Chapter One

H olly Wincombe, nee Smyth, had never once considered that she would be a widow after only being married for seven days.

Staring at the Mora grandfather clock that stood against the plum-colored wall of the Kingston House parlor, she tried to relax her shoulders. Her entire body was tense and her hands gripped tightly together, resting on her black-crepe-covered lap. She and her siblings, Jasper and Katrina, silently waited for their lawyer, Mr. Franklin Armstrong, to arrive.

Though she had only been married to the baron for a week before his passing, Holly wore her mourning dress with a heavy heart. John Wincombe, 6th Baron of Bairnsdale, had been one of her dearest friends. Even during the last moments of his life, his only concern had been for Holly and her siblings. He had insisted on their marriage to secure her family's future, and after months of refusing him, she had finally ended up marrying him on his death bed. Holly hadn't been able to deny the dying man his wish to help them.

Besides, she and her siblings were in desperate need of whatever help they could get.

"How long will we have to be in mourning?" Jasper asked, toeing the fringe of the oriental rug beneath his foot.

Holly tried not to glare at her adolescent brother, who had returned from Eton for the funeral. His walnut-colored hair, not unlike hers, had grown out since he had visited for Christmas and was arranged in a devil-may-care fashion. As most seventeen-year-old boys were, he was preoccupied with his own feelings above all else.

"As long as we must. The baron was family," Katrina, his twin, said, turning to her sister. "Right, Holly?"

But before Holly could answer, Jasper leaned forward from his chair to continue.

"Wincombe wasn't family. They were barely married a week."

"Yes, to save us from destitution, Jasper. Or have you forgotten who's been funding your education these past few years?"

"Oh yes, a fine reason to marry someone," he retorted, folding his arms across his chest as he slumped back. "So you can pawn off your brother—"

"Jasper!"

"—and let him rot in some dingy school."

"Eton is not some dingy school," Katrina argued. "And you're being unfair to Holly. She did the only thing she could, and we should be grateful that the baron was kind enough to propose to her."

Jasper's face darkened. His eyes flickered to Holly though he continued to address Katrina.

"She wouldn't have had to marry him if she just let me help."

"And what could you have done?" Katrina pressed. "We have no money, no income—"

"Well, if you two would ever stop treating me like a child—"

"Hush the both of you," Holly said, her tone low as her gaze returned to the clock. "Mr. Armstrong will be here any minute, and I will not have him witness our family squabble."

Both siblings instantly quieted. Katrina began picking at her thumbnail while Jasper continued toying with the carpet with his foot. But a minute hadn't passed before Jasper tried once more.

"If you just sold the blasted farm—"

"Jasper," Holly bit out, her tone one of warning.

The youth sighed loudly and stood, walking around the settee towards the window. Evidently, he was too annoyed to continue sitting in silence, but Holly wasn't concerned about his foul mood. She had more important things to worry about.

Since the death of their mother several years ago, Holly has had to become her siblings' surrogate parent and caretaker. Their father, a member of the landed gentry who had been nearly sixty-two when he married, succumbed to old age before their mother's death from fever several years ago. It had been traumatizing to suddenly be the sole caregiver to two young children, but Holly had swallowed her grief and met the challenge head-on. Life was full of unexpected challenges. Holly knew that all too well.

Their family home, Felton Manor had been floating purely on credit the last few years. Holly's mother had tried her hardest to pay off the debts Holly's father had left, though her economizing was never enough to get them ahead of the bills. Her mother had kept their debt a secret and Holly had not learned the extent of their poor situation until her mother's death. She had told her siblings about their financial woes, which had only garnered her tears from Katrina and foolish ideas from Jasper.

Holly wasn't in the mood to entertain one of his ridiculous whims. In the past twelve months, her brother had become increasingly argumentative about his position in the family. He had recently come to the realization that once he came of age, he would technically be the head of their household, even though Holly had maintained their family on her own for years. Jasper believed she should rely more on him, but as his only suggestion was to sell off Felton Manor, Holly refused to listen. Her brother was to inherit Felton Manor on his eighteenth birthday, barely two months away, and he had promised to sell it the moment it came fully into his possession. Holly was still searching for a way to keep it. She could stand to lose a great deal in life, but she absolutely refused to lose her home.

Even if that meant marrying a dying man for money.

Holly inhaled deeply as she began to rub her index fingertips over her thumbnails. It hadn't been as vulgar as it sounded. John had been a good friend for years and he was aware of the family's dire financial strains. He had proposed to her a handful of times in the past year to try and help her with her burden, but Holly had always refused, believing she could eventually find a way to manage it all on her own. But when she had to sell the last of their livestock that past fall, Holly knew her time was running out.

Just then, a middle-aged butler, Mr. Jorden, entered the room. Holly straightened her spine.

"Mr. Armstrong has arrived, my lady," Mr. Jorden said, followed by an unreasonably tall and thin man.

Mr. Armstrong was a pale fellow with thick black hair atop his oval head. He wore a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles and nodded at Holly and her siblings before entering the room. Walking around the short coffee table between the settee and a couple of chairs, he sat, his knees high over the table. He was obviously too long-framed for the delicate furniture, but he didn't comment as he brought the leather satchel he had been carrying onto his lap.

"My lady. It is a pleasure seeing you again," he said, searching his bag.

Though he appeared to be a bit scattered, Holly had no choice but to trust him. After all, he had been one of the witnesses at her wedding and had been entrusted with John's last will and testament.

"Mr. Armstrong," Holly said with a tight smile. "Was your journey pleasant?"

"Eh, it wasn't terrible," he said, pulling out a thin leather book. Opening it on the table revealed several dozen papers that didn't appear to be bound. "Finding the new baron was more troublesome though."

Holly frowned. She had learned bits and pieces of John's heir over the years. His name was Mr. Gavin Winscombe and he had worked for a time in banking, which was odd for a man set to inherit a title. She also knew John's nephew also loved to travel and was often out of the country. He supposedly possessed a touch of wanderlust.

Leaning slightly forward, Holly spoke.

"Was he not in London?"

A part of her had expected that Gavin would come to Kingston House for the burial of his uncle, but he hadn't. There was little love lost between the two men, from what John had said. Still, it irked her that Gavin hadn't had the decency to at least pay his respects to the man whose home he would inherit.

"Well, he had only just returned, you see," Mr. Armstrong said, flipping through his pages. "He has been on the continent for six months and only arrived in London the day before last. I was practically camped out on his front steps until he returned."

That explained why he wasn't at the funeral. Holly supposed she couldn't fault his absence since he had been out of the country.

"Oh. Perhaps, all things considered, that is rather fortuitous. John always said they weren't very close," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat. Lord, how it pained her to talk about her dearly departed friend. "Did you explain to the new Lord Bairnsdale the, um, situation here?"

Initially, she had been worried that he would think poorly of her when he discovered the circumstances of their marriage, but John had assured her that his nephew would understand why they married and that he would adhere to the promises John had made.

Mr. Armstrong was bent over the table, but his eyes lifted, catching her gaze.

"I did."

Holly waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't as his sight fell back to his pages. Her sister gently elbowed her side to prompt her to speak.

"Did Lord Bairnsdale come with you?" Holly asked.

"No."

"Oh."

"I came with him."

Holly sighed, annoyed. Why was this man being intentionally obtuse?

"Well, then where is he?"

"He asked if it would be all right to inspect the stables for a bit." Mr. Armstrong's brow lifted as he found the paper he was searching for. "I couldn't think why it would be a problem."

Holly could. There were pressing matters to attend to. Lord Bairnsdale had an entire lifetime to examine his new home. Was he not aware that it was discourteous to keep people waiting?

"And you explained to him that my marriage to John was indeed a legitimate one? That John insisted on it?"

Having married John on his deathbed, Holly knew a dozen arguments could be used to delegitimize their union—especially the consummation, or rather, lack thereof.

"Do not worry, my lady. Everything is set up to the former baron's explicit instructions," Mr. Armstrong said.

Holly leaned back slightly and bit the inside of her cheek as nausea churned in her stomach. What would this nephew think of her? Would he believe she had coerced a dying man into marrying her? Everyone knew John had been asking for her hand for nearly a year. There were witnesses all over Lincolnshire who could attest that John loved her and that their relationship, while not romantic, was sincere. But the new baron was largely a stranger here. Would he give credence to the accounts?

She tried to calm herself. Her anxiety over the situation was making her paranoid.

"Here he comes," Jasper said, breaking through Holly's worrying.

Turning around at the waist, she saw her brother leaning against the windowsill, arms still folded across his chest. He seemed to glower as he watched the unseen baron amble across the property.

"Well?" Katrina said. "What does he look like?"

Jasper peered closer to the window.

"Like a man, though he's a bit far away." He squinted as his voice trailed off. "So, who can tell." Katrina sighed loudly, and Holly bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. Though she frequently butted heads with Jasper, he often made her laugh with his dry humor. He glanced at Katrina, who was not amused in the least. "What?"

Katrina stood up and walked around the settee.

"Of course he looks like a man, but what of his hair? His height? Does he walk with purpose? Possibly a limp?"

"Why would I care about the man's hair?"

"It's not about whether you care or not, it's about describing him," she said as she peered out the window. Her shoulders slumped. "Drats. Where did he go?"

"Come away from there," Holly said. "We don't want him to find us with our noses pressed against the glass as if we were spying on him."

"But we are spying on him," Jasper said.

Katrina quickly returned to her seat. Jasper did not leave the window, however, and Mr. Armstrong cleared his throat.

"Now, as you know, upon your marriage to the baron, all of your debts were acquired by his estate, as well as your dowry," the lawyer said. "Um, a pair of sheep, was it?"

Holly exhaled slowly. That was all the property the Smyths had left, except for their home.

"Yes, all but Felton Manor," she said, her heart pinching slightly. "That was reserved for my brother in my parents' will and will be inherited by him upon his eighteenth birthday."

"A broken-down pile of rocks, how generous," Jasper murmured. Holly gave him a sharp glare, but he was unfazed. "Why not just sell it? We can divide the proceeds three ways, like I said six months ago—"

"We are not selling Mama and Papa's house," she said defiantly.

"I'm just going to do it in a few months anyway."

"Then I won't be able to stop you, but I will not be responsible for losing our family home. As long as the decision remains mine, it remains with us," Holly said, trying to control her temper. She turned back to the lawyer. "Please continue, Mr. Armstrong."

"Right, well, as you also know from your original agreement, you were entitled to a third of the baron's property and assets that aren't entailed. Unfortunately, Kingston House is entailed, but the late baron did make a string of additions to his will in the days after your marriage. A cat, for example, by the name of Pauline Musgrove, has been left in your care. John's journals however, have been left to his nephew."

Holly stared at the lawyer. Did he say were ? As in, past tense?

"Excuse me?" Katrina said. "Did you say cat?" She turned to her sister. "Why would he name a cat Pauline Musgrove?"

"He named it after his neighbor from when he was a boy," Holly said, turning expectantly to the lawyer. "I'm sorry, you said something about our original agreement?"

"His neighbor?" Katrina continued. "Why ever would he do that?"

Holly sighed as she recounted the story.

"Because she was a recluse and so was the cat. Now, Mr. Armstrong—"

"A recluse? But—"

"Katrina, please," Holly said, cutting her off. Her sister's mouth snapped shut. "Mr. Armstrong, you mentioned an original agreement?"

"Ah, yes, the conversation you had with the baron before your marriage? I'm referring to that."

"Oh," Holly said, an uneasy sensation settling into her spine.

"Where is the cat?" Katrina asked.

"She lives in London and apparently is intolerant of loud voices. It's marked down right here," Mr. Armstrong said, pointing to the paper he held.

"The cat is at the baron's residence, Bairnsdale Terrence. Now, that property is also entailed, but there are a number of things within the home that the baron insisted you have. He reworked a bit of his will before he died."

Holly lifted a brow.

"Did he?"

"But why would he keep a cat in London and not bring it with him here?" Katrina pressed.

"He didn't like the cat."

"Well then why have it?"

"Because he felt sorry for the thing," Holly said exasperatedly. "Mr. Armstrong, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that John had changed anything. I mean to say, I was with him the last week of his life and I barely left his side."

"Ah, yes, but you did. The Thursday before his passing, you went to wash and rest," Mr. Armstrong said, his head lifting with his tone. He had been there as well. "He requested an audience with me to make sure that the marriage contract was solid. He was adamant that I was to do everything to make sure that it was unbreakable."

Holly's shoulders dropped as she breathed a sigh of relief. John had always tried to take care of her, and at that moment, she was even more sorry that he was no longer with them.

"He was a fine gentleman," she said.

"Yes, although you may think differently after I explain about this next part," Mr. Armstrong said lowly, shuffling his papers.

Holly peered at Katrina, who shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Holly said. "What next part?"

Mr. Armstrong took a deep breath and observed her.

"Lady Bairnsdale, have you ever heard of the term proxy marriage?"