Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Blackthorne House, St Ives, Cornwall

Sebastian Blackthorne, Duke of Cornwall, sipped his brandy as he stared into the hearth. The fire crackled and burned, sending a warm orange light across the library, the scent of burning wood mixed with that of old books filling his nostrils.

This was his favourite room in the entire house, for it had once been his darling wife's favourite place. He would often find her in this very leather chair, her small legs curled beneath her, her thick black hair over one shoulder, and a book in her lap.

Now, he took her seat, convinced he could still feel her warmth there. And in the matching chair opposite him sat his friend and confidante, Henry Gaston.

"Good Lord," Henry said, rolling his eyes at his friend. "I wouldn't have visited if I'd have realized you were still being so maudlin."

Sebastian turned his surprised eyes on him. "How else would you expect me to be after the loss of my wife?"

Henry sighed. "Listen, I don't mean to be insensitive, but honestly, Blackthorne. It's been over two years since she passed. The time has come to—"

"Don't you dare tell me to move on," Sebastian said, holding his brandy glass in the air and using it to point at his friend. "You know how much those words irritate me."

Though even as he said it, he imagined the soft hands of a woman on his body again. His heart cried out for his wife, but he suspected any woman would be able to satisfy his body's yearning for touch and intimacy.

"That may be so," Henry said, "but it's different now. You can't continue life like this, and you know it. It's not healthy for you, and it's not healthy for that little girl of yours."

Sebastian sighed and returned his gaze to the fire. Henry was right, of course, but that didn't help matters. Sebastian didn't think it possible to move on , as he'd so often been told to do. He missed his darling Elizabeth with every ounce of his being and didn't know how to live without her.

At nine-and-twenty years, Sebastian felt entirely lost. He hadn't expected things to go so wrong so soon in his life, but he could at least cherish the few short years he did share with Elizabeth. Now, there was nothing left to look forward to.

"You're a handsome man," Henry continued, "and you have a number of desirable qualities—"

"Be careful," Sebastian muttered, though with a tease in his voice. "If anyone overhears you, they might accuse you of being a molly."

Henry snorted in delight. "With my track record? I don't think there's a single woman left in England who hasn't experienced the Gaston charm. But I'm serious. I hear the ladies like hair the colour of ravens and stormy eyes."

Sebastian laughed. "And I'd wager you've been reading novels in secret, too."

"No, I just pay attention to what's going on around me. Groups of twittering ladies at balls often have something interesting to say if they don't realize a man is listening. That's how I know you are somewhat eligible, Blackthorne. I'd wager you know it, too."

He tutted. "Of course I do. I'm a duke, for goodness' sake, and I have all the wealth that comes with it. I have the most adorable little girl, and you're right when you say I'm attractive. Elizabeth always said there was something ruggedly handsome about my tall and imposing frame."

"And then, of course," Henry added with a wink, "there's your humble modesty."

Sebastian allowed himself another small laugh, though they were rare these days. Lord Henry Gaston, Earl of Truro, had become Sebastian's closest friend when they were still in shorts, their friendship only blossoming once they arrived at Eton. He had a magnetic charm that worked with the ladies and the gents in equal measure—though for very different reasons—and he had a roguish humour that Sebastian had always enjoyed.

He was impeccably dressed, as always, with a drop of classic elegance and a touch of modern flair. He was loyal and steadfast, traits Sebastian had always cherished, and he offered his unwavering companionship, even while Sebastian refused to pull himself out of his doldrums.

"Given you have all those wonderful characteristics," Henry continued, "do you not think it's time to take another wife?"

Sebastian merely murmured in reply, raising his glass to his lips and taking another sip. The alcohol burned his throat in the most satisfactory way, and he took another sip to prolong it.

Henry wasn't the first to suggest that Sebastian ought to take another wife, but not once had the idea appealed to him. He was far too distraught, even after two long years, to no longer have Elizabeth in his life—though no one would know it to look at him. Sebastian was stoic right to the tips of his toes, and he kept his feelings to himself, except when his temper flared.

"I really don't know if that's possible," he muttered.

Again, he had a flash of hot passion, an image of the love he'd made with his wife. Oh, to feel such desire and want again. But taking a wife merely to satisfy those urges would be unfair to both.

Henry rolled his eyes again. "It's almost as if you want to live in such gloom. I miss my old friend and man at arms. Do you remember the way we used to chase the ladies around the balls? We were wolves, then, not mice hiding away in the castle's walls."

"Maybe I don't want to be a wolf any longer," Sebastian said. He shifted his position, turning to look more directly at Henry. The warmth of the fire on his cheek was pleasant. "You and I are very different creatures nowadays, Henry. Can't you see that? You may run with the pack, but if I'm to be a wolf at all, I shall be a lone wolf. If I can't have Elizabeth, then it is the solitary path for me."

"You are so dramatic at times, Blackthorne, that I wonder whether you were a thespian in a previous life. Lone wolf indeed."

"And what would you prefer?" Sebastian asked, placing his empty glass on the small round table at his side. "I run about with whatever latest woman takes my fancy like you do? What sort of lesson would that teach Emerald?"

A footman silently appeared from the shadows, filling their brandy glasses without being asked and disappearing into the gloom once more. Sebastian picked up his glass without acknowledging him.

"It's not one or the other," Henry said. "Taking a wife is entirely different to being a libertine. I'm not suggesting you return to your roots as a ladies' man, but to consider meeting someone who might lighten your life a little. It seems you live almost entirely in darkness now, and I worry for you."

Sebastian scoffed and returned his attention to the fire. "There's no need to worry for me. I'm doing quite fine, thank you."

He thought of how his wife would look up and smile as he entered the library. She would always tell him what she was reading, no matter how far-fetched or dull she perceived it to be. At the time, he'd found the habit strange and wouldn't want to listen. He'd give anything for her to tell him what she was reading now.

He thought, too, of how often they'd made love on the rug in front of that very fire. She said that being surrounded by books while he loved her filled her with excitement, and he was always eager to please her. He had a flash of her naked flesh in his mind's eye—an image he would never forget for its beauty. He imagined kissing her soft skin, inhaling her floral scent, and nuzzling into her ear while he made love to her.

"Quite fine indeed," Henry muttered. He paused, and though Sebastian wasn't looking at him, he could feel the tension. His image of Elizabeth faded, replaced by irritation at his friend. There was more Henry wanted to say, and Sebastian prepared himself for what was to come.

"Spit it out," he muttered.

Henry sighed. "What of Miss Emerald?"

The mention of his daughter caught Sebastian's attention, and he spun around to look at Henry again.

"What of her?"

"Is she quite fine also?" Henry asked. His words were tentative, and his shoulders bunched around his ears as if he expected an unpleasant reply.

"Of course she is! What a thing to ask, Henry. Do you suppose I wouldn't care for my own daughter properly?"

"I am saying no such thing," Henry replied sharply. "But a man can only do so much. You are not or will ever be a mother, Blackthorne, and young Miss Emerald needs a maternal figure. That need will only grow as she ages. How do you suppose you will help with matters of a feminine nature?"

Sebastian frowned, his lip pouting slightly. "Everything is under control, thank you very much."

Though his words were reserved and reassuring, his heart and mind whirred. Sebastian had always borne the weight of his responsibilities very seriously, whether as a duke, a husband, or now as a father. His only purposes had ever been to be a good man, to uphold his duties, and to protect those he loved.

Was Henry right in suggesting Emerald needed a mother? That, perhaps, Sebastian wasn't being thorough in his duty to her by not providing a mother? Maybe so, but he was certain there were other ways of providing such maternal guidance without having to find a wife.

When Henry spoke again, it was softly and with understanding and concern. "I have absolutely no doubt about that. But perhaps it might be time to start thinking about the future and leaving the past where it belongs."

Sebastian remained quiet for a long time, his brandy glass to his lips so he could inhale its richness. The flames danced in front of his eyes, raising questions and quashing them, sending him memories and then reminding him of what he had lost. He didn't want to talk about this any longer. He wanted to move onto happier topics. He forced himself to smile and then turned to Henry.

"I have written to a friend in London, asking if he knows of any suitable governesses for Emerald. She's five now, and I think having a woman come from London will be beneficial."

"More worldly wise, indeed," Henry agreed, seemingly happy to move the conversation along. "Have you found one?"

"Not yet," Sebastian admitted. "My friend says he'll ask around. I have faith that the right governess will come to me soon enough."

"Do let me know when she does," Henry said with a wink. "You know how important it is that I vet all the new ladies in the area."

Sebastian snorted. "I shall do no such thing. We've already discussed your appalling reputation. You're a rake and no mistake."

"A loveable rake, though," Henry said.

Sebastian laughed again. "I shall concede that, yes. I honestly don't know how you are so successful with the ladies when they all know what you're like."

"Good looks and money can win over even the most sceptical of people," Henry said. "Speaking of which, are you staying on top of your loans with Ashcroft bank?"

"That's a rather personal question," Sebastian retorted.

"And I'm a rather personal friend. I also know you've tended to let things go since Elizabeth's death. I ask only out of concern, old friend. I wouldn't want to see you lose that wealth you spoke so proudly of earlier."

Sebastian huffed. "Do you really have to be right all the time?"

Henry threw his head back and laughed. "You admit I'm right then?"

"About everything except the wife," Sebastian added quickly. "But yes. I'm afraid to say that I've rather let the loans spiral out of control. I've failed to stay on top of my investments, and I find it so difficult to focus on business these days."

Henry frowned at him. "And that is one thing you always prided yourself on."

"Yes." Sebastian looked down into the brandy glass that he clasped in his lap.

Losing Elizabeth had caused him to lose himself, and he wondered whether he had died that day, too. To lose one's life at the tender age of one-and-twenty was hard enough, but to die and continue living felt nearly impossible.

"Is there anything, Blackthorne, anything at all, that I can do to help you get back on track? You know I'm always here for you."

Sebastian looked up at his dear friend and smiled warmly. Though he tended to pester—and when he wasn't doing that, he was teasing—the Earl of Truro was a good and kind man. Sebastian considered himself very lucky to be amongst Henry's friends.

"You have helped me more than you know, and you continue to do so, Henry. No, thank you, there is nothing you can do. All that is required is that I pull myself up by my bootstraps and sort myself out. Wife or not, I cannot afford to lose poor Emerald's future wealth as well as her mother. I shall visit Ashcroft tomorrow and deal with the issues at hand."