Chapter 1
1816-Bath
Gemma sighed, and took in the smell of pine wood and old paper. It was a scent that took her back to her childhood. Back when she had first discovered her love for writing and drawing.
“I just need that one over there, if you please,” Gemma said to Ashley as she pointed to a large ink well. “Right, thank you. I believe that will be all for now.”
Ashley gave a curt nod and put her lady’s purchases on the counter at the front of the shop, before she went across the street to the printers. Gemma’s pale blue eyes could not help but follow Ashley. Every week, Gemma would have her lady’s maid deliver her writing to the news office.
Gemma tucked a loose strand of hair away before speaking further to Mrs. Baker. She bent down to see her reflection in a nearby mirror. Gemma was not as short as most ladies. If that was not enough to set her apart, her wavy blonde hair was almost as white as snow.
“Miss Castwell, how are you today?” The shop owner, Mr. Baker said the moment he noticed Gemma.
“Fine, thank you, Mr. Baker. How are you? Did you hear about the accident just outside town?” Gemma inquired.
“I did, yes, poor child. “Mr. Baker said, putting his hand to his chest.
“So tragic. You know, if only the child had been seated in front, she may not have broken her leg that severely,” Gemma said. The empathy in her tone and expression was plain to see.
“Now the leg will have to be amputated,” Mr. Baker replied with equal sorrow.
“Did you see Mrs. Cromwell with her latest?” Mrs. Baker asked Gemma.
“Surely, she has not moved on that quickly?” Gemma said aghast.
“She detests being alone,” Mrs. Baker stated.
“Well if they are both happy, then why can they not be left alone? Granted, the age difference does verge on unseemly. It is interesting, do you not agree, that if it had been a young girl with an older man then it would have been accepted? Now that it is the other way around, they are frowned upon?” Gemma asked. She knew Mrs. Baker was old-fashioned; however, she did seem to enjoy and endorse Gemma’s more modern way of thinking.
“Good day, Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker.” A deep voice spoke behind Gemma. The sound poured into her ears and made her think of a warm summer breeze.
Gemma could not help her curiosity at glancing at who might own such a memorable voice. She could see that he had well-groomed, jet-black hair that had an attractive curl to it. He was taller than most men, and she had to look up to try to look at his face.
A rare happening for Gemma. He had more of a farmer’s build than the gentlemen she was used to. He was well-dressed in black trousers with black boots, a white dress shirt with a modern upturned collar, and a brown suede jacket.
What an interesting man.Gemma thought as she tried to get a better look at him.
“Good morning, Your Grace. I am doing well, you know, the knees are still a bit of a bother,” Mr. Baker replied.
Oh, Your Grace, is it? No, he would give me one look and reject me. Nobility must adhere to what is considered attractive. My tall form is far from the norm or acceptable. Gemma thought with slight disappointment.
“I am terribly sorry to hear, Mr. Baker. You should rest more,” the man replied.
Still, he has a magnificent voice,Gemma thought.
“That is very kind, Your Grace. Now, how can I help you today?” Mr. Baker said fondly.
“I am searching for writing supplies. Charlotte and Colette will not forgive me if I return home empty-handed,” the man said with a pleasant chuckle.
“Well, Your Grace, we shall not disappoint them then. How are Colette’s friends in the village now? The papers said something about poor rain this year,” Mr. Baker asked.
“Indeed it has been a hard year. Fortunately, there were a few storms before harvest time,” the man answered. “Charlotte is getting even more versed with her poetry. She writes the most beautiful thoughts onto paper,” the man went on.
Gemma thought of her own home life. She would rise early every day to help her father on their estate. He had taught her how to take care of every aspect of the estate in his absence one day. She would find time to help her grandmother with the garden and make sure to play at least one chess game with her grandfather.
To hear this man speaking of his family with such fondness was a very attractive trait to Gemma. Mrs. Baker musthave noticed her interest as before Gemma could react, she was being introduced to the man.
“Your Grace, this is Miss Gemma Castwell. Gemma, may I introduce you to His Grace Lothar Howard, Duke of Exeter.” Mrs. Baker made the introduction and Gemma turned to face him. She was struck by his open, hazel eyes, and when he turned, she could admire how broad his shoulders really were.
