Chapter One
Refuse an offer of marriage with grace and great delicacy.
The Rules (according to Dara)
Because even boorish men are fragile creatures.
Tweedie’s interpretation
1817
“Hurry, hurry,hurry,” Dara Lanscarr chided as she scrambled her way up the wooded hill, trampling bluebells in her mad dash to reach Wiltham House.
“I’m caught!” her sister Elise shouted. Elise was a year younger than Dara’s one-and-twenty. It had been years since either of them had run this hard.
Dara turned to see Elise trying to unsnag her hem from the dead wood of a fallen limb. “Tear it,” she ordered. “We will repair it later. We have to stop Squire Davies.”
“I’m trying,” Elise snapped back.
Huffing her impatience, Dara stumbled back down toward her sister, her own skirts in danger of tangling. She deftly unsnagged Elise’s hem before grabbing her hand.“Run.”
Together, the women charged toward the crest of the hill, before stopping to catch their breaths. Below them, the white walls of Wiltham, their family home, shone bright against the dark green of the forest—and their fears had not been unfounded. Squire Davies’s bony chestnut was being walked by a stable hand.
“We’re too late,” Elise said.
“We can’t think that way,” Dara snapped. “We are going to save Gwendolyn.” On that vow, she grabbed her skirts up with one hand and practically dragged her sister down the slope toward the house with the other.
Now she understood why her cousin Richard’s wife, Caroline, had insisted she and Elise walk a huge hamper to the crofters on the other side of the property. Richard and Caroline had not shown any interest in the crofters since they moved into Wiltham almost a year ago, when they’d claimed the property for themselves.
Of course, all of this was their father’s fault. Captain Sir John Lanscarr had left his three daughters in the care of their grandmother while he traveled with the military and later as a gambler. His vices were well-known to his daughters. They had enjoyed growing up with Gram at Wiltham and hadlived for those moments when their father would “pop in,” as he liked to call it. He would shower them with attention, make them feel special, and then leave again... only he had stopped returning. Or sending letters. Or money.
Upon Gram’s death, and learning that it had been close to two years since anyone had heard from Captain Sir John, Richard Lanscarr had gleefully moved his family into Wiltham. He claimed their father must be deceased, and the authorities had agreed. Why else had no one heard from him? And though Dara and her sisters protested, they found themselves living in their childhood home as the guests of their cousin.
Yes, there had been the admonishment that Richard should see to the well-being of Sir John’s three daughters, but pigs would fly before their cousin thought of anyone other than himself.
Nor was this hamper gambit his first subterfuge.
The ever-astute Dara had been wary of him from the beginning. She might be the middle sister, but she was her sisters’ defender, their strategist. She had promised Gram on her deathbed that she would do all she could for her sisters, and she’d meant those words. She was not afraid to butt heads with Richard. It was her responsibility to do so. Nor would she support his plans to marry Gwendolyn off to some belligerent, barrel-shaped squire with six children. Gwendolyn was made for better things than the likes of Davies, and so Dara had told Richard.
In fact, Dara had a better plan for herself and her sisters, and she didn’t want Gwendolyn to accept Squire Davies’s proposal before hearing her idea. Oh, no, she didnot.
Reaching the house’s front step, she dropped her skirt, shooting a scowl at the ogling stable hand holding the squire’s horse, and charged into the house, Elise at her heels. They were both out of breath, but Dara’s anger and determination were enough to carry them forward.
Their butler, Herald, practically jumped at the door being thrown open. “Where are they?” Dara asked in a furious whisper.
Herald had been with the family for close to three decades. He was tall and lean with a head of white hair and a face like a fox. He pointed down the hall to one of Wiltham’s many sitting rooms. This one was called the Green Room because of its wall color and was the most formal. Richard and Caroline eavesdropped by the door. They were so intent in their task, they hadn’t realized the sisters had returned.
Dara relished the moment. She shot a glance to Elise, who nodded. The Lanscarr sistersalwaysstood together. They might have just run almost a mile and have twigs and leaves in their hair, but they had come to save Gwendolyn, and so they would.
They marched down the hall, not bothering to tread lightly. They let Richard know they were hereandthey were angry at his attempt at deception.
Caroline heard them first and gave her husband a wide-eyed nudge. Richard looked up. “No,” he said, moving forward, followed by his mousy wife. “You will not destroy this. Davies is a good match.”
“For a fishwife,” Dara flashed back.
“He’s respected—” Richard started.
“By whom?” Dara interrupted. She never hesitated to be forthright, and she knew how to throw her cousins into a tizzy, which was what she was doing now... so that Elise could sneak around them, open the Green Room door, and walk right in.
