Chapter One
Danescourt, England
October 1811
She stood poised in the doorway, the late autumn sun
streaming through Danescourt's mullioned windows
highlighting the curves of her silhouette and the shine of
her glorious dark hair. Suddenly, in that very second,
Peter Jamison realized how much he had been in love with
her, might still be in love with her. The thought shocked
him.
Ethereal. Graceful. Even in a sadly threadbare dress, Lady
Julia Markham had the bearing of a duchess.
But she was different from his memories. In the depth of
her dark blue eyes were shadows. Maturity. No longer the
girl but a woman. A stunning woman.
Peter rose from the sturdy but utilitarian chair, his
ready smile plastered to his face. For the briefest of
moments he allowed his eyes to search for the faint scars
at her wrists. So! The rumors were true. She had attempted
to take her own life.
A rush of shame for the incident that had ostracized her
from polite society ran through him. His smile felt
strained, but he held it while moving his gaze ever so
slightly to avoid hers and studied the faded wallpaper
behind her. At one time a painting of a Markham ancestor
had hung on that wall, a painting sold off long ago to pay
the debts of the present Markhams.
Her mother's sharp tone called his attention back. "Well,
Julia, don't stand there dallying in the doorway. I detest
staying in the country for one moment longer than I must.
Come and let us have a look at you. It has been, what?
Three years?" Waving a multi-ringed hand at Peter, Lady
Louisa Markham added, "You do remember Peter Jamison, Lord
Carberry?"
Peter forced himself to look directly at her again.
Neither of her parents had offered their hand or even
spared their daughter a glance since her appearance in the
doorway. Her reception in the room was colder than the
breeze racing down the hillside outsideโor whistling
through the house, Peter amended, wishing a small fire had
been laid in the reception room. He didn't say a word.
Everyone knew the Markhams were done up.
But then, he too was starting to learn a thing or two
about taking drastic economies.
Julia hesitated. Lord Roger Markham was far more
interested in the sparse selection of biscuits on the tea
cart than in his daughter. Her fingertips touching the
door handle shook slightly. Peter suddenly understood the
emotional courage Julia needed to face these uncaring
persons who were her parents.
Help came from an unexpected source. A slight rattling of
china drew Julia's attention from her parents to Chester
Beal, the family retainer. Chester had been with the
Markhams as long as Peter had known them, well over twenty
years. Even then, he'd been an old man.
Almost imperceptibly, a silent communication flew between
Julia and Chester, who stood silent, waiting to serve his
master and mistress. From him, she gathered strength. Her
chin lifted; her eyes regained their flash. Here was the
woman who had had London at her feet when only a chit of a
girl fresh from the country.
Gracefully, Julia came forward, a hand outstretched. "Of
course I remember Peter. How is Arabella? I was so pleased
to read the announcement of your marriage."
Peter took her hand, surprised at the slight roughness of
calluses. Arabella would never have allowed her hands to
be in this condition, nor would the Julia Markham he had
known. The old Julia would have also been conscious that
he and Arabella had given her the "cut direct" by not
sending her an invitation to their wedding and by
pointedly ignoring her note to them expressing her best
wishes.
An uncomfortable heat stole up his face as he answered in
his best manner. "She is very well. Thank you for asking."
He hid himself behind the safety of small talk,
uncomfortable with the role he was being forced to
play. "It appears that life in the country agrees with
you."
Again, Julia looked past his shoulder to Chester, and her
eye took on the sparkle of a jest, reminding him of the
Julia of his memories. "Yes. Yes, it does." She smiled.
Did anyone have a smile lovelier than Julia's?
"This is not a social visit," Lord Markham snapped
irritably, "so sit down and let us get this matter
settled. I want to be back on the road to London within
the hour. Here, Chester, let me have one of those
biscuits. Tell Mrs. Beal she's setting a poor repast, from
what I remember. Where is the Madeira?"
Chester floundered a moment before Julia's quiet, firm
voice answered. "The Madeira, along with any other
amenities around Danescourt, has long been gone to pay
your gaming debts."
Gray eyebrows flew together in an angry frown as Markham
scowled at his daughter, apparently truly seeing her for
the first time since her entrance into the room. "You
always were an impertinent child. Seems three years in the
country hasn't helped to sweeten your disposition."
Peter glared. He'd never liked Markham. The man owed his
mark to half the world and had been in dun territory for
as long as Peter had known him. Definitely bad ton ... and
one of the reasons Peter had been unable to bring himself
to make an offer for Julia. For with the lovely Julia's
hand came four lazy brothers and their father, all
hardened gamesters. His mother had said that Julia, too,
possessed the Markham streak of corruption, and if her
family didn't ruin a man, her selfishness would make his
life miserable.
And mayhap she would have. Julia had appeared vain and
often imperious ... except he sensed this woman in front
of him was definitely different from that Julia. Nor could
he imagine another woman more the man-eater than Arabella,
the wife he had chosen ...
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