by Dayna Quince
Mine, All Mine
Hot Historical Romance
Dayna Quince
Dreamcatcher Books
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Sneak Peek
Newsletter Sign up
About the Author
Also by Dayna Quince
Chapter 1
London
Tuesday, April 2, 1816
“I trust you know why I have sent for you, Redwick?”
Dominic spared him a glance then returned to scrutinizing his finely trimmed nails. “No, Lord Douglas. Would you care to explain?” He pinned Lord Douglas with a freezing stare. Dominic had only been out of the service for three months, and yet here he was again, asked to serve his country after a decade of bloodshed and near-death exploits.
“I am aware that you have many pressing matters to attend to as the new Earl of Redwick, but there has been a situation that needs to be investigated with the delicacy and secrecy only you can achieve. It is a matter of treason, and it cannot go unnoticed any longer.”
“What is it you expect me to do?”
“I need you to find a missing girl. She is the daughter of the late Duke of Cranston and disappeared when Mr. Hollow, her stepfather, committed treason. He was a simple, wealthy merchant until he began moving cargo of a different nature.” Lord Douglas leaned forward.
“What does the girl have to do with it?” Dominic exhaled in weary acceptance.
“We are not precisely sure, but her sudden disappearance from society, in which she is very well known, is alarming. She either knows the whereabouts of her stepfather…or of the missing jewels.”
“Jewels?” Dominic said derisively. “I am not taking part of any duck hunt for jewelry, Lord Douglas.”
“This is not just any piece of jewelry. This necklace is a priceless gift from the King of Spain himself, and a French spy had stolen it. We discovered his body in the Thames. In his coat pocket, we found a note containing precise instructions to steal the necklace and book passage back to France, which led us to Mr. Hollow, who we can only assume now has the necklace. We have lost enough to the French—we will not lose this. It is a symbol of our victory over France and future alliance with Spain. It is your duty, Redwick!” Lord Douglas slammed his fist on his desk for emphasis.
Dominic watched him idly, slightly amused by his patriotic fervor—or was it greed that led this passion for justice? Dominic could no longer tell where loyalty ended and political ambitions began.
“Find the girl and find the necklace. All that we ask is that as you go about your usual society affairs, you simply drop a question here or there, listen for any talk and such. Someone has to know where the young woman is. She cannot have dropped off the face of the earth. Her options would be limited to matrons and close friends. Someone must know, and you are the best man to find the truth.”
“Do I have any choice in the matter?” Dominic asked sarcastically.
“No.” Lord Douglas glared at him. “You are on orders from the Prince himself. You may go now. Here is a packet of information with the details of your mission. Keep me updated with any information.”
Dominic raised an irritated brow as Lord Douglas handed him the packet and then began to shuffle through papers, completely dismissing his presence. He left the office with no further comment and returned to the bustling street outside. Forgoing his carriage, he signaled his driver to return home, deciding to walk the few blocks to his London townhouse. Walking seemed to clear his head, giving him room to think about how to find a missing debutante as soon as possible. He had a life to get back to—not a terribly exciting life. It did not include murder and secrets, and that suited him just fine. He would start with checking Debrett’s Peerage. A duke’s daughter of marriageable age could not just disappear. She was most likely as incapable of caring for herself as a newborn foal. She would need the refuge of an appropriate family member with the means to house her, perhaps on the fringe or outside ton circles. Debrett’s would tell him how extensive the Cranston family was and where a girl could run to hide.
If she was hiding. The stench of treason would annihilate any and all contact with polite society. He could exclude her friends from his lists of possibilities; no one would be allowed to socialize with her from now on. And about the mother—how did her family accept her marrying a mere merchant? Dominic frowned in thought. The situation was puzzling.
He reached home and retired to his study. He opened the packet and pulled out several sheets of paper. A brief accounting of the Duke of Cranston and his death, the heir and his present location, the courtship and remarriage of the duchess to one Mr. Hollow.
It appeared Mr. Hollow had quite a lucrative shipping business. Dominic doubted it was an honest business, by the looks of the notes on the page he held before him.
And then there was the girl. Lady Lillian St. James. Dominic envisioned a pale, simpering English rose who would likely be frightened by a brisk wind. Where would such a creature go to escape scandal?
“There’s to be no fraternization with the footmen, stable hands, and especially his lordship’s acquaintances, or you will be dismissed. Insubordination or cheeky attitude, unkempt hair and uniform, sloppy work, or clumsiness will not be accepted. Fail to meet these qualifications and you will—”
“Be dismissed, yes, Mrs. Fields, I understand you perfectly.”
“Good, now what did you say your name was?”
“Millie James, ma’am.”
“Now come along, Millie. You must pass muster under Mr. Fields, my husband,” Mrs. Fields said proudly, “before I can show you the kitchen duties.”
“Yes, Mrs. Fields.” Lilly hurried after the portly woman through a maze of doors and short corridors in the underbelly of the house lit only by wall sconces. They stepped through a door into what looked like a butler’s pantry, where an older, slightly fatherly-looking man was making entries in a ledger behind a small desk.
Mrs. Fields stepped politely in front of the desk and cleared her throat.
“Mr. Fields, I would like to introduce you to the young lady applying for the position of cook’s assistant.”
Mr. Fields spared her a single glance before looking back to his papers. “She’s too pretty,” was all he said.
Mrs. Fields waved Lilly forward, and she curtsied and introduced herself.
“My name is Millie James, and I am honored to be interviewed by such a prestigious household.” Lilly paused when she noticed the oh-so-important Mr. Fields gaping at her.
“Where did you learn to speak like that, girl?”
“I, ah…”
“Well?” he barked.
“Sir.” Mrs. Fields stepped in. “Miss James comes from the Duke of Cranston’s house… before the incident, of course.”
Lilly braced herself for the worst.
“Did you stay with the duchess, Miss James, or follow the new duke’s household?”
Lilly took a deep breath and steadied her nerves before she an
swered. “Neither, sir. After His Grace passed away, I was called to my ailing aunt’s residence. I don’t believe the new duke has returned from his travels, and I did not witness the duchess’ remarriage.”
“I see.” Mr. Fields put on his glasses and resumed looking over the papers. “Last I heard, he was still gallivanting about Europe. How long were you working in the kitchens before you left, Miss James?”
“Eleven years, sir. I grew up in those kitchens,” Lilly said confidently. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a smile begin to form about Mrs. Field’s pert mouth.
“Why don’t you show her the kitchen, Mrs. Fields?”
“Excellent, Mr. Fields, right away. Come along, Millie.”
Lilly nearly collapsed with relief. This was the first step in her masquerade as a servant, and she could only imagine the hours of labor her future would entail. Nevertheless, it was better than ending up in New Gate for treason. Entering the dim corridor again, Lilly followed Mrs. Fields down a short hallway.
“Was it confusing to have a surname so similar to your employers, Miss James? Did you ever meet Lady Lillian? I heard she was a beautiful child,” the housekeeper chattered pleasantly.
“No, ma’am, I would imagine the daughter of the duke would not be allowed to grace the kitchens.”
“So true, Miss James—some houses are very strict in their formality.”
“And you are not?” Lilly asked.
“Oh, not to worry, my dear—the master is rarely at home, and why would he ever enter the kitchens? The sight of him alone sends Bertha into fits. He is a devil, that one.”
“One can hope to never meet him,” Lilly said to herself aloud.
Mrs. Fields paused in her stride and turned to face Lilly. “Now, you don’t have to worry about that, Miss James. This is a very respectable household for a young woman such as yourself, despite what you may have heard about the earl and his reputation.” She patted Lilly on the shoulder in a motherly fashion and resumed her pace. “Besides, the odds of you two crossing paths are as likely as a fish in the Prince Regent’s tea.” She snickered.
Lilly smiled to herself behind the housekeeper’s back. She liked those odds. Mrs. Fields introduced her to the rest of the staff. They were polite but reserved. Lilly knew it would take time for them to get used to her and trust her as one of their own. She was shown to her room, a small, square compartment no bigger than her old dressing room. She tried not to look disappointed. In fact, she was downright grateful to have a safe roof over her head, but it was still a bitter reminder of the drastic turn her life had taken. She was surprised she was not sharing a room with another maid, but it seemed everyone had their own space to call their own—and privacy. She was left to don her uniform, a serviceable wool black skirt, white blouse, and black apron. Mrs. Fields advised her that she could wear her own acceptable clothing as well, but Lilly had only packed three gowns: her night gown, a cloak, and other absolute necessities. All of which would be obviously well made and in the first stare of fashion. She would have to find time to sell one of her gowns for more serviceable garments befitting her new station.
A desperate weariness settled about her as Mrs. Fields left her to change, and Lilly was alone in her room. If one could even call it a room. It was a box. She had once been Lillian St. James, daughter to the sixth Duke of Cranston, and now she was merely Millie James, cook’s assistant. She had chosen the name simply for its likeness to her own. It was easier to respond to that way. All those hours in the kitchen growing up had saved her life. If not for Ellie, her old cook and friend, she would not have this new position and a warm bed to sleep in. She mentally pushed away the dark cloud that threatened to come over her. There wasn’t time for tears or sorrows. She had to keep her chin up and keep going forward. Each step she made had a purpose.
Chapter 2
April 3rd, just after luncheon.
You need to get out, Dom.”
“This is my study,” Dominic said dryly from behind his desk. He watched his good friend peruse the shelves of books. He knew what he was getting at.
“I meant into society. Breathe some fresh air, get some sun on your face, and see your mistress.” Chance smiled and waggled his eyebrows.
“As you well know,” Dominic drawled, “Jena and I had a falling out. Do you have interest in that area? ”
“Good God no, that’s too much drama for my taste.”
“Well, she is an actress.”
“And the world is her stage. Did she throw things? Try to scratch your eyes out?”
“No, not nearly as dramatic as you would like, just merely…disappointed.”
“High hopes?”
“Very.”
“Did she honestly think she could leap from actress to countess in six weeks?” Chance asked in astonishment.
“It would seem so,” Dom said with a heavy sigh. He got up and strolled to the large bay window, looking out into the desolate gardens the winter had refused to release into spring. Some vegetation fought vigorously to bloom, while other parts remained skeletal and drab.
Dominic was tired of his life. Until his brother’s death, he had lived in obscurity, the black sheep, living in foreign countries under so many different names he had almost lost track of who he was. After returning to England as the new Earl of Redwick, he hadn’t yet entered society. He didn’t want to admit to anyone that he didn’t know how to be an aristocrat anymore, let alone be civilized and enter the marriage mart, as was his duty.
He despaired at the thought of ever finding someone to marry. Dominic wanted a companion in all things, a woman he could trust and rely on to anchor him to earth instead of this meaningless drift. Not a woman anxious for someone else’s title and money to carry them through life. Dominic refused to do it. He would find a woman who loved him or never marry at all, social duty be damned. Being so close to death for so many years made a man think about these things, about what was important in life.
“You need a good ride, Dom.” Chance’s voice broke through his melancholy thoughts. “I’ll tell Fields to saddle your horse and we can burn off your sour mood.”
“Let me be, Chance. You nag me like a wife.”
“Perhaps you need a wife?”
“Perhaps you need a wife. I could find some blasted peace if you were too busy begetting an heir to trouble me with your incessant—”
“You need me, old man—don’t pretend otherwise. If it were not for me, you would turn into an irascible old man. Without me, dear friend, you are intolerable.”
Dominic laughed. He would never admit it, but Chance was irritatingly right. Damn him.
“About that ride?” Chance pestered.
“In a minute.” Dominic mused, “I’m practicing at being a languishing lord. Idleness doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“More the better. Idleness leads to fat. What will the women of London do without Dominic Coel to run them to ground?”
Dominic snorted. “I’ve never done such things.”
“You used to do such things. I was with you, remember?” Chance smiled wickedly.
“Then you are in no place to judge.”
“Who said I was judging?” Chance pouted in mock innocence.
“It was implied in your tone. I have not yet entered the social scene. Would I be remiss to call you a rake, Chance? Have you earned yourself a formidable reputation?” Dominic smiled encouragingly.
“I’m afraid not. Being a rake requires a lot of work and is entirely too fashionable right now. Mothers have taken it into their heads that a reformed rake makes the best husband. Therefore I practice being invisible.”
“And how does one manage invisibility in a ballroom full of marriage-minded young ladies?”
“I have my ways. A few select young ladies of exceptional wit and intelligence let me cower behind their skirts.”
Dominic laughed uproariously. “Who are these paragons of womanhood?”
“You would know if you would leave this damn
study.”
Dominic smiled and nodded as his friend left the room. Chance Armstrong, Marquess of Willowton, was one of the few connections he held onto from his old life before the war. Chance was the consummate optimist. He always sought the silver lining and always made sure Dominic did not succumb to his dark moods. He felt normal around Chance, a feeling he didn’t achieve too often, and as he struggled to ingratiate himself in the role his brother had been raised to fill, he was glad Chance was there to distract him.
Lilly hummed to herself as she lightly seasoned the beef flank she was preparing for tonight’s dinner. It was only her second day, but already she felt completely at ease with the other kitchen staff. They were extremely friendly and helpful. Bertha, the cook, was an artist in the kitchen. Lilly was excited to be working under her as her assistant. Her earnings were hardly enough to live on, but if she worked hard, with time she would save enough to buy passage to Duckerton Pass.
Lilly started when some cad burst through the side door, cursing and stomping the mud off his boots. Eyes blazing with anger, she turned to the stranger and set about putting him in his place.
“You, sir, are a pig, and after you clean that mess up you can kindly remove yourself to a pen.”
“I beg your par—”The man froze and gobbled her up with his eyes.
Heat infused her cheeks as she stared boldly back at him, unable to tear her eyes away. She discovered with dismay that he was no mere sir, but judging by the cut of his coat, a gentleman, and one could only assume the master of the house. Oh dear.
