Chapter 1

Chapter One

England, 1813

A burden .

That is what her uncle had called her. A troublesome burden. Lady Edwina Lockwood knew that she shouldn't be eavesdropping on a private conversation, but she couldn't help herself. Seated just beyond her uncle's study, she overheard him discussing her and her future.

Did she even have one?

When her father was alive, she had a promising one. But now she didn't know what her future would hold. It frightened her, to say the least.

"What would you have me say, Catherine?" her uncle shouted. "There aren't enough funds available to give Edwina a Season."

Her aunt responded in a hushed voice, "Shh. Keep your voice down. Do you wish for everyone to overhear our conversation?"

"Why should I care what they think?" her uncle asked, albeit in a more reserved voice. "Do you wish to deprive our twins, Elodie and Melody, of their first Season?"

"No, but we can manage with a lot less to ensure Edwina has a Season. I am sure we can find a way—" her aunt attempted.

Her uncle spoke over her. "You say that now, but how is that fair to our daughters? Besides, I doubt Edwina would attract a suitor anyway. She is pretty enough, but she is very mousy."

"Mousy?" her aunt questioned.

"I do believe that Edwina is afraid of her own shadow," her uncle clarified.

Edwina rested her head against the wall, releasing a sigh. Mousy . Just another word that her uncle described her as. The worst part is that he wasn't entirely wrong. She was reserved, far more than she should be, but she was struggling. Her life had been taken from her in a blink of an eye when her father had died, nearly four months ago, and now Brockhall Manor felt no more like a home, despite her growing up here.

Once her uncle had inherited her father's title of the Marquess of Dallington, he moved his family into Brockhall Manor and immediately went about making changes. He even brought along his own butler.

In a firm voice, her aunt declared, "Edwina is a delightful young woman, and any gentleman would be lucky to have her as a wife." Her words were spoken as if she were daring her husband to contradict her.

Edwina always found solace in her aunt's unwavering support. Having an ally made her feel less isolated, a comforting presence in the face of loneliness.

Her older cousin's baritone voice came from above her. "What are you doing, Edwina?" Bennett asked, his voice holding more curiosity than censure.

Bennett stood tall, his dark hair brushed forward, looking very much the part of a dashing earl. In his eyes, she found the reassuring kindness that had become a familiar trait.

She brought her finger up to her lips, indicating he should be quiet. She didn't want to get caught by her uncle.

Bennett crouched down next to her and lowered his voice. "I would be remiss if I did not remind you that a lady should not eavesdrop." He paused, a smile playing on his lips. "At least, you shouldn't get caught."

Edwina dropped her hand. "Your father is discussing my future," she explained. "I had little choice in the matter."

With a glance at the open door, Bennett asked, "What is my father saying this time?"

"There aren't enough funds to give me a Season since Elodie and Melody will be debuting this Season," Edwina replied.

Bennett looked displeased by what she had revealed. "What did my mother say about that?"

"She is trying to convince your father otherwise, but he is rather adamant about it."

"My father is many things, but his frugality knows no bounds. The coffers aren't as full as he would like, but we can tighten our purse strings," Bennett said. "I shall talk to him and get this matter resolved. You need not worry."

But Edwina did worry. If she didn't have a Season, what would become of her? Would she be relegated to the role of a companion or, even worse, a governess?

Bennett placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know that look," he started, "but everything will work out."

"How?" she asked. "If I don't have a Season, what will I do?"

Withdrawing his hand, he replied, "Take it from me, your much older- and wiser- cousin, don't try to grow up too fast."

"Says the man who is nearly thirty and still unwed," Edwina retorted.

"Yes, but that is by choice," Bennett said with a sly grin .

Before either of them could say more, her uncle shouted, "Edwina is not my daughter! You will not make me feel guilty about this."

"No, but she is your niece and giving her a Season is the right thing to do," her aunt pressed, her voice rising. "That is what Richard would have wanted us to do, considering he left her a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds. Besides, Edwina has already delayed her Season once because of her father's illness. I will not make her wait any longer to debut."

Bennett rose and extended his hand towards her. "Come, let us go for that ride now," he urged.

Edwina slipped her hand into his and allowed him to assist her in rising.

As Bennett dropped his hand to his side, he said, "Do not fret. My mother can be very persuasive."

"Uncle called me a ‘burden,'" she admitted.

Bennett's jaw clenched. "That was wrong of him to do so," he said. "You, Cousin, are no burden. I hope you know that."

Edwina wanted to believe him, yet there were times when she felt like an interloper in her own home. She longed for the days when her father was alive, a time when she was truly happy.

Her cousin regarded her with compassion, perhaps tinged with a hint of pity. "Do not let my father's words upset you," he encouraged. "He is just under a lot of pressure since he inherited his title."

Mustering a smile to her face, Edwina said, "Very well." She knew there was no point in arguing with her cousin. He was trying to comfort her, but she was not used to people making disparaging remarks about her.

"If we don't hurry, we shall be late for breakfast," Bennett remarked.

While they walked towards the stables, Edwina retreated to her own thoughts, a habit that was all too familiar now. Her heart ached, and she doubted that time would soften it. She just felt so alone, despite being surrounded by family.

Bennett arrived at the door of the stables and opened it. "After you," he encouraged.

Edwina made her way down the central aisle until she reached her horse's stall. A genuine smile graced her face as she approached, extending her hand to pet the chestnut gelding. Her father had gifted her the horse on her eighth birthday, and they had been inseparable ever since.

"Hello, Sorrel," she greeted. "How have you been?"

Bennett offered her an amused look. "Sometimes I am not sure if you expect your horse to actually answer you."

"It would be nice," Edwina joked.

A familiar groom stepped forward. "Would you like me to saddle your horse, my lady?" Jack asked.

"I can do it," Edwina responded.

Jack didn't look pleased by her remark. "Your riding habit is too fine to be mucking around in the stalls," he said. "Allow me to do it."

Bennett nodded his head in agreement. "Jack is right. Besides, a lady shouldn't saddle her own horse."

Edwina bit her tongue. Why couldn't she saddle her horse? She had been able to do so when her father was alive. But now, the rules were different. Everything, it seemed, was different.

Stepping back, Edwina watched as Jack led her horse out of the stall and began saddling him.

Bennett came to stand by her. "You are angry."

"No, not angry, just frustrated," Edwina admitted.

Turning towards her, Bennett explained, "I know your father allowed you to saddle your own horse, which was progressive of him. However, my father holds a different view, as does Society. You must know that."

"Why does it matter?" Edwina asked .

"It matters greatly, I'm afraid. You are a lady, and must act like one," Bennett responded.

Edwina approached Sorrel and ran her hand down his neck. The only time that she felt free from this oppressive life was when she was riding her horse. At least her uncle couldn't take that away from her.

Jack stepped forward. "Allow me to help you onto your horse," he said.

Once she was seated atop Sorrel, Edwina grasped the reins and guided her horse out of the stables. She pointed Sorrel towards the woodlands and spurred him into a swift gallop. Her carefully arranged chignon unraveled, allowing her dark hair to dance freely in the wind.

She urged her horse to go faster, not bothering to wait for her cousin to catch up. She knew that Bennett would chide her on her recklessness, but she did not care. That was only when she stopped. And for now, she had no intention of doing so.

Once she reached the path's end, she reined in her horse and waited for Bennett to approach her. She gently patted her horse's neck, anticipating the forthcoming reprimand.

As Bennett drew near, a frustrated look marred his features as he demanded, "Do you wish to break your neck?"

"No, that was not my intention," Edwina responded with a shake of her head.

"What was, then?" Bennett asked. "Your horsemanship is excellent, there is no denying that, but you can't keep riding your horse like that. It is far too dangerous for a lady."

Edwina pressed her lips together, refraining from asking if it was equally perilous for a gentleman, but she didn't want to upset him any further.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Bennett's face softened. "I apologize, too. I should be accustomed to your riding by now. I just worry about you. Sometimes I am not sure if you care whether you live or die. "

"I do not wish to die," Edwina admitted. That much was true.

"Just be careful, Cousin," he said. "I know you are hurting now, but life has a way of getting better. You just have to hold on."

Edwina turned her attention towards the open fields, grappling with her emotions. She wanted to believe what Bennett was saying was true, but uncertainty lingered within her.

Before her father died, she had always embraced life to the fullest, seeing no reason to ever doubt her life would be anything but extraordinary. How naive she had been. That life had been ripped away from her when her father had died from a long, lingering illness.

Edwina wanted someone to pay for his death, but there was no one to blame.

And that was the problem.

She could only blame herself for her misery.

Bennett's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you all right?" he asked.

It was the same question she was asked repeatedly, but she didn't dare answer truthfully. She didn't want anyone to know how much she was hurting. What could they do for her anyway?

"Yes," she replied. "I was just woolgathering."

It looked as if Bennett were going to press her, but thankfully he let it drop. Instead, he said, "I wanted to tell you that my friend will be joining us for a fortnight."

"Wonderful," Edwina responded, feigning interest. Why did it matter to her if Bennett invited a friend to Brockhall Manor? She would no doubt go out of her way to avoid this person.

With a glance up at the sky, Bennett remarked, "We should return home now. I do not want my father to chide us for being late to breakfast."

"Good point," Edwina said. "Lead the way. "

Bennett gave her a knowing look. "Why bother?" he teased. "Your horse will just overtake mine. You should go first but do try to have some restraint."

"If you insist," Edwina said with a smile.

As she urged her horse into a run, Edwina knew that something had to change in her life. Happiness seemed elusive, and the uncertainty gnawed at her. No one truly grasped the depth of her emotions.

But today was a new day, and Edwina hoped that something would usher in the change she so desperately needed.

Miles Burke, Earl of Hilgrove, regretted his decision to accept his friend's invitation to visit Brockhall Manor. He had no desire to smile and pretend all was well. He just wanted to be alone. Yet, somehow, Bennett had convinced him otherwise.

Perched atop his horse, he trailed his coach down the winding gravel driveway lined with ancient trees. The sun bore down on him, beads of sweat tracing a path down his spine. Though uncomfortable, the open air was a welcome alternative to being cooped up inside of the coach.

In the distance, a grand manor emerged on the horizon, a sprawling brick residence adorned with dormer windows, a steeply gabled roof, and ivy gracefully climbing its walls. The picturesque scene was completed by the meticulously tended garden encircling the manor, where vibrant flowers and precisely trimmed hedges added to its idyllic charm.

Miles had the strangest urge to turn his horse around and leave this place. It was perfect, almost too perfect. The manor's flawless fa?ade triggered memories of his late wife's countryside estate, casting a shadow of sadness upon him. The very air around him seemed to grow heavy and he found himself struggling to catch his breath.

Why had he thought this was a good idea, he grumbled to himself.

The coach rolled to a halt in front of the manor, and Miles guided his horse to a stop nearby. Footmen swiftly emerged from the main entrance, hastening towards the coach to retrieve his trunks. With a dismount, Miles handed over the reins to a waiting footman.

Bennett exited the main door and descended the steps to greet him, a triumphant grin on his face. "Well, as I live and breathe, you did come," he exclaimed. "I had my doubts, but I remained optimistic."

"You are too blasted optimistic," Miles retorted.

Undeterred, Bennett's grin shifted into a smirk. "In this case, I was right," he said. "How was your journey from Grimsby?"

"Tolerable."

His friend's smirk persisted. "I see you are your rather pleasant self this afternoon," he observed, gesturing towards the manor. "Come, let's get you settled. Perhaps you require a rest from your travels."

Miles found Bennett's remark to be rather absurd. He was not one to waste the day away in bed. "I do not require a nap," he said. "The journey here was hardly perilous."

"A drink, then?"

"Yes, a drink would be much more preferable," Miles replied.

As they made their way towards the main entrance, Bennett said, "I had one of the guest bedchambers readied for you. Did you, by chance, bring your valet with you?"

"I did," Miles informed him. "He was my batman in the war."

Bennett nodded. "Very good."

Once they arrived in the opulent entry hall, Miles dreaded this visit already. Bennett's perpetual cheerfulness had always grated on his nerves, and it seemed to have only intensified since their carefree days at Cambridge.

Miles' gaze roamed over the entry hall, lingering on the Corinthian columns that adorned the entrance with intricate golden motifs. The polished marble floor beneath his feet expanded the grandeur of the space, while a sweeping staircase graced the far wall.

Bennett's voice broke the silence, filled with a quiet reverence. "It is grand, is it not?" he asked. "My grandmother worked with the architect to design this hall."

"It is rather impressive," Miles admitted.

"Come, let me show you to the study," Bennett said, holding his hand out. "We will have that drink I promised you."

While they walked towards the rear of the manor, Miles inquired, "I know you were close with your uncle. How have you fared since his death?"

Bennett shrugged. "The pain still lingers, but it gets easier with time."

Miles fell silent. He understood the lingering pain but couldn't fathom the idea that time could bring any reprieve. If anything, his grief seemed to only intensify with each passing day.

They entered a masculine room adorned with dark wood paneling and walls lined with bookshelves. Bennett approached the drink cart, picked up a decanter, and poured two drinks. Walking over to Miles, he handed his guest a glass.

"Thank you," Miles acknowledged as he accepted the glass.

Bennett eyed him with concern. "Dare I ask how you are faring?"

"I have been better," Miles admitted. "But I do not wish to talk about that."

"You never do. "

"And yet, you persist in prying," Miles remarked. He wasn't upset with Bennett; he knew his friend meant well. Nevertheless, he believed he could handle things on his own. It was a lie he told himself and, deep down, he wasn't sure if he believed it.

"Well, I hope you are ready to be thoroughly entertained during your visit," Bennett said. "I have our days planned with pall-mall, angling and shooting."

"Marvelous," Miles muttered, lifting the glass to his lips. He recognized his friend's attempt to divert him from his grief. But it had proven ineffective in the past, so why would this occasion be any different?

He had just taken a sip of his drink when an attractive young woman entered the room, clad in a black gown. She had a slender frame, and her dark hair was fashioned into a loose chignon at the nape of her neck. Her green eyes, set deep and framed by high cheekbones, held a familiarity that he couldn't explain.

A small squeak escaped her as she noticed them, quickly lowering her gaze. "My apologies," the young woman said. "I hadn't realized your guest had arrived yet. I will go."

Swirling gracefully on her heel, the young woman moved to leave but Bennett's voice stopped her retreat. "Wait, Edwina," he called out.

She reluctantly turned back around, casting an expectant gaze upon him.

Bennett placed his hand out towards the young woman. "Allow me the privilege of introducing you to my cousin, Lady Edwina Lockwood."

Miles executed a bow. "My lady," he greeted.

Edwina responded with a deep curtsy, her gaze seemingly fixed on the open door, as if contemplating her imminent escape.

Bennett lowered his hand, proceeding with the introductions. " Lord Hilgrove is a good friend of mine and we housed together during our time at Cambridge."

"My lord," Edwina murmured, looking entirely unimpressed with what her cousin had just revealed. He was accustomed to women reacting with admiration upon learning of his title, but her lack of such a response intrigued him. It was a reaction he found rather refreshing.

Edwina held his gaze for the briefest of moments before it turned downcast. "If that will be all…" Her voice trailed off, as if looking for permission to leave.

"You had a purpose for visiting the study, did you not?" Bennett asked.

With a quick glance at the bookshelves, Edwina remarked, "I was going to collect a book, but I can return at another time."

"You mustn't change your plans on our account," Bennett insisted. "Do not let us deter you from your original purpose."

Edwina nodded, turning towards the nearest bookshelf. Her fingers traced along the spines until she found one to her liking, which she promptly retrieved and tucked under her arm. "Thank you," she said softly.

Bennett lifted his brow. "Are you interested in estate management, Cousin?"

Her brow puckered. "No, why do you ask?"

"The book you chose is on farmland equipment and techniques," Bennett replied. "I doubt you would find it very engaging."

"Oh," Edwina said. "Perhaps I shall select something else."

Bennett gave her an encouraging look, appearing as if he had expected her response. "Take your time. You are not inconveniencing us."

Edwina proceeded to return the book to its rightful place, her eyes wandering over the array of titles.

Facing Miles, Bennett inquired, "How is your sister? "

"She is well," Miles replied. "I hardly see her now that she is married and has two little ones to keep her busy."

"That is not a day that I long for," Bennett admitted.

Miles tightened the hold on his glass. His wife had been increasing when she had grown ill. It was a devastating blow to not only lose her but the child as well. "It is not for everyone," he muttered.

Edwina turned around from the bookshelves with a book in hand. "I found one," she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.

"Which book caught your fancy?" Bennett asked.

" Robinson Crusoe ," Edwina replied, tucking the book under her arm.

"But you have read that one, multiple times," Bennett pointed out.

Edwina retained the book, responding, "Indeed, but Mr. Warren has not. I thought he might enjoy it while recovering from his fall."

"I wasn't aware he had hurt himself," Bennett said, turning to Miles to explain. "Mr. Warren was the butler here before my father arrived. He has since retired to one of the cottages on the estate."

"Yes, but Mrs. Warren says he remains in good spirits, despite hurting his ankle," Edwina shared.

"It's not broken, is it?" Bennett asked.

Edwina shook her head. "The doctor does not believe so but has advised him to stay off of it for a few days."

"How did he manage to fall?"

A faint smile graced Edwina's lips. "He was tending to his goats and one butted him in the backside."

"Those blasted goats," Bennett said with a teasing lilt to his voice. "They get into more mischief than we did at Cambridge."

"Mr. Warren does love them, though, much to his wife's chagrin," Edwina shared. "If she had her way, they would have gotten rid of them long ago."

Miles observed Edwina, noting the lively sparkle in her eyes as she spoke about the goats. He wondered what it would take to elicit a genuine smile from her.

Sensing his gaze, Edwina looked over at him and, catching his scrutiny, averted her eyes. "Excuse me," she murmured, then gracefully left the study.

Bennett offered him an apologetic look. "I do apologize, but Edwina is rather timid around people she doesn't know."

"She seems pleasant enough," Miles acknowledged.

His friend agreed with a slight nod. "She used to be different before her father's passing, but she's still grappling with grief."

"Aren't we all?" Miles asked.

"Sometimes I wish she would stop running from the grief and face it," Bennett admitted. "But she is not ready to do so yet."

Miles placed his glass down onto the table. "Grief isn't that simple. It consumes you, body and soul."

Bennett smiled. "This conversation has grown much too serious for my liking. Allow me to show you to your bedchamber."

"I don't need a nap," Miles reminded his friend.

"Shall we go riding, then?" Bennett asked. "You can use one of the horses in our stables so your horse can rest."

Miles shifted uncomfortably in his stance. "I am not sure if I am ready to get back into the saddle," he confessed.

Bennett seemed to consider him for a moment before suggesting, "How about a game of chess? I haven't defeated you in ages."

"I seem to recall our chess games quite differently," Miles retorted.

"Then your recollection would be inaccurate, although in all fairness, you did take quite a few hits to the head playing cricket," Bennett quipped.

Miles released an exasperated breath. "That was one time, and you aimed at my head."

"You could have ducked."

"I was preoccupied."

A knowing smile came to Bennett's lips. "Yes, I remember," he said. "That was the day I was finally introduced to Arabella."

The memory of that moment weighed heavy on his heart, causing Miles' expression to grow somber. "It was a good day," he expressed.

Bennett strolled over to the drink tray, setting his glass down. "I still can't fathom what Arabella saw in you. Surely it wasn't your lackluster cricket-playing skills."

"I don't know either, but I was most fortunate that she did," Miles expressed.

"Perhaps she hit her head one too many times, as well," Bennett joked.

Miles let out a heavy sigh. "You make it nearly impossible to be your friend," he said. "I don't think I have met a more bacon-brained person than you."

Bennett simply laughed in response. "You can't shoot the messenger," he retorted.

"I think I may need a nap now since our conversation has exhausted me," Miles declared, feigning annoyance.

Bennett gestured towards the door. "Come, let us adjourn to the parlor where we can play a game of chess."

"You will lose, just like old times," Miles remarked.

"Maybe I will surprise you," Bennett responded, leading the way out of the study.

Miles followed his friend from the room, but he hoped he would beat Bennett rather soundly in chess. He had grown wary of surprises, as they tended to be more bothersome than a delight in his experience.