Prolog

ROSE - Present Day, Florida

A damp tendril of brown hair whipped its way into her eyes. Absently brushing it aside, her mind raced with an impossible realization. He was real, flesh and blood, not just a man created to keep her company within her dreams. Rose sat near the ocean’s edge, burying her toes in the moist, gritty sand. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, feeling the brisk salt air enter her lungs. She wrapped her fingers around the antique necklace that hung from a gold chain around her neck, needing to feel the familiar warmth that emanated from the stone. Dragging her heels up to hug her knees tightly to her chest, she thought with a frown, after seeing him tonight, nothing made sense.

Staring out into the indigo night, she envisioned his face. This was the man who had entered her dreams ever since she found the torn, faded photo in an old steamer trunk. A humorless laugh escaped her lips, thinking how ridiculous that thought was. But a familiar unwelcome feeling was spreading within her veins.

There was no logical explanation. Sighing, she settled on the reality that she had seen him only a few hours before. She was wide awake, and the man from her dreams stood across the room. He was as real as the ocean that stretched in front of her. The man was rakishly handsome, assured of himself, just as she imagined he would have been in his time. A cold hand reached from the air and slid down her neck to the base of her spine. Rose shivered, not from the icy phantom fingers on her or the misty air settling in, but from remembering him watching her. The intense feeling, like an electric current, ran through every nerve in her body as their eyes met and locked, even for that brief moment.

The breeze had picked up, and what moments ago seemed to be an endless void now became a bright line as a pinkish orange began to light the sky. Unwinding her legs, Rose stood. A slight scent of leather and musk invaded her senses, but she shook it off. Sighing, she swiped at the sand that clung to her dress and legs, then walked up the beach towards the villa.

Reaching the gates, Rose turned towards the sunrise for one last look. Within the sound of the breaking surf, she thought she heard a whisper… Roszalia. She shook her head to clear it. No one had called her by her given name since she was young. She looked back down the beach the way she had just come from and almost expected, or hoped, to see him. Instead, only the large, red, fiery ball of the sun rose to greet her. With determination, she murmured,

“I don’t know who you are. Or why you have come to me. But I plan to see you again and get answers.” 

CHAPTER ONE

1876 County Kerry, Ireland

Caitlin O’Connor Anders sat on the ornate wrought iron bench facing the east lawn. A slender hand lifted to her brow to shade her deep emerald eyes from the late spring sun, watching as her two children ran chasing insects through the freshly groomed lawn. She smiled as she called to them, even knowing that her words would escape from their minds just as soon as they left her sight.

“Edward, Samantha, do try to keep clean and stay close.” Caitlin closed her eyes and inhaled the scents of fresh oats, heather, and wildflowers as a slight breeze rippled through the grounds of the O’Connor Estate. The distant Slieve Mish Mountains provided an unspoiled backdrop to the three-story grey stone Big House, standing stoic, as it had for centuries.

A sudden warm gust dislodged a long strand of burnished copper hair from Caitlin’s bun, which she hastily resecured atop her head as her daughter ran towards her. Samantha thrust a handful of wildflowers at her mother. With a broad smile, she said,

“I picked them for you, Mama!” Caitlin retrieved the cluster and, with a loving look for her daughter, replied,

“They are lovely, Samantha, thank you.” After receiving a quick hug, the child skipped away. Looking at the wildflower bouquet, Caitlin remembered playing in these gardens with her two older brothers and her mother’s smile as she brought her daisies and buttercups. An inaudible sigh escaped her lips as she spoke softly,

“Ah, Mum, I do so wish you were still with us.”

Allowing herself a moment of grief, wishing, as always, that her mother had lived to see her grandchildren happily playing on the family land she had loved so dearly.

Caitlin brought her mind back to the present. Today was when her father, Barrister William O’Connor II, and brothers would return home after a long absence. Her father had sent a telegram letting her know of their arrival. The barrister had been in Tralee at his law office. Now retired, he still took on Samaritan cases for those who could not afford representation—helping those who lost everything during the terrible time of the blight. Many of their neighboring landholders, whose crops were ravaged and who had no other income source, were better off than their tenants.

William’s foresight to diversify their shipping business and invest in partnerships abroad allowed the O’Connor Estate and its holdings to remain financially sound.

Caitlin stood as she heard her children squeal with glee as they caught a glimpse of the carriage entering the long drive leading to the Big House.

“Mama!” Edward exclaimed excitedly, “Granda is home!” Caitlin looked down the drive at the dust cloud rising from the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels.

“Children, quickly, come to me.” Motioning them to her side, then taking her handkerchief, she began dabbing at the dirty faces that stood squirming and giggling before her.

“Oh my, you two are a sight.”

Finally giving up the fight with a sigh, she quickly smoothed her skirts and followed as the two ran ahead. The carriage pulled through the gate and stopped at the front entrance.

William O’Connor winced as he slowly began unfolding his body; as he stepped out the small door of the carriage, He thought he would have to cut back on these long journeys, for he was not as young and healthy as he once was. Soon, he hoped to relinquish the companies to his sons. In seconds, the children were upon him, hugging their grandfather as they asked a barrage of questions. With a smile, he hugged each child, saying in his daughter’s direction.

“Ah, my Caitlin, every time I leave and return, it seems these two have grown a foot!” Making an exaggerated gesture of his grandson’s height, then scooped Samantha up; she giggled and kissed him. Letting the squirming child down, she ran after her brother.

“Oh Da, I am so glad you all are home. The children and I have missed you.” The older man gave her a light kiss.

“Do not fret mo stór.”

William winked as his love for his daughter reflected in his tired eyes. “We are home now, safe and well.” He looked past her and, with concern etched deep in his leathered face, asked,

“And your husband?”

“Andrew is still in Cork; the Board of Guardians has enlisted several physicians in the area to help with their new duties of maintaining health and welfare. He is at one of the workhouse facilities. I hear stories that these are horrible places.” Although she presented a smile, her furrowed brow foretold her distress about this situation.

“He has been gone for two weeks now.”

Seeing the concern on her father’s face. Not wanting to put a damper on the reunion, she added as cheerfully as she could,

“But he sent word he will be home soon.” Feeling his daughter’s despair, William hugged her, wanting to take away her fears as he had when she was young.

Shuffling behind them made her turn as her brother Devon brusquely barreled past and nodded. He had his usual scowl on his otherwise extremely handsome face as he headed for the house’s main entrance. And Caitlin thought, Da no doubt gave him another chastising about his family responsibilities on the journey home.

Devon’s spruce manner of dress showed he held himself in high esteem and had no problem letting others know this. His sharp, handsome features were inherited from their mother, Katherine. Although where she had kind dancing grey eyes, her sons were dark and piercing, and like his mother and sister, he had a thick stock of auburn hair, always meticulously groomed. Not looking back, Devon rumbled up the steps, a straight whiskey, and the chambermaids were the only things on his mind.

Caitlin followed her brother with her eyes, shaking her head, and felt pity for him. Her brother Devon had not always been so arrogant and broody. He had taken ill with fever when he was a small child. This caused him to have speech and physical delays. Self-conscious of his inability to communicate correctly, he became quiet. Katherine worked endlessly, tutoring him so that he could catch up with his siblings. Devon kept to himself when the family would visit friends, never socializing with the other children, hovering by their mother. As they entered their teen years, his quiet, docile demeanor changed, and he became more secretive and manipulative, taking advantage of others to benefit his own means. After their mother’s funeral, he seemed to withdraw from the family entirely. Disappearing for extended periods and returning angry and sullen, often staying in Dingle for weeks. There were rumors of his reputation as a high-stake gambler and his questionable business partners. Caitlin sighed again. Of course, she loved her brother but knew that disruption was inevitable when he was at the estate for any duration of time. Turning back to the carriage, she was startled as her other sibling, Gavin, stood before her with a charming smile.

“Ah, little sister, I see you held our home together while we were away?”

Gavin’s grin mocked his question, for his sister knew that he had little interest in the running of the estate. He loved the adventure of the sea. There was nothing here at their home that held his interest. Yet, being the eldest son, he was destined to be the next landholder of the O’Connor Estate, a title he would gladly give to his younger brother Devon. However, he knew he could never do such a thing. It was his duty, and he would honor what his father wished.

“You are incorrigible!” Caitlin’s voice brought his mind into focus. His sister spoke with humor in her voice.

“When will you realize I cannot even manage my barens, let alone our entire staff and home!” Gavin gave a quick laugh. This he knew to be just the opposite; his sister was excellent at running the estate. He often wondered how she kept everything going smoothly and never seemed to get flustered.

The children’s small hands grasped their grandfather’s and exaggeratedly dragged him towards the house, telling him everything that happened while he was away. Gavin hooked his arm with his sister, and they followed. As always, the help was waiting attentively for the three men to arrive; everything was perfect, and every detail was looked after. This was what Caitlin took pride in, and she was unquestionably the driving force behind the elegant appearance of their home, just as her mother had been. As they entered, Griggs, their butler, greeted them, took their coats, and motioned the door attendant to bring in the luggage. Coming to her father’s side, Caitlin said with a beaming smile.

“Da, I have arranged a small dinner party to celebrate your return and...” Her father sighed.

“Caitlin lass, it has been a long, tiring journey home for your brothers and me; we are all weary.”

“Oh, but Da, seeing old friends would be good for you all. You can rest now and be fresh for this evening.” Caitlin had a stubborn look on her face.

William was too tired from the journey and dealing with Devon’s attitude to argue further on the matter. Sighing, but with a smile said,

“Very well iníon, but I am retiring early.” But they both knew he would attend this for his beloved daughter and stay until the last guest left.

“Thank you, Da!” Caitlin beamed as she helped him out of his overcoat. Then added with a grin. “Because everything is already set!” Then, with a light kiss on his cheek, she turned with a rustle of skirts and headed down the hall to the kitchen to ensure the party preparations were on schedule.

Gavin was leaning against the foyer’s doorframe. A half smile was on his lips as he listened to the exchange between his sister and father. His attention shifted as he saw his brother come out of the library, whiskey in hand, and his earlier content mood shattered. Devon was heading up the large central staircase, and Gavin knew his brother’s only intention was to seek the company of one of the chambermaids. Gavin shook his head in dismay at his siblings’ actions and said to himself.

“Poor Lass, whoever it is this time.” About to head up to his room, he caught a glimpse of a female figure in the passage to the kitchen; she had dark hair pulled tightly back with a ribbon. Being away from his home for months, he had not seen her before. Curious about who this girl may be and thankful for the distraction from his brothers’ antics, he headed towards her. The girl, suddenly realizing she had been noticed, panicked as she saw the man approach and turned to retreat. Before she could take a step, a firm hand gently grasped her forearm. Turning back, her breath stopped in her lungs, for she was looking into the handsome face of Gavin O’Connor. His voice deep and low, head cocked to one side, with a friendly grin on his lips, he spoke,

“I do not believe we have met yet.” Not noticing her stricken expression as he touched her, he thought with irony– Be glad I spotted you before, my brother!

Roszalia stared intensely at the man who held her arm. He wore a linen shirt, opened at the neck, his vest was unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing deep, tanned, muscled forearms. She had seen him three years ago while visiting her aunt, who was employed at the estate. Holding her breath for fear, she would scream or, worse yet, say something inappropriate. She had dreamed many times since she saw him last of what an actual meeting would be like. She imagined being dressed in a delicate lace and silk gown and he, the estate lord, in his finest. He would take her hand and gently kiss it like she had seen him do with other ladies of class.

Now, she could only blush deeply with his fingers on her arm. Coming out of her daydream, she realized Gavin was speaking to her.

“Why do you desire to run away? Certainly, I am not that frightening.” Gavin’s voice held a tinge of humor, and the edges of his lips curved upwards. Roszalia’s eyes opened wide as she shook her head vehemently.

In the silence that followed, He realized he had misinterpreted her reaction. Releasing her arm, now concern creased his brow. Had he frightened or offended her? Giving her a genuine smile, he softened his tone.

“Now, if you please, do you have a name?”

“I am Truda’s niece, I am Roszalia.” She did not cast her gaze down as she spoke. Instead, with all her courage, she looked directly into Gavin’s amber eyes, trying to project a confidence she did not feel.

“I came to live here under the care of my aunt since my mother passed on recently. I required.” She paused momentarily to think of a suitable word, then added.

“Respectable employment.”

Her voice became quieter, and she was acutely aware of his body’s nearness and male scent. It was a perfect mix of musk and, it seemed, all outdoors. Suddenly, she felt lightheaded. She needed to retreat, or she feared she would drop right where she stood.

Straightening her spine, praying her voice would not falter and betray her.

“Lady Caitlin told my aunt I would aid the governess in the children’s language studies. I am fluent in English, Gaelic, and Hungarian and can read and write Latin. I also understand many other subjects.” She added softly.

“Language is a gift I have.” Still meeting his gaze, she could not let him see her discomposure. She was talking too much, knowing she did this to cover her nervousness and as a distraction from the tingling where Gavin’s fingers touched her arm. Her blush deepened, and she prayed Gavin did not notice.

“My apologies, please forgive me if I offended you.”. Gavin said, sincerity in his voice.

A pain shot through his heart for this girl; he knew what it was not to have a mother’s guidance, still missing his own mother’s presence terribly.

Studying her more closely now in the sunlight from the kitchen, he noticed she was well-proportioned, and the signs of womanhood were evident. She wore a simple grey skirt and white pinafore apron with ties around her tiny waist. He could see a satin gold ribbon peeking out from her cap where she had secured her long mahogany hair under it. This was not part of the uniform. And he smiled at her individualism. She had wide, captivating eyes, colored a curious array of brown, gold, and green set perfectly on a heart-shaped face accented by small, full red lips.

Intrigued, he thought this girl seemed quite different. He could not determine her age, but she was young, educated, held her head high, and spoke with perfect diction.. Gavin felt his heart stir as he realized this girl was genuinely stunning. He suddenly felt protective for some reason and knew he would have to ensure his brother stayed away from this one.

“Pardon, Sir,” Roszalia said softly, for she was extremely uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“May I go now?” Finally, averting her eyes from his gaze.

Realizing he had been staring too intently at the girl, Gavin tried to ease the moment and cleared his throat.

“Of course, but before you run off. Please do not call me Sir, and you will learn I am not fond of formalities.” he paused,

“Please, just call me by my name. It is Gavin.”

Roszalia smiled. Clasping her fingers, and said quietly,

“Yes, Gavin.” Hearing his name exit her lips, a warm feeling flooded within her. Turning, not wanting him to see her discomposure, she hurried down the hall towards the upper level and the servants’ quarters. She left Gavin alone in the hall, bewildered as he watched her hasty retreat.

When Roszalia reached her new room, she found herself alone. Unlacing her boots, she kicked them off and dropped herself onto the small bed. Oh, how handsome he is, she mused as she indulged in a fantasy.

Gavin would ask her to dance tonight at the party. He would hold her as she had seen him dance with other ladies of status. Resting her hand on his broad shoulder, he would swing her out into the gardens, where they would swirl to the music. Then, his lips would find hers in a tender kiss.

Amid her musing, she was abruptly alert as the door to her room flung open, and a deep male voice rumbled.

“Who are you, and why are you in this room?” Devon’s voice projected at her. He was surprised the chambermaid Evelyn, who had occupied this room before his latest trip abroad, was not here. He was inebriated, but seeing this waif of a young girl sobered him considerably.

Roszalia could only stare at him. A voice in her head began to warn her of the danger this man posed, and she fought to quell it. She knew this was Gavin’s brother and had heard terrible stories about his behavior from the other housemaids. She was told he kept a woman at the Harbor Bay House near the Warf. But his incessant jealousy of this woman led him to find other comforts in drink, gambling, and carousing.

Like his brother Gavin, Devon was very handsome, but in a dark way. A dangerous way, she thought. Her heart was racing, but she managed to speak.

“I am Truda’s niece, Sir. I will be staying here on the premises, helping the governess. I am sharing a room with my aunt. Barely keeping her voice from shaking, she hoped that mentioning her aunt would give the man cause to leave. Devon’s steel grey eyes narrowed, deepening the color to coal, then surveyed the room, noticing they were alone. As she spoke, a curl began at the corners of his mouth.

“Where is Evelyn? This is her room.”

Fear crept into Roszalia. She tried to inch off the bed and towards the door, but Devon’s tall figure stood square in front of her.

“I am sorry, sir, but I do not know an Evelyn. This was the room that I was told my aunt and I would share. I only arrived a week ago.”

Roszalia managed to say in a shaky voice. Devon was staring at her hungrily, looking her over from her stocking ankles to the neckline of her blouse.

Feeling helpless, she began to feel a trepidation grow in the pit of her stomach. She was still on the edge of the bed, watching as Devon started to come around the side towards her. Her mind told her to keep her wits about her but to get away. She rose, pushed past the man looming before her, and headed towards the door. Devon grasped her wrist.

“And where do you think you are going?” Swinging her towards him. Roszalia could smell whiskey and a lingering cigar scent. She felt her head began to swim. Devon had one arm around her waist, pulling her against his hard chest. He easily held her slender wrists with his other hand. Narrowing his eyes, he looked down at her upturned face. Amused at her frightened expression, he cocked his head to the side. A grin appeared on his lips that could only be described as wicked.

“I think it only right to welcome a pretty little thing as yourself to the estate.”

Roszalia gave a startled gasp as he yanked her head back. She knew what would happen next. She had seen the men and women in the gypsy camp after a night of celebration. Her mother tried, as best she could, to shelter her daughter from the degrading event that was now about to take place. This is why her mother made arrangements that she would live with her aunt when she knew her illness was terminal, for a young girl in the camp alone with few skills would only have one means to survive. Roszalia now understood that wherever she would go, men were men, and she was of no consequence.

Wanting to scream out, but knowing she could not, she was a member of the staff, a servant. And if she did say anything, this man could also cause trouble for her aunt. She shut her eyes tightly, too proud to let Devon see her tears. Roszalia waited for the feel of his hands on her flesh, trying to make her mind a blank to what would come next.

Then she heard a much different voice, low and deadly serious.

“Devon! Remove your hands from the lass!” then with more force. “Now! Or so help me, I will break your arm in doing so myself!”

Roszalia dared open her eyes and saw Gavin standing behind his brother. Devon turned his attention from the girl to sneer at this intrusion.

“Not to worry, brother, she is a camp wench. I am sure there will be plenty of fire left for you.”

Gavin’s anger flared, and he grabbed Devon by the neck, quickly pushing him towards the open door. Devon staggered. Glaring at his brother.

“Damn you, Gavin, take her!” But before Devon stumbled off searching for a more willing partner, he looked directly at Roszalia and said in a steady, stone-cold voice.

“Be warned, wench, someday it will be just you and I!” Then he strode off, cursing his brother.

With relief, Roszalia finally exhaled, and when Gavin’s arms reached out to comfort her, she did not hesitate. He held her, feeling her tremble, then gently pushed her back and looked down at her.

“Are you all right? He did not hurt you?”

Her cap had fallen off, and a strand of vibrant mahogany brown hair had escaped the ribbon. Without thinking, he gently brushed it from her face. Roszalia looked into Gavin’s eyes; they held genuine concern, and her heart swelled, all but forgetting what had almost taken place moments ago. Time seemed to stand still, and then, remembering her station, she straightened and moved away, now embarrassed. She lowered her eyes so he could not see her conflicting emotions.

“Yes, thank you. How did you know he was...?” She choked off the last words.

“I was passing the stairwell when I heard my brothers bellowing. I surmised he was badgering one of the chambermaids with unwanted attention. I came up to see if the situation needed my intervention.” Gavin gave a sheepish smile,

“Apparently, I was correct.”

Roszalia now worried that after what had transpired, Gavin would think she had done something to lead his brother into thinking she was willing to do what he intended.

As he turned towards the door to leave, Roszalia touched his arm. Gavin stopped and looked back as she said quietly,

“I want you to know, it is true I grew up in the gypsy camp, and I know what people think. But I have never bedded a man.” Her innocence and honesty took Gavin aback. Not knowing how to reply, he cleared his throat and nodded.

“I will have my father speak to Devon. Now, remember to lock your door.”

Gavin said in a serious tone, for he did not like the threat his brother gave this girl. After leaving the room and hearing the lock catch, he surprised himself by thinking how beautiful the young woman was, and for the fleeting moment she clung to him, it felt so right. He needed to have a hot bath and get ready for Caitlin’s welcome home party, confident his sister invited every eligible female in the county. Nevertheless, his mind kept reverting to the girl he held just moments ago.

Immediately locking the door as Gavin had instructed, Roszalia wearily sat down in the chair next to a small writing table, taking a moment to recall all that had just taken place. Devon was a real threat. He was an angry man, and she would need to be careful and try to avoid him if possible.

Her solemn mood softened as she thought of Gavin. His scent and strong arms when he held her made her feel safe. He was her secret love, and tonight, he became her protector. She felt a warm feeling begin to flood her insides as she pictured his face and his tall, well–built body. She was almost ten and six years old and had been having womanly feelings for some time. Many of the girls her age in the camp had been earning their living by bedding the wealthy men of the area. Many others were already married and were busy raising their children.

Her thoughts went to her mother, Marguerite. During her childhood, her mother would make her promise that if something should happen and they were no longer together, she wanted her to get out of the camps and make a better life for herself. Some of their family lived in town. Agnes, her great aunt, had the Apothecary Shop there, and some worked at prominent homes that could help her. Often, when she spoke of this, Marguerite’s eyes clouded over as she fought the tears from the thoughts of her painful past.

Roszalia never knew her father. When Marguerite became gravely ill, she finally told her daughter the story of the only man she ever loved. Joseph Toth. When her mother was a young woman living in Hungary, there were few professions a gypsy girl with little education could have. Gifted in the art of premonitions, sight, and healing. After a time, Marguerite’s potent mixtures helped many wealthy families in the town with their ailments. One family in particular sought her help for their young daughter Anna’s bout with a breathing illness. Marguerite would make the trip daily to the wealthy patron’s home to aid the child. Anna’s symptoms decreased within a few months, and her parents rested more easily. In appreciation for her help, the family offered Marguerite to stay at their home, where she would continue with their daughter’s treatments.

Marguerite was a stunning young woman, slender of figure with porcelain skin and dark dancing eyes. Many men lusted after her, including Joseph, the eldest son of the prominent family where she resided. She was young and found his attentions flattering, and soon, she made the ill-fated mistake of falling in love with him.

Joseph told her he had returned her feelings, that their differences in social status meant nothing to him, and that they would be wed at once. When Joseph’s father heard of the plans his son had of marrying the gypsy girl, he forbade it. Joseph declared he would marry Marguerite, with or without his father’s blessing, even if it meant leaving the family and his home. Soon after, Joseph was sent on a business trip abroad, and immediately after his departure, Marguerite was sent away.

Roszalia’s father never came after her mother. After Marguerite left the home, she realized she was with child. Too ashamed and scared to stay in town, she decided to travel with the roaming band of gypsies. It was not an easy life, and soon after the birth of her daughter, Marguerite knew that living close to her relatives was a better life for them both. She moved to the camp where some of her family lived on the coast of Ireland. Marguerite continued selling her herbal medicines, earning a meager living for herself and her daughter, determined to protect her child from the same life that had befallen her.

Now that her mother was gone, her Aunt Truda had arranged for her great niece to obtain employment at the O’Connor Estate and live with her, as were Marguerite’s wishes.

Roszalia’s Aunt Truda was the Head Cook at the Estate. On certain occasions when the family would be entertaining, her mother would be invited to the great house to fascinate the women with her tarot readings and gift of predictions. At the same time, the men retired to the parlor. Roszalia would accompany her and stay in the kitchen with her aunt. Although Lady Katherine always invited her to visit the other children and take part in their activities, her mother would politely decline. The O’Connors were unlike other wealthy families Roszalia had visited with her mother, bringing herbs and medicines. At these homes, she was not allowed past the foyer. She would sit and watch as the children of the gentry were required to sit quietly in the parlor, eating tea and cakes. Their governesses sneering at her. But Lady O’Connor believed any child, no matter their station, was welcome in her home and should act like a child.

At one such visit, a party was arranged to introduce the O’Connor brothers to the eligible women of County Kerry and beyond; Roszalia and her mother came to help with the enormous task of making ground meat pies, light and airy pastries, cookies, and multiple other sweet treats and desserts. During these troubled times, supplies were limited, but with Truda’s excellent culinary skills and the O’Connor’s bee aviary, honey provided the sweetness when sugar was scarce.

But being a child of only ten and two, she was easily bored and fidgeted about things. Her aunt would tell her to sit in the hall or on the back porch.

“Goodness, child, you are underfoot. Go, but do not stray far, and keep silent.” Her aunt shooed her out with a raised finger to her lips and a warning scowl on her face. Roszalia would wait until the heavy door closed behind her, then a broad smile would appear as the thought of exploring the enormous home was too enticing to stay in the area she had been told to. Quietly, she made her way down the hall. At the end, the sounds of music and laughter wafted to her. Unable to resist, she hid in the shadows of the large drapes and stole a look into the grand ballroom. That was the first time she saw him. Gavin O’Connor.

He was in his mid-twenties and destined to be the future heir to the estate. He was so handsome. Tall, perfect physique, clad in a cream linen shirt with maroon velvet waistcoat and black trousers. His hair was deep brown, cropped to just above his collar. Gavin dutifully bowed as he held each young woman’s gloved hand in line. He would smile as they giggled and made small talk, aware of the women’s coy games. Roszalia watched from her hiding place, her young heart fantasizing about being one of the women Gavin would choose to dance with. She would have stayed in that location all night, but her aunt’s voice called her back to the kitchen.

Now, bringing her mind back to the present, sobered by the recent events. She sat at a small writing table in the new room she shared with her aunt, blinking to stop the tears of her reality. When Gavin held her, she trembled more from his strong, warm touch than from fear of Devon. She knew it was impossible for Gavin to love her; she was an employee, and he one day would be the head of the estate. She winced at the thought of all her mother did to protect her. This recent encounter with Devon showed her that she was just seen as a plaything for men like him.

A woman’s voice softly called her name through the locked door.

“Roszalia, it is Caitlin. I would like to come in and speak with you.” Wiping her eyes where the tears had fallen, she unlocked the heavy door to let Caitlin enter and now stood with her eyes cast down. Suddenly feeling shameful, as if she were the cause of Devon’s unscrupulous behavior, or was it her thoughts of Gavin, she feared would be discovered.

“Oh, Roszalia, my dear child, Gavin told me of Devon’s behavior. I am so sorry. Ever since our mother passed, well, he changed. And it is worse as of late. But there is no excuse, and unwilling attention is not tolerated in our home. Feel free to seek me out if you ever need to talk to me about anything, even my brothers.” Caitlin’s warm and heartfelt words touched her. The fear and shame that she had withheld rushed out, and she began to sob. Caitlin reached out, resting the younger woman’s head on her shoulder.

“There, there, cry if you need to.”

Caitlin said as she stroked her hair. After a moment, Roszalia sat up, giving a waning smile,

“Thank you. I do not want to cause trouble.”

Caitlin gave her another hug, producing a handkerchief, and dabbed the tears from her eyes.

“You have no reason to be sorry or feel that what my brother attempted was in any way your fault. I am sorry this happened. You are a beautiful young woman, but there is no excuse for ill behavior.” She smiled to diffuse the moment and forced a lively tone into her voice.

“Now go freshen up. I am in need of your help. I have so many last-minute details for tonight’s party. The children’s governess has taken ill and is in her room. I need someone to entertain the young ones while I tend to the preparations. Can you do that?” The other woman’s sincere smile made her feel grateful for a chore to occupy her thoughts.

“I would be happy to help in any way I can.”

Caitlin gently wiped a lone tear from Roszalia’s cheek.

“Excellent! Now, freshen that beautiful face. I will meet you in the children’s rooms.” Leaving Roszalia to get herself cleaned up. She was honored that the Lady of the home thought she was worthy of watching her children, and for a moment, her mind was taken away from the O’Connor brothers.

Samantha and Edward had taken to Roszalia the moment they met her. They were excited that this evening she would be with them. As promised, she kept them busy as she told Caitlin she would. They played games and sang songs. The hour was getting late, and the children had utterly exhausted themselves. It was time for their maid to take over with their nighttime bed preparations. Closing the door behind her as she left, she intended to head up to her room, but she paused as the sound of flutes, pipes, and strings from the festivities below caught her attention. Unable to resist, she went down the back servants’ stairs, stopping outside the great room.

The estate was set up on three levels. The second housed the bedrooms and living quarters of the family. The west wing was dedicated to the children’s sleeping rooms, with adjoining rooms for their governess. Caitlin and Andrew’s quarters were directly across. A narrow set of stairs led to the third floor, where the servants’ quarters were. Roszalia and her aunt Truda were now in the largest of the rooms and shared a bath with the other rooms on this level.

At the end of the hall, another narrow set of stairs led down to the east wing of the home. This area was the living chambers of Barrister O’Connor, consisting of a den, a large bedroom, and a private bath with a dressing room. Past these were guest quarters, followed by Devon and Gavin’s rooms with a bath at the end of the wing. Another set of stairs led down to the main floor, where a vast library housed hundreds of leather-bound books, heavy mahogany furniture, and large paintings of the O’Connor family. A painting of Kathrine and William O’Connor II hung over the massive fireplace mantel.

This main hall led to the parlor to the right and a large dining room on the left. The ballroom was straight back from the two curving staircases. A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the twenty-foot ornately carved hardwood ceilings. Exquisite furnishings graced the ballroom. Along the east wall were rows of tall windows with cut prismatic glass to allow bright, warm light to shimmer upon the walls. This had been Lady Katherine’s favorite room to entertain.

Tonight, the home was bustling with guests attending the welcome home party that Caitlin had arranged for her father and brothers. Although many families no longer had the wealth they used to, everyone wore their best. These dresses boasted colors in varied shades of green, blue, and more. By adding delicate lace and colorful ribbons, even the gowns worn multiple times were renewed. Some of the younger women wore French-style gowns with daring low décolleté. The men sported their best tails or waistcoats and trousers. Roszalia hung in the shadows and watched as more guests entered.

Near the entrance, she could see Caitlin looking stunning as always. She wore a deep emerald gown; the modest neckline and worn by any other woman her age would have seemed prudish. Thin threads of gold were woven through the gauze scarf that hung over her shoulders and down her back. Her only adornment was a chain of gold with a single pearl at its end, and her fiery hair was swept up and fastened with a gold comb adorned with tiny seed pearls. Roszalia marveled at this woman’s oblivious beauty and energy as she greeted every guest exuberantly.

Daring to peer a bit farther past the edge of the velvet moss green drapes, the very place she stood, many years prior, she searched for Gavin but could not find him. However, she saw Devon and involuntarily retreated further into hiding. He was flirting with two young women, hardly older than she was. His eyes stayed glued to their bodices, swaying a bit, indicating he already had too much to drink. Even though she was hidden, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks, as she noticed that he took no shame in his lustful stare.

Just as Roszalia dared to step further from her hiding place to look to the other side of the hall for Gavin, a noise behind startled her, and she froze.

“They look like a bunch of fancy peacocks strutting about,” Gavin whispered next to her ear, so close she felt his warm breath and could smell his intoxicating shaving soap. Confused and embarrassed she had been found peeking at the guests, Roszalia half turned as she spoke.

“I was just going back to the kitchen, and I, well…”

She stammered off her explanation. Head down, she felt trapped, a child, and humiliated, the man she had been searching for was behind her. For how long? How could she not have heard him? Gavin chuckled.

“Do not look so glum. I despise these parties that my sister insists on having. Here, let me point out the people to you.” Gavin stepped further from their hiding place.

“Over there is stuffy Aunt Marianne and Uncle Charles, and she smells of too much powder.” At this comment, Roszalia had to stifle her laughter.

“Ah, and over there in the yellow dress, dear cousin Sallie, and her many suitors, trouble that girl is…. not yet sixteen and well…” Gavin made a motion with his hand trailing off.

“Oh aye, see that woman in the deep blue gown?” He pointed to the far corner where a woman stood coyly giggling, thronged by men.

“This would be the woman my dear sister is playing matchmaker for me this evening. Vanessa, Barrister Burke’s daughter. She is a very proper match,”

Gavin stuck his hands in his waistcoat lapels, imitating a stuffy old man. Roszalia felt a pang of jealousy. This Vanessa woman was stunning: tall, with flaxen hair, aristocratic cheekbones, and of the upper class.

“She is beautiful. I can see why you would fancy her.” Roszalia asked slowly, secretly wishing he preferred dark-haired girls. Gavin gave a humorous laugh and answered briskly,

“That type of woman is not to my liking.”

Before Roszalia could respond, he grabbed her hand and led her to the back hall, which led to the galley and the kitchen area.

“Gavin, what are you doing? This is your party; you will be missed!” Roszalia protested, flustered.

“And what would your guest say? I am employed…” He cut her off.

“Ah lass, you will learn. I do not put people into classes; besides, you look like you need a dance. These women are loud, conceited, and after only my name. So, shall we?”

Gavin bowed and held his hand out to Roszalia. For a moment, she stood shocked; this could not be possible. To dance with Gavin, surely, she would awake at any moment. His deep voice brought her attention back.

“Will the lady break my heart and forgo me this dance?” Gavin said with a mock frown.

“Oh no,” Roszalia said, smiling and curtsied back. “It would be my pleasure.”

Gavin took her hands, and as the next waltz began, he swirled her around the hall. Roszalia kept up fine. Her mother had taught her finer dances and manners so that she could hopefully be accepted in society one day. As she faced Gavin, he was smiling.

“I hope you are feeling a wee bit better about being here, and I am sorry for the earlier events with my brother. I promise we are all not as lecherous as he.” He twirled her once more then said,

“Alas,” he said, bowing low and doing his best dandy impression with a devilish grin.

“I must attend the festivities and see whom my sister can throw at me.” He rolled his eyes, then with a raised eyebrow said,

“No more lurking in shadows, eh?” Gavin bowed and kissed her hand. “Have a wonderful rest of your evening, Roszalia.” He then turned and strode off in the direction of the laughter and music coming from the party. Roszalia stood watching Gavin retreat. She could not move for her heart was beating so furiously she feared it would burst. Raising her hand, she looked at it as if it belonged to someone else. The skin still tingled from the feel of Gavin’s lips upon it. At that moment, she knew she would never love another as she would this man.