Who Brings Forth the Wind (Kensington Chronicles)

Who Brings Forth the Wind,

Kensington Chronicles #3

Lori Wick

Reflections of a Thankful Heart

during the nineteenth century, the palace at Kensington represented

the noble heritage of Britain's young queen and the simple

elegance of a never-to-be-forgotten era. The Victorian Age was the

pinnacle of England's dreams, a time of sweeping adventure and gentle

love. It is during this time, when hope was bright with promise, that this

series is set.

7LONDON

november 1852

"you're a buffoon, henry. I was a fool to have married you

and an even greater fool to have given you sons. They're sure

to grow to be just like you."

"Please, Ramona, please come back to me. Leave that man

and return home. If not for my sake, then for William's and

Tanner's. They need you."

"Get out of my sight, Henry, and take those brats with

you."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, your Grace, but--"

"You forget yourself, Price. My brother, William, is the

duke."

"I'm sorry, Lord Tanner, but your brother is dead. A fire at

his London town house. Your wife was found with him. She

died also."

8

Lord Tanner Richardson, Duke of Cambridge, woke with a

start, sitting up in one violent motion. The bedclothes were

drenched with sweat, and Tanner's chest heaved as he recalled

the nightmares that so vividly portrayed his past.

The dreams hadn't changed in all these years. His mother's

laugh was just as scornful, his wife's infidelity just as real.

Bleakly content that he hadn't dreamt about either of them in

ages, he threw the covers back and rose, ignoring his robe as

he went to the window of his bedroom. The room was cold

and the night dark, but his eyes still caught the images of bare

trees blowing in the wind

"Do you need something, my lord?" a voice spoke softly

from the doorway.

"No, Price. Go back to bed." The duke's voice was cold, but

the experienced servant knew better than to take this personally.

The door was closed silently. It was some minutes before

Tanner moved back to the bed

Climbing back onto the mattress, he recalled the words

his Uncle Edmond spoke during dinner.

"You need a wife, Tanner. You can scowl at me all you

want, and even walk from the room, but it won't change the

fact that you need another wife."

Tanner now gave a mirthless laugh as he settled the covers

around him. If his uncle broached that forbidden subject

again, he would stop him, even if he had to plant his fist on the

older man's mouth to do it. He fell asleep telling himself that

Edmond was wrong; he had no need of a wife, no need at all,

none...

middlesbrough, england

march 1853

anastasia daniels sat on the creek bank and stared down

at the fishing line that lay undisturbed in the water. Four fish

on another line lay at her side, but she'd set a goal of five and

was not leaving the bank until she had them. However, her

mind was beginning to wander. She pushed a stray lock from

her face, wishing she had taken time to brush the honey-gold

mass or at least secure it out of her eyes.

"Lady Stacy," a voice spoke from behind her, succeeding in

drawing her attention from the surface of the water.

"Oh, good morning, Peters."

"Good morning, my lady. Breakfast is ready, and your

grandfather is asking for you."

Stacy was on the verge of telling him she would come

immediately when the pole twitched in her hands. She gave

all her attention to the catch, and in just moments expertly

pulled in a fat trout. She then turned to Peters with a huge

smile that he found most contagious.

"Tell my grandfather I'll be right along."

Peters went on his way, and Stacy rose gracefully from the

bank. The weighty line in her hand felt wonderful as she

stepped lightly over the path and headed for the kitchen.

10

11

"Here you go, Mercy," Stacy nearly sang with triumph. "I

think we'll enjoy these for lunch."

"I'll see to it, Lady Stacy,1' Mercy, the family cook, told her

fondly. She shook her head with true tenderness as Stacy

rushed out to clean up for breakfast.

Forty minutes later Stacy and her grandfather, Viscount

Andrew Daniels, were finishing their morning meal.

"Did I tell you I caught five fish for lunch?"

"Five!" the old man exclaimed. "Why didn't you take me?"

"I went very early," she explained. "It took me forever,

though. I must be losing my touch."

Andrew's only reply to this was a small grunt of disbelief.

"Peters says there's a letter here from London," Andrew

commented

"Oh, it must be Lucinda. Why don't we go into the salon,

and I'll read it?"

Stacy began as soon as they were settled:

The weather here is cold right now, but I can tell

that spring is around the corner. It will be welcome

as the cold gets into my bones these days as never

before.

I had two of Mother's pieces reset, the emerald

and the ruby, and I'm hoping Stacy will be interested

in them. They're quite lovely and up-to-date

in style. I'll hold onto them until such a time as Stacy

can view them herself.

Stacy stopped reading at that point, and after a moment

her grandfather questioned her.

"Is that all she says?"

"No," Stacy admitted, the letter still in her hand. "She goes

on about my age and birthday, both of which she has wrong."

"That's normal," Andrew muttered "If she mentions your

age, then she must have a bee in her bonnet about your

coming to London."

Stacy said nothing to this, only sat quietly and watched her

grandfather where he rested in his favorite chair. He returned

her look, but she knew he saw little; his eyesight seemed to

weaken daily.

"Read the rest, Stacy." The command was soft, but Stacy

complied immediately.

Stacy will be 21 at the end of October, and I can't

believe she's never come to London. It's criminal of

you, Andrew, not to let her come and try to make a

life for herself here. I'm still angry with you that she

had no coming out. It's time Stacy marry and start a

family. I know you agree, but you're too stubborn to

admit it.

I'll forgive and forget all the past, however, if

you'll allow Stacy to come next month and stay for

the entire summer, from the first of May to the end

of July. I won't settle for a day less. I've been begging

you for years, and it's the least you can do.

I await your letter. Please do not let me down,

Andrew. Love to you and Stacy.

Lucinda

Andrew listened as Stacy folded the letter and wished he

could see her clearly enough to read her expression. He knew

she would go in an instant if he asked her, but he wasn't certain

she would tell him the truth as to whether or not she wanted to

go-

From

the time she was a little girl Stacy had hated confrontation

or unhappiness of any type. Andrew was quite certain

that she would walk on hot coals if she thought it would please

him.

"Would you care to go to London, Stacy?"

"Would you like me to?"

The old man smiled. He had known very well she would

answer his question with a question of her own.

12

13

"As a matter of fact, I think it might be agood idea," he said

after a moment, keeping his tone carefully neutral. "I don't

feel as Lucinda does, that you need to make a life for yourself

there, unless of course you want to, but it might be a summer

you would really enjoy."

"All right," Stacy agreed, but her voice told him something

was wrong.

"You're worried about something."

"Two things, actually," she admitted. "I'm afraid Lucinda

will be determined to marry me off."

Andrew nodded. Stacy was a tall girl, nearly six feet and

with a statuesque figure. None of the local boys had wanted a

wife, even one with the face of an angel, who towered over

them.

"I'll set her straight long before you go," he assured her.

"What else troubles you?"

"The train ride. London is so far away, and it frightens me a

little to contemplate making the ride alone."

Andrew's heart sank. He had been hoping that she would

be bothered by something plausible, such as London itself, so

that he could with a clear conscience tell Lucinda she wouldn't

be able to come.

He did not have the extra staff to send someone on the

train with Stacy. However, just the week before his man,

Peters, had told him the Binks were headed to London with

their daughter Milly to shop for her coming out. He knew they

would be delighted to have Stacy with them.

Careful to keep biased emotion from his voice, he told

Stacy this. If Stacy believed he wanted her to go, she would

pack that hour. If she sensed he was hesitant, nothing could

draw her away.

In just a matter of words it was settled. Andrew dictated a

letter to Stacy for his sister on the spot, informing Lucinda of

his expectations for Stacy's trip. He also reminded his forgetful

sister that Stacy was approaching her twenty-second year

and that her birthday was at the beginning of October.

He sent Stacy to post the letter as soon as it was ready and

then rang for Peters.

"How did she seem?"

"Fine, my lord."

"Not upset?"

"No."

"Her face? What was on her face?"

This line of questioning was quite common for Peters, so

he answered without hesitation as he led his lordship to his

bedroom.

"She looked thoughtful, sir. Not upset or overly excited,

just thoughtful."

Andrew heaved a great sigh of relief. Next he would have

to check with his cousin's young wife, Elena, for Stacy would

be certain to visit her while in the village. If Peters had missed

anything, Elena certainly would not.

Elena Daniels sat across the parlor from Stacy just an hour

later and marveled, not for the first time, at her looks. She was

like a Viking queen with her thick, honey-blonde hair that

hung as straight as a line and her beautiful figure, neither of

which Stacy seemed to be aware in the slightest. She carried

herself proudly, and just looking at her, one would not guess

how shy and timid she could be.

"So what do you think?" Stacy, who had told Elena all

about the plans, wished to know.

"I think if you want to go, then you should." It sounded

harmless to Elena, and she was able to answer Stacy calmly.