There was a mysteriously romantic feeling to the Estate. It was as if it contained a promise that Hope only had to discover. A thrill went through her. Her destiny awaited her. She only had to take hold of it with both hands, and never ever let it go.
Blessing Hall stood proudly before them. Pressing her hand to the cold glass, Hope closed her eyes, and for one brief moment, lost herself in time. If only…if only. She could still hear her sister Faith exclaiming right after they had arrived at Elysium Hall that the grand old house ought to have been called Spinster Hall, not Elysium Hall. And then, she had turned to Hope her grey-blue eyes wide with horror, and whispered, “Is this what we are to become, Hope? Is this our fate?”
Hope had shrugged her shoulders. Indifferent, and with her heart still breaking, she had stared back stolidly at her sister. Her cruel reply now made her wince. “Would it really be that bad if that was our fate, Faith? Think of it. We wouldn’t have to worry about losing anyone and being cast out of our homes. Our hearts could never be broken again. Uncle Christian said we could stay here for the rest of our lives. It isn’t that hard of a sentence to endure. Besides, as females that is our lot in life. We endure. We survive, while others die around us.”
Her sister’s eyes had welled with tears, and Faith had gasped, and then turned away from her to seek solace with the others. The only ones who hadn’t clustered together with Faith, were Hope and Desi.
The two odd ones out.
Still, they hadn’t sought to comfort each other. She and Desi had remained apart. Each stunned by their surroundings for two completely different reasons. Desi had been a child then, and her hard shell hadn’t quite hardened so bitterly yet. She had wailed her eyes out for the bosom chums she had been forced to leave behind. No one could banish her tears for days. No amount of comfort could give her solace, and then, one day, Desi had stopped crying, and suddenly it seemed as if she couldn’t feel anything at all. Their father’s death had changed both of them. Shame it had changed Desi for the worse.
Hope had shed silent tears for what she had lost. With the death of her father, she had lost her belief that magic could solve all of her troubles. It hadn’t saved her father. She had lost her ability to dream that the world could be a place filled with wondrous things that defied explanation. Now, the only thing she dreamt about were the worlds she escaped to in her books—sensible worlds that might have a bit of the fantastic, though they lacked any genuine magic.
She no longer thought of fairies and pixies fighting in their age old war with each other, nor did her mind consider why such creatures would enlist the help of giant mercenaries, and other magical beings like the spriggans. She wished she could think about those stories again, and escape into those fantastical worlds. If only they didn’t hold so much pain for her. To visit them again would be like visiting her father again, and as much as she wanted him back, she knew that never could be.
The carriage rumbled to a stop, and the abrupt motion almost sent her hurtling off her seat. Her Aunt Phoebe touched her lightly on the arm. “Are you quite all right, my dear? If you do not feel up to the taxing environment of the ball, I am quite certain that Fanny would allow you to retire to one of her bedchambers. Or you could go and sit in one of the Withdrawing Rooms with the other ladies who want to stay away from the festivities.”
“I am fine,” she clipped out, harsher than she intended. “I am sorry, Aunt Phoebe. I am sorry.” True regret clawed at her. She didn’t want to turn into Desi. Losing their father’s calm and loving presence had shriveled Desi’s heart. It had turned her bitter. It had turned her into a little monster, and Hope could not walk down that same path.
“Not to worry, my dear,” she said softly. “None of us are perfect. Not even Susanna is perfect.”
“Speak for yourself, sister dear,” Susanna said, snorting.
Her aunts were dear sweet souls, even Susanna was sweet in her own way. So unlike her mother. Her mother had been nicer before the death of their father, but she had never been as warm as any of her sisters.
It was as if Cecil Fortescue had been the light of their lives, and when his life had been extinguished, the light he filled their world with had died with him. It was odd that she thought of that at such this time of the year.
Candlemas was the time of the year that they celebrated light coming back to the world, and she knew that with the Feast of Lights they were that much closer to the spring equinox. However, she didn’t think that light would ever return to her world. Without her father, it seemed as if the dawn would never come again.
She looked back at her aunts, and focused on them instead of stirring up memories she wished she could forget. Uncle Christian shared their easygoing disposition, though she could tell that he could be as hard as granite should the situation call for it. She could see the great Colonel as he had once been, and imagined that he had probably been a formidable adversary for Boney’s men.
“Now, remember, dear, if no man asks you to dance tonight that isn’t a reflection upon you whatsoever. You mustn’t take it to heart and allow it to bother you. And just take comfort in this thought. Mayhap, Peter will offer for your hand. You shall have such a life of ease, if he does, and he shan’t treat you badly. He will…well, you shan’t have to worry about him abusing you in any way. Of course, you will have to do your wifely duties, but I shan’t think they will be too hard to do considering how sweet Peter is,” Susanna said softly. “And the best part of it all—you won’t be separated from us. We shall all still be able to visit and spend time together. Won’t that be grand?”
Hope’s mind rioted, and her stomach followed, torch and pitchfork in hand. Her nerves were rattled by the thought of Peter…in her bed. He didn’t belong there. She knew who did, the only problem was, would he make himself known at the ball? Or would he remain elusive? She shuddered. She could endure having Peter as her cousin but certainly not as her husband. The quivering motion of her disgust moved her entire body.
“Oh, gracious. Hope is cold. We shall have to get you warmed up once we are inside Blessing Hall,” Priscilla said, in her motherly way.
“I…I am not cold, well, I do feel chilled. I merely do not think that I am worthy of a man such as Peter. I am far beneath his touch.” She felt tetchy. She wanted to say more, but she didn’t want to upset anyone other than Susanna. The problem was, if Susanna was upset, her mood traveled to her sisters as well.
Susanna eyed her sharply, and then, her gaze softened. “I relent. You are right. Your prickly temperament probably wouldn’t suit him. You are quiet enough for him, but your mercurial temperament could become a problem. I wonder if we could ease Peter into thinking tenderly toward Faith, Charity, Grace or Amity. Desi is certainly out of the question. She is far too much of a holy terror. I hate to say it, but she has turned into an utter horror. She will…she will make sweet Peter’s life a misery, and I wouldn’t wish that on the poor dear. Still, that leaves Faith, Amy, Grace and Charity. One of them might be suitable for dear Peter, and given time, I shall decide which one.”
They all fell silent. No one dared contradict Susanna, but she could see that some of her aunts didn’t share her fondness for Peter.
The carriage door was whisked open by a footman and servants standing at the ready with umbrellas to put over their heads so the soft rain spattering down around them would not make them wet. She alighted with the assistance of a footman, carefully lifting her skirts, she stepped around the small puddles. Her heart soared as she looked up at Blessing Hall. It was a majestic structure. But that wasn’t why she was so elated to see the house again. She couldn’t wait to get lost within it and find their expansive Library that was far better than the one back at Elysium Hall.
They stepped into the grant Entrance Hall, and handed their wraps, pelisses and cloaks off to waiting servants to take to the dressing room. They were amongst the first guests to arrive. Slowly, her worries slipped away. Nothing could ruin this night. She forgot all about her Aunt Susanna
’s suggestion that she marry Peter. They had followed Peter into the house and he had drifted away from them, his eyes catching a few ladies that actually had the courtesy title lady in front of their name. He said once that he wanted to marry a duke, marquess or earl’s daughter, and she had a fair bet he would stick to that plan. He wanted to marry his equal. Not a woman that he believed was below his station in life. He was a terrible snob, and she stayed away from him as much as possible because she knew they would clash, and they would exchange heated words, that would only upset Susanna and by extension, it would upset the rest of her aunts. She and her sisters didn’t match Peter’s ambitions. He was assured to inherit their uncle’s earldom. They only had Miss and the Honorable to fall back on in a pinch. They fell into the receiving line, and went through the motions of greeting Fanny and her new husband, Lord Blessing. He was a giant of a man with glorious blond hair, and a mischievous grin that filled her heart with joy. She knew why Fanny had dreamed about him for so many years. She would have been besotted by the charming rogue as well.
Her uncle gave her an affectionate gaze. “You shall have to keep an eye out on the suitors tonight, Susanna,” he said, addressing the aunt closest to Hope. “Our Hope will have them flocking around her this evening. I do believe she is the belle of the ball.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “I have a few men in mind for you, my dear. I think you would match them well.”
Her stomach twisted.
This was why she didn’t like balls. Everyone was quick to decide for her the man she was to marry. She had suitors in the past, and none of them had ever stirred her heart. She had come perilously close to making a blundering mistake once…and she had avoided that trap by the skin of her teeth!
Once all of the guests had arrived, they gathered together in the gloriously lit ballroom to listen to the performance that marked the start of every ball held at Blessing Hall. The orchestra started to play the British Grenadiers Marching Song, and the two operatic tenors enlisted to perform at the ball started to sing the lyrics that accompanied it.
The audience fell silent as they listened to the patriotic tune. It was a rousing song, and stirred her heart in a pleasing manner. She adored this song, and every time she heard the inspirational lyrics, she was swept away into the romanticism of it all. Once they had finished, everyone clapped for them, and then, the dances commenced. The music of Bach filled the air, as the traditional minuet heralded the start of the festivities. It was such a pretty and elegant dance. Some didn’t hold to tradition and opened their balls with another dance. She was grateful that her uncle hadn’t moved with the times, for the minuet was too gracefully beautiful to be a victim of fashion.
Hope watched as her sisters were engaged for the first set. The pretty and old fashioned minuet ended. Before long, the lively melody of Auretti’s Dutch Skipper filled the air, and as everyone else wandered away from her, she sighed. On the upside, it gave her the opportunity to slip away before anyone could muck up her plans and ask her to dance.
Marching in the direction of the Library, she passed bemused servants who moved out of her way knowing that she was a relation, and therefore had full access to the house and its plentiful treasures.
With a breathless gasp, she walked through the small and intimate Ante Library for the large Library, and grinned madly. She felt drunk on the delights that stood before her. So many bookshelves. So many books. It was heaven. With a skip in her step, she started peering at the spines of the books, trying to decide which one she would select first.
She was about to reach for the one she had picked, and her hand stilled at the sound of someone entering the Library. Had the floor not creaked, she might not have noticed him at all. It was a man if she wasn’t mistaken, loudly clearing his throat, in a concerted effort to gain her attention.
Terror burgeoned within her. She froze, and bit her lip. Could she turn to face the person who had slipped into her sanctuary? Please, God, let it be Uncle Christian, or even Peter.
Slowly, with her heart drumming in her chest with such force she feared it would explode right out of her, she turned to face the man who had disrupted her quiet solitude.
“I am sorry for startling you,” the voice sounded familiar and yet, Hope had never laid eyes upon the man standing in front of her before. Somehow, someway, she knew this moment had preordained. She trembled at the thought. The books were forgotten. Her entire world had just been lit on fire.
His wildly wavy hair was dark as midnight, and his eyes, his soulfully deep eyes were like lapis lazuli, shining jewels that invited her to come closer. She shook her head, attempting to shake off the spell he wove around her. In the blink of an eye, she fell into his enchantment. She swallowed thickly, and squared her shoulders.
“You didn’t startle me,” she said, in a small voice, her voice wobbling nervously. Why did she say that? What had taken hold of her? Of course he had startled her. He had frightened her witless, obviously. She stumbled over her words, as if English was not her native tongue.
“I didn’t?” he asked softly, his hauntingly beautiful eyes widening.
Gadzooks. Egad. Odds bodkins, she was lost! She had fallen under his spell, and it had rendered her witless.
Now, she had to continue chatting with him. Engaging in civil whiskers with this gentleman wasn’t something she wanted to do. She shouldn’t be alone with him in a room. She didn’t know him, she hadn’t even been introduced—and yet, she felt as if she had known him forever. She was in dangerous territory, and she had to flee before she did something that she couldn’t come back from.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
“I thought you were invited,” he said silkily. He wasn’t as flustered as she was. He seemed perfectly calm, while a tempest waged inside of her. One that couldn’t be quelled—would never be quelled.
He didn’t have the affliction she had. He was quite at home talking to the opposite sex, and it looked as if nothing could disturb his peaceful visage. She wondered if anything could rattle him. He might be relaxed around women, but she had no such ease around men who were not related to her.
“I was, of course. I am…I…” she trailed off. His eyes were hypnotic. Look away, she intoned. She had to look away, or he would draw her closer to him, and she would be lost. He wasn’t aware of the power he held over the opposite sex, or he was, and he was using it to his advantage, and to her peril. “I am Lady Blessing’s cousin. I was invited, yes.”
Her words sounded so clumsy. Why couldn’t she sound more coherent? This was why she stuck with her books. She sounded like a dithering fool.
“And which one are you? I heard she has half a dozen, isn’t that right?”
*****
Gilbert should stop.
He shouldn’t continue teasing her, and yet, he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to keep her connected. He wanted her to stay with him forever. From her dark brown hair that seemed almost black, to her pale skin and jade green eyes.
She looked like an angel.
He was falling.
Fast.
She looked like what he had always imagined a fairy to be. He swallowed thickly. Mayhap, he should let her go. Someone as fine on the eyes as she was, wouldn’t want a bastard like him. He often wondered if he could feel anything at all. Seeing her made him realize that his heart could race, and his palms could grow sweaty, and that in a heartbeat a gamut of emotions could flood through him. That wouldn’t change who he was, and who had been born to be. Though he was now an earl, he felt that she would want to marry someone who was of the blood. Being recently ennobled came with no shame, but many who were ennobled came from better families than he did.
Silently, she moved to walk past him, and he caught her hand before she could reach the Library doors. As they connected, he felt it. A resounding jolt shuddered through him. A sound that resembled thunder cracked through the room. He had never felt such a sensation before, and feared
he would never experience it again. It was almost as if one of Cupid’s arrows had found his heart. He felt a little heady. Short of breath. He dragged in a shaky breath, hoping that she hadn’t realized his momentary lapse of control.
Good God Almighty. She was heaven sent.
“Stay,” he said softly.
“I mustn’t be caught with you. I do not know you, sir. You are a stranger to me,” her words were barely more than a whisper, and they gently caressed his soul. She had a magical quality to her. Something that he had only ever experienced once before. The first time he had met Lewis. He had been affected back then as well, but not in the way she affected him. She made him want to lean toward her and capture a kiss. Drown in her gaze, and hold her close so the wondrous feelings she fostered within him would continue to grow.
“I am a friend of the Blessing Family,” he said easily. The calm tone of his voice belying the war that was being waged inside of him. He wanted to pull her close. He wanted to kiss her, and ravish her. He wanted to make her his, and tell her that now that he found her, she could never escape him. What he felt for her transcended what he had felt for any other woman—even Ruby. He flashed her the smile that usually won over most of his conquests.
“Indeed?” she asked innocently, arching one of her dark eyebrows. He fell once again into her eyes. Such a pretty shade of green, one he hadn’t seen before. She was a beauty, and she had something that was a rarity amongst her sex. She didn’t know she was a beauty. Most wouldn’t classify her as such. They would say her hair was a mousy brown, and her eyes were too green, and they probably wouldn’t appreciate her plentiful curves, but good God, he loved it all. He had to make her his. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t let her escape him.
His Candlemas Hope Page 3