Regency AU. After their mother runs away with Paul Eastman, Melinda and Katherine Gordon are ruined in society's eye.
PROLOGUE
Melinda sat next to Katie in the carriage home, their father sat across from them.
"Both of you need not be told that things will be different now," he said stiffly. "With your mother's escapades, you both will need to marry as quickly as possible in order to avoid ruination." He scoffed. "If, indeed, any man of good birth will have you."
Melinda couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say, but Katie, next to her, couldn't help herself.
"Mama's never coming back?" She burst out. Melinda put a hand on her sister's arm; Katie hadn't been told the full story, but Melinda had been an unwelcome witness. She didn't want Katie to hear it from their father, but it was too late.
"She ran away to be a whore with Paul Eastman," he snapped. "No, she's never coming back, and if she does, we will cast her out of the house like the bitch she is."
"Papa!" Melinda reprimanded, forgetting herself for a moment. He took it in stride, however, looking abashed.
"I apologize, girls," he said. "Melinda, you are the woman of the house now. I know you will rise to the occasion."
Melinda settled back into the seat, as Katie sobbed beside her. Her younger sister was only fifteen; far too young for this sordid tale.
Yes, they had spent Melinda's first season out in London. Her eighteenth birthday had been an occasion of mirth and merriment, especially when she was introduced to the queen not long after. There had been parties, and balls, and Melinda was even being courted by two suitors; Richard Payne and Elias James.
That had all ended when her mother had reunited with a past lover. Paul Eastman had attended one of the balls in Bath, and Melinda could still remember looking across the ballroom to see her mother dancing with a strange man.
It had shocked her, but, after all, it was common enough. He'd probably asked and her mother had been too polite to decline him.
That hadn't been the case at all. They'd known each other long before Beth Patterson met Tom Gordon, and their reunion had been passionate and sordid.
Her mother had fled with her lover within two weeks. The news was splashed all over the town, Melinda and Katie were as good as ruined, and now they made the long journey back to their father's estate in Hertfordshire.
"Life as we know it is over," Melinda told Katie as they disembarked from the carriage upon arriving home. "We are both ruined."
Katie's eyes were still red rimmed from crying the whole way home after her father's outburst. "How can this be?" She whispered, as their father led the way into the house in grim silence. Melinda and Katie ushered behind him, trying to stay quiet. "I cannot believe mother would do this."
"She was very selfish, and unthinking," Melinda said. "We must strive to do better, and rise above our poor upbringing."
They were rushing up the stairs, away from their father, and as soon as the door to Melinda's bed shut behind them, Katie could bear it no more.
"No man will marry us now," she burst out. "We are entirely uneligible and you know how father gets in his moods."
"We will see this through," Melinda said grimly. "We are not without any fortune, and I am sure we can attract a widower or two."
"I don't want a widower," Katie said. "I wanted a love match with a dashing young man."
"You won't get one," Melinda stated, simply but firm. "We have to let down our expectations."
"I won't get to have my season," Katie said, staring blankly out the window. "That is all gone, torn from me by our mother's selfishness."
Melinda couldn't reply, and merely placed her hand on Katie's shoulder. "The balls were brilliant," she whispered. "I am so sorry you won't be able to partake. It's not fair."
"No," Katie said dully. "And it never will be again."
Five Years Later...
The County of Hertfordshire was alight with the news that a bachelor was moving into the neighborhood. Hadwell House had been let at last, and the neighborhood was crowing with details.
"He is merely five and twenty years old," Delia crowed, upon entering the house and seeing both of mistresses in the sitting room. Delia had been their housekeeper since birth; she was almost a second mother to both girls. "Ten thousand a year, handsome."
"It doesn't do us any good," Katie said drily. She had just passed her twentieth birthday, but was already as bitter as an old maid. To be fair, both she and Melinda were in danger of that. "He will never come to call on us."
"You don't know that," Delia chided. "His name is Edward Banks, and he's said to be a most charming man. He might at least call on your father."
"Katherine is right," Melinda said softly. "We are both inconsequential, and no man will ever look twice at us after how our mother ruined the Gordon family name."
"He won't have heard of it," Delia said.
"Lord knows that gossip travels fast in this neighborhood," Katie said. "In any neighborhood, to be sure."
"There is hope," Delia scolded. "Miss Katherine, you must stop being so bitter."
"What reason have I to hope?" Katie exclaimed. "My mother has ruined our name and there is going back from that. Maybe in ten years a blacksmith will have me but there is no good man who'd ever look twice at us."
Delia shook her head vehemently. "You two are both far above what your mother's scandal says you are, and you both know it. It shouldn't reflect on either of you what she did, and any good man will see that if he only gets the chance to meet you."
"Well, that doesn't matter because no good man will ever again get to meet us," Katie snapped. "Delia, I am sorry, but I cannot bear such a conversation. It is futile to raise our hopes."
"Please," Melinda said, raising her hand and Katie quieted. "Delia, could you send up the tea when you reach the kitchen?"
"Of course," Delia said, taken aback. She left the sitting room in silence, and sighed as she went down the stairs. Both of her mistresses deserved better. Beth Gordon may have been a flighty woman, but Delia determined one thing before she reached the kitchen: she was going to make sure that Edward Banks met Katherine and Melinda Gordon if it was the last thing she did.
Ned urged his horse faster, noting that Jim was keeping pace very easily. They were within an hour of the house at Hadwell, and Ned was weary of traveling. He was looking forward to the hot meal that awaited.
His father's business had brought him to Hertfordshire, and Jim had been gracious enough to accompany him on this trip.
"If you'll be gone the whole summer, I might as well keep you company," Jim said said. "It's not like anything happens in London over the summer."
That was true enough. After the season was over, London quieted as everyone went to summertime amusements in Bath and the country. Ned urged his horse quicker, and then relented, realizing that the horse was tired too.
He held up his hand, and Jim slowed as well.
"Why are we slowing?" Jim asked, as their horses dropped to a walk.
"The horses are weary as well," Ned said. "Let us give them some rest."
"Fair," Jim replied.
The two rode in silence, the horses hooves clipclopping on the road.
"What are we to do the whole summer?" Ned bemoaned finally. "I know my father wants me to settle his affairs but there is a lot of time we will be left with nothing on our hands."
Jim shrugged. "Knowing you, you'll meet some country lass and end up engaged by the fall," he said drily. "Which I must warn you, Ned, I promised your father I would not let that happen."
"Just because I fell in love with that girl from Bath doesn't mean I'll lose my head again," Ned protested. "I recognize the folly of my ways."
"No, you don't," his friend scoffed. "You almost proposed to Amanda Green and she wasn't fortuned."
"But she was beautiful," Ned sighed.
"No more," Jim said. "We must pass this summer safely, and leave Hertfordshire unwed."
"You know the dowagers of the county must have been planning to wed me as soon as this visit was announced," Ned said drily. "A small county doesn't see eligible men often, and I am sure there are plenty of pretty, if not well fortuned, young women whose fathers will be on my doorstep in droves."
"I am not saying we can't be social," Jim replied. "But you know that your father wishes you to marry above your station."
"Yes, he can't bear being rich but untitled," Ned scoffed.
"It would be wise to marry a marquis's daughter, or a duke's daughter," Jim said, shrugging. "It's not like you are likely to find a real love match. Most women hear ten thousand pounds and that's it. There's no emotion to consider."
Ned reflected on the words, realizing they were true. He may have loved, but Amanda Green hadn't loved him. She'd just heard of his fortune and set her cap.
"Might as well try," Ned shrugged. "But I do see the wisdom in your words."
They were approaching the village now, and Ned knew they would be at the Hadwell estate soon. They rode past shops and a busy village life that was just beginning to unwind for the night. Vendors were putting away their wares, and the blacksmith's forge stood silent.
It was a pretty little village, Ned reflected, and almost wanted to stop at the bakery and grab the last of the baker's stock. His stomach was grumbling, but he knew there were so near it would be nonsense to stop now. Their cook would have a splendid dinner awaiting them.
Jim clucked to his horse as they left the village behind, and Ned was about to follow suit when he looked up at setting sun.
There was a lady at the top of the hill, and his breath caught from the view. She wore a green frock, and her dark hair flowed around her shoulders, so she obviously wasn't expecting anyone to see her. There was a massive dog at her side, and Ned wondered this view, unable to imagine a lady who'd go out walking with her hair down past the age of twelve. It was such an intimate view, and he couldn't lie; he was entranced.
She saw the two horseriders, and Ned could see her freeze on the hill, unable to move. He glanced around himself, and saw the estate up ahead. She must live there, and have gone on an evening walk expecting to see no one.
He tipped his hand to his hat, and though it was too far to see, he imagined a hot blush crossing her cheeks from the way she ducked her head.
Jim hadn't noticed, and Ned hurried his horse so that his friend's suspicions wouldn't be raised.
He knew which house he'd call at first.
Katie entered the house, Danner at her side, her fair cheeks aflame. Melinda was up in the sitting room, her hands at work on some piece of embroidery. Katie sighed inwardly. Her sister had never stopped trying to be the perfect daughter; she'd tended her father's house without protest or emotion after their ruination.
Katie just wanted to finally see her sister admit that she, too, was angry with Beth for ruining their lives, but in five long years, Melinda had never admitted to anything. Night after night, Katie had cried herself to sleep at the loss of her childhood and future, and Melinda had stroked her hair, night after long night.
On her eighteenth birthday, the day that Katie had long expected to be the day she'd be presented at court, Katie had finally resigned herself to this bleak future.
And at twenty, Katie was quite bitter. She planned to never marry, or maybe marry some blacksmith's son just to displease her father when she was thirty and it didn't matter anymore.
Melinda was twenty-three now, as good as an old maid, and Katie shook her head, seeing how calm her sister always was.
"You didn't put your hair up for your walk again," Melinda said, not even looking up. "What are the neighbors going to think?"
Katie wanted to say what she always did: no one ever sees me. But tonight, that wouldn't be true. Their new neighbors had seen them.
Melinda looked up, surprised at Katie's lack of reply. "Katherine, what happened?" She queried, a touch of worry in her tone.
"I saw our new neighbor," Katie said, sinking down into the other armchair and swinging her legs up. Danner settled at her feet, and she absently pet his head. "And he saw me."
"Katherine," Melinda moaned, obviously displeased. "I told you, you must put your hair up."
"There is no point," Katie replied. "Even though he did see me, he will hear our sordid tale soon enough. Mother's misdeeds far eclipse my hair being down."
"Be that as it may, as long as he is in the neighborhood, you must start being more careful," Melinda scolded.
"He brought a companion," Katie said. "Another young man."
"I'm sure the ladies of the neighborhood will be even more pleased," Melinda said. "If Edward Banks is supposed to have ten thousand, we can only imagine he is friends only with those in similar circumstances."
"Wouldn't it be shocking if they were interested in us?" Katie wondered, a sliver of hope coming back, just for a moment. She'd seen the way the younger man had looked at her; she hoped it was Edward. He had almost seen transfixed; that or just shocked to see a lady so disheveled.
"It's not worth dwelling on," Melinda said. "They will lose interest when they hear our story."
Our story, Katie reflected, as Melinda put away her embroidery to go down to dinner. It wasn't their story. It was their mother's.
"Come along," Melinda urged. "Father will be displeased if we are late to dinner."
What did dinner matter, Katie wondered, not for the first time. Their lives were ruined, and they had no future, but god forbid dinner be served late.
She looked out the window at the house on the hill, and she wondered if the man inside would overlook her past.