Not every match is made at the marriage mart . . .
After a disastrous, short-lived engagement and years of caring for her ailing grandmother, Phoebe Hallsmith is resigned to spinsterhood. But if she must be unmarried, far better to be of use than languishing at home, disappointing her parents. As an employee of the Everton Domestic Society of London, Phoebe accepts a position at the country home of an old friend and discovers an estate—and a lord of the manor—in a state of complete chaos.
Losing himself in the bottle has done nothing to ease Markus Flammel’s grief over losing his wife. Not even his toddler daughter can bring him back from the brink. Now this fiery, strong-minded redhead has taken over his home, firing and hiring servants at will and arousing unexpected desire. As not one, but two suitors suddenly vie for Phoebe’s hand, can Markus move past loss and fight for a future with the woman who has transformed his world?
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Books by A.S. Fenichel
The Demon Hunter Series
Ascension
Deception
Betrayal
Forever Brides
Tainted Bride
Foolish Bride
Desperate Bride
The Everton Domestic Society
A Lady’s Honor
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
A Lady’s Honor
The Everton Domestic Society
A.S. Fenichel
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
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Copyright © 2018 by A.S. Fenichel
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First Electronic Edition: April 2018
eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0584-7
eISBN-10: 1-5161-0584-2
First Print Edition: April 2018
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0587-8
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0587-7
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
A long time ago, I knew I had to write this book. To heal myself and to let people know that there is room inside each of us for more than one love of our life.
It took almost fifteen years to find the courage.
For Jimmy who taught me how precious love is while he was in this world and after he left it.
For Dave, you expanded my heart and renewed my world.
Acknowledgments
No book is written without a community of people who keep me going.
Thanks to the KickAss Chicks: Sabine Priestley, Sarah Hegger, Kyra Jacobs, Kristi Rose, Juliette Cross and Gemma Brocato. You all give me a safe place to fall and a smart place to ask questions.
Thanks to the Early Bird Writers for pushing me even when I just want to sleep. You ladies are an inspiration every day. Heidi, Stephanie, Kristi, Corinne and Janna, love you all.
Special thanks to Martin Biro for saying no and making me think. If not for your push, the Everton Domestic Society would not exist.
And thanks to Penny Barber for hours of brainstorming and troubleshooting to make this series work. You always ask all the right questions.
Prologue
Phoebe breathed in the warm, cherry pipe tobacco that scented the Everton Domestic Society’s offices. Lord Rupert Everton only smoked in his private lounge, but the homey smell wafted through the building. From the moment she’d set foot in the aging townhouse, she’d been more at home than in any of her family’s estates. Fresh flowers filled the vases on the entry table and at the bottom of the handrail.
Tired from a long assignment, she took care to silence her practical shoes on the scarred wooden floors. A Persian carpet ran the length of the steps. If she could get there unheard, she would be sure to make it to the solitude of her private room above-stairs. Waking dreams of flopping down on her own bed had kept her awake these last few weeks. Not that she ever slept well, but lately it had grown worse.
Dark wood adorned the walls with little to mask any sound. The door to her right opened and Phoebe gasped. Lady Jane’s voice drifted out. “You have nothing to worry about, Lady Castlereagh. I will send someone to Rosefield in a few days.”
“I have no doubt,” replied Margaret Flammel, in a stern voice. The Countess of Castlereagh stepped into the front hall. Petite but formidable, she patted her dark blond hair into place and turned toward the front door. She locked gazes with Phoebe and stopped.
With an inward sigh, Phoebe dropped into a curtsy. “How do you do, Countess?”
“Lady Phoebe Hallsmith? I had heard you had embarrassed your mother and gone into service. I did not realize it was here at Everton’s. Not quite as bad as becoming some nanny, but not exactly what your family would have expected from you. I heard that brother of yours disowned you.” Her green eyes flashed with accusation.
For a year, she had managed to avoid people who would say directly what all of the ton was thinking. It was a miracle she had managed it so long. Phoebe forced a smile. “I go by Miss Hallsmith now. It is nice to see you, my lady. I hope your daughter, Dorothea, is well.”
“Married, as I’m sure you know. Not well married, but happily, for whatever that is worth.” Lady Castlereagh pulled a handkerchief out of her waistband and dabbed her cheek.
“I imagine it is worth quite a lot to Dorothea.”
Lady Jane Everton cleared her throat and stepped next to Lady Castlereagh. Jane towered over the countess. Her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, she always brought calm to every situation. Her gray skirt and light blue blouse were pressed to perfection and gave her a severe, staid appearance. “Miss Hallsmith has just returned from her second assignment this year. Both were very successful. You may have heard, she assisted with the Mayfield girl for her debut season.”
With a nod, Lady Castlereagh said, “Velvet Mayfield is a shy wallflower. I imagine you had your work cut out for you, Miss Hallsmith.”
The typical labeling done by society stoked Phoebe’s ire. Velvet was a wallflower. Phoebe was a spinster. Where would it end? It wouldn’t. People like the countess would always pin labels on people of whom they disapproved. “You will be happy to hear that Miss Mayfield is soon to be Mrs. Harrington Wormfield.”
Though Lady Castlereagh’s shocked expression only lasted a moment, it was more gratifying than Phoebe could have imagined.
Lady Castlreagh said, “You must b
e very good at your job if you got that one married off.”
She restrained the joy bubbling inside her over Velvet’s impending marriage. There was no response that would be kind to Velvet. Phoebe turned to Lady Jane. “I am happy to be back, my lady. I will be ready for my next assignment in a day or two.”
Looking her up and down, Lady Castlereagh circled Phoebe like a cat about to devour a mouse. “Lady Jane, I think Miss Hallsmith might do very nicely for my contract with Everton’s. She has breeding, even if she has wasted it. I have always known her to be a resourceful girl, even though her temper is legendary. She knows my son and was friends with his deceased wife. She would not need to be educated about the situation. She grew up near Rosefield and probably has heard all the rumors already. It would keep the situation close rather than exposing our family to a stranger.”
All of England knew the rumors. There was little need to be coy. Markus Flammel had taken to the bottle after his beloved wife, Emma, died in childbirth. It was two years since her death. Phoebe had hoped Markus would come to his senses, but if his mother was seeking help from the Everton Domestic Society, things must be quite bad.
Lady Jane frowned. “We do not usually let our ladies assist friends as it can be a conflict of interest, Countess.”
“I hope I will not have to insist.” Lady Castlereagh lifted her chin, tucked her handkerchief back in her waistband and stepped toward the door. “I expect to hear from you in the next day or two with details of Miss Hallsmith’s arrival at Rosefield.”
The butler, Gray, opened the front door, his wisps of white hair catching the breeze. Once the door closed behind Lady Castlereagh, Gray bowed to Lady Jane and left the front hall.
Jane shook her head. “Are you up to a chat about this assignment, Miss Hallsmith, or do you need a rest?”
Phoebe said, “It is probably best for us to speak first. I will never rest with this on my mind.”
Gesturing toward the office doorway, Jane invited Phoebe inside. The place of business was softer than the entry hall. A muted blue rug and matching drapery warmed the cold wood. Cream and sky-blue upholstery made the overstuffed furniture comfortable. Every table held a vase with fresh-cut flowers. The scent mingled with masculine cherry tobacco. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows and the wind sang against the side of the house. Once they were seated, Jane folded her hands atop of the desk and sighed. “What do you know about Markus Flammel?”
Her heart hurt thinking about him. She crossed her ankles and put her hands in her lap where she looked down at them. “Quite a lot. The countess is right about that. I was good friends with his wife, Emma. She was a wonderful girl and they were very much in love. I was still in Scotland when Emma died. She had written to me every week up until then telling me how happy they were about the coming birth of their first child. A few weeks later my mother wrote telling me that Emma had died and the child, Elizabeth, had lived. Mother wrote quite often after that with gossip about Markus and his drinking. I understand from my brother Miles that Markus has not maintained his home.”
Jane leaned back in her chair and let out another sigh. “That is more or less what the countess said. It would also seem that Lord Castlereagh’s antics have finally caught up to him. The family could be in trouble if Markus does not come to his senses. For now, his sister’s husband, Thomas Wheel, is holding things together.”
“That is kind of him.” Phoebe didn’t want to say more about the relationship between Lord Castlereagh and his son-in-law, Thomas. Talking about Markus was part of the business but anything more about the family constituted gossiping. Thomas had many reasons to harm the earl and if he was helping him, it was for the sake of his wife and his old friend Markus. Miles had written to Phoebe just before she returned from Scotland with an account of a duel between the two men where Thomas was nearly killed.
“Yes,” Jane said. “It would seem Mr. Wheel is an extraordinary man. Mrs. Wheel is a lucky woman despite what her mother might think.”
“I am sure if Mr. Wheel were titled, Lady Castlereagh would have another opinion. However, my brother was very close with both Markus Flammel and Thomas Wheel at Eton. They are both fine men. If Markus has fallen this far, he needs help and the fact that his mother came to you must mean she is quite desperate.”
“Agreed. Will you take the assignment, Miss Hallsmith? I know you were counting on some time off, but it would be difficult to sway the countess from her demands.” Jane pulled a pen and paper from the drawer to her left. “This is the contract Lady Castlereagh signed. If you agree, I will put your name on it.”
Phoebe hoped she didn’t look as weary as she felt. “I will require a few days to rest, but I feel I must help Markus and Elizabeth for Emma’s sake. She was a good friend to me. I called on Markus a year ago, after my grandmother passed. I had just returned to England. Markus was not at home and the housekeeper did not know when he would return. I will need a chaperon.”
“Yes. I think Lady Honoria Chervil is the only Everton dowager available at the moment.” Jane frowned, but there was amusement in her gray eyes.
“I know some ladies complain about her eccentricities, but she makes me laugh.” Even the thought of Lady Chervil gave Phoebe a chuckle. She was irreverent, flamboyant, and energetic. Maybe just the thing Markus Flammel, the viscount of Devonrose and his estate, Rosefield, needed.
Jane nodded. “I will put you both down for the Flammel assignment and order a carriage for Friday. Will that give you enough time to recover?”
Four days with nothing to do but rest. It sounded like heaven. “Perfect. I will be ready to go. If you would not mind, I think it would be best if I brought Arwen with me again. It is best to have a lady’s maid when living with the ton.”
“Of course. Lady Chervil will no doubt bring Margery with her. Just make sure you keep to the rules of the companion. None of the Everton Ladies or their staff are to be a burden to the clients.”
“I will stick to the companion’s rules.” She patted the side of her bag where the booklet resided.
“By letting you go I am already breaking from the rules. It will be difficult for you not to become personally involved with the client when you already know him and are sympathetic to his situation.” Jane shook her head and jotted Phoebe’s name on the contract.
It was personal. There was no getting around it. Still, Phoebe was determined to be the best Everton lady to hold a companion and keep to the rules. “Rule twenty may be bent, but it is not broken, Lady Jane. I will remain unaffected and do what is necessary to resolve the situation.”
“I have complete faith in you, Miss Hallsmith.”
Chapter 1
No. 6
Upon arrival, an Everton lady will seek the head of household and announce her presence and purpose.
—The Everton Companion
Rules of Conduct
Years in Scotland caring for Grand had kept Phoebe from Rosefield and her best friend, Emma. Along the front of the grand estate, Emma’s beloved rose bushes were overgrown and the facade loomed with sorrow and loss. Hesitating on the first step, she brushed aside her imaginings about the stones mourning Emma’s death.
There were no words that could comfort Markus Flammel. What would she say?
A wayward branch from the rose bush lay in her path.
Rubbing the chill of October from her arms, she took a breath, clasped her bag with her Everton lady’s companion inside and pulled her shoulders back. She had faced her grandmother’s recovery and eventually her death; she could face this too.
She climbed the ten steps to the door and pushed aside her anxiety.
“This place is a bit unkempt, Phoebe.” Honoria Chervil pranced up the steps beside her.
“Yes. That’s part of why we are here, my lady.” Phoebe grabbed the brass ring and knocked.
“We are arriving very early for paying a call. Pe
rhaps we should have waited for the carriage to be repaired and come later with our belongings.”
The hired hack rumbled back up the drive away from Rosefield. There would be no speedy escape.
Drawing a long breath, Phoebe pulled her shoulders back and her chin up. She was ready for whatever might come. “No. This is not a social call, Honoria. I did not wish to get a late start and it will take hours to have the wheel fixed at the inn. This will be better and the rest will follow this afternoon.”
Glass shattered inside. Yelling and screaming and wood crashing sounded through the door.
“What on earth?” There was nothing worse than standing on the steps while screams and crashes filtered out. Phoebe pushed the door open.
As if her presence froze the scene, five pair of eyes stared at her in the threshold.
Two maids were on their knees surrounded by glass, faded flowers, and water. The round table lay in pieces behind them.
Mrs. Donnelly’s bonnet was askew, her hair stuck out in all directions, and her chubby cheeks were as red as the overgrown roses in front of the house. The housekeeper scooped up a screaming toddler who was inches from getting into the dangerous glass.
Watson, the butler, stood like a statue staring at her with his hands in the air.
“What in the name of heaven is going on in here?” Phoebe never imagined her arrival would look anything like this.
Watson lowered his hands, smoothed his graying hair and approached. “I’m afraid you’ve caught us at an inopportune moment, my lady. The master has just arrived and we are preparing.”
A maid sniffed as tears ran down her face and she used a rag to pull shards into a pile.
“Preparing for what?” Honoria asked.
“What on earth could be prepared by what I am witnessing?” Phoebe might have been out of line in questioning the staff of Rosefield before she’d even made her purpose known to Markus, but something was terribly wrong here.
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