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Chapter 1
London,
November1815
Stepping into his ancestral home, in Oxfordshire, Felton Gale– Earl of Colborne and newly retired Captain of the Royal Navy –could tell that something was amiss. Instead of his family greeting him by the door with relief; he was welcomed by an empty foyer.
Not a maid or footman was in sight, and as he removed his snow-dotted greatcoat and tricorn hat, Felton ruffled his dark brown hair. Hurried footsteps had Felton turning and his aged butler, Harrison, came down the stairs—the troubled expression told him his hunch was right.
“Welcome home, My Lord,” Harrison bowed. “I am immensely pleased to have you back with us safely.”
“As am I, Harrison,” Felton replied, “Now, would you care to tell me why my mother and dear sister aren’t with you? I have spent over three years away.”
“It is Lady Catherine, My Lord,” Harrison replied. “She received some unexpected news today.”
Hearing that his genteel sister was unhappy had Felton halfway up the stairs before the butler could continue. “What is the matter? The last correspondence Mother was able to send to me told me that she was engaged.”
“Yes, My Lord, but—”
Maids were lingering at the door of the main drawing room and scampered away at seeing them. Felton could not pay their unprofessional actions any mind as his sister was seated on a divan, sobbing. Her fingers were twisting a handkerchief and her fair hair, always perfectly coiffed, was askew.
Their mother, Dorothea Gale, Dowager Lady Colborne, was trying her best to console her daughter, but Catherine seemed to be having none of it.
“Catherine!” Felton exclaimed while stranding into the room. “What is the matter?”
“Felton,” his mother gasped in surprise and stood. “Welcome home, dear.”
“Thank you, Mother,” he replied while training his concerned gaze on his sister, “But Catherine, why are you so distraught?”
Instead of getting a reply, his sister shoved a letter at him before covering her face with her hands. Felton’s lips flattened, and his eyes ran over the words quickly. Halfway through the letter, cold rage began icing his veins—the letter was a message of marriage rejection.
I am assured you will find a suitable prospect to marry as you are tolerable in manner and prettiness, but I prefer true beauty—my best wishes to you.
His eyes dipped to the signature, John Harewood, Duke of Ayles, and his molars nearly ground themselves to dust in the back of his mouth. Who was this arrogant cad, who dared to insult his sister so callously?
“Seven m-months,” Catherine sobbed in her handkerchief, “We courted for seven months, and now, n-now as I anticipated him to propose, he’s gone and broken the c-courtshipoff…” she broke off with a keening cry. “And I loved him; I truly loved him!”
Dropping the tear-stained letter, Felton crouched at his sister’s knees and rested his hand on her knees, “Catherine, you have nothing to grieve for. This thoughtless Lord has made the most foolish decision of his life by rejecting you. Count your blessings, love, he does not deserve you!”
Catherine’s lips trembled, “Truly?”
“Without a doubt,” Felton replied as he stood, “Do not discredit yourself for a man who has neither class nor ambition. You will make the right Lord a wonderful wife.”
“He’s right, dear,” their mother added, while rubbing her daughter’s back, “You are not any less because this lord has turned away from you.”
Pressing the heel of her hand to her eyes, Catherine sniffled, “But what if—”
“There are no ifs,” Felton replied while taking her hand. “Why don’t you go to your chambers and rest. Distress is not a becoming look on you.”
Embracing him, Catherine smiled, “Thank you, Felton, and I am sorry you had to come to this horrible welcome. I am happy that you are home.”
“Me too,” Felton said, then nodded to a maid. “Please help her to her room, draw a warm bath, and send up some tea.”
“Yes, My Lord,” the woman curtsied and helped Catherine to her room.
Unable to sit, Felton paced to the window and gazed out at the snow-covered lands of his family’s home. Forcing his locked jaw open, Felton said, “How are you, mother?”
Standing, the dowager came to him and rested her hands on his shoulders, with a smile, “I am relieved and overjoyed that you are home, son.”
