Page 1 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

CHAPTER 1

LONDON, ENGLAND

March 22nd, 1819

“The worst thing about London in the Spring,” Sir Andrew said with a disapproving frown, “is the myriad of people who come out of doors to crowd the parks.” Indeed, carriages and horses packed Rotten Row tightly enough that riding at anything faster than a tortoise’s pace proved impossible.

The baronet’s best friend merely chuckled, too used to Andrew’s horse-madness to take the complaint seriously. Simon Dinard, called by his honorary title of Lord Farleigh, wore confidence the way others slipped on a pair of old gloves. With comfort and the ease of habit.

“We are here until June, at least,” Simon reminded him. “Though my father believes the current unrest might keep him through most of the summer.” The duke’s heir nodded to an acquaintance in passing but did not stop. They were late.

Sometimes, Andrew envied his friend’s self-possession. Simon came by it naturally, as the eldest son and heir of the Duke of Montfort. Andrew emphatically did not envy Simon’s title or future responsibilities in the least. The heir to the duchy carried more responsibility on his shoulders than most men in England.

Simon led them out of the park when they finally came to the end of the Row, ostensibly ignoring a barouche filled with young ladies all batting their eyelashes at him. Yet another thing Andrew had no wish to possess—an army of female admirers. The marriageable daughters of England’s nobility would throw themselves in front of Simon’s charging horse if they thought it meant a chance to gain his attention.

“While I appreciate the Duke’s invitation to these meetings, I still wonder at my inclusion.” Andrew turned enough in his saddle to see Simon’s bodyguard following on his own mount at a short distance. “I have no wish to pursue a career in politics.” He couldn’t imagine dedicating his life to arguing with a room full of men more stubborn than him. He’d much rather enjoy life than waste time trying to shout down anyone who didn’t share his perspective.

“You say that now.” Simon wove between two carriages, with Andrew following close behind. “But if you ever change your mind, these afternoons with my father will prove useful.”

The Duke of Montfort had always allowed Andrew a place in his home. Years ago, His Grace had been friends with Andrew’s father. When an illness left Andrew a baronet at only nineteen years old, His Grace brought Andrew fully into the family. Andrew even had his own set of rooms in each of the Montfort family’s residences.

Everyone had made him feel welcome. Except for Josephine. The Duke’s eldest daughter. Though she was five years his junior, she had treated him with indifference for several years, and then annoyance. Which he found entertaining enough to needle her into that state all the more, and he grinned to himself at the thought of seeing her. Needling her just enough to see the blush rise in her cheeks and her eyes grow stormy as she calculated the best response to put him in his place.

As Andrew and Simon maneuvered through the crowded streets, clouds gathered above to turn the cheerful day into something somber. By the time they reached the duke’s London house, the bright blue sky had transitioned into a mournful shade of gray.

They entered the house at the same time a distant roll of thunder echoed across the rooftops of London. Josephine Dinard, eldest daughter of the duke and duchess, stood on the stairs that descended into the entryway. She wore clothing meant for a walk, including gloves and bonnet.

“Was that thunder?” she asked, taking the last several steps in a rush, her long pelisse flying up behind her like a cape. “Do not say it was thunder!”

“Very well.” Andrew spoke before Simon could say a word. “I will not say so. What shall it be instead? A giant’s game of nine pins? Perhaps the inexcusable rumblings of a hungry tiger?”

Josephine cast him a look of disdain before going to the large window nearest the door and peering out. “Mother and I were to go out.”

Simon and Andrew shared a glance—Andrew of some amusement, which faded when he realized his friend appeared concerned.

“You might still go to the Arcade,” Simon said somewhat consolingly. The Burlington Arcade, a covered shopping avenue newly constructed by George Cavendish, Earl of Burlington, featured nearly seventy shops full of luxury goods. The Arcade had opened only the week before. The family had missed the grand opening because of a wedding in the country.

His sister slowly shook her head. “No. You know how little mother enjoys shopping.” She turned from the window, the disappointment darkening her blue eyes.

She went to the stairs without another word, as gloomy as the weather outside. She didn’t even bother to glare at Andrew, and he couldn’t find it in himself to tease her.

Andrew looked at Simon again, puzzled, but his friend gestured to the hall. His father’s study was in another wing of the house, which meant they could ascend to the correct level at a different flight of stairs. Andrew followed, and after they turned a corner, Simon finally explained.

“You left directly after the wedding,” he said. “But ever since Josie waved farewell to Emma’s carriage, she’s been a bit out of sorts.”

Emma Arlen, now the Contessa di Atella, had been Josephine’s companion. And her best friend since their nursery years. She also happened to be Andrew’s first-cousin, on his mother’s side. Emma had fallen in love with one of the duke’s summer guests—an ambassador from the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. They had married only a fortnight ago.

“Have they never been apart?” Andrew asked, frowning. “I know Emma visited our relatives from time to time.”

“Yes, but she always planned to return.” Simon led them up a staircase, his expression still dark. “This time, Emma isn’t coming back. Not for more than a visit. They were close as sisters.”

Simon and Josephine had other siblings, of course. Two younger sisters and a brother. But there were several years between Josephine and her next sister. Too many years for them to go about in Society together.

“Will she find another paid companion?” Andrew asked. “She must be lonely. I cannot think she has ever been without Emma for more than a few days.”

“No one has dared to bring it up yet. We all know she will deny she needs a companion. Whenever anyone mentions Emma, Josephine only says how happy she is for the marriage.” Simon led them through a set of doors through the library, a long room decorated in rich greens and expansive maps, with quite possibly the most comfortable furniture in the whole house pulled up to three different fireplaces. They stopped at the next set of doors. Simon tapped on one of the large wooden panels.

The duke answered from within his study. “Enter.”