Chapter One
Chaswick Manor, Kent, England, early spring, 1819 โEveryone,
please gather closer.โ The ministerโs voice, deep and
solemn, echoed among the well-dressed group, shattering the
stillness. Jaw clenched, eyes dry, Sebastian Dodd, Viscount
Benton, took a step forward, swaying slightly as the bright
sunshine momentarily blinded him. Following his lead, the
sparse crowd of mourners standing behind him also moved, yet
kept a respectful distance.
How very wrong it all feels, Sebastian thought, shifting his
stance to block the sunโs rays from his eyes. The weather
should be chilly and damp and gray, with raindrops pelting
their faces, the ground beneath their feet soaked and muddy.
Instead there was warmth and sunshine, with a sky as blue as
a robinโs egg, solid, thick green grass, and a profusion of
exuberant spring wildflowers.
Though he stood alone, Sebastian was mindful of the people
gathered behind him. A few distant relatives, whom he wished
had not bothered to make the journey, and an even smaller
group of friends, whose presence made him feel a profound
sense of gratitude.
โThe Countess of Marchdale was a noble woman, possessing a
strong character and a charitable heart. She was a pillar of
the community, a shining example of a fine and genteel
female,โ the minister proclaimed. โHeaven will most
assuredly welcome this good lady with open arms.โ
Sebastian could not hold back his smile. His grandmother had
been a feisty, opinionated woman who had ruffled more than
her share of feathers, especially in the later years of her
life. She would have laughed out loud upon hearing the
ministerโs words, and then rapped his knuckles sharply
before scolding him for exaggerating. The countess was never
one to suffer false praise. Even at her own funeral.
As for her heavenly ascent, well, if such a place did exist,
the countessโs admittance was hardly guaranteed. She had not
led an angelic life, nor a particularly pious one. She had
enjoyed fully the excesses and privileges of her rank and
wealth as well asโSebastian always suspectedโthe delights of
the flesh. After all, she had buried three husbands, each
younger than her.
If, by some divine miracle, his grandmother did pass through
the gates of St. Peter, Sebastian was confident that within
minutes of arriving she would be expressing her opinion on
how things could be improved in that world. And this one,
too. โLet us pray,โ the minister commanded. Behind him, a
soft chorus of voices blended together. The familiar words
sprang from Sebastianโs lips as he joined in, marveling at
the power of memory, for it had been a very long time since
he had spoken any words of prayer. At the conclusion,
Sebastian lifted his bowed head and for the first time
looked into the deep, dark hole that had been dug in the
ground.
A shudder rippled through him. It seemed impossible to
imagine his grandmother spending eternity in that darkness,
cut off from everything she had once loved.
At the ministerโs command, four burly workmen took up their
positions and began lowering the casket. Farewell. Sebastian
voiced his final good-bye silently, yet the moment the
thought solidified, a wave of sorrow rose from deep within
his chest, catching him unawares. He had never been a man
who allowed sincere emotions to easily flow. The tragedies
of his life had taught him that true feelings were meant to
be private. It was best to hold them close and keep them
hidden.
The countessโs death had not been unexpected. She was an
elderly woman whose normally robust health had been
compromised by a persistent winter illness. The day before
she died she had told him that she was weary of feeling
unwell and melancholy over the loss of her active, buoyant
lifestyle. She confessed she was at last ready to leave this
earth and begin her final adventure.
Sebastian took a deep breath. She might have been ready to
depart, but he wasnโt prepared to see her go. She had
pestered and plagued him all of his adult life, attempting
to dictate everything from the meals he ate to the clothes
he wore, from the items on which he spent his money to the
company he kept. She was quick to find fault and even
quicker to express her displeasure.
But the countess had also protected her only grandchild with
a maternal tenacity that had no equal. Her loyalty was
unmatched, her love always given lavishly. Accepting the
finality of her death was difficult and thus Sebastian
forced himself to stare at the casket as it was slowly
lowered into the ground.
It seemed to take forever.
Sebastian heard a sob, then a loud sniffle. One of the
female mourners was crying, most likely his grandmotherโs
cousin Sarah. She was a self proclaimed delicate woman who
never missed an opportunity to showcase her sensitive
nature. He wondered idly if she attended many funerals,
since clearly that would be the best venue to demonstrate
her frail constitution.
The sobbing grew louder. Though he dismissed it in his mind
as pure artifice, the mournful sound struck a chord.
Sebastian felt the tightening in his chest increase. A
combination of grief, coupled with the need to suppress it,
he decided. He scowled, wanting desperately to turn and walk
away, but that would be unpardonably rude. He owed it to his
grandmotherโs memory to act as she would have wished, with
dignity and decorum. Two qualities she often lamented he
lacked in sufficient quantity.
As he fought to capture and tame his rioting emotions,
Sebastian became aware of someone standing very near.
Apparently one of the mourners had broken ranks and
approached him. Who would dare to be so brave?
Please, dear Lord, let it not be cousin Sarah. Sebastian
inhaled and gritted his teeth. Yet before he could turn and
face this unknown individual, he felt the gentle brush of
feminine fingertips against his gloved hand, then caught a
whiff of fresh lemons. Emma. The tightness twisting in his
chest eased.
Dearest Emma. She was such a compassionate girl. He imagined
she had spent the entire service with her eyes trained upon
him, waiting for the precise moment when he faltered, ever
at the ready to come to his aid when he needed her most.
Heedless of the proprieties, Sebastian accepted Emmaโs
comfort, intimately entwining his fingers with hers.
Strange how such a small, dainty hand could instill such
strength inside him, letting him know that he was not
entirely alone. At least not for the moment.
Cousin Sarahโs lusty sobs abruptly ceased, her sniffles
replaced by an indignant gasp. Apparently the scandal of
holding a womanโs handโan unmarried woman, to whom he was
not engagedโwas enough to shock the sorrow from Sarahโs
breast and replace it with horror. Sebastian felt Emma sway
slightly and realized she too had heard that gasp of
disapproval.
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