Prologue

The Archbishop of Westminster could not help but arch his eyebrows in surprise as he read the names on the banns before him.

Could it be that the old lord Henstridge had finally managed to make a match for his youngest son?

The archbishop twirled the episcopal ring on his finger. He did not know much of social affairs, but everyone in London knew of the infamous Croydon Club, where young Henstridge was a frequent patron.

And his reputation among the ladies was well known. The rake had been responsible for leaving a trail of broken hearts in the wake of his conquests, and the archbishop personally knew of a few; those repentant ladies had whispered their sins to him in the confessional, recounting with tears how the second Henstridge heir had seduced them.

Now, he held up the banns to the vicar seated opposite his desk. “You say there is no impediment to this union? Both parties are in consent?”

The vicar shrugged his shoulders. “The family was most insistent, Your Eminence. You see, it was Lord Hamilton, and I could not very well question his word about the validity of the claim.”

It was enough. Nodding in satisfaction, the archbishop raised his seal to the melted wax at the bottom of the paper and pressed it, making the document official and binding.

With this, young Henstridge would be tied in holy matrimony, leaving the naïve ladies pure and his own handkerchief dry during confessions.

He read the banns once more before handing it to the vicar:

Certificate of Banns

I hereby certify that the Banns of Marriage between Lady Georgina Eloise Hamilton, daughter of Lord Philip Hamilton of Brandon Hall, and Lord Anthony Caleb Henstridge of Clemsdale, son of Lord Clement Henstridge of Stokeworth, were duly published in the Church of England, Westminster Abbey, on the 19^th day of August, in the year of our lord 1816.

The announcement shall be made on Sunday, the 20^th day of August 1816, at Westminster Abbey and shall run for three weeks hence.

Witness by my hand that no impediment was alleged to this contract, and I do so grant permission for the contract.

Signed: Archbishop Philip Thomas Maynard of Westminster Abbey,

on the 19^th day of August, in the year of our lord, 1816.

Chapter One

Barlow Hall, London

21^st of August, 1816

Three weeks to the Wedding

After a year and a half of travelling the continent, countless sexual adventures, and an earful from his father upon his return, Anthony Henstridge, second son to the Earl of Stokeworth, wanted to be left alone to his thoughts.

As impossible as that might be.

He shook his head in exasperation as Jasper began walking toward him. How many times could he say no before his friend understood?

It was the third time he had been asked to dance with one of the debutantes, and he had declined every time, preferring the solitude granted by his position at the back of the ballroom, close to the windows; from here, he had a vantage point of the dancers themselves, and was well away from the prowling eyes of eager mamas looking for a match for their simpering, wide-eyed daughters.

There was a time when he found the debutante season interesting; a time when he attended balls to socialize with the ladies, living up to his reputation as the worst debaucher, gentleman rake, and bon vivant of London’s high society. Now, it all felt tiring, and he was bored out of his mind.

Jasper was near now, and Anthony smiled at his friend. Jasper was completely different now, more relaxed. Before he had set out for his trip abroad, Anthony had had to rescue his friend from a near disaster involving a scoundrel and a fraudulent scheme. Afterwards, he had asked his financial advisor, Mr Campbell, to oversee the operations of a trading enterprise that Jasper’s father-in-law, Lord Richard, had joined in. While he was yet to get the detailed reports from Mr Campbell, Jasper had invited him to dinner in their London residence to celebrate their fruitful partnership.

And an invitation to this ball had followed.

Taking another sip of the glass in front of him, he winced as the fiery liquid swirled down his throat, warming him inside. Jasper took the seat beside him, refilling the glass with wine instead of the brandy.

“Sometimes, my friend, I have an image of you falling drunk from your horse,” Jasper said as he lifted his glass to him, a twinkle in his eye. “It would seem you prefer spirits more often than any other drink.”

“Can you blame me; when I have you for company?” Anthony quipped.

Jasper laughed, the sort of laughter that had him covering his face from being seen in such a display of hilarity, all the while struggling to hold his mirth. A few moments later, his face was flushed as he looked at Anthony.

“My company cannot be so dreadful as to force you to the bottle, no? Surely you have had worse.” Jasper sat back in his chair when he finished, swirling the glass of wine in his hand.

“It was a jest, friend,” Anthony responded. Jasper understood him more than anyone else, and at this moment, the other man seemed to notice his disinterest in the room. “You need not worry about me. Go and talk with the other guests; it is your ball, after all.”

“It is indeed, and I would rather sit with you. I do not think I have smiled this much for a while, and my mouth protests the exertion.” He took another sip of his wine. “Some respite is what I crave most.”

“Shall we sit then, in silence then? I am afraid that I shall be the very poor company for you tonight.”

“Have no fear on that matter. Should your company prove most undesirable, I shall return to my wife, and I am sure I shall be brightened again.”

Anthony gave a deep chuckle as he clinked glasses with his friend before they downed their drinks, sitting in silence to watch the dancers twirl in the centre of the ballroom. His eyes followed a certain pair as they glided gracefully, the man leading the lady as they moved in perfect unison, the woman’s face radiant under the candlelight.

“What do you think of the pair?”

Turning, Anthony saw Jasper staring at him. “What was that?” he asked.

“I think they make a handsome couple,” Jasper said, pausing to take another drink. “Do you not agree?”

Anthony looked at the couple again, recognizing the man dancing with the lady. He suddenly found himself thinking how propitious his station was. “It is a good thing indeed that I am a second son,” he answered. “If you must know, Lord Fife is rather keen on making a match, thanks to his mother’s persistent efforts, and the young lady,” he nodded at the dancing pair, “is the only daughter of Sir Crane. She will bring a substantial dowry with her to the union.”

With that, he turned to resume watching, admiring the performance until the music died down to strains until it finally stopped. The dancers parted, the men bowing while the women dipped into curtsies – and they all parted; the third dance was to begin shortly.

“That was a wonderful performance,” Anthony heard Jasper say.

“Indeed it was. It was not long ago that we were like them.” Anthony nodded at his friend. “In my case, however, I am still unmarried and hope to remain so for as long as I can manage.”

“I still cannot understand why you insist on remaining so. But I learned a long time ago to let you be. However, you should, at the very least, choose to grace some lady with the pleasure of dancing with you.” Jasper patted him on the back in the way men playfully hit their friends. “I am sure more than a few ladies here would not mind sharing a dance with you. I dare say you are lucky they have not come to ask you themselves, even with your reputation.”

“What about my reputation? You must know that half of the things said about me are mere talk. The ton gossip is usually exaggerated.”

“Well, you have heard the saying that reformed rakes make the best husbands.”

Anthony held up a hand quickly. “I would rather you did not talk about marriage or about anything of the sort now. I have heard enough from my father about marriage in the days since my return, and I would rather talk about anything else.”

“I am afraid that is impossible. I have heard rumours that there is a wager about when you will finally make a wedding match. And I am inclined to make a bet myself.”

“That is a bet you would lose, my friend. It is to be a bachelor’s life for me.” He held his glass in a mock salute to himself. “And in the meantime, here’s to cavorting and revelling in all the finest offers London has.”

His friend shook his head in seeming exasperation. “Do you suppose your father will continue to indulge your lifestyle? Suppose he forces you to make a match or worse; he does so himself? What will you do then?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You seem to forget, dear friend, that I have been financially responsible for my own expenses since I inherited my Clemson barony. And my investments abroad are vast, a fact for which I am forever indebted and eternally grateful to Mr Campbell for his ingenuity. I have no further need of an inheritance; neither do I entertain any notions of one day inheriting the Stokeworth fortune.”

Jasper was distracted at that moment by the sudden appearance of a lady, most beautiful in a dress of green chiffon with long lacy sleeves of a lighter hue of the same colour, covered with soft gloves that covered her hands. Matching earrings dangled from her ears, and on her neck was a silver necklace with an elegant emerald set in the centre, glimmering in the candlelight as the lady herself seemed to glow.

She placed a hand on Jasper’s shoulder before moving to sit in the chair beside him. Looking closer, Anthony smiled at the look of exhaustion on her face. “Long night, my lady?”

“The longest I have had in a while. Motherhood is not easy when two young hellions are determined to run amok in the hall.” Her voice was like the sound of birds singing at sunrise, soft and delicate. Anthony let out a sigh; he could not help but admire her, this beautiful lady his friend had been fortunate enough to call his wife; Lady Adelaide Barlow, duchess of Barlow Ridge.

Jasper laid a hand on hers. “Motherhood suits you, my sweet.”

Anthony felt something tug at his heart. The moment was so incredibly beautiful, watching the two of them so close and so one with each other. Was there a world where he would have such a partner? One who would understand him so perfectly as his Adelaide understood his friend?

“How are the children?” he asked when Adelaide looked at him. “Do you wish for me to take them with me to Stokeworth manor?”

She smiled at him in turn. “I shall very well take you up on that offer, my lord. However, I must say I am rather surprised; I had thought you to have danced at least twice with half the ladies here tonight. What is the matter?” She gave him a wink that warned him she was about to poke fun at him. “Are there pins in your boots, sir?”

“Not at all,” Jasper interjected, his hand on his wife’s as she interlinked their fingers together. “Our friend here suffers from a completely different ailment, one of self-imposed reclusion from dancing with London’s finest Belles.”

A look of mock horror appeared on Adelaide’s face. “Lord Anthony Henstridge!” Her eyes were wide, but he recognized the glint of amusement in them. “Surely you do not mean to deny the ladies the privilege of a dance with your lordship?”

“That was exactly what I asked him.” Jasper peeled a grape from the platter of fruit on the table before them, feeding them in tiny cuts to his wife. “Apparently, he feels otherwise and maintains he has made the right decision.”

A silent Anthony sat back, watching Jasper and his wife. It was wonderful to watch his friend be so open and loving towards another person. Before Adelaide, Jasper had been different, more tightly wound, as though spoiling for confrontation all the time. That was before he was married and settled into domestic life.

Now, he could appreciate the irony of the situation; he was the one wound up now, while his friend was giving him the same advice he had been giving almost two years ago.

How the tables had turned.

“Anthony?” Adelaide leaned closer, concern etched all across her face. “Are you all right? You seem a bit in a mood tonight. Was there something that had vexed you?”

“Not of your making.” He softened his voice to reassure them, Jasper staring at him as well. “To be perfectly honest, I have not been the same since my return from the continent. I had thought by now this feeling of detachment.”

“Was it something that happened abroad? Or was there a woman involved?”

With a look at his empty glass, he reached for the bottle of brandy, his fingers encircling the bottle…Only to grasp the empty air.

He narrowed his eyes at Jasper, who had the bottle in his hand, wagging it at him. “No more for you, my friend. I prefer you remain sober, not passed out drunk.

Anthony gave him a look of indignation. “When have you ever seen me passed out drunk? He paused as he recalled one very distinct instance, and the hangover the next morning was terrible. Jasper was right, he admitted. “Perhaps some wine then?”

“I am sure you shall find that much more pleasant than the brandy,” Jasper said as he placed the brandy bottle on the far side of the table. Then, he poured some wine into the glass Anthony held out to him.

Not as desirable, Anthony thought as he drank the wine.

“Might I share a confession with you?”

Two heads nodded curiously at him.

“I have not been the same since my return. As a matter of fact, I had become increasingly bored with everything in the days before my travel, and I thought an adventure was the cure for this ailment. Yet, the journey failed to give me the thrill I hungered for. Every interaction with strangers became annoying, the different weather unbearable, and with every second, I missed England more.

“Now, ever since my return, I have been disillusioned with society, a frustration made worse by my father’s incessant demands that I be married to continue the Henstridge legacy. Lately, his persuasions have become more animated, and he has delivered an ultimatum; if I do not make a match in a fortnight, he has forsworn to carry out the duty of seeking a worthy match for me himself, despite my attempts to dissuade him from pursuing such course of action. It would seem the old man has some renewed vigour in the course, and this has made my stay at the family home somewhat untenable.”

He paused to look at their faces. “Do you still wonder why I chose to sit by myself here and drink in silence?”

Jasper shrugged his shoulders. “I cannot claim to understand all you have said. Alas, I can say that you should consider what your father has said.”

Anthony was about to respond when Adelaide laid a hand on his. “Have you considered that perhaps you do not need new thrills or need to go abroad to search for them, but perhaps someone to share a life with?”

“A wife?” Anthony shook his head. “That is not an option I would be willing to consider.”

Adelaide leaned forward. “I mean, in view of your father’s option, perhaps you should consider getting married.”

Anthony was grateful at that moment that he had swallowed his drink; otherwise, he might have choked on it at those words. Marriage? He took a minute to calm himself before he responded. “That, my lady, would be a fate worse than a lifetime of boredom.”

Jasper winked at Adelaide. “I believe he needs just the opposite. Anthony needs something to excite him. A new thrill perhaps… or maybe a bet?” he turned to Anthony, who felt the first stirrings of excitement at the mention of the word ‘bet’. “Are you a sporting man, Anthony?”

“You know I am. What do you have in mind?”

“I have a wager for you.” Jasper clapped his hands excitedly. “I propose a wager; that there is absolutely no way you will find an appropriate match to court by the end of the Season. One of the respectable ladies, of course….”

Anthony held up a finger. “I fail to see the logic behind this wager. What exactly do you hope to achieve with this ridiculous proposal?”

“Patience, my lord, is a virtue. May I be allowed to continue?”

This is beyond ridiculous, Anthony thought, but there was no harm in hearing his friend out; he was already intrigued as it was. “Do continue, please.”

“Thank you. As I said, I do not think it is not your father’s demands that have made you bored, nor his attempts to find a match for you. Actually, you are afraid you will never make a match without help. After all, a man with a rakish reputation like you is hardly a sought-after match. Thus you hide behind this veneer of solitude and reclusion because you are afraid you have been destined for such a fate. He concluded with a wink.

Anthony shook his head. “Just when I think I understand you, you say something that makes my head spin. A second son is never a sought-after match, not to mention my reputation. So, I ask you, what makes you think I need to hide behind anything?” He downed the drink in his hand and placed the glass gently on the table. “As to your claims that I am unable to make a match without help,” a slow smile, “how much do you care to wager?”

Jasper’s own smile mirrored his own, and; his eyes seemed to say, At last, a challenge.

Chapter Two

Hamilton Hall, Brandonshire

27^th of May, 1816

Two months earlier

They had arrived just before the service as the belfry bells began clanging.

Sitting at the back of the chapel so as not to attract attention, Georgina looked around the chapel in reverent wonder. The soft sounds of the organ playing made her feel light; she had always enjoyed spending time in church, and in quiet, peaceful moments, she often thought of her mortality. The hymns sung by the sweet, angelic voices of the choir; the white vestments of the minister and the serving boys, and the soft, muted hues from the stained glass panes cast an aura of devotion, and she found herself kneeling at the pew, saying a prayer for her sister.

She folded her hands together, her closed eyes misting with silent tears, as she said a short prayer, asking for the strength to deal with her loss.

An hour later, she had emerged from the chapel door, slipping out as quietly as she had entered, to return home in the carriage. Her eyes were outside all through the ride home. As the carriage rode across the countryside, she took in the view, her gaze roaming across the vast landscape while the evening sky turned a slow crimson. Yet her mind was uneasy.

As it had been ever since her sister’s passing.

Even now, the thought of her lively, animated sister, impish and mischievous and fun fun-loving, dead and buried, was a shock to her. Her eyes had been closed in death; those eyes that had shone brightly in life, and were filled with love and laughter and joy, were now closed, forever.

She would never again hear the sound of her sister’s bare feet running across the hall or her giggles at jests. Sarah was gone.

Georgina winced as pain raced through her like a sharp thorn, causing her heart to wrench and bleed anew. She was barely aware of her alighting from the carriage upon their return to Brandon Hall, and she climbed the stairs perfunctorily to sit in an empty room – her sister’s room which had been unoccupied in the six months after her death. And it had become her habit to come in here sometimes. She could hear her sister’s voice still if she listened hard enough.

She did not know how long she sat there, losing track of time as she tried to focus her senses on recreating the image of her sister. She pulled a spencer that had belonged to her sister from the closet and raised it to her nose, taking in the smell and crying as silent sobs wracked her shoulders. She could recall the first day her sister had worn the spencer and how she had insisted on going outside with it, despite it being out of fashion. Her sister, Sarah, had always been wilful, even as a child…

***

They had arrived early at a meadow close to the hall.

The thought of her first dance last night at the Bramington ball with Lord Forster was fresh in her memory, and she stumbled upon a snag, catching herself before she fell. Keeping her eyes down, she watched for snags before she walked. Up ahead, her younger sister ran to the clearing, spinning around with her arms held high, a smile on her face as she seemed to glow in the sun.

Georgina felt her heart tug at the sight, an urge to protect the girl welling deep from the maternal core inside her. Sarah was her duty, her responsibility. Their mother had placed her little sister in her arms as soon as she was born, and ever since, she had watched her with a mother’s eye.

Satisfied that the area was clear of snags, she had spread a blanket on the grass, opening a basket to lay out the food they had brought.

“What is that, sister? What has Cook made?” Sarah asked, coming to join her on the blanket.

Georgina sent a silent thanks to their cook. The older woman had prepared a basket of her favourite treats; bacon, pies, and some fruits, with small raisins – Sarah’s favourites. “Find out for yourself.”

Together, they proceeded to have a picnic there, taking tea from the small flask and letting the cool breeze wash over them as they ate.

Georgina was light-hearted and happy, and not just because she was having a splendid time with her sister. She thought of the time she had spent with Lord Forster and how much more she had wanted to talk to him, stay close to him and find out more about his life. Closing her eyes, she could picture him now, standing beside her as he told her all about his past and his future.

It was a wonderful thought.

She opened her eyes to see her sister staring at her, a mischievous look on her face. “I can tell what you were thinking now.” She popped a raisin into her mouth.

A smirk appeared on her sister’s lips. “No, you cannot. You cannot read minds….”

“You were thinking of Lord Forster, weren’t you?”

She swallowed. “What?”

Could she deny it? She knew her sister, Sarah, was going to hound her unless she revealed what she had been thinking about. “Very well. Do you promise to leave me alone if I agree you were right?”

Her sister was silent, her face fallen now. “Sister, may I tell you something?”

Drawing closer, Georgina put her arms around her sister. “Yes, you may. You can tell me anything.” She lifted her chin with one finger. “Never be afraid to tell me anything. You never need to hide anything from me. Do you understand?”

Sarah nodded. “Sometimes, I wish we could be together forever.” She looked at her with those round brown eyes. “Promise me you will be beside me, always.”

Georgina took her hand and drew her into a hug. “Always and forever, little one.”

***

Now, standing here, with her sister dead and she alone, Georgina thought of the memory with misty eyes. It seemed like an eternity ago.

Even now, she still could not recover from the shock and the grief, the pains when she woke up in the middle of the night, and the urge to rush to her sister’s room and convince herself that it was all a bad dream. And each time, she felt her heart wrench with pain. Their father had taken a tour of the continent six months after their incident in the meadow, with their mother in tow. Her older brother, Colin, had been left to manage the Hamilton holdings and estates.  Georgina had not minded the change, as long as Colin did not have any airs or try to make her do his bidding – which he had never attempted.

Three weeks later, Sarah had disclosed her pregnancy to her sister. Georgina had been confused, threatening to reveal the news to Colin if she did not disclose the identity of the man responsible. The threat failed, as Sarah informed Colin herself of her condition. All efforts to convince her to name the father of her unborn baby proved futile, and in the end, they had taken her to their country estate to have the baby in secrecy.

It had become a tragic affair.

Georgina would never forget the horror of finding her sister lying dead in her bed hours after giving birth to her stillborn daughter. An overdose of laudanum, the physician, had declared. A note on the table beside the bed read:

Forgive me, sister. I could not live in a world without my Aurora…perhaps in time, you may understand.

Georgina had felt grief, much more than she had thought possible, as she had held her sister’s hand, which had grown cold, her face beautiful and peaceful even in death. That same evening, they had laid her and her daughter to rest in the family crypt, with the name Sarah had chosen for her daughter etched on the tombstone.

Sarah and Aurora; so young, so tragic…

Raising the spencer to her nose again, Georgina pressed it until she could almost smell her sister on it. Her fingers danced along the edges, turning them inside out to put it around her own shoulders.

It would not fit, she knew, but at least it felt like she was holding Sarah in her arms again. Walking over to the window to gaze outside, she sighed, wiping her eyes as she thought of better days, of running with her sister in the meadow with the wind whipping past their faces…

She had a slight frown on her face as her fingers brushed something. Retrieving her hand from her pocket, she held up a folded piece of paper to the light and examined the writing on the front of the letter.

Chills ran down her spine as she recognized the writing as Sarah’s. What could the letter be? Was it a note or…

She took off the Spencer and placed put it in the same place in the closet. It was just as well that she had refused to let the servants clean out the room, preferring that the memory of the place remain intact. Who knew what else she would find in here.

Taking the note outside, she shut the door and put the key in her reticule, making her way to their father’s study. She tried to hold her excitement. What if she had allowed the servants to wash the clothes or give them out to charity? Would this letter have been discovered?

Who knew; perhaps it may have been. At the moment, she was more excited to have something that had belonged to Sarah. A letter was not the same as speaking to her in person, but it was very close, and she cherished the feeling.

Knocking on the door, she waited for the voice within to say ’enter’ before she pushed it open and walked inside the study.

She was struck by how much Colin had grown to resemble their father; it was simply uncanny. And sitting there, in their father’s chair, he looked more like Lord Hamilton now.

He looked up at her now, a pair of spectacles on his face. In the chair opposite him sat James Devon, his best friend for years. Colin raised a brow at her.

“Hello, Sister. I was about to send for you. I have received word that father shall return on the morrow and…” He paused, observing her closely. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

She raised the paper as she covered the distance between them. “I found this just now when I was holding Sarah’s spencer.”

A familiar look of pain flashed across Colin’s face at the mention of their sister’s name, James looked away respectfully, and they all waited in silence until Colin took the note from her.

“May I ask, first of all, what you were doing with Sarah’s spencer?”

“That is not important. I thought I should tell you about this first. But if you prefer, I could read it on my own and tell you what it says?” she turned to leave.

“Wait!” Colin’s voice had a tinge of desperation. “I apologize for my question.” He examined the cover of the letter. “You have not read it yet?”

She shook her head. “I thought we could read it together.” A pause. “As a family.”

Colin nodded and stood, holding the letter under the light. James stood as well and began to pack the papers on the desk into a satchel bag.

“What are you doing, James?” Colin asked, putting down the letter.

James looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, I thought this was a family moment and that you would want to be left alone. I do not wish to pry.”

“Nonsense,” Colin shook his head. “You have been in our family since we were young lads. Sarah was as much as a sister to you as she was to me. Sit, please; you are family too.”

Georgina took the seat opposite her brother. She would have preferred that just the two of them heard the contents of the letter. Perhaps she should have read it herself before bringing it to Colin.

Sweetheart,

I count the seconds until we will see again. Know that each one feels like an hour when I am not with me. I love you, and I hope to be in your arms this evening.

AH

Colin raised his head, and Georgina met his gaze. “What in the world does that mean?” she asked her brother.

It was James who answered. “I do not mean to be forward, but that sounded like a love note.”

Georgina stared at the paper in Colin’s hand in confusion. A love note? She watched Colin fold it gently and place it on his desk. “Brother, what do you make of this?”

“I think James is right. It seems like a letter someone had sent to Sarah. But who was the mystery person?”

Could the sender of the letter be Sarah’s mystery lover? Could it be the man who was responsible for her sister’s pregnancy? Georgina felt her hands quiver with rage. Would she be able to unmask the villain?

James folded his arms across his chest. “The initials are AH. I do believe the name sounds familiar; Anthony Henstridge”.

Georgina searched her mind for a face, but nothing came up. “Who is he, this Anthony Henstridge?”

“He is a scion of one of London’s finest families, yet a notorious philanderer and seducer. He has spent the last year exploring the continent, and if the rumours are to be believed, he has a child from one of his many conquests, which is the reason many speculate that he travelled abroad in the first place. Lord Henstridge – the younger one, I mean, Anthony – is a well-known rake that is expected to enter the marriage mart now that he has returned from his travels.”

“Is that so?” Georgina asked. A plan had begun to form in her head, the anger clearing until only cold-blooded revenge remained in her mind. The man was not going to have the life he had denied her sister; a taste of his own brew would serve him well. “It would be terrible if someone were to ruin the gentleman’s plans”.

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