A Reason to Rebel Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  About the Author

  After one daring act, two worlds collide.

  Duty has always been Estelle Travis’s byword. But every woman has her limits, even a recently widowed one with few prospects. Her father’s coldly calculating plan to force her into another marriage is the final straw. In an act of rebellion, she takes up a position as companion to Lady Crawley. She soon realizes she may have just exchanged one peril for another, in the guise of Alexander, Viscount Crawley.

  Alex is beguiled by the aura of mystery that surrounds the beautiful new governess. Her air of vulnerability brings out his protective instincts in spades. He discovers her well-hidden reckless streak when her sister goes missing and, rather than do what’s expected and return to her father’s austere household, Estelle embarks on her own search.

  Amid a thickening cloud of suspicion and whispers of murder, what choice does a gentleman of honour have other than to offer his assistance? Then there’s the allure of her company, even if it exposes him to dangers that have little to do with her sister’s plight…

  Warning: This title contains a Regency heroine who abandons conventional behaviour, breaches the social divide and renounces her inhibitions.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  A Reason to Rebel

  Copyright © 2009 by Wendy Soliman

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-496-5

  Edited by Deborah Nemeth

  Cover by Anne Cain

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2009

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  A Reason to Rebel

  Wendy Soliman

  Dedication

  For Andre, always in my heart

  Chapter One

  Hertfordshire, England, 1815

  “The scullery maid has gone and got herself in trouble.” Mrs. Keller pulled her thin lips taut in a grimace of disapproval. “Obviously she’s been given her marching orders and now Cook’s short-handed, so don’t go expecting anything special for luncheon.”

  Estelle looked up from her embroidery. “Why was I not consulted before the girl was dismissed?”

  “It’s what the mistress would have done. We don’t hold no truck with licentious behaviour in these parts, no matter what those accustomed to Hampshire society might be prepared to overlook.”

  Estelle refrained from rolling her eyes and reminding Mrs. Keller that she was the mistress of this house now. The redoubtable housekeeper ran the household in the same manner as she had during the thirty-year tenure of her predecessor. When Estelle had arrived in Hertfordshire as a nervous bride, Mrs. Keller had blithely ignored her suggestions for changes, her features settling in a curmudgeonly expression as though the word was a contagious disease.

  “Change, madam?” Estelle recalled her saying caustically. “I hardly see the need for change. The Mrs. Travis saw no occasion to criticize our methods. But, of course, if we do not give satisfaction…”

  Her words had trailed away yet her beady eyes had remained fastened upon Estelle’s features. Her expression of unmitigated dislike dared Estelle to find fault with the domestic arrangements in her new home—tested her. Estelle, inexperienced in the management of recalcitrant servants, knew she ought to stand her ground, that it was a defining moment in which she must exert her authority if she wished to be treated with respect. But she was no match for Mrs. Keller’s staunch implacability and eventually gave up on her efforts to reform the household routine.

  The death of her husband a year into their union, closely followed by the loss of the baby she was carrying and the subsequent disappearance of her beloved sister, had seen her give way to a prolonged fit of the blue devils. She had long ceased to care what the servants thought of her, leaving the running of the house entirely in their hands.

  But now, the notion of a young girl being turned away to fend for herself—when the blame might not lay with her—roused her from her lethargy.

  “Who was responsible for the girl’s situation? Was it someone under this roof?”

  “A footman.”

  “And he has been sent packing too, presumably.”

  Mrs. Keller appraised Estelle with an expression of lofty scorn. “We saw no occasion for that. He told Mr. Archer that the girl led him on, so there was no more to be said.”

  “And Mrs. Travis would have concurred with that decision, I collect.”

  “She understood how things ought to be done.” Mrs. Keller’s eyes lingered with evident disapproval on the colourful shawl draped around Estelle’s shoulders. “You can’t blame young men for trying these things, it’s in their natures. It was up to the girl to keep her knees together.”

  “You would know all about that sort of temptation, would you, Mrs. Keller?”

  “Well, really!” She sniffed, her pinched features alight with majestic indignation. “Never did I expect to be spoken to in such a manner beneath this roof.”

  “I daresay Mrs. Travis, the first Mrs. Travis that is, would have treated you with more respect.” Estelle could feel the numbness that had cocooned her for the past three months slowly giving way to a burning anger at the injustice of it all, which in turn lent her the courage to face up to her witch of a housekeeper. “What age is the girl?”

  “Fourteen, but—”

  “And the footman?”

  “Three-and-twenty, but that does not signify. Young girls nowadays are very aware.”

  “Send someone to find the girl and bring her to me. She should not be abandoned in her hour of need.”

  “It’s too late. She will likely be well away by now.”

  “Do it, if you please, Mrs. Keller,” said Estelle in a voice of steely resolve.

  “Very well,” she said grudgingly.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, the fox got into the hen house last night and we lost three of our best layers.”

  “Oh dear.” Estelle did not see what she was expected to do about the situation, other than to recommend the replacement of the unfortunate birds, which seemed rather too obvious to put into words. She wondered why Mrs. Keller had bothered to inform her of the incident. “And what would the previous Mrs. Travis have done about it?” she asked, struggling to keep her lips straight.

  “I’m sure I couldn’t say, madam,” came the frosty reply.

  “Really!” Estelle invested a wealth of m
eaning into the single word. She could have filled a journal with the late Mrs. Travis’s miraculous solutions for the tiniest domestic crisis. Apparently she was being burdened with particulars of this latest one only to punish her for daring to issue a direct order. She was obliged to quell a smile at this small triumph. Now that it was almost too late, and the time was fast approaching when she must surrender the supervision of the household to the wife of her husband’s heir, she had finally worked out how to best her wretched housekeeper.

  The sound of a carriage shuddering to a halt on the driveway saved Estelle from the trouble of formulating a reply to the thorny question of their depleted poultry stock. She dismissed Mrs. Keller with a curt nod. A spontaneous smile graced her lips as she anticipated being reunited with her visitor. Susanna was here at last.

  Having declined all other offers of support, especially the half-hearted one received from her own mother, Estelle was now impatient for her friend’s company. She was ready to pour out her woes to the one person with whom she could be perfectly frank. She could not wait to inform her of her recent victory over Mrs. Keller. Susanna would have found a way to put the woman in her place long before now, but she would be impressed by Estelle’s newfound authority for all that.

  The small parlour’s frugal fire did little to dispel the chill in the air. Shivering, Estelle pulled herself into a sitting position on the settee and slowly lowered her feet to the floor, moving cautiously to prevent the room from swimming before her eyes. Unaccustomed to ill health, she was finding it increasingly tiresome being incapacitated for so long. Her glance rested upon the shawl which had so incensed Mrs. Keller; a colourful accessory which she always kept by her. Its brightness was indeed inappropriate for a recently bereaved widow but somehow she was unable to dispense with the comfort it afforded her.

  Estelle patted stray strands of auburn hair back into place and smoothed the severe lines of her black gown over her knees. Her wan complexion and lustreless eyes bruised with fatigue were attributable to a succession of sleepless nights. She had not spent one comfortable night in the characterless chamber the mistress of this house was expected to occupy; not even before misfortune befell her. But now Susanna had come to her and would make everything all right. All dizziness had left and Estelle sat expectantly, attempting to curb her impatience as she waited for her friend to be shown in.

  It took her a while to realize that the voice she could hear booming in the entrance vestibule was not the delicate feminine one of her friend but rather the strident tones of her father. He made no attempt to lower his voice as he addressed Peterson, the footman whom he had sent to this house to spy upon her as soon as her husband had died. Why he thought that necessary when her maid Martha was already diligent in reporting her activities directly to him she could not imagine.

  Estelle’s heart plummeted. What was he doing here, and today of all days when she was so looking forward to seeing Susanna? Did he deliberately seek to overshadow the one pleasure she had been anticipating since the onset of her misfortunes? Could he really be that vindictive? Her father would be aware that Susanna was expected, of course. Either Peterson or Martha would have been sure to inform him of the fact. He had never approved of Susanna, holding her responsible when Marianne developed an independent streak and dared to question his authority. He had doubtless called to re-establish his dominance over Estelle, aware that having made such a brilliant marriage, Susanna now wielded some influence in the very best circles and would have less reason than ever to keep her opinions to herself.

  Estelle dreaded seeing the man whom she had always feared, had little respect for and privately admitted to actively disliking. But she could think of no reason to refuse to see him. Indeed, she would not dare.

  “It’s all right, Peterson, I do not need announcing. Just have Martha see to Mrs. Travis’s packing. In the small parlour, is she?”

  Estelle straightened a spine that was already rigidly upright, determined for once not to be intimidated by her father’s overbearing presence. Her resolve was immediately tested when she heard him giving instructions for her bags to be packed. Whatever could he be thinking of? Then her heart lifted. He must have intelligence of Marianne; there could be no other explanation. The fact that his visit coincided with Susanna’s was pure coincidence, nothing more. Marianne had been found and was asking for her. Naturally she would go to her sister at once, no matter where she was, no matter how long and debilitating the journey. Her own concerns were secondary when compared to the plight of her beloved sibling. At last she would get the opportunity to hold Marianne again and tell her how sorry she was for appearing to take their father’s side against her.

  “Papa,” she said with artificial brightness when the door opened and her father’s portly figure filled the aperture. “I did not anticipate the honour of seeing you here today. I trust you are well, sir. Do you bring intelligence of Marianne?”

  “Marianne?” Mr. Winthrop’s brow creased with confusion. “Why should I be here to discuss Marianne with you?”

  Estelle’s brief hopes expired and she felt the agony of her sister’s disappearance as keenly as though it had happened yesterday. She felt her own guilt at being partly to blame more keenly still. “But I thought, that is to say I assumed, that only something of such moment could bring you so far out of your way.”

  “Then your assumption was incorrect. I came to see how you fare and was obviously right to be concerned for your welfare.” He ran his eyes critically over her gaunt features and scowled. “You are far too thin and clearly not taking care of yourself. What do your servants do all day if not care for their mistress? You clearly allow them far too much latitude and they take shameful advantage of you.”

  Estelle knew this to be true and could think of nothing to say in her own defence. “It takes time to recover from the loss of a child.”

  “Stuff and nonsense, girl. Your mother lost three in succession and did not make half the fuss about it that you are doing.”

  Estelle stifled the retort that sprang to her lips. She possessed more compassion in her little finger than her beautiful yet selfishly remote mother could summon in her entire body. Mama had never recovered from the disappointment of being compelled by financial necessity to marry far beneath herself, and the loss of three children would have been nothing more than a mild inconvenience to her.

  “I shall ring for refreshments,” said Estelle tightly.

  “Don’t trouble yourself. I have told Peterson I shall take luncheon with you and will then be on my way.”

  Estelle tried not to make her relief too obvious. She had supposed her father intended to remain for several days, whilst Susanna was with her at the very least, just to stifle their reunion. The fact that he did not even plan to spend the night under her roof gladdened her heart.

  “Such a fleeting visit, sir.”

  “I am on my way to conduct some business in Leeds,” he said, “and came out of my way to call upon you.”

  “You are too good.”

  “I shall be returning through these parts in a sennight and came to give you notice that you should be ready to leave with me then.”

  “Excuse me, sir, I do not understand you.”

  “You will be returning to Farleigh Chase to live at home again.”

  “But this is my home now.”

  “No, Estelle, this is your late husband’s home, and his heir will be here before the month is out to take possession.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You know very well that Travis’s son did not approve of his father’s marriage to you. His wife bears you no less hostility and will not look kindly upon your presence here.”

  “But I have every right to reside in this house.”

  “Which will cut no ice with her. You are a beauty, Estelle, even in your current condition, and such a vindictive woman will not welcome the competition. Good God, girl, you and she are the same age, and she will not wish her husband to daily compare the two o
f you and be found wanting.”

  “But that is preposterous!”

  “It will happen, just mark my words.”

  “I do not know what you are implying, Father, or what it is that you think I am, but I can assure you that Mrs. Travis need have no fears in respect of my intentions towards her husband.”

  “God’s teeth, Estelle, I credited you with more sense. There is nothing for you here now. Travis was persuaded to marry you because he needed the money I settled on you. And I sanctioned the match because I wanted you to marry well.

  “I did not realize Mr. Travis needed to be persuaded into matrimony.”

  “Don’t get in a taking, girl. Of course he needed to be persuaded, and it cost me a pretty penny to bring him round. He was desperate for funds, so in the end he graciously overlooked your lack of social standing. But your dowry was gambled away even before Travis was foolish enough to break his neck on the hunting field.”

  Estelle gasped at the crassness of her father’s words, but he did not appear to notice how indelicate he was being and carried on in his usual blunt fashion.

  “Travis’s son called upon me before you were wed trying to persuade me to call it all off. Did you know that?”

  “No, I did not, but I do not see how it changes anything. I did marry his father on your specific instructions, and even a cold-hearted man such as his son could hardly throw me out when I am still in full mourning.”

  “Perhaps not, but that does not mean he needs to make you feel comfortable. Now that the money is all gone, he will have no further use for you when he returns to claim what’s left of his inheritance. If you had been capable of birthing his step-sibling it might have persuaded me to further generosity when Travis approached me again, which he undoubtedly would have done. But since that did not happen I cannot allow you to remain here to be abused by his wife.”

  “But I have no desire to return to Hampshire, Father.”