“And I always will,” Adrian pledged solemnly. “You are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, Lady Lenora McLean.”
And he cupped her chin in his hand, brought her lips to his own, and kissed her.
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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More lovely historical romance
Turn on to the next page to read the first chapters of The Haunted Knight of Lady Canterley, my first published novel ever!
The Haunted Knight of Lady Canterley
About the book
It’s dangerous, it’s terrifying, it could all fall apart. But what if it all falls together?
With their young lady’s impending nuptials approaching fast, the atmosphere at Canterley Manor couldn’t be more festive. Then one day, their happiness turns to ashes in their mouths...
When her sister Grace inexplicably disappears, Lady Amelia Dowding will do anything to find her. Determined to honor her promise to her late mother, she takes matters into her hands.
For Tristan Knight, Earl of Aylesbury, loving Amelia unrequitedly comes as natural as breathing. When it becomes apparent that she is in grave danger, he will stop at nothing to ensure her safety. Even if it means his own heartbreak.
When their trail leads them to the wilderness of Scotland, an unexpected ally points them in the right direction: the key to Grace's abduction hides in the vaults of Canterley Manor.
Chapter 1
Rattling breaths filled the bedchamber as eight-year-old Amelia Dowding stood over the fading form of her mother, Victoria, the Viscountess of Canterley. “You cannot die,” she sobbed clinging to her mother’s hand. “You cannot!”
“I fear I must, my darling, and there is nothing to be done about it,” Victoria answered caressing her daughter’s cheek. The newborn babe lying in the crook of her arm cried out in protest at the movement. Her mother’s green eyes shined like emeralds with her tears, slipping down her cheeks to disappear into the halo of dark curls encircling her pale face.
“I hate her for taking you from us!” Amelia lashed out, unable to contain all of the emotions she was feeling.
“No, my darling, you must not hate your sister, for when I am gone, I will be depending upon you to care for her and see that she grows to be as fair and lovely of character as you are.” Her mother smiled gently patting the bed beside her for Amelia to lie down. Amelia scrambled up next to her mother and buried her face in Victoria’s shoulder.
“I will never love her,” Amelia protested shaking her head.
“Yes, you will. When I am gone your brother and sister will be all that you have. You will be all that each other has in this world.”
“And Father,” Amelia added sniffling.
“Yes, and your father,” her mother added with a weak smile, then wilted into a series of coughs that wracked her frame mercilessly. Her mother’s body spasmed in pain contorting her face into a grimace. “Promise me that you will take care of your sister,” she gasped, grasping Amelia’s hand harder. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” Amelia sobbed, unable to refuse her mother’s last dying wish.
“You will love her, my darling, just as I love you.”
“I love you, Mother. Please do not leave us. I promise I will do as you say.”
“Tell your brother what I have said.”
“He will be here any moment with Father. They are coming, Mother. Please just hold on for a little while longer.”
“The time has come, my darling. I have nothing left to give. You will be well in time, my love. By the grace of God, you will all be well.” Another spasm of pain ripped through her body.
“No, Mother! I will not let you go.” Amelia flung herself across her mother’s body. Victoria held her for a moment then eased her eldest daughter back up to a sitting position.
Her mother picked up the baby with shaking hands and placed it into Amelia’s arms. “She is yours and you are hers,” she whispered. “Say it.”
“No,” Amelia shook her head in protest as if her mere refusal would stop the tides of time.
“Say it. Please, Amelia, say it for me.”
Amelia took a quivering breath to steady herself. Closing her dark brown eyes, she could barely manage a whisper, her grief was so intense. “She is mine and I am hers,” she repeated through her tears.
“Thank you,” her mother caressed each of her daughter’s heads in turn, running her fingers through their dark curls so like her own. “I love you, my darlings,” she whispered, and then with one last shuddering breath was gone.
“Mother!” Amelia sobbed. “Please, Mother!” She pleaded for her mother to return to her, but it was to no avail. She was gone. The midwife stepped forward and covered the Viscountess’ beautiful lifeless face with a white linen sheet.
“Say goodbye to your mother, dear,” the midwife instructed as she left the room.
Amelia stared after the woman as if she had lost her mind. The baby squealed in her arms and she looked down at the little girl who was now her responsibility. How am I supposed to say goodbye? She asked her sister silently. How are we supposed to say goodbye? Taking a deep breath, she turned her gaze back to the still form before them.
‘Simply say it,’ her mother’s voice whispered through her mind and Amelia knew that she was right. Her mother had always been one for getting through unpleasantries by sheer force of will with a straightforward approach. If a thing was to be done, it was best to simply do it with as little fanfare and strife as possible. She had always believed that life was difficult enough without adding more to it by one’s attitude. Amelia knew that this was not the same thing at all, but she decided that she would try anyway.
“Goodbye, Mother,” Amelia whispered fighting the urge to rip the sheet from her mother’s face. She tightly squeezed her eyes shut with the pain of the moment. Goodbye… The baby squealed again, and she opened her eyes. She bent down and kissed the little pink face of her sister. “Shhh… We will find a way,” she soothed herself as much as the infant. “You are mine and I am yours,” she promised. “Always.”
Amelia’s father and brother barged through the doors. Her brother stopped in his tracks and stared at the scene before him in disbelief. His dark brown eyes wide in agonized shock. Their father, William, Viscount of Canterley, stepped forward and lifted the sheet, looked down at his wife, replaced the sheet, then turned on his heels and without a second glance at his children left the room. Not a flicker of emotion passed across his features, his dark eyes dry. One would never have known that he loved her.
The baby squealed in displeasure as the door slammed shut behind him. Amelia attempted to soothe her by rocking her back and forth. The sound of the baby’s distress broke through her brother, Jonathan’s, haze of pain and urged him forward. Coming to sit next to Amelia on the bed, he wrapped his arms around both of his sisters. “Mother says that we are to look after the baby,” Amelia informed him as she had promised to do.
“Yes,” Jonathan nodded his head in determination. “We shall.” He squeezed both of them tighter and they sat huddled together for a long time until the midwife returned with a wet-nurse to feed the baby.
The wet-nurse came and took the baby from Amelia’s arms, and cooed over the adorable bundle. “What is her name?” she asked kindly of the two children before her.
“Grace,” Amelia announced without bothering to get her father’s permission to name the infant. Her mother had said that by the grace of God they would all be well and so they would in time as long as they had each other. “The baby’s name is Grace.”
Chapter 2
Nineteen
Years Later
Amelia stood behind her sister, brushing Grace’s hair. “Can you imagine it, Amelia? Soon I will be the Duchess of Slantonshire! Me, a Duchess!” Her smile beamed so brightly it was stunning to behold. Grace looked so much like their mother that it hurt.
“Yes, I can believe it,” Amelia answered with a sad smile. She bent down and kissed the top of her sister’s head to hide her true feelings. A tear slipped down her cheek and she turned away under the guise of grabbing another handful of hairpins. By the time she turned back around she had gotten her emotions under control. “You will make a lovely bride.”
“Let us hope that Henry thinks so as well,” Grace replied, studying her reflection in the mirror critically. “Are you certain that this hairstyle is the height of fashion in London this season? I do not wish to be seen as nothing but a country lady from the English marches of the Welsh border.”
“And how is that any different than being seen as a Duchess from the English marches of the Scottish border?” She was amused at her sister’s odd sense of vanity.
“The difference is that I will be a Duchess,” Grace stated matter of factly as if it made all the difference in the world. Perhaps it did. Grace’s fiancé was Henry Booth, Duke of Slantonshire, who owned a rather large estate along the Anglo-Scottish border.
“Being the daughter of the Viscount of Canterley is nothing to be dismissive about,” Amelia reminded her.
“As is evidenced by the flock of ladies after our own dear sweet brother’s affections.” Grace laughed lightly, a musical sound made of little more than lilting air.
“Yes.” Amelia smiled affectionately thinking of her brother’s way with the ladies of the ton.
They were both terribly fond of their brother Jonathan, and he was as equally fond of them. From the moment that their mother had died they had been all that each other had. Their father had been physically present, but emotionally distant their entire lives. They had gone through a series of governesses, but none had stayed for any length of time long enough to establish a loving connection. Their father had always blamed it on Amelia’s rebellious nature, but she did not believe it to be the only reason.
Amelia finished dressing Grace’s hair and stepped back to admire her work. They had servants to do such work for them, but their mother, Victoria, had always done Amelia’s hair before she had died and so Amelia had carried over the tradition with Grace. “Lovely,” she proclaimed, pleased.
“Do you really think so?” Grace asked turning her head to gaze at her reflection from every angle. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Yes, I do. The Duke is sure to fall in love with you all over again.”
Grace beamed with happiness. “Am I not the most fortunate lady in all of England?”
“I am certain that there are many who think so.”
“Oh, Amelia,” Grace shook her head in exasperation. “You need to find a nobleman of your own. If you were married and settled, it would go a long way to mending the rift between you and Father. He only wants what is best for you.”
“And who better than I to know what that might be?” Amelia did not wish to get into the same old argument about her lack of marriage candidates. She had had plenty of offers for her hand over the years but had refused each and every one. She could not countenance binding herself to a man that she did not love simply because it was socially advantageous to do so. Her many refusals had angered her father immensely.
“Some would say Father knows better.” Grace stood and turned to face Amelia.
“Yes, and they would be wrong.” Amelia walked over to the bed and lifted her sister’s dress from atop the covers. She carried it to Grace and placed it over her head. The lilac material floated down around Grace settling over her feminine form in flowing lines. She next placed a light bonnet with lilac flowers and ribbons upon Grace’s head completing the ensemble. “You are ready,” she announced stepping back so that her sister might admire her reflection.
“It is a long journey to Slantonshire. Let us hope that I look as lovely upon my arrival as I do upon my departure. The roads can be so unforgiving.”
“I am certain that the Duke will think so. He is quite enamored with you.”
“As his future bride, I should hope so.” Grace primped in the mirror for a moment adjusting a ribbon here, a curl there.
“You are fortunate to have found love and father’s approval in the Duke.”
“Yes, I am. How blessed am I that Father introduced us,” Grace beamed with pleasure. She lifted her gloves and reticule from the dressing table and slid them on.
Grace was everything that their father expected in a lady of breeding. In his eyes she was the perfect daughter, and Jonathan was the perfect son. Amelia was the only one that had been found lacking among the three, in spite of her dedicating her entire existence to the care and raising of her little sister. Their father had been a strict disciplinarian who had given his children very little say in their own lives. Amelia’s resistance to this had alienated her from him long before their mother’s death.
“I will follow in a few days’ time once your wedding dress has been completed. Tristan promised he would deliver it from London when he comes to see Jonathan,” Amelia promised.
“I wish you were coming with me, but the Dowager Duchess wishes me to arrive early to put the finishing touches on the wedding plans and I most certainly cannot leave something so important as my wedding dress to Jonathan. Though I must admit that it is most kind of Tristan to bring it with him from London.”
“I am certain that nothing ill will befall it in Tristan’s care, but you are right not to trust something so delicate to our brother’s deliverance.” Amelia smiled in amusement at her sister’s fretting. “I do not mind remaining behind in order to see that it reaches you unscathed.”
Tristan Knight, the Earl of Ayle, and their brother Jonathan had been close friends from the time that they were quite young. Though the Earl’s seat lay not far from London, his family had owned a country manor house near the Canterley Estate for many years. Having grown up with six older sisters, Tristan had an understanding of such things as the importance of a lady’s wedding dress. Jonathan, on the other hand, did not view such things with the same understanding, hence Grace’s request of Amelia.
“Thank you.” Grace smiled her gratitude, then the two sisters walked down to the waiting carriage. “As soon as my dress arrives, you follow me as quickly as you can. I can hardly wait to show you everything!”
Grace’s exuberance was charmingly contagious. “I shall,” Amelia promised, kissing her sister’s cheek. Grace climbed aboard the carriage and was then away. Amelia smiled, waving her off and turned back toward the house. There was much to do before they would all travel north for the wedding.
* * *
Grace bumped along in the carriage, her heart racing with excitement. She could hardly believe her good fortune. Her marriage to Henry was the culmination of all of her hopes and dreams. An image of his tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed form flashed through her mind and she felt a tingle of pleasure travel along her spine. She watched the landscape float by outside of the carriage window in silence.
The Duchess of Slantonshire… The responsibility of what she was about to do suddenly dawned on her and for the briefest of moments her nerves overtook her excitement.
Normally a lady of her station would have traveled with a female companion, but she had not taken the time to arrange such a thing once she had received the Dowager Duchess’ summons. She had been entirely too excited to waste a moment and had simply ordered one of her father’s house maids to accompany her, who now sat next to the driver atop the carriage.
Perhaps I should have waited for Amelia. She is the most responsible one of us all. What if I make a misstep and embarrass myself? Or worse, what if I embarrass Henry? Grace stirred nervously in her seat. It would be the first time that she had ever visited Slantonshire on her own without her family. Soon it will be
my home and I must get used to being there without my sister.
Grace squared her shoulders in an attempt to dampen her nervousness and regain her former excitement. She smoothed her face back into a pleasant expression. It would not do to become wizened before my time. She had become quite the expert over the years in masking her true emotions.
Amelia’s face, on the other hand, showed every thought and emotion she had ever had. It had caused a great deal of strife between Amelia and their father, for every time that she had disagreed with his wishes her face had made it clear for all to see. It had also meant that Amelia was the most honest of them all. Watching the discord between Amelia and their father had taught Grace to hide her true feelings in all things at all times. All things, with the exception of how she felt for Henry. In that she had been completely honest.
As the carriage bumped along, she grew tired and began to doze in and out of slumber. She was not certain how long she had slept when the carriage came to a sudden halt. Her body was flung to the floor of the carriage by the sudden change in speed. Before she could lift herself back up onto the seat, rough hands dragged her from the carriage. She looked up at the man who was pulling at her but could not make out anything distinctive through the fabric that covered his face.
Dark beady eyes glared down at her from behind slits in the fabric. “Who are you?” she demanded to know. The man did not answer. “Who are you?” she shouted. “What do you want with me?” Still no answer. As he pulled her free of the carriage, she plunged to the ground screaming at the top of her lungs for him to release her. “Unhand me this instant!” Instead of obeying her orders, the man picked her up off of the ground and slung her over his shoulder carrying her to his waiting horse.
A Game of Chess With the Marquess Page 28