A Promising Kiss: A Regency Historical Romance

by Alexa Aston

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency Romance; Regency romance; England; Regency Historical Romance; Alexa Aston; bluestockings; Captivating Kisses

Synopsis

A kiss is just a kiss—or is it?

Three families—the Worthingtons, Alingtons, and Fultons. Ten cousins named for Roman and Byzantine rulers and their spouses. And ten occasions when a kiss which will change everything for the couple involved.

Welcome to the new Regency world created by best-selling author Alexa Aston in Captivating Kisses!

A lighthearted duke with a hidden agenda. A young woman on the verge of making her come-out. A group of women known as damaged doves who might stand between the pair’s future happiness . . .

Lady Verina Fulton is looking forward to making her come-out into Polite Society. Her extended family is close-knit, and she values the bonds of family above all else. She is eager to find a husband who will share her same values. Before the Season begins, she accepts an invitation to visit her cousin, the new Lady Merriman. It is through Lord Merriman that Verina meets the Duke of Reddington.

Matthew Keaton became the Duke of Reddington at the tender age of twelve. His first act as a duke is to remove his mother from the madhouse where she had been wrongfully confined by her husband. Matthew is fiercely independent and uses his ducal wealth and power to rescue other women who have been unjustly placed in asylums.

During Verina’s stay at Merrifield, she and Matthew grow close. They share a promising kiss, and both go into the Season wondering if their kiss will lead to a more permanent relationship. Verina is torn between her desire for a traditional marriage and her growing admiration for the duke’s unconventional heroism, even as Matthew struggles to balance saving damaged doves with the rising attraction he feels for Lady Verina.

Will Verina and Matthew reconcile their differences and build a future together, or will their contrasting paths lead them to separate destinies?

Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston’s A Promising Kiss, the eighth book in Captivating Kisses.

Each book in Captivating Kisses is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.

Series Order:
Book #1: An Unexpected Kiss
Book #2: An Impulsive Kiss
Book #3: An Innocent Kiss
Book #4: An Unforeseen Kiss
Book #5: An Enchanting Kiss
Book #6: An Urgent Kiss
Book #7: An Unforgettable Kiss
Book #8: A Promising Kiss
Book #9: A Possessive Kiss
Book #10: An Irresistible Kiss

Read in Kindle Unlimited!

Release date: June 5, 2026

Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

Print pages: 245

Sample

PROLOGUE

Harrow School—June 1795

 

No one was coming for him . . .

Matthew sat by the window, which looked out on the front of Harrow School. He had not left this spot all day, hoping that someone would show up for him. Some boys had fathers who arrived to bring them home for the summer. They emerged from the school with their arms wrapped around their sons’ shoulders or patting their sons affectionately on the head. A few boys had both parents come, while a handful had a servant show up to claim them.

This was the third time he had been forgotten about.

It was also the last time he would be leaving Harrow School. Next year, he was slated to attend Eton, where his own father had gone. Though he dreaded what came next, he supposed he would need to go and speak to the headmaster now and find a way home.

He glanced about the room a final time, neither happy nor unhappy that he would never see it again. Matthew was a quiet boy, more like his mother than father in nature. The Duke of Reddington was loud and boisterous, always smelling of spirits no matter what time of day. His father neglected his ducal responsibilities, continuing to run with a fast crowd, despite having a wife and child.

Matthew exited the room, closing the door behind him. He made his way downstairs to Mr. Morgan’s office. Pausing outside the door a moment, he collected his thoughts and then raised his fist, rapping on the door with a confidence he did not feel but would nevertheless project.

“Come.”

Entering the headmaster’s office, he waited while Mr. Morgan finished writing something. Then the older man glanced up.

“Mr. Keaton. You are still with us, I see.”

No courtesy titles were used at Harrow School. Only one boy, who was an earl, was called by the title he held.

“I will need to find transportation home to Redfield, Mr. Morgan.”

The older man frowned. “This is the third time this has happened. Is that correct, Mr. Keaton?”

He hated the tone the man took with him. It was not his fault that no one had thought to come for him. But it was easier to blame a twelve-year-old boy than it was to place blame at the feet of a duke of the realm.

Matthew simply looked blandly at Mr. Morgan, waiting to see what the headmaster would say. He tried to project modesty, a trait the school valued in all its students. Harrow School tried not only to teach boys academic subjects, but its tutors also tried to mold their character. Above all, humility was expected.

And it was beaten into you if you didn’t properly show it.

Finally, the headmaster said, “I suppose we can find a way to get you home. This will be the last time we speak, Mr. Keaton. I hope you have enjoyed your time with us.”

For a moment, the older man looked at Matthew with sympathetic eyes. He swallowed, not wanting to break in front of him.

“Yes, sir. I am set to attend Eton next year. I know I will be prepared because of my time spent here.” He paused. “I have the funds needed to purchase a ticket on the next mail coach.”

“That is good to hear, Mr. Keaton. You have excelled in your studies. Wait here.”

The headmaster left the room, not offering for Matthew to take a seat. Because of that, he remained standing.

He wondered where his father was and what he might be doing. The London Season was in full swing now, and Matthew assumed the duke was in town, which is why he had been forgotten about. If it were left to his mother, Matthew never would have been stranded at school, but the duchess had no power in her own household. For ten years, he had seen her move through the house as a ghost. Then two years ago, once he returned home from school, Mama had simply disappeared. When he questioned the servants, they looked at him with pity and said they did not know where the duchess might be. When he confronted his father, Matthew was told that his mother had gone away for a rest.

For all he knew, she was dead.

He had seen the bruises on her. Heard the one-sided fights, his father berating his wife for her imaginary sins. There had been times Mama had been beaten so badly that she could not leave her bed for weeks. A doctor was never called, however. Mama’s lady’s maid always nursed her back to health until the next incident occurred.

The duke had broken his duchess. Matthew determined the same would never happen to him. For the most part, the duke ignored Matthew when he was at home. Oftentimes, Reddington was in town during Matthew’s school holidays. Even when he was in residence at Redfield, son rarely saw the father. Matthew took all his meals alone in the schoolroom and roamed the estate, growing to know and love every inch of Redfield. He saw how neglectful his father was regarding the property. Fortunately, they had a decent steward in Mr. Crandall, and so the land and tenants were cared for to a certain extent.

Mr. Morgan returned. “There is a mail coach coming through the village in an hour. I have instructed Barrow to place you on it. He is collecting your trunk now. You may meet him outside.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, leaving the headmaster’s office, wondering how many more times in his life he would have to hide his embarrassment.

The foyer to the school was devoid of all the trunks which had been brought down early this morning. Matthew stepped through the doors a final time, seeing Barrow outside. The servant sat in a wagon which held Matthew’s trunk.

He climbed up beside the servant. “I appreciate you taking time to help me, Barrow.”

“Happy to do so, my lord. I’ll wait with you until the mail coach arrives.”

His throat grew thick with unshed tears. “Thank you,” he managed to get out.

They rode in silence the entire way to the nearby village. Matthew liked Barrow, who had taught him and several of the other lads how to play chess. It was one of many things Matthew excelled at.

The wagon came to a halt, and he withdrew all the money he had, giving it over to the servant in order to purchase his ticket.

Barrow said, “Be right back, my lord,” climbing from the vehicle. He disappeared inside the inn and returned a few minutes later, bearing a ticket.

“Here you go, my lord. Don’t lose that. It will get you to where you are headed.” The servant also handed him a few coins, the leftover change from the purchase.

Actually, it wouldn’t. The mail coach would only drop him at Redgrove, which was three miles from Redfield. Somehow, he would have to find his way home. With the coins left over, hopefully a local from the village would take him and his trunk to Redfield. If not, Matthew could always leave his trunk at the inn and walk home, sending a servant to fetch it later.

“It shouldn’t be long now.”

“You do not have to stay, Barrow. I know you always have work to do.”

Stubbornness filled the man’s eyes. “I’ll do as I please, thank you very much.”

He knew Barrow had a soft spot for him, perhaps because Matthew had picked up the game of chess so quickly, regularly beating all his opponents, including Barrow himself.

“Are you happy at Harrow School?” he asked.

Barrow shrugged. “Happy as I suppose any servant can be with his lot in life.”

“When I am the Duke of Reddington, I want you to come and work for me.”

The man’s jaw dropped a moment before he quickly closed it. “That’s all well and good, my lord, but you may not be a duke for many years to come.”

“Nevertheless, I shall come for you, Barrow. If you are not at Harrow School, leave word where you will be. I will find you.”

Barrow’s smile was genuine. “That’s right kind of you, my lord. It’s a great honor, working in a duke’s household. I could do anything you’d like me to do. Work in the stables. Be a footman.”

“Thank you,” he said solemnly.

“For what, my lord?”

“For treating me decently. For teaching me how to play chess. For listening to me when I needed a friendly ear to bend.”

Barrow’s eyes misted with tears. “You’re welcome.”

When the mail coach pulled up in front of the inn, Barrow took Matthew’s trunk and loaded it atop the vehicle. Matthew presented his ticket to the driver.

“We’re all full inside. You’ll have to ride with me or wait for the next mail coach.”

He climbed up next to the driver and gave a wave to Barrow. Then the carriage set out once more. It stopped in five different villages along the way before it reached Redgrove. The coachman was kind enough to remove Matthew’s trunk and place it on the ground, something he could not have done for himself. He thanked the man and gave him a coin, which the driver quickly pocketed.

Glancing around, he saw little activity on the streets and judged the time to be between seven and eight o’clock. He entered the inn, finding a few patrons in its dining room. He moved to the desk, where the innkeeper stood.

“My lord, what are you doing here?”

“The mail coach just dropped me off, Mr. Davies. Is there someone available who might take me and my trunk to Redfield?” He removed the last two coins from his pocket and placed them on the counter.

“I will take you myself,” the innkeeper declared, slipping the coins into his pocket. “Wait here. I’ll need to saddle my horse to the wagon.”

“I will be outside with my trunk,” he told the older man.

Within a few minutes, they were headed to Redfield. The innkeeper was a jovial sort and told him all that had been happening in the neighborhood since he had last been home from school. Matthew had a good memory for names and faces, and he recalled many of the people Mr. Davies gossiped about.

They arrived at Redfield, and a footman rushed out to greet them.

“I’ll take your trunk to your room, my lord,” the footman said.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Mr. Davies. I will not forget your kindness to me.”

Matthew entered the house, where he was greeted by Ridley.

“We were not expecting you, my lord,” the butler apologized.

“My school term has ended,” he said flatly. “Is His Grace at Redfield or in town?”

“Here, my lord,” the butler told him. With a pained expression, Ridley added, “His Grace . . . has guests.”

He knew exactly what that meant. Raucous parties which lasted late into the night. Heavy drinking. Scantily dressed women dashing through the halls, hopping from one bedchamber to the next.

“I see,” he said. “I will stay out of their way. Thank you for the warning. Might Mrs. Ridley bring me something to eat in my bedchamber?”

“I will see to it myself, my lord.”

Matthew went up the stairs, finding two maids hastily making up his bed. As they left, he opened his trunk, which had been placed in the corner of the room. He unpacked while he waited for his food to arrive.

Mrs. Ridley brought the tray to him. “A few sandwiches, along with some fruit and cheese, my lord. Do you require anything else?”

“No, Mrs. Ridley. Please thank Cook for putting this together for me.”

He sat in the room’s only chair and ate every bite on the tray, not having had anything to eat since breakfast at the beginning of the day. He hated hearing that his father had guests. He should have asked Ridley how long they had been here. Usually, they stayed a week or so and then bored of the country, returned to town.

Once he finished his meal, Matthew found himself restless. He decided to take a walk. This time of year, the sun was just now setting, although he didn’t need sunlight to find his way about Redfield.

He cut through the kitchens, which were quiet now, and went out the back door. Hearing voices, he paused, thinking they might be coming from the terrace. As he looked up, he saw a few people standing there, his father amongst them. They were laughing, snifters of brandy in their hands. His father held not only a snifter but also a bottle of brandy as he twirled about, laughing rowdily.

Then he heard someone say, “I dare you, Reddington. Walk it. The parapet.”

From the shadows, Matthew watched his father climb onto the narrow stone parapet of the terrace. Slowly, the duke began walking along it, swaying as he went, his arms moving wildly as he tried to balance himself. All the while, his guests laughed with him—or at him.

A half-dressed woman climbed up on the far end of the ledge, beckoning to the duke, wriggling her derriere at him.

“Come this way, Reddington. Claim me,” she teased.

His father said, “Wait until see what I plan to do to you,” his words slurring as he unsteadily headed toward the woman, who now lay down upon the ledge, one bare leg hanging off, swinging enticingly.

Just before the duke reached her, he raised his arms in victory, causing him to stumble. Matthew cried out as his father began falling through the air. His body hit the ground below, causing Matthew to wince. The duke was sure to have a few broken bones from the fall.

In the meantime, a few of the women shrieked. Those on the terrace seemed to immediately sober, and not one of them came to render aid to their host. Instead, the entire group quickly vanished, scurrying inside like mice confronted by a menacing cat.

He raced to his father’s side to tell him that he would summon help. When he reached the duke, Matthew saw his father’s neck at an awkward angle. He rolled his father to his back, only to see vacant eyes staring up at him. Stunned, he shook the duke.

“Wake up!” he cried. “Wake up!”

But the Duke of Reddington was lifeless.

A sick feeling washed over him, and he hurried away, spewing everything he had just eaten into the nearby bushes. He removed his handkerchief, wiped his mouth, and entered the kitchen again. Going to the small office which Ridley used, he found it empty. Numbly, he moved down the hallway and knocked on the door to the Ridleys’ sitting room.

The butler opened it. “What is it, my lord?”

Dully, Matthew said, “Send for the constable, Ridley. My father has had an accident. He is dead.”

The butler swore softly under his breath. “Forgive me, my lord.” Then his gaze met Matthew’s. “I mean, forgive me, Your Grace.”

The address took him by surprise. Yes, he had always known he was the heir apparent to the dukedom—but now that dukedom was his. Suddenly, he felt very small and helpless. Yet people would look to him. Depend upon him. Now was the time to rise to the occasion.

“There is nothing to forgive, Ridley. Please send for the constable at once. I am expecting a mass exodus of the current guests. They will be packing their bags now and leaving shortly.”

The butler frowned deeply. “Should I rouse the servants? Have them prevent this from happening, Your Grace? The constable will need to speak with them.”

Decisively, he said, “No, we are better off without them. I witnessed the accident. Let us get rid of them now so they do not loll about and expect to continue to be waited upon.”

Even as they were speaking, Matthew heard bells ringing, signaling that various guests were sending for their maids and valets. He hoped Redfield would be rid of the lot of toadies by the time the constable made his appearance.

The next hour was a blur as guests left at a rapid pace. By the time the constable arrived, the last of them passed by him on the lane. Matthew stood in front of the house, watching them go. Not a single one stopped to offer him a word of comfort. The entire group had been worthless users. As the Duke of Reddington, he knew he would find himself surrounded by sycophants, and he determined to keep most everyone who approached him at bay.

He greeted the constable and said, “May we talk and walk? I would prefer for our conversation to remain private.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the man said deferentially. Even at a such a tender age, Matthew would instantly receive respect, all because of his ducal title.

He led them to the rear of the house, where his father’s body now lay covered with a quilt Mrs. Ridley had brought. Matthew had closed the duke’s eyes before he covered the body.

“I am certain it is no secret to you that my father drank to excess.”

Looking uncomfortable, the older man nodded. “I am aware of that fact.”

“His Grace had a group of guests staying at Redfield. They were out on the terrace, all of them deep in their cups. Including my father.”

“You saw this?”

He nodded. “I arrived home from school earlier this evening. You can confirm that with Mr. Davies at the inn. He brought me home in his wagon.”

Pity filled the constable’s eyes. “That is not necessary, Your Grace.”

“I decided to take a walk before retiring. That is when I heard voices on the terrace. It was apparent everyone had overindulged, and they continued to drink. One gentleman—I do not know which—dared my father to walk along the parapet of the terrace.”

The constable winced. “And His Grace took up the challenge?”

“He did. Those present egged him on. He lost his balance and fell to the ground.”

“So, no one pushed him.”

“No,” Matthew confirmed. “He got up on the parapet freely. He walked it unsteadily. And he fell to his death.”

He paused, swallowing, the picture of his father in mid-air embedded in his memory.

“I shouted out. Rushed to him. The fall was not from so great a height. I assumed he might have broken a bone or two.” He took a deep breath. “When I reached him, I noticed his neck at an odd angle. I turned him over. He was gone.”

The constable walked to the covered body and raised the quilt, studying the form beneath it for a moment, nodding to himself. He dropped the quilt and returned to Matthew.

“Looks as if he landed wrong. Broke his neck.” He placed a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I know this is hard to hear, Your Grace, but perhaps this was for the best. I have heard of others breaking their necks in a fall and surviving, only to be paralyzed for the rest of their lives.”

“He would have hated that. He was not a man who ever could be still. He was always in motion. Always impatient.”

“I assume the other guests have fled Redfield.”

“Yes. I did not think you would need them since I witnessed the incident. Yes, they were all drinking heavily. Yes, they encouraged the duke to climb up. But no one was near him when he fell. He merely lost his balance.”

Nodding sagely, the constable said, “I see no need to learn the names of these guests from your butler and track them down, especially since we have your eyewitness account, Your Grace. I will write up my report and present it at the inquest. I can tell you now that the ruling will be death by misadventure.”

“Exactly what does that mean?” he asked.

 “It is a death which is attributed to an accident that occurred, due to a risk taken voluntarily by the deceased. In a simple accident, the manner of death involves no unreasonable, willful risk.”

“Yes, death by misadventure would be the correct ruling,” he agreed. “Will I be called to testify at the inquest?”

“It is a possibility. Of course, we could present a written deposition and see if that is acceptable, especially due to your age. And rank.”

“I will do whatever is required of me,” he said resolutely. “The sooner this matter is brought to a close, the better.”

“I sent for the doctor. He should soon be here to make his official ruling so that the death certificate might be signed.”

“We will look for him,” Matthew said. “Thank you for coming so late.”

The constable looked at him, sadness on his face. “I am sorry you are going through this at such a young age, Your Grace. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, having intelligence—and the good sense to use it. Best of luck to you.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor arrived shortly afterward. Again, Matthew shared what he had seen, and the doctor confirmed that the duke had died due to the broken neck he had suffered. The physician gave his sympathies, and Mattthew allowed a few footmen to carry his father’s body inside, where his valet would wash and then dress him.

Now past midnight, Matthew found Ridley and Mrs. Ridley having a cup of tea in the kitchens.

“Would you like a cup, Your Grace?” the housekeeper asked.

“No, thank you, but I do have an important question.”

“Is it about the vicar?” Ridley asked. “I thought that I would send word to him first thing tomorrow morning. This morning, I suppose. I know you will need to meet with him.”

“No, this question has to do with something entirely different.” Looking intently at Ridley, Matthew asked, “Where is my mother?”

Mrs. Ridley touched her husband’s hand. “He needs to be told now. After all, he is the duke.”

“You’re right,” the butler said. Turning his attention back to his employer, Ridley said, “Her Grace was taken to an asylum two years ago.”

“What?”

Ridley’s agitation was obvious as he said, “Three men showed up at Redfield and carted Her Grace off. His Grace told the staff that Her Grace had been upset about things. That her nerves were acting up, causing her to behave irrationally.”

“That wasn’t the case, was it?” he said, a cold deeper than winter piercing his soul.

“No, Your Grace,” the butler replied, shaking his head back and forth. “We—the staff—wanted to do something.”

“You were powerless to help. No one can stand up to a duke, Ridley.”

He thought of the horror stories he had heard regarding asylums. How not only were the mad committed to them, living in the worst of conditions, but also that men who tired of their wives also placed them in these asylums, hoping they would quickly expire, leaving them free to wed again.

“Do you know where Her Grace was taken?”

Ridley nodded. “I asked one of the men as they left. Throckmorton. It is not far from here. About ten miles north of Brandon.”

“Have my carriage readied at first light. I am going to bring my mother home.”

At a quarter to five, Matthew boarded his carriage. Ridley offered to accompany him, and he accepted the butler’s offer. He also asked Mrs. Ridley to come, as well, thinking having a woman present might be comforting to Mama.

The coachman drove them to the town where Mama was kept, stopping the carriage at the gates of the building.

Matthew got out, saying, “Exchange the team for fresh horses and return here as soon as possible. I want to be back at Redfield as quickly as we can. The coachman can always return the rented team tomorrow and claim mine again.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The vehicle drove off, and the Ridleys accompanied Matthew to the gates. A guard was posted there, looking surprised to see them. He had the feeling not many visitors came calling at Throckmorton.

“State your business,” the guard said brusquely.

“I am the Duke of Reddington, and I wish to see who is in charge immediately.”

Quickly, the man’s attitude changed at once. “Yes, Your Grace. Please come with me.”

The gates were opened, and they were taken inside a large structure. Matthew thought it had, at one time, been a home, most likely sold off as unentailed. He heard a bone-chilling scream, causing his body to tense.

“Wait here,” the guard said, going to another man. They had a whispered conversation, and the other man hurried away.

“Dr. Cheney will be right with you, Your Grace,” the guard said, quickly exiting the building to return to his post.

As they waited, they heard two more screams and a low moan.

“It’s a bad place,” Ridley said grimly.

He couldn’t have agreed more.

A thin, bespectacled man came down the staircase. He frowned. “You are not His Grace.”

“I am now,” Matthew said firmly. “And I am here to take the Duchess of Reddington home with me.”

“This is most unorthodox,” Dr. Cheney protested. “His Grace said—”

“His Grace is dead. I am the duke, and you shall answer to me. Now, are you going to allow me to leave with Her Grace in my care, or will I need to call in the authorities?” He glared at the doctor, who wilted before his eyes.

“Of course, Your Grace. But you will need to pay—”

“I will not give you a farthing more. Whatever His Grace gave you, that is all your greedy hands will receive, Dr. Cheney. Take me to my mother now, or I will do everything in my power to see this facility permanently closed. I may be young, but I wield the power of a duke. You do not want to cross me. Ever.”

The doctor took a few seconds to think, then said, “I will have Her Grace brought to you.”

Something in this man’s eyes told Matthew he could not be trusted. “No. Bring us to her now. Without delay.”

Dr. Cheney winced. “Very well. Follow me.”

The next few minutes were a nightmare. They passed small, cramped rooms without doors, so privacy was nonexistent. Inmates inside these cells were chained to their beds. Other inmates were restrained in some kind of jackets, their arms inside these. They rocked. Moaned. Cried out. Screamed. Rats were everywhere, and the floors were covered in filth and feces, both animal and human. Bile rose in his throat, and he forced it down.

“Wait here,” the doctor said, quickly entering a room and closing the door behind him.

The fact that this room had a door made him certain ominous things occurred behind it. Matthew wasn’t about to wait and threw open the door.

To a vision of horror.

Mama sat tied to a chair, wearing a gunnysack so filthy the color could not be distinguished. Her long, beautiful hair had been shorn close to her scalp. Her cornflower blue eyes, the same as her son’s, stared out dully. The entire chamber was freezing, and Mama was soaked to the skin, water dripping from her.

“I have no opinion,” she said in a monotone. “I am never to speak. I have no opinion. I am never to speak.”

He rushed toward her, glaring at the woman standing beside her. “What have you done to her?” he demanded, shoving the woman aside. She fell to the floor with a thud, a sound of bones cracking as she shrieked.

His mother kept repeating the same phrase as Matthew untied the restraints. Dr. Cheney started to help him, and he looked at the man, growling, “Get away.”

Matthew finished loosening the knots and pulled the cords away, seeing Mama’s wrists bloody and scarred.

“What is this place?” he demanded of Cheney, disgust filling him. “How can you treat women this way? Like animals.”

The physician shrugged. “It is what their families ask. They wish to be rid of these women for various reasons. We do our best. It takes a great deal to keep them in line. My staff sometimes has to resort to . . . extreme measures.”

“You are a monster,” he said, his voice low, the anger obvious. “Leave.”

“As you wish.”

Tenderly, Matthew cupped Mama’s face. “It is me, Mama. Matthew. I have come to bring you home.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Recognition. She began weeping, fat tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You came,” she whispered. “I knew you would come.”

Her voice was raspy. If the words she had said over and over were true, she was punished for speaking and so did it rarely.

“Can you stand?” he asked, helping her from the chair, his arm going around her waist.

Ridley stepped closer. “It is Ridley, Your Grace. Might I help you to the carriage?”

“Ridley,” she repeated. “I know you.”

“And me,” Mrs. Ridley said, tears swimming in her eyes. “I am here, too, Your Grace. We will take you home to Redfield.”

Her sobs became louder now. “No. He will only bring me back here. Leave me on the road instead. Let me die there. Just not in this place.”

Her body began trembling, and she shook her head violently. For a moment, he thought being placed inside a madhouse had driven her mad. Even if it had, he knew there was a vestige of his beloved mother still left within her. He would take her home and help nurse her back, physically and mentally.

Matthew captured her face in his hands, focusing his gaze on hers, forcing her to meet it. “Reddington is dead. Do you hear me, Mama? Your husband is dead. Gone. He cannot hurt you any longer. I am Reddington now. And I promise that I will always keep you safe.”

His words seemed to get through to her. She calmed, allowing Ridley to get on the other side of her. Together, the two of them led her from the room and down the stairs. Matthew ignored all the screams and cries as they passed so many other helpless women.

They reached the front door, and Mrs. Ridley opened it, running ahead of them to make certain the gate was opened and the stairs placed by the carriage door. As they brought Mama along the walkway, his driver leapt to the ground and rushed toward them.

“Let me take you, Your Grace,” he said gently, sweeping her from her feet and carrying her the rest of the way to the carriage.

Once they were all inside, Matthew said, “Sleep now, Mama.”

“But the nightmares,” she protested weakly.

“There will be no more of those,” he promised, knowing those words might ring hollow to her. “Because you are going home. You are safe. I will never let another soul harm you ever again.”

He saw her love for him in her eyes, which were beginning to lose their dull sheen.

“You saved me, Matthew. Thank you.” She captured his hand and pressed a kiss to it.

“Sleep, Mama,” he urged, nudging her so that she placed her head in his lap. Almost instantly, he caught the rhythm of her even breaths.

He would never forget the terrors within Throckmorton and knew it might be years—if not a lifetime—before his mother ever got over her experiences while there.

If his father were not already dead, Matthew would have killed him on sight.

CHAPTER 1

October 1808—Norfolk

 

Lady Verina Fulton looked out the window of their carriage. She was eager to visit with Cousin Tia, who had wed Lord Merriman this past summer. Verina and her sister Justina had grown close to Tia and her twin sister Lia when the twins’ father had passed suddenly before their come-out Season. Mama, who was a favorite in their extended family, had wanted to comfort the twins’ mother, her aunt Alice, who was Mama’s closest friend. So Mama had brought Verina and Justina with her to Millvale. They had stayed a few months at the ducal estate, and then Mama had invited them back to Traywick Manor in Cumberland. All those months had created a firm foundation of friendship between the four cousins, and she could not wait to meet Tia’s new husband.

She glanced over at Justina, who sat with her eyes closed. Her sister was only a year younger than Verina, but they could not be more different. Where Verina looked forward to making her come-out into Polite Society next spring, Justina had no interest in attending balls and parties, much less finding a husband. Mama still hoped that Justina would change her mind about things, which might be possible as she watched Verina go through her come-out Season next spring.

For now, they would spend time in a part of England new to them. Merrifield was located in Norfolk, just west of Thetford, and was right on the border with Suffolk, the opposite side of England from where Traywick Manor stood. She looked forward to not only being with her cousin but meeting new people as she had when they had gone to Millvale two springs ago. Willowshire had also been a new part of England for her to see, and though she loathed long journeys by carriage, she had enjoyed the passing scenery over the last several days

Her brother, who sat opposite Justina and her, stretched his long legs, their gazes meeting.

“We should be at Merrifield very soon, according to Lord Merriman’s directions,” he said.

The earl had enclosed his own letter of welcome along with Tia’s, inviting them for an extended visit to Merrifield.

“I wish you could stay longer, Tray,” she told her brother.

“I can stay for a couple of days, then I must return and visit with my business adviser and solicitor in town.”

Verina thought about how her brother had been forced to grow up rather quickly. Their father and brother Lucius had perished in a horrific carriage accident when Tray, the oldest of the four siblings, was only ten years of age. While a guardian had been appointed for him before he reached his majority, overnight, Tray had become the man in the family, assuming many responsibilities. He had taken an active role at Traywick Manor, his country estate, and he was beloved by their tenants. Tray had recently finished his studies, and though Verina had not asked, she supposed her brother would be looking for a wife. Though he was young, Tray was mature beyond his years, and he would be aware, more than most, of how he must provide an heir.

“Tray, have you thought of taking a wife?” she asked.

He laughed easily, causing Justina to open her eyes and add, “I think you should do so.”

“Since when have the two of you planned my life? No, little sisters, my goal is to see the two of you securely wed before I take care of myself. After all, I am young. It is more important for me, as the head of our family, to make certain of your futures before I see to my own.”

“What if you fall in love?” asked Justina. “It seems that runs in the family.”

Her sister spoke of the love matches six of their cousins had made. Their extended family was made up of three different ones—the Worthingtons, Alingtons, and Fultons. All four Worthington cousins, along with two of their Alington cousins, had made love matches over the past few years.

Verina did not think love was for her. Though she was eager to wed and start a family of her own, she did not believe lightning would strike again in her case. Of course, her own parents had been a love match, something quite unique for their time, and Mama had never remarried after Papa’s untimely death. Mama mourned her husband to this day, but she still went on about her own life cheerfully, being a wonderful example of how to live a good life, being kind to all.

“I know love exists because I saw it between Papa and Mama,” Tray said thoughtfully. “However, I want you to know that, despite what has happened for our cousins, love matches prove to be quite rare within the ton. When I do seek a bride on the Marriage Mart, I will look for someone who will make for a good countess. Love will play no part in my decision.”

“I wonder if Tia and Lord Merriman are like Val and Eden,” mused Justina. “They seem to kiss all the time.”

“Lord Merriman must be very special for Tia to have wed him,” Verina commented. “You know Tia had always spoken of having a Season of fun before she settled into marriage after a subsequent Season or two.”

“Well, we will soon meet Lord Merriman for ourselves,” Tray said. “By my estimate, we should reach Merrifield in the next half-hour or so.”

Tray proved to be correct. Twenty minutes later, they turned off the main road, and the carriage drove up a lane lined with large trees. No matter where they visited, England seemed to be extremely green, and Norfolk was no exception.

Their coachman turned into the circular drive in front of the house, and Verina saw Tia dash out the door. The sunlight struck her cousin’s strawberry blond hair, and she recalled how all their Worthington cousins had varying shades of red in their hair. Following Tia was a very tall man with jet-black hair. He looked lean but strong, and he joined Tia, slipping an arm about her waist as the carriage came to a halt.

Tia waved madly at them. Her cousin rushed to the carriage as the footman opened the door and Tray emerged.

“Tray!” called Tia. “How good to see you again. We were not expecting you. Just Aunt Agnes and the girls.”

The cousins embraced, and he turned to hand down his sisters. More hugs were exchanged, and then Tia turned and went to her husband, looping her arm through his, bringing him closer.

“Cousins, this is my husband, the most wonderful man in the world. Hugo, this is Tray, the Earl of Traywick, and Verina and Justina, whom you’ve heard so much about.”

Greetings were exchanged, and Verina thought how handsome Lord Merriman was, his black hair and brows an interesting contrast with his gray eyes. Her cousin was a very fortunate woman because Verina could see how he looked at her with love.

“You must call me Hugo,” the earl said. “I have been told by others in the family . . . that you ten cousins are quite informal when in one another’s company in private. That goes for the spouses, as well.”

“We are happy to do so, Hugo,” Tray said for the three of them.

“But wait!” Tia cried. “Where is Aunt Agnes?”

“Mama is caring for Mrs. Walters, a distant cousin,” Verina explained. “She received a letter just before we left Cumberland. Mrs. Walters had taken a fall. She is a recent widow and had no one else to come and assist her. Mama rode as far as town with us, and we left her in the Fulton townhouse to care for her cousin. Tray went and fetched Mrs. Walters, so they will have the London staff to take care of them.”

“Oh, I hope it is not serious,” Tia said.

“Mrs. Walters broke her arm,” Justina informed them. “It is more of an inconvenience, Mama said. She knew her cousin was lonely, however.”

“And Aunt Agnes felt obligated to help her cousin,” Tia concluded. “It sounds just like her, putting someone else’s needs above her own.” She looked to Tray. “What are your plans? I know we had asked for Aunt Agnes and my cousins to stay through Christmas. Can you spare some time to visit with us?”

“Mama was to have escorted Verina and Justina here. Although I took her place, I can only stay a short while, and then I have appointments in town. I will return to Traywick Manor after that, and then close to Christmas, I will return to town, fetch Mama, and bring her here to celebrate with you. I hope that is not too long for my sisters to stay, Tia. For you, too, Lord Merriman.”

“Hugo,” the earl prompted. “I adore the family I have already met. I know the three of you . . . will be the same. Aunt Agnes, as well. Please, come in and have tea with us now.”

“I am certain you would like to freshen up before tea arrives,” Tia said. “Let me show you to your rooms. Do you wish to share?” she asked Verina and Justina. “We have plenty of bedchambers if you do not wish to do so.”

Justina spoke up immediately. “Verina and I have always shared. I think it would be fun to have a bedchamber of my own for a few weeks.”

“Then come with me,” Tia said.

They followed their cousin up the staircase, footmen bringing in their trunks. Tia had told them not to worry about bringing a maid or any other servants because she had plenty at Merrifield to share with them. That would be a good thing because Mama had yet to allow them a lady’s maid. Their mother had also decided not to replace their governess after Eden left them, thanks to Justina convincing Mama they could continue academic pursuits on their own. They had done so, continuing to read and write in their journals, as well as study things which interested them. Once in town next spring, Mama had said she would hire a dance master for them to both take lessons from.

The rest of what they needed to know in order to make their come-outs into Polite Society would come from Mama herself. She had already begun giving them lessons in the many aspects of running a household. They knew the role servants played in various positions and could speak knowledgeably about when to change linens and how often new ones needed to be purchased. Mama had created lists for them to study regarding activities which took place within a household, from beating the dust from rugs to canning fruits and vegetables in different seasons. Mama had even shared with them questions to ask when interviewing future employees, and things to look for in their answers when hiring for various positions.

Once in her own bedchamber, hot water appeared for her to wash with, and a maid unpacked for her. Verina was happy they had made this long journey to Merrifield. It would also be interesting having a bedchamber of her own. She and Justina relied upon one another a great deal, but if she were to wed in the next year or so, they should become used to being apart. Her Alington cousins Lucy and Dru had been fortunate enough to fall in love with titled lords who lived in close proximity to one another, as well as near to Ariadne and her husband Julian. Verina envied the three of them being so close to one another. Con, who lived on the western side of England in Somerset and had recently taken up his title, must be a bit sad for his sisters to live so far from him.

Verina collected Justina, and they joined the others in the drawing room. Tia poured out beautifully, and Verina saw a new maturity about her cousin which had not been present before.

“Marriage seems to suit you,” she told Tia as she accepted a saucer and cup of tea.

“Speaking of marriage,” Tia began. “We have news. I decided not to write to you because you would have missed my letter as you traveled here. Our cousin Con is no longer a bachelor.”

It was common knowledge within the family that Val and Con had determined to remain unwed until they came into their titles. Con’s mother, their Aunt Charlotte, held tightly to the purse strings, and Con had to live a very frugal life in town. With his father’s recent death, though, Con had come into his title, along with great wealth.

“Tell us about his countess, if you know anything of her,” urged Verina.

“I am to thank, in part, for helping get Con and Rowena Stanhope together,” her cousin revealed.

Hugo laughed and took his wife’s hand, threading his fingers through hers. He lifted her hand to his lips for a tender kiss, affirming that they were very much in love.

“My wife, the matchmaker,” he said. “You should let an objective party tell the story.”

“I will tell this story, Husband,” Tia said saucily. “I will not go into the particulars, but for a while during my come-out Season, I was at odds with Polite Society. Not that I was ever given the cut direct, but I was . . . pushed aside . . . for defending Hugo.”

Justina gasped. “What on earth did you do, Tia? And you, too, Hugo, to alienate the ton and cause Tia to need to defend you?”

Tia waved the questions away. “We can discuss all that another time,” she said dismissively, and Verina suspected the topic might never come up again. “The point is, a ball came—and no one would sign my dance programme. I was relegated to sit amongst the wallflowers.”

“And that is where you found Rowena?” Tray asked, curious.

“It was indeed. Rowena Stanhope was known as a bluestocking, and Polite Society does not look upon women who use their minds with great favor. I found Miss Stanhope delightful, however. She was so interesting. And pretty, behind the gold spectacles she wore.”

Tia took a sip of tea before continuing. “To make a long story short, I was forgiven for my imaginary sins, which led to my betrothal to Hugo. Knowing how charming Con can be and that if he danced with Miss Stanhope, it might draw some attention to her, I asked our cousin to do me a favor and dance one set with her. He agreed—and so began their most interesting love story.”

Tia shared what she had learned from letters she had received from Con’s sisters and Ariadne, who had been present at the very recent wedding in London held at Ariadne and Julian’s townhouse.

“Apparently, Con was taken with Rowena and thought to call upon her the day after they danced at the ball together, something he had never done with any other woman,” Tia shared. “Unfortunately, Uncle Arthur died after the ball, and Con and Aunt Charlotte returned to Marleyfield to bury him. Con, being a man, had not thought to send word to Miss Stanhope of the reason he was absent from her drawing room, after promising he would call.

“When he returned to town, he learned she was gone to the country. In Dorset. He also learned that she would be attending an upcoming house party at her neighbors’ country estate.”

“So, Con went to this house party to seek out Miss Stanhope?” Justina asked eagerly, obviously taken by the story. “But how could he show up without an invitation?”

“Ah, that is where the story becomes more interesting,” Tia said, smiling. “Con managed to bribe Lord Clay, who had been invited to Pebblestone for the house party. He is known as a notorious gambler, and Con actually gave Lord Clay money to gamble with if he would remain in town and allow Con to take his place at the house party.”

“That sounds quite romantic,” Verina said, knowing how handsome and dashing Con was, thinking he had swept the wallflower off her feet. “Did Miss Stanhope agree to wed him the minute he arrived?”

“Not according to Lucy,” Tia said. “It was a hard fought—yet heartfelt—week. Couples around them became betrothed, left and right. They wound up being the only couple present not engaged by party’s end, but our Con came through, declaring his love to Rowena.”

“I cannot wait to meet her,” Justina proclaimed. “I may even be a bluestocking myself, now that I think about it.”

The others laughed, causing Justina to blush profusely, and she asked, “What is wrong with being a bluestocking? You obviously do not have to hide how intelligent you are, and I like that.”

“As I mentioned earlier, bluestockings are out of favor with the ton,” Tia cautioned her younger cousin. “You do not wish to ruin your chances of finding a husband by declaring yourself one. I am not saying you must hide your intelligence, Cousin, but flies are attracted more to honey than vinegar.”

Justina frowned. “What do flies have to do with bluestockings? Oh, well, it does not matter. I have no intention of wedding as it is.”

“You are but six and ten, Justina,” Tray said gently. “You may change your mind by your come-out Season.”

“What if I do not wish for a come-out Season?” Justina said stubbornly.

“You would break Mama’s heart if you do not do so,” Tray cautioned, his tone brooking no nonsense.

“At least make your debut,” Tia urged. “You can watch Verina make hers next year and learn a great deal. You do not have to take a husband that first Season.” She chuckled. “Of course, I said the same thing, and look who I wound up with before Season’s end.” Tia looked lovingly to Hugo.

They talked another half-hour, and then Tia suggested they might wish to rest a while before dinner.

“Do not forget that Matthew and the duchess are coming for dinner this evening,” reminded Hugo.

“Oh, that is right,” Tia said. Looking to her cousins, she added, “Matthew is the Duke of Reddington. He and Hugo are close friends, along with Hugo’s cousin. Anthony Drake is our local vicar. You will meet Anthony soon, as well. He is a frequent visitor to Merrifield.”

They left to go to their bedchambers, and Verina lay upon her bed, telling the maid to awaken her in three-quarters of an hour so that she might dress for dinner. She had never dined with a duke before, other than her cousin Val, and that did not count. She wondered what this duke was like. Was he old and stuffy, or young and handsome, as Hugo was?

And what of his duchess? Eden, her former governess, was Val’s duchess, but even Verina understood that was a highly unusual situation. Was the Duchess of Reddington friends with Tia? Hopefully, the woman would approve of Tia’s cousins. With Verina making her come-out next spring, it might be nice to know this duke and duchess going into the Season.

No matter what, she hoped this couple would be the first of many whom she would meet during her time at Merrifield.