chapter one

Later spring, London. 

Kofi Owusu opened one eye and smiled slightly as he noticed the nervous expression on the face of Mr. Mensah, the man sent to accompany him to his grandfather's country estate. Mr. Mensah, seated across from Kofi in the coach, discreetly covered his nose with a handkerchief.

Kofi observed that Mr. Mensah looked uncomfortable and slightly ill, but he didn't think it was unreasonable given the circumstances.

Kofi Owusu was well aware that his personal hygiene had suffered greatly. It was to be expected, considering he had spent eleven long years in some of the most notorious prisons France had to offer. Bitche, Valenciennes, Besançon - Kofi had been a reluctant inmate of each of these institutions, courtesy of the French government.

It all started in 1925, when Kofi, along with other optimistic British travelers, had arrived in France, eager to explore the country. However, their excitement was short-lived, as they soon discovered that the fragile peace treaty between France and Britain had broken down. As a result, they were taken into custody by the French authorities and held as hostages.

Kofi Owusu was 18 years old when he arrived in Europe with his tutor. His grandfather, Jasper Owusu, had sent him on this trip because he believed that traveling to major European cities and meeting people from different cultures was an essential part of a man's education.

However, Kofi's trip took an unexpected turn. Instead of attending social events and learning about European culture, he spent 11 years in prison. During that time, he learned practical skills like self-defense, lock-picking, and speaking French fluently.

Kofi was aware that his experiences could have been very different. If he had cooperated with the authorities, he could have stayed in Verdun, where British prisoners from wealthy families were allowed to live relatively comfortably. They were even allowed to attend social events and enjoy fine food, despite being prisoners.

Kofi Owusu, however, did not appreciate the privileges granted to him due to his family's social status. Instead, he repeatedly caused trouble for the prison authorities by physically confronting his guards and attempting to escape. On one occasion, he managed to travel a significant distance, disguising himself as a farmer and wearing tattered clothing, before being recaptured near the harbor.

At the time of his unexpected release from prison, Kofi was actually planning another escape attempt. However, his plans were foiled when he was freed and began his journey back home to Devonshire.

Kofi Owusu felt a sense of unease as he traveled through the English countryside. In some ways, it was more unsettling than his experiences in the Fortress of Bitche. At least there, he had known what to expect. Now that he was no longer focused on escaping, he felt a sense of emptiness.

As they passed by fields and cottages, Kofi noticed that everything looked familiar. It was as if he had never left England. He rolled down the window to take in the fresh air of the rural countryside.

This was what he had fought for, what he had risked his life for, during his time as a hostage.

Kofi Owusu felt a mix of emotions as he entered his childhood home. He wondered who from his past was still alive.

"Mr. Kofi!" Sims, his grandfather's old butler, exclaimed, embracing him warmly. Kofi felt a surge of emotion and quickly looked away to compose himself.

He noticed that Sims seemed shorter than he remembered. The top of Sims' bald head reached the middle of Kofi's chest.

Sims stepped back, looking embarrassed. "I apologize, sir. I don't know what came over me," he said.

Kofi smiled. "Good to see you too, Sims," he said. His voice sounded unfamiliar after years of little use.

"I will inform Lord Jasper of your arrival immediately," Sims replied, regaining his formal tone. He slightly wrinkled his nose. "And arrange for a bath."

"Maybe I should have the bath first," Kofi suggested, feeling self-conscious.

"No need to disturb his lordship," Sims began.

But before he could finish, a loud, familiar voice boomed from the hallway.

"Kofi, my boy!" Lord Jasper exclaimed.

Kofi's eyes widened as his grandfather appeared, a warm smile on his face.

Kofi turned to face his grandfather, Lord Jasper, a strict and demanding man who had been tough on him throughout his childhood and teenage years. Lord Jasper's goal had been to prepare Kofi to take his place one day.

As Lord Jasper's eyes scanned Kofi's appearance, his smile disappeared. Kofi's hair was long and messy, his face unshaven, and his clothes tattered.

As Lord Jasper drew closer, Kofi saw the moment he caught a whiff of the unpleasant smell that clung to him. Lord Jasper's eyes widened slightly, revealing his distaste.

"You have changed," Lord Jasper said.

"I don't think so, Grandfather," Kofi replied.

The old man looked at him thoughtfully. "You are taller."

"And you have lost weight," Lord Jasper added.

"Prison food was not very nutritious," Kofi explained.

"With a haircut and a shave, you will look much better," Lord Jasper said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Kofi said, raising an eyebrow.

Lord Jasper seemed to take Kofi's comment literally and simply nodded. In the past, Kofi's sarcasm would have earned him a stern reprimand.

"Fortunately, Cassandra went to bed early with a headache," Lord Jasper continued. "It's best she doesn't see you in this state."

"Cassandra? You mean she's still living here?" Kofi asked.

"Of course, she is," Lord Jasper replied. "She's my ward. Where else would she live?"

"I assumed she would be married by now," Kofi said.

"It's not my fault she hasn't found a husband," Lord Jasper said defensively. "I've been sending her to local balls, but she's too stubborn and picky. She wants a high-society husband from London, not one of the local men around here."

"She hasn't changed, I see," Kofi said, sounding unenthused.

The last time he saw Cassandra Davies, she was an eleven-year-old girl who loved to boss people around. She had once told Kofi that she would never marry a fat, sporty, spineless podge like him, even if her guardian locked her in the cellar with rats and fed her bread and water for a year, her words were still stung. 

Kofi had felt the same way about Cassandra. At the time, he was relieved to hear that she wouldn't marry him even under duress. However, he soon realized that his grandfather was determined to arrange their marriage, regardless of their feelings. The prospect of being forced into marriage with Cassandra was daunting.

In hindsight, Kofi's imprisonment in France had unexpectedly saved him from that fate. If the war hadn't broken out and he hadn't been taken captive, he likely would have been married to Cassandra as soon as he returned to England. In that sense, his eleven years in prison seemed like a fortunate escape.

"I'm sure you'll be impressed by how beautiful Cassandra has become," Lord Jasper said, a hint of matchmaking in his voice. "You'll see her soon enough."

Kofi doubted that, but instead said, "I'd like to go to my room now."

"Of course of course ,rest after your journey," Lord Jasper agreed. "Good night, then, Grandfather."

To Kofi's surprise, his grandfather took his hand. Lord Jasper's thin but still strong fingers gripped Kofi's hand tightly, as if he didn't want to let go.

"I believed you were dead," Lord Jasper said, his voice cracking.

Kofi was taken aback. "I thought the same about you," he replied, "when you didn't pay the ransom."

Lord Jasper's expression turned solemn. "I made official inquiries, and I was informed that you and your tutor had both died at Verdun. I never received a ransom demand."

"Mr. Gardiner did pass away," Kofi said. "I hope you informed his family."

"Yes, I did," Lord Jasper replied. "We also held a memorial service for you at the chapel. The entire neighborhood attended. I want you to know, Kofi, that if I had known you were alive, I would have done everything in my power to bring you home."

"I believe you, Grandfather," Kofi said.

Kofi knew his grandfather didn't have any sentimental feelings for him. However, as the last living descendant of the Warrender family line, Kofi was the only one who could inherit his grandfather's legacy.

Kofi decided to wait until the next day, after a good night's sleep in a clean bed, to tell his grandfather that he refused to marry Cassandra Davies, no matter what.

Cassandra Davies took a sip of the hot tea and gazed out at the gardens of her guardian's estate. While the gardens were beautiful, the roses had begun to show signs of decay, their edges browning and their scent heavy. To Cassandra, they symbolized her own fading youth. 

At 22, she was still considered young, but she knew that in a few years, her marriage prospects would dwindle. Having spent her entire life confined to her guardian's house, Cassandra felt stifled and longed for adventure and freedom.

With Kofi sudden return, Cassandra's fate seemed sealed. She would be trapped in this life forever, married off to a man she didn't want, unless she took drastic action to prevent it.

Cassandra had deliberately chosen to have her breakfast on the terrace to avoid Kofi Owusu. She had no desire to encounter him over breakfast, or at all, for that matter. While she wasn't unhappy that he had survived, his return was terribly inconvenient. After rejecting all the local suitors, she had almost convinced her guardian to take her to London to find a suitable husband. Kofi's arrival threatened to derail all her plans.

Her life was a stagnant pond, its surface reflecting the same dull routine day after day. The return of Kofi Owusu was a stone tossed into the water, rippling the surface and disrupting the monotony. But even that disturbance was unwelcome, a reminder that she was trapped in this backwater existence.

She pushed the plate of biscuits away, the sweetness turning to dust in her mouth. The tea burned her tongue, a bitter taste that matched her mood. She stared out at the roses, their beauty lost on her. Another day, another identical, suffocating routine.

Cassandra's eyes widened as a disheveled figure appeared in her line of sight. The man's brown hair was mussed, and his hazel eyes were wild, with the whites showing all around. His nostrils flared, and a leaf was clamped between his teeth. Cassandra let out a startled scream and leapt to her feet, clutching her throat with a trembling hand.

"Who are you?" Cassandra demanded. "Why were you spying on me? And what's that in your mouth?"

The man stood up, his eyes fixed on hers. He removed the leaf from his mouth, took a bite, and chewed. "Spinach," he said. "I was hungry, and there was no breakfast ready."

As Cassandra got a better look at him, her alarm grew. He was tall and thin, with broad shoulders. His dark brown hair was long and unkempt, damp at the ends. He wore pantaloons and had bare feet. His shirt was open, revealing a lightly furred chest, and had grass and dirt stains on the sleeves.

Cassandra's eyes widened as she recognized the man's face. The last time she saw him, his cheeks had been round and spotty, but now they were defined and angular.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed as she recognized the distinctive green and amber shade of Kofi's eyes. "Kofi Owusu!" she exclaimed, disgust etched on her face. She placed her hands on her hips, her voice firm. "What are you doing in the garden, frightening me half to death?"

Kofi didn't respond. Instead, he effortlessly jumped over the wrought-iron railing and landed on the terrace, his gaze fixed longingly on the teapot.

"May I have some?" Kofi asked, his eyes fixed on the teapot.

Cassandra let out a sigh. "I only have one cup."

"This one will do," Kofi replied, his gaze unwavering.

As he took the cup from her, Cassandra noticed his hands were shaking. "Why are you shaking like that? Are you ill?" she asked.

Kofi shook his head. "No."

He held out the empty cup, and Cassandra refilled it with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. Kofi downed the tea in one gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "More," he requested, holding out the cup again.

Cassandra poured him another cup, watching as he drank it just as quickly as the first. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his attention to the plate of biscuits.

Cassandra gestured to the biscuits. "Oh, go ahead," she said irritably.

Kofi's face lit up with a radiant smile. He sat down in the delicate wrought-iron chair, pulled the plate close, and broke a biscuit in half. He examined the pieces carefully, prompting Cassandra to ask, "What are you doing?"

"Looking for weevils," he replied nonchalantly.

Cassandra's expression turned disgusted. "That's disgusting!"

Kofi shrugged. "Only if you find some."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, unsure if he was joking. Apparently satisfied that the biscuits were safe, Kofi devoured them quickly and messily, even eating the one she had taken a bite from.

"Good," he said, scanning the table for more food.

Cassandra threw up her hands in exasperation. "If you're hungry, you can simply order the servants to bring you food. You're the heir, after all. They'll bring you anything you ask for."

Kofi looked at Cassandra as if the idea of ordering food from the servants had never occurred to him.

Cassandra sighed. "Never mind. I'll take care of it." She walked to the door leading to the house and spoke to a young woman wearing an apron and a white cap.

When she returned, Cassandra said, "I'm not going to marry you, you know. Even if you've lost your wits and your grandfather thinks you need a woman to take care of you."

Kofi raised an eyebrow. "Did I ask you to marry me?"

"No, you don't have to," Cassandra replied, starting to pace back and forth. "I know how your grandfather thinks. If we're not careful, he'll have us married off before we know it."

Kofi began to respond, but Cassandra signaled him to be quiet. Three servants were approaching the terrace, carrying covered dishes. They couldn't discuss this further in front of the servants.

The servants efficiently replaced the old teapot, cup, and biscuit plate with a sumptuous spread: eggs, kippers, bacon, fresh tea, toast, and biscuits. Cassandra nodded, dismissing the servants.

Kofi's eyes locked onto the food, and he began loading his plate with an eagerness that bordered on desperation. He watched Cassandra warily, as if he feared she would snatch the food away from him at any moment.

As he took his first bite of kipper, his lower lip quivered, and his eyes welled up with tears. The sight of him, usually so composed, on the verge of breaking down, caught Cassandra off guard.

Cassandra's expression turned stern. "Stop that at once," she whispered urgently. "You can't cry here. Pull yourself together."

Kofi's tears subsided, replaced by a wistful look. "Are you quite sure," he asked, "that you won't marry me after all?"

Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise. Kofi immediately regretted his words.

Cassandra had grown into a beautiful young woman. Her high-waisted gown featured tiny lavender flowers and green leaves, complementing her ash-blond hair, which was tied back with a lavender ribbon. Her melting blue eyes were sheer perfection. 

Cassandra's response was immediate. "Not if you were the last man on earth!" she exclaimed.

Kofi smiled wryly to himself. He couldn't blame her. He wasn't exactly the most desirable husband material, especially considering his unusual conversation topics.

He was about to downplay his earlier comment to save face, but Cassandra's earnest expression stopped him. "Kofi," she said gently, "you don't want to marry me."

Kofi began to protest, but Cassandra placed her hand over his. Her skin was soft and white, a stark contrast to his own dirty, jagged nails. He curled his fingers to hide them.

Cassandra's scent was floral and pleasant, making Kofi conscious of his own hygiene. Despite scrubbing himself thoroughly the night before, he worried that she might still detect the prison smell on him. He subtly leaned back, trying to put some distance between them.

"You've been away from England for years," Cassandra said, "so I'm probably look good to you." But trust me, I'd make a bad wife. If I had to marry you, I'd be miserable and make you miserable too."

Kofi was taken aback. He didn't know how to respond.

Cassandra continued, "If Lord Adderly hadn't learned of your release, I'd be in London now, enjoying my first Season. Now I'll probably never leave here."

Kofi's tone turned dry. "Sorry to ruin your plans by not dying at a convenient time."

Cassandra looked stricken. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I'm glad you're not dead. It's just... complicated."

Before Kofi could respond, his grandfather appeared on the terrace, smiling.

Lord Adderly scolded, "There you are, you naughty children! Having breakfast on the terrace without a chaperon."

Kofi quickly stood up and wiped his lips with a napkin. Cassandra's face flushed, but kofi could tell it was due to anger rather than embarrassment.

"It isn't what it looks like," Cassandra explained. "I found him eating in the garden and had the servants bring him breakfast."

Lord Adderly's expression turned incredulous. "Eating in the garden? And you're not properly dressed, kofi! You can't have breakfast with a young lady without your coat!"

Kofi apologized, "Sorry, sir."

Cassandra stepped forward, defending him. "Don't scold him, he's clearly not himself." She spoke softly, trying to calm the situation.

Lord Adderly declared, "Nonsense! All he needs is marriage to a good woman."

Cassandra's eyes widened in alarm. "There! Did you hear that?" she exclaimed.

"No! Absolutely not!" she protested. "I'm as sorry as can be for the poor creature, but I simply cannot marry... him."

She indicated Kofi -his shagy hair, his unkempt hands, his grass-stained shirt-with a helpless gesture of her graceful hands.

 " You go too far, miss!" the old man roared. 

"Kofi is my grandson, and more than a match for you in blood! Your father wanted this match for you, girl, and so do i. I shall have the banns proclaimed this Sunday.

 "Over my dead body !" Cassandra said defiantly.

 "If need be," her guardian said with a smile that showed all his teeth.

Kofi backed away from them and covered his mouth with both hands. His eyes filled with tears. He could not restrain a strange snorting sOund from escaping.

"Now look what you've done!" Cassandra said to the viscount. She put a slender arm around kofi's shoulders. "You've frightened him. There, there,kofi. He doesn't mean it."

She thought he was weeping, when he was only trying to keep from laughing into their affronted faces. Was ever a situation so absurd?

He made a noncommittal sound and, bending over slightly, turned his face into Cassandra's shoulder. He couldn't resist all that Sweet, fragrant softness. She jumped away from him as if she had been scalded.

 "I bloody well do mean it!" the enraged viscount shouted. "You uill marry kofi."

"No," kofi said. This had gone far enough.

 "I beg your pardon? the old man demanded i

"No," Kofi repeated. "I am not going to marry Cassandra. I'm not going to marry anyone, at least not right away. I didn't spend eleven years in prison to have you arrange a marriage for me with the first eligible woman.

"Now see here, you young jackanapes-" the Viscount began.

"I'd like to look about me first," Kofi said, interrupting him. "See if there's anyone around who suits me better. In London."

"London?" the Viscount and Cassandra repeated in unison.

"Good for you," Cassandra said approvingly.

"You be quiet, missy," the old man shouted.

"As for you, sir," he added to Kofi with a stern stare. Kofi involuntarily took a step back.

"Go to your room at once and stay there until you have decided to be reasonable."

"Yes, sir," Kofi muttered.

With a snort of impatience, the Viscount stalked back into the house.

"Well, that does it," Cassandra said, her eyes filling with tears of disappointment. "I'll never see London now. There were to be illuminations in the park and balloon launches and-"

"What are you talking about?" Kofi asked.

"To celebrate the peace, ninny!" she snapped. "It would have been wonderful, but instead of going to London, I have to stay here and marry you."

Kofi understood why she wouldn't want to marry him. He tried to see himself from her perspective and felt a pang of sympathy.

"Don't worry," he told her. "You won't have to marry me."

"He'll make me marry you, don't you see?" she said, her long eyelashes wet and spiky with moisture. Kofi wished he had a handkerchief to offer her.

"He is my guardian. I will have no choice."

"I'm sorry," Kofi said, genuinely regretful.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "It's not your fault.

She managed to smile at him. "I am glad you're not dead, Kofi," she said quietly. "Truly."

He patted her hand. "Good-bye," he said as he prepared to leave the terrace.

She smiled at him again, but she couldn't stop the tears from running down her pretty cheeks.

Chastened, Kofi went up to his room, feeling subdued.