Page 1 of The Keeper and I

Prologue

Autumn,1815

My best work yet, Samuel thought to himself as he gazed at the portrait.

His subject, with her soft blonde curls, bright blue eyes, and a smile that put him on his knees, appeared to glow in the frosty moonlight pooling through his window. He cursed that his brush couldn’t capture the true depth of her beauty, but he knew she would adore it. And hopefully, she would begin to see herself the way he saw her. From his seat on the mattress, it was almost like seeing her in person, especially in the night, the only time he really had her to himself.

He picked at a bit of paint stuck to the back of his hand, a special blend of red and white he made to get the perfect shade for her lips, and for a moment, he blissfully recalled the softness of them.

The sound of the doorknob turning made him stiffen. His hand poised over the knife he kept under his pillow. He curled his fingers around the handle slowly, prepared to brandish it at the intruder.

It was probably the footman Howes since the maids had reported him to the butler for nicking trinkets from their rooms. But surely, that lad knew better than to take on Samuel.

At the click of the lock turning, he gripped his knife tighter. His brow furrowed. Howes didn’t have a key to the other servants’ rooms.

Whoever it was pushed the door open but not enough for Samuel to see them. Not until they slid through the opening and quietly snapped the door shut. Samuel blinked, trying to make out the figure in the darkness. His heart pounded as he debated waking the rest of the house by calling for help, then the mystery person stepped into the light.

“Lord Colfield!”

Samuel scrambled out of bed, leaving the knife behind, and stood. Lord Colfield remained where he was though without the usual warmth behind his eyes. Samuel’s stomach lurched.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, m’lord?” he asked.

Lord Colfield took a step closer, and Samuel could see an angry twitch of the older man’s lip beneath his mustache. Lord Colfield reached into his coat pocket, and Samuel braced himself to be shown a pistol. But it wasn’t a weapon at all, it was…his wallet?

“How much?” Lord Colfield asked quietly.

Samuel blinked. “My lord?”

“Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know,” Lord Colfield spat. “How much will it take for you to leave here and never see my daughter again?”

Samuel took a step back. They had been so careful, always looking over their shoulders before they kissed, never so much as stretching their hands toward each other in the presence of her family. They kept a watchful eye on whoever might be watching them. Where had they slipped? Who had discovered them? How long had Lord Colfield known?

Samuel squared his shoulders. “There is no amount—”

“Spare me the heroics. Everyone has a price.” Lord Colfield snatched bills out of the leather case. “Name it, and I will see you get every penny. I’ll even pay your travel expenses. Wherever you want—back to Scotland, Paris, or even to bloody America for all I care as long as it’s far from here.”

“Lord Colfield,” Samuel said levelly. “You could offer me the world, and it still wouldn’t be enough. I won’t leave her.”

The earl frowned. “You cannot think you’ll be allowed to remain here. Not when you have betrayed my family.”

“Betrayed? My lord, you’re mistaken. My loyalty to this family has never been stronger.”

A humorless laugh burst from his chest. “A loyal servant does not compromise the virtue of a lady who is above him.”

“That’s not how we see it—”

“How dare you!” Lord Colfield cried, but quickly composed himself after a glance at the door. He turned furious eyes on Samuel. “We?We?The nerve of you to declare yourself attached to my daughter—you, a pauper, a servant, and aScotno less! You have nothing to offer her!”

“If love holds any weight with you, she’ll certainly be rich in that.”

“Poetic, MacPhairse,” Lord Colfield scoffed. “But it is not enough. Love matches are a thing of fantasy and novels. This is her life. I will not let you rob her of what she deserves.”

“She deserves someone who loves her,” Samuel insisted, drawing himself up to his full height. “Someone who appreciates her for the intelligent, generous, sweet soul she is. She—”

“I’ve had enough of your impertinence; I will not be lectured about my own daughter.” He paused to take a deep breath. “You are dismissed, MacPhairse. You will leave at once and shall never be welcome on this estate again.”

“You really want me to go?” Samuel asked with warning in his voice. “Knowing she will come to me the moment I call?”

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