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Prologue

Berkhamsted, England - October 1817

The dreary sky and constant drizzle provided a perfect background to the sad state of affairs. Alexander Yarnsby paced the front room of the country estate.

Thankfully, the only people who’d attended his father’s burial were close family. The few friends his parents had managed to keep limited their interaction to sending notes of sympathy.

“How is this possible?” Lady Claudia Yarnsby, his mother, repeated while wiping tears from her pale cheeks. “He had another family?”

The appalling revelation had come to light just moments earlier, when a man and woman arrived just as his father was to be lowered to the ground.

“May we see him?” the young woman had asked, her face red and blotchy from crying. Her companion, who looked to be just a bit younger, failed to hold her back as she rushed toward the burial plot.

“He does not deserve your tears,” the man had exclaimed to the woman, not seeming to care who overheard.

Unsure what had happened but needing to take control, Alexander and William, his close friend, had immediately approached the couple.

“What is the meaning of this?” Alexander demanded.

The woman burst into sobs, her body shaking as she attempted to speak but was unable to due to her grief.

Her companion’s gaze met Alexander’s, pure hatred emanating. “The earl is our father. We have lived in London our entire lives. Upon seeing the announcement of his death, we came to see if it was true.”

Alexander’s mother had been promptly overcome by emotion, screaming that they were liars. The entire scene had turned into a shouting match between the woman who’d just arrived and his mother.

The burial was stalled until everyone could calm. Alexander had ushered his family to the house, after the vicar had insisted the family adjourn inside and allow the newcomers a moment alone. If not for his mother’s distress, Alexander would have argued against the interlopers being given any kind of heed, but he’d decided it was not the right moment. His time to find out the truth would come as soon as they left.

Now he peered out the window at the pair who remained next to the coffin. He couldn’t help but wonder what their scheme was. It had to be money, of course.

“They are nothing but charlatans,” Duchess Torrington, whom he referred to as “aunt,” said. “To go to such lengths to extort money is outrageous.”

Her husband, Duke Torrington, held out the paper he’d been studying. “It all seems legitimate. They have proof, birth records, everything signed by the earl himself.”

Unlike everyone else, William Torrington, his childhood friend, remained calm and came to stand next to him to study the couple. “They seem to be genuinely grieving.”

“Father had many secrets,” Alexander replied. “This is but one of them. So far we’ve discovered bank accounts at multiple locations. The office he maintained in London is curiously empty of many items, which makes me wonder if those two are responsible for the missing ledgers.”

The vicar neared the two outside and spoke to them for a few moments. After looking toward the house, they finally made their way to a hired carriage.

Alexander wondered why, if they were who they claimed to be and had a relationship to his father, did they not have a carriage of their own?

His father’s fortune was immense. Much larger than he’d expected. Alexander narrowed his eyes. “Come with me.”

Hurrying to catch up with the interlopers as cold rain fell onto his face, Alexander was angry. Now his mother would have to sit in harder rain because of the delay.

William came alongside. “Don’t do anything rash.”

Upon seeing him, the woman climbed into the carriage, but the young man stood by the open door.

“I assume you are planning to demand inheritance,” Alexander asked, not phrasing it as a question.

The male’s cold gaze met his. “I will not speak of this at the moment.”

Both were extraordinarily unremarkable. Pale hair, dull eyes, and matching slender builds. They seemed to be the type that spent most of their time indoors, rarely enjoying fresh air—or any sunlight, for that matter.

“When will you speak of it?” Alexander asked. “You did not bother to introduce yourselves.”

The man’s face hardened. “I am Jasper. My sister, Bettina.” He motioned to the woman who sat in the carriage and looked on. “You will be hearing from our representative. One way or another, what is fair will happen.” Jasper climbed into the carriage and slammed the door shut.