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  The staff respected him, as he was a fair man whose morals were as unmovable as his rules. “Fear must not be mistaken for respect, my son,” his father had said to him, and that was something the duke would never forget. The duke constantly reminded himself of this, and he strived to be the great man which his father had once been. At times it felt rather overwhelming to fill such big, important, and influential shoes, but the duke was up to the task, knowing that if he only managed to be half the man his father was, he would be quite content with himself and his life.

  His mother and father had been one of the very few couples he had known of who were married after falling desperately in love with one another. They had met at a ball hosted by a mutual acquaintance of theirs and upon meeting one another, it was as apparent as day that they were to be married, and no one could say or do anything to change their minds. Much to their relief, not a single member of their families had any objection to their union, as both were from very reputable and important families in North England. The duke was born two years after their wedding, but due to complications, the duchess was left without the ability to have another child after he was born. He had often felt guilty for being the reason why his mother could not conceive any other children, but the late duke and duchess had assured him that it was not his fault and had told him that he should not hold himself responsible. He was their pride and joy, and that would never change.

  A soft knock on the door of the study brought the duke’s thoughts back to Cragshead Keep, and he turned away from the fireplace. One of his maidservants stood in the doorway and glanced directly at him.

  “Pardon my intrusion, Your Grace. I did not mean to interrupt you while you were in your study,” Clara said apologetically.

  “That is quite alright, Clara. I was merely hiding here, in hopes that the activities would start without me,” the duke admitted with a coy smile.

  “Then I am the bearer of bad news, I’m afraid,” Clara cringed.

  “Have all the guests arrived?” the duke inquired.

  “All but the Sheffield party, but they should be arriving soon.”

  The duke nodded without uttering a word and gave Clara a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “Your Grace?” Clara asked unsurely, and the duke turned back to her. “What should I inform your guests if they ask for your presence?”

  The duke pursed his lips for a moment and answered slowly, “Inform them that I will be with them shortly. There are still matters I need to attend to before I can join them in the great hall.”

  “Your Grace,” Clara said with a nod. “I will be sure to inform all the other servants of this, for continuity of course.”

  “Thank you, Clara. Your discretion is much appreciated,” the duke answered gratefully.

  Clara had been at the estate for most of his life, and she was not only dependable and loyal, but she was a kind-hearted woman who knew him better than most people.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Grace?” Clara asked.

  “No, thank you, Clara. I will tend to my guests in due time.”

  Clara nodded, not believing a single word coming from his mouth, as the expression on his face was quite evident of his disliking towards entertaining guests for an entire week.

  As Clara left, allowing the duke to bask in the silence once again, he inhaled deeply through his nose, praying silently to the heavens for strength for the coming week.

  2

  October 1815

  Cragshead Keep

  Preston

  Lancashire

  Lady Anna barely remembered arriving at the Keep. A sudden rainstorm drenched the courtyard as she and her mother were ushered into the great hall. The footman’s valiant attempts to shield her from the torrents with a flimsy umbrella ended in defeat. Drenched and soggy, Lady Anna was immediately rushed upstairs to her bedchambers by the housekeeper, Mrs. Hurst. She did not recall meeting the Duke of Richmond or any other members of the hunting party. Being wet and cold were two conditions that were thought to bring on illness, and Lady Annalise was far too rich and too high born to fall ill.

  She was hurried to the warm fireside of her bedchamber while her maid Katie, her mother’s maid Esther and her father’s valet Gregory were left to fend for themselves and see to the trunks.

  Sitting by the roaring fire, Lady Anna waited for her maid to bring a change of dry clothes. A cup of scalding hot tea was in her hands as she listened to Mrs. Hurst ramble on about the size of the hunting party and the dinner that evening. Lady Anna suspected the housekeeper’s lingering presence was for one purpose only, to make sure that she, a guest of the great house, was not going to take ill under her watch. She assured the older woman that she was well and sighed with relief as the bedroom door closed behind her, leaving Lady Anna with a moment to herself.

  She understood with perfect clarity why the housekeeper should be worried about illness befalling the guests. The roaring fire provided the necessary heat, but the room was still drafty. Cold seemed to seep from the thick stone walls, a chill crept under the windowsill. Yet, Lady Anna found to her surprise that she liked the room. It was unlike any room she had ever inhabited. The room was cavernous, reminding her of a hall rather than bedchamber. A tapestry of indeterminable age graced the wall opposite the window. Gold thread glittered against its rich crimson hues in a mesmerizing scene of courtly romance, of a lady and her knight in a garden. Under her feet was a rug, hand woven in the same red tones. The furniture was upholstered in fine crimson fabric, the wood was thick and sturdy, the arms and legs carved to resemble unicorns and hounds.

  The bed was impossibly tall; the posters on each corner were dark oak, carved in all manner of floral design. The curtains were as richly red in hue as the tapestry, crewel flowers entwined in the fabric in a pattern which must have taken years to complete. Yet, the bed was not the most impressive part of her bedchamber. The windows with the pointed gothic arches framed a view that drew Lady Anna’s gaze. Outside, in the mist left by the falling rain, she saw the lake. The water was dark and foreboding; a fog clung to the surface, giving the lake and the castle grounds a decidedly spectral air. Here, she could imagine being grief stricken, weeping and mourning her lost love. This was a place of secrets, haunted by its past just like her.

  Anna left the warmth of the fireside, venturing to the window to have a better look at the lake. She felt faint once again, but she let the feeling pass. There was something in the desolate beauty of the Keep and the lake which called to her. She wanted to leave the safe confines of her room and venture out, to see this place, to feel the cold breeze against her skin. As weak as she felt, she also felt alive. It had been many months since she knew that sensation.

  A knock at the door announced the arrival of her maid. Katie led the footmen into the room like a sergeant major leading an army. Katie was a lady’s maid and the footmen were of high rank in the household, but in this case, they listened to her orders without grumbling. Lady Anna surmised that her presence was the cause for their complicity, as she watched with detached amusement. Finally, when the trunks were arranged to Katie’s liking, the footmen dismissed without a single word of gratitude, Katie rushed to her mistress’s side.

  “My lady, have you taken leave of your senses? Come away from that window. Are you trying to catch your death, what with you in those wet cloths and how you are chilled to the bone? Come away this instant!” Katie said, as she urged Lady Anna back to the fireside.

  Lady Anna was accustomed to her maid’s administrations. She tolerated the woman’s natural tendency to try to order her about because she knew that Katie had her health and her best intentions at the heart of all her actions. Katie was a few years older than Lady Anna, plump and round and strong as a team of four horses. She was also the closest person to Lady Anna, acting more like an older sister at times than her lady’s maid. Still, Lady Anna knew that it was proper to keep Katie at the distance that rank and class dictated.

  “We are
all going to fall ill, if we are not careful. Who lives in a place like this?” Katie asked, as she glanced overhead.

  Lady Anna followed her maid’s gaze upward. The room was enormous, its ceiling supported by heavy wood beams. It was exactly as she imagined a medieval hall. She did not offer her opinion, as her maid located a suitable afternoon dress.

  “Here you are, my lady, this is what you need. A change of clothes. I will send for some soup, that will do you real nice. Warm you right up.”

  Dutifully, Lady Anna stood as her maid helped her out of her wet clothes. With more fussing over her hair and her jewelry, Anna looked like the daughter of an earl once again. The warmth of the tea and the fireside had seeped into her bones, making her feel stronger. All memory of her weakness was gone.

  “Katie, the rain has stopped, has it not?”

  “Yes my lady, it has.”

  “I wonder if I might venture outside for a stroll along the lake.”

  “Outside? In this damp? It will be time for dinner soon. No, my lady the place for you is downstairs in the drawing room with the other ladies. I heard the other maids in the servants’ hall say that there is going to be a lively game of whist at tea. Why not join them? Your mother will surely be at the tables, trying her luck. She will be expecting you.”

  “Katie, you know I have never been one for cards. I will be fine. I will dress warm and be gone for only a few minutes. The fresh air of the lake may do me good.”

  “If you say so, my lady, but I don’t think the lake air is a cure for anything. Here you are drenched already and you want to go outside and get wet all over again.”

  “Bring my gloves, and my bonnet,” Lady Anna said, as she ignored her maid’s concerns.

  “If you must go, my lady, do not make me worry. Do not tarry.”

  “I will be fine. I feel better than I have since…” Lady Anna did not finish the sentence, a sadness descended on her that she shrugged away as quickly as she could.

  Nodding her head, Katie replied in a soft tone of voice, “I know, my lady, since Mr. Reardon. I understand, but you have to get your strength back. Walking outside in the cold air and in the wet is not going to do you any good.”

  “You might be right, but I want to see the lake, see it with my own eyes not through a window. It is beautiful here, so peaceful.”

  “Peaceful, that is, because not everyone has arrived yet. Wait until this evening, there will not be a moment of peace until we leave again. What shall I tell your mother if she asks for you in the drawing room?”

  “Tell her I went to the library. I have not seen it, but every old house has one.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Katie answered, as Anna tied the ribbon of her bonnet under her chin.

  Lady Anna felt an exuberance. She knew that she should not go out in the weather, but she could not deny the need to do something other than just sit by the fireside and lament the loss of George Reardon. How much time had she wasted doing that? she wondered, as she slipped out of the room. In the corridor, she was suddenly confronted with a truth that she had neglected to mention to Katie. She did not know the house, and she was not quite sure where she was going. Heading down the long hallway, she found the stairs. Descending them, she felt a thrill, a sense of adventure. She did not know where she was in this great big castle, but she would enjoy finding her way.

  Half an hour later, Lady Anna was hopelessly lost. She had no choice but to admit that. She thought she knew where she was going, down the stairs, through the hall, being careful to pass the drawing room as silently as she could. If she walked out the door of the hall, it would lead her to the courtyard. From there she should be able to find a passage to the lake, only she was not sure where that would be. Her sense of direction failed her in a residence that retained all of its original fortifications and winding stairs leading in all directions.

  Returning to the great hall, she decided that there had to be a door leading to the garden, from there she should be able to make her way to the lake. Venturing down corridors paneled in wood, past paintings of venerable-looking men hanging beside suits of armor, she admitted that she did not know where she was going. Knocking on a door, she found a study at the end of a passage. A fire was burning in the fireplace.

  “Hello?” she called out, but no one answered.

  Perhaps no one would mind if she stepped inside to warm her hands and take a breath. There must be some way out of the castle beside the great hall. She could try that way again, but she hesitated. She did not want to be in the hall with its bustle of newly arriving hunting party guests or forced to listen to the din of conversation. She wanted to be alone, to entertain her own thoughts. As she stood by the fireside, she looked around the room. It was like any other study. There was a desk along a wall. Shelves were full of books and papers. Maps lined the walls. With a start, she wondered if she had wandered into the duke’s private study.

  Footsteps that were faint grew louder as she hurried to leave the room. What would happen if the duke found her? She did not have a suitable reason for being there, for being among his private papers and books. Realizing that it was too late to leave unnoticed, she heard the footsteps stop at the door, she was no longer alone.

  A man walked into the room, a tall man who appeared by her estimation to be a few years older than her twenty years. He was dressed in a plainly tailored black coat and dark gray waist coat over his light tan breaches. He stared at her without blinking. She fought the urge to stammer an excuse as he peered at her. He was handsome in a brooding, careless way; his dark hair tumbled in waves around his face. His eyes were a piercing green, and his expression was unreadable.

  “I was not expecting company,” he said in a tone that was neither welcoming nor angry.

  “Neither was I. I was warming my hands,” she said.

  “I see. You appear to be far away from the drawing room. Are you a guest?”

  Lady Anna was taken aback by his question. She had never been asked if she was a guest by anyone before. She looked down at her coat and gloves. She was not dressed as a servant or a lady’s maid, what else could she be she wondered. She studied the man who was standing before her. In his simple coat and vest, he did not appear to be wealthy. He must be a secretary to the duke or perhaps a steward, she decided.

  “Sir, whatever do you mean? I am a guest of His Grace. I am Lady Annalise Trent,” she answered with confidence unrivaled by none. She did not wish to appear as weak as her mother and Katie thought her to be.

  3

  October 1815

  Cragshead Keep

  Preston

  Lancashire

  The duke glanced at the delicate beauty standing in front of him. Her skin was pale, like the porcelain plates in the pantry and as fragile as well, although her blue eyes pierced through him. Her flaxen hair was tied at the nape of her neck, pinned securely in place. Her dress did not resemble anything less than what a noble lady would wear, but there was a hint of humility in her gaze.

  She was the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Sheffield, as she had introduced herself, but the duke did not imagine that Lord Sheffield’s daughter would be such a beautiful young woman. He had heard many tales of the young Lady’s ill health and was surprised at how much truth there was in those tales.

  Her skin was near translucent and her face was drawn, but even through it all, she was still a very beautiful young woman.

  He shifted his weight slightly and came to the quick realization that she did not know who he was. He was not there to welcome her and her family as they arrived at the estate, in fact he had not welcomed any of his guests. However, the duke did not feel the need to inform her of this as of yet.

  “My apologies, my lady,” he said, as he bowed with a faint hint of a smile, “Is that why I have found you in the study of the duke? Were you expected?”

  “If you must know, I am lost,” she pointed out dryly. “I was trying to find a passage out to the lake. Kindly show me the way and I will trouble yo
u no longer.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he replied.

  Lady Anna grew quiet as the duke led her out of the study and down the long hallway. She did not ask his name nor did she offer any inducement to conversation, instead she simply followed him quietly as he led her through the Keep.

  He remained confident in his manner, as he walked at a rapid rate, hoping that he did not exhaust her before they had even reached the passage to the lake, but she matched his brisk pace as they turned down the corridor, through another corridor and out of a series of rooms, into a small stone hall. This hall was not as ornately decorated as the great hall that graced the front of the castle, as the duke did not spend nearly as much time there as anywhere else in the Keep. This small hall had been off limits to the duke as a child, as there had been much dampness in the air in there, and the late duchess deemed it a rather moldy and unsafe place for the duke to play as a child. The duke still recalled how his mother had coddled him, and for a moment, he missed her over-protective nature.

  He did not dare to ever rebel or express his disapproval for their coddling, as he understood that he was their only child and had abandoned that notion. He only wished to make his mother happy, and if that meant that he allowed the coddling, then it was so.

  “Where are you leading me, sir?” Lady Anna asked, her voice strained, and her breathing ragged.

  “It is not much further.”

  “This place is very different to the rest of the castle,” she added.

  She was indeed right. The stone floors were roughhewn, no welcoming fire burned in the cavernous fireplace. Along the wall, the duke stopped beside a thick oak door that stood like the entrance to another realm, or at least that was how it had felt to the duke when he was a child. He had not been through that door in so long, and he recalled the times when he ran through that door with reckless abandon.