Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Lyme, England

November 1814

Miss Adelaide Templeton was having an unusually dreadful day—which, given her role as companion to her father's irascible cousin, Lady Winthrop, was saying quite a lot.

It was not her current location that was the cause of her misfortune, because Lyme was new to her and so she found everything novel and interesting. Nor was it their current occupation. Walking along the strand was indeed fine, even in this cool November weather. No, today she was agitated for another reason, and she feared Lady Winthrop would discover her concerns.

Lady Winthrop, whose sense of self-worth was elevated beyond compare, tolerated no one save those who boasted sufficient position or wealth. Even then, she accepted their company only if she could envision how they might bring some future benefits to herself. The most valuable of said benefits, according to Adelaide's observations reduced the pressure on the lady's purse: a place to stay for a fortnight or a season; entertainments, for Lady Winthrop enjoyed a good theater production or ball; or opportunities to gather information through tête-à-têtes with ladies (at home) or gentlemen (at the card tables or balls). This information she would later leverage for her own gain or to further the consequence of her son, the new Lord Winthrop.

This month, and for the winter months ahead, Lady Winthrop had secured an invitation to stop with Lady Langley, a kindly widow. Lady Winthrop had first met her when, she was plain Miss Jane Crowder. But, beyond any expectations, she married Viscount Langley, a gentleman of considerable wealth and consequence whose loss was still much felt by his widow of twenty years.

Lady Langley was acknowledged by all who knew her for her tolerant and generous nature, and while Lady Winthrop appreciated these fine aspects of Lady Langley's character, she was much more interested in her friend's more practical assets. These included her exceptional staff—in particular her talented pastry chef—and the fact that her son, the viscount, though he doted upon his mother, was away in London for much of the year, leaving his mother to live her own life without his counsel. Yes, Lady Langley was, to Lady Winthrop's mind, a most ideal companion.

Adelaide did not know the details of Lady Winthrop's many tête-à-têtes, but she had enough worldly understanding to know that neither the lady nor her son, Lord Thomas Winthrop, could be trusted. But, alas, she'd had no one in whom to confide her concerns these past many months, ever since she had left her home at Stonehurst Manor, the family seat, nearly two years earlier. Her departure had also meant leaving behind Eloise.

Eloise was her truest and oldest friend, having grown up on the neighboring estate. Indeed, Eloise had been one of the only people to stand by her after her parents had perished in a carriage accident five years before and Adelaide had been forced, at sixteen, not only to become the ward of the new lord but to bear the shame her father had brought with his demise. Eloise had never abandoned her, though she had the most reason to. But it had been more than three weeks since she'd last written to Adelaide, and in recent months, her letters had been reduced to quick missives .

Despite their separation, Adelaide felt sure that she could still confide in Eloise. That she could tell her friend about the loss of her mother's ruby ring, the only item of any value outside of her small but, she believed, sufficient dowry, Eloise would listen and understand the dread Adelaide felt as she waited for Lady Winthrop to ask her where her ring was.

She had turned the matter over and over in her mind. She felt sure she had left the ring in the little jewelry box in the back drawer of her night table, just as she always did. But now, though the box itself was there, the ring had vanished. The only people who came into her room were the chambermaids and Sally, her loyal lady's maid. And Lady Winthrop had been lately making little complaints about Sally, much the way she had complained of other servants just before turning them off.

If Lady Winthrop was told of the missing ring, she would surely blame Sally, and then Adelaide would be completely alone in the world, for Sally had been with her since she was a young girl. Lord and Lady Winthrop had already reduced the staff at Stonehurst to a skeletal crew, squarely placing the blame for such economies at her dead father's feet. Her father, according to the long harangues of Lady Winthrop when they were alone, was completely to blame for their straitened circumstances.

At such times, Adelaide could only listen with deep shame as the extent of her father's mismanagement was pressed upon her and express her gratitude that they had taken her in at all. Still, it was not an easy existence, for she had to continually watch Lady Winthrop's mercurial moods and try to anticipate her needs. It left little time to think of herself or her own needs.

As they walked along the strand at Lyme, Adelaide took a moment to be grateful for the excursion. Though they had been in Bath for only a fortnight, Lady Winthrop had been difficult to entertain, and Adelaide was grateful that Lady Langley had suggested stopping at a lovely hotel—courtesy of herself, of course—and taking in a change of scene and society. And it had seemed to work, as Lady Winthrop had been pleased to reacquaint herself with people she knew from London.

Adelaide followed behind Lady Winthrop and Lady Langley, trying to forget the ring by listening to Lady Winthrop's retelling of an incident from the night before. A Miss Lucy Anderson, the true belle of the ball, had been standing beside the refreshment table until a gentleman in his cups knocked into the table and dislodged the punch bowl. The contents had drenched Miss Lucy's already dampened muslin gown, causing epithets unbecoming a well-brought-up lady to gallop forth from her pretty lips, hard and angry.

"It was most unfortunate," said Lady Winthrop with glee, "for I do believe, until then, she had snared Lord Culpepper's particular attention, and he is the most eligible bachelor this season."

"Yes," said Lady Langley, in a tone touched with sadness. "It was unfortunate, for she had such promise. Though I still don't know how the bowl toppled so easily and landed on the unfortunate girl."

"It is hard to say," said Lady Winthrop. "But I perceive it as lucky, for it will give you an opportunity to present your niece, Miss Pym, to Lord Culpepper when she arrives. They would make an excellent match."

"Do you think so?" asked Lady Langley, beaming at the thought. "I wondered that they might not suit, with him being so much older and her barely out of the schoolroom. But if you think so, perhaps I should devise to put her in his way. If only we knew how long he would be in town. She does not arrive until the day after tomorrow, and these young men never stay long in one place unless there are sufficient amusements."

Adelaide sighed, for she now understood why the punch bowl had toppled onto poor Miss Anderson. A man whom Adelaide had seen speaking to Lady Winthrop only a quarter hour earlier, had bumped the table just as Miss Lucy stopped in front of it, causing the bowl—which had somehow been moved from the flat, sturdy tabletop to a precarious pillar—to tumble. But of course, Adelaide could not voice such suspicions to anyone but Eloise .

In this miserable state of mind, and longing for a friend to speak to, she seemed to conjure up Edward Kingsley, Eloise's older brother. He had served for three years as her father's estate agent, until her father perished and the magnitude of the debt he'd left behind was discovered. Edward had stolen her heart, and had once even hinted at his own affections, before leaving without a word to join the navy.

Adelaide blinked hard, not daring to believe her eyes. But it was indeed Edward walking toward her. Dear, kind Edward. Time had treated him well, if one could judge by the broad shoulders that filled out his coat and the confidence with which he strolled along the strand.

Edward Kingsley broke off his conversation with his companion—the same Lord Culpepper of whom her aunt and Lady Langley had just been speaking—and the two men approached their party.

"Good day, Lady Langley," said Lord Culpepper, bowing to the esteemed woman, who nodded in return. "Allow me to introduce my friend, Captain Edward Kingsley, late of the King's navy. We were in Eton together."

Adelaide tried to melt into the background. She had no wish for Edward to see her and be reminded of the strife her father's shame had caused him, but at the same time she felt pulled toward him. She wished they could go back in time five years, when they walked the garden together. Standing a little behind Lady Langley, she watched their exchange with equal parts joy and misery, careful not to show how interested she was to hear Edward speak. Eloise had told her that Edward had become a captain, and Adelaide was so proud of him, though she had no right to be after her father's folly.

Lady Langley introduced first Lady Winthrop—who simpered in front of Lord Culpepper while barely acknowledging his friend—and then presented Adelaide.

"A pleasure to meet you," said Lord Culpepper, his eyes dancing in delight as he made a half turn toward Edward. "I believe you know Captain Kingsley."

"Yes, our estates marched together in Kent," said Adelaide, keeping her eyes lowered and curtsying deeply to the two men. She wished she had a wall to lean on or a place to sit. Her knees always wobbled a little in Edward's presence, even after four years of not setting eyes upon him.

Lady Winthrop stiffened, and her eyes narrowed. "You are from Hartshorne Hall—but not the heir, I think."

"You are correct," replied Edward, his smile polite but less sincere than Adelaide had ever known it to be. "I have three older brothers who first needed a living, and so I was left to make my own way."

Adelaide smiled to herself. He had answered well considering the history between Edward and Lord Winthrop. It was well known, to her and anyone else who knew Edward, that were it not for her father's accident, Edward would not have gone to war at all.

"But you have done well for yourself, by all accounts," put in Lady Langley, with what Adelaide suspected was feigned ignorance. Lady Langley knew full well that Lord Winthrop had turned Edward off when he suggested improvements to the tenant houses, and instead hired a less experienced estate agent. That agent had been successful keeping the estate afloat though she knew, to her shame, that the tenants were working harder and with little hope for improvements to their homes, which were in sad repair.

"I was fortunate to have a small legacy from an uncle on my mother's side," said Edward to Lady Langley. "He himself was a fourth son and took pity on me, I suppose." He chuckled. "I used that legacy to purchase a commission and went out to sea to seek my fortune." His smile, now that it was turned toward Lady Langley, was genuine, and it showed to full effect how handsome he had become. He still had the same watchful gray eyes, and his dark curls, once unruly, peeked out from under his hat. He looked well able to take on the weight of his position as a fourth son and had risen above all the strife life had sent his way. She was pleased for him.

"And did you find it?" asked Lady Langley. "Your fortune?"

"I was fortunate during the war," said Edward gravely. "For which I thank heaven above every day. "

Lady Langley nodded her understanding. "What brings you to Lyme, now that you have your fortune?" she asked.

"I am here on personal business," said Edward, " to visit an old friend." He turned his gaze toward Adelaide. "And to spend time in pleasant company."

"And I decided to join him on his jaunt into the country," said Lord Culpepper. "London has grown tiresome these past months."

"And will you be here long?" Adelaide had to admire the way Lady Langley asked so casually, as though it didn't signify. But she held her breath, knowing how much Culpepper's answer meant to her kind host. If Lady Langley could be instrumental in landing her niece Miss Pym an advantageous match, it would greatly benefit her sister, who was now a war widow living in much straitened circumstances.

"As long as our business takes," said Edward, still looking at Adelaide as though she were the only person on the strand. She felt his gaze and, remembering her shame, wished she could run anywhere but here.

"Well, I hope for your sake it culminates soon," said Lady Winthrop. "Lyme is not so bad now, but I anticipate the weather will soon turn."

"As soon as possible, my lady." Edward turned his attention back to her cousin.

"I wish you speed," said Lady Winthrop, in a tone that would be used to wish one to the devil.

"Adelaide, the wind is picking up. It is time we got indoors."

"Yes, of course," said Adelaide, who hadn't noticed it was cold. She felt as though she basked in warmth for the first time in four years.

Lady Langley inclined her head to Lord Culpepper, and they were about to take their leave when they became aware of a young woman on the top step leading from the upper level to where they were standing. At the bottom of the steps stood Anne Elliot, a woman Adelaide had once met at a party she had attended at Uppercross with her parents. The younger woman was standing at the top of the stairs, calling gaily to a soldier to catch her.

The soldier, for his part, was telling her to have a care, but instead of heeding his advice, the girl hurled herself toward him, before he was ready.

"Louisa!" The young woman fell to the stone walkway, and Anne and the soldier ran toward her.

"Oh!" Adelaide's hands flew to her mouth as she looked on in shock.

Edward and Lord Culpepper rushed forward to see if they could assist, and Lady Winthrop muttered, "Stupid girl to think a man, much less a soldier, would catch her. Come, Adelaide. We must get Lady Langley home. She is cold and has had a shock." She grasped Adelaide's arm and steered their party away from the gathering crowd.

Adelaide stole a last fleeting glimpse of Edward and shivered as the cold gloom resettled into her day.