Chapter One

Tilney Manor

Near Thetford, Norfolk, England

April 1860

"W hen is he supposed to arrive?" Lady Augusta Hardy demanded of her mother, shifting anxiously from one silk-slippered foot to the other as they stood in front of the bay window of the front reception room. Carriage after carriage deposited the myriad guests her parents had invited for a long weekend at their country house just before the beginning of what would be her second Season, but Augusta was interested in only one particular guest.

"Who do you mean, my dear?" Mother waved cheerily at Lady Tolliver, her two very eligible sons now accompanying her up the graveled walkway to the manor's front door. "We have invited a host of young gentlemen for you to meet and become acquainted with this weekend."

"You know very well whom I am speaking of, Mother." Augusta cut a speaking glance to her parent, then instantly turned back to look out to the driveway as another carriage pulled up and disgorged four strapping gentlemen, none of whom Augusta knew in the least.

"Ah, there are the Duke of Welwyn's grandsons." As if ignoring her completely, Mother nodded at the four gentlemen who were laughing and talking amongst themselves very amiably. "They will manage to keep the party lively, I'll be bound." She turned to Augusta and leaned toward her, whispering, "You could do much worse than one of them, my dear. The tallest of them is the duke's heir, Lord Royston, the one with the rugged face is Mr. Quartermain, and the other two are Lord Boxted and his brother, Mr. Price."

Augusta frowned as she perused the quartet of would-be suitors. Lord Royston she dismissed out of hand. She'd not marry a man who would one day become a duke with all that attendant pomp and circumstance. Long ago—at the ripe old age of fifteen—she'd decided that kind of life was not for her. The other three, however, she gave more scrutiny to. The rugged faced one, Mr. Quartermain, had the dashing looks of an outdoors man. That appealed to Augusta and she made a mental note to converse with Mr. Quartermain about what pastimes he was most interested in. The other two she wasn't so sure of. "Which one is Lord Boxted and which is his brother?"

"Lord Boxted has the short, dark, straight hair and the genial smile. His brother is somewhat more slender than him, and has the lighter, curly hair." Her mother's eager voice made Augusta sigh. No doubt she'd be paired with each of these gentlemen at some point in the weekend. "I am certain they will prove delightful companions during the party."

"Mr. Quartermain certainly does take the eye, I will admit." In appearance he was certainly head and shoulders above the others. "Although Lord Boxted has an animated look about him as well." She might as well make her mother happy by assessing the gentlemen her parents had taken some pains to gather for her perusal. But none of these young men could hold a candle to the gentleman for whom she was waiting. "But Mother, you have not answered my question." She turned to her mother, her lips pressed together sternly. "When is Mr. Burton to arrive?"

Her mother looked away guiltily and Augusta's heart sank. "Please do not tell me you did not invite him. Not after I expressly asked that he be part of the party."

"I did invite him, Augusta. Or I attempted to, despite my misgivings." Her mother looked at her askance. "I truly do not think Mr. Richard Burton would be a proper match for you, my dear."

"But one of these tame gentlemen is?" Why her mother's attitude still angered her, Augusta wasn't quite certain. She'd been having this same conversation with both her parents for the past four years. "Mr. Burton is just as eligible as any of these gentlemen."

"Technically, perhaps, as he comes from a good family, but the man himself is quite as wild as the savages he has lived among all these years." Mother shuddered. "That ghastly scar on his cheek."

"He was still recovering from the injury when we saw him, Mother. He could scarcely be faulted for being wounded whilst escaping from the Somali warriors." Augusta closed her eyes, remembering the dashing explorer who had captured her interest when she was fifteen. Her heart skipped a beat whenever she thought of him. "And I am certain his cheek has healed in the ensuing four years. He will scarcely frighten anyone this weekend."

"I am certain he won't, Augusta, as he will not be here."

"What?" Ever since her parents had told her of this house party—their not-so-subtle bid to have her married before her second Season—she'd been dreaming of spending the entire weekend drinking in the stories from Mr. Burton's own lips.

He'd enthralled her with his tales of the harrowing adventures he'd endured in Somalia during his visit to her father in 1856 and she couldn't wait to hear of his most recent travels first hand. Of course, she'd read every volume he'd written— from Goa and the Blue Mountains to the recently published Lake Regions of Central Equatorial Africa —along with as many other travelogues she could convince her father to purchase.

Ever since his visit, the thrill of adventure and the exploration of vast unknown continents had called to Augusta like a siren's song. Oh, if only she could be the wife of such an explorer and go off with him to experience these breathtaking travels for herself. As it was, she'd never even left England and hadn't been any further south than London nor any further north than Carlisle.

However, if she managed to marry the right person, she could perhaps avoid an ordinary life and become an adventurer in her own right, like Sophia Poole or Isabella Bird.

"Why isn't Mr. Burton coming?" The words caught in her throat. This was to have been her chance to talk with him, to show him how much she admired him and his work. To make him understand that she wanted to lead a life of adventure with him.

"According to your father, Mr. Burton declined my invitation as he was scheduled to set sail for America at the beginning of this month." Mother patted Augusta's shoulder. "He proposes to cross the American continent, apparently."

Completely at a loss, Augusta blinked back tears. This wasn't fair. She'd been dreaming of Mr. Burton for so long, had been certain she could take this weekend to persuade him she would be a good wife and companion on his explorations, that now she didn't know what she was going to do. All the other gentlemen of her acquaintance paled in her estimation beside what the dashing Mr. Burton had done. How could she settle for one of them?

"Besides, Augusta, you must have known Mr. Burton has been engaged to marry Miss Arundell for years now." Her mother's face held a jot of sympathy.

"But they are not married yet."

"Because her family also disapproves of Mr. Burton."

And thank God for that. As long as he wasn't married, there was still hope for Augusta yet. "I cannot see how anyone would disapprove of such a heroic gentleman. He has faced more trials and tribulations in his efforts to gather knowledge of the world than anyone else alive, Mother. I don't see how anyone could find fault with his character."

"My dear, you are taken in by the glamourous reports of Mr. Burton's exploits. But I highly doubt you would find day-to-day life with the man quite so romantic." Her mother shuddered. "You would seriously think of living for months on end in a tent with strange gentlemen and native servants? Eating God knows what, in climates so hot and humid they would try the patience of a saint?"

"I would find anything preferable to the inane social conversations and wretched weather of England, Mother." How could she contemplate life as her mother had known it all these years with nothing but the unending rounds of social seasons and the dreary cold, dampness that plagued all of England most of the time. Augusta tugged her silk shawl closer around her shoulders and cast a glance up at the darkening sky. Rain before nightfall, no doubt. The thought of cloudless skies and hot winds was idyllic to Augusta.

"In any case, Mr. Burton will not be in attendance this weekend, so I beg of you, Augusta, converse with the young gentlemen we have invited. Dance with them." Mother's voice had taken on a commanding tone. "You may even find one of them amusing enough to rival Mr. Burton. I am sure most of them have enjoyed a Grand Tour or have had interesting travels, if that's what interests you most." Her mother turned toward the door. "Come, let me introduce these young men to you."

Instead Augusta returned her gaze to the driveway where two more gentlemen were embarking from their carriages, umbrellas held over their heads even though there would be no rain for hours. Mr. Burton, she'd venture to guess, didn't even own an umbrella. He was an adventurer who took the weather as it came in the worst possible places and likely didn't even notice. He'd scoff at these dandies who needed to stay dry at any cost. She'd scoff at them as well.

Her parents could parade every eligible parti in front of her this weekend and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. She'd wait for Mr. Burton to return from America and find a way to meet with him. He'd been engaged to Miss Arundell for years and nothing had come of it. But, if she could manage to get Mr. Burton alone for ten minutes, she'd find a way to change his mind about whom he wished to marry.

*

"You've lost that wager before it's begun, Harry." Julius Price, Lord Boxted, laughed and plucked the family's book of wagers from his breast coat pocket where it always resided and thumbed toward the middle of the small leather volume. He fished a pencil out of the same pocket and wrote down the bet in his precise handwriting. "Harry wagers he will be the first of the four of us to dance with Lady Augusta Hardy. Who's going to take that on?" He glanced at the three faces grinning back at him. They'd spent the entire train ride from London devising wagers of different sorts. Now it seemed as though the short carriage ride from the station to the Tilney's manor house wouldn't be any different.

"Fifty pounds says he does." His cousin Ulysses Quartermain stretched out his long legs and sent a disgusted glance at Harry. "I'll even wager a further fifty that Lady Tilney has already arranged for Harry to lead Lady Augusta out first. Who wouldn't wish her daughter to marry the heir to a dukedom?"

"I'm with Yule." Francis piped up. "Put me down for twenty on Harry."

"My own brother wagers against me." Julius shook his head, but grinned as he dutifully wrote it down. "I will then be the only one wagering against Harry. I'll take both your fifties and your twenty, Francis and say that I will be the first to dance with Lady Augusta. No matter what her mother may say, I have a feeling about the lady."

"Oh, a feeling is it, brother?" Francis dug his elbow into Julius' s side as the carriage pulled up before the front of the gray stone manor house. "Have you met Lady Augusta before?"

"No, but our mother knows Lady Tilney quite well, and I managed to find out quite a bit about her." Julius's smile deepened. "Knowledge I hope to use to impress the lady and therefore secure the first dance this weekend."

"I'm not certain knowledge of the lady's habits or likes and dislikes will trump a dukedom, but I stand by my wager." The carriage door opened and Harry clambered out.

"So do I, cousin." Julius followed directly after him, leaving Francis and Yule to emerge on their own. Julius took in the stately gray stone building, a front portico framed by white marble columns leading into the manor house.

Windows graced either side of the portico, the left one revealing two ladies peering out at the arriving guests. The older lady, possibly Lady Tilney, was smiling at him and his companions. The younger lady, however, was peering up at the gathering clouds overhead, a disgruntled look on her face. It was an interesting face despite its annoyed look. Eyes set wide apart in an oval-shaped face, with thick dark brows above gave her a look of intelligence. Her pale green gown, what he could see of it, became her complexion, and her ebony hair was curled and pulled back with flowers adorning it here and there. She'd be quite lovely if she smiled.

As Julius continued to assess the lady, she kept her eyes on the weather, her expression not changing. Perhaps Lady Augusta—and if the other one was Lady Tilney this must certainly be her daughter—disliked the prospect of being cooped up by a rainstorm in the house with all her prospective suitors. If the weather cleared tomorrow, he'd suggest a stroll with her in the garden or perhaps an early morning ride. His mother had said Lady Augusta was fond of riding and Julius meant to make the most of that information. Not that Lady Augusta was the lady he meant to court, but he did wish to win the wager with his cousins. The better she knew him, the more inclined she might be to grant him the first dance.

Turning his attention to the others, Julius headed into the foyer, where the two ladies stood to welcome them. "Good afternoon, Lady Tilney. Thank you so much for inviting us for the weekend."

"You are most welcome, Lord Boxted." Lady Tilney curtseyed to the four of them. "Gentlemen. My dear," she turned to the young lady beside her, "may I introduce Lord Boxted, Lord Royston, Mr. Price, and Mr. Quartermain. Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Lady Augusta."

Lady Augusta dropped a curtsey. "I am honored to meet you, gentlemen." She raised a piercing blue gaze to them. "I do hope you enjoy yourselves this weekend."

"I am certain we will, Lady Augusta." Harry stepped forward, all smiles. "With such a lovely companion, how could we not?"

The lady's lips puckered, as though she wasn't sure if she wished to smile or send Harry a stern set-down. "I suppose that remains to be seen, Lord Royston." Her unfaltering gaze took in each of them, as though they were stallions at Tattersall's and she wanted to make the best use of her money. "I look forward to furthering our acquaintance during the party."

"Hawkins will see you to your rooms." Lady Tilney nodded to the butler who was taking care of the newest arrivals, then looped her arm through Lady Augusta's. "Come my dear. Let me introduce you to Lady Camford's sons." They moved past Julius toward a party of three who had just entered the foyer.

With a sigh, Julius presented himself to Hawkins who instructed a footman to show him and his cousins to their rooms. As it was early afternoon, once he and his companions had changed, they would need to amuse themselves until the gong was rung for dinner, some hours away.

"I say, should we settle in a bit, then meet downstairs for billiards?" Julius suggested as they followed the footman up the staircase to the first floor.

"Fine by me." Francis ducked into the chamber the footman indicated to him.

"Give me half an hour to change and I'll meet you at the bottom of the main staircase." Harry stuck his head out of his door, then with a quick nod to them, turned and shut the door.

Nodding absently, Julius entered his room, noting the room's appointments were more than adequate and signaled his valet to begin the transformation from dusty traveling clothes to an informal suit of navy wool. After a splash of cologne water, Julius headed out and down the stairs where he found Yule and Francis waiting for him. "Is Harry lollygagging again?"

"Nothing new there," Yule drawled. "Shall we press on and find the billiards before someone else beats us to it?"

"Agreed. Francis, will you wait for Harry?" Julius had already snagged a passing footman. "The billiard room?"

"Just there, my lord." The servant pointed down the corridor toward the back of the manor house. "The last door on the right across from the study."

"Thank you." Julius turned toward the hallway indicated. "Come down as soon as Harry arrives." He and Yule hurried along the corridor until they turned into the billiards room, only to find it already occupied by a lively game already in progress. "Bollocks." Julius gave Yule a weary look. "Let's check out the study. Hopefully Lord Tilney is well stocked with libations."

They stepped across the corridor to find the study devoid of people, but well stocked with both a cut crystal decanter of spirits and glasses and a chess set. Julius sent a glance to Yule. "You pour the drinks and I'll set up the board."

By the time Harry and Francis had found their way in, Julius was six moves into the game and Yule, having already lost two pawns, a rook, both knights, and a bishop, was scowling like a gargoyle.

"You should know better, Yule." Francis helped himself to a drink. "Jules can win at chess in his sleep. I've given up hope of ever beating him. I now wager on how long I can hold out before checkmate."

"He is not that good." Harry had come to stand over Julius's shoulder, which bothered Julius not at all. From a young age, chess had been his favorite game. The strategic moves played themselves out in his head effortlessly until, as Francis said, he found it difficult to find anyone who could best him.

"And checkmate, Yule." Julius moved his queen into position, pinning Yule's king without a way out.

"Was that eight moves?" Yule looked up, shaking his head.

"Yes." Julius leaned back and sipped his drink, smiling. Not that his cousin had been challenging, but it was good to play new opponents. "Are you up for a game, Harry?"

"Of course." Harry sat down in the seat Yule quickly vacated behind the white ivory pieces and began resetting them. "Shall we wager?"

"On the outcome?" Julius raised an eyebrow. He didn't wish to seem cocky and granted, he hadn't played chess with Harry in years. Still, he'd not been beaten at chess in a good six months and that had been at his club by Lord Steadman, who was admittedly a world-class player.

Harry glanced at Francis who shook his head emphatically. "Well, no." He sighed. "On the number of moves until checkmate."

"Agreed." Julius grabbed the betting book. "How many moves, then?"

Harry looked at Yule, then back to the board. "Ten."

"Done." Julius laid the book on the table beside him. "Your move."

Seven moves later, Julius had taken Harry's queen, two bishops, a rook and a knight. "I believe that is checkmate, cuz."

"How do you do that?" Harry stood up, bewildered. He headed for the decanter to refill his glass.

"I'm never exactly sure how." Julius began to put the pieces back on the board. "I see the moves in my head, sometimes six or seven ahead. I don't know how else to explain it."

"I do the same thing, my lord."

Julius's head snapped toward the study door that had opened silently, allowing Lady Augusta to enter the room without warning.

"You might have ended it in six if you'd moved the knight to king's four one move earlier." Apparently, she'd been standing there for some time.

Staring at her and rising slowly, Julius nodded. "I thought I'd give my cousin an extra move. He'd wagered he'd go ten, but I knew he wouldn't last that long."

A smile touched her lips, making her face suddenly quite beautiful. "Generous in victory, although not too generous." The lady moved further into the room, coming to stand in front of Julius. "If I wager I can take you in ten moves, will you allow me to play, Lord Boxted?"