“Your mother is correct, Diana. You must come to terms with this arrangement. I will not have both of my daughters turning into rebellious spinsters, leaving the earldom without a proper heir. You will wed the Earl of Appley and that is that.”
“I will not,” Diana refused, setting her jaw in stubborn determination.
“Then you give me no choice,” her father shook his head sorrowfully. “I was afraid that this would be your answer and as a precaution against further rash outbursts of the kind, I have arranged for you to go and stay with a dear friend of my late mother. Theodora Jenson, the Dowager Marchioness of Westwallow, is well-skilled in the art of social decorum. She has agreed to guide you along the path to becoming the lady that I know you are capable of being. Once you have been removed from the sphere of your sister’s negative influence, I am certain that you will come to see reason.”
“I will not go!”
“You will and that is final!” Her father’s warning tone allowed for no further argument. “You will leave upon the morrow.”
“Father…” Diana began to argue anyway, in spite of her better judgement, but was cut short by a gentle shake of her mother’s head. Her grey eyes warned that argument was futile and would cause further pain for all of them.
“You will go, my dear,” her mother’s soft voice affirmed. “And I pray that you make the most of your time there. Westwallow is a beautiful estate with much to offer a young woman of breeding. I expect you to represent our family with grace and honor.”
Sighing, Diana had no choice but to surrender. Her parents had dominion over her life. As the unwed second daughter of an English earl, she did not.
“Yes, Mother,” she murmured, resignedly. She could have argued with her father all day without remorse, but she had never been able to argue with her mother for very long. She could not bear the hurt look that would enter her mother’s eyes and the argument would instantly cease, her mother getting whatever it was that she desired.
“Good, it is settled then. You will leave for Westwallow upon the morn.” Her father stood, pleased that the argument had come to its conclusion, kissed his wife with tender affection, then left the room for the seclusion of his own library calling for the butler, Reeves, as he went.
Diana almost smiled as she watched Reeves scurry after the Earl. George Reeves had come to work for the former Earl of Kilgrave as a lad. He had advanced from a footman to the butler of the manor long before Diana had been born and had been an influential element in her life and acted as a grandfatherly figure for her. His wife, Agnes, the head housekeeper, had acted as a grandmother.
It is not going to be easy to leave everyone behind.
The thought upset Diana more than she wanted to admit. She looked up at her mother, still sitting across from her, and saw the tears in her eyes. “Are you well, Mother?”
“I am well, my dear, do not worry. I will miss you, but I am indeed well.”
“How long must I be away?”
“Until the Dowager Marchioness deems you sufficiently educated in the ways of society. I am ashamed to see that I have failed you and your sister so in this matter.”
“You have not failed me or Georgette, Mother, never!”
“I have, my dear. You would not need to be taught by another noblewoman had I done my job satisfactorily. You both have a rebellious tendency that I fear is my fault for being too gentle with you.”
“You could never fail me. This is my fault, not yours. It is I that have failed you.” Diana hung her head in shame that she had caused her mother such distress. “I am sorry, Mother.”
“Duty is important, Diana. Our birth gives us a responsibility that others, who do not possess noble blood, do not carry. I did not love your father when I married him and he did not love me, but we grew first to respect each other, then to like each other, and from that mutual respect and admiration came a love that has far outlasted any youthful affection that we might have held for another.”
“You did not marry Father for love?” Diana stared at her mother in shock. She had always assumed that they had been madly in love from the first time they had laid eyes upon each other.
“No, I did not.” Her mother shook her head, a slight smile turning up the corners of her rose-pink lips. “Love grew between us and it can do the same for you. All I ask is that you try."
Diana looked into her mother’s eyes and saw the truth of her words in their depths. She nodded slowly, unable to deny the force of her mother’s admittance. “I will try.”
Her mother’s smile grew, but the tears did not leave her eyes.
“Thank you, my darling. Our very future depends upon it.”
Come morning, after a restless night of sleeplessness, Diana climbed up into her father’s carriage with her lady’s maid and dearest friend, Frances Crow. They had been together since they were both children. Frances had been her designated playmate as a child and once they had grown, Frances had become her maid.
The carriage bumped along the road toward Westwallow Manor. Diana’s stomach felt as if it were tied up in knots. She was a nervous wreck and did not know what to expect upon her arrival. She had heard many times of the famed Dowager Marchioness of Westwallow from her late grandmother, but she had never actually met the noblewoman before. The Marchioness was renowned for her exceptional sense of decorum and social grace. Diana was not convinced that such was a positive trait.
“How long will we be staying at Westwallow Manor?” Frances asked from the other side of the carriage. Diana had no idea how the maid was able to ride backwards as she did. Every time that Diana had tried doing it, she had gotten sick to her stomach. She greatly envied anyone who possessed the ability.
“I do not know. Mother said that the length of our stay would be entirely in the hands of our hostess. I regret being forced to leave Kilgrave. The anniversary of Adam’s death so recently passed and I do not like the idea of leaving Georgette alone.”
“Lady Georgette has the Earl and Countess to aid her should things become difficult to bear, My Lady,” Frances reminded her gently. “As much as it pains you, you are doing the right thing by obeying your father’s edicts.”
Diana smiled at her friend. “You always have such faith that everything will be well in time. I envy you that ability.”
Where Diana was rebellious by nature, Frances was a born rule follower. They were complete and total opposites, yet they worked well together in most areas of life. What one girl lacked in something, the other had in plenty, making theirs a friendship of respect and mutual need.
“Not at all. I simply have faith in your family.”
“Apparently, more than I do, at the moment,” Diana admitted.
“No, you are simply having a disagreement. It will work itself out in time.”
Diana sighed. “I hope that you are right. I do not know what I will do if I cannot make them see reason.”
“I am certain that they feel much the same about you, My Lady.”
“I am certain that you are correct, but I am not going to be the one to change my mind. If anyone is going to change, it is going to have to be them.”
“Unfortunately, that is not how our society functions. It will be you who is forced to change, My Lady.”
Diana set her jaw in stubborn determination. “Not bloody likely.”
Chapter 2
Gabriel Rowan stood in the paddock nearest the Westwallow stables, working with a new yearling mare, when a carriage that he did not recognize came rolling down the drive toward the manor house. Stephen Combes, the first footman of the household servants, stepped out of the front door to stand watch. The butler, Scott Roberts, soon followed, and they stood together in silence as the carriage rolled steadily toward them.
From the angle that Gabriel was standing, he had a full, clear view of the front of the house. The carriage was well-crafted, demarking its owner as a man of wealth. The team of horses were also well appointed, and Gabriel silently complimented their myste
rious owner’s taste in horseflesh. As the carriage rolled to a halt, Gabriel’s father, James Rowan, the stablemaster, stepped out to take the carriage horses’ heads.
The footman opened the carriage door and extended his hand to aid the passengers in their descent. The next instant, Gabriel found himself standing slack-jawed in wonder at the beauteous creature who stepped forth. She was stunning to behold, with her light brown hair glistening in the sun. It curled around her face to frame the most soulful amber-colored eyes that he had ever seen. Even from a distance he could see the fire within their depths.
God in heaven, help me.
Gabriel’s mouth went dry and his heart began to race. Every fiber of his being wanted instantly to know more about her and it took all of his willpower not to leap over the stone fence that separated them and race to her side to take her hand for himself. For the first time in his entire life, he envied Stephen Combes. He had never once wanted to be a footman, preferring the out of doors to being trapped inside, but he would have traded it all in that moment to be the one holding her hand.
Shaking his head to clear his mind of such ridiculous thoughts, Gabriel attempted to turn his attention back to the task at hand but found that he could not. He could not help but to look up every few seconds to see if she was still standing there. A diminutive, mousy-looking girl stepped out of the carriage to stand just behind her. He assumed by the second girl’s gown and subservient stance that she was a maid. The first girl turned to the second and said something that caused a smile to spread across her face and she stepped forward to stand next to her mistress.
Interesting…
Gabriel continued to watch the girls until they disappeared inside of the manor house. The footman followed, carrying the girls’ belongings. Once everything had been taken from the carriage, Gabriel’s father stepped back and the carriage driver flicked the reins, urging the horses forward.
Apparently, she has come to stay.
A thrill of anticipation coursed through his being at the thought.
She is not for the likes of you, Gabriel Rowan. She is meant for a far greater man than a stable hand.
Gabriel walked over to meet his father at the paddock wall nearest the stables. “Who was that?” he asked, wasting no time with idle speech.
His father smiled. “That, my dear boy, is Lady Diana Bexley, second daughter to the Earl of Kilgrave. A pretty young thing, is she not?” He answered Gabriel with a teasing note.
“She is at that,” Gabriel nodded, pretending not to notice his father’s amusement. “Has she come to stay?”
“She has,” his father nodded. “Your mother told me that Lady Diana has come to Westwallow for the Dowager Marchioness to teach her in the fine art of social decorum.”
Gabriel frowned, confused. “Is her own mother dead?”
“No,” his father shook his head. “I am not privy to the details. I only know what your mother has chosen to share with me. There is a rumor about a possible betrothal to an English nobleman, but I do not believe that it is yet settled between them. If you wish to know more, ask your mother.”
Gabriel nodded. His mother, Lilly, was the Westwallow cook and was privy to more information about the household’s comings and goings than just about anyone else on the estate, but she respected people’s privacy and only shared with her own husband the things that she learned throughout her day’s duties. Gabriel had always admired his parents, their sense of honor, and their undying love for one another and for him. He had always felt that he could not have asked for better parents.
I am blessed beyond measure.
After he put the yearling away, Gabriel walked to the manor house and entered the kitchen through the back servants’ entrance. There, he found his mother working steadily through her day’s duties. When she heard him enter, she looked up and smiled.
“Gabriel,” she leaned forward over the bread that she was working so that he might kiss her cheek. “Are you hungry?”
Gabriel kissed her cheek and nodded with a smile. “I am.”
“Sit yourself down there and I will bring you a bit of something,” his mother instructed, gesturing toward the table and chairs against the wall that were for her own personal use.
Gabriel obeyed and sat down, contentedly watching the bustling kitchen staff while he waited. He had known most of them for his entire life. It was a comforting sight to him, and everyone greeted him with a smile as they passed. Anyone above stairs would never know just how warm and welcoming the household staff could be. All the nobles ever saw was the distant façade that the servants had to wear at all times as they worked. Below stairs it was a different story.
Mere moments after Gabriel sat down, his mother had a hot bowl of vegetable broth, a crust of bread, and a cup of cider in front of him. He smiled up at her in thanks and kissed her work-worn hand. She smiled back, patted him on the shoulder affectionately, then returned to work. Stephen, the footman, entered the kitchen and sat down across from Gabriel.
“Did you see her?” he asked, his voice one of awed admiration.
Gabriel did not have to ask whom the lad was talking about.
“I did.” He nodded, focusing on his food to appear nonchalant. It was clear that he was not alone in his thoughts upon their guest’s grace and beauty.
“Is she not the most beautiful thing you have ever laid eyes upon?”
Before Gabriel could answer, his mother put a stop to the conversation. “She is not for the likes of you, Stephen Combes.”
“Why not? I am as good as any man?”
“An Earl’s daughter is not going to choose a footman.”
“Earl’s daughter?” Stephen asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “I am not talking about the Earl’s daughter. I am speaking of her lady’s maid, Miss Frances Crow.”
Gabriel almost choked on his cider at hearing Stephen’s words. He started laughing, much to Stephen’s confusion, and could hardly stop himself, stifling the sound in a cloth napkin that his mother had laid upon the table for him. He had thought that Stephen was speaking in admiration of the beautiful lady, not her maid, and found himself to be equally amused and relieved to discover otherwise.
“You have an eye for the girl, do you?” he finally managed to get out, in order to spare Stephen’s clearly befuddled feelings.
Before Stephen could answer, the object of his affections entered the kitchen accompanied by the head housekeeper, Mrs. Irene Ross, a woman of stern countenance and ramrod straight posture. She could have been a general or an admiral had she been born a man of station. As it was, she ran the Westwallow household with an iron fist. In true form, Mrs. Ross was giving the new maid orders on how she would and would not behave while residing within the household.
“Attention everyone,” Mrs. Ross called the staff to order. “This is Miss Frances Crow, lady’s maid to Lady Diana Bexley, second daughter to the Earl of Kilgrave. Miss Crow will be provided with everything that is needed for Lady Diana’s care. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mrs. Ross,” the staff answered in unison.
“Very well, now to show you where you will be sleeping.” Mrs. Ross turned and led Miss Crow from the room.
“Is she not marvelous?” Stephen murmured, staring after her as if the maid was the most beautiful thing to have ever walked the face of the earth.
Gabriel bit back a laugh. “Indeed, she is.”
“Do not be getting any ideas, Gabriel,” Stephen warned, frowning.
“I would never dream of it, my friend,” Gabriel promised. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?” He had meant the statement in jest, but his own words came back to reprimand him.
Lady Diana is rumored to be betrothed to another, a man of more worthy station. I am but a stable hand. There is naught to be done, but to go on as if I had never laid eyes upon her.
Even as he swore to himself to do so, he knew that it was impossible, for from the first moment that he had seen her smile, his heart had been lost.
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Also by Hazel Linwood
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Hazel Linwood
About the Author
Influenced by the extraordinary tales of Jane Austen and Maria Edgeworth, Hazel Linwood has always adored the fairy-tale like romances of the past. The youngest of four sisters, she has spent most of her youth lost in the classic historical romances of her favorite authors. Despite her parents’ efforts to persuade her to pursue a career in medicine, she found her heart's true calling in English Literature.
After obtaining her degree, Hazel worked as an English teacher. That was until she met her husband and decided to indulge in her secret passion...writing! When she isn’t writing, Hazel enjoys spending time with her family, travelling or roaming the Texan countryside.
Embark on this journey of desire, decorum and intense love of Regency England. Let Hazel transport you into an era of pure, sincere love and charming lords that will take your breath away!
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