PROLOGUE
London, 1809
“What do ye think he will be like?”
“What doyouthink he will be like,” Catriona corrected without a moment’s hesitation, barely looking up at her book. Despite the constant movement of the carriage along the cobblestone roads of London, she did not feel sick though she couldn’t fathom how anyone could concentrate in a place as noisy as London. She’d been on the same page for quite some time now.
Ava let out a sound of frustration. Catriona glanced up at her, and Ava quickly straightened, smoothing out her exasperated expression.
“What do you think he will be like?” she repeated, this time speaking slowly through her thick Scottish accent. It would not go away, Catriona knew. They’d lived all their lives in Scotland,after all. But she doubted the London populace would appreciate her slouchy and unladylike sister speaking with a lack of primness.
Her father and English governess had taught her all the manners and speech of a proper lady in England, especially since her father had been an Englishman. But Ava, being the second of the Wallace daughters and the far rowdiest of the bunch, did not take well to the teachings.
“I think he’ll be an old crabby man,” said Maisie, her soft tone almost masking her excitement. “He has never married, after all. And he usually lives on the outskirts of London.”
“I don’t see why those two points would make him a crabby man,” Catriona pointed out.
“Well, why has nae he married?” Ava insisted. She was practically bouncing in her seat, getting more and more energetic the deeper they got into the heart of London. “I thought it was mandatory for English gentlemen to marry and pass on their titles.”
“Perhaps not mandatory, but it’s certainly expected,” Maisie explained with all the wiseness of a ten-and-five year old girl who thought she knew the world. “Do you think we should ask him when we meet him?”
“You will not ask him anything,” Catriona stated. She’d given up on reading, so she put the book aside.
“Why not?” Ava protested, pouting. Unsurprisingly, brown curls were popping free from their hold as unruly as she was. “He’s our uncle. He’s family. We should be able to ask him anything.”
“You’ve never met him before, Ava. Do you not think it best to ensure you are more comfortable? Or rather, that he is more comfortable with you?”
“Catriona is trying to say that he might not like you,” Maisie observed, and Ava gasped in offense while Catriona rolled her eyes.
“That is not what I’m saying.”
Ava crossed her arms, raising her chin. “He’s Father’s uncle, so surely we need not concern ourselves with such formalities.”
Catriona raised a brow at how perfectly those words had left her sister’s lips. It seems her Scottish tongue fell to the wayside when she was upset. “He’s Father’s distant uncle. Even more distant from us.”
“He agreed to take us in,” Maisie pointed out.
“Likely because he felt duty bound to do so.”
“So, you think he will not like us?”
Catriona sighed. Unsurprisingly, the conversation was swiftly getting out of hand. She looked at Maisie, who was quickly growing into a beautiful young lady with a heart of gold and a soft demeanor that made Catriona fear for the fragility of her heart. Then she looked at Ava, her bubbly sister who was yet to grow out of her mischievous nature and never failed to say the first thing that came to her mind. And when she thought of the quiet home of the unmarried, elderly relative they did not know, she feared what their presence might cause.
“All I am saying is that we must remember to be polite and proper,” Catriona said, choosing her words carefully. “Lord Heaton graciously decided to take us in after Father died, even though he does not know us, and the last thing we want to do is give him a reason to regret that decision.”
Silence met her words. She’d always been able to rein her sisters in whenever they got too ahead of themselves. She only hoped that it would last for longer than a day this time.
Unsurprisingly, Ava was the first to break the quiet with a squeal of excitement. “We’re here!”
Catriona straightened. The Earl of Heaton did own a house on the outskirts of London where he preferred to reside, but he had chosen to move to his house in Mayfair, deeming it a more appropriate residence for the three girls he’d chosen to take in. At least, that was what he’d said in his letter a few weeks before Catriona and her sister left their family home in Scotland. It was to help them integrate into English society, preparing them forwhen they would one day take part in the London Season. But the sight of the house churned Catriona’s stomach instead.
She held her emotions in check, especially since her apprehension was at odds with her sisters’ excitement. They were eager to start a new life in London, to experience the place they’d only heard about through their father’s stories. Catriona didn’t want to think about how much they would stand out next to the fair-skinned, gently bred ladies of the ton.
Footmen swarmed the driveway as their carriage pulled in, led by a stately man wearing all black. Catriona immediately knew him to be the butler. He clasped his hands and waited until one of the footmen opened the door of their carriage before he greeted them. She tried not to look back at the carriage that arrived behind them, bearing their luggage and her cocker spaniel that she could not bear to leave behind.
“Good evening, Misses,” he greeted, his lined face softening slightly. “Welcome to Heaton Manor. My name is Francis, and I am the butler of this residence.”
“It is nice to meet you, Francis,” Catriona greeted, smiling politely. “I am Catriona, and these are my sisters, Ava and Maisie.”
