Chapter One

T he road through the forest was rough and far too narrow for the ducal coach, but they had had no choice but to take it. Ellis heard the shouts and knew her pursuers were close behind. She could not afford to be caught. She had known when she set out that this was her one chance, and if it failed... well, that was just too awful to contemplate.

The vehicle lurched, tipped to one side, and began to fall. The sound of raised voices and whinnying horses spun around her as her world turned upside down. Then, silence. She lay sprawled over the plush seat, shaken and dazed. She had bumped her head as the coach went over, and now it began to ache. No time to feel sorry for herself. The door was wrenched open and Ellis shrank back, eyes wide, fearing the worst.

But it was Rowan, her groom, peering down at her. He had a bloody cut on his craggy cheek and his eyes were wild.

"My lady," he said urgently, "you must get out. Hide in the forest. It is your only chance."

As if to underline his words, a pistol shot echoed through the trees.

Scrambling up, Ellis reached for his outstretched hand. In an instant she was pulled up through the open door. Anxiously she thought of her bag, the few things she had been able to pack before she fled, but there was no time. Rowan gave her a push toward the dense trees—"Run!"—and a moment later she was running, her black skirts tangling about her legs and the soles of her feet in her thin slippers already bruised from the rough ground. She should have worn more sensible outdoor clothing, but she had thought she would be more likely to convince Theo that her call upon her neighbor was genuine if she wore her "visiting" dress and slippers.

And he had seemed convinced.

She had thought she was safely away from him.

Now she wondered if he had known all along and only fooled her into believing she was safe. What better way to dispose of her than to blame highwaymen and leave himself the innocent? Sir Theo Abergele wanted the house and estate, he wanted everything that had become hers after her husband—and Theo's cousin—the Duke of Breamore, had died. The estate was not entailed, and it had been solely up to Archie to decide who would inherit. Although it was unusual to choose his wife as his heir, Archie had decided upon Ellis, much to Theo's fury. And when she had rejected his subsequent offer of marriage, Ellis had known the chance for her escape was narrowing.

You have no right to all of this! She could still hear Theo's savage words as he stood glaring at her in the formal drawing room. Before now the business of burying Archie had taken precedence over all else. It was a quiet funeral—the duke had led a quiet life on his estate on the Welsh border—but he was genuinely mourned. There was still so much to do, but Theo could not wait. Her heart had sunk when she saw the pitiless gleam in his eyes, and she had known that the conversation she had been sidestepping since Archie took ill could no longer be avoided.

I know your marriage was not consummated. How could it be? It was all a sham.

Prove it! she had hissed back at him. Your cousin was well-loved. No one here will speak against him.

His eyes, so like Archie's and yet so different, had turned to ice. Then you have two choices. Marry me.

Never! What is the other choice? Her heart had been beating wildly.

He hadn't answered, had instead shown his teeth in a savage smile. And if she had been afraid of him before, now she was terrified.

Thank God her servants were loyal. Theo would not get anything from them, no matter what threats he issued, although she did not want to imagine what their loyalty would cost them. While she had wanted to stand up for them and protect them, the truth was she couldn't even protect herself.

There was another pistol shot, this one from behind her, in the direction of the abandoned coach. She said a swift prayer for Rowan's safety. Theo would want no witnesses to his evil deed, and she prayed the groom had taken his own advice and vanished into the forest, too. Rowan knew the countryside well. Surely, he would be all right.

It was gloomy in the forest, the sunlight barely penetrating through the stands of Welsh oaks. Ellis had never been comfortable in places like this—there was something ominous about them. She felt as if she was being watched by the ancient peoples who had once inhabited them. She just hoped there was a way out.

But no matter how she looked about her, there was nothing. All she could do was continue to push through the undergrowth and trust to chance.

A prickly shrub caught her skirt, jerking her backward with a startled cry and tearing the black cloth of her mourning dress, reminding her why she wore it. Archie, her husband was dead. Tears threatened, but she held them back. There would be time enough to grieve when she was safe. Archie would not want her to fall into his cousin's clutches. He had believed he had many more years to live, but the fever had taken him off so swiftly, there had barely been time for last goodbyes.

Her sorrowful thoughts accompanied her as she wandered, seemingly endlessly. Everything looked the same, and for all she knew she could be walking in circles. She wasn't sure how long it had been since the coach overturned, and then in the hush of the woodland Ellis heard voices. They were faint and growing fainter, but she was not fooled into thinking they were friendly. Her only hope was to outrun and outwit Theo and his henchmen.

And then what? Reside among the trees like some wild creature, drinking from puddles and eating berries and sleeping on a high branch? The thought of the Duchess of Breamore living such a life brought hysterical laughter bubbling to her lips. She had become so used to the luxury of being Archie's wife, her every wish granted—within reason of course—that she had begun to believe she had always lived that way. It wasn't true. She had been brought up to a simple life and a happy one. All that had changed when her father died in a riding accident, and putting food on their table became a daily chore. That was before her mother took Ellis and her two sisters to London in a desperate throw of the dice.

You cannot be so beautiful without a reason!

It had worked. They had taken the ton by storm and were much sought after. Ellis could have had her pick of many eligible men, but the attention had gone to her mother's head, and she had declared her daughters must be duchesses. To the amazement of London society, all three had married dukes. But as for happiness...? Ellis had believed she was probably the happiest of the three. The lucky one.

Until Archie died.

How long had she been wandering around? Hours. She had started out on her visit not long after lunch, which now seemed a lifetime ago. Ahead of her the gloomy forest seemed to lighten. Hardly allowing herself to believe it, she took one step, and then another. The trees had thinned, and now they were younger and less imposing. She had reached the very edge of the forest and now stood in the warm, golden summer evening. There, before her, was a sweep of green fields dotted with grazing sheep.

As peaceful as the pastoral scene was, it did not hold her attention for long. Because beyond the fields and the sheep, rising out of a lush garden, was a house.

It was a two-story dwelling made of soft grey stone that seemed to glow in the evening light. Mullioned windows dotted the frontage—or was it the side of the house she was looking at?—and smoke drifted from its chimneys.

Ellis caught her breath. If there was smoke, then there must be someone inside. Would they help her? Excitement fizzled into doubt. How did she know the people who lived there were not friends of Theo's?

And yet she had no choice but to risk it. She could not hide here for much longer. Soon it would be dark, and she could not stay in the forest or wander the countryside—Theo would surely find her. The house was her best chance of safety.

There was a low stone wall to mark the separation of the fields from the forest, and it was only as Ellis began to climb over it that she realized she had lost one of her slippers. As she dropped to the other side, she looked down at herself with a grimace. As well as a rend in her gown, there were tears in her stockings, and her hair had lost its pins and was tumbling down over her shoulders in a tangled mess. Impatiently she pushed back the dark locks and flinched as she became aware of the stinging scratches on her hands.

During her flight she had been too focused on staying out of Theo's clutches to notice her injuries, but now her body ached and itched and stung.

She must look like a mad woman. Would the occupants of the house slam the door in her face? Anxiously she glanced behind her at the forest, but if there was anyone watching her from its murky depths, then they were well hidden.

Ellis limped onward in her one slipper, making her way diagonally across the field toward what appeared to be a drive running between the sheep pastures. It was a drive. She stood and looked down its length at the house. A gatehouse framed the front entrance, while the building's solid structure made her suspect it had started life as a fortified manor. Somewhere the inhabitants could shelter in times of unrest. And there had been a great deal of unrest on the Welsh borders over the centuries.

Her home, Breamore, must be miles away. She had already travelled some distance before she'd reached the forest, and who knew how far she had run after that? She was certain she had never visited the house standing before her. For good reason, Archie's household had been an insular one, and Ellis was acquainted with only one or two of their neighbors, in particular Mrs. Garrett, the woman she had told Theo she was going to visit after lunch today.

She set off again. Two stone lions guarded the front door, their expressions grim enough to frighten away strangers. Ellis noticed a walled garden to her left, the plants lush and inviting, but her focus was on the solid-looking door. It had a brass knocker that was fashioned into another lion.

She lifted it and let it fall. The noise it made didn't seem loud enough to attract much attention, so she did it again. Twice.

"Please," she whispered, and shot a frantic glance behind her. The sheep were still grazing, and the forest was still silently watching. At any moment Theo could burst from the trees and come riding toward her. She would fight him with everything she had, but she knew she would not win.

You will be safe, Archie had whispered to her as he lay dying. I have left everything to you. My man of business will see that you are cared for.

But his man of business had been turned by Theo's inducements, and Ellis was anything but safe. With Archie gone and the servants afraid, there had only been Rowan brave enough to help her leave, and now there was no one.

The screech of a peacock startled a cry from her. The creature was strutting along the garden wall, as if showing off its gloriously colored plumage. Ellis's heart seemed about to jump from her chest, and her knees shook as if she might collapse. She leaned against the door to hold herself upright. There was still no sound from inside, so she pounded on the wood with her fist, once, twice, and was about to do it a third time, when finally the door was opened.

"Are you trying to wake the dead?" growled a man's voice.

With her support taken abruptly away from her, Ellis staggered and would have fallen if a strong hand had not closed around her arm and held her upright. Breathless, anxious, she looked up through the tangle of her hair at the occupant of the house.