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Prologue
Julie Weston’s diary
June 5th, 1808
It was love at first sight.
He was five, and I was four. He fell into the lake while fetching my hat, then he climbed out with a grin on his face and my hat in one hand. “Is this yours?” he asked me, waving it all the way to the shore. I giggled. He was the handsomest boy I had ever seen. And that was the moment I realized he was going to be my husband. Now, thirteen years later, it is finally going to come true. We are eloping at dawn.
Julie sat on the bed, fidgeting fiercely. It was the day John finally came back from school, the day that would change the direction of the rest of her life. Finally, they would elope and start their happily ever after, just like in the fairytales. She would get Mary back and they would be out of her father’s reach.
Julie closed her eyes, imagining the merry scene: John waiting for her at the end of the aisle, his handsome face lit with his boyish smile.
As the third son of a local baron, John had little in the way of capital. He had always promised her he would get a job in some solicitor firm in London after finishing school. As a general clerk or assistant, he’d be able to support their little family. She cared not about any of that. As a daughter of a marquess, she had never lacked luxuries, but none of those luxuries mattered to her more than a life with John. He was her lifelong neighbor and friend. Her hero, her confidante, and soon, he would be her husband. She would give all the world’s wealth to finally be with him.
A knock on her balcony doors made her jump. She looked up to find John’s beloved figure standing on the other side. He had gotten taller since she saw him last. He had always been a couple inches shorter than her, which she found endearing. Now, as she walked to the doors and opened them, she had to tilt her head back slightly to look into his beautiful hazel eyes. She held his gaze for an enchanted moment before falling straight into his arms. She snuggled closer to him and ran her hands up his back. He was still lean and well-muscled, and he smelled like clover leaves and horses.
“How happy I am to see you,” she said against his shirt.
He cuddled her close to his heart, then gently nudged her chin up, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Taking her by the hand, he led her to sit on the edge of her bed.
“How are you, sweetheart?” he asked.
Julie laid her head on his shoulder. “Better now,” she half-whispered. They sat in companionable silence, a silence she didn’t want to break. Yet she had to.
John laced his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand as if he sensed she needed his courage and strength.
“Father is planning to take me to London in three weeks to prepare for my debut,” she finally said.
“We can’t let that happen.” His arms tightened around her, hugging her closer. “I am not letting you go,” he whispered into her hair.
“Good.” She sat up abruptly, twisting to look at him. “Let’s elope on the morrow.”
“We can’t leave tomorrow.” He looked at her with those serious hazel eyes of his. “We haven’t got enough funds. Where are we to live?”
“We’ll rent a place, something small and cheap.”
“I’ve saved up my allowance,” he explained with furrowed brows. “But it’s not enough, Julie. Maybe for the first month or so, but then what?”
“We’ll work,” she reasoned, looking up at him, pleadingly.
“I will.” He brushed his knuckles over the apple of her cheek. “But you—you are not used to labor. I can’t ask that of you.”
She frowned at him. “I can teach, I can sew. I am not useless.”
“I didn’t say you were.” John looked at her with nothing but adoration reflected in his eyes. “I just want the best life for you.”
“The best life for me is with you,” she said earnestly, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ll do anything to stay with you!”
John looked into her sad eyes, then down at her lips. He lowered his head slowly, giving her the sweetest kiss. He brushed his lips over hers several times until she started copying his movements and kissing him back. He had never kissed her like that before. The kiss was warm, wet, and confusing. It felt urgent, yet somehow gentle. He suckled her lower lip between his and snaked his arm around her waist before moving it lower.
A knock sounded at the door, startling them apart.
“Julie, it’s your father, open the door!” called the threatening male voice from the other side.
“I-I am already in bed,” she called with a stammer.
“Open the door this moment, or I’ll break it down!” her father shouted through the door.
