Beguile [bih-gahyl]

Verb (used with object)

1.     to influence by trickery, flattery, etc.; mislead; delude

2.     to charm or divert

Dictionary.com

Chapter 1

February 1822—Hampton House, Northamptonshire, England

“Be careful with that!” Alice snapped. “I swear if one of my new gowns is ruined by a clumsy footman...”

Observing her cousin give the footman a nod when he hefted the trunk once more, Alice swallowed her frustration as Priscilla turned back to her, lips twitching. “No harm was done, and the last trunk is being brought in now. I think your gowns will be fine,” she said with a small chuckle.

How Priscilla could be amused at such a time was beyond her comprehension. Now remarried, and happily this time, she seemed to have forgotten the anxiety which surrounded a young, eligible woman during the season.

Alice’s entire future was contained within those trunks. No expense had been spared by her father in the creation of her wardrobe for the coming season, and pressure bloomed in her chest whenever she thought about the necessity of ensuring it was money well spent.

Taking in a deep, stuttering breath, Alice stilled and looked up at Hampton House—the estate where she would reside for the next few months until it was time to return to Town for the official start of the season.

This would be Alice’s second season, an occurrence which was causing more than a dash of distress to multiple parties. Not having secured a husband the year before, she was anxious for what might unfold in Town this cycle. While she knew he did not mean to make her uneasy, her father’s desire for her to make a grand match weighed quite heavily upon her shoulders. Her failure to marry last year required extra funds to procure everything necessary for participating in months of ton events without causing embarrassment due to being poorly turned out.

Aware she was growing maudlin as she gazed at the stone façade before her, Alice reminded herself that even Priscilla—her cousin who was so admired and held in esteem by the family—had also failed in her first season before landing herself a duke. A fact, she though bitterly, which seemed to be easily forgotten once her cousin had made a second successful, high-profile match last year after falling in love with the Marquess of Hampton.

It was for this second achievement that, just six weeks ago over Christmas celebrations at Hampton House, her father suggested that Pricilla should tutor Alice prior to the season’s commencement. It simply would not do for her to remain unmarried another year.

Alice had been mortified when her father foisted her onto Priscilla without invitation, the implication being that he did not trust her to succeed on her own. But he looked so frail sitting by the fire that evening—deep beneath his blankets—that she could hardly protest when West, Priscilla’s new husband, didn’t balk at an uninvited guest. And after sending a sharp, inquisitive look Alice’s way and seeing acquiescence, Priscilla readily agreed to the proposal with a nod.

“I’ll take her in hand and make sure she is able to present the best side of herself, don’t you worry, Uncle,” Priscilla said as she tucked Alice’s father even more securely under the rug on his lap.

Alice blushed remembering the exchange, as it seemed her father was not the only one who found her to be lacking in some way, but also the cousin she had always looked up to and admired. That wasn’t to say she was unhappy to be here now, though a bit resentful that others felt it necessary. If it meant peace of mind for her father who had so much else to contend with, Alice was glad to receive Priscilla’s guidance. Father’s increasingly pale countenance of late concerned her, and she was loath to cause him additional stress which could so easily trigger one of his episodes.

Yes, if being here under Priscilla’s tutelage would ease her father’s concerns about her potential for making a well-placed match this season, Alice was more than willing to heed her cousin’s advice.

Following Priscilla into the house at last, Alice tipped her head back, taking in the grand foyer. Alice knew that Priscilla had brought a great deal of wealth into her new marriage as a dowager duchess and that the funds were being used to make much needed improvements to the manor house as well as the greater estate. She was impressed with the changes she noticed, even in the short time that had elapsed since her visit over the holidays. New paper lined the walls, and furniture had been pared back to emphasize the grandeur of the entryway, creating a sense of space and simple elegance.

“I’ve placed you in our best guest suite,” Priscilla said as she began mounting the stairs to the first floor. “The rooms overlook the gardens, and while the grounds are not much to speak of at present, you still have a wonderful view of the river.”

Alice followed silently until they arrived at the first door on the second landing, the guest suite located centrally between the wings on either side of the Georgian structure. “See, all is well,” Priscilla said as they entered the main room, inclining her head toward the mound of trunks that had been left. “I’ll send Meredith over to assist you in unpacking, we don’t want any of your new dresses to crease.” Alice strongly suspected Priscilla was teasing her due to her earlier upset, as her voice had assumed a false severity at the end of her pronouncement, but she agreed that getting the gowns out of their containers as soon as possible was a good idea and decided to overlook the gentle jab.

Wandering to the large window taking up much of the back wall of the room, Alice peered through aged, slightly wavy glass to the grounds below. It was an impressive view, even if the gardens were in a less-than-desirable state as Priscilla had warned.

Severely overgrown, the picture before her was a tangle of greenery and weeds tumbled far outside their borders onto the pathways and over a patchy lawn. It was hard to find any kind of remaining design or intention in what grew, but there were signs of the beauty that had once been if one looked long enough. Though only the start of February, and with coatings of frost making an appearance most mornings, the earliest and hardiest of spring flowers were just beginning to poke up through the ground. Alice spied a few glimpses of promised color as she looked out toward the water beyond the bounds of the formal yard.

It was a pity the estate had become so run-down, but knowing Priscilla, everything would be set to rights in no time at all. Alice was glad that the marquess had accepted the money Priscilla brought into their marriage and was using it to improve the estate. While many men of the ton intentionally married for money, Hampton had expressed his desire to wed for more than just security. Luckily, he’d fallen in love with a woman who also had the means to help him reestablish the Hampton seat once he got over his stubborn pride.

Even though her reason for being at the estate was a bit humiliating, Alice was happy to have these next few months away from Town. She would work as hard as possible to learn from her cousin and see if she could gain the same level of success regarding matrimony. Alice had tried so hard last year to emulate the beautiful Priscilla, who moved effortlessly through society during her own debut, even if it did not come quite so naturally to her. But the forced nature of her mannerisms must have led to her failure, so she would just have to practice her small talk, flattery, and witty remarks until they came out sounding natural—showcasing an ease in society and an ability to fit into any ballroom seamlessly, as any Pembroke should possess.

A scratch sounded at the door, pulling Alice from her thoughts, and she turned to see a maid, presumably Meredith, popping her head through the doorway.

“Lady Hampton sent me over,” she said with a polite curtsey after stepping into the room. “Is now a good time to get you unpacked, miss? I can coordinate with your lady’s maid if you’ll let me know where to find her.”

Alice’s face heated at the mention of a lady’s maid. Having helped run the house alongside their housekeeper since she was sixteen, in the absence of a lady of the house, she was intimately acquainted with the household finances and knew the additional season would make money tight. Her father had expended so much on her new wardrobe that she had felt the need to let her longtime maid go.

Alice had been grieved to lose Jenny after becoming so comfortable with her over the past years, but she had been able to find her a new place in an equally fine household working for the daughters of an earl. She would need to hire a new lady’s maid before the season, but given that it was her fault a second year’s worth of clothing must come from her father’s pocket rather than a husbands, she decided this was an easy way to economize, knowing Priscilla would have someone to assist with her dress in the meantime.

“I have given my lady’s maid a holiday during my time here, so I’m afraid you’ll have to manage on your own.” Alice thought she had managed to sound strong and indifferent in her delivery of the falsehood, but seeing the maid’s eyes grow wide caused her to blush further, undermining her fake bravado.

Trained well, Meredith simply curtseyed once more and turned to open the top trunk without commentary, though the lack of attendant had certainly taken her by surprise.

Alice watched the maid for a few moments to make sure she handled the gowns with care—many made of silk with fine overlays and detailed beadwork—until satisfied Meredith knew her trade and would not mishandle or rumple any of the new finery.

Cheeks remaining hot, Alice turned back toward the window and tried to put on an air of indifference, ignoring the sounds of unpacking behind her. Resting her still warm face against the cool glass, she resumed her gaze out at the garden. Closer to the view this time and with her head turned, she could see a larger panoramic slice of the landscape and observed a few men working at the furthest edge of the formal garden, tearing up the ground around them.

The movement caught her eye, and soon Alice was captivated watching the man located nearest to the house raise his tool over his head, gripping it in both hands, before forcefully swinging it back down to loosen a patch of grass. As he repeated the movement, she noticed his shirt clinging to his back with the sweat of his exertion. Startled to notice that the man’s jacket had been removed, she reasoned he’d likely overheated from his labor even though it was a cool day. Through the now-sheer linen, her eyes traced the muscles across his side and back as they rippled like waves with his repetitive motion, up through the smooth arc of his raised arms, then back down to continue working the ground below him. Alice was mesmerized, soon becoming lost in the flow of his swing.

It was beautiful, the grace and ease with which he moved and the power that came through his body. After some time had passed, the man paused and pulled something from his pocket. The object glittered with a golden overtone in the afternoon light, piercing the overcast, late winter sky. The break in rhythm and momentary glare off the man’s possession brought her back to her surroundings.

Alice blushed again, realizing she had been staring for quite a few moments. Meredith was almost finished hanging her clothing in the adjoining dressing room, indicating a quarter of an hour had most likely elapsed. She quickly turned away; it was hardly proper for her to be ogling half-dressed men as they went about their work. What would the other girls back in London think of her being taken in by the sight of a common laborer?

Shaking herself back to reality, Alice was startled as Priscilla bustled into the room.

“There you are, I need your assistance.” As Priscilla seemed a bit frazzled, Alice quickly refocused, giving her cousin her full attention.

“We’re down one in the kitchen, as our cooking assistant is ill, and we’ve just had a bit of a mishap as well. Will you please run to the glasshouse and cut a few lemons? We need them for dinner, and sending Cook herself will delay getting food on the table. I’d go myself, but my hands are full finishing baskets I promised to send home with our gardeners.”

It took Alice a minute to comprehend she was being asked to do a menial task. Running a household, she understood that sometimes one must do tasks that were beneath them, but there was a limit to such requests. Priscilla’s work was related to charity and was a perfectly acceptable task for the woman of the house, but to be sent on an errand? Alice balked at the idea.

“I can tell by your face that you think it beneath you. But, darling, we all need to pitch in now and then.” With that, Priscilla turned and swept out the door, assuming Alice’s compliance.

She’d need to learn to control her expressions better if she were to be taken seriously this season. Others could read her inner thoughts too clearly. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, Alice reminded herself that she was open to doing whatever her cousin thought best—, even if that included gathering ingredients for dinner. Then she set off to find the glasshouse.

Chapter 2

Wiping his sweat-soaked brow after returning his watch to his pocket, Ethan took a minute to stand tall, elongating his back and stretching his overused muscles before returning to hacking the overgrowth in the garden. Though exhausted from his labor, he was paradoxically invigorated by the manual work. It felt wonderful to use his body and not be chained behind a desk.

The thought of completing end of the month reports for January tickled the back of his mind. Picking up his hoe, he ignored the intrusive thoughts and turned back to his men and pushed down the anxiety that was trying to insinuate itself into his present contentment. After all, why had he taken this job if not to have more freedom in the types of projects he engaged in his day-to-day work?

Beginning the rhythmic swing once again, Ethan continued tearing up the ground before him, letting his body fall into the practiced movements, allowing his mind to wander over everything that needed to be accomplished on the land. Though he had never even begun to imagine himself as an estate manager, he was happy with the turn his life had taken. Many would see his change in occupation as a step down from his work as a solicitor at his father’s practice, but Ethan never felt right in the role, cooped up inside all day and working long hours simply to protect and increase the wealth of the aristocrats they served.

The great irony, however, was that he excelled at the things that made him good at working with the law. Meticulous to a fault, Ethan was always organized and craved order. But though he felt a sense of contentment while drafting contracts and summing up accounts, he’d always itched to be out of the office and out of London. And he felt no sense of accomplishment knowing his work only served to further uplift those who already held power within the British class system.

Pausing again, Ethan gazed at the overgrown garden beds and wanted nothing more than to carve out neat rows of plants from the chaotic tumble. He was no hypocrite. Ethan realized he was still fully connected to and supporting the aristocracy by working on an estate, but he could make a difference here—improve the lives of those who depended on and farmed this land. Which is what he should be focused on rather than cleaning up the garden for the lady of the house, he thought, planting his hoe into the ground with exaggerated force.

“That’s enough for today,” he shouted to the other men who were working on clearing the lawn. The men ceased their labor and stood, breathing heavily from the physically intense work and leaving small puffs of breath before them in the chilly February air.

“Good work today,” Ethan said, clapping each man on the shoulder as they walked past to reclaim their jackets which had been discarded from the heat of work—now needed again as their sweat would soon lead to chills in the late winter temperatures. Joining them, he donned his own coat before taking the proffered water canteen from David, one of the main laborers at Hampton House.

“We should be able to finish clearing this area for the expansion tomorrow if the weather holds,” David stated as Ethan took a large draught of the water. “Once the seedlings are ready, we can get them planted within a day.”

“That was my estimation as well, and I’m more than happy to help so we can speed things along.” Ethan wanted to get the men onto other projects as soon as possible. Once the garden was started, the focus could shift to matters of more importance, like maintenance on the machinery and rebuilding fences around the grazing pastures. Being tasked with a project in which the only purpose was beauty felt frivolous when the land was not producing as it should be.

David eyed him as Ethan took one last large gulp of the cool water. “We’re always more than happy for the extra hand, but if there is other work you need to tend to, we can get on just fine.”

Ethan felt gently chastised, then thought once again of the paperwork he needed to sort through. Part of him desperately needed to finish organizing the reports and implementing his filing system to bring order to the estate. But now that he was free to be outside—doing something where he could see the physical progress—he craved the feeling of accomplishment and wanted to stay working the land, even if it was just a garden patch.

“With Matthias still occupied in the glasshouse getting the seedlings started, I’ll continue to help,” Ethan said, justifying his course of action to himself. “But then you’ll be on your own to make sure nothing dies once we’ve got it in the ground.”

Both men grinned, and David let out a chuckle. “We appreciate the help. Now, I best be off to the missus. No doubt she has something she needs me to do at home.” David put on his cap and turned toward home with a small salute.

Ethan gathered up the tools he’d been using and headed toward the storage shed. After making sure everything was in its proper place—he’d had to organize that space as well upon his arrival—he decided to check on what was happening in the glasshouse before calling it a day.

While much of the estate was in need of refurbishment—and the glasshouse was no exception—it was still a remarkable structure. Given the glass tax, it was baffling that the building had been constructed at all, but the former marquess wanted to present his wealth to the world, even if that wealth was a mirage. Purely due to pride, the glass house had been maintained as well as possible, and Ethan could see the blooms of out of season flowers as he approached.

Entering the structure, Ethan discarded his jacket once again. Matthias, the head gardener and cultivator on the estate, had already left for the day but made sure to keep the space warm for the plants. Even without the sun during the winter months, small, smoldering pots of compost were placed throughout the structure.

Rolling up his sleeves, Ethan wandered through the flowers cultivated for the main house and headed toward the back of the edifice, where Matthias had been tending the starts for the new section of garden they were clearing. It looked like the newly germinated plants would not be ready for a week or two, the pale green shoots just beginning to poke through the soil, and Ethan was glad he and the men could turn to more necessary work in the meantime.

Having thought himself quite alone, he was startled by the sound of someone else entering the glasshouse. He couldn’t see who it was from his location but assumed it was Matthias returning for something. Slowly making his way back to the entrance to get an update from the gardener, Ethan checked on the citrus trees along the way. Snapping a blossom off one of the orange trees, he crushed it in his hand before bringing it to his nose and inhaling the sweet fragrance released.

Still carrying the bruised bloom, he was surprised to see an unfamiliar young woman looking over the flowers with a critical eye. Ethan took a minute to observe her and discover just who exactly the lady was before she became aware of his presence.

She was a striking little thing; petite—there was no way she would reach past his shoulder—and her bone structure was delicate. A mass of deep red hair that was curled and braided into an artful arrangement told him she was most likely not a servant of the house, but he had no idea why anyone other than a worker would be here at this time of day.

Who on earth was this elfin creature, and what was she doing in the glasshouse of the Marquess of Hampton?

Ethan watched as she trailed dainty fingers—which had decidedly not been used for rough work—up an equally delicate stem. Brushing her fingertips across a petal, she plucked it from the flower’s head and brought it to her nose as she pinched it to release the oils. The scent of roses quickly reached him, and he marveled at how her actions so closely echoed his own from just moments before. Mesmerized, Ethan moved toward her, desperate to discover exactly who she was.

 “Is there something I can help you with, miss?” he inquired once he was only a step or two away.

She started, and a warm blush ran across her cheeks that were lightly sprinkled with freckles, overtaking her pale complexion. It was quite becoming. Turning toward Ethan, she glanced down, but not quickly enough to obscure the warm brown eyes he glimpsed underneath her long lashes.

Lifting a hand to her breastbone, she took in a deep breath, steading herself before promptly transforming into a completely different person right before his eyes.

 “You startled me,” she chastised, looking up at him. Superiority and arrogance radiated from her pursed lips. Though a good head shorter than he was and forced to tilt her head back to speak to Ethan directly, she managed her expression to appear as if she were the one looking down her nose at him.

“I need lemons for the marchioness. Please gather some for me—and quickly. I don’t wish to dally out here.”

It was amazing to Ethan how quickly her entire demeanor had altered as she issued her sharp command, souring her beautiful features and his opinion of her right along with it. What had seemed enchanting a moment ago now appeared haughty. It was the exact kind of entitled behavior he had come here to escape, and he would have none of it today.

“If it’s lemons you seek, then why are you defacing my flowers?”

Ethan saw her stiffen at his question—somehow becoming even more rigid if possible—but her cheeks colored further.

“Who are you to question me?” she bit out. “You work for the estate, do you not? Please do as you are asked.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan sighed before responding to the spoiled woman in front of him and walked back to the entryway to pick up his jacket. This was obviously a young woman who’d been raised as a lady, and the last thing he needed was for her to complain about her sensibilities being offended by his underdressed state. For he was sure she would be reporting him once he’d had his say regarding her attitude.

Swinging his limb back to find the sleeve of his coat, Ethan caught the interloper eyeing his arms. Her charming blush returned and her frame softened, but when he quirked an eyebrow at her unladylike perusal, she snapped back into her stiff posture. It struck him as unnatural, rather like a performance she was putting on to convey what she believed to be proper deportment.

“There are cutting shears just over there.” He motioned with his head while adjusting his lapels, fumbling the orange blossom he still held and dropping the crushed bloom. Her eyes followed the path of the broken flower to the floor and flared slightly as she recognized the object, perhaps noting the similarity to her own action. “If you are collecting lemons for the lady of the house, be my guest,” he said, their eyes now locked on each other. “The citrus trees are just beyond the flowers.”

Ethan had work to do, and while collecting a few lemons for the marchioness’s dinner was not a hardship and would take mere moments, he was not inclined to help a woman who believing him to be a gardener and herself superior, had treated him with such distain. She could gather the lemons herself, and god help her if she talked to another person on the estate in such an imperious manner.

The young lady’s eyes grew wide at his refusal to do her bidding, turning flinty as she narrowed them in his direction. “And just who do you think you are? Do you have any idea who I am?” she seethed. “I should report your impertinent behavior to the marchioness.”

Ethan smirked at her indignation. No, he hadn’t the faintest idea, but at this point he couldn’t care less. “You go ahead and do just that.”