Chapter One
England, 1813
Lord Winston Lockwood was not in a jovial type of mood. He sat at the long, rectangular table in the dining room of Brockhall Manor as a luncheon was being held in honor of his brother’s marriage to Delphine. He was truly happy for them, despite feeling a pang of jealousy at the love that they so clearly had for one another.
Winston knew that he had every reason to be happy, but he wasn’t. And that was what irked him the most. Why couldn’t he just be content with his blasted life? He had established himself as a barrister in London, and he owned a sheep farm. However, no matter what he did, he still felt like an utter failure.
What was worse was that he knew nothing about sheep, but when the opportunity had presented itself, he had decided to take the risk. He wanted to prove to others—and himself—that he could do more than what was expected of him.
His eyes drifted towards Miss Bawden, the fiery red-haired young woman who irritated him to no end. She was undeniablybeautiful, but she was far too opinionated for his tastes. She seemed to have an opinion on everything and anything. It was rather vexing. He had learned that he could only take her in small doses or else he would go mad.
It had been this way for many years. Their interactions were a series of endless debates and squabbles, each one trying to outdo the other. As they grew older, they found it was best to avoid one another altogether, despite her always being underfoot when she visited his sisters.
Miss Bawden turned her head and met his gaze. Rather than look away or show any hint of embarrassment at being caught staring, he tipped his head in acknowledgement. Her eyes sparkled with annoyance, as they always did when she looked upon him. At least she was consistent.
His mother clinked her fork against her glass, drawing everyone’s attention. “We are most fortunate to come together to celebrate Bennett and Delphine’s wedding, but it is time for them to depart for Scotland,” she announced. “Let us gather outside to say our final goodbyes.”
Winston shoved back his chair and rose. He couldn’t wait until this was over so he could retreat to the solitude of his bedchamber. He wanted to be alone. It was much more comfortable than being surrounded by happy people who seemed to have no idea of the burdens he carried.
As he walked towards the entry hall, his sister, Melody, came to walk next to him. “You were remarkably quiet during the luncheon,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine,” he responded in a short, dismissive tone, hoping to end this line of questioning.
She gave him a look that implied she didn’t believe him. “What troubles you? And I would prefer the truth, if you don’t mind.”
Winston should have known that his sister would see right through him. She was remarkably astute for being eight and ten years. “We can discuss it later,” he replied.This was not a conversation that he wanted to have in passing.
“Very well,” Melody said, “but do not think I will forget. I have the memory of a hawk.”
Feeling an overwhelming need to tease her, he asked, “How do you know that hawks have a good memory?”
“Hawks have been used as messengers for hundreds of years,” Melody replied.
“No, you are thinking of carrier pigeons,” Winston said. “Typically, falcons are trained to retrieve prey.”
Melody grinned. “Perhaps, but hawks are much more intimidating than pigeons. So, I contend I am more like a hawk.”
He chuckled. “You, my dear sister, are anything but intimidating, at least to me.” With her blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin, he had no doubt that she would cause a stir amongst theton. But there was a quiet strength she possessed that set her apart. It was what she wasn’t saying that had always given him pause. There was a world of unspoken thoughts and feelings behind those blue eyes, and it made him wonder how much she kept to herself.
Elodie, Melody’s twin, chimed in from behind them. “What are you two discussing?”
“The kind of bird that Melody would be if she were a bird,” Winston replied, glancing back at her.
Elodie joined them, wearing a pensive expression. “She would definitely be a nightingale since she has such a beautiful singing voice.”
“But I am clever like a hawk,” Melody contended.
“Are hawks clever?” Elodie asked with a lifted brow.
Melody nodded firmly. “They have to be, being predators and all.”
“Not all predators are smart,” Winston contested. “Look at cats, for instance.”
Elodie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Cats areincredibly clever and make the best pets,” she declared. “They have so for thousands of years.”
Winston smirked. “They mostly lounge around, sleeping and grooming themselves,” he said. “Occasionally catching a mouse does not prove their intelligence.”
“You just don’t like cats,” Elodie accused.
