CHAPTER 1
“Ithink I shall dance with the officer again next Wednesday if he is there,” Rosy Blackmore said with a loud laugh as she skipped ahead of her sisters. Her curly hair bounced with each step while her older sister Joanna shook her head.
Joanna adored her boisterous younger sister, but Rosy was a flighty spirit, interested primarily in dancing and merriment. Presently, she had developed a love for Almack’s and attempted to drag Joanna there weekly, much to Joanna’s chagrin. Balls and socializing were not things she cared for.
No, to her, a good evening consisted of curling up before a fire with a novel.
In that regard, Joanna was more like their eldest sister Sally. Pragmatic and quiet, Sally was Joanna’s dearest friend—though that didn’t mean she didn’t care for Rosy. She adored both her sisters, but in very different ways.
“Joanna!” their mother, the Countess of Carlisle, called from a window on the second floor.
Joanna looked up and saw their mother waving to her rather erratically.
“Faith, you are in trouble,” Rosy chirped, always eager for some drama.
“Joanna, come inside,” their mother called again.
Joanna paused, unaccustomed to being addressed in such a somber tone by their mother. Had something happened? And why was onlyshebeing called?
“You better go,” Sally said, one hand on Joanna’s back. “She sounds serious.
Joanna took a deep breath and walked back to the manor, leaving her sisters behind in the garden. She broke into a run as she neared the front steps, distracted only by a carriage she’d never seen before parked in their driveway. She had no time to figure out who it belonged to, for the front door burst open and her mother stood there, one hand on her hip.
“Joanna, there you are. I was looking everywhere for you,” she chided. “Where you visiting the gamekeeper again to see that dog?”
Joanna was about to reply in the negative. Their gamekeeper, Mr. Marks, had Dalmatian puppies, one of which would come home to Joanna soon. However, she did not even get the words out before her mother pressed on.
“Come, you are wanted.” Lady Carlisle stopped and grabbed Joanna’s hand, but Joanna stood still as if nailed to the spot.
“Wanted? Where?”
“Mama? Is something the matter?” Sally called, her puzzled expression mirroring Joanna’s confusion.
Alas, there was no explanation. Instead, Lady Carlisle ushered Joanna into the manor, away from her sisters, who had followed her out of the garden.
“Mama…” Joanna protested, but her mother did not slow down until they were in front of the door to her father’s study.
Lady Carlisle knocked before turning to Joanna. Just then, the door opened, and the Marquess of Worcester walked out.
So, that was his carriage?
Lord Worcester, one of her father’s closest friends, had been a frequent visitor over the years, along with his wife and his daughter Judith. However, after the Marchioness’s death a year ago, they’d hardly seen him.
“My Lord, I thought you had already left. Joanna, you recall Marcus Birks, the Marquess of Worcester. And Lord Worcester, you remember my daughter Joanna, of course,” Lady Carlisle said.
Joanna curtsied, and when she raised her head again, she saw a smile playing on the Marquess’s lips. She had not seen him for some years and was surprised to see how he’d aged. In his forties, the lines etched on his face spoke of his grief. His wife had passed away from consumption, leaving him a widower with two children. His features, while not conventionally handsome, carried a kindness that softened the edges of his countenance. Although the loss of his wife lingered in his eyes, casting a shadow of melancholy.
“Lady Joanna, a pleasure,” he said with a bow but then continued on his way, leaving Joanna to grapple with the enigma of his unexpected visit.
Once he disappeared from view, her mother pushed her gently into the study.
The door creaked open further as Joanna entered, revealing the Earl of Carlisle bent over his desk. His graying hair spoke of his age, and his demeanor exuded a sense of authority. He looked up, a crooked smile on his lips. Joanna squared her shoulders, feeling the same tension she always felt in her father’s presence.
“Joanna, my dear,” the Earl began, gesturing for her to come closer. “There you are. I wish you had come sooner so you couldhave met our guest properly, but no matter. Sit, we have urgent matters to discuss.”
Confused but complying, Joanna stepped further into the room, her mother following suit. The door closed behind them, muffling the distant sounds from the hall, where Rosy and Sally were surely wondering what this visit meant.
“Sit, my love,” Lady Carlisle urged, indicating a chair opposite the Earl’s imposing desk.
