Thief of dreams, p.1
Thief of Dreams, page 1
Dear Reader,
Over the past several years Class Ebook Editions have been gradually re-publishing my out-of-print novels and novellas in order to make the whole body of my work available again to readers, especially those of you who have only recently discovered me. Now, in 2022, there are very few books still awaiting their turn.
Most of my books, as you are probably aware, are Regency era love stories. They are set in Britain during the first quarter of the 19th century. To me it is the most romantic of historical eras. I feel as at home in that world as I do in my own. I hope to continue writing Regency romances as long as I live. However, there were times earlier in my career when I thought I might try something different just to discover how I could rise to the challenge of bringing alive a different historical era.
The Georgian period, a few decades earlier than the Regency, was fun. It seems to me there was something more flamboyant, more earthy about both men and women. I particularly loved describing the men, with their broad-skirted coats, high-heeled shoes, fans, and even make-up—and the dress swords they carried at their sides and knew how to use with deadly intent!
One such book is THIEF OF DREAMS. Cassandra Havelock has reached the pinnacle of all her dreams. It is her twenty-first birthday and she has inherited a countess’s title in her own right as well as her beloved home and a massive fortune. She is determined to remain free and independent despite all the well-meaning relatives who want to find just the right husband to protect and care for her. Then a mysterious, gorgeous stranger turns up for her birthday ball to steal her heart—and perhaps everything of which she has ever dreamed.
There are differences from one era to another, and I have always tried to remain true to history. Yet human nature and human passions remain the same. And every age has its love stories that beg to be told. I will them. That has been and will remain the one constant in every work of fiction I have written.
Mary Balogh
marybalogh.com
“THIEF OF DREAMS” Copyright © 1998 by Mary Balogh
THIEF OF DREAMS First Ebook edition September 2022 ISBN: 978-1-944654-39-9
All rights reserved. No part of the eBook may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both copyright owner and Class Ebook Editions Ltd., the publisher of the eBook. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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“Balogh is today’s superstar heir to the marvelous legacy of Georgette Heyer (except a lot steamier)!” – New York Times Bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips
With her brilliant, beautiful and emotionally intense writing Mary Balogh sets the gold standard in historical romance.” – New York Times Bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz
“When it comes to historical romance, Mary Balogh is one of my favorites!”— New York Times Bestselling author Eloisa James
“One of the best!” –New York Times Bestselling author Julia Quinn
“Mary Balogh has the gift of making a relationship seem utterly real and utterly compelling.” – New York Times Bestselling author Mary Jo Putney
“Winning, witty, and engaging…fulfilled all of my romantic fantasies.” – New York Times Bestselling author Teresa Medeiros
Thief of Dreams
Mary Balogh
Class Ebook Editions, Ltd.
New York, NY
Table of Contents
Cover
Dear Reader
Copyright
Praise for Mary Balogh
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
More by Mary Balogh
Biography
Also by Mary Balogh
Chapter 1
The day was going to be an extraordinarily busy one. A birthday was to be celebrated—the one and twentieth of Lady Cassandra Havelock, Countess of Worthing.
Normally such a birthday would have been of no great significance to a lady. But this was an exception. The late Earl of Worthing had died a year ago to the day, leaving behind him an only daughter and one of those rare earldoms that devolved upon the female line in the absence of a male, the idea being that the new countess would hold the title in trust for her own son. The late earl’s brother had been appointed her ladyship’s guardian during her minority. She was not married and it was impossible for her guardian to arrange a marriage for her during the year of her mourning.
The birthday that was to be celebrated, then, was an enormously significant occasion. The Countess of Worthing—a mere woman—was to achieve her majority and her independence. There was no one in her life—no man— with the power to order that life for her. Yet it was an indisputable fact that no woman could live her life independent of a man’s superior wisdom and guidance, especially when that woman was titled and wealthy and the owner of a large estate in Somersetshire.
The fact that she was also beautiful, lively, and charming merely compounded the problem.
They were all agreed upon that—her uncle and former guardian, her aunts, and the one male cousin who was old enough to be allowed an opinion of his own.
There was the evening’s ball for which to prepare—it was to be the grandest ball within the collective memory of the neighborhood and its environs for miles around. There was to be a full orchestra, and so many guests had been invited—and had accepted their invitations—that the event was expected to rival even some of the more modest squeezes of the London Season.
In addition to the preparations for the ball—and none of the countess’ relatives was willing to admit that the brunt of that task would fall squarely upon the servants’ shoulders—there was to be the whole business of greeting and entertaining the houseguests during the afternoon, and then there were those who were coming from too far away to be expected to return home in their carriages after the ball was over. Almost all of the spare bedchambers were to be occupied.
Once the afternoon came, the day would be carried along on its own hectic momentum. They all realized that. But the morning was relatively free. And a family conference was imperative. One was called in the morning room. There was the whole question—the whole problem—of Cassandra to be discussed.
Conveniently, Cassandra herself was away from home during the morning. She had walked over to the dower house to call upon her cousin and friend, the Honorable Miss Patience Gibbons. More to the point, she had gone there for a final fitting for the gown she was to wear to the ball. The mantua maker and her two assistants, who had been brought down from London in order to create ball gowns for all the ladies, had been lodged at the dower house rather than at the house itself.
Cassandra did not know of the family conference that was held in her absence—and in her interests.
The Honorable Mr. Cyrus Havelock presided from a standing position before the empty fireplace. No one disputed his leadership since he was the only brother of the late earl and indeed had missed the title himself by a mere half hour, having been born the younger twin by that exact margin of time. Not that Mr. Havelock was in any way embittered by his subordinate position, as he was frequently at pains to assure his family. He had been dealt with generously on the death of his mother, when the neighboring estate and manor of Willow Hall had been made his. And he was fond of Cassandra.
The other members of the family in attendance were Mrs. Althea Havelock, Lady Beatrice Havelock, unmarried sister of the late earl, Lady Matilda Gibbons, widow of Baron Gibbons and also a sister of the late earl, and Mr. Robin Barr-Hampton, the son of Mrs. Havelock by her first marriage. Robin could not be called a member of the family in the strict sense of the term, but he was four-and-twenty years old, he was a respectably prosperous landowner in his own right, albeit on a somewhat smaller scale than either his stepfather or his stepcousin, and he was a sensible and amiable young man.
“The question is,” Mr. Havelock began after calling the meeting to order by clearing his throat with a low rumbling sound and lifting onto the balls of his feet before settling back on his heels again, “what are we to do about Cassandra?” He slid one hand inside the button opening of his long blue silk waistcoat and looked about him. It was perhaps fortunate for him that according to fashion, his skirted coat with its full side pleats and wide cuffs curved away at the front edges and was not even expected to button across his broad chest.
“I shall remain here with her for as long as she needs me, brother,” Lady Beatrice said in the strident tones that characterized her. “I no longer consider myself her cha peron but her companion and friend and guide. I shall remain all three for many years to come if the good Lord is willing. I am not in my dotage yet.”
“Zounds, Bea,” her brother said, “no one is suggesting any such thing. But what we are to do about her is the question.”
“Worthing should have taken her to London years ago,” Lady Matilda said. “Beatrice could have gone to chaperon her. I would have gone and taken my dear Patience with me. I spoke to him about it on the rare occasion when he came home, but he always said Cassandra was too young for such frivolity and she was better off in the country. Who was I to argue with him? But I do think you might have had a word with him, Cyrus.”
“Frivolity!” Mr. Havelock shook his head in exasperated disbelief. “What can be more serious business than finding a husband for one’s daughter? He did not wish to be bothered with the gel, that was what it was. She should have been married off years ago.”
“I suggested as much to him the very last time he was at home, if you will recall, my love,” Mrs. Havelock said. “London was the place to find a suitable husband for dear Cassandra, I told him, especially under the circumstances of the inheritance. ’Tis still difficult to believe, I do declare, that she is now a countess in her own right and that Kedleston Park is all hers. Poor dear Cassandra—all alone.”
“I have done my duty by her as her guardian during the past year,” Mr. Havelock said, lifting onto his toes again before rocking back to a more stable position. “But my hands have been tied. We have all been in mourning for Worthing until this day. How could I choose her a husband at such a time?”
“You could not, brother,” Lady Beatrice said. “You have nothing whatsoever for which to blame yourself. None of us do. Your guardianship is at an end, but you are still her uncle and we are still her aunts. We have a grave responsibility to her.”
“Which brings us back to the point,” Mr. Havelock said. “What are we to do about Cassandra? She is no longer a minor, she has the title, she is owner of all this”—he swept one arm about in a wide arc—“and she will be prey to every fortune hunter in the country. Mark my words. There are already a dozen young men just within this county who have been waiting for this day with bated breath.”
“Cassandra is a sensible girl,” Lady Beatrice said.
“You were quite right to use that word. Cassandra is a girl, Beatrice,” Mrs. Havelock said. “She is lovely and sweet and trusting and really very—young. She will need a great deal of guidance in fending off fortune hunters and choosing a sensible and steady young man who will be a good steward of the property for their son.”
“ ’Tis the end of May and too late for her to be taken to London for the Season this year,” Mr. Havelock said with a sigh of frustration. “Perhaps we should plan it for next year. Present her with gentlemen of her own rank, men with fortunes of their own. Let them take a look at her. Do the whole thing up properly as it should have been done three years or more ago.”
“And I will take Patience,” Lady Matilda said. “She will be nineteen by then. ’Tis only right that the daughter of a baron and granddaughter of an earl be introduced to society and presented at court. And she has grown very pretty, though not as lovely as Cassandra, I will admit. ’Tis settled then, Cyrus?”
“I will go, too,” Lady Beatrice said. “Your time will be taken up with Patience, sister. I will see to Cassandra’s interests. I have no doubt that she will make a very splendid match indeed.”
“Perhaps we could go as well,” Mrs. Havelock said. “Shall we, Cyrus? We will be closer to dear Rupert at school, and Amy and Hannah will enjoy seeing the sights. Besides, ’twill help if Cassandra has an uncle in place of her father to pick out suitable young men for her and to discuss a marriage settlement on her behalf. We have not been to London in a long age, I do declare.”
“ ’Twould seem to be the best plan,” Mr. Havelock said after pushing out his lips and lapsing into silent thought for several moments. “Though she will be well into her two-and-twentieth year by then. ’Tis an advanced age for an unmarried lady.”
“Pshaw!” Lady Beatrice said impatiently. “She is a very infant, brother. ’Twill merely be thought that she and her family are discriminating. Cassandra has beauty and position and wealth enough that there has been no necessity to snaffle up the first half-presentable young man to stammer out an offer. She will seem the more desirable for her caution. Why, I received more offers after the age of two-and-twenty than I ever received when I was considered of more marriageable age.”
“We certainly do not want Cassandra to be quite as cautious as you were, though, Beatrice,” Mrs. Havelock said with a titter. “You were free to do as you wished with your life. Cassandra has the duty of bearing a son to whom to pass the title. Or a daughter at the very least.”
“ ’Tis settled, then,” Mr. Havelock said, lifting onto the balls of his feet once more before resuming the more solid stance. “ ’Tis a relief, I must confess. I shall speak with the gel tomorrow after all this excitement of a birthday is over.”
“Egad, but you have forgotten something, sir,” Robin Barr-Hampton said from the window, where he had taken up his stand at the beginning of the meeting. “You have all forgotten something.”
They turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.
“Cass may not wish to be borne off to London,” Robin said. “She may flatly refuse to go. And as of today, she has every right to do so. She cannot be forced.”
“But we are making plans for her own good, dear,” his mother said.
“She might resent the fact that others are planning for her,” Robin said. “She might very well resent the fact that this meeting is being held at all—in her own home and in her absence.”
“We are her family, Robin,” Lady Beatrice reminded him. “We love her. We have every right to be concerned about her future happiness.”
“Zounds,” Mr. Havelock said, raising one hand to scratch at his unpowdered bob wig, “ ’tis not as if we are trying to marry her off to a wicked old curmudgeon who will dissipate her fortune and beat her daily, Robin. Quite the contrary. She may choose whom she wishes, provided I approve—provided we approve. We have older and wiser heads than my niece.”
“But she may not ask for your approval,” Robin said. “She is under no compulsion to do so, sir, if you will forgive me for saying so. Might I be permitted to suggest an alternative plan?”
His stepfather pursed his lips and all attention turned Robin’s way again.
“Cass has never been to London and has never expressed a wish to go there,” Robin said. “She is happy here. Cass is always happy. I would think it desirable to arrange matters so that she can remain happy. That can be accomplished best by helping her keep her life very much as it is and always has been—or such is my opinion.”
“But she cannot be happy if she remains unwed, Robin,” Lady Matilda said, and then bit her lip. “I do beg your pardon, Beatrice.”
“But I agree with Robin,” Lady Beatrice said. “The single state is well enough for a woman of strong character, but Cassandra would not be happy remaining in the single state. That girl needs a husband and children.”
“I would humbly offer my services on both counts,” Robin said. “Cass has always been fond of me and I of her. Other people might accuse me of fortune hunting since my own property and fortune are meager in comparison with hers. But you would all know that ’twere not true. I would keep Cass happy, and I would provide the male protection she needs. I would be a careful steward of the property both for her sake and for that of our son. I would allow her to be—well, to be Cass. I would like to offer her my hand tonight, before she can be confused by fortune hunters—and they will very soon be on her doorstep. But I would not do it without your approval, sir, or yours, Mama, or yours, Aunt Matilda and Aunt Bea.”
He had brought silence to the room. Everyone simply stared at him.
“That is a splendid offer, dear,” his mother said at last. “I know you mean it just as you have expressed it. And ’tis true that you and Cassandra have always been fond of each other.”
