Chapter 1

Tall Chimneys, Wimborne, Dorset, England, August 1812.

"It's all right, Burns, I'll fetch it," Lavinia Stuart rose from the breakfast table as the butler turned to bring the coffeepot from the sideboard.

Her grandfather, Viscount Cranborne, cleared his throat.

"Sit down, Lavinia. You'll embarrass the poor man," he said, and Lavinia paused, already halfway out of her seat.

The butler, his face flushed red with embarrassment, hurried to fetch the coffeepot to fill Lavinia's cup. She glanced at her grandfather, who smiled and shook his head.

"I was only trying to help. It seems silly for me to sit at the table and wait, when it's just as easy for me to get up and help myself," Lavinia said.

Her grandfather laughed.

"Tell me this, Lavinia. When you were a maid, would you have liked it if your mistress had deprived you of your function and served herself? And if she'd got a taste for it, and realized she could do without you, would you have been glad if she'd told you to leave because you were no longer needed?

We all have our place in the natural order, Lavinia. I know you're still getting used to your change in circumstances, but allow me to be your guide in such matters. I know you want to help, but don't deprive Burns—or any of the other servants—of their proper function," he said.

Lavinia had not thought about it like that. She was still getting used to the fact she was no longer a servant. Her position had dramatically altered some months previously when, following the death of her father, her grandfather had arrived at the home she had shared with her parents, desiring a reunion with her mother—his estranged daughter. It had been the most remarkable turn of fortune, revealing a history Lavinia had been entirely unaware of.

"No, I suppose I wouldn't have done," Lavinia admitted.

"Your father had his function, too, didn't he?" her grandfather persisted, and Lavinia nodded.

Her father had been a merchant, though not a very successful one, and Lavinia had resigned herself to a life of service, before discovering the truth as to her aristocratic connections.

Her mother had been estranged from her grandfather, but his advancing years had meant a thawing in views of her elopement with Lavinia's father, and he had desired a reconciliation. On hearing of the death of her father, Lavinia's grandfather had sought them out, and the rest was history.

"I'm sorry, Burns. I'm just not used to… all this," Lavinia said, looking around her at the grandeur of her grandfather's dining room.

Tall Chimneys was a magnificent house, set in its own grounds, and with more rooms than Lavinia had yet explored.

"It's quite all right, Miss Stuart," the butler replied, as he poured the coffee for Lavinia.

This was something else Lavinia was not yet used to. As a maid, albeit in a house with a kindly mistress, she had never been addressed in such formal terms. There, she was merely "Lavinia," and her position was a lowly one. Now, she was elevated to the ranks of the aristocracy, and her grandfather had done much to introduce her to the ton, albeit with mixed results.

"I just feel… well, I want to do more," Lavinia said, and her grandfather raised his eyebrows.

"But what do you mean, more?" he asked, and Lavinia sighed.

She was used to hard work. As a child, Lavinia had worked day and night alongside her parents, fetching and carrying in the warehouse where her father stored the myriad of things he bought and sold by way of making money. As soon as she was old enough, not wanting to be a burden on her parents, Lavinia had entered service, where long hours and few days off were the order of things.

To find herself suddenly idle, and with little more to do than read, and change her dresses to fit whatever social occasion came next, did not come naturally to her. She wanted to be doing something—anything—to feel useful. But her grandfather was insistent.

Her place was among the aristocracy, a world she found strange and unsettling. Her grandfather had been unfailingly kind to her, and to her mother, whom Lavinia knew was so grateful to be reunited with the father she had thought lost. But as for being what she now was, Lavinia found it challenging, to say the least.

"Well, as a maid, I was up every morning by six to make the fires. Then there were the beds to see to, sweeping and dusting, polishing, fetching, and carrying. I never stayed down, but now, I hardly stand up," Lavinia replied.

She was almost envious of the servants. Her grandfather spoke of each person having their place in the natural order of things, but for Lavinia, her place was confused, and she felt uncertain of where she belonged. Not upstairs, but not downstairs, either. Her grandfather had promised to introduce her to society at the proper time, intending to allow her to get used to her new way of life.

But Lavinia did not think she would ever get used to it. She missed her former ways—the camaraderie between the servants, the dinners in the servant's hall, the outings on their days off. Now, Lavinia felt alone. She had not made any friends—the introductions her grandfather had made for her often resulting in misunderstandings. And as for her future prospects, Lavinia remained uncertain what was expected of her…

"But you're not a maid anymore, Lavinia. You don't have to do anything like that anymore. Aren't you pleased about that?" her grandfather asked.

Lavinia could not very well say she was in two minds about the matter. She knew her new life would take some getting used to, but the thought of being forever idle filled her with dread.

"Yes, I am," Lavinia said, and her grandfather smiled.

"You'll get used to it, Lavinia. Don't worry. I don't expect you to fall into line. I just want what's best for you," he said.

Lavinia knew what was coming next. Her grandfather had spoken of it on numerous occasions since her arrival at Tall Chimneys. The question of her marriage…

"I know you do, grandfather," she said.

"And once you're married. It'll be easier. Navigating the whims and wills of society can't be easy, Lavinia. But you've already proved yourself, and I'm sure it won't be long before an eligible suitor presents himself," her grandfather said, signaling to the butler to pour him another cup of coffee.

If Lavinia was yet to get used to the ways of her new life, she was certainly still to get used to the idea of a marriage being arranged for her. In service, she had given the matter little thought, presuming marriage would occur for her when the right time—and the right man—came. But in the world of the aristocracy, things were very different.

Introductions were made, arrangements were pressed, and marriage was more a matter of making the right match than falling in love. Lavinia's grandfather had first mentioned the matter a week or so after she and her mother had arrived at Tall Chimneys.

Lavinia had not given it much thought, but her grandfather had been persistent. He had introduced her to several potential suitors, all of whom Lavinia had found wanting. She disliked them all, and when one in particular had persisted, she had shied away.

"But not Lord Bath," Lavinia said, and her grandfather raised his eyebrows.

"I don't see what's wrong with Lord Bath, Lavinia. He's a perfectly good and decent man," he replied, but Lavinia shook her head.

She had first met the Earl of Bath at a ball in London, just a few weeks after her unexpected elevation. She had been nervous, not knowing what to do or what to say, and dreading the moment she would be expected to dance.

Lord Bath had appeared charming at first, though Lavinia had soon come to realize he was the sort of man who liked to find himself in a position of power. He had purposefully sought her out, having, it seemed, heard the remarkable story of what her grandfather had done for her.

"You really are very pretty," he had said, slipping his arm around her, and Lavinia had had no choice but to dance with him.

She had derived some satisfaction from having stepped repeatedly on his feet as they had danced, but it seemed he was determined to win her over, and in the coming weeks, Lord Bath had persisted in his attentions.

"He's certainly keen," her mother had said, but Lavinia had detected something more than genuine attraction in Lord Bath's attitude towards her.

It was as though he found something amusing in pursuing her—the fact of her elevation from maid to lady was something he spoke of repeatedly, and Lavinia could not help but think he found it attractive in an unpleasant way. There were many men of his rank and class who had pursued their own servants in this way, and Lavinia could only imagine the earl would derive a sense of satisfaction in seducing her.

But Lavinia was having none of it. She had resisted Lord Bath's advances, though had not outrightly rejected them. In return, she feared he had spread rumors about her—her past, and manner of her behavior in her less aristocratic days.

"I just don't like him, that's all. There's something… not quite right about him," Lavinia replied, and her grandfather shook his head.

"Come now, Lavinia. You shouldn't judge him until you know him properly. And even then, it doesn't do to be judgmental. But these rumors… no, it won't do. The sooner you're married, the better," her grandfather replied.

Lavinia shook her head. The rumors were just that—and they were lies. She had never behaved with impropriety as a maid, and since her elevation, she had behaved with total comportment, albeit with some mistakes along the way.

"Lord Bath probably started those rumors," Lavinia said, and her grandfather furrowed his brow.

"Why would he do that?" he asked, and Lavinia sighed.

"So that he gets what he wants. If rumors are going round about me, he can be the one to apparently rise above them, marrying me "despite" what others say," she said.

Her grandfather looked as though he did not believe what she was saying, but since finding herself in her new position, Lavinia had come to realize just how devious, how backstabbing, and how self-determined most members of the ton could be. She had never heard servants gossip with such glee, or delight in the downfall of others.

There were those who lived for scandal, and sometimes it felt as though there was nothing her fellow aristocrats liked more than to see another of their kind brought low. It was terrible, and Lavinia would gladly have washed her hands of them all.

"Well, I don't know about that. It all seems rather… farfetched," her grandfather replied, but Lavinia shook her head.

She was adamant she wanted nothing more to do with Lord Bath, even as she feared her grandfather had other ideas…

"I'm sure someone other than Lord Bath might present himself," Lavinia said.

She was in no rush to marry and given she had only just discovered who she really was, it seemed important to settle down before another upheaval occurred. Her grandfather shook his head. Whenever this discussion occurred, they always reached a stalemate.

Neither of them was willing to give ground, and Lavinia realized she had inherited his stubbornness, as well as his striking red hair. Her grandfather was about to reply—thus prolonging their bickering—when the dining room door opened, and Lavinia's mother, Octavia, entered the room with an excited look on her face.

"I've just received the most wonderful news," she exclaimed, holding aloft a letter in her hand.

Lavinia's mother had settled well into what had been her old life before eloping with Lavinia's father. The grieving widow had become the grateful daughter, and Lavinia knew how happy, and relieved, her mother was to no longer have to worry about the practicalities of life, in favor of the ease with which she now passed her days. Lavinia was pleased for her mother, but that did not mean she herself was finding the transition any easier.

"What is it?" the viscount asked, and Lavinia's mother handed her father the letter.

"It's from Horatia—you remember, the Baroness Sarum. I haven't seen her in years… well, I haven't seen many people in years. We lost touch, of course, though she was never against my marrying Arthur," Octavia said.

Lavinia watched as her grandfather unfolded the letter and began to read. She had never heard of the Baroness Sarum before. But she was beginning to learn there was a great deal about her mother's past she did not know. Her history was one Lavinia had not been privy to—though she had never asked about it, either. Lavinia had simply accepted her lot, and to find it was different from what she had expected was still something she was getting used to.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy—losing her daughter. And she's been a widow for… I think, six years," Lavinia's grandfather said.

"Who's this?" Lavinia asked, and her mother looked at her and smiled.

"Horatia Thompson, the Baroness Sarum—well, dowager, now. We were friends in our younger days. She's invited us to go and stay with her at Sarum Lacy House in Wiltshire—it's the family seat," Octavia replied.

The name "Sarum Lacy House" conjured up all manner of grand thoughts in Lavinia's mind. She still marveled at the size of the houses of those she was introduced to—and she herself—occupied. A hundred rooms for a family of five and their servants, or a house with two wings and tower for a bachelor and his small band of staff. It seemed obscene, though it was not something unusual, of course. Those that had, had, and those that had not, had not.

"What a strange name for a house," Lavinia replied.

"It's a wonderful place, deep in the countryside. It gets quite cut off in the winter when the snow comes. But in the summer, one can roam across the estate all day and not meet a soul in the woods and meadows. I went there several times—when Horatia's husband was still alive. Oh, and to think of going there again…" she said, clutching her hands together in delight.

Lavinia's grandfather had now finished reading the letter, and he looked up at Octavia and smiled.

"She's certainly keen on extending an invitation to you and Lavinia, isn't she?" he said.

"Oh, father, do say we can go. It'll do Lavinia good. I know you want to arrange a match for her, but… I can't turn down the chance to go back to Sarum Lacy House," Octavia said.

There was a wistful look in her eyes, and Lavinia could see how much the invitation meant to her. But as for accompanying her mother on the journey, Lavinia was in two minds. Everything was so new, and Lavinia did not feel ready for another upheaval.

It was one thing to live with her grandfather at Tall Chimneys and make mistakes as to which piece of cutlery to use and which glass to drink from, but quite another to do so in another person's house.

"Will she really want us there if she's lost her daughter?" Lavinia asked, for she could not imagine a grieving mother wanting to entertain a long-lost friend and her daughter, returned from nothing to the center of the ton.

But Octavia shook her head.

"She had a son, too. I think she'd appreciate the company. She writes how difficult it's been since Gwendolene's death. I feel so sorry for her," Octavia said.

Lavinia shook her head sadly. She, too, felt sorry for Horatia. To lose a daughter was surely one of the worst things that could happen, and she felt for Horatia's son, too, losing his sister, while bearing the responsibility of his inheritance.

"Then you want to go, mother?" she asked, and her mother nodded.

"With your permission, father," Octavia said, glancing at Lavinia's grandfather, who nodded.

"I'm happy for you to go. But remember what I said, Lavinia—you can't avoid making a match forever, and Lord Bath isn't going to go away," he said.

Lavinia nodded. She knew Lord Bath would be persistent, but putting distance between them might be enough to attract his attentions elsewhere. Despite her initial misgivings, the thought of going to Sarum Lacy House for the rest of the season certainly had its advantages.