Mary Balogh - Lord Carews Bride

Chapter 1

"Oh, do come with us, Sam," the Countess of Thornhill said. "I know it is only a short walk to the lake, but the setting is lovely and the daffodils are in bloom. And surely it is better to have company than to be alone."

There was a look of concern on her face that made her cousin, Samantha Newman, feel guilty. She would far prefer to be alone.

"The children will not bother you, provided you tell them quite firmly that you are not to be romped with," the countess added.

There were four children, the countess's two and Lady Boyle's two. They were perfectly normal, well-behaved though exuberantchildren. Samantha was fond of them and had no objection to being romped with quite frequently.

The children never bother me, Jenny," she assured her cousin. "It is just that I like being alone occasionally. I like walking long distances to take the air and commune with my own thoughts. You will not be offended, will you?"

"No," Lady Thornhill said. "Oh, no, of course not, Sam. You are our guest here and must do as you please. It is just that you have changed. You used not to like being alone at all."

"It is advancing age," Samantha said, smiling.

"Advancing age!" her cousin said scornfully. "You are four-and-twenty, Sam, and as beautiful as you ever were, and with more admirers than you ever had."

"I think perhaps," Lady Boyle said gently, entering the conversation for the first time, "Samantha is missing Lord Francis."

Samantha hooted inelegantly. "Missing Francis?" she said. "He was here for a weekvisiting Gabrieland left this morning. I always enjoy Francis's company. He teases me about being on the shelf and I tease him about his dandyish appearance. Lavender silk for dinner last evening, indeed, and in the country! But when I am not in his company, I forget him immediatelyand I daresay he forgets me, too."

"And yet," the countess said, "he has twice made you a marriage offer, Sam."

"And it would serve him right if I accepted one of these times," Samantha said. "He would die of shock, poor man."

Lady Boyle looked at her in some shock herself and smiled uncertainly at the countess.

"No, if you really do not mind, Jenny, and if you will not be hurt, Rosalie," Samantha said, "I believe I will walk alone this afternoon. Aunt Aggy is having a rest, and this lovely spring weather calls for something brisker than a stroll to the lake."

"You could have gone riding about the estate with Gabriel and Albert," the countess said. "They would not have minded at all. But here I go, trying to manage your life again. Have a good afternoon, Sam. Come, Rosalie, the children will be climbing the nursery walls in their impatience already."

And so finally Samantha was alone. And feeling guilty for spurning the company that had been offered her. And feeling relieved to have the rest of the afternoon to herself. She drew on a dark blue spencer over her lighter blue dress, tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin, and set out for her walk.

It was not that she disliked either Jenny or Rosalie or their children. Quite the contrary. She had lived with Jenny and Jenny's father, Viscount Nordal, for four years after her parents died when she was fourteen. She and Jenny had made their come out together. They had loved the same man No, that was not to be thought of. Since Jenny's marriage six years before, Samantha had frequently stayed at Chalcote with her and Gabriel. If they were in town during the Season, she often stayed with them there. Jenny was her dearest friend.

And Rosalie, the wife, also for six years, of Gabriel's closest friend, Sir Albert Boyle, was impossible to dislike. She was sweet and shy and gentle and did not have a mean bone in her whole body, Samantha would swear.

The trouble was that they were both very contentedly married. They were both absorbed in affection for their husbands and affection for their children and affection for their homes.

Sometimes Samantha wanted to scream.

And Gabriel and Albert quite clearly shared all those affections with their wives.

Samantha had been at Chalcote since just before Christmas. The Boyles had been there for a month. Aunt AgathaLady BrillSamantha's constant companion, had come with her. Lord Francis Kneller, another of. Gabriel's friends, had been there for a week. Everything was so wonderful, so peaceful, so cheerful, so domesticated. Everyone, it seemed, was in the process of living happily ever after.

Oh, yes. Samantha's steps quickened. Sometimes she could scream and scream and scream.

And she felt horribly guilty. No one could be kinder to her than Jenny and Gabriel. At least Jenny was her cousin. Gabriel was nothing to her, and yet he treated her with as much courtesy and even affection as if she were his cousin, too. It was horribly ungrateful to want to scream at their domestic bliss. She did not resent their happiness. Indeed, she was very happy for them. Their marriage had had such an inauspicious beginning. And she had felt that it was partly her fault

No, it was not that she resented them. It was just that Well, she did not know just what it was. It was not jealousy or even envy. Darkly handsome as Gabriel was, she had never felt attracted to him herself. And she was not in search of a man of her own. She did not believe in love. Not for herself, anyway. And she had no intention of marrying. She wanted to remain free and independent. She was almost both alreadyUncle Gerald had not kept firm reins on her since she reached her majority. But when she was five-and-twenty, her parents' small fortune would be hers to manage herself.

She could hardly wait.

Her life was as she wanted it to be. She was not lonely. She had Aunt Aggy all the time, there were always Jenny and Gabriel to be visited, there were numerous other friends. And there was that group of gentlemen whom it pleased Gabriel to call her court. It was flatteringly large, considering her advanced age. She believed it was so large just because all its members knew very well that she intended never to marry. They felt safe flirting with her and sighing over her and sometimes stealing kisses from her, and even occasionally making her marriage offers. Francis had made her two, Sir Robin Talbot one, and Jeremy Nicholson so many that both of them had lost count.

Her life was as she wanted it to be. And yet She could not even complete the thought. She supposed it was the normal human condition never to be quite happy, quite satisfied. She did not know what it was that was missing from her life, if anything. When she turned five-and-twenty, perhaps everything would be finally perfect. And there was not long to wait.

She did not know where she was walking. Except that it was in the opposite direction from the lake. And again she felt guilty. Jenny's Michael and Rosalie's Emily, both five years old, were intelligent and interesting children. Rosalie's Jane, three years old, was a mischief, and Jenny's Mary, aged two, was a sweetheart. Rosalie was in a delicate way again and was due to deliver later in the spring. Per-haps for Jenny's sake Samantha should have gone with them.

She recognized where she was when she came to the line of trees. She was close to the boundary between Chalcote and Highmoor. They were two unusually large estates adjoining each other. Highmoor belonged to the Marquess of Carew, but Samantha had never met him. He was from home a great deal. He was from home now.

She walked among the trees. There was no real sign of spring yet above her head, though the sky was blue and I there was definite warmth in the air. The branches were still bare. But soon now there would be buds, and then young leaves, and then a green canopy. There were snow-drops and primroses growing among the trees, though. And there was the stream, which she knew was the exact boundary line, though she had not walked in this particular place before. She strolled to the edge of it and gazed down into the clear water gurgling over the stones at the bottom of the streambed.