Louisa, Duchess of Osbourne, swept her hat from her hair with an easy, careless gesture. The thick, white blond hair was nearly blown free from its confines anyway. It was a glorious day! The sun was warm, the breeze light and teasing on her cheek.

Her horse danced restlessly beneath her and she patted the Arabian's neck. "I know you, Nostradamus," she told him caressingly. "Never enough, is there? You could run on forever." She gazed out over the open rolling hills, green as emerald, kissed by dew. "I could too, you know. But there is work to do."

Nostradamus snorted and pawed at the ground, letting her know what he thought of the notion.

A gray gelding cantered slowly back to them, its rider less than steady in his saddle. "Is there a problem, Your Grace?"

"No." She patted Nostradamus’ glossy mane once more then looked up at her steward and smiled. "Let's continue on."

Will Sheldon, already Her Grace's adoring servant after only two weeks in her employ, blushed to the roots of his carrot red hair. He could see he must strive to become a better horseman. He pushed his spectacles back on his nose then struck out after her, throwing caution to the winds.

Horses had always been his secret fear. Louisa, for that was how he thought of her, would hear the estate details out-of-doors and on horseback, whenever possible. Thus, he must learn not to be afraid, for her sake. It hadn't taken him that long to realize that he wished she would once look at him like she did that monster horse of hers! Nostradamus was a frightening brute in his opinion. Certainly not a fit mount for a Duchess! But then the Duke was dead and there was no man to tell her nay to anything she decided to do

Why she hadn't married after the Duke's death five years ago was a major source of speculation at Osbourne Park. She was wealthy. Young. Beautiful. Certainly desirable! Men wanted her. Suitors were as regular as clockwork around the estate. They were on her like Ulysses’ chiefs on Penelope! He believed the men of the aristocracy must not have their wits about them or they would see this wasn’t the way to proceed with Louisa.

"Mr. Sheldon?"

Will Sheldon's head bobbed up like an apple in a barrel. He was momentarily taken away by his thoughts. He brought them abruptly back to the woman at his side. "That is all there is for today, Your Grace," he told her in his usual serious manner. He brought his thoughts and his mount up to par.

The two horses walked sedately together along the path between the trees. From there, only the tile roof of Osbourne was visible along the landscape. Two-hundred-year- old oaks surrounded the house like a fortress.

"Oh, never say so, Mr. Sheldon," she replied quickly. "Are we to return to that stuffy house so soon?"

He gulped hard. His eyes were apologetic when they returned to her face. He was not sure what to say. He looked down at the list he'd brought with him. Rents. Repairs. Crops being planted. Drainage. He supposed he could make up some matter of business.

Louisa laughed. "I am only teasing you, Mr. Sheldon. I am certain to be late anyway. We leave for London on the morrow. No doubt something vital is to be done."

Sheldon cleared his throat and found his voice. "Will you be gone long, Your Grace?"

Louisa frowned. "A difficult question, Mr. Sheldon. I hope not to be gone the entire Season but we will have to do what is necessary to find Beth a husband she can tolerate."

That was not news. Everyone in The Park knew they were going and they all knew it was because of bad blood between Her Grace and her brother's wife.

"I understand, Your Grace. A pity the problem could not have been dealt with in a less distracting fashion."

"Ah, but Beth's Mama will have her pound of flesh, Mr. Sheldon. So we had best be up to it. I shall race you back to the house."

Will knew that no power on earth would send him hurtling after his employer. He took his own time with his animal and his thoughts. He shook his head as he watched her skirts flying. The Duchess was an Original.

Louisa was too caught up in her own thoughts to pay attention to her young steward’s riding habits. He seemed to be a good man of business. Even if he was a trifle serious. She was possessed that morning by thoughts of leaving Osbourne. She had only visited London once in her life. It had been an unqualified disaster. She wished she could avoid it now.

She sighed, knowing she could not. Beth's Mama had insisted on her daughter marrying a Viscount old enough to be her father to help settle her own accounts. The young girl had flown to her aunt’s protection rather than marry the lout her mother proposed.

Louisa had promised to give Beth a Season where she would have her pick of titled gentlemen. She wouldn’t stand for her brother’s only child being abused in that fashion. Her brother, Michael, couldn’t be there to protect her. That left Louisa.

That didn’t bear thinking of, she decided, roughly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Her brother had been missing since the last battle on the Peninsula. They had yet to find him. Louisa prayed every morning for his safe recovery. She refused to believe that he would not return to them. She listened attentively to every tale about lost brothers and fathers found unexpectedly. But in the meantime, she had to protect her niece!

Everyone at the Estate knew they were bound for London for the Season. What they didn't know was that money had changed hands as well to secure her niece’s future. Louisa had gladly paid her sister-in-laws' debts to keep her from dragging Beth into a loveless marriage. But she knew Beth's mother. Alice would not be satisfied. The woman went through money like water through a sieve! Louisa knew she must take Beth’s away from her greedy Mama.

No one would know what leaving the estate cost her personally. Louisa frowned, as the stable yard came into view. London was a place she had not thought to see again. She was happy at Osbourne. There was nothing the city could offer her. To think of leaving was nearly more than she could bear. But she had promised Beth, she considered, bringing an unsatisfied Nostradamus from a heavy gallop down to a sedate trot as they reached the stable. She would not let her brother's child down.

"Lose Mr. Sheldon again, have ye?"

Louisa looked behind her, slipping from Nostradamus' back while Ben held his head. "It would seem so. But he is coming along quite nicely. I expect by the end of the summer, he'll be riding as though born to it."

Ben Roberts grimaced as he watched the stocky, ginger-haired man coming towards them, half on, half off his saddle. "If ye say so, Yer Grace."

"Ben." She lowered her voice so that the others starting to mill around them couldn't hear. "You have known me all my life. Why must you persist in calling me by my title? You have called me names my mother would have blushed to hear before my father died."

She stared at the homely man who had been with her for as long as she could recall. Where he had come from or how old he was, she truly did not know. Ben was enigmatic, sharing only what he had to and keeping the rest behind the mask of his weather-beaten face.

"As I told ye before, Yer Grace. I'll give respect where it's due."

The two glared at each other. Ben's wizened squint won, as it always did. There was a scar that ran from his left eye to his hairline that made her think of where he had been and things that he had done. He had a way of using it to his advantage, making it turn white against his brown face, making her squirm. She had tried as an adult to outlast it, but it worked as well as it had when she was twelve.

Louisa turned away from him, glancing to where Mr. Sheldon was attempting to dismount with the aid of a stable hand.

"Although, I’ll say ye don't look too proper right now," Ben added and as she turned around quickly. "Yer Grace."

True, the ancient brown riding skirt had seen better days, she considered. Her green jacket was stained with mud from the field they'd walked through while it was being seeded. Her hair was no longer pushed under the sedate brown hat she'd started out with earlier that day.

She often forgot about her appearance when she was riding about the estate. A simple luxury she wouldn’t be able to afford in the city and yet another reason her spirit ached not to leave.

She curtsied low to the older man who'd taught her to ride when she could barely walk. "Perhaps you should call me something more suitable then, since I do not meet with your exacting specifications."

Ben spat down into the dirt as she spun away. Too much learnin'. Specications, indeed! And folks wondered why the chit didn't marry!

"Are you all right, Mr. Sheldon?" Louisa asked, coming to her steward’s side as she helped him steady himself on his feet.

"What? Oh, yes. Yes." He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. His face was nearly as red as his hair.

"I am relying on you while I am gone. I am persuaded that you will do an excellent job."

"Yes, Your Grace." He stumbled as they walked towards the house. She righted him. "Everything will be as it should be. Have no thought about it being otherwise. You can place your trust in me.”

"And you will continue your riding lessons," she reminded him, brushing a leaf and twig from his gray jacket.

"Of-of course," he agreed. Her hand on his arm made his stomach shoot up into his throat.

"I trust you implicitly." Louisa smiled up into his politely affable face. "I am going to call you Will when we are alone. Is that agreeable?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And you will call me Louisa."

"Of course, Your-er-Louisa." He swallowed hard. He already thought of her in too many, too-familiar ways. She was very personable. Far too personable.

"Thank you, Will. If you will get those accounts ready for me, I shall be down to sign them later."

"Yes, Your-er-Louisa."

He couldn't understand why she'd picked him to be her secretary but he knew he'd have his throat torn out before he'd make her sorry. He had never had a position of trust quite like this one. Well, he’d never actually had a position at all before this one but that was not the point. Her Grace, the Duchess of Osbourne, was very relaxed in her manner. It was no wonder that his predecessor had taken advantage of it. But surely only a scoundrel would take advantage of such a lady! He knew he would never--

Louisa stopped abruptly as they followed the mellowed stone walkway to the sunlit house. Her eyes rested lovingly on the sturdy walls and sloping roof, following the deep bed of red tulips to the curve of the drive.

Mr. Sheldon nearly fell over her. He put out his hands to catch himself and touched her arm. She offered him her hand in assistance. He took it in his own as though it were made of rice paper. She was so delicate, like a flower herself, and yet so competent.

Louisa groaned as she recognized the bright yellow curricle in the drive, a nondescript horse tied to the post before it.

"Something wrong, Your Grace?" Will asked, instantly frowning when she looked up at him. "I mean, Louisa."

"I suppose not." She sighed. "You’ll have to meet him sooner or later, Will. My cousin, Andrew. He hasn't been here since, well, since I dismissed Mr. Beatty."

Dismissed was a gentle word for that unfortunate occurrence. Will knew the story already. How the Duchess had caught her previous man of business stealing from her tenants. And how he had possessed the temerity to blame a young man from one of the farms for his misdeeds.

When she'd found him whipping the lad, the Duchess had ridden down on him with hellfire in her eyes, or so one of the grooms related the story. She had used her own riding crop on the man, thrashing him twice before he would give up on the boy. Beatty had come after her, snatching the crop from her hand but he had been subdued by Ben Roberts. It was still the talk of the estate three months later.

Louisa, much to her neighbors’ and employee's chagrin, had refused to press charges against the man saying that it was enough to turn him away without reference. Will Sheldon could not agree. He would have insisted that the Duchess hand the man over to the proper authorities. But he wasn’t in a position to disagree since he hadn’t been there.

He kept his own council and stared at the yellow racing curricle in the drive. The entire family was colorful, to say the least.

"Andrew is rather like Uncle Bertie," Louisa told him slowly as they resumed their forward pace towards the house.

A relative that lived off the estate, Will translated the information. Another of the hangers-on that the late Duke had left his young daughter. Much the same way as the furniture and the fountain in the garden. The estate was one of the wealthiest in England yet it was entailed in its own way. The Duchess had been left with great responsibilities. Mainly, a family of parasites who continuously plied her for monies.

Several pairs of interested eyes watched them from within the confines of the house, barely pushing aside a rich, velvet hanging to see without being seen.

"She needs to be married, by Gad." Uncle Bertie emphasized the thought by tapping his heavy cane on the floor. The effect was somewhat dampened by the thick Axminster carpet underfoot but not entirely lost on his companion.

"Picked a young 'un this time," Uncle Reggie observed.

Uncle Bertie snorted. "After that Beatty Affair, she should have been picking out a husband and having babies."

"What are you two old codgers up to?" A younger man joined them at the window. "Oh. So there she is."

"With her steward. Look at her hair! Looks like Medusa!"

Andrew Drayton, Marquess of Osbourne, considered his cousin’s appearance. She was slender but almost too tall. She moved gracefully and had a well-turned ankle. Her pale hair reminded him of champagne, a rare shade. The color of moonlight. There was a hint of roses in her lips and cheeks from the fast ride home and her eyes were a misty blue. A face and form to write sonnets about! A sweet voice and a fortune to boot! What man could want more?

But she was a cold, hard woman. He knew that from experience. Watching her come towards him might have aroused him had he been another man, and she, another woman. The sight of her made him shudder at the battle that was to come. But if she had thought to see him beg for the money that was rightfully his, she was going to be disappointed!

Another man sat at his ease in a corner of the room and watched them all, listening to their words. The Marquess hadn't noticed him, as he'd come slamming into the house a few moments before. The Uncles had been too intent on their feminine prey. So, Devon, Lord Stanton, waited where the butler had left him, without making his presence known. It was a new experience for him to be ignored. Usually, he was a man of notice.

The butler had looked at him with disdain as well. Another unusual occurrence. He would have to remember to have his valet cast his clothing into the fire. Obviously, he was not dressed as well as he had thought that morning. To be looked down on by a country butler and ignored by three hayseeds was too much, indeed, for his vanity!

Lord Stanton heard a commotion at the front door and watched as the three other men in the room took their places as though they hadn’t noticed the mistress’ approach. An interesting household.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace." Gervis greeted her at the door, taking her dirty jacket and gloves in one hand, her hat in the other.

"It was." She sighed at her reflection in the gilded mirror behind the large bouquet of daffodils. She could be thankful it was only Andrew. She looked like a gypsy with her hair blown so wildly and no time to repair it before the battle her cousin represented. "Where is he?"

"In the front parlor, Your Grace. Shall I have refreshments served?" Gervis only glanced once at her less than dignified appearance but his eyes spoke volumes. He had never approved of the Duchess, despite the fact that he respected her abilities to run the estate. Even that was a dual edged regard since he did not believe that a woman should do more than be decorative. He had expressed his opinion more than once to the cook and the housekeeper.

"Yes, please, Gervis." She was looking at Will but she still felt the butler's disapproving visage. She had learned to disregard it. "You might as well join us. It won't be pleasant but you need to get adjusted. Andrew still has a few months until he reaches his majority.”

All three men had moved away from the window by the time the door opened. Uncle Bertie sat at his usual spot across from Uncle Reggie, draughts between them. Neither looked up at her entrance. It was always the same.

"Good afternoon, Andrew." Louisa spoke first, determined to try to be civil, though she knew well enough what lay ahead.

"Good afternoon?" Andrew laughed, pacing the floor. "Is that what you call it?"

Louisa drew a deep breath and glanced at Will Sheldon before she faced her cousin. "All right, Andrew. What is it this time?"

"You know bloody well what it is, Louisa!"

A collective gasp went up from the Uncles who were supposedly engrossed in their game. Their eyes, however, never left the board.

"About the debts--"

"About the debts," he agreed. "Those are a Gentleman's Debts of Honor. You cannot refuse to pay them!"

"Until you are five and twenty and in possession of the title and your portion of the estate, I can and will refuse any and all debts that are extravagant and extreme."

He glared at her. "What is it you want me to do with my time while I wait to reach my majority, Cousin? Stay in the house and read? Or perhaps learn to sew? Would that suit your purpose?"

"I have no purpose, Andrew. Except to keep you from making an even bigger fool of yourself than you have already!"

The two faced each other defiantly across the room. Their words were rapiers, attempting to draw blood. Another gasp went up. Will shifted uneasily.

Gervis served tea during the silence that followed in the pleasant room with its sky blue draperies and deeper blue carpets and furniture. It was a room for light conversation and easy companionship. A room the late Duke had loved for its sense of peace, particularly during his long illness.

"Sit down, Andrew," Louisa requested. Gervis set the tea set before her on the rosewood table. "Perhaps we can find a course of action that will suit both of us."

She watched him. His thoughts flickered across his handsome young face. He possessed the Osbourne looks and temper in abundance. She always faced him calmly, despite his tantrums. He was dressed in the height of fashion, as always. His boots caught the light, polished to almost a mirror finish. The cut and cloth of his breeches and coat were excellent. She knew they cost a pretty penny since she was the one to pay the bootmaker’s bill for them.

"I cannot believe a relative of mine so imbecilic as to put a woman in charge of the family's fortune." His voice was low and angry. "I want you to know I have appealed to Uncle Forrest for help."

"That's fine, Andrew. Though I cannot imagine what good you think that will do."

His shoulders were straight beneath the dark coat. He squared his chin. "I knew it would be a waste of time to appeal to you personally. You never understand.”

"Not quite," Louisa said, seating herself at the table. She poured a cup of tea for herself and Will Sheldon into fine Sevres china. "I shall pay these last debts. I was hoping you would come to visit since I have a proposition to put to you."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, his gray eyes hard but hopeful.

"I mean that I intend to increase your allowance, Andrew. Perhaps I should have done so earlier. However--" She looked up at him. He kept himself from flinching at the ice in her eyes only by practice. "I will not countenance any more gaming for high stakes. I do not care one whit if you have to leave the country until you come of age. Send me another debt for that much and I will turn it back to you. I hope you understand?"

"Certainly, Cousin." He was relieved but would not have shown her that emotion if it had meant his entire fortune. "I must say that I am pleasantly surprised by your change of heart.”

Despite himself, Andrew had to admit that the room was a perfect foil for her. She was like a rare jewel set in its case. Beautiful and untouchable. He was certain he could have been quite besotted if she had not been the most vile witch he had ever chanced to encounter.

“You are less than a year away from managing your own accounts,” she reminded him sensibly. “If you can learn now to manage them wisely, you can add to your fortune rather than lose everything.”

He nodded, barely interested in her sage advice. “Thank you, Louisa. I will attempt to be wise.

“Will you stay for tea?” she asked quietly.

“No, thank you. I have other, more pressing business, in the city.”

"As you will," she acknowledged, refusing to notice that her hands trembled ever so slightly. The other pairs of eyes were not so blind.

The door closed quietly behind Andrew. A crystal vase of pink roses shook slightly in the draft that he created. Louisa dared to take a deep breath. Her shoulders sagged a little in relief.

"An unpleasant young man." Uncle Bertie spoke suddenly into the silence that followed.

"In my day," Uncle Reggie began, reaching for his tea and cake, "one would not have spoken to any relation in that manner. Even though the circumstances are . . . unfortunate.”

It was at that moment that Louisa noticed the man in the corner near the door. He was getting to his feet as she started to her own. His gaze caught hers and didn’t move away.

"Oh dear," she began, feeling a hot blush come up on her cheeks. "I am afraid we have aired our dirty linen in public. You must be Lord Stanton?"

"I suppose I must," he agreed with a smile tracing its way across his lips as he moved towards her. "Your Grace."

She looked down at the back of his head as he touched his lips to her hand. Instinct told her to snatch that member back as she felt his touch. Instead she could only marvel at the way the sun had kissed his otherwise dark hair, golden streaks highlighting the thick strands. When he lifted his head, she looked into his eyes. They were hazel, slightly more green than brown, fringed by incredibly long black lashes. His face was striking but also showed signs of humor with its wide smile and the tiny lines that fanned out from his eyes.

“It has been a very long time,” she managed.

“Since we were children,” he agreed. “May I say how kind the years have been to you?”

Louisa looked away uncomfortably. "I hope you will accept my apology, my lord. I had no idea that you were there." She was suddenly unsure where to place her gaze. Her eyes found his lean, tanned fingers. There was a distinctive signet ring on his left hand. She recognized it as his family crest.

"No apology needed, Your Grace. It was unfortunate, but I can assure you that I was napping the entire occasion and heard nothing. It is I who most apologize for not attending the conversation. The fatigue from the long ride, you know.”

It was a polite reply but then, she expected no less. Of course, he had heard it all, but there was little to be done about it. She glanced up into his expressive face and caught the edge of laughter lurking there.

Will Sheldon came up, deliberately obtrusive beside them.

"My steward, Mr. Sheldon," she introduced the two men. Uncle Bertie cleared his throat and Louisa smiled. "Lord Stanton; my uncles. Uncle Bertie, Uncle Reggie, Lord Stanton. He is here to pick up a few of Father’s books for a collection of books for the poor.”

"You look familiar." Uncle Bertie appraised Lord Stanton’s face, his fingers restlessly plucking at the gray tweed of his jacket. “But it’s been too long.”

Devon smiled in good humor. "It is always surprising how many people tell one that," he replied calmly. "Just yesterday, a woman told me how very much I resemble the Prince."

They laughed at that and the moment passed. Uncle Reggie claimed Uncle Bertie's attention on the game again. He had already forgotten that they were supposed to be listening to the conversation and was involved with winning.

"Would you care for tea, my lord?" Louisa asked, feeling the drab in her suddenly rustic skirt and white silk blouse that had seen a few too many washings. Now she wished she had taken the time to change and freshen up after her ride. She no doubt smelled of horses and wet dirt.

His gaze went over her lightly but was disconcertingly thorough. "Nothing would please me more, Your Grace. However, I am sadly late for another appointment. I did not know if you would be at home for me to speak to. If we could--”

"Of course!" She moved around from the table. "I must apologize for keeping you waiting as well. The day was so unusually clear, I’m afraid I lost myself in it.”

She smiled up into his face and he found himself unable to look away for just an instant. Her eyes were as astonishingly clear as the day she had just described. Her lovely face was turned up to him. Without thought, he took a step closer to her.

Will Sheldon eyed the engrossed couple narrowly. While he had not liked the younger nephew, there was something he disliked even more about this man. Hadn’t everyone warned him about men hunting the duchess? This man may have come through the front door instead of the kitchen, as one suitor had last week, but he looked no less predatory. He made to stand and accompany them to the library.

"Do not trouble yourself, Will." She put a hand on his arm. "Finish your tea and attend to those papers. I can find the books for Lord Stanton."

Her steward was unhappy with the concept but he bowed his head. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“Thank you. My lord, if you will come this way?”

"I have brought a list of books that the late Duke promised to us." Devon offered her the paper with the Duke’s seal on it. “If these books are too difficult for you, I would gladly take whatever is available.”

"I’m certain it won’t be too difficult." Louisa took the paper from his hand gingerly, leading the way through the door. "It will only take a moment."

She led him down the hall towards the library while Gervis and Will Sheldon looked on after them.

“You know, I believe I could find my way through here blindfolded,” Devon quipped. “I remember this house so well from my youth.”

“My parents did love to have guests when I was a child,” Louisa recalled. “My father and yours remained great friends to the end of their lives.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “My father was terribly distressed to hear of your father’s passing.”

“I had heard that you had returned from the war.”

“Finally!” He pushed open the heavy oak door for her. “I feel I’ve been gone an age.”

“At least you came home,” she said with a small smile. “Michael is missing, I fear.”

“Michael? I had no idea! Where was he last seen?”

“The last campaign on the Peninsula. I’ve had people looking for him but as yet, there is no news.”

“How terrible for you,” he replied. “If I can be of service, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”

“Thank you, my lord. You know, I barely remember you. You went off to school when I was quite young.”

“I recall you being very short. Your hair was in braids and you had jam on your face,” he responded with a laugh. “You’ve grown--quite well.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she demurred. “Shall we find those books?”