… eight maids a milking …
Christmas Day, 1814
Eleanor Swann, one of seven daughters born to Lord and Lady Cockswood stood amongst the pillars wrapped gaily with evergreen boughs, wondering why she had to attend yet another ball. Unlike her best friend, Lady Liza Seymour whose dance card was nearly full, Nora was single with no beau, nor dance partner in sight. Like Liza, Nora detested being herded around like a prized mare. But what was a girl to do? Especially one of three and twenty with no intentions of subjecting herself to an arranged match, thus never marrying.
“I don’t know why Father keeps insisting on presenting me at these parties, Nora,” Liza barely whispered above the music filling the ballroom of Pemberton Hall. “I’ve already attended many seasons so why he persists on me attending every ball within distance escapes me.”
Nora sighed deeply, wanting badly to escape the merriment and sneak down to the stables for a night ride. She knew people thought her to be prim and proper, but she’d seen a lovely sorrel gelding just waiting for someone to take him out on a run. She’d love nothing more than to ride astride the big mount and feel the rhythm of his gait beneath her. She sighed inwardly and returned her attention to her friend, and confidant. Liza was the only person she trusted with her true feelings.
“You know exactly why we’re both here. Your father has aspirations of selling ... Read More ...