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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not have any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  THE SECRETS OF MIA DANVERS

  An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  InterMix eBook edition / June 2013

  Copyright © 2013 by Robyn DeHart.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-62336-7

  INTERMIX

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  and New American Library, divisions of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  Special Excerpt from The Temptations of Anna Jacobs

  About the Author

  I simply could not allow this book to be released without a dedication because this book, above all others, requires I send out some significant gratitude.

  To my writer/mommy buds: Emily, Kristen, Shane and Katie, honestly I don’t know how I survived those early months without your help. For the food and companionship, for enduring my whiney emails and for reaching out with soothing words that let me know I was doing okay. I could never have finished this book without your help.

  To my mom: it’s difficult to even pinpoint what specifically I should thank you for because you do so much. But even when everyone was telling me that I should take a break, or quit, you never stopped believing in me or this book. And your help with the girls has been truly a lifesaver!

  To my agent, Kevan, for loving this book as much as I do. Your support means the world. And to my editor, Kerry, for sharing the same vision for this book as I do, your insight has been invaluable.

  And last, but most definitely not least, to my family: I became a mom in the most unconventional of ways while writing this book and it turned me upside down. But M & Z always remember that I love you when the moon is shining bright and a million other times too. Paul, my sweet husband and partner, none of this would matter without you.

  Prologue

  Mayfair London, 1880

  Mia Danvers allowed her mother to escort her down from the carriage. Inside, her entire body revolted and she knew her shaking hands betrayed her addled nerves, but she would not argue with the path her mother had chosen. Her future had been decided for her and she would take it with no complaints. Instead, she focused on trying to take stock of her surroundings. This would be her home now and she needed to know it as she’d known her family’s estate. Where each piece of furniture sat and each door and window was located so that she could maneuver alone without falling.

  Instead she focused on taking stock of her new surroundings. It would be imperative that she memorize every rock on the path, every groove in the floor, every doorframe and window. The grass beneath her worn slippers was thick and slightly overgrown. It squashed under her steps and a few stray blades tickled at her exposed ankles; ankles exposed simply because they hadn’t had funds lately to purchase new dresses for the growth spurt she’d had this, her sixteenth year.

  Any extra money was to be used on her two older sisters’ Seasons. They were to be introduced into Society this year in hopes of finding good matches with deep pockets to save the poor Danvers sisters. Two of them at least. As for Mia, she was no longer recognized as a Danvers, she supposed. Not since the accident that had taken her eyesight. At least not in any way that mattered.

  “The cottage will suit you fine,” her mother said. “His Grace is providing you with a servant to assist with your needs. Not a live-in, mind you, but someone should stop by here regularly to make certain you’re managing.”

  Mia nodded. No verbal response came to mind. What would she say? Beg her mother to change her mind and take Mia with them? Her mother’s cousin had graciously agreed to take the widow and her daughters into her home. However, she’d made it abundantly clear that she would only sponsor the daughters who were able-bodied. Mia’s affliction was not acceptable. She’d never find a husband, suitable or not.

  Mia’s governess, Rachel, stood silently beside her, gripping Mia’s hand. They had all agreed that once in London, they would get Mia settled in her new home, the cottage at the edge of the Duke of Carrington’s property, and then Rachel would be let off at her aunt’s home. Then Mia’s family would move into their new residence in their cousin’s home. And Mia would be alone. For the remainder of her life.

  The heavy tug of tears started at the back of her throat and she swallowed several times to choke them down. It would do no one any good for her to blubber about the situation. Nothing could be helped. She certainly couldn’t expect her mother to reject her cousin’s offer. Mia’s sisters deserved to go to balls and dance. To have suitors and find husbands.

  “You must never go up to the big house, Mia. The Duke has been gracious enough to provide this cottage for you and you shall live here as long as his family owns this property,” her mother explained.

  Mia searched her mother’s tone for any hint that the woman regretted this decision. That she was the tiniest bit tormented by the thought of leaving her youngest child to her own devices.

  “You mustn’t bother them,” she continued. “Do you understand?” her mother asked, her voice firm as if already chastising Mia for brea
king a rule.

  “Yes, Mother,” she said. Her voice sounded frail to her own ears and she winced. She needed to be strong for her family. This was not an easy decision; she knew that.

  They walked into the cottage and her mother set about taking her from room to room and explaining where things were. There was a kitchen and a sitting room and two rooms for sleeping. It was more than enough space for her and she found herself wishing again that with the loss of her eyesight she hadn’t also lost her ability to draw. That second room would have been an ideal space to use for her art. But then again if she could still see, she wouldn’t be here in this cottage. She would be going to live at her mother’s cousin’s house and preparing for her own Season.

  “Well, that should about do it,” her mother said. “I will come and check on you again once we get settled in at Cousin Rose’s house.”

  “I’ll be alright,” Mia said, though she didn’t sound nearly as confident as she’d have liked. Of course she wasn’t feeling at all confident, but there was no need to burden her mother any further.

  “Come along, Rachel. I’m certain Fran and Cleo are positively roasting in the carriage by now.”

  Rachel did not move from Mia’s side. Mia tried to turn and embrace her friend. She wanted to thank her for everything she’d done, especially since Mia’s accident. But her friend held firm to Mia’s hand.

  “You’re simply going to leave her here?” Rachel asked, her tone filled with indignation. “Alone?”

  Her mother sputtered a few noncommittal noises before she cleared her throat. “How dare you,” she finally managed to say. “This is a family matter and I don’t believe I asked for your opinion on a matter you simply could not possibly understand.”

  “Understand?” Rachel said, her voice growing louder. “I understand perfectly. You’re completely abandoning your daughter. Choosing your other daughters as if somehow they’re more worthy of your love and attention. And you’re going to leave Mia here to fend for herself even though she cannot see. Here in this cottage, in the middle of London, where she knows no one. Who will she talk to? Who will take her for walks?” Rachel paused for a moment as if waiting for Mia’s mother to answer. But the woman said nothing.

  “Am I to believe that she’s simply going to wait here for this mysterious servant to stop by and provide her with food and other necessities?” Rachel continued. Her tone was full of righteous indignation, a solid reminder that she had been born to a noble family herself, but finances had made it necessary for her to seek employment. “What if the Duke changes his mind and decides not to send that servant? What shall she do then? Wander the streets of London alone without being able to see where she’s going? How will she be able to find her way back to this cottage?”

  “Rachel, please,” Mia urged. “I’ll be alright.”

  “No, Mia, you won’t,” Rachel continued. “You are quite intelligent and you will be able to lead a wonderful life, I have no doubt of that. But you simply can’t start over on your own here where you know no one. You need some assistance. And some friendship,” she added softly.

  Rachel was right, of course. Mia couldn’t deny any of those things. She’d been plagued with worry ever since her mother had told her she would be moving into this cottage to live alone.

  “The Duke won’t change his mind,” her mother protested. “He promised me. He owes me this favor,” she added and Mia could have sworn her voice cracked. Mia wanted to ask what sort of favor, but didn’t dare. Her mother was not a forthright person on the best of days and today was certainly not one of those. Still she left enough unsaid that it was abundantly clear that some previously unstated relationship existed between the Duke of Carrington and Mia’s mother.

  “Still. Perhaps you can abandon her,” Rachel said. “But I cannot. I will not.”

  “You intend to stay here? With her?” her mother asked.

  “I do,” Rachel said.

  “Rachel, no,” Mia said.

  “I will not pay you,” her mother said.

  They didn’t have any money for that. All of their servants had been let go. Mia wasn’t even certain Rachel had received payment for the last six months.

  “Rachel, I can’t allow you to do this,” Mia said.

  “I insist,” Rachel said.

  “And how will you sustain yourself with no income?” her mother asked.

  “Seeing as to how I am no longer in your employ, I do not believe that is any of your concern,” Rachel said.

  “You are quite disrespectful for someone of your station,” her mother said.

  “You are certainly entitled to believe that,” Rachel said.

  But Mia knew from previous interactions with Rachel over these last two years that she was finished with the conversation. In their classroom, when she had been giving instructions to the three Danvers sisters, there were a handful of occasions when Rachel had bothered to argue with Cleo, Mia’s eldest sister. Cleo was insufferable and refused to entertain the idea that someone other than herself might be right. But most of the time Rachel successfully ended the argument with a cold, but polite quip.

  Mia, wanting to do something to appease her mother, stepped forward. “I shall miss you, Mother,” she said.

  “I suspect you shall,” her mother replied. “I will come back to check in on you.” She said nothing more to Rachel.

  Mia followed her mother to the cottage door and stood there until she heard the carriage wheels rumble away. Rachel stood beside her, quiet. Mia wasn’t certain what to say. Thank you seemed so small when the woman had walked away from a chance of gainful employment. She would try to convince her to take a post elsewhere. She could always visit.

  But that was a discussion that could wait for another day.

  “Rachel, tell me, what does it look like? The estate, the grounds? Where in London are we?”

  “Very near to Hyde Park, actually,” Rachel said. Her tone was tight, she was angry, but she said nothing of the discussion with Mia’s mother or the decision to leave Mia at the cottage. “The park is just on the other side of the estate’s gardens,” Rachel continued. “It borders the west side of the property. This cottage is in the back corner of the Carrington estate, as if it were intended to be a groundskeeper’s cottage. There is a stone wall that borders this side of the property line so that we are not merely sitting in the yards of Danbridge, though we are not too far from the main house.”

  “A stone wall like that around a keep?” Mia asked, trying to imagine what it looked like. She’d been to London before the accident, had seen parts of the city, but never before Danbridge Hall, the Duke of Carrington’s home.

  “Oh, no, much lower than that. I believe it simply provides a measure of protection from the alleyway. The wall goes all the way to the front line of the house, but it stops short of this cottage and is replaced with a nice line of shrubs that separates us from the main lawn. It’s quite attractive.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Mia said. She tried to imagine it. But all she knew of the Carrington family was the country estate they’d had near her own family’s home. Or her family’s former home as it was now.

  “From the window in this front room I can see the edge of the backyards of the estate. In fact, I can actually see a rider,” Rachel said. “Though he’s very far away, I can tell it is a man, a proud man judging from the way he sits atop that steed.”

  Proud, yes, she had seen him ride before, once in the country. Their family properties had not been far and she’d watched him from a distance. The heir to the dukedom.

  “Mia, you do realize your mother is not coming back,” Rachel said to her.

  Mia took a steadying breath. “Yes, I know.”

  Chapter One

  London, the Eighth of May, 1889

  When she’d first moved into the cottage at the back of Lord Carrington’s estate, Mia Danvers had been told she could cut through the garden area to get to and from her home. She’d never done that, though, always preferring t
o walk along the stone wall that surrounded the property. Nearly every day for the past nine years, she’d walked beside the wall, trailing her fingers across cobbled surface, letting the familiar stones guide her home. Today, though, she desperately wished she’d taken the route through the Duke’s yard.

  She sucked in her breath and tried to disappear into the shrubbery that sat between the wall and the alleyway. The cold stones behind her pressed into her back, chilling her skin beneath her heavy wool gown. Frigid rain dropped in slow rhythmic beats against her face and she forced her teeth to cease their chattering.

  Not far from Mia’s hiding place, a girl whimpered on the alleyway. And beside that girl, a man chuckled, a gravelly deep laugh that raised the hairs on Mia’s arms.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” the girl begged.

  He whispered something, but Mia could not make out his words.

  “No,” the girl whispered in return.

  Mia tried to move, but found her arms and legs would not obey. She wanted to call out, do something, anything to save the girl from the man’s brutality, but fear pinned her in place. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that wouldn’t change anything. Eyes open or shut, it mattered not, she could not see either way.

  But the rest of her worked perfectly. So perfectly that she could clearly hear every terrified exhale coming from the girl, smell the man’s cologne and the alcohol on his breath as it mixed with the icy rain. Feel the cold and the wet and the fear. She told her feet to move, wanting so badly to flee, but her muscles would not budge.

  The rain intensified, coming down in angry slashes. Mia pressed her back hard into the stones behind her. Scared, ashamed and frozen in her hiding place.

  “Please, no,” the girl’s voice raised to a fevered pitch.

  “Open your eyes.” The man’s whisper was angry now and void of the harsh humor it had held before. “Let me see the fear.” His voice was coming out in raspy hisses.

  Mia lost track of how long she stood there. The rain had soaked through her wool dress to her underthings below. Her hair was matted to her head and gooseflesh covered her body. Still she could not move. She wanted to yell at the man to stop his attack. But she couldn’t find her voice.