Tempted by Curiosity

by Angeleke Kaldis

  TEMPTED BY CURIOSITY

  A Virtuous Ladies & Rakish Lords Series

  BOOK I

  Angeleke Kaldis

  I would like to dedicate this book to my immediate family. Especially to my Sister Anastasia, my Mother Dina, & my Father Spiro. I love you all most ardently. Thank you for everything!

  I would also like to dedicate this book to the lovely people of Bookstagram & Romancestagram. Thank you all for your kindness, and support.

  Chapter 1

  Stansfield Manor

  Hertfordshire, Hertford, England

  Late August 1850

  Lady Marcella Stansfield thought it was just another ordinary day in Hertfordshire. The birds were chirping happily as they flew from tree to tree. The branches on those trees swayed lightly back and forth, bringing upon a wonderful little breeze, and the grand ole sun was hidden slightly behind a large cloud that was shaped like a massive beating heart. Nature was trying to show Marcella how wonderful life could really be.

  However, Marcella knew better than to believe in the mirage right in front of her.

  Two weeks had now passed since her father had left their country manor in Hertford. He had gone to London, and the Lord only knew what he was up to right at this very minute.

  It certainly wasn’t something bordering a good cause.

  The Stansfield family did not own a private home in London, so no one truly knew where Lord Stansfield was staying or what he was up to at this very moment.

  A slight sigh reverberated from inside the house, yet it was loud enough to bring Marcella out of her thoughts and back to her present reality.

  Her mother, Lady Rowena Stansfield, was about to reassure her eldest daughter for the thousandth time that her father, Lord Ernest Stansfield, would return as soon as he could. He had large shoes to fill now that their dear Grandfather Stansfield had passed away, and that was not going to be an easy task to master. No matter how hard the new Lord Stansfield tried, he would never be who his father was.

  According to Lady Stansfield, Lord Stansfield had very important business to take care of in town. Private business with solicitors was always important, whether the outcome would be good or bad.

  Ever since she was a little girl, Marcella had always been taught to expect the worse, even though she had always secretly hoped for the best. In this case scenario, and most importantly for her family’s sake, she was hoping for good news and a happy outcome.

  Growing up at Stansfield Manor in Hertfordshire, Marcella could recall there being numerous occasions where her parents would showcase their great love for one another. No matter what the occasion was, Ernest and Rowena always found a way to display their love. Even now, with Lord Ernest gone to London, Lady Rowena was still showing how deep her love and respect for him was.

  Love was blind, and Marcella’s parents were a definite example of that sentiment. Marcella thought they were an interesting couple, to say the least, but she always saw them as somewhat of a mismatched pair.

  Who would have thought that the ton had named them a love match all those years ago. Marcella could hardly believe it, but their pesky neighbor Lady Stanton recalled the story every time she came over for tea.

  Leaning up against one of the portico doors that opened up onto the back lawn, Marcella felt a slight breeze blow her way.

  With a stern look on her face, she rolled her eyes hard thinking about how her father resembled the wind.

  He was here one second, and gone the next, taking everything that was perfectly put together and unsettling it all with a snap of it’s gusty fingers.

  A part of Marcella hated how much she had grown to despise her father in the last year. She did love him, but his current behavior had caused a riff in their father-daughter relationship. She could barely even look him in the eyes as of late.

  Whenever he chose to show up to their home again, she would have to face him head on, but what would she say to him? Could she be cruel to the man who had a hand in creating her? The man who had given her a safe life in the countryside?

  Was there a way that Marcella could make her father understand how his actions were affecting everyone around him?

  Marcella truly hoped that when that moment came, she would be prepared for it.

  Lady Stansfield was sitting in a large upholstered chair by the far window, reading her bible as she often did. Ever since Marcella could remember, her mother had her bible somewhere on her person, always.

  “My dear Marcella, there is no reason to fret about your Father. He will return in no time. He always comes back home to us. Always.”

  Marcella took a glance in her mother’s direction, she couldn’t help but show her utter disbelief as she heard the same retort from her mother once again. Marcella then fully looked over at her mother’s face, and as always, she was reassured with a slight motherly smile that stood for, “Yes dear, I know.”

  Lord Ernest and Lady Rowena’s current relationship was quite the dysfunctional sort in Marcella’s mind, and that alone made Marcella ponder the idea of marriage. She often wondered how she would feel if she was married to a man who would leave her and their family on sporadic occasions, with no certainty of ever returning home. Just like her father had done to their family once again.

  She felt confused and upset.

  Confused if she could handle the type of marriage that her parents had, and upset that she was confused about it in the first time. Marcella did in fact want to have a family of her own one day in her future, but she was also very worried about what sort of man she would marry. Would he be a good man, and an even better father?

  Now that was truly a curious question to ponder. Could a man be both a good husband and a good father? Surely there was a man out there who could be both.

  Right?

  Marcella was mature for her age, and she knew that she had to be strong for her family. Especially for her younger sisters. She would have to make certain decisions soon, even if that meant marrying someone who made her miserable in order to help her family out of ruin.

  She was the eldest of five daughters, and the title of dutiful daughter had fallen upon her shoulders. She had to be ready, she would be turning two and twenty in a few months time. Most people, the ton in particular, would likely consider her a borderline spinster in society’s eyes by now.

  Marcella had never been to London or even taken any part in any sort of proper society event before. Marcella felt that she would be completely lost in a large city, and that she would be seen as an oddity.

  She often wondered if she would be liked by the ton, just like her mother had been. Marcella doubted that very thought. She felt that she would be pushed into a corner without a dance partner, becoming a confirmed wallflower.

  That was who she was though, a timid wallflower. She tried to portray herself as a natural extrovert, but that was far from the truth of who Lady Marcella Stansfield was.

  She was an introvert to the core.

  Unlike her sisters, who knew who they were, Marcella struggled to understand who she was as a person. She knew, and felt, that due to her height and bright red hair she was always going to be seen as an outsider in London one day. An introvert with physical features that unfortunately brought much attention her.

  How could she blend in, when all she could do was stand out?

  A quick clearing of her mother’s throat brought Marcella away from her hardened thoughts, she saw her mother turning the pages of her bible. Marcella understood that her mother read the bible for some peace of mind. It calmed her, brought her solace in a time of uncertainty.

  Marcella understood that her mother was making excuses for her father’s absence in order to alleviate any pain that any of them might be feeli
ng. Since their Grandfather’s passing, Marcella’s family had descended into an odd cycle of unhappy moments.

  The late Lord Stansfield was the one person who had cemented them all together as a true family. Her dear Grandfather was a good man who was full of love for everyone. He had love for his family, the servants, and even the strangers who crossed his path. He believed in hospitality, being respectful, and being a kind friend to all. He was a one of a kind man.

  His absence was felt everyday. Everyone felt a bit lost without him here. Lord Ernest felt his absence the most. Since the late Lord Stansfield’s death, Lord Ernest had inherited the house, the land, and a few businesses in London.

  After her Grandfather’s passing, Marcella knew that her father would have to go on several trips around Hertford, and eventually London, to take care of the family finances. The trips would usually last a few days time. That was all that it was meant to be.

  However, this recent trip to London had gone on far longer than the other trips had.

  Not only did Marcella feel that there was something amiss, but she just knew it in her heart too. This was unlike her father’s usual scheduled trips. Marcella was far beyond curious, that was her second nature after all, and she just couldn’t help herself.

  She was always told to be aware of her curiosity because one day it could possibly get her into a lot of trouble. Marcella just couldn’t help herself though, she loved that feeling of being curious. It was a feeling that arose within her and made her tingle with delight.

  Standing tall, with an unknown strength that had just sprung from within her, she decided to voice her opinions out loud.

  She looked at her mother and began her own personal monologue, “Mother, forgive me, but I have something to say. Since Grandfather’s passing, father has been drinking and gambling excessively. He’s becoming a man that I no longer recognize. As a family, we all went into a respectful mourning period. Not even a week after the funeral, father decided to go into town and start playing away the fortune that our Grandfather had amassed over the years. Although you may not want to believe it, it is the truth, and a hard one at that. I can no longer sit here and wait for him to come back. We need to do something now!”

  Lady Rowena had closed the bible in her hands when Marcella was speaking, she then put the book down gracefully on a side table. The woman was all grace, until she put her hand up in one swift motion that stopped Marcella from speaking right away.

  There was a tad bit of irritation lurking about in her mother’s brow, Marcella knew that she had to gird her loins, for a large disagreement was about to ensue between mother and daughter.

  “Marcella, you and I both know that you are wise beyond your years. It is also true that since your Grandfather’s peaceful passing that your father has gone down a destructive path. We must not force him into something that he simply cannot handle nor comprehend at this moment. You must understand that he was an only child, and that he’s now an orphan. He feels as if his family has died, and that ideal makes him feel as if he is alone.”

  Marcella looked incredulously at her mother, with anger flaring up in her eyes she yelled, “We are right here! We are his family! We are all alive and well! We’re not dead yet!”

  Marcella began to pace back and forth. Her anger burst out of her like sharp sunrays from above. Her hair began to whip about violently, as if it had turned into a vivid and ferocious firestorm burning and thrashing anything and everything that crossed its path.

  To say that Marcella was upset was an understatement. She felt as if her emotions were justified, but she was embarrassed that she had spoken against her mother in such a fashion. Her mother must think her an ungrateful child, a child who did not know her place in this family or this world for that matter.

  Marcella was about to apologize for her behavior and yelling at her mother when she noticed that her four younger sisters were staring at her from the back lawn. They were slowly approaching the portico doors, so Marcella put a wide smile on her face, and opened the portico doors wide open.

  As she opened the doors for her sisters a white rabbit sprang right past them, “Sisters, I think the rabbits may have escaped again. What are we going to do about this?”

  Little Flora gasped as the rabbit hopped fiercely past the whole lot of them. Flora ran over to her eldest sister. Flora pulled on Marcella’s arms as she looked up into her oldest sister’s eyes. Those little green emerald eyes were identical to Marcella’s.

  “Ella, I promise you it wasn’t me this time. It must have been Lucy or Berry. They were playing with them last.”

  Lucinda and Bernice huffed in unison before they began accusing the other Stansfield sisters of letting out the rabbits.

  “Me? No, it was you!” Lucy roared.

  “How dare you falsely blame me for this?” Bernice replied evenly.

  “Don’t even try to pin this one on me!” Flora fiercely stated.

  Lady Rowena lightly laughed as the girls argued amongst themselves. She cleared her throat and said gently, “Girls, it is quite clear to me who let the rabbits out this time.”

  The three youngest daughters looked at their mother with utter confusion in their eyes. Lucinda looked at Bernice and then they both looked back to their mother as they asked in unison, “Who Mama?”

  Lady Rowena smirked as she studied all five of her daughters. With a definite sureness in her own nimble voice, she said with booming clarity, “It was Lydia.”

  Lydia was the second oldest Stansfield daughter, and the gutsiest out of all of them. She would always speak her mind, even if it tended to get her into much trouble. Lydia had been quiet this whole time.

  Marcella watched as Lydia tried to tiptoe out of the room in order to escape them all, but before she could takeoff a rabbit ran from right under her dress.

  “Blast!” Lydia huffed.

  Her sisters were in utter disbelief so they did what any Stansfield lady would do, they tackled Lydia to the ground. Lydia yelled for help because she knew what was about to happen to her. It was the worst thing that could ever happen to Lydia, she hated this the most of all. She yelled for her mother to call off her sisters, but she was too late.

  “Mother, please! Don’t let them do this!” Lydia begged.

  Flora screamed with much delight, “Tickle war!”

  With that declaration of war, Flora jumped on top of all of her sisters like the shiny red cherry on top of a frosted cake. She may have been the smallest of the Stansfield daughters, but Flora was quite the fearless warrior princess.

  All five of the Stansfield daughters had long red hair past their shoulders to their mid-backs. Their hair ranged from straight, to curly, and everything in between.

  They were like an army of hellions, as one former maid used to call them. The Stansfield’s were known for their unique hair color, thanks to their Scottish roots.

  Even before Lady Rowena had brought her own red hair genetics to the Stansfield’s family line, Lord Ernest’s parents and their parents before them all had red hair.

  Their hair was an accumulation of different shades of red as well with various textures to make them unique from one another. Each hair color was similar, yet different in ways that could be dissected by someone with keen eyes.

  In a way the red hair was the Stansfield family’s trademark look. Along with their coat of arms, which was a red thistle surrounded by a laurel wreath, with small English roses twirling in-between them. An ode to both the English and Scottish parts of the Stansfield’s family lineage.

  With Lord Ernest’s marriage to Lady Rowena, the Stansfield’s line became far more Scottish then it had been in years. Red hair was commonly known to be a symbol of the brave Scots.

  Along with Lord Ernest’s own light red hair, the Stansfield family’s gene pool was now stronger than ever thanks to his wife’s stronger red hair color. For all five of the Stansfield daughters to have been born with red hair was a spectacular phenomenon.

  Everyone in Hertf
ord, and even the ton in London, never even for a second doubted the parentage of the Stansfield daughter’s. All five sisters had been blessed with the effervescent Stansfield locks and they were, for the most part, proud of their unique physical features.

  Marcella for instance, had long vibrant wavy hair. It was thick, and rather difficult to brush. However, Marcella’s frustration with her hair did not compare to Lydia’s ordeal. When it came to hair Lydia had won the luck of the draw, but she didn’t see it that way.

  Lydia had the most demanding hair of them all. It was extremely curly, and unruly. It was bursting with many different shades of red.

  There were shades of amber, copper, ginger, and golden strands of hair all beautifully intertwined into one. Lydia’s hair was often referred to as a true masterpiece. Yet, in her own words she referred to her hair as a downright menace.

  Lucinda, or Lucy as they informally called her on occasion, had the lightest red hair color of all her sisters. It was long, straight, and strawberry-blonde. Lucinda had delicate tresses that made her look angelic at times, and even though her hair was not as bold as her sisters, it was just as beautiful.

  Unlike the others, Bernice, the fourth Stansfield daughter, had the darkest hair color in her whole entire family. Bernice had long, straight, and dark-auburn hair with slight shades of bright reddish-purple woven throughout it. Her hair had a regal tone to it because it was deeply rich in color, and that fact alone allowed her to stand out from her other siblings.

  Yet, Bernice had a tendency to try and blend far into the background everywhere she went. Marcella never understood why.

  Then there was Flora. There was a reason why they called Flora Marcella’s little twin. One could say that Flora was an exact facsimile of her sister because Little Flora had wavy red hair just like Marcella. Not only was their hair similar, but so was their eye color. Surely Flora’s temper would be just as large as Marcella’s one day as well. Whenever that day came, they would all be in for a very rude awakening.