“You have until the morning after tomorrow.”
Felix stared at his employer’s still-downcast head and swallowed, feeling rather like that Hercules fellow must have on first seeing the Augean stables. “Yes, my lord.”
EDWARD DE RAAF, the fifth Earl of Swartingham, finished reading the report from his North Yorkshire estate and tossed it onto the pile of papers, along with his spectacles. The light from the window was fading fast and soon would be gone. He rose from his chair and went to look out. The dog got up, stretched, and padded over to stand beside him, bumping at his hand. Edward absently stroked its ears.
This was the second secretary to decamp in the dark of night in so many months. One would think he was a dragon. Every single secretary had been more mouse than man. Show a little temper, a raised voice, and they scurried away. If even one of his secretaries had half the pluck of the woman he had nearly run down yesterday… His lips twitched. He hadn’t missed her sarcastic reply to his demand of why she was in the road. No, that madam stood her ground when he blew his fire at her. A pity his secretaries couldn’t do the same.
He glowered out the dark window. And then there was this other nagging… disturbance. His boyhood home was not as he remembered it.
True, he was a man now. When he had last seen Ravenhill Abbey, he’d been a stripling youth mourning the loss of his family. In the intervening two decades, he had wandered from his northern estates to his London town house, but somehow, despite the time, those two places had never felt like home. He had stayed away precisely because the Abbey would never be the same as when his family had lived here. He’d expected some change. But he’d not been prepared for this dreariness. Nor the awful sense of loneliness. The very emptiness of the rooms defeated him, mocking him with the laughter and light that he remembered.
The family that he remembered.
The only reason he persisted in opening up the mansion was because he hoped to bring his new bride here—his prospective new bride, pending the successful negotiation of the marital contract. He wasn’t going to repeat the mistakes of his first, short marriage and attempt to settle elsewhere. Back then, he’d tried to make his young wife happy by remaining in her native Yorkshire. It hadn’t worked. In the years since his wife’s untimely death, he’d come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t have been happy anywhere they’d chosen to make their home.
Edward pushed away from the window and strode toward the library doors. He would start as he meant to; go on and live at the Abbey; make it a home again. It was the seat of his earldom and where he meant to replant his family tree. And when the marriage bore fruit, when the halls once again rang with children’s laughter, surely then Ravenhill Abbey would feel alive again.
Chapter Two
Now, all three of the duke’s daughters were equally fair. The eldest had hair of deepest pitch that shone with blue-black lights; the second had fiery locks that framed a milky-white complexion; and the youngest was golden, both of face and form, so that she seemed bathed in sunlight. But of these three maidens, only the youngest was blessed with her father’s kindness. Her name was Aurea….
—from The Raven Prince
Who would have guessed that there was such a paucity of jobs for genteel ladies in Little Battleford? Anna had known that it wouldn’t be easy to find a position when she left the cottage this morning, but she’d started with some hope. All she required was a family with illiterate children needing a governess or an elderly lady in want of a wool-winder. Surely this was not too much to expect?
Evidently it was.
It was midafternoon now. Her feet ached from trudging up and down muddy lanes, and she didn’t have a position. Old Mrs. Lester had no love of literature. Her son-in-law was too parsimonious to hire a companion in any case. Anna called round on several other ladies, hinting that she might be open to a position, only to find they either could not afford a companion or simply did not want one.
Then she’d come to Felicity Clearwater’s home.
Felicity was the third wife of Squire Clearwater, a man some thirty years older than his bride. The squire was the largest landowner in the county besides the Earl of Swartingham. As his wife, Felicity clearly considered herself the preeminent social figure in Little Battleford and rather above the humble Wren household. But Felicity had two girls of a suitable age for a governess, so Anna had called on her. She’d spent an excruciating half hour feeling her way like a cat walking on sharp pebbles. When Felicity had caught on to Anna’s reason for visiting, she’d smoothed a pampered hand over her already immaculate coiffure. Then she’d sweetly enquired about Anna’s musical knowledge.
The vicarage had never run to a harpsichord when Anna’s family had occupied it. A fact Felicity knew very well, since she’d called there on several occasions as a girl.
Anna had taken a deep breath. “I’m afraid I don’t have any musical ability, but I do have a bit of Latin and Greek.”
Felicity had flicked open a fan and tittered behind it. “Oh, I do apologize,” she’d said when she’d recovered. “But my girls will not be learning anything so masculine as Latin or Greek. It’s rather unbecoming in a lady, don’t you think?”
Anna had grit her teeth, but managed a smile. Until Felicity had suggested she try the kitchen to see if Cook needed a new scullery maid. Things had gone downhill from there.
Anna sighed now. She might very well end up a scullery maid or worse, but not at Felicity’s house. Time to head home.
Rounding the corner at the ironmonger’s, she just managed to avoid a collision with Mr. Felix Hopple hurrying in the other direction. She skidded to a halt inches shy of the Ravenhill steward’s chest. A packet of needles, some yellow embroidery floss, and a small bag of tea for Mother Wren slid to the ground from her basket.
“Oh, do excuse me, Mrs. Wren,” the little man gasped as he bent to retrieve the items. “I’m afraid I was not minding where my feet carried me.”
“That’s quite all right.” Anna eyed the violet and crimson striped waistcoat he wore and blinked. Good Lord. “I hear the earl is finally in residence at Ravenhill. You must be quite busy.”
The village gossips were all abuzz at the mysterious earl’s reappearance in the neighborhood after so many years, and Anna was just as curious as everyone else. In fact, she was beginning to wonder about the identity of the ugly gentleman who had so nearly run her down the day before….