Prologue

Her hand shook as she dipped the ink into the inkwell and waited for her rapidly beating heart to still. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed the fresh morning air to fill her lungs. Her mother’s preferred scents, notes of rose and lavender, filled her lungs. Somewhere outside sparrows sang. She soaked in the day’s peace and exhaled before smoothing the sheet before her.

My beloved.

No, that wouldn’t do. He wasn’t her beloved. He didn’t know she felt such burning sensations when she thought of him, saw him, or spoke to him. He had no idea. And he never would. She balled the page up and tossed it into the fire where the bright orange flamed devoured it at once.

 Alexander, she wrote. Much better. Yes. Simple. To the point. That’s what she needed.

John Donne, the great poet, has inspired me with his words to the point where I feel a burning desire to share what is in my heart with you. I fear that if I do not, it shall consume me whole.

I have long loved you and admired you from afar. I have dreamed of you and what might be but never dared to make my feelings and desires known. A lady never ought to be forward and forthcoming with such things; we know this to be true. And yet, I cannot contain my feelings, and I must let them out, even if just in the form of this letter.

Dearest Alexander. The truth is, I love you with an intensity that cannot be put into words even though I know you have never looked at me with anything other than curiosity and sympathy, perhaps. It does not matter. I want you to know I adore you. I … I wish I could one day have the good fortune of looking you in the eyes and confessing how I feel, but I fear I shall never have the courage to do so.

But I dream that you will be inspired to love me as I love you, one day. That you will have the courage, I lack. It may be foolish, but such are my dreams and my hopes. And as a wise woman once said, if one doesn’t have hope, one has nothing.

I wish I were more eloquent in my writing, but I am afraid I lack the refined skill of a true poet. Thus, let me end my note here with the words that have led me to write to you in the first place—with the words of John Donne:

 If yet I have not all thy love,

Dear, I shall never have it all.

I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,

Nor can intreat one other tear to fall.

And all my treasure, which should purchase thee-

Sighs, tears, and oaths, and latters—I have spent.

Yet no more can be due to me,

Then at the bargain made was meant.

If then thy gift of love were partial,

That some to me, some should to others fall,

Dear, I shall never have thee all.

She sat back once she was satisfied that the letter expressed her innermost feelings. What would he make of it? Would he think she was foolish? Was she foolish? Perhaps she was making a cake of herself by even writing this.

No. The feelings that had festered within her all these years had to be expelled one way or the other. Besides, this was the perfect time to do so. Wasn’t it?

She sprinkled sand over the still-wet ink, allowing it to soak up the excess. Then, when she was satisfied her meticulous crafted words would not be smudged, she brushed away the sand and neatly folded the letter.

Outside, she heard pedestrians walking up and down her home while chattering. Horses neighed as they pulled majestic carriages, and the birds continued to sing.

She took another deep breath, flipped the paper over, and wrote the recipient’s name on the front. Finally, it was time to send her words on their way.

Chapter One

London, 1816

If yet I have not all thy love…

It wouldn’t fit. Lilian leaned back in frustration, disgustedly wiping at the tiny dot of sweat that had sprung up on her temples. She looked down at the small ornate box in her lap and sighed.

“Perhaps I should tear it a bit,” she said aloud, and silence echoed back at her. She was alone in her mother’s bedchamber, a rare moment for her. In all her ten-and-eight years, she’d always been in the company of someone else. If it was not her brother, then it was her mother. If not her mother, then it was her dear friend, Viola. And if it was neither of them, then her maid—Nancy—would be hovering over her shoulder with that blank look on her face. Somehow, Lilian had managed to escape to the solitude of her mother’s bedchambers to undertake this unexpectedly difficult task.

It was only because of what was happening downstairs in the manor that she could steal away in the moment. Right now, no one really cared that she had disappeared to the powder room for so long—though she wouldn’t be surprised to hear Nancy walking around in search of her. Lilian had limited time and she was going to make the best of it.

With a little smile, she tore the small slip of paper, taking care not to rip into the words she’d put her heart and soul into. Once she was done, she folded the paper twice and tried to fit it into the bottom of the box once more. This time, it slipped in easily.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, shooting to her feet. Then, feeling a little embarrassed at her unladylike outburst, she flushed and reclaimed her seat, though the smile did not dim. Lilian lifted the box to eye level, admiring the detailed carvings and shiny finishing, though she was well aware that she had no use for it.

It was just a snuffbox, after all. In her possession, it would remain empty, to be looked at and admired for its lovely ornaments and details. Even so, it would hold far more significance—all because of the tiny love letter she’d manage to fit into the false bottom under the box.

The love letter would never see the light of day again, she knew. She’d only written it to get her feelings out, to at least put into words all the emotions she had been holding in for years now. The man the letter was addressed to would never see it because, deep down, Lilian knew she did not stand a chance. She was neither pretty, nor demure, nor the perfect lady she was expected to be. He could do far better.

The thought stung a little, in all honesty. And thinking about him, about his lovely smile and the twinkle in his eyes, had her smile slipping as she sighed.

“If only I had been born with long and silky blonde hair, instead of curly auburn tresses,” she lamented, perching her chin on her hand. “If only I had bright blue eyes instead of dull green ones.”

“Lilian?”

Lilian jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. The beautiful Dowager Countess of Harenshire, Lady Georgia Cecil, frowned deeply as she crossed her arms and came further into the room. Lilian shot to her feet, resisting the urge to hide the snuffbox behind her since she’d already been caught.

“What are you doing in here?” Lady Harenshire asked. “I thought you had gone to the powder room.”

“I had,” Lilian lied easily, though her heart was beating rapidly. “But on my way back, I got distracted. You know how I am sometimes.”

“Yes, I do. Though I do not understand how you ended up in here.” Her mother came closer, eyeing the box. “What do you have in your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Lilian tried to quickly come up with something to say. She couldn’t tell her mother that she had spent the last twenty minutes undoing the false bottom and trying to fit a love letter inside. “I remembered when you’d returned home with it from shopping, and I wanted to see it again. It is just so beautiful, don’t you think? Just look at the ornaments affixed on it! I couldn’t help coming in here to admire it once more.”

“Well, you should take it all in while you can.” If Lady Harenshire was upset at Lilian for being in her room, she didn’t show it. Her mother could mask what she was thinking far too perfectly, which always made her too difficult to read. Her expression was as light and pleasant as it always was as she approached Lilian and took the box from her.

“Why?” Lilian asked.

The Dowager Countess’ brown eyes shifted from the box to her daughter, then back to the box. Only the front of her hair was pinned up, the back cascading past her shoulders like a dark wave. Lilian had always admired her beauty growing up and, now that Lilian was almost ready to debut, she doubted she had inherited her mother’s bewitching appearance.

“Because I bought it as a gift for Belinda,” Lady Harenshire stated matter-of-factly, referencing the Belinda Russel, the Duchess of Renford. “You know she is a collector of these boxes, though I must say that I cannot see the appeal. I would understand sculpture or perhaps even paintings, but snuffboxes? I will never understand, but I suppose I should support her in whatever she enjoys. Speaking of, have you seen Chantrey’s latest sculpture? It is simply magnificent!”

Lilian was suddenly crossed between rolling her eyes—a gesture her mother would scold her about for the next three days—and laughing at the way her mother sometimes rambled. She never did it before company, the years spent at a lady’s seminary in Bristol ingrained into her very being. But around family, Lilian had come to learn that her mother had a short attention span, a peculiarity that made her almost perfect mother seem adorable and down to earth.

Right now, though, Lilian was still a little on edge about being caught so she said, “No, I haven’t. But I’m certain Her Grace will enjoy it. Is that why you’ve come to your chambers? To bring it to her?”

“She will be leaving shortly, so now is the best time, yes.” Lady Harenshire turned and headed back to the door. Lilian dutifully followed. “And it is a good thing that I found you. It wouldn’t do for you to miss their departure.”

Yes, Lilian thought, her heart sinking, that simply wouldn’t do.

She knew exactly who else was waiting downstairs, which was partly the reason she had decided to come to her mother’s chambers.

“Could I keep this one?” Lilian asked as they set off down the hallway. “I really adore it and I’m certain Her Grace wouldn’t mind since she doesn’t know it even exists!”

“I can buy you another,” Lady Harenshire told her calmly. “I also wanted to thank Belinda for last night’s dinner so now is the perfect time for this gift.”

“But Mother—!”

“Are you so attached to this box already?” her mother asked, looking at her. Her tone, to the untrained ear, would have sounded slightly curious. But Lilian knew better. She was walking on thin ice and if she wasn’t careful, she would end up telling her mother everything about the little secret she’d just put in the bottom of the box.

It’s fine. The Duchess likes to put these down and admire them on her mantlepiece. She will never find the letter. No one will. It is fine.

There was every possibility that it would not be fine, of course, and her thudding heart only impressed this possibility upon her further, but she had to convince herself that it would, in fact, be fine. It had to be.

Still, the thought of parting with it so quickly made her heart ache a little. It was true that she hadn’t meant for anyone to see it, but she still wanted to have it around, to read it whenever she wanted.

Lilian shook her head at her mother’s question and, thankfully, nothing more was said between them. Even so, Lilian snuck a peek at her mother as they descended the grand staircase on their way to the drawing room. Lady Harenshire was the reason she decided to hide the letter after all, inspired by her mother’s past. When Lady Harenshire was younger—when she was green, unmarried, and in love—she would receive love letters from Lilian’s late father which had led to them falling in love. Before the Earl of Harenshire passed away from an illness, Lilian had often enjoyed his tales of the past and admired the fact that Lady Harenshire kept those letters to this day.

Lilian supposed she was doing things a little differently than her parents, but writing her feelings down made her feel much lighter.

As they approached the drawing room, however, Lilian’s heart began racing once more. She wasn’t ready to see him again. Not when she knew it might be the last time…

There was no delaying the inevitable though and, despite her reluctance, she sped up a little. She had to see him. Even though she knew it would hurt.

“Ah, there she is!” came a loud male voice the moment she and her mother stepped through the doors. “And here I thought I would have to go scouring the streets to find you again.”

“John!” Lilian exclaimed as her face went hot. “I haven’t done that in years.”

Laughter filled the lavishly decorated drawing room. Lilian kept her eyes on her brother’s humor-filled face and tried to ignore the deep laughter coming from the man sitting next to him.

The Duchess of Renford, chuckled behind her gloved hand. “Oh, stop it, John,” she chided Lilian’s brother. “You know she is far too old to be doing such things.”

“Oh?” John’s eyes twinkled with devilish mirth. They looked alike with the same featured and dark brown hair, though John’s eyes were brown where Lilian’s were green. “Lilian? Would you like to tell them about your latest adventure?”

“John, please leave me be,” Lilian said heatedly, quickly rushing to the armchair next to her mother. She was used her brother bringing up her old childish ways but for some reason, she couldn’t handle it today. Perhaps it was because she was feeling very much aware of her inadequacy after that letter.

“Latest adventure?” That deliciously deep voice sent shivers down her spine but instead of looking up, she kept picking at the ends of her sleeve. “Pray tell. It has been a while since I’ve heard of Lily’s time out of the manor.”

Lily. The nickname made her feel like a child.

“Did she not tell you?” John went on. “Mother and I both thought her days of sneaking out of the manor to walk the streets of London was long gone and yet, I returned home yesterday after a tiresome day to hear that she had walked all the way to Hyde Park! By the time she arrived, it was late afternoon, and her feet was so tired that she couldn’t walk back and so she sat there for hours.”

“Then how did she return home?” The Duchess asked, sounding rather interested in the story.

“Thankfully, one of the coachmen noticed her leaving and decided to follow behind with a carriage. He waited a bit but then when the sun began to go down, he approached her and carried her back home.”

“I hope you know how lucky you were, Lily,” his voice came again.

Heart skipping a beat, Lilian knew she couldn’t ignore him for any longer. So, she looked up, hating how brotherly he sounded.

Even so, he was still so perfectly handsome that it was almost unfair. The second son of the Duke of Renford, Alexander Russell, was everything she’d ever wanted in a companion, but he would never know. He would never know that her feelings began to grow at the tender age of ten-and five years, even though she’d known him for much longer. He would never know that she sometimes envied his friendship with her brother because that meant they spent a lot of time together, while she could only have supervised and platonic encounters like this. And while he’d always looked at her like a little sister, she looked at him like a man she wished to marry but couldn’t.

Life was so unfair sometimes.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to do that. It just…”

“Happened?” he supplied with a grin.

Lilian flushed further and nodded.

“Anyhow,” Lady Harenshire cut in, “I think it is time that you two take your leave. If you are here any longer, you will miss your ship.”

“You’re right, Mother,” John said as he got to his feet. Like a wave, Alexander did as well, then Alexander’s mother, then Lilian. Her chest caved in. They couldn’t leave yet. Not so soon.

“This is for you, Belinda,” her mother said as she gifted her dear friend the box. Lilian hardly heard the exchange that followed. She was far too busy fretting. Her fingers clenched as her breathing increased to a speed that made her fear she might go into apoplexy at any moment.

She was watching Alexander as he and John made their way to the door, clearly not caring much about what was happening between their mothers. Soon enough, they all began to make their way out and Lilian did the same, every step feeling harder than the last. The chatter continued but Lilian couldn’t focus on any of it.

Until they came to the front doors in the foyer, and she knew their time together would come to an end in a matter of minutes.

“Oh, John.” Lady Harenshire enveloped her eldest child into a warm hug, her voice cracking just a little. “I know I was the one who urged you to go on your Grand Tour, but now that you are leaving, I cannot help but feel sad.”

“You will have Lilian to keep your company, Mother,” John said gently. “Though perhaps she will not be as great company as I am.”

Lilian didn’t have the strength to roll her eyes at his good-natured teasing as she would have. In truth, she would miss him too. John and Alexander had meant to go on a Grand Tour around the world together since last year but, due to the late Lord Harenshire’s sudden death, it was put off. It was bound to happen though, because Lady Harenshire was adamant her son had the same experiences with travelling as her late husband had. Now that the time had come, Lilian was a little emotional herself.

“Don’t miss me too much,” John said to her as he pulled her into a hug.

“Impossible,” she answered honestly. “Don’t drive Alexander too insane.”

“Impossible,” he said back with a grin. Then he stepped back, giving Lilian a full view of Alexander once more.

She wasn’t prepared for his approach, though she knew it would happen. She managed to meet his baby-blue eyes, his blond hair falling over his forehead. Lilian considered throwing herself into his arms, but she stuck her hand out instead, knowing that was what she should do.

“Thank you for waiting for my brother to have your Grand Tour,” she said politely.

His warm hand grasped hers firmly and her knees went weak. “John is like a brother to me. It wouldn’t be a fun tour without him.”

“I’m sure Adrian would be hurt to hear that,” Lilian managed to joke, referring to Alexander’s real brother and the current heir to the Dukedom of Renford. At nine-and-twenty, Adrian Russel, the Marquess of Sterling, stood to inherit one of the largest dukedoms in the realm.

“He’ll be fine. He knows his place in my heart.”

They both laughed and for that moment, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. But then the illusion was broken when he spoke again.

“You’d better not be betrothed when I return. Your groom should first be approved by your brother and I.”

It felt as if he’d just taken her heart out of her chest and stomped on it. Lilian couldn’t find the words to respond but she didn’t have to.

“We cannot promise that we’ll wait for you for her wedding,” her mother chimed in. To Lilian’s surprise, she seemed to be holding back her tears, though her expression was as pleasant as ever.

“Then make sure you choose wisely, Lily,” Alexander said with a grin. Then he turned around, not realizing the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to move as they continued their goodbyes and made their way out the door. She wanted to go to the window, to at least watch him climb in, but his words kept echoing in her mind.

Could she really be married by the time they returned? Could she really love another the way she loved him? Lilian couldn’t believe it possible, and the thought of them being away for so long…

Quickly, she turned and rushed up the staircase, hoping no one would call out to her. Thankfully, she could make her escape in peace, tears running down her cheeks in rivulets. Now that the love of her life was gone, it felt as if her life was falling apart.

And nothing would be the same again.

Chapter Two

Rome, 1818

Dear, I shall never have it all…

“I can hardly believe that it will be coming to an end soon.”

The lament was followed up with a sigh. Alexander looked over at his best friend, who was balancing on the two back legs of his chair with his leg propped on top of the balcony railings. Had it been anyone else, Alexander would have warned them against doing that, but because it was John—who did nothing without completely weighing the risks first—he only nodded in response to his statement.

“Neither can I,” Alexander said. “We’ve traveled the world for two years and it feels as if we haven’t seen everything there is to see.” He glanced out toward the Piazza di Spagna where they’d spent some time climbing the breathtaking Spanish steps earlier that day. John, an avid admirer of old churches, insisted upon also visiting Trinita dei Monti church at the top. While neither catholic nor especially interested in architecture, Alexander had been in awe of the plentiful artwork within. There was so much more to see in Italy, let alone the world. “Perhaps on our next tour, we will go to the north. To where the snow never dies, I hear.”

“You know I hate the cold,” Alexander said as he sipped his whiskey.

“And yet I doubt you will turn me down if I propose the trip. You’ve always been up to an adventure.”

A chuckle left Alexander’s lips at that. “God bless Adrian. Had it not been for him, I would not be afforded the luxury of adventure after adventure after all.”

John only sighed. “I envy you. I truly do.”

Alexander felt a twinge of pity for his friend, even though he knew John did not say it sadly. John’s father’s sudden death had left John with the title and a world of responsibility neither of them thought they would have to deal with any time soon. John, however, was one of the most responsible men Alexander knew and he had been handling his father’s death and the new title far better than Alexander ever could.

After two years away from his duties, Alexander knew that they had to return even though they had not seen everything they’d wanted to. They were now in Italy, taking in the lovely  sight of the flickering street lights that illuminated the darkened streets from their privileged spot on the balcony of their hotel. Unlike London, Rome did not yet have bright streetlamps, and lamp lighters made their way through the city each night to provide light. However, Alexander appreciated this. It felt more quaint, more romantic.

They planned on spending only a month in Italy before returning home and though the time seemed lengthy, Alexander knew it would be over in what felt like a second.

“Of course, you do,” Alexander went on as he got to his feet. He turned his back to the view and leaned against the railing with a grin. “I will return home to the wonderful life of bachelorhood where I can spend all my nights in my favorite club. I may even enjoy a courtesan or two. Not to mention the fact that the Season will already be in full swing so the events I can attend will be limitless.”

John scowled. “Are you showing off?”

“I most certainly am.”

His scowl deepened but Alexander could tell that John was trying to hold back a smile. “Don’t forget that you will have to have a family soon. Then you will have the same amount of responsibility.”

“Not nearly,” Alexander dismissed with a wave of his hand. “And I am still young, only six-and-twenty. I do not need to think about marriage for years to come.”

“I’m sure the Duchess of Renford will not think the same,” John said skeptically. “She may wish for you to marry the moment you set foot in London.”

“I can thwart my mother a while longer, I’m sure. Besides, she will be more concerned with making a match for Adrian, given that he is the heir and must have one of his own.” Alexander didn’t mind talking about his mother’s plans for him when he returned. He had been trying to lighten the mood for John and he was almost certain it had worked.

Before he got the chance to say anything else, there came the faint sound of a knock on the door. “Come in!” Alexander bellowed across the distance. When he did, his head swayed a little and he realized that he might be a little in his cups.

Even so, he was sober enough to watch as the receptionist of the hotel peeked her head in and then gingerly crossed the room to the balcony. She held out a letter and said, in a thick Italian accent, “This is for you Signore Russell. We received it from France.”

“For me?”

“Her Grace must miss you dearly,” John suggested, taking a large gulp of his drink. “And since we were in France last, she must have sent it there.”

Alexander set his drink precariously on the balcony railing and reached for the letter. Once it was out of her hands, the receptionist bowed her head in a slight nod and took her leave. Alexander was already breaking the Renford seal by the time she was gone.

He began reading, expecting to see something similar to all the other letters his mother had sent him over the past two years. Mostly, she would say how much she missed him, update him on all the gossip of the Ton, and mention a few names of ladies she thought would make a great wife for him. Alexander would always respond with an update as to where he was and what he was up to, then tell her that he had no plans to marry any time soon.

This letter was different.

His mother had never been very good at breaking bad news and this time was just the same. She always kept bad news short and not at all sweet. The death of their maternal grandmother had been announced curtly at dinner, just before their mother shut herself in her chamber for several days.

Now, over a letter, Alexander could only marvel at how frank she’d decided to be once more.

Your brother has passed away. He had gone looking for his dog during a thunderstorm. His horse was startled by a boom of thunder, threw him off, and he hit his head. He did not survive the night.

Mother.

“What is it?” came John’s voice. Alexander heard the worry and was certain his face showed just how horrified he was by the contents of the letter, but he could not find the strength to answer him. He simply passed his friend the letter.

Of course, it did not take John long to read it and when he was done, he came to a stand. “Alex…”

Alexander turned back to face the view of Rome but saw nothing but his brother’s smiling face. Three years his senior, Adrian had taken up the mantle as head of the household without complaint. It was his birthright after all, and yet he would always find time for his family. The last letter Alexander had received from him was filled with hope, of pages all about a lovely lady by the name of Catherine who Adrian wanted to marry.

He was about to begin a family. How could this happen now, when he was still so young?

Alexander didn’t know whether to cry or shout into the dark sky above him. A hand rested on his shoulder and John’s face appeared next to him.

“We shall begin our travel back to England first thing tomorrow,” John in a calming tone.

Though he knew John was only trying to comfort him in whatever way he could, Alexander shrugged his hand off.

“It seems we will both have responsibilities after all,” Alexander said bitterly before he walked off. Thankfully, John didn’t follow him, and he left the hotel minutes later without being stopped.

Alexander had admired the beauty of Rome and he was still not used to it. Right now, he could hardly see the street before him as he set off walking. He didn’t know how far he went nor how long he walked because all he could think about was that he would never see his brother again.

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