The Ghost of Hearts-Hope: A Ghostly Story of Love and Loss

By Marion Shepherd

Anna Cooke is a sensitive girl, who has strange premonitions and picks up on the emotions of others. 
Contenting herself with a future as a governess or ladies companion, she is delighted to find herself being swept off her feet by a handsome widower, Lord Hope. 
Her new life takes her to the wilds of Cornwall, where she becomes the mistress of Hearts-Hope, a strange and wonderful house by the sea. 
 Anna embraces her new life. However, she finds herself eclipsed by the shadow of the previous Lady Hope. Plagued by dark dreams, she finds her obsession with her predecessor growing by the day – can this woman jeopardise Anna’s perfect future with the man she loves utterly and completely?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Jul 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781788034883

Book preview

The Ghost of Hearts-Hope

A Ghostly Story of Love and Loss

Marion Shepherd

Copyright © 2018 Marion Shepherd

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781788034883

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Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

To my family and friends for their love, support and belief in me.

Contents

Acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Epilogue

Acknowledgement

Jenny Busby and Gail Kainey

Prologue

My cousin Clarissa and I walked briskly down the street, arm in arm.

The heels of our boots tapped out the rhythm of our steps. The pavement was slick; we passed piles of snow soiled by mud and manure.

It was a bitterly cold day. The sky was heavy with fat clouds. The clouds were tinged with a sulphurous grey from the numerous coal fires and chimneys across the city that were belching out smoke.

Even though this was a suburban neighbourhood in Islington, the road was busy with tradesmen. Horses and carts rattled past along with the occasional hansom cab.

We paused at the bottom of the steps when we reached the correct address. The house was in the middle of the terrace. It looked very ordinary and very respectable, which allayed my nerves somewhat.

‘Are you sure about this?’ My breath misted in the chill air.

Clarissa squeezed my arm tighter against her body. ‘Oh, come on, Anna. It’s just a bit of fun.’ She smiled at me. Her cheeks had a rosy glow under her bonnet. ‘Penelope Staunton said she’s very good.’

My gaze wondered back to the house before us. ‘So, you keep telling me,’ I sighed.

She let go of my arm as she took on a stubborn stance, which I knew so well. Oh dear; my heart sank.

‘Well, I’m going in there even if you won’t,’ it was said with determination.

‘Very well then.’ What could I do? I had promised Aunt Juliet that I would always look after my cousin. I followed her up the steps obediently.

The brass adornments on the green painted door were polished to a high shine. In general, the place looked well cared for. It struck me as strange, however, to notice that the brass door knocker was shaped like a dragon, with wings wide as if in flight. The light reflecting on the polished surface made it seem as if the dragon’s wings rippled sinuously.

I really was not happy about coming here. The sight of the mystical beast stirred my misgivings once again.

There was no hesitation from my cousin. Clarissa lifted the knocker. The echo of it could be heard resounding from within.

Only a moment passed. A young maid opened the door, admitting us into the tiled hall.

‘Come this way please. Madam Clement is expecting you.’

We followed the maid, who was very presentably dressed, into a parlour that overlooked the front of the house.

‘May I take your cloaks?’ she asked us.

We both relieved ourselves of our outdoor garb, then handed our cloaks and gloves to the young woman.

‘If you would follow me, Miss Fraser, madam will see you first.’

‘Splendid.’ Clarissa didn’t look back. She followed the maid obligingly.

Left to my own devices, I wandered around the parlour. I was relieved to find that there was nothing macabre inside the house, so far at least.

There was a satisfying fire built up in the grate; the place felt warm and homely.

A large aspidistra stood proudly upon a jardinière in the bay window. Every available surface displayed pretty ornaments, making the room feel quite cluttered, but that seemed to be the style these days.

The door opened, and the maid returned carrying a tea tray.

‘They may be quite a while.’ She eyed me. ‘I thought you might like some refreshment.’

‘Thank you. That is very kind.’ I smiled gratefully.

She set the tray down on a table near the fire.

‘My name is Elsie. Call me if you need anything else.’

‘I will, thank you.’ I nodded.

When the maid left, I poured myself a cup of the brew and drank it, very thankful for its warmth.

Madam Clement was a clairvoyant. Clarissa had heard whispers about her through several friends who had been to see the madam, and, typically, my cousin did not want to be out done, so had insisted we seek the woman out and make appointments to see her ourselves.

‘I can’t understand why you are making such a fuss about this, Anna.’ Clarissa had chided me when I had laid out my objections to her. ‘If anybody should have an interest in his sort of thing, it is you,’ she stated.

Her observation caused me to bristle in irritation. She knew I did not like to draw attention to this affliction of mine – I seemed to have an uncanny gift for picking things up. I would have what I would loosely call premonitions about something or someone. I also had a certain sensitivity where people were concerned; I could pick up on their emotional state.

I had to confess that it was an unpredictable gift, and I was often surprised when my ability struck me and then I found there was a truth to the feeling that had manifested itself. It made me wary of being around people at times.

My Aunt Juliet called it the sight, but it was hardly that specific; I felt it was more a gut instinct, really.

When I was a child it was something that I didn’t give much thought to. I simply presumed everyone felt the same way. That was until one fateful night seven years ago.

*

It was mid-August. The weather was hot, humid and overcast – a storm threatened.

Feeling restless, a melancholy mood settled over me, which I put down to the sultry weather.

My parents were out attending a meeting of the board of governors for Highsmith, a home for orphaned children. I had been left in the care of my governess, Miss Craig.

The night was far too warm to allow comfortable sleep; I also wanted to stay up to see Mother and Father when they arrived home. So, I had opened my bedroom window and was sitting upon the window seat trying to capture any fragments of breeze.

As I sat there, I heard thunder in the distance, followed by a flash of lightning that danced across the sky, sending the roofs of the city into stark relief. It was quite thrilling and fascinating to watch.

Heavy drops of rain began to fall.

I put my hand out to capture the water upon my palm as another crash of thunder rumbled across the sky; this was followed closely by forked lightning, which sliced through the dark sky, targeting the earth not far away from the house.

The ferocity of the strike was so violent it made me jump back from the window.

I heard an awful cracking sound, then a shriek.

The noise was so terrible, the sound filled the night. I could only describe it as the wailing of a beast that was in terrible pain.

Suddenly the words "they are dead" flashed through my mind. A cold hand clutched my heart. Something awful had happened.

The fright made me seek out comfort. So, with a tear-stained face, I rushed into Miss Craig’s bedroom, where she did her very best to comfort me with kind words and warm milk.

It was a while later when there was a knock at the door. Our housekeeper, Mrs Keene, answered it, then came to fetch the governess.

I watched from the top of the stairs as the policeman stood self-consciously in the hallway.

He spoke so quietly that I could not catch his words.

Then I saw Mrs Keene pull a handkerchief from her dressing gown pocket as she gave an enormous sob.

Miss Craig, aware of my presence on the landing, turned her gaze up to me. There was a distraught expression on her pale face. I will never forget that look. It was one of such sadness that it constricted my heart.

Feeling as if I had plunged into an icy pool of water, I gasped for breath as panic rose in my chest.

The accident had been a complete freak of nature. The lightning had struck an old oak tree across the square from the house. The strike had been so violent, it had almost split the trunk in half.

A huge bough had fallen into the road.

Two vehicles had been struck. One was a coal wagon and the other was the hansom cab carrying my parents. They, along with the driver of the cab, were killed instantly.

From then on, I no longer found thunderstorms exciting or romantic in any way.

Our warm, cosy home was sold. I went to live with Uncle Henry, Aunt Juliet and their daughter, Clarissa.

They embraced me into their family. I loved them all very dearly.

*

‘Your turn.’ Clarissa glided into the room, bringing me back to the present with a start.

Putting down the teacup, I rose to my feet.

‘This way, miss.’ Elsie waited for me by the door.

I followed the maid up the stairs and into a room that must have overlooked the back garden.

The windows were covered by heavy velvet drapes in a dark forest green. The oil lamps were turned down so low that the corners of the room were cast into deep shadow. A sickly-sweet perfume scented the air, the aroma of which made me want to sneeze.

The maid left us, closing the door softly behind her.

I took in the room in more detail. There was a huge contrast from the parlour downstairs. It popped into my head that this was intentional.

A medium-sized round table, covered in a red velvet cloth, stood in the middle of the room, upon which were set two candles in ruby glass holders.

I was surprised to notice that there was none of the paraphernalia that one would expect; no tarot cards or crystal ball.

At the table sat a woman. This, of course, must be Madam Clement.

The medium was watching me intently as I walked towards the table.

The flames from the candles danced in her eyes so I could not read her expression. Her face looked phantom-like in the flickering candlelight.

Was this all part of the theatrics? I wondered.

‘Miss Cooke,’ Madam Clement said, waving a long-fingered hand in the air, ‘do take a seat.’

I did as she bid me, sitting down opposite her in the only other chair.

The woman was younger than I expected. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat chignon. She was wearing a silk dress that was the same colour green as the curtains.

She had laid her hands flat on the table, and I noticed that her fingers were devoid of rings.

‘You are reluctant to be here,’ she said leaning forwards.

Her gaze was so direct that it made me feel uncomfortable. I said nothing, keeping my face carefully blank.

She nodded, and a slight smile turned up the corners of her wide mouth.

‘Please rest your hands on the table,’ she requested. Her voice was richly intoned and strangely compelling.

I could see no harm in doing what she asked, so I obliged.

‘Your cousin was an open book,’ the medium continued. The hint of a smile was gone now. ‘You, however, are a different story altogether. You have many hidden depths to your character. There is a shadow of tragedy all around you,’ she said.

I felt a prickle of unease run up and down my spine.

‘You have suffered great loss. Give me your hands.’

Without conscious thought, I found myself reaching out and settling my hands in her own.

Her skin was hot to the touch. Squeezing my fingers slightly, she kept her eyes on my face, yet I had the distinct feeling it was no longer me she was gazing upon.

Her voice was like a monologue as she continued. ‘You are very sensitive, but strong, and you will need to be for what is to come. Great love surrounds you to a depth that is quite unusual. However,’ she continued, as her grasp on my hands tightened, ‘this love is interwoven by the shadows of the past and a danger that could eclipse your happiness.’ Her fingers clutched mine even tighter.

I wanted to pull away, although I resisted the urge.

‘I see three people that lie beyond the red veil: one will take your heart, the other your spirit and the third…’ She hesitated. ‘I cannot clearly see; death surrounds her.’ Madam Clement then let out a breath.

I found myself doing the same, but she hadn’t finished.

‘Your dreams are like a fractured mirror; only when you place the pieces together will you see clearly.’ Her eyes focused on me then. ‘You have the gift of sight, yet you are afraid to use it. That is wise of you. Be very careful as it can lead you along the wrong path.’

I found myself nodding.

She smiled, then added with certainty, ‘You will be married within the year.’ Madam Clement shook her head as if bringing herself back to the present.

She released my hands so abruptly it took me by surprise. ‘That is all I can tell you,’ she finished.

‘Thank you,’ was all I could say.

As I stood up to leave, I felt light headed. Swaying, I had to grip the back of the chair for a moment. I tried to summon a smile, but felt strangely dazed.

Aware of her gaze upon me, I made my way to the door.

I was very relieved to be out of that room, which had suddenly felt quite claustrophobic to me.

*

‘Well that was interesting.’ Clarissa gave a little laugh.

We were back out in the chill air, our cloaks wrapped about us tightly.

‘She told me that I would be married very soon,’ Clarissa continued, ‘sadly not to a tall, dark, handsome stranger, but to someone of stature, nonetheless.’ Her voice held a note of satisfaction. ‘We will have three bonny children. Three! Can you imagine, Anna, me with three children?’

She carried on with her chatter as we walked along with the intention of finding a cab to take us home.

So wrapped up was my cousin, in her own experience, she did not pause to ask me about my own. I was distinctly glad about this as I really didn’t know what to make of it all.

You will be married within the year, Madam Clement had told me – she had also told Clarissa the same thing.

Well, we were both of marriageable age, so there was nothing unusual about that. Although, I, for one, had no intention of marrying.

My aunt and uncle were kind and loving to me, but I knew I was the poor relation who had very little hope of making a good marriage.

My father had ensured that he had left me comfortably off; however, Uncle Henry had advised me that if I were careful, perhaps finding a position as a governess or a lady’s companion, I would be able to live reasonably well, as long as I kept within my means.

I had to admit to myself that I would probably be more suited to becoming a lady’s companion – that was the future I envisaged for myself.

My education had mirrored Clarissa’s own, which had been focused on deportment, dancing lessons, piano lessons and needlework. All pursuits far more suited to my cousin, all being designed to mould a young woman into a marriageable package.

The thought of being married within the year was a ridiculous notion.

I resolved there and then to put Madam Clement and her fortune telling out of my mind.

It was all a lot of nonsense.

That night, however, I dreamt of thunderstorms and dragons and a strange clifftop house: a citadel swathed by spiralling wraiths of mist flowing off the sea.

Chapter 1

The salon was stuffy and overcrowded.

Aunt Juliet and Uncle Henry were having one of their renowned evenings of entertainment.

As usual, my aunt had invited a crowd of people from all walks of life: there were artists, theatrical actors and, of course, musicians, mingling with the more learned, such as lawyers and doctors. My aunt had the knack of mixing together the most unlikely of people, usually with great success.

We were just settling down to hear a recital from a little-known pianist when my cousin Clarissa nudged me. ‘Who’s that man over there?’ She was pointing discreetly with her fan.

My gaze followed hers. I saw him standing beside the marble fireplace. He was tall, clean shaven and had strongly defined features. Thick, chestnut hair curled around his collar. Even at a distance, I could see his clothes were expensive, he wore them well. Altogether, he cut an imposing figure.

‘I really don’t know.’ I was intrigued despite myself.

‘I wonder if he is one of mother’s counts?’ Clarissa mused.

‘He doesn’t look Russian,’ I whispered back.

The recital began. She leant over. ‘I must get an introduction. He is by far the most handsome man in the room.’

‘I am sure Charles will be delighted to hear you say that,’ I whispered. The aforementioned was seated on her other side.

‘Ah, dear Charles, alas he has quite a bit of growing up to do,’ she sighed.

‘I thought you were madly in love with him.’

‘Sometimes I think I am,’ came her cryptic reply.

I rolled my eyes, but she didn’t notice.

‘Well, don’t leave him hanging on for too long, Clarissa. One day you might just find he’s found himself another debutante, and has left you well and truly on the shelf.’

‘Oh, that will never happen.’ It was said with confidence as she sat back in her chair.

I did the same.

The young pianist was passable at best. Not one of Aunt Juliet’s most talented finds.

The evening drew on. I found my fascinated gaze constantly drawn to the figure across the room; there was something about him.

As if aware of my scrutiny, his head turned towards me. I felt a jolt run through me as our eyes met.

Feeling the blush bloom at the base of my throat, I quickly looked away.

A few moments later I surreptitiously glanced in his direction again, but his attention was focused on the musician, who was still playing enthusiastically.

When the young man had finished at the piano, and the polite applause had died down, a company of actors took to the floor to give a preview performance of a new play.

I am sure they must have been good, but my attention kept wandering. The salon was oppressively hot, also, the gilt chair was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.

‘I am going to get some fresh air,’ I whispered. Clarissa nodded absently. She, for one, seemed enthralled by the play.

No one noticed when I left the room as discreetely as I could. I went through the drawing room and out on to the terrace. It was a relief to be out in the fresh air. The June night was pleasantly warm. It was almost midsummer’s eve; the moon was a large round orb in the sky.

Stepping off the terrace, the heady scents of roses, orange blossom and star jasmine assailed me with their wonderful perfume.

The garden of my uncle’s London house was small but well set out.

The rose garden, which was Aunt Juliet’s pride and joy, led to a lawn where a tall silver birch stood majestically, with the bright moon giving the bark a luminescent glow.

‘I must say that you are very brave to risk incurring Mrs Fraser’s wrath.’

A male voice made me spin around in surprise.

He stood under one of the rose arches; the light was behind him, casting his face into shadow, but I knew who it was: the enigmatic stranger.

‘It was warm in there; I needed some fresh air.’

‘Yes, it was somewhat close.’

His accent was English. He certainly wasn’t one of Aunt Juliet’s Russian counts.

There was a part of me that longed to think that this stranger had followed me into the garden, but I pushed the silly romantic notion aside.

Finally, he stepped towards me and the shadows fell from him. ‘Let me introduce myself. I am Reece Hope.’ He gave a little bow.

Reece Hope? The name was unfamiliar to me.

I introduced myself. ‘Anna Cooke. Mrs Fraser is my aunt.’

‘Ah, the delightful and courageous Juliet. Whoever would have thought of putting together such an ensemble of colourful characters? She is a rare woman.’

I laughed. ‘She does seem to have a knack of bringing the most unlikely people together.’

A smile touched his eyes; were they grey? They seemed to pick up the refection of the moon.

The lunar glow picked out his well-defined cheeks and a strong jaw.

‘Yes, it makes for an interesting evening. The pianist had a definite style that was all his own.’

‘Um, yes,’ I muttered. Had we been listening to the same person?

He laughed when he heard the doubt in my voice. ‘Terrible, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, awful,’ I replied, laughing along with him.

He gestured to the garden seat. ‘Would you care to sit?’

I hesitated to accept his invitation, but then a defiant smile touched my lips and I sat.

He sat beside me and stretched out his long legs. ‘I am sure your aunt must guard your virtue like a castellan.’ He had obviously noticed my reserve.

‘On the contrary, my aunt is very modern in her way of thinking. And she trusts me.’

His gaze fell upon me.

Self-conscious under his scrutiny, I found myself fiddling with the lace on my dress. I was thankful for the shadows that surrounded us, which hid my blush.

‘But what of me? My intentions may be very immoral.’ His tone was pleasantly deep.

I met his eye. Was he mocking me?

‘And are they?’ My voice was slightly breathless. Goodness, what on earth was going on? Why was he affecting me in such a way?

‘I can assure you that my intentions are purely honourable.’

‘Then you disappoint me, Mr Hope. I ventured out here with the intent of finding some excitement.’ I designed my quip to cover my uncertainty.

Surprise washed over his face, then he laughed heartily.

The laughter softened his features. I could see a fan of laughter lines at the corners of his rather mesmerising eyes. Although I had the feeling that he very rarely laughed, there was such a feeling of melancholy surrounding him.

‘Surely you court danger, Miss Cooke; you are being flirtatious with a stranger.’

His voice was melodious; I felt as if I could listen to it forever.

Looking up at the plump moon, which was pearlescent, nestled in a bed of midnight-blue velvet, I found I didn’t want this moment to end.

Perhaps it was the half-glass of champagne I had drunk earlier, the warmth of the night or being in this man’s presence; a sense of enchantment washed over me nonetheless.

‘On the contrary, I feel oddly comfortable with you.’ And it was, to my surprise, true; how peculiar. My gaze returned to him. ‘I feel as if I have known you for an age.’

What was I saying? The man would think me to be utterly whimsical, and yet I had the strangest feeling I had met him before.

‘You think we may have met in another life?’ His voice was soft.

Watching his face carefully I asked, ‘Do you believe in such things?’

It was as if a cloud had covered the moon. A shutter fell over his features and he turned away. ‘No. It was a frivolous thing to say. It is a lot of nonsense of course.’ He stood up.

I was quite surprised when I found myself feeling bereft.

‘It is getting chilly. May I escort you inside?’ He gazed down at me and offered me his arm.

Disappointed that the interlude should be over so quickly, I got to my feet, and we walked back to the house.

Once we were inside, Reece reached out to remove the light shawl I wore over my shoulders. As he did so, his fingers brushed my skin. I felt a delightful shiver run down my spine.

‘You are cold,’ he said quickly, replacing the delicate shawl, which would have done nothing to dispel a chill. ‘Perhaps you would like a brandy, to warm you?’

‘Sherry would do nicely.’ I smiled my thanks.

The actors had finished the first half of their play. The doors to the adjoining dining room had been opened, and the company were now helping themselves to the buffet supper that had been laid out.

‘Anna, there you are.’ Clarissa glided towards me. She was a vision in pale-pink silk. She glanced enquiringly at my companion.

By the expression on her face, I could see she had a myriad of questions to ask.

‘You have been gone for an age.’ She took my arm in a possessive gesture.

‘Did you enjoy the play?’ I asked to distract her.

‘Yes, it was actually quite good. You will have to explain to Mama why you missed it.’ She eyed Mr Hope with unconcealed interest.

‘Clarissa, Anna, there you are, my dears.’ Uncle Henry pushed through the crowd. ‘Oh, I see you have met Lord Hope. How are you Reece?’ The two men shook hands.

My cousin and I exchanged interested glances.

‘I am well, thank you, Henry.’

The tall man made my uncle seem shorter and stouter than usual.

‘Actually, Papa, we have not been introduced.’ Clarissa pushed to the fore eager for the attention.

‘Oh dear, let me put that right.’ Henry smiled at his daughter indulgently. ‘Lord Hope this is my daughter Clarissa and my niece Miss Anna Cooke.’

‘Miss Cooke and I have already met.’ Reece bowed in my direction then turned his attention to Clarissa. ‘Miss Fraser, it is a pleasure. Your father has been a great friend to my family.’

‘Lord Hope.’ My cousin gave him her most gracious curtsey.

‘Please call me Reece.’ He looked to the older man. ‘That is if your father does not object?’

‘No, no, of course not.’ Uncle Henry blundered.

‘Henry, dearest.’ Aunt Juliet called to him from the other side of the room.

‘Yes, coming.’ He looked flustered and rather flushed as he made his excuses and left us.

Then Charles appeared, juggling two overflowing supper plates. ‘Here we are, Clarissa.’ My cousin ignored the proffered plate.

‘Charles, this is Lord Hope.’ She introduced him.

‘It is Charles Mayhew, is it not?’ Reece greeted the younger man.

‘Good evening, sir.’ The poor boy looked quite comical standing there self-consciously trying to juggle the two full plates.

‘I didn’t know that you were acquainted with Henry Fraser, Mr Mayhew,’ said Lord Hope.

‘Charles is like a member of the family,’ Clarissa butted in. ‘Aren’t you, Charles?’

‘Um, yes.’ A smile of delight and surprise flickered over his face.

I took pity on him and gestured to a vacant table.

‘Clarissa, why don’t we sit down?’ I suggested. ‘I am starving. I think I will get something to eat myself.’

‘Perhaps I could get you a plate of food?’ Reece offered immediately.

‘Thank you. That would be very kind.’ I smiled my consent.

I heard Clarissa talking to Charles as Reece walked away.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew Lord Hope?’ she berated the poor boy, then turned to me. ‘And you, Anna, you could have told me you had already been introduced to him.’

‘We met in the garden.’ I confessed. ‘I had no idea he was a lord; he proclaimed himself Reece Hope.’

‘I know him as Lord Leighton-Hope,’ Charles piped up still standing there holding the two plates. ‘Leighton was his wife’s name.’

He’s married; I should have known! I felt an unexpected surge of disappointment, but then realised what Charles had said.

‘Come, let’s sit,’ I gestured to an empty table. Charles set the plates down gratefully, and I gave him an interested look. ‘You said was his wife’s name? I prompted.

‘Yes. I should have said late wife,’ he explained, taking one of the vacant chairs. ‘She died, oh, it must be five years ago or so. It was all very tragic, she drowned, I believe.’

‘How awful.’ My thoughts were tumbling over themselves. When I first noticed Reece Hope there had been an aura of sadness about him; this explained why.

‘Really?’ Clarissa leant forwards eagerly, she loved gossip.

‘His father died last year,’ Charles continued, looking quite delighted to be the centre of attention.

‘Oh, yes. I do remember hearing about that,’ Clarissa interjected. ‘How tragic to lose one’s wife, then father.’

‘Why haven’t we seen him before?’ I asked. ‘He seems friendly with Uncle Henry.’

‘He’s got a large estate in Cornwall where he spends most of his time,’ Charles told us, ‘but when his father died he started getting more involved in business in the city. I have met him a few times at the club. He’s not an easy man to get to know; he keeps his business close to his chest. Mrs Fraser must have used her charm on him to get him to come here this evening.’

‘Doesn’t his mother have a house on Hanover Square?’ Clarissa remembered.

‘Yes. That’s right,’ he confirmed.

She nodded. ‘Mother and I have met her when we have been visiting. I thought she was a bit of a cold fish. Mother has invited her to a soiree or two, but she always declines.’

‘That’s enough gossip for now,’ I chided her, spotting the focus of our attention making his way back to us from the dining room.

Despite myself, I longed to find out more about Lord Leighton-Hope; my thirst for knowledge regarding this interesting man had barely been quenched. I had to confess to myself that I felt strangely drawn to him. It was so unlike me to feel this way – the idea of being enamoured by someone, was the type of situation one only came across in sensational novels, and surely did not happen in real life, especially not to me.

With a small bow, Reece handed me a full supper plate, then pulled up a chair and joined us.

The four of us chatted easily.

‘I hear you are from Cornwall.’ Clarissa eyed Reece from across the table.

‘That is correct.’ He wiped his fingers on a napkin. ‘I have an estate down there.’

‘Really,’ I spoke up for the first time. ‘I hear that Cornwall is very rugged; I would like to visit it sometime.’

‘It is very rugged in places, but also very beautiful.’ He gave me a direct look, which had me blushing. ‘I have a feeling that you would love the place.’

‘Do tell us more, Reece.’ Clarissa piped up, ensuring she had her share of the attention.

‘Your estate is near Padstow, is it not?’ Charles asked, obviously feeling more at ease now.

‘It is roughly about half way between Padstow and a place called Newquay,’ Reece answered. ‘The estate is called Penlynn and the house is called Hearts-Hope.’

‘Hearts-Hope,’ breathed Clarissa, ‘that sounds very romantic, doesn’t it, Anna?’

‘Yes. Tell us, what is the history behind the unusual name?’ I asked.

Looking around the table he said. ‘Ah, well, Hearts-Hope was built and named by…’

‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you will congregate in the salon once more.’ Aunt Juliet’s voice interrupted us. ‘There is the second half of the delightful play to watch and then Isaac is going to read us one of his new poems.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clarissa rise to her feet. She looked at Lord Hope expectantly, but when he extended his arm to me instead, my cousin’s face fell. She shot me a look of disapproval.

I ignored her and took his arm with a smile.

‘I think you have upset my cousin,’ I whispered to him as we followed everyone into the other room.

‘Upset her but delighted you, I hope.’

‘Possibly,’ I looked up at him shyly.

‘It seems that we have more delights to partake of.’ He led me to a seat and, much to my delight, sat beside me.

‘I hope that you are not finding the evening too boring.’ I gave him a sidelong glance.

‘On the contrary, I am finding the company intriguing.’

Was he teasing me? His expression, as he gazed at me, was unreadable. There was something about it, however, that sent a delightful flutter through my stomach.

Clarissa and Charles sat down beside us and for once I felt resentful of their presence.

As the evening continued, I was constantly aware of Lord Hope’s presence beside me.

The chairs were small, delicate affairs. Reece Hope was a tall man, with quite muscular thighs, I noticed. So, his leg rested beside my own, and I could feel the warmth of him through my russet silk gown.

Occasionally, his arm would brush my own. As it did so, I felt the strangest of little jolts pirouette over my skin. It was an extremely disconcerting feeling.

It was around midnight when the entertainment finished.

Uncle Henry and Aunt Juliet stood in the hall, bidding farewell to people.

‘Reece, thank you so much for coming.’ Uncle Henry extended a hand.

‘It has been a delightful evening,’ Reece declared, shaking my uncle’s hand with enthusiasm.

‘I am so glad you enjoyed it, Lord Hope,’ Aunt Juliet gushed, her rounded cheeks blushing with delight.

‘Thank you for inviting me, Mrs Fraser.’ He took her hand and kissed it, making the blush deepen.

Reece made a polite farewell to Clarissa, then turned to me. ‘Goodnight, Miss Cooke.’ His eyes crinkled in a smile as he took my hand and brushed it with his wide lips. ‘Thank you for your company.’

‘A pleasure, Lord Hope.’ Again, I felt the strangest of jolts run up from my fingertips. Had he felt it too? I wondered.

At that moment, my aunt wasn’t the only one with colour on her cheeks.

‘You were flirting with him!’

I wasn’t sure if Clarissa was teasing me or being disapproving when she voiced her observation.

We had changed out of our gowns, and, as was the nightly ritual, my cousin had come to find me in my room, so we could chat about the evening.

I sat at my dressing table, brushing out my hair.

‘Whom do you mean?’ I asked innocently.

‘Oh, come on, Anna.’ She took the brush out of my hand and took over the task of brushing my long, unruly hair. ‘You know exactly who I mean.’

‘Of course not.’

The brush paused in mid-stroke. ‘Mm, you know that I am adept at flirting, my dear; you can’t fool me.’ I saw her give me a knowing smile in the mirror.

‘Possibly,’ I declared.

‘I knew it.’ She smiled in triumph. ‘He was rather delicious for an older man.’ I was amazed to feel a stab of jealousy. I knew what Clarissa was like; would she set her sights on Lord Hope herself? Then she gave a rather dramatic shudder, which sent her blonde ringlets bobbing. ‘But, he is bit too old for my liking, and a widower to boot,’ she declared, allaying my flicker of fear.

I found sleep elusive that night, for every time I closed my eyes I saw the handsome face of Reece Hope.

Chapter 2

It was a few days later when Uncle Henry came to find me in the garden.

I had my sketch book out and was lazily drawing a picture of a beautiful fuchsia.

Ever since the night of the soiree, my concentration had been all over the place, which I found to be quite irritating. I chided myself for it. Goodness, I was acting like a love-sick schoolgirl.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear.’ My uncle sat down next to me on the bench.

‘I have to tell you, Anna, you made quite impression on Lord Hope the other night.’

‘I did?’ The surprised look on my face must have been so evident. My uncle smiled kindly and patted my knee.

‘He has sent me a note asking my permission to call on you.’

‘Really?’ My stomach fluttered with excitement.

‘What shall I tell him?’ he asked.

My mind raced with the implications. ‘It wouldn’t do any harm to see him again,’ I voiced my thoughts cautiously.

‘Quite right.’ My uncle looked pleased. ‘I have got to know him quite well over the past few months. He is a widower you know; it’s terribly tragic.’

‘Yes, quite awful; do you know what happened? Charles mentioned that his wife had drowned.’

My uncle frowned. ‘Drowned? Erm, from what I gather his wife had a riding accident. They found her horse wandering at the top of some cliffs; the girth had come lose or something like that. She must have fallen to her death. Sadly, they never recovered her body, despite a long search.’

My hands fluttered to my throat in dismay. ‘That is just awful.’

‘Yes, it was a terrible thing. I’m sure Reece will tell you more about it when the time is right.’

I nodded.

Uncle Henry’s smile lightened the moment. ‘I feel he is a good man,’ he said at last.

‘Then I will gladly see him again,’ I said, as I tried not to let my excitement show too much.

‘Good oh.’ He got to his feet. ‘I will get Juliet to pen a reply to him, and have him come for tea the day after tomorrow, if that suits you?’

‘That suits me very well.’

I had made an impression on him! I know it was foolish of me, but, over the next couple of days, my mind was quite consumed with the thought of seeing Reece again.

*

‘Do sit still, Anna,’ Aunt Juliet chided me.

We were seated in the sitting room, which overlooked the road, waiting for the sound of a carriage or hansom cab to pull up outside the house.

I knew I was fidgeting anxiously; I couldn’t help it. My eyes darted to the clock once more, he was due at three o’clock and it was five minutes to the hour.

I jumped up, and I heard my aunt tut impatiently behind me.

My reflection, as I gazed in the mirror on the wall, looked flushed; my hazel eyes shone brightly with excitement. Lizzie, the maid that Clarissa and I shared, had done her best to calm my unruly auburn locks, but my hair was curling rebelliously around my face all the same.

I had dressed rather simply in a cream poplin blouse and a pale-blue skirt. I wore a mother-of-pearl brooch at my throat.

As always happens in the summer, the scattering of golden freckles across my nose stood out. I wished I had some powder to hide them and tone down my heightened colour.

At last, we heard a carriage pull up, just as the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour.

‘Do sit down, dear.’ Aunt Juliet brushed out her skirts in preparation as I heard Lizzie open the front door.

‘Lord Hope,’ the maid announced formally.

Reece walked into the room.

‘Thank you, Lizzie; you may serve tea.’ My aunt dismissed the girl who gave a small bob and left the room.

‘Juliet.’ He strode across the room to where my aunt sat.

As he greeted her warmly, I had to stop myself from jumping to my feet once again due to the nervous energy I was feeling.

He looked very fine, dressed in fawn trousers with a dark-brown frock coat and a fine-wool, russet waistcoat.

Bowing over Aunt Juliet’s hand, he then turned to me. ‘Good afternoon, Anna.’

‘Reece.’ I inclined my head in what I hoped was a gracious manner.

‘Please take a seat.’

‘Thank you, Juliet.’ Sitting down in the proffered chair, he asked me, ‘Where is your delightful cousin today, will she not be joining us?’

‘No, Clarissa is visiting friends this afternoon.’ Aunt Juliet answered before I had a chance to do so. ‘Tell me Reece, do you know the Morgan-Browns?’ she asked.

‘I am not acquainted with them, no.’

Lizzie entered with the tea tray, including a three-tiered stand full of cook’s finest pastries.

On my aunt’s prompting I poured the brew.

They chatted for a while longer, with Aunt Juliet dominating the conversation. I was sincerely glad that she did so, as my mind had gone completely blank and I couldn’t think of a thing to say.

My aunt mentioned people she knew. Some Reece had heard of, some he hadn’t.

I nodded occasionally, but didn’t attempt to join in.

Although his face seemed to be etched on my eyelids every time I closed my eyes, this interlude gave me a chance to study Lord Hope’s features in closer detail and in daylight too.

He had a very pleasing countenance: a strong chin and noble nose. When he smiled, a whisper of lines appeared around his eyes, which were a soft, luminous grey that reminded me of a silver birch in the moonlight.