Chapter One

October 10, 1819

Landover Manor

Bedfordshire, England

"W ell, tea and crumpets, I think I have found a spot just for me."

Emmaline Francine Shaw Hasting had to remind herself that she couldn't skip for joy in the corridors of her father's manor house. If someone knew what she was about, they might forbid her from doing it, and that she wouldn't allow; she needed one thing that belonged only to her. Excitement buzzed at the base of her spine, for she'd discovered a previously unknown and dear little cottage in the woods near the border of her father's property and the neighboring land.

And it had apparently been abandoned for years.

"Papa and Mama will try to stop me, so I might not tell them immediately," she whispered to the potted fern that rested on a table beneath a lovely oil painting of the sea outside of the drawing room.

Well, her adoptive father's property—Baron Landover—for her parents and everyone she'd ever loved had perished in a horrible house fire eight years before. With nowhere to go and no other relations, she and her older sister Anna had no recourse… until the baron and his wife came along and took them in, raised them along with his four daughters.

Now they were widely known in the Bedfordshire area as well as London as the youngest Hasting sisters, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Unfortunately, her father's mind had been dwindling along with his faculties for the past couple of years. He no longer recognized the people around him and if he was able to speak, he either chose not to or couldn't turn the words over in his brain. She feared he wouldn't be long for this world.

Her throat tightened, for she'd already lost her real father, and soon she would lose her adoptive father. Life was sometimes horrid. It was one of the reasons she'd refused to leave the manor house, well that and being terrified of being trapped in a fire again, but since her sister Gigi had married two years before, she'd practiced showing bravery by exiting the manor once a month.

Of course, having Gigi's children underfoot at any given time had made it easier—and with the new baby it was even more so—but she was still frightened, especially since life had continued to change as her sisters continued to marry over the past two years. All except Nora and Anna, who still lived in the manor with their parents. Currently, Nora was studying a form of sign language invented by Benedictine monks, from a gentleman who their oldest sister Mia had secured to help her communicate with their family.

After studying for just over a year, it was wonderful to finally converse with Nora, who couldn't verbally talk. Neither could she hear, but with these new skills, a whole other world had opened for her sister, and Emmaline was so happy for her. As for Anna, Emma's biological older sister, she had taken various positions as a companion since the baron's finances were in a horrible mess and the family needed funds.

Inside the drawing room, she went directly to her usual chair on the opposite side of the room where she'd left the book she'd been reading, as well as her embroidery and reticule. She wanted those things to add to a bigger bag which she intended to bring with her to the newly discovered cottage.

"Ah, Emma, I'm glad to find you here."

With a gasp and a hand to her rapidly beating heart, Emmaline whirled about so fast the hem of her skirting flared about her ankles. "Mama! I thought you'd gone into the village."

"I changed my mind and instead wished to spend time with your father." Sadness clouded her mother's blue eyes. Silver strands in her hair glinted in the autumnal sunlight that came in through the windows—much more than there had been two years ago. "Could I have your help with Gideon? He's quite a handful just now, and I simply don't have the energy to chase after him, especially with your father so ill."

Confliction filled Emmaline's mind, for she wished to get on with her find, and there was always something tugging at her attention. Gideon was her nephew, belonging to her sister Mia and her viscount husband. They had gone to London for the week and had left the boy at the manor house, and though she adored the little blond cherub, she did need to think about her own future; her sisters would always have children and their own worries.

"To be honest, Mama, I am unavailable at the moment. Ask Nora or Anna, since she's between positions." At five and twenty, she was determined to make something of her life outside of her family. She might be new to spreading her wings and leaving the house, but that didn't mean she shouldn't be granted the time to explore.

"Unavailable, how?" Her mother frowned. "Gideon likes you more than your sisters."

Emmaline shrugged. "I am aware of that, but I have discovered a dear little cottage tucked away in the woods, and it is abandoned besides." Best have out the full truth and make a clean break of it. "I mean to take up housekeeping and perhaps become a healer since I have spent the past few years studying plants and flowers." Already, a friend and a couple of the maids had implored her to do just that in the stillroom, for one of them had a need of a tea that would usher in romance from a man she fancied.

Shock reflected on her mother's face. "You are leaving the manor?"

"Let me clean the cottage first, but perhaps." She gave her parent an encouraging smile. "I'm grown, Mama. I need to do this, to find out who I am."

"You should be a proper young lady and go to London with one of your sisters in the hopes of finding a match."

Emmaline blew out a breath of frustration. "There is more to life than marriage." The fact she might need to attend society events and talk to strangers to reach that state terrified her to the point of fainting. "I am not ready for that."

"But—"

If she didn't show a backbone now, she would never have the chance again. "I'm sorry, Mama, but I must do this. I'll be home for dinner." Then she fled the drawing room, bound for her bedchamber to pack a bag before she returned to the cottage.

*

October 31, 1819

All Hallow's Eve

Emmaline smiled as she glanced about the tidy common room of the cottage. She'd spent the past twenty days intensely sweeping, mopping, and wiping down the interior of the cottage she'd found in the woods. Also, she'd brought bits and bobs from the manor to decorate the interior, all of which she'd rooted around in the attic to retrieve.

"Oh, this is such a cozy place." When had she taken up talking to herself? There was no certain point in her life, but it had probably started after the fire that had taken her family. She didn't enjoy silences yet didn't mind being alone.

A cheerful fire danced behind an ornate metal grate that featured twists and curves. She couldn't gaze upon the flames without fear shivering up her spine, but she hoped to eventually conquer that too. With her mother's grudging permission, she'd brought her maid and one footman with her to the cottage. They both had their own small rooms—the maid on the upper floor and the footman off the entryway.

Besides the common room on the lower level, there was a small kitchen area with a dear little pot belly stove in which she could make her own tea—the maid had to help with other food and Emmaline usually took her dinner with her family in residence. If she wished to be more formal, there was a tiny parlor across the narrow hall from the footman's room that she'd decorated in a pretty, but not overblown, style in sky blues and silver. The other tiny space that didn't have a door was off the kitchen, but it fit a stout wooden table, and this she used as her makeshift stillroom. Already, there were bundles of drying herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling and in front of the equally tiny window. Glass bottles and jars awaited tinctures and other things she'd been commissioned to put together by friends and ladies from the village.

Sometimes interacting with people terrified her, but if she didn't push herself, she wouldn't grow.

Upstairs, there were three rooms—the largest one she'd claimed for her bedchamber. One of the smaller rooms was another bedroom in the event of guests, while the other belonged to the maid. Above that was an attic space filled with all sorts of things she hadn't had time to investigate.

In this way, Emmaline wasn't quite so alone on this new venture, but she was far enough away from the manor house that it felt as if she'd gained some independence.

"There is nothing else to do except gather some peppermint." As she said that, Emmaline brought a plate of small honey cakes over to the table from the stove. They'd come out of the oven a few hours ago, and were doused with a mixture of honey and brandy infused with a few sweet herbs and spices that were thought to have aphrodisiac properties. Once the cakes were finished soaking up the mixture, she would pack them into a box and deliver them to one of her friends.

Apparently, there was a major visiting the village who the girl had an eye on and she hoped for a romance. She'd ordered the love spell from Emmaline, and if it was successful, it would boost her apothecary business.

With a smile, Emmaline moved a hand over the plate of cakes. She'd found an ancient Greek recipe book that included spells and things. One of them happened to be a love spell, or rather a fetching spell that would bring a lover from beyond to the person who required it. The trouble was, the recipe and incantation had been written in faded handwriting, in a mix of Latin and Greek, and language had always been her downfall with the governess.

But there was no harm in improvising, right? She'd included ingredients in the vanilla honey cakes that would ensure desire and arousal. The dry tea mixture in a small glass jar next to the cakes included an herb a midwife she'd chatted with said inflamed the senses, as well as the dried petals of the damiana flower, or turnera diffusa . Not native to England, she'd procured it from a shop in the village, brought back by a sailor in the Caribbean to use in poultices and sachets that would keep foul odors away.

The tea, along with the cakes, would help her friend with securing her love interest once the man partook of them. "May your love be true and sure, and may the romance be strong and last a lifetime, and may the passion you find be all-consuming and burn bright."

Was it a love spell worthy of a witch? Probably not. Was it good enough for a first attempt by a novice? Absolutely. Besides, weren't such things all in good fun? There was no such thing as magic, even on this All Hallow's Eve when the sun hadn't yet set.

"Mary, I'm for the garden. Will you come with me?"

"I'll meet you out there, Miss Hasting," the maid said, from somewhere upstairs.

With another grin, Emmaline took herself off to the back garden in search of peppermint for a tea she wished to dry, for it did soothe an upset stomach, which she suffered in moments of high stress or aggravation, all of which came by testing her independence.

"I can do this. I can stand on my own. I will cease being afraid," she murmured to herself as she slipped into the garden, and the cool autumnal air enclosed her.