Page 1 of The Valentine Skates

Chapter One

February - The Visitor

February 1820

Wembledon Park, Surrey

The sensitive skinalong the back of Lady Lilianne Howick’s neck prickled with the extra awareness she’d acquired during her three years in the dey’s harem. She paused in composing a letter to her mother and rested the pen next to the inkwell and sand shaker on her writing desk. When she slowly rose from her chair and then whirled toward the glass in the orangery’s doors leading to the outside garden, she saw only a blur of motion followed by the running figure of Dodds, the footman.

She threw her woolen shawl over her shoulders and raced out into the freezing winter air, only to see him give an angry stamp of his boot. The sneaky little spy had outrun him again.

“Sorry, milady.” He stepped toward her and held out a hand. “Have a care. There’s still some ice lingering on the flagstones out here.”

“Who do you think our little intruder might be?”

“Hard to say. Perhaps a child of one of the tenant farmers? All I know is he’s a slippery little brat.”

Since the month of February had been plagued by icy winter storms, plenty of snow still mounded in drifts around the estate, leaving little mystery as to the size of the spy. He or she was probably no more than five or six years old. Lilianne worried that the child was lost, hungry, or perhaps just lonely.

The worst part of her own three-year captivity among the Berbers had been the loneliness…and the fear. She’d been groomed and trained carefully to pleasure the dey, but in all her time as a concubine in the harem, she’d never been summoned to his bed. The fear of being taken by the old dey had been nothing compared to the daily terror of being poisoned or beaten by an assassin sent by one of his jealous wives.

Deep in her thoughts, Lilianne nearly missed seeing the tattered, stuffed bear abandoned behind one of the garden doors, still flung open in her race to catch the culprit.

“Dodds.” Her shout brought the young man running back to her side. He took a quick look around. “Is he back?”

“No, but I think he must surely have to return sooner or later.” She held up the stuffed bear. “This gentleman probably has all the answers, if only he could talk.”

The footman reached for the bear. “I’ll have the steward ask around the village to see if anyone can identify this fellow.”

Lilianne hugged the toy close and stepped back. “Please have Cook send out a pot of chocolate, and some of her ginger biscuits.”

When he turned toward the main house, she called him back. “And Dodds, could you please go up to the old nursery and retrieve the velvet rabbit from the rocker in the corner? We don’t need to involve the housekeeper or the butler, do you think?”

“Of course, not, milady. I’ll take care of everything.” He headed up the path with a slight shake of his head.

Lilianne rearranged the silver serving things for the second time and paced to the other side of the battered wooden table she used for potting. She’d had Dodds help her drag the table near the glass garden doors and together, they’d covered the potting surface with a paisley woolen shawl in rich shades of red and lavender. They’d added four iron garden chairs around the table with plump cushions to soften the seats. The bear occupied the chair facing the garden, and the well-worn stuffed rabbit lounged across from him. Lilianne took the third chair with the fourth remaining vacant.

She looked up at Dodds who waited expectantly near the door the small culprit usually spied through. With a polite cough, she assured him, “That will do. Thank you so much for your help.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “I can deal with this myself. You may return to the house.”

Her servant hesitated a moment, but then disappeared back through the kitchen herb garden before heading up the path toward the main house. She was fairly certain he’d double back to hover nearby in case she needed help.

She turned to pull the silver chocolate pot close and poured herself a cup. A tiny tap at the window behind her caused her to start in fear, but she turned slowly, fairly certain of who she’d see.

The face outside the orangery glass door was familiar even though Lilianne had never met the child. She knew the tiny girl would be about four or five years old. And she had the face of an angel.

The child’s mother had been Lilianne’s best friend. Jane was the vicar’s daughter, and the two of them had been madly in love with the son of the squire of the sprawling farm next to Wembledon Park. He’d joined them for Latin classes each week at the parsonage. Jane and Lilianne had spun endless imaginings and daydreams about young Frederick Meredith.

However, all of Lilianne’s dreams had ended one afternoon on the blood-soaked deck of a ship in the Mediterranean off the shore of Italy. Lilianne had intended to study art while her brother, Jamie, studied architecture in Rome. But he’d died that day trying to defend her, and she’d been sold to the dey.

When she’d returned home with the rest of the slaves liberated by Lord Exmouth’s fleet in Algiers four years before, she’d discovered the sad news. After marrying Frederick Meredith shortly before Lilianne’s fateful journey, her friend, Jane, had died the year before Lilianne’s homecoming. She’d left a daughter and a grieving husband.

Lilianne was fairly certain the tiny wraith spying on her was that child. The small figure was bundled in so many layers of clothing, it was difficult to determine if her suspicion was correct.

Instead of running away, the diminutive urchin pressed her face against the glass door and stared across the table at the bear. While Lilianne studied the small visage, fascinated, a tear rolled down the girl’s cheek.

Lilianne advanced with stealth toward the door. When she opened it, the girl marched in.

“You have Mr. Withers.” The child stomped directly to the chair holding the tattered bear and snatched him close.