Duty-Bound Bachelor

John Reed has no intention of changing his carefree lifestyle—until his father’s death forces him to return home. Now he’s in charge of the family estate and preparing his reluctant sister for her London Season. And he’s convinced millinery shop owner Nan Siddons will make his perfect partner in this task.

Nan prides herself on her independence, but with a rival stealing her clients, she needs a new means of support. So when John hires her to see his sister through her debut, she accepts. She never expected their working relationship to become something more, yet soon Nan can’t imagine her life without John in it. The bachelor has captured her heart, but can she tame his?

“You don’t have enough fun, do you?”

Color bloomed in Nan’s cheeks and her eyes sparkled with a feisty light. “I have more than enough hilarity for a woman in my situation.”

“You do not.” John spoke the words flatly, glaring out at her from under lowered lids.

She pursed her lips together as though she were biting back harsh words. He pressed his advantage. “Come, then. Stand up. Dance with me.”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. “No indeed. There’s no music, for one thing.”

“I shall hum.” He stood, holding his hand out to her.

“That would be ridiculous in the extreme.”

“But it might be fun.”

She shook her head once more. He bent down and took her hand in his.

“You are a graceful dancer, and should indulge in the pastime more often.” He began to hum a familiar tune, leading her through the figures of a country dance.

At last, she looked up at him. He must be a little winded from the dance. That was the only way to account for the sudden catch in breath he experienced when she lifted her chin and looked at him squarely.

Growing up in small-town Texas, LILY GEORGE spent her summers devouring the books in her mother’s Christian bookstore. These books, particularly ones by Grace Livingston Hill, inspired her to write her own stories. She sold her first book to Love Inspired in 2011 and enjoys writing clean romances that can be shared across generations. Lily lives in northwest Texas, where she’s restoring a 1920s farmhouse with her husband and daughter.

A Practical Partnership

Lily George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

—2 Timothy 1:7

For Zach, with whom I always wanted to elope.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Tansley Village, Derbyshire

March 1819

Hannah Siddons, commonly referred to by the practical and prosaic nickname of Nan, entered the village shop and tugged her bonnet lower on her forehead. Through all of her eighteen years, she had blended into the background, eclipsed by her lovely and tempestuous older sisters. Now, more than ever, she needed to become one with the shadows. Her very career depended on it, in fact.

She rounded the corner, neatly stepping past a display of brooms, and halted, drawing breath slowly. Her heart thundered in her ears. She glanced over at the counter, but the shopkeeper was engaged with a customer, rolling out a bolt of cloth. Nan nodded. That’s right. Stay busy, old fellow. She ducked around a few barrels of flour and paused again, taking in the tableau before her.

Yes, the rumors were true.

A girl, gaily dressed and sporting an elaborate coiffure, sat at a low table. Her nimble fingers flew back and forth as she stitched lace onto the brim of a neat straw bonnet. Her lips were pursed with concentration, creased on either side by a charming dimple. She didn’t utter a sound, but if she had, it would probably be marked by a lilting accent.

The general store had engaged a French milliner, and that’s why Nan’s millinery shop had seen fewer and fewer customers over the past week.

Protectively, Nan touched the rough brim of her own bonnet. That straw the girl was using wouldn’t last a week in Tansley Village, subject as they were to sudden winds blowing up from the moor. Nan’s bonnets were designed with practicality in mind, for she had long since made a study of Tansley’s particular weather patterns. What use was a bonnet if it fell to pieces after the first summer storm, or a capricious breeze blowing across the fields? She had built the family business after her sisters had left it behind, by catering to the women of the village and offering them sturdy bonnets that would last season after season.

That was what the women of Tansley wanted. They wanted to spend their hard-earned money on bonnets and hats that were durable. Or at least that’s what Nan assumed. There’d never been a reason to doubt her assertion—until now.

She was staring, and the French girl would surely see her if she continued staring. She shrank back against the wall, bumping the small of her back into the window ledge. She could either brazen her way out by purchasing something, or she could slink away, hoping never to be seen. Judging by the lightness of her purse, thanks in no small part to this upstart milliner, it would be much better to slink out and save her money.

As Nan prepared to make her stealthy flight, two voices coming from the slightly opened window caught her ear.

“Please don’t make me go in there, John. I feel such a fool. Surely the bonnets I have are pretty enough.”

“Jane, we’ve discussed this at length. You know as well as I do that you simply must begin dressing yourself as a proper young lady should.”

Nan pivoted slowly on one heel and glanced out the window. A tall man, powerfully built, was leaning over a slight young woman, who was dressed in a simple gown. With the expertise born of years of practice, Nan summed up the pair based solely on what they were wearing. The young man was dressed as any gentleman should be in the country, but the cut of his tweed coat was particularly fine and spoke to a London tailor’s hand. The young lady, though dressed in a plain black gown and wool shawl, gave the air of one who didn’t particularly enjoy dressing up, but did what one had to for one’s station. She looked to be about Nan’s own age.

The pair stood side by side, not close as a husband and wife should be. Perhaps they were relatives?

Whatever their relationship, they certainly had money, and they were going to spend it here, rather than at her shop.

Could she allow one more paying customer to get away?

As swiftly as she dared, Nan made her way around the perimeter of the shop and darted out the door. She sprinted down the steps and around the corner of the building, skidding to a halt before the young man and his reluctant companion.

“Pardon my intrusion, but I couldn’t help but overhear your quandary. If I might speak so boldly, I don’t think you should go into this shop if you require a really good bonnet,” she panted. Oh, if only she hadn’t run. Now her breath came in short gasps, making it difficult to speak properly. “If you should come to my millinery shop, I can assure you the bonnet will be of the finest quality.” She paused as both the young man and woman looked at her curiously. She had never before in her life run after a customer—she had never before run after anything. Her life was ordered, prosaic and, well, dull. But she couldn’t very well lose her livelihood—and with it, her independence—to some upstart French milliner. No, if she was to survive, she must be bold.

The man arched an eyebrow as his gaze carefully combed over her in silent judgment. “You own a shop, miss? Aren’t you a little young for that sort of thing?”

Nan swallowed. “I’m old enough. I own it myself. It’s called—”

“But John, I—I don’t really care for shopping, or for bonnets,” the young lady admitted, cutting Nan off. Her face turned a deep shade of red as though she’d admitted something truly terrible.

Nan’s heart sank. The fear of losing this potential customer was too real. “I understand,” Nan replied swiftly. Part of her job as a milliner was to determine what her customer wanted, before the customer knew it herself. “I hate all the fuss of shopping, as well. But my shop is quite small and cozy. I live above it, as a matter of fact. If you’d like to come by, we could have tea. Perhaps, if you would like to tell me exactly what you are looking for, I could put together a hat that would do you justice.”

A spark lit Jane’s blue eyes. “Truly? Would you listen to my suggestions?”

“Indeed, I would.”

The girl nodded slowly. “That could be enjoyable.”

Beside her, the young man spoke again. “Why do you think your bonnets would be better than this place?” He motioned his hand toward the building.

“You see, sir, the lady inside uses straw that’s far too fine. I fear that in a strong windstorm, the bonnet would break apart easily. My bonnets are much more suitable for all kinds of weather.”

With her frantic heart pounding hard against her ribs, she waited for the man to reply. He studied her for a few, earth-trembling moments. It was difficult indeed to maintain her composure while being scrutinized so closely, particularly by a man as good-looking as he. His dark brown eyes swept over her, as though committing her to memory. When her panic began to simmer just below the surface, he squared his jaw and the critical expression eased from his handsome face.

“Is it far?” he asked.

Relief washed over her and she tried not to breathe a noticeable sigh. “Not at all.” Nan waved over at the squat little building on the very edge of the string of village shops. “Just a healthy walk.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “Healthy? Are you certain?”

Before Nan could answer, the man burst into laughter, and Nan’s cheeks reddened. Was he mocking her?

“John, enough,” Jane rasped, digging her elbow into his side. Then she turned to Nan. “Please ignore my brother. He is a notorious clown.”

He shrugged, ducking his head boyishly. “The way she said it—I don’t know. It was amusing.” He shot Nan an impish look, his brown eyes twinkling with glee. “Can we take our healthy walk now? I must say, Jane, I’ve spent more time trying to convince you to purchase a silly bonnet than I ever spent on a girl I fancied.”

Jane rolled her eyes at Nan.

Nan straightened her spine. Was that a gibe toward her?

She’d grown up the youngest in an affectionate and warm family of women, employed in a job that catered to ladies. Men were something completely out of the ordinary to her. She didn’t understand them, and more to the point, she had no particular use for them. None of the men in the village found her worth a second glance, and she’d grown secure in the knowledge that her little shop would keep her in comfortable spinsterhood.

It didn’t matter if she thought he had a nice smile—now that he finally showed it to her—she had absolutely no retort for this John fellow, and it was better to go along as a meek and mild shopkeeper and gain his sister’s business, rather than lose out thanks to a tart reply.

Perhaps the healthy walk would quell him into silence. One could hope, at any rate.

* * *

John Reed followed a few steps behind his sister and this extraordinary young woman who’d coerced them both into visiting her shop. She was just as small as Jane, who barely reached his shoulder, but there was something prepossessing about her all the same. She had a straightforward way of looking at a man, and though her words were gentle enough, the fire in her blue eyes spoke of a vivacious spirit.

She wasn’t as conventionally pretty as the women he generally escorted about. No, in London he showed a marked preference for willowy blondes. But there was something about this one, something of the spitfire that he rather enjoyed.

She had also managed to convince Jane to at least look at a more fashionable style—although, judging from that rough country bonnet she wore, she was no arbiter of taste and refinement. For Jane’s London debut, they would almost certainly need to return to London and order clothes and hats from a proper dressmaker upon their arrival. But first, small steps.

Jane was as reluctant about her debut as he was about his new role as the head of his family. No, reluctant wasn’t a strong enough word. He hated his new role, but he was resigned to it. If he refused to accept this mantle, Grant Park would go to wrack and ruin. He must force Jane to accept the reality that she must find a good match, just as he had to find the strength to be master of his family’s estate. This afternoon excursion could at least introduce Jane to the possibility of better attire, and for that, he would be forever grateful to this forthright milliner.

As they neared the shop, John squinted to read the sign leaning up against the wall. Siddons Sisters Millinery Shop.

Siddons.

There was surely but one Siddons family in Tansley Village—and he and Jane were visiting one of them now. After Father died, John had no idea what he had to do, and frankly, he hated trying to figure it out alone. There was no one to turn to but Paul Holmes, an old friend, for advice on getting his affairs in order and for taking over the proper management of a vast estate. Paul had welcomed the Reeds to Kellridge Hall in Tansley. John and Jane had been enjoying the hospitality of Paul and his wife, Becky Holmes née Siddons, for the past two days.

“I say—” he began, but the young woman ignored him, opening the door to her shop with a flourish.

“Please come in,” the woman said, ushering them both inside. She removed her bonnet, displaying a coronet of tightly wound chestnut braids. Funny, it was not a fashionable style in the least, for women of his acquaintance preferred Grecian styles, or long, tumbling ringlets. Yet despite its severity, it suited her rather well.

Jane stepped in hesitantly. “It is rather more like a home than a shop.”

The milliner drew a chair before the hearth and stirred the fire. “I’ll have tea ready in just a moment,” she called as she bustled about, retrieving the tea things from a nearby cabinet.

John watched her flying around, and once again, that mischievous urge tugged at him. “I’d rather like a chair, too, if you don’t mind.”

Jane shot him one of her I-shall-throttle-you-if-you-don’t-behave looks, for his mild-mannered sister loathed his jesting nature. He thought he would be able to get away with his outrageous behavior, since Jane had not chided him earlier for goading the milliner, even though he’d been teasing her since she first walked up and started talking to them. He returned her look with his I-shall-force-you-to-a-London-soiree eyebrow raise, for his sister’s weak point would always be her hatred of all social events and functions. Jane’s cheeks reddened and she shifted her gaze to the fire.

“Oh, of course,” the milliner replied. Though she trotted over obediently enough, he caught the sarcastic curl of her lips. She was playing at being polite although he could see it wasn’t exactly aimed toward him. That knowledge ignited the spark of jest within him.

“Thank you.” He sank into the chair she drew up and crossed his legs with the practiced elegance of a dandy. “I prefer sugar with mine. And a biscuit.”

She nodded, biting her lip as though biting back an acerbic insult or two, and he was hard-pressed not to laugh. She was jolly fun, whoever this Siddons girl was. Being in her company could almost make him forget that the weight of the world—or at least, the weight of his family’s good name—now rested on his shoulders.

“Pay my brother no mind,” Jane spoke softly to the milliner. “As I said before, he loves to tease. And he’ll be happy with any kind of tea you have. I know. His tea appetite is simply appalling. Father used to say he would eat us out of house and home.”

The milliner shot Jane a grateful look, and her small smile tugged at his conscience. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. As she swished past him to retrieve the tea things, he tried to give her a wink, but she was looking in the other direction.

“You have the advantage of us, miss,” he observed, taking off his gloves and holding his hands to the fire. “You at least have heard my sister and I bickering enough to know our given names. But we know nothing of you, other than that you are a rather direct shop owner. Are you a Siddons, then?”

“I am Nan Siddons,” she replied, graciously enough, as she set the tea table before them.

Nan. He’d vaguely heard Nan mentioned in passing around Kellridge. Always her name, it seemed, was coupled with work.

“I am Jane Reed, and this is my brother, John.” Jane stepped in gracefully, taking over the flow of conversation as she assisted Nan with serving the tea.

John watched his sister, working with Nan so easily, talking to her as though they were old friends. Jane had never responded this effortlessly to strangers before. Jane was as quiet as a church mouse, bookish and given to playing endlessly on her violin. Her impending debut—once they were out of mourning, of course—was the cause of much consternation in their home. Yet here, in the comfort of the Siddons Sisters Millinery Shop, she was holding her own quite well.

He accepted his teacup from Nan with a nod of thanks. This sudden change in his sister’s demeanor gave him pause. Perhaps Nan was the right person for this job after all. Not just for one bonnet, but for every agonizing step in preparing his sister for her London debut. Her calming nature, along with her candid manner, made her quite a good candidate as his partner in this venture thus far.

Much as he turned to his friend Paul Holmes for assistance in wrestling with his father’s vast estate, could he turn to Nan Siddons for assistance in transforming his shy, reluctant sister into a diamond of the first water?

He eyed her over the rim of his teacup. The color in her cheeks rose, and she twitched in her chair, moving so that he could only see her in profile.

“Let us discuss the matter of your bonnets,” she said to Jane in a brisk tone. “What, do you feel, is lacking in the bonnet you have now?”

“Nothing, really.” Jane cast a reproachful look at John. “My brother feels I should be more fashionably dressed. I don’t feel it’s right, since I am in mourning.”

“You dressed plainly before Father died,” John scoffed. This was a familiar, and tender, point of contention between them. “When our mourning period ends and you go to London for your debut, you simply must dress as a young lady of your station should. No more unadorned gowns and simple hats. If I have to rise to the occasion, taking over as man of the family, so should you rise to the occasion of being a typical well-bred young lady.”

“Whether it’s fair or not, people judge a woman by what she wears,” Nan put in quietly. “Here, in Tansley, a young lady can dress in basic, practical attire. In fact, my shop caters to the women of the village. My hats and bonnets are sturdy, rather than elegant, because I want them to last a long time. But in London, you will be compared to other young women, and if you look shabby, it could reflect badly on your family.”

“It would reflect badly on me as head of the family,” John added pointedly. Nan understood his position, even if his sister did not, and for that he was ridiculously grateful.

“So the intent of dressing you well, or at least to a certain outside standard, would have two purposes. First, and most important, to make you feel more comfortable in your role as debutante.” Nan took a sip of her tea. “Second, to assure your place in society as you try to find a husband.”

Jane made a tiny groaning sound. John sighed. This was further than he’d ever been able to get. Normally by now, Jane would’ve fled. A tiny ray of hope shone into his soul. Nan Siddons could help him. Perhaps, if he could convince her to come, this one aspect of his new role would be a success. He might be a scoundrel, and he flirted with atheism, but all the same, he could do well at one thing in his life. It would be good not to be a bitter disgrace to his parents’ memories.

But could Nan produce the kind of fashionable clothes that a London debut would require? He studied her once more. She was neat and something in her demeanor was attractive enough, but she would never be called stylish. He looked around the room, peering at the bonnets in various stages of creation. These were, as she indicated, sturdy and practical. Not at all suitable for, say, a ride along Rotten Row.

“I don’t mean to be impertinent,” he began, and both Nan and Jane shot him disbelieving glares. “But how can we be certain that you can create a fashionable bonnet?”

Nan squared her jaw and set her teacup down with a defiant clink. “Let me show you my sketches.”

She leaped gracefully from her chair and bustled over to a wicker basket, pulling out sheet after sheet of foolscap. “My sisters and I started our business making bonnets and hats to order for The Honorable Miss Elizabeth Glaspell and her friends.” She held out a sheaf of papers, and he accepted them. “These are my sketches. I worked with the gowns Miss Glaspell already owned, creating bespoke bonnets that matched perfectly, as though they had been crafted at the same time.”

John nodded slowly, perusing the sketches. As he finished looking at each sheet of paper, he handed it over to his sister. Assessing her work from the male perspective, the hats and bonnets looked stylish enough. The women of his acquaintance would not be ashamed to be seen in them. Judging by Jane’s smile, she was satisfied with Miss Siddons’s skill, as well.

Jane’s smile was the first real sign that his sister was beginning to thaw a trifle when it came to choosing any garment that might show her off on the Marriage Mart. Jane was slow to accept change, however. If he insisted on more than just a single bonnet today, she would likely dig in her heels and vow to stay at their country home as a spinster forever.

“Very well,” he began, casting the rest of the sketches aside. “You may make one bonnet for my sister. Something to go with the gown she has on. If that works well, we may have other commissions for you. But I want to see your handiwork first. After all, these are mere sketches. I’d like to see the finished, fashionable result.” What he proposed was true, after all, and if he made it sound as if he was unsure of Miss Siddons’s talent, Jane might well jump to her defense.

“I’ll create a sketch this evening,” Miss Siddons replied with a snap, two red spots appearing on her cheeks. “I think Miss Reed’s dress is perfectly suited to mourning, and I shall look forward to creating something to bring out her natural beauty.”

John grinned. He couldn’t resist. Miss Siddons was just walking that line between trying to get a difficult customer’s business while maintaining her dignity. She was doing a smashing job of it, too. He touched Jane’s arm. “Come, Jane. We’ll leave Miss Siddons to it, then.”

Jane cast an apologetic look at Miss Siddons and rose. “I am certain it will be more than lovely. Thank you for your time.” She shook her head at her brother, pursing her lips.

“We’ll come back for the sketch later,” John added. “I assume you can have it done in one evening?”

“You assume correctly, Mr. Reed.” Miss Siddons gave a defiant lift to her chin.

His admiration for her restraint and her confidence surged, but he gave no outward sign of it. He trusted few people, and admired fewer still. So often, he had seen the reality of human nature—its pettiness and its greed. The people he kept company with in London were perfect examples of this, but they were all good for a laugh. Laughter was his most prized pastime, because it made him forget about Mother. He could forgive a great deal if it took his mind off Mother’s death. He shut off his thoughts with a snap. He could not show his admiration. After all, if Jane saw him weaken, then she might, too.

“Glad to hear it.” He gave a brief nod and followed his sister out the door.

* * *

Why had she promised John Reed that she could come up with a sketch by morning? Nan scrubbed her hand wearily over her forehead. Because he goaded you, that’s why. She longed to wipe that smug expression off his handsome face. Handsome? She shook her head. Whether he was good-looking or not had nothing to do with her current misery. Since the pair had left her shop just a few hours ago, she’d done nothing but ponder over the lines of Jane Reed’s simple gown, trying to come up with an idea that would set Jane’s small but regal bearing off to perfection.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed seven o’clock. She was due to have supper with Paul, Becky, Susannah and Daniel over at Kellridge Hall in less than an hour. In fact, Susannah and Daniel would come by in the carriage sooner than that. As a spinster, Nan had to rely on her wealthy wedded sisters’ largesse when it came to transportation. The shop, even at its most profitable, had not allowed Nan the funds to buy her own horse and buggy.

Nan heaved a gusty sigh. What a day it had been, and it wasn’t over just yet. Not only was she creatively stymied, but she needed to put her frustration aside and pretend to enjoy yet another interminable family dinner.

Not that she hated her family.

It was just so difficult, watching her lovely older sisters with their doting husbands. Susannah’s small son would likely stay behind in the nursery, but her sister Becky would be there, her pregnancy just beginning to show under the high waist of her voluminous skirts. All her life, Nan had followed the path that seemed predestined for her, as the youngest, plainest and most sensible of the trio of Siddons sisters. She would be the one with a practical head for business. When her tempestuous sister Susannah finally surrendered to Daniel Hale’s charm, she’d left the shop behind for Nan and Becky. However, Becky was far too impulsive and romantic for such a prosaic occupation, and soon fled the millinery shop to become Paul Holmes’s wife.

As the business at the shop settled, it created a pleasant enough rhythm for Nan’s life. She thought she could be satisfied with the lot she was handed. Even when Becky told her of her pregnancy, Nan fought back a rising tide of jealousy. She was simply never meant to be a wife or a mother.

Once the village shop engaged the French milliner and her business began its sudden plummet—well, that was another matter entirely. Here she was, alone and with only her business to support her. She was beginning to question whether or not she even liked hats, which was entirely beside the point. Nan Siddons was the practical woman of the family, and managing the millinery shop was her destiny.

What would happen to her if the business failed? She clenched the foolscap and breathed deeply.

I know we are supposed to trust in You, God. Just please, please, please—don’t let the shop crash.

Nan tossed the sheet of foolscap aside and sprinted upstairs, as though she could outrun the depressing thought of being a spinster aunt, a hanger-on, a charity case in one of her sisters’ grand homes. Quick as a wink, she changed into a somber silk evening dress and washed her face.

She must look as pulled-together as possible. No need for her sisters to guess that her world might just tumble down around her ears.

The sound of the carriage crunching on the gravel outside caused her to scurry down the stairs. She grabbed her shawl, winding it tightly about her shoulders as she rushed out the door. Why was she in a hurry? She couldn’t very well outrun her own troubling thoughts.

Daniel was standing outside the carriage, ready to help her up. It was a particular trait of his, a brotherly gesture, as he wouldn’t let the footmen do the job for him.

Nan smiled wanly at him as he held out his hand.

“I do hope you can manage a happier expression than that, Nan,” Susannah scolded as Nan made her way into the carriage. “It’s more than just family tonight. Becky and Daniel are entertaining guests. We must make them feel welcome here in Tansley.”

“Guests?” Nan arranged her skirts carefully about her as her stomach sank.

“Yes.” Daniel clambered inside, tugging the door shut behind him. “An old friend of Paul’s, and his sister.”

Oh, no. Surely not. Nan breathed carefully in and out. She was barely able to force herself to attend a family dinner tonight, but if the guests were whom she thought they were—

“The Reeds.” Susannah tugged on her glove as Daniel rapped on the window of the coach. The carriage started forward with a low rumble. “John Reed, and his sister, Jane.”

Chapter Two

“I daresay you’ll enjoy meeting my sister-in-law, even though she can be a little trying,” Paul Holmes muttered from his place by the hearth. “She’s got a fine head for business, but it’s difficult to get her to talk about much else. You won’t find her much of a dinner partner.”

John shrugged. He didn’t really want to spoil the surprise by telling Paul about meeting Miss Siddons earlier in the day. No, it would be much more fun to play dumb until she walked back in the door. “Why won’t she talk about much else?” He might as well find out a little more about her while they were waiting for her to arrive. It would, at least, distract them from the real purpose of his visit. Learning how to be a proper master was certainly no stroll down Rotten Row.

“I spent some time with Nan and with my wife, Becky, before even Susannah and Daniel were wed. Picnics, games, that kind of sport. Nan’s all right. A bit practical, mind you, but a good girl of a fine Christian family. Of course, my mind is always taken up with my wife—even before I knew I was in love with Becky, I spent as much time with her as I could.”

“Even to the point of hiring her as your niece’s nursemaid?” John couldn’t suppress a roguish grin.

Paul eyed him sharply over the rim of his teacup. “Watch yourself, man. As I said, the Siddonses are above reproach, particularly where the finer points of morality are concerned.”

“I don’t intend to imply anything unseemly. Beg pardon.” John choked back his gleeful grin. It never failed to amuse him that he’d discovered Paul’s feelings for Becky before the man himself knew them to be true.

“As I was saying,” Paul continued, with the air of a man being robbed of all patience, “I concentrated my thoughts upon Becky. Susannah was, of course, already spoken for by Daniel. Nan was a bit of a gooseberry, I suppose. She is younger, too, than her sisters. I suppose she maintains her pretense of practicality, and devotes herself to her work, as a way of proving herself worthy.”

“Worthy of what?” John desperately wished for a before-dinner sherry, but there was not a drop to be had at Kellridge Hall. Now that Paul had changed his entire life around and found, as he said, the Lord, anything that led to debauchery had been banned from the Hall, including liquor.

“I don’t know exactly what. All I can tell you is that Nan is seeking to prove herself just as her sisters did before her. She lacks Susannah’s fire and Becky’s beauty and grace. But there’s a charm about her all the same, for all her plainspokenness. Once, Daniel told me that the Siddons girls work on a man like a tonic. I vow it must be true.” Paul broke off as the door opened and his lovely wife, Becky, entered the parlor. Both men rose to greet her.

“Whatever are you two men talking about?” Becky stood on tiptoe to peck her husband’s cheek, and the sudden movement revealed the thickening about her middle. Paul would be a father soon, and he would be a good one, too. A rush of inexplicable emotion washed over John, leaving him feeling—of all things—envious. Paul was an excellent master, and a stalwart husband. He had taken in his niece, Juliet, as his ward, and was as good to her as a father would be. In a matter of months, he would become a father again by Becky, and would do credit to those duties, as well.

What of it? John shrugged his shoulders, irritated by these thoughts. Paul never came to the gaming tables any longer, or squired women of ill repute around to dubious locations in London. Surely he missed that sort of fun.

John watched hungrily as Becky patted her husband on the shoulder. What would it feel like, being that beloved by someone? “Jane and I are waiting for both of you. Why don’t you come join us in the little parlor off the dining room? Daniel and Susannah will be here in a matter of moments.”

It was not lost on John that she failed to mention Nan, too. Nan Siddons was, it seemed, truly a lost member of her own family—forgotten and neglected.

Yet, he was anticipating her arrival much more keenly than any other person in her party. Would she pretend not to recognize him? Would she join with him in witty repartee? Would her personality be any different than it had been when they met earlier in the day?

He rose and followed his host and hostess out of the room. Kellridge Hall was not as grand a home as his own Grant Park, but it was well run and graciously appointed. Paul ruled the household with a firm hand, that much was certain. Nothing ever seemed out of place at Kellridge. That was why John sought him out. No man could give better advice on the running of a vast estate—something that other fellows seemed born to do. Perhaps, once matters at Grant Park were well in hand, he could leave it behind for months at a time, and continue his roguish ways in London. That was how Paul had managed his life—well, before he met Becky.

As they passed by the front hall, the butler opened the door. A decidedly irritated-looking Nan Siddons marched in, yanking on her bonnet strings.

“Nan!” Becky broke away from her husband and trotted over to embrace her sister. “So good to see you.”

Nan patted her sister’s back and then said, her voice low and urgent, “I need to talk to you and to Susannah. I’ve some news about the shop.”

“The shop can wait,” Becky replied with a little laugh. “We have guests. Mr. John Reed, may I present my sister, Nan Siddons.” She waved her arm in John’s general direction.

Nan nodded and bobbed the slightest of curtsies. Her eyes flashed, and her brows drew together. He cast his most charming smile her way, and bowed deeply. There was something about the spark in her eyes that he wanted to investigate further. His initial suspicion was correct. Nan Siddons could be jolly good fun if she’d let herself go a bit.

“Yes, I know Mr. Reed. I met him today, and will be making a bonnet for his sister.” Nan turned as Susannah and Daniel came through the doorway.

Any sensation Nan’s response might have stirred up was drowned out by her eldest sister’s arrival. Susannah commanded the attention of everyone in the hallway, kissing her sisters, curtsying to John, ordering Daniel about and chiding Paul for what she perceived as the lack of proper maintenance on the curving path that led up to the front gates of Kellridge Hall. This, of course, raised Paul’s ire, and John watched as Becky, Paul, Daniel and Susannah drifted down the hallway, engrossed in loud conversation.

Nan stood with her bonnet dangling uselessly from one hand. “Now I’ll never get the chance,” she muttered fiercely.

“I beg your pardon?” John drew closer to her side. She looked both angry and deflated.

Nan turned to him, as though surprised he was still there. “I had rather hoped to speak to my sisters about a pressing matter of business, but it appears I will have no opportunity to do so.”

He offered her his elbow. “Perhaps we should join them?”

Nan shook her head and cast her bonnet onto the polished mahogany table nearby. “You may go in without me. I need a moment to collect myself.”

“You really should allow yourself to have more fun, you know,” he chided gently. “Why not talk about business matters some other time?”

Nan rounded on him, her blue eyes darkening to black. “Fun? If my business crashes because the village shopkeeper has hired a French milliner, do you know what kind of fun I shall have? I shall be nothing. I’ll be reduced to the status of spinster aunt, living in one of my sisters’ homes. This has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with my perceived lack of a personality, and everything to do with my sisters’ refusal to help me in my time of need!” She paused, drawing in her breath deeply.

“Oh.” He felt like the worst sort of joker. Her anguish was real and profound and he had clumsily teased her at the worst possible time. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“Not unless you know how to keep a business from failing.” She offered him a wan smile. Her outburst seemed to have calmed her nerves. Her eyes lost some of their hunted look, and her movements were graceful and fluid once more. “I suppose we should go in,” she added with a sigh.

He offered her his arm once again. “I promise I shall give your problem serious thought. Perhaps I can come up with a solution. Stranger things have happened, you know.”

She took his arm, her fingers resting lightly on the crook of his elbow. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not very nice to let a potential client know that your business may be on the verge of collapse,” she admitted. Her tone was neutral enough, but a thread of sadness ran through it.

“Not at all,” he admitted. “If anything, I appreciate your honesty.”

She glanced up at him, the tight lines in her face relaxing. She was a pretty thing in her own right. All these Siddons girls were lovely. Why was she so certain she was destined for spinsterhood? Her sisters had made brilliant matches of their own, even without a fortune or family to back them. Surely some fellow around here would take a second look at her.

* * *

Nan listlessly poked at the food on her plate as her dinner companions talked and joked around her. Everyone, even shy Jane, seemed to be enjoying themselves. Every time she took a bite, though, the chicken tasted like sawdust and a lump rose in her throat. If she couldn’t get her sisters’ attention long enough to discuss the problem of the French milliner, then she would have to go home and give vent to a good, long sob. No one knew about the tears that wet her pillow so often. She’d hidden the fact that she cried at night from her sisters for years, because someone had to be the practical one of the trio. Susannah would throw temper tantrums and Becky would go off on endless walks whenever trouble threatened. Nan would merely stuff her fears deep down inside and, after bedtime, allow the tears to slide down her cheeks unchecked until her pillowcase was damp.

Thus she had gained the reputation of being stolid and unshakable when really, she just was terribly clever at hiding her hurts.

“I do wish you’d eat more,” a smooth voice spoke up beside her. “You’ve hardly tasted anything all evening.”

Nan flicked a glance over at John Reed, giving him a tiny smile. It was difficult to decipher his character. At the shop this morning, he’d been a dreadful tease and seemed to enjoy putting her on edge. On the other hand, his affection for Jane was genuine, and his offer to help when they were standing in the entry hall had an authentic ring to it. He was so handsome that she had to force herself to meet his gaze—something she’d made herself do when she was trying to convince him her shop was worthy of their business. Now, in the intimacy of a family dinner party, being so closely regarded by those brown eyes was well-nigh unendurable.

“I believe it was Byron who said that a woman shouldn’t eat anything in public,” she rejoined. “I am merely following his dictates.”

John laughed. “I find it very doubtful that someone with your strength of character would follow the edicts of any man.”

She didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Her head ached and the lump simply wouldn’t stop choking her throat.

“I know you are worried about your business, but have faith,” he rejoined. “I am certain we can find a solution to the problem if we simply ponder it.”

“No one really wishes to ponder it,” Nan replied as lightly as she could manage. “But I do thank you for your offer.”

Susannah rose, and with her, Becky and Jane stood. Placing her fork to one side, Nan followed suit. Now, perhaps, she would have a few moments to get her sisters’ attention.

But as soon as they entered the parlor, Susannah turned conversation to Becky’s pregnancy. Nan sighed as she took her place beside Jane on the settee. As Susannah prattled on about nursemaids and physicians, Nan’s patience grew thinner and thinner. Becky had ample time to plan the circumstances of her first child’s birth, and more to the point, she had a right to choose how it happened without Susannah’s list of instructions.

“Oh, do be quiet, Susannah,” Nan finally snapped. If she heard any more from her eldest sister, she’d not even make it home before she began crying in frustration.

Becky and Susannah stared frankly at her, and Jane gave a pained little gasp. Regret tore at Nan’s heart. She’d hate for Jane to think ill of her, even if she was highly annoyed with her sisters.

“I beg your pardon?” Susannah leveled her best glare at Nan, the one that had worked so many times before to bring Nan to heel.

“I said, do be quiet,” Nan repeated. Now that she was in, she might as well muck on further. “It’s ridiculous to prattle on when Becky has loads of time to plan her child’s arrival. Let her be.”

Becky breathed a little sigh of relief and cast a grateful glance Nan’s way. Perhaps she had grown weary of Susannah’s bossiness, as well.

“There is a problem that’s more pressing than anything else at the moment, because it threatens the well-being of our business,” Nan continued, meeting Susannah’s gaze steadily. “The grocer has hired a French milliner and her work is cutting deeply into our profits.”

“Is this all?” Susannah rested her back against the seat of the settee, arranging her skirts so they hung in graceful folds to the floor. “Surely one milliner won’t hurt the shop. Indeed, some competition could be good for business.”

“I’ve only sold two bonnets in the past week.” On the one hand, it was humiliating to admit the truth. On the other, it was a bit of a relief to share how badly things were going. “You know that we usually do at least three times that much, even when things are slow.”

“I don’t see how the new milliner can really be hurting your shop.” Becky’s subtle emphasis on your was not lost on Nan. If there was ever any doubt that the shop was hers alone to make a success of or not, this conversation was making the matter as clear as could be. “I am sure, as a Frenchwoman, her designs are quite smart. Your designs tend toward the practical, Nan. I am certain there is room for both in this village.”

Tears pricked the back of Nan’s eyes. Once, the three sisters had braved the difficulties of life in Uncle Arthur’s home, as he squandered what was left of their small fortune. Later, their closeness had endured through Susannah’s courtship with Daniel. Even Becky’s courtship with Paul had not left Nan unaffected. Yet now she was really and truly alone. Her sisters, so quick to rush to each other’s aid in times past, now had different concerns and priorities.

She was about to say something—anything—to try once more to get them to understand, when the parlor door opened and the gentlemen filed in.

Well, there was nothing to do now. She would simply have to take care of this matter on her own. She found a seat in a quiet corner of the room, her head throbbing. Jane cast a tight little smile her way and then turned her attention to her brother. In all likelihood, Jane was telling him that the Siddons shop was a dismal failure, and that they should take their business elsewhere. Well, Jane would say it more nicely than that. But her impassioned plea to her sisters probably cost her the one customer she’d gotten in the past few weeks.

“I daresay there’s at least one lady present who can play the pianoforte,” John spoke up, rising from his seat. “Why don’t we have a dance? Just an informal little hop.”

Becky rose. “I can’t really dance right now, so I will be happy to play.”

Nan stifled a groan as her brothers-in-law moved chairs and settees back to the sides of the room, and rolled up one of the rugs. She really wasn’t in the right frame of mind for a dance. Even at her most lighthearted moments, she had little patience for dancing. At the moment, her feet felt positively leaden.

Becky struck up a simple little tune, playing variations on the theme as the gentlemen finished preparing the room. Nan rose. Perhaps she could leave early. She cast a quick glance out the window. Dusk had deepened over the moor. There was no way she could walk without possibly tripping and falling or getting lost. She could ask Susannah for the use of her carriage, but that would call attention to herself. The only way it would work is if she was able to slip away unnoticed.

“Don’t tell me that you’re about to make a jump for it.” Nan jerked slightly as John spoke. He must have sidled up to her when she was preoccupied with managing her escape. “The way you are staring out that window, I wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up the sash and leaped out onto the moor.”

Nan forced a polite smile. “I don’t care much for dancing.”

John extended his palm with a bow. “I doubt that. I think you would be an excellent partner.”

Becky swung into the country dance as John led Nan out to the cleared space in the middle of the room. She pushed aside all thoughts of her business as she concentrated on the steps. They were so intricate and if she wasn’t careful, she’d slip and end up on the floor.

“Already you look more at ease,” John remarked as they moved through a figure. “Somehow, I knew you were born for dancing.”

Nan’s heart fluttered the tiniest bit. Stop being so ridiculous. That was the sort of compliment young men gave to young women all the time. He meant nothing by it, and she mustn’t let a mild pleasantry turn her head. “Why, thank you.”

“I think I have a solution to your business problem,” John continued, taking her hand as they stepped closer together and then apart. “If your work is pleasing to my sister—and she will need to see a sample of it first, of course—I should like to hire you to do her entire wardrobe for her Season in London. Everything she needs, from gowns to riding habits to, of course, bonnets.”

“Everything?” She hesitated for a fraction of a second, and it threw their timing off as they danced. With the skill surely born of years of practice, John smoothed over her missed step and continued as though she’d never stumbled.

“Yes. My sister is beautiful, and I think she will have great success once she makes her debut. But I know she’s shy and uncomfortable. If she had clothes made just for her, and if she worked closely with you on the designs, it might make her feel more confident. You can sew, can’t you?” he continued after a brief pause, sizing her up as though he was entirely unsure of her abilities at anything.

“Yes, of course I can sew.” She cast him an exasperated look, and his eyes danced as though he was hard-pressed not to laugh. “But if you’ll forgive me for saying so, you didn’t seem very impressed with my skills earlier today. Just a few hours ago, you questioned my ability to turn out one single stylish bonnet. Now you want me to create an entire bespoke wardrobe for your sister. Why this sudden change in attitude?”

He paused a moment, and her heart lurched. Would he say something pretty and flowery, something that would compliment her skill and flatter her? Few men did, although her sisters received compliments all the time. In all likelihood, his hesitation was because he didn’t know what to say. She was demanding an explanation, and he must know she wouldn’t take less than an honest answer.

“I was being a bit of a joker this afternoon,” he began slowly. “I was trying to jest with you. Tease you, I am afraid to say. Jane took me to task for it after we left.”

“Do you make a habit of teasing innocent shopkeepers?” She could not suppress the wry smile twisting her mouth, and he grinned back.

“Only when they come and fetch us, demanding our business.”

A warm flush suffused Nan’s cheeks. “I must admit, that was out of character for me. A move born of desperation, I’m afraid. I know I should trust in the Lord, but it’s hard to always remember that.”

“I don’t know that I would hold with some notion of a god playing with us, like a bunch of chess pieces.” John guided her through the closing figure of the dance. “I think boldness in business is a highly admirable skill.”

Becky’s playing grew softer and ended with a single note. John bowed as Nan curtsied, but the end of the dance wouldn’t mark the end of the interrogation. His remarks discomfited her, but at the same time, there was not much she could say in return. At least, not now. The idea of starting a new argument, this one about the existence of God, was too much after an already long day.

“I suppose I should be glad you admire boldness. However, you still haven’t answered my question. Did you make your sudden change because you felt badly about your behavior?”

He laughed. “You give me far too much credit. No, I can’t really explain why I’ve changed my mind. I suppose if you were going to tie it to just one thing, it would be because you get along with my sister so well already. Jane allows very few people into her circle. She never warms up to anyone as quickly as she warmed up to you. I think your very presence would have a calming effect on her.”

Nan nodded as he guided her over to one of the chairs pushed up against the wall. “I like Jane very much.”

For all his teasing ways, John must be feeling some hint of nervousness, for his shoulders relaxed as she spoke the words. “So, you will agree to it, then? I can entrust Jane to you, and no longer worry about the matter?”

“I did not say that.” Nan took her seat with a flourish, smoothing out her skirts. Somehow, the knowledge that he’d been nervous, too, made her feel a bit more confident. “I will think about it. I don’t know how I would manage both the shop and an entire wardrobe for Miss Reed, but I will give the matter some thought.”

“The shop?” He shrugged. “That’s an unnecessary complication. No, we must have your undivided attention. You would simply have to close the shop.”

“Close it?” Nan shook her head. “I had not even considered that.”

“Look.” John drew a chair up close to Nan and cast a most persuasive gaze upon her. “You said yourself that the shop was doing poorly. Why not let it go? You’d have to come to London with us anyway. Or at the very least, you’d be spending the next several months with us at Grant Park.”

Nan blinked. There was some truth to what he said. “I hadn’t thought of that at all.”

“Come along, you two.” Paul clapped his hands and strode over. “We’re about to start a new dance. Whatever are you talking about so intently, all tucked away in this corner?”

“I’ve just made Miss Siddons an offer that could change her whole life,” John replied, giving Paul a boyish grin. “Provided, of course, that she has sense enough to accept it.”

Chapter Three

Nan glanced over at her young helpers, Abigail and Mercy. The two girls had been with the sisters’ millinery shop for some time now, and they were both quick and eager workers. Despite their nimble fingers and helpful ways, they never grew any closer to Nan than after they’d started. Nan stifled a sigh. It would be a relief to unburden herself to them—to tell them both about the previous night, and how John’s challenge was taken as a proposal of marriage by Susannah and Becky.

Her cheeks burned at the memory of her sisters leaping up, embracing her and telling her how happy she would be. John’s excessive apologies afterward cleared up the mess but somehow also made her feel like even more of an old maid than she was. He had just been offering her a job, not asking for her hand in marriage. His tone of voice, echoing in her ears, grated on her last nerve. Nan clenched her teeth and tightened her hold on the bonnet brim she was trimming. The sudden pressure made the brim snap.

Abigail and Mercy gasped in unison, staring over at Nan with round eyes.

She couldn’t blame them. She’d never spoiled anything she’d worked on, ever. A mistake cost the shop money, and she would never lose money if she could help it. Nan gave them both a taut smile, but it was hardly a welcoming and calming expression, she was sure. She needed to get out of the shop. If she stayed, she’d start pacing—her pet habit when agitated. If she started pacing, then Abigail and Mercy would know something was wrong.

“Better go out for a while—need to get bread for dinner,” she said, but her nerves were so frayed that the words tumbled out in an unintelligible rush. She left the shop in a swirl of skirts, banging the door shut behind her.

Now what should she do?

If she headed farther into the village, she’d be tempted to go spy on the French milliner. If she applied reason and logic to the situation, she would know that there was no good that would come of staring at the poor woman. Yet, she was not the kind of girl who could find comfort by rambling for hours over the moors, as her sister Becky did. So, should she go into the village? Or roam the fields? Neither choice was particularly appealing.

Tansley Village was so awfully small. Funny, she hadn’t really noticed the village’s closeness until just now. If you had to go somewhere for privacy, where was there to go?

There was no place to go. For once, she craved the anonymity of a city street so that she could lose herself among the bustling crowd. Someplace like London, where she could merely fade into the background and be alone with her thoughts.

Father, help me. Help me move past all this. If only God could blot out the memory of her humiliation, and remove the sting. If only it had never happened.

Instead, she directed her feet toward the moors. They offered the only sense of solitude she could find in Tansley, and she needed some time alone to think.

The crisp autumn breeze rustled her skirts, and she tugged her bonnet off, letting it dangle down her back by its ribbons. If she was Becky, she would also loosen her braids and let her hair tumble its full length, just touching the small of her back. But then, it would take forever to coax the tangles back out so she could wind her locks into their coronet of braids.

She might follow in her sister’s footsteps as far as walking out on the moor, but she would only take her imitation so far.

John’s words echoed through her mind.

Offer.

Change her life.

Accept.

No wonder everyone thought he’d been proposing marriage. She scowled and scuffed at a rock with the toe of her boot. “Handsome men are such fools,” she breathed aloud, finally daring to say the hot words that had been bubbling under the surface since the ridiculous scene last night. “What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking at all.” Typical. Disheartening and a stark reminder of the characteristics of all handsome men. She’d been allowing herself to soften toward John until his preposterous turn of phrase humiliated her before her family and brought sharp, painful reminders of her impending spinsterhood into bold relief.

A movement caught the corner of her eye. Someone else was walking out on the moor. Nan paused, anxiety rising in her chest. She really had no wish to socialize with anyone right now. Perhaps it was just a local villager, whom she could pass with a brief nod and hello.

She peered closer. A lithe young woman with dark hair was climbing the steep hillside. It was Jane. Last night she had begun observing Jane’s movements and gestures as a way to understand how best to dress her. A woman couldn’t be properly attired unless her dressmaker made a thorough study of how she moved. Unfortunately, so few dressmakers took the time for such minute details. This young woman, with the uncertain way she moved and her hesitant steps, could be no one but Jane.

Nan raised her hand in greeting. Even if she thoroughly disliked John, at least she liked his sister.

“Nan! Hello!” Jane’s voice carried over the moor. “Wait for me.”

Nan nodded and stood still so Jane could come closer. She bore Jane no ill will, despite John’s stupidity. She seemed a genuinely sweet person—a little like Becky, if Becky wasn’t so dreamy and romantic.

“Oh, I am so glad to find you,” Jane panted when she got within speaking distance. “I was hoping to today. I thought for certain you would be in the shop.”

“I just came out here for a few moments, on my way to the bakery.” Guilt gave Nan a twinge. She was, after all, supposed to be working on a bonnet—or at the very least, a sketch—for Jane. She was not supposed to be moping about just because some thoughtless young buck hurt her feelings.

“Well, I wanted to stop and ask if you had considered my brother’s offer. Not, of course, the offer everyone thought he was making.” Jane’s cheeks flooded with color and she seized Nan’s arm. “I am so very sorry about that,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think John has the manners of a pig.”

“Oh, I’ve met some swine who could school your brother in etiquette,” Nan replied drily.

Jane’s eyes grew sadder and she shook her head. “I can’t think of what to say. Let me beg your forgiveness, once more, on his behalf.”

Nan gave Jane a halfhearted smile. No need for her to continue apologizing, when it wasn’t her fault. John had said he was sorry, and made such an uproar, that she really didn’t want to hear any more on the matter. In fact, she would stop brooding about it altogether, starting now. There was no need to be so missish, for it was a simple mistake, after all.

“I was only teasing.” Nan shrugged off Jane’s hold. “It was nothing, I assure you.”

“Oh, good,” Jane breathed, her pretty face relaxing. “So, will you consider John’s idea? Will you come with us, and act as my personal seamstress? I won’t feel half so scared if you are there helping me.”

“I hadn’t really thought of his proposal in detail.” Now that John had offered her more than she’d ever hoped for, she didn’t know what to do. It had been far easier to focus on her hurt feelings than on the hope of financial security. “I don’t know how I would manage with the shop.”

“My brother would, I am certain, help with that,” Jane offered. She smiled tentatively. “Of course, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to leave. For one thing, with your own store, you have new things to do every day, and new people to talk to. If you were just designing clothes for me, you would be stuck with me, boring as I am.” She gave a halfhearted laugh that tugged at Nan’s heartstrings.

“Believe me, my career is much less exciting than you imagine.” Nan sighed. “Women out here have a tendency to order the same thing over and over. So I have developed ways to make it more interesting. I found a method to weave straw so it’s stronger. My bonnets hold up very well against Tansley weather. But that’s something I had to come to, not the other way around.”

“I can well understand that,” Jane agreed. “I suppose there isn’t as much call for, say, ostrich plumes and velvet out here.”

“Yes. I schooled myself to learn to love and appreciate the most simple and basic of bonnets, because they truly are the backbone of my store,” Nan agreed.

Jane slipped her arm through Nan’s elbow, and began guiding her back down the hill. Nan allowed herself to be tugged along. It was strange for Jane to lead rather than follow; based on the very little she knew of Jane’s personality, she was not strong willed like Susannah—much more likely to go along with things than take the lead. At the foot of the hill, Jane paused, studying the view.

“It’s so beautiful here. Rather like home.”

Nan nodded, silently. She wasn’t as enamored of sweeping vistas as Becky, but anyone could appreciate this view. The sun was gaining its summit in the sky, and a fresh cool breeze rustled the long moor grass.

“I don’t ever want to leave the country. I don’t understand why my brother insists on it.”

Nan turned to look at Jane. Had she really no idea of the role she must play? “I am sure he insists because it’s your duty. Just as I have my duty to my store, and he has his duty to your home, you must see that you must at least try to meet an eligible young man and marry well.”

Jane’s face fell. “Now you sound just like him. I thought you would be on my side.” She turned away, her shoulders slumping.

Nan shook her head. For one thing, that stiff black bombazine that Jane wore was simply not made for her movements. She needed softer fabric, something that would move gracefully with her. Small wonder she felt uncomfortable all the time. For another thing, and on a completely different note, she needed a friend. John Reed was insufferable enough as a passing acquaintance. What a horror he must be as a brother.

Of course Jane must make her debut, as any young woman of her station in life should. In fact, if circumstances had been different, and had Uncle Arthur not run through her parents’ fortune like water, it was likely Nan would have seen Jane socially in London. However, that was neither here nor there. Her duty was to help Jane feel more comfortable with her debut. If Jane could do so in clothes that suited her, with the help of someone she trusted, she would have a much higher chance of success than if she was to go through it alone, with no one but her brother helping.

Nan laid a careful hand on Jane’s shoulder, reminding herself to be patient. She had a tendency to blurt out the hard truths of life at the most inopportune time, and it never went well. Susannah and Becky would agree most heartily to that, if they were standing here right now.

“I daresay a London ballroom won’t be half as frightening if you are dressed in a gown that suits you. We all feel much better when we are well dressed. I may have forced myself to love plain hats and bonnets for my business to survive, but that doesn’t mean I have shunned the fancier stuff forever.”

Jane gasped and whirled around. “Does this mean you will come with me?”

“I still don’t know how to make it happen, but I will find a way.” Now it was Nan’s turn to gasp as Jane threw her arms around her, laughing. She hadn’t embraced one of her sisters in ages. Since they married and had families of their own, her sisters simply didn’t have the time or feel the need to embrace that much anymore. She missed it. Until now, she had no idea how much she really grieved the loss of her sisters, with a deep-down ache that brought hot tears to her eyes.

Giving in to the desire to cry would serve no purpose now. She must squash her hurt and wait until later tonight, when she could sob silently into her pillow.

“Now, now. That’s quite enough.” Nan took a step back, assuming the brisk practicality that had served her so well thus far. “I suppose I need to talk to your brother. Where is he this morning?”

* * *

I really am trying to concentrate. Look at me, the very picture of a gentleman of means. John forced himself to stare at the ledger book as Paul trailed his quill along page after page of spidery handwriting. It was the dullest thing he could think to do on a day with such fine weather, but it would be very rude to tell Paul so. After all, his friend was taking valuable time away from his lovely wife and family to school him in the proper manner of estate management.

“So you see, with just one small change to the way in which we harvested the grain, we ended up saving a large percentage of the crop. Enough, in fact, to net a tidy little profit.” Paul grinned and bent closer over the page, as though he could gobble the figures up to make a satisfying meal.

John glanced down at his boots. They were really of an excellent cut. He’d have to order another pair just like them from the boot-maker, for when these needed a rest or a cleaning.

“How do you reap your grain?” Paul glanced up sharply from the ledger book.

“I haven’t the foggiest, old man.” John stifled a yawn.

“It’s your duty to know.” Paul slammed the ledger book shut. “Who is your estate manager? Crowell?”

“No, Crowell passed away years ago. Father hired a new man to take his place.” John searched his mind for the fellow’s name. “Weatherford? Whetstone? Bother me, it starts with a W. That’s all I know.” If Paul would hurry up, they’d have time for a ride this afternoon before dinner. This latest lesson was taking forever to end.

“If you want my advice—and after all, you came all this way here for me to offer it—then you will return to Grant Park and have a meeting with this Mr. W. Talk to him. Get a feeling for how the harvests are managed. If he has any suggestions for improvements or changes, do listen to him and think the matter over. Estate managers can be vastly acute. Just look at the changes Daniel has wrought at Goodwin Hall, now that he is listening to his man.”

John nodded. If he continued looking the part of an interested pupil, perhaps Paul would act less like a stern schoolmaster and would just let him go. A quick canter would be just the thing in this fine weather.

“John,” Paul began in the tone that usually indicated a lecture was at hand, “this really is yours to care for now. Grant Park is a vast estate, and it’s imperative that you run it in a manner that will do your family credit. Had you no sense that it would become your responsibility some day?”

“I thought Father would live forever.” A flippant statement, perhaps, but a true one. He had never given any thought to the fact that, one day, Father would die and leave him responsible for managing his family’s wealth.

“And now that your father has proven himself mortal, where does that leave you?”

John shrugged. “Prevailing upon my friends with better common sense than I possess.”

The door to the study banged open and Nan Siddons whirled in, her cheeks a rosy pink and her eyes bright. John rose, a nervous rush of energy sweeping through him. Nan had proven herself a good sort last night, when he had stumbled into what her family had considered a marriage proposal when it had, in fact, merely been an offer of employment.

It couldn’t have been an easy predicament—indeed, he was still a trifle embarrassed when he remembered it himself—but she handled it with grace and aplomb. Her poise had convinced him that she could be an excellent guide for his sister as she made her debut. Surely Jane could weather any ballroom disaster in London with Nan instructing her surreptitiously.

“Pardon the interruption,” she managed, looking less like her usual practical self than he could have imagined. Her bonnet was dangling down her back by its ribbons, and several tawny locks of hair had escaped her braided coronet. Her breathless disarray, coupled with her flushed cheeks and starry blue eyes, made Nan Siddons look downright pretty.

“We were just finishing up,” he replied, looking over his shoulder at Paul. Paul stood, his expression one of bafflement. John could well hear his friend’s thoughts. Should he stay and play chaperone? Or give them both some peace so that they could discuss a business proposition in private?

“I’ll go...and leave the door open.” Paul nodded at John, the etiquette problem resolved, as he left the room.

John waited until Paul rounded the corner, his tall form passing out of sight. Then he turned to Nan. “You look like someone who’s made a momentous decision.”

“I suppose I have.” She smoothed her hair with hands that trembled visibly. “I don’t know how to make it happen, but I think I would like to have a go at being Jane’s dressmaker.”

A feeling of relief and excitement poured through him. “Good. I was hoping you would.” Then he paused. What did she mean about making it happen? It was a simple enough matter, surely. “All we need to do is make arrangements for you to accompany us to Grant Park.”

“I also need to make certain my sisters agree that this is the right course of action for me to take.” She looked pointedly at the settee. “May I sit down? My feet ache terribly. I ran almost the entire way here.”

“Of course.” His manners had fled the moment she arrived. Then again, this wasn’t really his house, so who was he to offer guests a seat? Would a gentleman offer anyway, even if he was the one visiting, and the lady was related to the head of the house? He would never wrap his head around etiquette. It was a very good thing that Nan was agreeing to help Jane. He was such a dolt, he’d never make heads or tails of any situation.

Nan sat on the settee, arranging her skirts around her, glancing up at him with an expectant look on her face. “Please, sit, sir. I cannot continue with you standing, as though you might bolt from the room at any moment.”

“My apologies.” He pulled a spindly wooden chair up so that he could sit opposite her. “I know we can convince your sisters. Have no fear.”

The corners of her mouth quirked. “You’ve not spent much time in my sisters’ company. They are not as easily persuaded as you seem to think. That’s not the only thing that makes me hesitate, however.” She waved her hand as though brushing the matter of her stubborn sisters aside. “There is also the matter of my shop. I don’t see how I can continue running it efficiently if I am to be staying with Miss Jane in Grant Park.”

He smiled with relief. Was that all she was concerned about? That silly little shop of hers? “Oh, I am certain I can pay you more than that tiny place can make in a year.”

Nan’s posture grew rigid and her expression hardened, making her look more like a spinster than he had ever seen her. “Do you really think so?” Her words, though perfectly polite, were an icy challenge.

He leaned back in his chair, studying Miss Nan Siddons from the top of her braided coronet to the tips of her slippers peeking out beneath her skirts. She was a bit of an enigma. Talented, to be sure, and far too intelligent to stay hidden away in a country hat shop, toiling away for years and years on the same ugly old bonnets. She was spirited beneath the mask of stolid composure she always wore, and she hated being teased.

He knew for a fact she couldn’t bear to be made fun of, and that thought attracted him at this moment more than anything. Nan Siddons could be jolly good company if she let herself go just a bit, and the only way he could force her to relinquish some of her prim airs was to tease her quite hard. He glanced over at the doorway. No sisters, either his own or hers, were present to interfere or tell him to stop.

“I do think so,” he responded, a slow grin spreading across his face. “In fact, I know so. Why, if I paid you to create one gown for Jane, you’d get a bigger profit than you have these few months, I think. Why else would you have come running after my sister and me, trying to snag us as customers, if you weren’t desperate for cash?”

Nan’s steady gaze faltered, and as she stared at the floor, her shoulders sagged just a trifle. Why wouldn’t she speak up? He wanted a spirited debate with her.

“I don’t see why you need to consult with your sisters, either,” he continued, leaning closer in toward her. “After all, you had quite a bit of trouble getting them to care about your shop last night. Why do you persist in asking for their permission?” Nan seemed a decisive enough person. Why did she persist in asking her sisters for consent, as though she was a child? It was so strangely out of step with the rest of her straightforward, efficient behavior. Her candor was one of her most appealing characteristics. Why hide it?

“Because...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I suppose I feel I must.”

“Aren’t you your own woman?” He raised his voice a little in challenge. She needed to let go of this ridiculous notion that she must ask blessings of her sisters. She needed to drop that mask of practicality and deference, and revert to her usual frankness. If she did, then he would see that feisty side of her that he enjoyed so much. “You’ve run your own business for long enough, I daresay, to determine whether or not you can do as you choose with your life.”

“I don’t know...” The expression on Nan’s face walked a fine line between anger and triumph. She was rising to his bait, and at any moment, she would agree to his challenge.

Life would not be dull at Grant Park if he could spar with Nan Siddons. Why, he might be able to submit to the yoke of being master if he could look forward to a few moments of skirmishing with her a little every day.

He would try a bit of a different tactic. “Of course, if you’re scared—”

“I’m not afraid,” Nan snapped, and she rose from the settee. She began pacing, her slippered feet making no sound on the rich Oriental carpet. “If I could only make you understand. My sisters and I have always been quite close. The shop was Susannah’s and she left it to us. It’s been our hope of independence all these years.”

“Times change.” He rose, too. Why was she holding back? “Your sisters don’t need the shop anymore. You won’t either, if you have any sense. Do you really want to be chained to a dingy little shop for the rest of your life, making ugly old bonnets for tired old women—”

Nan spun around on one heel and slapped him, hard, across the face. “They aren’t ugly!”

As he touched his burning cheek, Nan fell back a step, breathing rapidly. “Oh, forgive me. I am so sorry. I should never have struck you. I just couldn’t bear to hear the shop spoken of that way.”

He had pushed too far, teasing her more than she deserved. In his haste to help her declare her independence, he had reached Nan’s limit. “No, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. Jane says I am too harsh.” He eyed her carefully, rubbing his sore cheek. “Do you still want to work for me? I should say, for my sister?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as though gathering strength. Finally, she looked up at him as though really seeing him for the first time.

“Yes.”

Chapter Four

Nan trudged up the pathway that led to Kellridge, her valise banging against her hip with each step. The Reeds had offered to pick her up at the shop in the carriage, but somehow, she could not accept their kind offer. For a journey of this magnitude, she must put one foot in front of the other. Striking out on her own was just the way to start this new phase of her life.

To some, it might seem as though she was merely walking to Kellridge, where she would meet the Reeds and ride off with them to their country home. But this meant so much more. Meeting them and leaving Tansley from the shop would seem too hasty, abrupt even. This walk provided distance. Though she had spent the past fortnight working to put the shop in order, thereby allowing it to hum along smoothly in her absence, there was still a tug at her heart as she closed the shop door behind her.

She would be home to check on things in another fortnight, before returning to the Reeds’ home.

She must remind herself of this fact. This was not the end of her life in Tansley. She would be back soon, but it just wouldn’t be the same.

Life would never be the same again.

She inhaled deeply, breathing in the brisk spring air. Winter was leaving for certain, and yet there was still an icy, keen edge to the wind. This was a perfect time of the year for new beginnings, if one believed in poetic comparisons. She was striking out on her own as cautiously and yet as willingly as a sprout pushing its way up from the earth.

Nan stifled an internal groan. She was becoming as ridiculously poetic as Becky.

As she picked her way down a particularly rocky vale, her foot slipped on a rock. She tripped and slid down the last bit of valley, nearly losing her valise along with her footing. She skidded to a stop and tugged at her dress and cloak. She must have looked so ridiculous. What a way to begin her new attempted independence. Falling down was inefficient when one was hoping to land firmly on one’s feet.

“Nan! Are you quite all right?” Jane’s voice echoed in the valley. Nan glanced around and caught sight of her friend making her way down a steep path, one that led to some of the smaller, nearby farms. “I thought for certain you were going to fall.”

“So did I,” Nan replied with a smile. She picked her way over to Jane’s side, taking care to keep from sliding down atop an avalanche of pebbles. “What are you doing out here? I thought you would be at Kellridge, making last-minute preparations and saying your goodbyes.”

“No. I—I had a few friends I wanted to say farewell to before we left.” The color rose in Jane’s cheeks until it reached her hair.

Nan paused in her rush to start her life anew. Why was Jane so embarrassed?

She took a closer, more practiced look at her friend. Why had Jane taken her violin with her on a social call?

“I see,” she said softly. “You’ve only been here a few weeks. I am glad to hear you’ve made good friends, even in that short of an amount of time. Is it difficult to leave Kellridge?”

“I find it hard to leave.” Jane’s dark eyes flashed and she pursed her lips. “I haven’t met any families as congenial as those here in Tansley. I am sure the questionable delights of London will pale in comparison.”

Nan smiled, even as she was heartily confused by Jane’s vehemence. What families had Jane visited? Hadn’t she been here mere weeks—a very short time to form such a strong connection to someone? There was no one nearby except for a few families who resided on small farms on the outskirts of the village. She had made bonnets for the women of these houses for a while now, but she didn’t recall any of them as being particularly pleasant.

“Well, I am glad to see you found friends who share your taste in music,” Nan replied, for wont of something more intelligent to say.

Jane threaded her arm through Nan’s and began guiding them through the valley path toward Kellridge. She had a remarkably good grasp of the terrain, almost as though this rocky little valley was familiar to her. Nan had lived in Tansley for years, traversing this path often on her way to Kellridge from the shop, and she was far from being as nimble as Jane.

“Hmm.” Jane murmured in a distracted fashion.

They fell silent for a few moments as Jane led them over the side of the hill and up to the plateau that stretched toward Kellridge. Nan caught her breath as she looked at the large stone manor house. What a lovely place it was, and how fortunate Becky was to be mistress of all that grandeur. Becky’s place in life was now secure, and she could do as she pleased. She had a husband who adored her, a baby on the way, a stepniece who thought of her as a mother and a grand home filled with servants.

It was difficult indeed to swallow the bitterness rising in her throat.

Never mind. Once she was secure in her own right, she could afford to be happy for her sister. For now, and only to herself, she thought it a terrible injustice that she should be so shut out of the loveliness and happiness life had to offer.

As they paused for a moment on the brink of the plateau, Jane snapped out of her reverie. “Nan, do you know the Holdcroft family?”

Nan stuffed her jealousy back down deep inside. “Yes, I believe so. Mrs. Hugh Holdcroft is a customer of mine. I delivered a new spring bonnet to her just recently.”

“Remarkable people, the Holdcrofts. Very old English family.” Jane turned to her, giving a sweet, and slightly sad, smile. “Of course, they don’t have the wealth they used to command. They are farmers now, even though in previous generations they were quite well-to-do.”

“Unfortunately, that happens often in families.” Nan shrugged. “My sisters and I were wealthy until my uncle Arthur spent all of our money. Well, that’s not true. He didn’t spend it as much as he lost it at the gaming tables.”

Jane gasped. “How horrible! Were you able to save anything?”

“My sister had enough money left to purchase the shop in the village, but since then we have supported ourselves.” It was difficult not to sound boastful, but what the Siddonses had accomplished with such limited means was worthy of pride. “Poverty is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I think people should be more concerned with how they treat others, especially those they consider beneath themselves, than about the balance on their ledger books.”

“That is brilliantly put.” Jane clapped her hands. “I must say I agree with you. The Holdcrofts are quite an amazing family. I wish you knew them better.”

“I do, too,” Nan replied, but her mind was focused more upon leaving Tansley than on getting to know the other villagers better. Funny, though she and Jane walked side by side and even arm in arm, they seemed to be on completely different paths. While she was ready to push forward, toward Kellridge and her new future, Jane was lingering on the past and on the friends she’d made in Tansley. “Come, let us hurry. If we don’t arrive at Kellridge on time, I am sure to endure a scolding from Susy. She is quite a stickler for punctuality.”

Jane nodded in agreement, and the two of them quickened their steps, arriving at the front portico out of breath and red-faced. The butler showed them in with a bemused glance at their windblown locks and pinkened cheeks.

As Nan entered the drawing room, a tingling feeling shot up her spine. John must be here. She glanced around casually and spotted him in the corner, speaking with Paul and Daniel. She dropped her gaze again. She’d managed to avoid John almost completely since slapping him a few weeks ago. All of her arrangements had been made with Jane, for after all, she was going for Jane’s benefit.

“About time you two arrived,” Susannah scolded from her place on the settee. “I was beginning to worry about both of you.”

Nan kissed her sister’s cheek. How nice it would be to be on her own, and once in a while, be late if she had the inclination or the need. “Our apologies. I nearly fell headfirst down a valley. Fortunately, Jane rescued me.”

Neither sister seemed particularly concerned with her brush with death. They merely greeted Jane and then turned assessing eyes toward her.

Becky patted the settee cushion beside her. “Come, sit.”

Nan obediently sat, while Jane walked across the room to chat with her brother.

Nan fiddled with the banding on her sleeve. She was now imprisoned between her two sisters, one of whom had grown quite large during her pregnancy. She had to sit with her elbows pinned against her sides to avoid hitting either of them.

“Now, before you leave, we both have some advice for you,” Susannah began in the tone of voice that usually indicated a lecture was at hand.

Nan stifled a groan and flicked a glance over at her traveling companions. Jane and John were both laughing, and Paul and Daniel seemed to be caught up in telling a lively story. Everyone seemed to be enjoying each other’s company immensely, and none of them made a move to leave.

“Now, when you are employed by someone outside of our family, you must remember to temper your blunt ways,” Susannah admonished. “Many’s the time that you’ve hurt our feelings with your plain talk. Remember that another employer—a stranger, to be perfectly frank—might not be so understanding or forgiving.”

“I wouldn’t say the Reeds are strangers—” Nan began.

“Well, they aren’t well-known to us. Not like Paul was, when Becky began working for him.” Susannah gave an irritated twitch of her shoulders. “So heed what I say, Nan. Please temper your words.”

“I shall.” Much of her bluntness over the years had been developed as a shield—a way to deflect the criticism of her elder sisters. In some ways, too, it had been used as a sword. After all, someone had to cut through Becky’s romanticism or to pierce Susannah’s vanity. The only way the Siddonses had survived—and thrived—was by gathering their strengths together while breaking down one another’s weaknesses. So it stood to reason that, deprived of her sisters’ annoying habits, she would find little need to be abrupt.

“But even as you work on supporting yourself, on striking out on your own—leave room in your heart for love,” Becky added, fanning herself lightly. “I was so certain that love had left me behind that day when Lieutenant Walker jilted me. Now I know that I was made for Paul.”

Nan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. After John’s supposed proposal had gone so hideously awry, she had felt no desire for romance for quite some time. Leave that to the very young and the very pretty. Of which she never felt a part.

Would they ever leave? She shifted slightly on the settee—not that there was that much room—and fought the desire to give way to nervous pacing. As she moved, she caught John’s glance from across the sitting room. The corners of his mouth quirked and he sent her a knowing, bemused grin.

She turned abruptly, knocking Becky’s fan to the floor. “Oh dear,” she muttered, and bent to retrieve it.

“Allow me,” a deep voice answered. How had John managed to cross the room, soundlessly, in less than two seconds? He handed Becky her fan with a flourish and offered Nan his arm.

“I hate to leave Kellridge, as my hosts have been so generous and wonderful,” he added, pulling Nan to her feet. “But the horses are restive and we’ve several miles to go before reaching Grant Park.”

Gratitude surged through Nan, and she allowed herself to look him at him fully for the first time in weeks. “Then by all means, let us go.”

* * *

In truth, John was in no hurry to return to Grant Park. Life at the Park meant taking on the yoke of responsibility that he had no desire to don. It meant ledger books, meetings, servants and crops. It meant living in Father’s shadow. It meant seeing the traces of Mother everywhere, the mother he had disappointed and caused grave danger to all those years ago. These were all matters he had managed to neatly avoid for years, but there was no avoiding them now.

One look at Nan Siddons, miserably squashed between her two sisters, was all he needed to spur him on. Even if he couldn’t have fun, Nan should at least have a go at it. She had been avoiding him for weeks, and her absence was something he actually noticed. This was quite an accomplishment, for a young woman. Usually if one young lady shunned him, there were plenty of others standing in line waiting for his attention.

That was in London, though, and not Derbyshire.

“How far are we from Grant Park?” Nan had been peering out the window of the carriage since they left.

“It’s only an hour and a quarter from Tansley,” he answered, shifting lazily in his seat. If only it was farther.

“Still in Derbyshire?”

“Yes, near Wessington.” He should have told her more about the Park, given her some idea of what she was getting into before she took the leap. He gave himself a good, sharp, mental kick. His sister was absolutely no help, for once Kellridge had faded from sight she moped quietly in her corner and then fell asleep. “The house is very nice. I daresay you’ll like it there. Jane has her own suite of rooms, and we’ll put you in her wing. That way you can be close by for fittings and consultations and whatnot.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nan nodded respectfully.

He stifled a grin. After slapping him, she must be working doubly hard to stay on strictly professional terms.

“Call me John,” he replied easily. “Even if I am forced to be lord of the manor, I hate to be addressed as sir.”

“I don’t know that I can do that.” Nan shrugged, looking stubbornly out the window. “I don’t think that’s quite proper.”

“Nonsense. Call me John, and, of course, you already refer to my sister as Jane.”

“I don’t think I can. Calling Jane by her given name, well, it’s easier because we are friends.” She cast a discomfited look his way. “I’m not trying to be rude.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tease her, or at least reference how close they had gotten when she slapped his cheek, but he thought better of it. If she was thawing out a trifle, it would be better not to provoke her now. “Well, if you find it difficult, you could just call me Reed.”

Nan tilted her head to one side, as though giving the matter serious thought. “Very well, I think I could call you Reed.”

“Excellent. Shall I call you Siddons?”

Nan burst into laughter, a pretty smile lighting her face. “I daresay that sounds silly enough. But no sillier than Nan.”

“What, don’t you like your name?” It was so good to hear laughter that he was ready to draw the moment out as long as he could. She had a lovely laugh. Pity she didn’t indulge it more often.

“Nan?” She made a face. “No, I never have. I prefer my proper name, but I never had a say in the matter. Once Susannah called me Nan, I was Nan for life.”

“Well, Susannah’s not here.” He leaned forward, as though they were sharing a great secret. “So you can be whomever you want.”

“Oh, I am still myself.” She was getting into the spirit of the game as well. “I only wish to cast aside certain aspects of my life that were forced upon me, such as a most unattractive nickname.”

“What is your given name?” Genuine curiosity got the better of him.

“My name is Hannah.” She shrugged, drawing her shawl closer about her shoulders. “Susannah said it sounded too much like her name, you know, too many ‘annahs’ in the house. So she shortened it to Nan. So I’ve been, ever since.”

“That took some cheek.” He sat back, eyeing Nan—no, Hannah—with genuine sympathy. “I was the eldest in my family, but I never saw fit to change Jane’s name.”

“Susannah has always been rather high-handed,” Nan admitted, turning her eyes toward the floor of the carriage. “She is a very good sister, though,” she added hastily.

“I am sure she is, but that doesn’t solve our problem right now. The problem is, who are you? Nan Siddons? Hannah Siddons? Siddons? The choice is yours.”

“In the interest of speed and efficiency, you may call me Siddons. Just as I shall call you Reed.” She smiled. Then she added, “I am Hannah Siddons.”

Chapter Five

Hannah Siddons, formerly known as the practical and prosaic Nan, stared up at the ceiling as she drifted awake. The mattress beneath her was soft and deliciously fluffy and the fire in the grate crackled merrily, chasing off the early morning chill. This was as different an awakening as she could imagine.

For as long as she could remember, waking up meant the squeaking protest of mattress ropes and a cold hearth that needed to be stirred to life. Nothing would ever be accomplished unless she and her sisters roused themselves and began their chores. Here at Grant Park, silent servants took care of the minutiae of existence, lighting fires in hearths or making beds. She no longer had to worry about a million little trifles. Instead, her whole life and purpose was to make Jane into a desirable candidate for matrimony.

Hannah sat up, even though it was hard to give up the warmth of her quilt. The change in her circumstances was as dramatic as the change in her name, and she was having a difficult time getting used to being called by her given name. Focusing all of her efforts on one task was, in truth, a bit daunting. Yet focus she must, because failure could mean only one thing—spinsterhood.

With that daunting thought, she jumped from the bed and grabbed her wrapper. Breakfast was surely being served somewhere, and she couldn’t simply lie about all morning. She must dress herself and then find Jane. They had arrived just yesterday, but it was time to start working.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Enter?”

Jane opened the door wide enough to just let her peek through. “Oh good, you’re awake.” She bustled in with a breakfast tray. “I thought we could eat together. Normally I dine in bed, but it’s terribly lonely. Dreadful way to start the day.”

“That sounds lovely.” From a practical perspective, it meant that she could begin working with Jane right away, before the day had even really begun. From a deeper, more private perspective, Jane’s presence also pushed aside any lingering loneliness she might begin feeling. Her sisters had gone off and married months ago, and one would think she’d be used to being alone by now.

She wasn’t.

Jane pulled two chairs over by a little marble table near the hearth. “There we go. This is nice and cozy, don’t you think?”

“Perfect.” Hannah waved her over to her seat with a well-practiced flip of her hands, then she began pouring the tea. “In fact, we can get started better this way. I’d like to know how you see your role at Grant Park, and how you want to present yourself to others outside your inner social circle.”

Jane accepted the teacup Hannah offered her, her brows drawn together in thought. “I never really thought of myself as playing any kind of role. I suppose, if I had to describe it, I would call myself a simple person. I don’t have many wants or needs. I help out as much as I can as mistress of the house, but I don’t feel that we are at a social level that requires much showiness. Does that make sense?”

Hannah nodded. Yes, that made perfect sense. “In other words, when one isn’t a duchess, one doesn’t need to worry about her morning dress.”

“Or her afternoon dress...or her riding habit...” Jane set the teacup aside, her spoon rattling against the saucer. “Oh, I am not trying to belittle what you do, in making clothing or hats. It’s just that I have always considered myself a country girl. When I marry, I shall marry a simple country farmer. I won’t have a need for frills and furbelows.”

“True, but to meet your simple country farmer, you will need to attend the kinds of functions in which you are expected to dress well.” Hannah selected a scone from a wicker basket, lined with a linen napkin. She broke it into halves. “That is where I can help you.”

“Actually, I have already met him.” Jane leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling. “I’ve wanted to tell you for the past two days.”

Hannah shook her head. Had she heard aright? “What do you mean? Are you already engaged?”

“No. I am already in love, though.” Jane sighed and leaped gracefully from her chair. “I told you about the Holdcrofts as we were leaving Tansley.”

“Yes.” She was still holding one half of a scone in each hand, a silly pose if there ever was one. She put one half down and rubbed her hand on her napkin.

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