Dedication
For my daughter, Audrey
The girl with an endless zest for life, a wicked humor, and a deep compassion for others.
I thank God every day He allowed me to be your mother as well as your friend.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Acclaim for Abigail Wilson
Also by Abigail Wilson
Copyright
Prologue
1811
Kent, England
Village of East Whitloe
“Foolish. Impetuous. Risky. You needn’t hold back now, Piers. I know precisely what’s ticking in that mind of yours.”
I forced my shoulders back against the bark of the oak tree where I’d spent the last few interminable hours shivering. Eventhe slightest movement of my hurt ankle caused knives to twist beneath my skin.
Piers Cavanagh merely shook his head as he looked over my injury. “I simply cannot deduce how the devil this happened. Firstoff, it’s nigh five in the morning. Second, I was under the distinct impression you were to return home this afternoon.” Herolled his eyes heavenward. “Believe me, I’ve been counting down the hours till I would see you again, and I’m certain itwas to be later today.”
I threw my hands up, regretting the action at once as I winced. “I haven’t the foggiest idea how the date of my arrival becameconfused. I was always to return on the seventeenth of March. Do you know, no one was sent to the coaching house last nightto bring my maid and me home to Flitworth Manor. What a pickle we were in.”
Having finished pawing at my ankle, Piers moved his hand to my resting fingers, his gaze following suit. “Yet here you sit with all the signs of a battered ankle. Thank goodness the bruising isn’t worse.”
“I admit my decision to borrow a few hacks and set out on the journey ourselves turned out to be a poor one. I was thrown . . .the little beast.”
His eyes shot to mine. “Do you mean to tell me you left the coaching house on your own with no escort but your maid?”
“Don’t scold me. I daresay I’ve paid enough for my foolishness. I was just so anxious to see you again.” I tipped my headback. “’Pon my word, the last thing I wanted to do was to waste one solitary hour apart from you when I’m to be dragged outof the country tomorrow morning. Oh, Piers. I still cannot believe my family’s move is actually happening . . . and so suddenlyat that. My parents were quite devious to send me away to my cousin’s house while they worked out all the details. I can’teven begin to tell you how many miles Ceylon is from here.”
Piers sighed. “A little over five thousand. I checked.”
My heart squeezed, but I lifted my chin. Secret romance or not, surely no distance, however great, would squelch what Piersand I had discovered only a few months before. I toyed with the edge of my lip.
At least we would have letters. Really, all I had to do was wait for his proper proposal, and I would be whisked back to Britainand into Piers Cavanagh’s waiting arms. If only his mother hadn’t already decided on Honora Gervey for a daughter-in-law,this whole ridiculousness could have been avoided. Engagements entered into by parents at the infants’ cribs rarely came tofruition, particularly when the parties involved had little interest in each other.
He squeezed my hand, a wry smile inching across his face. “And you’re absolutely right. We haven’t any time to lose.” He rearranged his position on the ground, then leaned in close, pausing only at the last second to flick his eyes to the road. “Where exactly is your maid again?”
“I sent her for help hours ago.”
He ran his finger down my hairline and around my ear, his deep blue eyes as alive as I’d seen them a week ago. “How I’ve missedyou, Charity Halliwell.”
Careful of my ankle, he closed the gap between us, pressing his lips to mine.
I melted forward, numb to the aching world beyond his kiss. There was no one in Britain like Piers Cavanagh, and he’d givenhis heart to me and me alone.
Suddenly he pulled away, fumbling for his pocket watch; his cheeks still slightly pink. “It’s getting late.”
A gust of wind rumpled his brown locks and made over his face. Disquiet filling his eyes, he turned to the road like he’dseen a ghost. “Do you think you can ride?”
“I don’t know.”
He ran a hand down his chin, a gasp of frustration on his breath. “It will be slow going either way. You’ve picked the deuceof a morning to have an accident.”
I rubbed a chill from my arm. “You won’t leave me to get help, will you? I’ve been alone in the dark for so long now. I’mcertain I can manage with your assistance. In fact”—I moved to stand—“I know I can.”
He hung his head, a curious tension filling the air between us. “All night, huh? You had to have been out here all night.What were you thinking, Charity?”
“I told you. How could I have known the horse would be so careless?” Nerves prickled down my back. What did it matter now? He was here. I was safe.
Another wayward glance down the road was followed by a difficult lapse into silence. I’d always been able to read Piers likean open book, but this odd intensity was nothing short of alarming. Had something happened in the week I’d been away?
He pushed into a squatting position. “Let’s get you the rest of the way onto your good foot.” One hand on my arm and anotherat my back, he tugged me effortlessly to a standing position. I would have been lying if I said the movement didn’t send myleg throbbing, but I hardly noticed as I was lost in Piers’s strange behavior, my mind afire to figure out what was wrong.
He placed his arm beneath mine, bracing me against his side, his other hand securing his horse’s reins. “One hop at a time,and I suppose we’ll get to Loxby Manor eventually.”
I looked
