Chapter 1

"It is quite a lovely day, Mama, isn't it?"

Mary's daughter, Eloise, asked as they walked through the countryside. Mary loved the peace, the serenity, the fact that she could hear herself think. She was almost thirty years of age and she had not known peace anywhere quite like the countryside.

Her daughter, Eloise, only seven years old, still occasionally held her hand when they walked anywhere. It was not particularly dangerous where they lived. The threat of being trampled by carriages was not quite the same out in the countryside, so it was comforting for Mary to know that when Eloise held her hand, it was because her child wanted to.

"I agree," Mary said. She spotted some flowers in the distance. "How about we start over there to pick those ones?" she suggested gently. "They will do very well for the wreath you want to make for Katie on her birthday."

They walked down a country lane, where an unattended garden grew wildly. White, pink, yellow, and orange flowers sprung up beautifully.

Eloise grinned. "I should think she will like the pink ones most. We can match them with white. What do you think, Mama?"

"Beautiful," Mary agreed. "We will gather them in the basket and have Bernie prepare them for us."

Bernie, Eloise's governess, nodded. "I shall indeed, my lady."

"Can I help, Bernie?" Eloise asked as she plucked a flower by the stem and placed it in the basket hanging over Mary's arm. "I would enjoy helping make the wreath, so Katie knows I have participated. It shall be my gift to her. It would be lovely for her to show her papa that her best friend made the wreath."

"Of course, you can, my lady," Bernie assured her.

"Her papa?" Mary asked, in curiosity. "The Duke of Livingston?"

"That is right," Eloise said. "He wrote to Katie a few weeks ago to inform her of his return for her birthday. Of course, she told me how he had promised this for several birthdays. Oh, Mama, I do hope he keeps his promise! She was ever so excited! Finally, she shall have a break from her nanny. I should think her papa misses her, but if he does, then would he not come home more? She misses him terribly and…"

Mary smiled, listening to her daughter talk at great length about her friend. At least she had somehow shielded Eloise from a lonely life in the countryside after only having one child before her life was irreversibly turned upside down.

"He is rather handsome," Eloise continued, bringing Mary up short. "That is what Katie overheard the castle staff say."

Mary cast her daughter a concerned look. "You two should not listen to such things from the staff."

"He is kind, too. Katie told me so."

Not kind enough to return for poor Katie's birthday.

Mary bit her tongue angrily.

"He shall bring her many gifts from his travels, I suppose!" Eloise chirped happily, walking through the patch of flowers while Bernie pointed out some that were not wilted.

Mary watched the two of them pick them together, trying to picture the man her daughter described.

"I wonder if I shall get to meet him." Eloise glanced back at her mother, a smile forming on her lips. "I wonder if you shall meet him, Mama."

I have no interest in meeting a man who cannot even be present for his daughter's birthday.

Mary would have shared this with Anne had they still lived near one another. She missed her sister dearly but could not face life in London again. It was an isolating decision to not return, but the best for her.

She smiled at Eloise. "I am sure he shall turn up this year bearing riches and gifts abound for Katie. And if he does not, then we shall host a wonderful birthday dinner for her. Would you like that?"

"Very much, Mama."

"Katie will be the happiest birthday girl in the world." Mary smiled at Eloise's satisfied grin as she continued to pick flowers for the wreath. "I do hope her father does the right thing and contributes to that happiness."

"Oh, I am sure he will!"

The question of whether Eloise felt the same as Katie had always been on the tip of Mary's tongue. Whether having no father—deceased or simply neglectful—affected Eloise the way Mary was sure it affected Katie. But Eloise was still too young to be asked such questions, so she kept them to herself.

Eloise returned with her governess once she had picked enough flowers and talked excitedly about the plans for Katie's birthday. The three of them lingered on the side of the country road as Eloise stopped them to check that all the flowers were perfect enough and that no petals had come off. Distantly, she heard the sound of hooves.

"My lady?—"

Bernie's call came too late, and Mary was too focused on her daughter to take note of just how close those thundering hooves were. As soon as she turned, she saw the horse, and the rider atop it. Immediately, she pulled Eloise away from the side of the road, switching places with her.

As the man slowed his horse with a sharp, "Steady there, boy," Mary was knocked aside by the horse's rearing body. She cried out as she fell down. Her ankle twisted unpleasantly, and a harsh rip sounded. She covered her mouth as she realized her skirts had ripped, caught beneath the heel of her shoe.

"Madam, are you all right?" a voice that was the smoothest, deepest velvet spoke to her.

There was a thud as the man's boots hit the ground. He jumped off his horse, immediately offering her a hand to help her up.

Lifting her gaze from her torn dress up to this man, Mary fixed him with a glare. Haloed by the high morning sun, the stranger—she noticed—was devastatingly handsome. Dark hair curled against the collar of his coat, which was a beautiful green that contrasted with his pale skin. His outstretched hand was strong, with long, thin fingers that beckoned her.

She scowled at him. "I am quite fine," she snapped. "But you, sir, should watch yourself. You nearly killed my daughter and me!"

She stubbornly refused his hand and got to her feet with as much grace as she could muster. The sleeve of her dress had slid off, and she caught his eyes dropping to the exposed skin. She yanked the sleeve back up.

Mary was a tall woman, possessing her father's height and her mother's width. But this man still towered over her, his distant hazel eyes looking down on her. His face was pointedly controlled, his mouth tight as if he did not like being snapped at. Of course, he did not. No man with a horse and coat as fine as his would appreciate it.

"My apologies, madam," he said, his voice lowering.

It had been many years since she had interacted with another man who was not her father, brother-in-law, or nephew, and his voice only sparked her irritation further for how seductive he sounded without saying anything remotely sensual. His tone naturally spread warmth through her; she put it down to her anger.

Mary drew back further when the horse snorted. "What are you doing, racing like that down a country lane? I hope you do not call yourself a gentleman, treating a woman and her daughter with so little care," she snapped.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mary noticed Bernie pulling Eloise to the side, pointing at another patch of flowers, and ushering her away from the two adults.

The man stilled, his eyebrows rising as if in quiet shock. Clearly, he was arrogantly assured of himself. He acted as if he had not been spoken to like that before.

"Madam, will you let me answer one of your questions before you start accusing me of not caring about anybody?" he answered coolly. "And, please, forgive me, again, but I have apologized. Several times."

"You are very entitled, sir, to think there are enough apologies for the tragedy you could have caused! An apology would not have spared our lives had your horse been further out of control beneath your hand. So, forgive me if I do not accept!"

"I shall not stand here and listen to you insult me," he countered, lifting his chin. "And watch your expression. I shall not have you glare at me so."

"Then you are welcome to be on your way! I do not wish to spend my morning bickering with a man who cares little for the safety of others. Even now, you look as though you are entirely bored! And what an enormous beast that is! Should you be riding him on a country lane this small? I am certain this is a walkway."

"I can go wherever I please! I will not stand for you trying to dictate where I can ride. I do not take kindly to women trying to tell me what to do. And I would ask you to leave my horse out of this," the man answered, looking affronted. "What has he ever done to you?"

"He nearly killed me!"

That got him smirking. "So was it me who nearly killed you or my horse?"

His irritating question gave her pause. She clenched her hands into fists. The basket of flowers had fallen to the ground, and she snatched it up, cradling it against her arm.

"Good day, sir. I do hope you do not trample any other women on your way."

"Well, Imust say I hope no other women are foolish enough to not look at where they are standing. Perhaps it is you who is in the wrong. You were in my path."

"I do not know you, sir, but I find you intolerable, and I am glad we are strangers!"

"Are you, now?" The man's expression turned into something more taunting that Mary did not appreciate. His eyes fell to her torn dress, and he stiffened. "Madam, your dress?—"

Humiliated, Mary blushed furiously, tugging on the fabric as if she could close up the tear in her skirts. "My dress is quite fine," she snapped. "It is nothing I cannot handle."

"Let me have it fixed for you," he offered. The suggestion took her by surprise for a moment. "It is the least I can do."

And yet he did not look like it was something he wanted to, but perhaps felt he needed to.

Mary bit back another retort. "I shall see to it myself."

"Then you must let me?—"

"No," Mary answered. "Thank you, sir, but I am not in need of assistance."

She could feel the breeze filtering through the rip in her skirts, but she winced through a smile and straightened herself, regaining her composure.

The infuriating man watched her struggle to right herself and only smirked. "What a pity," he murmured.

"What is?" Mary snapped.

"That such a beautiful woman could be so insolent."

Mary's response died on her lips, rendering her silent as she glared at this man who had somehow steered the conversation to a place where he had control in spite of her fury.

Irritation flared through her.

Once again, before she could come up with a scathing retort, he smiled at her and said, "goodbye, madam. As my apology earlier was clearly not enough, once again I apologize for your distress. And your torn dress."

He gave her a slow once-over, making her feel exposed despite the layers she wore.

Mary glared at the handsome but frustrating stranger as he swung confidently back onto his horse.

"Well, as you said, I hope we do not meet again. Do try to stay out of the way of horse's hooves for the remainder of your day."

She let out an annoyed noise as he rode off without a backward glance or another word. She gaped at his retreating figure, entirely bewildered and angry.

There was something about the man that entranced her until he disappeared into the distant fields, toward the rolling hills of the countryside.

"Who was that, Mama?" Eloise asked as Bernie finally deemed it safe for them to return.

Mary's eyes were still on the horizon. "Nobody, darling. Let us return home."