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Chapter 1

WESTON MANOR SAT SERENELY AND QUIETLY IN THE MIDST of two acres of garden It was a slish gentle in 1797 Only the keenest observer would notice that two of the gutters had fallen somewhat or that a corner of one of the chimneys was broken away or even that so to peel

Inside, the only roo roolect In the shadows, the Georgian chairs’ upholstery was frayed and faded Tiny bits of the plaster decorations on the tall ceiling had started to chip, and on one wall there was a lighter space where a painting had once hung

But the young girl sitting on one side of the table was oblivious to any ilued to the man across from her

Farrell Batsford curved his wrist in such a manner that the ruffled silk at his cuff would not be stained by the juices fro only a bit of the irl across from him

“Stop gawking and eat your dinner,” Jonathan Northland co away fro at your country place?”

Regan Weston tried to look at her food, even to eat a few bites, but she couldn’t e to s any of it How anyone expected her to be calm and eat at a ti so near her, she couldn’t begin to understand She stole another glance at Farrell, looking up at hi with his long, thin nose and his alold brocaded vest perfectly suited his looks and his slied artfully around his narrow head, waving just a bit at the edge of his pure white cravat

As Regan uttered a deep sigh, her uncle gave her another quelling look Farrell wiped the corners of his thin lips delicately

“Perhaps ht?” Farrell asked quietly, pronouncing each word carefully

Bride! Regan thought This time next week she would be his wife, and she’d have hi only to her Overwhelmed by emotion, she could not speak; she could only nod in acceptance As she tossed her napkin on the table, she are of her uncle’s disapproval Once again she wasn’t acting as a lady should From now on, she reminded herself for the thousandth time, she must remember who she was—and who she was to become: Mrs Farrell Batsford

As Farrell held out his aran tried not to clutch it She wanted to dance with delight, laugh with her happiness, throw her arms around the man she loved But, instead, she followed hiarden

“Perhaps you should have worn a shawl,” Farrell said once they were a short way from the house

“Oh no,” she said breathlessly, leaning a little closer to him “I wouldn’t have wanted to take a ether”

Farrell started to say soe his mind as he looked away froht, and it is cooler than last night”

“Oh Farrell,” she sighed “Only six irl alive”

“Yes, well perhaps,” Farrell said quickly as he disengaged her fingers froan” The tone of his voice was much like the one her uncle always used with her, one of impatience and exasperation