugenia.

Nigel returned, tired and sweaty, just as Maximilian walked down the stairs, formallydressed for supper. He pulled Nigel into a quiet corner where they could not beoverheard. Even as he did so, Nigel shook his head.

“No, Your Grace,” he said, “it was not the Viscount of Mallen the highwayman saw.”

Maximilian flooded was relief, grateful that he need not suspect his good friend anylonger. “Did he say what the lord did look like?”

“Young, slender, well dressed. The Scot saw him only from a distance, and for a briefmoment, but we both know the Viscount of Mallen is neither young nor slender.”

“Right. Did he say this meeting took place in York?”

“Yes, in a tavern not frequented by noblemen.”

“That does not help us much.”

“I have to be in that area the day after tomorrow, Your Grace,” Nigel said. “Perhaps I cango in and ask a few questions.”

Maximilian nodded. “I would appreciate that. Now get yourself some rest.”

Walking past the kitchen to the dining hall, he did not see Eugenia. He decided not tolinger to wait for her – as he was already late for supper – he went into the hall. Augustaand Wilmot sat in their usual places, as were their guests, the Whitingtons. CountessWhitington’s face appeared pale and drawn, but she rose with a smile at the sight of him

to curtsey.

“You are looking much better, Countess Whitington,” he said and, returned her smile. Ashe liked her and missed her at meals lately, he went to her and took her hand. Bending,he kissed it. “Are you feeling as well as you appear?”

“Why, yes, Your Grace, I am much stronger now, thank you for asking.”

He smiled at the Earl and Lady Helena and discovered his stepmother frowning at him,her pale blue eyes as cold as ever. Wilmot, as usual, did not greet him. Yet, while heusually avoided eye contact, this night he faced Maximilian fully. His plain face remaineddevoid of emotion, yet his eyes followed Maximilian as he took his seat at the head of thetable.

As the butler poured wine all around, Augusta said, “Yes, we are all grateful to have ourdear friend and guest back with us. Countess Whitington, are you well enough to continueto assist me with preparations for the ball? I do need further aid with the menu and thewine selection. What we have is so utterly dreary, and your ideas are ever so clever.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the Countess replied graciously. “I will join you after breakfasttomorrow.”

“I say, Your Grace,” Earl Whitington said, then cleared his throat as he gazed atMaximilian. “Did I hear correctly that one of the rogues who attacked you last night hasbeen captured?”

Wilmot suddenly gazed at the Earl. “What was that?” Though he had spoken somewhatrudely, Wilmot did not apologize, even as Maximilian shot him a significant glance. “Oneof your attackers was caught, Max?”

Maximilian took a sip of his wine, ignoring Augusta’s stare that warned him againsttalking of uncivilized matters such as someone trying to kill him. “Yes, that is true,” he

said to the two of them. “A young Scot, the one I injured. He is currently enjoyingshackles and a stone cell courtesy of the York constables.”

“Has he said anything?” Wilmot asked in a rush of words. “I mean, confessed to . . . er,attacking you?”

Maximilian chuckled. “Why would he? I gave him that cut when he assaulted a duke, andhe was caught leaving an apothecary’s shop. His friend is dead, and the others no doubthave bolted off to Scotland. He will hang in due time.”

“Right,” Wilmot replied, looking down at his wine. “Of course.”

“That is wonderful news,” the Earl said and smiled. “Most excellent. Your Grace, you leadquite the charmed life.”

Before Maximilian could speak, Augusta said, “This talk of attacks and hanging has quitesoured my stomach. I do wish we could have a civilized conversation around this table.”

“I think it is wonderful,” Lady Helena said, her voice wistful and her admiring eyes onMaximilian. “His Grace fought off four highwaymen and escaped without a scratch.”

Maximilian laughed, lifting his wine glass to her. “Well, I did receive a few scrapes on myunmentionables when I came off my horse.”

Under the laughter of the Whitingtons, Maximilian noticed that, naturally, August andWilmot did not laugh along with them. Augusta tapped her fingers on the table with agenteel scowl fixed on her features, while Wilmot eyed Maximilian sidelong. Pretendingnot to see it, Maximilian again told the story of the Scottish robbers running once theirleader had fallen. “And here I thought the Scottish were brave,” he said laughingly.

Nodding, Earl Whitington said, “Not much better than a rabble,” then smiled.

“We have the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire arriving in a few days,” Augustaannounced. “I do so hope we might have a change of conversation at the table beforethen.”

“I cannot wait to see the Duchess again,” the Countess said, then broke into a happysigh. “Such a dear soul and my good friend.”

“I have not the honor to have met them,” Maximilian said. “Thus, I am looking forward totheir arrival.”

“You will like the Duke, Your Grace,” the Earl said, “He has a vast knowledge of horsesand hunting.”

“Then I am sure I will,” Maximilian replied. “Speaking of which, would you care to gohunting again soon?

“Of course, of course.”

Much to Augusta’s disgust, the two of them engaged in talk about horses and bloodlines,while she tried to speak to the Whitington ladies over the men’s loud and boisterousvoices about English society and the upcoming ball. Throughout, Maximilian observedWilmot had barely touched his supper but drank copious amounts of wine. Concerned, hesurreptitiously watched his brother.

Wilmot seemed more withdrawn than ever. Noticing that he flicked his glance toward hismother with a strange and frightful look in his eyes, Maximilian began to worry. He hadnot forgotten that night in the garden when Wilmot confessed to hating her.

Wilmot, I know you are not the brightest lamp in the house, but please do not doanything stupid.

“I

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am not going to do anything stupid,” Eugenia said to Lady Helena the nextmorning. “But I have to do something, or this assassin – or whatever he is – will finallykill the Duke.”

Lady Helena crossed the room and flounced on the couch with a sigh. “What do you havein mind?”

“Outside of setting myself up as bait?” Eugenia asked, pacing around the chamber. “Ihave no idea.”

“Perhaps you should drop it,” Lady Helena suggested. “After all, did you not say His Gracewould not allow it?”

“What he does not know will not enable him to stop me.”

“Oh. So, you are going behind his back.”

Eugenia stopped pacing. “If we succeed in catching this madman, then surely the Dukewill thank and forgive me.”

“Provided you are not dead.”

Setting her hands on her hips, Eugenia glared at her friend. “I thought you were going tohelp me.”

“I am having second thoughts. This is dangerous, Eugenia. Even His Grace forbade it.”

“This is the only way to lure this lunatic from hiding,” Eugenia insisted, resuming herpacing. “What if he succeeds in killing the Duke?”

At the thought, Eugenia’s throat closed up.

Max dead?

She could not visualize her life without him. Though she knew she liked him, enjoyed hiscompany, and until now, she never truly understood her own feelings. When Lady Helenabrought word to her of the robbers’ attack on Max, she remembered how the newsbrought her out of her own fears, terrors.

Only Max mattered. If keeping him safe meant she gave up her life, then she would doso, willingly.

Is that not love? To love someone means sacrifice, even of one’s life.

She now realized she loved him above and beyond her own life.

I love him. Oh, how I love him.

“I love him, Helena,” she said softly. “God help me, but I love him. If he is killed, my lifeis over. I cannot live without him.”

Lady Helena sat up straighter. “I suspected all along you loved him, but to hear you say it– it’s incredible. I know I said I think you two were meant for each other, but now – nowit’s really real.”

Eugenia sat down in a chair. “It is real. I have never felt like this before. But I am serious,I cannot sit here and do nothing while the man I love is stalked like some bloody deer.”

Bursting out into shocked laughter, Lady Helena covered her mouth. “Oh, dear. Eugenia,you just cursed. I have to tell my mother.”

Eugenia giggled. “You better not. She might take to her bed again, and she just got outof it.”

“Maybe I should tell the Duchess,” Lady Helena said, squealing with laughter. “She willinform you at great length how ladies of quality never curse but sit at their sewing andtalk about other people.”

“I never claimed to be a lady of quality,” Eugenia replied. Holding her ribs, she laughed.

“Why is it gossip is supposed to be a sin, yet that is all some women like the Duchessever do?”

“Boredom, I should think,” Eugenia replied, wiping her eyes. “All you noble ladies do is sitand talk. Chatting of the weather can go only so far.”

“I suppose so. Because we have maids and servants and footmen to do everything forus.”

“Exactly.”

Lady Helena sobered as she gazed at Eugenia. “If you are determined to use yourself asbait to lure this madman in, then I will help you. But we cannot do this alone.”

“I know,” Eugenia replied, gesturing toward the door. “We need to include Mr. Oldman.”

“That is exactly what I am thinking. But he owes his loyalty to His Grace. He may notagree to help us and not tell the Duke.”

“I suppose we should ask him then.”

Rising, Eugenia went into the corridor to find her bodyguard standing alone, his livery andpowdered wig in perfect order, like a well-trained soldier at attention. He offered her abrief nod with no smile as she walked closer to him.

“Lady Helena and I would like to speak to you,” Eugenia said. “Would you mind steppingin here for a few moments?”

Mr. Oldman frowned. “I do not believe that would be proper, Miss Betham.”

“Please? It would only be for a minute or two. We wish to discuss something with you inprivate. We can chaperone each other, Lady Helena and I.”

For a long moment, Mr. Oldman considered her request, and she thought he wouldrefuse. At last, he dipped his chin in acquiescence. “Just for a moment.”

“Thank you.”

Returning back inside Lady Helena’s apartments, Eugenia closed the door behind him.Lady Helena stood up from the couch and nodded acceptance of his respectful bow. “Mr.Oldman,” she said. “We have a request, and we also need you to promise to not inform

the Duke.”

“He is my employer, My Lady,” he said. “It is my duty to report everything to him.”

“Even if it means capturing the person responsible for trying to kill him?” Eugenia asked.

He frowned. “Go on.”

Pacing around the room slowly, Eugenia said, “This person wants me dead as well, as youknow. I believe you will agree that this individual should be caught before he can murderHis Grace. Or me.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Thus, I want to draw him out, Mr. Oldman. When he tries to hurt or kill me, you will bethere to catch him.”

Mr. Oldman’s brow rose. “His Grace will certainly not approve of this course of action.”

“Which is why we need to keep it between the three of us,” Lady Helena said.

He slowly shook his head, eyeing the two women. “I am not so sure this is a good idea,My Lady, Miss Betham,” he said. “There are too many unknown factors involved.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Helena asked.

“This individual has tried various methods of murder in the past,” he explained. “I alonecannot guard against every one of them – not alone. If he were to simply shoot you, I

cannot protect you against that. Then you are dead, and he escapes.”

“But,” Eugenia said, “even if he kills me, you catch him at all costs.”

“You are saying you are willing to die to catch this man?” Mr. Oldman’s voice soundedincredulous.

“I would hope I do not get killed,” Eugenia said. “Still, the Duke’s life is most important.”

“If I let you get killed trying to protect him,” Mr. Oldman said, displaying annoyedimpatience for the very first time, “he will no doubt hang me.”

“Oh, dear,” Eugenia said, glancing at Lady Helena. “I never thought of that.”

“However,” he said, resuming his disciplined military neutrality. “Your idea is not withoutmerit. If we put you into a situation where he has to get in close to you to kill you,meaning we control how he can approach you and how close he can get, we may be ableto catch him before you are harmed.”

Eugenia brightened with hope. “Like an enclosed room? With you hiding inside?”

“Exactly.”

Pacing again, Eugenia pondered. “If I start going to a certain place every day at the sametime, our villain might be tempted to kill me there, as I have established a routine. Thelibrary?”

“My father likes to spend his time there,” Lady Helena said. “I do not believe that willwork.”

“But he is not there during meals,” Eugenia said. “Perhaps we can put it about that I havepermission from you to read there for two hours every time as you dine at luncheon.”

Lady Helena nodded, growing enthusiastic. “And as His Grace is fond of you, he will nodoubt grant you permission as well.”

“Then it will take a few days to establish that new routine,” Mr. Oldman said. “However,your reputation is at risk, Miss Betham, as I would be in a closed room with you without achaperone present.”

Eugenia gazed at Lady Helena, close to despair. “I should not care about my reputation,”she said, plaintive. “This is far more important than me being closeted with a man not myhusband.”

“That is not true,” Lady Helena replied firmly. “It is very important for you to maintain aclean reputation. However, I have an idea. Your friend from the kitchen can join you.Perhaps under the guise that you are teaching her to read and write.”

Eugenia laughed with joy. “Mr. Simmons may not mind that. I will ask him at suppertonight. I believe Deryn would adore learning to read.”

Mr. Oldman shook his head, reluctant. “But the lower classes have no need to read orwrite. I myself do not know how. How will you convince His Grace, or even the cook, topermit it?”

“Perhaps that I wish to employ her,” Lady Helena replied. “That I like her enough to wanther to learn so that I can use her as a secretary after I am married.”

He nodded, half shrugging. “Then I will return to my duties outside your chambers.” Mr.Oldman bowed to Lady Helena and then offered a shorter one to Eugenia. He smiled.“You have courage enough to become a soldier, Miss Betham, and I am honored to helpyou.”

“Thank you, Mr. Oldman,” she replied, blushing. “I am so very glad you have agreed tohelp us. I know I am safe in your hands.”

Deryn bent over the child’s primer, following each letter with her finger. “A,” she spokecarefully, “B.”

She hesitated over the next one.

“C,” Eugenia told her. “As in the word ‘cat.’”

“C.”

Though their plan had been met with skepticism from the Duke, he shrugged and said hedid not mind if one of his kitchen maids learned to read and write if it meant a betterfuture for her, nor did Mr. Simmons offer any objections. Deryn herself was overjoyed tobe taught her letters and gave Eugenia a teary hug. Mr. Oldman stood within the librarywith them but remained concealed behind the door.

Lady Helena helped make certain that it became well known that Eugenia spent twohours every day during the luncheon hours in the library. Yet, for three days nothing at allhappened, and Eugenia began to wonder if the plan to be the murderer’s bait would workat all. Still, Deryn learned more quickly than she anticipated, and she enjoyed the timeteaching her. She felt safe with Mr. Oldman there guarding her.

“Now the letter ‘D,’” Eugenia explained, drawing it as she spoke, “would begin the word‘dog’. This is what it looks like.”

As Deryn painstakingly drew it on the slate with chalk, Eugenia praised her efforts. “Verygood. Pretty soon, we will be working on sentences.”

“What is a sentence?”

As Eugenia described how words strung together made a sentence, she noticed Mr.Oldman listening closely. She smiled to herself. All through the lessons with Deryn, sheobserved him following along.

After we catch this lunatic, perhaps Max will not mind if I teach him to read, as well. It isquite apparent he wants to learn.

He, too, might advance in Maximilian’s household if he learned.

Their two hours nearly up, Eugenia wiped the slate clean as Deryn lovingly placed theprimers carefully on the shelf. From the corner of her eye, she saw the door to the libraryopening. Her first rapid thought was that Earl Whitington had arrived for his afternoon ofreading. But she caught a glimpse of a dark cloak with the hood pulled down low andfroze into place.

He came. He is here to kill me.

Fear rushed through her, tightening her muscles as her flight or fight instincts kicked in,and her previous terror returned.

Too late, she recognized the pistol in his hand, and Deryn screamed. But the man in thecloak did not turn the weapon toward them. Rather, he scurried past the door and tookdead aim at Mr. Oldman hiding behind it. Eugenia saw Mr. Oldman’s eyes widen as thecocked pistol, at close range, could not possibly miss.

E

C H A P T E R 2 9

ugenia reacted instantly.

The slate flew from her hand and struck the cloaked man in the shoulder. Though it wasnot a hard blow, it served to deflect the man’s aim. The pistol fired. Mr. Oldman grunted,spinning half around as the ball struck him in the upper arm. A soldier to the core, helunged forward, reaching for the assassin.

The cloaked figure dodged backward and bolted back around the door and into thecorridor. Mr. Oldman, bleeding and cursing, tried to follow, pulling a pistol from under hislivery. He stumbled over a chair, lost his balance, and fell to the library floor with aresounding crash. Eugenia rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him. Trying torise, grimacing in pain, Mr. Oldman struggled as she pressed her hands against thewound to help stop the bleeding.

“Go fetch the Duke,” Eugenia snapped at the terrified Deryn. “And Mr. Leary. Go.”

Deryn ran out the door. Eugenia tried to prevent Mr. Oldman from rising, murmuringurgent words in his ear. “Lie still, you are going to be all right.”

“Must – go after him.”

“No, no,” she said. “He is gone. What matters now is you. I am so sorry, so sorry you got

hurt.”

Mr. Oldman ceased trying to get up and offered her a lopsided grin. “That is the risk abodyguard, and a soldier, takes. Help me, please. I must sit up.”

“All right,” she said, “but slowly, now. I am going to keep pressure on the wound to slowyour bleeding.”

Using his good arm, Mr. Oldman carefully sat up, then stood shakily. He walked gingerlyto the wooden chair he tripped over and sat down. He returned the pistol under hisuniform, then, digging into his pocket, he produced a handkerchief. “Wrap that around it.”

Eugenia obeyed him, and tied the cloth around the wound tightly, but not so tight it cutoff all blood to his arm. He gazed up at her and smiled wryly. “Thank you.”

“That should be me,” she said. “Not you.”

“I would much rather it be me, Miss Betham.”

She glanced down at the blood on her hands. “He knew you were there,” she said slowly.“Why did he try to shoot you first? He could have simply opened the door and shot me,then been gone.”

Just then, Maximilian burst into the library. “What happened?” he roared. “I heard ashot.”

Behind him came Nigel Curry and Lady Helena, who blanched at the sight of the blood onMr. Oldman and Eugenia. She quickly turned around but did not leave the room. Eugenia’scourage wavered at the sight of the dark anger and alarm in Maximilian’s face but turnedto him squarely, her stomach in knots.

“This was my idea,” she said. “And my responsibility.”

Maximilian glanced at Mr. Oldman, who stood up beside her. “I agreed to it, Your Grace,”he said. “I will accept whatever punishment you choose to hand out.”

“Before I dole out anything,” he snapped. “I sure would like to know what happened.Now, pray tell – what in God’s name went on in here?”

Determined not to flinch under his intense scrutiny, Eugenia clasped her bloody hands infront of her. “It was my idea, Your Grace. I convinced Mr. Oldman and Lady Helena toassist me in trapping the assassin. We hoped that by me being in the library every day atthis time would bring him in to try to kill me.”

“I would say it worked, Miss Betham,” Maximilian said coldly. “Despite the fact that I toldyou not to use yourself as bait. You went behind my back, Miss Betham, and I do not likeit when people go around behind my back.”

Lady Helena turned around. “I am also to blame, Your Grace,” she said, her tone cool.“As you know, Eugenia is quite fond of you and told me it was worth it to her to risk herlife in an effort to save yours. Thus, I agreed to help her.”

He threw up his hands. “So, this is a bloody conspiracy.”

“One that almost worked, Your Grace,” Mr. Curry said blandly. “Did anyone perhaps get alook at the chap’s face before he obviously departed?”

Mr. Oldman shook his head. “He was dressed as before in a black cloak with the hoodpulled down low. I saw nothing save his chin, and even that was a fleeting glimpse beforemy attention was consumed by the gun pointed right at me.”

His expression softening a fraction, Maximilian paced toward him, taking a close look at

Mr. Oldman’s arm. “Tell me exactly what happened.” He glanced back at Eugenia.

“The door opened,” Eugenia said, remembering the terror at the sight of that black cloak,swallowing hard. “He was cloaked from head to toe in black. I almost panicked, as hewas dressed the same as when he tried to push me off the battlement. But he turned andpointed the pistol at Mr. Oldman instead of me. I threw the slate, and it struck him.”

Mr. Oldman nodded. “It was enough to deflect his aim, Your Grace,” he went on, painsweat dripping down his face, but he remained carefully neutral. “The shot struck myarm, and he fled instantly. I tried to go after him, but I tripped up and fell. He escapedagain, I am sorry.”

“I should throw all three of you in my dungeon for this disobedience,” Maximilian said, hisanger deflating. “But I can see why you did it, however, and it was a clever idea. But whydid he seek to kill you first, Mr. Oldman?”

“He knew I was there, Your Grace,” Mr. Oldman answered. “I was the biggest threat tohis safety and freedom. Had he shot Miss Betham instead, I would have jumped himinstantly, and he knew it. But if he killed me first, he had Miss Betham and the kitchengirl at his mercy.”

“But how did he know you were there?” Mr. Curry asked, bewildered. “No one knew youwere her bodyguard except those of us in this room.”

“Our killer obviously found out,” Maximilian said. “Somehow. It makes me wonder if Ihave more than one traitor in my castle.”

He gazed at Mr. Oldman with compassion. “I will not punish you for this, Mr. Oldman, for Iappreciate what you are doing, and that you were injured in my service. Please sit downbefore you fall down. You are not hurt badly?”

Mr. Oldman returned to the chair, shaking his head. His face had grown pale, and Eugenia

fretted that Mr. Leary had not arrived yet to tend to him. “No, Your Grace. I believe theball passed through and struck the wall behind me. I glanced at it and saw the chip in thestone.”

Peering closely at the wall, Maximilian nodded. “It did, indeed. You are a good soldierand a good man. I am glad you are here to protect these ladies. Even if they do go out oftheir way to get into trouble.”

He eyed Eugenia, who flushed under his scrutiny, feeling the need to squirm from guilt.She saw Lady Helena look aside, avoiding his penetrating gaze when he stared at her.“We wanted to catch this man to help you, Your Grace,” Eugenia said, trying to deflect hisanger onto herself and not Lady Helena. “I talked her into it.”

Lady Helena’s chin rose defiantly as she looked at Maximilian fully. “She did not have totalk long, however. We both care about you.”

Mr. Curry chuckled. “It seems you are outnumbered and outflanked, Your Grace.”

“So, it appears,” he replied dryly.

Mr. Leary appeared in the doorway, then, after a quick bow, hurried to Mr. Oldman’s side.Maximilian made way for him, stepping back to give him room to work on his patient.Eugenia saw Deryn scurry in, then immediately fled after seeing the Duke in the room. “Iwould like to continue teaching Deryn to read and write,” she said to him, her voice low.

“I admire your dedication to the girl,” Maximilian said. “I suppose I will permit it, providedyou are properly guarded. She was your chaperone as well as student?”

Nodding, Eugenia glanced at Mr. Oldman as Mr. Leary untied her hasty bandage. “He willbe unfit for a few days, I expect.”

“One day, Miss Betham, Your Grace,” Mr. Oldman said, hearing their conversation andwatching them past Mr. Leary. “I will return to my duty by tomorrow.”

“Then my dungeon should keep you safe enough until he is capable again.”

“Your Grace!” Lady Helena’s shocked voice made Maximilian grin.

“Is it not what you deserve, Miss Betham?” he asked, amused as Eugenia folded her armsover her bosom and returned his humor with a scowl, feeling her annoyance rise. “Afterall, you did agree not to commit to this adventure.”

“I said no such thing,” Eugenia replied coolly. “I said, ‘very well’. That is not a promise toobey you.”

“Hmm,” he said. “I will concede the point. This time. However, I will, right now, gain yourpromise to not try anything like this again. Do you both, ” he swung around to includeLady Helena in his stern look, “promise to not put yourselves in danger on my behalfagain?”

“I cannot make that promise, Your Grace,” Eugenia said. “If I see that you need a hardshove to push you out of the way of a runaway wagon, I will do so, even if I may gettrampled. But I will promise to not set myself up as bait from now on, and I will do mybest to avoid danger. Will that satisfy you?”

“It does.” Maximilian glanced at Lady Helena. “Do I also have that same oath from you,Lady Helena?”

She nodded and curtseyed. “Yes, Your Grace. My oath.”

“Under the circumstances,” Maximilian said, “I expect you ladies to remain in yourchambers until Mr. Oldman is fit to resume his guard duties. If you bolt your doors, you

should remain safe enough. Lady Helena, I will explain your absence at supper tonight toyour parents and the Duchess. I promise not to divulge your activities to them, as I wouldnot have them upset with you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Helena replied, her face flushing.

No doubt, Eugenia thought, she had not considered about what her parents would say ifthey found out she helped set Eugenia up as bait for a murderer. She knew they wouldinsist they all return to London, regardless of the ball.

“Nigel,” Maximilian went on, “you will accompany me as I walk these two miscreants totheir chambers. Mr. Leary, I want a full report on Mr. Oldman’s condition once you havefinished caring for him.”

Mr. Leary, busy working on Mr. Oldman’s arm, bent his head in lieu of a bow. “Yes, YourGrace.”

Maximilian extended his arm toward the door. “Ladies,” he said grandly. “After you.”

Ushered like sheep, Eugenia and Lady Helena walked ahead of Maximilian and Mr. Curry,the two men murmuring to one another about how best to find this man who seemed sodetermined to kill Eugenia and the Duke. At their door, Mr. Curry bowed to Lady Helenaas she curtseyed to Maximilian before walking inside. Eugenia followed suit, but when shewould have passed the threshold, Maximilian said, “A moment, Miss Betham.”

Turning, the door still open, she saw Maximilian make a quick gesture to Mr. Curry to givethem a bit of privacy. As he walked a short way down the corridor, Maximilian shook hishead, his brows furrowed as he stared hard at Eugenia. “I am still quite put out with you.You deliberately put yourself in harm’s way when I expressly forbade you to do that.”

Eugenia could not stand to see the smoldering anger in his narrowed eyes, his thinnedlips. “I am sorry, Max. I truly thought this would catch the person trying to kill us both.

How did he know Mr. Oldman stood behind the door?”

“Consider it logically,” he replied, his voice still annoyed. “The library is not that large,and he obviously knew you were being guarded. When he opened the door and did notsee Mr. Oldman, he simply assumed he was hiding behind it.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

Maximilian finally drew a deep breath, relaxing his anger and then smiled at her. Hetrailed his finger tenderly down her cheek, making her shiver with delight.

“I do wish to thank you,” he said, his voice soft. “You put me ahead of yourself, willinglyrisked your life to capture this fiend. I will not apologize for being angry, for you shouldnot have done it.”

“Perhaps not,” she murmured, both awed and pleased by his sweet words. “It may haveworked, had he not already known about Mr. Oldman’s position as my bodyguard.”

“And you might be dead, even if he had been caught. You had no idea if he would shoot.”

“I considered it. I know it was a terrible risk, Max, but it was worth it to keep you safe. Iwas so upset when I learned those highwaymen could have killed you. I wanted this mancaught and hanged.”

“As do I.”

Maximilian brushed his fingers down her cheek, the lightest butterfly touch. She shiveredwith pleasure at the tender gesture, the contact of his skin against hers. She craved tolean into it, to press a kiss into the palm of his hand.

“But where would I be if I lost you? Should you be killed, I know I would go mad withgrief. Do not risk yourself again, please, Eugenia. Life is not worth living without you init.”

“That is how I feel about you.”

“Then somehow, some way, we will find this fellow,” he said and smiled again. “If I haveto tear this castle down stone by stone, I will find him.”

Glancing down the hall to see if Mr. Curry watched them, and finding he did not, Eugeniasqueezed Maximilian’s hand. “I will be right there with you as you do.”

His lips briefly pursed in an air kiss. “I will stand here at the door and listen to make sureyou bolt it when you go in. I and Nigel will come by through the night to check on you.But, no matter what, do not open this door for anyone. Except me. I will arrive in themorning to let you know it is safe to come out.”

Eugenia toyed with the end of her braid. “You think he might come knocking?”

“I would.”

“Very well. Good night then. I will see you in the morning.”

Maximilian’s eye dropped in a quick wink as she slowly closed the door in his face. Shedropped the bar into the slats meant for it and thought it had probably not been used in along while. She heard Maximilian say, “Good night,” and pressed her ear to the wood tolisten to his footfalls trail away down the corridor.

Leaning against the door, she found Lady Helena watching her. “I envy you, you know,”she said.

“You should not.”

“You captured the heart of a Duke,” Lady Helena went on. “I came here, hoping to entera marriage contract with him, but it is you he wants. He loves you.”

Crossing her arms over her breasts, Eugenia gazed down at the stone floor. “But whatcan I offer him?” she asked, her tone soft. “He cannot marry me. I cannot stand at hisside in society. Did it never cross your mind, My Lady, that I hoped this lunatic would killme so that I do not have to say to him, ‘I cannot marry you, you must marry another’?”

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fter a nearly sleepless night of dozing lightly, only to wake and walk around thecastle to make sure no one tried to break into Lady Helena’s and Eugenia’schambers, Maximilian rose at the sunlight streaming in through his rooms.

Yawning, bleary-eyed, he let his valet dress him for breakfast after a wash in cold waterto wake him up. Neither he nor Nigel had found anything untoward during the night.

Upon walking up the wide stairs to their chambers, he found Nigel on the same errand.“Nothing at all last night, Your Grace,” Nigel said, his eyes slightly bloodshot from lack ofsleep. “I wish we could consider him frightened off.”

“I wish that as well,” Maximilian admitted as they walked. “But we both know this bloodybugger is determined.”

“Too true.”

Knocking on the solid door to Lady Helena’s chambers, Maximilian called out, “It is me.It’s is safe to open up.”

He listened as the bar was thrown back, and the wide oak door opened. Eugenia smiledat the sight of them, her dark hair already in its neat braid and hanging over her shoulderto her waist. Maximilian could not help but wonder how her hair would look and feel as itflowed like a silken river through his hands.

Eugenia curtseyed. “Thank you for coming, Your Grace. Is it your plan to escort LadyHelena to breakfast?”

“Why not?” he replied, and shot her a grin. “Is she ready?”

“Yes, she is.”

Lady Helena joined Eugenia at the door, her auburn hair in a tidy coiffure and wearing asatin gown of pale yellow that accented her wide green eyes. She, too, curtseyed andfound a smile for him. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Shall we?”

He knew he should have slipped her arm through his, but he did not and merely gesturedfor her to accompany him. Eugenia and Nigel fell in behind as they walked down thecorridor. He longed to walk beside Eugenia rather than her mistress. Despite his currentassociation with Lady Helena, when he looked at her, he was still reminded of Sophia.

Helena made light conversation as they headed down the stairs. “The Duke and Duchessof Dentonshire should arrive today,” she said gaily. “I am most eager to see them again.”

As usual, she bored him with her chatter of the kingdom’s higher society and felt gratefulwhen they arrived at the dining hall. He glanced at Eugenia, who grinned, and curtseyedas she and Nigel headed toward the kitchen. Ushering Lady Helena in, he found hisstepmother, his brother, and the Whitingtons already there. Late again. Taking his placeat the head of the table, he ignored Augusta’s disapproving eyes.

“I do so hope you might arrive to meals on time once the Duke and Duchess are here,”she said in a low, bitter voice. “I fear our guests, the Whitingtons, have become inured toyour lack of proper manners.”

Maximilian glanced at the said guests and found them talking in low tones to theirdaughter. He shrugged and permitted his voice to convey no little insolence. “My table.My castle. My guests. I pray you do not forget that, Madam.”

Augusta sniffed in disdain but kept her voice for his ears alone. “You are a disgrace to ourfamily name, Maximilian. I pray you will not one day regret your behavior.”

“What I do or do not regret,” he said in an undertone, “is none of your concern. Now. Youwill cease your criticism for the sake of our guests.”

Had Maximilian not grown a thick skin against her icy glares, he might have blanched atthe one he received now. As it was, he shrugged, a gesture that he knew would irritateher further and glanced down the table to the Whitingtons. They still spoke with LadyHelena and had not heard their exchange. Wilmot, however, had.

His brother’s eyes flicked between the two of them, a small, secretive smile on his thicklips. He seemed to enjoy the verbal sparring between his mother and his half-brother, hiseyelids half shut, concealing his thoughts and emotions. Maximilian found that displayodd, for Wilmot always shunted his face away when he argued with his stepmother.

“How have you been, Willie?” he asked, his voice bantering. “Have you found a newpartner to play cards with?”

Wilmot, startled at the question, fumbled over an answer. “Ah, no, not really. Motherdoes not like me to.”

“That has not stopped you before.”

“It has now.” Augusta glared at her son. “He is busy learning other skills that will aid himin his future. Things that would hardly concern you, Maximilian.”

“What would those be?” Maximilian’s light-hearted question seemed to baffle his brother.

“I, ah, am trying to learn a trade,” Wilmot stammered. “You know, as I am the secondson. I must make my way in the world. Someday.”

Maximilian tapped his fingers on the table. Something seemed off about what Wilmotsaid, and his manner screamed he was lying. Yet, at the same time, he told the truth,from Wilmot’s point of view. “What sort of trade?” he asked finally.

“That is not something to discuss at table,” Augusta announced. “Why, what would theWhitingtons think of us?”

As the Whitingtons now paid attention to the conversation, Maximilian decided to dropthe subject for the time being. He eyed his brother, who now stared at his plate, and saidlightly, “So, the Dentonshires will arrive today? How. . .wonderful.”

Countess Whitington patted her hands together in genteel applause. “I cannot wait. Theirletters stated they hoped to be here by mid-afternoon. Your Grace, you will simply adorethem. Such good people.”

Maximilian smiled, liking the uncomplicated and good-hearted Countess. “I am certain Iwill, Countess Whitington.”

“I have ordered a special supper tonight in their honor,” Augusta trilled. “Turtle soup tostart, then smoked salmon with watercress, grilled pheasant in plum sauce, broiledmutton and steamed cabbage and a fruit salad. For dessert –”

Maximilian tuned out the rest of the evening’s menu and ate his breakfast, his thoughts,as ever, turning to Eugenia. He could not help but admire her courage, her desire toprotect him at all costs – at the cost of even her own life. He knew that meant love, loveat its most basic, its most primeval, a love beyond all others on this earth.

Would I offer up my own life for hers? Yes. Yes, I would.

“I say, Maximilian.”

Augusta’s voice intruded upon his thoughts. Glancing up, he found every eye on him.“Excuse me, what?”

Her expression maintained its mild and half smiling veneer, yet her ice blue eyes boredinto him like augers. “I asked what wine you might recommend for this evening.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps the Bordeaux, the seventeen eighty-nine vintage.”

Earl Whitington beamed. “Excellent choice, Your Grace. Most excellent. Did I not tell you,my dear, His Grace has a most definitive taste in wines?”

The Countess smiled at him. “He most certainly does.”

Maximilian felt his face heat, but he returned their smile and toasted them with histeacup. “I learned from the best. My father.”

As the topic of conversation turned to his sire, the old Duke, Maximilian let himselfreminisce about his father, gone for less than a year. From the Earl, he learned that hisfather had known the Duke of Dentonshire quite well. They had shared the same politicalleanings at Parliament, and both had grown close to the Prince Regent.

“I did not know this,” he said to the Earl. “Thank you for informing me. I will certainlyconsider the Duke my friend as my father had.”

“Though I would not dare to imply you are not a well-versed politician, Your Grace,” EarlWhitington said, “but you would do well to listen to him. He knows more about our

kingdom and what makes it run than anyone I know. With, perhaps, the exception of thePrince Regent.”

“I will, Earl Whitington,” Maximilian replied expansively. “I do try to listen and learn fromthose who know more than I.”

He ignored Augusta’s sharp, annoyed glance and Wilmot’s snicker into his bacon, andfinished his breakfast without throttling either of them. Still, it was a close call. Afterward,he walked out of the dining hall with the Earl, promising to meet him in an hour for agame of chess before the Dentonshires arrived. The ladies followed after them, talking ofthe Season, and the upcoming ball.

As was his habit, Maximilian went to the stables to make his usual rounds andinspections. Accompanied by Fergus, he accepted reports on the health and condition ofthe mares and their foals. He went to the stallions’ block and scowled when the blackpinned his ears and tried to bite him. “Do it again, and I will have you gelded,” he warnedthe beast. He spoke to his breeding manager about the current schedule and looked in onthe young horses and their training.

“Your Grace.”

Turning, Maximilian found a footman bowing. “Yes?”

“A carriage has been sighted. Your guests are arriving.”

“Thank you. I am on my way.”

As he approached the castle, he found Augusta, Wilmot, and the Whitington familyalready assembled to formally greet the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire. He looked forEugenia among the footmen and servants but did not see her. Augusta looked him up anddown and sniffed her disapproval but did not speak her evident criticism in front of theguests.

The black coach pulled by a team of four white horses drew to a stop in front of the castleand footmen leaped down from the rear step to open the carriage doors. The Duchess ofDentonshire emerged first, a tall, stately woman with her rich brown hair perfectly coiffedeven during the travel. Streaks of grey within it added an air of regality to her, and herhazel eyes met Maximilian’s.

A lightning bolt of shock shot through him. Why does she look so familiar? I do not recallever meeting her before, but I swear I know her. He stepped forward and gave her a bowand a smile. “Welcome to Bromenville, Duchess. I am Maximilian Fernside, the Duke ofBromenville. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

She offered him a grave nod and a smile. “Beatrice Creighton, Duke, the Duchess ofDentonshire. And my husband, Horace Creighton, the Duke of Dentonshire.”

Maximilian shook hands with the Duke, a man with hair similar to his wife’s and darkbrown eyes. “A pleasure to meet you, Duke. Please, meet my stepmother, AugustaFernside, Dowager Duchess of Bromenville.”

“It has been too long, Duchess,” Augusta said, smiling with eyes like chips of ice. “Youremember my son, Wilmot?”

As the Dentonshires greeted their close friends, the Whitingtons, Maximilian wracked hisbrain trying to remember where he had seen the Duchess of Dentonshire before. But herhusband he knew he had never met. Perhaps I saw her in London and did not realize whoshe was at the time. As the group made their way into the castle, the dukes fell in stepwith each other.

“How was your journey?” he asked politely.

“Not too terrible as trips go,” the older man replied. “As we took it in short stages, it wasnot all that exhausting. But we seldom travel these days.” He smiled at Maximilian.“However, my wife insisted we accept your gracious invitation to the ball you are

hosting.”

“I am glad you did,” Maximilian said. “Though you and I have never met, I understandyou knew my father?”

Dentonshire nodded. “A good man and my friend. I do apologize for not attending hisfuneral. My wife was not well.”

“I received your letter of condolences,” Maximilian said. “Thank you.”

Walking with the man into the castle, Maximilian found himself liking the older Duke. Hedid not speak much and carried an air of quiet intelligence and authority - a reserve thatMaximilian found he could trust. “I have brandy and sherry in the drawing room wheneveryou are refreshed and ready.”

“Thank you, Duke,” Dentonshire replied with a brief smile. “You are as gracious a host asyour father. You do remind me of him. You know, your father helped me through somevery dark times many years ago.”

“Oh, did he?” Maximilian glanced sidelong at his companion. “May I inquire what he didthat helped you?”

Dentonshire half shrugged. “I thought you knew the story. When our little daughter wasborn, she was taken from us.”

“An illness?”

“No. Our nursemaid stole her in the middle of the night. Neither of them has been foundsince.”

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ugusta glared at her son.

“You are a complete incompetent.”

Wilmot flushed to his hairline, glancing around the dining hall, empty save for the two ofthem, as though seeking escape. “I am doing the best I can, Mother.”

“How are you supposed to advance in this world if you do not do as I tell you?” shesnapped. “As your mother, I expect you to do as I say, Wilmot. I know what is best foryou, and I want you to marry a girl who will bring you wealth and titles; one who canstand beside you in society.”

“I know, Mother.”

Augusta sniffed. “Unlike your idiot half-brother, who lets himself be distracted by a mere,low-class maid. Hmmpf. How ridiculous is that, I ask you?”

Catching sight of Lady Helena walking in the doorway, then hesitating at the sight ofthem, Augusta smiled. “Come in, child, come in.”

Lady Helena curtseyed, clearly self-conscious and nervous by the tentative smile on her

face and the way she clutched her skirts with both hands, obeyed. “Your Grace. My Lord.”

“Where are your parents, Lady Helena?” August asked as the girl came in and took a spotfurther down the table from her usual place.

“They should be here soon, Your Grace,” she said, licking her lips. “They are waiting towalk down with the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire.”

“Such wonderful people,” Augusta trilled. “Our other guests should be arriving over thecourse of the next few days for the ball.” She tittered a short laugh. “It is going to be atrifle chaotic here.”

“Yes, of course.”

Smiling fondly at Wilmot, Augusta lowered her voice. “My Wilmot here is a lovely dancer,are you not, son?”

“Ah, yes, I am.” His eyes flicked to Lady Helena before returning to stare down at thetable. “I have had many lessons.”

“You should dance with Wilmot at the ball, my dear,” Augusta went on. “Son, be sure toask Lady Helena to dance? I know you will have so many partners to choose from, as youare quite the romantic catch.”

“Certainly.” Wilmot beamed at Lady Helena, who offered him a weak smile in return.

“That would be lovely, My Lord,” she murmured. “I will look forward to it.”

“I will as well, Lady Helena.”

“I just adore watching young people form attachments,” Augusta cooed and smiled at thetwo of them. “I will watch you both with enthusiasm at the ball.”

Beaming as the two young people eyed one another with tentative warm expressions,Augusta glanced up as Maximilian entered the hall, on time for once. Her irritation rose toreplace the pleasure she found with Wilmot and Lady Helena as he offered her a simplenod of greeting. Lady Helena rose to curtsey, her smile for Augusta’s stepson warmer andmore genuine than the one she gave Wilmot.

“Ah, so good of you to join us, Maximilian,” she said, the added words “on time” impliedin her tone.

His brow rose in the fashion that never failed to make her want to scratch his eyes out.“Of course, Duchess. It is luncheon, is it not?”

As he sat at the head of the table, the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire arrived, with theEarl and Countess of Whitington on their heels. “Our welcome guests,” she said, gesturingfor them to come in and sit. “Are you refreshed from your travel, Duke and Duchess? Ihave had the cook prepare special dishes in your honor.”

“How very kind of you,” the Duchess replied. “You are a gracious hostess.”

To Augusta’s utter disgust, Earl Whitington cleared his throat and said to Maximilian, “Ihave taken the liberty of informing the Duke here of your latest misfortunes, Your Grace.”

The Duke of Dentonshire frowned slightly, nodding. “I find it disturbing at the very leastthat someone wishes to harm you, Bromenville. Do you have any possible suspects?”

“Yes, I have a few possibles in mind,” Maximilian hedged as the butler poured wine intohis glass. “I would prefer not to mention them by name right now, however.”

“Completely understandable,” Dentonshire replied. “Whitington also said you have aScottish highwayman in custody?”

“Yes, and he is still being questioned by the constables in York. We hope he might leadus to his companions.”

“If they have not already escaped into Scotland,” the Earl added.

Augusta glanced at Wilmot, hoping to see him gazing at Lady Helena. He, however,downed his wine in gulps, gesturing for the butler to pour more. Glancing at anythingsave the other people at the table, Wilmot appeared flustered, his flesh pale. Augustawanted to smack his face and demand he behave as the son of a Duke instead of an ill-mannered milksop.

“Have you seen the Prince Regent lately, Duke?” she asked, trying to turn the subjectaway from the dreary topic at hand. “I was so very disappointed he could not attend ourball.”

“No, I am afraid not, Madam,” Dentonshire replied. “He has been closeted with the PrimeMinister of late.”

Augusta sighed. “It must be a difficult role to rule a kingdom.”

“Indeed, it is,” Maximilian said. cheerfully. “We are fortunate indeed to have our PrinceRegent during these times. I have enough difficulty ruling my estates.”

Augusta managed a small smile under the genteel laughter around the table but secretlywished Maximilian would keep his mouth shut. “We have the Earl and Countess ofHarrington arriving tomorrow, and the Viscount Mallen and his wife, of course, will also behere. I believe our little ball will be the talk of the Season.”

Augusta’s glance fell once more upon Wilmot who continued to drink heavily. At this rate,he would be inebriated before the second course. She frowned slightly, wondering whathad gotten into him.

I shall have a firm talk with him once luncheon is over. He simply must maintain properdecorum in front of our guests.

To her dismay, Maximilian had also noticed Wilmot’s behavior and frowned as he twirledthe stem of his wineglass in his fingers.

“Are you all right, Wilmot?” he asked. “You seem … upset.”

Wilmot smiled broadly. “Not at all, brother. I am merely enjoying this particular winevintage. Do you not also appreciate its fine smoky bouquet?”

“Yes, it does indeed have a unique flavor. Are you certain you are all right?”

“Of course.” Wilmot’s smile seemed feigned as he included their guests, especially LadyHelena, in his jovial demeanor. “After all, we have this wonderful party in a few days. Andthe chaps who have been trying to do you in are in gaol or chased to Scotland. What elsecould be wrong?”

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bviously, Wilmot does not know about this latest attempt to kill Eugenia. Ourvillain is still out there.

Though his brother’s strange behavior continued to trouble him, Maximilian grew too busywith his current and future guests to dwell overmuch on Wilmot’s drinking habits. As thethree of them greeted arriving guests over the next few days, Maximilian threw himselfinto the last preparations for the ball. Nor did he have much time to speak to Eugeniaduring those frantic days and snatched quick conversations with her outside the kitchenbefore meals.

The morning of the ball, Maximilian arrived earlier than usual for breakfast, before themass of guests came down to eat. The dining hall had been filled with footmen andservants to attend the sheer volume of aristocrats who would soon sit at the vast table.Eugenia awaited him, offering him a curtsey and a mischievous grin.

Hidden from view by their bodies, Maximilian took her hand. “I am so sorry I have nothad much time to see you.”

“I understand,” she said. “Lady Helena had me scurrying like a frightened rabbit to gether ready for the ball tonight.”

Maximilian glanced at Mr. Oldman standing just out of earshot, his watchful eyes on thescuttling servants as they hurried in and out of the dining hall. “Just make certain he hasyour back.”

“He does. Though with how crazy everything is, Lady Helena and I cannot always betogether for him to watch us both.”

“Lady Helena is always with her parents or other guests,” Maximilian replied. “Nor hasshe been targeted specifically. I just want you to be careful.”

Eugenia squeezed his hand. “You, too, Max. Watch your back.”

Unable to resist her beauty and charm, Maximilian bent and kissed her. She tasted sweet,like she had eaten strawberries, and opened her lips under his, welcoming him. But asthey were in the view of anyone passing by, Maximilian retreated from her quickly. “Thatwas nice,” he murmured, smiling into her hazel eyes.

“My very first kiss.” Eugenia chuckled. “I like it.”

“Me, too. Perhaps after the ball tonight, we might walk in the garden. Perhaps there Imight steal another kiss.”

“I might let you. Until then, Your Grace.”

With a quick curtsey, Eugenia vanished into the kitchen. A silly grin on his face,Maximilian turned to walk toward the hall as guests from across the kingdom strolled into breakfast. He had barely turned the corner when he all but collided with Augusta. Hericy-blue eyes bored into him as though they were twin spears, and he knew she hadwitnessed everything between himself and Eugenia.

“How dare you,” she all but screamed in an undertone. “You are a disgrace, Maximilian,to this family and your status. You ignore a fine heiress like Lady Helena and embarrassme with the low born trollop.”

Maximilian grew cold with fury. “And how dare you, Duchess, to spy on me, then questionwho I spend time with.”

“That hussy cannot possibly stand at your side,” Augusta hissed, her eyes narroweddangerously. “Should you lower yourself to wed her, you will be the laughingstock ofpolite society.”

“Polite society be damned,” he growled. “I will do as I please, and I do not care if youapprove or not approve. She is my business and mine alone.”

“And you will bring disgrace down upon our family,” she snapped. “I will not have ourgood name dragged in the mud. What would your father think?”

“My father would want me to be happy, Madam,” he replied, reining in his temper. “Butas he is not here, we will never know.”

“I warn you, Maximilian,” Augusta continued, spittle slicking her lips in her rage. “Have acare when you place this family behind your scandalous wooing of that creature. For I willnot have you stain my name along with your own.”

With that, Augusta spun on her heel and stormed into the hall amid the flow of guests.Maximilian breathed deeply, calming his rage, before he, too, joined the influx of diners.He knew they would recognize in him his deep and abiding anger. Before he did,however, he glanced back over his shoulder toward the kitchen and found Eugeniastanding there, tears in her eyes.

She had heard every word.

Opening his mouth to say anything, to apologize, to explain, he tried to speak. Nothingemerged. He gaped at her, helpless, knowing full well the exchange between himself andhis stepmother hurt her to the very foundation of her being. He took a step toward her,and that broke the stasis. Eugenia turned away, tears flowing, and disappeared into the

kitchen.

Dressed in his most formal attire, Maximilian stood beside Augusta in the receiving lineearly that evening, greeting their guests as they arrived for the ball. Musicians strolledamong them as waiters in fine livery passed among them, offering food and drink.Ignoring the heaviness in his heart, Maximilian smiled until he thought his face wouldcrack in half. He shook and kissed hands, chuckled and welcomed each and every one ofthem with an enthusiasm he did not feel.

The Viscount of Mallen, Edmund, and his wife Lady Caroline arrived, Maximilian andMallen shook hands as Lady Caroline and Augusta swapped air kisses. “How lovely to seeyou again, Lady Caroline,” Augusta trilled. “I am happy you both have come to our littlesoiree.”

“I am so pleased to have been invited.” Lady Caroline eyed Maximilian flirtatiously. “YourGrace, you are as handsome as ever. How do you keep the ladies from fawning all overyou?”

Maximilian bent to kiss her hand, grinning into her clear blue eyes. “Why, I ride fast andhard, Lady Caroline.”

She laughed with good humor. “Then I shall have to put a hobble on your horse, dearman. I do so want to see you married to a nice girl.”

“One day, My Lady,” he said with a sly wink. “One day.”

Later, Maximilian circulated amid the hundred-plus guests, a glass of wine in his hand,occasionally catching glimpses of Eugenia. She, too, moved among the crowd, offeringdrinks from a silver tray with pretty smiles. Though this was not her regular duty, he hadheard through Lady Helena that she agreed to help serve.

He watched the said Lady Helena dance with his brother, Wilmot, and thought them anice enough looking couple. They seemed to like each other, anyway, and if the Earlproposed a marriage contract between them, he found few objections. However, with herprospects, he could not see Lady Helena married to a second son. Not with the many firstsons of Earls and Viscounts in the realm, many of whom were here tonight, and also onthe hunt for a wealthy, titled bride.

Soon, he found himself standing with the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire. Deciding totake a breather from being the perfect host, he stood and made small talk with them ashe made sure all his guests were happy from a distance. Eugenia met his gaze fromacross the grand hall as Earl Whitington plucked a glass of champagne from her tray,smiling at her as he did so.

He found the Duchess stepping closer to his side and turned to find her following hisgaze. She frowned, her hazel eyes narrowed as she stared at Eugenia through the movingmass of guests. “Might I ask who that girl is, Bromenville?”

“Lady Helena Whitington’s personal maid,” he answered, wondering if she had heard therumors of the romance building between himself and Eugenia. “She is helping us tonight.”

“I see.”

The Duchess continued to watch Eugenia as the girl walked among the cream of thekingdom’s nobility, her eyes fixed, intent. Her mouth opened slightly, and it seemed toMaximilian that the skin of her face had paled. Concerned, Maximilian glanced betweenher and her just as confused husband. “Is something wrong, Duchess?” he asked.

“I – am not sure,” she murmured. “I think I am seeing a ghost.”

The Duke of Dentonshire frowned and tried to see Eugenia just as the maid disappearedinto the milling guests. “What are you talking about?”

Glancing at her husband, she asked, “Does that girl not look like me?”

He stammered a confused reply. “Why, my dear, I do not know, I barely caught a glimpseof her.”

“I want to talk to her.”

The Duchess clutched her skirts in one hand and her drink in another and hurried her waythrough the guests. Maximilian watched her go, then turned to Dentonshire. “What doesshe mean?”

“Ever since we lost our infant daughter,” the Duke replied, shaking his head, “my wife hasnot ceased looking for her. I suppose neither of us can accept the possibility she is dead.I, also, find myself hoping to find her again. Thus, we rarely attend parties and socialfunctions, and see our beautiful child everywhere in every person we meet.”

Maximilian remembered his moment of shock upon seeing the Duchess for the first time,how she seemed so familiar to him. No, that is impossible. The odds of Eugenia beingtheir lost daughter are astronomical. “I suppose if I lost my child,” he said slowly. “I, too,would look for her in every passing face.”

“And that is exactly what I find us doing,” Dentonshire agreed. “And every time we see agirl with dark hair, it raises our hopes, only to have them dashed once more. I just hateto see my wife go through that disappointment again.”

The Duchess returned, her expression downcast, shaking her head. “I could not catch upto her,” she said. “I no longer wish to remain at the ball. If you will excuse me, I willreturn to my quarters. Good night.”

Watching her leave, her back straight and her head high, Maximilian murmured, “I feelterrible for you both.”

“Thank you,” Dentonshire replied. “I do not like her to be alone when she is like this. Ifyou will excuse me, I believe I will depart as well. Good night.”

It was quite late when Maximilian walked into the garden. The fresh, clean night aircleared his head of the odors of cigars and alcohol and the noise of the crowdedballroom. The moon floated high over the moors as his eyes adjusted to the darknessafter the bright lights inside the castle. He saw the dim shape of Eugenia seated on abench and the silent shadow of Mr. Oldman watching over her not far away.

Eugenia glanced up at him as he took a spot on the bench beside her. “Long night, eh?”he said, gazing up at the stars.

“Yes.”

“While I suppose it is nice to have guests,” he said. “I am glad this party is over.”

Maximilian glanced at her when she did not speak, and the shadows prevented him fromseeing her expression. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered.

Knowing it was his exchange with Augusta that morning that had her still upset,Maximilian reached to take her hand. When she refused to let him have it and scootedfurther from him down the bench, his worry grew. “Please, Eugenia, do not let mystepmother upset you,” he said, his tone soft. “She has only her name and social statusto cling to. It is all that is important to her.”

“It should be important to you as well, Your Grace.”

“I thought you were to call me Max in private.”

“That is not an option to me any longer,” Eugenia said, her voice thick. “I came heretonight to tell you that you should marry Lady Helena. Or another woman of her status. Icannot withhold you from marrying your equal in society.”

Maximilian felt his own throat and chest tighten. “Do not say that. I have no desire foranyone except you. You know this.”

“It does not matter,” she said, standing. “Do not make this any harder for me. TheDuchess is right. I cannot stand beside you in society. I will bring shame to you and yourgood name if we continue. What was between us is now over.”

“I could never be happy if I marry anyone else, Eugenia,” Maximilian said, his hearthammering in his chest. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, making him shiver evenunder the mild night. “I love you for your sweet nature, your indomitable courage andspirit. I will love only you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, her braid swinging down as she bowed her head.He knew she wept silent tears, for he saw her shoulders shaking, even in the dark, withthe effort to not sob aloud. He reached for her and his heart shattered as she drew awayfrom him as though he offered her poison, not his hand. Or his love.

“I do not love you.”

Those words splintered what remained of Maximilian’s world. His heart, broken, achedwith terrible, physical pain. Surely no one could live with such agony, such a horrible,tearing loss. He could not breathe. Stunned, dazed, he watched as Eugenia spun on herheel, and walked away.

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ugenia wept through the most miserable night of her life. She did not cry herselfto sleep. In fact, she did not sleep at all. All her unshed tears during her younglife poured from her now. No amount of sobbing on Lady Helena’s shoulder eased

her grief. Her soul had died; she was in pain.

“He will not marry me,” Lady Helena said, rocking her as she held Eugenia close. “Heloves you; he told you so.”

“I cannot… stand … by him,” Holding a handkerchief to her face, Eugenia wailed.“Duchess … said so.”

“Just because the Dowager Duchess said it does not make her right,” Lady Helenareplied, stroking her hand down Eugenia’s braid. “Many nobles have married beneaththeir stations. Many have married above them. You have an opportunity to marry forlove, a chance I may not ever get.”

“He will … not marry … me.”

“Did he say that?”

Eugenia shook her head against Lady Helena’s bosom.

“Then do not put words he did not say in his mouth,” Lady Helena said sternly. “Had yougiven him the chance, he might have asked you to marry him. What would an honorableman like him do? Love you, but marry a wealthy heiress, and keep you as his mistress? Icertainly cannot see His Grace doing that.”

Despite Lady Helena’s words, Eugenia could not be comforted. With a steady streamtrickling down her cheeks, she helped her mistress into her dressing gown, braided herhair for bed, and crawled into her own. She kept her weeping as quietly as possible buteventually rose from her bed to sit in a chair by the window. Staring out into thedarkness, she saw her tears reflected in the glass and felt a burning pain in her chest –her heart had been broken.

By dawn, she felt exhausted, and her tears had finally dried. Numb, she avoided LadyHelena’s concerned gaze and washed her face in cold water to help her swollen eyes.Gazing at herself in a looking glass, Eugenia could not face leaving these rooms. Norcould she risk seeing Maximilian again.

“Please let me remain here,” she begged Lady Helena. “We will be leaving for Londonsoon, and I would rather not ever see him again.”

“I think that is a mistake, Eugenia,” Lady Helena replied, her hands on her hips. “Today,yes, because you look a fright, and I know how raw your feelings are right now. Buttomorrow – we shall see.”

Discovering how easily she could turn into another Clara and seldom leave her mistress’schambers, Eugenia performed her work, keeping her focus strictly on it and notMaximilian. After luncheon in their private chambers, she nodded off while sitting at thetable and dreamed of Maximilian standing in the darkness, and the echo of his voicecalling to her over and over again.

“No,” Lady Helena said firmly as Eugenia brushed out her auburn hair and coiled into anattractive coiffure the next morning. “You wi l l attend me today, even if it meansencountering him. Some of the guests will be leaving shortly, and I will have my maidwith me.”

Going through the motions, Eugenia dressed herself with care, braided her dark brownlocks and followed Lady Helena down the stairs. She both dreaded seeing Maximilian andlonged for it. Yet, as Lady Helena entered the dining hall, she fled into the kitchen for herown meal. Fortunately, due to the sheer number of guests, Mr. Simmons and Deryn werefar too busy to pay her much heed.

Mr. Oldman, of course, still followed her faithfully, and at her insistence, he ate in thekitchen with her. He never said anything about it, but by the occasional sympatheticglance he shot her, he had heard every word she and Maximilian said to one another.Still, his presence steadied her, and she could stand behind Lady Helena throughout theday without collapsing into another downpour of crying.

“Look.”

Lady Helena gave her a nudge. “He looks like he has not been sleeping. See the circlesunder his eyes?”

They mingled in the bailey with a small crowd of other guests as Maximilian and theDowager Duchess saw others into their carriages. Sure enough, Maximilian appeared tohave forgotten how to smile. His cheeks were drawn in tightly, and dark bags hung underhis eyes. Eugenia thought she saw him glance her way, but because the two of themstood to the back of the group, she could not be certain.

As Maximilian, his expression grimly neutral, shook hands and his horrid stepmother – asEugenia had begun to think of her – smiled brightly, Eugenia knew she had caused hissuffering. Yet, despite her guilt, she had done what was best for him for them. She wouldfeel terrible if he was turned away from court because of her or if society turned theirbacks on him.

I did it for me, as much as for him, so I can have a peaceful conscience.

Feeling eyes on her, Eugenia glanced toward Maximilian; he had spotted her. But his backhad turned as he spoke with another man. Glancing around the bailey, she found a tallwoman with grey streaks in her hair watching her intently. Changing the direction of her

eyes, Eugenia leaned toward Lady Helena.

“Who is that woman?” she whispered.

“Who?”

“The lady with the grey in her hair. She is staring at us. Or me.”

Lady Helena casually looked around as though not carefully examining faces. “Oh. That isthe Duchess of Dentonshire. Very nice lady. She is good friends with my parents.”

Feeling uncomfortable, Eugenia stepped forward so that Lady Helena stood betweenherself and the woman. “Why is she staring?”

“I do not know. Do you want me to ask her?”

“No. It is all right. Perhaps we should go now. It is almost time to change for supperanyway.”

“Very well.”

Thankfully, the woman did not follow them, although Eugenia still felt the woman’s eyeson her back as they returned inside the castle. She thought about this Duchess whilehelping her mistress change and restyle her hair. Deciding that the woman did notactually stare at her but rather at Lady Helena, Eugenia followed her mistress down thestairs to supper. As ever, Mr. Oldman trailed along behind her.

This time, however, Maximilian stood by the dining hall door, watching them arrive. Tryas she might, Eugenia could not look away from him. He bent to say something to LadyHelena as she strolled toward him. When he saw Eugenia entered the hall, Maximilian

walked toward her. Eugenia froze, her heart in her mouth, as she looked up at him. Sheforgot to curtsey.

“I want you to change your mind,” he said, his tone soft. “Love me or not I do not care. Iunderstand why you did what you did, why you said it, and I still love you.”

“Your Grace,” she began, but he shushed her with his finger over her lips.

“You broke my heart, Eugenia,” he said. “I cannot eat, I scarcely sleep, but you hurt meto protect me, just as you put your life on the line to keep me alive. There is no greaterlove than that. You said you do not love me, but your actions say otherwise. I just wantyou to know that I refuse to give up on you.”

“You should,” Eugenia whispered. “I am no good for you.”

“You are what is good for me, my love, my angel,” he replied, his tone so soft she couldbarely hear it. “You, not society. I will find a way to win you back, somehow, I willconvince you that we belong together.”

“Please,” Eugenia said now near tears. “Do not. I cannot live with the guilt of what shouldhappen if we continue like this. I am low-born, you are not. I cannot be responsible foryour downfall. Forget me, I beg you.”

He did not care who might see; Maximilian traced his finger down her cheek. He smiled.“You should remember something, angel. I am a Duke. We dukes always get what wewant.”

For the next two days, Eugenia tried to avoid him. Yet, fate or Lady Helena workedagainst her, and she found herself meeting him in corridors or near the kitchen.Maximilian always smiled at her and pressed his finger to his lips as though they shared asecret. Which, she supposed, they did. His face told her what his words did not – he

would not give up on her.

Eugenia knew full well Maximilian’s responsibilities to his guests required his fullattention, and so she tried to lurk in the chambers she shared with Lady Helena. Morestubborn than a mule, her mistress demanded Eugenia accompany her everywhere. Thus,late one afternoon, she overheard Earl and Lady Whitington discussing their return toLondon.

“He refuses to talk of a contract.” The Earl sighed. “I suppose he is not quite ready tosettle down with a wife. Our Helena is young yet, my dear. We can afford to wait a while,perhaps next year he will come around.”

Countess Whitington patted Lady Helena’s hand and tried to comfort her when she hadno need of it. “I am sure it is not you, daughter. He is still sowing those wild oats of his.”

Lady Helena shot Eugenia a sharp, amused glance and smothered her giggles with herhands. To anyone else, she covered her horror at being rejected by the most sought-afterbachelor in the kingdom. Eugenia stilled her eyes that were strongly tempted to roll.

My Lady and her drama.

“We should return to London within the week,” Earl Whitington decided. “I have businessI must see to.”

His Countess nodded. “I am beginning to feel we have overstayed our welcome, Whit,darling. Her Grace, the Duchess, spends more time with the Dentonshires than with usthese days.”

Were these the words Eugenia had to hear to validate her persistence to free Maximilianfrom her presence? He will pursue me while I am here. But not as far as London. Shedreaded this spur of the moment departure. Sniffing back unshed tears, Eugeniahardened her heart. It is for the best, for him as well as me, perhaps one day he will even

forgive me.

Later that day, Eugenia followed Lady Helena to the dining hall as usual, and there stoodMaximilian waiting nearby – why wouldn’t he be? She couldn’t ignore him. Even thoughshe was miserably happy at the sight, she walked to him and curtseyed anyway. “YourGrace.”

He smiled down at her from his tall height. “I am very happy to see you.”

“You must not be,” she said, her heart quickening. “The Earl and Countess of Whitingtonare planning to return to London. I will be going with them.”

His smile vanished. “Perhaps I can persuade them to remain a while longer. I know mystepmother has been preoccupied with the Dentonshires and has neglected them, but Imay find a few good reasons to convince them to stay longer.”

“Of course, you must do what you feel you must,” Eugenia replied slowly. “I know thatonce I do return to London, whenever that is, that you will not pursue me there.”

“You think that, do you?” Maximilian traced his finger down her cheek to her chin.“Eugenia, I will pursue you to the ends of this earth if I have to. Please, come visit thestables with me. I will ask Lady Helena to free you from your duties for an hour or so.”

Eugenia hesitated and bit her lip. She knew staying away from him was the best courseof action at this point. Her conscience was saying no, but her heart was leaping at thechance at bonding with the horses with him. Being around the horses showed her therewere no social distances between herself and Maximilian; they could mingle as peers andfeel free to love each other. “Very well. Though I think it is a big mistake.”

“Time spent with you is hardly a mistake,” Maximilian said. “Thank you. I will ask LadyHelena, privately, if she can spare you after breakfast tomorrow.”

For the first time in a long while, Eugenia’s spirits rose. “She will probably say yes, as sheapproves of us.”

“She is a very generous soul.” His mouth moved in a smile. “As are her parents. I mustgo. I will see you tomorrow?”

Returning a forced smile, Eugenia discreetly brushed his fingers with her own. “I expectso. Until then.”

“Until then.”

Maximilian turned and walked toward the dining hall doors; a bowed footman awaitedinside. In the meantime, Eugenia mindlessly drifted toward the kitchen and rememberedMr. Oldman strode at her shoulder. She looked up and gave him a smile that showed sheappreciated his steady, reassuring presence. He usually did not invade her personal spaceas he did now, and Eugenia found she did not mind.

“If I may venture an opinion, Miss Betham?” Keeping his voice low, he gazed down at herwith a smile playing around his mouth. “You are doing the right thing here.”

“I wish I could be sure of that.”

“You are. Love knows no boundaries, nor should you place any upon it. What you havehere is real, honest love, Miss Betham. The kind that few people ever encounter in theirlives.”

“You might be right, Mr. Oldman.” She took a deep breath. “But love is also sacrifice. Icannot place His Grace’s social status in jeopardy.”

“Somehow,” Mr. Oldman said, his brow quirked, “I do not believe you can displace a Dukefrom his position in society that easily. If you perpetuated a scandal, maybe. But not by

being your sweet self.”

His words and emotional support heartened her. She whispered, “Thank you.”

Deryn set full plates in front of them and departed at high speed. Like old friends,Eugenia and Mr. Oldman shared a meal of lamb stew with fresh hot bread and honey.With the high number of guests who still remained in the castle, the kitchen staff rushedto fulfill the needs of the aristocrats dining in the vast hall with the Duke. The place washot and noisy, and Eugenia finished her meal quickly in order to get out of the crampedkitchen.

Lady Helena was still engaged at the supper table and would be for a while. So, Eugeniadecided to go outside to the garden. With Mr. Oldman faithfully following as always, shestrolled amid the trees and shrubbery, the enchanting flower beds, and sat on the edge ofthe fountain. The sun westered over the moors, setting loose a faint chill on the lightevening breeze. Though growing uncomfortably cold without her cloak, Eugenia feltreluctant to return to the warmer castle.

Just a few more minutes.

She was lost in her thoughts of Maximilian and what sort of future they might have if heoffered to marry her, when the sound of running feet alarmed her. She remembered allthe attacks and ducked into an opening in the hedgerow. Silent, covered in shadows, sheheaded toward the footsteps. She jumped when Mr. Oldman spoke from behind her

“Where are you going?”

She pointed. “Someone is headed toward the stables,” she whispered. “I heard it.”

“Come away,” he ordered at once. “Let us go back to the castle, and we will inform HisGrace.”

Eugenia hesitated to peer through the stiff branches of the hedgerow. A shadow dartedfrom the concealing darkness between the carriage house and structure that housed thehay and straw. It ran toward the foaling stable, and Eugenia gasped when she saw thelow hood and flapping cloak. “It is him! It is our villain. We must go after him.”

Mr. Oldman blocked her path. “You will go find the Duke. I will see what he is up to.”

“Catch him,” she said urgently. “But be careful.”

“Just fetch His Grace.”

She spun on her heels. Holding her skirts so she wouldn’t trip, she ran back through thegarden toward the castle, over them. She rushed past startled footmen, ignoring theircalled questions and dodging a few housemaids with linens in their arms. She hopedMaximilian was still in the vicinity of the dining room and ran in that direction. She foundhim with a few other male guests – one she recognized as the Duke of Dentonshire –heading toward the drawing room for port.

In spite of her haste, Eugena stopped a short distance from him. “Your Grace.”

Maximilian turned, still smiling from something Dentonshire had said and saw her. Hissmile rapidly faded as he recognized the urgency in her expression, the shortness in herbreath from running. “Excuse me,” he said to his guests, then walked with long hurriedstrides toward her. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low.

“I saw him,” Eugenia exclaimed, also keeping her voice pitched low. “The man in thehood and cloak. He was going to the foaling stable.”

Maximilian grimaced, running his hand through his hair. “You stay here.”

“Mr. Oldman went after him,” she said. Maximilian, despite his formal supper attire,

trotted toward the closest doors that led out of the castle. Watching him go, biting herlip, Eugenia felt indecisive. The need to obey him and stay where he told her warred withher worry over his safety. “Hang it all,” she muttered, then hiked her skirts again and ranin his wake.

Amidst yells and shouts, she burst through the door outside the castle. Flames lit thenight sky. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, aghast at the scene before her.

The foaling stable was on fire. Grooms were running, shouting at one another, andgrabbing buckets to fill and throw on the flames. Others were leading mares, babies attheir sides, from the burning building. She saw Maximilian hesitate, yelling something tothe grooms, then dashed inside.

“No, Max,” she moaned. “Do not go in there.”

Running toward where he disappeared, Eugenia felt the intense heat of the fire, evenfrom the distance she was from the inferno. Horses screamed over the roar of the flames,making her heart race in panic.

No, not the horses. Those beautiful babies.

Grooms were throwing bucket after bucket of water on the blaze, smoke boiling up intothe night sky. People were running from the castle to help, seizing buckets, filling themfrom the wells, dashing the water onto the flames. Thinking she should also grab abucket to help douse the fires spreading to the roof, she spared a thought for Mr.Oldman.

Where is he?

Starting toward the lines of servants fighting the fire, she caught a glimpse of the familiarhooded and cloaked form running at top speed from the door where Maximilian hadentered the engulfed building. He vanished into the dark. “Oh, no,” Eugenia groaned, her

panic flaring anew. “Max.”

No one was throwing water on the inferno at that end. Running toward it, Eugenia wasforced to slow her pace when she came across a number of mares and foals burstingthrough the door, running free and loose. She tried dodging their running bodies andslashing hooves, but they were bolting past without seeing her. When the last onedashed past, leaving her still standing, Eugenia went running through the door.

The heat was intense. She was coughing smoke from the fierce hot air. It crisped herskin, and the cobbled stone beneath her feet burned through her stout shoes. Holding herarms up to shield her face from the flames, she screamed his name. “Max!”

All about her, the wooden beams and walls of the stalls were burning and flames wereeating into the roof over her head. To her right, the stalls collapsed inward uponthemselves with a crash, the bright orange and yellow flames were reaching for her,hungry. “Max!” She could not see him. She knew he had not come out the door she hadentered through. Perhaps he had left by the other door. Running down the aisle,coughing, half blinded by heat and smoke, Eugenia found the far door blocked.

Skidding to a halt, she stared, dumbfounded. It had been not just closed but jammedshut with rakes and pitchforks. Max had not left through that way. Turning, she ran backthe way she had come. “Max!” Hurrying down the next aisle, Eugenia discovered hergown on fire. Slapping the flames out with her hands, coughing, peering through hersmoke and heat torturing eyes, she hurried on. She turned a corner and found him.

Maximilian lay on his belly and face on the cobbles, unburned as far as she could see. Buthe was unconscious, nonetheless. Dropping to her knees, she rolled him over. Bloodoozed down from his brow, his eyes closed, but he made a snorting, choking noise as hebreathed. Smoke. Eugenia did not like that. “Max,” she shouted, half lifting him by hiscoat. “Wake up, you have to wake up.”

He did not. Glancing around, she realized that if she did not get him out quickly, theyboth would burn to death. The flames ate their way closer, and the roof would collapse atany moment. When it did, it would rain blocks of burning wood down upon them both.Lifting his legs, Eugenia set them to either side of her hips. Like a mule in harness, she

braced her feet against the floor and pulled. Maximilian was a big man and heavy, buther urgency lent her a strength she did not know she had. Pulling him across the cobbles,she headed toward the blocked door. It was the closest one.

The fire had beat her to it. The door, engulfed, had partly collapsed, leaving a gap shemight be able to get through. But the wooden handles of the tools still crisscrossed theopening. Flames surrounded the entire doorway, so even if she knocked them down, theinferno still could catch them in its embrace. “Bloody hell,” she cursed, coughing.Dropping Maximilian’s legs, she sought for something she could use to open the gapwider and permit them through. Casting about, she found a pile of blankets that thegrooms had no doubt planned to put on the mares that night. They had not yet caughtfire, though they smoked and no doubt would catch at any moment.

She grabbed one to use as a shield and ran at the door. She crashed through it, inhaled afresh gasp of crisp cool air, then ran back for Maximilian. She covered his face and upperbody with the blanket, grabbed another and cast it over her head to drape over her. Sheseized his legs in her grip once more, leaned against his weight and pulled him towardthe burning doorway. Flames were licking at them both, grasping at the blankets, tryingto eat through them. Nearing the end of her strength, coughing until she thought herlungs would burst in her chest, Eugenia dragged Maximilian’s dead weight into the clean,cool air.

Voices shouted, dimly heard through the thick blanket. Eugenia stumbled, unable to see,to breathe, and dropped Maximilian’s legs. She felt hands on her, ripping the wool fromher, from Max, pulling them both away from the heat of the inferno, still close enough tocatch them in its savage embrace. Unable to see, coughing, her head spinning, she wasfighting the hands that helped her.

“Max,” she moaned, trying to find him, to see if he was still alive. “Max.”

She fell to her hands and knees, seeing through her tear-filled eyes Maximilian’s stillbody. People surrounded him, lifting him, carrying him from her sight. “Max.”

Eugenia collapsed onto her face, unable to see, to breathe, and let the darkness take her.

C

C H A P T E R 3 4

onsciousness returned slowly.

Maximilian incrementally opened his eyes found himself staring at the ceiling. For a longmoment, he did not recognize it, had no idea where he was. He heard low, murmuredvoices a short distance from him, though they seemed unimportant. The only issue thatmattered at the moment was trying to discern his whereabouts. He frowned andascertained how much he hurt. His face hurt, his head hurt, his entire body ached inplaces he had no idea could ache. He raised his hand to put against his head anddiscovered it swathed in white bandages.

“What the –” he began. He could not remember what had happened.

The voices stopped murmuring. “He is awake,” one of them said clearly.

Turning his face toward them, he observed the room was dark and illuminated by a singlelamp. “What happened?” he croaked; his throat hurt. He was in his own chambers and layhis own bed.

“Lie still, Your Grace,” said Mr. Leary, entering the circle of light. “You nearly died in thefire.”

“Fire?”

Then he remembered. The foaling stable on fire. Rushing in. Releasing the panickedmares and foals from their stalls. Herding them toward the doorway. The man in thehood striking him in the head with a brick.

He tried to sit up, panicking. “Oh, God. My horses. Are they all right?”

More figures merged into his sight – Nigel Curry and Horace Creighton, the Duke ofDentonshire. “Yes, Your Grace,” Nigel said, his voice low. “The horses are all right. Thebuilding burned to the ground, however.”

Maximilian fell back, breathing hard. “Thank God.”

He saw the three men exchange long looks, their expressions concerned, sober. Morethan a burning building and an injured Duke warranted, he thought. Buildings could berebuilt. “Was anyone killed?” he asked.

“No,” Dentonshire said, his eyes not meeting Maximilian’s. “Not yet.”

“What does that mean?”

None of the three could look at him. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

At last, Nigel stirred. “It is Miss Betham, Your Grace.”

“What about her?” His burning throat closed, he could not breathe. She was nowherenear the fire. I ordered her to stay in the castle. Too late, he remembered how seldomEugenia did as she was told. He shut his eyes, groaning. “Oh, no. What happened?”

“She pulled you from the fire,” Dentonshire said. “She was seen running inside after youdid. Somehow, she dragged you out by bursting through the back door.”

He snapped his eyes open. “Tell me she will be all right,” he said to Mr. Leary. “Pleasetell me she will not die.”

Mr. Leary shunted his eyes away. “She breathed in too much smoke, Your Grace. Herburns are not terribly bad nor life-threatening. I fear her lungs may not heal.”

Savage pain ripped through Maximilian’s heart. Eugenia – dying. He could not bear it. Hewould have sacrificed the entire stable of horses rather than see one hair on her headharmed. But she, in her infinite courage and love for him, gave up her life for him. Thegreatest love in all of heaven and earth. “She saved my life. She is dying because of me.”

“An amazing feat, Bromenville,” Dentonshire commented. “That tiny girl dragging youfrom the burning building, If I had not seen it for myself, I would scarce believe it.”

Nigel stepped close to his bed. “Miss Betham is tough, Your Grace, tougher than mostmen. Do not give up on her. She can pull through this, but she needs you. Do notdespair.”

Maximilian nodded. “Where is she?”

“In a guest room just down the corridor,” Mr. Leary replied.

“I want to see her.” Maximilian struggled to rise, ignoring the pain in his head and hisburned skin. He found he had been stripped of his supper attire and wore only his smallclothes. “Fetch me a shirt, trousers.”

“Your Grace,” Mr. Leary protested. “I do not think you should leave your bed.”

“I am and I will.”

Nigel fetched clothes and helped him into them; he gazed down at his nearly naked body.Mr. Leary had treated and bandaged burns on his legs, arms, and torso, but they were asnothing compared to the grief that still speared his heart.

Eugenia, if you die, I will soon follow you.

Limping, his breathing ragged, his head pounding from the blow it received, Maximilianwas making his slow way out of his rooms.

Accompanied by Nigel, Maximilian opened the door to the room his steward indicated.Lady Helena sat beside the bed, her face swollen from crying. Countess Whitington sat onthe other side, her eyes dry, but her expression torn with grief. Eugenia lay on the bed,covered to her shoulders. The skin of her face was bright red, and her lustrous hair hadbeen singed, but if he had not heard from Mr. Leary to the contrary, he would havethought her simply asleep.

“Your Grace.”

The two Whitington women rose to curtsey, but he waved them back to their chairs.Limping to the bed, he gazed down at the unconscious girl. “How is she?” he asked.

“Not good,” Countess Whitington answered. “Mr. Leary has done what he could. She is inGod’s hands now.”

Eugenia breathed raggedly, shallowly, and coughed even as he stood over her.Maximilian clenched his fists. “She will live. She has to.”

“Your Grace.”

Nigel brought a chair for him. He was grateful to sit near Eugenia’s head. “She will live,”he repeated, unable to look away.

“I hope so,” Lady Helena said, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “She is like my sister.”

She turned her face toward Maximilian. “I think I should tell you something, Your Grace,”she said, her voice hoarse from weeping.

“What?”

“She told me this not long ago.” Lady Helena said, the words caught in her throat. “Shesaid she hoped this murderer would succeed in killing her.”

“What?” Maximilian burned with fury. He glanced at her with reproving eyes. Why onearth would she want that?”

“So – so she would not have to tell you to marry another,” Lady Helena said, trembling. “Ido not think she wanted to live to see you marry someone else.”

He forced himself to draw a deep breath, which brought on a fit of coughing, and hequelled his anger. “She is going to survive, Lady Helena,” he said when he could speak.“She will not see me marry another.”

He caught the Countess’s eyes, warm with approval, and her quick nod. “Our Eugenia is agood girl,” was all she said.

In those simple words, Maximilian understood the Countess had no objections to hispreferring her daughter’s maid over her daughter. The obvious love Maximilian had forEugenia, and Eugenia for him, had no doubt softened her heart. The Countess owned akind soul, even though the relationship did not benefit them or their daughter,

“I have heard you plan to return to London,” he said softly. “I hope that under thecircumstances you will remain a while longer.”

“Of course, we will, Your Grace,” she said. “We can scarcely leave our little Eugeniabehind.”

On the bed, Eugenia weakly thrashed, her brows puckered in pain, and she coughed. Hehoped she did not feel the pain of her burns if he took her in his arms and held herthrough the night.

She could die tonight, and I will never feel her body against mine, ever. I would neverhave kissed her, never have run my fingers through her hair.

Tears burned his eyes. “You better live, girl,” he muttered.

“She is robust, Your Grace,” Countess Whitington said. “She is stubborn and strong-willed.I think she will pull through this.”

Maximilian offered her a grateful smile. “Will you ladies continue to chaperone her? Iwould like to stay with her for a while longer.”

Lady Helena nodded. “I cannot sleep this night, knowing that Eugenia is hurt. I will stay.”

The Countess rose. “I wish I had the endurance to stay as well,” she said. “I must returnto my rooms to sleep, but I will come back in the morning.”

“Nigel, please escort the Countess to her rooms.”

As they left the room, Maximilian heard the Countess say, “I will send Clara to come andhelp you.”

Leaning back in his chair, Maximilian rubbed his eyes.” Thank you for being here, LadyHelena,” he said. “It means a great deal to me to have your support in all this.”

“How can I not?” she asked, trying to smile. “She loves you, and I love her.”

Maximilian dozed in his chair beside Eugenia’s bed, his thin sleep fractured by nightmaresof fire and a terrible loss. He snorted himself awake, stiff and sore and discovered a pairof eyes on him. He glanced up to find Lady Helena sporting an easy smile. “Oh,” hemuttered. “Sorry.”

“It is hard to sleep in a chair,” she said, standing to stretch her back. “But you should saygood morning to her.”

Confused, Maximilian turned his head to find Eugenia was watching him; her hazel eyeswere bloodshot but were calm and warm. “Max,” she whispered.

Her voice sounded hoarse and barely audible, but she was alive and able to speak.Maximilian grinned and stood and bent over her bed. “I do not care if this is proper ornot,” he murmured. “I almost lost you, so I will kiss you now.”

Maximilian gently pressed his lips on hers, feeling her mouth part, inviting him further. Hekissed her tenderly, feeling his heart beat harder, and letting her feel his worry andconcern for her lessened. She moved her lips under his, returning his kiss. He felt herindrawn breath, her quietest exhale, and drew her breath into him.

Their lips parted. He kissed the tip of her nose, the remaining part of her face that did notappear red and sore. “Woman, I should throw you in my dungeon for that stunt lastnight.”

Eugenia’s mouth upturned into a quirky smile. “Do it, and I will not let you kiss meagain.”

Her voice sounded dry; He went to a sideboard and returned with a glass of cool water.He held it to her mouth so she could swallow; he eyed Lady Helena sidelong. “Oh, andyou did not see that.”

Her green eyes widened. “See what? Did I see something I should not have?”

Maximilian chuckled. “That is why I love chaperones.”

Eugenia drank it all, then rested her head back on her pillow. “Thank you.”

Her voice now sounded stronger and seemed more like her own. He sat back in his chairand said, “You scared us all very badly.”

“You scared me when you went into the fire and did not come out.”

“I suppose I can see that.” Maximilian rubbed the cut and lump on his head. “Ourmurderer popped me across the head. I hardly saw him, I turned, and then he hit me. Ido not remember anything until waking up in my bed.”

Eugenia nodded weakly. “I ran in to find you. You were out cold.” She stopped andgestured for more water. He fetched more, then helped her to drink it. “The back doorwas blocked. But the fire burned a way out for us.”

“I still cannot believe you dragged him all that way, Eugenia,” Lady Helena said, takingthe cup from him and refilling it to bring it back full. “I do not think I could have done so.”

“Love gave me strength.”

The droopiness of her eyelids heralded her need for sleep and rest. Maximilian stood. “Goback to sleep then, my angel. Get your rest. I will send Mr. Leary in to see to you.”

Eugenia did just that. Walking to the door, he glanced at Lady Helena. “You should getsome rest, too.”

“I will, Your Grace, as soon as Clara gets here.”

Leaving the room, he was startled to find Mr. Oldman standing outside the guestchamber. In his worry over Eugenia, he had forgotten about her bodyguard. The formersoldier bowed. “Will she be all right, Your Grace?” he asked.

“Yes, with time and rest.” He held his anger until he heard what the man had to say.“Well? What happened last night?”

“Miss Betham was walking in the garden and saw the man in the cloak running towardthe stable,” he said.

Maximilian nodded; he had gathered that much from Eugenia. “Go on.”

“I chased after him, hoping I might actually catch him this time,” Mr. Oldman continued,his voice and expression neutral. “But I fear he either heard or saw me. I rounded thebuilding, and he hit me. When I woke up, the stable was engulfed. I could not find MissBetham anywhere and just learned where she was about an hour ago.”

His anger subsiding, Maximilian offered the man a small smile. “He hit me, as well. If notfor Miss Betham, they would be digging me from the rubble right now.”

“I should not have left her, Your Grace.”

“I myself ordered her to stay in the castle,” Maximilian said dryly. “She did not obey, but Iam alive because of her disobedience. So, I certainly cannot point fingers. Are you wellenough to continue guarding her?”

“Mr. Leary says so.”

“Good. Carry on, then.”

Maximilian returned to his own chambers. Yawning, he went in to find his valet up andprepared to serve him. Wishing he could go to his bed and sleep for the rest of the day,he nevertheless let his valet wash, shave, and help him dress. After breakfast with hisguests, he would go to what remained of his foaling stable and find out what exactly hadhappened.

Exhausted and sore, a formal breakfast was not what he wanted. But his position as hostdemanded it, thus he went downstairs and joined them, smiling as though nothing at allhad happened, the small crowd entering the dining hall. The Duke and Duchess ofDentonshire waited for him, offering their condolences for the loss of his stable and theirrelief that he had shrugged off most of his injuries.

“How is the young miss?” the Duke asked. “Will she survive?”

“She woke this morning and was talking,” Maximilian answered. “I think she will be justfine.”

“Jolly good,” he replied, ushering Maximilian and his Duchess into the hall ahead of him.“Such courage and resilience. You are quite lucky, young man.”

Maximilian casually took his place at the head of the table. Of course, the talk atbreakfast was of the fire the previous night and the cause, much to Augusta’s obvious

chagrin. Though she tried numerous times to change the subject, she was overruled.Wilmot met no one’s eyes and drank heavily, slouching in his chair with his shouldersrounded. Augusta frowned at him but said nothing.

“I say, Bromenville,” said Dentonshire. “I would like to accompany you this morning whenyou go out. I should like to know how this fire started.”

The Duke’s words fell into a lull in the conversation, and Maximilian’s reply spoke loudand clear into the nearly silent room. “Clearly it was arson, but exactly how, I do notknow. Save that it was yet another attempt on my life.”

“Please, Maximilian,” Augusta said, smiling as though at a joke heard many times over.“No one is trying to kill you. I am sure the fire was an accident.”

Maximilian watched her for a long moment without speaking, then turned back toDentonshire. “I would welcome your company and opinions, Duke.”

“I should like to come as well,” Earl Whitington said into the uncomfortable hush. “I maynot be able to assist in finding this fiend who has been trying to kill you, Your Grace, butcount on my support.”

Several men around the table expressed their wishes to accompany him, and thus afterbreakfast, Maximilian headed a group of nine men as he walked toward the remains ofhis foaling stable. There, they were met by Nigel and Fergus. Beyond them, workmen hadbegun to rake the still smoking embers out to squash them, and Maximilian gazed at therubble in silence.

Finally, he glanced at Fergus. “Where are the horses?”

“All safely in the fields, Your Grace,” he replied. “I checked them all over myself. A fewwith very minor burns that will heal in time. I must also tell you, Your Grace, that yourbunching them into the stalls close to the door is what saved them. Had they been all

over the place, I know we would have lost several.”

“That is good to know. Now how the devil did that evil man start this?”

“With most of the grooms at supper,” Fergus said, “those that remained to watch overthe horses were in the stable. They claim that a man in a black cloak and hood ran inwith flaming bottles. He threw them in all directions. The flames spread so fast; theyworked to get the horses out and did not chase him. He disappeared.”

Maximilian glanced at Dentonshire. “But he was still in here when I ran in, for he hit me.”

“Then he waited for you,” the Duke replied. “The fire was set to draw you in. You weremeant to die in it.”

“It would seem so, as everyone knows how I feel about my horses. Everyone knows Iwould run in to get them out. But where did he hide? Where could he hide in the midst ofa fire?”

“That question may not ever be answered,” the Duke said. “Unless you capture thiscriminal.”

“I have to,” Maximilian replied. “I refuse to let him kill me.”

“The bottles no doubt contained alcohol,” Earl Whitington said, his tone thoughtful.“Whiskey, most likely. Highly flammable and easily obtainable.”

“Good point,” Maximilian agreed, walking toward the smoking remains. He beckoned toNigel. “Start recruiting workmen immediately. I want this rebuilt right away. I cannothave my ladies in the fields come winter.”

“I will attend to it now, Your Grace.”

Nigel hurried away, and Dentonshire stared after him. “Any idea on why you and the misswere targeted for murder?”

Maximilian hesitated before answering. He glanced around at the still, expectant faces infront of him. “While I am not pointing fingers, exactly, I do have some suspicions. Iwonder if an old love has become jealous.”

Briefly he explained how he had fallen in love with Sophia, but she had left him to marrya man who would pay little heed to her activities. He then presented the idea that Sophiaperhaps wanted him back. “She sees my interest elsewhere and decides to kill us bothout of female revenge.”

Dentonshire shook his head. “I fear your former love can be cleared as a suspect,Bromenville,” he said. “Your Sophia was killed last month.”

M

C H A P T E R 3 5

aximilian gaped. His mouth worked, but no sensible words emerged. Heswallowed and tried again. “Killed? How?”

Dentonshire smiled wryly. “Her husband is a business associate of mine. He warned hernot to go to France, but she went anyway. She was caught in the crossfire between twoopposing patrols on the road to Paris. Her husband grieved for perhaps a day, thenproposed marriage to a young heiress with connections in the diamond business. Lifegoes on, eh?”

Stunned, Maximilian wanted to sit down, but could not. Sophia, dead? I should grieve forher, feel sorrow. But all I feel for her is – nothing. “I was so certain she was behind allthis. I do not know what to say.”

“And there is no one else with any kind of motive?” Dentonshire asked. “Surely you haveenemies.”

Struggling to get his mind in working order, Maximilian shook his head. “None that I couldthink of. Only her.”

“Greed and politics are the normal reasons men commit murder,” Earl Whitington said. “Imyself know you have very few enemies at the royal court or Parliament. Forgive me forsaying so, Your Grace, but you have not been in politics long enough to have gained anyantagonism.”

“He is right,” Dentonshire said. “You are too new at the game.”

“That leaves greed.” Maximilian wanted to pull his hair out.

“One of the seven deadly sins,” Dentonshire added. “But perhaps there are reasons wehave not yet considered.”

“Such as?”

“If you have not cheated anyone at cards, perhaps you have a tenant on your estateswho feels aggrieved. You were right to think of Sophia but consider jealousy from anotherangle. Perhaps you stole her from another man. Maybe he feels you are responsible forher death.”

Maximilian shook his head, frustrated. “As far as I know, she had no one else in her lifewhen I met her. And her husband does not blame me?”

Dentonshire chuckled, a rare emotion it seemed to Maximilian. “He had no idea sheowned a roving eye when he married her. He was glad to be rid of her so easily.”

“Then perhaps she did have another man on her hook,” Maximilian said. “I have no ideasince she left me.”

“Again, this is all speculation,” Dentonshire continued. “But I think if we can discover themotive, we can uncover the perpetrator.”

“That makes sense,” Maximilian agreed. “But how do I find the motive?”

“By the sheer number of attempts on your life,” Dentonshire said, gazing at the smokingruins. “I would guess that this is personal. Quite personal.”

“As in revenge?”

“Perhaps.”

Maximilian paced, his head down. “But I cannot think of what I may have done to anyonethat might result in a personal vendetta against me.”

“Perhaps it was not you, Your Grace,” Earl Whitington said. “Could your father haveoffended someone, then passed on before the other party’s revenge might be satisfied?”

“I refuse to believe that,” Maximilian replied, shaking his head. “My father was a kind andgenerous man. As far as I know, he had no enemies who would stoop to murdering me.”

“I concur,” Dentonshire added, smiling and nodding toward the Earl to indicate his wordswere not offensive. “The old Duke was a man of infinite honor and high morals. I cannotsee him having an enemy who would be so very incensed that this other person would tryto kill his son.”

“We are also forgetting that this villain is trying to kill a simple ladies’ maid,” Maximilianadded. “Factor in that knowledge and what do we have?”

“Hatred.”

Dentonshire’s simple word jolted Maximilian. “Who could possibly hate Miss Betham thatmuch?”

“Impossible,” snorted Whitington. “Our Eugenia is a kind and sweet young lady. Loved byeveryone she meets.”

“It is clear she caught your eye, Bromenville,” the Duke said. “You are attracted to her,interested in her –”

“I love her.” Maximilian did not care that he just professed love for a low-born ladies’maid in front of nine aristocrats who might easily condemn him for it. They will all knowin time, anyway.

Dentonshire nodded, apparently finding that unremarkable. “As you say. So, who mightfind that love you have for Miss Betham offensive enough to want you both dead?”

Before he stopped himself, Maximilian glanced at Earl Whitington. He knew it instantly fora mistake. The stout Earl’s mouth dropped in shock and outrage.

“No,” he bellowed. “You cannot think that my daughter could be involved in this.”

Maximilian raised his hands in a placating gesture. “No, no, of course not, Whitington.Lady Helena understands and supports our relationship, even if it meant that I refused tomarry her. Please calm down, I would never, ever, believe or think she, or you, would tryto harm us.”

“Good,” the Earl snapped, only partly mollified. “I will not stand to be insulted.”

“While I stand by the implications of my words, Whitington,” Dentonshire added, gazingat the outraged Earl, “I did not intend to imply your daughter was involved. There couldbe other interested parties who had hoped to marry the most eligible bachelor in therealm, and who now wants revenge for not obtaining him.”

Maximilian ran his hands through his hair. “If there are, I have no idea who she mightbe.”

He was exhausted and his head ached, but Maximilian sat through luncheon with hisguests. A few more of his guests planned to depart afterward, and he was obligated ashost to see them off. Yet, the Dentonshires and the Whitingtons had told him they wouldremain for a few more weeks. Though he wanted to see Eugenia for himself, he wasforced to be content with Mr. Leary’s reports of her progress.

“She is regaining her strength rapidly, Your Grace,” Mr. Leary said. “She is talking betterand drinking the beef broth I insist she ingest. Her throat is still too sore for solid food,however.”

“And her lungs?”

Mr. Leary offered him a shrug and a smile. “She may have some breathing difficulty attimes, Your Grace, but she will recover fully in time.”

Maximilian took a deep breath of relief. “That is good news, indeed. Thank you.”

Feeling an urgent need to be alone for a short while, and slightly overwhelmed byeverything that had happened recently, Maximilian headed up the stairs to thebattlements. Up there, he could be free of the duties of being a host to his guests andthink with the fresh, clean air of the moors on his face. Even if only a short while. Butupon opening the door and stepping out onto the heights, he discovered someone wasthere before him.

Wilmot sat on the stone floor in a corner, his back to the wall. He wept and laughed,swallowing large gulps from a bottle of whiskey. He still wore his formal dining attire,which was now dirty and stained. Alarmed, Maximilian crossed the castle’s roof to him.“Willie?”

Wilmot glanced up at him through bleary, wet eyes. He grinned. “Ah, my brother. Sit an’have a drink wi’ me.”

Wilmot hiccupped, giggling, then burst into tears. Maximilian sat beside him. “What iswrong, Willie?”

“Wrong? Wha’ can be wrong? My brother be alive.”

Laughing, he drank more whiskey and offered Maximilian the bottle. “To me brother.”

Shaking his head, Maximilian refused the drink. “Well, you are certainly not fit to join usat supper,” he said, dryly. “Your mother will be displeased.”

“Mother.” Wilmot spat. Then he burst into more laughter. “To me mother,” he said andupended the bottle to swallow another large gulp. “Is it cursing to say ‘me damn dam’?”Giggling hysterically, he set the bottle down and covered his face with hands and sobbed.“I am sorry, Max.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?”

Wilmot did not answer, but wept, his shoulders shaking, his tears blotting his loosenedcravat and linen shirt. “I be a sorry fool,” he muttered. “Not fit to live.”

Growing concerned, remembering Wilmot’s attempt to take his own life, Maximilianrested his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Yes, you are. Do not say things like that.”

Giggling through his sobs, Wilmot murmured, “You should have let me die.”

“That is the whiskey talking, Willie,” Maximilian said, trying to soothe him. “You are justdrunk, that is all.”

“I am drunk,” Wilmot agreed, laughing again, lifting his wet face. “I plan to stay drunk,too.”

“It is rather difficult to get through life that way.”

“Do not care. I do not care about anything anymore.”

“Then I will do the caring,” Maximilian said, standing. “I will continue to care about you.You are my brother.”

Wilmot gazed up at him, squinting. “You will?”

“Of course. Now come on, it is time you went to your chambers to sleep this off. I willmake the excuse that you are not feeling well.”

Extending his hand, Maximilian waited until Wilmot took it. For a long moment, he did notthink Wilmot would. At last, he slapped his hand into that of Maximilian’s and permittedhim to haul his brother to his feet. Wilmot’s knees almost buckled, and Maximiliansteadied him with his hand under his arm. “Good man,” he said, encouraging. “Now I willget you to your rooms.”

“You are a good brother to me. The best brother I ever had.”

Maximilian smiled wryly. “I am your only brother.”

Trying to ignore Wilmot’s nasty whiskey breath, Maximilian helped him off thebattlements and to his room. By the time they reached them, Wilmot’s hysteria seemedto have passed, and he staggered a great deal, almost on the verge of passing out. Notup to his usual strength, Maximilian grunted with the effort of all but dragging his brotheracross the threshold and into his rooms. Wilmot’s valet rushed to help and took some ofWilmot’s weight upon his own shoulders.

Together, they eased Wilmot onto his bed, fully dressed. Maximilian breathed in deeplyand rubbed his aching head. “Look after him,” he said. “He has had a bit too much todrink.”

The valet nodded and offered him a quick bow. “I will, Your Grace. It seems that this isbecoming quite the habit.”

Maximilian frowned. “You mean you have often cared for him after he has been drinking?”

“More often than not lately, Your Grace. Last night, he came in quite intoxicated andhysterical. Laughing and crying. Kept repeating that he could never be forgiven and wasgoing to hell.”

A

C H A P T E R 3 6

fter an intolerable three days in bed, Eugenia defied Maximilian’s orders andreturned to her duties as Lady Helena’s maid. Of all her injuries, only her throatcontinued to pain her. She drank water laced with honey to soothe it and did her

best to ignore it. The mild burns on her face healed quickly, but the dead skin layerpeeled in a way that left her horrified whenever she stared into a looking glass. “I cannotlet Max see me like this,” she muttered.

Lady Helena laughed. “I suspect that is one price of your courage,” she said. “Or is itfoolhardiness? When you run into a burning building, I suppose you will need somethingto show for it.”

“Will I scar?” Eugenia asked, desperation in her voice. “Am I scarred for life?”

Lady Helena closely examined her skin. “I doubt it. It is no worse than if you had asunburn.”

“But sunburns leave freckles,” Eugenia moaned. “I am deformed now.”

Just as Lady Helena laughed at her worries, so did Maximilian. In the relative privacy of acorner near their meeting spot, he bent to kiss her. “Freckles or no,” he said, grinning.“You are beautiful in my eyes.”

Eugenia tried to scowl. “A lady should value her clear complexion.”

“Very well, I will cease teasing you,” he said, stroking his finger down her peeling cheek.“It takes more than one burn to scar or create freckles. I do believe I see clear,unblemished skin under the old. Does that ease your worry?”

“Yes, it does,” she replied, rubbing at her itchy skin. “While I do not mind dragging youfrom a fire, I would hate to be unable to show my face because of it.”

Maximilian drew back, his brow lifting. “Are you becoming vain, my angel?”

“No, not vain, exactly. I just –”

“Just what?”

Embarrassed, Eugenia shrugged, “Just do not want people laughing at me.”

“You have no fear of that,” he replied, bending to kiss her again. “Now I must go. Mystepmother has invited the Dentonshires and the Whitingtons to brunch in an hour. Imust prepare.”

“Yes, I know. Lady Helena needs me to assist her in dressing for it but asked me to bringher tea.”

Maximilian glanced around. “Where is Mr. Oldman? He should be watching over you.”

“He is.” Eugenia grinned. “He is not far away and feeling guilty for overhearing ourconversations. He wished to give us some privacy.”

“Good. If the evening is not too chill,” Maximilian said, “care to walk in the garden

tonight?”

Eugenia smiled. “I do not suppose you will take no for an answer.”

“You supposed correctly. Then I will see you this evening.”

With another smile and a wink, Maximilian walked away, leaving Eugenia to stare afterhim, the familiar feeling of euphoria, of being in love, filling her. “That insufferable man,”she muttered, grinning to herself. “How can I not love him?”

After saying a quick hello to Deryn and Mr. Simmons in the kitchen, she carried the pot ofhot tea, cups, and a few biscuits on a tray toward the stairs. Passing the drawing room,she heard voices emerging from the half-opened door. Immediately recognizing theDowager Duchess’s voice raised in anger, she hesitated. Knowing she would be in serioustrouble for eavesdropping, Eugenia’s curiosity got the better of her. Pausing on the farside of the door, she listened.

“It will happen today,” the Duchess said, her tone sharp, critical. “I want no moremishaps, Wilmot. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia heard the rustle of silk against silk as the Duchess paced. As they were quiteclose to the doorway as they talked, Eugenia heard every word. Holding her breath, herstomach in turmoil, she glanced around surreptitiously to see if anyone saw her spying ona private conversation. There was no one, no servants or footman near to frown at herand demand she leave. Nor had Mr. Oldman appeared, but she knew he was close by.Stepping closer to the door, she listened intently.

“This is unbelievable, Wilmot,” the Duchess went on. “Your incompetence has brought meto this. I have procured monkshood from York, and I am forced to do this myself.”

Monkshood? Eugenia frowned, trying to remember what that was. It sounded familiar toher, but for the life of her, she could not recall where she had heard of it before.

“I will put it in his tea,” the Duchess went on, “this morning at brunch. With theDentonshires and Whitingtons there to witness Maximilian’s death, you and I have a solidalibi. None will be the wiser. I should have done this a long time ago.”

Eugenia, shocked to her core, dropped the tray of cups and a teapot with a huge ringingclash and clatter. The pot and cups shattered, spilling hot tea across the flagstone floor.

It is them! They are the ones who have been trying to kill him. His own family.

So caught up in her distress and horror, the realization of what she had just done cameswiftly.

But too late.

The Duchess threw the door open, her plump face filled with anger and her own shock.Not at the noise, but at the knowledge that her careful plans had now been exposed.Wilmot stood beside her, staring at Eugenia through narrowed, bloodshot eyes, his lipsthinned. Eugenia, caught, frozen in stunned immobility for a moment, finally turned torun.

“Grab her!”

Before Eugenia got three steps, Wilmot was on her. He seized her by her arms, spinningher around to face him. Struggling, Eugenia tried to kick him, to fight him off, but he wasfar stronger than she, despite his narrow and slender frame. He pinned her arms behindher back and marched her back to his mother. Forced to stare into the Duchess’s crueland icy eyes, Eugenia shivered at the lack of humanity in them.

“Stupid girl,” the Duchess spat. “Servants should know better than to listen at doors.”

“You are trying to kill Max,” Eugenia snapped, terrified and angry in her turn. “Why? Whywould you kill him? He is your son, Lord Wilmot’s own brother.”

“He is no t my son,” Duchess Augusta retorted, furious. “As for why, that should beobvious. With him dead, my true son inherits the titles and wealth of the Bromenvilleestates. With him out of the way, the Whitingtons will consent to marry Lady Helena toWilmot.”

“No,” Eugenia gasped, horrified. “You cannot.”

The Duchess smiled. “I can and I will. By right of blood, as next in line, Wilmot will be theDuke of Bromenville.”

Eugenia turned her face toward Wilmot. “You would murder your own brother?”

For a moment, Wilmot’s expression appeared torn between guilt and anguish. “I – I dowhat she says,” he whispered.

“You can stop this, My Lord,” Eugenia said, desperate, struggling to get out of his grip.“Do not do this, it is not too late.”

“It is too late, my dear,” Duchess Augusta replied, sneering. “Wilmot, lock her in astorage closet. We will deal with her later.” She laughed. “Perhaps we will pin the blameof Maximilian’s death on her. Would that not be a treat? Then we can watch her hang.”

Eugenia, still kicking and protesting, was dragged by Wilmot down the corridor, hopingsomeone would happen by to stop this from happening. Even a footman on an errandmight be enough of a witness to alarm Wilmot into letting her go. “Surely you do notwant my death on your conscience, too,” she said, as he opened the door to a small

closet and shoved her inside.

She caught a quick glimpse of his face, devoid of all expression, before he shut the door.“I do what she tells me,” he said, then slammed it closed.

“No,” she screamed, beating her hands on the stout wood. “Let me out. Let me go.”

Ceasing her ineffectual struggles to get the door opened, Eugenia pressed her ear againstthe wood to listen. Wilmot’s footsteps echoed on the stone as he walked down thecorridor.

Where the hell is Mr. Oldman?

Though he must have been delayed in catching up to her, she knew he should besearching for her by now.

Please look for me down here. Do not assume I have gone back upstairs to Lady Helena.

Beating her hands against the door, Eugenia’s fear grew. Why were no servants around tohear her? Where was Mr. Oldman? Panic filled her as she realized she might not be foundand released from this room before Maximilian was poisoned. Monkshood. A deadlypoison. The Duchess would put it in his tea, and Maximilian would die in agony in front ofwitnesses who would absolve the Duchess and her son of all blame. She had no fear forher own safety at the wicked hands of mother and son. Only the fear for Maximilianconsumed her.

Long minutes passed. How long had she been in there? Eugenia did not know but realizedthat with every one of them that passed, Maximilian’s life drew closer to death. Therewas no handle on the inside of the door, but she inspected the hinges, hoping to find away to open the door that way. Unfortunately, without tools, she could not take it off thehinges. Beating on the door again, she screamed, “Let me out!”

Surely Mr. Oldman has gone to Lady Helena’s rooms and not found me by now. Comeback looking for me, please.

“Let me out,” she yelled. “Somebody, let me out of here.”

“Miss Betham?”

Mr. Oldman! “In here,” she screamed. “Open the door, hurry.”

Hearing trotting footsteps draw closer, Eugenia felt blessed relief wash through her as thedoor swung open.

“Miss Betham,” Mr. Oldman said, “what happened?”

Rushing out, Eugenia gasped over her shoulder, running, “It is the Duchess and LordWilmot. They plan to poison the Duke.”

“What?”

“I will explain later. Come on.”

Hoping and praying she was not too late, Eugenia, with Mr. Oldman at her side, ran downthe corridor toward the dining hall. The doors were closed, indicating that the meal hadbegun. Near tears, frightened out of her mind that she was too late, she threw the doorsopen. Maximilian, a teacup in his hand, glanced up in surprise as she rushed across thewide hall toward him. Only the sight of him with that horrible cup filled her view. She sawnothing else.

“What –” he began.

Eugenia slapped the cup from his hand. “Do not touch it,” she screamed. “Did you drinkfrom it? Did you?”

“No, Euge – Miss Betham –”

“Get that wretched girl from this room,” shouted the Dowager Duchess. “Wilmot, take herout of here and send to York for the constables. I want her arrested right now.”

As Wilmot rose from his place, Eugenia saw the frozen, shocked tableau before her.Maximilian sat, staring at her, immobile, while the eyes of the guests gazed at her,stunned. Lady Helena’s mouth hung open. The Duke and Duchess of Dentonshireappeared dazed at the uncivilized behavior of a serving girl at a very polite brunch. EarlWhitington rose from his chair as though to approach her, his eyes wide. Eugenia pointeda shaky finger at the Dowager Duchess.

“She was going to poison His Grace,” she said, her voice trembling. “She and her sonwere behind the attempts to kill him. To kill me.”

“Why that is absurd,” the Dowager Duchess snapped. “Wilmot, I told you to take her.”

Eugenia tried to flee as Wilmot once again seized her by the arms. She caught a glimpseof Mr. Oldman’s furious expression but knew he would not dare lay hands on a Lord toprotect her. Screaming with fear and rage, Eugenia struggled, kicking, and savagely bitdown on Lord Wilmot’s arm. He screeched, and jerked his hand away, tearing open thetop of her gown. Spinning, she struck him as hard as she could across his face with herfist.

“Stop!”

Maximilian’s voice roared across the room. Wilmot stumbled away, holding his hand to hischeek. “She bit me,” he mumbled. “That wench bit me.”

“Just what in the devil is going on here?” Maximilian demanded, rising to loom overEugenia and his brother.

“I heard them,” Eugenia said, rushing to get the words out. “They planned to poison youwith monkshood, now, at brunch. They locked me in a closet, but Mr. Oldman let me out.Thank God you did not drink it, she planned for you to die so Lord Wilmot will inherit yourdukedom.”

Maximilian gaped, his jaw slack. “What? Poison.”

Eugenia watched as he turned his stunned face toward Lord Wilmot, who cringed, lickinghis lips, his eyes darting everywhere than at his brother. Even if she had not known,witnessed for herself his deadly plans with the Duchess, she recognized his bodylanguage. Lord Wilmot’s face, his body screamed I am guilty.

It appeared that Maximilian had read it as well, for his jaw slowly closed. His fistsclenched. He loomed over his smaller sibling. Maximilian’s dark blue eyes bored into hisbrother. “Greed,” he snarled. “Greed was the motive after all. Is that not right, brother?”

Wilmot suddenly bolted for the doors. He ran fast, but Mr. Oldman was closer and faster.The former soldier lunged forward, grappling Wilmot around his waist and taking himdown to the floor in a crash. Wilmot, much smaller than Mr. Oldman, stood no chance asEugenia’s bodyguard forcefully lifted him from the flagstone and held his hands behind hisback. Maximilian approached his brother.

“Tell me the truth, Willie,” he growled. “You were trying to kill me? To kill Eugenia?”

Wilmot sobbed, tears running down his cheeks, and went slack in Mr. Oldman’s grip. Hislank brown hair fell over his eyes. “Yes. I am so sorry, Max. Mother told me to. I did notwant to, but she made me. She wanted you to die, I am so sorry.”

Eugenia followed Maximilian’s eyes as he turned toward his stepmother. Oddly, his tone

was soft, menacing as he spoke. “Well, Madam? What have you to say to theseaccusations?”

Duchess Augusta stood, and without being asked, the Duke of Dentonshire also rose tostand behind her. Not as support, Eugenia suspected, but as a guard. The Duchess’s icyeyes flicked around the table, seeing the accusing eyes, the implacable faces. She lickedher lips. “It is all rubbish of course. He is making it up. They both are.”

“No,” Wilmot shrieked. Sobbing, he slid from Mr. Oldman’s grip to kneel. “She made medo it. She kept after me, would not let me say no, said you needed to die, Max, your littlemaid had to die, I tried to stop, but she told me what to do. The carriage, I sawed theshaft, she told me to, she made me hire the Scots to ambush you, I paid the footman tolet me read your letter to Mallen, and I knew you rode out alone so you would come backin the dark alone, no one would suspect anyone but robbers when you were found dead.”

“You let that black stallion into the foaling barn?”

Lord Wilmot nodded, tears streaming down his face, but he barked a short hystericallaugh. “The meanest horse in England, I watched the maid go in and went to get him, Iknew he would tear her to pieces, and he even hissed me in the face, blacked my eyewhen I was leading him, make it look like a careless groom let him loose. Mother, shetold me to shove the maid off the battlement. I swear I did not want to kill your friend,but I overheard you hire the soldier to guard her, I did not want to kill him, too, but I hadto, he was in my way, you see, I poisoned the Countess –”

“My God!”

The Earl of Whitington stormed around the table. “You tried to kill my wife? What did sheever do to you?” He glared at the Duchess. “Why would you tell him to kill my wife?”

His fists clenched, he walked toward Wilmot as though planning to throttle him, but itwas his daughter who rose and stopped him. “No, Father,” she gasped. “He will facejustice. Do not do this, let His Grace handle it, please.”

“She is right, Whitington,” the Countess said, her face pale. “Sit down.”

The Earl hesitated but refused to return to his chair. “I want answers,” he snapped.

“She did not tell me to kill the Countess,” Wilmot confessed, still sobbing on his knees. “Ido not know why I did it, I just thought she should die, I tried to stop myself, but I couldnot, I just did it. Made it look like dropsy, I set the stable on fire, I hit you, Max, I am sosorry, so very sorry, can you ever forgive me?”

Maximilian stared at his brother for a long time. “No,” he said finally. “I cannot. Mr.Oldman, I have cells in my dungeon that have not been used in a long time. Put him in acell, please.”

He stared at his stepmother as Mr. Oldman lifted a still crying Wilmot. “When you return,you will take the Dowager Duchess down there as well.”

“You would not dare!”

Eugenia watched in dreadful fascination as Maximilian walked slowly toward the DowagerDuchess, his eyes like twin blue fires. He, a big man, loomed over her as she shrank fromhim in fear, sitting back in her chair. “Trying to kill me is a crime, Madam, and you willface the penalties for it. In other words, yes, I will dare.”

“Is that not a bit harsh,” the Duke of Dentonshire asked Maximilian.

“No,” he replied shortly. “It is what she deserves.”

Feeling someone beside her, Eugenia was startled to find the Duchess of Dentonshirebeside her. “Your gown is torn, my dear,” she said, her voice oddly thick.

“Oh. So sorry.” Eugenia tried to pull the neck of her dress back together.

But Duchess Beatrice stopped her and pulled the cloth away from her shoulder, exposingpart of her shoulder and the small star-shaped mark upon it. Eugenia gaped as thewoman stared at her flesh, tears filling the Duchess’s eyes. “That birthmark.”

Her hands lifted the pendant Eugenia never went without from her gown. “This necklace.”

“What is it?” Dentonshire said, still standing behind the Dowager Duchess.

The Duchess of Dentonshire raised her moist eyes to her husband. A shaky smile crossedher face as joy filled it. “We have found her. We have our daughter back.”

S

C H A P T E R 3 7

till stunned an hour later, Eugenia sat in the drawing room with Maximilian andher parents; she still could not believe what had just happened. DuchessAugusta and Lord Wilmot had been taken to the castle’s dungeon, exposed for

being the conspirators to kill Maximilian and herself. And in the confrontation, shediscovered the Duke and Duchess of Dentonshire were, in truth, her parents. “I cannotbelieve it,” she muttered for the fifth, or was it the sixth? time.

“Believe it, Eugenia,” the Duchess replied, smiling. “We would know that mark anywhere.And we hung that pendant over your cradle. The nursemaid who stole you from us musthave put it in your swaddling clothes when she abandoned you.”

“Any idea why that woman took Eugenia from you?” Maximilian asked. “I mean it makesso little sense to steal a baby.”

Dentonshire nodded. “We went over it and over it for years. The only reason we can thinkof is that she could not have her own child, so she took ours.”

“Then why abandon her?”

“Guilt perhaps? She could not bring her back to us, or we would have her hanged. Or, wehave often speculated, she had a grievance we were not aware of and took Eugenia outof revenge.”

Maximilian nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that as a motive.”

“It is so hard to adjust to this,” Eugenia said. She gazed at her parents in awe. “Can I callyou – Mother? Father?”

“I should hope so,” Dentonshire said, smiling broadly. “You are our daughter, and we loveyou. And to think how close we came to losing you forever without knowing it.”

“My stepmother and brother will pay for their crimes,” Maximilian said. “I sent amessenger to York for the crown authorities to come get them.”

The Duke, Eugenia still had difficulty in thinking of him as ‘Father’, said, “While I wish Icould say it is hard to believe they were behind it all, I did tell you to think of greed as amotive.”

“I will admit Wilmot crossed my mind as a suspect,” Maximilian confessed. “But I couldnot bear it, so I dismissed the idea immediately. My own brother? I just could not.”

“Then it is a good thing our little girl was here to save everything.”

Near tears, Eugenia gazed at her parents smiling at her. “I know it is not proper to be –emotional, but can I hug you right now?”

Her mother stood up and opened her arms. “Come here.”

Now weeping openly, Eugenia stepped into them, holding her mother close. Beatrice alsowept, her arms wrapped tightly around Eugenia’s shoulders. “We even look alike,” shesaid, her voice heavy with emotion. “There is no doubt you are our child.”

“Mother,” Eugenia sobbed. “I have missed you every day of my life.”

“And we have missed you, my darling, my sweet Eugenia.”

Her father’s hand on her shoulder, her father spoke gruffly. “I think I need some of that.”

Weeping fresh sobs, Eugenia clenched her arms around her father’s waist, resting herhead against his chest. “Father,” she gasped. “Oh, Father, I really found you.”

“You did, girl.” His chest rumbled as he chuckled. “And of all the places, we find you inthe household of our friends, the Whitingtons.”

Eugenia gazed up at him through her tears. “They were so good to me. Always.”

“Oh, that was obvious,” he said. “They loved you like their own.”

Eugenia gasped, and pulled away, glancing between her mother and father. “Lady Helena– I do not have to call her ‘My Lady’ anymore. That is going to be too strange.”

Her mother laughed. “She is now your social inferior.”

“But I can never think of her like that,” Eugenia protested, wiping her face. “She is likemy sister.”

Eugenia found Maximilian had stood up and walked toward them. “I suppose that nowmight be a good time to ask you something, Duke, a question that has preyed upon mymind.”

Eugenia eyed him curiously as she held her parents’ hands. He had a strange smile on hisface as he looked at her, then he eyed her father. “I would ask, Duke, for your permission

to marry your daughter.”

Eugenia thought she was going to faint. Her head spun as the implications of everythingthat had happened struck her afresh.

I can stand beside him as his equal! I can marry him without shame!

Turning, she gazed up at her father, pleading silently. Please say yes, please say yes,Father.

The Duke, her father, glanced between the two of them, his face neutral. Eugenia’s heartsank. Until he grinned. “I do not see how I could tear you two apart. Of course, you havemy blessing, Duke. I cannot imagine a better husband for my long-lost daughter thanyou.”

Eugenia slammed into him, wrapping her arms around her father’s waist again. Shesmiled through her tears at her mother, then reached out to take her hand. “I am sohappy,” she said, crying again. “I still cannot believe it is happening.”

“I can,” Maximilian said. “I wondered why the Duchess reminded me of someone when Ifirst met her. She reminded me of you. And now that you are of my social status,Eugenia, perhaps you can cease running away from me.”

Her mother eyed Eugenia. “Running away?”

Eugenia flushed. “I thought that me, being low born, would destroy his social status. Itried to make him not – love me.”

“It did not work,” Maximilian said. He dropped to one knee, and took Eugenia’s hand,gazing up at her. “If there are no more mysteries to solve, will you marry me, Eugenia?”

She was so overfilled with joy, she thought her heart would burst. She stopped thepeople who were trying to kill him, then she found her long lost parents, and nowMaximilian proposed marriage. She absently wondered if a person could die from toomuch happiness. “Yes, Max. Yes, I will marry you.”

Just as she hoped he would, Maximilian stood up and took her in his strong arms, thenkissed her. “Good,” he said, smiling down into her eyes and rubbed his nose against hers.“I need not now ask Mr. Oldman to prepare another cell in the dungeon.”

E P I L O G U E

One Year Later

It was the wedding event of the Season.

Eugenia walked down the aisle beside her father, the Duke of Dentonshire, in the grandhall of the Bromenville castle. Guests from all over the realm attended the wedding of themost eligible bachelor in the kingdom, including the Prince Regent himself. Despite theexhaustive rehearsals, Eugenia trembled inside, fearing she would make a dreadfulmistake and shame both herself and Maximilian.

Maximilian waited for her at the altar, his friend the Viscount of Mallen at his side. TheBishop of Canterbury failed to smile as she arrived at Maximilian’s side, making her thinkshe had done something wrong. Yet, he intoned the prayers and conducted the ceremonywithout ever smiling, and Maximilian offered her that special wink that reassured hertremendously.

After, Eugenia thought she would faint when the Prince Regent approached her as shestood with Maximilian in the receiving line. Even as she curtseyed to the most prominentpeer in the realm, His Royal Highness lifted her hand to his lips to kiss, smiling.“Congratulations, my dear,” he said. “You are the loveliest bride I believe I have everseen.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks heat and her head spin.

After he passed on, she glanced at Maximilian and mouthed, “Oh, really?”

Maximilian grinned. “He spoke the truth.”

All year since her engagement, Eugenia practiced her dancing and danced with almostevery male in the grand ballroom from Maximilian to her father to the Earl of Whitingtonand down to the barons and knights. She drank champagne, giggled with Lady Helena,ate her fill of roast swan, succulent duckling, smoked salmon, and, of course, her weddingcake made and designed by her old friend Mr. Simmons.

“At times I think we should have eloped,” Maximilian murmured in her ear as they sat atthe head of the high table. “So much fuss over a wedding ceremony”

Eugenia feigned shock. “And deprive me of all the pomp on my wedding day?” She thengrinned. “Had you even mentioned such an idea to my mother, she would have found nofew very creative ways to carve you up.”

Maximilian rolled his eyes. “Parents. Where would we be without them?”

Giggling, Eugenia leaned close and fed him a piece of her cake. “I love you, Max,” shemurmured.

“Why, is that not a coincidence,” he said, around the mouthful of sweetness, his dark blueeyes wide. “I happen to love you, too.”

The End?

E X T E N D E D E P I L O G U E

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THE DEFIANT GOVERNESS OF ROSENHILLMANOR

E

P R O L O G U E

liza Bolton’s mother shook her awake from a deep sleep.

“Eliza! Eliza! Wake up!”

Still groggy, she was rubbing her eyes. “Mama,” she asked.

Her mother urgently whispered, “Shhh. Come quickly.”

Eliza crawled from her bed and took her mother’s hand. She pattered across the coldwooden floor in her bare feet. “What is the matter, Mama?”

Her mother opened the armoire and placed Eliza inside. “Now be a good girl and remainquiet. No matter what you hear, do not come out.”

Eliza could not ignore the desperate, urgent tone to her mother’s voice. She silently knelton the floor of the wardrobe and awaited an explanation for her mother’s behavior.

Eliza could hear the sounds of a scuffle in the next room. She heard her father’s angryvoice ordering someone to get out of the house; then a grunt followed a loud thump.

“Sarah, run!” her father’s voice called to her mother from the adjacent room, followed bya gunshot.

“Daniel,” her mother whispered with a sob. Her hand trembled as she caressed Eliza’slong dark curls back from her face and placed a kiss on her brow. Eliza questioned thelook in her mother’s chocolate brown eyes, a mirror of her own, “What is wrong withPapa? What is happening?” she whimpered.

“Hush now and do not make a sound.” With one last tear-filled look, her mother closedthe armoire door.

Eliza was plunged into darkness. Wearing only her night clothes, she felt cold and aloneas she kneeled on the hardwood floor of her hideaway. She had not even been giveneven a blanket to keep warm. It was very unlike her mother to pay so little attention toher physical needs. She was always telling Eliza to bundle up, or she would catch a chill.

The door to Eliza’s bedroom banged open and loud footsteps heralded someone’s entry.“Get out! Get out!” her mother demanded. Another gunshot filled the air silencing hermother’s screams. The heavy footsteps retreated.

Eliza held back a scream. She peeked through the armoire’s keyhole and swiped the sleepfrom her eyes. She shook unable to utter a single sound. The room was illuminated bythe light of the lamp on a table by the door and the glow of the fireplace. Two dark poolsof liquid merged into one as they ran across the floor over the doorway’s threshold.

Somewhere in the next room, a man’s gravelly voice ordered, “Burn it down!” She couldmake out shadows as they moved about, but their faces were beyond her view. Sheheard multiple footsteps stomp from the house, then all was quiet.

As she crawled out of the armoire, she whimpered, “Mama?” She called louder, “Mama!”

Eliza propelled herself forward into the room moving toward the dark pool of liquid. Itglowed crimson-black in the firelight, beautiful and frightening. She reached down andtouched it. It was warm, sticky, and smelled of copper. Her mind rebelled at the thoughtof what it might be. She followed the stream into the darkness and found her motherlying upon the floor face down in a pool of blood.

She shook her shoulder attempting to wake her, “Mama…” but there was no response.“Mama!” Eliza yelled. Nothing happened. Unable to rouse her mother, she turned tosearch for her father.

Eliza followed the scarlet stream into the next room and found her father was lying on thefloor in front of the bedroom door his body blocked the path. “Papa!”

She had seen death before in animals, of course, but she had never seen anything likewhat she now beheld. The entire concept was far beyond a six-year-old mind’scomprehension. She fiercely shook her father’s prone form and denied what her eyes saw.“Papa!” she sobbed over and over.

As she sat by his side trembling and sobbing in fear, the room began to grow warm;sweat trickled down her face and intermingled with her tears. She heard the sound ofgroaning timbers and shattering glass and looked up. Flames licked along the ceiling likea thousand fiery serpents.

The room quickly filled with smoke; she choked with every breath. She squinted in searchof the front door. She could just make out its rectangular frame in the near distance andnothing more.

Eliza grabbed her father’s arm and attempted to pull him towards the door. His largemuscular arm was massive and slipped through her tiny hands. She lost her grip andlanded on her rump. “Please, Papa, get up!” she cried grabbing his arm once more only tofail again. He was just too big to move.

She tried to drag her mother’s much smaller form from the bedroom and out into the

garden. She was about to cross the threshold, just when the wall between her bedroomand the cottage’s main room crumbled and separated her from her mother’s motionlessbody. The ceiling rained fire down around her, burying her father under the debris. “No!”she screamed.

She was alone and more terrified than she had ever been in her short life. Eliza curled upin a ball and covered her head to protect it from the falling debris. Embers singed herarms and feet, and she recoiled back from her father’s body only to be singed again andagain as she moved farther and farther away. The air smelled of roasted flesh and thepain was excruciating, but she kept moving and crawled backward until she found herselfoutside in the yard.

The church bell clanged loudly in the distance; cries of distress rose up throughout thevillage. Neighbors poured out of their houses in various states of dress. The Boltons’closest neighbor, John Cole, ran over scooping Eliza up into his arms. Other peopleattempted to fight the flames, but to no avail…all was lost. It was too late to save herfather and mother.

As Mr. Cole held her, he asked how she had managed to escape to the front garden. Shelooked all around her and realized she had no memory of how she did. She couldn’taccount of what had transpired and chose to remain silent to all inquiries and watchedher childhood home burn to the ground taking her parents with it.

“She is covered in blood,” Mr. Cole informed his wife as she met him at the door to theirhouse; the village minister, Richard Summers, followed close behind.

“Look at the state of her! The poor thing. Give her to me,” the wife instructed, holdingher arms out. “I will see that she is bathed and her wounds tended to. Her parents?”

“They’re gone, Helen. Daniel and Sarah Bolton are no more,” her husband replied,shaking his head in sorrow. A single tear rolled down the wife’s cheek at the news of theirdemise.

“If it is alright, I would like to stay and say a prayer for the girl and for the souls of herparents,” the minister requested.

Helen wiped the tears running down her face. “Of course, Reverend Summers. You aremost welcome in our home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cole, Mr. Cole.” The Reverend removed his hat and sat at the Cole’skitchen table. He bowed his head and started mumbling under his breath in what Elizacould only guess was the promised prayer on her behalf.

She watched the entire proceeding in silence. Her face, feet, and hands had gone numb.Her mouth tasted of charcoal. Her eyes and nose burned and ran. Her ears rang likechurch bells on a Sunday morning. She remembered the Reverend’s sermons on hellfireand brimstone and was reasonably sure that she had died and gone to Hell. She would

have sworn it had been the Devil himself who had come to call on her parents that night.

She wanted to tell the minister that there was no God, for if there were, He would haveheard her prayers and helped save her parents. No, there was only the Devil and hisminions, shadow figures upon the wall. They had taken everything from her.

Mrs. Cole bathed and dressed Eliza, who simply sat limply as a rag doll and allowed thewoman to do as she wished.

Why do I need a bath in Hell? Is the Devil particular about cleanliness? Odd that,considering the amount of soot he must produce. I wonder how many chimney sweepsthe Devil requires. Has the Devil decided to take the Reverend and the Cole family too? Ibet the Reverend is surprised about that since he always said he was going to live inHeaven with God when he died.

Her six-year-old mind was incapable of processing the events of the evening in any otherway than through the religious texts that she had been taught from infancy. The world ofsafety and security that her parents had created for her did not include lessons on murderand arson. In her sheltered universe, these things had simply not existed. To her mind,no person could ever have committed such atrocities, so it had to be the Devil, for whoelse but evil incarnate could have done such a thing.

Mrs. Cole tucked her in bed beneath a pile of warm blankets and sang her a lullaby. Hervoice was sweet and husky. It reminded Eliza of honeycomb – rough and smooth at thesame time; she stared up at the ceiling and waited for the fiery serpents to appear oncemore, but they never came.

Exhausted, eyes burning, Eliza drifted off to sleep and dreamt of her parent’s bloodflowing across the floor to join in one last final crimson embrace.

C H A P T E R 1

Seventeen Years Later

Eliza awoke with a start from yet another nightmare. She could not remember a nightwhen she did not dream of her parents’ deaths since that fateful eve. She rose from herbed and crept quietly across the cold wooden floorboards to the chair where she lay outher clothing for the next day. She donned her dress, threw a cloak about her shoulders,and retrieved the basket of food she had hidden under her bed.

She sneaked out the back door and walked along the darkened cobbled streets to thepoverty-riddled side of town, not far from where she resided with the Cole family. Whenshe came to the first ramshackle house, she knocked quietly on the door, so she wouldn’twake the children within. The door was too flimsy to keep out the cold, much less anintruder. The entire structure would have crumbled with one good stiff knock.

The door creaked open, and a pair of tired, wary, slate blue eyes peered at her. Theoccupant of the cottage relaxed in relief and opened the door wider for Eliza to passthrough. “Miss Bolton, thank the good Lord you have come.”

“Of course, Mrs. Wainwright. I would never break my word.” Eliza placed the basket onthe kitchen table and unpacked the contents. “How is Mr. Wainwright’s recovery comingalong?”

Mrs. Wainwright paused to shake her head. “Slowly. He burns with fever. The surgeon isnot entirely certain if my husband will ever fully recover.”

“Who would ever have anticipated that the occupation of wagon making could be sodangerous.” Eliza had been passing by the Wainwright’s shop when the incident hadoccurred. The man had let out an unholy scream, and she had rushed to find him uponthe ground and his leg crushed beneath the weight of a wagon. The surgeon had beenunable to save the leg and was forced to amputate.

“Oh, yes. The Wainwrights have been wagon makers for as long as anyone canremember. His father lost three fingers on his right hand. Nothing to losing a leg…” Mrs.Wainwright’s words faded off at the thought of what the future might hold for her family.

“Fear not,” Eliza reassured, patting the woman’s arm in sympathy. “You can depend onme to be of assistance.”

“Bless you, Miss Bolton. Were it not for you, we would be lost.” Mrs. Wainwright swipedaway a tear and reached out to squeeze Eliza’s hand in gratitude.

“Think nothing of it, Mrs. Wainwright. I am all too happy to help.” Eliza squeezed theother woman’s hand in response. “Were it not for the generosity of the Cole family, I toowould have been left destitute. ‘Tis naught but the passing on of blessings. I must returnhome, but rest assured I shall return.”

Eliza bid Mrs. Wainwright farewell and quickly walked home. She needed to arise earlywith the Cole children, as was her usual routine. The Cole family had taken her in thenight of her parent’s murder, and she had remained with them since. In exchange fortheir generosity she, as the eldest of the children, acted as a governess of sorts, assistingMrs. Cole with every aspect of their care.

Upon reaching the house, Eliza removed her shoes, crept back to bed, and crawledbeneath the covers. Morning would arrive long before she was ready. She snuggled downand attempted to go back to sleep, but found it to be elusive. Images of her parents’deaths were always lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce the moment sleep claimedher.

I will not allow you to defeat me, her mind whispered to the intangible threat. She wasold enough now to understand that it had been wicked men and not the lord of all evilwho had killed her parents, but in her dreams, she still saw the Devil’s minions.

The sun dawned over the horizon and shone through the bedroom window panes; Elizagroaned beneath its cheery heat. She had not slept since her return, and her head achedfrom the lack of adequate rest. She rose from the bed, walked over to the washstand,and splashed her face.

“Eliza!” Mrs. Cole’s voice called from the other room.

“Coming, Mother!” Eliza brushed her hair and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress thenexited the bedroom.

“Did we not bake six loaves of bread yesterday? I see only five.” Mrs. Cole stood with herhands on her hips frowning. “Have you been walking about while sleeping again?” BeforeEliza had a chance to answer, Mrs. Cole waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh, never youmind. Please wake the children and ready them for breakfast.”

Eliza smiled, relieved that she would not have to divulge her nocturnal secret. If Papa andMama knew of my going about the streets alone at night, they would be mortified and

forbid me from continuing. She started out helping the Wainwrights, but once she saw thepoverty-stricken conditions of their neighbors, she felt a strong need to help them, just asthe Cole family had helped her.

She could not have stopped now even if they had asked it of her. Too many familiesdepend on me. She had given them her word to help provide for their little ones, and shewould not go back on that for anyone.

It had been a trick to provide enough food and medical supplies for those who needed it.She arranged with the local grocer that she would sit and read to his ailing mother inexchange for foodstuffs.

Occasionally, she was forced to supplement her nightly excursions from the Cole’skitchen, but never took enough to be of trouble. Mrs. Cole always assumed the missingfood had been consumed by Eliza during one of her midnight perambulatory episodes.From the time she had come to live with the Coles, at the age of six, she had movedabout while still asleep, performing various tasks from eating to hiding in the armoire.The doctor had told Mrs. Cole night terrors were brought on by the traumatic murder ofher parents.

Eliza left the kitchen to do as bidden. The Coles had five children: two boys and threegirls. Eliza loved her siblings, and the time they spent together. She loved their beautiful,wide-eyed innocence untarnished by the evils she herself had endured. She was presentfor each one of their births and had lost her heart to each arrival. Mr. and Mrs. Cole wereloving parents, and though they could never replace her birth parents, they had cared forher as if she were their own.

When Eliza came to live with the Coles, she had not spoken a word for nearly a year afterwitnessing her parents’ murder. She had been terrified out of her wits and had awakenedevery night screaming. Mr. and Mrs. Cole had rushed to her bedside or to wherever shehad sleepwalked and offered what comfort they could. Reverend Summers had madeweekly visits to offer prayers.

It had taken a long time for her to realize that she was indeed alive and not actuallysentenced to an eternity in Hell like the rich man in Reverend Summers sermons. Whenshe had finally figured that out, her first words in nearly a year had been to ask thereverend why the Devil had taken her parents. Reverend Summers had explained that itwas evil men, criminals, that had killed her parents and not a biblical supernatural being.

The idea that another human being could do such a thing had hurt Eliza to her very core.She felt betrayed by her own people. Not knowing who had killed her parents made ithard to trust anyone, because to her mind anyone she encountered throughout the daycould have been the culprits.

She had no way of knowing where to even begin to figure out who had murdered them.The local authorities had gotten nowhere as any evidence that might have been accrued

had been destroyed in the fire. Probably the villains’ intent all along.

With so many questions as to who had brought about their demise or why they had doneso, Eliza turned to books as her refuge from the internal onslaught of emotional turmoil.At night when she could not sleep, she had lain beneath the light of a lamp and lostherself in the stories of romance and legend. In a world of fiction, she had ridden in andsaved her parents much like an armor-clad knight on a white steed. She read anythingand everything she could get her hands on in order to block out the images of what hadactually happened.

The Coles knew reading provided her safe a harbor in the pitch black of night, and neverchastised her for using more lamp wicks and oil than anyone else in the household.

It had been her father who had developed her love for literature. He had read to hernightly before her mother had put her to bed. Eliza closed her eyes to picture the scene. Ican still see it now, all of us sitting around the fire listening to Papa’s voice as he read offar off places and amazing adventures.

Opening her eyes, Eliza looked down at the sleeping faces of the Cole children andthanked God that they had not suffered the fate of her loss. To lose one’s parents in sucha way is cruel beyond measure. Cruelty no one should ever have to endure. Cruelty Ishould never have had to endure. She shook her head to eliminate the sorrowful thought.God protect them now and always.

Eliza bent over to kiss the smooth blonde brow of the littlest child. “‘Tis time to arise, mysweet,” she whispered, brushing the hair back from his eyes. Oliver was the youngest ofthe five siblings at three years old. She always woke Oliver first, as he so enjoyed wakinghis siblings by pouncing upon them as they slept. It was a morning ritual that broughtabout a round of giggles as each sibling tickled him in revenge for his exuberant greeting.

Eliza watched as Oliver rubbed his eyes awake. “Mornin’ ‘Liza,” he greeted, using his petname for her.

“Good morning, Oliver,” she replied, assisting him to a sitting position.

Oliver crawled out of bed and pattered over to his eldest brother, Henry’s bed. Crawlingup on the side, he positioned himself to leap on his brother. As Oliver’s tiny body landedon Henry’s torso, a grunt escaped the blanket-clad figure upon the bed. Mere momentslater a cascade of giggles fell upon Eliza’s ears as Henry tickled Oliver’s feet. “Come here,you little imp,” Henry growled in good humor.

The sound of the brothers’ antics awoke their sisters in the next room, and three youngfaces peeked around the door casing and grinned at the sight before them. “Good-morning,” the eldest girl, Mary, greeted.

“Good mornin’,” Oliver called back, scrambling down from Henry’s bed to race past hissisters and toward the kitchen. Henry arose and dressed before following. The girls

returned to their room to dress then went to join the family for breakfast.

“Will you be reading to Mistress Keen today, Eliza?” The middle daughter, Jane, inquiredaround a mouthful of porridge.

“Yes, I believe so,” Eliza answered, handing her a napkin to wipe her mouth.

“May I come with you?” The youngest girl, Anne, pleaded, folding her hands together as ifin prayer.

“I don’t see why not,” Eliza agreed. She couldn’t help but smile over her sister’sexuberance.

“Yay!” Anne cheered in excitement.

“You must be on your very best behavior,” Eliza warned her firmly.

“I shall,” Anne promised.

“I will hold you to that.” Eliza rose from the table to prepare for her walk to the grocers.

Eliza went to her room, gathered her cloak and reading materials and returned to thekitchen. She found all three girls stood ready and waited to accompany her.

Mary looked up. “May we all go with you, Eliza?”

Eliza smiled and ruffled her young sister’s blonde curls. “Of course, you may.”

“Me too!” Oliver yelled clambering down from his seat to grab at Eliza’s skirts.

“No, not today, my sweet,” Mrs. Cole scooped him up in her arms. “You and Henry aregoing to stay and help your dear old mother in the garden.”

“Yes, Mother,” Oliver begrudged. His frown made it evident that he was not pleased withthe arrangement.

“Come straight home once you have finished,” Mrs. Cole instructed.

“We will,” Eliza promised, kissed her on the cheek, then left the house for the grocer’s,her sisters in tow.

Eliza wondered how she would explain the foodstuffs she received from the grocer thatnever made it onto the Cole’s kitchen table. She had intended on distributing it on herway home to avoid a midnight excursion, but it could not be helped. She would have tohide the goods until she could disperse them among the neediest of families later.

The girls reached the grocer’s and made their way up the back stairs of the shop to thedrawing room above. Mrs. Keen sat awaiting Eliza’s arrival and was surprised to see threelittle girls march up the stairs to curtsy then take seats on the bench beneath the room’slargest window overlooking the street below. Eliza smiled at her sisters’ manners thentook her usual seat opposite the older woman.

Mrs. Keen rang a bell from her side table. A maid appeared in the doorway. “It wouldappear that I have more guests than expected today. Please bring us a number of sweettreats with our tea.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The maid curtsied and scurried away.

“That is most kind of you, Mrs. Keen. I apologize if bringing my sisters has caused anyinconvenience,” Eliza replied, concerned that she had broken with proper decorumallowing them to accompany her.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. You and your family are always welcome,” Mrs. Keenreassured her. “What have you brought for us to read today?”

“I have brought two selections for you to choose from. Would you prefer Sir Walter Scott’sThe Lady of the Lake or Miss Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice?” Eliza asked Mrs. Keenknowing her sisters would prefer Miss Austen’s work as they found it to be more relatableto their own lives. Eliza loved the fantasy and adventure of Sir Walter Scott’s literaryprowess.

Mrs. Keen turned to the Cole sisters. “What do you think, ladies?”

“Austen!” The three of them exclaimed as one.

“Miss Austen it is then,” Mrs. Keen agreed.

The ladies spent the next several hours immersed in the romantic tale. Eliza watched hersisters’ eyes glaze over in pleasure as they daydreamed of the future lives they wishedfor themselves. “Oh, can you imagine marrying a gentleman of such caliber?” Marygushed. “To be swept off of one’s feet by a nobleman of such wealth, perhaps even aduke…” Her words faded away into a sigh of longing.

Eliza chuckled. How could she tell her sisters that such a life was well beyond any of theirgrasp? Their husbands were destined to be tradesmen or mayhap soldiers. A noblemanwas far beyond the realm of probability, and a duke was utterly impossible. But did it doany harm for them to dream? Reality would alter their fanciful perceptions all too soon.

Eliza was fairly certain that she herself would never marry. She could not imagine ahusband supporting her nocturnal missions of mercy or find his wife cowered in theirarmoire after sleepwalking. A husband was a hindrance; she simply could notcountenance.

She knew that an unmarried woman of little fortune would need to find sustainableemployment if she wished to remain so. Employment options for young ladies werelimited at best. Eliza considered becoming a lady’s companion or a children’s governess,but she had no desire to serve as a maid or cook. Above all else, she wished to put herintellect and love of books to good use.

When Mrs. Keen grew tired, Eliza knew it was time to take her sisters and return home.

On her way out, the grocer, Mr. Keen, called her name. “Eliza!”

“Mary, please take Jane and Anne outside, and I will meet you in front of the store.” Elizadid not wish the girls to witness her exchange with Mr. Keen.

Mary complied and Eliza turned to speak with the grocer. “Yes, Mr. Keen?”

“I have your food ready. Do you wish to have anything added to your usual order?” Heplaced the items into a cloth sack.

“No, thank you, Mr. Keen.” Eliza took the sack and concealed it inside of her cloak. Shethen met her sisters at the front of the store and escorted them home.

“How was Mrs. Keen today?” Mrs. Cole inquired upon their entering the kitchen. “Wereyou girls on your best behavior?”

The girls chimed, “Yes, Mother,”

“Mrs. Keen is doing well. She grew tired from our visit, and so we departed to allow herto rest.” Eliza walked to her bedroom, placed the sack in her armoire, removed her cloak,and returned to the kitchen to assist in preparations for the evening meal.

“My friend, Mrs. Philips, will be dropping by for tea tomorrow afternoon. Will you bepresent to assist with the children or will you be with Mrs. Keen?” Mrs. Cole asked,dusting flour from her hands.

“Yes, I will be here,” Eliza promised.

That night Eliza lay awake until the rest of the household fell silent in slumber then aroseto retrieve the hidden parcel of food from the armoire. She threw her cloak over hershoulders and exited the house, quietly going from cottage to cottage distributing herweek’s earnings among those most in need.

Her last stop was the Wainwrights. She entered to assist the wife with cleaning anddressing her husband’s wound.

“The fever is getting worse,” Mrs. Wainwright fretted, wringing her hands as Elizaunwrapped the old bandage.

Eliza wrinkled her nose at the odor. “The wound smells putrid. Has the doctor been byagain?”

“We can’t afford to pay him for any more visits. The amputation and his following visitdrained our ever-dwindling coffers.” Mrs. Wainwright bowed her head in shame. “Wewere living hand to mouth as it was after paying for my husband’s father’s funeralexpenses. The legacy duties finished us off after that.” It was considered poor decorum to

discuss money, but it was quite apparent that the woman was at her end.

“Mrs. Wainwright, I fear that if you do not call the surgeon back to tend your husband’swounds, he may die,” Eliza warned as the last bit of bandage fell away.

“Holy mother of God.” Mrs. Wainwright gasped at the sight.

All that remained of Mr. Wainwright’s leg was a gangrenous, angry, red stump that oozedgreen and yellow pus. The horrendous smell of putrefaction was overwhelming. It filledthe room, causing its occupants to gag in reflex. His skin burned to the touch. He passedin and out of consciousness as Eliza cleaned the wound. She did not have any medicineon hand but had brought a jar of honey. She knew from past experience that honey hadhealing properties in caring for such issues.

I hope I am making the right choice. Eliza coated the stump with the honey and wrappeda new bandage around it. A surgeon would be better.

“I will return upon the morrow to see how you are both doing. Perhaps there is somethingin one of my books that can help us to know what to do.” Eliza washed her hands in thekitchen basin, then redonned her cloak, pulled the hood up over her head, and slippedout into the night.

Distracted by the gruesome images of Mr. Wainwright’s leg still clear in her mind, Elizadid not notice the dark figures that emerged from the shadows of an adjoining alleyway.The first she took note of their presence was when one of them grabbed her arm anddemanded that she turn over any jewels or money in her possession.

“Unhand me this instant.” She attempted to remove her arm from the assailant’s grasp.

She saw a knife flashed in the moonlight as another of the figures moved forward. “Turnover your valuables or die where you stand. We can take your possessions just as easilyfrom your corpse.”

The men’s voices were rough and their faces covered. She didn’t notice any distinguishingmarks to tell them apart from any other man. They moved just like the shadows of themen who had murdered her parents long ago.

She froze as memory overwhelmed her. Could they be the same men? Her anger at theidea quickly overcame her fear.

She was not strong enough to fight them off. She looked around for any passersby whomight offer her aid but saw none. A cry for help would expose her secret, but without it,she might not live to see the morrow. She took a deep breath and screamed, “Help!Help!”

The man who gripped her arm placed his hand over her mouth, “Be still!”

Eliza bit down on one of his fingers and stamped her heel on his toes. The man let out a

yell and swung his fist at her, barely missing her face. Eliza stumbled to avoid his assaultand was grabbed by the other fellow who placed the knife to her ribs and demanded sheremain still. Eliza chose to obey.

She trembled both in fear and anger; her breaths came in short bursts. Her mindsearched for a way out of her precarious situation through the fog of terror. I cannot diehere alone in this alley. I have barely begun to live. I will not allow myself to bemurdered as my parents were murdered. I will not! Eliza considered all of the optionsavailable to her and found she had none. God help me, she prayed.

“Unhand the lady,” a deep masculine voice commanded from the darkness that startledboth Eliza and her attackers. The sound of a gun being cocked echoed off thecobblestones, and a masked figure stepped out of the shadows and placed the muzzle ofa pistol to the knife wielder’s head.

Eliza heaved a sigh of relief. She looked to her savior, but the only thing she could seewere the piercing blue of his eyes reflected in the light of the streetlamps. They snappedin violent anger as he demanded immediate obedience. “Now.”

A

C H A P T E R 2

rthur Huntley, Duke of Rosenhill, rolled his blue eyes, frustrated at his mother’sunceasing complaints. Margaret was currently bemoaning her misfortune athaving birthed his twin siblings, Charlotte and Gabriel. They had been through

five governesses in the last ten years, all of whom had quit or been fired, one right afterthe other. The twins were prone to antics, but the cruelty of their parents had been thereal cause of the rapid succession governesses.

The household staff filled in the best they could, but with their other duties, it had beentrying at best. With the late Duke dead, Margaret completely rejected the twins at everyturn. Arthur knew she would have gladly rejected him were she not under his care as lordand master of Rosenhill and their family.

Their father had been a brutal man, and upon his death, the Dowager Duchess had doneher best to eradicate his memory from her life. Arthur watched as she portrayed thegrieving widow in public, but cursed his father’s name behind closed doors. Arthurhonestly could not blame her for hating his father, but he could not condone her behaviortowards his siblings.

Without a consistent source of care, discipline, and love, the twins were growingincreasingly out of hand. Arthur knew it was time to intervene and arrange for anothergoverness. When his mother paused during her tirade to take a breath, Arthur used theopportunity to interject a solution. “I will put out an advertisement for another governesstoday. Perhaps instead of going through an agency this time, we should try a localwoman.”

“Yes, perhaps we will find a creature so poverty-stricken that she will have no choice butto remain for the duration of the abominable urchins’ minority,” his mother agreed withenough venom to make a viper envious.

Arthur felt a deep empathy for the twins. He strove to let them know that they wereloved every day, but a brother’s love could not replace that of a parent, and neither oftheir parents had ever shown an exuberance of affection. The exact opposite had beendisplayed overabundantly throughout his own childhood, and the only affection given him

was from the household staff.

Arthur left his mother to churn in her bitterness and descended below stairs to find hishead housekeeper. Mrs. Philips had lived in the neighboring village long enough to knowwho among the local women would make a competent governess for the twins. She hadserved as a second mother to him from birth, and he trusted her opinion explicitly.

He knocked on the door of her office and was bade entry. As he crossed over thethreshold, the housekeeper arose from her chair to curtsy. “Your Grace, how may I be ofservice?”

“Mrs. Philips, please sit. I wish you would return to calling me Arthur.”

“Ah, but you are young Master Arthur no more, Your Grace,” she reminded affectionately.

“I suppose not,” he replied regretfully. “I have a request to make of you. As you are alltoo aware, the twins need a new governess. I have decided to forgo the agency andprocure someone locally. Do you know of an appropriate candidate?”

“I might. I am due to visit a friend of mine upon the morrow. She has a daughter who isof an age and temperament for the position. I will present the idea to her and seewhether she is amenable to the task,” Mrs. Philips offered.

“That would be splendid. Thank you, Mrs. Philips.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” She curtsied, bending her greying head in deference.

Arthur momentarily wished he were a boy once more so that he might crawl up into herlap and be soothed, comforted by the knowledge that at least in her, he had a safe placeto hide from the woes of the world. Unfortunately, those days were over, and as the Dukeof Rosenhill, such responsibilities now befall him. It was his job to provide succor andcomfort to those under his care in ways his father never had.

“Will you be going out again tonight?” Mrs. Philips asked as he turned to exit the room.

“Yes.” Arthur paused to answer. “Father’s misconduct was more far-reaching in its effectsthan I had anticipated. There are many in the village that live in poverty due to hisunsavory business dealings, and were I to go out every night for a year, I would not havebegun to make reparations.”

“You are a good man, Your Grace. There are many that will eat tonight because of you,”she praised.

“What is it the Bible says about the sins of the father?” he asked bitterly.

“That they shall be visited upon the sons,” Mrs. Philips walked over to place a hand uponhis arm.

“I will never outlive the shame he has brought to our family name,” Arthur lamented.

“It is not your responsibility to pay for your father’s sins, but the fact that you are willingto make his wrongs right is a testament to your true character. There are children whowill go to sleep with a full belly this night who would otherwise be whimpering withhunger in their beds. You did not cause their misfortune, but you have chosen to be theirredemption. Let go of the past, step out of your father’s shadow, and embrace the lightthat is within your heart.” Mrs. Philips squeezed his arm in encouragement then releasedit.

He smiled down into the gentle hazel eyes of this woman and thanked God for herpresence in his life.

Were it not for her, I would have given up and run away a long time ago.

He would never forget the first time his father had beaten him, or the gentle way inwhich Mrs. Philips had picked him up off the floor and tended his wounds. He had onlybeen three years old. Twenty-three years later, his father moldered in the ground andArthur ruled supreme. He had learned to be a man by doing the exact opposite ofeverything his father had ever done.

Good riddance.

He knew that the proper thing for a son would have been to mourn his father’s passing,but in truth, he did not lament the loss. If anything, he felt a sense of relief that he andhis siblings would no longer be forced to cower in fear through another one of his drunkenrampages. When Arthur had been old enough to do something about it, he had steppedbetween his father and the twins to spare them the physical violence that he himself hadso long endured.

It is nothing short of a miracle that I survived childhood to become a man. I honestlybelieve Father felt threatened by his own progeny. As his heir, I reminded him of his ownmortality, and for that, he made me pay in blood. His method of death was a fittingtribute to his life.

Hugh Huntley, the former Duke of Rosenhill, had died while out riding. The officialmagistrate’s report had declared it as murder via highwaymen, but Arthur was fairlycertain that his father’s demise had been brought about as a result of his rapaciouslifestyle. His father had exploited his tenants and employees, blackmailed his peers, andextorted local businesses unto poverty. Arthur was sure his father had done even worsethings than that but lacked the proof or full knowledge to do anything about it.

The late Duke had developed an extensive network of criminals to do his bidding thatnow fell under the auspices of his father’s business associate Ludlow Finch, the Marquessof Denlington. Their criminal empire had grown unchecked as there was never any solidevidence that could link them to the crimes. People were loath to believe that a wealthynobleman, such as a duke or marquess, would soil themselves with criminality.

Arthur had hoped that with the passing of his father, the Marquess would have stopped

his regular visits to Rosenhill, but instead, Denlington had continued to visit the DowagerDuchess multiple times a week. He supposed it was good for his mother to have a friendto share her many complaints with. After all, no one had known the former Duke betterthan Denlington.

Mrs. Philips interrupted his thoughts. “I will have the cook prepare everything you needfor tonight.”

“Thank you. What would I ever do without you?” Arthur smiled fondly at the housekeeper.

“Let us hope you are never forced to endure such an atrocity,” she teased, affectionatelypatting his arm.

“Quite so. I will be down after everyone has gone to bed.”

“The food will be waiting in its usual place.”

Arthur departed, returning to his duties above stairs. He had not realized how much ofthe estate’s wealth had come from his father’s less than savory activities until he hadinherited the title. His first order of business had been to go over the books, and he founda great many discrepancies. This caused him to further investigate his father’s businessdealings, and it revealed that the late Duke had been the ruin of many a localbusinessman.

Tonight, he had plans to visit a local wagon maker whom his father had overtaxed. Heintended to bring the man’s family food and to give back the money his father had taken.He could have gone to the man’s shop in the daylight, but Arthur did not wish to makethe late Duke’s misdeeds common knowledge. He was after justice, not social ruin.

Arthur had no desire to carry on his father’s activities and needed to find another sourceof income. Yes, he could live strictly on his inheritance, but he felt morally bound toreturn a vast amount of it to the families that needed it more. Instead, he had turnedRosenhill into a working estate wherein he endeavored to produce a wide range ofagricultural goods.

He had procured a steady market in London for his wares and had hired some of his mostloyal tenants to assist in working the land. His mother was furious with the idea. In heropinion, a duke did not work to earn his way in the world. A duke participating in manuallabor was utterly abhorrent to her and went against every rule of his social standing.

“Just like your father, never content with what you have.” His mother had scorned hisevery notion to improve upon the estate’s holdings. She was a strict traditionalist when itcame to one’s station in life. To her mind, inherited fortunes were a noble family’s rightregardless of how it had been accrued. Mrs. Philips had raised him to believe otherwise.She had instilled in him a strong sense of responsibility, not for his father’ actions, but forhis own legacy.

Mrs. Philips had taught him to embrace his ability to make a difference in the world

through his labors, in spite of his title. It was a lesson he had hoped to pass on to hissiblings, but his mother had blocked his attempts at every turn. Though he and theDuchess had lived in the same household his entire life, they were very much estrangedover their philosophies of what life should be.

Were she to find out about his midnight excursions of mercy and atonement, she wouldmake his life even more miserable than she already did. A fate he wished to avoid.

When night fell, and all was quiet, Arthur donned his disguise, stuffed a pistol in his belt,and slipped down the back stairs into the kitchen to find his promised food bundleawaiting him on the table. He hid his blonde hair beneath a hat and covered his face witha black woolen scarf. Throwing the bag of goods over his shoulder, he left the house. Hemounted the waiting horse Mrs. Philips had instructed one of the grooms to saddle andheaded into town.

As he moved through the cobbled streets, he made sure to stay within the shadows. Hehad no desire to fall prey to any of Denlington’s men who paroled the streets at nightlooking for opportunities to inflict trouble. As he rounded the corner onto the wagonmaker’s street, he saw beneath the faded glow of the street lanterns three figuresgrappling in the darkness.

“Help! Help!” A feminine voice cried out from one of the figures, then was swiftly silencedby another.

Arthur could not make out anything they were saying from where he stood, but it wasclear to him that a lady was in distress. Arthur dismounted and crept his way through theshadows until he stood so close to the perpetrators that he could have reached out andtouched them.

He cocked his pistol and placed it to the head of the man who held a knife. “Unhand thelady. Now!”

“Alright, alright, we were just having a bit o’ fun,” the other man held his hands up toshow that he was unarmed.

“’Twere nothing but a lark,” The man at the point of the muzzle agreed, dropped theknife and released the woman.

“I am sure the lady would beg to differ with your assessment of the situation.” Arthurmotioned for the woman to get behind him. She swiftly and silently obeyed. “Now I havehalf a mind to turn you both over to the magistrate, so I suggest you run along before Iact on it.”

The two men fled back down the alleyway disappeared from sight. “Thank you,” the ladyspoke from behind him. “You are most kind to have come to my aid.”

“I suggest you not linger long unchaperoned upon the streets at night, Madam. It sendsthe wrong message, attracting less than respectable attentions,” Arthur warned. “May I

escort you home?”

“No, thank you. I will be fine from here.”

The next thing he knew, she scurried away as quickly as her petite form would carry her.He had not gotten a clear look at the poor creature and hoped that she was unharmed.

Arthur retrieved his horse and advanced to the wagon maker’s abode. The terrified lookin the woman’s eyes stuck with him the rest of the night. He found himself wishing hehad gotten her name so that he might reassure himself as to her wellbeing. He wasreasonably certain that the assailants had once been employed by his father and he felt asmall amount of responsibility for their actions.

He knocked on the wagon maker’s door, and a mousey haired, grey-eyed womananswered the door. “Miss B…” she began then stopped.

“My apologies if you were expecting someone else. I know the hour is late, but I amlooking for Mr. Wainwright. Is he at home?” Arthur observed her wary expression. “It hasbeen brought to my attention that he overpaid his legacy duties. I have come to remedythe oversight.”

“Mr. Wainwright is feeling poorly and not up for company, but I am his wife,” the womananswered, not offering to allow his entry.

He wondered who she had been expecting in the middle of the night. It is none of mybusiness. Just do what you came to do and move on. Do not get involved.

Arthur handed the woman the sack of food. “The money is inside the bag with a fewother items I included as an apology for the misunderstanding.”

The woman peered inside the sack and her eyes widened at the sight. “Thank you, sir!”

Arthur tipped his hat in respect. “Think nothing of it. I bid you a good night, Mrs.Wainwright.”

“And you, sir.” The daunted look of pleasure and relief upon her face was one he wouldnot soon forget.

Having made his delivery, Arthur melted back into the night, mounted his horse, andheaded for home.

Eliza was in a daze the rest of the way home. She slipped through the back doorunnoticed and crawled into bed. It had been an eventful night. First with Mr. Wainwright’sleg, then she was accosted on the streets by two ruffians and ended with her daringrescue by a masked stranger. It was like something out of one of her books.

Who is he?

She could still see his brilliant blue eyes in her mind, clear as an unclouded sky insummer. She had never been accosted in such a manner before, and she knew that shehad been wrong to let her guard down. It had been a risk to traipse around town alone inthe middle of the night. I should have been more careful. I am fortunate that agentleman was in close enough proximity to save me.

She shuddered to think what might have happened had he not scared her attackersaway.

Eliza promised herself she, from that point forward, she would do her charity work only inthe daylight. If she couldn’t get away during any given day, then she would just have towait until the next one. No more putting herself at risk by such foolish behavior. If theColes questioned her absence, she would simply have to tell them the truth, whetherthey approved or not. It would not be pleasant to admit having taken food from theirkitchen without permission, but she had faced worse.

Eliza lay awake for most of the night and fell asleep just before daybreak. When Mrs. Colecalled for her to arise, she did not hear a word of it.

“Eliza…Eliza!” Mrs. Cole’s voice melded with her dreams turning into the voice of her birthmother on that fatal night.

“Mother?” Eliza spoke without waking. “Do not let them kill you, Mother!”

“Eliza! Wake up,” Mrs. Cole demanded, shaking her to break through the fog. “Youpromised you would assist me today. We must ready the house for my afternoon guest.”

From the doorway, Henry observed, “It looks like she had a difficult night, Mother.Perhaps you should let her rest. It is only your friend, Mrs. Philips, that is coming. Thehouse is sufficient as it is.”

“Mrs. Philips is the head housekeeper at Rosenhill. She keeps an immaculate house, and Iwill not force her to suffer through anything less when she is here. We may not be able tooffer her the elegant splendor she is accustomed to, but we will offer cleanliness,” Mrs.Cole argued.

The exchange between mother and son caused Eliza to emerge from her dreams, tearsstreaming down her cheeks. The sound of her birth mother calling her name had felt soreal. Her head ached, and her body felt as if it had been trampled.

As her mind cleared, she remembered the cause of her discomfort. I must have beenjostled about more than I thought during last night’s events.

“Eliza,” Mrs. Cole tried once more.

“I am awake,” Eliza replied. She opened her eyes and a sharp pain stabbed through her

head at facing the light.

“Good. Please, arise and join me in the kitchen. We have much to do today,” Mrs. Colerequested, then bustled out of the room issuing orders to all of her children.

Eliza dragged herself through the morning barely able to summon enough energy tofunction. She was utterly exhausted and out of sorts. As much as they loved her, theColes would never fully understand what she endured each night, and last night had beenparticularly unpleasant. At three and twenty she knew it was time to move along andstart a new life for herself, but she was unsure exactly how to go about it.

She had considered applying to an employment agency for lady’s companions andgovernesses but had not dared to journey to London for the interview process. She hadalso been loath to leave her siblings and people like the Wainwrights who depended onher.

“Eliza, please go out to the garden and bring in whatever ripened vegetables you find. Iwish to provide Mrs. Philips with a decent table for luncheon,” Mrs. Cole asked.

“Of course,” Eliza replied and went to do as she was told.

As she knelt among the rich dirt, she closed her eyes and breathed in the earthy smell.“Miss Bolton,” a voice interrupted her quiet moment.

Opening her eyes, Eliza turned to see who had spoken her name. “Mrs. Wainwright! Whatare you doing here? Has something happened to your husband?”

“Yes and no… A man came to our cottage shortly after you departed claiming that we hadpaid too much in taxes and that he had come to return the excess in funds. He left us alarge sack of food and enough money to see us back on our feet for a time, includingpaying the surgeon to attend my husband.” Mrs. Wainwright practically glowed withhappiness. “It is a miracle.”

“Indeed! I am so happy for you both,” Eliza exclaimed with joy. She arose from herkneeling position and walked over to the fence where her visitor stood taking her handsin celebration of the wonderful news. “Who was this generous man?”

“I do not know. He never gave his name, and his face was covered by a woolen scarf andhat. I did note that he had the bluest eyes I have ever seen,” Mrs. Wainwright answered.“A young man I believe.”

My rescuer! Eliza’s heart jumped in recognition of the man’s description. Eliza shared withher the events of the night before.

“A masked hero,” Mrs. Wainwright proclaimed in awe. “It is blessed indeed that you werenot harmed. With the return of our funds, there will no longer be a need for you totraverse the roads at night. You are always welcome in our house, and we will neverforget what you have done for use. For your safety, I think it would be best for you to

only visit during the day in the future.”

“I agree,” Eliza confirmed. “I am beyond thrilled that you will no longer need my services,but I will miss our time together. Perhaps I can come and visit each week just to talk?”

“That would be splendid,” Mrs. Wainwright encouraged. “Thank you ever so much for allyou have done.” She embraced Eliza in a tight hug of exultation and appreciation, thensaid her farewells. “I must return to my husband’s bedside once I have fetched thesurgeon. I will see you soon.”

“Of course,” Eliza agreed and waved goodbye.

Eliza knelt back down among the garden vegetables. My reasons for remaining here aregrowing fewer in number.

Just last week Mr. Cole had been discussing possible marriage candidates for her.Something she very much did not wish for. Usually, she was content in her lot, butmornings like this one where she longed for the freedom to determine her own schedule,to organize her own life, made her stop and think about what the future might hold forher elsewhere.

She had often thought of writing as a possible career, and with women writers such asMiss Austen making a name for themselves, such a thing seemed more possible than everbefore. If she were able to determine her own schedule, then perhaps she could pursuesuch an occupation in her off hours.

Where would I even begin? I cannot go off to London on my own, unchaperoned, andFather would never agree to take me. He has very different ideas for my future. If he hadhis way, he would have me married to the butcher’s son and living next door with half adozen children.

“Eliza, please hurry. We do not have all day to wait for you, my dear,” Mrs. Cole calledfrom the doorway.

“Coming, Mother.”

Eliza and the Cole children assisted their mother in scrubbing every surface of the houseand putting together a delicious luncheon for her friend. When Mrs. Philips arrived, Mrs.Cole gushed with pleasure to see her. “It has been too long,” Mrs. Cole stated, leadingher friend to the sitting room.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Philips agreed. Turning to Eliza, she said, “My, how you have blossomedinto a young woman seemingly overnight! You are quite lovely, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Philips,” Eliza accepted the compliment with a curtsy, then went to pourtheir guest a cup of tea.

“I have a rather interesting proposition for you, Eliza, if you are interested. The Duke and

Dowager Duchess of Rosenhill are seeking to hire a new governess for the twins: LordGabriel and Lady Charlotte. Is that something you would be interested in? I told them Iwould inquire and, if so, I will recommend you to the position,” Mrs. Philips asked, takingthe offered teacup from Eliza’s hand and lowered herself upon the settee.

“Truly?” Eliza could hardly believe her ears. Had she not just this morning beenwondering about how to procure such employment?

“Yes, truly,” Mrs. Philips nodded in affirmation.

“I don’t know what to say.” Eliza felt giddy with the possibility.

“Say, yes,” Mrs. Philips urged. “It will not be easy, but the twins could benefit greatlyfrom a loving, steady hand such as yours.”

“We should discuss it with Mr. Cole upon his arrival home this evening,” Mrs. Coleadvised.

“Of course,” Mrs. Philips replied. “Take the evening to think upon it, but do not tarryoverlong for they wish to hire someone right away.”

“Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Philips,” Eliza replied, then remained quiet for the remainder of thevisit thinking about the possibilities of life at Rosenhill.

Later that night after supper, the Cole family gathered around the sitting room fireplaceto discuss Mrs. Philip’s job offer. “Are you sure this is what you want, Eliza? I have heardstories about the Dowager Duchess and the former Duke. They were not pleasant,” Mr.Cole warned.

“Yes, I am sure. I have been looking for just such an opportunity.”

“What about marriage, settling down, raising a family?” he asked.

“Father, you know as well as I that no man is going to tolerate someone such as I withmy night terrors and other nocturnal activities.”

“True, it is rare to find a person who can walk about talking, eating, and…” he paused notwishing to finish the sentence.

“And fight back in their sleep,” Eliza finished for him.

“Yes, but I would not have let such a thing keep me from marrying Mrs. Cole and I amsure the butcher’s son would not mind over-much,” he argued.

“Father, I love you and would do anything to please you, but what you are proposing isnot the life I would choose for myself. I simply wish to remain unmarried and live a quiet,productive life of educational and literary pursuits.” Eliza pleaded with her eyes for him tounderstand.

“You would leave us, ‘Liza?” Little Oliver’s lip quivered at the notion.

“Never,” Eliza promised. “I would simply be down the road and would visit constantly.”

“Truly?” His tiny features begged her to confirm her words.

“Truly,” Eliza affirmed taking him into her lap offering him comfort.

“If it is what you honestly wish to do, then I will not stand in your way,” Mr. Coleacquiesced. “But we will miss you more than you know.”

The image of his face on the night he had retrieved her, burned and terrified in the frontgarden of her childhood home, flashed before her eyes. He had been strong for her thatnight and had looked out for her wellbeing from that day forward. She had never oncedoubted that she was loved by either he or his wife. They had had tears in their eyes thatnight, and they had tears in their eyes now. It broke Eliza’s heart to look at them.

“If it does not succeed for any reason, you return home without delay. I will not have youmistreated, whether your employers are nobility or not,” Mr. Cole commanded. “I will notstand for any form of abuse to my little girl.”

Eliza smiled at his words. He had never once treated her as anything but his own fleshand blood, his first-born. No matter what she had done, no matter how many times shehad awakened him screaming in the night, no matter how much she had grown in hiseyes, she would always be his little girl.

“What kind of stories have you heard, Father?” Eliza asked.

“As you know, I am not one to repeat gossip, but it is rumored that the former Duke wasmurdered for his part in criminal activities and that the Dowager Duchess might have hadsomething to do with it,” he answered.

“Surely not! A lady of her standing,” Mrs. Cole protested.

“As I say it is only rumor, but it pays to be cautious when dealing with the nobility,” headvised.

For some reason she could not quite identify, a shivery chill of foreboding ran up herspine. Could the Dowager Duchess truly be capable of murdering her own husband?

E

C H A P T E R 3

liza stood in the drive staring up at Rosenhill Manor, her mouth agape.

She had heard tales of Rosenhill’s glory but had never seen it herself. The yellowstone walls and golden accents glinted in the sun like a beacon of light. Whether it wasbeckoning wayfarers to come closer or to avoid it altogether, Eliza wasn’t yet sure.

Roses of every size and color cascaded along the drive and down the slope that led awayfrom the house to a water garden below its front face. The air was filled with their sweetperfume. The name Rosenhill suddenly made a great deal of sense. The house itselfresembled that of a yellow rose opening up and sprawling out in all its glory.

The Huntley crest and coat of arms were carved into the wooden doors. The bronzehandles were in the shape of hunting horns, and the knocker was the depiction of anenormous stag. Everything about the place bespoke power and wealth. Eliza felt like aninsect in comparison. She had worn her best lavender frock and done her hair up in thelatest style with ringlets framing her face.

She had come for an interview with Mrs. Philips and the head butler, Mr. Danvers. If thehead butler approved of her, then she would be presented to the Duke and DowagerDuchess for final approval. Eliza was nervous. She had never met nobility before and wasnot quite sure she knew how to act. She feared she would do something amiss and bedenied.

Being a governess was a serious job in which the lives and care of another person’schildren would be in her hands. She had fearlessly cared for her siblings over the years,but this was not quite the same thing. She prayed that she would not embarrass herselfor her family.

Eliza walked around to the servant’s entrance and knocked on the door. Mrs. Philipsanswered greeting her warmly. She ushered Eliza inside and down the hall to the butler’soffice. Knocking on the door, they were bade entry. “Mr. Danvers, this is the youngwoman I was telling you about, Miss Eliza Bolton. Eliza, this is Mr. Danvers, the headbutler of Rosenhill Manor.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bolton,” Mr. Danvers greeted. “I have heard a great manythings about your character, all of them complimentary.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eliza replied blushing.

“This interview is merely a formality. If Mrs. Philips believes you are the young lady forthe position of governess, then I trust that you are capable,” Mr. Danvers informed her.“Please sit and tell me about yourself, your family. What does your father do?”

“My birth father, Daniel Bolton, was a teacher of superlative intellect. My adopted father,John Cole, is a talented carpenter,” Eliza answered honestly. It pained her to talk abouther birth father to a complete stranger, but she did not want an omission of her pedigreeto be the cause by which she was denied the position.

“My sympathies for your loss, Miss Bolton,” Mr. Danvers replied. “Your mother’s people?”

“My birth mother, Sarah, was a Jones. Her father was a naval captain in His Majesty’sservice. He died in the war for the Americas. My grandmother joined him shortlythereafter from a broken heart,” Eliza explained from what she could remember of hermother’s stories.

“And your father’s parents?” he inquired.

“Deceased. I am afraid I do not remember much about them. I was but six when myparents died,” Eliza apologized for her lack of knowledge.

“You are no stranger to adversity,” Mr. Danvers observed studying her face. “Mrs. Philipshas told me of your work with the Cole children and with Mrs. Keen in the village. Ibelieve we can safely say you have experience in child rearing.”

“Yes, sir,” Eliza affirmed.

“Shall we go above stairs and introduce you to His Grace and the Dowager Duchess?” heasked.

“Yes, please,” Eliza replied; her stomach fluttered with nervousness.

“Follow me,” he instructed, and Eliza obeyed.

Mr. Danvers and Mrs. Philips led her up a staircase, down a hallway, through a side door,down another hallway, and into a spacious drawing room of powder blue and silver. Itwas exquisite. A large row of windows took up the entirety of one wall looking out overthe rose garden. Silver gilt mirrors reflected the light causing it to bounce around theroom, shining from every silver surface.

“Your Grace…May I present Miss Eliza Bolton, the applicant for the governess position.Miss Bolton, His Grace, Arthur Huntley, Duke of Rosenhill and his lady mother, Her Grace,the Dowager Duchess, Margaret Huntley.” Mr. Danvers made the introductions with themost gallant of flourishes. Eliza could not help but smile. Mr. Danvers was genuinely

meant for his occupation in every way imaginable.

“Miss Bolton, a pleasure,” the Duke greeted from his position by the window. He camearound the settee where his mother was perched upon the edge of her seat, back ramrodstraight, silver-blonde hair perfectly in place, green eyes assessing her every move. TheDuke was much more amiable and came to stand directly in front of her. His blonde hairlay in short waves as was the current fashion. His eyes sparkled with genuine pleasure atmeeting her.

That voice… those eyes!

She had seen his eyes before, so blue.

It could not possibly be him. The resemblance to her midnight savior was uncanny. Surelynot. A duke would have no reason to be going about the streets at night masked fightingoff attackers.

Coming to her senses before she made a complete and utter fool of herself, she curtsiedin greeting. “Your Grace,” she murmured, averting her eyes to the floor. “The pleasure ismine.”

“To be sure,” the Dowager Duchess remarked snidely.

“Miss Bolton comes with the highest of recommendations from Mrs. Philips and hasexperience in caring for children. I have talked with her and am in agreement with Mrs.Philips on the matter,” Mr. Danvers explained.

“Excellent,” the Duke replied. “When can you start?”

“Right away, Your Grace,” Eliza answered, shocked that it had been so easy. She hadexpected to be ground into meal via interrogation but instead had been welcomed withopen arms. They must be desperate indeed for a governess…that, or Mrs. Philips is trulyrespected above all others. Mayhap both.

“Wonderful! Mrs. Philips can show you to the nursery so that you can meet the children.After that, she can show you to your room and help you to settle in. Have you broughtyour belongings with you or shall I send a man to collect them?” the Duke offered.

“That is most kind of Your Grace, but I would prefer to collect them myself and share thegood news with my family,” Eliza replied shyly.

“Of course. Please make sure to let Mrs. Philips know if you need any assistance, and Iwill have a groomsman accompany you,” the Duke replied.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Eliza curtsied.

“Thank you, Miss Bolton.” The Duke courteously bowed in reply.

As they exited the drawing room and entered the main hall, Eliza stopped to view a large

portrait that hung on the wall. “The late Duke, His Grace’s father,” Mrs. Philips informedher.

The man was tall and broad-chested like his son, with the same brilliant blue eyes, butwhere the young Duke’s were warm, his father’s were ice cold. There was a cruelty thatglinted behind them. Eliza wondered if it was a trick of the artist or if he had actuallycaught the real character of the man.

Unlike his son’s golden blonde locks, the late Duke had sported a thick mane of coal blackhair accompanied by a matching mustache. A rather large scar cut down his left cheekmaking him appear more rogue than Duke. He sat tall upon his black hunting steedsurrounded by baying hounds with a dead stag across the front of his horse. The artisthad done a superlative job. The painting was so lively it felt as if it could have comedown off of the canvas.

“A cruel man,” Mrs. Philips murmured under her breath then moved on continuing towardsthe nursery.

Perhaps the rumors are true.

Eliza knew Mrs. Philips would not have said a negative word against the man were it nottrue. Shaking her head, she disregarded her misgivings. ‘Tis none of my business whatsort of a man he was or how his family dealt with him. I am here to do a job, not concernmyself in the affairs of others. She hurried along to catch up with the housekeeper.

The nursery was a pale lemon yellow with green accents. Two children played with tinytoy soldiers on a rug upon the floor. The boy, Gabriel, was blonde with blue eyes like hisbrother. He had the most adorable dimples that winked in and out of existence as hetalked to his sister about their battle strategy. The girl, Charlotte, was tall, taller thanGabriel, with dark hair and blue eyes similar in coloring to her father’s portrait.

“Children, I would like to introduce you to your new governess, Miss Eliza Bolton. Eliza,this is Lord Gabriel Huntley and Lady Charlotte Huntley,” Mrs. Philips gestured to eachperson as she spoke. “Say hello, children.”

The twins got to their feet. Gabriel bowed, while Charlotte curtsied. “Hello, Miss Bolton.”

“Hello, children,” Eliza greeted with a smile.

Having done as they were told, the children sat back down and returned to playing,ignoring everyone else in the room. Eliza stood and watched them for a moment beforeMrs. Philips led her back out into the hall. “It may take some time for them to warm up toyou.”

“I am sure,” Eliza agreed. “It is never easy to welcome a stranger into one’s life andhome, let alone allow that stranger to have authority over you.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Philips murmured, inspecting Eliza’s face. “You are wise beyond your

years.”

“Tragedy has a way of changing us into people that we might not otherwise be,” Elizareplied.

“Yes, it does. I think you will get along quite nicely here at Rosenhill, Eliza.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Philips.”

“You are just like your father, hiring a pretty face for your own amusement,” the DowagerDuchess accused as she abandoned her erect posture to lounge upon the settee indisdain.

“You complained about having to spend time with your children, and now I haveaddressed those complaints on your behalf. Outside of that, I have no interest in the girl,I assure you,” Arthur replied.

“And you expect me to believe that you have no interest in the girl at all with the wayyou were fawning all over her. Bowing to the help, honestly Arthur, could you be anymore debasing? Lest you have forgotten, you are the Duke of Rosenhill. For the sake ofyour family, can you at least pretend to be worthy of the title?” His mother’s words thatwould have once hurt him in childhood merely bounced off of him now.

“You may believe as you wish, Mother. I apologize if I have disappointed you,” Arthuranswered. He knew his father had been repeatedly abusive and unfaithful to her and thather anger was more truthfully toward the deceased than the living.

“Do as you wish. You always do.” She sighed and waved her hand in dismissal.

Arthur bowed then left the drawing room. His mother was wrong, but she was right aboutone thing – the new governess was beautiful. There was something about her eyes, sodark brown, that was familiar. He could not quite recall where he had encountered her.

Perhaps Mrs. Philips will know where I might have seen her. Arthur descended the stairsto her office. She is quite enchanting. He had found himself being drawn to her as shehad stood before him. I should be careful not to prove Mother right about my intentionstowards the girl. I will not fall prey to temptation as my father did before me.

He knocked on the door but did not receive a reply. He had forgotten that Eliza might stillbe in the nursery. Arthur turned to leave and caught sight of a cloaked figure exitingswiftly through the back door. “You there!” Arthur gave chase. He would gladly give foodto anyone who needed it, but he would not countenance stealing.

Charging out of the door in pursuit, he grabbed the fleeing figure by the arm turning themaround to face him. “You?”

It was the new governess, but she looked like…the girl on the street at night! Arthurreleased her immediately for fear of being recognized himself.

“Yes, Your Grace?” she asked, a confused look in her eyes. “Have I done somethingwrong?”

“No, not at all. Please, forgive me, Miss Bolton. I mistook you for an intruder. You left soswiftly you see with the dark cloak and all,” he attempted to explain.

“Oh,” she paused looking down at her cloak. “I suppose such a thing might looksuspicious with how quickly I was departing. It might have looked as though I werefleeing with the silver. Forgive me, Your Grace. I simply wished to hurry home and tell myfamily about the wonderful news.”

“Of course, you were. Please, do not let me keep you. I promise to be more hospitable inthe future.” Arthur gave a slight bow in apology.

“You have been perfectly hospitable. I thank you, Your Grace.” With a quick curtsy, shewas gone.

Arthur watched her walk down the drive until she disappeared from sight. What was abeautiful, sweet-natured governess doing out on the streets at night? I cannot imagineany family would find such behavior appropriate.

Arthur contemplated all the possible reasons a girl would have to be out alone after darkand came up with very few. A lover’s tryst perhaps? The scandal such a thing would bring.Have I been too cavalier in hiring her?

Arthur shook his head in reply to his own question. He trusted Mrs. Philips’ opinionexplicitly. She would never have introduced them to a girl of weak character. He wouldsimply have to trust that the girl had had a good reason.

It would not be amiss to keep a watchful eye on her. Just until I know the truth behindher actions. They were desperate for a governess, but he wanted his siblings to be safeand cared for by someone of good character. They had had quite enough of the oppositefrom their father already.

His thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Philips coming down the stairs. “Your Grace? Issomething amiss?”

“No, I was just seeing Miss Bolton out,” he answered. “Charming girl. Is there anythingmore I should know about her apart from what you have already shared?” he asked.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I saw her the other night. The lady in distress I spoke to you about, it was her. I amalmost certain of it,” he explained.

“Surely not. The Coles would never allow a daughter of theirs to go about at night

unaccompanied,” Mrs. Philips protested.

“Be that as it may, I am certain it was she. What call would such a young lady have tosuch behavior?”

“What call does a Duke have to the same?” she pointed out.

“Ah, touché,” he replied adequately shamed for his suspicious musings. “Neverthelesswould you mind keeping an eye on her with the twins to be sure?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Mrs. Philips agreed. “But I am sure there is a perfectly goodexplanation for it all.”

“Let us hope so, for if not, she must go.”

S

C H A P T E R 4

aying goodbye to her family was difficult, but Eliza took comfort in the fact thatthey were but a walk away. She was given Sundays off to visit with them, andshe would also use the time to continue her charity work in town. After her

interview, she had left Rosenhill Manor to gather her things and returned before nightfall.Mrs. Philips had shown her to her new room adjacent to the children’s nursery. The roomwas a lovely blue, with a canopied bed, and spacious armoire.

She had unpacked her belongings, then settled the children into bed. Gabriel andCharlotte had not yet warmed to her, but that would come with time. She had read thema story, kissed their foreheads which had been received with a great deal of surprise iftheir little faces were any indication, and retired to her room. She prayed that her newsurroundings would be enough to hinder the nightmares from coming.

She crawled beneath the fresh sheets and sighed in contented relief. The bed wasmagnificent. She had never before lain in such luxury. With a room such as this, she couldnot imagine why the prior governesses had left so quickly. She remembered Mrs. Philips’statement about cruelty.

I sincerely hope it isn’t a problem with the family, but if it was with the father, he is nowdead, so perhaps it will have resolved itself.

The children had reacted to her attempts at affection as though they had neverexperienced such a thing. She knew all too well that she was a stranger, and she hopedthat their reservations were due to that and not an abusive father. She would make apoint to ask Mrs. Philips upon the morrow. Closing her eyes, she fell into an exhaustedsleep.

A scream pierced the night jolting Arthur from a deep sleep. He pulled on his trousers andrushed from his bedchamber in the direction of the sound. He met Mr. Danvers and Mrs.Philips in the hall. “It sounded like it came from the nursery,” he informed them.

“Eliza! She gets night terrors,” Mrs. Philips gasped in realization and scurried to thegoverness’ room. Arthur and Mr. Danvers followed.

“I will look in on the children,” Arthur offered as Mr. Danvers went to check on MissBolton.

When Arthur opened the nursery door, he was relieved to find his siblings safe in theirbeds. Somehow, they had managed to sleep through the screaming. How, he had nonotion. It seemed to have reverberated throughout the house. Not wishing to wake them,Arthur quietly exited the room and shut the door behind him.

Mr. Danvers stood just outside the door. “All is well, Your Grace. ‘Twas but a dream.”

Arthur peeked his head around the doorframe into the governess’ room and found Mrs.Philips was offering Miss Bolton a glass of water. “I am terribly sorry, Mrs. Philips,” shewas saying. “I have not screamed so loudly in quite some time.”

“’Twas naught but the change in circumstances. You will adjust to sleeping in newsurroundings, and the dreams will calm once more.” Mrs. Philips brushed a ringlet of darkhair from Miss Bolton’s face. “Try to sleep now.”

Mrs. Philips arose from her seat at the edge of the bed and met the men in the hallway.She closed the bedroom door and motioned for them to follow her into the sitting room.“My apologies, Your Grace.”

“I assume the night terrors are from the night of her parent’s death?” Arthur asked.

“You know of the girl’s history, Your Grace?” Mr. Danvers inquired.

“Mrs. Philips was quite forthright about Miss Bolton’s history before I agreed to hire her. Itis in part due to this history that I decided to offer her employment. Her father, DanielBolton, was my tutor for a short time when I was about the twin’s age. I did not knowhim well, but he seemed a kind man. He and his wife died in a horrific fire, but their littlegirl managed to survive,” Arthur explained.

“Most magnanimous, Your Grace,” Mr. Danvers praised.

“Not at all. I simply wished to repay her father’s kindness, and we needed a governess.”Arthur waved away the praise.

“Once she has adjusted, the night terrors should ease,” Mrs. Philips reassured him. “I wasunaware that she still had them, or I would have informed you, Your Grace.”

“As long as it does not disturb the children, I will allow her the time to settle into her newhome,” Arthur promised.

“Thank you for understanding, Your Grace,” Mrs. Philips replied. Arthur could tell that thehousekeeper cared greatly for the girl.

The next morning Eliza arose and readied the two children for breakfast. She wasembarrassed to have caused such a disturbance during the night and hoped to avoidfacing the Duke. She was afraid that she would be dismissed from her position before shehad had a chance actually to do her job.

Mrs. Philips brought the children’s breakfast up on a tray, and they ate in their nursery.“Do the children not eat with the family?” Eliza asked.

“No. The Dowager Duchess prefers that they remain out of sight unless called upon,” Mrs.Philips answered. “His Grace will come up to look in on them after breakfast and thenagain before bedtime. They do not currently have a tutor, so you will need to providethem with what education you can manage.”

“Of course. I would be glad to do so,” Eliza answered. She could not imagine a motherwho did not wish to spend time with her children.

What sort of family does not spend time together?

She had been told that wealthy nobility lived very different lives than the one she hadknown, but to ignore one’s children seemed callous.

Once Gabriel and Charlotte had finished breaking the fast, Eliza readied them for a walkoutside. She wished to familiarize herself with the grounds and felt that some fresh airwould do them all good. She was especially excited to explore the gardens she had seenthe day before. A knock at the door delayed their exit. The Duke walked in, and the twinsran to embrace him wrapping their arms around his waist in unison. “Arthur!”

“Good morning,” the Duke replied. “Gabriel, Charlotte, how are you this fine morn?”

“Better now that you are here,” Charlotte answered. “Will you join us on our walk?”

“I would be glad to. A walk sounds splendid. Would you mind the company, Miss Bolton?”The Duke looked up at Eliza meeting her eyes.

“Not at all, Your Grace. The more, the merrier,” she answered with a smile, averting hergaze. She blushed with the knowledge that he had been present in her doorway duringthe night’s events.

“Lovely. Shall we go then?” the Duke offered each of his siblings a hand.

“What if Mother sees? She will be cross. She doesn’t like it when we show affection to oneanother.” Gabriel fretted, his brow furrowed.

“I am the Duke of Rosenhill now. There is naught Mother can do to stop me. Shall we bebrave together?”

Gabriel nodded and took his brother’s hand. Charlotte followed suit, then the three of

them exited the room. Eliza followed along close behind.

What kind of a mother does not wish for her progeny to show affection? These poorchildren.

She could not help but wonder how the Duke had turned out to be such a kind man witha reportedly cruel father and an emotionally absent mother. Eliza was grateful, not forthe first time, that she had been blessed with two sets of loving parents.

The four of them strolled through the rose garden and down along the reflecting pool.Waterfowl swam causing ripples in an otherwise motionless mirror. It was a glorious daywith the sun shining brightly in the eastern sky. Eliza loved to walk in the early morning.There was something so refreshing about watching the world awaken.

“What do you think of Rosenhill thus far, Miss Bolton?” The Duke fell back to walk alongbeside her allowing the children to run ahead.

“It is exquisite, Your Grace,” Eliza answered truly in awe of her surroundings.

“It is an image that has been well honed throughout the centuries. I would like to showthe children what I have accomplished of late. Will you join us?” the Duke invited.

“Yes, please,” Eliza accepted the offer.

“Splendid. Do you ride?” the Duke inquired.

“I must admit, I do not. I have never been given the opportunity. In fact, I have neverbeen out of the county,” she replied. “I would love to learn.”

“It would be my pleasure to instruct you in the finer points of horsemanship,” the Dukeoffered.

“I would like that very much,” Eliza answered.

“Then it is settled. Children!” he called.

“Yes, Arthur,” they came running to his side.

“How would you like to go and see what I have been working on?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, please!” they chimed.

“To the stables then,” he instructed and off they ran with Eliza and the Duke followingbehind.

When they arrived at the stables, the Duke ordered one of the grooms to saddle thegentlest horse for Eliza, while he assisted the children with theirs.

Eliza was nervous. She had never been atop any kind of beast before, but she wasterribly excited to try. When the groom was done saddling the bay mare he had selectedfor her, he assisted her up onto the horse’s back.

Eliza felt the most marvelous thrill as she looked down from what seemed like a greatheight. “Whoa, girl,” the groom soothed both horse and rider as Eliza fumbled aroundwith the reins.

“Ready?” the Duke asked.

“Quite,” Eliza answered with a shy smile.

“Right. Hold the reins thus,” he demonstrated with the reins from his own horse, abeautiful black steed much like that in his father’s painting. Eliza wondered if it was thesame one. “When you wish to go forward, just give her a gentle nudge with your heels,and she will do the rest.”

“Thank you,” Eliza replied.

The children rode up beside them. “Shall we?” the Duke asked. Gabriel and Charlotteresponded by enthusiastically nudging their mounts forward.

The ride was exhilarating. Eliza had never felt anything like it before. They rode for sometime until they came to an old croft with various outbuildings and fences dotting thelandscape.

A man emerged from the croft to greet them. “Good morning, Mr. Murphy!” the Dukecalled out.

“Good morning, Your Grace!” the man called back.

“We have come to see the new batch of piglets,” the Duke informed him.

“They are doing well. You will be pleased, Your Grace. We had a new arrival last night,an ewe dropped a lamb in the wee hours.” The man took the reins of their horses as theydismounted.

“Splendid! We must look in on the little fellow,” the Duke replied.

The Duke led Eliza and the children around the side of the croft to one of theoutbuildings. As they rounded the structure, Eliza could make out the sound of snorting. Asow came into sight and grunted a warning. “We will not harm your little ones, Ruby girl,”the Duke reassured the new mother. “We have just come to admire them.”

Gabriel and Charlotte crowded up close to the fence and giggled as the tiny piglets foughtfor space to suckle at their mother’s teats. The runt of the group was continuously shovedout of the way, but he would shake it off and dive right back in burrowing to make roomfor himself. “A determined little fellow, is he not?” she observed aloud.

“Indeed.” The Duke grinned in humor at the sight before them. “Shall we go see the newlamb?”

“Yes,” the children chorused and followed after their brother as he led the way to a

paddock where the new mother was being held with her newborn.

“He is beautiful,” Charlotte breathed in appreciation. The lamb baaed in reply andtwitched its tail as it ran and frolicked around the open space.

“That he is,” the Duke agreed, ruffling his sister’s hair affectionately. “Would you like topet him?”

“Oh, yes, please,” the twins answered jumping up and down with excitement.

Eliza laughed in the joy of their delight. Their little adventure was the first time they hadshown any sign of happiness since her arrival the day before. It gave her hope thatperhaps everything would work out. They each took a turn petting the lamb. Then theywalked around, admired the other animals, then mounted up and headed back to thestables.

Upon entering the drive in front of the manor house, they were greeted by the sight of aman in a long coat and tall hat with grey hair, a mustache, and beady amber coloredeyes. The way he looked at them made Eliza’s skin crawl. Something about the man justdid not sit right with her.

“Denlington,” the Duke greeted the man with a definite hint of displeasure in his voice.

Apparently, he does not like the look of the man either. Eliza moved closer to the twinsunsure of what to do if there was an unpleasant encounter.

“What do you want?” the Duke demanded to know.

“Are you not going to introduce me to this delightful creature, Arthur?” the man asked.

“Miss Bolton, this is Ludlow Finch, Marquess of Denlington and a former associate of mylate father. Marquess, this is Miss Eliza Bolton. She is the children’s new governess,” theDuke begrudgingly made the introductions.

“A pleasure, Miss Bolton,” the Marquess replied tipping his hat.

Eliza simply nodded in acknowledgement. “Children let us proceed to the stables andallow His Grace to attend the Marquess in private.” She did not wish to stay in the man’spresence any longer than necessary.

“Go ahead. I will meet you there in a moment,” the Duke instructed the twins to obey.

Eliza led them to dismount and hand over their steeds to the waiting groomsmen. “Wouldyou like to help brush them down?” one of the stable hands asked Gabriel.

“Yes, please,” Gabriel replied, and Charlotte offered to help as well.

Eliza took a seat on a pile of straw and watched over her charges.

The Duke, true to his word, entered the stables and joined her upon the straw. “May I?”

he asked before taking a seat.

“Of course, Your Grace. It is your straw after all,” she answered.

“That it is,” he answered with a smile at her cheekiness. The Duke lowered himself downto sit beside her. His hand briefly brushed against hers causing ripples of sensation totravel up her arm and throughout her body.

Eliza blushed and averted her eyes. What is wrong with me? Am I flirting? Surely not.Deep down she knew she was, a little. The Duke was a kind and handsome man. It washard not to take note and react. Aloud she said, “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I couldn’thelp notice that you are not over fond of your guest, the Marquess.”

“No, I am not. He was my father’s friend and now my mother’s, not mine.” The Dukefrowned at the mention of the man.

“My apologies for bringing up an unpleasant topic of discussion,” Eliza offered.

“Think nothing of it. You may say and ask what you wish, Miss Bolton,” he instructed.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Eliza replied shyly.

“It will be nice to have another person to talk with on a daily basis,” he admitted. “Youare good with the twins. It is clear that you care about people and their wellbeing.”

“I grew up in a house full of siblings. It simply comes naturally to me. I am glad that I canbe of service to you and your family,” Eliza replied. “The children are a delight.”

“I am glad you think so. Perhaps this arrangement will work out after all,” he stated.

“I apologize for last night,” Eliza said, afraid that her nocturnal screams had given him anegative opinion of her.

“You have my sympathies for your loss. I knew your father. He was my tutor for a timewhen I was quite young,” the Duke informed her. “He was a good man.”

“Yes, he was. I miss him and mother every day. I saw them die. I was only six years oldwhen it happened. I have had night terrors from that day to this. I promise I will get thescreaming under control. I do not usually do so on a nightly basis,” she reassured him.

“I understand. You have no reason to fear reprimand from me about it,” he comfortedher.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Eliza replied with relief.

“Would you and the children like to go out with me to check on the animals againtomorrow?” he invited.

“It would be our pleasure,” Eliza accepted.

“Wonderful. I must leave you now to attend to some business, but I will be up this

evening to bid Gabriel and Charlotte goodnight,” the Duke promised. Rising from thestraw, he gave Eliza one last smile, waved to the children, then left the stables.

Arthur entered the house and found the Marquess of Denlington waiting for him in thelibrary. “Arthur,” Denlington began.

“I do not want to hear it, Denlington” Arthur raised his hand in a gesture of silence, butwas ignored.

“You know it is what your father wanted, and it is what I want as well. Come join me, bemy business partner as your father was. There is nothing we could not accomplishtogether,” Denlington urged him.

“A million times no. I will never stoop to the level of my father’s innumerable misdeedsand atrocities, no matter how many times you petition me to do so,” Arthur flatly refused.He had heard it all before and had no desire to relive his father’s sins. He spent his nightsattempting to make up for those sins by giving back what was taken.

“One day I will change your mind, and you will see the error of your ways,” the Marquesspredicted.

“That day will never come,” Arthur assured him.

“We shall see. For now, I am off to see your mother. Think on my offer, Arthur. It is yourlegacy. I would think very carefully before refusing me again.” Denlington exited theroom leaving Arthur to consider his offer in silence, the veiled threat hanging betweenthem.

Never, Arthur silently promised to his retreating back.

Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of thestory.

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Thank you very much

A L S O B Y H A N N A H A M I L T O N

Thank you for reading An Unforgettable Ball at Bromenville Hall!

I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean the world to me.Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read!

Some other best sellers of mine:

The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor

The Secret Life of the Elusive Governess

The Hazardous Gamble of the Alluring Duchess

The Salvation of the Deceived Lady

Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta

The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady

Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full Amazon Book Catalogue HERE.

Thank you for allowing me to keep doing what I love!

Hanna Hamilton

A B O U T T H E A U T H O R

Hanna Hamilton has been fascinated with the regency era ever since she was a young teen, first discovering historicalromance novels by famous authors such as Jane Austen and Lisa Kleypas. She believes that love was just so much moremagical back then, more like a fairy tale. She always daydreamed about finding love herself that way, but since that isimpossible in the twenty first century, she decided to write about it instead!

Born in Texas, Hanna Hamilton obtained a degree in Creative Writing, and had worked as a literature teacher beforebecoming a novelist. When she isn’t writing, Hanna likes to explore the countryside with her husband and two children,gaining inspiration from the natural world around her.

So, come on a journey into love, confusion, and redemption all within the regency era. Hanna hopes that you will enjoyimmersing yourself into her novels, and that you too will find a love for old fashioned romance, just as she has.

Let’s connecthannahamilton.com

hanna@hannahamilton.com