Chapter 1

Chapter 1

1816-Bath

Gemma sighed, and took in the smell of pine wood and old paper. It was a scent that took her back to her childhood. Back when she had first discovered her love for writing and drawing.

“I just need that one over there, if you please,” Gemma said to Ashley as she pointed to a large ink well. “Right, thank you. I believe that will be all for now.”

Ashley gave a curt nod and put her lady’s purchases on the counter at the front of the shop, before she went across the street to the printers. Gemma’s pale blue eyes could not help but follow Ashley. Every week, Gemma would have her lady’s maid deliver her writing to the news office.

Gemma tucked a loose strand of hair away before speaking further to Mrs. Baker. She bent down to see her reflection in a nearby mirror. Gemma was not as short as most ladies. If that was not enough to set her apart, her wavy blonde hair was almost as white as snow.

“Miss Castwell, how are you today?” The shop owner, Mr. Baker said the moment he noticed Gemma.

“Fine, thank you, Mr. Baker. How are you? Did you hear about the accident just outside town?” Gemma inquired.

“I did, yes, poor child. “Mr. Baker said, putting his hand to his chest.

“So tragic. You know, if only the child had been seated in front, she may not have broken her leg that severely,” Gemma said. The empathy in her tone and expression was plain to see.

“Now the leg will have to be amputated,” Mr. Baker replied with equal sorrow.

“Did you see Mrs. Cromwell with her latest?” Mrs. Baker asked Gemma.

“Surely, she has not moved on that quickly?” Gemma said aghast.

“She detests being alone,” Mrs. Baker stated.

“Well if they are both happy, then why can they not be left alone? Granted, the age difference does verge on unseemly. It is interesting, do you not agree, that if it had been a young girl with an older man then it would have been accepted? Now that it is the other way around, they are frowned upon?” Gemma asked. She knew Mrs. Baker was old-fashioned; however, she did seem to enjoy and endorse Gemma’s more modern way of thinking.

“Good day, Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker.” A deep voice spoke behind Gemma. The sound poured into her ears and made her think of a warm summer breeze.

Gemma could not help her curiosity at glancing at who might own such a memorable voice. She could see that he had well-groomed, jet-black hair that had an attractive curl to it. He was taller than most men, and she had to look up to try to look at his face.

A rare happening for Gemma. He had more of a farmer’s build than the gentlemen she was used to. He was well-dressed in black trousers with black boots, a white dress shirt with a modern upturned collar, and a brown suede jacket.

What an interesting man. Gemma thought as she tried to get a better look at him.

“Good morning, Your Grace. I am doing well, you know, the knees are still a bit of a bother,” Mr. Baker replied.

Oh, Your Grace, is it? No, he would give me one look and reject me. Nobility must adhere to what is considered attractive. My tall form is far from the norm or acceptable. Gemma thought with slight disappointment.

“I am terribly sorry to hear, Mr. Baker. You should rest more,” the man replied.

Still, he has a magnificent voice, Gemma thought.

“That is very kind, Your Grace. Now, how can I help you today?” Mr. Baker said fondly.

“I am searching for writing supplies. Charlotte and Colette will not forgive me if I return home empty-handed,” the man said with a pleasant chuckle.

“Well, Your Grace, we shall not disappoint them then. How are Colette’s friends in the village now? The papers said something about poor rain this year,” Mr. Baker asked.

“Indeed it has been a hard year. Fortunately, there were a few storms before harvest time,” the man answered. “Charlotte is getting even more versed with her poetry. She writes the most beautiful thoughts onto paper,” the man went on.

Gemma thought of her own home life. She would rise early every day to help her father on their estate. He had taught her how to take care of every aspect of the estate in his absence one day. She would find time to help her grandmother with the garden and make sure to play at least one chess game with her grandfather.

To hear this man speaking of his family with such fondness was a very attractive trait to Gemma. Mrs. Baker must have noticed her interest as before Gemma could react, she was being introduced to the man.

“Your Grace, this is Miss Gemma Castwell. Gemma, may I introduce you to His Grace Lothar Howard, Duke of Exeter.” Mrs. Baker made the introduction and Gemma turned to face him. She was struck by his open, hazel eyes, and when he turned, she could admire how broad his shoulders really were.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” Gemma said with a graceful curtsy.

“The pleasure truly is mine, Miss Castwell,” the duke replied, and for a moment, the glimmer in his eyes made her believe him. “My sisters would be envious of your collection, Miss Castwell.”

Gemma looked at all the items she was about to purchase. She had several sheets of parchment, three different types of quills, two ink wells, and two brushes all neatly stacked on the counter nearby.

“I find that I go through more and more each week, Your Grace,” Gemma replied. He had an easy manner that made speaking to him feel natural, as though they had known each other as old friends.

“Are you a writer, Miss Castwell? That is, if you do not mind me asking, of course,” Lothar gently inquired.

“I am of sorts, Your Grace. I do get published every so often,” Gemma replied with pride.

“Your Grace,” a valet called from the doorway of the shop.

“Please excuse me, Miss Castwell, Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker,” Lothar said before leaving with the valet.

Gemma watched him leave and could not take her eyes away from him. He had a lovely personality and valued family as she did. Then there was the fact that as he was as physically odd as she was; it fascinated her.

Easy there. Are you forgetting how the seasons in London went? Gemma’s mind tormented her.

She had wanted to make her parents proud. The very thought of having a man plan out her every move and enslave her to chores and just have child after child, it made her stomach churn. Yet, when her mother had almost broken down into tears of worry, Gemma had conceded.

She had dressed and prepared for hours. She had gone to all the right balls and events. Every move she made had been watched closely, and she had never faltered, not once. She did not consider herself unseemly in appearance, yet to find a man not intimidated by her towering stature was nearly impossible. No, two difficult and unkind seasons had left her with the decision to never seek marriage.

The duke is just fascinating and would make a good friend. Gemma told herself.

“Poor man,” Mrs. Baker said. Her words took Gemma away from her thoughts. “He had an elementary life, and then an uncle he has barely heard of leaves him nothing but a burden.”

“I beg your, pardon,” Gemma said, even as she disliked how interested she was.

“He was not a duke to begin with. He led a modest life. Then his uncle passed and left him his estate. Now one would think that a blessing, but this place is falling apart. He spends every penny he makes, ensuring his workers get their wages,” Mrs. Baker said softly.

“That is generous of him,” Gemma said as she looked to the door he had left through. She immediately felt sympathetic towards him, even though she was sure he could well take care of himself.

“Lovely man. He has no idea how good of a man he is, unlike most of the other young men around here,” Mr. Baker chimed in. Mr. Baker was a thin, neat older gentleman who rarely joined in on his wife’s conversations.

He must think highly of Lothar indeed! Gemma thought with awe.

“Then there is that woman.” Mrs. Baker said the word woman as though it were a dirty word. Gemma did not like the twist in her stomach at the mention of a possible woman in Lothar’s life.

What does it matter? You have just met the man! Gemma’s mind cautioned. She wanted to know but dared not ask the question.

“Miss Briggs. They have known each other since their schooling years. To each his own, I say. You see she does not seem to share the level of affection he shows her. The whole town thought they were a solid match. The years went by, and he had not asked her to marry him. Then there were rumors of her trying to wed her nephew-in-law just to get a hold of his fortune,” Mrs. Baker said in an even lower voice moments before Lothar re-entered the shop.

“Thank you so much for your patience, Mr. Baker.” Lothar’s voice echoed through the shop.

“Not at all, dear boy,” Mr. Baker said as he handed Lothar his carefully wrapped parcels. Lothar easily took the parcels that Mr. Baker struggled to balance. Gemma could not help but look at his hands. They looked capable of anything, even igniting her imagination.

The price of being a writer. Your imagination is almost always in full swing, Gemma thought with a smile. That is all that it is, my overactive imagination.

Yet, Gemma watched Lothar’s movements until she could not see him as he left. She knew that he had made a lasting impression on her. She would not soon forget meeting him and would, from that moment on, hope to repeat the encounter.

“Will that be all today?” Mrs. Baker said as she started to wrap Gemma’s purchases.

“Yes, thank you,” Gemma replied.

Ashley returned looking triumphant. “How did it go?” Gemma asked her.

“Very well, My Lady,” Ashley replied with a smile. She had seemed overjoyed when Gemma had asked her to help deliver her writing for her. It had now become a weekly arrangement when they came to town. Their carriage had stopped nearby. The door swung open as Gemma and Ashley approached, and Gemma’s parcels were fetched from the shop.

“Please put those with the green ribbons inside here,” Gemma instructed.

Gemma found that she felt hungry and could not wait to get home in time for lunch; she was glad that the carriage took only two hours to get them back home. Gemma looked at the parcels she had instructed to be put inside the carriage. Inside were delicate pastries and cakes that she first offered to Ashley.

“Oh no, my lady, you must choose first,” Ashley said.

“I insist there is more than enough here,” Gemma said as she raised her chin in exaggerated defiance. Ashley took one and took a grateful bite. “Are they good?”

“Yes, thank you, My Lady,” Ashley said, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Do you know anything about the Duke of Exeter?” Gemma heard herself ask.

“Not much, My Lady. I believe he grew up here like I did. Perhaps other locals would know more,” Ashley replied.

Gemma nodded and went back to her selection of eats. The rest of the journey was spent in pleasant conversation, and soon Gemma looked out the carriage window to see the large iron gate, with their coat of arms on it, open to welcome them home.

Lunch was family time. Gemma sat next to her parents, and her grandparents sat seated opposite. This was a time when they would catch up on each other’s day.

“How did town go today?” her father, Andrew Castwell, asked.

“Very well, thank you, father,” Gemma replied.

“You should be careful, child. There are thieves at every corner,” Gemma’s grandmother added.

“Now mother, no need to scare Gemma. I am sure she is careful,” her mother, Margaret, said.

“I am careful, grandmama,” Gemma replied gently. She loved the older woman as much as she did her mother. Her grandmother had always shown Gemma that she adored her granddaughter in equal measure.

“I met a rather nice gentleman at the stationers,” Gemma announced and closed her eyes tightly. She instantly regretted making mention of meeting Lothar today.

Why did I do that? Now they will want to know each detail. I am not even interested in being with someone. Gemma thought knowing the floodgates would open and questions would come at her from all her family at the same time.

But her family all turned to her and simply stared at her in surprise.