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Prologue
December 1865
Lady Francesca Kendall stared at the Christmas decoration she’d made, and frowned. It was lovely to spend time with her cousin, Lady Adeline Carwyn. They were only a few years apart in age. Francesca had turned eight and ten a few months prior, and Adeline was three years older than her. Christmastide was being celebrated at Whitewood Abbey, Adeline’s home, or more accurately the home of her parents the Duke and Duchess of Whitewood. Adeline’s mother was Francesca’s father’s sister. They were close, and had a celebration with their entire family every Christmas.
“What do you think of this?” Francesca asked. She held up a star that she’d colored a pale yellow. It was plain, simple, and in her opinion, elegant. That was how Francesca hoped to present herself to the ton during her first season. She would have her comeout ball in March when the season started. She couldn’t wait until she could attend balls, soirees, garden parties, and more. Francesca couldn’t understand why Adeline hated them so much.
“It is quite lovely,” Adeline said. “It’ll make a nice addition to the tree when we decorate it tomorrow.” She held up her own ornament and asked, “Do you think it is too much?” She was painting an angel in a circular piece of clay. It was exquisite.
“Oh…” She nibbled on her bottom lip and looked back at her star. Maybe she could do better. “You are so talented. I wish I had…something.” Francesca was terrible at the pianoforte, mediocre at drawing and watercolors, and abysmal at needlepoint. In short, she had more failings than winsome attributes.
“Do not be that way,” Adeline said. Her tone held a hint of chastisement. “You’re brilliant, beautiful, and the very epitome of benevolence.” She smiled softly. “And I love you. I do not want to listen to you berate yourself, or what you believe to be your lack of marketable traits.”
She pasted a smile on her face. Francesca didn’t particularly feel pretty or desirable. Perhaps that would change after her comeout. She prayed she wouldn’t become a wallflower, or a spinster like Adeline. Francesca wanted to find love and have a marriage like her parents had. They loved each other so much it almost hurt to watch them. How possible was it for her to find a love as special and strong as theirs? “I’ll try, it’s all I can promise.” She glanced away and started to add more flourish to her star. If Adeline could create something as special as an angel ornament, surely she could make something equally as pretty. Adeline stood and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Are you already finished,” Francesca asked. “I’m not nearly done.”
“I am.” She smiled at her. “I’m weary and am going to lie down until dinner.” She did appear a bit fatigued. “When you’re done do not forget to wash and change. You have a bit of paint in your hair and on your hands. You probably brushed your hand over your hair.”
Adeline glanced at her hands and frowned. She did have paint all over her hands and the apron she wore over her gown. Francesca stared down at herself. “I will, thank you.” She should be more careful, but part of her didn’t care. She’d been trying to be creative after all.
“Will you be joining us for tea?” Francesca asked. She brushed a lock of her strawberry blonde hair behind an ear. Sometimes she wished she had golden blonde hair like Adeline. Her reddish locks were not nearly as fashionable. There was so much about herself she wished she could change, but accepted she couldn’t. Francesca needed to stop comparing herself to Adeline. It would lead her nowhere. All the negativity did not do any good, and she loved her cousin. She wouldn’t hurt her for anything and yet, she couldn’t stop being a brat, at least in her mind.
“I am uncertain,” she told her nonchalantly. “But don’t expect me. I may stay in my chambers longer depending on how I feel.”
“All right,” Francesca said absentmindedly. Francesca had turned her attention back to her ornament already, and frowned again. Maybe she’d do an outline in another color. She wasn’t certain how to make it stand out. “Have a nice rest.”
“I will,” Adeline told her and then smiled softly. “Do not fret. Your ornament really is quite lovely.” With those words Adeline left Francesca alone. She painted a thin dark yellow outline and considered it good. Perhaps Adeline was right. It was beautiful and she should stop doubting herself. She carried it over to the table to dry. They’d add ribbon to their ornaments before putting them on the tree.
Adeline cleaned up her supplies, and then left the craft room. As she was rounding the corner to go up to her bedchamber she stumbled against a man. She mumbled her apologies before she glanced up. Her mouth went dry and she lost all ability to think, let alone speak. He had thick black hair, and eyes so blue they took her breath away. In short, she was a bumbling mess. Francesca had never seen a man as beautiful as this one, and had nothing to fall back on in her interaction with him.
“No need to apologize,” he said in a husky tone. She’d somehow managed to find her breath, and shivers went down her spine as he spoke. God help her. “It was all my fault.” He had so much charm no lady would be able to resist. Who was he?
She shook her head still unable to speak. What was wrong with her? So he was gorgeous. That shouldn’t matter! If she had any chance of having a successful season she had to learn to use her voice. “My lord,” she curtsied. “It was indeed my fault. I cannot let you take the blame.”
His lips tilted upward into a sinful smile that promised he could be quite wicked if a lady let him have his way with her. Francesca had never been so tempted to offer herself to a man before. But to be fair, no men like this one lived near her home in Kent. “A gentleman would never let a lovely lady as you carry such a burden.” He held out his hand to her. “Why don’t you stroll with me. I’m only here until morning and I find myself a bit lonely.”
She frowned. Francesca should help out and spend some time with him. This was her aunt’s house, and she did know the layout, and what might appeal to him. “I am afraid we’ve not been introduced…”
“Then let’s rectify that.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed down in a soft kiss. “I am Matthew.”
That was not at all what she meant. Using his surname was absolutely scandalous, and she shouldn’t do it. She tilted her head to the side and studied him. What did this man hope to achieve by being wicked with her? “Matthew?”
“Yes,” that rich tone of his voice was a weapon and a gift. More importantly he seemed to understand that and used it to his advantage.
“Do you not believe it’s too familiar?” He was an enigma. Why would he not want to know more about her, or her him?
“Not at all,” he said smoothly. Matthew stared intently into her eyes, and it made her want to believe everything he said to her. “I do believe you and I are destined to be…acquainted. Why stall the inevitable?”
Francesca barely held in a sigh. Was he right? Were they somehow meant to be? “I am Francesca,” she acquiesced. “How do you feel about conservatories?”
“I love them,” he said. “Is there one here? Will you show me?”
Francesca nodded. “The duchess has a lovely orange tree. It’s one of the best conservatories in all of England, though perhaps not as wonderful as the one at Seabrook, I do love it.”
He looped her arm with his. “Lead the way dear Cesca,” he said in a tone so intimate it filled her with warmth. “And tell me about Seabrook. Have you visited there often?”
He didn’t know who she was… Francesca smiled. She should tell him that the Marquess of Seabrook was her great uncle? Perhaps later. She liked this interaction with him and adored the shortened version of her name he used.
