Chapter 1

Keswick, England

15 years later…

Miranda exited the carriage and breathed deeply of the clean air around her. She sighed, not realizing how much smoke lingered in the London air until she had made the harrowing journey to the county of Cumbria. Surrounded by white-capped mountains and a sparkling lake, it looked like something out of a painting from Sir Augustus Wall Callcott. She had spent quite a bit of money to acquire his works, but she considered money well spent when going to such a talented artist.

When her father had died shortly after Miranda had turned twenty-two, and Jacob had just recently wed, she decided that it was time she started thinking of finding a way to support herself. She could have married, but of course, her soul still pined for another. But by that time, her hope that she might ever reconnect with her heart's desire was quickly diminishing. She had exchanged a few letters with Anthony when he'd left for the war with France all those years ago, but after a few months, they ceased and diminished completely, although she had continued to write, with the wish that he would eventually respond.

He did not.

Miranda always lamented the fact that they couldn't have continued to be friends, at the very least, but Anthony had cut off contact with everyone, including his own family. Jacob had told her Anthony had been injured, adding that the last time he'd spoken to his school friend, he had become a bitter shell of the man he'd once been, to the point he no longer bore any resemblance to the carefree lad from their youth.

Naturally, Miranda had been quite aggrieved by this news, but she hadn't pressed her brother for more information. Elaine, however, had done it on her behalf. Although they'd had their differences when they'd been children, she had become Miranda's closest confidante. Since most of her other friends had married and proceeded with their life, she knew it was time for a change.

She had always possessed a talent for watercolors and poetry, so she had put together a book of illustrated verses and dared to take a chance on getting them published. To her delight, she was accepted, but only if she remained anonymous. She had considered turning down the offer, until she found out how much they planned to give her. Realizing that her chances of marrying were slim, and with little other options for her, she had reluctantly agreed to the anonymity.

In the years since, Miranda had forced herself to put on a brave face for the rest of the world. She had become so adept at it, that she seldom showed her true emotions anymore. With both of her siblings happily settled, and Miranda a spinster at nine and twenty, she told herself she was content. She had a steady income and had been a companion for her mother until her death nearly a year before. Miranda continued to feel her loss rather acutely and still wore muted shades of violet and gray in her memory.

Perhaps that was the true reason she'd decided to come to Cumbria this Christmas. Truth be told, she couldn't bear the thought of spending it alone without her. Her brother and his wife often came here during the year and had invited Miranda to join them several times before. She usually declined, but this time she'd decided that it was time for a respite from her lonely life. Maybe a refreshing, mountain retreat was exactly what she required to finally lay her morose feelings toward her mother's death—and her love for Anthony—to rest at long last.

Either way, she was determined to enjoy her time there, and intended to continue working on her latest illustrations. She had yet to write about a wintry scene, and with the scent of snow in the air, she had no doubt it would be the perfect inspiration.

As she waited for her trunks to be unloaded from the public coach, the front door of the King's Arms Inn burst open and her brother's eldest children came rushing toward her. "Aunt Randie!"

She gasped in dramatic delight and held her arms out wide to the twins. She adored Camille and Carter as if they were her own and doted on them frequently when they were in town. However, they generally remained at the country estate, because Jacob and his wife, Catharine preferred the quiet, country surroundings best. "Randie" was the nickname they had given her when they were learning to talk. Even at seven years old, it continued to be their preferred endearment.

They threw themselves at her with an enthusiastic embrace, and she held on to them tightly, knowing that she might never have the same someday. She'd had the opportunity, but none of the gentleman who had asked for her hand had ever quite affected her like Anthony had. Thus, some sacrifices had to be made regarding her happiness.

"Give your aunt some room to breathe," Jacob chided gently, as he walked down the steps to greet her. "You're looking well, Miranda. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

"Very much so." She nodded. "I had interesting company along the way, and the roads were not terribly rough."

He nodded. "They have done much to improve them through the years, since Cumbria has become something of a popular destination for many."

Miranda glanced at her surroundings once more and imagined the changes that the dawning age of industry would soon make. "Just imagine. Someday we won't have to rely upon carriages for travel. Railroads will soon be making their mark."

"Heaven help us." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "More smoke to fill the air. As if London chimneys don't supply enough."

She laughed. "That is true, but just think of the advantages when it comes to traveling. You will be able to be in Cumbria much earlier than you are now."

"I suppose you're right," he reluctantly admitted.

She offered him a wink. "I know, but then, I generally am."

Jacob snorted at that, and for a moment, she was transported back in time to when they were children. She saw the annoying older brother that he used to be. At times, she yearned for those days to return. But there was no use being upset over something that couldn't be changed. That was a lesson she'd learned long ago.

Once her trunks had been unloaded, Miranda started to go inside the inn, but Jacob held her back with a light hand on her arm. He instructed the twins to go ahead as he turned to her with a solemn expression. Although she was curious as to the sudden change, there was also a frisson of alarm that snaked up her spine.

"I have to tell you something that you might not want to hear."

Although her entire body felt wooden, she managed to ask, "Is something wrong?"

He hesitated, unknowingly dragging out the anticipation. "I thought you should know that Anthony is here."

"I see." She absorbed this information, although she wasn't quite sure what to do with the knowledge. But then, a rather important fact occurred to her. "I didn't think you had spoken to him in years."

"I hadn't," he admitted. "But a few months ago, he came to visit me at the estate." He frowned deeply. "I was as surprised as you are now. We had a long talk and he told me that he was starting to drag himself out of the dark pit he'd been in for the past few years after the war."

Miranda had never dared to ask how bad Anthony's wounds actually were—both physically and emotionally—but she found the courage to do so now. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know the full extent of his injuries," Jacob said grimly. "We weren't in the same unit, but if it was anything like the men I saw fall around me…" He stopped and swallowed hard. He spoke very little of his time on the battlefield to Miranda, and if Catharine was to be believed, he was rather tight lipped on the subject with her as well. Perhaps that was his way of dealing with such a terrible tragedy. But everyone was different. Her brother had been spared most of the horrors, but not everyone had been so fortunate. Some might have been better off if they'd perished on the field. Or in Anthony's case, at sea.

Miranda reached out and grasped her brother's hand. "Thank you for letting me know. It shall be nice to see him again."

"Indeed…" He nodded. "Just don't be too… upset when you do."

Her heart started to pound as she entered the hotel. Her eyes scanned the area around them, but she saw no sign of the man she'd known. However, if Jacob was right, Anthony wasn't the same man anymore. She did, however, spy her sister, Elaine. With her small child on her lap and her husband of three years sitting next to her, she gasped in happiness and handed over her daughter, then got up and rushed over to embrace Miranda.

"I'm so glad that you were able to make the journey and spend Christmas with us in Cumbria this year! Isn't it magnificent?"

Miranda pulled back. "I daresay it is. Quite charming."

"Hello, Miranda."

That voice. It slid over her skin like a soft caress. Whatever else had changed with Anthony, that had remained the same.

She saw Elaine look at her expectantly, as if waiting for her reaction, and then she shifted her eyes toward the speaker. She saw the smile first. It was the same, carefree one she recalled from all those years ago. "It's been a long time," he said softly.

She lifted her gaze and that was when everything stopped. The noise from the other occupants in the hotel faded away, as a buzzing sound filled her ears.

That face. It was so similar to the young man he had been in his youth, but time and maturity had hardened some of the planes of his face and sharpened his jaw. Even his collar-length, dark hair was threaded with bits of silver, likely evidence of the hard life he'd lived thus far.

But it was his eyes that captured her. Or more particularly his right one. What used to be a mossy green was now pure white, a scar going down the middle of his face that reached from his forehead to his chin. His appearance was drawing attention from the casual passerby, many giving him a wide berth as they whispered when they passed.

All she could think of was how much he must have suffered.

Miranda could feel the earth start to spin as her vision eclipsed around her. But the last thing she was going to do was faint in front of him and give him the wrong impression. He would think it was his deformity, when it was merely the overwhelming sensation of seeing him again. Alive, after all these years.

Nevertheless, it was Elaine who said, "Are you feeling well? You look rather pale."

"I'm fine," Miranda reassured her sister, although she sat down in the nearest chair she could find. "Perhaps some water?"

"Of course." Elaine scurried off to procure the request, while Miranda struggled to regain her composure.

"I'm sorry." Jacob entered her line of sight. "I should have thought you might be exhausted after your journey."

It was the perfect excuse for Miranda to latch on to. "Yes. I daresay it was quite harrowing." Although moments ago, she had just remarked how pleasant it was, thankfully, he didn't mention it.

"Maybe it would be best if you lie down for a spell. We can all catch up at dinner this evening."

"Yes. I think that would be best." She sent her brother a gaze conveying silent gratitude, because he had long known she wasn't a wilting wallflower. She was probably the strongest one out of all of them. She hadn't shed a tear during their mother's funeral, preferring to spill her grief in private.

To be fair, she had known her mother was struggling at the end of her life, whereas Miranda had no time to prepare for this unlikely reunion with the one man who had never left her thoughts for long.

She knew she was being a coward, but she couldn't even look in Anthony's direction as Elaine put an arm around her and led her to her suite of rooms. Once they were inside, and the servants at the hotel had left her trunks, Miranda sank down in one of the chairs by the cheery fireplace.

"He looks quite fearsome, doesn't he?" Elaine said softly.

Miranda shook her head and exhaled heavily. "It has nothing to do with his scars, but everything to do with the man I have never forgotten."

Elaine was silent for a time, and then she said, "Do you still love him? After all of these years?"

Miranda took a moment to consider her words. "What exactly is love, Ellie? If you mean, have I always thought of him in my quietest moments through the years? Then yes, I suppose I do. At the same time, I never got to experience the kind of love that you share with Daniel. I've never had anyone look at me with adoration in his eyes like he does you, and I haven't done the same for Anthony since I was fifteen years old before he went off to war."

Elaine's expression was empathetic. "Perhaps this is the season for miracles."

"If only that could be true, Ellie." She glanced down at her lap. "If only."