Page 5

It had been three days since Julian had spoken with Maxwell about his need for a bride.

In that time, he had been a guest for dinner with the Darlington family.

Despite Maxwell's hesitation to introduce Julian to his sisters, an invitation had been extended and two of Maxwell's sisters had invited friends of theirs to the house as well.

To his utter dismay, Julian found himself completely flummoxed and tongue-tied around the young ladies.

This was made even worse when Maxwell had noticed and attempted to smooth the conversation over by asking Julian about his mine, which apparently was the only topic which held interest for Julian.

However, the young ladies could not have been more bored by discussions of copper mining and life in the far reaches of the country.

Julian could not get over his self-consciousness about the patch on his eye. Not to mention that it made it difficult to converse with anyone on his left. He had to turn his entire body in that direction, which could be off-putting.

Oh face it, you're a disaster and no woman in her right mind will have you . You can blame the patch all you want, but it is not as though you were smooth and confident before.

Despite his current scheme to manipulate him into an unwanted marriage, Julian’s grandfather, Lord Ernest Ebersole, was his favorite person in the world.

Well, his favorite living person. As a child, he had looked forward to the visits he and his mother would make to her family home, Hazelden.

Grandfather Ebersole had stood in the doorway beaming with happiness and when he could contain himself no longer, he would charge down the stairs from the door to the driveway, gathering his daughter in his arms and swinging her in a circle until she was disheveled and out of breath.

"Papa," she would admonish him. "I am a married lady, you cannot twirl me around like you did when I was a little girl.

" Though the sparkle in her eyes said she was not so put out by her father’s enthusiasm as her words might have indicated.

Next, Grandfather Ebersole would turn his attention to Julian. "And who is this?" he would say.

"Why this is Julian, your grandson," his mother would say as though it was obvious.

"No, it cannot be," Grandfather would reply, astonishment on his face. "Julian is just a little boy." He would hold his hand out to indicate a small child.

"Grandfather!" he would exclaim. "It is me! I’ve grown three inches since our last visit."

Then his grandfather would make an elaborate scene out of looking him over before declaring, "Well, I’ll be. It is Julian. I’m so glad because I have been looking forward to your arrival since you drove away at the end of your last visit."

Afterward, he would make a fuss over Penny, Julian’s little sister, though somewhat less effusively because of her young age and natural shyness.

Julian had puffed up with happiness under his grandfather’s good humor and obvious joy in seeing his daughter and her children.

A great deal of that joy vanished from his grandfather’s face forever when Julian’s mother passed away. Julian was twelve. Penny was only four. He worried Penny had no recollections of their mother, being of a tender age when she left them.

Julian remembered a row when Grandfather arrived for the funeral, demanding to take his daughter’s body back to Hazelden to be buried there.

Julian’s father had objected to his father-in-law’s plans but had given in. Perhaps a little too easily, Julian thought when he looked back on that dark period in his life years later with the wisdom he had gained in the time since.

Two years after his wife’s passing, Julian’s father, having turned to drink and cards to assuage his grief, was found stabbed to death in an alley behind a gaming hell.

Julian, then age fourteen, had been swarmed by men who claimed to be his father’s friends and advisors, all of whom had some scheme or plan for how Julian ought to manage the assets of the estate and title which he had inherited upon the death of his father.

In the midst of his grief and confusion, a large body had entered his home and drawn Julian into his embrace.

Though he was a young man of fourteen, he did not resist the hug from his grandfather.

In fact, he reveled in it and felt for the first time since his mother had gone on to the afterlife, he could look to the future with a tiny glimmer of hope.

Grandfather Ebersole had taken care of everything, dispatching those who had attempted to take advantage of a young man, overseeing the disposition of the estate and packing up Julian and Penny and taking them back to Hazelden.

He had even quietly paid off his son-in-law’s debts, though this would not be known to Julian until long after the fact.

Over the following years, Grandfather made sure Julian had a first-rate education while also sharing with Julian his love of copper mining. The thrill of finding an unknown vein and the danger and excitement of using explosives to open a new passage were too alluring to be denied.

Penny had the best tutors and particularly excelled at singing.

All things considered, Grandfather had made a good life for his grandchildren.

It had never occurred to Julian he would not take over the mine at the point when his grandfather decided to retire completely from mining operations and so it had come as a shock when Grandfather Ebersole had announced his decision that unless Julian found a bride, he would turn the mine over to Leonard, the sniveling, lazy cousin whom Julian despised.

Not only was he determined the mine would be his and he alone would make decisions about the management of the family business, but he would be hanged if all of his hard work, and his left eye, would have gone to waste and for the whole enterprise to belong to Leonard.

Yes, his grandfather knew exactly how to motivate Julian.

Julian finished off breakfast, washed it down with the last of his tea, wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose.

It was time for him to get on with the business of finding a bride.

He'd already been in London, and away from his duties at the mine, for over a month.

He could ill afford to waste more time on this endeavor.

Laurel hid in her bedchamber. She knew it was the height of rudeness to ignore the hospitality of the Winchesters and she was grateful that they had kept their distance.

It was most surprising that Lady Katherine had not barged into the room and forced her to get out of bed and put on a happy face for the world.

Laurel did not think she could have done it and it seemed Lady Katherine understood that as well. However, if she was correct in her thinking, and it was entirely possible she was not, it had been three days since the disaster at her almost-wedding.

Thomas Winchester had made inquiries, though he did not name his sources and Laurel had been sensible enough not to ask, and reported that Laurel’s stepsibling was being held at Old Bailey on multiple charges. Lord Winchester had appeared most grim and a sense of dread filled Laurel.

She had tried to convince herself that Richard’s arrest was all a mistake, but deep down, Laurel knew the truth. Her stepbrother’s investments were as fake as his smiles. As empty as his promises.

Over the years she had watched him as he transformed from cold and distant when only she or the servants were near, to charming and affable in the company of strangers. It was all an act. An act designed to separate the gullible from their money.

And he had succeeded. Admirably.

Until the bottom fell out.

A knock on the door startled Laurel. The knock repeated followed by Lady Katherine’s voice calling Laurel’s name. Apparently the grand lady had run out of patience for allowing Laurel to wallow in self-pity.

The door opened and a maid with a tray entered first followed by Lady Katherine. Cassie peeked her head around Lady Katherine, her face full of concern.

The maid set the tray on a table near the window as indicated by Lady Katherine before she curtsied and exited the room.

"Good morning, Laurel," Lady Katherine said. "I believe these are your favorite, coddled eggs and toast."

Laurel peeked at the tray of food, then at Cassie whose face bore an eager expression.

"Thank you," she said, sitting up in bed and reaching for her dressing gown. "You are very kind, though I am not certain I can eat anything this morning."

"Nonsense," Lady Katherine said, taking Laurel’s dressing gown from her hand and holding it out to assist her in putting it on.

Laurel glanced at Cassie whose wide eyes reflected her own surprise at Lady Katherine deigning to act as Laurel’s dresser. Laurel slipped her arms into the gown and tied the sash.

"That’s better," Lady Katherine said. Her gaze went to the rumpled bed. "I’ll send someone in to change the linens."

Laurel wondered what sort of a disaster she must present. What she wouldn’t give for just one bit of good news.

She moved to the table where the tray was set up. It contained her breakfast, a pot of tea and a small stack of letters. Laurel poured herself some tea, added cream and sugar and thumbed through the mail with a vague hope of seeing good news, but to no avail.

"Apparently word has gotten out that you are staying here. The postman dropped these off this morning," Cassie volunteered as she took a seat at the table across from Laurel.

Laurel sighed. She was lucky to have a friend like Cassie and she felt bad for being such a burden.

"I shall leave the two of you to chat," Lady Katherine said. "But I will expect to see you up and about by tea time, Laurel."

The door closed behind her and the two friends exchanged a glance. "She is both terrifying and charming," Laurel said.

"Yes," Cassie said. "It is an interesting combination."

They were silent for a moment while Laurel ate, finding she was much hungrier than she’d expected.

Once she finished, she picked up the mail, her stomach knotted with dread. All of the messages were from tradesmen demanding payment. The butcher and the dairyman had been somewhat polite in their requests, the modiste and milliner had not.

Pressure built in Laurel's chest. How on earth was she meant to be able to deal with all of these calamities?