PROLOGUE

Moorland Manor, 1810

Bryce stood on the neatly trimmed lawn, his feet planted in a solid stance, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. The wide stone building that constituted his home lay stretched out behind him with its neatly trimmed rose bushes lining its edges. Sir Percy stood at Bryce’s side, yet neither man uttered a word. Instead they listened, their eyes riveted upon the gentle swell of hills that rose from the meadow just beyond the property line.

Any minute now, Bryce thought to himself as he drew a deep breath of crisp afternoon air. It was only mid-October—no more than a month since he’d last sat outside in the still warm afternoon sun. The days had now grown chilly and were more often than not filled with cloudy skies and showers of rain. But today was an exception. Today was one of those magical fall days where the leaves turned fiery red beneath clear blue skies while the air bit at one’s cheeks.

Bryce cocked his head, and then he heard it—a faint rumble, off in the distance. He sensed that Percy must have heard it too, for it seemed as though his friend shifted almost imperceptibly by his side. “They’re coming,” Bryce told him.

Percy nodded, his eyes still fixed upon the hills in the distance.

Like the sound of approaching thunder, the drum of horses’ hooves rose through the air as the first rider peaked out from behind the crest of the first mound. Bryce held his breath as he squinted his eyes against the sun. “It’s William,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

Bryce nodded. “And here comes Ryan, right on his heels.”

Percy let out a sigh, and Bryce couldn’t help but notice the hint of disappointment in it. “Don’t worry,” he told his friend. “She hasn’t lost yet.”

Percy had always had a particular fondness for Bryce’s youngest child, Alexandra. When Penelope had died four years earlier and Bryce had been left to raise his children on his own, Percy had disagreed with his methods. Bryce was after all a man, completely ignorant of how to raise a young lady, and had decided to raise his daughter just as he would his sons. Being a military man, this had included nothing short of learning to handle weapons to perfection.

Percy had been appalled to find Alexandra wielding a sword during one of his visits and had made a good attempt at persuading Bryce to let the girl’s aunt take her under her wing. Eventually Bryce had agreed and Virginia had taken Alexandra to live with her.

Not a week had passed before Alexandra was back home again, having stolen a horse and ridden haphazardly through the night, returning to Moorland at dawn. She’d received a good scolding for her thoughtless behavior, just as she knew she would, but Bryce had never since suggested that she leave her home, and Percy had come to understand how wrong he’d been to suggest such a thing in the first place.

Over the years he’d warmed to the idea of a girl running around in shirts and trousers, handling weapons as well as any boy could. Perhaps it was because Alexandra was that girl, Percy mused as he finally spotted her in the distance. She never looked more comfortable than when she was tearing across a field on her horse or dueling with her brothers. Come on, girl, you can do it, he silently prayed.

“Quit holding your breath, old chap,” Bryce told him with a grin. “Just watch her now . . . here she comes.”

They watched in silent awe as Alexandra leaned forward against her horse’s neck and spurred her on with a “yah, yah,” that carried across the meadow. Her golden locks of hair streamed behind her in a wild frenzy of tangled curls as she leapt ahead of Ryan.

Dirt churned beneath the horse’s hooves as a flock of pigeons scattered in their path, the ground reverberating as they approached.

“Now watch this,” Bryce said with an edge of excitement as Alexandra rose from her saddle while her mount rose onto her hind legs in a jump that sent both horse and rider flying over the garden fence, passing William in mid-flight.

“She won,” Percy said, his voice but a whisper of disbelief. “Good God, she actually won!”

“I told you she would,” Bryce said with a proud smile as he gave his friend a hard slap across the back.

They watched as all three horsemen eased their mounts into a walk, patting them gently on their flanks to praise their efforts. “You don’t want to reconsider letting her train for a position with the Foreign Office?” Percy asked in a muted voice.

Bryce knit his brows in a disapproving glare. “You might as well suggest that I let her enroll in the army,” he growled.

“Come now—it’s nowhere near the same thing. The army is full of men . . .”

“And the Foreign Office isn’t?” Bryce arched a mocking eyebrow.

“Well, she needn’t be surrounded by them,” Percy told him defensively. “Besides, this is Alex we’re talking about. She can hold her own.”

“I know what she can do, Percy. I trained her.” They watched as the three youngsters dismounted, handing their reins over to the awaiting grooms. “But the Foreign Office is a dangerous place for a woman—especially for a stubborn woman with a mind of her own.”

Percy regarded his friend for a moment. “Do you regret the choices that you’ve made?”

Bryce let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve no regrets about the way I’ve raised her, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s a strong girl and she’ll make a fine woman one day, but just because she can handle a sword as if she’d been born with it in her hand, doesn’t mean I’ll put her in harm’s way by encouraging her to live a reckless life.”

“I understand your reasoning, old friend, but it’s still a pity to let such talent go to waste.”

“Listen to me, Percy,” Bryce muttered from between gritted teeth. “I won’t have you putting any ideas in her head. Do you understand what I’m telling you? If you so much as . . .” He glanced toward his approaching children. “It won’t matter that we’ve known one another since we were in short pants—I’ll still beat the living daylight out of you.” He softened his tone when he noticed his friend’s pallor. “I understand that you’re actively looking for new recruits, but I’m asking you to please leave my Alex alone. This is not the kind of life I intended for her to have, regardless of her abilities.”

Percy acknowledged his friend’s wishes with a slow, pensive nod. He couldn’t help but wonder if Alexandra’s fate was entirely different from what her father truly wanted for her. Sometimes such things simply couldn’t be changed, no matter how much one might want them to—particularly not when the ball had already been set in motion. What Bryce was, in fact, completely and utterly unaware of was that Alexandra had already approached Percy on her own. She’d wanted to know what working for the Foreign Office might involve—whether it might appeal to her or not.

Knowing full well how Bryce might react at the thought of his daughter riding off on a potentially dangerous mission for king and country, Percy had tried his best to supply her with nothing but plain fact. But Alexandra was an adventurous girl with a desperate need to make her own way in the world, so she had swallowed every piece of information that he’d given her with unparalleled greed.

It was true that she was turning into a young woman before their very eyes, but as of yet, she had more in common with a musketeer than she did with any of the young ladies of her own age. For one thing, she never, ever wore a dress, and was therefore by default completely excluded from ever attending any function where she might succeed in meeting a potential husband. But what point would there be in that, anyway, when she had clearly declared on numerous occasions that she had no desire to ever marry.

Well, she was still young, Percy thought. In a few years’ time, her view on men was likely to change, and perhaps then—once she found the right man—she might do as her father hoped: settle down and start producing a hoard of babies.

It was at that very moment that Percy reached a decision. If in four years’ time, Alexandra was still voicing an interest about the Foreign Office, Percy would do his damnedest to help her follow her dream, because what Bryce didn’t seem to understand quite yet was that he was creating a woman who would one day have a very difficult time trying to find a place for herself in the world. She was different, and as fun as that might be right now while she still clung to her childhood, Percy sensed that it might one day be more of a curse than a blessing.

“I can’t believe she beat us again,” Ryan grumbled as he came to stand across from his father.

“Face it, Ryan—I’m a much more accomplished equestrian than you,” Alexandra grinned as she sidled up next to her disgruntled brother, giving him a playful nudge in the ribs.

“Come now,” William remarked in a playful tone. “You only beat me by two yards . . . I’d hardly say that that’s a victory to brag about.”

Alexandra let out a perplexed sigh. “Whichever way you look at it, William, I still won and you still lost.” She poked a teasing finger in the middle of William’s chest.

“That she did,” Bryce concurred.

“But you must admit that she has a clear advantage,” William stated. He didn’t mind losing to his younger sibling, even if she was a girl. In fact, he was very proud of Alexandra’s achievements, but he didn’t want anyone to think that she’d won because she was more adept than he.

“Are you honestly going to hold my weight against me again?” she asked with feigned disbelief. “I can’t help it if I’m as light as a feather while the two of you are making your poor horses sag in the middle.”

Percy coughed into his closed fist as he tried to stifle the laugh that he felt rising in his throat. As agreeable as Ryan and William were about letting their sister compete against them, he wasn’t sure they’d appreciate being laughed at.

“Never you mind,” Bryce told his sons. “We all know that if it were a matter of fisticuffs, the two of you would win while Alexandra would most likely be beaten to a bloody pulp. She may be able to match you in certain things, but there are still those in which her gender simply can’t compete.”

Alexandra glared at her father, her blue eyes laced with frost. “There’s no disputing that you have a talent,” Bryce told her. “Just keep your feet planted firmly on the ground. Modesty is so much more becoming than haughtiness.”

“But I’m not . . .”

Bryce raised the palm of his hand to silence her. “Don’t argue with me, Alex. Just take it for what it is—a solid piece of advice that’s sure to earn respect.

“Now, how about some of Rosemary’s scones and a nice hot cup of tea?” Draping his arm around Alexandra’s shoulders and squeezing her against him, he started toward the house with William and Ryan at their sides. Percy followed at a distance, still wondering what the future might hold for Lord Summersby’s brood.