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M iles raised a glass of champagne. “To family.” The duke and marchioness raised their glasses and echoed the sentiment. “I hope your rooms are to your liking?”

“And more,” said Shackerley. “We appreciate your help.”

“Of course.” Miles refilled their glasses as the clear broth was served. “Tomorrow, if you’re rested enough, we will proceed to London. There we will see my solicitor and find you one as well. We will also petition the Crown to recognize your claim.”

“What will that entail?” asked Shackerley, dipping his spoon into the soup and closing his eyes as the broth hit his tongue.

“We present how the patent was originally created, what the conditions of inheritance are, and trace you as a descendant of the late duke.” Miles tasted his soup and frowned.

It was good but not worthy of Shackerley’s reaction.

“I presume the food on the ship was not of the best quality. You will put the weight back on here in England.”

“Pardon?” asked the duke.

“I—your clothes are a bit loose. I assumed you lost a bit on the journey?”

“Oh, yes! Of course, I’ve found I like the extra room.

My limbs have more freedom.” Shackerley took another sip of champagne.

“The sea voyage was enthralling. We even encountered a storm. I watched the sailors in awe as they moved around the deck, securing lines and sails, moving as one. It was almost like a dance.”

“You have an adventurous nature. Do you hunt?” His cousin’s exuberance would do Miles himself some good. He remembered being so young and full of life.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t ride. We didn’t travel and had a small carriage at our disposal.” The duke looked up and saw Miles’s surprised expression. “I would love to learn, however.”

“A carriage at your disposal? You did not own one of your own?” Miles hadn’t even considered their financial state, assuming the marquess had left his family well off. Then again, if he was cast out by his father, he may not have had an independent source of income.

“I’m afraid my Harry did not leave us financially secure.

He leased some land before he died, but I had no money to continue his vision.

Loans are not often given to women, especially those without some kind of collateral.

” Lady Graywood took a deep breath. “I threw myself on the mercy of my sister and her husband. They took us in, were generous with all they had, but…”

“I apologize, my lady,” Miles said, wanting to kick himself.

“Of course, you did what you had to in order to survive and keep your children safe. And a fine job too.” He glanced at Shackerley, who nodded in agreement.

“There will be no more worries about money in your lifetime. You may put your mind at ease on that matter. The coffers of the dukedom should provide for generations to come if handled properly.”

Another matter he would like to help guide the young duke with. He’d seen his share of wastrels, spending money as if it came from an eternal fountain. He also understood how quickly a bad investment could ruin the family name.

Lady Graywood blinked back tears. “ Merci .”

He reached out to cover her hand. “We are cousins, ma’am. I hope you will learn to trust me and know I will always be just a post away if you should need me.”

“So tell me of this fascinating voyage.” Miles turned his attention to Shackerley and changed the subject.

The duke began a recant of all he’d seen on the ship, from the crew working the deck and their camaraderie to how the livestock had been managed and how the passengers in steerage lived.

“And the freedom… It was exhilarating. Walking the deck, the salt spray on your face, the sun on your back. The feel of the ship beneath my feet as I learned to balance the waves and remain standing.” Shackerley laughed.

“The first few days I moved as if I was drunk, but by the end of the voyage, I was moving as sure as the crew.”

Miles enjoyed listening to the account, so full of excitement, so positive about everything he’d experienced. Shackerley was a breath of fresh air. There was an instant kinship between them, and Miles enjoyed being the one to introduce this new life to his cousin.

He watched Lady Graywood’s eyes as her son spoke. The love shone brightly, and Miles had a pang of regret for never knowing his own mother.

The dinner was over too soon, and Miles looked forward to the next few weeks with his newfound family. He would offer to accompany them to Shackerley Place and get them settled in. Shackerley would need help learning how to run the estate.

* * *

Two days later

London

Gwen bit her lip watching Lord Wickton dismount. His thigh muscles flexed as he threw a leg over his mount, and his backside… She gave a little squeak. The viscount was making her role much harder to maintain. If only he wasn’t so handsome, so understanding, so humorous…

“Stop staring,” hissed her mother. “He will see you.”

Gwen’s eyes snapped back to the inside of the carriage as Wickton approached the carriage. “I’m trying. Sometimes my eyes have a mind of their own, but I will be more diligent.”

“If he finds out our scheme, he may send us back to Boston. I would be happy to never step foot on a ship again. And I find I’ve missed England.” Her mother sniffed. “I believe we’ll be happy here as soon as Graham finds us.”

The plan was to impersonate her brother, then remain quietly at their new home until Graham was found. Then he would announce the arrival of his sister, with no one ever knowing she had stood in his place for a time. All’s well that ends well , as Shakespeare said.

“We have arrived at my humble abode,” announced Wickton, opening the door as the tiger jumped from the back of the carriage to put down the steps. He held his hand up for her mother, and Gwen followed.

Oh, the simple pleasure of not having to wait on a man to descend.

She stood with hands on her hips, staring up at the three-storied townhouse.

It was located near the end of a crescent, each home similar but with different friezes, porticos, gates to distinguish the different residences.

The Wickton facade included flowering plants flanking each step, graceful pillars, and a detailed plaster pineapple above the entry.

To the right, a bay window reflected the afternoon light.

The door opened as they ascended the few steps, and a butler greeted them. “My lord, it is good to see you again.” The stoic gentleman bowed when Miles introduced them. “Your rooms have been prepared. I will have the water sent up for a bath and a tray in case you are hungry.”

Wickton took off his hat and handed it to the butler. “Thank you, Wilburs. Efficient as always. What would we do without you?”

The butler simply nodded as he collected Gwen’s beaver hat and her mother’s bonnet.

“Oh, and Wilburs, have one of the footmen act as manservant for His Grace until we can find him someone permanent.”

Gwen’s breath caught. “Oh, please, don’t go to the trouble. I’m quite used to taking care of myself.”

The viscount grinned at her, and her insides melted a bit. His smile was devasting, and combined with his amber flecked eyes and chiseled jaw, her body reacted despite her vow not to let him affect her. “We can’t have you starting a scandal as soon as you arrive.”

“I just need time to adjust. Everything has happened so quickly.” She tried a jaunty smile, hoping it wasn’t more of a grimace. “Once we are settled, we can find someone. I’m sure one of my grandfather’s servants will suit.”

“As you wish. Shall we go to our rooms?” Wickton held out his arm, indicating the upper level.

To their right was a staircase. To the left appeared to be a parlor. She followed her mother and the maid up the stairs to the second floor. The room at the top of the stairs held a pianoforte. “Mama,” she whispered and pointed at the open door.

She smiled at her mother’s pleased gasp. “I hope he won’t mind if I play.”

“I would be delighted,” came his deep tenor behind them. “Consider this your home while we are in London. The library is also well stocked, though not as extensive as the one at my estate or Shackerley Place.”

Gwen halted at the sound of his voice, and he almost ran into her.

His scent tickled her nostrils, leather and bergamot, and heat rushed through her.

She drew in a breath. Get hold of yourself!

But it was difficult. She’d had flirtations, but no man had ever affected her like this.

Wings in her belly, heart pounding, cheeks flushed, heat pouring through her like flames rising in the hearth.

It was wondrous and frightening… and dangerous. For she was Graham, not Gwendolyn.

Just enjoy his company and stick to the plan.

But turning to look up at him, she was lost in the gold flecks of his light-brown eyes. It took all her willpower to hold back the sigh that bubbled in her throat.

Their rooms were as well-appointed as the first hotel in Liverpool.

These were larger, with wider wardrobes and chairs before the fireplace.

A window seat looked out upon the park across from the townhouse.

It would be a nice place to stroll on a pleasant afternoon or evening.

She opened the window, letting in a slight breeze, and listened to a bird calling its mate from a nearby tree.

Below, their carriage pulled away from the house, probably heading to a nearby stable.

Gwen wrapped her arms around herself and twirled in a circle.

She’d done the right thing. This plan would save them from starvation.

But a little voice reminded her that Mr. Barnaby might have saved them too.

Yet, how cruel would it have been to both of them, marrying without love?

Or worse, if he’d cared for her and she had not reciprocated.

The shopkeeper had been so kind and generous, and she had true affection for him.

He deserved someone who would dote on him in return.

Would she have felt the same if she’d never met the viscount?

Miles. She said the name in silence, enjoyed rolling it around in her mouth, him on her lips.

Perhaps Lord Wickton had ruined any chances at a happy union with any other man.

Coming to know her as Graham, would he ever consider caring for her as Gwen?

Or would their relationship be permanently altered?

She pushed the thoughts away since it made no difference at this point. One does what one must in order to survive. As long as Graham was found, this story would end well. Then why were there knots in her stomach at the thought?