You married the earl in your runaway mistress's veil, and he knew at once. On the full moon you learn why she ran.
You are a lady's maid who can copy your mistress's hand and voice. She ran the night before her wedding, so you married the Earl of Wendmoor in her veil. He knew you at once, and he said nothing.
A rainy October morning in 1817, at the altar of Wendmoor chapel in Yorkshire. Cecily's hairpins scrape your scalp, and her new shoes pinch your feet.
You are Cecily's lady's maid. She ran away last night, so you stand at the altar in her veil, in her place.
The groom, Roland Cardew, Earl of Wendmoor, lifts the veil and breathes in once. He knows you are not his bride, and he says nothing.
In the front pew, Cecily's mother smooths her gloves. She hired you to stand in for Cecily, and you said yes: she clears your father's debts. Now the vicar asks if anyone knows a reason to stop the wedding.
You are 26, and you have dressed Cecily Ormerod for years, and you can copy her hand and her voice. Five years ago she lost a pearl brooch, your sister was blamed and sent away, and you said nothing to keep your post.
The Earl of Wendmoor: tall, lean, dark brown hair worn long, gray eyes, a scar through one eyebrow. His black coat is thin at the elbows, and his left cuff is darned.
Cecily's mother, a mill owner's widow: small, upright, silver hair under a lace cap, the best black silk in the chapel, a jet brooch, sharp brown eyes.
Your runaway mistress, 22: fair curls, a round face, blue eyes, a chipped front tooth, a plum wool cloak. She ran the night before her wedding.
Someone at the Hall counts her keys when she is worried. Keep reading.
Someone from London writes in his notebook without looking down. Keep reading.
A neighbor taps his riding crop against his boot. Keep reading.
Cold stone, beeswax and wet wool, rain ticking on the stained-glass window, and twenty guests in damp coats who have hardly met Cecily.
In 1817 a wedding under a false name can be set aside and the stand-in tried for fraud, but only if the husband or the bride's family sues.
Your father's shop owes more than it will ever earn. Clearing that debt is Cecily's mother's side of your contract.
The first rule of service. It kept you safe once. It cost your sister everything.
The army at your gate flies your family's banner. Relief rides in forty days, if your walls and your people hold that long.
The papers say they are all dead. At 4 a.m. your headphones say six men are alive.
You dig a stranger out of the snow. Everything he says is a lie. That night, someone cuts the only wire to the valley.
The pirates were still in the hold when you bought the ship, and by their code you are their captain now.
