Chapter 1
Lady Deoiridh Aitken entered the kitchen, setting her basket on a side table.
“Greta,” she called.
Her maid of all work appeared from the scullery. “Yes, my lady?”
“Please put these lilies in the breakfast nook. Then deal with the herbs beneath the lilies.”
“Immediately, Lady Deoiridh.”
“Tea must be ready by two o’clock. Lady Somerville is bringing a guest she thinks I should meet,” Dee smiled, heading for the stairs and her bedchamber.
“Certainly, my lady.”
“Thank you, Greta.”
The foyer clock struck one.
Dee hurried. An hour was sufficient to dress and arrange her hair. Much less time than needed to dress for the French court.
That life had been fun, even exciting. However, she enjoyed her present quiet life as well. If she needed social activity, she could visit Normanton House. She and the Somervilles were friends.
The couple, distant relatives of her mother, had been happy to shelter Dee when she’d sought refuge with them.
As she changed from her gardening frock, she recalled the argument she’d had with Major Lord Mars Leigh, her husband’s brother, as he guarded her on her journey here in spring of 1815.
She had insisted he leave her.
“Tell me,” she asked when he protested. “Am I safer with you knowing my location or not?”
Not until she revealed one of the two fancy pistols she used for protection did Major Leigh concede her point.
A knock on her chamber door, recalled her to the present.
“Yes?”
“Your guests have arrived, my lady,” Greta called.
“Thank you. I’ll be down shortly.”
Dee checked her reflection. Satisfied, she reached the foyer at the same moment her guests entered.
“Allow me to take your outerwear, ladies,” Greta said.
One foot on the last tread, the other poised in mid-air, Dee stared at the woman preceding Lady Somerville.
Busy with Greta, the woman did not notice Dee until she moved aside for Lady Somerville and raised her head.
“Deoiridh!” Lady Aitken threw her arms wide. “Come give your mother a hug.”
Dee shot off the stairs and was wrapped in her mother’s arms before that lady finished speaking.
“I am so glad to see you.” She tightened her arms around her mother. “How come you to England? How did you find me? How did you get here? How is Louis? Are our court friends well? Are you certain it was safe for you to leave? Have you come to stay? With me?”
“I am delighted to see you, daughter.” Mother placed hands on Dee’s shoulders and gave a small shove. “However, if you squeeze much tighter, you shall deprive me of breath, and I won’t be able to answer.”
“Oh,” she released her mother, stepping back. “I’m sorry, I just…that is…I wish…. You should have told me you were coming.”
“Darling, that would risk the letter getting into the wrong hands.”
Dee nodded. “Come to the parlor. Greta will bring tea, and we can talk.”
“That will be very pleasant,” Lady Somerville agreed.
Dee took her mother’s arm and saw her installed on a settee. “Penelope, please take a seat. Thank you very much for bringing Mother to me. Greta will need some time to put the second bedchamber to rights.”
“I didn’t tell you Lady Aitken was coming because I wasn’t certain she could,” Lady Somerville informed her.
Dee blinked; her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you wish to live retired,” Lady Somerville continued. “However, I knew you would not mind if I wrote to my cousin and informed her you were safe here. In that same letter, I invited her to visit. Nearly three years is too long for mother and daughter to be separated.”
A frisson of worry travelled up Dee’s spine.
Letters at Louis Bourbon’s court were nearly always read by the men who kept Louis safe.
Hence nothing was ever completely secret.
One of the most notorious of those men, Monsieur Aristide Barbeau, had been an unwanted and all too persistent suitor.
Given Lady Somerville’s letter, Barbeau must know of Dee’s whereabouts.
He would certainly act on the information, but when and how?
“How thoughtful of you,” she said to Lady Somerville. The lady intended a kindness. As happy as Dee was to see her mother, she wished Lady Somerville had not been quite so kind.
“I was too eager to see you to reply and would arrive before any letter. So, I just came,” her mother confessed.
“Your mother’s arrival last night was a surprise,” Lady Somerville continued. “However, the hour was too late to visit. She spent the night with us, and this morning I sent the request to come to tea.”
“I am quite comfortable at Normanton House and prefer to continue there. Lady Somerville assures me I may stay as long as I like.”
“Are you certain, Mother?”
“Positively. You know I despise rusticating. Lady Somerville says she is very active in local society.”
“Worry not, we shall keep Lady Aitken well entertained.”
“Thank you. I’ll not worry for my mother, though she may exhaust you and Sir Peter.
Lady Somerville smiled, sipping tea while Dee and her mother exchanged news of the French court.
“… Did Louis feel obliged to put on an entertainment that shamed the Belgians with its grandeur?” Dee asked.
“Of course.”
“Speaking of entertainments,” Lady Somerville interjected. “Peter and I are hosting a house party next week. We hope both of you will attend.”
“I’ll be delighted,” said Lady Aitken.
“Send me the schedule of events, please. I’d prefer to remain here, but I will enjoy attending some of the entertainments.”
“Splendid.” Lady Somerville smiled.
“Are you worried that Captain Moonlight will accost some of your guests?” Dee asked.
“Captain Moonlight?” Dee’s mother lifted a delicate brow.
“Oh, I’ve not had time to tell you about the highwayman haunting our country roads,” said Lady Somerville.
“Un Agent Routier? How very exciting.”
“You mean how very annoying.” Lady Somerville set her teacup and saucer on a nearby table. “It is most vexing. A common thief bothering travelers just as we invite nearly the entire shire to our home, to say nothing of the friends traveling greater distances.”
“From what I’ve heard Captain Moonlight is at pains to be courteous and courtly to his victims, save for a few whom he deems worthy of public embarrassment. He’s never caused anyone injury while lightening their purses,” Dee commented.
“So, when caught, he’ll only be transported and not hung. Stealing is wrong despite any courtesy.” Lady Somerville resumed her tea.
“Chere ami, please,” Lady Aitken said. “Have charité for the poor fellow. Imagine the opportunity to charm him into giving back the jewels. Is he handsome? Perhaps I should ask for a kiss. Un baiser from a handsome thief is a memory to keep a woman warm at night.”
Lady Somerville straightened. “Lady Aitken, you cannot be serious.”
“La, my dear, of course not. Still, what a tale to tell my grandchildren.” Her mother cast an arch glance at Dee. “You are not getting any younger dear, and cradling un bebe in my arms before I am too old is a devout wish.”
Dee’s cheeks heated. “Really mother. That is not a subject for polite discussion. Please forgive her, Lady Somerville.”
“Certainly. Now, as lovely as this tea has been, I must get home. With less than one week before guests arrive, I have no spare time.” Lady Somerville stood.
Lady Aitken followed suit. “I shall go with you and help.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Deoiridh,” Lady Somerville said.
“You are always welcome.” Leading the way, Dee rang for Greta.
Amid a flurry of capes and bonnets, Dee managed to hug her mother.
“I’ll see you soon, mignon?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Come to tea tomorrow. We’ll be very casual. The house guests won’t start to arrive for several more days.” Lady Somerville invited.
“I will, thank you.” Dee watched them leave. “You may find me in the book room when supper is ready, Greta.”
“Of course, my lady.”
By writing to her mother of Dee’s location, Lady Somerville had created a worry. The time was long past for Dee to act in her own best interests.
She settled at the small desk in the snug little room. From the center drawer she withdrew a letter. She’d started writing it shortly after arriving here.
Why haven’t I sent this?
She had no answer. The law required that she, personally, initiate the request for annulment. Once made, she’d hire a solicitor to guide her through the process, which could take years.
Why did I waste so much time?
Reviewing the letter’s words prompted memories of Fontus Leigh.
His smile, his laugh, the strength of his arms as he’d held her while hiding beneath that hay from Barbeau and his men.
The quiet conversations during their escape to Dieppe.
The kiss they shared before she’d left him on the ship in Brighton harbor.
Had she imagined the affection growing between them?
Imagined his pleasure in that kiss? A kiss she had, for days, wished him to take.
Her heart had melted when he respectfully asked for a farewell kiss.
Pleasure had swelled that same heart when the kiss became more than the polite peck she expected.
She forced her attention back to her request for the annulment she’d said she wanted on the first day of their marriage. The marriage kept her safe, should Barbeau learn where she hid.
Now, because of Lady Somerville, Dee must decide to send the letter or not. At present she could not bring herself to do so. However, she would ask help from another quarter.
She put the letter back into the drawer. Then drew clean paper from a second drawer. Quill and ink from a third followed. She trimmed the quill and wrote.
To His Grace Lovis Leigh, Duke of Leigh…
Would the duke believe what she wrote? Or would he ride post haste to deal with an assumed pretender?
She stared at the letter until Greta summoned her to the evening meal.
If only she could speak with Fontus. They’d become friends, sharing histories and opinions.
Not always in agreement, she felt more comfortable with him than any other man.
Their one kiss had left her longing to stay with him and perhaps enjoy more intimate pleasures.
She shook her head. Best to not think of Fontus Leigh.
Dreaming of him caused her entirely too many restless nights.