Chapter One

May 15, 1817

Bromington House

Manchester Square

London

Miss Cora Hasting, second daughter of Baron Landover, frowned as she completed a sentence in the letter she wrote to her mother back in Bedfordshire, where all her sisters save one resided.

A wave of homesickness swept over her, and it took a few seconds to swallow back the tears. Missing her family, especially since her father's mind was deteriorating, was a constant battle, but because of that—amidst a few other things fate had thrown their way—it had been necessary for some of the Hasting sisters to take paid positions, which was the lot of many daughters of the beau monde whose families had fallen into reduced circumstances.

But that didn't mean she needed to enjoy it.

After another few moments of trying to appear cheerful and translate that into her letter so her mother wouldn't worry, she gave up the attempt. The words flowed even more smoothly. No doubt her mother would write back and implore her to come home, but that would only hasten the loss of Cora's ancestral home all the quicker due to unpaid taxes, and she couldn't allow herself to be a failure.

Or any of her sisters.

Especially since her older sister Amelia had married a viscount last month. The man's coffers were allegedly empty, which didn't help anyone's situation, but apparently it was a love match after much aggravation, and they'd wed in a small private ceremony that Cora had been fortunate enough to attend at Landover Manor. Her family had gathered round, and her sisters had dressed in their best gowns. For her father's sake, she had been glad they'd had the ceremony there.

A stab of envy went through Cora's chest, for though she didn't begrudge her sister the relationship—her viscount was sinfully handsome with a reputation to match—she'd assumed that by the time she'd reached the age of nine and twenty, she would have been married with a few children. Instead, she'd been jilted steps from the altar almost three and a half years ago, left with her reputation in tatters, a secret hope that had been dashed, and her dreams shattered.

There were no more Seasons out of necessity and there had been no more opportunities for her, for her family had retreated to Bedfordshire, and that had been that.

Until circumstances had become so dire the sisters were convinced the only salvation was to take paid positions and send coin home.

"Miss Hasting?"

She glanced up from the letter as a feeling of relief slipped down her spine as one of the upstairs maids came into the room. "Yes, Bridget?"

The young woman ducked her head, tucked a strand of red hair that had escaped its braid behind her ear and then wiped her hands on the stomach of her pinafore apron. "I'm finished with Mrs. Bromington for the moment and thought I would see if you needed assistance." She often had to double as a second lady's maid when the original one was overworked… or sent off crying.

"You are sweet to offer." Cora gestured the other woman into the room. "I've just about finished this letter so can afford the break. Where is, ah, Mrs. Bromington currently?" It didn't matter that Cora had been given Thursdays and Sundays off. Somehow, her charge demanded things of her regardless.

"She was on her way to the drawing room to meet her embroidery group."

"You mean her gossip circle." In the three and a half months since Cora had been Mrs. Bromington's companion, one thing she'd noticed was the cantankerous woman enjoyed gossiping, with anyone who would listen, and she enjoyed even more cutting people's reputations to ribbons with her sharp tongue.

"There is that." Bridget sneaked farther into the room and closed the door quietly behind her. "And she especially detests if there is a romance beneath her roof." Mischief sparkled in the maid's eyes. "Do you think she is opposed to intercourse as well?"

The question took Cora by such surprise that a bout of laughter escaped before she clamped a hand to her mouth. "Bridget!" It was an inappropriate topic of conversation, but one she never had anyone to share with before, which was why her friendship with the staff had blossomed.

To say nothing of the fact she was one of them within the paid position.

"What? It is a part of life, and a large part at that if a girl is lucky." Bridget flounced onto the trunk at the end of Cora's bed. "Can I help it if I think men are delicious?"

"The right men," Cora corrected with a raised eyebrow as she quickly finished her letter and then capped the inkwell.

"True, but the wrong ones have always been that too, more's the pity." The maid's grin was contagious, and soon Cora did the same. "What say you? Is there a man in your life? You have been in Town long enough to attract some sort of attention."

She briefly pointed her gaze to the ceiling before settling it on the other woman. "When would I have time for any of that?" Even though her employer couldn't hear, Cora lowered her voice. "Mrs. Bromington is an exacting taskmaster. She never allows me time alone when my attention should be on her."

"Oh, I am well aware, and you have it worse than the rest of us, but please say you will try. You have at least one pretty gown in your wardrobe, so you should at least enjoy yourself."

"Enjoying myself in the past caused far too many problems," she admitted in a near whisper. That particular scandal had been the real cause for the family hiding in the country and all the Seasons to halt. The dire finances her father had kept hidden didn't come out until much later. "I'm not certain I am strong enough to go through such a thing again, not even for a delicious man, for those are the kind who are the most irritating."

She'd hidden that shame from her parents and even from her older sister Amelia. The only sister who'd known or even suspected was her twin, Nora. That bond was unbreakable, even now when they were apart. Nora had agreed to stay at home to look after their parents when she and Amelia left for London. Familial gossip held that Nora wasn't all there in her upper stories, for she had trouble speaking and could hardly hear, but since the country doctors she'd seen couldn't understand why she was that way, they had proclaimed her deaf and dumb and said there was nothing anyone could do for her.

That had further put a strain on the family finances, but no one held it against her. Why should they? It wasn't her fault she'd been born differently from the rest of them. But according to Amelia, Nora only needed a creative way to communicate and be understood. It was merely a matter of finding it.

And knowing her older sister, Amelia would find it once the newness of her marriage wore off. If that were possible. She and her viscount husband were quite in love and walked the bounds of scandal when they were together.

Cora frowned as jealousy once more reared its ugly head. I could have had that, but fate didn't think I needed it. Not wishing to ponder her failed engagement, she let her mind linger on her twin. Nora was lovely, intelligent, clever, and resourceful. If given half the chance, she would turn London on its head and the world would open up to her, all because their parents refused to send her away to an asylum. For her sister's sake, Cora hoped all would be well, for no one deserved to be alone, especially if that state was forced due to being unable to speak correctly.

"Then don't expect forever." Bridget shrugged. She brushed at a smudge of dust on her apron. "Pursue fun instead." Whenever the maid was interested in a subject, her Irish brogue became more pronounced.

The sound of the other woman's voice wrenched her from those thoughts. "If only it were that simple." At least, it wasn't for her. Not now. Not after she'd known heartbreak and shame, love and loss, dreams and despair.

The maid blew out a breath as she shook her head. "Some days, I'm not sure I'm looking for marriage, but if the right man would convince me to let him beneath my skirts, have his wicked way, then I would ride him until the feeling of madness faded."

Oh, that feeling!How well did she remember such a thing? The wild rawness of being in a man's arms, of feeling his hard body moving against her softer one, the way kisses grew passionate enough to make her take leave of her senses, the frantic pressure that only broke when lips or hands or tongues bedeviled certain places on her body… A sigh of regret escaped her. But Bridget was correct. With the right man, that madness was like an addiction, and she would do anything to immerse herself in it again.

Almost.

Then she frowned. "What about the consequences? A woman cannot indulge in such things willy-nilly without finding themselves in scandal at least once."

"You worry too much." Bridget scoffed and there were secrets in her eyes that made Cora feel as if she were naught but a na?ve innocent. "Have you not learned that there are many ways to prevent unwanted pregnancy?"

"I suppose I didn't think much upon it, even though I've heard whispers…"

The maid tsked her tongue. "Some of my friends make their living on their backs. They have told me their secrets, and it's good knowledge to have. Titled men don't want by-blows. It's too complicated and embarrassing, even though the woman bears the whole of that burden. Middle-class men are only moderately better when it comes to children, and lower-class men can't provide for them."

"Where does that leave us?" It was appalling how much she didn't know regarding life, but her mother had been reticent to discuss such things, and only on the day Cora would have been married did she speak slightly of what happened in the marriage bed between men and women.

Except Cora had already anticipated that particular act, and she had adored heartily with the man she had assumed she would marry. According to her mother, it wasn't something to enjoy with abandon but to endure for the sake of reproducing.

Cora still didn't believe that.

"Women must look after their own interests lest we be branded as whores and turned out of society." She shook her head as a hardened look went through her expression. "There ain't no life in the poorhouses and workhouses, no place for a child to grow or thrive." The brogue was quite heavy. Obviously, this was a topic close to her heart. "We must take measures to prevent pregnancy to survive. Lord knows the men of the world don't care."

"You make an excellent point." Cora clasped her hands together on top of her letter. She wished she would have known that earlier in her life. Perhaps it would have saved heartache, shame, and embarrassment. "And it's something every woman needs to remember when swept away by pleasure…" Oh, when it was right, it was heaven, and there was no thinking beyond that fall. A woman wanted everything that man would give.

"While that is true, if a man is skilled in bed sport or if he plain loves you, I wonder if such things would matter?" Bridget shrugged. "We all must weigh how we will survive and move through life against that temporary madness."

The maid was far too wise for her years. "I thought I had that years ago." Cora sobered. Though over three years had gone by, her heart was still bruised, and some animosity lingered. "As it turned out, all he wanted was the bedding. Or else he was a coward, for he broke our engagement and fled, left me at the bloody steps of the church that morning." She met Bridget's gaze as she blew out a breath. "I had no recourse but to hide at my father's country estate. Coming here as Mrs. Bromington's companion is the first time I stepped back in London since my reputation was completely ruined."

"Oh, I didn't know that." Bridget assumed an expression of compassion. "I have never had such luck in bringing a man up to scratch, and well-off men don't want a maid."

"That's not true."

"Ha!" The other woman snorted. "I'm still here, so I'll wager it is, but if a man calls off on an engagement, he should have his stones in a vice."

A ghost of a grin curved Cora's lips. "I might have agreed with you at the time." Did she still wish revenge on Peregrine, wherever he was? No, she didn't, for she had forgiven him, but that didn't mean she'd forgotten what he'd done and how much of a coward he'd been.

"Well, it's for the best, truly, Miss Hasting," Bridget said as she stood and shook out her skirting. "Men are mostly trouble."

"I'll agree with you on that." Cora stood as well. It was always a joy to talk with the maid, and afterward, she didn't feel so alone in this position. "Ah, Bridget, why are men so wonderful and so aggravating at the same time?" She shook her head. "Besides, I rather doubt I'll be allowed to meet any eligible men let alone be in their presence long enough to have a proposal offered with Mrs. Bromington in the mix. She's rather demanding."

They both shared a laugh, for it wasn't a lie.

Bridget rolled her eyes. "We all hate her, Miss Hasting, but sometimes the devil you know is better than the devil you don't. There are much more horrible employers out there." Shadows appeared in her brown eyes as she shrugged. "She doesn't abuse us physically, and she doesn't have male relatives who abuse us girls in other ways. Many of my friends don't have that. This position is better than any I've had, if I can remember to ignore her dictates."

"Good advice. Perhaps I need to learn how to do that, as well as take gratitude into consideration." For far too long, she'd been resentful of having to take the paid position, of her father's dismal financial state, of being abandoned steps from the altar. It was time to take back control of her own life and find a path she wished to trod. "I'm sorry all the same. No one should need to fear for their position or whether they will be violated in the same."

"Thank you, Miss Hasting. You're a good sort."

"I sometimes wonder." She frowned. Working in a paid position had opened her eyes to many things, and it was vastly different from how she'd previously lived her life. It made her both appalled and thankful. And if the coin she gained each month could stave off having Papa selling Landover Manor, all the better.

"Compared to some other ladies of the Quality I've known; you are the best." She offered a bright smile. "Don't mind most of my talk, though. I would like to meet a stable man who thinks the world of me and wanted to marry me. Having wee ones with the ability to feed them is the only thing I've ever wanted since I was at my Gran's knee."

The ball of unshed tears rose in Cora's throat once more, just as it always did any time someone spoke of being a wife and a mother. "I can understand that all too well. There is something about wishing to see a child with the looks of both its parents, someone who will love you unconditionally." Tears welled in her eyes. "But you are correct. There is no point in bringing a child into this world if it cannot be cared for."

Answering tears pooled in the maid's eyes. "We can only hope for the best but accept what we're given. Sometime in there, fate might grant us happiness. Until then, there is work to do."

"You are so sensible." In many ways, Cora admired that, for she definitely was not. Perhaps because life had shown her nothing good came of being sensible.

"It keeps me out of trouble." The maid chuckled. "I should go belowstairs. Mrs. Bromington will no doubt call soon. She's already run Bess ragged."

"Sounds about right." Cora nodded. "Thank you for coming by. I am always cheered by our talks."

"I do what I can. We all need lifting at some point. And Miss Hasting?"

"Yes?"

"What you are doing here, earning coin for your father? That's admirable. I know you hate it here and dislike the position, but you keep on because you must. I hope your family is grateful for your sacrifice."

"Oh!" Heat slapped Cora's cheeks. "I hadn't thought about it in that way before, but is it truly a sacrifice if I've already tossed away my chances?"

"Only you can decide that, miss." With a wave, Bridget left the room.

"I'm afraid my days of deciding anything are long past," she whispered to herself as she returned to the small secretary in the corner of her room. She folded the letter and then slipped it into a matching envelope. Until the taxes on her father's manor were paid, being companion to the difficult Mrs. Bromington was her future. It didn't matter that the woman's attitude often left her and others on the staff in tears, for coin was more important than confidence.

Yet she couldn't help but wonder what had become of Peregrine Wetherford and if he'd found happiness with someone that he obviously couldn't see with her. Another wave of homesickness swept over her, and this time a touch of self-pity accompanied it. With tears in her eyes, Cora threw herself onto her bed, buried her face into her pillow, and wept for all the dreams that hadn't come true and for an uncertain and quite boring future where she felt trapped from familial obligation.

How can I endure months of this, let alone years?

There were no answers except that no one would come to rescue her, and there was no hero who would dash in, fight the dragon that was her employer, and then carry her off into the sunset for a happily ever after.

I need to stop reading those silly fairy stories I used to adore as a young girl.

Honestly, they were doing more harm than good, for life wasn't that simple.