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Dearest Harry,

Forgive me for not addressing you as Miss Hamilton.

I cannot yet think of you as this new person, whom I fear I may not know as well as I did Mrs Harris.

I pray I am wrong. I must be, though doubts plague me at every moment of the day.

Yet, I know you. No matter what name you call yourself, I know you as I know myself.

How angry I was with you for running away like you did, and I am not speaking about running away after you encountered Lord Wendover, though I shall get to that, but your cowardly behaviour in taking Tilly shopping rather than face me.

You have always been the bravest person I have ever known, far braver than I, yet I came down the stairs that morning knowing that I had made the most momentous and most wonderful decision, only to discover you were gone.

You see, you troublesome creature, the truth finally hit me.

I am sorry it took me so long, but you have never had a very high opinion of my intellect, I think, so you cannot hold my stupidity against me now.

But I had told you myself, spoken the words out loud to you, and still I failed to see it. Do you remember?

If I could find a woman with whom I could converse easily on all manner of subjects, who shared my interests, my love of this place and my daughter, I would marry her in a heartbeat—that’s what I said.

Except I ought to have added, if I could find a woman who held me to account, who expected more of me and believed I could be more, who challenged me and made fun of me, and rode like a hoyden and laughed like a lunatic, and is the dearest creature I have ever known, then I should marry her, if only she will allow me to.

I came to ask you that question, Harry, but you were gone.

In your absence, the new copies of His Grace and Disfavour that had disappeared so mysteriously were put in my hands.

As I read, I got the strangest sensation, like hearing an echo of a story I already knew.

Not the same, but so strangely like. Then my father, omniscient as always, arrived out of the blue and explained the things that his idiot son had not comprehended.

Then Tilly arrived, and shortly after Wendover—who will not trouble you again.

How could you believe I would have been angry with you for running from such a brute? Why did you not trust me to protect you? That you did not believe I would do so hurts more than I can say, for I would damn myself ten times over before I saw any harm come to you.

Your uncle, curse him, won’t let me see you.

He says I may pay my addresses to you if you allow it, but not until the New Year.

That feels like a life sentence. I have chased after you these past days and nights, out of my mind with worry, terrified that I might never get the chance to explain to you that I need you to come home to me.

It is your home, my dearest, my most frustrating and aggravating darling, and Tilly and I need you there.

We shall be bereft and lost and quite utterly miserable without you.

And yes, I will shamelessly use my daughter’s tears against you, if I must. All is fair in love and war, you dreadful, wonderful creature.

Come home, and make us the family we should have been a long time ago.

Your own, A x

―A letter from The Right Hon’ble Philip Barrington, the Earl of Ashburton, to Miss Genevieve Hamilton.

5 th December 1850, Cawston Hall, Cawston, Norfolk.

Genevieve woke to the scent of freshly baked bread and a steaming cup of chocolate, blinking hazily into the eyes of a pretty little maid. The young woman smiled shyly at Genevieve as she set the tray down on a stand by the bed.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but Lord Wrexham was worried and said I must bring you some food. It’s past one o’clock, and he feared you might be unwell.”

“One o’clock!” Genevieve exclaimed, aghast. She had never slept so late in her entire life. “Good heavens.”

“Reckon you needed the rest, Miss Hamilton,” the girl said, rearranging the pillows behind her as Genevieve sat up.

“There, now. I’ve brought you a nice breakfast and Lady Wrexham has chosen some dresses of hers she thinks will fit you.

So, when you’re ready, you ring the bell and I’ll come and help you right away, or ring before if there’s anything else you need. ”

“Thank you…?” Genevieve said, regarding the girl expectantly.

“Oh, I’m Peggy, miss,” she said, smiling at her.

“Thank you, Peggy. I shall do just that,” she said, realising her stomach was growling audibly now. Lord, when was the last time she’d eaten? She could not remember.

She fell upon the breakfast as if she was half-starved, then rang for Peggy, who was as kind and efficient as she appeared to be.

The gowns Lady Wrexham had provided were so lovely, and of a quality Genevieve had not worn for what seemed like a lifetime.

How strange it was to be back at Cawston Hall, wearing such finery again, and waking up to breakfast in bed.

She could not tell what felt most like a dream: being here now, or the past five years.

As she looked out of the window at the frozen landscape, however, at a view that had once been so very familiar, a hollow ache grew in her chest, a sense of such profound loss she felt her legs would not hold her.

Sitting down on the bed with a thud, she forced herself to breathe in and out until the desire to wail and sob and scream about the unfairness of life went away.

It did not go away, but she pushed the pain down into a dark place where she had hidden many things in her lifetime, forcing them from her mind, determined not to think of them.

She had lost things before, and it had not broken her.

Yes, it had hurt, and yes, she had been afraid, but there was nothing to fear now.

She was safe with Rex and his wife. He had promised Delia would come soon, and they would not force her to marry Wendover or allow her grandfather to bully her ever again.

They could be a family. Yet the peace and happiness Genevieve ought to feel at having her life restored to her was absent.

Still, she made her way down the stairs, touched by the clear delight on Rex’s face, by the happiness his wife felt at her husband’s joy, and by the introduction to their three children.

Suki was a beautiful girl of four–and-a-half, the image of her father in female form, with a shock of blonde hair that fell in ringlets about her face.

Jasper, who was almost two, took after his mother, with watchful green eyes and dark hair, and the baby, little Alexandra, who was barely five months old, cooed and gurgled and made Genevieve laugh with happiness, even as tears pricked at her eyes.

She had missed so much, and yet when she looked at Suki, younger though she was, Genevieve saw her darling, naughty Ottilie, and felt her heart would break to know she would not be there to see her grow into the extraordinary and lovely woman she would undoubtedly become.

They enjoyed the afternoon, with everyone talking at once, determined to catch up on everything they had missed, until it was time for the children to go for their nap, leaving Genevieve alone with Rex.

She reached for the teapot to check it was still hot, and freshened his cup before pouring herself another.

“Why did you not tell me where you were?” he demanded.

She heard the pain in his voice and, much though she didn’t want the discussion, she knew she owed him at least a degree of truth.

“You had enough to contend with.”

He snorted. “A paltry defence, Vivi, and you know it.”

“Indeed, it is not!” she shot back, and the familiarity of the exchange made her smile. He always knew how to nettle her, kind as he was.

“Perhaps at first, but Emmeline and I have been settled for years. I know Delia told you I’ve got the duke firmly under the hatches now. There was no reason to hide any longer. I would not have let Wendover harm you.”

“You can’t know that,” she said calmly, stirring two lumps of sugar into her tea.

“You did not hear what he said, or how he said it.

Perhaps you are right, or perhaps I would have gone for a walk in the village one day and not come home again.

Besides, Grandfather was my legal guardian until I was one and twenty, and I had decided I would take control of my own fate, that I would decide how I lived, not him, and not my grandfather, and I did, “she added, with a certain measure of pride.

“Your birthday was some time ago,” he pointed out tersely. “And if he posed that big a threat, I would have handled it, if only you had told me. Or do you think me incapable of protecting my family because I’m blind?”

“Oh, please,” Genevieve replied, rolling her eyes. “Don’t give me that. You know I think no such thing, but you cannot be everywhere all at once, and I did not want to spend my days constantly looking over my shoulder or being flanked by bodyguards.”

“So instead you chose to live your life as a blasted servant!” he exclaimed, though she knew better than to think he was angry with her.

He was angry at what she had suffered, that he had not been able to find her and bring her home, because she had not allowed him to know where she was, or how she was living.

“I thought at least that you were living quietly, as a lady of quality, not that you were in service, damn it!”

“Oh, Rex, do stop getting yourself all riled up,” she said fondly, shaking her head at him in exasperation.

“I was not in service, you dullard. I was a governess, and a very superior governess at that. Lord Ashburton treated me with the greatest respect, and I lived very comfortably, thank you. You would not believe how much he paid me. It would frighten you, I swear. Do not let your own daughter’s governess find out, or you will be in for quite a shock.

Plus, his daughter is a delightful girl and teaching her was no hardship, for she is clever and funny and so v-very dear,” she said, forcing her voice not to quaver, but Rex heard the slight tremor and frowned.

“Ashburton said you were close, that the little girl adores you,” he admitted.

“Ashburton?” Genevieve said, setting her cup in its saucer with such a clatter she spilled her tea. “What do you mean? How—”

“He was here last night. Nearly broke the bloody door down at one o clock in the morning.”

Genevieve put the teacup down on the table beside her, clutching nervously at the arms of her chair, and finding it suddenly hard to breathe.

“He—He was here? He came after me?”

Before Rex could answer, Emmeline came back into the room.

“All sleeping, thank heavens. They look like such adorable little cherubs when they are asleep, you know. The little devils,” she said with obvious pride.

Then she looked at Genevieve, holding onto her chair as if she feared it might float off.

Genevieve did not care, she only wanted an answer to her question.

“Rex?”

“Well, obviously he came after you, or he could not have been here trying to break the bloody door down in the middle of the night, could he?” Rex replied irritably.

Genevieve gasped, not knowing what to think.

Ashburton was a gentleman after all, and he would have come after her to ensure she was safe, that she had reached her home without difficulty, and would have raised the alarm if she had not.

“He just wished to know I got here safely, I suppose,” she said cautiously.

“Quite so,” Rex replied, jumping a little as his wife exclaimed at his words.

“Rex! Don’t be cruel. The poor girl is obviously desperate to know more, and you omit to tell her the poor man was out of his mind with worry. That’s not fair or kind, love, not when you don’t know what is between them. In fact, unless I miss my guess, I’d say she’s in love with him.”

Genevieve sucked in a breath, gazing at Emmeline in shock and then at Rex, who looked peeved at having been caught out.

“I thought we agreed to give her some time, to allow her to recover from everything that had happened?” he said in frustration.

“No, you said that,” Emmeline replied, quite unimpressed by her husband’s formidable scowl. “I said I would never speak to you again if you did not give her Ashburton’s letter at once.”

“A letter?” Genevieve stood so quickly she almost upset the little side table with her teacup on. “What letter? Where is it? Give it to me at once!” she cried.

“There, see. Didn’t I tell you?” Emmeline said, sounding smug. “I’ll fetch it for you, don’t fret,” she added kindly, and hurried from the room.

There was a taut silence in her absence until Rex spoke again. “Is she right?”

Genevieve hesitated, not wanting to admit her feelings if the letter turned out to me nothing more than a politely worded farewell and good wishes for her future.

Yet the emotion that boiled inside her needed a release, and there had been no one she could tell, no one she could talk to about the feelings that had grown over the past years, so very discreetly and yet with such devastating force.

“Yes,” she admitted, relieved to say it out loud and praying she would not look a fool once she had read the earl’s words to her.

Emmeline barged back into the room and presented the letter with a flourish. “There you are, my dear.”

Rex sighed, looking resigned. “I suppose I must leave her to read the blasted thing in private?”

“An excellent suggestion, love,” Emmeline agreed.

“As if you would not have chased me from the room if I had refused to budge,” he remarked, though he looked amused rather than irritated. “Come along, then, Miss Milly. I see I am in the wrong, just for a change.”

“Pooh, you make me sound like a dreadful harpy,” Emmeline scolded. “What will poor Genevieve think of me if you speak so?”

“That my own dear wife treats me abominably,” Rex said, sounding far more cheerful as he went out of the room, bickering happily with the woman he clearly adored, and who obviously had his measure.

Genevieve sat staring at the letter until their voices faded, and then broke the seal with trembling hands, and read the words Lord Ashburton had given her.