New Year’s Eve, 1801

Barring Hall, Brixton

Kenneth licked his lips, the taste of the sweet, sugary remnants of flummery remaining as the servants took away the empty glass bowls. He could easily have had three more, but even though he was only seven, he knew it would not have been proper to ask. They were, after all, guests at the home of the Marquess of Barring, and it was considered most impolite to imply that one wanted more.

“I heard they have more in the kitchen,” a warm, low voice sounded from beside him, and he looked into the large brown eyes of his brother Edward.

“Really?” Kenneth asked, his hopes rising.

“I know it. The cook, Mrs. Hill, will give you one, I am sure. She used to give me extra desserts when I was your age,” Edward said. 

Kenneth could not help but admire his brother. At seventeen, Edward was ten years older than Kenneth and was as much his older brother as he was his guardian.

“Will you go down there with me?” Kenneth asked. 

Edward shook his head, his eyes shining as the light of the dancing candle flames reflected in them. “I have to go to the salon with the other men, you know that.” He ruffled Kenneth’s hair as a lock of dark brown hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it away with one smooth movement. “Ask Mother if you can go play, and when she says yes, tell her you are going to the hall. There, you can find the servants’ entrance. But come right back,” he said and winked at him. 

Kenneth nodde...