Chapter 1
One
The familiar chill of an English morning greeted Grant Oliver, the Viscount of Oakwood as he descended from the carriage at the gates of Sinbrough House.
Years abroad had dulled little of the awe that always accompanied the sight of grand estates, but for Grant, the beauty of his cousin’s home was almost incidental.
His thoughts were heavy with memories of a mother lost too soon, of a father more absent in life than in spirit, and of the burden he had reluctantly assumed at the tender age of eight and ten.
The estates he had left to stewards all those years ago were secure, at least in name, yet he felt little desire to reclaim the life they represented—at least not fully.
Mostly he did not wish to cross paths with his father.
The last time he had seen the Earl of Lyonsdale, his estranged father, he had told him that he would never speak to him again.
He fully intended to keep that promise. But that had not been the only promise he had made or the most important one.
Just the one that sat bitterly in his stomach.
But he had to honor one promise he had made no matter what.
It was time to return home even if it meant he might see his father again.
He had made that promise to his mother, and that promise alone would be enough to tether him to England despite the call of foreign lands and adventures that had long soothed his restless spirit after losing her.
He could no longer ignore what he needed to do.
Now, returning in earnest, he sought neither grand fanfare nor the stifling comfort of familial obligations.
His father, if he had noticed the absence of his only son all these years, had shown nothing of it.
Even when he had told the man how disgusted he had been with him it had been evident what his father would do with is life.
The earl preferred the warm embrace of a bottle of brandy to the weight of responsibility or the love of his wife or son.
Grant adjusted the gloves at his wrist and drew the collar of his coat closer against the crisp morning air.
Winter might have faded away to spring but it still had a tether on the chilly London day.
His destination was not the ancestral home that should have been his by right, but rather Sinbrough House itself, where his cousin, the Duke of Sinbrough, held dominion—and perhaps a measure of wisdom that could temper Grant’s own tumultuous thoughts.
Sinbrough led a decadent lifestyle, but he had always been a confidant of his.
Now that he was home, he hoped the duke would offer some sage advice on how he should proceed with the earl.
Their mothers had been sisters and both had died far too young.
It had been something that Grant and Sinbrough had bonded over—even if Grant was five years Sinbrough’s junior.
He was like the older brother Grant had never had.
He lifted his hand and rapped the knocker across the door. Not long afterward it opened to reveal Sinbrough’s butler. Grimms had been with the duke for as long as Grant could remember. He never smiled and was always completely composed. “My lord,” he said. “It’s been a while.”
Grant’s lips twitched as he fought a smile. “It’s good to see you too, Grimms. Is he home?”
“His Grace is in his study,” Grimms told him. “Please come in. I am certain he will be glad to see that you have returned to England.”
“Perhaps,” Grant said. “If he isn’t busy with other entertainments.”
“His Grace rarely entertains these days.” Grimms shut the door after Grant entered. “Her Grace would not approve.”
“Her Grace?” Grant lifted a brow. Sinbrough had married?
Well…that was different and quite unexpected.
He had not thought the duke would ever marry and if he did it would not be for several years in the future—once he had finally believed he would need an heir for the title.
Though even then Grant had doubted his cousin would settle down with one woman.
It had not seemed in his nature to do so.
“Yes,” Grimms confirmed. “The duke wed this past winter. Her Grace is quite lovely.”
“Of course,” Grant said. “I would never doubt that Sinbrough would marry a woman that wasn’t beautiful.”
“Her Grace is beautiful,” Grimms confirmed. “But that isn’t what I meant. She’s an extraordinary woman.”
“I’m certain she is…” Who was this paragon that his cousin had married.
He had to meet her. “I will go speak with His Grace now. I was wonderful to see you again Grimms.” With that he left the butler alone in the foyer.
He knew the way to the duke’s study. He had visited this house on more than one occasion and had often attended some of Sinbrough’s infamous masquerades.
They were always filled with incessant debauchery.
It had been a good time and many individuals left completely sated from the pleasure they had experienced.
Grant had enjoyed himself when he had attended but it had been many, many years since he had.
He strolled toward the duke’s study and stopped outside the open door. He lifted his hand and rapped the doorframe with his knuckles. The duke was bent over a ledger on is desk and did not even bother to look up. “What is it Grimms,” he asked.
“Grimms is otherwise occupied I believe,” Grant replied smoothly. “I do hope I am not interrupting anything important.”
Sinbrough glanced up and stared up at Grant. He blinked a few times almost as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. Then his lips turned upward slowly into a smile. “Hello cousin,” he drawled. “I did not think you would ever return.”
Grant smiled back at him. “I did not wish to honestly.” He would much rather continue to travel but yet, here he was—back in England. “But it was time.”
“Well, I am glad that you have returned.” He leaned back in his chair. “Does this mean that you are ready to take over the care of your estate?”
“Not really,” he said. “But I have run away from my responsibilities long enough. The stewards you helped me hire have done a wonderful job, but I made a promise. Now I have to actually fulfill it.”
“Good.” He met Grant’s gaze. “Aunt Eleanor would be proud of you.”
Grant closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “I doubt that. She would not have wanted me to run away from here for years.”
“You’re wrong,” Sinbrough said. “She loved you and she would have understood your need to be away. But we do not need to discuss that now. When will you return?”
Never… He did not want to go to his estate.
He was back in England. Wasn’t that enough.
“I send missives to the stewards of each estate.” Both his and his father’s…
“I asked them to travel to London to meet with me. I was hoping I could stay here for now. But I heard you recently married. I would hate to intrude.”
Sinbrough’s lips twitched again. “I have married. But you need not worry. My wife would gladly welcome you to stay with us.”
“Pardon the interruption…” A woman interrupted them.
Grant turned to see who it was and sucked in a breath.
Was this lovely lady his cousin’s wife. Good god…
He’d never seen a more beautiful woman. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said.
“I did not realize you had company.” Grant’s chest tightened, betraying a stirring he had not felt in years.
Her hair was black as a raven’s wing, shining even in the muted light of the hall, and those eyes—oh, those eyes.
Surely no artist or poet could ever render a shade of blue so arresting.
He should turn away. He must turn away. Yet every instinct in his body urged him closer, daring him to cross the invisible line that propriety demanded he respect.
This was not good… If this was the new duchess, he had to control the urge that held him riveted.
“It’s all right,” the duke said. “Please come in and meet my cousin.”
She smiled and curtsied. “Hello,” she said softly. She had a melodic voice that was like music to his ears. He swallowed hard.
“This is Viscount Oakwood,” the duke said. “Oakwood, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Cocwood. She resides here now with me and my wife.”
He frowned. She was not the duke’s wife… Well, that was better, but still…she was married. “You reside here?” he asked. Why? He could not ask that question because it would be the height of rudeness.
“I do,” she told him. “My sister and the duke have graciously offered me a place in their home after my husband’s death.” She met the duke’s gaze and smiled at him. “I am most grateful.”
“You are always welcome here,” the duke told her. “What is it you need?”
“Juliette wanted me to remind you that you are to meet her in the sitting room in a quarter hour. She has something she wished to discuss with you.”
“Ah, that’s right…” He frowned. “Thank you. I will go now. Could you do me a favor and let Grimms now that Oakwood will remain with us and a room needs to be prepared.”
“Of course,” she said. “I will go now.”
The duke exited, but Lady Cocwood stood still in the doorway and met his gaze. She almost seemed reluctant to depart. He did not wish for her to go either.
Grant was stunned. The presence of this lady…
The very air seemed to draw his eye and hold it captive when she was near.
Lady Cocwood—widow, beauty, and sister to the duchess herself—stood with the poise of one accustomed to attention, yet there was a softness in her gaze that spoke of restraint.
What she must have gone through to be widowed at such a young age.
She did not wear black so her husband must have died a while ago.
He wanted to know more about her and he would love nothing more than to seduce her.
He should not pursue her. Not with her being the sister of his cousin’s wife…
It would be no simple matter to resist temptation here though.
Resisting it, as he now realized, might be more difficult than he had ever imagined.
He bowed stiffly, murmuring his thanks, and stepped toward the door.
Yet, even as he moved, his eyes lingered on her.
She watched him with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, as if reading the thoughts he did not dare speak aloud.
A faint smile played upon her lips, and Grant felt an unbidden warmth rise to his chest, one he would have scorned in any other company.
She did not say another word though. Slowly, she exited the room and left him alone.
Once he heard her steps in the hallway he exhaled, his composure loosening in the privacy of the study. She is not for you, he chastised himself. And yet… The echo of her voice lingered like a delicate refrain, and the image of her eyes, restrained but aware, haunted his mind.
Grant leaned against the doorway for a moment, gathering his wits. There was much to navigate: propriety, loyalties, and the ever-present scrutiny of his family. And yet, he was keenly aware that the undercurrent of desire and curiosity that the lady inspired could not be so easily dismissed.
The ticking of the clock in the hall seemed almost conspicuous as he straightened his coat and stepped fully into the sitting room. Here, Easton awaited, upright and polished, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of wariness.
The morning sun had broken through the curtains, casting a pale light across the study’s polished floors.
Grant was restless from stirrings of the day, the need to act, to move, to assert control.
The memory of Lady Cocwood’s gaze, her quiet confidence and subtle grace, remained, stubborn and insistent, like a melody that would not fade in his mind.
Grant felt the currents of desire and complication swirling, waiting for the first opportunity to draw him into their orbit.
He had to know more about her…he just had to, and he would while he stayed at Sinbrough House.