Prologue
Glenhaven Park, Chilham, Kent, England, 1788
Lady Hereford, herdark ringlets dancing on her shoulder, galloped across the greensward, her groom keeping pace behind her. “I don’t like the look of those clouds, Briggs,” she called to him, after a glance at the bluish-gray canopy advancing across the sky, driven by a sudden, fierce wind.
“No, indeed, my lady.”
“We’ll take the track through the woods.” She put a hand on her high-crowned, black riding hat as the wind tugged at it, threatening to rip it from its pins.
The groom followed her onto the path, which took them a shorter way to the house. Urging his mount forward, the gelding suddenly stumbled and pulled up.
She returned to him as the young, athletic groom jumped down to examine the horse’s hoof.
“He’s picked up a stone.” He removed a penknife from his pocket. “Won’t take me but a moment to dislodge it.” The sharp wind heralded the onset of what could be an intense downpour. “Ride on, my lady. No sense in us both getting wet. I’ll join you in a trice, after I dislodge this stone.”
“Very well, Briggs.”
They were still several miles from home. She turned her mare’s head and rode on through the trees until she came to a fork in thepath. Urging her horse onto the left one, she rode down a rarely used path. The storm, if it held off long enough, was fortuitous, for she had something important to do that couldn’t wait.
Chapter One
Sedgwick Hall, Guildford, Surrey, September 1816
Lady Prudence Stantonopened a pane of the mullioned window and gazed out at the first drifts of autumn leaves whirling about in the wind, sprinkling the lawns with crimson and gold. The warm summer days were over, and there was already a crispness to the early morning air. She breathed in the smell of damp undergrowth and shivered. Reaching for the latch to close the window, she saw a man galloping up to the house. He turned his head in her direction. His face was in shadow, so she couldn’t make out his features but was sure she had never seen him before. How odd for such an early call. Had he come to see one of the staff? Her father had not mentioned a visitor. Last night at dinner, he had spoken of the two of them visiting the Browns, one of his tenant farmers, this morning. She would ask Cook to pack a chicken pie and one of her suet puddings to take with her to Mrs. Brown, who had just given birth to a son.
As she started downstairs for breakfast, Prue noted that the bell hadn’t rung. The stranger must have gone around to the servants’ entrance.
She trailed a finger along the railing, deep in thought. As much as she preferred life in the country to the city, it seemed rather dull now that her first London Season had ended. Papa had refused several gentlemen suitors who’d asked permission to propose marriage to herbecause they had either been fortune hunters or otherwise unsuitable. Prue couldn’t judge why Papa had decided that, but she’d had no spark of interest in any of them. Besides, she wished to choose a man she could love. A man who made her heart beat faster, who returned her love and, most particularly, allowed her to take a role in the running of his estate.
It was hardly a triumphant debut, with her father distracted by something he wouldn’t divulge. Papa had told her not to be concerned. The right man would come along. “You cast them all into the shade, my girl,” he had said, making her smile. Fathers were so good for a girl’s self-confidence. But at twenty, she was older than most debutantes she’d met at balls, her come-out delayed because of her beloved mother’s illness and subsequent passing.
The sudden boom of a gunshot brought Prue to an abrupt halt. Heart pounding, she gripped the banister, trying to gauge the direction of the noise. Had it been the gamekeeper? It sounded as if it had come from within the house and had been swiftly followed by a loud shattering of glass breaking.
Through the tall windows, the man she had seen arriving just minutes ago galloped away, hunched over the horse’s neck, his hat pulled low. Fear gripped her throat in a tight vise. Spurred into action, she ran down the stairs, reached the hall, and burst unceremoniously into the library, where she expected to find her father.
Shocked, she cried out, and her hands flew to her mouth. Her father lay sprawled and unmoving on the rug, a crimson stain spreading across his white shirt front. Gerald, their senior footman, crouched at his side. He glanced up at her, anguish in his eyes. Shards of glass glinting in the sunlight spilled over the floor from the smashed window.
“Papa!” Prue fell on her knees beside him. With a moan, he opened his eyes, filled with bewilderment and pain. As she held his hand, his lips took on a frightening purplish hue. The smell of gunpowder stungher nostrils.
“Did you see the man who did this, Gerald?”
“No, my lady.”
“Send for the surgeon,” she urgently ordered him. He nodded grimly and ran from the room.
Her father groaned. “Prue, go to my desk…” He struggled to speak. “Take the letter you find there and leave. Now! You’re in danger here.” He coughed. Blood leaked from his lips. “G-Go to our neighbor, Lord Bain… Give him that letter. G-Go now!”
Prue wiped away the flood of tears that were blinding her. “But, Papa, I can’t leave you.”
“Yes. You will. Y-You must be b-brave now, girl.” His bloodshot green eyes stared into hers, as if the force of his stare would compel her. “P-Promise me!”
She nodded, clutching his hand tightly. “All right, Papa… I promise,” she rasped. But how could she leave him?
His hand lost its fierce grip on hers and fell away. “Papa!” Prue stroked his cheek and gazed helplessly as he breathed his last. It was impossible to grasp that he had died. She stroked back his faded red hair, then climbed to her feet, her shaky legs threatening to give way beneath her.
Gerald rushed in and bent over her father. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with despair. “I’ve sent for the surgeon, but I believe his lordship has gone, Lady Prudence.”
“Fetch the parish constable, Gerald.” Prue dashed over to the desk and snatched up the letter. “I cannot wait for him. Papa wished me to take this to Lord Bain.” With it clutched in her hand, she ran from the room to where the servants were noisily clustered around the butler, Nyland, in the hall.
