Chapter One
Falmouth Docks
Cornwall, England
Her father would have been mortified at this all-too-public embrace that went on far too long, but Elspeth could not have cared less about anyone’s opinion in this moment, this parting that felt like the end of the world.
Eleanor Asquith Rydell, Elspeth’s most treasured friend, was leaving, embarking on the very adventure Elspeth had longed for her entire life.
The journey had come by way of the new husband who loved Ella with all his heart, who supported every dream his new wife could conceive.
Elspeth felt both forlorn and envious. She might never see Ella again—or experience the life her friend was about to find.
Although two years younger, Ella had clung to Elspeth’s side from the instant they had met at one of the interminable soirees held every season.
They had continued to meet at all the teas and other social events debutantes frequented, their sarcastic banter providing entertainment during even the most boring of events.
They had become fast friends, referring to themselves as “the two Els of the ton.”
Then Ella’s family had had a financial setback, followed by a major row among her siblings, and Ella had spent almost ten years as a paid companion for another noblewoman.
Elspeth’s parents, horrified by the ruin of the Asquith family, had forbidden her to ever see Ella again.
Elspeth had been devastated, until the always-clever Ella found a way for them the exchange letters through the servants—a collection of missive Elspeth reread whenever she needed cheering up.
Then, just this year, Ella’s fortunes had turned once more, and she had married well and for love to Sir Gordon Rydell, a cousin to the Duke of Embleton and a baronet by decree.
His businesses and investments, many based overseas, had made him a substantial fortune.
Now he and Ella—who had never wanted to travel—were bound for America, to oversee those concerns.
“I cannot seem to let go,” Ella whispered, her arms even tighter around Elspeth. “This is harder than when Gordon and I left on our honeymoon.”
Elspeth tightened her hold as well. “You will be gone much longer than a month in Greece. I will miss you so very much. You have been my salvation in an ocean of idiots.”
Ella’s golden laugh eased some of Elspeth’s tension and she eased from the hug. “I am completely serious. I did not dance with a single gentleman this season who did not tread my toes or bore me senseless.”
Ella grasped Elspeth’s arms. “You are too hard on them. And yourself.”
“If they are all Society has to offer, I am doomed to spinsterhood. For which I am grateful.”
“Nonsense.” Ella’s smile brightened the mist-shrouded dawn.
The sun had barely peeked above the horizon, its oranges and purples muted by the lingering fog.
However, by all reports, the tide would be high, and the weather clear by the time their mail packet set sail in very short order.
“I still cannot believe you traveled all the way to Cornwall to see me off.”
Elspeth nodded at her maid, Sinclair, who stood a few feet away. “Only because my parents trust Sinclair to keep me safe. And our coachmen.” She leaned a little closer. “She has a pistol in her reticule.”
“No!”
Elspeth grinned. “Yes! And, besides, Father has learned that he can either help me pursue my passions or deal with the consequences of me doing them anyway. What he calls ‘another of your wild tears.’ I suspect he thinks I would throw us all into scandal if he did not help me. He let me bring the coach, a driver, and two footmen. So it is not the outrageous adventure I really wanted.”
The humor left Ella’s face, and her eyes turned sad. “He indulges you now, Elspeth, but he may turn all this on its head someday, if you do not find a husband who suits you. And soon.”
Elspeth sighed. “I know. I only wish women did not feel they had to marry. Especially in Society. Our families are wealthy. We should be able to be on our own.”
A gleam returned to her friend’s eyes. “Careful. Or your father will think you have fallen under Mary Wollstonecraft’s spell.”
“Oh, the horror.”
Ella’s mouth thinned and her brows furrowed, then she nodded, as if agreeing with the thought in her head. She opened her reticule and pulled out a folded piece of foolscap. “I want you to have this. Consider it a last resort.”
Ella took the paper. “What are you talking about?”
“Open it.”
Elspeth carefully unfolded the page. Wrapped inside was a small envelope bearing a lion stamp.
Opening it, Elspeth found a single piece of heavy foolscap, which had gold threads woven into it.
Someone had stamped a family crest with the initials BDL and an ornamentation of holly on the center of the page. At the bottom, her friend had written:
Elspeth,
If you ever need anything out of the ordinary, send a note with this invitation to Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon at the Lyon’s Den. She can help.
Eleanor Asquith
Daughter of James Asquith
Newly wed to Sir Gordon Rydell
14 May 1814
Elspeth looked up at her friend. “What is this?”
“This is the invitation to a rare and exceptional masque ball given every year in April.” Ella glanced around.
“This is the ball where Gordon found me again. Only a few people are invited, and even fewer get this exact invitation. I included the details, but I assure you that Mrs. Dove-Lyon would recognize it at once. I want you to have it. Keep it safe. It can be a salvation. Use only as a last resort. When all hope seems lost.”
“But, Ella—”
Ella clutched Elspeth’s hands. “I will not need it where I am going. But you might.”
Elspeth folded everything back into a neat square and tucked it into her reticule. “I will keep it safe. I promise. And you can collect it when you return.”
“Oh, my friend!”
Ella pulled Elspeth into another tight hug, and Elspeth held her close, trying to memorize the warmth of her embrace, the sweet perfume of her hair.
“Ladies? Have you said your fond farewells?”
Elspeth released her friend and turned, forcing a smile on her face as she looked at the tall man beside them. “Sir Gordon, I adore you for making Ella so gloriously happy. I hate you for taking her on the adventure that should have been mine.”
Sir Gordon placed his palm against his wife’s back. “Then you shall have to join us.”
Elspeth let out a long sigh. “If only I could. My father indulges me, but even he would not allow me to traipse off to America alone.”
“Gordon? Do not tell me you have found yet another woman willing to leave England for parts unkno—”
A young man stepped up to Sir Gordon’s other side, and Elspeth could not help but stare, her words caught in her throat.
A youth, he appeared to be half Sir Gordon’s age and almost half his size.
But a tousle of black hair topped a face almost identical in size and shape to the older man, and eyes the deep blue of a sunlit sea peered from beneath an unruly lock that shaded his brow.
He too stared, his last word cropped short. Twin spots of crimson highlighted his sharp cheekbones. “I-I do not”—he stuttered—“my apologies.”
Sir Gordon chuckled. “Lady Elspeth, may I present my cousin, Lord Timothy Rydell. He is accompanying us on our voyage. Lord Timothy, Lady Elspeth Westridge, daughter of the Earl of Inmarsh. Lady Elspeth, you will have to forgive him. I do not think he was expecting to find a lady such as yourself along the docks. But then, ladies of polite Society are not his forte. He generally prefers a different sort of female companionship.”
The statement bordered on vulgarity, and Ella gasped, her face reddening. “Gordon!” she hissed, as his cheek pinked as well.
Elspeth smiled. “Sir Gordon, I am alone on the docks with only my maid as a companion. I would not at be surprised, nor should I be, if I were mistaken for a ‘different sort’ of woman altogether.” She extended her hand toward Lord Timothy.
“No wonder your father remains in a state of mortification,” mumbled Ella.
Lord Timothy gave a slight bow and took her hand, pressing his lips against the back of her gloved fingers. “Forgive me, Lady Elspeth, but only a complete fool would take you for anything but the lady you are.”
Those eyes! Elspeth’s stomach clenched, her facing heating.
Elspeth gave a brief curtsy. “You are forgiven, my lord. I do wish you a safe journey, for all that I am envious of its occurrence.”
His eyebrows arched as he straightened. “You would wish to join us?”
Ella stepped forward, slipping her arm inside Elspeth elbow. “Lord Timothy, Lady Elspeth dreams of nothing more than exploring our world.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You should tell your brothers.” She turned, stage whispering to Elspeth. “He has seven!”
Sir Gordon reached for his wife’s hand. “No matchmaking on the docs. Two of those brothers are now married, and Timothy is only nineteen.”
Ella pouted. “Almost twenty.”
A man in what appeared to be a captain’s uniform stepped in behind Sir Gordon. “Sir, we must board now. We will be casting off shortly.”
Sir Gordon nodded. “Of course.” He bowed slightly to Elspeth. “Lady Elspeth, it was an honor for you to see us off. I know Ella will write as soon as she can.”
Ella kissed Elspeth cheek. “Of course, I will. And do not forget what I have said.” She patted Elspeth’s reticule before taking her husband’s arm and matching his stride toward the gangplank.
Lord Timothy Rydell hesitated, studying her.
Elspeth’s eyebrows arched. “My lord. Is there something else?”
He shook his head twice, then nodded. “Your hair . . . it . . . is . . .” He fell silent.
“My lord?
He swallowed. “No.” He crossed his arms. “You would really travel abroad? For months on end?”
“I would. It is my dream.”
He blinked, his entire face turning red. “Then it is not hopeless after all.”
Confusion washed over Elspeth. “I beg your pardon?”