London, 1817
As the door to Elizabeth’s home slammed shut, she braced
herself for the inevitable confrontation. They hadn’t even
waited for the butler or footman to open the door and
announce them. Loud footsteps preceded their entry. Her
heart raced as she attempted to rein in her emotions.
Glancing up from her needlework, she watched Richard enter
the salon with his wife Caroline following behind him.
“Elizabeth, we have given you six months and still you have
refused to comply with my—our simple request,” Caroline said
as she sank to the sofa with a deep sigh.
“You have no claim here.” Why must she have this
conversation with them every month? And worse, why did it
distress her so terribly each time? He had no claim here . .
. at least not yet.
“Actually, I just might,” Richard said, and then sat in the
chair across from his wife.
“You are not the duke, Richard.”
“Not yet,” he added softly.
Her attempts to keep the greedy couple from taking over her
father’s house had only made them more determined. They only
wanted the house and the estates in the country for their
ambitions. Mostly, Caroline’s ambition. Without her, cousin
Richard would have been happy with his manor home in
Dorchester. But Caroline wanted more. She would never be
satisfied as the wife of a baron. She wanted the duchy and
all that went with it, including Kendal House.
Only the house didn’t belong to them . . . or her.
“Do you have any new proof that Edward is dead?” Elizabeth
asked, staring at him. “Don’t forget he had at least one son
who would inherit over you.”
“It has been ten months since your father died,” Richard
said harshly. “The solicitor sent several missives to
Edward, but received no reply. And he has yet to arrive.
Everyone knows about those heathen savages they have in
America. Edward and his family were probably killed by them.”
“Edward has been in Canada for the past five years.”
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, trying to keep her patience. “And
until you know for certain about his death, you have no
right to live here. Kendal House and the estates belong to
the duchy until such time as his death is confirmed.”
She prayed she was right. Richard and Caroline would
squander the income from the estates on gambling, gowns, and
balls. Neither appeared to have an interest in putting forth
the effort to ensure the tenants were cared for and the
lands remained profitable.
“That is where you are wrong,” Caroline said with a tight
smile. “Our solicitor is drawing up the paperwork right now.”
“That shall be nothing but a waste of his time—and your
money. It means nothing. This is the duke’s residence, and
Richard is not the duke.”
“Edward refuses to return and claim his rightful
inheritance,” Richard added.
“That still makes no difference,” Elizabeth explained. “He
is the duke, whether he chooses to return home or not.
Besides, ten months is no time at all. He most likely had to
pack up his entire house in York and arrange passage over
here. Plus the voyage time. I have heard the winters in
Canada are dreadful, so they might not have been able to
leave as expected.”
“Then he should have sent a missive to that effect.
Something acknowledging his inheritance,” Richard replied.
Caroline shook her head. “For all we know, Edward is dead.”
“Then his son would inherit.” Dear God, they were driving
her mad. It seemed as if they were far more determined than
in previous months.
“Ah, yes,” Caroline drawled. “But if he and Edward are both
dead, then Richard inherits.”
“True enough. However, if they were both dead then someone
else in his family would notify the family solicitor here.”
Elizabeth clenched her fists in frustration.
“Unless the entire family was wiped out by those savages
they have over there. Besides, it really should not matter
to you,” Caroline commented. “You will either be a burden on
us or the new duke.”
A fact not lost on her. Elizabeth had only the very small
allowance left to her from her fath—the late duke. “I
realize that, Caroline. I suppose I shall live with one of
my sisters once the duke is installed.” “As if they want
you,” Caroline sneered.
“It is nothing to concern yourself over,” Elizabeth snapped.
Her sisters were so much older that she barely knew any of
them, save Jane. And none of them had ever taken the time to
invite her to stay with their families for more than a week.
“And I don’t,” Caroline retorted with one brown eyebrow
arched. “But if I were you, I would be looking at all the
eligible gentlemen.”
Self-serving Caroline would only be looking for the richest
and highest titled gentleman she could hope to snare.
Elizabeth didn’t want that. If she found herself in a
position that required marriage, then she wanted to find a
man who would love her for who she was . . . or who she wasn’t.
“Nonetheless, Elizabeth,” Richard started in a slow, warm
voice, “we only want what is best for the estates. Your late
father’s steward could be robbing the family blind, for all
we know. Someone must take over things until we hear from
the new duke. My solicitor will petition the prince so that
I may oversee the estates until such time as Edward either
makes an appearance here, or is deemed deceased.”
Elizabeth stared at Richard. With gray hair and tired lines
creasing his forehead, he looked every bit his sixty years.
She released a long sigh. “I have been checking over the
books from each estate every month, Richard. My father’s
steward is an honest man.”
Caroline gave a quick shake of her head. While her husband
looked on the verge of elderly, Caroline was only six years
older than Elizabeth’s twenty-six years.
“You are looking after the books?” Caroline asked in a
high-pitched tone. “I thought you were a lady.”
“I am quite competent when it comes to mathematics. Unlike
either of you, I grew up on the estates.
Who better to know what they need?”
“Of course, cousin,” Richard said quietly.
Elizabeth knew she was defeated. Unless she petitioned
Prinny himself. But she doubted the prince would even listen
to her. He would want what was best for the estates, and
that meant a man controlling the lands, not her. She was a
bit surprised the prince hadn’t managed the situation before
now.
“If your sisters refuse to take you in, I suppose you could
stay here,” Richard said.
“Richard!” Caroline’s voice pitched higher. “In a few
months, there won’t be room in the house.” She rubbed her
rounded belly.
Richard shook his head and rolled his eyes. “This house is
large enough for a passel of children, Caroline. I cannot
have my cousin on the streets.”
“But—”
“Enough, Caroline.”
Elizabeth might have felt a spark of hope, except Richard’s
tired tone was scarcely convincing.
“And yet, we all know she isn’t truly your cousin,” Caroline
muttered before standing to leave.
Before Elizabeth could think of one decent retort, the
couple left. It wasn’t surprising that they knew about her
past. The rumors regarding her lack of inheritance had been
the talk of theton for months now. Most assumed it was due
to a disagreement with her father over a suitor—a rumor she
had started and encouraged.
But a few might have guessed the truth.
Silence finally filled the house as Elizabeth sat on the
brocade sofa with a sigh. She couldn’t remember the last
time she had felt this tired. Picking up her small glass of
sherry, she took a sip, letting the fruity essence rest on
her tongue a moment before swallowing. Her head lolled back
against the fabric as she stared at the ornate ceiling of
her small salon. She closed her eyes and listened to the
sound of horses clomping past her home.
Only it wasn’t her home any longer.
She had to do something, but at this point, her options had
just about run out. Tomorrow, Richard and Caroline would
return. This time with a solicitor in tow, no doubt.
Elizabeth understood their desire for the house—greed and
position. Nevertheless, the house wasn’t theirs, and she
would do everything in her power to make certain it stayed
that way. She’d never trusted Caroline, and lately,
Elizabeth questioned Richard’s reasonableness. In the past
four months, he had been spending more time at the gaming
hells, and according to the gossips, losing serious amounts
of money. Money she knew he didn’t have.
Some days, she even wondered if the new duke had ever
attained notice of his inheritance. Her father had died ten
months ago, and she had never received one word from her
distant cousin, Edward.
Of course, he wasn’t truly her cousin.
Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared at the empty fireplace.
She had to find her mother’s diary before Richard and
Caroline found a legal way to have her removed, or Edward
arrived from Canada. Her mother had kept several diaries,
and none held the information Elizabeth desired. After
finding those journals in drawers, she discovered none
contained anything too personal. However, one book made a
mysterious reference to a hidden diary, and that was the one
Elizabeth needed to find.
She had to uncover the truth.
After all this time, she wondered if the diary even existed
any longer. Her father might have found the journal and
burned it. Or her mother might have given the diary to a
close friend to keep it away from Father. Elizabeth doubted
both ideas. Her mother had died quickly following a carriage
accident. She would have had no time to give the diary to a
friend, and her father never seemed to care enough to look
for it. Perhaps he had no need and had already learned the
name of her mother’s lover.
Elizabeth had only five rooms left to recheck. It made the
most sense that the diary had been stashed somewhere in this
house, since her mother rarely traveled to the estates.
After checking every room in the townhome, she’d performed a
thorough inspection of the other estates and uncovered
nothing. Not one clue to her real identity.
Furiously, she blinked away the tears welling in her eyes.
She refused to cry one more tear over something as silly as
her real father’s name. In the eyes of Society, she was and
would always be Lady Elizabeth Kendal.
There had to be something she was missing in her search.
Perhaps there was a secret compartment in a desk, or a
hidden room that she had overlooked.
“Lady Elizabeth?”
She turned at the sound of the footman. “Yes?”
“Miss Reynard is here to see you.”
Why would Sophie be here at this late hour? “Send her in and
bring some tea and cakes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Elizabeth sat up and composed herself while waiting for her
dear friend.
“Elizabeth, thank goodness you are here and not at Lady
Tavistock’s ball.” Sophie rushed into the room and flopped
to the sofa. Black tendrils clung to her forehead as she
removed her damp hat.
“Why?”
Sophie shook her head. “Lady Tavistock would never have
invited me to her ball and then I wouldn’t be able to speak
with you. I do apologize for the lateness of the hour, though.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I am not certain. I had a vision and needed to see you
immediately.” Sophie picked up Elizabeth’s hand and clutched
it tightly in her own hand. Closing her eyes, she went
still. “I was right,” she whispered.
“Right about what?” Elizabeth pressed her friend for an answer.
“Something is about to happen,” Sophie started, then paused
and frowned.
“What?”
“A man is going to enter your life,” she said softly.
Elizabeth smiled. Sophie had gained quite the reputation as
a medium and matchmaker in the past year. She had even
matched Elizabeth’s dearest friends, Avis and Jennette, with
husbands. “Are you certain?”
Sophie glanced away from her and shook her head. “Not in
that way, Elizabeth.”
The serious tone of Sophie’s voice made Elizabeth say, “Oh?”
Sophie shook her head again. “I cannot be sure but I feel
there is something dreadfully wrong. This man will upset
your entire life. I fear he will bring you great pain.”