Page 1 of Three Weeks with a Princess
Prologue
Yorkshire
Christmas 1809
Lia Kincaid adored Stonefell Hall during the Christmas season, despite the fact that it was the time of year she was most likely to be barred from the place she considered home. As she gazed down at the baronial splendor of the great entrance hall, now festively adorned with swags of evergreens and bay leaves, she couldn’t help glowing with a sense of pride and, yes, ownership.
But Stonefell wasn’t home. Home for her was a short walk down a country lane to Bluebell Cottage. Bluebell was undeniably charming, except when the roof leaked or the chimneys smoked during an east wind. Still, one learned to live with pans strategically scattered around the house to catch drips and windows could be opened if a parlor grew too smoky.
Of course, Lia had no choice but to live with leaks and other little annoyances. Her grandmother would never complain to the cottage’s owner, the Marquess of Lendale, about something as mundane as a leaky roof because his lordship had other things on his mind when calling on Granny. The two of them lived in a romantic bubble when they were together, leaving the boring details to Lia to handle.
And speaking of leaks, her boots were getting as aerated as the cottage roof. Lia wriggled her damp feet to restore some warmth to her toes, but her cramped position behind a wooden screen made it difficult to move. Maintaining her crouch, she inched her way across the long gallery that overlooked the hall. At the opposite end, she was finally able to stand and partly hide herself behind a stone column. It was colder now because she was farther from the roaring blaze of the hall’s stone fireplace, but at least she could hop around and send blood flowing back to her limbs.
Her position offered her an excellent view of Lord John Easton, along with his daughter, Lady Anne, and his wife, Lady John Easton—Elizabeth to her family and close friends.
Neither Lia nor Granny could count Lady John as either family or friend.
The Eastons, who were spending the holiday with the Marquess of Lendale, Lord John’s older brother, were the reason for Lia’s temporary banishment from Stonefell Hall, when she normally had the run of the place. If Lady John caught sight of either Lia or her grandmother, fire and brimstone would rain down from the skies.
Lady John blamed Lia’s grandmother for bringing disgrace to the Lendale good name, and her hatred for the notorious Rebecca Kincaid ran deep. It didn’t matter that the marquess had installed Granny on the estate over ten years ago, or that he continued to openly support both her and Lia with the clear intention of doing so for the rest of his life. In Lady John’s eyes, Granny was the harlot and enchantress who’d caused Lendale to lose both his wits and his sterling reputation.
But it was mostly because of Anne that Lia was ordered to remain hidden. Lady John was adamant that her daughter not be exposed to themoral pollutionof any one of the Kincaids.
Lia propped her shoulder against the column and studied the elegant, beautiful girl. Anne was dressed in a white velvet gown trimmed with spangles that made her shimmer like a Christmas bauble under the flickering lights of the massive chandelier hanging over the hall. She was destined for great things on the marriage mart according to the gossip in the kitchens. And she was certainly popular tonight, with a bevy of callow bachelors trailing along in her wake.
Despite her proud demeanor, Anne had a charming smile and a cheerful laugh that made Lia think they could be chums if given half a chance.
But, of course, they never would be. It would be wildly inappropriate for such a fine young lady to suffer the insult of Lia’s presence. After all, not only was she the granddaughter of Lendale’s mistress, she was the daughter of a famous actressandillegitimate to boot. Lia had often wondered what would happen if Lady John discovered she and Anne had accidentally run into each other a few times. Total mayhem would most likely ensue, or at least a great deal of screeching and possibly even a decorous faint.
Nothing good came from the visits of Lord John and his family. Nothing good at all.
With one gloriously earth-shattering exception. Jack Easton, eldest child and only son of Lord John and Lady John, would be visiting, too. That fact made up for all the inconveniences and slights a thousand times over.
Unfortunately, Lia’s chances of spending any significant amount of time with Jack seemed remote; he was staying in Yorkshire for less than a week and his blasted family was doing their best to monopolize his attention. Not that she could blame them; monopolizing his time was precisely whatshehad been longing for since he’d arrived.
She’d lost sight of Jack about ten minutes earlier because the hall was filled to bursting with the local gentry, all come to partake of the festive hospitality of the Marquess of Lendale. Jack had looked ridiculously handsome and dashing in his new regimentals and, not surprisingly, a horde of country girls had trailed behind him like a gigantic, multihued scarf of fluttering, flirtatious butterflies.
Lia only saw Jack three times a year—at Christmas and two other school holidays, when he came by himself to visit. Because of that, she couldn’t help resenting the fashionable, well-bred girls who could speak to him, flirt with him, and dance with him whenever they pleased. It was a luxury she longed for with all her heart.
You nitwit. As if Jack Easton could ever—would ever—fall in love with you.
How could he? Lia was one of the Notorious Kincaids, though the description was ridiculous when applied to her. Skinny, with freckles, and as flat as a board, she could no more follow in the famous footsteps of her mother and grandmother than conjure a mug of wassail from thin air. Despite her scandalous parentage, Lia was as ordinary a country girl as one could imagine.
Still, being ordinary didn’t make her acceptable, as least not for the likes of Jack Easton, who was destined to be the Marquess of Lendale one day.
“Lurking in the shadows again, are we? I swear you’d make a splendid spy in Wellington’s army.”
As Lia jerked around, her foot caught on the sodden hem of her gown. She squeaked as she fell back against the banister rail, frantically pinwheeling her arms to regain her balance. Jack shot out a hand and snatched her from danger.
“Confound it, Lia,” he gasped. “Be careful.”
After casting a glance into the hall, Jack drew her into the shadows at the back of the gallery.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was very silly of me.” Compared to the elegant young ladies he’d been dancing with earlier, she must seem like a foolish bumpkin.
Jack gave her a brief, fierce hug before holding her at arm’s length to inspect her. “Pet, don’t apologize. I’m the one who snuck up and startled you. I’m just thankful I caught you before you toppled over the side.”
“Jack, I’m notthatclumsy.”
