Chapter 1

Chapter One

Bath, England

April 1844

"A ll roads lead to Bath," Charles Heywood observed.

Hannah scarcely registered her older brother's words. She was occupied staring out the window of their carriage as it traveled down Bennet Street toward the crowded Circus. Gently curving terraces of honey-colored limestone rose up alongside them. There were no harsh angles in Bath, only softness in both shade and form.

This wasn't her first experience of the city's beauty. Heywood House was but fifty miles from the fashionable watering place. She'd often visited as a child in company with her parents.

But Hannah wasn't a little girl on holiday this time. She was a young lady embarking on her very first season. Her stomach trembled as she took in the fashionably clad ladies and gentlemen strolling along the busy thoroughfare.

Anxiety had been plaguing her for weeks. Months, in truth. So much of her future hinged on her debut. The pressure of it was nearly too much to bear.

It shouldn't be this way. Not for a young lady of good family, with loving parents and a devoted brother to support her. It wasn't as though Hannah was being forced to find a husband. She needn't marry at all if she so chose. Both her mother and father had made that fact abundantly plain.

No. It was Hannah herself who had insisted on making her debut. Despite her shyness, despite the butterflies in her stomach and the apprehension buzzing in her veins, she was eager for her chance at romance. How could she not be? She had been an observer of romance all her life. Her parents were still deeply in love after decades of marriage. Her brother was in love too. His engagement to Lady Kate Beresford had been announced only last month.

"Have you heard a word I'm saying?" Charles asked from his place across from her.

Hannah let the tasseled velvet window curtain fall. Sinking back in her seat, she gave her brother her full attention. "Something about all roads leading to Bath?"

"I was talking about Kate," he said.

Hannah wasn't surprised. Her brother's thoughts had been on little else recently. "Mama said you received a letter from her yesterday afternoon."

"I did," Charles replied, frowning.

Hannah was immediately alert. "She's not in ill health?"

"No. Nothing like that. However… She did mention that her family party will be larger than we originally expected."

Lady Kate was presently in Bath with her parents, the Earl and Countess of Allendale. Her middle older brother, Ivo, was there as well. Like his sister, he'd recently become engaged. That was the extent of the Beresford family party, as far as Hannah was aware.

Folding her gloved hands in her lap, she waited for Charles to explain.

"Her older brother has joined them unexpectedly," he said.

Hannah nodded. "Ivo, yes. I already know that."

"Not Ivo."

"Jack?" Hannah had met the youngest of Kate's older brothers on several occasions. At one-and-twenty, he was but two years older than Hannah was herself. He was also wild and unpredictable, more like a mischievous boy than a man fully grown.

"Not Jack," Charles said. "Her oldest brother, Viscount St. Clare."

Hannah's mouth went dry. She affected an air of unconcern. "Oh?"

As ever, Charles saw right through her. "I debated telling you. You've been anxious enough without having to worry about encountering him."

"Why should I worry?"

"He unnerves you."

Hannah inwardly grimaced. Was it that obvious? "I'm not likely to see much of him, am I?"

"That depends. I can't imagine him taking part in the season. Not in Bath. Kate expects him to remove to London in the coming weeks."

Hannah expected he would. Lord St. Clare's younger siblings had often made joking references about his exacting standards. According to them, his lordship's future wife must be a pattern card of perfection. Wealthy, pedigreed, beautiful, and accomplished. A young lady equipped to be a leader in fashionable society, and to one day take up the mantle of Countess of Allendale.

Which begged the question: if Lord St. Clare was seeking such an exemplar, why on earth had he come to Bath? The season here could in no ways compare with the one in London. Bath was shabbier in that respect. The parties smaller, the populace verging on elderly, and the quality of young ladies on offer more representative of lesser gemstones than diamonds of the first water.

Hannah counted herself among those gemstones. She felt no regret at the fact. She didn't aspire to be a diamond. Her temperament was ill-suited for that degree of attention. It was the entire reason she'd resolved to have her season here rather than in town.

"He'll doubtless call on us to pay his respects," Charles said. "Aside from that, you won't be bothered by him."

Hannah smoothed her gloves with restless fingers. "It's all one to me. I shall likely be too busy to take any notice."

Her brother smiled. "Mama mentioned shopping."

"Oh yes. We have ever so much to buy when she arrives." Hannah's parents would be joining them tomorrow, along with Hannah's dogs, Evangeline and Tippo, and her mare, Jubilee. "Until then, I have my own interests to pursue."

She had arranged to meet her friend, Miss Matilda Winthrop at Molland's Pastry Shop in Milsom Street in the morning. They had never yet met in person. Thus far, they had only ever corresponded by post. Miss Winthrop was a fierce advocate for animals. It was she who had undertaken to publish the new journal on animal welfare that Hannah had mentioned to Lord St. Clare.

"Animal interests, I presume," Charles said.

"Naturally."

"Just so long as you take care not to get into too much trouble."

"When have I ever got into trouble?" Hannah wondered.

"Never on your own behalf. But on an animal's account? Frequently."

"You would have done the same in the circumstances. And have done the same," she added, "many, many times."

"I'm not a young lady embarking on her first season."

Hannah gave her brother a reproving look. "Surely one can take part in the season without ignoring the dictates of one's conscience?"

"I'm not asking you to ignore your conscience," Charles said, "only to think twice before imperiling your reputation. Bath may be more forgiving than London, but you'll still be under scrutiny. Fashionable cities thrive on scurrilous gossip. It passes for entertainment. I'd rather you not find yourself the subject of it."

Her brother's words did nothing to ease Hannah's anxiety. She didn't like to imagine people gossiping about her. "I won't do anything to imperil my reputation," she assured him.

Not on purpose.

* * *

James Aldrick Nicholas Beresford, Viscount St. Clare, handed his sister, Kate, down from the black lacquered carriage. He didn't agree with calling in Camden Place so early. Lieutenant Charles Heywood and his sister had only arrived in Bath half an hour ago. They'd scarcely had time to refresh themselves, let alone settle in.

It was Kate who had insisted on paying the untimely visit. She'd had a servant looking out for her betrothed's carriage since the early afternoon. The instant Kate had learned of his arrival, she'd insisted on setting off.

"We needn't stand on ceremony," she said to James. "We're practically family, after all."

James shot his sister a cooly repressive glance. Kate was the youngest child of the family, as well as being the only girl. She'd been shamefully spoiled as a consequence. Brash, bold, and unapologetically headstrong, it wouldn't occur to her not to give in to her wildest impulses.

It was a typically Beresford trait, this urge to charge ahead, come what may. Their family was known for being overpassionate. For fighting duels, engaging in fisticuffs, and generally throwing caution to the wind. It was something in their blood—a combustible combination of Beresford daring and (on his mother's side) Honeywell recklessness.

James had spent most of his life battling against it. It hadn't been easy. Indeed, it took a certain strength of will to rein in his passions. To think pragmatically, logically, rather than letting his heart run away with his head. The alternative hadn't been an option. There was already enough scandal attached to the family. He had no intention of creating more of it. Quite the opposite. As the heir to the earldom, James planned to rehabilitate the Beresford name.

"Not quite family, yet," he pointed out to his sister.

Kate shook out her striped silk skirts. Striding ahead of him, she rapped twice on the white-painted door. "Nonsense," she said. "Charles and I will be married before the summer is out. We've no cause for this tedious decorum."

James's face remained impassive as a liveried footman admitted them into the marble-tiled hall. Servants scurried past, hauling trunks up the stairs and carrying boxes down to the kitchens, under the direction of a stout, white-aproned housekeeper.

Among all the chaos, Charles Heywood strode forward to meet them. He was a tall, dark-haired fellow with a military bearing. Seeing Kate, his stern face was transformed by a smile. "This is excellent timing." He bowed to them before taking Kate's hands. "You must have had the watch out for us."

"I confess I did." Kate glanced behind Charles as he kissed her cheek in greeting. "Where is your sister?"

"Hannah is in her room, changing. She'll be down in a moment."

James cast an opaque look toward the curving staircase. He had last seen Hannah Heywood over a month ago when he and his family had traveled to Heywood House to celebrate Charles and Kate's engagement. Then, James had been in her company only briefly.

All too briefly.

The fact that Miss Heywood had been at her childhood home, comfortably surrounded by her family and her pets, had done little to alleviate her shyness where James was concerned. She'd rarely looked him in the eye, seeming more content to avoid him than to converse with him.

Such maidenish reticence in another girl would have been off-putting. In Miss Heywood, it had only served to intrigue him. Perhaps it was because her shyness wasn't the whole of her. Underneath her blushes, she was a young lady of peculiar conviction. She loved animals, and was prepared to fight for them, even if she couldn't yet summon the courage to speak up for herself.

James admired the impulse in her. The fact was, he was coming to admire her full stop. It was a devilish realization. They'd exchanged only a handful of words since first meeting at Christmas. Most of his opinions about her had been gleaned from observation. She was graceful. Thoughtful.

Beautiful.

And entirely ill-suited for the role of his future countess.

"Come and sit down in the drawing room," Charles said. He turned to the housekeeper. "Two more for tea, Mrs. Pritchett."

"Yes, Mr. Heywood," the housekeeper replied. She immediately returned to directing one of the footmen. "Not there! Those books belong in the library."

James trailed after Charles and Kate as they made their way upstairs to the expansive silk-papered drawing room. It was furnished in an opulent style, not vastly different from the drawing room in the Beresfords' own rented house near the Circus.

He seated himself in an armchair, somewhat removed from the damask sofa where Charles and Kate sat down together. James may not approve of his sister's impetuousness, but he wasn't a killjoy. He knew Kate had been missing her fiancé. The least James could do was keep his distance while the two of them enjoyed their reunion.

As they did, James boredly examined the grain of his expensive leather gloves. It was never quite comfortable to be around an engaged couple, especially when one was still unattached oneself. It required a certain appreciation for romance, which James was fully aware he was lacking.

He was supposed to have been the first among his siblings to become engaged. Instead, Kate had beaten them all to the wire, followed shortly by Ivo. As yet, Jack showed no signs of being headed in a similar direction. Still, it didn't sit well with James to have fallen so far behind in his duty to the title. By rights, he should be in London, searching out a suitable bride of his own. Not in Bath. And not here, in Camden Place, indulging his unfortunate attraction to a shy, West Country bluestocking.

Kate and Charles were still murmuring to each other, smiling and holding hands, when Miss Heywood entered the room. She was simply dressed in a gown of dove gray wool. Its snug bodice and close-fitting long sleeves accentuated the soft curves of her figure.

James was at once on his feet.

A soft, petal pink stain suffused Miss Heywood's cheeks as he bowed to her. She offered a polite curtsy in return.

"Hannah!" Kate rose to clasp Miss Heywood's hands. "How well you look!" She kissed her cheek. "I'm not at all surprised, though I know underneath you must be exhausted from your journey. Even fifty miles is a trial if one isn't used to traveling. You will be wanting to rest, I don't wonder. Come, sit down. I promise my brother and I won't stay overlong."

James said nothing. There was no room for him to speak, nor any cause for him to do so, not with Kate chattering so gaily. She resumed her seat on the sofa with Charles, urging Miss Heywood to the vacant chair next to James.

Miss Heywood took it, her eyes downcast and her face still coloring prettily.

James sat down beside her, separated from her by nothing more than the width of a low, polished wood table. Her profile was in his periphery; the dark arch of her winged brow, the elegant slope of her cheek, and the sweep of her thick, dark auburn hair, smoothed back into a simple knot at her nape.

"I've ordered tea for us," Charles said to his sister.

"Thank you," Miss Heywood replied.

It may well have been the first words she'd uttered since entering the room. The low, velvet murmur of her voice struck a disconcerting chord in James's chest.

He steeled himself against the feeling.

He had no tolerance for unfettered emotion. It provoked one to take inadvisable risks and to make foolish decisions. He'd seen the proof of it often enough in his family. For generations, the Beresfords' course had been navigated by a passionate star—to frequently perilous result. When it came to his own path, James was resolved to steer with his head rather than his heart.

Kate continued to cheerfully drive the conversation, talking about her impending wedding to Charles, and about Miss Heywood's upcoming season. It wasn't until the tea had been served and a portion of seed cake dutifully eaten that James's sister at last returned to her private, murmured discussion with her betrothed, leaving James and Miss Heywood to talk amongst themselves.

James looked at her steadily. She was focused on sipping her tea, her posture straight, her head bent gracefully, and her skirts spilling about her in a swell of soft gray wool. He suspected she was avoiding looking at him.

It was difficult for him to fathom such a profound degree of shyness. He'd met many young ladies in his five and twenty years. Even the most reserved among them had still been capable of polite conversation. At the very minimum, they had managed to meet his eyes.

He set down his tea cup. "Your journey was pleasant?"

"Yes, thank you," she said.

"And your parents? They follow behind you, I understand."

"They do." Miss Heywood slowly returned her own cup to its saucer. Her gaze lifted to his with an obvious effort, revealing her different colored eyes. They were beautifully expressive, soft and doe-like, and fringed with unusually long, black lashes. "My father had several estate matters to settle with his steward. We so rarely go away from home for any length of time. There was much to arrange."

James could well imagine. He presently had the charge of his parents' two largest estates. They employed stewards, of course, but it was James who worked in concert with them, not his father. When James wasn't in London, he spent his time travelling between Beasley Park, his mother's ancestral home in Somerset, and Worth House, the family seat in Hertfordshire, dealing with everything from crop and livestock management to structural improvements, recordkeeping, and contractual issues with farmers.

His late great-grandfather had hammered home the necessity of the future earl knowing his lands backward and forward. It wasn't enough to derive an income from one's property. A responsible landowner had a duty of care to his lands, and to every creature that subsisted upon them. James's father had learned it before him. And now it was James's turn. He'd taken up the reins not long after coming of age.

"My sister informs me that your mother is bringing your dogs to Bath," he said.

Miss Heywood's mouth lifted in a fleeting smile. "She is."

"They'll stay here with you for the whole of your season?"

"If all goes to plan. My brother took care to find a house that would be amenable to them." She cast a glance about the room, the single look seeming to encompass the entirety of the well-appointed property. "I hope they shall be content here. The garden is very small, and there is so little in the way of fields or pastures for them to frolic in."

"A lack of which will be amply offset by their happiness at being in your company," James replied gallantly.

Her blush deepened. "That's very kind of you to say."

"It's the truth, merely. When we visited your family last month, I saw for myself how fond your pets are of you."

"They are very dear to me," she said. "I was distressed at Christmas being away from them so long."

James remembered. Indeed, he had reflected on her brief visit to Beasley Park with alarming frequency in the intervening months. He and Miss Heywood had waltzed together, then. They had talked together too, with surprising candor. And not in a drawing room. It had been late at night, in the Beasley Park stables.

Miss Heywood had come to look in on her horses and found James there, in his shirtsleeves, still seething after a bitter argument with Ivo. On encountering him, she had plainly wanted to flee. Instead, she'd remained and talked with him, quietly, sensibly.

James had already been interested in her, albeit against his will. By the time they'd parted, he'd been something else. He didn't know how to define it. Whatever it was, it had been powerful enough to bring him to Bath.

"I trust you won't be distressed on this occasion," he said. "Not with your family and dogs in residence."

"Not in that respect, no."

He studied her face. "In other respects?"

Her eyes betrayed a glimmer of anxiety. "It's natural to be apprehensive about one's first season, is it not?"

"I couldn't say. I've nothing to judge it by but my sister's experience." James didn't expand on the remark. Little could be served by dredging up Kate's many scandals.

Miss Heywood glanced at his sister. "Kate has promised to help me while she's here."

"Indeed?"

"I know it cannot be for long. She departs for London with your parents at the close of next week. They have the wedding plans to attend to."

"I'm sure she would remain longer if she could."

"It is enough that she'll stay through my first ball. I'm resolved it will be a great success."

Another gentleman might have suavely replied that it was certain to be one, but James couldn't bring himself to lie, not even for politeness's sake. Miss Heywood's shyness was a liability. A potentially crippling one at that. If she intended to move in society with any degree of success, she would have to overcome it.

"You are to make your debut at Lord and Lady Carletons'?" he asked.

The elderly Lady Carleton was one of the foremost hostesses in Bath. She presided over many events during the season, from formal dinners and dances to picnic parties and musicales.

Miss Heywood nodded. "They're old friends of my grandfather, the Earl of Gordon. Their ball promises to be a grand affair."

"I would expect nothing less," James replied. "Your brother is escorting you?"

"He is." She hesitated for a long moment. "Will you be staying long in Bath?"

He looked at her, frowning. "That depends."

"On what, sir?" she asked.

James didn't answer.