Chapter One

      1745

      Baron Charles Lucas and his wife Dorothy had embraced Henrietta in her hour of need and taken her into their lives and their home with the kind of easy, unconscious goodness that was born of good breeding and a happy life.

      And now they were both dead. Along with their coachman, they had sustained fatal injuries in a carriage accident when they were travelling home from the theatre. Within the space of twenty-four hours, Henrietta was forced to grow up quickly and keep herself in control for the sake of the grieving servants. But beneath her calm exterior she endured a sickening and inevitable turmoil over the loss of the two people who had given her a sense of worth and for whom she had borne a real and unselfish love.

      She closed her eyes as the enormity of their loss made her realise how alone she was and she knew she would have to consider wisely how to make the best of her circumstances and to think about her future. After considering the advantages his niece would reap in London, including learning everything a young lady should be cognizant of, Uncle Matthew had placed her in the hands of Baron Lucas and his wife Dorothy, her mother’s dearest friend. They had been delighted to become Henrietta’s legal guardians. She was the apple of their eye, the child they had never had.

      Uncle Matthew was the only family Henrietta had. As a youth and being a scholar with much intelligence and curiosity, he had sought to quench his thirst for knowledge and had gone abroad to enrich his education. He had been gone some time. When he came home, expecting to be welcomed by his brother, he had found unexpected tragedy. Never having married and seeming to have a dislike for all society following the terrible circumstances of his adored brother’s brutal death, he’d acquired a crofter’s cottage close to Inverness and, surrounded by his precious books, become something of a recluse. Henrietta knew she could be sure of a warm welcome there.

      But maybe she wouldn’t have to leave London. Dorothy had assured her that she would be well provided for. Henrietta remembered how the dear lady, who’d insisted she call her aunt, had smiled and said that Henrietta’s mother had been a good friend to her—as close as sisters they had been—and that she honoured her memory in the best way she knew by honouring and taking care of her daughter to the best of her ability.

      Remembering this, Henrietta swallowed and set her jaw.

      Hearing carriage wheels on the gravel drive, she glanced out of the window. Her heart sank. It was dark, but she could see by the carriage lamps that her guardians’ nephew, Jeremy Lucas, had arrived at Whitegates to claim his inheritance. Followed by his wife, Claudia, he breezed through the great entrance hall and into the salon where Henrietta was sifting through some correspondence, mainly letters of condolence from friends of the elderly couple.

      The moment Jeremy entered the room with his wife flouncing after him the atmosphere thickened with tension. Tall and lanky and fashionably attired without prudence, he walked with a swagger as if he owned the world. He was a popular, much sought-after figure about town and could be charming when the occasion demanded it, but Henrietta had seen the cold, cunning heart behind the charm. He was inclined to call at the house unannounced. The last time had been the day after the accident. He hadn’t seen fit to turn up for the funeral which had been a mere twenty-four hours ago.

      Henrietta rose, smoothing down her black skirts as she turned to face him. Jeremy felt a deep resentment towards her and had never made any attempt to disguise the fact.

      ‘Jeremy! You were not expected. However, you are welcome.’

      While his mind noted the young woman’s perfunctory courtesy to him, his mind catalogued the valuables in the room. ‘I should damned well think so since it’s my house.’ His eyes gleamed overbright as he strutted like a well-preened rooster on the oriental carpet, eyeing and fingering precious heirlooms he had coveted for years.

      Henrietta’s face tightened with the effort of holding back a sarcastic rejoinder. She braced herself for what was to come, for after her dealings with this man in the past she knew it was not going to be pleasant. She glanced at Rose hovering in the doorway, a pensive look creasing her round face.

      ‘Is everything all right, Miss Brody?’ she enquired, glancing nervously at the visitors.

      ‘Yes, thank you, Rose.’

      Rose stepped back, but was not out of sight. Her faithfulness to her mistress remained as strong as the time when she had come to live with Baron Lucas and she had long ago proven her confidante in the most troubling times.

      ‘Bring us some refreshment, will you, Rose?’

      The maid bobbed a curtsy and hurried away.

      Henrietta and Jeremy Lucas were isolated enough that they could converse in private in the salon, yet the servants were still close enough that Henrietta did not feel as if she was under any threat. It was indicative of her mistrust of Jeremy that she even thought of such things—that she was actually considering herself to be in possible danger in her own home.

      ‘The servants are disrespectful,’ Jeremy informed her as he sat down heavily on a chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him, unconcealed malevolence in his pale blue eyes as they swept insolently over her. ‘But no matter. I have not come here to discuss something that can be replaced.’

      Henrietta stiffened, all her senses alert. ‘Replaced? What are you talking about?’

      ‘Servants are two a penny. Now I’ve come to take up residence, if any of them want to remain they must know their place.’

      ‘Quite right, Jeremy,’ Claudia piped up in her shrill voice. ‘You show them how you mean to go on from the start and that you’ll stand for no interference from them.’

      Henrietta looked at Jeremy’s wife. During several visits, Henrietta’s