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Chapter One
Cornwall, England
May, 1855
Baybridge House
10 June 1854
My dearest Marcus,
I was so pleased to receive your most recent letter. The treasures you have recently discovered to the west of Cairo sound as exquisite as ever. How exciting your life must be! Someday I should enjoy traveling to Egypt, if only to see you again.
Life in Baybridge House is as it always is, except that I am now betrothed to Viscount Exeter. Shall I say I am happy? I suppose so. Mother is happy. Oh, how I wish you would visit! I have missed you terribly, as has George. Please remember to stay out of the sun. I will be thinking of you daily, and praying for your continued good health.
Your loving sister,
Christine
Mary Marsh would get her very first peek at Marcus Longfellow, the mysterious and seldom mentioned Earl of Renn, in only ten short minutes -- less than two weeks after the tragic death of his sister, Christine, whose body she'd found in a heap of pink satin skirts on the lady's withdrawing room carpet.
She'd been living quite comfortably at Baybridge House, on the earl's estate near St. Austell, for the last four months, designing Lady Christine's bridal trousseau for two qualified seamstresses to create, never having dreamed that she'd actually meet the man. He'd been gone for years and wasn't expected to return anytime soon. But she supposed the abrupt and disturbing death of one's healthy eighteen-year-old sister would be enough to bring a man home, even if he didn't want to be there.
Mary had heard the commotion earlier that aftenoon when every servant, it seemed to her, had erupted inpanic at his surprising and rather unceremonious arrival. She, being above a mere servant in station, yet not one of the family, had remained in her room, knowing she'd have the distinct opportunity of being introduced to him at dinner -- when they would all no doubt discuss his sister's untimely demise once again. And when she'd get the chance to put Christine's description of her brother to the test.
The whole affair made her more anxious than she'd felt in months. Not only did she know more than she should about England's most handsome earl, she wasn't in any way ready to return to London. She still had memories of home too crushing to contemplate, past guilt she needed to work through, which happened to be the reason she'd accepted this position in the first place. But however true that was, Mary also realized with some uneasiness that she was growing wary of the general eeriness of Baybridge House following Christine's death, and she was quite certain meeting the aloof and brooding Lord Renn would do nothing to change her feelings. She wasn't prepared to leave so quickly, and yet she knew the earl would have no reason not to release her from her duties within days, at which time she would be on her way back to London. Regardless of Lady Christine's farfetched notion of a love match between the two of them, Mary knew reality from romance. She would soon have to face her past.
Washing such uncomfortable thoughts from her mind, Mary donned her best evening gown -- a full-skirted burgundy silk with cropped sleeves and scooped neckline, the most appropriate dress she had in her possession for mourning -- then sat at her polished pine vanity, gazing into the mirror a final time before she made her way downstairs. Her skin was good for a lady of twenty-nine, still fresh and relatively free of wrinkles. She'd twisted her long blond hair tastefully into a chignon at her nape, allowing tendrils to curl down her cheeks and forehead, giving her an attractive yet conservative appearance. Although born of good family, she remained a spinster by choice and had no desire to be the center of anyone's attention, especially tonight.
Smoothing her palms down her skirt, Mary rose and walked with confidence through the door of her bed chamber and out into the faintly lit hallway of the house's third floor. Not a sound could be heard upstairs, though she knew the servants below were abuzz with excitement and gossip at the earl's return. The family, of course, would be gathering in the formal dining room for this remarkable occasion, and Mary wanted to be early, so as to remain as unobtrusive as possible. At least that was her hope.
It wasn't to be. As she neared the entrance, she heard the low voices of George and Gwyneth, the earl's vivacious younger brother and his mother, the countess, as well as the clinking of dishes and silver as obedient hired help set places with family china. By all accounts the Earl of Renn had yet to appear, which to her seemed promising in some small measure. Centered in that thought, Mary pulled her shoulders back and glided gracefully into the dining room to make her presence known.
As always, elegance surrounded her, and once again she noted how everything at Baybridge House was in perfect order and of the utmost in quality and style. The Countess of Renn would never dream of eating on last year's china and table linens. But then as the widow of one of England's wealthiest owners of a productive china clay mine, she would be accountable for a luxurious table. And everybody in Cornwall knew the Countess and late Earl of Renn were of the most refined and respected members of the local peerage. For the first time since her arrival, Mary had to wonder if that distinction had anything to do with Marcus Longfellow's departure to Africa years ago, if he was the wandering bachelor sort. But then, such speculation was none of her concern, and she would likely never know.
When It's Perfect. Copyright © by Adele Ashworth. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
