Chapter One

      Generva Marsh gave the kitchen a final sweep and sighed in resignation. It was not her job to be keeping her own house. Mrs Jordan, the housekeeper, would disapprove of her meddling. But Mrs Jordan was above stairs, transfixed by the wailing and lamentations coming from Gwendolyn’s bedroom. Generva had been more than happy to abdicate that role. The girl had cried nonstop since Sunday, and the sound preyed upon her nerves.

      Perhaps it was unmotherly to admit such a lack of sympathy for one’s only daughter. Perhaps the ladylike response to the chaos surrounding them was to have a fit of vapours. She should shut herself up in a bedchamber, as Gwen was doing, and turn the whole house upside down. But it was still a damned nuisance. It might be mortifying when one’s gentleman proved himself to be no gentleman at all. But when it happened before the wedding and not after, it was cause for celebration and not tears. It would have been far worse had they married.

      Perhaps it was her own, dear, John who had given Generva such an annoyingly sensible attitude. When one was the widow of a ship’s captain, one learned to sail on through adversity and live each day prepared for the worst. When she had lost him, she had cried for a day as if her heart would break. Then she had looked at her two children and dried her tears so she could wipe theirs.

      Now she must do so again, for one child, at least. Little Benjamin did not need her help. When he had heard the news he had declared it good riddance, stolen one of the mince pies she’d set aside for the wedding breakfast and disappeared