Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

December 1888

Yorkshire, England

LADY ROSALYND

“ M UST YOU GO, ROSIE?” Petunia's tearful voice quivered as she buried her face in my gown. No surprise that the fabric was quickly dampened by her flood of tears.

Her grief was not entirely unexpected. After our parents had been tragically killed six years ago, I’d taken on the role of caretaker for my siblings, a responsibility I wore proudly. For all intents and purposes, I was the only mother Petunia had ever known, and each parting, no matter how brief, felt monumental to her. So it was no surprise she dreaded a separation.

I crouched down to Petunia's level, gently lifting my sister's chin so I could look into her eyes. "I’ll only be gone for three days, poppet,” I soothed, brushing a stray copper curl from her tear-streaked cheek. "I promise I’ll return in time for Sunday service. I’ll be but ten miles away at Lady Eleanor's home, barely a two-hour drive. If something dire occurs, Cosmos can send word, and I’ll return at once."

Petunia sniffed, her small lips trembling. "But what if something happens to you ?”

I chuckled softly, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Nothing will happen to me, my sweet. The roads from here to Lady Eleanor’s home are well maintained, and no snow is expected.”

Logical as my arguments were, she was not about to concede her grievance. “But what if a highwayman accosts you?”

I arched a brow. “A highwayman? Who put that thought in your head?”

Laurel’s cheeks turned bright red. My twelve-year-old sister loved to read novels, the more lurid the better. I tried to hide them, as they were not proper reading materials for her, but she always managed to find them in our vast library. But now was not the time to call her out on it. Not when Petunia’s concern needed to be addressed. In as kind a voice as I could manage, I said, “There are no highwaymen in Yorkshire, sweetheart.”

“But—”

The grandfather clock in the drawing room chimed, reminding me of the hour. “No more, poppet. I have to leave. I promised Eleanor I’d arrive at Needham Hall before luncheon. You don’t want me to disappoint her, do you?”

She sniffed once more. “No.”

“You’ll be in good hands here with Chrissie.” My next younger sister dearly loved Petunia, indeed all of her siblings. I could rely on her to care for them. “And Cosmos as well.”

Petunia scoffed. “Cosmos spends all his time with his plants. He hardly knows I exist.”

Our oldest brother, the Earl of Rosehaven, was an avowed botanist who spent an inordinate amount of time in his greenhouse. But then, it was for a good reason. He’d become such an expert in British flora, Scotland Yard regularly consulted him when a thorny problem arose.

“I might starve,” Petunia insisted in dramatic fashion.

“I doubt that, Petunia,” Laurel said. “He shows up for all his meals, so he’s bound to notice if you weren’t eating.”

Chrissie curled an arm around Petunia’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure you don’t starve, sweetheart. I’ll ask Cook to bake plenty of fairy cakes just for you.” Fairy cakes were Petunia’s favorites.

That brightened up Petunia to no end. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

I smiled at Chrissie, grateful for her effort, though I knew my absence would be harder on her than she let on.

Glancing once more at the gathered group in front of the drawing room hearth, I addressed my sisters with a reassuring nod, "I expect you to be on your best behavior while I’m away. That means no teasing Petunia and no arguing with Chrissie. While I’m gone, she’ll be in charge. Understood?"

The twins Holly and Ivy exchanged mischievous glances, but answered “Understood,” readily enough.

“It’s not fair.” Laurel, ever the rebel, piped up.

“What’s not fair?”

“We get admonished while our brothers are not even here to say goodbye.”

“Of course, we’re here,” Cosmos said, entering the drawing room with William and Fox in his wake. “We couldn’t very well let Rosie leave without saying goodbye.” He strolled over to me and kissed my cheek. “Enjoy yourself, sister. Don’t worry about them. I’ll make sure they don’t set themselves on fire or poison anyone.”

I laughed. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

“Have a grand time, Rosie,” William said. My strapping twenty-two-year-old brother had been traveling on the continent but, thankfully, had come home for the holidays. No one was happier than me. I had missed him dreadfully.

“I plan to.”

Fox, the youngest male in the family, bowed and held out a bloom. “I cultivated it for you.”

A red rose in winter. “Why that’s lovely, Fox. Thank you,” I said accepting the bloom. “I shall treasure it.”

As I kissed his cheek, he blushed.

"Do try to care for each other until I return," I said taking them all in.

“We will,” they said in unison.

Another fresh wave of tears from Petunia brought my attention back to her. "I don't want you to go," Petunia whispered.

I knelt again, pulling her into my arms for one final embrace. "I know, darling. But I promise you, I’ll be back before you know it. And while I’m gone, you must be brave. Can you do that for me?"

Petunia nodded reluctantly, though her tears continued to fall.

"That’s my girl," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I’ll see you soon."

Chrissie gently took Petunia’s hand and pulled her away from my tear-stained gown. As much as my heart ached, it was time to leave.

After a final glance at my brothers and sisters, who stood in a loose formation by the hearth, I squared my shoulders and made my way to the front steps of Rosehaven Manor. Outside, the family’s grand carriage awaited, its horses stamping impatiently in the cool morning air. The crisp scent of frost clung to the breeze, signaling the approach of winter, though the promise of holiday festivities softened the bite of the chill.

As I ascended into the carriage to join my maid, Tilly, I allowed myself a small sigh of contentment. The prospect of spending three days in the company of my dearest friend, Lady Eleanor Needham, free from the constant demands of managing Rosehaven Manor and its occupants, filled me with anticipation.

“Everything is packed nice and tight, milady,” Tilly said, “including your ball gown.”

“Thank you, Tilly.” I pressed her hand. “I know I can count on you to do everything right.”

“Ta, Lady Rosalynd.”

Once I’d settled into the plush velvet seat of the carriage, our coachman sprung the horses. Soon, the sprawling grounds of Rosehaven Manor began to fall away, replaced by the quiet rolling hills and bare trees that lined the road to Needham Hall. The countryside, though cold and stark in its winter dress, offered a peaceful retreat from the noise and activity that typically filled my days.

As the carriage rattled along the path, I allowed myself to drift into thought. The image of Petunia’s tear-streaked face lingered in my mind, tugging at my heart. My departure had unsettled my younger sister more than usual. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt the sting of guilt when leaving my siblings behind. As much as I longed for moments of freedom, for a chance to be simply Rosalynd rather than a caretaker, I couldn’t escape the deep sense of responsibility I felt toward my family.

But Lady Eleanor had been insistent. "You need a break, Rosalynd," she’d said just last week over tea during her fortnightly visit. "You’ve been running Rosehaven singlehandedly for years. Let someone else take care of things for a few days. Come to my Christmas ball—no children, no responsibilities, just good company and a chance to enjoy yourself."

The invitation had been impossible to refuse, especially when Eleanor had added with a sly smile, "Besides, I have something special planned for the ball. You won’t want to miss it."

Eleanor had refused to divulge any further details. So, of course, my curiosity had been piqued. Whatever my friend had in store, it was sure to be something grand.

As the countryside passed in a blur outside the carriage window, I imagined the warmth of the firelit halls of Needham Hall, the sound of laughter and music, and the rich scent of evergreens and spices filling the air. Lady Eleanor’s holiday gatherings were always a welcome reprieve from the strictures of society, and I was eager to bask in the comfort of my friend’s lively household.

At some point in the journey, I dozed off. So it seemed like only minutes later I was being roused by a soft knock on the carriage door. Gazing out the window, I realized we’d arrived at Needham Hall. After our footman opened it with a slight bow, I stepped down. The cold air bit at my cheeks as I gazed up at the grand manor before me.

The sprawling estate stood majestic against the backdrop of crisp December skies, its roof and eaves dusted with frost. The manor’s imposing facade was softened by the festive decorations strewn across its stone walls—evergreen garlands adorned with holly, red ribbons, and gleaming baubles. The scent of pine lingered in the cold air, mingling with the faint aroma of wood smoke curling from the chimneys. It was a scene of holiday cheer, as warm as the heart of the Christmas season.

A growing sense of happiness filled me as I gazed with wonder at the sight. What would the next four days bring? Much more than I expected, as it turned out.