Chapter 1
London. January 1815
Lord Dunham was bored. In fact he was bored, bored, bored. He looked at his reflection in the full length cheval mirror as he struggled to fix his cravat. Normally this task would not be the ordeal it had turned into today, so much so his valet had wisely retreated to the rear of the large bed chamber. He watched in mortification as his master ruined one cravat after another in the struggle to tie one to his satisfaction. The pile of creased cravats on the bed mounted, and the sighs and curses increased equally as fast as Lord Dunham reached the end of his tether with his neckwear.
Michael paused and stared at the face looking back at him in the mirror. When had he lost his spark? He had until four years ago been plain Mr Michael Birchall. He was heir to the then Lord Dunham and in fact had been named after him in honour of the family connection. He had not seen much of Uncle Michael as he had grown up, knowing him only as a figure in the background who took a general but distant interest in his heir. Everyone, including the young Michael, had presumed Lord Dunham would marry and produce his own heir and thus he would be disinherited. The expectation had not upset the young man; he refused to miss what he had never had, and he enjoyed the life he had been born into to the full.
He had spent his formative years in the country. His father was Lord Dunham’s younger brother. He had married young, but an illness of the brain had prevented his father’s taking part in family life. No one spoke about the illness; everyone was reluctant to acknowledge there was madness in the family. Fortunately, his living in the country enabled such an affliction to be ignored by most of their society.
Michael had an older sister Violet and, between his sister and mother, he had enjoyed a childhood knowing he was loved. Once old enough, even though he might have been considered young by an outsider, Michael ran the estate in place of his father due to his father’s illness. He became master in his own right when he inherited the estate after his father’s death. Michael had had to learn to deal in a matter of fact way with such a curse in his family.
His mother passed away peacefully when he was in his late teens, and he mourned her loss, but he still had Violet, and the affection between brother and sister increased as their family became smaller. Violet had eventually married a good man, Edward Parker, whom Michael was happy to call brother, and she quickly produced three girls. Michael constantly teased her about needing to provide him with an heir, but she was content with her darlings. Her girls were showered with the same affection Michael and Violet had been shown as children. She was a natural mother and the most important person in Michael’s life.
When Michael came of age he spent his time in the London Season and enjoyed himself to the full. He was not seen as a great heir; Lord Dunham’s health was good, and he was still seen as a good catch by many of the ladies, even some of the younger ones. Desire for a fortune often overcame any reserves marrying a substantially older man might have caused for the Michael. So Michael was able to enjoy the entertainments and parties without having fortune hunters having him in their sights. There was no pressure on him, and he took full benefit of the lack of restrictions.
Lord Dunham financed Michael’s Grand Tour and ensured he was accompanied by a tutor who would instil in him the ways of a gentleman. So Michael learned and developed on the Continent, returning a finer gentleman than before. His return to London saw him conquer a few more hearts but never seriously fall in love. He was having too much fun to settle down. If he yearned for family life he spent time with Violet, Edward and their brood.
The week after Michael’s twenty-fourth birthday, his life changed forever. A sudden, unexpected seizure caused Lord Dunham to pass away long before anyone had anticipated. Michael was no longer just plain Mr Birchall but the new Lord Dunham. Those who had previously dismissed him as a gentleman of no real importance suddenly wanted to become his friend. His good looks and manners had always made him popular with the ladies, but he now became so popular he felt hunted.
He was now twenty-eight. Four long years had passed since he had enjoyed a carefree lifestyle. Most days it felt as if decades had passed. At times like today when he really studied his reflection in his looking glass, he hardly recognised the man he had become.
No-one could accuse him of being unattractive: dark, slightly curly hair fell naturally in all the latest fashions. His skin was pale and unblemished, and his eyes a deep brown that seemed to reflect his very soul when they were not guarded. Nowadays, only Violet saw them sparkle with laughter or warm with feeling; most of his friends or acquaintances saw the closed expression of a man keeping his distance. Little did they know part of that reserve was caused by fear that he would suffer the same fate as his father. Once madness was in a family, all of its members feared contamination. Every new emotion was examined by Michael to see if it was a sign the illness had started.
He managed his new estates seriously. He had had a lot to learn and, when he had seen what his life would be once he had inherited the title, he preferred to immerse himself in learning everything he needed to know about estate management on a huge scale. He had a large estate in Somerset tucked away but still convenient, as it was within easy reach of Bath. It was the Dunham principal home and was a beautiful Jacobean building that rambled over three floors. Michael had continued the improvements that had been planned, and anyone lucky enough to visit commented that, although the property was grand in appearance, it was also a comfortable, welcoming home.
A house in Belgrave Square and a hunting lodge in Leicester completed his property portfolio and gave him enough escape to maintain his sanity. Michael had enjoyed the London life as a gentleman about town, but once he discovered just how little he enjoyed the fickleness a title attracted, he very often escaped to Somerset or to Violet’s home in Hampshire. Sometimes, though, he was forced to come to London, and this was where he found himself now. Forced to spend the Season in the City because of an agreement his uncle had made years ago. It was this that had put him in the foulest mood he had experienced for a long time. Finally, with a sigh, he accepted that he could not put off the morning any longer and went to greet his solicitor, leaving his valet to mourn over the destruction of so many freshly starched cravats.
Michael entered his library, usually a place he enjoyed spending time, but it offered no pleasure on this morning. He greeted his solicitor in his usual brusque way. “Have you managed to find a way out of this mess for me? Any last minute miracles that will spare me spending the Season in this godforsaken place?” They were the same questions he had been asking over the last few months.
“No, Your Lordship, the agreement is immutable; there is no way out of it. The only advantage is that it will last a lot less than a year.”
“From my perspective, which is still an inordinate amount of time ahead of me!” came the disparaging reply.
The solicitor was enjoying this meeting as little as Lord Dunham and answered a quiet, “Quite so.” The quicker all the details could be finally agreed on, the quicker he could return to the sanctity of his office and leave His Lordship to deal with the situation as he chose.
A few moments later the silence was interrupted by the butler who announced a Miss Elizabeth Rufford and Miss Martha Fairfield. Michael had moved forward slightly to greet the newcomers, but the sight before him stopped him in his tracks. Miss Fairfield was obviously a governess or something similar. She was around thirty, dressed in the grey high-necked dress that was the accepted uniform of a governess, finished with a shawl and bonnet. She had a pleasant face and was as presentable as most of her supposed profession; the sight that had stopped Michael was Miss Elizabeth Rufford.
Bounding into the room was a vision of purple and orange ruffles and feathers. He had never seen anything like it before in his life. Her dress was of the brightest purple and edged in bright orange ribbons and frills. The hat she wore looked too big and had huge purple and orange feathers coming out of every possible surface. Michael could hardly see the person underneath for the curling feathers. The lady’s figure he could not judge because of the amount of frills and ruffles surrounding her, and he could see no hair from underneath the bonnet. No ringlets framed the lady’s face as was the custom; not a hair was visible, and for a split second Michael wondered if she were bald. The only redeeming feature was her eyes; they were hazel and sparkled with laughter as she took in the astonishment of the two men before her.
“Good morning, gentlemen; I hope you are well. When will his Lordship be joining us? I hope he is of a strong constitution!” She laughed, and Michael wondered how it was possible her eyes seemed to sparkle even more.
The solicitor started to speak, but Michael cut him off with a glare. He bowed in greeting, but instead of introducing himself he started with a question. “Why does Lord Dunham need to have a strong constitution?” He asked curiously.
“Well, actually, I hope he doesn’t,” she answered frankly but with a mischievous smile. “I’m hoping one look at me will give him a heart attack and then this silly ward thing will be at an end before it has started.”
Michael raised his eyebrows and said with a drawl. “A little harsh, I think, Miss Rufford, wishing to murder your guardian.”
“I don’t wish to murder him. I just want to release us both from this nonsense.”
“His Lordship wishes release as much as you appear to do, I assure you, “Michael responded drily, but with feeling.
“Oh, does he? That’s excellent. I thought he might try and dictate how I should live my life and how I should act. I never wanted a guardian!” she responded.
“I can assure you your guardian never wanted a ward,” Michael responded with a shudder.
“My Lord, if you please….” the solicitor interrupted, looking uncomfortable.
Michael sighed. “Miss Rufford, my solicitor seems determined to spoil the sliver of fun in this otherwise extremely tedious day. Please let me introduce my solicitor Mr Hammond, and please allow me to introduce myself, Lord Dunham. I am at your service, madam.” Michael finished the introduction with a flourishing bow any dandy would have been proud of.
Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide; she looked from one to the other as if waiting for them to announce it was a joke. Seeing the expressions on their faces, she realised they were serious. “But you are not old!” she exclaimed, finally accepting she really was faced with the real Lord Dunham.
“Thank you for the compliment, Miss Rufford,” Michael responded coolly. “I don’t consider myself to be in my dotage quite yet.”
“How can you be my guardian? You cannot have studied with my father when the agreement was made. This must be wrong!” Elizabeth’s sparkling eyes had been replaced with eyes flashing with frustration, something that amused Michael. It was some comfort to know he was no longer the only one suffering because of the situation.
“I can confirm I did not study with your father. My uncle, the previous Lord Dunham, was your father’s friend, and he was the one who made the agreement. Unfortunately for us both, I have the same name as my uncle, Michael Thomas George Birchall, Lord Dunham. Your father’s will did not specify which Lord Dunham, just the full name, which I share. Believe me, I have had the legalities checked and double checked. Until your twenty-first birthday, I am your guardian.” Michael spoke as if the whole situation bored him.
“Well, that changes everything!” Elizabeth responded after taking a moment or two to absorb the information. “It looks like you have been travelling with a grotesque monster for nothing, Martha.” Elizabeth had turned to her companion and smiled apologetically. She took off the hat and threw it down on a seat. “I’m glad to take that thing off; you would not believe the stares I have received whilst wearing it.”
“Oh, I think I would, Miss Rufford.” Michael replied with a raise of an eyebrow.
Elizabeth laughed. “All that planning for nothing! Oh, damn and blast! What am I going to do now?”
Michael was intrigued by the woman seated before him. He had not known what to expect, but she was proving to be more interesting than he had imagined. She recovered from news that would have mortified any other lady of his acquaintance and instead of swooning away, cursed as any man would have done. He still was not happy with the situation and needed to draw things together so they could be efficiently and quickly sorted. The less time he needed to spend acting as a guardian the better.
“Would you like to accompany me to the drawing room? We can take some refreshments and discuss what you are going to do while in London.”
He rang for tea and led the way into his drawing room. It was a large square room with two large windows facing onto the street and allowing in as much light as possible. The Adams fireplace was marble with two pillars at each side. The mantelpiece was decorated with a central urn and, with the characteristic vines stretching out across the marble, it was simple but stylish. Blue and gold patterned wallpaper adorned the walls with matching material covering the sofas and chairs, and the curtains were of a shimmering gold, bringing out the gold in the furnishings. The room was grand, but so understated it managed to have a light airy feel to it.
“Oh, what a lovely room!” Elizabeth exclaimed, as she sat in one of the chairs. She ran her hand appreciatively down one of the chair arms; the material felt thick and silky to the touch. “The colours are beautiful. Did your wife choose them?”
“I am not married and am quite capable of choosing decoration myself.” Michael responded a little harshly, indicating Miss Fairfield should be seated before he sat in a fireside chair.
“It seems a shame to let me into this room dressed as I am. I must clash terribly!” Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eyes, but she tried to look remorseful.
“You do,” came the unkind reply. Michael was in no mood to offer empty flattery to the woman before him.
If Michael had expected Elizabeth to be daunted by his manner he was mistaken; she just threw back her head and laughed. “I know! It’s terrible, isn’t it? The problem is all my clothes are like this; my purpose was to scare my guardian into sending me away.”
“You are doing an excellent job of achieving your aim, Miss Rufford,” Michael said with a shudder. “I dread to think why you wanted to appear as you have.”
Elizabeth started fiddling with her hair as she spoke. “I will be honest with you, My Lord; I don’t want to be in London for the Season. I would much rather be allowed to live in the country running an estate and enjoying myself rather than being forced to be someone I am not while supposedly looking for a husband.” While talking she released her hair and shook it out.
Miss Fairfield protested the action, “Elizabeth, please! You should not be attending to your toilette in His Lordship’s drawing room.”
Elizabeth waved Miss Fairfield’s words away and scooped her long dark wavy hair into a loose bun.“Don’t worry yourself, Martha; His Lordship won’t mind me making myself slightly more presentable, I’m sure.” Wisps of hair fell out at the sides, which was far more flattering than the harsh bun originally hidden under her hat.
Michael was intrigued. “If you do not wish to have a Season in London, why on earth have you travelled all the way from Lancashire?”
Elizabeth sighed, the first sign of anything but mischievous good humour since she walked in. “When Papa died three years ago his title, like yours, went to a nephew, Mr Herbert Rufford. I didn’t object or feel aggrieved, as I knew my cousin a little, and we had got on well when we were young. He did not want to settle in Lancashire, so he continued enjoying his life travelling between London and Brighton. He did spend some time on the estate, but I was unofficially in charge. I make a good estate manager!” She said defensively when Michael looked at her with disbelief.
“I never said a word,” Michael said, amused at the outburst his sceptical expression had caused.
Elizabeth looked as if she believed Michael was mocking her. “I ran the estate before Papa’s death. He would have preferred to have had a boy, and he treated me more like one while he was alive. Poor Papa! He never remarried after mother died, so he was destined to be disappointed by having just me.”
She said her words in such a matter of fact way Michael had to admire her stoicism. He had grown up being secure in his relative’s affections even through his father’s illness and had never felt the effects of someone being disappointed with him. Something bordering on compassion stirred in him, but he quickly dismissed it and carried on listening to her story.
“I’m sure he appreciated you in his own way.” he said, an uncommonly reassuring comment from the distant Lord Dunham.
“Possibly, but I will never truly know,” came the candid reply. “When I reached the age when I should have come out, I noticed Papa did not seem to be in his usual good health. I begged him not to bring me to London that year. It did not matter about putting my Season off, as I didn’t want to come anyway. Having a Season has never really appealed to me. As it happened it was fortunate we did not travel; Papa deteriorated and was ill for months before he passed away. I am forever thankful he died at home not in some damp lodging house in London.”
“Why did you not come to London after your period of mourning?” Michael had only heard of the agreement a few months prior, but he had been informed Elizabeth’s father had died more than three years ago.
“When it became apparent Herbert did not want to manage the estate, I offered to do it for him. I’m far cheaper than employing an official estate manager, so it was an offer he would have been a fool to refuse. It suited me too; it meant I could put off going to London indefinitely and still live in the area I loved. I knew Herbert would marry one day but, when I did meet his new wife, I realised almost immediately what would happen.”
“Did she resent your presence?”
“Yes, how did you guess?” Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “At first I thought things would go on as normal, but I had not taken Miranda into account. Miranda! I mean to say: what sort of a name is Miranda? It’s a doll’s name! Believe me, she may have looked like a doll with her golden curls and blue eyes, but she had the viciousness of a cat when moving in for the kill. She saw me as a threat even though I made the estate extremely profitable. I had to go, and that was that.”
“As simple as that?” Michael asked, a little admiring of the woman who had taken on this energetic creature sitting before him.
“Yes. She had the perfect get-out clause didn’t she? I had a guardian who was responsible for me, and I had never had a Season in London. As she put it, even someone like me should be able to attract some sort of husband; after all, I have my two thousand a year. She informed me men would put up with anything for that amount of money. So here I am.” Elizabeth shrugged with her final words.
Michael detected no bitterness but some hurt in the words, and again he felt a little compassion for Elizabeth. It was not her fault she was not wanted by her family. This type of situation happened regularly, and the wardship was not her doing. “So are you looking for a husband?” Two thousand a year would guarantee she would receive many offers of marriage even dressed as she was at the moment.
“I was hoping to persuade my guardian to let me establish myself somewhere in the country,” Elizabeth explained. “I don’t know the ways of society; I have never lived in it. I’m happier in the countryside. I could buy a farm and run it myself; I would be self-sufficient and no trouble to anyone.”
“That would be seen as quite eccentric.” For some reason Michael did not want her ridiculed by society, but that would be guaranteed if she mentioned in wider society ideas such as running her own estate.
“Who would I be harming?” Elizabeth asked, looking at him candidly.
“No one, in truth.” Michael admitted reluctantly.
“Will you help me then?” She asked hopefully.
Michael thought carefully. In many respects it would be the perfect solution and the easy way out of her being his ward. He would not have to do more than help her find an estate and then make sure things were in place, perhaps offer support if she needed it. He could then return to his life as it had been before he had been told of his burden.
Something held him back though; whether it was the sparkle he had seen in her eyes that had drawn him to her initially, he did not know. It could have been the hurt in her voice when she had referred to what had been said about her lack of ability to attract a husband, which had struck something deep within him. He felt the stirrings of something he did not recognise, all he knew was he wanted to make things better for her.
He knew how it was to feel you were just being courted for your fortune. Many Society families would have been reluctant to link to his family because of his father’s illness but, once the fortune was in place, anything, even madness, could be overlooked. He had known what it was like to enjoy London though. It had been a pleasant experience at times. He could hardly believe his own mind when he became convinced that perhaps she should stay after all.
“I will help you,” he finally said.
“Oh, good. I have heard of an estate in Yorkshire in need of a lot of work, but it means I could afford to buy it. It would be hard for the first few years, but I’m convinced I could turn it around and make it profitable,” Elizabeth babbled, the relief in her voice evident.
“You have not heard how I will help you,” Michael said raising his hand slightly to stem the flow of ideas. “Don’t worry; I think you will be convinced,” he assured Elizabeth. He had seen disappointment pass quickly across her face; this was a girl who was not used to hiding her emotions like the ladies in society usually did. The more Michael looked at her the more he was convinced she would enjoy herself with his help. “Stay in London for the Season.”
“But I don’t want to, and the estate in Yorkshire will be lost if I don’t act fast.”Frustration was all too evident in Elizabeth’s voice.
“I will secure the estate if it is, as you say, a suitable investment. If it is suffering from long term misuse, another year’s neglect will not harm it anymore than it has already. I will have it assessed and see if there are any interim measures needed. In the meantime, you will stay with my sister as we had planned when I became aware of your existence. We will introduce you into Society, and you can enjoy the entertainments of the season. I understand your reluctance, but that should not stop you enjoying yourself at least once in London. You will be under no pressure from me to find a husband. If you find one, all well and good, and if you don’t, at the end of the season, you can retire to Yorkshire and have fond memories of your time here.”
Elizabeth looked as if she were going to challenge him at first and met his gaze. She seemed to go from a challenge to a question and then shrugged her shoulders slightly and nodded. “As long as I can be involved in the buying of the estate, and I have your word I can go to Yorkshire eventually, I will agree to stay in London for the Season.”
“Good. Mr Hammond will take care of all the legalities of the Yorkshire estate as necessary. I will have my own estate manager, Charles Anderton, travel there and look the place over. Don’t worry; you will have the opportunity of speaking to him,” Michael interrupted her before she could argue. “Now, if you are not too tired, I would like to take you to meet my sister.”
Chapter 2
Violet was seven years older than her brother. She was not as dark haired or of as pale a complexion as Michael, but she had the same deep brown eyes. They were warmer than her brother’s, but she never noticed how cold Michael’s eyes could look as he always looked at her with unguarded feeling. She greeted Elizabeth when the visitors were announced into her drawing room as if she were a long lost sister even with the purple and orange dress.
“You are very welcome here,” she said as she hugged Elizabeth. “I hope my brother has not been scaring you with tales of how he hates the social rounds he is forced to perform.”
“No, not at all,” Elizabeth assured her. “In fact, he was the one to persuade me to stay.”
“Really? You must have made an excellent first impression. He can be a terrible grump sometimes, especially when a visit to London is needed.” Violet smiled.
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