A Return to Hawthorne House: A Novella Collection

By Kristi Ann Hunter

Always a Lady

Despite the fact that her daughter is not cooperating, Caroline, Duchess of Riverton is determined to ensure every one of her children marries someone they love as much as she loved their late father. William, the widowered Earl of Blackstone, is delighted to have his days o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oholiab Creations LLC
• Release date: Nov 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959589020

Kristi Ann Hunter

Kristi Ann Hunter is the author of the Hawthorne House series and a 2016 RITA Award winner, an ACFW Genesis contest winner, and a Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award for Excellence winner. She lives with her husband and three children in Georgia. For more information, visit www.kristiannhunter.com.

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A Return to Hawthorne House

Kristi Ann Hunter

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Oholiab Creations

A Return to Hawthorne House

Copyright © 2022 by Kristi Hunter

A Lady of Esteem © 2015 by Kristi Ann Hunter

Published by Oholiab Creations, LLC

110 Walter Way #1065

Stockbridge, GA 30281

ISBN 978-1-959589-02-0 (eBook)

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

For more information and questions contact Kristi Hunter at KristiAnnHunter.com.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Cover Design by Angie Fisher of WTX Labs.

Contents

Dedication

Always a Lady

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

12. Epilogue

The Lady's Maid

13. Prologue

14. Chapter One

15. Chapter Two

16. Chapter Three

17. Chapter Four

18. Chapter Five

19. Chapter Six

20. Chapter Seven

21. Chapter Eight

Want more?

Acknowledgments

About Author

To the One who dares me to step out in faith

2 Thessalonians 1:11-12

To Jacob, who willingly walks unknown paths with me.

And to everyone who came alongside and offered support, assistance, and belief when mine was lacking.

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Chapter One

London, England 1811

A lady never refuses a dance unless she wishes to cause a great scandal or make a definitive statement, Mother.

The words were merely a parroting of instructions Caroline, Duchess of Riverton had frequently imparted upon her eldest daughter Miranda, but their familiarity, and their truth, didn’t knock Caroline from the trance she’d stumbled into. She continued to stare at the man’s gloved hand as if it were a wriggling fish that had been plopped before her at the dining table. When was the last time she’d danced with a man other than her sons?

Probably fifteen years ago, at the last ball she’d attended with the duke before his unexpected passing.

Mother. Miranda accompanied this whisper with a nudge of her elbow into Caroline’s ribs, causing her to stumble half a step forward.

Instinctively, Caroline reached out to salvage her balance and jabbed her fingers right into the outstretched palm of the man who had asked her to dance. His hand closed gently but firmly around hers before he turned and repositioned the hold so he could escort her properly to the floor.

She blinked at the stark contrast of her white glove against his dark sleeve, then snapped her gaze up to look Lord Blackstone in the eye. Polite habits had her returning the earl’s small smile while her wits gathered themselves back into some semblance of order.

Not until they’d reached the center of the dance floor did control of her tongue return. You honor me with your attentions, my lord.

The honor is mine, your grace. Lord Blackstone smiled as he grasped her fingers in one hand and placed the other across her back.

The music swelled as Caroline stared once more at their joined hands. Dash it all, this was a waltz! Not that she need worry about her reputation. She was a titled widow, after all, not some fresh-faced debutante. Nor was she concerned for her ability. She and the late duke had enjoyed waltzing long before it became at all socially acceptable, and she’d maintained those skills by circling many a ballroom with her adult sons.

Still, unease gripped her middle, threatening to spread from her throat to her toes.

Moments ago, before Lord Blackstone’s appearance, Caroline had been guiding Miranda into the perfect position to catch the eye of Lord Rickford when he returned his previous dancing partner to her mother. Yet somehow it was Caroline swirling her way across the floor instead of her eligible daughter.

She tilted her head so she could see around Lord Blackstone’s shoulder and searched for Miranda’s face or a flash of her white velvet gown. Perhaps someone had asked her to dance after Caroline walked away?

No, there Miranda was, standing behind the row of hopeful young faces, beaming at her mother as if she’d orchestrated this entire business.

The whole reason they’d stayed in London for the winter had been to allow Miranda an opportunity to circulate more than she could during the regular busier Season when every eligible young man seemed to have two dozen women vying for his attention. Now the girl had given up positional advantage and aligned herself with the spinsters, chaperons, and mothers.

Hadn’t two full Seasons in London taught her that a lady had to make herself available in order to find a match? She couldn’t hope to just run into the perfect gentleman while wandering about her own home.

I do believe Lady Miranda can suffer your absence for one dance. Lord Blackstone pressed against Caroline’s side, forcing her to turn with the dance and lose view of her daughter.

The tips of Caroline’s ears burned as she pulled her head back to an appropriate position. Of course.

She allowed her face to settle into a polite smile as she sorted through possible topics of conversation. The way things were going, Miranda would enter her third Season without a serious prospect in sight. Rumors of a mother so unsociable as to dance an entire waltz without talking to her partner wouldn’t help the situation any.

Fortunately, Caroline was a well-bred lady of London’s aristocratic elite, and she was more than capable of providing amiable conversation while still devoting her true attention to the needs of her daughter.

Are you in London for the entirety of the winter, my lord? she asked while subtly searching through the dancing couples to see whom Lord Rickford had brought to the floor instead of Miranda.

Lord Blackstone glanced to the left before giving Caroline a returning smile. My plans are not yet decided.

Oh? There was an art to portraying the appropriate amount of curiosity in a conversation. One wanted to show just enough that the other person believed the interest but not so much as to appear to be after an intrusive tidbit of potential underlying gossip. Caroline had perfected the balance over the years of navigating society on her own, acting as both duke and duchess until her son had been old enough to take on his inherited role.

Unfortunately, Lord Blackstone appeared to be cut from a different cloth than the rest of the aristocracy who’d learned the art of polite conversation from infancy because he merely lifted his eyebrows and said, Oh.

Caroline ceased examining the other couples and considered her dancing partner. Just because he couldn’t be bothered to behave as an appropriate gentleman didn’t mean she had to abandon being a lady. A lifetime of small talk refused to come to her rescue, though. Giving him her full attention flooded her with the unfamiliar sensations she’d been trying to ignore. Her mind seemed capable only of considering the heat of his palm on her back and the press of his side against hers as they executed a turn.

Finally she managed to ask, Have you business to complete in Town, then?

Of a personal nature, yes.

Caroline fought the desire to frown at yet another closed conversational door. It wasn’t as if she and the earl were strangers. They were of a similar age and had therefore moved about in similar society for decades. They had even married within a year of each other. He was now a widower, though he’d worn the mantle for far less time than she’d borne the title of widow.

Conversation should not be this difficult, particularly since they both needed to be aware of every potential social misstep. When one had a daughter to marry off, every perceived flaw mattered, even the seemingly insignificant. Of course, Lord Blackstone was seeing to the marriage of his last while Caroline had yet to find a match for her first, but their positions were similar nonetheless.

She would give it one more try. Have you tried the tarts they are bringing about? A most delicious confection.

Yes, they are quite tasty.

Good heavens, was she going to have to resort to discussing the weather? The clothing of the couples around them? The very pattern of the dance around the floor?

She’d forgotten how tedious this could be and should probably convey a bit more sympathy for her daughter’s complaints, but that would have to wait. Right now, Caroline had a far more pressing problem.

The dresses are quite fine tonight. Winter weather does not always lend itself to the most fashionable of fabrics, but I do enjoy immersing myself in the colors of a ballroom. ‘Tis so drab and grey outside.

There. She’d provided him multiple avenues from which to respond. All he had to do now was pick a topic.

Hmmm.

A lady never resorted to futile violent outbursts, even when riddled with frustration, so Caroline resisted the urge to strike the man across his ear. She did, however, give in to the far more subtle desire to tighten her grip and crush his knuckles together.

The arm resting across her back stiffened in response. Are you all right?

Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?

He glanced toward her feet. Did you not just stumble?

Caroline gave him a sweet smile. People were watching, after all. Only in conversation, my lord.

It was his turn for a blush to redden his ears. My apologies. I’m afraid I’ve become accustomed to merely being one of the circle during these events. Murmurs are usually all that is required of me.

Was he implying he didn’t often dance? He was far too old for Miranda to consider, so Caroline had given little attention to his movements or sought out any bits of gossip about him. If his stepping out was an unusual as hers, this pairing would have many a tongue wagging before the violins stopped playing.

There was nothing she could do about it now, though. She must make the best of the moment and engage him in conversation while she had his full attention. "It would seem the night’s fine weather has brought out every member of the ton still residing in London."

Hmmm, Lord Blackstone murmured as he nodded in agreement, his gaze sliding over the other couples.

Treading upon a man’s toes was forgivable when he deserved it this much, wasn’t it?

There was no way for her to see what continued to pull her partner’s gaze over her shoulder, but Caroline could easily view the numerous eyes turned upon her. Heads tilted toward companions, and lips moved in the quick, quiet motions of newly formed ondits.

How many of them were discussing the apparent discomfort of her tour about the floor?

‘Let those who are in favour with their stars, of public honour and proud titles boast.’

Lord Blackstone’s eyes widened. I beg your pardon?

‘Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.’

His surprise slid into a confused frown. What on earth are you talking about?

Do stop frowning. Caroline gave a light laugh, or at least the appearance of one. People are looking.

Finally, his vast public experience was put to good use, and his expression smoothed into a more neutral appearance. What has that to do with you spouting nonsense?

It isn’t nonsense. It’s Shakespeare.

Is it now?

She gave a slight nod. One of the sonnets. Number twenty-five, I believe.

They turned about at the end of the designated dance area and began twirling their way down the other side. Lord Blackstone tilted his head, his dark eyes giving her far sharper consideration than they had just a few moments ago.

Despite his increased attention, the silence was stretching between them once more, and they were in close view of an entirely new set of curious people.

Caroline fought back a sigh as she continued. ‘Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread, but as the marigold at the—’

Do you commonly quote Shakespeare to your dancing partners?

As I don’t commonly dance, no.

I see. He cleared his throat and glanced about the room before dropping his gaze back to hers. That might explain a few things, then. I had wondered.

The bizarreness of his statement almost caused Caroline to frown, but she persevered and maintained her smile. Wondered about what, my lord?

Your daughter.

Gossip or not, she refused to pretend to approve of any maligning statement against her family. The false smile flattened, and her eyes narrowed as she asked in a low voice, What about my daughter?

He tilted his head with a curious look but gave no other indication that her change in mood bothered him. Next year will be her third season, yes?

Yes.

He nodded. While many find it more comfortable to think I’ve left the raising of my daughters to their aunt, the truth is I’ve been rather involved in all of their seasons.

That is hardly a secret, my lord. Your engagement is well known and to your credit. It was the one thing Caroline did know about this man, and she couldn’t fault him for it.

His elder two daughters had married well by the middle of their second seasons, and the youngest had recently completed her first year with enough success to expect to follow a similar pattern. Through it all, Lord Blackstone had been an active, visible participant, occasionally even sitting through afternoon visits and copious amounts of tea.

Caroline had to respect him as a father even if she detested him as a dancing partner.

Then you will understand that I’ve the best of intentions when I tell you that reciting Shakespeare during a dance is, well, rather unusual. If Lady Miranda is performing such orations, it might explain her lack of… serious attention.

The sudden stiffness of Caroline’s body caused Lord Blackstone to stumble through the next two steps.

Miranda is the daughter of a duke. It is not she who must attract attention but her attention that must be gained. Though Caroline had frequently lectured Miranda on proper dance floor conversation, she would not stand for someone else to offer criticism. Especially not someone who couldn’t be bothered to attempt polite conversation himself. And any gentleman with whom she much resort to poetry recitation in order to maintain the appearance of conversation is not worthy of her consideration.

Instead of looking properly cowed by her criticism, Lord Blackstone grinned. Is that what you were doing?

Utilizing Shakespeare to accommodate for your apparent conversational ineptitude? Yes. I was.

The grin grew to a full smile. Such cutting sentiments, Your Grace. I’d no idea your tongue could cause such a wound.

A lady is fully capable of protecting those in her care without calling for pistols at dawn.

Now a soft chuckle filled the space between them. Caroline did not care for the way it seemed to brush across her skin like a laundered blanket brought in fresh and warm from hanging in the sun.

You think my advice a matter of dishonor, then?

I think your rudeness an insult.

My rudeness? His smile stayed as his eyebrows lifted in surprise. For asking you to dance or—

For cornering me into a waltz and proceeding not to speak.

He winced. I’m afraid I’d lost count of the pattern and didn’t realize this was the next dance.

So he hadn’t deliberately asked her to dance a waltz? While Caroline had been somewhat flattered under her earlier irritation, now she was nothing but confused. Her marriage had been a notorious love match, still talked about by many of the ton. Such a reputation had kept any unmarried gentleman from approaching her before, even though she’d been a widow now for longer than she’d been a wife.

If Lord Blackstone hadn’t wanted to waltz with her in order to have a captive audience and test her acceptance of his attentions, what had he intended? "What dance did you resolve to ask for