Chapter Sixteen
February 1815—Lincolnshire, England
The winter wind rattled the windowpanes of Summerfield House as Tess Summerfield answered her older sister’s summons.
Come to the morning room immediately, her note said.
More bad news, Tess feared. It seemed lately that the only time Lorene summoned her and their youngest sister, Genna, to that parlour was to hear bad news.
The wind’s wail seemed appropriately foreboding.
The morning room on its best sunny days filled with light, but this day it seemed awash in grey. Lorene stood ominously by the fireplace. Genna sat sulkily in a nearby chair.
‘What is it, Lorene?’ Tess asked.
Lorene had been acting oddly lately, leaving the house on unexplained errands and remaining away for hours.
Their father’s sudden death two months ago had seemed the worst of circumstances, but shortly afterwards they’d also discovered that he’d depleted their dowries before he died. Next, the distant cousin who was to inherit their father’s title and property made it very clear he had no intention of providing for them. After all, everyone believed the scandalous Summerfield sisters were really not Summerfields at all. Rumour always had it that each had been sired by a different lover.
Before their mother ran off with one, that was.
This heir to their father’s baronetcy also made it clear he wished to take possession of the entailed property as soon as possible and that meant the sisters must vacate the house, their home for all their lives.
What more could happen to them?
‘Please sit,’ Lorene said, her lovely face lined with stress.
Tess exchanged a glance with Genna and sat as instructed.
Lorene paced in front of them. ‘I know we all have been worried over what would become of us—’
Worry was too mild a term. Tess expected they would be split apart, forced to take positions as governesses or lady’s companions, if they should be so lucky as to find such positions, given the family’s reputation.
‘I—I have come upon a solution.’ Lorene sent them each a worried look.
If it was a solution, why did she appear so worried? ‘What is it, Lorene?’
Lorene wrung her hands. ‘I—I discovered a way to restore your dowries. A way to make you eligible again.’
It would take a sizeable dowry to erase the scandal that had dogged them their whole lives. If their mother’s abandonment were not enough, there was also their father’s scandal. Even before their mother left, he’d brought his bastard son home to rear. Of course, Tess and her sisters loved Edmund; he was their brother, after all, even if his presence generated more talk.
‘What nonsense,’ Genna grumbled. ‘Nothing makes us eligible. Our mother had too many lovers. That is why we look nothing alike.’
That was not entirely true. They all had high foreheads and thin faces, even if Lorene was dark-haired with brown eyes, Genna was blue-eyed and blonde, and Tess was somewhere in between, with chestnut hair and hazel eyes.
Like their mother, Tess was told, although she did not remember precisely what her mother looked like.
A thought occurred to her. ‘Lorene, do not say that you found our mother. Is she restoring our dowries?’
Tess had been only nine when their mother left.
Lorene looked surprised. ‘Our mother? No. No. That is not it.’
‘What is it, then?’ Genna asked testily.
Lorene stopped pacing and faced them both. ‘I have married.’
‘Married!’ Tess rose from her chair. ‘Married!’
‘You cannot have married,’ Genna protested. ‘There were no bans.’
‘It was by special licence.’
No. Impossible! Lorene would never have kept such a big secret from Tess. They shared every confidence—almost.
‘Who?’ she asked, trying not to feel hurt.
Lorene’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Lord Tinmore.’
‘Lord Tinmore?’ Tess and Genna exclaimed in unison.
‘The recluse?’ Tess asked.
Since the deaths of his wife and son years before, Lord Tinmore had secluded himself on his nearby estate in Lincolnshire, not too distant from their village of Yardney. Tess could not think of a time Lorene could have met the man, let alone be courted by him. No one saw Lord Tinmore.
‘He must be eighty years old!’ cried Genna.
Lorene lifted her chin. ‘He is only seventy-six.’
‘Seventy-six. So much better.’ Genna spoke with sarcasm.
Her adored older sister married to an ancient recluse? This was too much to bear. ‘Why, Lorene? Why would you do such a thing?’
Lorene’s eyes flashed. ‘I did it for you, Tess. For both of you. Lord Tinmore promised to provide you with dowries and host you for a Season in London. He will even send Edmund the funds to purchase an advancement in the army and the means to support its expenses. He is a fine man.’
She married this man so they could have dowries? And Edmund, advancement?
‘I never asked you for a dowry,’ Genna said. ‘And Edmund can earn advancement on his own.’
‘You know he cannot, now that the war is over,’ Lorene shot back. ‘He does not have enough
