There are so many people who contributed in their own way to the writing of this novel. I must always thank the good, professional people at Covenant Communications for all they do to help bring my writing endeavors to life. I especially want to acknowledge and thank Samantha Millburn, my editor, who always has been and continues to be my trusted guide through this process.
I also want to thank my daughter Rebecca for her efforts to help me finish the manuscript, and my friend Steve Smith, who helped me stay accountable on my word count. Your enthusiasm and encouragement mean a lot to me.
I am grateful for my siblings on both sides of the family and for my children who are my greatest cheerleaders—with a special shout-out to son-in-law Bob, who has read all of my novels. They’re romance novels, people, and he’s a guy. He deserves props.
I also want to thank my wonderful friends who prayed for me as I worked hard to meet deadlines that seemed impossible. I am humbled by your friendship and love, and I felt your prayers.
Lastly, I am thankful for my wonderful husband, Stephen. He has always supported me and still supports me in ways that would stagger the mind were I to share them all. I love you, Stephen, with my whole heart.
Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Any mistakes within it are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1
Late Spring 1812
Lady Elizabeth Spaulding clenched her teeth and did everything she could not to let fear show on her face. Her father’s viselike grip on her forearms was going to leave bruises.
“Listen carefully to me,” her father, the Duke of Marwood, hissed, his face mere inches from Elizabeth’s own. “You have one task, and one only while we are here, a task you have been neglecting so far. You will secure Lord Halford’s hand in marriage. You will ensure that a betrothal is announced tonight at the dance. Do you think you can manage that?”
“I . . .” she began and then faltered.
“You had—How many years was it?” he asked Mama.
“Three years,” Mama responded. “But, Marwood, should you be gripping her quite so—”
“Three years from your come-out to secure a betrothal to the brother, the previous Lord Halford,” Papa continued, ignoring Mama. “Girls who came out with you have since married and spawned at least a brat or two. But you could not bring the fool to heel.”
“Papa, Alexander was not ready for—”
Papa shook her. “Whether he was ready for marriage is irrelevant. It was his duty. And yours. The arrangement had been discussed for years. Years!”
“A little flirtation, a coquettish look now and again would have done the trick,” Mama said. “But you couldn’t even manage that properly. I think you must be made of stone.”
Elizabeth winced inwardly at Mama’s words.
Papa growled and pushed Elizabeth forcefully away. She stumbled back, rubbing the sorest spot on her arms. “I think Halford must have had a death wish after all, rather than be leg-shackled to the likes of you, coward that he was,” he said in disgust. “Couldn’t live up to his responsibilities, even after the marriage settlements were all but complete.”
“Such a godsend that his brother, Anthony—the new Lord Halford—was recently found alive after he had been reported missing and presumed dead,” Mama added. Anthony had been a military officer, his regiment assigned to battle against Napoleon’s armies in Portugal and Spain.
“Indeed,” Papa said. “We—you—have been given a second chance, Elizabeth. The alliance with the Marquess of Ashworth and his remaining son is imperative. You need to secure the betrothal. I have spoken with Ashworth and told him of my expectations, and he agrees with me. The betrothal is to be announced tonight. Do not let me down.”
Elizabeth’s arms throbbed. She said nothing.
“After all we have done for you, you owe us this, you know,” Mama said. “Now, freshen up, put a smile on, and go do your duty. Don’t be a statue standing around all day.”
“Yes, Mama,” Elizabeth said.
“That’s better,” Papa said. “Come, Duchess, let’s leave her to her task and go find our host and hostess. We have our own roles to play.” He extended his elbow to Mama and escorted her from Elizabeth’s room—the room she’d always stayed in when they’d visited the Marquess and Marchioness of Ashworth over the past few years. A room that held only bleak memories for her now.
She went to the vanity to assess her appearance.
Nothing looked out of place. No surprise there; Elizabeth made