PROLOGUE
England, 1866
Two letters irrevocably changed Cassandra Staunton’s life. The first came from her estranged grandfather, who had written after Mama and Papa’s untimely deaths to demand that the sisters either live under his protection or find husbands to support them.
Grandfather Dawsen underestimated the Staunton sisters, for they were clever, capable women. They had balked at his high-handed meddling and tossed his costly stationery into the rubbish bin. That first act of rebellion had steered their lives down a path no one—least of all, Cassandra—could’ve imagined.
The second life-altering letter had arrived only yesterday from Octavia, the eldest, who had taken a position as governess at Caswell Hall. According to their sister’s missive, Cassandra and Honoria were invited to attend an afternoon party at the local manor, where they could enjoy a fun and frivolous day away from Longstone.
“Oh, please, Cass!” Honoria begged. “Please, let’s go!”
She looked up from the letter to face her younger sister. They sat under Papa’s favorite oak tree shading their back garden. They’d set up a table and chairs beneath the branches, and the space had quickly become their favorite place to take tea.
“I thought you hated Lord Althorne.” Harsh words, as neither of them had ever met Octavia’s employer.
“I do,” Honoria said, stuffing her pretty, young face with cake. For weeks, they had gone without even the basic necessities. To have cake and strong tea was a treat, indeed. “But I am infinitely curious to see how a viscount lives. Do we know anyone who has ever visited Caswell Hall—oranyhall, for that matter? Of course we don’t! We’d be the envy of everyone in Longstone.”
They already were the envy of their neighbors. Cassandra was beautiful. Honoria was bright and gay. They’d been well-educated by their father and brought up as ladies by their mother, when everyone else in the village worked as a cobbler or a laborer, or married cobblers and laborers.
Honoria plucked the letter from her grasp. “You don’t have to go, Cassandra. I shall be perfectly happy to accept the invitation for myself and tell you all about it when I return.”
“If you think I’m letting you go to Caswell Hall without me, you are sorely mistaken. Octavia will be minding the child. Someone will have to keep an eye on you.”
Her youngest sister smiled. “There will be handsome gentlemen there.”
“You’ve never even met a handsome gentleman.” They only knew local lads and the travelers that passed through the newly-built railway depot. Lord Althorne would certainly invite wealthy, sophisticated men of society. Poor, boy-mad Honoria would be dangerously out of her depth. “And what would George Fulton say?”
George, the local postman, was the most eligible young man in their village. He had grown up with the sisters, but—lately—the youngest Staunton had developed an infatuation with the fellow.
It was a point of great teasing by everyone who knew them, and Cassandra couldn’t resist a good-natured jab at her little sister.
Honoria’s cheeks flamed. “Perhaps some competition for my affections would do him good. If he heard I was escorted in to dinner by a wealthy London gentleman, he might learn to see me as more than a grown-up version of a schoolgirl in short frocks and pinafores.”
It had been a very long time since any of the Staunton sisters wore short frocks, pinafores, and ribbons in their hair, yet their lives seemed stagnant. Stale.
Cassandra was twenty-three. Honoria had recently turned twenty-one. Perhaps it was time they grew up.
They ought to take charge of their lives and make something of themselves.
Accepting Octavia’s invitation to Caswell Hall would be exciting. It would be a breath of fresh air after a year of mourning. It might be the new start they needed.
Cassandra laughed, for they were going to escape Longstone—if only for one day.
“Very well,” she said, cutting a wedge of cake for herself. “I’ll write back to Octavia, and you can carry the letter to the post office. We had better dig out our best frocks!”
“Silks and muslins?”
“Silks, muslins,andthe evening dresses Mama gifted us. If we are to meet Octavia’s viscount, we cannot look shabby.”
Honoria leaped into action. She nearly toppled the tea table in her excitement. “We should pack something nice for her, too!”
The youngest Staunton sister raced for the house, leaving Cassandra alone beneath the oak tree. “We’ve a week to prepare!” she called to Honoria’s back. “Never mind the carpetbags. Bring me a pen and paper.”
For the first time in a very long time, Cassandra felt a thrill of excitement. In one week, they would be reunited with their beloved eldest sister. In one week, they would be dining at Caswell Hall.
Seven days felt like an eternity when she had been waiting twenty-three years for her life to begin.
CHAPTER ONE
