Flame and Ember (Regency Love Book 1) Read online

  Flame and Ember

  Regency Love Series Book One

  M.A. Nichols

  Copyright © 2018 by M.A. Nichols

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  www.ma-nichols.com

  Books by M.A. Nichols

  The Tréaltha Series

  The Drogue

  The Rinaldi Triplets: A Novella

  Blood of the Warden

  The First Great War: A Novella

  Lock and Key

  The Tréaltha Series Collection

  The Villainy Consultant Series

  Geoffrey P. Ward’s Guide to Villainy

  Geoffrey P. Ward’s Guide to Questing

  Regency Love Series

  Flame and Ember

  A True Gentleman

  Prologue

  London

  Spring 1809

  Wilhelmina Ashbrook leaned her head against the alcove wall, stared out the window, and wished she weren’t so wicked. Not that happiness itself was inherently evil, but finding any modicum of joy in the death of her beloved papa certainly earned her the title of wicked.

  Her breath fogged the glass. Through the haze, Mina watched the horses trot past the townhouse. The clopping of their hooves and the clatter of carriages rang through the air. London had its enticements; Mina loved the many musicales, theatres, and other diverse entertainments, but the hustle and bustle of the city stifled her soul. She longed for a breath of clean air, a horseback ride across fields, and a chance to avoid the unpleasantness that came with London society. The country called out to her, begging Mina to escape the noisy confines of Town. Her papa had never understood that sentiment, though she had tried to explain it to him on various occasions.

  Now he was gone, and it was difficult not to hope that her longstanding wish would finally come to fruition. Mina would give anything to have her dear papa alive and healthy, but she was unable to change the past nor stop the desire in her heart that saw the possibility of something good coming from this bleak affair. Mina glanced at her drawings lying on her lap, detailing all the improvements she could soon afford for Rosewood Cottage.

  No matter that her family thought cottage ‘cramped’ and ‘pokey’. To Mina, it was a haven. With blooming honeysuckle climbing the grey stone walls and shutters painted the perfect green to accent their foliage, Rosewood Cottage was the picture of picturesque. Having been her grandmother's favorite retreat, she had willed it to the one person in the family who loved it with equal fervor, and Mina dreamt of living there.

  If only her grandmother had willed her the funds to maintain the property. Or if only her father had been willing to give his daughter a modest increase in her pin money. However, between the Ashbrook’s immaculate London townhouse and vast estate in Lincolnshire, her father saw no need for his daughter to abandon civilization to reside alone in the wilds of Herefordshire. Now, his refusal to give Mina the necessary financial freedom was a moot point.

  Mina truly was a wicked, wicked woman. For even though the majority of her heart and soul mourned the loss of her beloved papa, lingering in the quiet recesses was the realization that with the reading of her father’s will, she would finally have the funds to fulfill her dream. Rosewood Cottage. Sadness still clung to her, but the thrill of that possibility chased away some of the melancholy, giving her a light among the dark despair.

  Finally, Mina would be able to quit her father’s home and set up one of her own. No loving husband and sweet children would fill it, but it would be a home nonetheless. One that she would be free to do with as she pleased. One that allowed her to escape the madness of society when she wished. One that she could decorate and arrange to her delight. Not a borrowed thing she occupied in the interim between childhood and marriage. It would be utterly and completely hers.

  The library door opened, and Mina’s brother entered. He was more than capable of stepping into their father’s shoes, but Mina sensed the responsibility hung heavy on him.

  “Hello, Nicholas,” she greeted, pushing the sketches aside, uncurling her legs, and brushing off her black skirts as she stood. “You just missed tea. I can have Cook prepare a tray if you wish.” She went to call a footman, but Nicholas stopped her.

  “I’m fine, Mina. Truly.”

  She studied his face and knew his words were untrue but sensed it was best to move on.

  “And you, Mina? How are you?” asked Nicholas, scrutinizing her with an intensity she found unnerving on her younger brother’s face.

  Mina blushed, and a sick feeling filled her stomach. It wouldn’t do to admit aloud the thoughts in her head. At least, not in its entirety.

  “I was thinking of Father, but that is nothing new,” she said.

  Nicholas nodded, ushering her to the sofa before sitting beside her.

  “I take comfort in knowing he is with Mother now,” he said. “I believe it is something he has wanted for a long time.”

  Mina could only nod. As the oldest child and daughter, she had tried to step into her mother’s shoes, but she was no proper substitute. Especially for their father.

  “But there is something I need to speak to you about,” Nicholas said, sitting even taller. It was a relatively new habit of his, squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine. In some ways it was funny to see him playing the part of ‘lord of the manor’ but heartwarming at the same time. He was no wet behind the ears lad and had been without purpose for far too long. Having the weight of their father’s role on his shoulders would do Nicholas good.

  “I’ve come from the solicitor,” he said. His rigidity faded a moment as he flexed his fingers. Mina didn’t know what to expect, but Nicholas fidgeting was never a good sign. “I have some rather difficult news about Father’s will.”

  “The finances?” Mina paled. As far as she was aware, they were robust. She’s managed the household accounts since her mother’s passing fifteen years ago, but her father had seldom discussed the details of the estate finances with Mina. Graham would be fine. His naval career would sustain him. But Nicholas and Ambrose would be left to flounder. Mina would have a home with Aunt Matilda, though the thought of it soured her stomach. Mina had barely survived the woman when she’d served as chaperone during Mina’s many unsuccessful Seasons. The thought of spending the rest of her life with that horrid woman was enough to make Mina contemplate going into service.

  “Calm yourself, Mina,” said Nicholas. “All the family holdings are flourishing.”

  “So, you, Graham, and Ambrose…”

  “Will be fine, I assure you.”

  Mina sighed and touched a hand to her temple. “Perhaps you should have begun with that. For a hard moment, I feared the worse for you boys.”

  Nicholas grinned. “Always the mother hen, Mina?”

  She returned his smile. “Some habits are hard to break. But please, get to the point,” she said as he looked no more ready to broach the topic than he had been moments before.

  “It isn’t our inheritance that is of concern. It is yours,” he said. “Father has provided handsomely for all of us boys, as he assured me he would, and he left strict instructions about how you are to be cared for.”

  “Cared for?” The words made Mina sound like Cousin Beatrice’s pampered terrier.

  “Not that I would ever shirk my duty on that account,” Nicholas insisted, seeming a touc
h angry at the thought. “You are my sister, and I will always provide for you. No matter what.”

  “Of course, Nicholas, I never doubted it, but I have to admit I have no idea what you are trying to say.”

  Nicholas clenched his jaw, tapping his fingers along his knee. “He left you nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Your dowry is still intact for when you marry.”

  “When I marry?” scoffed Mina. “At what point am I supposed to marry? No suitors appeared when I was eighteen. Why should one do so when I am a decade older?”

  “Mina, there is still time for you.” Nicholas’s voice took on the exasperated tone Mina often heard whenever the topic of her marriage (or lack thereof) was broached.

  “It’s the ‘still’ that make me uncomfortable,” said Mina. “It implies that it’s improbable, but if the stars align, one day a miraculous husband may appear, so I must keep sitting around waiting for it to happen.”

  Spinsterhood was not such a sorry state for her family to force ‘still’ on her every chance they could. It was said with such a pitying tone, as if the best Mina could hope for was to spend her life pining for something she did not have. Mina had grown accustomed to the idea of spinsterhood. It was not her preferred state, but life often differed from a person’s dreams, and Mina refused to waste away while waiting for ‘still’ to find her.

  “But there is still time for you to find a husband. You are not terribly old,” he said.

  Mina sighed at that unintended insult. The poor man hadn’t meant it to sound so utterly horrific, so it was best to ignore the slight and move on.

  “Nicholas, that is beside the point,” said Mina, pulling them away from that verbal quagmire. “Why would Father do that to me?”

  Nicholas sighed and glanced at Mina’s drawings of Rosewood Cottage. “Because he does not wish you to give up on life and lock yourself away in the country.”

  Mina had no reply. Her father may not have supported her plan, but to reach beyond the grave and snatch away her dreams was unthinkable. Every time Mina had begged to live at Rosewood, her father had insisted the family houses were hers. Perhaps they had been, but not in their entirety. Though she had been acting the part for years, Mina was not mistress of the Ashbrook estate; it was only acting. A temporary thing. Mina stood in for her mama while her papa lived, and in place of Nicholas’s future wife, whoever the lady may be. Mina was desperate for her own home. Her own life.

  “He left instructions that Rosewood Cottage should be maintained, and you are allowed to visit from time to time, but he wants you to live with me,” said Nicholas.

  Mina had no words. Every last one of them escaped her at the realization of what her father had done to her. He’d purposefully left her dependent on her brother. Left her without anything but her allowance. Her future at Rosewood Cottage faded from her mind, replaced with black, stifling thoughts as Nicholas rattled off the various provisions dictating her father’s continued control over her life.

  Mina wanted to rail and shout against the injustice of it all, but the fight seeped from her. Shouting at Nicholas would do no good. She had never resented her life. She loved it, in fact. She had been blessed with an adoring family and comfortable means. Mina knew many ladies who scrimped for every penny like beggars living off the scraps society left them, unable to earn their bread or marry into a more comfortable situation. Mina was blessed.

  She just wished she felt it.

  “I know you crave a home of your very own, but you are still mistress here, Mina,” said Nicholas, patting her hand. “That’s not changing. This is still your household to run.”

  “It is yours, Nicholas. Not mine. I am only keeping watch over it until you marry,” said Mina, her spirits falling with each word. “That’s why I wanted Rosewood Cottage.”

  “Mina, you are being a goose,” said Nicholas. “This is your home. You need no other.”

  Her brother’s words echoed her father’s with near perfect exactness. Mina’s head fell, her shoulders slumping.

  Nicholas held her hand. “We can reassess the situation in the future, if need be, but there’s no reason for you to leave. More than that, I need you to stay. I need help taking care of the household side of things, and you are an expert at it. I have no intention nor inclination to marry any time soon. I am afraid, dear sister, you are stuck with your bachelor brother for a long time.”

  ***

  “It is good to see you, Mr. Kingsley,” said Miss Susannah Weston with a properly demure curtsey. Simon barely contained the heart beating in his chest at the sight of her. The sun filtering through the sitting room window gleamed off her golden hair, as if she were cast in a tableau vivant as a heraldic angel. She was perfection personified, and in some mad twist of fate, she had been placed in Simon’s life, though he knew he would never be worthy of such a prize.

  “Thank you for granting me an audience,” said Simon, bowing low over her hand, his lips grazing her knuckles. It was one of the only times he had ever felt her bare fingers, and he yearned for more; every gentlemanly instinct in him forced such urges aside.

  Miss Weston smiled, and the next words fled from Simon’s mind. She laughed, playfully tapping his arm, and he realized she had spoken though he had not heard the words. Sitting, Miss Weston gestured to the chair beside her.

  “I asked if you wished for refreshment,” she repeated.

  Simon shook his head, mumbling some nicety that came from years of etiquette training and with little thought.

  He had never felt so nervous in his entire life, and that was no insignificant thing as he had been in a near constant state of anxiety ever since the first moment he had seen her. Such indescribable feelings had overwhelmed him, making it impossible to even approach her that first Season. Simon had spent it watching her like a lovesick puppy from afar until it was too late to make her proper introduction. He’d had plenty of months to ponder about and curse over his monumental stupidity while he’d awaited the beginning of the next Season. This time, he would not allow such cowardice to stand in his way. Even if he still felt like a quaking, callow youth whenever she was near.

  Life had taught him not to dream of a loving marriage, but Simon had still hoped for one. Years of scouring had nearly extinguished that desire, but that blessed night two years ago, standing in some nondescript ballroom among a crowd of nondescript people, Miss Susannah Weston had appeared, and Simon knew they were meant to be together.

  He needed to get the words right. He did not doubt Susannah’s feelings for him. Always walking the line of propriety, she had never been so bold as to say it aloud, but Simon felt keenly that her heart belonged to him as much as his belonged to her. Thinking through the mountain of evidence, Simon felt his anxiety lessen, though he still struggled to speak.

  “Miss Weston,” said Simon, “I know I should be more prudent and begin with some discussion about the weather or the health of your family, but I cannot. We know each other well enough to dispense with such inanities.”

  Susannah’s smile brightened. “Yes, indeed, Mr. Kingsley.”

  Simon slid from his seat to kneel on the floor before her, taking her hands in his. He could hardly think with the feel of her fingers entwined with his. “I know I should have spoken with your father, but you are of age, and I wish to speak with you first.”

  Her hands squeezed his, and Simon forged on. “I love you. My heart burns for you, and it is all I can do to contain it.” With that, Simon took a moment to fight back the feelings driving him to sweep her into his embrace and ravish her lips. “Experience has taught me to be wary of love, but you have shown me the glory of it. I know there is no other woman in the world whom I could love as deeply and completely as I love you, and I hope I am that man for you. Please, my dearest, will you marry me?”

  Tears caught in her lashes. Susannah’s hands held fast to his, but the look in her crystal blue eyes held a touch of sorrow. “I do care deeply about you, Mr. Kingsley, but I canno
t marry you. I’m engaged to Mr. Richard Banfield. He and Papa settled it all yesterday.”

  Simon’s shoulders felt heavy, and he couldn’t keep them upright. The whole thing was absurd. She had met the man only a couple of weeks ago. It was not possible. “You are engaged?”

  “Oh, Mr. Kingsley,” she said, her voice filled with remorse. She reached forward to brush Simon’s cheek, giving him a thrill of joy and shock of pain all at once. “I am so sorry. I do wish things were different.”

  Rebellious hope sprang up, beating back his sense, telling him that his Susannah could free herself from her engagement now that she knew in no uncertain terms how he felt. But Simon’s honor would not allow him to voice such thoughts. He despised the idea of encouraging her to go back on her word and hurt another, but that savage part of him allowed those desperate desires to run free.

  And then Susannah continued to speak.

  “If circumstances were different, I would love to marry you, but Richard is the grandson of a baron. You must understand that I cannot turn down such an offer. My parents would never forgive me. He may be too far down the succession to ever hope for the title itself, but the distinction of marrying into such a family is too great.”

  With each word, Simon felt the glow of his soul dwindling. His eyes could not focus on the beautiful face before him spouting off the earnest excuses for crushing his heart. Everything of which he had dreamed was gone. For so many years, finding a lady like Susannah had seemed impossible and in that moment, he felt every pain in his life amplified, confirming what he’d always known.

  Love may exist, but it was not meant for Simon Kingsley.

  Chapter 1

  London

  Two Years Later

  Mina tugged at the tops of her gloves, straightening them for the twelfth time before running her hands down the front of her gown for the seventeenth. And then she straightened the edges of her cloak for the twenty-third. She was a gudgeon. Regardless of how often she told herself her girlish glee was pointless, Mina couldn’t snuff out that last little spark of hope that tonight would be different.