Page 1

CHAPTER 1

"Miss Ashbourne! Miss Ashbourne, the storage barn is flooding!"

Adelaide turned from the carriage step. The steward, Mr. Hollis came stumbling up the gravel drive, his boots caked in thick mud and his face pale with panic.

"The grain will spoil, miss. The water is rising past the floorboards, and the men do not know whether to move the sacks or dig the ditch."

"Do both," Adelaide replied calmly. "Move the grain to the west barn first, as the floor stands higher there. Send four men with shovels to clear the drainage ditch behind the paddock; it has not been cut since spring."

Mr. Hollis blinked at her. "But the west barn, miss... it is half full of hay."

"Then stack the hay higher. The grain takes precedence."

"Adelaide." Her maternal aunt, Lady Beatrice's voice cut across the drive. "We are already a quarter-hour behind schedule. The road to London will not wait for flooded barns."

Adelaide kept her attention fixed on the bailiff. "Tell the men to work in pairs; wet grain sacks weigh twice as much. I shall ride out this afternoon to inspect the damage myself."

Mr. Hollis nodded briskly and hurried back toward the tenant cottages, his boots slipping on the sodden gravel.

"Adelaide, really." Lady Beatrice tapped her gloved fingers against the carriage door. "The tenants can manage without your oversight for a single afternoon."

Adelaide turned to her aunt. "The tenants manage precisely because I do not abandon them to work alone."

Lady Beatrice's mouth tightened. She remained a handsome woman, though fragile and papery, her pale skin and deliberate movements suggesting a museum exhibit rather than a living woman. Her traveling cloak was a muted gray, fine in quality but showing light wear along the seams.

"Your devotion to Ashwood is admirable," Lady Beatrice said softly. "However, it is not as though you are accompanying us."

The words fell quietly between them, leaving a cold, familiar ache in Adelaide's throat.

"No," she said. "I am not."

"Which is why we must not be delayed." Lady Beatrice adjusted the silk ribbons of her bonnet. "The girls must reach London before the fashionable hour. First impressions govern the entire Season."

Adelaide turned her gaze to her young cousins, Sarah and Jane, standing by the carriage. They had their cloaks half-fastened, their faces bright with the untamed excitement of their upcoming debut. The elder of the two, at eighteen, attempted a look of worldly composure, while the younger, at seventeen, failed entirely to hide her delight.

"Come here," Adelaide said gently. "Let me fasten those properly."

She worked the silver clasp on the elder girl's cloak with swift, practiced fingers. The wool was brand new—a rich, deep blue that would distinguish her in London drawing rooms under the candlelight. Adelaide had ordered the fabric herself, negotiated the cut with the modiste, and settled the bill out of the household accounts without bothering her aunt with the expense.

"There," Adelaide murmured. "You will be the prettiest young lady in every room."

"Do you truly think so, cousin?" The younger girl bounced on her heels. "Do you truly?"

"I am certain of it." Adelaide smoothed the girl's collar into place. "Remember to listen more than you speak during your first week. And if a gentleman asks you to dance twice, do not assume he intends to propose; he may simply be seeking a polite excuse to avoid his mother."

The girls laughed. Lady Beatrice did not join them.

"Adelaide, you fill their heads with absolute nonsense."

"I give them practical counsel."

Lady Beatrice descended from the carriage like a woman guarding her delicate health. She stepped close to Adelaide, lowering her tone so the girls could not overhear.

"You understand why you are remaining behind," she said, her voice flat and declarative.

Adelaide finished smoothing her cousin's cloak. "I understand that Ashwood requires proper management."

"That is one consideration." Lady Beatrice paused, her gaze cold and steady. "Yet you must acknowledge the broader truth. An unmarried woman of thirty would invite questions in town—awkward questions that could follow our family throughout the Season."