Chapter One

 

Scarlett Hall, May 1806

 

Many dreams existed within the confines of Scarlett Hall, and some were hidden away within the heart of the family matriarch, Lady Eleanor Lambert. Some had risen to just below the surface in recent years, threatening not only Eleanor’s life, but that of her children, as well.

Being the stoic woman she was, Eleanor had done what she could to keep those secrets buried, and once again, they slumbered in their clandestine places where she hoped they would never again rise to see the light of day.

Now, with all safe, she dared to hope for peace to return to her home; although she could not shake the feeling that to have such hope was foolish.

Sighing, she ran a hand over the letter from an old friend that had arrived earlier in the day. Eleanor always read them but had not replied in nearly thirteen years. Instead, she placed them in the small wooden box that sat among the line of ledgers containing the accounting details of the estate. Lady Rachel Prescott had been a friend once, and Eleanor had happy memories of their time together. However, many disagreeable memories also came to mind, and just as before, she folded the correspondence and added it to the others.

She had more pressing matters at the moment with which to contend concerning her niece, Miss Annabel Lambert. Annabel’s parents, Silas, brother to Eleanor’s late husband Charles, and Joanna Lambert, had gone quite mad as of late, and Eleanor was uncertain as to how to handle such a delicate situation. How could they possibly consider a man nearing sixty as a viable suitor for a young woman of eighteen?

Returning to the chair behind the desk, she placed a piece of parchment before her, took the quill in hand, her thoughts turning to Charles. Whenever her life took a turn, she oftentimes wrote him a letter, one that would not be answered, of course, but by doing so, it allowed her to think on any situation that came her way. Therefore, with a sigh, she dipped the nib into the ink and began to write.

 

Charles,

 

It is with great joy that I can say the foolishness you brought upon this home, and more importantly on your daughters, has ended. Juliet left not four days ago with her new husband, Daniel, at her side. Yes, the very same boy who was often the object of your anger has become a far better gentleman than you could ever have wished to be.

 

Be that as it may, I write to you concerning Annabel and the fate that awaits her if Silas and Joanna have their way. They have put out a call to any man willing to pay in order to gain their daughter’s hand in marriage, and Lord William Agar has answered that call. The man is more than thrice her age! I will not witness the innocence of such a lovely young woman given to a man such as he.

 

If you were still with us, I know you would stop me. Even more upsetting is the fact that I know you would agree with this decision that Silas has made, for, like you, the man is selfish, consumed by nothing more than his desires without a care for how his decisions affect others.

 

The truth of the matter is that neither Silas nor Joanna wanted Annabel; thus, the reason the girl has spent the majority of her life at Scarlett Hall, returning to the home of her parents only a few months per year.

 

Now Annabel has become of age, and her parents have taken a sudden interest in her well-being. Yet, I suspect the girl is as wise to their motives as I. For years, I have raised her as my own, and as I view her as such, I will do whatever I must to protect her.

 

Annabel has grown into a beautiful woman. She is kind and soft-spoken, a lady above all others, and I shall do what I am able to keep it that way.

 

Eleanor paused to glance at the bookcase. Closing her eyes, she pushed away the pain and returned to the letter.

 

There are many secrets, Charles, trouble you have brought into this home that can ruin the name of Lambert for ten generations. Know that I fight to preserve that name, not for your glory, but rather for our children.

 

As to Annabel, I must not mention the secret we keep, nor, God willing, shall it ever be revealed to her. However, you must know this. Whether it be child or niece, cousin or nephew, the curse of your name and all you have done will end. A new story will take its place, one filled with love and hope. I write this for those of the name of Lambert, and I swear to you, there is nothing I will not do to see it through.

 

Signing her name, Eleanor placed the document beside her to give it time to dry. Whether it be letter or journal, she found peace in her writing, much like her second daughter, Hannah. As she thought on the quiet bookish girl, as well as her other children, she smiled. Her daughters were now married, happily, in fact, and she could not have asked for better husbands for them. Nathanial had several years yet before he began the search for a wife—and took over the estate to which he was entitled.

 

A sharp rap on the door made her look up, and Forbes entered the room. Eleanor rose as he hurried over to her.

“Mr. Lambert and Lord Agar have arrived,” he said in a low voice. “Lady Joanna accompanied them, as well. I placed them to the drawing room.”

Eleanor nodded. An arrangement had been made for Lord Agar to call on Annabel. Although Eleanor would have preferred to not have the man call at all, it was far better to allow them to meet here than to have Annabel left alone with the old man, a feat her parents somehow allowed.

“I will go for her,” she said. “If they try to take her away tonight…”

“I will do whatever is necessary to help you stop them,” Forbes said with a faint smile on his lips.

Eleanor studied the man’s face. Forbes, as she, had aged over the years, his once dark hair now more silver. Yet, his eyes held that same kindness they always had. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The door shook, and they turned as Silas entered the room. He had the same dark hair and brown eyes as Charles, but where Charles had been a tall slim man, Silas was round with pudgy cheeks and a stomach that stretched the limits of his waistcoat. Eleanor suspected that the new coat he wore was a result of a good day at the gaming tables, a pastime the man enjoyed more than was decent.

“Why is it that I wait like a common man while you converse with your butler?” His demeanor and way of speaking was very like that of his brother, which was not a compliment as far as Eleanor was concerned.

Forbes bowed and left the room.

Eleanor pursed her lips to keep the retort from escaping. “Forbes has just informed me of your arrival. You must understand that I do have many matters to which I must attend in order to keep this estate running smoothly.” She walked around the desk and forced her features to calm. “Now, if you will allow me to go for Annabel, I will meet you in the drawing room in a moment.”

As she moved to walk past him, he grabbed her arm. “You insult Lord Agar by not having the girl waiting in the drawing room as I requested. But more importantly, you have insulted me.”

Eleanor stilled the wince from the pain and stared at his hand. “You will remove your hand this instance. I am not one of your possessions.” Her voice held a silent threat. She no longer feared this man as she had in the past.

Silas narrowed his eyes, but he relaxed his grip, though he did not let go. “You are the wife of my brother, a woman who will show me the respect I deserve in my family home.”

Eleanor considered the man might strike her, a deed he had perpetrated on his wife many times.

Her brother-in-law frowned as he leaned in toward Eleanor, his breath as hot as his temper, and as foul. “This arrangement for Annabel is of the utmost importance to me. I must see her future secured.”

“You wish to line your pockets with money with which to gamble,” she hissed, unafraid of what the man would do. “She is a young woman, Silas. Would you honestly consider allowing that man to marry her and thus destroying her heart?”

He tightened his grip on her arm once more, and she flinched. “She is my daughter, not yours. Go for her at once. I do not want to keep Lord Agar waiting for a moment longer.”

Eleanor jerked her arm from his grasp, and without another word, raised her chin and walked away. Once she reached the bottom of the staircase, she placed her hand on the smooth wooden railing and looked up at the steps before her. Each step would take her closer to Annabel, who sat in her room, terrified at the prospect of being forced to endure the presence of that vile creature who wished to marry her. Yet, she had no choice.

Taking the first step, a sense of foreboding washed over her.

Let this madness end soon! she thought, her stomach tightening with each consecutive step.

Her mind returned to her first time at Scarlett Hall as she passed the portraits of the past lords that hung from the wall. When she reached the last, she stopped and looked at her husband. Once there had been joy in seeing his portrait in such a place of honor, yet as the months became years, joy turned to anger. Now she felt nothing but hurt.

Well, what was in the past should remain in the past. At the moment, she had no choice but to focus on the future and what it held for Annabel.