Chapter One

Hampford Castle, England— 1817

T he snake slithered down the steps before her in the secret passageway. Lady Helen Stringham preferred it that way. She didn't like mice and her pet snake, Theodosia, ensured that not a mouse could be found in the dark hall. Turning the corner, she realised that she was not alone.

It wasn't a mouse—it was her little sister, Rebecca.

Helen breathed in sharply. ‘What are you doing here?'

Becca shook her head in the dim light. ‘The same thing you are. Eavesdropping on Mama and Papa.'

Helen sat next to her sister, near the secret door that led to her mother's dressing room. The door that neither of her parents knew about. They both leaned against it, pressing their ears close to the age-old wood. Linking arms, they eagerly waited to hear what their parents had decided about their London Season.

‘Why must they go to London at all?' Papa asked from the other side. ‘I don't see why they need to get married. I would much prefer that they stayed with us for ever.'

‘You didn't mind when the older children left,' Mama pointed out.

‘Because they weren't half as interesting as the two youngest.'

Helen nudged Becca and they both grinned at each other.

Dear Papa.

They heard Papa clear his throat. ‘I...uh... Well, the thing is...you see... Becca is not getting any younger...and she is very mature for her age...certainly...uh...more mature than most debutantes. I do believe with all of my— head that it would be a marvellous idea. Or was it a great idea? It's both! For her to accompany Helen this Season.'

Helen couldn't hold in her smirk. Papa had just ruined Becca's carefully prepared speech that she'd composed for him.

The word was supposed to be heart , darling Papa.

‘I see that Becca has put you up to asking me if she can go with Helen to London and debut at the same time.'

Mama had seen right through the charade and their father had no guile in his scientific soul.

‘That's the ticket,' he admitted.

‘The answer is still no.'

Both Helen and her little sister groaned. Becca rubbed her eyes and Helen's throat felt dry and sore as if her disappointment was stuck inside it. She adored her little sister's company and Becca accompanying them to London would have been like bringing a piece of home with her. They were both peculiar girls and they belonged together.

Mama set down something that clattered on the table, making Helen jump. ‘A pair of Bow Street Runners couldn't keep track of them both in London. You know it would be a complete disaster. I dare say the Great Fire of 1666 would dim in comparison.'

Helen shrugged. ‘Unflattering, but fair.'

Becca pursed her lips to one side and nodded.

Papa cleared his throat again. It was now time for Helen's speech for him. She hoped her father would do better at hers than he had at poor Becca's.

‘If two girls are too much to bring to London,' he said, ‘why doesn't Helen stay home with me and Becca can go and have her very own presentation? Helen has no interest in it and she would be happier here studying her reptiles. She feels out of place in London and loves being at home where she belongs.'

Helen sat up straighter. Papa hadn't flubbed her speech. She had made him repeat it at least a half-dozen times.

‘Helen put you up to that, too, I suppose,' Mama said.

She grimaced.

Why did Mama have to be so shrewd?

Hopefully, Papa remembered the second part of their argument. She waited a few moments before he said, ‘Her book is coming out this summer and that is enough stimulation for this year. Scientists believe it is unwise for a young female to feel too much excitement. It can quite overturn her delicate constitution.'

They heard their mother get to her feet. Never a good sign. It usually signalled the end of a discussion. ‘There are porcupines that are more delicate than our second-youngest daughter. She doesn't want to stay home for her book or her reptiles. Helen wants to stay home and make eyes at Jason, who needs more to do than being his father's curate and grinning at all the young ladies in the parish. Helen should have the chance to meet a man with better prospects than Jason. Besides, Becca must stay here as I've already arranged for a young scholar from Oxford to visit Hampford and help Becca with her spelling. I am sure if she applies herself, her reading difficulties will be over.'

Helen let her head fall on Becca's shoulder and they both groaned.

‘Do you mean Helen likes Mr Robertson's eldest son? The one with the large canines and the ears that stick out?'

Jason Robertson's ears did stick out a trifle, but there was nothing wrong with his teeth. They were straight and strong. Perhaps they were slightly large. Oh, dear, thanks to Papa she would now think of the line from Little Red Riding Hood every time that she saw him: Oh, what large teeth you've got.

‘I believe that they may be secretly engaged,' Mama said.

How did she know that?

The only person Helen had told was Becca.

‘Mama must have second sight,' Helen whispered into her sister's ear. ‘There is no other way that she could have known.'

Becca sighed and then bit her lower lip. ‘I really am applying myself to spelling and reading. The letters on the page just don't stay in the right places.'

Her little sister's difficulties with reading and writing were of long standing and none of the eight governesses they had previously engaged could help her overcome it.

Helen held up a hand to silence her sister. Her parents were talking again.

‘You'd better take Helen to London after all,' Papa said. ‘We don't want her marrying a curate whose ears stick out. It's a hereditary trait that he'd probably pass on to all of their children.'

Helen could have screamed in frustration. But she was unsure if Papa objected to his lack of fortune, or his ears more. She was the daughter of a duke and Jason was only the son of the local rector. It would be an unequal match. But it wasn't as if Helen was young and impressionable. She was one and twenty. She had briefly and disastrously attended school, where she had not made even one friend. She had travelled abroad to Greece and failed to create new acquaintances. And at home, the only humans who seemed to like her were her own family and Jason. She was simply too different from other people.

London society would be a nightmare! She would perpetually be the one fiddle that was out of tune with the rest of the chamber orchestra. No matter how hard she tried, she was simply odd. And was abysmal at pretence. Even in their family theatricals, she'd never been given a speaking role and sometimes her sister Frederica had made her be a part of the background set so as to not ruin the play.

Helen could never fit in with the ton , nor become a peer's wife. Her suitors would expect her conversation to be on normal feminine topics like the weather and fashion, not about the natural sciences and the mating habits of different species of snakes. And a peer would expect her to be obedient to him, which was never going to happen. Helen was bossy like her mother. She wished to be a scientist, not a hostess. The thought of planning social gatherings—which she hated—for the rest of her life was enough to make her feel queasy.

No. She couldn't marry an aristocrat with a title.

Jason didn't mind that she was peculiar and, if they married, she would not have to suffer through the London Season. They could stay in Ashbury village near Hampford Castle. Her natural habitat and where she was the happiest.

Helen was old enough to make her own decisions and it grated on her that she wasn't allowed to. She stood up and grabbed her little sister's hand. ‘Come on, Becca. It's not over yet.'

Mama set her wine glass on the table. ‘This discussion is over.'

Helen grumbled. ‘I don't wish to have a London Season. I am simply not the debutante type. I am a naturalist. Papa, tell her.'

She cast a look of entreaty at her father.

Papa, bless him, looked from her to her mother and shrugged. Mama, the Duchess of Hampford, was the alpha of their family. Not that Papa was the beta—that was Wick's wife, Louisa, who was too kind for her own good—but he wouldn't go up against her. She was the queen bee and Papa didn't want to get stung.

Her father cleared his throat. ‘Helen, I think your mother is right. Why don't you go to London and meet more young men...with ears that don't stick out...you might decide that you like them better after all?'

‘And if I don't?'

Her father looked to her mother and waited for her to answer. Thirty years of marriage made him wise enough to know when not to speak.

Mama took another sip of her wine. ‘We are not heartless. If you do not find another man whom you like better, we will not oppose an engagement to Jason.'

Helen pulled at a loose curl in her coiffure. ‘Can I get that in writing? Like the contract you had with Grandfather when you married, Papa?'

‘You write it up and I'll sign it. But you must promise, Helen, to smile and attend every single event whose invitation I accept. You will dance with whomever I choose and you must promise to keep an open mind with your suitors.'

Becca cleared her throat and gave Helen a speaking glance.

‘And Becca,' Helen said stoutly. ‘Becca must be allowed to come with me for the Season.'

Her mother set down the goblet. ‘Absolutely not.'

‘You let Frederica debut at nineteen,' Becca protested. ‘The same age that I am.'

‘Yes, but she had no elder sister who was unmarried,' Mama said, giving Helen a penetrating glare. ‘Becca, you will have your turn next year.'

Becca harrumphed, but Helen held her tongue. Once Mama made up her mind there was no moving her. And if Helen went to London and was agreeable, her parents would approve her match with Jason. Then she would never have to leave Ashbury and Hampford Castle again. It was more than she could have hoped for. Now all she had to do was ensure that every eligible young man in London wanted nothing to do with her.

That shouldn't be a problem.