Chapter One
March 1804
Miss Lillian Wardley's bed was empty. Isabel Halloran, her
governess, greeted the sight with a combination of
frustration and panic. Lillian had a reputation for being
promiscuous. Curbing her wild ways was one of the duties
Isabel had been hired to perform three months earlier.
Isabel did not need a clash of wills with Lillian tonight.
She was fighting her own demons or rather, one demon, Lord
Riggs, Richard, a man she once believed she'd loved until
he had attempted to take her by force. He was a guest
under this roof, and she was determined to avoid him. She
didn't want him to know she was there. The pain of his
betrayal was still too fresh. Isabel had no desire to be
out wandering the halls, looking for her errant charge.
She should have known Lillian was up to something. The
seventeen-year-old had been too quiet, too accommodating,
and had excused herself far too early for bed that
evening. Her unquestioning obedience was out of character
and had disturbed Isabel enough for her to rise from her
own bed, throw her brown day dress over her nightgown, and
check on Lillian.
It was half past midnight ... and she had a sinking
suspicion where Lillian might be.
Holding a protective hand around the candle flame, Isabel
hurried across the hall to knock on Nanny's door. It took
more than one knock to disturb the older woman's sleep.
The door opened. "Miss Halloran, is there something with
the children?โ Nanny rasped, squinting at the candle
flame. She had the care of Mr. Wardley's three younger
children by his second wife, a very buxom former tavern
girl with ambition to match her husband's.
"Lillian is missing."
"Missing?" Nanny repeated without comprehension.
"She's not in her bed. I need your help finding her."
Nanny came awake. "Oh, dear." She opened the door while
she reached for her dressing gown hanging on a nearby
nail. "The last time she did this we found her with the
stable lad. 'Twas before your time. I know you've heard
about it."
"I thought I was making progress with her."
"I thought so, too." Nanny slipped her arms into her gown,
leaving her nightcap on her head. "The Master had the boy
transported to Australia." Isabel had heard this story,
but Nanny never tired of repeating it. "He begged for
mercy, he did, but the Master would hear none of it. Them
with the money makes the rules. That's what my mother used
to say. Let's pray Miss Lillian's not got another young
laddie in trouble."
"No, I think she has her sights set higher." Isabel
started for the stairs at the end of the hall. Her nightly
braid had come loose, but she wasn't going to waste time
rebraiding it.
Nanny moved with surprising speed and caught Isabel's
arm. "One of the guests? Why, the Master's friends are all
rakes and scoundrels, even if they do have titles to their
names. They'd gobble up a young girl, spit out her bones,
and the Master wouldn't be able to do a thing about it."
"I know," Isabel answered. She couldn't an-swer for all of
Mr. Wardley's guests, but Richard certainly fit that
description.
"We could lose our positions."
"Yes." Isabel was relieved that Nanny grasped exactly what
was at stake.
"We'd best hurry," the older woman said as she picked up a
candle stub from the hall table and lit it off Isabel's.
The two women hurried toward the stairs. "I wish the
Master would marry Miss Lillian off as soon as possible.
Yes, she's young, but she is going to come to grief with
her wild ways."
Their master was Mr. Thomas Wardley, a merchant who had
made his fortune brokering wool to the army and fancied
his money could buy his way into Society. He was fond of
expanding on how he was part of the "new social order,"
where a man didn't need a title to be accepted. But the
servants knew he desperately wanted one; they often called
him "Sir" Thomas behind his back.
And Isabel knew he was wrong about a new social order. The
divide between the aristocracy and everyone else was
deeper than the ocean. Richard had taught her that, just
as he'd taught her that a title didn't make a man a
gentleman. The five titled gentlemen visiting this week
were supposedly there for hunting -- although no one had
gone hunting yet. Instead, the downstairs reeked of port
and brandy, and Nanny and Isabel had their hands full
keeping the children away from bad influences.
The two women reached the floor where the guest bedrooms
were. Candles in wall sconces had the area ablaze with
light. Mr. Wardley might be stingy with his servants, but
no expense was spared for guests.
Isabel paused. The footman who usually sat in a chair at
the top of the stairs leading down to the main floor was
missing from his post. She felt a cold suspicion.
The quiet of the hall was broken by a burst of boisterous
male laughter drifting up the stairs from the dining room
where the gentlemen liked to play cards. "They are having
a rowdy good time tonight," Nanny muttered.
"I don't know why Mrs. Wardley tolerates it," Isabel said.
"The Mistress is usually down there with them."
Isabel frowned but feared she'd already said too much. A
governess walked a fine line. She was a servant and yet
had a higher standing than the others. It didn't help the
situation that Isabel was not good at being subservient.
Pride was her besetting sin, and she didn't like itwhen
her employers pretended shewas invisible.
"You don't think Miss Lillian is down there with them?"
Nanny wondered in round tones.
"No." Isabel studied the closed doors lining the
hall. "Which room do you believe is Mr. Severson's?"
The mention of the man's name brought forth a gasp of
horror from Nanny ...
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