Page 47 of One Night with an Earl

Ana’s gaze was riveted on the scenery outside the coach window as they were carried up a long, winding driveway. It had been a decade since she’d made the two-day trip, yet many landmarks were vividly familiar—from the hundred-year-old oak trees that lined the drive like silent sentinels, to the grazing sheep in the valley, to certain curves and dips in the road. She held her breath as they came closer and closer to Rosedown.

A pang of longing pierced her chest, one she’d buried deep in a chamber in her heart, as the manor came into view. Rosedown’s white stone wall glinted beneath rays of afternoon sunlight. A fine example of Elizabethan architecture, it was three stories, with tall decorative chimneys and windows with gilt trim. A fountain in the courtyard—a cherub holding an urn of spilling water—welcomed visitors.

At a little less than a thousand acres, Rosedown was considered small compared to many of the vast aristocratic estates, but in Ana’s memory, every one of those acres was lovely. The valuable stables were situated to the right of the home, and she spotted several of the prized Rosedown horses in the fields nearby. A corner of the glass-and-iron conservatory, where her mother’s flowers and roses bloomed under the care of the manor’s gardeners, loomed in the distance. They had perfected propagating different types of roses through grafting with success. In a separate garden, rose bushes twined on towering trellises. She could almost smell the delicate fragrance of the blooms.

Home.

She’d never thought to return here. And certainly not at the invitation of the Earl of Drake.

Life could be ironic indeed.

Her nerves had been wound tight the entire journey—even well beforehand. She’d woken earlier than the rest of the family and happened to intercept the morning post to snatch a letter from Lieutenant Smithfield. She slipped it in her skirt pocket, and due to the bustling staff getting the household ready to travel, she’d forgotten to mention it to Penelope.

The coach rolled to a stop. Springs squeaked as the coachman jumped down from his perch. The latch clicked, and the door swung open wide.

A liveried footman extended his arm. “Welcome to Rosedown.”

Thankfully, he was young, and Ana did not recognize him. For the journey, she’d worn a floppy bonnet which she hoped would better conceal her features from any servants who may have known her during her life here.

The footman first aided Lady Malvern’s and Penelope’s descent. When it was Ana’s turn, she gathered her skirts in one hand then leaned on his arm as she stepped down from the coach, all the while gazing up at her family home.

“I’m still impressed by its beauty,” the footman said, noticing Ana’s rapt attention. “Lord Drake has made many needed renovations since the former owner’s neglect.”

The baron had once cared for the manor and taken his duties to heart, but he’d ignored those duties after her mother’s death. He’d become melancholy and started drinking. At times, he’d been cross, almost cruel. He’d once yelled at Adam for climbing one of the trellises and tearing down a few roses. Adam’s fingers had bled from the thorns—not that their father noticed—and Ana had held her younger brother while he cried himself to sleep. Even the servants avoided her father’s ire. She wondered what had become of Rosedown’s old staff and tenants.

Last to exit the coach, Lord Malvern joined his family. Ana trailed behind the group up the stone steps and into a brightly lit entrance hall. A part of her was hesitant to step inside, another eager to return at last.

A large chandelier holding dozens of candles drew her gaze. Sunlight from the open door bounced off the chandelier’s crystal prisms, creating a magnificent image on the marble floor. A lavish floral arrangement of hothouse blooms in brilliant hues occupied the center of the vestibule.

The sight of the flowers brought back a slew of memories of her mother. She could almost picture her bent over the vase, inhaling the blooms, a soft smile lighting her face and the sunlight highlighting her glorious mahogany hair.

As Ana walked forward, her eyes devoured every new detail. The priceless artwork. The updated furnishings. The Oriental carpet leading up the winding staircase to the second-floor balcony. Even the balustrade had been replaced and polished to a high sheen.

Before Ana could observe more, a short and plump older woman wearing a dark blue dress approached and smiled at the group in welcome. “I am Mrs. Hannings, Lord Drake’s housekeeper. The staff has been looking forward to your visit.”

Ana’s stomach dropped at the appearance of the woman. Mrs. Hannings had been employed at Rosedown for as long as Ana could remember. Ana had toddled into the kitchen on more than one occasion searching for a sweet, and the kind housekeeper had always indulged her, then ushered her out of the hot kitchens before her parents discovered her whereabouts.

Of all the staff, Mrs. Hannings could be the one to recognize her. More grateful than ever for the floppy bonnet, Ana lowered her eyes. She prayed the housekeeper would pay more attention to Lord and Lady Malvern than a mere chaperone.

“You must be tired from your travels. I will see you to your rooms, then have refreshments delivered in the parlor,” Mrs. Hannings said.

“We could use a spot of tea. Is his lordship present?” Lady Malvern asked.

“He is out riding but should return shortly to welcome you. Please follow me.” A large wire ring of keys at the housekeeper’s waist clinked as she walked.

They passed the parlor where Ana’s gaze was drawn to lavish gilt frames, plasterwork, and damask-covered settees. Despite the unfamiliar decor, she recalled a different time…a different and happier memory. She’d sat beside her father while her mother played the pianoforte. Before her mother could finish, her brother had run into the home with muddy shoes and a worm in each fist. Rather than admonish him, her mother laughed then had him place the worms in the gardens.

“Why wear that horrible bonnet?”

Ana turned to frown at Penelope. They followed Mrs. Hannings up the grand staircase. “What is so offensive about it?”

“It hides your entire face. I disliked the lace caps, but this is even worse,” Penelope hissed.

Penelope’s parents and the housekeeper proceeded well ahead of them, out of hearing. Ana reached up to adjust the ribbons of the bonnet beneath her chin. “You forget my position. My dress is entirely acceptable.”

Penelope turned up her pert nose. “Nonsense. Are you worried about Lord Drake?”

“No,” Ana lied. They made it to the landing. Her stomach was tight, not just from being in her prior home, but in anticipation of facing the lord of the manor as well.