“Hmmm,” Jessica hummed as she considered the question, her chin still tilted up to Wesley’s image.

Lila couldn’t believe that the question of Wes’s good looks required this much consideration. “What about him disturbs you?” she challenged, instantly regretting the touch of peevishness that had crept into her tone.

“No… no… you’re right. In this portrait he’s very handsome, but portrait painters make their commissions by flattering their subjects, don’t they?”

“I assure you, this is what he looks like,” Lila maintained.

“Take the case of the portrait of your mother hanging over the fireplace in the living room for instance,” Jessica countered. “She doesn’t really look like that now, does she? I mean, there’s absolutely no sign of that double chin of hers and she’s quite a bit more svelte than in real life.”

“What do you mean by a double chin?”

Jessica patted the underside of her own chin. “That.”

Lila had never paid attention to it before, but now that she pictured Lady Darlington she realized that her mother did have a soft pad of fat under her chin. “Well, that painting was done right after my parents were married, so it must be at least twenty years old. I think she was nineteen when they married.”

“So that’s my point,” Jessica stated firmly. “How do I know that handsome Wes here hasn’t grown chubby on university beer and pub food while he’s been off supposedly studying? Maybe that pale blond hair has even begun to recede. Some men begin balding as early as their twenties, you know.”

Lila found this idea not only horrifying but insulting. “I’m sure that Wes has not grown fat and bald in the less than a year since I last saw him.”

Jessica shrugged noncommittally. “I’m simply saying that what one sees in a painting is not always what one gets. Wentworth Hall, for instance. Before Teddy and I agreed to come stay here, your father sent our solicitor who minds our affairs a small painting of the place. It appeared quite elegant.”

“Don’t you think it is elegant?”

“It’s probably not so different than in your mother’s case,” Jessica replied with a sneering grin as she began strolling off down the hallway away from Lila.

“I don’t understand,” Lila admitted.

“It’s seen better days,” Jessica shot back from over her shoulder, clearly delighted with her quip.

Lila fumed, watching Jessica’s back swing lightly back and forth as she sauntered down the hall looking insufferably pleased with herself. Why would someone take such glee in being insulting? What had Lila—indeed, any of the Darlingtons—ever done to Jessica other than try to be nice? Was it worth Lila’s effort to even attempt being friendly in the future?

It baffled Lila to think that Jessica and Teddy could be twins. Surely they were not a thing alike. But then, she and Maggie were sisters, close in age, and Lila was certain that she did not in any way resemble her heartless, stuck-up sister. And, hopefully, Teddy would come to discover that before very long.

“Your horse, m’lady,” Michael said. He handed Maggie the reins of the bay mare he’d saddled for her. Michael hoped she heard the ironic formality in his tone. It wasn’t so long ago that Michael used to lift Maggie to her horse with his hands on her waist. How far they’d grown. Teddy and Jessica Fitzhugh stood waiting for their horses by the stable door but they were engaged in polite conversation and he felt confident that neither of them would notice the private look that darted between the two of them. It was only a flicker, because in a twinkling Maggie averted those fathomless brown eyes he adored.

“Look at me,” he murmured urgently. “For God’s sake!” This was the first time he’d seen her since her return. Who knew when he’d have the chance to be this close to her again? He had to know what had happened during her year away. What had changed her like this? Why had she grown so cold toward him? She hadn’t even given him a chance to apologize.…

When Maggie returned her gaze to him, her eyes were blank slates, devoid not only of feeling but even recognition. “Thank you, Michael,” she said in a neutral tone loud enough to be heard by everyone. “Thank you for remembering I like the D-ring bridle.”

“Of course I know which—”

“Have you saddled the other three horses?” Maggie cut him off.

“Stop it, would you?” Michael implored, his tone low but becoming increasingly agitated. This made no sense. What was wrong with her?

Maggie’s eyes bore into him now, shading into a stormy gray warning. Tilting her chin to gaze over his shoulder, she called to the Fitzhugh twins. “The groom will have your horses for you right away.”

“The groom?” Michael echoed, his voice an angry rumble.

“That’s what you are,” Maggie said with a patrician nod, “or am I mistaken about that?”

Michael felt caught between the urges to shake her for her detached denigration or to sweep her in his arms to remind her of what had once been between them. Instead, he masked the hurt with a clipped civility. “As you wish, Lady Margaret,” he said with just the merest bow and turned toward the stable.

Fuming, he led out two chestnut geldings for Jessica and Teddy Fitzhugh and then brought the delicate black Arabian mare he knew Lila favored. In minutes all four of them were mounted. “I heard you were quite the rider, Lady Margaret,” Teddy said. “Now that I see you astride the horse I can see you are, indeed, a natural horsewoman.”

“I used to be an avid rider,” Maggie agreed. “But not as much of late.”

“Will you come with us, Michael?” Lila invited him. “There’s a trail that borders Cotswall Manor that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Yes, it’s an old trail, but the gardeners cleared the brush from it just a few weeks ago,”

“Oh, good, you know it, then,” Lila enthused. “I don’t want to trespass on Cotswall property, though. Will you come and make sure we don’t stray onto the duke’s property?”

Michael hesitated, torn about whether or not to go with them. On the one hand he couldn’t stand to see Maggie around that fawning Teddy Fitzhugh. Teddy was so clearly smitten with Maggie that it was almost comical. Though Michael could hardly blame Teddy. He knew too well how it felt to be under Maggie’s spell. Still, Teddy irked him with his preening overconfidence and smug air of entitlement. On the other hand, if he accompanied them he might get another opportunity to speak to Maggie alone.

“Will you come?” Lila urged again.

“Lila, Michael has chores to do, I’m sure,” Maggie chided her sister in a superior tone.

Michael’s eyes darted between the sisters as he tried to understand what was really happening. Why was Lila so intent on his accompanying them?

“Look at Maggie on that horse, Jessica,” Teddy spoke to his sister. “Doesn’t she just look so right there? I’ve noticed that other English riders are rigid in the saddle, but not Maggie.”

Michael glanced at Teddy, unable to disguise his dislike. The fawning fool! Preening fop! Couldn’t he see that Maggie was only toying with him?

And then he saw it. It was written all over Lila’s face. It was almost embarrassingly clear in the way she gazed at Teddy with nearly unabashed adoration. Lila hoped Maggie would be distracted with Michael joining them, giving her more opportunity to talk to Teddy. Michael would be happy to oblige. Maybe he could melt Maggie’s frosty demeanor.

“Yes, I should come,” Michael said. “The path is a bit difficult to follow up there and you might wander into Cotswall Manor by mistake.”

“I’m sure the Duke of Cotswall wouldn’t be too put out to see Maggie riding on his land,” Lila said with a shrewd grin.

After what Michael had heard in the kitchen he understood what she was getting at. If Lila was trying to show Teddy that Maggie had other suitors, her plan was bound to backfire. It would only serve to make Teddy jealous. Michael was sure of that. He himself felt the jealousy rising within him.

“The Duke of Cotswall is old enough to be my grandfather,” Maggie scoffed.

“Surely he’s not much older than Father,” Lila countered.

Maggie laughed. “Is that any better?”

“No better,” Teddy put in emphatically.

“Isn’t he terribly wealthy, though?” Jessica asked.

“Nora hears that he’s positively loaded,” Lila answered, using the exact slang Nora had.

“Lila!” Maggie scolded. “It doesn’t matter to me how rich he is. I would never consider marrying the duke.”

“Of course not!” Teddy agreed. “There are other men, younger men with just as much wealth who are sure to fall in love with you; a man you could have a real life with, not some antiquated codger.”

Michael schooled his features to reveal no emotion, but inwardly glowered at Teddy. He was so sure of himself, so confident that he was the one who would capture Maggie’s heart, so certain that his wealth and shallow charm would make him the winner in the end.

Maggie sat forward in her saddle, signaling that she was eager to get going. “All this talk of marriage is giving me a headache,” she announced. “I want to ride and forget about old dukes and wealthy young men. Let’s go.”

With a flick of her reins, and a sharp click to her horse, Maggie was off. Not wanting to be left behind, the others took off after her.

Michael shook his head woefully, watching them thunder across the lawn toward the wooded trail. Everyone was talking about how France had changed Maggie, but deep down she was the same, headstrong and determined to have her own way. She hadn’t wanted Michael to join them and she’d found a way to leave before he could saddle up.

For a moment, Michael considered going after them, certain he could easily overtake them, but decided against it. No good could come of him being in the presence of that strutting Teddy Fitzhugh. Michael would eventually do or say something to make his feelings known, and he couldn’t risk losing his job.

A knot constructed of anger, jealousy, and frustration twisted in his gut. By a mere accident of birth—his own low station in life—he was denied the person he loved most in the world. The woman he would always love and long for. The woman he believed loved him still, no matter how much she pretended not to.


“You have very delicate hands,” Nora observed, speaking to Therese that night as they cleared their own dishes from the servants’ table. As the last to finish eating, what was left of the cleanup had fallen to them. She’d noticed Therese’s hands for the first time as the young woman lifted a platter that had been heaped with mutton chops and potatoes.

Therese spread her hands wide and observed them as if assessing their delicacy for the first time ever. “Oui, perhaps they are. My hands are strong, though.”

Nora gazed at her own solid fingers and ragged nails and decided she should take better care of them. They certainly marked her as someone who worked hard for a living. “People judge you by your hands,” she remarked, piling dishes in the sink.

“I will give you some of my hand cream. I need to have soft hands to work with the baby.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nora remarked in a tone that was a bit guarded. She hadn’t yet made up her mind about Therese. “Is it French hand cream?”

“It is,” Therese said, scraping the remaining food from a plate into the garbage. “My mother always used it.”