Chapter Three
Cheshire Hall,
Maidstone, Kent
Although November had barely begun, the entire staff at Lady Cheshire’s estate in Maidstone was preparing for her annual New Year’s Ball, to be held at her London residence.
Cook would spend the coming weeks drawing up a menu, while her ladyship instructed her housekeepers on decorations and other necessities.
Lady Cheshire’s companion, Thelma, whose job it was to prepare the invitations, put down her quill pen and stretched her aching fingers.
“Don’t dilly dally,” came Lady Cheshire’s sharp voice from across the room. “I want those invitations going out first thing tomorrow.”
“Yes, my lady.” Thelma glanced at her ladyship, who lounged, glass of port in hand, in front of the fire on her dusty-pink settee.
Her white cat, Melcombe, sat on her lap and watched Thelma, his intense green eyes never leaving her face.
She wondered if he somehow conveyed to his mistress her every move, so that a single stretch or eye rub was noticed, earning her a reprimand.
She picked up her quill pen again and began to address a new envelope to be delivered by Lady Cheshire’s army of footmen.
Going down the list in front of her, she stopped at Lady he had to admit that much.
Their names were now forever linked. He was Miss Waterford’s knight—the man who’d fought off ghosts to rescue the damsel in distress.
No doubt she, and many others, felt he belonged to her.
Simon shook his head. It was an unusual way of attracting a husband, but he supposed a young lady had to find a way to stand out in the crowd.
And marrying her would certainly solve the problems his father had left behind.
He turned to the carriage window and stared out at the street, which bustled with people.
But what of the beautiful young lady he’d seen in the cemetery as he’d come to Miss Waterford’s rescue?
He envisioned the young woman’s lush chestnut curls, large green eyes, exquisitely delicate features, and creamy skin.
Had she been real or a figment of his imagination?
The mind could sometimes play tricks, especially in places like a cemetery.
Yet, he’d seen her cheeks grow rosy when they’d locked eyes.
But if she’d been real, what had she been doing in Highgate Cemetery all alone?
More importantly, who was she? And how was he to find out?