One

England, 1838

“Almighty and merciful God, we commit this body back to its kindred elements. . .”

An icy wind swept across the harsh Yorkshire moor and through the small graveyard. Kate Farnley’s shivers increased, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her tall body. If only her brother-in-law, William, would hurry! But his preacher’s voice intoning the burial service droned on and on.

Her soul felt even colder, icy from shock.

Why, oh, why had she let her distrust of her cousin Percival, heir to her father’s entailed title and lands, make her start going through her father’s private papers so early this morning? Why couldn’t she have buried him in peace, if not in love, mourning for him because this remote, strict, and religious man had after all been her father?

Now instead of grief, fierce rage consumed her at the terrible injustice done by the father she had always honored and believed to have been at least a fair and honest man, if stern and cold toward herself.

There was a stir in the crowd standing behind her. The noise of feet shuffling on the rough, hard ground penetrated Kate’s misery.

“What the­—”

At Percival’s angry murmur, Kate glanced around. A tall, dark stranger brushed past her cousin and strode forward to stand beside her. Percival looked furious at the intrusion into the family circle, but Kate stared at the man for a moment, briefly wondering who he was before looking back at William. No doubt some business acquaintance of her father’s. Anyone standing between Percival and herself was always welcome, she thought bitterly, even though her father had never understood her deep aversion to his nephew when trying to promote a match between them.

A muffled sob came from the black-cloaked figure on the other side of her, but Kate had no comfort to give her stepsister. Grimly she noted that William must have heard Beth. His deep, steady tones faltered as he glanced swiftly at his wife. Then he hurried on, his voice becoming crisper and more urgent as he spoke the familiar words of Scripture about the hope of the resurrection and the life to come for the man that had been Lord Harold John Farnley.

Kate closed her own eyes tightly. She remembered how her father had solemnly held to the comfort of those words just over twelve months ago when he had buried Beth’s mother, the woman he had loved even to the exclusion of herself, his only child. Had he perhaps thought of his own eternal destiny during his very brief return to consciousness a couple days ago?

She very much doubted it.

The memories of those last few days since she had found her father unconscious on his study floor whelmed up and dissolved some of her anger. The doctor had gravely shaken his head and proclaimed that her father had suffered a heart seizure. Lord Farnley’s strong, once seemingly indestructible body had not stirred for forty-eight hours, and then only for those brief, traumatic moments.

She and Beth had barely left his bedside, nursing him, praying for him, and then. . .

Kate stared blindly across at the open grave. Sudden anguish swept through her as she remembered how thankful she had been when she had felt her father’s hand at long last stir beneath hers. She had quickly stood up to peer down at him, ready to quickly summon Beth. Afterward Kate had been glad that her stepsister had left the room a few moments before to check on the welfare of her small son.

Her father had stared up at her blankly. She had caught her breath at the urgent expression that had filled the eyes so like her own deep blue ones. He had opened his mouth, but no words had come. She had urged him not to try and speak, but he had become very agitated.

At last she had managed to get him to swallow a few sips of water, but the words that he eventually spoke had been almost inaudible, and she had bent close to his gray lips.

“In the safe. . .papers. . .” he had gasped. “Find him. . . quickly. . . Put it right and tell. . .tell him I’m. . .I’m sorry. . . so sorry. . .”

Then something like panic had filled his face. His hand had tightened convulsively on hers. “Beth. . .mustn’t know. No, no, wrong. . .don’t look at them! Burn. . .burn them. . .Percy. . .”

The effort had been too much. They had been his last and only words before he had lapsed into unconsciousness again.

A deep shudder shook Kate. There had not been one last thought, no last word of affection for herself. But then, she acknowledged sadly, why should she have expected something she had never had from him all her life.

She had accepted the fact years before that her father was indifferent to her. He had married her mother immediately after returning to England and leaving the army that had so soundly defeated Napoleon at Waterloo. His father had died during that war, and he had returned as Lord Farnley. But his rush into matrimony to secure an heir had failed miserably.

It had not been a happy marriage, and only Kate, a useless daughter, had arrived. Kate could barely remember her mother, Catherine, who had remained an invalid after Kate’s birth for years until her death. She had left her husband with no son to secure the title and prevent the estates from falling into the hands of his despised brother.

Almost an indecently short time afterward, Kate’s father had married a widow who already had a beautiful, fairylike creature for a daughter. Kate had grown up knowing that he loved her stepmother deeply and accepting that he bestowed on the spoiled Beth love she had never been given.

Kate had known for many years that he had also desperately hoped for a son from his marriage to Beth’s mother, only to be bitterly disappointed once again. Then his much-despised brother had died, and he had reluctantly turned his attention to his nephew, Percival, now his only heir. To Kate’s horror, he had even tried to promote a match between his only daughter and his future heir.

Perhaps this morning if she had not been so desperately hurt that even on his deathbed her father had said no words of love to her, she would not have so blatantly disobeyed him one last time. Instead of burning the large package she had found in the secret safe in his study, she had studied it wonderingly, her curiosity piqued. It was wrinkled and dirty, tied up with a strip of thin leather. In one last act of angry defiance, she had spilled its contents on the desk.

Perhaps if that small, battered Bible had not been on top, perhaps if she had not read the inscription on its front page addressed to “my beloved Maria” in her father’s handwriting, perhaps if she had not read that first bewildering letter before dropping it in horror and shocked unbelief, perhaps if none of that had happened today she could have at least buried her father with respect, if not the love a daughter should have.

Kate stiffened. It didn’t make sense. None of what she had read made any sense.

She lifted her head and stared blindly across the bleak landscape sloping away from the village church and its graveyard.

All her life she had known that her father had been obsessed with his desire for a son so that his detested brother would not inherit his entailed title and lands. She had always known that he had blamed her for not being the son he had wanted, blamed her for the death of her mother and her inability afterward to bear him a son. And so why, why?

“Kate!”

How she wished now that she had acted the obedient, docile daughter trying to earn her father’s favor one last time. If she had burned the package unread she would have never found out the terrible thing her father had either been a party to or—she drew a sharp breath—the instigator of.

“Kate! What on earth’s the matter with you, woman!”

The angry, hissed words were accompanied by a sharp nudge in her back, and Kate spun around ready to do battle with her detested, officious cousin. But then she realized the ceremony was almost over. Beth had moved closer to the grave but was now staring back at her, waiting for her.

Kate glanced swiftly around and realized everyone was watching her sympathetically.

Except one.

Her eyes swept back to the massive stranger who still stood beside her, and she wondered why he was scowling so ferociously down at her. Her brow creased. She realized now that he had also been frowning earlier when he had pushed past Percival.

Beth sobbed loudly, and Kate felt foolish as she realized it was time for them to throw their flowers into the grave. For a moment she hesitated, and then she moved slowly forward.

For one last bitter moment she stared down and then swiftly threw the red rose she had been clutching. She watched it land on top of the flower-draped coffin and then stepped back blindly, almost missing her footing on the rough ground. A strong hand reached out and briefly steadied her.

“Thank you,” she murmured in a choked voice, glancing up at the man.

She caught her breath.

The stranger had followed her. He was staring down into her father’s grave with a look of such violent anger and frustration on his face that she pulled her arm sharply away.

Or perhaps he just seemed angry because his harsh face was so deeply lined by life and tanned by a hot sun. But no. For a brief moment, hostile, furious dark eyes glared back at her, and then he moved aside to make way for Percival Farnley.

Kate frowned. Who was he? Why had he been staring down at her father’s grave with such frustration and anger? She took a step toward him.

“Kate!” hissed Percy much louder this time.

She hesitated, but the tall stranger was already moving away with swift strides toward the long line of carriages and horses near the church, his black cloak billowing out in the wind.

“Kate, you and your sister are to walk beside me back to the carriages,” Percival’s imperious voice said behind her. “I will of course help you with our guests back at Fleetwood.”

She raised her chin and stared angrily at him. “You have no jurisdiction over me, Cousin Percival! And you forget, sir, that according to my solicitors, Fleetwood Manor is still my home for another month. My sister and I can manage quite well without your assistance.”

His eyes narrowed malevolently. “But I don’t believe you will be able to continue very long without my. . .er. . .assistance, my dear Kate,” he murmured, and swept his eyes insolently over her black-clad figure, lingering on the fiery, copper hair framing her face beneath a black bonnet.

The bold smile that twisted his dissipated face did not reach his narrow, cold eyes. Suddenly he frightened her, she who had fearlessly withstood her father’s sudden rages all her life.

“My father has left me reasonably well provided for,” she snapped. “You have nothing that I will ever need!”

The expression that flashed across his face frightened her even more, and she knew that he meant to have her. Several times when he had visited them, she had been made aware of his desire for her. She had repulsed him time after time, but since her stepmother Elizabeth’s death the previous year and with her father hinting at marriage between them, his attentions had become increasingly persistent and arrogant.

Knowing how much her father had professed over the years to dislike his nephew, that had hurt deeply. It had been one more incident to prove that Lord Farnley always put the welfare of his properties and lineage, even his beloved stepdaughter, before his own daughter’s best interests.

For her part, something dark, something almost evil in Percival Farnley had always made Kate recoil from him.

As she did now. She turned swiftly away and made sure after accepting the condolences of a few people that she walked between her sister and brother-in-law back to their black-draped carriage.

The stranger had already disappeared, and Kate hesitated. She took a couple steps toward the old family servant holding the horses’ heads steady.

“Tom, do you happen to know who that tall man in the long black cloak was, the one who just rode off on the large roan?”

The wizened, gray-haired man shook his head. “Never seen him afore, Miss Kate.”

The horse he was holding tossed its head and moved restlessly. He turned toward it, murmuring soothing words and then muttering crossly, “I knowed we should’na used this youngin’ as His Lordship insisted, even if he is black and matched the others ’n all.”

With the familiarity of one who had known Kate since she was born, he tossed over his shoulder, “Now do hurry and get aboard, Miss Kate. These poor critters are nearly frozen already, they are.”

“How dare you speak to Miss Farnley like that, you insolent cur,” the new Lord Farnley’s haughty voice snapped loudly.

“And how dare you speak to one of my servants like that, Percy,” Kate hissed angrily.

His unpleasant sneer made her long to hit him as she had when they were children and she had found him tormenting her dog. His arrogant voice proclaimed, “But as you should remember, he is actually my servant now, but I can assure you he won’t be much longer unless he changes his attitude considerably.”

Kate stared at him in horror. Of course she had known there would be changes, but surely not even Percival would get rid of servants whose parents and grandparents before them had also faithfully served at Fleetwood. Her heart nose-dived as she saw the malevolent gleam in his pale blue eyes and knew he was more than capable of being so cruel.

“Surely this is no place or time to be arguing. Kate, we really should be the first back at the house.”

William’s deep voice was a welcome relief. Kate hurriedly took his outstretched hand and let him assist her into the carriage. She was thankful for his sensitivity when he gestured to her to be seated beside Beth while he took the seat opposite and next to their cousin.

And during that silent, tense drive from the village church and its graveyard, Kate reached a decision.

“Beth, William,” she said impulsively as the carriage swung through the large gateway entrance to Fleetwood, “are you sure you could put up with me if I accept your kind offer to go and live with you in York for awhile? At least until I can set up my own establishment,” she added hastily.

Percival moved sharply, and she glanced briefly at him. He was staring at her and quickly lowered his gaze, but not before she had seen the absolute fury on his face.

Suddenly she knew she had been extremely foolish to bring up the matter of her future in his presence. She stiffened, waiting for an outburst from him, and when it did not come, she became even more concerned.

Beth’s pale face had lit up. “Oh, Kate, of course we could. I would love it above all things.” Her face sobered and she looked quite apprehensively at her husband. “You. . .you do agree, William, don’t you?”

As she watched William solemnly study his wife’s pretty face for a long moment, a feeling of uneasiness about Beth and William’s relationship swept through Kate. Several times these past days she had noticed tension between the young married couple, but had put it down to Beth trying to care for little Harold while grieving her stepfather. Suddenly she wished she could take back her hasty words. Something was not right between Beth and William, and a third person in their home would not help.

To her immense relief, her brother-in-law turned, smiled slightly at her, and said with a note of sincerity she could not mistake, “Be assured you are very welcome, my dear.” His lips tightened slightly, and he added in an even tone, “Beth will enjoy your company.”

She smiled back at him and nodded at them both before turning to stare out the window.

Percival stirred and then said petulantly, “I have told you repeatedly there is absolutely no reason why you cannot do as your dear father wished and live in the dowager house.”

Somehow Kate managed to bite back the sharp words that she longed to utter and instead said crisply, “I would think, Cousin Percival, you would be glad for me not to be looking over your shoulder constantly while you are bringing about all the changes you intend to make and which you did not cease to inform us of the last few days while waiting for Father to die.”

Despite her efforts, her voice had sharpened as she recalled the numerous times she had been sickened by his obvious gloating and excitement.

“Changes that should have been brought about years ago if Uncle had only listened to my own father,” he snarled. He opened his mouth to say more, but fortunately the carriage was coming to a halt and he had to be content with adding pompously, “The matter is not closed. I have certain plans for you. We will discuss your circumstances again later.”

“No, we will not,” Kate fired up. “I am too old to need a guardian, and my circumstances, as you put it, have absolutely nothing to do with you!”

“We’ll see about that!” he snapped.

The carriage door swung open, and thankfully Kate could at last put some distance between them. As she stalked into the house, she hoped her features did not portray her sudden fear. She knew very well that his plans included marrying her. Percival was devious and dangerous. There was no way she could ever stay anywhere near Fleetwood, certainly not in the small but adequate dowager house on the estate as her father’s will had stipulated.

There had been several reasons she had hesitated to accept Beth’s pleas to live with them. Besides not wanting to feel like a dependent on their charity, she’d had little patience or sympathy in the past with her brother-in-law’s ministry to the poor and homeless that flocked to his church and even their manse.

She was glad that Beth had married a man who truly believed he was called to the ministry by God. William was a kind and loving man, but on her only visit to them, she had found that she had been forced to associate with and even assist the undesirables who flocked to the young minister for help. Why, they had even kept a spare bedroom to house at times the most indescribable people.

But if she stayed here, it appeared she would be forever fending off unwanted attentions from her cousin, as well as being forced to watch the havoc he would inevitably wreak on her beloved home and the people working on the estate she had known all her life.

The pain and anguish returned in full measure. She had not only lost her father; she had lost her home as well. Not that it had ever really been the warm, welcoming home she had secretly longed for. But she had known no other.

And besides all of that, ever since she had stared at that Bible and those bundle of old letters still to be investigated, she had known what she had to do. If it was not already too late, somehow she had to right a terrible wrong, and also. . .

She drew in her breath sharply.

Also save Fleetwood from being ravaged by Percival Farnley.