Chapter One
Viscountess Felicity Hastings sat in the garden area of her deceased husband’s London townhouse.
She and her children had discarded their shoes and stockings to dip their toes in the grand fountain at the center of the space.
Felicity chose to balance on the edge of the outdoor feature, only dipping her feet in while her children splashed and raced through the water.
She smiled, enjoying their happiness. Both Arabella and Harry had grown up way too fast with their father’s passing.
She enjoyed seeing them behave so carefree.
Collin may not have been the best husband, but he’d been an exceptional father.
They’d grown apart during their ten years of marriage but remained friendly.
Felicity missed chatting with him, and she’d give anything for her children to have him back.
Unfortunately, Collin had been gone for almost a year now.
His last wish had been for her to raise Arabella and Harry in London.
So far, Felicity was unsure how much she loved her husband’s home country or prior life.
The house, the title, and everything that went with it felt overwhelming.
It’s only been a few days, she reminded herself.
She’d grown up with missionary parents who left England before she was born, so she knew nothing of balls, teas, or the high-society world Collin came from. Still, Felicity had done as he’d asked.
Arabella kicked water at Harry, who screeched loudly. Felicity frowned at her daughter. “Don’t do that again, Bella. It isn’t kind.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes. “Why is it so hot here? I thought England was supposed to be cold compared to Livorno.”
Even though it was summer, they’d all expected London to be colder and rainier than Tuscany.
It had been surprising to all of them to discover their new home was sunny and exceptionally hot.
Sweat trickled down Felicity’s back, and she wound her dark brown hair up, holding it on the top of her head, wishing it were cooler.
“Morrison said it is the hottest London summer in over a decade.”
The butler had been a huge help since their unexpected arrival. She’d written the house staff that they were en route, but their shock at Felicity and her children’s arrival had been apparent. Her letter, to date, still hadn’t arrived.
She glanced at the townhouse next to theirs.
The Duke of Swan resided in the palatial building; Collin had spoken of him often as a dear friend from his childhood.
She would need to meet with him to discuss taking over management of the Hastings Estate.
Her husband had mentioned, prior to his death, that he sent word to the duke explaining that Felicity would do so upon her arrival in England.
She frowned, wondering if he’d received the letter.
When she arrived in London, Morrison explained to her that the missive from the Tuscan solicitor announcing Collin’s passing had arrived last year, but the household never received any other correspondence.
Felicity had sent a few pieces. She hated that the mail to England from the Continent was often delayed or didn’t arrive at all.
Felicity hoped the duke wouldn’t give her any trouble. She cupped some water in her hand and allowed it to drip down the front of her dress, wishing they’d receive a break from the dreadful heat soon.
“Mother, who is that?” Harry asked, pointing at the duke’s townhouse.
She looked up to discover a handsome but rather serious-looking man staring down at them. A flush tinged her cheeks. She suspected that frolicking in one’s garden fountain wasn’t considered proper. Was he the Duke of Swan?
His gaze lingered on her, and Felicity suddenly had the mad urge to rush her children out of the water. An older woman joined him, and the blush on her face deepened.
Loud splashing distracted Felicity, and she returned her focus back to her children.
Harry, grinning, threw water up in the air.
Pure delight filled his face. Felicity beamed at him.
She would not change her or her children’s behavior because she feared judgment from Collin’s associates.
The man and woman were the ones peering into her family’s private space.
Arabella and Harry’s happiness was her main priority right now.
She turned back to the window where the neighbors studied them and waved.
The woman smiled, but the reserved man merely nodded.
His eyes connected with Felicity’s, and even so far away, she noticed the vivid blueness of them.
Her stomach dipped. Collin had often talked about the duke, but never mentioned what he looked like. Was the serious man him?
“Mother, look at me,” Harry yelped.
He stomped in the water, sending water drops everywhere. Arabella frowned. “Stop it. You are getting my dress soaked.”
Felicity sighed. “Come. Let’s go dry off. Our reprieve from the hot weather is over.”
As they all scrambled out, Felicity glanced up at the window again, but the man and woman were gone. She supposed she’d learn if he was the duke soon enough. Felicity had sent him a missive requesting a meeting to discuss the management of the Hastings Estate.
*
Harrison, the Duke of Swan, frowned as he stepped away from the window.
He’d been surprised to receive a missive from Collin’s butler that his friend’s widow and children were in residence next door.
Even more shocking, the widow had requested a meeting to discuss the management of the Hastings Estate.
His mother, Clara, sat in one of the wingback chairs in his study. “They may be the smartest family in all of London. Frolicking in a fountain right now sounds heavenly. This heat is dreadful.”
He took a seat behind his desk. “It isn’t appropriate to splash around in a garden water feature that is just for show.”
“It still sounds divine in this insufferable weather,” his mother said. “Were you aware Lady Hastings planned to return to England?”
Harrison shook his head. “After we all learned about Collin’s passing, I sent her a letter, introducing myself, but I never received a note back.”
He still couldn’t believe Collin was gone.
They’d been the closest of friends growing up.
Both their family’s London residences and country estates bordered each other.
Pain filled his chest at the realization that he’d never speak with Collin again.
Ten years had passed since the last time they’d been in each other’s presence.
Once a year, one of Harrison’s employees mailed Collin details about his estate, but he’d never penned a letter to his friend himself.
Pride and stubbornness prevented Harrison from writing a note to him, and now it was too late.
A heated argument had fractured their friendship when they were young men.
Collin had wanted Harrison to travel the world with him, and Harrison had tried to convince his friend to be practical and stay in London.
Harsh words were said, and Collin left, leaving only a note requesting that Harrison manage his family estate until his return.
Since his departure, Harrison had only received three letters from Collin—one after he married and one after the birth of each of his children.
Then last year, a solicitor had written Harrison, informing him of Collin’s passing and how to reach his wife.
“She is a lovely thing, isn’t she? A little bohemian, but I think that will make her popular.”
His mind flashed to the view the woman made from the window. She’d piled her hair on top of her head and cooled off by dropping water down her petite, curvy form. Shockingly, desire had attempted to unfurl in his body, but, horrified, he’d squashed it. She was Collin’s wife.
“She is a widow and new to England and London. Do not start playing matchmaker for her right away. I suspect she will want to settle in before you tell her which lords are eligible.”
A puff of annoyance escaped his mother. She pursed her lips. “You’ve forbidden me from assisting you. Let me have my fun.”
“Every woman you attempt to pair me with is far too young.”
“It isn’t my fault you’ve waited so long to wed. I often wonder what it is you are looking for.”
Harrison wanted to fall in love with someone, as his parents had for each other.
Was that so awful? His father had passed five years ago, but he and his mother still missed him a great deal.
He wondered if Collin and his wife’s marriage had been a love match.
She was certainly not a London Society lady.
Sadness coursed through him that he’d never be able to ask his friend any further questions. It felt unfathomable that Collin was gone. He had only been thirty-four when he’d lost his life to an infection that his body couldn’t overcome.
Every Hastings, Harrison knew, was now no longer living. Collin had been an only child, and his parents died in a carriage accident when he and Collin were young men. He suspected it was one of the reasons Collin had fled England. His friend likely believed there was nothing left for him here.
Harrison swallowed hard, trying to hide the sadness still lingering in his body.
“Shall we go visit?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “We need to arrange a time. We can’t just show up.”
His mother rolled her eyes. “Come along, Harrison. They are just next door. When you and Collin were children, no formality existed between our families. You’ve become far too serious as you’ve aged and are starting to sound like an old man.”
Annoyance flared in him. He was only thirty-four. She opened his study door and waited for him to join her. Sighing, he stood.