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TAMING A GENTLEMAN SPY
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Lady
Faith Takes a Leap
The Baxendale Sisters # 2
The Baxendale Sisters # 2
By: Maggi Andersen
Releasing June 1, 2015
Self-Published 
Faith Baxendale has always been a dutiful
daughter who wishes to please her father. She doesn’t have an adventurous bone
in her body, unlike her younger sister, Hope, gallivanting around Italy with
their aunt, nor is she rebellious like her older sister, Honor. And so unlike
Charity, who loses herself in creative pursuits. Even Mercy, at fifteen, shows
more backbone!
Now Faith’s first Season has ended with no clear
choice of a husband, and her father’s patience is wearing thin. He urges her to
marry the man of his choice. It doesn’t help when the neighbor’s son, Lord
Vaughn Winborne, has returned home for the hunt ball. The black sheep of the
family, Vaughn has fascinated Faith since she was in the schoolroom.
Vaughn returns to Brandreth Park, determined to
get his life on track. His elder brother, Chaloner, Marquess of Brandreth,
still looks upon him as a reckless youth. But Vaughn is now twenty-six and
determined to prove Chaloner wrong.
A chance comes in the form of a dire scandal not
of his making, and Vaughn must learn to trust Faith who, when it’s all said and
done, has always known her own mind.
Faith settled on a rug beneath the
spreading branches of a chestnut tree. She approved of Charity’s choice, a
scenic spot near the river. At a distant boom, birds flew from the trees.
“Another volley of gunshot,” Faith said to her younger sister. “The Brandreths’
guests must be enjoying a successful day’s shooting.”
“Mm.” Charity stood her easel on a
flat piece of ground near the riverbank. “I’ll work here. The light is
perfect.” She picked up her brush and palette. Taller than her sisters, Charity
bent over her canvas and flicked back a fair lock, closer in color to their
mother’s, a shade darker than Faith’s. “Are you looking forward to their ball?”
Charity’s voice held little disappointment at still being too young to attend.
“Yes. Seeing Honor and Edward,
especially.” Faith angled her lacy yellow parasol to block the sun, which was
still surprisingly hot, and glanced at her sister with a sigh. Charity’s straw
hat swung carelessly by its blue-striped ribbons. “Mama will have a fit if you
get freckles on your nose like Mercy.”
“Mercy is devising a lotion to fade
them,” Charity murmured. “It contains something called deliquated oil of tar.”
“I wouldn’t let that anywhere near
my face, and neither should you,” Faith said.
“I like her perfume, though,”
Charity said. “Cinnamon and cloves I think. She’s really quite inventive.”
“She is, but I prefer Attar of
Roses,” Faith said.
“Mm?” Charity murmured, now sunk in
contemplation of her canvas.
Faith turned a page of the Minerva
Press novel her elder sister, Honor, had smuggled into the house for her to
read. Father had banned them, saying they filled a woman’s head with ridiculous
notions. The story proved to be enjoyable, but Faith felt guilty every time she
opened the book.
“I think I’ll paint that big oak
tree over the river. I like the way the sun dapples the leaves.” Charity dabbed
at her palette with a paintbrush, mixing paint.
The river bordered Brandreth Park,
now linked with Highland Manor through Honor’s marriage to Edward. The eldest,
Lord Chaloner, was Marquess of Brandreth, their father having died some years
ago.
Faith closed the book, her attention
caught by a fragile yellow butterfly alighting on the tree trunk beside her.
Her recent conversation with her father made her too unsettled to read. It was
true; her Season had been a success of sorts. A whirlwind of soirees, balls,
card parties, musical evenings, and routes. But choosing a husband was like
wandering in a hedge maze. One way might look promising, but then it led to a
dead-end.
She sorely missed Honor’s wise
counsel. As Honor and Edward had a farm in Surrey, the family didn’t see much
of them. But they were coming tomorrow for the Brandreths’ hunt ball. Honor was
so practical she was sure to help Faith order her scrambled thoughts. Faith
glanced at Charity, painting furiously, lost in her art. At sixteen, Charity
was too young to discuss the important matters one faced in the grown-up
world.
A gentle breeze carried the smell of
pine and swayed the willow fronds dipping gracefully into the water. Another
barrage of shots sent a flurry of birds into the sky. On the far bank, a dog barked.
“Pheasant for dinner tonight,”
Charity said. “Chaloner has promised to send some.”
Faith sat up as a hound exploded
from the bushes on the opposite bank, followed closely by a tall, dark-haired
man. He stopped and raised his hand to shade his eyes.
“Good afternoon.”
Charity left her easel and walked to
the river’s edge. “Good afternoon,” she called back.
Faith clambered to her feet, her
heart racing, as he removed his hat and bowed, revealing hair midnight black
and silky straight. Lord Vaughn, a younger and more dazzling version of her
brother-in-law, Edward. She hadn’t seen him since, at sixteen, she’d watched
him in the Brandreth wood bagging birds for the hunt ball dinner. That had been
two years ago, and she was too young to attend. She had climbed a tree for a
better view until Honor had come and dragged her home. Her father had made no
secret of his disapproval of Vaughn, who he saw as the most troublesome of the
Brandreth men. He’d expressed relief when he’d gone to live with his sister, Sibella,
and her husband in York to manage the Marquess of Strathairn’s horse stud.
But here Vaughn was, standing legs
slightly apart, shotgun over his shoulder, chatting to Charity across the
water, and Faith, normally never lost for a word, mute as a Royal swan.
“You must remember my sister Faith?”
Charity was asking him.
“My lord.” Faith stepped forward and
dropped into a mindless curtsey.
A rich chuckle came across the
water. “Don’t drop your parasol into the water, Lady Faith.”
Vaughn looked different somehow,
broader in the shoulders. He had been absent from all of the social events
spent in the Brandreths’ company since Honor and Edward had married. Thoughts
flew through her mind. Was he engaged? She hadn’t heard of it, and anyway, what
did it matter?
Charity stepped closer and gave her
a nudge with her arm. “Say something,” she hissed.
Faith cleared her throat. “Has your
shoot been a successful one, my lord?”
“Feeble,” Charity whispered.
Vaughn put a hand to his ear. “Your
soft voice carries away on the wind, Lady Faith.”
She raised her voice. “Do you intend
to stay long in Tunbridge Wells?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure of my
plans.” He shook his head. “Difficult to carry on a conversation while
shouting.” He turned away.
Faith firmed her lips, annoyed with
herself; she’d lost an opportunity to make a good impression. But Vaughn wasn’t
done with them; he’d put down his gun and walked farther down the bank. Then he
backed up and took a flying leap over a narrow part of the river, alighting on
a rock mid-stream. He regained his balance and jumped again, landing a few
yards downstream from them. Vaughn dusted his leather breeches and strolled
over to them. He swept off his hat and bowed.
“Ladies.”
Up close, he was even more
devastating. There was a new maturity in his face, Faith decided with a
swallow.
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Maggi Andersen lives in the countryside outside
Sydney, Australia, with her lawyer husband. Her study overlooks the creek at
the bottom of the garden where ducks gather. Kookaburras and cockatoos call
from the trees. After gaining a BA in English and an MA in Creative Writing,
and raising three children, Maggi now indulges her passion for writing.
She writes in several genres, contemporary and
historical romances, mysteries and young adult novels. You’ll find adventure
and elements of danger in everyone.
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