London, 1900

"Really, Henrietta, you could have married at Kentonville and saved us all this trouble. Better still if you weren't going through with this," Lady Amelia said through chattering lips to her dear friend, Lady Henrietta Blythe, as they sat in the rocking carriage.

"I know, but it will not be for much longer. You know, the house in Mayfair has not been lived in for many years. Dear John wants to bring new life back into the place, at my insistence of course. There will be no more talk of not marrying him. My mind is quite made up. Before you say anything, I know when the previous duchess died, the duke couldn't bring himself to visit the house in London. It had too many bad memories, so many sad ones. Now that John is duke, he wants to visit the holdings he now owns. We've had Christmas in the country since we were children. Imagine it, in a few days we will celebrate my wedding and Christmas in London," Lady Henrietta beamed.

She didn't feel the cold at all, as she was so absorbed in thinking about her forthcoming nuptials, while Lady Amelia shivered despite being covered in thick blankets. The snow was still falling, and Lady Amelia prayed they would reach London before any snow drifts impeded their journey.

She and Lady Henrietta had known each other since childhood. However, while Lady Henrietta was a romantic, Lady Amelia was far too practical for affairs of the heart.

The carriage continued to rock them about.

"Do you know it is exactly twelve months since I met John. It was so sad really," Lady Henrietta scrunched her face remembering meeting John Lucas, then Marquess of Landoven, at his great-uncle's funeral. He was such a serious-looking young man who had little time for her charms.

"We must attend as a family," she remembered her father saying, "I do not think many will attend the funeral."

She hadn't asked why. All she knew was that the duke had been reclusive but was still fondly remembered by Lady Henrietta's father. As soon as she set eyes on the handsome marquess, who was now the duke, Henrietta knew she would marry him. There was a sadness and forlornness about him that she wanted to clear away.

"Hen, aren't you listening to me? Do not to try to set me up with any acquaintance of the duke's," Amelia warned her friend. Henrietta was dreamy and had already alluded to the fact that Amelia was bound to find a husband at their wedding.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways. Look at how I met His Grace. My first sighting was at a funeral, but for me, it was love at first sight," Henrietta sighed. "I really do not know why you insist on not making the best of your features, Amelia. You will be an old maid if you are not careful."

"Hen, how much do you really know about this man you are about to marry? I cannot conceive of such an irrational idea like love. It's just too disorganized for my liking." Amelia shrugged her shoulders as she considered the fate that was in her friend's future.

"You really do not believe in the human spirit? We must find you a husband during the next Season—someone to make your heart race—and then, Amelia, will you know what true love means," Henrietta sighed again and tilted her head as she looked at Amelia.

“Henrietta, you know I will no longer partake in the Season.”

Why did people in love insist everyone else should be in love, Amelia asked herself, as though it was some special club one needed membership to. She didn't care for such silliness.

"Your Ladyship, m’lady."

The carriage had stopped. Henrietta and Amelia stepped out, and the snow crunched under their feet. The house was ablaze with a warm glow from the oil lamps shining in the windows. The duke had hired new staff as previously only a caretaker was in residence. The muffs and coats were taken from the ladies, as they were ushered into the drawing room where a roaring fire awaited them.

"My darling, you have arrived safely," the duke greeted his bride to be and kissed her on the cheek. "Lady Amelia, welcome."

Amelia was reserved. This relationship had been much too quick for her liking.

"We shall have an intimate dinner this evening. My cousin, Bartley Livingston, the Earl of Swinford, will be joining us," the duke couldn't take his eyes off Lady Henrietta.

As an only child, he had been rather independent of thought and was considered to be very serious. He didn't have time, nor interest, in games. Then Lady Henrietta, a flurry of energy, came into his life. While his title should have made him the envy of all men and a magnet for all the single young ladies, he had difficulty in meeting anyone. His shyness made him extremely awkward.

Being the second son, John wasn't expected to be duke, but when his brother died in a shooting accident, suddenly he was the heir to the Dukedom of Kentonville, as his uncle had no children. His life changed, and so did the demands on his time.

Now, however, Henrietta talked for the two of them. She took pressure off him in any social event, and he depended on his bride-to-be. She was insistent on marrying in London, and therefore he had agreed to re-open the Mayfair house despite it being dormant for years with just a caretaker to keep it maintained.

John had never been in the house before two days ago. Henrietta knew how it haunted him and wanted to show the world that the stories were just scaremongering. He tried to talk her out of it, but she was insistent that their wedding in Mayfair would show the world they didn't believe in such silly things as bad luck.

Now that he was here, he was very happy that Henrietta had changed his mind. It was a very fine house, indeed, but it had taken a month to get back into shape. The caretaker was elderly and, without the resources required for maintenance, had allowed the house to fall into disarray.

The duke's feelings were somewhat calmed with the arrival of his beloved. He sensed Lady Amelia was suspicious of him. He couldn't blame her, as this had been a whirlwind romance. Due to his mourning period, he had not partaken of the Season, but Lady Henrietta had called upon him whenever she could, bringing delicacies and crafts she had made. John’s man, Andrews, had commented on how enamored the young lady seem to be with His Grace.

He wasn't quite sure if it was because she was the first young lady to pay attention to him, but the new duke began to call upon Lady Henrietta Blythe, much to the delight of her father. She was easy to be around, and he didn't break out in the usual way with sweaty palms, a racing heart, and a stammer which appeared when he was anxious. As for Henrietta, with her mother being dead, her father worried that she may never marry, instead feeling obliged to care for her aging father.

As the autumn leaves fell and the days got colder, Lady Henrietta and the Duke of Kentonville's love grew warmer, and he proposed. It seemed so sudden and yet, as though they'd known each other a thousand years. They would finish each other's sentences and had a level of intimacy that belied the fact that they had only met briefly a year earlier, yet only renewed this acquaintance not three months ago.

The door of the drawing room blew open in a flurry of wind as the ladies shivered. John was uneasy, but then saw that the front door had opened, and Bartley had arrived bringing the cold air in with him.

"Swinford, you made it. I don't think these door closures are what they used to be," he tried to calm the ladies.

As John was out of earshot, Amelia took the opportunity to whisper to Henrietta, "This better not be a setup."

Henrietta smirked at her friend's discomfort, but had to keep her own counsel as the gentleman joined them.

"Lady Henrietta, Lady Amelia, this is my cousin, Bartley Livingston, the Earl of Swinford," John made the introductions as the handsome earl seemed smitten with Amelia.

"How did I miss you during the Season?" he asked her, offering a warm smile.

"I don't do the Season anymore. Too much idleness and gossip for my liking," Amelia felt uncomfortable with how he stared at her, and shifted in her seat.

She wanted him to stop looking at her, but it would be churlish if she made any sudden move. The moment was broken when John called Bartley to discuss something in private.

It was a relief when they were called to dinner. The dining room was grand and seemed too big for a party of four.

"…and we shall marry at St. George's in Hanover Square on Christmas morning," Henrietta informed their witnesses.

"Who is that woman?" Amelia asked, pointing at a painting. Her intentions were to disrupt the conversation; she had heard the marriage plans dozens of times.

"It was the last duchess, my aunt," the duke answered, as the women looked at each other.

"She was very beautiful. Will you commission a painting of Lady Henrietta when you marry?"

"Indeed, there will be a change in portraiture to signal the new duchess," John said as he stared adoringly into his beloved’s eyes.

"Perhaps we should retire to our rooms. We've had quite the day," Amelia said.

"Well then, we shall retire to the study for port and cigars. This house has many issues that I can assist with,” said Bartley, looking in the direction of Amelia. “I'm something of an amateur architect, Lady Amelia.”

"I am not sure I find an interest in architecture, My Lord. But, I guess everyone has a hobby," Lady Amelia tried to be haughty and saw a flash of disappointment cross Bartley's face.

As Henrietta and Amelia walked to their rooms, Amelia had a query for her friend.

"Which room did the duchess have?"

"I’ve never asked. I thought it might seem rude of me," Henrietta said.

"What was that?" There was a noise ahead of them and Amelia was sure she caught sight of someone in the shadows.

"Who is there? Show yourself at once," Lady Amelia’s authoritative air made the person come forward. A doubled-over, elderly man stood before them. He was as close to a corpse as a live person could be, Amelia thought to herself.

"I beg your pardon, your Ladyships. I did not mean to alarm you. I am the caretaker here," said the old man as he leaned against one of the doors to a bedroom. "I heard you asking about the duchess’s room. Well, this is it,” he said as he motioned to the door he was leaning against. “It was renovated, but she never got to see it. Her Ladyship passed away before it was complete."

“May we go in there?” asked Henrietta.

The caretaker moved away from the door. Henrietta went to turn the handle, but the door would not budge.

"That's strange; it must be locked, but I asked all rooms to be unlocked," said Henrietta, perplexed.

"Perhaps it's just a little stiff. Try it again," Amelia encouraged Henrietta.

This time the door opened, and Henrietta fell forwards, quenching her lamp.

"What happened?" Amelia said.

With only Lady Amelia's lamp for light, she held it up to reveal the bedroom. It was beautiful, mesmerizing even, as she looked around.

"This is it, Amelia. The room that no duchess has used."

"You will be the first, My Lady." The little old man smiled at them. "I must go on my rounds and make sure all is well," said the caretaker as he shuffled off, checking the doors and doing his caretaker duties.

"Look, Amelia, the furniture is just covered. From what John tells me, it was the duchess’s own desire and choice of furniture. I wonder, do you think I should move into these quarters tomorrow? It seems a shame to waste. The duke had bought the house for the duchess."

"The duke must have cared about her very much. She had exquisite taste. I can understand how he missed her when she passed," said Amelia, slightly above a whisper as she looked around the room in awe.

"So you do believe in love, Amelia," Lady Henrietta teased.

"Now, hush. You know I don’t,” smiled Amelia.

Henrietta said, "I feel a burst of energy, and I do not think I will sleep one wink. Will you stay up with me? We can play whist."

Amelia agreed.