For Lynne & Bob,
in memory of Max
ONE
Trentingham Manor, the South of England
September 1677
STANDING IN her family’s small, crowded chapel, Rose Ashcroft shifted on her high Louis-heeled shoes, wishing she were in a cathedral so there would be somewhere to sit.
Wishing she were anywhere but here watching her sister get married.
“Randal John Charles, Baron of Newcliffe, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” The confident words echoed through the magnificent oak-paneled chamber, binding Rand to Rose’s sister Lily.
But Rose wasn’t listening to the ceremony. Instead she heard spinster, spinster, spinster running through her head. Nineteen and a lonely spinster…while both her sisters had fine husbands.
Happy tears brightened their mother’s brown eyes. She leaned close, bumping against Rose’s left side. “They’re perfect together, aren’t they?” she whispered.
Rose could only nod dumbly, gazing at her sister’s petite figure laced into a stunning pale blue satin wedding dress embroidered with gleaming silver thread. The bride’s hair, the same rich sable as Rose’s, cascaded to her shoulders in glossy ringlets. Beside her, the groom beamed, looking tall and utterly divine in midnight blue velvet, his gray eyes steady and adoring.
The wretch.
Not that Rose still resented Rand. Though his rejection had crushed her, he was so clearly in love with Lily that it was obvious the two of them belonged together. Rose had made her peace with that fact. Truly, she wished her new brother-in-law every happiness.
But did he have to be so very handsome?
The priest cleared his throat and looked back down at his Book of Common Prayer. “Lady Lily Ashcroft, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband…”
Standing on Rose’s right, her older sister Violet shifted one of her twin babies on her hip and smiled up at her husband of four years, Ford. Sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, glinting off her spectacles. “Oh, isn’t this beautiful?” she said with a sigh.
Holding their other infant, Ford squeezed Violet around the shoulders. Seated cross-legged at their feet, their two-year-old son Nicky traced a finger over the patterns in the colorful glazed tile floor, obliviously happy.
Rose gritted her teeth.
Her friend Judith Carrington poked her from behind. “I cannot believe Lily’s wedding is happening before mine,” she whispered in a tone of dismay. “I was betrothed first!”
Rose couldn’t believe Lily and Judith would both be married before she even received a proposal.
“…so long as ye both shall live?” the priest concluded expectantly.
In the hush that followed, even knowing it was unkind of her, Rose half hoped some disturbance would occur to stop the wedding.
But nothing did, of course. “I will,” Lily pledged, her voice as sweetly sincere as she was, ringing clear and true.
A few more words, a family heirloom ring slid onto her finger, and the deed was done. Lily was the new Lady Newcliffe. And truly, Rose wished her sister every happiness.
But did she have to be her younger sister?
When Rand bent to kiss the bride, Rose turned away. Behind her, Judith was grinning up at her own betrothed—although only a little way up, since his stature was less impressive than Rand’s. Lord Grenville was five-and-thirty to Judith’s nineteen, and his pale brown hair was thinning on top, but Rose imagined that the way Judith looked at him made him feel like a king. And he gazed down at her in a way that surely made pretty, plump Judith feel like a queen.
Rose wanted someone who’d make her feel like a queen. Gemini, a duchess or countess would do. Or even a lowly baroness…
As the years crawled by without a husband on the horizon, she was getting less picky. Most any man would be acceptable to her now.
So long as he was handsome, titled, rich, and powerful.
The guests parted as Lily and Rand began making their way from the chapel. They’d taken but a few steps when a cat, a squirrel, and a chirping sparrow came to join them.
Rose moved to hug her sister. “It was lovely,” she murmured. “I’m so happy for you.”
And she was. Truly she was.
Lily leaned down to pick up the cat, straightening with a brilliant smile. “Your turn next.”
A hurt retort came to Rose’s mind, but she wouldn’t snap at her sister on her wedding day. “I’m happy for you, too, Rand,” she said instead, rising on her toes to give her sister’s new husband a kiss on the cheek. But not too far up on her toes, because Rose was tall. Too tall, perhaps, or too slim, or too quick-tongued…or too something.
There had to be some reason she was still unmarried.
Too intelligent, most likely. It was precisely that failing, she suspected, that had driven Rand away. A handsome and high-born young linguistics professor ought to have been Rose’s perfect match, given her unusual aptitude for foreign languages. But he’d never shown even a flicker of interest. He’d brushed right past her and gone straight for her little sister. Rose wasn’t so arrogant as to expect every man to fall in love with her, but…
Well, she’d never had one ignore her completely.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t taken his disinterest well. Desperation had driven her to proposition him in a most unseemly manner, and when that hadn’t worked, in vexation and despair she’d attempted bribery and trickery of the worst kind.
She couldn’t imagine what had come over her that day and had feared she’d never be able to look Rand in the face again. But to her utter relief he seemed at ease with her, as though he’d graciously forgotten that humiliating episode.
“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he said now, making Rose feel like the unluckiest woman.
Lily must have noticed her dejected expression,
