a coup for a girl as plain as you. But, oh, no! He was not good enough for Lady Jane. I begged you to accept him but, as ever, Lady Jane knows best! And since then, nary a sniff of a suitor until Sir Denzil. You are such a stubborn gel. I’ve always said so.’
It was hot in the carriage, with the family all squashed in together, and Lady Stowford, her face the shade of a beetroot following her outburst, collapsed back against the squabs, fanning herself furiously. Jane turned away, the all-too-familiar pain curling through her. It was so familiar she barely noticed it any more. The pain of unrequited love.
Ha! How naive had she been? In March 1813, the Beauchamp family had attended Olivia’s wedding to Lord Hugo Alastair at the Abbey before all heading to London for the Season. It was Jane’s debut year and she’d had such high hopes, certain Alex would finally see her as a young lady and not simply the annoying little neighbour who had dogged his footsteps throughout his boyhood.
He was two years her senior and her childhood hero. He’d taught her to ride and she’d willingly followed him into all sorts of adventures, often ending in trouble of one sort or another. But Alex always protected her from the worst of the blame and she’d marvelled at his bravery in the face of his father’s formidable wrath.
But at the start of her first Season all her hopes crashed to the ground. London Alex treated her exactly as Devonshire Alex had always treated her—like another little sister. Her hero-worship of Alex might have matured over the years into love, but Alex clearly didn’t see her in that way and who could blame him? His reputation as a skilled lover was legendary and unhappily married ladies of the ton vied for his attention. Why would he ever be interested in a plain, dull female like good old Janey?
Despite that inauspicious start, her love for him—buoyed by her blind hope that, one day, he would open his eyes and recognise her as his soulmate—had persisted and she had stubbornly refused Mr Romsley’s offer, for how could she make her vows to another man when her heart belonged to Alex?
She had lived to regret her decision because she’d received no further offers in the intervening years and Alex had not returned to Devonshire since. The only time she saw him was in London during the Season each year and now she accepted he would never see her as anything other than his old playmate. Now, she would willingly marry. She longed to have her own household to run and to escape Stepmama and her constant barrage of criticism. But that would never be with Sir Denzil Pikeford. In his late thirties, he drank too much, his teeth were rotting, his manners were appalling and his conversation consisted mainly of boasting of his hunting exploits.
Even Stepmama was preferable to a lifetime with that.
The carriage drew to a halt. Jane looked up at the honeyed stone walls of the old Abbey… It had been like a second home to her throughout her childhood and the memories flooded back…happy childhood memories…
Grantham, the Duke’s haughty butler, showed them straight through the huge hall and out to the extensive lawns at the rear of the Abbey, where a footman offered them glasses of punch or lemonade. There must have been fifty guests there already and Jane recognised many faces as her gaze swept the crowd, seeking…
Her heart leapt, then beat a tattoo in her chest. She might have accepted her love would remain unrequited for ever, but still she could not deny it.
Lord Alexander Beauchamp—tall, broad-shouldered and impossibly handsome, with those strong Beauchamp features shared by all the men of the family: the strong jaw, aquiline nose, lean cheeks, beautifully sculptured mouth and arresting eyes under straight, dark brows. He stood with his older brother Dominic, Lord Avon, slightly apart from the crowd, and Jane recognised that Dominic was attempting to pacify his fiery-tempered brother.
They looked so alike, other than their colouring: Dominic shared the black hair and silvery-grey eyes of the Duke—as did Olivia—whereas Alex had the thick mahogany-brown hair and amber eyes of his late mother. In temperament, however, they were opposite. Dominic had always been the dutiful, responsible son. Alex had, for as long as Jane could remember, rebelled against his father—one of the reasons he hadn’t been back to the Abbey for so long. The other, Jane knew, was the painful memory that haunted him whenever he returned…the memory of the day he’d found his mother’s dead body in the summer house by the lake.
Alex had never spoken to Jane about that day—he’d been seven years old and he hadn’t spoken at all for a year afterwards—but Olivia had long ago told Jane all about it and about the nightmares Alex suffered. Jane’s young, tender heart had gone out to him, but she had never been able to penetrate the barriers behind which he retreated whenever anyone ventured too close to his memories of that day, or to his feelings about what had happened.
He kept everyone—family included—at arm’s length.
While Dominic talked, Alex’s restless gaze swept the crowd and Jane felt the physical jolt when his amber eyes—tiger’s eyes, Dominic always called them—alighted on her. He grinned and beckoned her over. A blush heated her cheeks as she walked towards him and she schooled her expression, always afraid her feelings for him would shine from her eyes. A girl had to have some pride.
‘Janey! How lovely to see you! You still game for a swim in the lake like we used to?’
‘Alex!’ Dominic hissed. ‘For God’s sake, think before you speak, will you? Would you say such a thing to any other young lady of your acquaintance?’
‘I’d say it to Livvy.’ Alex winked at Jane. ‘Janey’s just like one of us…she doesn’t care about standing on ceremony, do you, Janey?’
Jane shook her head, stretching her lips in a smile. Defeat spread through her, settling like a lead weight in her stomach. There was the proof, as if she needed it, that Alex would never view her as anything other than his old childhood playmate.
‘Of course I don’t mind. After all, if I’m not accustomed to your teasing ways by now, Alex, I never shall be.’
Alex grinned again. ‘There! What did I tell you, Dom?’ He slung his arm around her shoulders and hugged her briefly into his side. ‘How’s the old witch?’
Dominic rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘Jane—please try to stop my reprehensible brother from upsetting anyone else. He’s already enraged Lord Wagstaff by ripping up at him over the state of his horses and I really must go and see if Liberty needs help…she’s been gone a long time.’
Liberty was Dominic’s new bride—they had met earlier that year in London, fallen in love and married, despite Liberty not being the perfect society lady Dominic planned to wed. Jane had met her in London, where they had married in June, and thought she was, in fact, the perfect match for Dominic, helping him to take life, and himself, a little less seriously.
‘Is there something amiss?’ Jane wondered why Liberty might need help.
‘That dog of hers,’ said Dominic. ‘Never have I known such a mischief-maker. He cannot keep his nose out of trouble for more than five minutes.’
‘Romeo?’ Liberty had rescued the dog as a stray in London earlier that year.
Dominic nodded. ‘He sneaked into the kitchens again, knocked over a cream jug and helped himself to a crock of butter, just when the servants are run off their feet with preparations for today. Liberty’s gone to catch him and shut him away. Why she insisted on bringing him here I’ll never know!’
‘You can’t fool us,
