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Dear Reader, The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor is such a special anthology for me because Amanda McCabe, Deb Marlowe and I were all friends before we became Harlequin Historical authors. Amanda and I became friends years ago, right after she’d sold her first Regency and I was still an aspiring writer. In 2003 we befriended Deb while on a tour of England, designed for lovers of the Regency. Together, Amanda, Deb and I devoured all the Regency sites of London, Bath and Brighton. We even danced in Regency costume in the Assembly Room in Bath. I’d just sold my first book to Harlequin Mills & Boon®, and Amanda was with me when I visited their U.K. offices. I was thrilled when my books were released by Harlequin Historical, and doubly thrilled when Amanda joined me as one of HH’s authors. So when Deb became an HH author and the three of us were invited to do an anthology together, it was utterly fantastic. If anniversaries are celebrations of “coming together,” then it is fitting that Th
Chapter One The Family is the Country of the heart— Giuseppe Mazzini Summer 1818 ‘T his is a hellish errand,’ Gerald Brenner muttered to himself as the hackney coach he’d been forced to engage rumbled away. He stood alone before the Palladian villa gleaming in the afternoon sun. He could almost laugh at the irony of its name. Welbourne Manor. Brenner’s vision had been fixed on the house’s white façade for the past half-hour. His first glimpse had come from the other side of the Thames. Surrounded by verdant land where sheep grazed, it made a beautiful vista, but its land was cultivated, not for crops, but for pleasure. There was no industry of any kind, merely beautiful gardens lush with flowers and shrubbery, paths for walking, perhaps even a summerhouse to provide a shady resting place. Or so Brenner imagined. He’d never set foot on this property and wished his connection with it had not brought him here this day. He hesitated at the arched doorway, glancing up at windows rising four
Chapter One
Chapter Two B renner stiffened as the protests of his mother’s other children reached his ears. These young people were strangers to him. How dare his mother give him the duty to bring them such pain? He clenched his hand into a fist. No doubt the Duke’s vast wealth had given them a life of ease. They certainly had no need to worry about whether the harvest would be good enough or the income from investments high enough to pay all the expenses of an estate in need of repair. They probably had never experienced adversity. And he, of all people, would change that. The idea sickened him. They entered the parlour. Brenner expected to see the son and two daughters his mother bore, but there were three extra young men. Two Brenner recognised as the Duke’s legitimate sons, the heir and the spare, whom he had glimpsed in society a time or two this past year. By God, Brenner would have to tell his news to these two as well. The Duke’s solicitor had been searching for the Duke’s sons and, as of
Chapter Two
Chapter Three J ustine sat across from Brenner at the dinner table and could not help but watch him. At least watching kept her eyes from wandering to the empty chairs at the ends of the table, the chairs once reserved for the Duke and Duchess. No one, not even Nicholas, had presumed to sit in them. She did not know precisely why she had pressed Lord Brenner to remain for dinner. Merely out of politeness? If that were the case, his initial refusal would have ended any obligation, but she had practically begged him to stay. Perhaps she feared they needed his steadiness. Was it steadiness or his merely being pompous and stiff? She could not tell for certain. Besides, she did not need him to handle the excess of emotion in her brothers and sisters. She’d been soothing their tempers and calming their rowdiness practically her entire life. No, it was not his steadiness, but something more personal. She’d needed him. He sat next to Nicholas, conversing with him. Brenner’s manner was such a c
Chapter Three
Chapter Four B renner could not sleep in this house. Its ghosts haunted him, especially the ghost of his mother, whose memory he thought he’d banished when still a schoolboy. Her presence was everywhere. The elegant décor was a reflection of her. His father had erased all traces of that elegance until Brenner had forgotten about gay colours, gold gilt. Flowers. It seemed as if every room in this house had at least one vase of roses and jasmine and lavender. Even in this guest bedchamber. Their scent kept him awake, the scent and old memories that now refused to be quelled. Brenner rose from the luxurious feather bed and donned the banyan that had once been worn by the Duke, the man his mother had chosen over him. The Duke haunted him as well. He kicked aside the Duke’s slippers, preferring his bare feet, and picked up the small lamp on the bedside table. He’d left it burning; he’d not been sure why. It was a waste of oil, but now he was glad he did not have to try to make his way downs
Chapter Four
Chapter Five H er breath was warm against his ear. ‘Brenner, we need you so much.’ Need. He was filled with need. It felt as if only Justine could fill the emptiness inside him. His hands ached to stroke her, to remove the slim barrier of their clothing and be warmed and comforted by each other’s flesh. He felt her breath quicken. And came to his senses. How had he abandoned any semblance of gentlemanly behaviour? Anyone who came upon them now would think he was compromising her. His attraction to her did him no credit. She was half-sister to his siblings, for God’s sake. She was also the daughter of a man he’d despised since the age of ten. He eased her away, still feeling the ache of wanting her. ‘Miss Savard, neither of us is properly dressed.’ She blinked and looked down at herself, as if the thought that she wore almost nothing had not occurred to her before this moment. He tried to smile. ‘We would not wish to give anyone the wrong impression, would we?’ She slipped away from him
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Chapter Six T wo days later the reception took place. Annalise and Charlotte’s funeral-card design was adapted for the invitations and delivered to all persons of quality in London, Richmond and as far as Brighton, the seaside town where many of the beau monde spent their summers. Because His Royal Highness would appear at the reception, anyone who could reach London in time was expected to attend. Not only had Nicholas insisted Brenner be there, the fledgling Duke also insisted Brenner join the Duke’s children in the reception line. Brenner stood between Stephen and Justine. More than a week had passed since he’d so briefly held her in his arms, but at times the memory returned so vividly he could almost still feel her softness and her warmth. He’d spent much more time at Welbourne Manor than he’d ever expected, but Justine’s presence made him look forward to walking through Welbourne’s door. His heart gladdened at seeing her smile, watching her graceful gestures, or noticing how sunl
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven A ll the way back to town Brenner dreaded the inevitable confrontation with his father. He rode with Nicholas and Stephen in the Duke’s carriage, only half-attending to their effusive thanks for his attendance at the reception. On the morrow Nicholas and Stephen would travel to the ducal estate for the funeral service and interment at the parish church. It was an estate his mother had never visited, Brenner learned. It would be her final resting place. When the carriage stopped at the town house he shared with his father, Brenner squared his shoulders and entered the house. What a contrast to Welbourne Manor. No candle lit the front hall and, even though night had not yet fallen, everything looked grey. One of the footmen greeted him and took his hat and gloves. ‘His lordship said that you were to join him in the drawing room, my Lord.’ Brenner groaned inwardly. ‘Thank you, I shall do so.’ The drawing room was directly off the front hall, and he suspected his father had b
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight A fter two days at Welbourne Manor, Brenner became impatient to tackle the list of items in his mother’s bequest. He had no great desire to rummage through his mother’s belongings. Indeed, he could barely manage reading the pages of items listed. Jewellery. Linens. Silver. Porcelain. Crystal. It was a task best dispensed with as soon as possible. When he’d made the impulsive decision to stay at Welbourne Manor, he’d only thought of seeing Justine, sharing meals with her, talking with her. He had forgotten that his mother’s essence, her memory, her ghost was everywhere in this house. At times he fancied he would discover her around a corner, smiling, asking, ‘Gerry? Would you like to take a walk in the garden?’ Somehow touching her precious belongings made her seem even more real to him. The sheer number of items she treasured enough to mention was daunting. To read them brought old resentments, old pain. His mother had chosen these trinkets over him. This morning he march
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine B renner walked into the library cursing his haste. He ought not to crave Justine’s companionship so much he rushed to meet her. He needed to return to his former, ordered life, where he had only his father’s problems to worry over. He rubbed his face. It would be at least two years before he could return to his own life, when Charlotte was old enough to marry. When the girls married and Leo reached his majority, Brenner would have no further reason to involve himself with any of them. By that time the Linwall farms would be making a profit and the investments restored. He could think about marriage for himself. Justine’s image flew into his mind. He could never contemplate marriage to Justine. Never. Not with her ties to the Duke and his mother. He would be for ever involved with people he’d never even wished to meet, the children his mother had loved and his father detested. He could not muster up precisely the same rancour he once felt towards Leo and Annalise and Charl
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten N ow what task did the solicitors have for him? Something so important they’d sent one of their men to see to it. Brenner looked at the stack of cases. ‘I must beg your leave, sir.’ The clerk edged towards the door. ‘The hackney coach is waiting.’ ‘Certainly,’ Brenner responded. As Brenner closed the door, Annalise appeared on the stairs. ‘Who came to call?’ Charlotte answered her. ‘A man from Papa’s solicitor. He brought Gerry a stack of cases.’ Four identical cases, each flat and covered in black velvet. ‘Can we open them?’ Charlotte asked. Brenner shrugged. ‘We might as well.’ With Brenner carrying the jewellery cases and Charlotte’s pugs following, they all went to the small drawing room where Justine had first taken him to meet the Fitzmannings. The girls sat themselves on the sofa, Justine between them, as they had done that first day. The pugs started growling and huffing and sparring with each other at Charlotte’s feet. Brenner lowered himself into a chair adjacent
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven B renner followed Justine back to his mother’s bedchamber, where his mother’s scent still mingled with the scent of the flowers, back into the sitting room dominated by her life-sized portrait. The miniature of himself as a child still lay next to the list on the table where he’d dropped it as if it had been a hot coal. He picked up the list and slipped the miniature into his coat pocket. He scanned the list. ‘Where did we leave off?’ Justine stood close, brushing his arm as she read. He was aware of her and his eyes refused to focus on the words. ‘Here it is.’ She pointed to the item below the last one he’d marked off. ‘Brass-and-bronze Argand lamp.’ She turned and fetched the lamp from a pretty gilded writing table. ‘For Leo,’ Brenner said. It helped him to focus on the task, to stare at the paper instead of the portrait, to think of possessions instead of how prettily she moved. ‘Next?’ She looked at him. ‘Gold-plated desk set,’ he read. He noticed her mood had bright
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve J ustine hurried to her bedchamber, leaning on the closed door behind her. She could not believe what she had done. Making love to Brenner. She’d not wished to resist him. In fact, she was certain she had encouraged him. She’d wanted that special feeling of closeness with him, that closeness that had gone so horribly wrong once before. God help her, she could still feel Brenner inside her, that glorious sensation, that intensity of excitement, that demand for release. She ached to repeat it again with him. Brenner had looked shocked when it was over, and certainly it was she who had shocked him. How could she face him over dinner when they must pretend nothing had happened between them? She cleaned herself as best she could and rang for her maid to dress her hair and help her change into her black dinner dress. All the while she thought of Brenner, of making love with him. Of possibly having created a child with him. When she was presentable again she descended the sta
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen B renner’s ride in the carriage to Mayfair was spent in a state of abject misery. He’d done everything wrong, failed miserably at doing his duty to his half-sisters and, most of all, to Justine. He entered the dark town house and climbed the stairs. As he passed his father’s bedchamber, he noticed a faint light under the door. He knocked and entered before waiting for permission. His father, dressed in a nightshirt, sat in a chair sipping brandy and reading a book by lamplight. He looked up at Brenner’s entrance. ‘You just burst in? Is that the kind of behaviour that is acceptable at that house?’ His father’s voice dripped with rancour. The thing about emotions, once unleashed, was that they were hard to rein in again. Brenner was not certain he even desired to do so. ‘I did learn something at that house.’ He mocked his father’s tone. His father gave a disparaging laugh and returned to his book. As if that would stop him now. ‘I discovered letters, Father. Letters addr
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue Spring 1819 T he day was as fine as spring could be in England. Azure skies, gardens in bloom, crisp fresh air. Welbourne Manor was abuzz with activity. Gone were the hatchment, black clothes and sad faces. Servants bustled to and fro, and soon carriages would arrive. This was a day of joy. This was Justine and Brenner’s wedding day. They were to be married by special license in the Great Room of Welbourne Manor, the formal drawing room gleaming with mirrors and gilding and carved friezes and panels. The room’s beauty was enhanced by dozens of vases filled with early roses, lavender and jasmine. His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, was expected to attend and would give away the bride. Because the Regent would be present and playing such an important role, Brenner’s father would also attend. Brenner stood talking with Nicholas, Stephen and Leo. Nicholas, the new Duke of Manning, would be his best man. He excused himself and hurried to fetch a velvet box from the house safe. W
Epilogue
Dear Reader, What an honor and a pleasure to be asked to be a part of Harlequin’s 60th anniversary! What a great achievement, to be touching hearts for so many years! It is such a thrill to be involved in the diamond celebration, in large part because I got to celebrate it with two of my dearest writing friends. Diane, Amanda and I first came together on a tour that paid tribute to the Regency, so it is fitting that we should bring a little bit of it to life for you now. We had such fun coming up with our Fitzmannings. We met in Williamsburg, Virginia, where this lovely, unruly family was born, and we spent months e-mailing each other and getting to know them better. I know that we have all thoroughly enjoyed the time we spent with Justine, Annalise and Charlotte. We sincerely hope that you do, too! Happy anniversary, Harlequin! May there be many more! Deb To my Mom, who loves a good novella! This one is for you.
Chapter One A nticipation skittered down Ned Milford’s spine. He could scarcely believe his luck. Cultivating an acquaintance with the unruly young men of the Fitzmanning Miscellany had been a stroke of genius, for now sunlight flashed off the shining wheels of his phaeton as he swept through the gates of Welbourne Manor. With pleasure Ned noted that the grounds appeared to be as elaborate, extensive and well maintained as rumour painted them. He could only hope that the rest of the estate and the notorious family it housed lived up to their scandalous reputations. He was counting on this trip to supply fodder for a month’s work. Beside him, his manservant shivered and out of the corner of his eye Ned caught the older man making a surreptitious sign against evil. ‘What the matter with you, Cardle? You’d think those were the gates of Hell, the way you’ve been carrying on about this house party.’ ‘Might as well be, sir, if half of what I’ve heard turns out to be true.’ ‘Don’t turn old wo
Chapter One
Chapter Two ‘Y ou might as well stop right there.’ Ned paused, his pencil hovering over the rough sketch he’d started. He’d learned—the hard way—to listen when Cardle spoke with the Voice of Doom. ‘Why? I think I’ve captured the devilry in Stephen’s eye quite nicely.’ ‘There were no other witnesses to the event, sir. You and I were the only ones to see that particular scene. It would be a dead give-away.’ ‘Nonsense.’ Ned pointed to the sketch. ‘I took great care to include myself. See? Not too flattering an image, either. And just look at the gallery of servants gathered. Any one of them might have been bribed to describe the scene.’ Cardle heaved a morose sigh that perfectly complemented the Voice of Doom. ‘No. They would not have been bribed. You were right, sir. We are going to have to tread very carefully while we are here.’ Ned straightened. ‘Why? What’s happened?’ ‘Nothing’s happened—and that’s at the heart of the problem.’ The manservant shook his head. ‘Things are not…usual…bel
Chapter Two
Chapter Three ‘E veryone, if I could have your attention?’ Miss Charlotte Fitzmanning called. Mid-day sun bathed the marbled entrance hall as she dashed up the stairs to address the assembled guests, a fresh and pretty sight in her vivid green riding habit. One of her little pugs lay content in her arms, the other followed her, to collapse panting at her feet. ‘Now that everyone has had their nuncheon, I’d like to share my birthday surprise for Stephen.’ ‘Are you going to give him Oliver?’ Leo called out. ‘No!’ she exclaimed, cuddling the dog closer. ‘It’s something he will enjoy.’ ‘Perhaps you should challenge him to a race, then, Charlotte, and actually let him win.’ Nicholas laughed. ‘I’d rather she challenge you,’ Stephen mocked. He and his officer friend—Captain Monroe, Ned recalled—had only just made their way into the entrance hall. ‘It would indeed be a treat to watch her outride you once more.’ ‘Hush, you two.’ She turned to the group at large. ‘Some of you will know—what did
Chapter Three
Chapter Four A nnalise had given Ned Milford the wrong answer. I should like that, she’d said when he’d asked her to partner him in Stephen’s ridiculous battledore tournament. Wrong. Unwise. She definitely should not like that idea. But she did. Despite the fact that she always avoided such play when people other than her family were present. Despite the fact that when she did participate, she nearly always teamed up with Leo or Charlotte. Despite the fact she was rarely comfortable associating so closely with anyone outside her own family circle. But then, she wasn’t exactly comfortable in Ned Milford’s presence, was she? No, not comfortable—especially not since he’d kissed her. But that hadn’t stopped her from reliving that incredible moment, from brushing her fingertips repeatedly against her lips, from practically wallowing in the sensations that he’d aroused within her. It didn’t stop her from partnering him, or from thoroughly enjoying it. They laughed in breathless fun as they b
Chapter Four
Chapter Five N ed breathed deeply and reached for calm. How quickly a peaceful afternoon had become a muddied, mortifying tangle of emotion. He took a step, intending to go after Annalise Fitzmanning, but something, likely the anger he felt on her behalf, gave him pause. ‘It seems we addressed many injustices here today,’ he said aloud to the stunned group. He glanced towards the still-sputtering Lord Peter. ‘And witnessed at least one well-deserved set-down. But aside from my own faults, the worst I’ve seen is your collective blindness regarding your sister. If any of you had paid half as careful attention to her as she does to all of you, you’d see how insightful and caring she is. Reserved and quiet, yes, but also wise. And vulnerable.’ He looked at Stephen. ‘I would ask that you consider celebrating those qualities instead of disparaging them.’ He turned on his heel and left them behind. He went to her studio. His first thought was that she would retreat to its safety. But though h
Chapter Five
Chapter Six N ed set down his tools and stretched his cramped back. The close work of etching deeper texture and lettering into copperplate was always gruelling. Carefully he spread the plate with printer’s ink and pulled a trial proof. He examined it closely—the last of Prattle’s caricatures. Dubbock would not be happy, but Ned felt nothing but relief at leaving Prattle behind—and more than a little pride at this last print. It served as his apology to the Fitzmanning Miscellany, and as thanks for showing him the other side of this work. The largest print he’d ever attempted and richly detailed, it was a study of light and dark, truth and fiction. On one side he’d depicted the world’s image of the jumbled Fitzmanning clan: dissolute parties, raucous manners, scandalous behaviour. On the other he’d shown the reality: an unruly family, boisterous and fun. He’d also done his best to portray how caring they were with each other, how loving, supportive and deeply attached they were. It was
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Chapter Seven C ool evening air retreated, replaced with swirling banks of dirty fog. It stunk with all the miasma of the river itself, but Ned could appreciate the cover it lent as he lurked outside Dubbock’s shop. When the bustle inside had ceased, and everyone gone but the old devil himself, he entered and propped himself casually in the doorframe to the office. Puttering about, Dubbock cast him a sour glance. ‘Get out, Milford. I’ve nothing more to say to you.’ ‘Curious, when you had so much to say just a few days ago,’ Ned remarked. ‘Now, I knew you didn’t mean a word when you apologised for stealing my sketches and parcelling them out to a bunch of hacks, but I thought you understood me when I said there would be no more of these attacks on Annalise Fitzmanning and her family.’ His erstwhile publisher hefted up his bag and grabbed a sturdy umbrella. ‘Couldn’t be helped,’ he said pragmatically. ‘These things sell like a clap cure in a bawdy house.’ He scowled belligerently. ‘You s
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight A nnalise stared at her canvas and willed her fingers to obey. But she couldn’t find the connection with the brush today, or perhaps she was just too exhausted to paint. Her old self—the Annalise of reserved behaviour and repressed emotion, the one who could lose herself in the mix of light and shadow—felt far from her reach. It seemed Ned Milford had opened a Pandora’s box of emotions, and try as she might, she could not get it to close again. She’d run the gamut since she’d discovered his betrayal. Her initial, righteous anger had flamed high, then boiled down to crushing regret as she’d mourned the loss of the life she hadn’t known she’d wanted, and nearly won. She’d swung back to anger at the realisation that those dreams had been built on lies, and settled into grim determination to see Ned Milford reap the same sort of notoriety and pain that he had served so well to so many others. Now, in the aftermath of her showing and its shocking revelation, she felt only…empt
Chapter Eight
Dear Reader, I was so excited to be asked to be a part of this 60th anniversary celebration! And what better way to celebrate decades of romance than with diamonds? The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor, that is—three sisters of beauty, intelligence and spirit who find love with three equally wonderful (and handsome and rakish) heroes! I was even more excited to do this project with two of my best writing friends, Diane Gaston and Deb Marlowe. Living far apart, we rarely get to see each other, but we managed to meet for a few summer days in Williamsburg, Virginia, to plot out these stories (and have a little fun touring and shopping, too!). We were inspired by famous women like Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, and her sister the Countess of Bessborough, whose families were, er, blended. And tumultuous, quarrelsome, wild, teasing, unconventional and very affectionate. We’ve so much enjoyed spending time with the Fitzmannings, and hope to revisit them in the future! They feel like a par
Prologue 1818 B y Jove! Was he naked? Charlotte Fitzmanning balanced precariously on a thick tree branch, one hand wrapped tightly around its rough bark and the other holding the spyglass to her eye. The glass, so very useful in keeping up with all the interesting doings at Welbourne Manor, was trained at that moment on the ornamental pond. More precisely, on the man who swam in its murky blue-green waters. Andrew Bassington. Her true love. Not that he knew he was, of course. And he never would know, not if Charlotte could help it. But the one thing she couldn’t seem to help, the one thing she seemed horribly compelled to do, was to follow him out here after she had overheard his plans for a swim. Charlotte frowned, lowering the glass so that Drew was only a distant blur. She was a great fool to trail about after him like a puppy, she knew that well. And, what was more, at sixteen she was too old to do so. Drew only saw her as the little sister of his friends, her half-brothers Nichola
Prologue
Chapter One Two years later H aven’t seen you in an age! You must come to Welbourne this time. It will be a great lark, and not the same at all if you aren’t there. Remember how grand it used to be? How grand it used to be. Drew Bassington crumpled the letter from his old friend Nicholas, now the Duke of Manning, and tossed it to the desk. Yes, it had been grand once, racketing around London with Nick and his brother Stephen. Racing their curricles, losing money at cards, meeting pretty women—being generally quite obnoxious. They had been very good at all that. And Welbourne Manor was the grandest of all. A beautiful classical villa full of laughter, fun, and love. Drew rubbed at his brow, remembering the way the sunlight dappled the rambling gardens, turning the smooth waters of the pond to shimmering gold. The way musical ripples of merriment wound down the marble staircases and through the rooms, banishing any hint of gloom or misery. Long suppers full of jokes and teasing to go alo
Chapter One
Chapter Two C harlotte shifted on her chair, a tottering old bit of wood and shredded upholstery discarded in the depths of Welbourne’s cavernous attics. She could easily bring a new, good chair up with her, but this one suited her, as did the old crate she used as a desk. They had a shabby sense of history about them, a character that new, shining furniture quite lacked. They brought her creative good fortune, an inspiration that came to her whenever she climbed up to the attic and sat down here. Usually. Today, though, the words simply would not come. Maybe it was just too quiet, without Annalise painting on the other side of the wall in her bright studio. Charlotte stared down at the blank page, clutching her pencil tightly in her fingers. Her mind was quite frustratingly blank. Her play, The Witch’s Curse, or Love Denied, was at a standstill, and at a most vital moment. The hero and heroine, Count Darian and Lady Lavinia, were finally about to declare their undying love, a Love Tha
Chapter Two
Chapter Three “W ill there be many people there, Drew?” Drew glanced up from his papers, startled. Their journey had thus far been a silent one, his sister-in-law sitting across from him with a book in her hands as he went over estate business. Mary’s words suddenly broke that quiet, and he found her watching him with wariness in her blue eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile. It was the first time he had been able to lure her away from the sadness at Derrington Hall since William had died. He didn’t want to scare her off now. “It has been a while since I’ve been at Welbourne,” he answered. “But their guest lists are never large, and not at all formal. It will only be some friends, enjoying each other’s company.” Mary laughed, a soft chuckle that sounded rusty with disuse. Drew was surprised to think how long it had been since she had laughed. She had been so light and merry when she had first married William, the pretty, sweet Lady Mary Smythe with her blue eyes and auburn curls. But l
Chapter Three
Chapter Four “M ay I help you with that?” Charlotte heard Lady Derrington say. Charlotte stared with increasing dismay into her looking glass, lifting a tangled lock of hair from her shoulder. “Thank you,” she answered. “I think I need all the help I can find.” Lady Derrington laughed, and shut the chamber door behind her. She laid her bonnet and reticule on a table, pulling off her gloves as she hurried to the dressing table. “It is not so bad as all that, Miss Fitzmanning,” she said soothingly. “Very easily mended. I don’t know anyone who could remain immaculate after such a tumble!” Charlotte groaned, sitting down hard on her stool. “It was dreadful. And after I wanted so much to…” Her words trailed away into silence. How could she tell Drew’s sister-in-law that she longed for him to think her pretty? To see her as more than his friends’ wild younger sister? Those hopes were quite gone now, anyway, after she had made such a fool of herself. Again. Lady Derrington reached for Charlot
Chapter Four
Chapter Five “L eo!” Charlotte cried, bursting out of the doors and running into her brother’s arms. “You’re here at last. I feared you would stay at one of your precious auctions and not appear at all.” “Of course not,” Leo said, laughing. “I had to show off my new sweetheart, didn’t I? Just look at her, C., isn’t she a beauty?” “Indeed she is,” Charlotte answered, gently stroking the mare’s velvety nose. The horse pawed the ground restlessly, but her large eyes were kind and intelligent. Spirited and good-hearted—surely just like Leo. “When can I ride her, then?” He laughed harder. “I knew you would love her! But you can’t ride her, not yet. She’s still a bit green.” “You rode her,” Charlotte protested. “That’s different—she knows me,” Leo said. “She’s going to be the star of my stable, you’ll see. Now, come meet my friend, Viscount Amesby.” Charlotte turned to curtsy to Lord Amesby, who grinned and politely raised her hand to his lips. She saw that reports of his handsomeness—he was
Chapter Five
Chapter Six D inner was going quite well, as far as Charlotte could see. Signore Napoli’s creations were delicious, as usual, platters of meats and fish and rich sauces, bowls of white soup and fruit salads, great pyramids of pastries, all well paired with wines and cordials supplied by her brothers. Conversation flowed along the flower-laden table like a rich Burgundy, laughter growing higher and higher, as if to join the frolicking gods in the ceiling murals. All in all, another successful start to a Welbourne party, and she had organised and presided over it all. She should be well pleased indeed. If only Lady Emily Carroll was not sitting halfway along that bright table. Lady Emily, who was so elegant, so perfectly golden and white, like an angel in fashionable sea-green silk. Lady Emily, who spoke quietly and laughed prettily. And who sat right next to Drew. Charlotte gestured to the footmen, guiding them along as they carried in yet more dishes. Her brothers all seemed to be havi
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven L ady Emily Carroll gazed out of her chamber window, watching the morning sun burn away the mist. She didn’t see the classical statues, the winding paths twisting away to intriguing little nooks. She didn’t think of what to wear to the day’s picnic. She was too worried. She nibbled at the ragged edge of her thumbnail. Her parents had long been friends with the late Duke of Manning and his mistress, then Duchess, drawn together by their mutual love of art and Italy. But they had always kept her away from that family—until now. And she knew why they had brought her here this week. They wanted her to marry the new Duke. Nicholas. Emily shook her head. He was very handsome, of course, wealthy, affable. But he was so very—lively. His whole family was, constantly tussling and teasing and laughing. And she was too slow, too shy. He would never look twice at her. He had shown no interest in her since they had arrived. She was doomed to fail, just as she always did. “Emily!” she h
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight C harlotte glanced down at the note in her hand. C.—come to the summerhouse as soon as you can. A party disaster looms, and your help is desperately needed. Nicholas. A party disaster? In the summerhouse? Charlotte shook her head in puzzled impatience. Her brothers were often prone to exaggeration, not to mention pranks. This was probably one of those, though she could not fathom how. But then again, they had planned a luncheon outing to the summerhouse for the day after tomorrow, and there was a chance there was some real “disaster” connected to that. She had to see what was happening, or she would lie awake worrying all night. She tugged her shawl closer around her shoulders, holding her lantern higher. It was quite late—most of the guests had already retired. She had just gone to her own chamber when the cryptic note had arrived, and she still wore her thin silk dinner gown. “If this is a joke, Nicholas,” she muttered, stepping over a loose board on the footbridge to t
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine D rew gazed at Charlotte as she slept so peacefully beside him, a tiny smile on her lips as if she dreamed sweet dreams. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, easing the blanket closer around her bare shoulders. The fire smouldered low in the grate, but he scarcely felt the new chill in the room. He felt at peace, truly at peace for the first time in all his life. He had been trying so very hard to fight who he really was, to be someone he was not. Perhaps he was trying to be his brother, to replace him. That would never work, though, not for long. He would always return to himself—to who he was when he was with Charlotte. His mother might not be entirely happy with a Fitzmanning daughter-in-law, but Mary and little Will would love her. All would be well for the four of them, he was sure of it. Drew nearly laughed aloud. Sometimes, despite all his efforts to the contrary, things did turn out right in the end. He gently kissed Charlotte’s cheek, holding her close as
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten C harlotte sat down in one of the gilt chairs lined up in the drawing room, glancing around as all the guests found their own seats. She smiled and folded her hands in her lap, outwardly calm. Inside, she was terribly nervous indeed. She couldn’t stop going over and over her night with Drew, and the mysterious theft of her play. This house party was surely the strangest Welbourne had ever seen! She had managed to get through the day without making a fool of herself, and without being alone with Drew. She had organised the luncheon on the terrace, followed by an outing to view some picturesque ruins. She had presided over dinner, and a tantrum from Signore Napoli, trying not to stare at Drew as he sat there beside Lady Emily. But now her brothers had insisted on presenting some surprise, refusing to give her a hint of what was going on. They had not even let her into the drawing room until now. She had had quite enough of their surprises, though, and was not at all sure she
Chapter Ten
Epilogue “T here now, Charlotte. You look absolutely beautiful,” Justine said happily, fluffing the last lace ruffle of Charlotte’s bridal attire. Charlotte turned to face the mirror, which Justine, Annalise and Mary had kept away from her while they did their handiwork. And she was quite astonished at the sight that greeted her. Clad in her mother’s silver-satin and white-lace wedding gown, redone to fit her, with her hair curled and twined with pearls and white rosebuds, she looked like some creature of moonlight. A delicate, ethereal being. If only she could maintain the illusion all the way to the altar! “Oh,” she sighed. “You are miracle workers.” Justine laughed, her cheeks glowing pink with happiness. Marriage and motherhood agreed with her, for she was always glowing now. And baby Catherine, who cooed softly in her ruffled basket, was the most perfect infant ever seen. Except when she tried to reach out and pull the pugs’ tails, which she did so often… “Do be still for a moment
Epilogue
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