Chapter 1

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…" the minister was saying as Lydia Reeves watched from a pew near the front of the church, sitting between her mother and three brothers.

She liked weddings. They were always such happy occasions, though she had thought her cousin—Caroline, the bride—had not looked particularly happy at the prospect of marrying Edward Scriven, the Baron Westborough. This seemed strange because, he was, by all accounts, a good man who had fallen deeply in love with Caroline after meeting her at a ball the previous Season. Her mother had taken some persuading over the matter, but eventually, an agreement had been reached…

"Why does Caroline look so miserable?" Lydia whispered, turning to her mother, who shook her head.

"She had a falling out with Letitia this morning. I heard them arguing in the carriage. Your aunt still thinks Caroline's marrying beneath her station."

Lydia rolled her eyes. Her aunt was a snob and a social climber—a fact made all the more remarkable by her own circumstances. Her husband had left her when Caroline was just a baby, and she had been forced to rely on the charity of Lydia's father, the now-deceased Earl of Morton. She had no title of her own, and marriage to the Baron Westborough—a man with good fortune and prospects—should have been an occasion for celebration.

"Does she think she's making a mistake?" Lydia asked as the minister proceeded to the vows.

"I don't know. Not a mistake in marrying him. He's very handsome, but she's ambitious, too. She'll have plans, I'm sure," her mother replied, shaking her head again, before turning her attention back to the ceremony.

The church was full—a Society wedding to which anyone who was anyone had been invited.

"Almighty God, who at the beginning did create our first parents, Adam and Eve, and did sanctify and join them together in marriage; Pour upon you the riches of his grace, sanctify and bless you, that ye may please him both in body and soul, and live together in holy love unto your lives' end. Amen," the minister said, pronouncing the final blessing before the newly married couple turned to face the congregation hand in hand.

"I hope he knows what he's letting himself in for," Lydia's youngest brother, Graham, whispered.

Lydia had to try hard not to laugh as Caroline and Edward now walked arm in arm down the aisle, nodding to them as they passed.

But Graham was right. Caroline was not an easy person to get along with. She was Lydia's only cousin on her mother's side, and as the only girls in the family, it had always been assumed the two of them would get along. But the truth was somewhat more complicated. Lydia did not particularly like her cousin—Caroline was spoiled and a snob, just like her mother…

"By the look on his face, I'd say he doesn't. They're very much in love, by all accounts—but she's ambitious, she won't rest on her laurels. Mother says Aunt Letitia doesn't approve," Lydia replied.

Her brother shook his head. "She wouldn't approve if Edward was a prince. She'd settle for no less than the heir apparent," he drawled.

Lydia laughed. Her brother had a keen wit and could always be counted on to make a piercing observation.

"What did I say?" their mother asked, glancing at the two of them.

"You said Aunt Letitia doesn't approve of the match," Graham said.

Their mother nodded. "Not at all, I don't think. I should go and find her, I suppose," she muttered, her tone suggesting she would prefer not to.

The other guests were filing out behind the bride and groom, but Lydia held back, allowing her three brothers to go first—there was no mistaking their relationship, each possessed of the same blonde hair, cut short, and deep green eyes.

They were all handsome, each with the distinctive jaw line inherited from their father, and with their mother's rosy cheeks. She was the youngest of the four, and while Caroline had always liked to give the impression of being more than she was—courting the appearance of a young lady with prim and proper manners—Lydia's behavior was more akin to that of her brothers. She had been called a "Tom boy" at times—an accolade she delighted in, much to her mother's displeasure.

"Why are you holding back? Don't you want to congratulate our dear cousin?" Ezra, the eldest of the four, and heir of their father's earldom, asked, turning to Lydia and grinning.

Lydia scowled at him. "Why does everyone think we're the best of friends?" she huffed.

For if anything, she usually tried to avoid Caroline, even as attending her wedding was not something she had found an excuse for.

"You used to play together as children. I can still remember the look on your face when Aunt Letitia would sit the two of you together in the drawing room in matching dresses. If looks could kill. That was when she met Edward, wasn't it? And he came with his cousin too, didn't he?" Ezra asked.

Lydia nodded, though she did not like to be reminded of the fact—and especially not of the cousin Ezra spoke of. She had had good reason to dread the wedding that day. She had felt certain Edward's cousin, Philip Scriven, would be there, and the thought of seeing him again after all these years filled her with dread…

"Yes… well, none of that matters now, does it?" Lydia replied.

Her brother shrugged. "I suppose not."

"What an interminably dull sermon. I don't know why he didn't choose a text the congregation might know," her second eldest brother, Derek, commented, tutting and shaking his head.

He had ambitions to enter the Church and was reading theology at Cambridge in the hope of doing so. The wedding had been held in one of the guild churches in the city, and the clergyman had preached on an obscure text from the Old Testament, the story of which had been quite lost in a confusing account of the genealogy of King David.

Lydia smiled. "Does anyone ever really listen to these things?" she asked.

Derek groaned. "I do, yes. It's important. They made their vows before God. The least the minister can do is exhort them to uphold those vows," he said, shaking his head.

Lydia was still looking around for a glimpse of Philip. She felt certain he would be there, even as she feared him being so. They had once been the best of friends, just as Caroline and Edward had become, too. But there had been a falling out, and a drifting apart. Philip had gone to Eton, and there he had encountered other influences and made other friends. Lydia had felt left out, particularly when her brothers had, one by one, gone off to school. She had been left at home, with only Caroline for company…

"When you're a clergyman, I'm sure you'll do a great deal of exhorting, Brother. I'm looking forward to long naps, brought on by your interminable exhortations," Graham teased, grinning at Derek, who scowled.

Each of her three brothers was different—Ezra was a man of duty, who had inherited their father's title with all the responsibilities an earldom entailed. Derek was a scholar, whose zeal for religion had led him down the path he now followed. While Graham never took anything very seriously and was always making jokes and fooling around, he was destined for the military and often spoke of his longing for adventure.

Lydia loved each of them dearly, and, in turn, they loved her, too. But their lives were directed in a very different way from her own, and there were times when it pained her to think of the freedom they enjoyed in comparison to her own.

"I'll stay awake for your sermons, Derek. But don't expect me to understand them," Lydia quipped.

Derek laughed. "You do yourself a disservice. You're more intelligent than all of us put together. I don't think there's a single book in Father's library you haven't read," he said, and Lydia smiled.

She loved to read, and she had an inquisitive mind, always questioning the world around her. She and Derek would often stay up late, debating the finer points of philosophy, and it was often Lydia to whom Ezra turned when faced with a dilemma in politics or the running of the estate.

But as in so many other ways, her sex held her back. What was the use of books and learning if she could not apply those things she learned to real, pressing problems in the world?

"Oh, look, Lydia, there's Lucy," Lady Morton said, pointing down the path of the church as they emerged into the sunshine.

Lucy—the Dowager Countess of Walford—was Philip's mother, and if she was at the wedding, then Philip surely was, too.

"Yes…" Lydia uttered, turning away, for she did not want Lady Walford to see her.

Her mother looked at her in surprise. "Wouldn't you like to reacquaint yourself with her? And with Philip?" she asked.

Lydia shook her head. She felt embarrassed at the prospect of doing so. Too much water had passed under the bridge. It had been seven years since the two of them had last spoken. Her circumstances were entirely different now, and surely his were, too. She had barely given him a second thought—she had tried her best not to

"She won't remember me. Neither will he," Lydia replied.

Her mother raised her eyebrows. "Oh, but she will—and so will he. The two of you played together as children. It's how Caroline and Edward met. I know the two of you drifted apart, but… now that you're older, wouldn't it be nice to get reacquainted? You never know what might happen," she reasoned.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. She knew what her mother was saying. It was yet another veiled reference to marriage—a hint as to the passing of time and the necessity of making a match. Lydia was twenty years old. She had had two Seasons and was now entering her third. The question of matrimony hung in the air.

Caroline was now married—albeit to a man her mother did not approve of—and now it was Lydia's turn to make a match. But as for making one with a man who was now a complete stranger to her…

"We fell out, Mother. We argued. I don't think… well, I don't know. Perhaps he'd be glad to see me again, perhaps he wouldn't," Lydia replied.

She knew only vague details of the latest developments in Philip's life. He had gone up to Oxford after school, and having recently inherited his father's earldom, he was now involved in the business of managing his inheritance—an estate in Berkshire, and a property in London. Lydia had not seen him at any balls in the capital, though if she had, she did not think she would have made an attempt to speak to him. Their lives had diverged, and the thought of forcing a previous connection was hardly appealing.

"Well, it would do no harm to try. He's a successful man," her mother pointed out.

"So are my brothers. It doesn't mean I'm going to marry any of them," Lydia replied, and her mother rolled her eyes.

Just then, Caroline and Edward approached them, arm in arm, smiling as Ezra offered his congratulations on behalf of them all.

"It's very kind of you, thank you," Edward said.

He was a short man, with blonde hair and bright green eyes—handsome, but with a slightly nervous disposition. Caroline looked very pretty, her black hair hanging in ringlets, and her face powdered and rouged. She was wearing an ivory cotton dress and an emerald necklace—a gift from her mother, or so she had told Lydia some days ago.

"May a blessed and godly life await you both," Derek offered.

"Thank you, Cousin," Caroline replied, glancing at Lydia, who smiled, somewhat forcibly.

It was not that Lydia and her cousin did not get on. But rather, they found so little in common as to have nothing much to talk about or share. Caroline's newly found position as a married woman only added to that difference, and Lydia did not think she would have a great deal to do with her cousin from now on.

"Yes, congratulations to you both," Lydia said.

Edward smiled. "I think Philip's here," he said, as though it was something she should be glad of.

"Is that so? How nice," Lydia replied, once again forcing a smile on her face.

"There you are, Lydia—you see," her mother interjected.

Lydia nodded.

"Yes, Mother. I do see," she replied through gritted teeth.

But whether she did or not, it would make no difference. If she encountered Philip that day, so be it. She would be civil—polite, even. But as for anything more…

"We'll see you back at the house. It's going to be a lovely celebration," Edward said.

Lady Morton beamed at him, before turning to Caroline. "It was such a lovely ceremony. Has your mother already gone on ahead?" she asked.

Caroline grimaced. "Yes… probably. She and I… well, there was a disagreement," she admitted.

Lady Morton raised her eyebrows.

Lydia glanced at the Baron, who now looked somewhat uncomfortable.

"Yes, I overheard the two of you arguing," Lady Morton said.

Caroline let out an angry exclamation. "She can be a spiteful woman. Even on my wedding day, she had to give her opinion, didn't she? But I've had quite enough of her opinions. Edward and I are married. That's the end of the matter. I don't see why she has to keep bringing the matter up. I must've looked to be in a foul mood as I walked down the aisle, but she knows just when to say the wrong thing," she huffed.

Lady Morton looked at her sympathetically. "Your mother isn't always the easiest of people to get along with. I should know."

Lydia knew her aunt and her mother did not always see eye to eye. But if it had not been for the Morton estate, Caroline and her mother would have been left destitute, a fact Lady Morton was kind enough not to point out, despite her sister's snobbery and bad behavior.

"You're certainly right, Auntie. Anyway, I don't want to think about it now. I'm happy, and that's all that matters on my wedding day. We'll see you back at the house," Caroline said, and then the newlyweds walked off arm in arm, greeting the remaining guests, as Lydia turned to her three brothers and smiled.

"He hardly got a word in edgeways," Graham remarked, shaking his head and laughing.

"I think we know who's in charge now," Ezra drawled.

Their mother tutted. "Oh, you're all so cruel. I feel sorry for Caroline—she'll turn into her mother if she's not careful."

Lydia smiled. "I think she already has. They just have different ways of looking at the matter. She'll want Edward to advance himself—she won't be content with being a mere baron's wife," she reflected, for she knew her cousin well enough to know where her ambitions lay.

Lady Morton raised her eyebrows. "And what would you know about being anyone's wife?" she asked.

Lydia blushed, and her brothers laughed.

"Mother's got you there, Lydia. It's high time you were married," Graham said.

Lydia glared at him. She did not like it when they laughed at her. She was forever being reminded of the fact she was not one of them—she was not a man, and thus she did not get to make her own choices…

"Oh, don't you start. Why does everyone want me to rush into marriage? I'm sure you'd all have your opinions on whoever I choose. I'll let fate decide. Perhaps I'll marry a pauper—then you'll have something to talk about," Lydia retorted, folding her arms and sticking her nose in the air as the five of them walked towards their waiting carriage.