Chapter Two

J uliet retrieved the teapot from the hook in the kitchen fireplace and poured the steaming brew into the Wedgewood cup. Returning the pot to its hanger, she added sugar to her cup, then sat at the simple table in the room, adjusting the skirts of her pale gray day dress. The light from the long window dappled the room as it filtered past the ivy growing around its edges.

After a wonderful night's rest with no dreams and no worries, she'd woken in much better spirits. She was sure the fear of the unknown had her imagining the worst and in the light of day, she could see the cottage was but a cottage, and though small, it was a home.

She took a sip of tea, grateful that Mr. Kingman had stocked a few necessities in the small larder. To think, a commoner had been in her dreams, in her bed! That had truly been a shock. Then to discover she looked exactly like her great-aunt had been another surprise.

Taking a bite of a scone from the dozen Cook had insisted she take on her trip, she wondered how the staff were getting along back at Thorndale Manor. They had all been kind to her, and she worried about them under their new lord. At least her brother-in-law had let them keep their positions.

Now, she'd have to manage her own household, which should not be difficult, since she couldn't afford even one servant. Unfortunately, beyond making tea, she had no cooking skills. She hadn't even known how to add wood to the fire since they used coal at Thorndale, and she'd almost caught her dress on fire when sparks sprayed after she threw a log in.

Despite the morning sunshine, her true situation began to weigh on her spirit. On the verge of tears, she started as a warmth passed over her as if she'd been hugged. It didn't frighten her and actually made her feel better. "I imagine I should take this new existence one moment at a time."

As if the world agreed with her plan, a finch landed on the vine outside the window. She smiled as she watched it inspect itself in the reflection before flying off. She took the last bite of scone, happy that at least she'd been able to dress herself thanks to her forward-thinking lady's maid who'd suggested she purchase front-tying stays. She'd have never thought of that, which made her appreciate the skills of her staff far too late.

Needing a distraction, she pulled closer the little book that she'd brought down with her from her sitting area. She hadn't remembered seeing it the night before, but as she passed through the room, the pretty illustration of a finch on the cover had caught her eye. Opening it, she read, "The diary of one Orinda Finch, formerly of Portsmouth and now of North Hampton."

Her heart leapt at the words. This was her great-aunt's diary! The very one who was talked about in whispers and touted as a depraved woman. While her mind told her to close the book immediately, her fingers itched to turn the page. Not truly willing to face her new life yet, she turned the page.

I, Orinda Finch, start my exciting new life today. Just two days past I was dreading my marriage so much, I lost the contents of my stomach on the flagstone pathway to the church. But today I am free and in love. I have no doubt my parents dismissed every last manservant in their employ, and I wish I could give them all a letter of reference, but Ambrose says we must not contact them until we return from Gretna Green. I'm so happy to be journeying there that I fairly floated out of bed this morning. I am wearing my rose embroidered pink dress. I cannot express enough how happy I am to become Mrs. Miller. I'm not sure Ambrose's good friend will be pleased. He tells me Mr.—

Turning the page, she stared at it surprised. "Mr. who?" Flipping more pages, she found them all to be blank. Disappointment filled her. Had something horrid happened? Had the friend stopped the marriage? Had the parents? Or had Ambrose simply arrived? Closing the little book, she couldn't seem to take her hand from it. It was as if the very happiness inside radiated outward.

A knock sounded on the door, and she idly wondered who it could be. When it sounded again, she remembered no butler would be answering. She rose and quickly walked into the parlor. As she opened the door, her breath caught. Mr. Kingman stood there in the bright sunlight, appearing more striking than he had the night before.

Admiration shone in his eyes before he gave her a nod. "Good morning, Lady Juliet. I trust you slept well?"

She looked askance at him. "I'm Lady Abercorn. Yes, I slept very well, Mr. Kingman. Do you wish to come in?" She backed up to allow him to enter, though it was barely half-past nine. Not even close to calling hours. Then again, he wouldn't be calling. He wasn't a peer.

"Please, I'm Noah."

She couldn't imagine calling him by his given name. It just wasn't done.

"I came to see how you fared last eve." He strode past her and the scent of fresh rain upon pine floated by on the crisp morning air.

"Good morning, Orinda. I imagine you're happy to have company other than my own."

She turned as he spoke to see him talking to her great-aunt's portrait. About to remark on his odd behavior, her attention was diverted by the old-fashioned queue of his hair. Having his midnight strands pulled back must have been what caused her to think his features were more pronounced in the daylight. Despite that reasoning, her gaze drifted to his backside which was clearly defined by his tan trousers. As he turned, she quickly lifted her gaze, her cheeks heating at almost being caught ogling him. "I must thank you again for readying the cottage. I had no hint as to what to expect."

He frowned. "Did you not know about Brambling Cottage?"

She grimaced. "Yes, I knew of it, but not the dimensions. Truthfully, I expected but a single room. I was much relieved to see such comfortable living arrangements." She hesitated, glancing toward the opening next to the fireplace which led to the kitchen behind it. "Yet even expecting such limited accommodations, I fear I have arrived ill-prepared."

He smiled at her, his white teeth beaming and his stunning eyes crinkling. "Then it's fortuitous I'm here."

She smiled back, unable to help herself. He was so quick to smile that she was quite sure he did so often. "And how might your presence be of help to my predicament?"

His brows lifted in surprise though his lips still showed hints of his smile. "It's a predicament we have, do we? Then I must come to your aid at once. First, tell me, have you broken your fast?"

At the seriousness of his tone, she couldn't help a small chuckle. "Yes, I have managed to make a pot of tea and ingest a scone that traveled with me."

He gave her an exaggerated sigh of relief. "That's an excellent first step." He leaned forward as if to impart a great secret. "Tell me. Would you perhaps have a bit of tea left for a guest?"

At his suggestion, her cheeks heated once again. "Oh, my. I haven't offered you tea." She looked about, not sure if she'd seen a tea tray on which to serve.

"Then shall we remove to the kitchen to quench our thirst and make plans for your comfort?"

At his offer, she realized he meant for them to drink in the kitchen. It had been odd to do so by herself, but it felt much more so with Mr. Noah Kingman, despite the fact she did understand he knew much more about these things. "I would appreciate that." She moved forward to lead the way, but her foot caught on something and she started to fall.

He caught her to him, effectively saving her. But the strength of his arms and the hardness of his body had her own reacting in very inappropriate ways as memories of her dreams flooded her mind. Heat filled her with embarrassment, and she quickly straightened herself, stepping back. "I apologize. I'm normally more graceful."

He grinned as his knowing gaze scanned her face. "I have no doubt of that. This is a new abode for you after all." Still, he stepped to the side and waited for her to precede him like any gentleman.

In the kitchen, he stood behind the chair opposite her plate of crumbs and now cold tea, making the room smaller by his presence.

She quickly distracted herself with setting out another cup and lifting the teapot from where she'd left it over the fire.

"I see you found Orinda's diary."

She looked over her shoulder to see him pick up the tiny book and page through it as if it held great secrets. "Yes. I was very disappointed she stopped writing after the first page. Do you know if she made it to Gretna Green?"

She brought the teapot over and poured for them both before setting it on the trivet located in the middle of the sideboard.

He waited until she'd taken her seat, then sat himself, placing the book reverently on the table between them. "Yes, she did."

She felt an odd sense of relief at the news, but refocused her attention on her guest, who watched her avidly. "I have sugar which I found in the cupboard and can only assume you provided. Thank you. But I have no cream." Again, embarrassment filled her and her hand shook as she offered the bowl.

His hand grasped hers as his other took the bowl. "Lady Abercorn, though these surroundings are new to you, I promise you can be happy here if you welcome these changes in your life."

The warmth of his hand holding hers sent a fission of desire so strong that she pulled hers away and stood. Confused, uncomfortable, and besieged by uncertainty, she fought back tears. "I know not how to cook, but even if I did, I have nothing but pin money and a few jewels. I don't have any family or friends." She sniffed, refusing to cry in front of him, instead spinning around so he wouldn't see.

Taking deep breaths, she attempted to stop her tears, horrified she had confessed all her troubles. She froze as she heard his chair push back from the table. Hopefully, he'd be a gentleman and simply leave.

He was not. His footsteps drew closer before she felt his hands gently cover her shoulders. She remained absolutely still, her tears drying up as her body focused on where he touched her. He truly shouldn't be touching her.

"Do not be afraid, Juliet." His breath whispered past her ear, causing tingles of excitement to spark throughout her body. "I promise you, all will be well. You're safe here."

How could he be so sure? She turned around to ask, dislodging his hands, only to find herself inches from him, looking up into mesmerizing green eyes.

He cupped her cheek. "Trust me."

His words were but a breath, and she found herself leaning toward him, her gaze slipping to his lips, which drew closer.

*

Noah stopped himself just in time and pulled back. Juliet was hardly ready to be kissed when she had yet to understand the full change her life had taken. Silently, he admonished Orinda for causing Juliet to trip and for the dreams in their heads. Obviously, Juliet was uncomfortable with her passion for him, and he kept forgetting he'd just met her. That the diary pages were blank proved even Orinda didn't believe Juliet ready for her future yet. He would have to have a talk with that spirit.

He removed his hand from Juliet's cheek and held it out to the side. "I suggest we conquer one problem at a time."

Her hands were buried in her skirts and her teeth worried her bottom lip. She cocked her head before she spoke. "I am grateful for all you have provided, but I'm afraid there is no easy remedy for the fact I do not know how to cook."

"Neither do I." He chuckled. "However, I do have someone who cooks for me and her mother would be most interested in coming to your aid a few days a week."

Her eyes lit with hope, the green dominating any blue tints at all. Then her shoulders slumped and her chin lowered. "I fear I would not have enough to pay her."

There were so many burdens he could relieve her of, but not yet. His gaze strayed to Orinda's diary, something he'd read cover to cover at least twenty times as he'd gone from awkward youth to adult man. Thinking about Orinda's transition to Northampton gave him an idea. "Do you have any skills?"

Her brow furrowed. "You mean such as embroidery, writing invitations, and being passingly good at the pianoforte?"

"Yes, exactly." Suddenly, he remembered the new school that had opened last autumn. "There's a new ladies' school that has only been in existence a year. Perhaps you could teach there."

Her eyes widened in shock. "You mean work…for money?"

Now he understood why Orinda's diary was so blank. "Your great-aunt did." He said the words loudly and strode over to the table to pick up the diary. He turned over a few blank pages and was pleased to find the ones he sought. "Yes, here it is." He opened the book wider. " I'm so pleased with myself. I have secured a position as the governess of two adorable little girls at a nearby estate called Ravenridge. Viscountess Blackmore was very kind and since the girls are of an age where I need not live there, the lady was happy to employee me. My husband is proud of me too. I don't think he believed me when I said I would do whatever was necessary for us to be happy. "

Juliet sidled up to him as he read and stared at the page. "But I didn't see that there this morning."

He closed the book, avoiding her gaze. "The pages often stick together."

She gave a short nod as if his explanation sufficed. How long before she realized Orinda was only allowing her to see what she could accept?

"I must suppose that if my great-aunt, who I was told was most obstinate, was willing to work so she could be happy, I could do the same."

Orinda had been happy in love, but he withheld his comment. He'd been half in love with Juliet before she'd ever arrived, but he was no more than a stranger to her. Or rather, almost a stranger. He had no doubt she'd had the same dreams he did. "Then would you like me to saddle your horse and accompany you to Silver Meadows?"

Her gaze flew to the long window. "It is far too early for calling."

He held back a grimace, not sure how to gently nudge her in the direction her new life needed to go. Unable to do so gently, he simply stated it. "This wouldn't be a social call, but a request for employment. I don't know if the duchess would actually meet with you or have you leave a card."

Juliet's face paled and her hand grabbed the back of the chair next to her. "Duchess?"

He barely kept from letting out a sigh of frustration. Whether it was a duchess, a marchioness, or a viscountess, they were all the same to him. It appeared Juliet wouldn't be the only one learning new values. He needed to learn more patience. "Yes, the Duchess of Northwick. Do you know her?"

She shook her head.

"Then all the better. She can see you for who you are and not have any preconceived views about your person."

"That's true." The tension left her face, but her eyes looked away as she pondered her options. "I will go. Today. I wish to make a good life if for nothing more than to spite my husband's brother, who refused me any dispensation."

A shock of anger flew through him at her statement and an unreasonable urge to lay the errant relative out flat with a knuckle punch had him balling his fists. He forced himself to release his hands. "Then I shall ready your mount."

"Oh, wait." She laid her hand on his arm as she said it and immediate heat filled him. As if she felt it too, she pulled her hand back and buried it in her skirts. "I must change if I'm going before a duchess. I shall be ready in an hour." With that, she twirled about and exited the kitchen.

An hour? He shook his head as he lifted the diary once again. "Orinda, I sincerely hope you're right." He dropped the book on the table and it flipped over, the back cover open. The last line on the middle of the page stood out in stark relief.

No sacrifice is too great for love.

"Even my patience?"

The little book slammed closed.

He held up his hands. "I'm trying." Dropping them again, he strode from the room and out the door. He entered the stable, pleased he had fed Juliet's horse before knocking on her door. No doubt she hadn't thought as to how the Thoroughbred would survive. Did the Juliet in his dreams really exist, or was she merely what he'd hoped she would be? From the morning he first woke from a dream of her, he'd known she would come, despite three generations of Kingmans being born with no sign of a Finch returning to Northampton.

He busied himself getting the horse ready. His brother expected him back to go over the books from The Majestic's latest cargo, but that would have to wait. Juliet needed his help. He hoped her reception at the ladies' school would go well. If not, he'd find her other employment. His mother might have suggestions. He'd introduce Juliet to his mother eventually, but he wondered if she'd dress as nicely as she did for the duchess. Not liking his own answer, he focused on his task.

Finally, with nothing else to take his time, he walked his own horse and Juliet's outside into the bright sunshine. Hearing the door to the cottage close, he stepped around the side to find her coming toward him in a deep purple dress that made the dark highlights in her hair stand out.

She caught him watching her and gave a timid smile. "This is my best day dress. I hope it will do."

It took him a moment to respond. It wasn't the dress that caught him off guard, but the mixture of boldness and nervousness she exuded. He could tell she was trying to embrace her new circumstances with a positive attitude, and it humbled him. "I believe the duchess will think you an admirable role model."

Her relieved smile was his reward, and it caused his heart to race. Swallowing hard, he cupped his hands and assisted her in mounting. Once gaining his own horse, he led them down the road toward the estate.

After a while, he had them slow to a walk again, so they could enjoy the crisp day.

"You know more about my great-aunt than I do. How is that?"

Her sudden question surprised him. "Why, what do you know of her?"

She shrugged. "Not enough, I'm discovering. I was told she'd run off with a footman, married, and bemoaned her poor judgement the rest of her life, haunting Brambling Cottage with her unhappiness as she paid for her sin."

Shocked by her statement, he was grateful Orinda didn't hear it. "What do you mean by sin?"

"By marrying a common footman. At least that's what my grandmother said. My mother said she married a footman in protest against the earl her father chose for her husband. Mother said he was quite a bit older than she was and had unusual habits." She waved in the air with one hand. "I have no idea what that means. It could mean he liked to eat his dinner while bathing."

At her chuckle, he glanced at her, unable to reckon her humor with the terrible aspersions she cast on Orinda's character. Or rather, her mother and grandmother had cast.

Her smile faded and she became thoughtful. "But that's not what I read in the first page of her diary." She turned her head to look at him. "She said she was in love and she couldn't wait to marry. The page ended with her saying she was to be Mrs. Miller, but his best friend might be against it. I guess she actually married her footman after all."

"Tradesman." He looked forward again. "She married a tradesman. He and his partner owned a shop in London. They were very successful. When he moved out here, he bought Brambling Cottage and the surrounding land. He sold much of the timber and eventually farmed."

She didn't say anything at first, and he gave her time to ponder the facts. As they came to a fork in the rode, he pointed to the right.

Finally, she spoke. "I'm glad my great-aunt was happy and comfortable. I think I see now why my mother and grandmother told such horrible stories about the cottage being haunted. They wanted their version of the story to be a warning."

He raised his brows and stared at her. "A warning about what?"

"Never to shirk your duty to your family. That was very important to my elders. They were to marry the man chosen for them." She met his gaze. "But that was a different time. Now we are able to marry for love."

He couldn't quite keep a smirk from forming. "And did you marry for love?"

"No. After two seasons, I did not happen upon that tender emotion, so I settled. I married for companionship and children. I suppose it may have been better to become a spinster because when I didn't produce the required heir within the first year, the companionship drifted away as well." She turned her head to focus on the road, but not before he noticed the moisture in her eyes.

His chest tightened at the experiences she already had, but he admonished himself, recognizing she wouldn't be riding beside him if she hadn't made the choices she had.

As the trees gave way to the open fields of Silver Meadows, he sensed her stiffening. But once they rode through the stone columns at the entrance to the drive, she looked about to break. He pulled his mount next to hers and laid his hand over both of hers.

She halted, but didn't take her gaze from the sprawling home with two large wings rising four stories at least. "It's very large."

"It must be. It's a school after all."

She didn't move, not even a blink.

"Juliet, look at me."

Finally, she pulled her gaze from the house, her eyes a true mixture of blue and green and her brows lowered. "I've never requested work before. I don't know what to do."

He wished he could give her the courage she needed, but if his dreams were correct, then she already had it within her. She simply hadn't needed to use it. "You never spent the night in a haunted cottage before, but you did it. You never had to make your own morning meal, but you did it."

Her lips quirked up. "I never had to dress myself before, but I did."

He gritted his teeth to keep from offering to help her undress, the words flying to his lips with supernatural speed. Instead, he nodded.

She glanced back at the house, then met his gaze again. "You said I needed to be accepting of new experiences. I think I understand now. So far, none have been terribly taxing."

He choked back a laugh and coughed. "Then shall we see if the Duchess of Northwick will welcome you as a teacher?"

She gave a confident nod and turned forward. "We shall."

Lifting his hand from hers, he allowed her to start forward first, proud of her though not sure why. It wasn't as if he'd raised her to have such a stalwart backbone. He couldn't imagine Juliet not being an asset to the school. She had all the refinement of a typical aristocratic lady.

As they came to a halt before the front stairs, he had to admit the impression of the home was definitely made to intimidate. He felt five steps, ten feet wide, were plenty large enough, but this one had at least twice that. Quickly, he dismounted, worried Juliet would again question her own worth.

He helped her dismount, not unaware of how small she was. He forced himself to drop his hands, but she didn't move.

Instead, she took his hand in her gloved one. "Do not worry. I may not be granted a position, but I promise you, I will return."

At her words, he realized he'd lowered his brows in his concern over her disposition. Forcing his face to relax, he gave her a lopsided smile. "That is reassuring. I shall wait here."

She squeezed his hand then turned and floated up the steps to be let inside.

For the first time since seeing her in his dreams, doubts assailed him. As much as he didn't want to acknowledge it, she was born in a class above his own. Could he truly make her happy when she was used to grandeur like Silver Meadows?