Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

September 1823

Scotland.

That was the promise of the letter in her hand. The ink was almost worn light, and the paper was so fragile from folding it over and again, Kate was afraid it would crumble before she knew the answer.

She tucked it gingerly back into her beaded reticule and peered out the carriage window. How long had she been reading it?

It was a short missive.

Its intention only to seek a governess for a desperate family in northern Scotland, deep in the Highlands.

Kate blew out a rush of air, her gloved hand tight on the carriage door as passersby crowded busy Bond Street.

“Miss Bancroft, are you feeling well enough?” asked Hannah from her opposite seat in the carriage.

“Perfectly well.” It was growing harder to lie. Some aching, pressing need swelled in her chest, and she wasn’t certain if she wished to scream or dive under the bed covers and hide for the remainder of her life .

Charlotte’s maidservant was kind enough not to press for more details.

“It’s a lovely day out. Perhaps you’d like to stroll through the park before we venture to see the duchess.”

Fresh air was a magical thing, something scarce in the city.

And as much as it pained her to admit it, Kate knew a stroll would not release the uneasiness bouncing around inside of her.

A year after Kate had been discovered with the marquess, and still, it wasn’t any easier to be in London.

Once, London had held such promise. Now, it was nothing but a bleak, constant reminder of how she had failed.

The hushed whispers, the cutting stares. Navigating the shops to help run errands for her dear friend, Charlotte, otherwise known as the Duchess of Dandridge, as her companion was less than pleasant.

But she faced the fire time and again because she refused to allow the rest of society to dictate her happiness. Her poor judgment, well… to be honest, her exceptionally poor judgment toward her affair with the marquess had been a foolish matter of the heart. She had been far too naive, a dangerous quality in a London debutante. The consequence of being iced out of society because of rumors—exaggerated well beyond the truth—was unfair.

And Kate had never been one to back down from a challenge.

But Scotland?

To flee was tempting, but would it be the right answer? Could she remain in London and find a happy ending for herself?

Let’s see this over with.

The skies grew darker overhead as she made her way to the modiste. A sweet breeze wooshed through the crowded street. She clasped her hand tight on top of her fanciful pink bonnet and turned her head down, sparing herself from the reactions of others.

It was better to pretend to be preoccupied. Though she was tempted from time to time to smile. That seemed to genuinely confuse others who were determined to practice the various ways a person could be served the cut direct .

Since her scandal, Kate had been served several, from the favorite cut modest to the absurd cut circumbendibus .

Was she expected to wear her misery like a badge to serve the egos of others?

So easily marked.

Very well.

She closed her eyes and paused before the modiste shop. First here, then the bookshop, before a trip to the bakery. And after a busy morning, she would return to Gairdner’s Seminary for Young Girls and assist Charlotte with the ledgers, then Hannah could be on her way to help the others ready for this evening’s entertainment.

Kate didn’t wish to endure a stuffy dinner with stodgy, old men droning on about business as if they were the only ones capable of understanding such figures and concepts. If she could master French and dance the quadrille without tripping, she was capable of adding sums. Besides, she didn’t wish to gossip with the ladies after dinner over sherry and tittered laughter.

No.

She would remain at Charlotte’s grand townhome in Mayfair and read.

Or reply to the letter surely burning a hole into her reticule.

“Miss Bancroft, are you ready to go inside? I fear it will rain soon.”

Kate glanced away from the celestial blue silk draped dramatically in the shop window, cascading over a neat pile of traveling trunks, to Hannah. The mousy maidservant stood close, blinking her beady brown eyes at her, her pert mouth pinched as if she had grown weary of acting as Kate’s chaperone.

Perhaps it was fruitless as she was ruined, but for appearance’s sake, she had agreed to bring Hannah with her whenever she was out in London. Charlotte might pretend not to care about the gossip, but she had a soft heart and a quieter voice when it came to speaking up for herself.

And Kate would do nearly anything for her dear friend.

Right, steady on.

She lifted her chin and entered the modiste, a chill racing down her spine at the shrill chime of the bell on the door announcing her arrival.

She took a hesitant step inside, paused, then glanced back at Hannah who remained in the doorway. It was a simple errand for Charlotte, but it felt impossible for Kate. She didn’t like obstacles that felt impossible. Too much of life lately had felt that way.

But Scotland .

The shop was busy, and everywhere Kate looked, her eyes fell on one beautiful thing or another. She hadn’t had a new dress for over a year after her parents disowned her. And since then, she had resided with Charlotte the Duchess of Dandridge, in London or her country home in Cumbria, and acted as her companion. The blue dress she wore today had been altered from Charlotte’s shorter, curvier profile to try to match Kate’s long, lean body.

She was grateful nevertheless, but it didn’t fit well even with the seams taken in and her hem dropped. Just another reason to feel self-conscious.

Kate waited patiently in line to speak with a shopkeeper behind the counter, keeping her eyes forward even as she felt the weight of others burning into her body. The crushing expectation of those stares made her stomach sour. After a few minutes, she was handed the packages that Charlotte needed, and she was about to leave the shop before she spotted the most beautiful piece of lace she had ever seen.

Kate clutched the packages in her arms and shuffled over to the display case to admire the lovely piece of lace. But she felt the hot raking stares over her body and, in a moment of weakness, glanced up to the back corner of the room.

To where her mother stood, stock-still and with a searing gray stare.

It had been nearly a year since they had last spoken. Her chest ached at the disgust etched over the fine, nimble features of her mother’s face—a thin long nose over even thinner lips, sharp chin and cheeks, and auburn hair pulled back tight beneath a frilly bonnet.

Once delicate, her mother had grown harsher with the years, and these last months that Kate had missed, made her mother almost unrecognizable.

Her mother, who had notable control over her nerves, had finally lost them after Kate’s scandal. She yelled. Kate had never heard her mother yell before in her life.

She had made one mistake.

It cost her everything, including this older woman in the back of the room who met her gaze for one moment, then dropped it quickly as if Kate’s acknowledgement had scorched her.

Kate swallowed the shame stuck in her throat. They would skip the bakery. She felt as if she would be sick, and still she pressed on, leaving the lace in the display case alone to make what felt like an impossibly long journey across the room toward her mother.

“Miss Bancroft,” Hannah whispered. Kate felt the maidservant’s hand tug at the back of her spencer.

Kate pulled away, determined, however foolishly. Today she would speak with her mother. Today she would make amends. Or in the very least, begin such a process.

As if she were adrift at sea, she crossed the beautiful dark stained-wood floors of the modiste toward her mother. Closer. Closer still. Even as the rest of the shop grew quiet, she felt more eyes on them both.

Even as her mother turned her back on Kate.

She froze, swallowing back a scream. Or perhaps she was going to cry. It was hard to tell at that moment, but she was determined not to flee. Disappointment swelled within her chest. She hugged the packages tighter, then smiled at a few of the other ladies who watched.

“Come along, Hannah,” she said, glancing again at the lace in the display case. Perhaps another day she would have a reason to look at such lovely things. For right now, Kate was truly alone in the world.

And Scotland wasn’t sounding like such a terrible option.

Two hours later, Kate reclined back into the seat behind Lily’s desk at the school and plopped another bite of lemon cake into her mouth.

Delicious.

As the tart sunshiny sweetness danced upon her tongue, it almost made her forget her mother had just cut her in front of the most celebrated modiste in London. No doubt, tomorrow she would be in the gossip rags.

Pitiful. Alone. Shameful.

She despised being a lesson.

Charlotte, a few feet away, rifled through the desk of their friend Lily, who was currently away in Venice on her honeymoon with her ex-naval lieutenant husband, Rafe Davies. Lily was headmistress at the school. Their Lilybell was perfect for the job. They simply had to be patient for her return.

Which Kate was not.

“I can’t find the ledger,” Charlotte huffed. She stood and placed her hands on her wide hips, blowing a piece of blonde hair away from her round face. It made her big blue eyes appear even larger.

“Lily was never known for her organizational skills,” Kate said, speaking around her bite of cake. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a piece?”

Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. “No, I’m quite sure. I am sorry,” she said to Kate.

Sorry .

Another pitiful word that didn’t make up for the fact that her mother was too afraid to acknowledge her presence. Perhaps she was just too embarrassed. She had thought, however naively, that she was held in higher esteem by her parents. She certainly was prior to her scandal with a marquess. Her mother had spent years of her life grooming Kate to be the perfect wife of a large household. She was skilled in every way a young woman was expected to be skilled. And she excelled because, quite frankly, Kate wouldn’t accept anything less.

“Poor Miss Sedgewick has had a terrible morning with the girls,” Charlotte said .

Kate ignored her friend, instead drawing loops over the paper in front of her with a quill pen.

She had been offered a teaching job at the school by both Lily and Charlotte, but that wasn’t what she had wanted for herself. She didn’t know what she wished for, but it was easy to spot what she didn’t.

But a governess in Scotland? How is that any different?

Charlotte continued around the room, picking up stacks of books, and moving aside celestial maps. Lily was quite fond of the stars.

Kate was quite fond of Celeste, the little black cat who curled up on her chest and rested her head on her shoulder. She scratched the cat’s back, who began purring and pressed its cold pink nose against her throat.

The cat was far too lonely at this school. Kate must bring her to Charlotte’s, where she could spoil the fluffy black feline.

“Don’t think of it,” Charlotte scolded, waving her finger out as she stood in front of the desk.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Lily would be heartbroken to lose her. And I don’t believe a cat would be welcomed at my home.”

Kate rolled her eyes. If the duke ever returned, she would rescue all the stray cats in London, set them free in his house, and rejoice as they scaled his fine silk curtains and tore them to shreds. Or peed on his fine Axminster carpets. That is how much she thought of that sorry excuse for a man who ran out on her friend, abandoning her to face the rumors of their circumstances surrounding their relationship alone.

Married, but always separate.

The ladies loved to gossip about the lack of an heir.

It was no one’s business, except it involved the Duke and Duchess of Dandridge, so all the ton felt entitled to an opinion.

Kate’s was that she wished Charlotte had never married the cad.

“Fine,” she grumbled, sitting up in the chair. A note caught her attention, tucked between another pile of books on statistics and ancient history. A letter from Rafe.

Now there was a cad she hadn’t counted on, but who had surprised the trio by possessing a secret heart of gold and grand ambitions beyond a naval career. The charming rake was absolutely in love with his wife, and Kate would have cast up her accounts at their sweet displays, except she was beginning to believe their love story would be the only love story in her life.

Ruined, ashamed, and now pleasantly plump on lemon cakes.

“I am sure she is having a lovely time in Venice.”

Kate nuzzled the cat, refusing to believe it fared better here with a handful of rambunctious girls than if it returned with her to Mayfair.

“I would give you large saucers full of milk,” she cooed.

Charlotte laughed once more. “Kate.”

“Fine, fine.” But she couldn’t help smiling as well. There was no point in allowing the morning she had experienced sour the rest of the day.

“Your Grace,” a frazzled young woman said, running short of the doorway. “It’s Dorothea again. I need your help.”

“Miss Sedgwick, of course.” Charlotte glanced back at Kate, her eyes wide with pleading.

“I will find the ledger and save the day. Go on,” Kate shooed.

“You are a master chaos tamer.”

“I’m unwanted, squarely a spinster, and bored.”

“But I love you no matter what, darling.” Charlotte mouthed “thank you” before whisking the young teacher away as the girls shrieked downstairs, and the piano erupted into a bawdy tune in the music room.

The girl had spirit. That much was for certain.

The cat jumped off her chest, circled the desktop before curling up beside a compass and a worn timepiece, and had a nap.

Kate found the ledger, not on the desk or any of the bookshelves, but on the floor under the chair beside the tall window. She glanced up at the ceiling her friend had adorned like the night sky. This was her world, not Kate’s.

But Scotland.

That could be hers if she wished it.

She balanced the ledger quickly, caught up on vendor payments, and was about to find Charlotte once more before she reached for her reticule and removed the letter from her purse.

She scanned the brief missive once more, though she was certain she could now recite it by memory.

Dearest Katherine,

It has been some time since I have last written, and I recognize that your time in London recently has been less than ideal. I am writing today with the utmost urgency to ask if you would consider a governess position for a distinguished Scottish household in the Highlands. The situation is most tragic and requires someone of refined temperament, who will guide these two young girls with a gentle but firm hand. A keen mind and patience will also be required. I am only your father’s cousin, a spinster, living out the last of my years here in Edinburgh. I do not wish to impede on your privacy, but only hope to offer you an opportunity to move beyond London. Sometimes, that is all a young heart needs.

If you are interested, please reply directly to Mr. Gabriel MacInnes, Dunsmuir Castle, Aberdeenshire.

With Regards,

Miss Alice Bancroft

Kate grabbed a blank piece of paper and gripped the quill. With a quick stroke, she began her reply:

Dear Mr. MacInnes,

A family friend has written to me and told me about your family’s situation. I understand you are in dire need of a governess, and I am in dire need of leaving London .

“No, no,” she grumbled to herself.

She continued, I am available to fill the position immediately. Qualifications were not asked for, but I feel as if I am an excellent candidate as a lady of the ton . I speak French fluently, play piano, and dance well.

Kate drummed her fingers on the desk, stuck on what to write next .

I am well educated and read extensively.

Ha, wasn’t that the truth. She had nothing but time to read lately.

And given the delicate nature of the sudden opening for this position, I must assure you that I am up to such a challenge. I will make arrangements to venture to Scotland immediately.

Best Regards,

Miss Katherine Bancroft

Kate slipped the envelope into the pile of mail and sighed. Now all she had to do was pack and tell Charlotte.

But first, she would need more lemon cakes.