Chapter 2

2

A bit over a week later, at a small parish near the Ashford estate in Hampshire, the funeral for Crispin Jameson, the Earl of Ashford, was held.

The church was adorned with black drapery and white flowers—lilies and roses, the namesakes of the earl's two daughters.

The Duke and Duchess of Lybrook were there with their son, Morgan, the Marquess of Gordonshire. He was nearing three years old, only a few days older than Tricia's own niece, Lady Joy Price-Adams.

The funeral was, of course, attended by the cream of society, given the earl's social standing. The Ashford Estate was one of the richest earldoms in England.

And now…

Now it all belonged to Thomas.

Rose sat in the front of the chapel with her mother, sister, and brother, along with Cameron and Daniel, the Duke of Lybrook, Lily's husband.

Tricia, Kat, and Lady Clementine sat in the pew behind them. Tricia was behind Thomas, and though she tried to keep her mind on the solemn occasion, she found herself staring at the back of the new earl's head—at his delicious dark-brown hair. Hair she'd dreamed of running her fingers through on many occasions.

Thomas was dressed in full mourning attire, including a band about his arm.

The dowager countess, Flora Jameson, wore a black veil over her face, as did Rose and Lily.

The funeral procession had formed at the estate, and everyone had followed in horse-drawn carriages. The pallbearers—friends and tenants of the Ashfords—had brought in the coffin.

Tricia didn't know what to feel. She hardly knew the earl, but she did know his daughter, her sister-in-law, whom she loved dearly as if she were her own sister.

Tricia had lost her father long ago, when she was just a child. Cameron had been more of a parent to her than her own father ever had. A terrible beating had left Colton Price a bit slow in the head, and while he loved his children deeply, he hadn't been capable of true fatherly emotion.

The late Earl of Ashford had been a pious man, a devout Christian who turned his nose up at anything with pagan traditions. He hadn't allowed his daughters to attend any of the Midsummer festivals or May Day celebrations due to their pagan roots.

But they had loved him. Rose and Lily couldn't say enough good about their father. He was a decent and honest man, well-respected in the ton.

All was quiet but for the sniffles of Lily, Rose, and the dowager countess.

Several clergymen took their place at the altar.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," a gray-haired vicar began, "we are convened here in the sacred confines of this hallowed place to solemnly acknowledge and reflect upon the life and legacy of Crispin Jameson, the Earl of Ashford. As we stand together in the shadow of mortality, let us find solace in the light of divine providence and the enduring bonds of our shared humanity.

"We commence this service with a hymn that was dear to our beloved earl, a melody that resonates with the echoes of his faith and the depth of his devotion to God and family. Let us lift our voices in unity, to reach the heavens with our collective homage, as we prepare to remember and celebrate the distinguished life that he led among us."

As Patricia joined in singing "Abide with Me," she was entranced by the poignant words expressing a deep yearning for the presence of God through the trials of life and the transition of death.

One voice—that of Rose's cousin, Sophie Newland—shone above the rest. Sophie was a gifted vocalist, and her husband, Zachary Newland, an actor, owned the Regal Theatre in Bath. It was Mr. Newland who had given Cameron entry into the world of music and theatre.

Tricia longed to be able to sing as beautifully as Sophie, but all the musical talent in her family had gone to Cameron, whose compositions were sought after all over Europe.

Once the hymn was over, the minister bowed his head. "Let us pray."

Tricia closed her eyes, forcing herself to look away from Thomas. Once the prayer was over, the minister continued.

"The Earl was a man of profound integrity and unwavering principle, qualities that endeared him to all strata of society, from the highest peer to the humblest tenant. His stewardship was marked by a benevolent regard for those who toiled upon his lands, ensuring that prosperity was shared and hardship lessened under his watchful eye.

"Throughout his life, the earl embodied the virtues of honor, duty, and compassion. His commitment to public service was unparalleled, as he dedicated himself to the betterment of our nation both in the hallowed halls of Parliament and within the local precincts of our community. His wise counsel and judicious advocacy were pillars upon which many relied, and his absence in these areas will be keenly felt.

"In the quietude of his personal domain, the earl was a loving husband and a nurturing father whose legacy is reflected in the admirable qualities of his offspring. His guidance and love shaped the future of his lineage, instilling in them the same values and virtues that he so exemplified.

"As we commit his earthly remains to the ground, let us also elevate his memory in our hearts, pledging to continue his legacy of service, integrity, and compassion. May the life of the Earl of Ashford serve as a guiding star for us all, illuminating the path of righteousness and humanity."

More prayers followed, and then everyone left the church and members of the earl's family returned to the Ashford estate for the burial in the family churchyard.

After the graveside service, replete with more solemn eulogies and the melancholic strings of a quartet, the mourners retreated to the late earl's stately home.

Tricia had been to the Ashford Estate only once before, after Rose and Cameron were wed. She'd been in awe of its beauty and grandness, but on this day, the manor was muted, its magnificence subdued by heavy drapes and an air of reverence. Servants moved like specters through the halls, their usual bright garments replaced by the dark vestments of mourning. The grand reception room was transformed into a somber display, candlelight flickering against the silver and crystal, casting gentle glows on the black attire of the attendees.

Towers of delicate sandwiches of cucumber and smoked salmon, their crusts trimmed, stood tall. A selection of fine pastries adorned with the thinnest slivers of almond and dusted with a fine snow of icing sugar that seemed, to Tricia, almost irreverent in their sweetness. Silver bowls cradled piles of scones, still warm, served with thick clotted cream and gleaming preserves. Cakes, from rich fruitcake to lighter sponge cakes, sat regally on tiered stands, alongside crystal decanters filled with sherry and port. Mingling scents of fresh baked bread and rich butter perfumed the air, along with the comforting aroma of tea—a blend especially favored by the earl—steaming in pots encased in embroidered cozies.

Tea was poured and sipped more out of ritual than desire, and the clinking of fine bone china was subdued. Throughout the room, the portraits of the earl's ancestors peered down, their oil-painted eyes following the procession of guests.

The last portrait, of course, drew Tricia's gaze.

Thomas Jameson, the heir—now the earl—nearly identical to his father but even more handsome, with piercing dark eyes that, even from the world of the painted canvas, she felt could see into her very soul.

She forced herself to stop staring. This was, after all, a solemn occasion—not an occasion to think about how much she fancied Thomas Jameson. The burden of her dark gown and the confines of decorum weighed down on her as she contemplated the nature of existence and the stark finality that even the grandest of lives must come to.

Tricia was sad for Rose and for Thomas, but inside she was also a bit disappointed. The season had already begun, and the height of it would start next month, April, in London, with balls, dinners, garden parties, and the opera.

It would take place without Thomas Jameson, as he would be in mourning for the next year.

All that trouble to convince Cameron to let her come out at eighteen…and now she wished to wait.

That would make Cameron exceedingly happy.