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L eona stirred, coming up out of a light sleep and strange dreams of a ball, and dancing that shockingly fast dance introduced in England just last year: the Waltz. Her partner was a tall man with piercing blue eyes.

She wondered what it was that woke her. An unfamiliar sound? Yes, there it was again, a soft scraping. Curious, she turned over in bed. A plump young girl in an oversized mob cap was carefully sweeping coal ashes out of the grate, a fresh bucket of coal at her side.

Leona yawned. “Gracious, is it morning already?”

The young girl started, her little shovel clanging against the grate. “Beg pardon, miss. I didn’t mean to wake ye. I just thought to warm up the room a mite ’afore ye got up.”

“No harm,” Leona said, stifling another yawn. “It was betimes I was up anyway.”

“Oh, no! ’Tis early yet, miss. Scarce on eight.”

Leona laughed. “At home I’m up and about by seven, if not earlier.”

The little maid nodded. “So it is with Master Deveraux. Been that way since he was a tyke, me mum says. Me mum used to be housekeeper here until she met me da. He’s a carter, is me da,” she said with pride in her voice.

“Ah, I see. And what is your name?”

“Betsy, miss. Betsy Snivel.” She bobbed a curtsey. “Can I fetch ye some hot chocolate, miss? Or somethin’ to eat? Breakfast’s not laid out in the morning room until nine-thirty.”

“Hot chocolate would be wonderful, thank you.”

“There’s nay thankin’ me, miss. ’Tis an honor to serve ye, that is.

Ye saved our Lady Chrissy’s life! We’re all beholden to ye.

Ye want anything, just ask, we’re that thankful.

Now, ye stay right there while I nip on down to the kitchen to fetch it.

” She plumped up the pillows so Leona could sit up comfortably. “Be back directly.”

“Thank you,” Leona murmured weakly.

Left alone, Leona studied the room she’d been given.

It was the most beautiful room she’d ever slept in.

The room was done in shades of apricot and white with gilt trimmings.

The drapes and bed hangings, swagged from an ornately carved oak crown above the head of the bed, were watered silk.

On the walls was hand-painted Chinese wallpaper with an overall bamboo pattern.

The fireplace had one of the new coal stoves before it.

All the chair coverings had tapestries of flowers, while the padded bench at the foot of the bed and the small settee over by the windows were covered with velvet.

After all she saw yesterday, the elegance of the room did not surprise Leona. What she still couldn’t get over was the plain to downright ugly exterior of the manor. All in all, Castle Marin was a striking dichotomy—in its appearance and its people.

Last evening was an interesting example.

None of the people at the table—except perhaps Chrissy—were quite as she expected, particularly Nigel Deveraux!

She would never have thought him able to tease gently or show humor.

In her mind’s eye, she always saw him as stern, slightly cynical, and full of self-consequence.

Never would she have imagined his smile unless colored by cynicism.

To see his enjoyment, to watch the interplay with his family, was unsettling, for it revealed a kinder man than she’d expected.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know a kinder Nigel Deveraux.

That man might undermine her independence.

It was challenging to maintain a truly independent spirit around sympathetic people who only “wanted to help.” They did not see their help as crippling, but so it could be.

Leona had worked on her independence, worked to renew respect for the Leonard name and therefore herself.

She wasn’t ready to turn over her hard-earned success to another.

It was her duty that spurred her on, but it also gave her a sense of fulfillment heretofore missing in her life.

It was not a fulfillment she would quickly abandon, for that fulfillment also gave her identity.

A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. Her face relaxed, the lines of determination smoothing. Laughing at her fierceness, she called out permission to enter.

It was the maid with her tray of chocolate.

“May I come in, too?” Lady Lucy bade from the doorway. “I saw Betsy coming with your chocolate and thought I might steal a march on the others.”

Leona nodded and waved her forward. “Come in, do. But what do you mean by others?" she asked with mock trepidation.

Lady Lucy sat on the bench at the end of the bed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counterpane, her chin in one hand. “Everyone wants to capture your attention, to say they know Leona Leonard, heroine par excellence .”

“Piffle. If that is to be everyone’s attitude, I shall return to Crawfords Dean post haste.”

“No, you won’t. Nigel won’t let you. He is determined that you shall accept our hospitality and our thanks.”

Leona bristled, though with another portion of her mind she noted that Lady Lucy made no mention of safety.

Knowing Deveraux’s archaic attitudes, it was an easy wager he’d not thought to tell her either!

The man was a monster! She set the hot chocolate down on the tray at her side and placed her hands on her hips.

“Deveraux has no right to dictate to me, regardless of how he rules here! He shall have his ears boxed if he tries to order me about.”

Lucy giggled. “Nigel does not suffer interference well.”

“Well, then it is past time he learned! How did he get to be so autocratic? He acts as if he were the Earl of Nevin.”

A stricken look twisted tender Lucy’s features. She sat up. “Oh, no. Please don’t say that. Whatever you do, please don’t say that to Nigel.”

Leona tipped her head, giving Lucy an odd look. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Lucy sucked in her upper lip, the tip of her pink tongue peeking out as she paused in thought.

“All his life,” she began slowly, “the people on the estate and in the village have treated Nigel like he was the heir. It is no wonder. Physically, he is more lively and athletic than Brandon. His is more the commanding presence. When Nigel strides into a room, you know he’s there! ”

“That is certainly true.”

Lucy paused as she thought of her eldest brother.

“Brandon is reed slender and-and more the recluse, given to a world of books and quiet contemplation. It’s like—well, it’s like Nigel is the wild, raging thunderstorm and Brandon the gentle, nurturing shower.

” She blushed. “That’s a rather fanciful analogy I suppose, but I want you to understand how different they are.

For all their differences, Nigel adores Brandon.

He would most likely cut off his right hand before he’d do anything to hurt Brandon!

But you see, when Father died, and Brandon became earl, there were problems. Not between the two of them!

There were problems with other people and their reactions to them.

People inadvertently began addressing Nigel as if he were the new earl!

They came to him with their problems and their questions.

At first, he didn’t realize what was happening, that he was undermining his brother’s authority.

Then one day, he gave an order that conflicted with Brandon’s.

The tenant involved chose to follow Nigel’s direction over Brandon’s. ”

“Egad! What happened?”

“Nothing as devastating as one might imagine. Brandon took it lightly, finding humor in it. But then again, that is Brandon’s way.

Nigel, on the other hand, was furious. He came close to throttling poor Jem Webster, the tenant involved.

He made him shout one hundred times: Brandon Deveraux is Earl of Nevin. His word is law. ”

“Gracious, that is one way of making sure the notion stuck, and, I’ll wager, for more people than poor Mr. Webster!”

“True. But Nigel was not content with that. He felt it would be best for Brandon if he left Castle Marin so no one else could be tempted to the same unfortunate circumstances. Nigel knows his personality is far stronger than Brandon’s.

For Brandon’s sake, he could not be around to overshadow him, so he used his inheritance money to buy a lieutenant’s commission and sailed to Portugal to join Wellington’s army.

He said it was his duty to remove himself from the local situation for the sanity and strength of all involved.

Then, too, the army agreed with him. He did well and earned promotion after promotion.

We all thought he would make a career of it. ”

“But he’s back now and, it appears, ruling Castle Marin as if it were his.”

“What you don’t understand is that he doesn’t want to be here. Especially now that Boney has escaped. He positively chafes at being away from his regiment. You see, the only reason he is here is because Brandon is sick.”

“It’s consumption, isn’t it?” Leona asked gently.

Lucy nodded. “Brandon wanted to go to Switzerland for treatment. He asked Nigel to come home—for him. Reluctantly, Nigel agreed.”

“Then it is far worse. The earl is not even dead, and Nigel is anticipating that event by taking over his responsibilities.”

"Only because Brandon asked him to.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the distinction you’re trying to make.”

“Nigel is not Prince John trying to steal the crown from his brother, King Richard. Though like John, he rules in the king’s stead.”

“And ruling comes naturally to him.”

“Yes, it does. He sees it as his duty.”