A frigid wind blew through an ancient oak tree, and the bare branches slammed against Effie Musgrove’s bedroom window. Startled by the sudden noise, Effie jumped, stopping in a dead halt.

Her nerves were already on edge as she inhaled a shaky breath. Trying desperately to ignore the fear that rose in her heart, Effie moved toward her window and looked out.

The moonlight bathed the empty road in its ghostly radiance. The frost-covered fields were dotted with banks of snow and seemed to glow beneath the haunting moonlight as a thick fog settled across the earth. Effie shivered. She hated mid-January in Kent.

It was the only way, she reminded herself as she returned to her pacing. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, marry the Earl of Aston. It wasn’t her place to marry a peer. There wasn’t any blue blood that ran through her veins. The only reason the earl had agreed to marry her was because of her father’s fortune. Moreover, the only reason her father had accepted was because of the earl’s title.

Effie shook her head. She wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t! She knew what to expect from such an arrangement. Her dearest friend, Annabelle, who had recently become the Duchess of Fairverly, had told her all about the horrors of arranged marriages and what awful husbands peers made. Annabelle had just recently written Effie a letter about how her husband had abandoned her to travel to Italy, and they had only been married for several months!

Effie couldn’t bear the thought of a loveless marriage. She had always held onto the dream of being in love, as her parents had been. Their marriage had been perfect, Effie thought, until her poor mother passed away two years ago. She had often begged her mother to tell the tale of how she had met her father, since it was the most romantic story Effie ever knew. Her mother had been the daughter of a duke and had left her comfortable life behind to marry Effie’s father. Her family had disowned her, even though her husband was a wealthy inventor. Effie often dreamt of a love so powerful she would throw away everything for it, but here she was, the night before she met her betrothed who was a complete stranger.

A gentle knock at her door shook the thoughts from her mind as one idea replaced all of her fear and anger.

Escape.

She waited until the person’s special knock ended. Three quick raps, plus two slow ones. Effie rushed to the door and opened it, meeting a plump, young maid.

Grabbing the girl by the wrist, Effie pulled her in as quickly as she could, closing the door with a soft thud. “Bess! Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, miss! But I couldn’t find Billy anywhere.” The young maid rushed to the side of the bed and bent down. Pulling out a bag from underneath the bed, she looked back at her mistress. “You’ll need to be quick, miss. I was only able to distract Bertram with two bottles of wine. I fear he’s already on the second.”

The old valet, Bertram, had been with Effie and her father for years, and it was well known that as strict as he was with his rules, he held a weakness for wine.

Once again, Effie went to the window and looked down the road to where the fields met the forest. Her eyes strained to see something, anything that would tell her that Billy, a local driver and Bess’ brother, was waiting for her.

Suddenly, a tiny flicker of light came into view, swinging back and forth.

“He’s ready, then?” she asked, wrapping herself tightly in a heavy cloak.

“Yes, miss. He’ll take you as far as the Rose and Thorn. You should be there by morning or tomorrow night if the weather turns bad. From there, the mail coach should be able to see you through Surrey and into Hampshire.”

“Good,” Effie said confidently, though her voice was shaky.

The maid paused, giving her mistress a distressed look.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, miss?”

“No,” Effie said truthfully. “But I must. I can’t marry a man I’ve never met.”

“However, Hampshire? Are you sure Lady Fairverly will—?”

“Annabelle will take me in.”

“But Lord Fairverly—”

“Is in Italy at the moment.” Effie turned around and gave her bedroom one last look.

Sighing, she shook her head. If only her mother were alive, she wouldn’t have to run away. She would understand Effie.

Pulling the hood over her red hair, she looked at her maid. “Ready?”

“Yes, miss,” Bess answered, grabbing the bag.

The two women hurried down the front staircase into the foyer. As quick as they could, they made their way through the kitchens and out the servants’ door.

Bitter winds blew harshly against Effie’s cheeks, causing her eyes to tear. It was that kind of cold that made you wish to turn around immediately and return to the warmth of a fireplace.

No matter how tightly she held her cloak, the chilling breeze crept into her hood, crawling down her neck. Effie shivered but continued. She was determined and would brave any weather to avoid a loveless marriage.

By the time they made it to the edge of her father’s property, Effie’s entire face was numb. Her silk stockings were drenched, her toes frozen, and the hem of her skirts soaked. She prayed the heat box beneath the carriage seat would be enough to thaw her feet.

Billy the driver was leaning against the coach when they arrived, immediately helping Effie through the carriage door. She turned around as Bess gave her bag to the driver.

“Thank you, Bess,” Effie said, sincere. “Are you sure you don’t wish to come with me?”

Bess gave a weak smile. “I’ll miss you, miss. That’s for certain, but my mum is here. I couldn’t leave her. Not with all my sisters and Papa being so ill. I couldn’t leave Billy with all the responsibilities.”

“Yes, of course.” Effie smiled sadly. “Goodbye, Bess. And thank you again.”

Bess’ hand came to the carriage door. “Goodbye, miss. May God bless you.” She closed the door and turned around.

Effie pulled back the velvet curtain and watched Bess hurry back to the warm home. As the coach jerked into motion, a feeling of loss and uncertainty settled in her stomach. Sending up a silent prayer, she settled into her seat.

God help me.

* * * * *

Edmond Aston, Earl of Aston, stood in Mr. Musgrove’s drawing room. He hadn’t come all the way from London, in the middle of a snowstorm, to hear that his future wife had run away the night before. Cold black eyes stared into the elderly man’s angered and crestfallen face.

“Outrageous girl!” Mr. Musgrove paced the floor. “I’ll disown her for this! I’m so sorry, Lord Aston. I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe she would do something so foolish.”

Edmond sighed. He was bored of this man and his excuses. His daughter probably heard of Edmond’s heritage and fled for that reason. It was all so tiresome, he thought. An annoying little thorn that kept poking him in the side every time he met people or had business to take care of. Not even the fact that his parents had been legally married made a difference to society. He was different from them, and he suspected that his bride simply refused to marry a half-Portuguese, half-English man, despite being an earl.

He wondered if this red-faced man hadn’t changed his mind suddenly.

“Is that all?” Edmond asked.

Mr. Musgrove looked up, his face twisted in confusion. “Is what all?”

Edmond fought against the frustration rising in his chest. “Your daughter has run away. Is that all?”

“Yes?” Mr. Musgrove replied, still not understanding.

“And you have not receded on our agreement?”

“Our agreement?”

Aggravation boiled Edmond’s blood. “Our agreement, Musgrove, our agreement.” He spoke with force. “That I marry your daughter.”

“Oh, no. I mean, that is our agreement, and I stand by it. But she has run off—”

“My things.” Edmond motioned to one of the servants. He looked back at Musgrove. “Then if that is all, I’ll be on my way.”

Edmond nodded his head and turned on his heel, walking out of the room and down the hallway.

Musgrove caught up with the earl just as he was about to leave the foyer. “Lord Aston!” He shouted as he ran. “Lord Aston!”

Edmond turned around. The old man’s face was as red as his hair.

“What?” Edmond barked, taking his things from a plump, young woman. He noticed that the maid looked rather pale.

“Are you leaving so soon? Before we can even send someone to go after her—?”

“I’m going after her.”

“But… But the snow! You’ll become stuck in the storm in no time.”

“I doubt it.”

“But—”

“But what, Musgrove? Obviously, Miss Ephemera’s heart is set on not marrying me, and I no doubt believe that she is a clever little chit, since she was able to get your valet drunk and disappear without so much as a carriage.”

The ashen-faced maid gasped slightly.

Edmond eyed the girl and wondered. “You.” He stared at her.

“Me, my lord?”

“Yes. Tell me, where has Miss Ephemera gone to?”

Musgrove looked at Edmond as though he were mad. “Lord Aston, I have already asked—”

“Yes, and I believe you found out nothing,” he bit out. He turned his full focus back on the young maid. “Your name?”

“Bess, my lord.”

“Bess,” he repeated, a touch of calm entering his voice. His usual cold black eyes melted into a warmth that made the maid shiver. If anything, Edmond could make a woman talk. “Where has Miss Ephemera gone?”

“She’s gone to Hampshire, my lord. To stay with Lady Annabelle, Duchess of Fairverly.”

“You little…” Musgrove spat.

“Angel,” Edmond interrupted. “Musgrove, see to it that this girl gets a raise.”

“But she lied to me!” Musgrove whined as if he were a child.

“And she just helped me locate your daughter. Who, despite my better judgment, I should refuse to marry.”

Musgrove stared blankly at the earl, his jaw hanging open.

Edmond was beginning to dislike this man very much. “Very well. If you won’t, I shall go over you. Bess.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Go home and pack your things. You will be Miss Ephemera’s handmaid once we are wed.”

The maid began to shake her head. “But my family—”

“Pack them up as well. You will stay on my estate in Essex. I’ll have two carriages come to gather you in a week or so. Until then…” Edmond motioned to his own valet who handed Bess several pound notes.

“My lord?”

“Do you accept?”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Very well.” Edmond pulled his heavy winter coat on, along with his hat. “Good day, Musgrove.” He started to leave. Suddenly remembering he didn’t know what his bride-to-be looked like, he turned around. “What does she look like, Musgrove?”

“Look like?” he repeated as if he didn’t know.

With a cold look, Edmond refused to repeat himself.

“Oh, yes. Well, she’s red hair and green eyes. About this tall.” He put a hand an inch above his head.

Edmond decided she would come up to just over his chin.

“And I think that’s all.”

Nodding to his future father-in-law, Edmond took a mental note of her description and left.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbled to himself as he climbed into his coach. He shouldn’t have invited a new maid and her entire family to move and work on his estate in Essex. He couldn’t afford it. Well, not until he married Miss Ephemera. Her dowry would be able to cover most of his father’s debt. Plus, he couldn’t leave the poor maid in Musgrove’s employment. She would have been dismissed the moment Edmond left.

The coach sped off into the early dusk. Edmond lounged in his seat, looking out his window. Dark clouds hung menacingly in the sky, threatening a snowstorm. Just what he needed, he thought. A storm on top of finding a woman who didn’t want to be found. Edmond was already finding his future wife more trouble than he wished to deal with.

He hadn’t wanted a spirited, willful wife, but he had no choice. His heritage had marked him an outcast in society, and his father’s debt had left all his properties in dire need of funds. He would take a wife, even if she didn’t wish to be taken. No respectable woman of society would marry him, and so an heiress was the only reasonable thing to do.

* * * * *

“Am I cursed?” Effie sighed to herself as she pushed back the curtains, watching through a sheet of white as Billy the driver fidgeted helplessly with the broken wheel of her coach.

The frozen roads and brutal winds had sent her carriage careening into an unseen hole in the middle of the road, causing the wheel to crack right in half. Luckily for her, Billy had managed to halt the horses in the middle of a full sprint without tipping the coach, only landing them in a ditch. Why was fate so against her?

The sky above began to dim from gray to black as night came. The snow had begun just at dusk that evening. Effie knew she had no chance getting to the Rose and Thorn tonight, but she couldn’t stay in this carriage any longer. She didn’t doubt her father had sent his men to gather her the moment he discovered her disappearance. It wouldn’t be long before she was caught. The carriage had to be repaired immediately.

Pulling her cloak tightly around her head and neck, she opened the door. The bitter sting of the cold air slammed into her, causing her to shiver from head to toe. Large clumps of snow fell from the sky in such droves that she could barely see her own hand in front of her face.

Cursing herself for not taking the weather into consideration, she forced her way toward her driver. “Is there any helping it? We can’t stay here tonight.”

Billy let out a heavy sigh and looked down the road ahead of them before turning to face her.

Effie didn’t like the helplessness she saw in his eyes.

“We’re in a fine mess, miss,” he said discouragingly. “I need a wheel and another pair of hands to help me with this.”

“I can help.”

Billy gave her a disapproving look before turning back to the broken wheel. “I’ll need to take one of the horses and ride to the nearest inn or stable, but—”

“Then go,” she answered quickly. “As fast as you can.”

“I can’t be leaving you here alone, miss. It isn’t right.”

“And I can’t wait here all night. My father’s men will be coming after me.”

”As well they should,” he argued. “It’s not right, a young lady riding off by herself—”

“I didn’t pay you to tell me the rights and wrongs of ladies’ edict. I hired you to do a job.” Effie hated the pride in her voice, but she was nearing her wits’ end. If they were going to waste precious time, her time, arguing over right and wrong, she might as well turn back. “Plus,” she added, a touch gentler, “we can’t stay in the carriage all night. We’ll freeze to death.”

Without looking at her, Billy threw up his hands and rounded the front of the carriage. He unhitched one of the four horses and climbed up its back. Effie nodded, trying to convince herself that she was right.

“I don’t like it, miss. I don’t like it one bit,” Billy called over his shoulder.

“Just hurry,” she answered as she returned to the inside of her carriage.

Huddling up close to the heat box beneath the velvet seat, Effie took a seat on the floor of the coach. Its warmth was dimming, she noticed gloomily. Not knowing how much time would pass before her driver returned, her heart began to sink.

What if her father’s men did find her? What if she was forced to marry the earl? What if they didn’t suit? What if he was cruel? What if he was just like the men Annabelle had warned her about?

She had to escape, she told herself as her eyes squeezed shut to stop the sudden rise of tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her. She wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

She was so absorbed in her distressing thoughts that she barely registered the noise outside her carriage until the neighing of halting horses echoed through the frigid air.

Effie turned quickly, pulling herself up onto the cushioned seat and pulled back the curtain-covered window. Careful not to expose too much of her own face, she watched as a man climbed out of another carriage. Her heart began pounding erratically, afraid that it might be someone she knew.

She couldn’t see much of his face, but never had she met a man so tall! This wasn’t a man she had ever seen on her father’s property or in town. He eyed her coach carefully, like a fox noticing a trap. A gloved hand went up as his driver began to stand, obeying his master’s wish to remain. Effie’s brow furrowed, trying to decide whether to reveal herself to this commanding man. A heavy, high-collared cloak hid the bottom half of his face, and pitch black hair escaped the riding hat he wore. Only the golden skin of his cheekbones seemed visible through the falling snow.

Her gaze fell to his strong legs, pushing through the snow without difficulty as she watched him with great interest. He moved behind the carriage and came to the other side. Effie slid up to the opposite window, carefully peeling the curtain back. As he came closer to examine the wheel, an unsettling feeling began to grow in her stomach. She could feel the hairs on the nape of her neck begin to stand on end and suddenly wished to be invisible. And then, as if he could hear her thoughts, dark black eyes lifted, meeting Effie’s. Removing her hand from the curtain, she held her breath.

Straightening her posture quickly, she smoothed her hands over her skirts and tried to lift her chin in the prideful way she had seen so many debutants do. Praising herself quietly for taking an unmarked carriage, she let her gaze drift down toward the handle as the door flung open.

Effie lifted her chin higher, her eyes laced with forged astonishment. “Excuse me, sir,” she yelled, remembering how the ladies of the ton made their voices sound offended at all times. “What do you think you are doing?”

Eyes black as coal and cold as the blistering winds that whipped into her carriage stared at Effie. Either her acting abilities were horrible or he was truly stunned by her outrage. Whichever it was, a black brow lifted on his face in a quizzical way, almost as if he were surprised. Effie still could barely see the man’s face as the oil lamps only burnt dimly now.

One of the man’s large hands came up to his face, pushing at the upturned collar, revealing a pair of full lips. “My lady.” He nodded his head. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she all but barked, trying to make the expression on her face insulted and having a hard time doing so as she heard the slight flowery tinge to his accent. How could a man be so sun kissed in the middle of January? “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Where is your driver? And your fourth horse?” He glanced around the carriage quickly. “Are you all alone?”

“My wheel has been cracked, and my driver, having no other choice, took the fourth horse and rode to the nearest stable,” she bit out. “Not that it is any of your business, sir.”

“And your maid?” he asked, ignoring her remark.

“I travel alone, sir. I’ve no need for a companion.”

“Oh?” His voice was curious.

Effie noticed a flash of something, a realization, flickered in his dark eyes.

“A young lady, abandoned on the side of the road in the middle of a snowstorm, has no need for a companion?”

“Again, it is none of your business, Mister…?”

“A stranded lady is my business,” he replied, flatly ignoring her unasked question to who he was.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much. Now if you’ll leave me be—”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, a shadow of a grin pulling the corners of his mouth as he climbed into the carriage to sit across from her.

Effie’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

“It is my duty as a gentleman to help a lady in distress.”

“I assure you, I’m not distressed. And I would appreciate it if you left—”

“I shall wait with you until your driver returns.”

A blush flushed her cheeks as Effie’s heart pounded. She shook her head nervously as a long tussle of her red hair fell from beneath her cloak hood around her cheek. “I’ll have you know, sir—”

As quick as lightning flashing across the sky, the man’s hand came up to her cheek, his fingers wrapping gently around the lock of fiery hair. Effie’s breath hitched as his fingertips grazed her cheek. Though the man wore gloves, she could have sworn she felt a jolt of electricity from his touch.

She held very still, strangling a rising scream in her throat as he studied the lock of her hair.

His gaze snapped up instantly, all amusement gone, replaced by a frozen gaze. “Ephemera.” He spoke her name in a blunt manner.

“Yes?” She spoke before she could stop herself. Her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes went wide. “I mean, who?”

Blast, Effie thought. She had responded to her name as if her own father had said it. The man glared at her with a mixture of anger and recognition that Effie knew in an instant he had been looking for her.

Within seconds, the man’s large hand wrapped tightly around Effie’s petite wrist, pulling her with such a force that she was hauled right from her seat out into the cold night.

“Unhand me!” She gasped in shock as one strong arm came up beneath her knees, scooping her up into his arms.

She struggled immediately, wriggling like a rabbit caught in a snare. He held her firmly pressed against his broad chest as if she were his own possession. Even through the thick wool of his coat, Effie could feel the heat of his body. She balled her fist and hit his chest. “How dare—”

“That’s enough,” he exhorted, gripping her wrist in his hand as she pulled back to gather speed.

“What the devil are you doing?” She hissed as he made his way back toward his carriage.

“Taking you home,” he replied, casting an authoritative glance at his driver who remained seated.

“Help,” she shouted at the driver.

“He won’t help you, and no one can hear you all the way out here.”

The man managed to open the door of his carriage and all but tossed her onto the floor. Before she could gather herself to stand, the man’s fist hit the wall of the coach. The driver cracked the reins, and they were off.

Fury was written all over Effie’s face as she glared at the man who sat completely comfortable on his seat. His black eyes were as cold and as dark as the night. She wanted to scream out loud but refused to. Lifting her chin, she pulled herself up and sat opposite him, her eyes filled with chagrin.