Cover image : Malgorzata Maj © Arcangel, Eltz Castle photo by Tim Rebkavets on Unsplash
Cover design copyright © 2020 by Covenant Communications, Inc.
Cover design by Hannah Bischoff
Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.
American Fork, Utah
Copyright © 2020 by Heidi Kimball
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Covenant Communications, Inc., or any other entity.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used fictitiously.
ISBN: 978-1-52441-043-8
To Ali,
for getting me through the hard years
Acknowledgments
I have to start by thanking my little table at a first-chapter workshop at the Midwest Storymakers Conference: Michelle Pennington, Amy Wilson, and Sara Cardon. I brought them the rough and quickly written first chapter of this book, and they believed in it from the very first reading. Without their encouragement, this story might never have come to light.
My many critique partners made this book far more than it ever would have been had I been working on my own. Jen Geigle Johnson, Mindy Strunk, Sally Britton, and Megan Walker all have my sincerest thanks.
Dear friend and fellow author Rachel Fordham helped me a great deal as I polished my manuscript. Thank you for your dedicated time and help and for seeing all the potential in the disadvantages of marrying a duke.
Arlem Hawks is a genius at naval research and went above and beyond in her efforts to help me make my story as authentic and accurate as possible. Don’t worry; I’ll keep your secret.
And where would I be without my writing bestie? Joanna Barker, I would have thrown in the towel long ago if not for your constant support and encouragement. Thank you for pushing me to be better, for not being scared off by my knife collection, and for occasionally indulging me in my laziness.
And always, a huge thanks to my husband, Dave, who is there for me through thick and thin. Thank you for the encouragement, the hours of child-free writing time, and the excellent feedback. You’re my Halstead.
Finally, to my wonderful editor at Covenant. Kami, you are a delight to work with. Thanks for making my manuscript shine. And Hannah, thank you for another absolutely breathtaking cover.
Chapter One
Norfolk, England, 1819
When I saw the opportunity for escape, I took it.
Members of the dinner party made their way to the drawing room, but I edged away from the crowd, heading in the opposite direction. With a backward glance, I turned the corner into a dimly lit hallway, hoping no one had seen me break away. The voices grew fainter. Leaning against the wall, I felt the intricate wood molding dig into my back. I debated risking a peek around the corner.
“Juliet?” Aunt Agnes’s shrill voice sounded.
Fearful she had seen me retreat, I hurried forward. This hallway would offer me little protection if she suspected my intentions. A plush rug ran the length of the corridor, muting my footsteps as I tiptoed down the hall. Nothing looked familiar from the tour we’d received upon our arrival earlier today, and I scolded myself for not paying closer attention.
To my left a door rested slightly ajar. I pushed it open and slipped inside. The library. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it with a sigh. Escaping Aunt Agnes’s watchful eye for even a few moments was a great relief.
The library was dark, save for the flickering light of the fire, whose flames danced across the room’s shelves. The cavernous ceiling stretched beyond my view, enshrouded in an inky blackness. I shivered against the chill of the large room, where the faint smell of pipe smoke lingered in the air. Drawing near the fireplace, I missed the quaint library at home—my own personal retreat. It served as a sanctuary from Aunt Agnes’s demands and, more recently, cousin Robert’s unsolicited professions of love.
My head ached with the tedium of conversation at tonight’s dinner and the multitude of pins sticking into my scalp. I removed my gloves and pulled the pins out one by one, letting my hair fall down my back. The sting eased, and my hand skimmed over the mantel as the fire warmed me.
When had Robert’s feelings changed? Robert had ever been my ally, my best friend, the one person who truly understood me. Until, all at once, he completely misunderstood me. He had ruined everything between us, for I could never see him as anything but a brother. My palms began to sweat just thinking of it.
I shivered, wishing for the warmth of a cup of chocolate. Ever since that day of Robert’s confession, there’d been a sense of aloneness, a chill inside me—one the fire couldn’t reach. I idly fingered a small porcelain figurine, a slender woman holding a fan, atop the mantel. One of my knuckles brushed against it a bit carelessly, and the figurine slipped and crashed to the floor.
On my knees in an instant, I began picking up pieces, though the matter was hopeless. “Oh dear.” I blew out a heavy breath.
“As if those words could replace a gift given to my great-grandmother on her wedding day,” a deep voice with a hardened edge said.
I whirled around, my lungs tight. I’d thought myself alone all this time. “Who’s there?” I searched the shadowed darkness but found nothing. The creak of a chair alerted me to someone in the corner, far from the light of the fire. I could just make out the form of a man occupying the chair.
“Do you make a habit of touching other people’s things?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“I-I am sorry, sir.” I stood and placed the broken pieces on the mantel, then
