Chapter One

London 1878

As Kitty Morland turned the corner of the dimly lit hallway she stopped, surprised to see light spilling from the open doorway of George Arnold’s study. What was her employer doing up here when he should be downstairs with his guests at the ball? Voices in the study came to her above the faint sound of music from below as she tiptoed forward, wondering if she could slip past without being seen. Pausing in the shadows before reaching the door, she saw George Arnold standing inside the room, with his personal servant Craddock.

Arnold bent, picked up something from his desk with tweezers, and held it aloft. It gleamed and flashed as he turned it this way and that to catch the light.

“This is a diamond of rare perfection,” Kitty heard him say.

“Yes, I’m sure it is, but I wish to examine it myself,” answered a man’s voice. It came from a part of the room just outside of Kitty’s line of vision. As she took a step forward to see who spoke, Craddock turned and his gaze caught hers. He moved swiftly to close the door.

Kitty hesitated. Perhaps she should return to her room now she had been seen, but then she shrugged and continued on her way. As she neared the gallery, she fancied she glimpsed a figure ahead of her, but when she reached the gallery it was empty. Her imagination was playing tricks on her.

Moving across to the balustrade she leaned on it, watching the dancers below. Soon her foot was tapping in time to the music. The colors of the silks and satins of the ladies’ gowns, the flash of jewels sparkling in the gaslights, all created a moving kaleidoscope of color as the elegantly dressed men guided their partners around the floor.

Looking down at her neat, gray governess’s dress, Kitty smoothed it over her slim hips, and lifted her hand to touch the no-nonsense bun she was forced to wear to tame the honey gold curls of her hair. How drab her appearance, compared to those she watched below. Resentment simmered inside her. She belonged down there, with them, not up here, an onlooker.

She caught a whiff of something like cigar smoke and turned, but the gallery of the elegant Knightsbridge house was empty. The doors to the balcony at the side were open on this warm night, and the darkness revealed no one beyond.

Twisting her lips, she gazed at the portraits lining the walls of the gallery. The owners of the house described them to all as their ancestors, but she knew better. The Arnolds were nouveau riche and their ancestors had no portraits. Turning back, she resumed her watching.

“Ah, Charlotte, I wondered why you were skulking around the house in the dark. Was it just to come and watch the gaiety, eh, or did you have something else in mind?”

Whirling around, Kitty saw Craddock, tall, sleek and sharp, standing close beside her. She narrowed her eyes as he leaned toward her.

She took a step back. “Oh, Mr. Craddock, you startled me. I didn’t hear you coming. I just came down to watch the dancing.”

“I guess you’d love to be down there with them, wouldn’t you? You look lonely, standing here all on your own in the half dark. Now that I’ve found you, I’ll keep you company.”

He moved closer, and she stepped back again. “I can assure you I’m not at all lonely. I’m just enjoying watching the party.”

Craddock’s eyes glinted. “We could have a little party all on our own.” He sidled closer still and slipped his arm around her waist, holding her firmly. “I have some gin in my room, good stuff, not your cheap rubbish. We can go up there and have a little drink and…”

Kitty cut him off before he could finish. “Thank you, but I have no desire to go to your room…” her voice dripped ice, “for a drink, or anything else.” She tried to remove his arm but he held her tighter.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. We can have a good time together; you and me, and you’ll find me a good friend to have in this house.” He spun her around. His hot breath fanned her face.

She struggled to free herself but found his grip too strong. Both his arms were around her, pinning her arms to her sides. He bent closer, pushing her back against the rail, and his mouth came down on hers. Revolted by his wet lips, she twisted her face away, her heart thudding.

“Let me go.”

“Be nice to me, Charlotte. I’m not going to hurt you; we can have some fun together.”

Her breath came in gasps. “Let…me…go, you pig.”

Craddock took no notice as she twisted, trying to escape from his grasp. His mouth slid down and he kissed her neck.

“You’re lovely,” he muttered as his hand came up and fondled her breast.

Kitty took advantage of having one hand free and pushed him with all her strength, her pulses pounding, but she was still pinned against the rail.

He raised his head, fumbling with the buttons on her bodice, and moved back momentarily. Raising her free arm she hit him a stinging blow on the face, and raked her nails down his cheek.

Uttering an oath, he released her and stepped back, his hand at his cheek. When he took it away he looked at the blood on it.

“Look what you’ve done, you little hell cat, you’ve drawn blood.” He raised his hand as if to strike her, but dropped it and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Think you’re too good for me, with your hoity-toity manners, do you? Well, we all know you’re poor as a church mouse, in spite of your airs and graces.”

Kitty panted, struggling to regain her breath. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll hurt you where it’ll do a lot more damage.”

“You’ll be sorry for this, mark my words. I’ll see you suffer for it.”

Craddock spun around and hurried away, holding the handkerchief to his cheek.

Kitty crossed the gallery to sit on a bench near the open doors while she composed herself. Her breath came heavily as she checked her buttons were done up, and tucked one of her curls back into the bun it had fallen from in the scuffle. Wanting a breath of fresh air, she stood and walked toward the balcony, but as she neared the open doors she jumped back with fright. Someone was already out there.

A man in evening dress sauntered through the doors into the gallery.

“My, my,” he drawled, “you do have a temper, but I don’t think I’d go so far as to call you a hell cat, even if you did draw blood.”

“Who…who are you?”

“Just a guest for the ball.”

“What were you doing out there?”

“I went out earlier to escape the crowd for a while and smoke a cigar in peace. I didn’t know I was going to witness such an interesting exchange.”

Kitty detected amusement in his voice, and her body stiffened. “If you saw what was happening, then why didn’t you come to my aid?”

“You were managing quite well on your own, I thought.”

“Any gentleman would have helped me.”

“Ah, you English wouldn’t consider me a gentleman, I’m afraid.”

“Obviously you’re not. If you were, you’d pretend you hadn’t heard the exchange, instead of trying to embarrass me.”

His eyebrows rose. “Are you embarrassed?” His face held the hint of a smile.

“Of course I am.”

He laughed. “I think not.” He dropped his bantering manner. “Look, why don’t you come downstairs and I’ll get you a glass of champagne. I’ve always found there’s nothing like champagne to raise a young lady’s spirits.”

Suddenly, Kitty remembered her circumstances.

He was a guest for the evening, while she should not be here, watching the festivities. Her employers would not view it kindly if they knew one of their guests had witnessed the scene between her and Craddock. If it came to that, Craddock would twist things around to make it seem as if she was in the wrong. Her stomach clenched; she was under no illusion as to who would be believed if it came to a confrontation.

Kitty looked up at the stranger. Even in this dim light she could see he was not what she called the ‘usual insipid upper-class Englishman’. She judged him to be in his early thirties, tall and lean, with dark hair and eyes and regular features. He was clean-shaven except for a neatly trimmed moustache, and his skin showed he spent time in the sun. But it was something else that made him different, an air of self-confidence, of energy and vitality.

He was the sort of man she would enjoy getting to know, under different circumstances. But now was not the time. Regretfully, she shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I must go.”

“At least come and have a dance with me.”

How she would love to do that. Her heart raced at the thought of this dashing stranger’s arms around her as he swept her on to the floor. If only things were different. If only she could meet him as an equal.

“Surely you can see I’m not dressed for a ball.”

“You look beautiful.” He sounded as if he meant it.

Kitty shook her head again. “I really can’t.”

At that moment the music started again, playing a Strauss waltz.

“Then we’ll have our own dance floor up here.” He took her into his arms and swept her around the floor of the gallery.

Her heart pumped with excitement as her feet followed his, bringing a flush to her cheeks. She relaxed for a moment or two as he held her close, allowing herself to experience the dizzying sensations before she pulled from his arms. Whatever was she thinking? If she was seen, she would surely be dismissed.

“I must go.”

He put out his hand to detain her. “Stay just a while, please.”

She shook her head. “No, I can’t.” Turning, she moved away.

“Please, Charlotte, wait.”

Kitty heard him call her name as she sped across the gallery. He made no attempt to follow her.

For several days she was apprehensive, expecting some repercussion from the events of the evening, but there was none. The disturbing stranger had evidently made no mention of their meeting. Sadly, she realized she was unlikely to see him again.

Craddock kept away from her. Not knowing how he explained the scratches on his cheek, she didn’t care. She knew she had made an enemy, but tried to put it from her mind.

****

Kitty received a summons from the mistress of the house late one evening three months later.

“Charlotte, the mistress wants you in the drawing room.”

“Thank you, Betsy.”

“You better hurry. She don’t look happy.”

Why she was being summoned at this hour? Nanny put the children to bed earlier; they should both be asleep by now.

As she passed the study on her way down, Kitty heard loud snores coming from behind the partly open door. It sounded as if the master had taken a drop too much after-dinner port again.

Tapping on the drawing room door, she waited to hear the voice call, “Come in,” before entering the room.

Mrs. Arnold sat in a chair drawn up close to the brightly burning fire. She wore the same green silk gown Kitty remembered from earlier in the evening. Jewels at her throat and ears shone brilliantly in the firelight. Kitty drew in her breath as she recognized the diamond and emerald necklace and earrings that had belonged to her own mother.

The expensive gown and jewels could not hide the plainness of her employer’s features…pointed nose, thin lips set in a line, steely eyes, glinting coldly as her gaze traveled over Kitty.

“You want to see me, Mrs. Arnold?”

“Yes. It has been brought to my attention that a vase is missing from the top of the bureau in the music room. A very expensive antique vase. What do you know about it?” Her voice was as cold as her eyes.

Kitty’s cheeks flamed. Was she being accused of stealing the vase? Remembering her livelihood depended on this woman, she bit back a sharp rejoinder. “Why, nothing. Why would I know anything about it?”

“I’m assured it was there when the room was cleaned this morning. I believe you were in there this afternoon?”

“No. I haven’t been in there at all today.”

“The vase was broken, Charlotte. I believe you broke it and said nothing, thinking it wouldn’t be missed for some time, if at all.”

How dare she accuse her like this? “No, I didn’t break it. I told you, I wasn’t in there today.”

“You were seen coming out, holding something hidden in the folds of your skirt.”

Kitty’s nails bit into the palms as she clenched her fists at her sides. “That’s not true. If someone told you that, they were mistaken.”

“It mightn’t have been discovered if you hadn’t kicked a piece under the bureau. I think you missed that piece when you picked up the rest and took it out to dispose of it. But when Hawkins went into the room this evening, he noticed it poking out from under the side of the bureau.” She paused. “What do you have to say to that?”

“If someone broke it, it wasn’t me.”

“Then what were you carrying out?”

“I told you, I wasn’t in the room. If someone says they saw me then they’re lying.”

Mrs. Arnold’s eyes narrowed. “I think you are lying. I think you’re frightened to own up to what you did.”

Kitty’s pulses pounded. “That’s not true. If I’d broken your vase, I’d have told you.”

“I suppose you’re frightened I’ll take the money out of your wages to replace it. Well, I know I’d have no hope, it would take years.” Her voice was cold. “However, I will not have servants who tell lies. I expected better from you. You will leave first thing in the morning.”

Kitty remembered how dependent she was on her small wage. She almost choked as she brought out the words. “I did not break your vase. I was not in that room today.”

“Don’t lie to me anymore,” the woman shouted at her, her face livid, her jaw quivering. “Your father would be ashamed of you if he were still here. He would expect you to own up to what you’ve done.”

Kitty’s control crumbled. Rage seared her throat as she replied. “How dare you bring my father into this? He would know I don’t lie. Which is more than can be said for others in this house.”

“I think you’d better be careful what you say, Charlotte. You will leave in the morning. Under the circumstances, I will not be giving you a character.”

Kitty heard the satisfaction in her voice. The woman was jealous and spiteful, resenting anyone younger or more attractive than herself, as well as those whose family background was better. But never had she expected her to carry her vindictiveness to such lengths. Shaken, Kitty turned and left the room without another word, slamming the door behind her.