Prologue

Highgrove Manor

Summer, 1810

Lord Nicholas Lacey reached for the decanter of brandy near at hand, pulled the stopper, and raised the entire container to his lips. The roaring fire within his hearth did nothing to chase away the coldness now coursing through him. Nothing could. Numb. He was chilled to the bone from the news he had just received by special messenger.

The liquor burned its way down his throat, perhaps in an attempt to light a fire in the pit of his stomach. That he was even able to swallow was surely a testament to his need to get completely inebriated. He knew offering up a prayer to a higher power would do him no good. God had forsaken him.

How could he have known when he wished his dear wife safe travels that it would be the last time he would ever see her? Juliette had been the light of his life, though their marriage had been arranged. Even now, amidst the tragedy tearing his soul apart, he could hear her sweet tinkling laughter, her soft French accent. She had begged him to accompany her, her sister Geneviève, and their mother to London. A last minute issue with the estate had left Nicholas with no other recourse than to decline in order to see to the matter. He would regret the decision not to spend the extra time with her. Perhaps if he had been there, she would even now be enjoying the delights of town. He would not think of the alternative that would have left Blanche an orphan.

Nicholas took another swig, not caring that the brandy should have been sipped or savored, not gulped down like the cheapest of gins. He set the decanter down and reached for the crumbled parchment that had fallen to the floor. His vision blurred with unshed tears while he read it yet again. The message that had transformed his entire world in one heartbeat unfortunately did not change. His innards churned. A blinding anger erupted in a growl of pain, replacing his stunned silence. His hand swept the table, and the brandy decanter went flying through the air until it smashed against the fireplace mantel, leaving splintered shards of sparkling glass upon the floor. Nicholas wiped at his eyes and rested his head back upon his chair. He could almost see what had happened to his wife, along with her sister and mother, as if he had been witness to the horrific scene.

Their carriage had been attacked by highwaymen. The driver and footmen had been ordered to the ground during the robbery attempt. In the midst of taking the ladies’ valuables, one of the footmen fired a shot at one of the bandits. He missed, and his error in judgement not only cost his own life, but had spooked the horses. With no driver to stop the runaway team, the carriage bolted away and hit a boulder, causing a wheel to shatter, and sending the rig end-over-end until it fell into a deep ravine. All had perished.

“Carson,” Nicholas called out to his butler. His voice cracked with grief, yet he knew he must remain strong, at least in front of others.

Ever-efficient, his man answered as though he had been standing just outside the doorway. “Yes, my lord?”

Nicholas went to the sideboard where more brandy waited, and poured a generous glassful, leaving the bottle behind. “Inform Mrs. Robinson to ready the house in order to observe a period of mourning. Then have a maid run up and fetch my daughter.”

“Of course, my lord.” Carson proceeded to quietly leave the room.

He did not have long to wait before he heard the pitter patter of his daughter’s feet racing down the stairway. A round, happy face with bright cornflower blue eyes stared back at him when she saw him. Blonde ringlets bounced upon her head as she made her way across the room. Blanche looked so much like her mother it broke his heart all over again, knowing he would need to tell his thirteen-year-old daughter that her mother had gone to heaven.

With his emotions frozen in place, he performed his duty toward his daughter with a fair amount of the efficiency that was expected of him. He was not sure how he remained calm while he gave Blanche the comfort she needed. Her cries of anguish crushed what remained of his heart. Nicholas was on his own with only the ghost of his wife firmly etched upon his mind.