Prologue
“William?”
Nathanial looked around at the garden, taking in the sunlight, the way it dappled across the leaves and the colors in the flowers. Everything seemed a little too bright, a little too beautiful but all the same, Nathanial smiled.
“Ashbourne!”
He turned, seeing William running across the garden toward him. Reaching out both hands, Nathanial caught up his younger brother, whirling him around as his younger brother laughed… only for the light in the garden to begin to fade. Holding his brother tight, Nathanial looked around, his eyes flaring in fright as light began to disappear, replaced by shadow and darkness.
What was happening?
“William?”
His brother was no longer in his arms. Caught by fear, Nathanial let out a cry of fright – and suddenly he was sitting up in bed, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead, his breathing ragged.
“William.” Closing his eyes, Nathanial let out a slow breath, trying to stop his heart from hammering so furiously. The nightmare had repeated itself yet again and, even though William was safe, the darkness now a distant memory, he simply could not remove it from his mind.
“I failed him.” Muttering to himself, Nathanial pushed one hand through his dark hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead. No matter how many days passed, that memory continued to linger in his mind. The way he had failed William, the way he had almost brought about the death of his younger brother by his negligence would not leave him. It was what drove him to consider his character with almost every waking moment, what brought about his nightmares and the fear which wrapped a coldness around his heart. A calm night’s sleep seemed to evade him no matter what tinctures his doctor suggested.
Nathanial feared that this nightmare would never leave him.
Chapter One
“Did you enjoy your breakfast, Lady Amelia?”
Amelia smiled as her maid bobbed a curtsy. “I did, thank you, Abby.”
“Might I be of any assistance to you? What are your intentions this morning?”
Amelia gestured to the writing desk. “Why, we are writing our invitations for our literary salon this morning!”
“Ah yes, I do remember. Might I bring you a tray of tea and biscuits?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” Still smiling, Amelia put out both hands either side. “And if you should see Charlotte, then please do ask her to join me! She is meant to be deciding with me who it is we should be inviting.”
With a nod and a smile, the maid stepped out and left Amelia alone. Walking to the writing desk, Amelia sat down and picked up the list that Charlotte and she had made only yesterday, though it was not yet complete. Sunshine shone through the windows and she lifted her gaze to the window, rising to her feet to walk across the room and looking back out to the gardens of her father’s manor house.
It was a beautiful place, especially in the summer time and Amelia found herself smiling gently as she took in a long breath and let it out again, contentedly. This was where she felt herself happy, felt herself joyous and contented and even though her father was threatening to take her sister and her to London for the upcoming Season, Amelia was not certain that he would do so. She knew just how much he loved the Stanton estate, remembering with a smile how, last year, both her mother and he would often walk through the rose garden together. Yes, they had gone to London for Charlotte’s come out but they had not lingered, seeming eager to return to their estate. Of course, it was time for her to make her come out but another year at home would not make any great difference, would it?
“I am sorry I am so tardy!”
Turning, Amelia laughed as Charlotte flew into the room, her cheeks a little pink. “Pray, do not worry.”
“I was out in the gardens,” Charlotte told her, flopping into a chair. “It is such a fine morning that I did not want to be indoors. But then I quite forgot that we were to be writing out our invitations and when your maid found me, I came back here as quickly as I could.”
“I know that you do not particularly like writing invitations but it must be done if we are to have a successful literary event,” Amelia reminded her, waving the list in front of her face. “I do enjoy walking through the roses, however so mayhap we might do so together this afternoon?”
Charlotte smiled. “Yes, of course. I would like that.”
“Good.” Amelia gestured to the paper in front of her. “So, are we certain that all those we have thought of are those that we wish to invite?”
“Yes, I think so.” Taking the list from Amelia, Charlotte read through it quickly and then nodded. “This is to be a great event, I am sure. You, especially, will find it a most enjoyable event, will you not? You do love company and the like and you have read a few books upon occasion. I am sure it will be an excellent event.”
Smiling to herself, Amelia walked to the writing desk and sat back down. “Yes, I dare say I will enjoy this event, though I am a little anxious to know who will be attending!”
“Though not everyone who comes will find it to be so exhilarating, I am sure.” Charlotte offered her a wry smile. “Some will come merely for the entertainment – or for the games of cards that Father is sure to have put out for some of the gentlemen.”
“Mayhap that is true but I am certain we will have a good many discussions, though there will also be some readings.”
“Readings?”
“Yes, of course. We cannot have a literary event without some people reading from their favourite passages or the like.” Amelia lifted an eyebrow. “Have you prepared something?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, I have not.”
“Well, you still have time,” Amelia replied, picking out her first piece of paper, ready to write the first invitation. “Both of us ought to read aloud since we are organizing and hosting the event and, since it is still some days away, we do have a good deal of time to prepare. Even a poem or two would suffice, Charlotte, I am sure.” Seeing the slight grey to her sister’s pallor, Amelia hid a smile. Charlotte clearly did not want to read but Amelia was sure it would be required. “Now, I did have one question for you.” Lifting her gaze, she looked directly at her sister. “Ought we to invite the Beastly Duke?”
Her sister’s shoulders slumped. “Why should we invite him?”
“Because his estate is near to our father’s,” Amelia replied, lifting one shoulder and letting it fall. “It is not as though we expect him to attend, is it? He is a gentleman who likes to keep company with only himself and therefore, he will not be inclined to accept.”
“Then why should we bother to invite him?” Charlotte propped one elbow on the chair arm and then dropped her head to her hand. “There is no reason to send out an invitation or, indeed, to waste our time even writing it to him!”
“But we might be seen as rude if we do not.” Amelia sighed and looked down the list of those she wished to invite. “It will not take me but a few minutes to write to him and, as I have said, he will, no doubt, refuse to attend.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He is a gentleman I do not understand. Why does he spend his days in his own company when he has so many fine gentlemen and ladies about him? He has his mother residing in the house with him, I have heard, though I have also heard whispers that she cannot linger in his company for any length of time and is often away from home!”
“I do not know if that is true nor why he wishes for his own company,” Amelia replied, quietly, looking back at her sister. “I have heard that there was something that occurred with his younger brother some time ago and thereafter, though it took some time for his younger brother to recover, all was well. The Duke himself, however, has lingered in darkness and does not like to be in the company of anyone. It is as though he lingers in that dreadful moment and does not allow it to pass.” Her heart softened with a sudden sympathy though she quickly shook her head. “I do not understand him, however. He is a gentleman who seems to dislike the company of others. Which is why, Charlotte, I do not think that he will come to our literary event.”
Charlotte let out a slow breath and closed her eyes. “Very well. If you think that it would be best to invite him – even though he will not attend – then let us do so.”
Amelia smiled at her sister’s obvious reluctance. “I think that it is the best idea, my dear sister. After all, we want to make certain that we are doing all that we ought to be doing and do not bring any question of propriety to our father. He will, no doubt, have very little interest in our company and certainly will not enjoy the literary readings but all the same, we want to make certain no-one questions why this person or that person was not invited.”
With a nod, Charlotte made to rouse herself from her chair only for the door to open and Abby the maid to come back into the room, a tray in her hands.
“Here we are,” she said, that warm tone speaking of the many years that she had served Amelia and Charlotte, though she was now Amelia’s lady’s maid. “Do you wish for me to serve two cups of tea for you both?”
“Yes, please.” Amelia shot a quick, winking glance to her sister. “We will need all the sustenance we can get if we are to write each of these invitations by luncheon!”
Charlotte let out a groan but did get to her feet, ready now to help Amelia. Laughing, Amelia handed her sister a piece of paper, moved a little further down the writing table and set to work – and the very first invitation she wrote was to the Beastly Duke himself.
“You invited the Beastly Duke?”
Amelia nodded, a little surprised at her mother’s astonishment. “Yes, Mama, I did. The invitations have not gone out as yet, however. They will be sent away tomorrow.”
“I do hope you are not expecting him to accept?” Lady Stanton asked, as Amelia quickly glanced to her sister, who immediately began to shake her head. “The Beastly Duke is not inclined to spend time with anyone – least of all those who wish to discuss such things as books!”
“No, Mama, we are not expecting him to attend. Though I did think that it would be wise to invite him, just so that we did not offend him by our lack of invitation when everyone else in the vicinity received one.”
Lord Stanton harrumphed though when Amelia looked to him, he was not only smiling but nodding. “That was very considerate, my dear. Though as your mother has said, do not expect him to attend. That gentleman does not like to set foot out of his estate unless he absolutely has no other choice but to do so!”
“And why is that, Father?” Amelia asked, her interest piqued. “I have only seen the Duke of Ashbourne on one occasion before and he seemed rather ill tempered and disinclined towards company, I must say.”
“That is because he is.” Lord Stanton lifted both shoulders. “His younger brother almost drowned some years ago now and though I do remember that there were many doctors and physicians sent for, the young lad recovered very well. However, since that time, the Duke of Ashbourne has been entirely disinclined towards company. He has not shown any interest in attending any social events and though he has shown his face at some rare occasions, I do believe it is only because his mother desired to attend.” His lips quirked. “I do recall that the last time he came to a ball or some such thing, he simply stood to the back of the room, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression so furious, no-one dared approach him!”
Amelia tilted her head, finding herself a little intrigued. “How very strange. I should like to know what it is that makes him behave so.”
“I am sure many a person would, given that he is not only a Duke but also very wealthy indeed. However,” Lady Stanton continued, with a wry smile, “he seems determined not to be known and thus, we are left with many more questions than we have answers.”
Charlotte and Amelia exchanged a glance and Amelia could immediately guess what it was her sister was thinking. “I think I shall have one more invitation to send, Mama,” she murmured, seeing the gleam in Charlotte’s eyes. “You say that the Duke of Ashbourne attends occasions only when his mother desires to join? Then mayhap we should also invite Lady Ashbourne also, though I have heard she is not often at home. Mayhap that will be enough to convince the Duke of Ashbourne to show his face.”
Lady Stanton laughed, shaking her head lightly. “Are you truly so intrigued by him?”
“I confess that I am.”
“As do I,” Charlotte added, a little flush in her cheeks. “He is so very mysterious, I think, though that is quite the opposite of what I said to Amelia at the beginning of the day.”
Lord Stanton chuckled, shaking his head. “My dear girls, you will soon find that this mysterious gentleman will be nothing more than a disappointment. He will come and he will stand in this room and he will say and do nothing that will bring you any contentment. He will be the very worst of guests and you will wonder why you ever thought to invite him.”
Her curiosity not in the least bit dimmed, Amelia smiled back at her father. “That may be so but I am determined to do such a thing regardless. I am sure that another invitation can be written today, ready for them all to be sent out tomorrow morning.”
Her father laughed and spread his hands. “Do as you think best, my dear. “
Seeing the smile on Charlotte’s face, Amelia considered for a few moments longer and then nodded firmly. “Then I shall write it this very evening – and we shall see whether or not the Beastly Duke can be persuaded to attend our literary event… and what an interesting event it shall be!”
Chapter Two
“Your Grace.”
The quiet, stilted tones of his footman made Nathanial scowl. He knew all too well that his staff were not particularly enamored by him as a master. He was much too sour-faced and sharp tongued to make any of his footmen or maids happy.
Not that such a thing mattered to him.
“What is it?”
“You have an invitation, Your Grace.”
Still scowling, Nathanial turned his head to look, having been absorbed in his own papers for the last hour since he had broken his fast. He did not like being disturbed. “An invitation?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Your mother has received one also and would urge you to read it just as soon as possible.”
Nathanial rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the invitation. He had no intention whatsoever of attending any event, no matter what it was. He was not someone inclined towards company and, given his lack of attendance at such things, he would have thought that the society around him would have known of his inclination by now. Turning the invitation over, he recognized the seal of the Marquess of Stanton and, breaking it, unfolded the invitation and read their supposed eager desire to have him attend their literary event.
A quick glance around his study told Nathanial why they might think of inviting him to such a thing. After all, he was inclined to a great deal of study and reading though it was not the sort of thing that young ladies would enjoy, he supposed – and this invitation was from the younger of the Stanton ladies. What had possessed her to think that he would be glad to come to such an occasion, he could not even begin to imagine.
“I shall not be attending. You can tell my mother that – ”
“You can tell your mother yourself.”
Nathanial shifted in his chair as his mother strode into the room. “Were you eavesdropping, Mother?”
“If you mean that I was standing outside your study and listening to your response to Montrose here, then yes.” Gesturing to the butler, she nodded to him. “You are excused, Montrose. Thank you for doing as I asked.”
Nathanial tilted his head. “I thought they were my staff, Mother.”
“They were mine before they were yours,” came the sharp response. “Now, Ashbourne, tell me why you will not attend this occasion? It is the perfect opportunity for you to go and discuss your many, many opinions on all the books you have been reading and the like.”
Nathanial sniffed. “I do not think that the sort of books I read are the sort of books they would like to discuss.” He gestured to the invitation. “It says that there are to be literary readings. Do you really think that they would be inclined to listen to a reading from one of my books? Or are they not, as I suspect, much more inclined to seek out readings from romantic poetry and ridiculous novels?”
His mother lifted her chin. “You speak as though those novels and poetry are somehow lesser to what you engage your mind with, my son. Do not think of yourself too highly, I beg of you. It is prideful.”
“And I will not be guilt ridden into attending,” Nathanial replied, with a sharp smile. “If you wish to attend then write and accept. But I shall not be.”
“And why not? What is it that ties you here?” His mother’s tone softened just a little but Nathanial scowled, his brow furrowing as she came to sit down opposite him. “If it is to do with William – which I suspect your dark moods are always about – then you need to set that path aside.”
Nathanial looked away. “Mother, I – ”
“Your nightmares have continued, have they not?” Lady Ashbourne tilted her head, in the very same way he himself often did. “I heard the maids whispering.”
“They ought not to be. Tell me who you heard it from and I shall have them sent away from this estate at once!”
Lady Ashbourne sighed and sat back in her chair a little more. “It could not be that there is concern for you in that, could there? That they do not speak of you with malice or ill will?”
Snorting, Nathanial rolled his eyes. “Mother, I am very aware of what my staff think of me.”
“That does not mean that they cannot speak with concern, my son.” Lady Ashbourne let out another breath. “It pains me to see you sitting here alone. Why are you doing so? Why can you not leave this study for even a single hour, it seems!”
Nathanial’s scowl lingered. “I am quite contented here.”
“I do not believe you. You cannot be contented sitting here year after year and only ever emerging when William returns home.”
At the name of his younger brother, Nathanial flinched and then despised himself for it. No doubt his mother would have seen it and, in observing it, would know what troubled him despite his protestations that there was nothing that worried him.
“William is a very happy, contented, healthy young man.” Lady Ashbourne’s voice had gentled all the more. “My dear boy, you need not worry about him.”
“He has a limp.”
Lady Ashbourne shook her head. “It is a very minor limp, Ashbourne. And he is alive which is the most important thing, is it not?”
Nathanial closed his eyes as memories began to flood him. He had been laughing and playing with his friends in the middle of his father’s estate grounds. They had been foolish, choosing to walk across a large branch which they had placed across one of the rivers which ran through the gardens. They had always been warned to be careful around it but he had been of an age where he had given no heed to such things.
William, of course, had been younger and determined to impress Nathanial and his friends though he had done his best to ignore him. Too late had he realized that William had attempted to walk across the branch. Too late had he realized that his brother was not present and too late had he sprinted to the pond and made his way across the branch to pull him to safety. William had been grey, his eyes closed. When Nathanial had passed his brother to his friends, his own clothes pulling down to the pond with the wet, William’s foot had caught under the branch. Not only had he been so utterly irresponsible as to miss where his brother had gone, he had then caused him further trauma in his poor handling of William as he had pulled him from the pond.
“Do not think of that.”
Nathanial looked sharply at his mother who was smiling gently. Somehow, she had known how his thoughts were being tormented.
“Think on how you revived your brother,” she said, softly. “Your father found you carrying him back to the house – conscious.”
“And screaming.”
“But that is better than being drowned, Nathanial.”
It was not often that his mother spoke to him in such a tone but this was one of complete sympathy – a balm that Nathanial refused to settle upon his heart. This was not what he deserved, not what he wanted. All he desired at present was to be by himself, to drown himself in books so that he would not have to think of that painful memory that simply would not leave his mind.
“I will write to Lady Amelia.”
Without warning, his mother rose from her chair and walked to the door, perhaps seeing that he desired his own company. “And I will accept on behalf of both of us.”
“You will do no such thing!” Nathanial rose from his chair, walking across the room to where his mother stood, though she did not so much as flinch. “I do not want to attend and therefore, I shall remain at home. If you wish to join them then please, take the carriage, take whatever you wish but I shall – ”
“You shall attend with me.”
The cool, crisp words of his mother made Nathanial’s frustrations grow all the more. She was either unwilling to listen to him or determined not to and both were irritating him utterly.
“Mother, please understand. I have no intention of making my way to societal events. I have no desire to be in company with any other. William will soon be home for the Season and – ”
“Your brother is to remain in London for the Season.”
Nathanial stopped dead, his eyes flaring. “I beg your pardon?”
“I received a letter from him yesterday. He is going to be remaining in London for the Season, though he does intend to return at Christmastime.”
His heart ripped from his chest as he took in a long breath. Seeing William, being certain that he was quite well, was a balm and a comfort that he needed year on year. It was his time to see that his brother, albeit with a slight limp, was still hale and hearty, an occasion for them to be in one another’s company so they might reminisce and laugh together. It happened every year and thereafter, once William had returned to Eton or now, given that he was finished there, back to his own estate, Nathanial would slowly begin to retreat back into the darkness and the heaviness that came with it. He would remember the limp that his brother had, would fear for his brother that he would never find a suitable bride thanks to his infirmity which was, of course, Nathanial’s fault.
“You will see your brother again, of course,” his mother continued, as Nathanial tried to breathe in past the tightness in his lungs. “He will come back to the estate for a time but he must spend more time at his own estate – or in London – now. The time for him to step into his role is at hand and, therefore, he considers what he requires for his future.” Her eyebrow arched. “Namely, a bride.”
Nathanial’s mouth fell open. “Mother! One moment you are asking me to go to a literary event and now you are asking me to go and seek out a bride?!”
She smiled. “I am. After all, you are a Duke and you must continue the family line, must you not?”
A heaviness settled on Nathanial’s heart and he shook his head. “I would rather go to the literary event rather than have you speak to me about matrimony, Mother.”
A quiet laugh escaped her and with a shake of her head, Lady Ashbourne left the room, leaving Nathanial once more to his solitude.
Taking in a long, slow breath, Nathanial closed his eyes and waited for the relief that his solitude would bring him… but it did not come. Instead, he felt his mother’s words about continuing the line settling on his heart and weighing it down. That was one of his responsibilities, he knew, but it was not something he was able to consider. Not as yet. That would require him to step out into society, to go to the ton and seek out someone to come and share this house – and his life – with him. At the present moment, that was not something he could even consider, not when his life was so very contained within these four walls.
Letting out an exclamation of frustration, Nathanial rose from his chair and strode to his desk. Pulling out a piece of fresh writing paper, he sat and picked up his quill, writing out his reply before his mother could change his mind. Writing his regret – none of which he truly had – he let Lady Amelia know that he would not be attending the literary salon but thanked her for the invitation.
And then he scrawled up the letter and began again. This time, he did not add in a single word of thanks but stated clearly and concisely that he would not be in attendance. Silently, he hoped that this would communicate to the young lady that he was not desirous of such invitations so that he would never receive such a thing again.
Rising, he rang the bell and then returned to seal his letter. When the butler arrived, Nathanial handed him the note immediately.
“Have this delivered at once and inform my mother once it is sent.”
The butler blinked. “Inform her, Your Grace?”
“Tell her that my response to Lady Amelia has been sent and that I am steadfast in my determination not to attend,” Nathanial stated, clearly. “Her own response will come later, I am sure.”
Dismissing the butler, he waited until the door closed before letting himself relax just a little. Again, he waited for the relief, for the contentment to come but instead, all he could think of was his mother’s remarks about his own unmarried state and his brother William’s determination to stay in London.
He was used to being alone. He had told himself he liked it. So why now did he feel so very unsettled?
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I can’t wait for this book to be released! Please let me know when it is available so I can order it