Their sire, the old Duke of Kendall, had been a revolting excuse of a human being. Convicted of bigamy nearly thirty years prior, he had found himself fifty years of age, divorced, and lacking a legitimate heir. Undaunted, he had wasted no time in courting the twins’ mother, Lady Beatrice Barozzi, a young Italian beauty of Venetian descent.
Allie and Tristan were born within ten months of their parent’s marriage.
As her dowry, their mother had brought the oldest salt mine in Europe into the marriage—the Salzi Mine in southern Austria. As per family tradition, the salt mine passed from mother to daughter, trailing the maternal line down through the centuries. Therefore, the mine was listed as Beatrice’s separate personal property in the marriage contracts, leaving it under her sole control.
Allie supposed their overbearing father had assumed he would cow his young wife into turning control of the mine over to himself.
In that, he had erred.
Their mother had been fierce in her defense of herself, and by extension, her children. She held on to the mines with an iron fist, using the wealth they produced to extract concessions from her husband, to temper his autocratic demands and cruel tendencies.
But as the years passed, the elder Kendall’s behavior grew more and more violent—his caustic words usually punctuated with his fist—until Beatrice feared for her life. After all, if she met an unfortunate ‘accident,’ Kendall would automatically receive the salt mines in their entirety.
And so, when the twins were ten years of age, a final deal was struck.
Kendall would grant Beatrice a divorce: adivortium a mensa et thoroto use the precise legal phrase—a separation of bread and board. In short, Beatrice would no longer be Kendall’s financial responsibility, and he would no longer contribute to her upkeep. In return, the old duke would have no further legal claim on her. She would be free.
In exchange for such freedom, Beatrice agreed to sign full ownership of the Salzi Mine over to Kendall.
But Beatrice wrung one last boon out of her husband: she insisted Allie accompany her. The duke would never have released Tristan, his heir, to her care. But he did permit Beatrice to take ‘the girl.’
Allie flinched away from the memories of that day.
Of those last hours together with her brother, huddled in her bed—ten years old and aware that the only life she had known was about to change forever.
“This is notaddio,” Tristan had whispered, eyes red-rimmed like her own. “We will not wait until we are before God to see each other. This goodbye isarrivederci—until we see one another again.”
“Father is so angry,” Allie had hiccupped in return, swiping away her messy tears. Tristan handed her his handkerchief. “He will never permit Mamma or me to return to Hawthorn. He won’t even let us write letters. We will be lost to you!”
Tristan shook his head, gaze earnest and so stubbornly determined. “Nothing will stop me from seeking you out once I am of age. As soon as I am able, I will hunt the world over for you. You and I . . . we are forever, Allie.”
How fierce he had appeared in that moment. So confident that his love for her would never abate, never change.
But change . . . everything had.
Not even an hour later, Allie had followed Mamma down the steps to a hired coach waiting before Hawthorn’s front doors. Only Tristan came to see them off. The Duchess of Kendall spared a few words and an embrace for her son before climbing into the carriage.
But Allie held him firmly and whispered a watery,I love you, into his ear before following their mother. Pressing her nose against the carriage glass, Allie had watched until Tristan’s tear-streaked face faded into the distance.
We are forever, Allie.
That vulnerable ten-year-old girl hadn’t known then that their goodbye had actually beenaddioin the end—to God.Never to be seen again in this life.
An ache lodged in her throat.
Allie ruthlessly swallowed it back.
She was made of sterner stuff now.
Paradoxically, the belief that Tristan—herTristan—waited for her had given Allie the strength to forge her soul into steel over the intervening years.
How bitterly ironic, as she now wielded that same inner steel against him.
Allie adjusted her skirts, watching Westminster Abbey roll past as the carriage turned onto Whitehall.
“If you could control your harpy tongue for even five minutes, Lady Allegra,” Kendall’s voice cracked over the clatter of the coach wheels on flagstone, “you would learn that I will, in fact, be returning the salt mines to you.”
Allie looked at her brother, expression surely stunned and incredulous.
