Her Once And Future Fiancé

It was a bold plan—become engaged to one man to avoid marrying another. Three years ago, Susannah Siddons had little choice. But with no communication since, she considers her alliance with Daniel Hale entirely ended—and her heart well and truly bruised. Until new gossip jeopardizes the Siddons sisters’ millinery shop, and Daniel proposes once more.

To court one’s own fiancée…how does a man even begin? Daniel owes it to Susannah—and to the shambles he has made of his responsibilities so far—to start again. In truth, marrying Susannah would be far more than just a duty; it’s his dearest wish. If he can only persuade her to say “yes” a second time.

“I’ve come to ask you to marry me, Susannah.

“In truth, this time. Not an extended farce with a decidedly bad ending.” He gave her a crooked grin.

Was this his attempt at making things right? Or was it merely a joke in poor taste? She gave her hands a final wrench and set them free. “You are talking nonsense. And I wish you would stop. It’s bad form. And moreover, if anyone sees that you are here, then I might as well lock up my shop forever and wander the moors as a beggar.”

“I don’t care what other people think.” Daniel lowered his brows and fixed her with his piercing green gaze. “I only care about—” He broke off abruptly, his expression clouded.

Susannah’s heart pounded in her chest. “Of course you don’t care about other people, Daniel! You’ve never had to.” Oh, this selfishness. His cocoon of wealth and privilege. When would he ever learn?

LILY GEORGE

Growing up in a small town in Texas, Lily George spent her summers devouring the books in her mother’s Christian bookstore. She still counts Grace Livingston Hill, Janette Oake and L. M. Montgomery among her favorite authors. Lily has a B.A. in History from Southwestern University and uses her training as a historian to research her historical inspirational romance novels. She has published one nonfiction book and produced one documentary, and is in production on a second film; all of these projects reflect her love for old movies and jazz and blues music. Lily lives in the Dallas area with her husband, daughter and menagerie of animals.

A Rumored Engagement

Lily George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works; my soul knows it very well.

—Psalms 139:14

This book is dedicated to my teachers over the years, especially those who encouraged me to write.

I was a terrible student, terrified of school and often absent—I couldn’t have been easy to deal with. These women went above and beyond to motivate me at a time when others would have given up on me. I certainly had given up on myself.

Contents

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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

“Well, here we are.” Susannah Siddons injected a false note of cheeriness into her voice. After all, it fell to her to convince her sisters that she had matters well under control. Not always an easy task when one was only twenty and the head of the household. “It’s not much, but we’ll give it a good cleaning and it will look much better.”

She turned to face her sisters, Hannah and Rebecca, whom she had long ago nicknamed Nan and Becky, her stair-step sisters, as she called them. Becky two years younger and Nan four years younger—yet despite that difference, they clung together close as twins. Their faces, as alike as two profiles on the same coin, reflected doubt and disgust as they glanced up at the tumbledown building before them.

“It’s awfully small,” Nan ventured, biting her lip in a distracted fashion. “Where will we live?”

“On the top floor, silly,” Susannah answered with a bright smile. “There are two rooms up there and a small kitchen in the back of the shop area.”

“It’s rather far off the main road, wouldn’t you say?” Becky scanned the street with a rapid glance. “How can we attract shoppers if we don’t have anyone strolling by our windows?”

“Well...” Susannah hesitated. Becky had a point. They were at the far end of the main road, where the gravel path trailed off into the nearby meadow. The hustle and bustle of a daily market crowd—or as much of a crowd that ever gathered in a small village like Tansley—would be down at the end of the road. Still, this shabby storefront was all her slender purse could afford. “We’ll just have to give them a reason to seek us out. We’ll make our windows so alluring, so stuffed with beautiful goods, that our shop will become a destination.”

She tucked a stray lock of deep auburn hair back under her bonnet and leaned forward to get a better look at the store through the dirty glass window. But all that she saw was a reflection of herself—the dark circles under her gray-green eyes, her pale skin with its light dusting of freckles. No one, looking at her, would be deceived. Her life was a shambles, and though she might try to hide it from her sisters, ’twas writ plain across her face and her person.

She drew back from her reflection sharply. It didn’t matter. No one cared what she looked like, anyway. “Shall we go in? Father’s solicitor said he’d leave the key under a stone.”

Becky dropped her satchel on the grass and pushed back her bonnet. “I don’t see a stone.”

Nan walked up to the front doorway and parted the long moor-grass with her fingers. “Neither do I.”

Perfect. How absolutely, positively, perfectly perfect. They had been traveling for weeks now and finally reached the end of their journey—only to find the door locked. ’Twas a metaphor for her entire life. Tears stung the back of her eyelids and a hysterical desire to laugh bubbled within her. What could they do? The solicitor lived back in Matlock, a day’s journey away. The mail carriage they’d ridden in on was long departed. People came and went down at the other end of the street, their faces and forms blurred by the distance.

She could go and ask one of the other shopkeepers for assistance, or one of the townspeople. But a sudden and unreasonable wave of stubbornness assailed her, holding her in its grip. She was here to start a new life for her sisters, and it would be intolerable for anyone to know she was making such a poor start. She would find a way to open that door on her own. “I’ll look around back. Perhaps there’s another door to the shop, and he hid the key there.”

With masterful nonchalance, straightening her spine and holding her shoulders back, she marched around to the rear of the building. There was another door, to be sure, but no key there, either. Nothing even remotely resembling a stone graced the back porch. She clenched her fists and bit her tongue, willing herself not to lose her temper completely and utterly. ’Twould be a blessed relief to roll about in the long moor-grass and flail her arms and legs as she had as a child. But it would do no good. Giving vent to her temper wouldn’t change their present circumstances.

There was only one thing to do.

She returned to the front of the building, where Becky and Nan stood waiting. “I’m going to break in,” she announced.

Her sisters gasped in unison. “No,” they breathed, their eyes widening in shock.

“Oh, yes, I shall,” she snapped. “I’ll break out one of the door panes. You’ll see. We’ll be in quick as a wink.”

Of course, since there was no rock to be found, she’d have to improvise. She opened her valise and withdrew her sturdy boots with their lovely curved heels. One blow from those heels would surely do the trick. Tapping it against her palm, she walked over to the doorway and raised the boot in the air.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A man’s voice, rich and deep, boomed behind her. She dropped the boot and swung around. There, beside her sisters on the tapering path, were two young gentlemen. Her breath came in quick gasps as she studied the form of one of the men. Surely that wasn’t Daniel Hale. No, it couldn’t be. And yet—those mischievous green eyes, the tousled black hair—she squinted, taking a closer look. Daniel wasn’t as tall as this fellow when he left, but then, that was several years ago.

Her sisters were staring at her, openmouthed and silent. Both gentlemen awaited her reaction. The dark one who looked like Daniel appeared amused, if one could judge from the upturned corner of his mouth. The man beside him, with dark brown hair and brown eyes, merely looked confused and a trifle bored.

“It’s my shop,” she explained, coming toward them with her palms turned upward in a defensive gesture. ’Twould be horrid to begin life in Tansley marked as a woman who tried to break in to a building. She must defuse the situation. “We’re just moving in. But I cannot find the key and so I thought I could break the glass with my boot heel.”

“Good thing we came along,” the green-eyed man said with a chuckle. “’Tis mighty hard to find a glazer in the village. You’d have a broken door for weeks.”

There was no doubt about it. This man was Daniel. An older, more rugged version of the boy she’d known, but it was him. Her heart pounded so that surely everyone in the little group could hear it. Better to cover her nervousness by concentrating on the problem at hand. “I don’t know how to unlock it. Without the key, I have no way to get in. And I can’t go back to Matlock to beg the key from the solicitor. We’ve only just arrived.” She indicated her sisters with a jerk of her bonnet.

“I can help you.” He stepped forward, dusting his hands on his breeches. “Give me a hairpin and I can pick the lock.”

She nodded. Of course. If only she’d thought of that herself. She tugged her bonnet off her head, pushing some of the curls back off her shoulder. As she removed a hairpin, her hair finally broke free of all restraint. It tumbled around her shoulders and she pushed it behind her with an impatient hand. So many women had hair that behaved perfectly well. Why couldn’t her hair be more ladylike?

His intense gaze searched her face and lingered on her hair as she held the hairpin out. He no longer looked mischievous or amused. His mouth was pressed into a firm line and his green eyes no longer twinkled. They— Well, they overwhelmed her, truth be told. As he took the hairpin from her palm, his fingertips brushed against her glove. She suppressed any reaction to his touch. He probably didn’t even recognize her. Better not to let on that she knew all too well who he was.

He turned his attention toward the lock, straightening the hairpin. Kneeling in the moor-grass, he leaned forward, working the lock with the bit of wire until a click sounded. “There,” he exclaimed, and twisted the latch until the door eked open. “Of course, you’ll have to have the locksmith come out and assist you with finding a new key. But I wouldn’t worry. Tansley’s a safe place. No need, really, for a locked door.”

“Thank you.” They had no money left for a new key. They’d just have to leave the door unlocked until she could write to the solicitor and beg for the old key back.

“You’re welcome...?” He paused, midbow. Of course. Where were her manners?

“Sus—I mean, Miss Siddons.” Gracious, what a blunder. ’Twas mere habit, but still—her face heated to the roots of her hair. He would never want to know who she was. He’d merely helped her out once.

He peered at her with hooded eyes. Did he remember, after all? “Mr. Daniel Hale.” He finished his bow and indicated his friend, who tipped his hat. “This is Paul Holmes, my friend.” He turned back toward her. “Is there anyone here who can help you? Your father...your uncle, perhaps?”

Was there a heavier emphasis on those last words? No, she must have imagined it. “No one. We are on our own. But I do thank you for your help.” She waved her hands at Becky and Nan, beckoning them inside the building. Better to cut this interview short. It had rattled her more than she cared to admit. She was ready to be safe behind those walls, where she could breathe again.

“Ah, then, I shall check on you in a day or so.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her short with a shrug of his powerful shoulders. “No, really. I don’t like the idea of three women living alone without any male protection. I have a place not too far from here, Goodwin Hall. I come to the village often and shall stop by.”

With that, he touched the brim of his hat. He gesturing to his friend, and the two men strolled down the path as it narrowed and was overrun by long grasses and wildflowers. She pressed her back against the stone facade of the building, watching the two men as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Wiping her clammy hands on the worn fabric of her faded gown, she glanced down at her boot, discarded in the grass. Looking both vulnerable and ridiculous. Just like Susannah Siddons.

Once again, a desire both to laugh and cry seized hold, threatening her with madness.

She’d run away from the past. And here it was, claiming her once more as she ventured out on her own.

* * *

“I had no idea you were so deft with a hairpin, old fellow,” Paul remarked as they strolled across the pasturelands toward Goodwin Hall. “Something you picked up during your days as a pirate, no doubt.”

“I wasn’t a pirate.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “I was on a merchant vessel. Any man worth his salt knows how to help a lady in distress. I was merely following my instincts.” He kept his tone light and bantering. He didn’t want to talk about meeting Susannah again. She must remember him. But pushing her recognition with his best friend and her sisters standing there, watching with avid interest—no, thank you. He would hate any display like that, and so—if he remembered the lady correctly—would Susannah. But the unanswered questions would gnaw away at him until he finally was able to satisfy his curiosity.

“She’s very decorative, that Siddons gel.” Paul slashed his riding crop at a particularly large clump of moor-grass. “But I thought the sisters were pretty, too. Should have asked them to tea.”

“Well, since they’ve moved into the village, I am sure you shall have a chance to be formally introduced.” Daniel scanned the horizon, willing his heart to resume its normal pace. He didn’t like hearing Susannah referred to as a “gel” and he certainly didn’t care for the admiring tone in Paul’s voice. ’Twas all well and good for Paul to behave the way he did around women Daniel didn’t know. This was a different matter altogether.

“You sound rather prim, like an old schoolmaster,” Paul said with a laugh. “I can tell, after all, that you found Miss Siddons rather attractive yourself. Didn’t you help her right away? Never even asked to see a deed for the building. You just took it on faith that she was telling the truth. She could have been burgling the place, for all we knew.”

“It’s highly unlikely that a young lady would set about burgling a vacant building in broad daylight. Have some sense, my good man.” There, perhaps now Paul would cease his constant babbling, if he knew he couldn’t draw Daniel out.

Paul looked up, scanning Daniel’s face. “All right, all right. I know when I am invading on precious turf. I shan’t say another word about the lovely Miss Siddons.”

They strolled the rest of the way to Goodwin Hall, as the late-summer sunshine gilded the hilltops. Daniel breathed deeply of the scent of the grass as it swayed in the wind. He stifled the feeling of dread that crept up his spine as he looked out over the moors. Soon they would be mowing the hay at Goodwin, and like his father and brother before him, he would be expected to supervise—or at least pretend an interest in the matter. He swallowed convulsively. He was no master, not really. In fact, he had run from any hint of obligation or duty since he was a lad. ’Twas mere fate that brought him back, not a desire to settle down. Some fellows might call it the hand of God that brought him here, or took him anywhere, for that matter. But he’d relinquished his faith long ago. And pretending he was a happy, fulfilled master merely brought on that insatiable thirst, the kind that would only be quelled with a few stout scotches.

He just glimpsed the Hall on the horizon, the sunlight turning it a bright shade of slate. The turrets that flanked the main hall were squat and modest compared to some of the grander homes of Derbyshire. David kept the Hall just as it should be while Daniel was off gallivanting on the high seas, and after Father’s death he hadn’t helped David as he should.

Now that David had passed, it fell to him to keep Goodwin Hall and adhere to family traditions and customs as he should have done long ago. And he was certainly not equal to the task, as much as he tried to conceal it.

“You’re awfully silent company today, Daniel. I suppose I shall see you tomorrow for dinner?” Paul paused at the park gates and leaned against the balustrade.

“Yes, of course. You’re always welcome, you know. Sorry I haven’t been much company. Got a lot on my mind....” Daniel forced what he hoped was a casual smile.

“Ah, chuck your cares in the bucket. Come back to London with me when I return next. We shall tear the Town apart, and no debutante’s reputation shall be safe.” Paul chuckled at his small joke with appreciation.

“I’d like nothing more,” Daniel rejoined with bravado. But even as he spoke the words, the memory of his boyhood promise flitted across his mind. He would never be free of it. Never. They were both pretending at a farce, Paul and he. Paul would never be free of the sorrow of his first love, try as he might to satisfy himself with light skirt after light skirt. And he himself would never be free of the unhappy shadows of his past, try as he might to drown them with scotch.

He bade goodbye to Paul at the gate and stood, for a long moment, looking at Goodwin Hall and the hills beyond, so green that they looked black. The way the hills rolled beyond the horizon was like the waves undulating on the sea. They called out to him in a way that the sea had once lured him, beckoning with promise.

If only he could feel that way about Goodwin Hall and all it represented. But it remained a prison, reminding him of what a shambles his life had been and become, beneath his swagger.

Alone at last, he allowed his mind to drift toward Susannah. Her auburn hair was as lovely as ever. He’d caught his breath when he saw the length of it tumble from beneath her bonnet. And those eyes—the sea had that same caste when a storm was brewing. She was as lovely as the day he’d become engaged to her. How long ago was that? Three years now?

She’d asked for his help once, and he’d promised her all he could offer—his name. They were no longer children then, and yet at that age, time seemed infinite, unending. There was no definite promise between them, just an agreement that she would marry him when he returned. And then he ran away to sea, to follow his dream. Together, they’d given each other the most precious gift they could think of at that time. Freedom. For Susannah, that meant freedom from her tyrannical uncle. And for him, it meant the freedom to forget his familial duties and run away from his dismal past.

The gift they’d given each other had proved hollow over the years. Here he was, back in Tansley, trying to ignore a home he hated. And here Susannah was, toiling away at building a poky little shop. Well, there was no repairing his own life, or changing his own wretched fate. But he could maybe make life easier for Susannah.

He clenched his jaw. As a matter of fact, he would find a way to help Susannah Siddons.

She was, after all, his betrothed. ’Twas the least a fiancé could do.

Chapter Two

Susannah’s new building, which the solicitor had described in such glowing terms, was not much better on the inside than on the outside. The three sisters had slept in the upstairs quarters, squeezed together on the humble mattresses. Susannah awoke with a stiff neck and sharp hunger pains gnawing at her belly. ’Twas time to assume control of her pitiful situation, no matter how difficult it was.

Careful not to disturb Nan and Becky, who still slept, she crept into her serviceable lilac gown and her sturdy boots. Then she descended the back staircase and struck out for the shops at the other end of the main road. Surely there was something to eat in one of the shops. She was famished.

The street was empty, and a hush had settled over the dewy moor-grass. Even her footsteps on the gravel path were silent, for the road was also damp with dew. She paused a moment, gazing up at the pale sun as it climbed over the rolling hills. Tansley was such a beautiful place. Was it this wild and picturesque when she was a girl here? If it was, she’d been too unobservant to note. They’d moved to Matlock when she was fifteen, and it had become home to her, not Tansley Village.

She turned and scanned the cluster of shops before her. A boot maker, a dry-goods store—a bakery. Oh, how lovely—a bakery. She darted forward and opened the door, causing the bell to swing merrily. She breathed deeply of the scents of flour and yeast. She hadn’t eaten a bite since luncheon yesterday. Hungrily, she devoured the case of sweets and breads with her eyes until a plump, rosy-cheeked woman with graying hair stepped up to the counter.

“Well, then? And what can I get for you today?” She smiled and dusted her hands on her apron, sending clouds of flour dust into the air.

“Oh, I’d love one of everything. It all looks so delicious.” Scones...muffins...biscuits... She heaved a sigh. “But my slender purse must dictate my purchase. So I shall take a loaf of the cinnamon bread and three of the scones, if you please.”

The baker chuckled and tucked the sweets into brown-paper wrapping, tying the packages with a bit of string. “Here, try this marble cake. I made it this morning and I cannot tell if it’s any good. You’d be doing me a favor if you gave your honest opinion.”

Was this charity? She shouldn’t have mentioned her lack of funds. She didn’t want to beg for food, but...the kindly baker pressed the warm slice into her outstretched hand. At this point, it would be beyond rude if she said no. So she took a small bite. Oh...it was delightful—chocolate and vanilla swirled together. She finished the rest in two large bites.

The baker laughed. “I suppose it passes your test.”

Susannah nodded, wiping the crumbs from her gloves. “By far the best I’ve had anywhere.”

The baker nodded. “Good to hear that I have most of the kingdom beat.” She handed the parcels over to Susannah. “Are you new to the village? You look a little familiar.”

“My sisters and I bought the building down on the corner. I’m setting up shop as a milliner. But my family was here for a while before that. We’ve just moved back from Matlock Bath.”

“Three girls on their own? That’s worthy of applause. When I started this bake shop, I was only sixteen. I’d lost my mama and papa within a year of each other and had to support my brothers.” She extended her hand, grasping Susannah’s in a warm grip. “My name’s Bess. So happy to welcome you back to Tansley.”

“Thank you, Bess. My name is Susannah—Susannah Siddons.” It had been years since they’d lived here, of course, but still—perhaps the name would ring a bell.

“Siddons? I thought you looked familiar. You must be part of that Siddons family that used to live here. A gentleman and his wife.” The baker tilted her head, drawing her brows together. “Your mama and papa?”

“Yes. We moved away five years ago.” She hugged the brown-paper parcels against her chest.

Bess nodded, the confused look still clouding her eyes. Susannah took a deep inward breath. That was enough reminiscing and chatting for the moment. No need to explain why the gentleman’s daughter had returned home to work for her living. Another moment and she would be howling her woes onto Bess’s ample floury chest. “I had better be going. My sisters are as hungry as I am, I’m sure.”

“Well, come again anytime. You’re as welcome to this village as sunshine and rain. We need a good milliner. I’ve been making my own hats for years, and they look like a burlap bag tied with twine.” If Bess was still puzzling through the mystery of the Siddons family downfall, she had the grace to hide it with a brisk nod.

Susannah managed her first genuine smile since their arrival. “Thank you. I shall look to you as my first customer.” She waved and exited the shop. She made it through her second encounter in the village, and this time she hadn’t made a fool of herself. In fact, she might have made a friend. She certainly made a customer. Funny how a slice of marble cake and a simple conversation could make everything seem warmer...less bleak, at any rate.

She tucked her chin down, fighting happy tears. Maybe everything would work out, after all. One could hope, anyway.

“Susannah.” A tall form stood before her on the path, blotting out the sunlight. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She glanced up at Daniel Hale as he stood before her, his smile as mischievous as ever, emanating power and self-assurance. Did he ever have a moment’s doubt? Did he ever see merely the sober side of any situation? ’Twas unlikely. As long as she’d known him, he’d been as brazen and carefree as a wild creature. That’s why she’d come to him so long ago when she needed help, for he always found a way to escape any scrapes of his own making. “Of course.”

He took her parcels and offered her his arm. “Been to Bess’s? I can tell just by the aroma. The cinnamon bread she makes is a poem. You made an excellent choice.”

She managed a tight smile. She was in no mood for politesse. If only he would start the conversation. The unbearably difficult conversation, which she was too stubborn to broach. Let Daniel bring up the subject. After all, her difficult position could very well be laid at his threshold.

“I confess I was amazed to see you yesterday.” He cleared his throat. “I knew right away who you were. Your eyes...and that hair...”

Susannah placed a defensive hand on the back of her neck. Her hair was still neatly coiled beneath her bonnet, though. She hated her hair. Ever since she was a child and had been called “Carrots.” Of course, it was redder then. As she grew up, it darkened into auburn. But even so, any mention of her hair still rankled.

“Why are you here?” he continued, his voice softening. “Why didn’t you write and tell me you were coming to Tansley?”

Did he actually care? And was he serious? Surely not. “I didn’t know you were here. Or else—” she blurted, and then froze.

“Or else you wouldn’t have come?” he finished, his voice oddly strained.

She glanced sideways up at him. His mouth was turned down, his face slightly reddened. Was he angry? Certainly not. If anyone had earned the right to be angry, it was she. The old frustration welled in her chest, and the desire to throw the parcels in the street and stomp them flat assailed her. She must control her rage. Here she was in Tansley for less than a day, and already her temper had nearly gotten the best of her twice.

She sighed and slowly counted to ten. “I didn’t know you were here. The last I’d heard of you, you were on that merchant vessel. And I was trying not to ask for anyone’s help again.” ’Twas better to stick to the facts of the situation—if she did so, perhaps she could keep her emotions in check. He had never written to her, and the knowledge that he had forgotten her so carelessly burned deep embarrassment and anger into her very soul.

“The last I heard of you, you were still living in Matlock. Why did you leave?”

“My aunt and uncle died in a carriage accident, two years after my parents passed away. While I stayed with them that last year, I became an apprentice milliner.” She paused, unsure if she should tell him the whole truth. It was rather a ridiculous, sad little history. “My father left us a small inheritance. I bought this building with it so we could start a milliner’s shop of our own.” Thank the good Lord above, they were nearing the shop now. Her sisters would be awake and hungry, and the time for living in the past was over. “I hope all is well at Goodwin Hall.”

“My brother died,” he responded briefly. “I am master of Goodwin now.” His face was still turned away from her, but the slight catch in his voice spoke of misery.

“I’m so sorry.” And she was. Daniel and his brother had never got on very well, but his brother’s death must have been a shock to him all the same. He’d certainly fled from his father as often as he could, and his brother, too. It would be difficult indeed to be called home to assume control of everything he’d cast aside. After all, Daniel had always lived as though there would never be any consequences to any of his actions.

And that was precisely why she was in her current position. Daniel simply couldn’t be trusted to live up to his promises. So while she could sympathize with the loss of his brother, she could never let herself forget that she must earn her own way in the world. She must never trust anyone again—certainly not Daniel.

His expression had not changed, but he clenched his jaw at her words. “Thank you.”

“Well, I should be going.” She extricated her arm from his clasp and reached up to get her parcels. The time for reminiscing was over, and she must move on with her life.

He held on to the packages, looking down at her with eyes so green they took her breath away. “What are we going to do about this other little matter? You are my betrothed, after all.”

* * *

As soon as Daniel said the words, he was ready to take them back. Susannah’s face paled, and the freckles that marched across the bridge of her nose stood out in bold relief. He never meant to anger her. But dash it all, his head pounded like a big bass drum from last night’s drinking bout, and thinking of the delicate way to phrase things had simply fled.

’Twas easy enough to ignore their engagement when an ocean separated them. But now they lived in the same village. He must acknowledge the truth now.

Susannah trembled, and he fought the urge to steady her. This was not maidenly fear—Susannah was in the grip of her formidable temper. Her hazel eyes had darkened to a deep grayish green hue, a sure sign of the storm to come. “There’s no need to do anything about our engagement. Only my uncle and aunt knew.”

“Even so...” He hesitated. A smart man would leave now. Susannah would likely throw something at him in a moment. But he rather enjoyed tangling with her; she always put up a jolly good fight. “Can’t I do anything to help you? Anything at all?”

“No.” She made another grab for her parcels, but he grasped them tight. As long as he had the bread, he held her there with him. He wasn’t ready to let go. “You helped me escape Uncle Arthur by proposing to me. A letter every now and then would have been nice, since I thought we would marry some day, but I suppose you were too busy.” She spat out the words as though they left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“What about you? You never wrote to me.” He took a step backward, putting more distance between them. Would she follow? She took a step forward, still intent on retrieving her parcels. “Perhaps you were the one who jilted me first, Susannah. Is it better to be making bonnets for a pittance?”

She raised her chin in a defiant manner, a flush stealing across her cheeks. “There is dignity in all work, so I’ll thank you not to mock me. And besides, I did write to you. You never wrote back. I should thank you, Daniel. You taught me the value of independence well. I shan’t ask anyone else for help again.”

What a hash he’d made of that.

But at least they were starting to speak, to discuss the problems that had plagued their engagement for these three years. He’d ignore the letter-writing for the moment—’twas ancient history, after all. And he must stop riding roughshod over her pride. He might try reason instead. “But surely, as the daughter of a gentleman, you’re ashamed to live in such a place, and to earn your living by your hands.” He looked down at her—how could he soften her temper? If only they could speak to each other without anger, as they did when they were children. “And your sisters? What of them?”

She drew herself up, throwing her shoulders back. “My sisters will do quite well, thank you. In fact, we are all doing splendidly, so long as we are together.”

He nodded. “I must confess I am jealous of your closeness with your sisters. Never really understood the closeness of other families.” His mouth quirked with bitterness. His dour, domineering father and staid, lethargic brother certainly held no charms for him.

His admission helped. Her eyes had lost some of their hard, glittering light. “I truly am sorry, Daniel. And I appreciate your offers to help. But I just can’t prevail upon you for assistance the rest of my life. Independence is everything to me now. I must find my own way.”

Behind her, the door opened and one of her sisters poked her head out. “Is everything all right, Sue?” she called.

“Yes, I’ll be in momentarily. Start brewing some tea, will you, please?” Susannah tossed the words over her shoulder.

He handed the parcels back. Their interview was now over, and he must surrender with as good grace as he could. Once he rid himself of this wretched headache, he might be able to think more clearly. Susannah spoke as though she released him from any obligation, but was that really the best thing for both of them? And did she really mean it?

“Come to Goodwin Hall for tea sometime,” he offered. “You and your sisters are always welcome.” It was a mere social gesture but all he could think of at the moment.

“Thank you.” She glanced up at him uncertainly. The fire had gone out of her, and when it left, the traces of her fatigue remained. “You were always a charmer, Daniel.”

Something in her tone made him pause—allure of any kind was apparently not high on the lady’s list of male virtues. One auburn curl had pulled loose from under her bonnet, and he resisted the mischievous urge to reach out and grasp it. He shook his head. “No. I’m not as charming as you think me.”

He touched the brim of his hat and walked away. He refused to look back at the ridiculously run-down cottage that was her stab at independence or at her trim, lovely silhouette as he continued his stroll. Three years he had been engaged to Susannah. Three years. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he had planned for it all to work out. But after hearing nothing from Susannah, he’d pushed the thought of marriage further aside. And it wasn’t until he’d received word that his brother died that he’d had to bow to obligation and come home. The thought of marriage to Susannah was rather daunting; he hated the thought of becoming as violent and grim as his father had been. Or as dreary and drab as his brother had been. Why not avoid the inevitable as long as possible?

And that made sense at the time. Unhappy relationships were his lot in life. He had no idea how a couple in love should act. He’d certainly never seen it for himself.

His mother had died when he was still quite young—hounded to death, so village rumor ran, by her sour and cruel husband. By the time Daniel was old enough to think and feel for himself, Father had lapsed from abusive to merely domineering, while his distant brother sat dully about the house. He hated everything about family. Family meant duties and obligations. Family meant silent meals, recriminations over one’s personal foibles, absentminded reminders that he really never had lived up to anything in his father’s estimation.

And falling in love meant marriage. And marriage led to families. And that would merely start the miserable process all over again.

That was precisely why he’d run away.

The Hall loomed in the distance. Its solid presence nothing more than a stark reminder of his family and his failings. Small wonder he shirked his duties to seek fun and adventure. And now, in the bitterest of ironies, he was in charge of everything he’d once cast aside. And Susannah had returned, too, another link to his regretful past. He craved the abyss that drinking a bit more than he should would bring on. Good thing Paul was coming this evening. He would have someone to drink with, and that was decidedly more cheerful than being alone.

He strode up the drive, his boots crunching on the gravel, preparing to at least get a bit of a head start on Paul.

But—of course, there was a slight hitch in his plans. Paul stood on the front steps, his angular face alight with laughter. “What ho, man? Been to the village to check on Miss Siddons? That’s a gentleman for you.”

“I walk to the village every morning,” Daniel responded evenly, refusing to take Paul’s bait. “You know that.” He brushed past his friend, taking the steps two at a time. He opened the front door and removed his hat and coat. “To what do I owe this dubious honor? Come early to steal a march on me?”

“Ah, well. Life at home is most awfully dull. I decided I would head back to London this week, so I thought you might not mind some early company. Is that all right?”

“Certainly, certainly. The earlier the better.” Daniel ushered Paul through the front door.

“So, if you are determined to stay here, what may I bring you from Town to amuse yourself? A new horse, perhaps? Or a new wife?” Paul cast his hat on the hall bench and stripped off his gloves.

Daniel spun around. “What?” Most of the time Paul’s teasing was tolerable, but now—it struck a bit too close to home to be amusing.

“Here you are with a big country home. Plenty of money. It’s positively un-British that you aren’t seeking a wife.” Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Watching you with Miss Siddons yesterday, it occurred to me that the pair of you made quite a picture.”

“You’re as bad as an old maiden aunt, Paul. Why are you so intent on marrying me off? Are you trying to narrow the competition for the ladies?” He slapped his friend on the shoulder and led the way to the library.

“No, of course not. I’m enjoying the bachelor life whilst I can.” Paul fell silent for a rare moment, a moody expression crossing his face as he settled into a leather chair. Perhaps he’d overstepped his teasing with Paul—perhaps Paul was still really upset about Ruth Barclay. But no, in a blink the expression had vanished, and Paul leaned forward, an incorrigible gleam in his eye. “Though, I must say, Miss Siddons does rather make a fellow want to change his mind.”

Paul was never going to stop nattering on about Susannah. He thought her pretty and would likely try to court her if Daniel didn’t put a stop to the silliness. He eyed his friend as Paul settled back against the cushion. Could he be trusted with a secret?

“You can’t have Susannah Siddons,” he replied evenly. “She’s already spoken for.” There, perhaps that would be enough to throw Paul off the scent.

“Really? How fantastic. I shall have to nose about until I find the fellow. Of course, I could always court one of her sisters. They’re quite tolerable, too.”

Nose about? Paul really was like a hound on the trail. There was nothing for it but to confess the truth to his friend. Only then would the matter cease to worry them both.

“I’m the fellow. Congratulate me, Paul. Susannah Siddons has been my betrothed for these past three years.”

Chapter Three

“Indeed?” Paul quirked an eyebrow with amusement. “If it’s true, then why haven’t you married? And why isn’t she here with you, in Goodwin Hall? Why is she staying in a hovel?”

“’Twas meant as a way to keep her uncle Arthur from forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want. We concocted the plan.” Daniel’s fists clenched at the memory. “Her aunt was browbeating her into marrying some fat, doddering fool of a country squire. And the blackguard spent all their money. She went from being a gentleman’s daughter to an apprentice milliner. Her family left Tansley when she was still a young lass. And her parents died soon after. So within a couple of years after their passing, her life turned upside down.” He heaved a deep sigh.

“And you never married?” Paul shrugged his shoulders. “What happened that kept you apart?”

“We never had a formal plan.” There was no excusing it, or even explaining it. “I never received a letter from her, so I assumed she had found another way out. And I was enjoying my life on the sea. It was a passion of mine.”

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, but you were passionate about the wrong thing entirely,” Paul replied in a tone so dry that Daniel winced. “So, if she’s not your fiancée in truth, then she must be fair game.”

“She’s not one of your light skirts, Paul. She may have to work for a living, but she’s not what I will allow you to consider fair game.” He stalked over to the decanters and began pouring out the rich amber liquid.

Paul gave a short bark of laughter. “I don’t think of every woman in that way.”

Daniel slanted his gaze over at his friend as he handed him his drink. “Don’t you, old fellow?”

“I may have been unhappy in love, but I declare that a lady like Susannah could make a chap believe in the theory of marriage again. Those magnificent eyes...that Titian hair...”

“Enough.” He didn’t appreciate Paul cataloging Susy’s physical attributes. He couldn’t suppress the proprietary feeling that arose from deep within. Whether she admitted to it or not, he couldn’t stop thinking of her as his fiancée. And there needed to be a sense of propriety about that fact. “Anything more about her beauty and I’ll be hard pressed not to plant you a facer.”

“Fine, fine. Truce, and all that.” Paul held his palms in the air in supplication. “I shan’t say another word.” The secretive, absorbed expression on his friend’s face showed that, though he would refrain from speaking about Susannah, he’d not cease in thinking about her. “What do you intend to do now?”

“When I spoke to Susannah this morning, I alluded to our problem,” he admitted. “But she indicated that she had no interest in renewing even my friendship, to say nothing of our engagement. She’s proud, Paul. Very proud. I have to step carefully if I am to keep from offending her.”

“How did you broach the subject?” Paul took a long sip of his scotch with nary a shudder.

“Well, I...uh...” How embarrassing to rehash the disastrous conversation. Better to keep it short. “That she could come to tea here at the Hall.”

Paul shook his head gravely, rolling his eyes. “I am sure she leaped at the opportunity,” he mocked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Daniel shrugged, concealing his annoyance at Paul’s tone. “What? I couldn’t very well profess my undying love for her. She’s got brains and is quite acute, Paul. She’d know it was a lie. I’m not going to insult her intelligence.”

“And so, instead, you invited her to a tea party?” Paul set aside his empty glass and made an impatient movement with his hands. “I quite understand that you couldn’t very well sweep her into your arms. But what of romance? Surely you should woo the lady a bit first.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to start. I don’t love her, you know.” Daniel rubbed a weary hand over his brow. How extraordinary to court one’s own fiancée. Most fellows went about it the other way around. “And I have no knowledge of happy marriages. Or of romance.”

“Plenty of marriages have been built on less.” Paul narrowed his eyes, predatory as a panther. “What do you want from her, anyway?”

“I want to help. When I went to sea, old man, I had much to keep me occupied. I had no idea where Susannah had gone, or what happened to her. I never got any letters from her, you see. So I just—” He broke off a moment, fumbling to find the right words. “I never forgot her. I just let the matter go. As I have with everything else in this blighted village.”

“I know your family life was rather awful.” Paul stood and helped himself to another tumbler of scotch. “I have been unhappy in love, but at least I grew up in a loving home. In fact—if you want my advice—don’t think of her in terms of love. Don’t seize control of anything. Simply be kind to her. It never hurts to have a pretty gel’s favor, you know.”

“Being friends. That sounds rather nice.” He cleared his throat and began anew. “How should I start?”

“Remember what she likes. Poetry, flowers and whatnot. Women like jewels, too, but that could be considered too forward if your intentions are honorable.” Paul settled back in his chair. “And if they aren’t, you certainly don’t need my advice for that.”

Daniel scowled at Paul. “Of course my intentions are honorable.”

Befriending Susannah Siddons would be no ordinary task. She wasn’t like other women, not even when she was a slip of a girl. She was sharp and bright and had a disconcerting habit of laughing at you when she thought you weren’t being sincere. So, giving her jewels and silks would be quite out of the question. He’d have to be more original than that.

“They’re most dreadfully poor, you know. From a gentleman’s daughter, she’s gone into trade,” he muttered. “Rather painful to see that. Perhaps I could help. When I saw her this morning, she was buying food.”

“That’s easy enough to handle. Send her a hamper. Load it with every delicious morsel you can think of.” Paul waved his hands as though the problem had been decisively solved.

“A good idea.” He’d ask Cook to put something together. Susannah would have something to eat. And maybe she would think kindly on him. And they could be friends.

Life wouldn’t seem so bleak then.

“Hear, hear. Go on, then. Ring the bell. And while you’re ordering the Siddons dinner, make sure to ask for something for us, too? I vow, I am feeling my liquor far too quickly, and it’s due to this empty stomach.” Paul slapped his midsection and groaned.

Daniel nodded and headed for the bellpull. Yes, this was a good plan. ’Twas the only way he could begin to bridge the gap of the past.

* * *

“We won’t accept it. Take it back.” Susannah scowled at the maid before her, drawing herself up to her full height—small though that was. “While we appreciate Mr. Hale’s generosity—”

“Sue, please.” Nan popped her head around the door frame and eyed the basket of food hungrily. “It’s a hospitable gesture and nothing more. Don’t be so missish.”

Susannah glared at her younger sister, who responded by widening her already large brown eyes appealingly. Then she swallowed, for the tantalizing smells drifting up from the basket the servant held were almost too good to endure. They’d finished the cinnamon bread at luncheon, and after a hard day of scrubbing and putting the cottage to rights, all three sisters were famished.

“Mr. Hale said he must insist.” The maid shifted her weight from one foot to the other and placed the heavy basket on the front stoop. “I’ll just leave it here and be on me way. I’m late for me own tea as ʼtis.” The maid rubbed her palms on her apron, and with a cheeky wave, set off across the dwindling path toward Goodwin Hall.

Nan scooped up the basket. “Becky, there’s food,” she called indoors. “Oh, ’tis heavy. Susannah, grab hold and help me carry it.”

Susannah unfolded her arms and grabbed one of the basket handles. Oh, gracious, was that chicken she smelled? A roast chicken? Her stomach grumbled in appreciation.

“Food? From whom?” Becky hastened forward to help, and together, the three sisters plunked the basket on the table. Susannah took a step backward as her sisters plundered the basket. As they dug out dish after dish, a scrap of foolscap fluttered to the bare wood floor. She grasped it and unrolled it carefully.

“Pies—meat and fruit. Oh, Becky, it’s fairly oozing berries. I cannot wait to try this.”

“Nan, do look! Bread and cheese, and a tin of tea. It’s too much, I tell you. We shall feast for a week on this.”

Susannah eyed her sisters as she opened the parchment. They were too busy to take any notice of her, so she strolled over to the firelight to better read the note. Good gracious, Daniel’s handwriting had grown wobbly over the years.

Dear Susannah,

I thought perhaps you’d have few provisions laid in and thought I would send a few things from the Hall. Perhaps this will help make your first few days in Tansley more enjoyable.

Please do not hesitate to call upon me if you are in need of anything.

I am, as ever,

Your humble servant Daniel

“Whatever are you reading, Sue?” Nan demanded, a loaf of crusty bread in each hand. “Come, sit down. We shall have a feast worthy of all our hard work.”

“She’s reading a love letter from her fiancé, no doubt,” Becky answered, giving Nan a wink. “After all, we owe this largesse to him.”

“Hush. Both of you.” Susannah cast the foolscap into the fire and folded her arms across her chest. “My engagement to Daniel helped us out of a dreadful situation. ’Tis no cause for levity.”

Becky bit her lip and cast her eyes down at her plate. “I’m sorry.”

Susannah sighed, looking at them both. They had worked hard all day—and they had earned a decent meal. In fact, until Daniel’s servant showed up at the door, she’d had no idea what they were going to eat for dinner. So...she would merely have to swallow her pride on this one. Let the girls enjoy a real feast. It was terribly kind of Daniel to think of them, after all.

“Enjoy your feast,” she said quietly. “You’ve earned every mouthful.”

“You, too, Sue.” Nan patted the chair beside her. “You’ll feel much better after you’ve had a bite to eat.” She bowed her head and led them in prayer.

And the remarkable thing was—she did. ’Twas amazing how a dinner of chicken, bread and cheese could take the edge off the harshness of life. And there were apples, too. She crunched into the bright red fruit happily, relishing its sweet juice. Even the thinness seemed to go out of her sisters’ cheeks and they looked positively rosy.

As darkness fell over the cottage, illuminated only by a few candles and the firelight, even its rough edges appeared more attractive. Susannah sat back in her chair, meditatively twirling the apple core on her plate. They might—just might—do quite well in Tansley. The baker had thought so, and she was a woman who had her own shop. She had started young, too. So perhaps this was no chance meeting this morning. Perhaps it was a good omen. A sign of His blessing, even.

She glanced across the table at her sisters. Nan had pushed her plate aside and laid her head down on the burnished wood. The slow rise and fall of her shoulders indicated that she was sleeping deeply. Susannah shook her head and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She’d have to move Nan soon, or her sister would awaken with a terribly stiff neck.

“Susy?” Becky murmured softly. “What made you decide to marry Daniel Hale?”

Susannah stopped toying with her apple core. “You know why. Uncle was going to make me marry that lout Sheppard. And so I asked Daniel for his help.”

“Yes, but why Daniel? There were other boys living near us. Why did you go to him above anyone else? Why did you seek him out instead of running away?” Becky tilted her head and gazed at Susannah intently.

“Well, if I had run away, I would have had to leave you two behind. So that would have been a foolish idea.” She sighed. Why had she asked Daniel? It had seemed like the natural decision back then. She hadn’t even questioned it. “Well, he was there. He had come to Bath to visit some of his family, and we could meet each other that way. It all just fell into place, you see. And I suppose I asked Daniel because he always knew how to get out of tricky situations. That was his charm. I knew I could depend on him to help me out of that mess.”

Becky leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “That’s nice. So why don’t you think you can depend on him now?”

Susannah flicked a glance at Nan as she lay cradling her head on the table. “Shush. You’ll wake your sister.” In truth, she didn’t want to think about the matter, much less hash it over with Becky. She couldn’t focus on the past. She had to plan for the future.

“She’s sleeping. She’ll sleep for hours like that if we let her.” Becky wound her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Doesn’t it seem...odd...to you that we should come home to Tansley only to find your fiancé here? Almost like fate or destiny.” Her tone grew shivery and romantic.

Susannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes and crush her sister’s romantic visions. Becky had always been the dreamer of the three, the most inclined to moon over Byron. Susannah, with her iron fist of practicality, had learned the difficult way to rein herself in around Becky over the years and not ride roughshod over Becky’s girlish ideals.

“It’s not fate or destiny. Both of our families are from the village. It’s just...common ground.” She rubbed her eyes with a weary hand. What an exhausting day it had been. “I think I’ll rouse Nan enough to help her upstairs.”

“Wait. You never answered my question.” Becky was nothing if not persistent. “Why can’t you depend on him now? Can’t you become Daniel’s wife in truth?”

“Don’t be absurd. He never thought about me in all those years. Why do you persist in making our engagement something it wasn’t?” She rose stiffly, shaking out her skirts. “He helped a long time ago because I asked for his assistance. What kind of woman would I be if, years later, I showed up on his doorstep begging for help again? I must earn my own way in this world. True independence is my only hope for freedom.”

“Hmm.” Becky smothered a yawn with her palm. “All this talk of being alone...I don’t know. He’s awfully handsome, Susy. So tall. So formidable and yet approachable. And he’s your—”

“No, he’s not.” Time to put an end to this. She had no desire to investigate her past any further. She’d already spent far too much of her day on Daniel Hale. Time that should have been spent devoted to her shop. Susannah shook Nan gently and helped her to her feet. “Take Nan upstairs and you two go on to bed. I’ll tidy up down here, and then I will be along.” She needed a few moments to compose herself.

She tucked away the leftover food in the tiny larder adjacent to the kitchen. They’d have enough to eat for a few days at least. She would never accept charity again, but in this case—well, it was certainly going to go to good use.

A sudden chill ran through her body, and she clasped her arms across her chest. She strode over to the hearth to warm herself. She could never prevail upon him for help again. Her words to Becky rang true. She couldn’t very well presume upon a relationship that obviously meant nothing to him. After all, he had never written her. Not once in all his travels around the world.

And there it was. That was the truth. She couldn’t trust him because a tiny, bitter part of her resented the fact that he’d never once checked in on her during those long years. After her first few letters went unanswered, she knew the harsh truth. Daniel was away on the high seas and had simply forgotten her. That was his way. He was as mercurial as quicksilver and would never conform to any sort of stability. Over time, the raw, impotent rage she felt at being left behind had callused over. She would never count on him again, not for anything important.

But...perhaps she could count Daniel merely as a friend. She would never venture to be more than that, and it would behoove her to keep him at arm’s length. But after being alone in this world and taking care of her two sisters for so long, it was nice to have someone one’s own age as an acquaintance. She didn’t feel quite as miserably alone now.

She dusted her hands on her apron and blew out the few beeswax candles that hadn’t burned too low. Lit only by the flickering firelight, the dining room was warm and cozy. She sat on the hearthstone and surveyed her little kingdom with pride.

She said a quick prayer of gratitude.

The trip to Tansley, which had started so poorly, was looking much brighter.

Chapter Four

Some creature was dealing severe hammer blows to his head. Daniel lay with his eyes squeezed shut, willing the pounding to stop. At least for it to lessen enough that a fellow could turn his head. Baxter’s discreet knock on the door was as loud as cannon fire, and his footsteps across the wooden floor might as well have been anvils dropping from the sky.

“Have mercy, man,” Daniel groaned. “Why are you here, anyway? It’s before dawn and you know I don’t wish to be awakened before ten.”

Baxter gave a subtle cough. “It’s nearly noon, sir.”

Daniel opened his eyes, but the sunlight seared them, and he closed them again. “Are you sure, Baxter?”

“Quite sure. I do have your breakfast tray. Cook sent up bacon and eggs.” The mattress squeaked in protest as Baxter set the tray down.

“Oh, all right.” Daniel slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, holding his head as still as he possibly could. Perhaps a little bacon would ease the throbbing of his brain. “Don’t open the curtains, I beg you.”

“As you wish.” Baxter stood at the end of the bed, facing his master expectantly as Daniel pulled the breakfast tray into his lap.

“Well?” Daniel bit into a slice of bacon. The smoky taste of it gave him an uncertain moment. He’d either toss his accounts or be hale and hearty in a few seconds. He chewed carefully, waiting to see which way his body would react.

“Mr. Donaldson is here, waiting in the parlor. Your estate manager.” Baxter coughed again, and Daniel shot him a rueful glance under his brows. That sound was like nails on glass, especially after one had imbibed a bit too much the night before. “I told him that you were having a bit of a late start but that you would meet with him within the hour. He has some account books, which I gave him leave to spread out on the table.”

Account books. Estate managers. Parlors. His head gave another painful throb, and he bit slowly into the bacon once more. He was doing better, but still—the thought of meeting anyone to discuss business right now put him off. “Did I have an appointment with him?”

“You did, sir. I mentioned it to you yesterday, when Mr. Paul was here.”

“I don’t remember much of anything after Paul arrived, Baxter.” There had been a lot of scotch, hilarious conversation and japes, of course. But practical conversations? No, he didn’t recall a word. “Well, let the man cool his heels in the parlor. I’ll have a bit more breakfast and make myself presentable. This bacon is just what I needed.” He sipped at his tea, a potent, bitter brew so strong that the tannin left a film on his tongue. Bracing was not the word for Cook’s tea. No, she boiled it for so long that you could use it to scrub the decks of a ship. Perfect.

“Very good. Mr. Paul is still sleeping in the guest room. Shall I awaken him?”

“Don’t be absurd. That fellow has no responsibilities, no estate agents waiting upon him. Let him sleep it off. I’ll meet him later, at dinner.”

Baxter bowed and quit the room, shutting the door with a decisive snap. Daniel took another burning sip of tea and struggled to remember all that happened after Paul came over. What had they done? They’d spoken of Susannah and her sisters....

The throbbing in his head was easing. Now it just felt like annoying little birds giving his head an occasional peck.

Well, he couldn’t very well sit here forever. Donaldson was downstairs waiting. He’d only communicated with the fellow a few times by letter—never met him in person. Why was Donaldson here, after all? He was the expert on running the place. Daniel knew nothing of managing a farm.

He pushed the tray aside and sat up, every movement a small agony. Baxter had laid his clothes out for him—the typical country squire attire. Breeches, shirt, jacket. Cravat. Bother the cravat; he was not in the mood to be slowly choked by a piece of fabric today. He tugged and pulled, getting dressed to boots but draping his jacket over the chair as he strolled to the washbasin. The thing fit so tightly that it was impossible to properly wash one’s face with it on.

He gazed in the looking glass, running his hand over the rough stubble on his chin. He needed a shave, and the bags under his eyes spoke volumes about last night. When Donaldson left, he’d enjoy a nice hot bath and a shave. That would be his reward for making it through this meeting when he would much rather sleep.

He splashed tepid water in the washbasin and lathered his hands with a cake of soap. He paused. This wasn’t his usual soap, the one that smelled of fresh green herbs. What on earth was this?

He paused, breathing deeply for a moment.

Orange blossom.

Just like Susannah.

The certainty of what he’d done yesterday speared through him. Paul had dared him. Dared him to send something nice to his sweetheart. And he’d ordered a huge hamper of food to be delivered to the Siddons girls because Susy had been so hungry when he saw her last.

He groaned, rubbing his damp palms over his eyes—but as he drew them away, he could smell nothing but orange blossoms and could think of nothing but Susannah. Would she be offended by his gift? She would be if she’d known that it was done as a dare.

The sick feeling that had begun to ease over breakfast now hit him, full force, in the gut. He clenched the side of the basin and bowed his head.

When the room stopped spinning a bit, he trusted himself to make it over to the bellpull. In short order, Baxter entered the room. “Yes, sir?”

“Why do I have orange blossom soap?” Daniel jerked his head toward the basin and pitcher.

“The maid must have made a mistake. Usually we have your bay rum.” Baxter crossed over to the basin and picked up the offensive bar. “I’ll have it changed out.”

“See that you do. Orange blossom is far too feminine for a chap.” Daniel rubbed his brow. How best to broach the next subject?

“Donaldson is waiting, sir. Are you on your way down?” Baxter stood, soap tucked discreetly in his fist, beside the basin. “Is there anything else you need?”

Yes. He needed just a little more information—just some insight into how great of a fool he had been last night. “Did I order a hamper of food to be sent to the village?”

“You did. The basket was delivered by Nancy in time for supper.”

Daniel suppressed a groan. There was nothing he could do now. It was too late—the hamper had already made it to the Siddonsesʼ home. The girls had either partaken of its contents or—as was more likely—it was now floating in a nearby stream, chucked there by an angry and proud Susannah.

Fine. He would go meet with Donaldson and then he’d have to think of a way to make amends. He’d have to cut back on his drinking with Paul tonight, and he’d have to watch his friend closely from now on, when it came to accepting dares. After all, Paul thought it was a fantastic joke that he and Susannah had been engaged. But it was no laughing matter.

He shut off his thoughts with a click. After all, if he stood there brooding, he’d need a drink. And once he started drinking he lost all sense of reason. And he needed all his wits about him if he was going to find a way out of this mess. “I’m on my way out now,” he informed his butler, his tone rough and brusque.

He quit the room, striding down the stairs with purposeful steps. When he flung open the parlor door, Donaldson glanced up from a stack of books, an expectant look on his face.

“You must be Mr. Donaldson.” Daniel offered his hand. “Good to meet you in person. I’m afraid I haven’t had time before, but now...” He trailed off. He really had no excuse at the ready for his lack of interest in the Hall. Not when his head was pounding and his wits had flown.

“Yes, sir.” Donaldson shook his hand but then bowed respectfully. “I am grateful for the chance to meet with you at last.”

“Well, then. I see you’ve brought a library with you.” A little joke, but really—they must hasten the interview. He had to see Susannah, see if she was really furious with him—

“Yes, well, I had tried to talk to your brother about this, but he had fallen ill and could not make any decisions. The tenants are in need of some assistance, and there are some improvements that could be made on the farm. Improvements that could better the lives of your people here and can bring in more income. Make the place more prosperous.” Donaldson indicated his account books with a wave of his hand. “If you like, I can show you. I need your approval before I can start.”

Tenants. Improvements. Income. The old stifling feeling of obligation began to well inside Daniel, and he took a step back. By distancing himself from the account books, could he distance himself from his duties? “Yes, well, Goodwin Hall has always been reasonably profitable. We don’t want for much here.”

“I do understand, sir. But if you’ll allow me to speak frankly—I feel I would be remiss if I did not say anything. The tenants’ homes could use some repair, and the back fields could, if they lay fallow for a season, produce even better next summer. Or we could try planting a different crop there, to give the soil a rest...”

Donaldson nattered on, showing him a line of finely scripted numbers in a column in one of the account books. Daniel clenched his jaw and nodded, but even as he feigned interest, his gaze and his mind wandered. He could walk down to the village and try to speak to Susannah. Yes, that was the best plan. Speaking to her directly was the only way to address the matter. She always responded better to directness than to subterfuge.

“...and I believe all these improvements could be implemented over the course of the year.” Donaldson closed the account book and glanced at Daniel, an expectant smile on his face. “Well, sir? What do you think?”

“I...uh...” Daniel cast around for something intelligent to say. “I—I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“Well, it is my duty.” Donaldson stacked the books one on top of the other and shrugged. “So, I should, of course, prefer to have your thoughts on the matters, as well.”

He had no thoughts on any of these matters, beyond the growing feeling of dread that he would be chained to them forever. He had no mind for any of this, and yet these obligations were his. “I don’t know, really. Do I need to reach a decision on any of this today?”

“No, certainly not. I am sure you need time to think things over.” Donaldson stuffed the account ledgers into a worn leather satchel. “However, I would recommend implementing these improvements as quickly as possible, as we are nearing the end of summer. Shall I meet with you again next week?”

“No, not next week.” He needed to shake free of these duties. He was never meant to be the one in charge. That was his brother’s job—and he had been far better suited to the role than Daniel. “I may be out of town then. I shall have to see. I’ll contact you, and we can discuss matters at that point.”

Donaldson nodded, his youthful face wearing the expression of one resigned to the inevitable. “Of course, Mr. Hale. I shall wait to hear from you then.” He grasped the satchel and strode toward the door. “Thank you for your time.” He left without a second glance.

There was no trip out of town, of course. Living out as far as he did, a journey to Bath or London would be a rare excursion indeed. But it was the only way to get the man to stop talking—to leave. Daniel sighed and strolled over to the window, gazing out across the rolling pastures that surrounded Goodwin Hall. These were the pastures he’d played in as a child, the pastures that he’d cantered across on his favorite horse as a youth. And they undulated before him, like waves on a sea.

The sea had called to him, beckoning with promises of adventure. These lands rolled before him, reminding him of all he’d shirked. How he’d left his brother to die alone.

He needed a drink. Or he needed to fix one problem.

A choice, really—to drink oneself into oblivion again or to try to repair one bit of damage.

* * *

“Becky, those curtains are lovely. You’re really outdoing yourself this time.” Susannah glanced over at her sister with a smile as she rubbed at the windowpane. “Once we hang them up, the whole character of this room will change.”

“I’ve never seen this much dust in my life.” Nan gave a hearty sneeze. “When was the last time anyone lived here?”

“I don’t know,” Susannah admitted, stepping back to admire her handiwork. The panes of glass sparkled in the late-afternoon sunshine.

“Judging by the condition of these floors, I’d say it was at least ten years.” Nan sneezed again.

Susannah turned to her sister, frowning. “Here, let me sweep. You shouldn’t be breathing in all that dirt. I’ve finished the windows, and when I’m done with these floors, we shall stop for a little while.”

“For the day?” Nan asked hopefully, handing the broom to Susannah.

“For a while.” Susannah stressed the last word as she grasped the rough wooden handle.

“But we’ve been working since early this morning.” Nan used her most wheedling tone. “Couldn’t we take the rest of it to enjoy our handiwork?”

Susannah surveyed the room with a critical eye. Things did look remarkably better. It didn’t exactly look like a fashionable millinery store yet, but it no longer reeked of abandonment. The windows, free of grime, allowed the sun to gild their humble furnishings, which Susannah had rubbed with lemon oil. Becky’s curtains, made of fine ivory muslin, would soften the room and grace it with a feminine touch. And Nan’s sweeping, which had started upstairs and worked all the way down to the front entrance, had done wonders to improve the appearance of the worn wooden floors.

She turned her attention to her sisters. Dust smeared Nan head to toe, and Becky’s head drooped tiredly as she worked fine stitches into the hem of the muslin. She didn’t dare to glance at herself in the mirror—she must look a fright—but the grime that collected around her fingernails bore mute testimony to the work she’d done. Her heart lurched and she twisted her mouth ruefully. Once again, she’d worked everyone too hard.

“Yes, of course. We could all do with a nice bit of rest.” She brushed the broom across the floor in broad half circles, gathering the last bits of debris into a pile. “I’ll just brush this out the door and then we can have tea.”

She pulled the latch and the door creaked open. Mustering the last reserves of her energy, she pushed the dust outside with a mighty swoosh.

A deep, decidedly male voice exclaimed loudly and then gave a hearty cough. Gracious, did she just pepper someone with her prodigious dust cloud? Susannah paused on the threshold and stepped around.

Daniel Hale stood just outside, covered in a fine cloud of dust. As she watched, her eyes growing wider, he swatted at his jacket sleeves, trying to rid them of their powdered grime.

“Mr. Hale.” It was more of a statement than a welcome.

“Susannah.” He straightened and removed his hat. “My congratulations. You are an excellent shot. Indeed, Wellington might have use for you in his army.”

“M-my apologies, Mr. Hale.” Susannah wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt. “I had no idea you were out there.”

“I believe you.” He gave her a slight smile, and for some inexplicable reason, it caused her heart to flutter. “I don’t imagine you were expecting me.”

“We have been working on cleaning up the store today and did not expect any visitors,” Susannah explained. There, that took the personal edge off the conversation. It’s not that they weren’t expecting him. They simply were not expecting anyone.

“Yes, I can see that.” His eyes roamed over her bedraggled form, amusement lighting their green depths.

The old anger and resentment welled in her breast. Who was he to laugh at her? What kind of man paid any calls without even wearing a cravat? “Well, now that I’ve powdered you with dust, at least we match,” she replied in a sweetly tart tone.

Daniel laughed and shook his head. “I should know better than to give you that kind of opportunity, Susannah. You never fail to get the last word.”

A light footstep sounded on the threshold behind her. “Mr. Hale! So good to see you,” Becky called. “Won’t you come in and see our handiwork. We’ve been cleaning all day.”

Before Susannah could turn around and shoot her sister a quelling look, Daniel stepped forward, genuine interest in his expression. “I would, thank you. I wondered how you ladies were getting on.” He motioned the two sisters in with a wave of his hand.

Susannah had no choice but to turn and follow her sister. To say anything at that point to dissuade him would be beyond rude. And while she didn’t precisely enjoy his company, she had no energy left today to cross swords with him. So she set her jaw and waited, arms folded across her chest, as he surveyed their surroundings.

“I must say I am impressed.” He gave a low whistle. “You three have already turned this into a palace. Why, it even smells clean in here. And everything so bright and fresh.” He grinned at Susannah with such warmth that she blinked. “You are to be congratulated. All of you.”

“I’ve just finished making the curtains for the windows.” Becky held one of the gossamer panels up and gave it a shake. “The room will look much more finished when I hang them.”

“Here. Allow me.” He stepped forward and took the panel from Becky. “I see the previous tenant left the rods up, so I’ll just thread the curtains on.” He reached up without even having to strain and removed the wooden pole from the brackets. The sight of his powerful shoulders, framed by the windowpane, made her heart flutter once more.

She gave herself a brisk mental shake. Daniel had always been a very nice-looking boy, and if the boy had filled out into a nice-looking man, then that was no concern of hers. Fine feathers meant nothing if a man never kept his word. And, more to the point, his very presence was a distraction. Her heart shouldn’t ever flutter when he was about. She had set her path in life, and it no longer included Daniel. Her life was this shop, and securing the independence of herself and her sisters was her sole purpose.

The sooner he left the better.

Chapter Five

“We were just about to have tea,” Nan informed him as Becky handed him another curtain panel. “Won’t you stay and join us?”

This time Susannah did shoot a quelling glance at her sister, but Nan turned and busied herself with clearing off the table.

“I’d love to.” Daniel snapped the rod in place and moved to the next window. Becky darted over and began fluffing the curtains with an expert hand. “In fact, I was wondering if you got the gift I sent you.”

“It was lovely!” Nan exclaimed, and the sisters began chattering in tandem about the vast repast he’d sent over and how delicious everything had been. Watching them together, a cold feeling of loneliness settled in Susannah’s stomach. She could not be lighthearted about his gift. Indeed, it was difficult to feel gratitude. All she felt was the same undying sense of betrayal—that she had reached out to him when she needed someone desperately and yet he hadn’t come back for her. She had to turn off these thoughts. She could not allow him to see how much she was hurt. After all, it meant nothing to him. Why allow him to see how deeply she had been affected by his absence? She grasped the broom and walked out to the back porch. She propped the broom next to the doorway and sank onto the rough brick, tucking her skirts around her.

She was tired. And hungry. Perhaps she could just rest for a moment, savoring the quiet. She untied her apron and cast it onto the long, swaying grass. The wind ruffled her hair, and she turned her face up toward the sun. Methodically, she removed the handful of hairpins she’d used to hold her hair, and relished the feeling of release as its heavy weight tumbled down her back. Just a few moments of peace, and then she’d put her hair up, tie her apron back on and go pretend to be a hostess to the man who had betrayed her.

The grass looked awfully tempting. She could spread her apron out on it and take a tiny nap, the late-afternoon sun warming her and making her eyelids droop...

“Susy. I brought you some tea.”

Susannah snapped back to reality with a gasp. She’d almost fallen asleep where she sat, and Daniel stood over her, a steaming mug in one hand and a look of tender concern on his face. She shook her head to rid herself of the dreamy haze that enveloped her and her hair rippled around her shoulders, a reminder that she was dirty, unkempt and had been caught half-asleep by Daniel Hale.

Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Susannah accepted the cup from Daniel. “Thank you.” She let the use of her nickname pass. For the moment.

He knelt beside her and plucked a blade of grass, toying with it. “You’ve been working too hard.”

She took a careful sip. The tea was strong and wonderfully hot, just the thing she needed to feel revived. “No indeed. I need to work a good deal harder.”

“I worry about you.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but he kept his face turned down. He must be teasing her, just as he always did. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Mr. Hale. I am tireless as a windmill.” She made her voice light and airy, the perfect rejoinder.

“I’m not teasing you. I have grave concerns about the amount of work you are taking on.” He cast the blade of grass aside and faced her squarely. “I want to help. If I keep sending food down from Goodwin, would you accept it? I want to make sure you and your sisters have enough to eat until your shop becomes a success.”

“We will not accept any charity.” She kept the same light tone of voice, but her hands began to tremble. “But I thank you for your concern.”

“It’s not charity.” With a sudden, swift gesture he took the cup from her and set it aside, then grasped her hands in his. “Won’t you let me help?”

She cast a quick darting glance at him, scanning his face for sincerity. Deep shadows ringed the eyes that usually held a mischievous light, and the stubble of a beard darkened his cheeks and chin. Daniel looked older—more worn—than he had in some time. Age might have changed him. He might be sincere. But then—Daniel was always sincere at the moment. The sincerity just didn’t stand the test of time.

She tried to tug her hands away and attempted a flighty, false laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t see why you feel you need to watch out for me.”

Daniel pulled her closer, so close that she caught his scent of leather and green grass. “I’m sorry for what I did. Can you ever forgive me?”

She forced herself to look up at him. She hadn’t been this close to him since they were sixteen years old, and for some reason, his proximity was playing havoc with her sensibilities. “I am trying,” she admitted in a whisper. “But it’s difficult. You have no idea...” She trailed off, unable to tell him anything over the painful lump rising in her throat.

“I wish I’d done things differently. I know I have a lot to make up for. Can we...” He paused and swallowed. “Can we at least be friends? I can work on atonement much more effectively if you don’t openly despise me every time I stop by.”

Friendship. Friendship was neutral and didn’t use up as much of her feelings as hatred did. Besides, she was supposed to forgive him if she was to live out her faith. He wasn’t asking too much. Not really.

Could she relinquish her anger enough to be friends?

She tugged her hands from his grip and sat back on her heels, putting some much-needed distance between them. “Very well,” she admitted. “I will be your friend, and you can be mine, but we must have some conditions for this arrangement.”

A half smile quirked the corner of his mouth and the light of challenge shone in his green eyes. “Name them.”

“First, you do not call me Susy. Second, you do not send extravagant gifts to my family.”

“I don’t like the terms, but I will reluctantly agree to them if it means I earn your friendship.” He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “Anything else?”

“Let’s just keep everything...pleasant.” She could not give voice to her tumultuous feelings, but somehow the word summed up how desperately she wanted to brush over the past. “I’m starting anew here in Tansley, and I don’t want to spend the first few weeks in dread of meeting you, or in dread of reliving the past. Do you understand?”

“I think so.” He kept his face turned downward, studying his boots. “I know only too well what you mean about reliving the past. ’Tis an awful practice.”

He must be referring to their engagement. He must feel badly that he ever agreed to marry her. Finding out this way was like tripping over a rut in a road you thought was smooth. She regretted the engagement, too, but she would never describe it as awful. Rather, she regretted that she ever depended on anyone else for her happiness. At least now she knew that independence was the only way to be fully happy.

Susannah stifled a sigh. But then, Daniel had always hated being confined to duties and responsibilities. One Easter Sunday he’d run off and spent the day climbing the moors rather than attend services with his father. He’d been nothing but a lad then. She found him later—dirty and unkempt—when she’d taken her sisters out for a walk. And they’d shared a jam sandwich and strolled with him back to the gates of Goodwin Park.

He would never change. He’d always be the boy smeared with dirt, running away to avoid his duties.

Friendship, and never reliance, was the only way to be happy with Daniel.

“Rest assured, I never spoke of our engagement to anyone but my sisters, and, of course, my aunt and uncle. My aunt and uncle have passed away, and my sisters will never breathe a word of it to anyone. So you see—we can pretend it never happened.”

She rose and picked up the teacup. “Thank you for your assistance today, Daniel. And for the food, too. It was delicious and much needed. I had better finish up, though. There’s still a lot to get done and a few hours of daylight left.”

He glanced up at her, his eyebrows slightly raised, as though he was surprised by her words. “Very well. I hope to see you again soon.” He stood, brushing the stray blades of grass from his breeches. Then, with a slight bow, he strolled off in the direction of Goodwin Hall, his jacket tossed carelessly over one shoulder.

“Is he gone?” Nan chirped, peeking around the door frame.

Susannah jumped, startled at the sisterly intrusion. “Yes.” She placed her hand over her pounding heart. “Nan, you gave me such a scare.”

“What were you two talking about for such a long time out here? Did he propose again?” Becky popped her head around the door frame, pushing her cheek next to Nan’s. “He looks so dashing without a cravat. More men should follow his example.”

Susannah suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Rubbish. No, he did not propose. Why would he? Our engagement was a childish mistake. We’ve agreed to become friends, that is all. And I thanked him for the hamper of food from Goodwin Hall.” She shooed her sisters inside with a flick of her wrist. “Scoot. Both of you. We need to work on our displays.”

Nan and Becky groaned and trudged back inside.

“I always thought Daniel was handsome,” Nan muttered.

Becky sighed. “So debonair.”

Susannah propped herself against the door frame, pausing for a moment to gather her wits. One must be very, very cautious with overly romantic sisters. In her case, it was always the two of them against her. ’Twas easy indeed to become outnumbered and overwhelmed. Why, they could lead you to think that a fellow cared, or that a handsome face made up for a lack of character.

She must never forget, even if she did forgive.

* * *

“Have another drink, my good fellow.” Paul splashed more scotch into Daniel’s glass, droplets of the precious amber liquid flicking across Daniel’s sleeve. “After all, you lose me to London in a day or so. Off to have a good long debauch before settling down for the winter.”

Daniel sipped slowly. The day had started late and brought him into too much contact with too many stark reminders of his own deficiencies. Maybe if he drank enough, he could drown the memory of Susannah sitting on the porch, the late-afternoon sun bronzing the gorgeous waterfall of her auburn hair...

Or the look in her eyes as she assured him their engagement was a childish indiscretion.

“By Jove, man, I might as well be talking to a statue. Why so quiet this evening?” Paul sank onto the settee and grinned. “Will you miss my company that much?”

“Don’t be daft.” Daniel tried to catch the spirit of camaraderie but failed. He was tired of pretense. “I feel the walls pressing in on me. Responsibility and duty and all that.” He took another mouthful of scotch, allowing it to burn like acid down his throat.

“So? Chuck it all. Join me in London and leave it all to your estate manager.” Paul sat forward eagerly. “I shall meld daylight slumbers with evenings spent crawling through the worst places imaginable, until my bachelor appetite is quite satisfied.”

Ugh. What a disgusting way to waste a trip to Town. Daniel raised his eyebrows in surprise at his gut reaction. Just weeks ago, he would have found Paul’s plan enticing. Why the change to anathema?

“No, thank you. I must be getting old. I’d rather drink at home and fall asleep in my own bed.” He swirled the scotch in his glass with a meditative air. “You’ll have to accomplish enough degradation for two, I am afraid.”

“You do sound old.” Paul laughed, a sly look creeping across his features. “Ready to settle down, are you? Perhaps take up where you left off with Susannah Siddons?”

“Stubble it.” Daniel willed his temper to subside. “We’ve agreed to remain friends.”

“Easy, easy.” Paul held his palm up in a placatory gesture and settled back on the settee. “I take it you saw her today?”

“Yes.” Perhaps if he spoke of the work Susannah was doing, Paul would leave their failed engagement alone. “You should see the place, Paul. That tumbledown building has been completely transformed. Those three girls work harder than any laborer here on the farm. I’m quite astonished by all they’ve accomplished.”

“Did she appreciate the gift?” Paul winked.

“Yes, she did.” Daniel cast his glass aside and scrubbed his brow with a weary hand. “I can’t give her extravagant gifts again, Paul. Not even when I am in my cups. She’s too proud, and she works so diligently. I don’t want to make life harder for her than it should be. I know you think it’s all a grand joke, but I cannot find it amusing. Not when I have so much and she has so little.” He faced his friend squarely. “I must ask you to respect our pact. I’m a hopeless drunkard and a shirker, but we need to have deference for all Susannah has done to keep her little family together. Do I have your word?”

Paul pursed his lips, a sheepish look in his eyes. “Of course. Never meant to cause trouble. You know me. Everything—even love—is fodder for comedy. But I will respect your privacy. And raise enough trouble in Town for the two of us.”

Daniel nodded, a smile quirking his lips. “That’s the best I can hope for.”

Chapter Six

In the dim morning light, Susannah peered around her new home. More than a home. This was their hope for the future.

There was nothing more to do, at least when it came to scrubbing and cleaning the place. Even their living quarters upstairs had been scoured—the wood floors sanded, cobwebs swept away, the iron bedsteads freshly painted white. The cheerful quilts that all three girls had pieced on rainy afternoons now graced the beds, and Becky had whipped up a pair of pink calico curtains for their dormer window. Downstairs, in the shop area, the girls had created an attractive window display, framed by Becky’s gossamer muslin curtains.

Nan had really outdone herself this time. A collection of their finest hats was arranged in artful pageantry, all on hat stands of varying height. Nan had woven ribbons above the display in a bright, colorful web. From outside the store, one was drawn in by the promise of beauty.

Now, if only the customers would come.

Susannah had painted a sign herself, in graceful script, proclaiming Siddons Sisters Millinery. The sign was simply too heavy for her to hang, so it leaned against the front wall, beneath the window. Perhaps she could hire a couple of lads in the village, sturdy boys who could scramble up on the roof and hang the sign properly. Until then, this would have to do.

She opened the door, letting the fresh air in. “Girls!” she called. “Do hurry, I’m opening the store.”

“There won’t be a mad rush.” Nan yawned, traipsing down the stairs. “It’s bound to be slow at first.”

“Even so, we must appear professional. No dawdling.” She surveyed Nan and Becky as they presented themselves for review. The sisters had agreed to wearing matching dresses in dark blue, with starched white aprons. Susannah and Becky had wound their hair up into chignons, while Nan’s dark locks flowed in ringlets down her back.

“I think we look quite nice,” Susannah offered cautiously. “Now, do we all have tasks to perform for today? We don’t want to fall idle and daydream the morning away if we don’t have customers.”

“I shall be embroidering a white grosgrain ribbon with cherry blossoms. And Nan is going to work on tatting lace. If we work ahead on trimmings, then we shall have them ready when a new order comes in.” Becky smoothed her apron and smiled.

“Very good. And I shall work on making a new poke bonnet in nice autumnal shades. I think we have our best opportunity of attracting new customers by opening as we are, on Saturday. If I recall correctly, this is the busiest day of the week in the village.” Her memories of Tansley had faded. After all, she left the village when she was still a lass of fifteen. But Mama and Papa walked into the village every Saturday to do the little bit of marketing they needed. And it was always cause for a great occasion.

She settled onto a low stool by the rough wooden table, wrapping brown taffeta over the bonnet frame. Her hands trembled. She must not expect to see any customers today. Building a successful store would take time. And she mustn’t let her sisters see how very nervous she was. Since Mama died, it was her duty to make sure the girls remained sheltered and protected. Even under the direst of circumstances, she could not contribute in any way to making them feel uncertain or afraid.

The taffeta slid easily through the bonnet frame, soothing her ruffled spirit. Having an occupation was a good thing. It kept her mind from wandering too far. If she allowed those thoughts of possible failure to flow through her, she would accomplish nothing. Willing her fingers to cease their trembling, she threaded a needle and started the arduous task of placing tiny, even stitches under the brim to hold the taffeta in place.

She would be a rock for Becky and Nan, just as she’d always been.

But all the same, ʼtwould be nice to have someone she could talk to, and to share her fears with.

A light footstep sounded on the threshold. “Look at this!” a cultured, sweet voice remarked. “A proper millinery here, in Tansley.”

Susannah glanced up, her heart beating fast. A slight, pretty young lady stood in the doorway, a delighted expression on her face. Behind her, two other ladies peered in through the shop window. Well-dressed ladies, ladies who—judging by appearances only, of course—might be gentlewomen.

Susannah rose, her knees quaking so badly she hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. Gracious, one couldn’t very well fall flat on the floor before her very first customers. She must compose herself. Susannah offered a slight smile—the best she could under such trying circumstances.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve just opened. Won’t you come in.” Her voice sounded as wobbly as an old cart-wheel, and she cleared her throat.

“I should say so. Annabella! Evangeline! Do come in!” The lady turned to her companions. “It’s the loveliest little shop I’ve seen—thought at first I had imagined it.”

Her companions scurried in, giggling. “Oh, Eliza! Isn’t it marvelous?” One of the ladies—Evangeline? Or Annabella? At any rate, the blonde one wearing her hair in stylish ringlets—clapped her gloved hands in rapture. “Now we don’t have to wait to go to Town for new bonnets.”

“I’ll take the blue satin one in the window,” Eliza’s other companion, a regal brunette, stated flatly. “Do you have more ready-made than is in your display?”

Susannah paused. They had crafted very few bonnets—she’d wanted to earn more money before whipping up a dozen or so to have ready for purchase in the shop. The supplies were expensive, after all. But stating that to these fine ladies might make her shop seem small and cheap indeed.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but you see our bonnets are made to specification. We work to make sure that each one is suited to the wearer and is a perfect match not just for her clothing but for her features, as well. So, you see, we do not have much stock ready-made.”

Nan and Becky looked up from their work, their dark eyes reflecting merriment and respect as Susannah made her bold pronouncement. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Because the thought of a bespoke milliner in a sleepy village was patently absurd. But that was before her first customers proved to be gentlewomen.

’Twas a daring move, to be certain. She clutched the half-finished bonnet to her bosom. Surely those fine gentlewomen could hear her heart pounding like a big bass drum.

“Delightful! So we could order anything we want, and to match our gowns.” Eliza waved a hand airily about the room. “I am working on my winter wardrobe with my seamstress, Anne. I should like to have you come up to the house and see what she has planned in the way of gowns, and then you can plan bonnets and hats to match.”

“And me, as well.” The blonde withdrew her card from her card-case and held it toward Susannah with a regal gesture. “Coombe Hall is my home. Perhaps you could come on Thursday next?”

“Yes, of course.” Susannah grasped the scrap of paper and scanned it quickly. The Honorable Evangeline Snowden. Gracious above, the gentry. Just as she’d suspected. “I shall be there with one of my two assistants whenever you wish.” She indicated her sisters with a slight lift of her shoulder and placed the unfinished bonnet on the rough wooden table beside her.

“You shan’t have her before me,” Eliza scolded playfully, tapping Evangeline lightly on the arm. “Miss Siddons is my discovery. I was the one who insisted on coming into the village today, and I saw her shop first.” She turned to Susannah, her smile causing her dimples to leap. “Can you be at my home on Monday? After noon, I should think. It’s Kelwedge Hall, and I shall send my carriage for you.” Eliza held out her calling card, as well, and Susannah accepted it with a curtsy.

“Of course, ma—” Susannah stopped abruptly and read the card. The Honorable Elizabeth Glaspell. Oh, dear. How was one to address an Honorable Miss? She cast her mind around desperately. If she was going to play the toffy milliner, she’d have to learn how to address lords and ladies properly.

Eliza chuckled at Susannah’s confusion. “Never mind. Just call me Miss Glaspell. Shall I send the carriage for you on Monday, then?”

Susannah nodded and bobbed another curtsy. “Of course, Miss Glaspell.”

“May I still purchase that fetching little blue bonnet?” Annabella began rummaging in her reticule. “It’s a display piece, so still a one-off. Will this cover it?” She pressed a few notes into Susannah’s hand.

“We had not planned to sell that particular item or any from the display, but since you’ve taken a fancy to it...” Susannah trailed off. Giddiness made her head swim. If only the trio would leave soon, she could sit back down, calm her trembling knees and have a bracing cup of tea.

“Good.” Annabella removed the bonnet from the hat stand with a satisfied air, and Nan scurried forward with one of their precious few hat boxes. Nan tucked the bonnet in with a flourish, tying the box lid on with one of her elaborate bows.

“I share seamstresses with Evangeline,” Annabella said, taking the box from Nan. “So when you go to Coombe Park, I will work with you at the same time.” She handed Susannah her card.

Susannah glanced over the ivory scrap of paper. The Honorable Miss Annabella Prestwidge was engraved upon it in elegant script. Gentry clients—even the fragments of their existence, such as this card—were refined beyond compare.

“Of course.” Susannah nodded. “Thursday next.”

The three ladies left as abruptly as they had arrived, chattering and giggling among themselves. As the sound of their voices faded, Susannah dropped into her chair. Exhaustion and elation swamped her. One bonnet sold, and the promise of commissions? This was more than she dared hope.

“Susannah, you were brilliant!” Becky rushed over, enveloping her in a fierce hug. “I am so proud of you! You were as cool as could be— If it had been me, I should have fainted from nerves!”

“Nonsense.” Her trembling voice surely belied the forthright pronouncement. “’Twas nothing at all. Becky, you shall watch the store on Monday, and I shall take Nan with me as my assistant. As the second eldest, you should be in charge. Next year, when Nan turns seventeen, then she can watch the store by herself.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Nan countered, but Becky shushed her.

“Think of it, Nan! You’ll get to see Miss Glaspell’s fine home. And they’ll come to regard you as an apprentice.” Becky gave her sister an encouraging smile.

“Oh, very well.” Nan sighed. She turned to Susannah. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you for your gracious acceptance,” Susannah remarked dryly. “Now, back to work, ladies. We may have more customers, and we may not. The best way to make the day pass quickly is to work. And that way, when we do visit Miss Glaspell and these other gentlewomen, we shall have more trimmings with which to whip up dazzling adornments.”

Her admonishment proved sound, for though they left the door open and the fine weather drew many people to the village that day, not another soul crossed their threshold. Women would venture down to their quiet end of the street and steal a peep at the shop window, but either out of timidity or lack of interest, they wandered off.

If they hadn’t received the attention of the Honorable Misses Eliza, Annabella and Evangeline, she would have felt very low indeed. As it was, their early success made her hopes rise almost too high, even though she’d cautioned her sisters against the same failing.

As the afternoon light faded, she cast her work aside and surveyed her sisters. They were working side by side, chattering away like magpies. They’d always been close. Whereas Susannah had always been like their mother. A pang of something like envy shot through her as she watched them together. How nice it would be to have a confidant. Someone she could chatter on with about the day’s success.

Gracious. That was the second time she’d harbored such a thought lately. She stretched, unknotting her back as she reached her arms toward the ceiling. How ridiculous—to be mooning over her lack of close friends. What she needed to focus upon was her own dawning independence. If she relied on no one, then she had nothing to fear. No one could abandon her. No one would hurt her. She would earn her own bread and be beholden to herself only.

But somehow, that old comforting thought had lost its appeal.

She must be tired and hungry. That was all.

Susannah turned her mind to the practical matters at hand. And what could they have for supper? Perhaps she could use some of the profit from the bonnet sale to buy a little celebratory dinner. “Girls, I shall go down the street and see if I can find some sort of repast for us. You two finish up what you’re doing, and lay the table. I shall be back directly.”

The girls murmured their approval but did not look up from their handiwork. Susannah tucked the money into her reticule and stepped out, slinging a wooden basket over her arm.

As she ventured forth, a strong hand caught her arm, and she gasped. A robber? Set to steal her day’s profits? Her mouth went dry as she whirled to confront her assailant.

“Hello, Susannah,” a confident male voice greeted her cheerily, and she gazed up into familiar green eyes that sparkled with mischief. “How was the first day?”

* * *

Susannah looked as though she was ready to strike him or cry. “Are you all right?” Daniel asked, leaning in close to her. He caught her faint scent of orange blossom and closed his eyes for a brief moment. Ever since she was a girl, Susannah had had the knack of capturing his full attention, of swamping his senses. No other woman, not even in the far corners of the world, had quite the same captivating effect upon him as Susannah Siddons.

Even the headache that throbbed all day, a reminder of the previous night’s drinking bout with Paul, had begun to subside when he found Susannah.

“You startled me, that is all.” She took a step backward and removed his hand from her arm. “Do you always jump out at unsuspecting milliners?”

“No, this is my first opportunity.” He cast a lighthearted grin her way and took the basket. “Wither are you bound?”

“To find food. The bounty you sent from Goodwin has dwindled.” Her responses were brief, but some of the brittleness had gone from her voice. That was a good sign.

“You could join me at the Hall for dinner.”

Susannah halted in her tracks, staring up at him with an exasperated frown. “How would that be remotely proper?”

“It wouldn’t be proper. But it might be fun. And we agreed to be friends.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “After all, what do you care what anyone says? Aren’t you your own woman now?”

“I am, but as a working lass with my own business, I should hold myself above reproach.” She made a move to swipe the basket from him and he skipped back a pace, grinning. “Oh, do stop, Daniel. You look ridiculous, and people will see us together.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, as though admitting defeat. “Very well, Miss Prim-and-Proper Siddons. I shall conduct myself with great deportment if you will answer my first question, about your first day. And I shall accompany you to any store you desire, so that you may buy food.”

“To the bakery, then,” Susannah ordered, pointing out the way as though he were a newcomer to the village. He stifled a grin. Susannah always was at ease ordering people about. “My day went very well, thank you. I have three new customers, all of them gentry. I think it shall turn out well. I am cautiously hopeful.”

“That is excellent news.” His heart surged with pride. Susannah could accomplish anything she set her mind to, that was for certain.

“And how was your day?” she asked, her tone polite and even. She must be adhering to her own inner conscience, reminding her that she had promised to be friendly, after all.

“ʼTwas...” He paused. While she had toiled at her shop, he’d slept, ate a vast repast, bathed and finally, at this late hour, ventured into the village in the hopes of running into her.

Not that he was seeking her out, of course. But he was interested in her little shop and how well she fared.

“’Twas quite...relaxed.” He shrugged. “Not as exciting as yours.”

“I doubt that.” She looked up at him, a smile hovering around her pretty lips. “With such a large estate? I am certain it keeps you busy morn to night.”

She halted before the bakery, the spicy scents of cinnamon and cloves beckoning them in. “I should go. I need to feed everyone and put us to bed in time for church tomorrow morning.”

“Church?” He laughed incredulously. “The closest one is St. Mary’s. In Crich. Don’t you remember? Nearly a four-mile ride.”

“Oh.” She looked crestfallen, as she bowed her head. “Yes, you are right. I haven’t been there since I was fifteen years old. I forgot how far we used to journey on Sundays. Well, I shall have to simply have my own little service in the morning. I’ve much to be thankful for, you see.”

“I see.” He handed her the basket and touched the brim of his hat. “Well, I am glad you had such a good day, Susannah. With so much to be grateful for.” He turned to go.

“Thank you, Daniel.” The warmth of her voice took him off guard. He glanced at her from under the brim of his hat and was rewarded with a smile—the first genuine one she’d bestowed on him since he’d stopped her from breaking her own door down.

He smiled back and struck out across the moor for Goodwin. Paul was gone, so he would be completely and utterly alone. He suddenly hated social conventions with a passion that startled him. How nice it would be to have dinner with Susannah and her two sisters, just as friends, nothing more.

After all, she’d made it quite clear that even friendship was a stretch after the wrong he’d done her.

Chapter Seven

The sun crept over the moors Sunday morning, illuminating their small living quarters with hazy sunlight. Susannah suppressed a shiver as she wrapped a quilt closer about her person. Already the faint chill heralded autumn’s approach. She’d have to earn a good deal of money—enough to purchase firewood, and to buy wool to make gowns for her sisters, and—oh, gracious, it was all too much.

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