Chapter 2
Cumberland, England, December 1803—twelve-years ago
Bracing herself against the frigid winter air, Mary sorrowfully strode down the snow-covered cobblestone street in the town of Carlisle.
Pulling her cape closer together to ward off the cold and adjusting the heavy basket on her arm, Mary huffed a sad, misty breath, the air curling and evaporating before her eyes. She strode through town, the morning sun hiding behind grey clouds, as she purchased items that her father had put on his list. She had already paid a visit to the local produce vendor, and she was on her way to buy meat and milk, when a sight halted her in her tracks.
Her pulse sped as she watched Gabe from across the snow-dusted street. He was with his mother outside the confectionary speaking to Mrs. Smithe and her three daughters.
Mary had not spoken to Gabriel since his father’s funeral, though even that had been brief, as his uncle, Lord Winning, deemed it below his nephew to associate with a poor crofter’s daughter.
Captain Ashley had been laid to rest in the family’s cemetery a sennight ago, having passed away while at sea. Poor Gabriel had not seen his father for several months before the Captain had died.
In the eight years that Mary had known Gabriel, she had only met the Captain once, but he seemed an affable sort of man, certainly one who loved his wife and son very much. And for that, Mary had adored him.
But while the Captain’s passing was indeed sad, it was not what affected Mary’s mood so drastically. It was Gabe. She was unsure what had caused it—perhaps it was his time spent at school or his changing maturity—but whatever the cause, he had become distant with her. No longer did she spend hours in the kitchens of his uncle’s estate watching Gabe cook, and gone were the days engaged in playful banter, cloud-watching, alfresco luncheons, and rousing tricks on unsuspecting neighbours.
It hurt a great deal more than she could ever have imagined. She very much feared that she was losing her best friend, the boy with whom she’d shared her first—and only—kiss, and the boy that held her heart.
Mary had tried to retain Gabe’s interest, but while he had behaved normally with her, she had gotten the distinct impression that he was bored with her company.
Her eyes sharpened on Gabe as he stood in close conversation with the two handsome young women.
The Misses Smithe were closer in age to Gabriel than Mary was; he at nineteen and they at eighteen, seventeen, and fifteen. Not only were they more mature and distinguished than Mary, but they were a great deal prettier, as well.
Mary was only fourteen, and with her auburn hair, freckled cheeks, and still-childish figure, she worried that other girls would garner Gabe’s attention before she could repair their friendship.
Gabriel laughed at something one of the girls said and Mary frowned, jealousy burning hotly in her gut. The need to know what they were saying warred with prudence in her heart.
He laughed again.
Damn prudence, anyway.
Making her way stealthily across the cobblestoned street, she carefully avoiding a carriage that rattled by. She hid herself between two buildings, keeping herself deep in the shadows.
Their voices carried to her from their position in front of the confectionary a few paces away.
The Misses Smithe were not only beautiful, but they were handsomely attired as well. All had pale blue walking dresses that poked out beneath navy cloaks over sturdy boots. Their blonde ringlets framed their rosy-cheeked faces and were topped with wide-rimmed periwinkle bonnets that brought out the colour of their eyes. One might think they were triplets if they did not know them.
Mary looked down at her own attire and felt another surge of envy. She wore her mother’s old brown day dress and black cloak, hemmed to fit Mary’s height, and her bonnet was simple straw, personally embellished with sprigs of holly.
“So, it is true, then?” The eldest Smithe daughter was saying. “You are moving to Scotland to be with Mrs. Ashley’s family?”
A hoarse shout caught in Mary’s throat, unable to be released.No!
“I am afraid it is,” he replied, his voice low and rumbling and entirely devoid of his Scottish accent.
Tears welled in Mary’s eyes. Gabe was leaving? It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t! Why had he not told her? Mary bit her lips together to keep a soul-deep sob from escaping. What was she going to do without Gabe?
“We have spent the past fortnight preparing for our departure,” he was saying.
Mary’s heart thudded sickeningly in her chest, her stomach knotting uncomfortably.He knew? Gabe had known for a fortnight that he was leaving and yet he hadn’t told her?
“Do tell us, Mr. Ashley, who will you miss the most?” The middle Miss Smithe batted her long blonde eyelashes over her crystal blue eyes.
Mary hated her immediately.
She hated Gabe’s overconfident, proud smile even more. “I cannot claim to miss one of you fine ladies more than the other; you will all be dearly missed in my heart.” He placed one of his broad, gloved hands over his chest. “I do not know how I shall go on without you.”
