Hannah adored her Aunt Bertie. Nathaniel remained cautiously affectionate. Their mother secretly envied her.
“You must be famished. I’ve arranged a light repast in the parlor. I thought it would be cosier than the dining room.” Lady Roberta gave orders to the footman and driver, then turned to the butler and maid. Bodies went scurrying in different directions, trunks were hauled inside, and Hannah soon found herself shed of her traveling cape and sipping a steaming cup of tea.
“You look well, Aunt,” Hannah said as she filled a small plate with a chunk of cheese, sliced beef, and a thick piece of buttered bread. “And this is delicious.”
Nathaniel agreed, his cheeks full as he took another bite of the meat, quickly followed by more cheese. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” He leaned back against the stuffed brocade with a sigh. “My back is stiff from so many hours in the saddle. I shall retire early tonight.”
“Thank you, Hannah, I’ve taken to walking every day. It adds color to my cheeks, and I feel better.” Patting her gray-streaked auburn bun, she continued chatting as she bit into chunk of the blue-streaked Stilton. “I’ve also ordered cream cheese. It’s monstrous good on biscuits.
The small hearth had a cheery fire, the coals burning red and orange. On the mantel were cameos of their grandparents, their father, and Roberta. Likenesses from years ago when the entire family had been alive. The Brussels carpet beneath her feet had been there since Hannah could remember. She traced the now-faded red floral medallions that had once brightened the room with her toe, letting memories envelop her. Her grandmother had decorated this space with vivid, warm colors and personal curiosities and portraits. Aunt Bertie refused to change anything in this room, and Hannah was happy for it.
Grandmama had insisted her grandchildren visit annually, and she and Nathaniel had stayed a week each year near St. Nicholas Day. They received gifts, something they might have asked for throughout the course of the year. How Grandmama always knew, they never did find out. Cook would let them into the kitchen and help prepare the mince pies that would be eaten on Christmas Day. Parlor games were played every night before the fire, and an ongoing tale read to them with a special sweet treat before retiring for the night. Visits here, until the death of their grandmother, had been magical and highly anticipated.
Those weeks came to mind when she thought of her own children she would have someday. Children who would know the feel of their mother’s arms around them, kisses at bedtime, and a welcome lap when they needed comforting from a fall off their pony or a dispute with a sibling. It would be the late Lady Pendleton that Hanna would emulate when she was a wife and mother.
Mama loved her children, but one would not describe her as warm nor overly affectionate. Yet, she was responsible for Hannah’s confidence and fearlessness in making her voice heard. She had instilled a steely graciousness in her daughter that would bide her well against the vicious tongues of the beau monde. Hannah had also inherited her mother’s sense of fashion and quick wit. If only Hannah knew what her father had passed on to her. Perhaps that would be a conversation with Aunt Bertie during a quiet evening spent at home.
This was one of the few places that held memories of happy family gatherings. She rose and touched the silver frames, her finger trailing along the delicately engraved metal.
“You were stunning, Aunt,” she said, stopping at the likeness of Lady Roberta. “Yet you never married again.”
“Pshaw! I had no desire to let another man dictate my comings and goings. My widowhood allowed me almost the same freedom as a man. I can’t tell you how that irked the ladies of the ton. Green with envy, they were.” She grinned, the dimple appearing in her left cheek. “All that whispering about my peculiarities and unladylike behavior was driven by jealousy. I decided at an early age, if I was to be accused of something, I may as well get some pleasure from my supposed wicked deeds.”
“But did you never love anyone again? Enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him?” Hannah couldn’t imagine not marrying or having children. Perhaps no one else had compared to her husband. “Or was your husband your true love?”
“He was my first love,” she said wistfully, her brown eyes softening. “But not true love. He… I… Well, that’s a story for another day.”
“He was a handsome man, my brother, wasn’t he?” Aunt Bertie changed the subject, picking up another frame. “I still miss him every day. You have his best traits, Nathaniel. The golden-brown hair and tawny eyes, his athletic nature and generosity of spirit.”
“And I never knew him.” Hannah had heard the stories, of course, and had listened to countless comments from her mother and aunt. Her mother had never been reticent in her disdain for her husband. Her aunt had never believed the rumors of her brother’s infidelities. Nathaniel rarely spoke on the subject at all. “I wish I’d had the chance.” To make up my own mind on his character or lack of.
“He was a good man, regardless of the on-dits at the time,” her aunt consoled. “Just not strong enough for this world or your mother. A gentle soul who was never meant to shoulder such heavy responsibility. If my eldest brother had survived, he would have been perfect for Lady Pendleton. Proper, rigid—”
Nathaniel cleared his throat, indicating his unease with the direction the conversation had taken.
She ignored him and continued speaking to Hannah. “You are at an age now where we should have a long talk about the past. Before we attend any public functions.”
“For tonight, let us be glad to be together again. What a splendid season it shall be, eh?” Nathaniel’s voice lifted in false enthusiasm, and both women recognized it.
“Lud! Do not fret, nephew, I will not slight your mother,” she relented. “Now, how was the trip? Uneventful, I hope.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever hoped for that,” mumbled Nathaniel.
“Dull. I forgot to bring a book and thought I would go mad.” Hannah whispered loudly, “I have taken to novels as of late.”
“And with that tidbit of information, I shall take my leave.”
She watched her brother depart, then turned her attention to a shelf with glass and ivory figurines. She picked up a tiny china bell and smiled at the clear, light tinkle.
“Your father bought that for Mama before he went off to university. I swear that woman kept everything.” A thoughtful expression crossed her still lovely face. “She was a sentimental soul. She passed that tenderness on to her son and the good sense to me. Another reason I never married again.”
“You don’t approve of marriage?”
“Of course I do! Marriage is a wonderful institution for some. I tried it, enjoyed it, and moved on to the next adventure.”
“So no regrets?”
“Ah, that’s a tricky question. One always has regrets. More to the point, would I do it the same way again?” Aunt Bertie nodded, her dimple deepening. “Without a doubt.”
Order EARL OF DARBY
Author’s Note
I confess, I didn’t start this book out intending it to be so research heavy. I’m not sure what possessed me to have a physician and an historian in the same book, but I certainly did enjoy everything I learned while doing it.
Some inventions they had even then really surprised me, like the stethoscope and others were in the infancy stages of beginning, like anesthesia. I put a considerable amount of time into trying to identify exactly what Dr. Bailey could be using in his experimentation and that was how I happened upon the use of carbon dioxide in anesthesia. Henry Hill Hickman was a young surgeon in Ludlow who would utilize carbon dioxide to suffocate a subject until it lost consciousness. At that point, he would perform surgeries to see if there was any pain. Attempts to share his findings and have them seen in a positive light, however, fell short. First with England, then later with France. There’s a little more than what I’m sharing here as I know some people can be sensitive to certain details. If you are curious to learn more, please do research Henry Hill Hi
ckman.
He died young and without recognition for what he’d accomplished. However, now he is considered one of the fathers of anesthesia. His experiments began in 1823 and were doubtfully not shared with other surgeons at the time, so I did use some creative liberty in this book in making the experimentation a couple years earlier and through Dr. Bailey.
Penelope’s research wasn’t the only one that proved fascinating. MacKenzie’s historical facts were a blast to look into and I learned so much about Ancient Greece!
I hope you enjoyed reading the research I did in Penelope and MacKenzie’s story as much as I enjoyed learning all these historical tid bits to share. And if you’re anything like me, I have a newfound appreciation for those who suffer through the pain of gout!
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my amazing beta readers who helped make this story so much more with their wonderful suggestions: Kacy Stanfield, Janet Barrett, Tracy Emro and Rachael Keefe. You ladies are so amazing and make my books just shine!
Thank you to Janet Kazmirski for the final read-through you always do for me and for catching all the little last minute tweaks.
Thank you to John Somar and my wonderful minions for all the support they give me.
Thank you to Erica Monroe who saves my life time after time for doing an amazing job with edits and is always there for whatever I need. I swear, you add more years back onto my life with all the help and laughter you bring me.
And a huge thank you so much to my readers for always being so fantastically supportive and eager for my next book.
About the Author
Madeline Martin is a USA TODAY Bestselling author of Scottish set historical romance novels filled with twists and turns, adventure, steamy romance, empowered heroines and the men who are strong enough to love them.
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She lives a glitter-filled life in Jacksonville, Florida with her two daughters (known collectively as the minions) and a man so wonderful he's been dubbed Mr. Awesome. She loves Disney, Nutella, wine and could easily lose hours watching cat videos.
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Find out more about Madeline at her website:
http://www.madelinemartin.com
Also by Madeline Martin
Borderland Ladies
Marin’s Promise
Anice’s Bargain
Ella’s Desire
Catriona’s Secret
Leila’s Legacy
Borderland Rebels
Faye’s Sacrifice
Clara’s Vow
Kinsey’s Defiance
Drake’s Determination
Highland Passions
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
The Madam’s Highlander
The Highlander’s Untamed Lady
Her Highland Destiny
Highland Passions Box Set Volume 1
Regency Novellas and Novels
Earl of Benton
Earl of Oakhurst
Mesmerizing the Marquis
Harlequin Historicals
How to Tempt a Duke
Heart of the Highlands
Deception of a Highlander
Possession of a Highlander
Enchantment of a Highlander
The Mercenary Maidens
Highland Spy
Highland Ruse
Highland Wrath
Earl of Oakhurst Page 14