Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

November 1820

Beecham Manor

Suffolk, England

"O h, Papa, I'm so happy for you!" Annette hugged her father, noting his green eyes, so like her own, twinkled with pleasure. "You've been alone for too long." Over a dozen years since her mother had died of fever. She had fond memories of Mama, but as the years went by, they became hazier. If it weren't for the portrait and small cameo, her mother would be a foggy image in her mind.

"I wasn't sure how you would take the news, but I'm pleased by your reaction." He ran a finger through his thick, fading blond hair. "Alice fills a void I thought would be forever empty. We would like to wed in the spring."

"Oh, how I love weddings," Annette said wistfully, blinking back sudden tears. Two of her four brothers had married over the past few years, and the ceremonies and wedding breakfasts had been beautiful for both. Each time, she'd told herself that her turn would come.

"Papa—"

"My dear—" they both said at once, then laughed.

"Annette, my sweet daughter," continued Lord Beecham, "there is a stipulation to her acceptance."

"Yes?" Annette had liked Lady Henney from their first meeting. "Will she need my help with the planning?"

"In a sense…" the earl stalled. "You see, she… well, she wants you married first."

"We all want me to find a husband." Her eyes widened. "I must be betrothed before she will marry you?"

He nodded. "I realize it's quite a burden to put on your shoulders."

"Papa," she pleaded, "is it because she doesn't want another woman in the house? You remember what a dismal failure my second Season was after the calamity of the first. I've been ostracized by society for the last five years. How am I to find a husband by spring?" Annette put her hands to her flaming cheeks. Was it some cruel trick Alice was playing on her father? A way to avoid his proposal? No, the affection between them was too authentic, too obvious .

Her father blew a loud breath past his lips and sat on the large chair near the hearth. He reached up and pulled her down, so she was perched on the arm of the wingback. "She fears if we don't do something drastic, you will end up a spinster. And she cares about you too much to let that happen. She sees the sadness in your eyes as well as I do."

"Drastic is a fine word for my situation. I'm twenty-three and have not been back in London since The Incident. Please, don't make me go back. I couldn't bear the whispering and jeers again."

"No, no," he soothed her as he wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her close. "We were thinking of a party here for Christmas."

"There is no one near our estate who would be suitable unless I pursue Lord Greggson." She wrinkled her nose.

"I would never allow you to marry a man even older than me. He's going blind and can barely hear." Beecham chuckled. "The man has taste, though. He always ogled you at gatherings."

"Until he began losing his sight." Her giggle turned into a groan. "What shall we do?"

"Keep an open mind. We will create a guest list with suitors who are amenable to marriage with you. You will get to know them during the Christmas party over, say, a week's time and choose one at the end. I always wished for a love match for my sweet girl, but I suppose I'm a romantic. Still, I have not given up hope."

"Papa, I gave up on love long ago. A good man I can share a life with, have children with, that is all I can hope for. One who is not afraid I will break his nose if we argue. Or one from another country who has never heard the on-dits." She kissed his cheek. "While I am willing to try, I cannot guarantee any of the prospective suitors will even stay to the end. I'm not exactly a prize."

"A dowry of 30,000 pounds is a prize," he said softly.

She swallowed, her pride stinging. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "We thought a generous amount might help our cause."

"Is it enough to help a lost cause?" Annette snorted, her usual cheer returning. "My original dowry was ten. I suppose the extra is for medical costs? If I recall, one of the infamous broadsheets claimed I twisted his arm behind his back before I broke his nose. Heavens, imagine what I could do with the strength I've gained living in the country."

She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering what kind of man would claim her for that kind of money.

As if reading her thoughts, her father said, "We are being very particular about who will receive invitations. No rogues, gamblers, or men with broken-down estates. Instead of titled men, we are looking at the younger sons of the nobility." He paused and looked at her questioningly. "Are you agreeable to that?"

She nodded. "A soldier would be nice if I don't marry for love. He would be gone much of the time, and I could choose to stay here."

Her father laughed. "That's the spirit. In all seriousness, though, I could see you as a vicar's wife. There's Mr. Langston, who has a congregation in the next county. You do very well helping others. It seems to come naturally to you."

She blushed. "I must do something of worth whilst I hide away here at Beecham Manor."

"Your herb garden is quite commendable. The midwife says you provide her with many of the tinctures and ointments she needs. Perhaps a physician's wife?"

"It seems my options are much brighter when I step down the ladder. Let's hope I don't fall and hit bottom." Annette laid her head on her father's shoulder, and they sat in silence for a bit.

"None of it was your fault, you know," the earl finally said. "I was a horrendous parent, and your brothers raised you as if you were a fifth son, even pulling you into the sessions with their tutor."

"I had to take lessons with them, or I'd be illiterate." She laughed. "They scared away every governess who had the audacity to apply for the position. Those poor creatures never stood a chance against my four musketeers."

"Neither did any of your suitors during your first Season," he mused, " before The Incident."

"I frightened them away by myself after that."

"I'm so sorry, my dear. You're a beauty, just like your mother was. You deserved better."

She voiced a fear always lurking in the back of her brain. "Do you think my mother would be disappointed with… my situation?" The mother who was only a memory.

"I believe your mother looks down and smiles at everything you do. If she had survived, well, things would have been different. But she would always be proud of you, no matter the situation ."

Annette groaned. "If only Lord Frederick hadn't put the rum in the punch, I might not have acted so rashly." The fire popped, and an ember sizzled on the stone outside the hearth. "But when I felt that second pinch…"

"It was instinct. Your brothers taught you well. It was one reason I didn't worry about some rake taking advantage of you. I knew you could defend yourself." He shook his head. "The nodcock deserved a crooked nose. Could have done without the cursing, though."

Annette shrugged. It was water under the bridge now. "If only all four of my musketeers were home for Christmastide." She hadn't seen Jeremiah—her second oldest-older brother—and his wife since the wedding four years ago. He was stationed in India but set to come home in the next six months, along with their two-year-old son, Little Henry.

"Ambrose is close enough that he can give his sermon Christmas morning and arrive with Hester by late afternoon. And William says he will be here a few days before Christmas to help collect the decorations and stay through Twelfth Night. He's grown tired of London until the next Season. And of course, Lucius would never miss a party." He shrugged. "If luck is with us, then we shall meet Jeremiah's wife and son by Easter."

A quiet knock on the door announced Lady Henney. "May I come in?"

Annette jumped from the chair and turned to face her future stepmother. She was a petite woman with auburn hair, huge brown eyes, and a wonderful sense of humor. As always, the viscountess was dressed in understated elegance. Her azure satin skirt and bodice, trimmed with Van Dyke points at the sleeves and hem, hugged just the right places and flowed gracefully to her toes. This was a woman who always commanded attention, and even her clothes seemed to listen.

"Congratulations! Papa told me, and I couldn't be happier for both of you."

The two women hugged, then Alice glanced at the earl. "Have you… Did you?—"

"Yes, he explained your condition to the marriage." Annette was surprised to see the older woman blush. "And that it is out of concern for my future rather than wanting me gone."

Alice squeezed Annette's hand. "You aren't upset? I truly could not bear to be happy with your father if you weren't settled with a bright future."

"In truth, I wish the two of you had married long ago, when I was still a girl. I would most likely have a brood of children by now." She chewed her lip again. "Will I be able to see the guest list before the invitations are sent out?"

"You will have final approval. I insist on that," agreed the viscountess. "In fact, I have jotted a few names down already."

"Shall we go over them together?" She squared her shoulders, preparing herself for the task. "My only stipulation is that I'm allowed to be myself. The man must take me as I am, no false pretenses, no avoiding conversations not meant for a female, no?—"

"Lud, child. We're not sending you to the front lines," said her father. "Besides, London has had dozens of scandals since you've last visited. Surely, your escapade has been forgotten by now."

Annette and Alice looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"My sweet na?ve man," said the viscountess, patting Beecham's cheek.