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From This Moment On / Candice Hern
Dedicated with thanks to all the readers
who wrote to me asking for Wilhelmina’s story
Chapter One
October 1814
Buckinghamshire
The crunch of wheels on gravel and the clip-clop of a slowing team heralded the arrival of yet another coach. Captain Samuel Pellow, late of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, nursed a tankard of ale in the public room of the Blue Boar, and watched from the little windowed alcove overlooking the i
Sam had pulled into the yard driving his own curricle not half an hour earlier. After so many years at sea he didn’t mind getting wet, but he was much more comfortable on a rolling quarterdeck in a high storm than he was navigating sloggy, uncertain roads with an irritable team. He’d decided to ride out the squall in a dry taproom with twenty or thirty like-minded travelers.
Grissom, the i
Through the rain-streaked mullioned window, Sam could see that there were actually two carriages in the yard, each of them large and elegantly appointed, with a crest on the doors. He couldn’t make out the crest-not that it would make any difference if he could; one coat of arms looked much the same as the next to him-but it was clear from his deferential attitude that Grissom was aware he had a member of the aristocracy in his i
A liveried footman, soaked to the skin, jumped from his perch on the back of the first carriage, pulled down a portable set of steps, and opened the door. Shielded by the i
Sam settled back in his chair and proceeded to enjoy his ale in peace while the entry hall became a frenzy of activity. He could hear Mrs. Grissom, somewhat less delighted with today’s parade of customers than her husband, shouting out orders to her small staff. Her voice rang out with an authority that made Sam smile, thinking she might have done quite well as a gu
Amid the bustle and shouting he caught the words “best room” and “Your Grace.” So, the newcomer was a duchess. The tiniest twinge of anxiety gripped the muscles of his abdomen. He had met a few duchesses in his day, but there was one who still held a tiny corner of his heart, though he had not laid eyes on her in many years. And their last meeting had not been one of his better moments. He was foolish to hope that this particular duchess was his duchess. She was a creature of London, which was one reason he’d avoided going up to Town whenever he was in England. He hadn’t wanted to meet her again. Their last encounter had been too awkward. He never quite knew what he felt for her, and that uncertainty always tied him into knots. No, this far from London, it would be some other duchess. England was crawling with duchesses.
But he could not tear his eyes from the doorway that opened into the entry hall. Several figures were crowded into that tiny space. It was easy enough to identify the duchess. She was the center of attention. The i
The lady herself seemed unperturbed by the fuss and bother. Her back was to Sam, but there was that indescribable something about her bearing that marked her as Quality. She wore a full-length pelisse of deep blue velvet with several short capes at the back, in imitation of a man’s greatcoat, and a matching bo
She nodded to the i
Almost without thinking, he rose from the bench, stepped down from the raised alcove, and walked toward her. Toward Wilhelmina, Duchess of Hertford.
Blast the rain! Wilhelmina had hoped to make it home tonight. But there was nothing more dismal and uncomfortable than traveling in a rainstorm. It was only just past noon and the storm might pass in an hour or so, but the delay would mean an even later arrival in London. Instead, she preferred to take advantage of whatever accommodations could be had in this quaint little village and settle here for the night. They could start out for London in the morning when the weather would hopefully be more cooperative.
She was giving Smeaton, her long-suffering factotum, instructions to arrange rooms for her small entourage of servants when, out of the corner of her eye, Wilhelmina saw a movement in the adjacent public room. Something, some inexplicable pull, compelled her to turn and look. A man was walking toward her. He was silhouetted in shadows against the bright blaze from the large open-hearth fire behind him, and she could not make out his features. But in less than an instant, she assessed what she could see of him with a practiced eye.
He was tall with broad shoulders and a trim waistline, his straight-backed posture lent him a military air. His purposeful stride in her direction made Wilhelmina think she must know him.
Who was he? If he was one of her former paramours, she might find some pleasure in this pokey old i
As he came nearer, a jolt of familiarity shot through her insides. By the time his face came into the light, knocking the breath clean out of her, she had already guessed who he was.
He smiled, that crooked smile she had once known so well, and said, “Willie.”
She was no longer a young girl who swooned with emotion, but Sam Pellow always managed to make her feel unsteady on her pins. He was still good-looking. In fact, he seemed to have grown handsomer over time, or maybe it was her own notion of handsome that had changed. A man of years and experience, with wisdom and character in his face-that was what Wilhelmina now found attractive. It was a mark of her own years, she supposed, that fresh-faced, untried young men no longer held much appeal for her.