Chapter One
London, Autumn 1870
Why had he lefther behind?
Ajax groaned, mopping his face with one hand, relieved to finally be behind the cold, comforting walls of his silent and blessedly empty London mansion. He didn’t particularly care for it, but at least it was his, and not his family’s. Bought and paid for, in his name only. Hissing a curse, he slammed his fist into the mahogany pedestal desk. It was a thick, sturdy piece. It could take it.
Now, whetherhecould take it, that was a different question. After a lifetime of keeping his distance from everyone and everything that might lay claim to his time and attention, the consequences of his past had finally caught up with him in a riotous, spectacular fashion.
Her. His daughter. The pale, dark-haired wraith who stared at him like he was some sort of…
No, he wouldn’t walk this path. That sort of thinking never helped; it only sent him spiraling down a black pit of despair. Clearing his throat, he pushed the thought away as casually as he did everything else.
He surveyed the study’s fine furnishings, pausing briefly on the pair of deep-buttoned leather armchairs across the room, before deciding against sitting. Instead, he crossed over to the large windows framed by thick, sumptuous drapes—a touch of the dramatic which he’d always favored. Releasing a frustrated sigh, he leaned against the window with one arm over his head, the chill of the glass seeping in through his coat sleeves.
It was enough to make one laugh, something Ajax himself was quite fond of. Just not when it was at himself, in earnest. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on his partial reflection in the pane. Ajax Lucius Sedley, well-regarded as an interesting chap who was always up for a rollicking good time, had been, as of late, laid low by the sudden appearance of his bastard daughter, fifteen-year-old Charlotte Sedley. Or Charlotte Jutton, as she’d been known until a mere few weeks ago, when both of their lives had been turned upside down with the passing of her mother.
The reminder churned his stomach, destroying the remains of the small peace he’d recaptured by returning home, away from the rest of his blasted family, wrapped up in their own high dramas at the hateful Oswine House. Where he had abandoned Charlotte to the remaining aloof, self-absorbed, foolhardy Sedleys who had made him what he was: all alone in the world.
And not just abandoned her, but left her with the devilishly cruel parting shot he had.
The memory began anew, and he grimaced at the window with a martyr-like expression. Hell, what was one more examination when he’d already rehashed the scene nearly a hundred times in just the last half-hour?
His niece, Harmonia—well, hisgreat-nieceif one was being particular, which was something he didn’t really care for under usual circumstances but which was absolutely necessary for maximizing self-castigation in this instance—was the current queen of the opulent Oswine House. She had demanded hisregular attendance on his daughter in exchange for the small duty of housing Charlotte while she and Ajax remained in London. It may have seemed a small capitulation, but Ajax found spending time with his relations in the familial home, as if he were still a lad in short pants, anathematic to his entire nature.
He huffed in exasperation, relaxing slightly against the window. A hansom cab pulled up below, and he watched the driver hand down the woman riding within.
You’re just like your mother.
The words had cut him, just as they’d been meant to cut Charlotte. And though the girl had previously betrayed not one single emotion or opinion during their entire contractually obligated time together, by God did she then. With fists clenched and jaw set, she’d spun on her heel and taken off to disappear into the attic or some other cobweb-ridden corner. Ajax squeezed his eyes shut at the memory, hurt spreading throughout his body.
Good.Heaven knew he deserved it.Fine, let’s walk this path, you pathetic, miserable, worthless, hateful sack—
A loud rap on his study door halted his train of thought, and a short burst of panic rerouted it to a quick recollection of the reason he’d rushed home in such haste. His appointment.
The door hinges creaked, and he heard Gilman hesitate for a moment before his clear, strident voice announced, “The governess candidate,” before adding in a more apologetic tone, “sir.”
“Ah, yes,” Ajax said with aplomb, still not bothering to turn about. Instead, he stared at the window and worked to return to himself, or at least who he thought he’d always been. He exhaled with a shaky sigh, his mind riffling through pages in a book titledCharming Personas, A Practicebefore settling upon the appropriate, socially acceptable one. Did children have thiseffect on everyone? Obliterating every facet of yourself you’d ever known? Or was it only when they waited years before making themselves known to you? Surely an infant couldn’t be this soul-destroying. He frowned at the startling thought, wondering where it had come from. Infants weren’t something he found himself pondering on regular occasion. Or any occasion, really.
He was relieved when the rustling of skirts behind him interrupted that terrifying rumination. “Please, by all means, sit.” He slid his hands into his pockets, forcing a look of ease.
The door clicked in the frame, signaling Gilman’s departure. By God, how he envied the man in that moment. Never in his life had he imagined that one day he’d be interviewing pinch-faced old biddies to corral his enigmatic, natural-born daughter. Not even sixteen years ago, when he’d been taking pleasure between the legs of Nancy Jutton, an up-and-coming young actress and said daughter’s soon-to-be mother. He stepped back from the window, laughing at the juxtaposition of the two inexplicably linked thoughts. Such was his life now.
He heard the woman’s skirts swish about as she sat down.
“You’ll have to beg my pardon, I’ve only just returned home myself.” He moved for the tidy drinks cabinet resting beneath the furthest window to his right, smoothing a thumb over his mustache as he went. He had to gather himself; conducting business in this state just wouldn’t do. Mature women were fond of gin, weren’t they? That was his cousin Bess’s tipple, and she was well into her fifties.
“That’s quite alright, Mr. Sedley.”
He nearly dropped the crystal decanter he had just picked up. The silky, agreeable voice that answered him did not belong to a tightly wound old harridan. Slowly he turned, almost dreading what he’d find.
And there, in front of his desk, sat one of the most fetching young things he’d ever seen dressed so hideously: a young woman with large, luminous brown eyes, full lips, and porcelain skin. A few wisps of fine curls had escaped her bonnet, and Ajax immediately found himself imagining her disheveling those locks by coyly sliding the bonnet off her head.
He swallowed. What an absolutely pathetic and predictable debacle.
Shit.
Susanna sat motionless, waiting for Mr. Sedley to speak. He hadn’t even bothered to look her way until now, and whatever he saw was apparently enough to give him pause. She forced herself to hold still, to not smile nervously. She couldn’t muck this up. She felt a faint heat in her cheeks as she reminded herself that there was no longer a place for her in the de Vauville household. And even if things had been different, she could not have allowed herself to remain. She didn’t trust herself. And now no decent recommendation would be given her, which left her with only one option: pray that Mr. Sedley found her acceptable.
