CHAPTER 1
DORSET, ENGLAND, 1818
Broken fingernails and tattered lace were the cause of problems for many young ladies. A missing invitation to a ball could start a revolt. Surely the snub of a handsome gentleman would be enough to recover the smelling salts.
But today, much like every day, it wasn’t any of those things that were causing me trouble.
It was my younger brothers.
I hadn’t noticed them leave my side. The shop window had been too great a distraction. I hurried down the path, scolding myself for letting them out of my sight and for letting my imagination convince me I could afford a single item in that window. Pretty ribbons and jewelry were not beyond the attentions of my admiring eye—just the coins in my reticule.
“Peter! Charles!” I called out, darting between laughing faces and rolling carriages. My aunt had sent Edith, one of her maids, into town with us, but I had left her in the dust somewhere. She would catch up, I was certain. But my brothers’ antics waited for no one.
I stopped around a bend to scan the area, focusing my gaze on a man with whom I was regretfully acquainted. Although I could see only Mr. Coburn’s balding head, I continued forward, sensing that I had discovered my brothers’ location.
As predicted, a closer view revealed two little heads, one covered in blond curls, the other in dark brown, standing behind Mr. Coburn. I released a huffed breath as I moved toward them.Not again.
Peter and Charles had a history of mischief, some of which centered on this man. He frequented the local bakery, buying pies for himself each morning and stashing them in a basket, which he hadn’t yet learned not to leave unattended. My brothers had been growing increasingly clever in their efforts to steal from him. I had earnestly tried to engrave on their minds that stealing was unacceptable, but it seemed my efforts had been in vain.
As I approached, I caught Charles’s eye. His gaze froze on mine before flickering to the small pie he held in his hand. I arched an eyebrow at him, shaking my head. Charles slapped a hand over his mouth, stifling sudden giggles. Peter was watching me too, but there was a look of defeat on his face. I could easily guess their latest strategy. Peter was engaging Mr. Coburn in conversation while Charles sneaked behind him and captured the pies. It amazed me that two little boys of seven and five could concoct such a devious plan.
As I came closer, Charles returned the pie grudgingly into Mr. Coburn’s basket, sharing a disappointed scowl with his elder brother. Their faces looked so much alike. Aside from Peter’s darker hair and four or five inches of extra height, they could be twins.
I hurried across the cobblestones to stand beside Peter. Mr. Coburn glanced in my direction with a smirk. “Good afternoon,Miss Downing.” He bowed. “I see you have left your brothers unattended yet again.”
“Good afternoon,” I greeted, ignoring his second remark. I tried not to look too closely at his face. It was round and shining with buttery perspiration, and his two beady eyes watered against the harsh sunlight. I took Peter by the arm and reached for Charles. I had intended to leave without another word, but Mr. Coburn stopped me.
“I do not appreciate their company.” He cast a sharp look at my brothers. “They are ruffians.” He cleared his throat and eyed me with a warning. “I do not take pleasure in associating withruffians.”
I groaned inwardly. Ruffians? There were hundreds of things I could have said, and would have enjoyed saying, but containing my spite for the moment, I settled for, “my apologies. It will not happen again.”
Mr. Coburn seemed far from satisfied. “Where is your chaperone?”
I glanced behind me. Edith had yet to find us. “She is only a few paces behind,” I said in a confident voice, daring him to question me.
His watery eyes examined every angle of my face. “It appears you have spent too much time out of doors, Miss Downing. You are developing an unbecoming flush.”
I knew he was referring to my sunburned face. Impossibly, I felt it burn hotter. “I misplaced my bonnet.”
“What a daft thing to do. I daresay the outcome was deserved.” He grunted in disapproval and smoothed his hair over the bald patch on top of his head.
My pride bristled.
“May I inquire after your age, Miss Downing?” he asked after a pause.
“I am one and twenty.”
He gave an amused snort. “Each of my daughters were married before the age of nineteen, and my youngest is soon to be married. Ifyouever hope to make a match of your own, I suggest you stop spending so much time out of doors and more time tending to your appearance.”
I kept my mouth shut, afraid of what I might say if I chose to respond. My words could not be trusted when I had such fire racing through my veins. The man was absurd. I shouldn’t have given his words any heed, but they left a few welts on my pride.
“These two could use some assistance as well.” He glanced at my brothers with a look of disgust. “Their behavior is completely unacceptable.”
I followed his gaze behind me where Peter had now engaged himself in the task of crafting a very unflattering picture in the dirt of who could only be Mr. Coburn, dragging his index finger in the shape of hunched shoulders, a round belly, and the long tail of his ridiculous jacket.
I quickly pulled Peter to his feet and wiped the dirt from the seat of his trousers. Charles laughed. My face burned with embarrassment, but part of me hoped Mr. Coburn recognized himself in the drawing. Perhaps it would humble him, as his depiction of himself must have been equal to that of a Greek god at the very least.
Mr. Coburn cleared his throat once my brothers were at my side again. “Your guardian is far too respectable to allow such misconduct from her wards. I can only conclude that their behavior must have been influenced by you, their elder sister.” He paused to dab at his forehead with a handkerchief. “I am not surprised to find it lacking.”
