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The Brightest of Dreams

By Susan Anne Mason

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PROLOGUE
Quinten Aspinall stood in the Earl of Brentwood’s dank study, awaiting his employer’s imminent return. With any luck, after his daily ride over the estate, his lordship would be in good spirits and more receptive to Quinn’s petition.
Even so, Quinn couldn’t banish the nerves that dampened his palms as he struggled for a calm that escaped him of late. Would Lord Brentwood understand Quinn’s reasoning and agree to his request or would his employer deem it necessary to terminate Quinn’s position at Brentwood Manor?
Quinn took in a breath, attempting to focus on his blessings rather than his trials. The war was over. He’d been wounded, but he’d survived. A major accomplishment to say the least. Yet that blessing paled when he thought about the fate that had befallen his family.
Becky, Cecil and little Harry. Lord, keep them safe—wherever they are.
That simple prayer cemented his commitment to his present course of action. He would do whatever was necessary to find his family and bring them home.
After recovering from his injuries, Quinn never imagined he’d be asking for a leave of absence to travel overseas. But then again, he’d never imagined his mother would place his three younger siblings in an orphanage or that the orphanage would ship them off to another country.
The door creaked open, and Lord Brentwood strode into the room.
Quinn straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back in the proper servant stance.
“Mr. Aspinall! Davis told me you were here. Home from that blasted war, I see.” The exuberance on Lord Brentwood’s ruddy face matched his tone. He tossed his riding gloves on the desktop. “Good to see you again, lad. How are you feeling?”
Quinn reached out to shake his employer’s hand, the old rush of affection rising in his chest. In truth, he’d missed this place and his position as the earl’s personal valet. “I’m happy to report I’ve been given a clean bill of health.”
“Excellent.” His lordship moved to the credenza that housed his favorite spirits. “Does this mean you’re here to reclaim your old job?”
Quinn hesitated, mindful that his answer might alter the man’s jovial mood. “Yes and no, my lord.”
The earl’s hand stilled on the crystal decanter. “That sounds rather cryptic. Care to elaborate?” He poured a hefty splash of brandy into a snifter and carried it over to the massive cherrywood desk, the place where he usually spent each afternoon taking care of business pertaining to the estate.
“I do wish to resume my duties, sir, but…perhaps not right away.” Quinn swallowed. “I require a short leave of absence first.”
The earl frowned. “Does this have something to do with your family?”
“It does.” Of course, his lordship would figure that much out, since Quinn had always made it clear how much his family meant to him. “I need to make a trip to Canada.”
The earl’s glass halted halfway to his mouth, a curious gleam brightening his eyes. “Canada? Whatever for?”
Memories of Quinn’s visit to the Dr. Barnado’s Homes for children crowded his mind, threatening to unravel his carefully held control. “Upon my return to London, I went to see my mother.” He swallowed. “I found her living in a workhouse, my younger siblings now in an orphanage.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The earl’s brow furrowed.
“I then paid a visit to the orphanage, only to learn that my brothers and sister have been shipped off to Canada as indentured workers.” Growing restless, Quinn wished he had leave to warm himself by the flames in the fireplace. Since his time in the trenches, he couldn’t get used to the constant dampness that seemed to perpetually seep through his bones. “Unfortunately, my mother is in ill health. Unless she sees her children again soon, I fear she’ll not last the summer.”
Visions of his emaciated mother had haunted Quinn for the four years he was away at war. He never imagined her looking even frailer than when he left. But when he found her bedridden in a workhouse infirmary upon his return, he knew he had to do something. Quinn suspected guilt played a large part in her listlessness, as though she deserved to die for abandoning her children. If he could find Becky, Cecil and Harry and bring them home, it might give his mother a reason to get well. She didn’t deserve this life of hardship solely because her husband had died prematurely.
Heaven only knew Quinn had tried his best to help her over the years, sending almost every shilling he earned back home to care for the family. To find out now that it had all been in vain was beyond excruciating.
“So, you’re asking for a leave to find your siblings?” The earl studied him from behind the enormous desk.
“Yes, my lord.”
“And if I refuse your request?”
Quinn resisted the urge to look away from the man’s direct gaze. “Then I will respectfully have to resign my position. Though it would pain me to do so.”
“It would pain me also.” Lord Brentwood shifted on his chair and leaned forward. “Whereabouts in Canada will you be going?”
“I’m not sure of the exact location. The ship lands in Halifax, Nova Scotia. From there, it will depend on where my brothers and sister were sent. I haven’t been able to discern that information as of yet.” Quinten clenched his hands into fists against his rising agitation. He still couldn’t believe the director of the Dr. Barnardo’s Homes wouldn’t give him any information other than the name of the ship and the landing point in Halifax.
Quinn shoved one hand into his pocket until his fingers met the familiar iron key he carried with him everywhere—the last thing his father had given him before he died. It had been the key to their family home in London, and by giving it to Quinn, his father had effectively bestowed on him the title of head of the household. The cool metal reminded Quinn of the promise he’d made and gave him the boost of courage he needed to continue. “If it’s too much to ask that you hold my position, I’ll certainly respect your decision, sir. But this is something I have to do. I won’t rest until my family is back together again.”
The earl nodded. “A sentiment I understand all too well.” A shadow crossed the man’s features and, for a moment, real anguish shone in his eyes.
To Quinn’s chagrin, he realized he’d not even inquired about the earl’s family and how they had fared since Quinn left for the war. “I trust Lady Brentwood and Lady Amelia are both well?”
“They are. Thank you for asking.” He paused. “My niece, on the other hand, is a different story.”
“Miss Julia?” Quinn sucked in a breath at the memory of the vivacious girl. She’d come to live with the earl and his family at the age of thirteen following the sudden death of her parents. After an appropriate time to grieve and become accustomed to her new home, Julia had eventually found solace in the company of her cousin, Amelia, and the squeals of girlish laughter often rang throughout the halls of Brentwood Manor. “I hope nothing dire has happened to her.”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. But bad enough.” The earl pushed up from the desk. “Julia insisted on helping with the war efforts—against my wishes, I might add. She went off to aid the medics with the wounded soldiers, a task no proper young lady should undertake.”
“Having been a wounded soldier myself, I think it a noble undertaking. I know I appreciated any help I received.”
The earl shot him an annoyed glance.
Quinn almost bit his tongue. He would have to get used to keeping his opinions to himself when they were not asked for.
“I had a feeling nothing good would come of it.” His lordship lifted his chin in a manner which only meant one thing. Disapproval. “Right before the war ended, she ran off with one of the Canadian soldiers.”
“Oh. How…unfortunate.” Why did the weight of disappointment hit Quinn so hard? It wasn’t as if he could ever have hoped to win the girl’s affections. She would never have looked twice at a servant, except maybe to request a task be done.
“I believe your trip to Canada could be most fortuitous.” The earl leaned an arm on the back of the chair, a pensive look on his face. “While you’re there, I’d like you to find Julia and bring her home.”
Quinn snapped to attention. “I beg your pardon?”
“Julia’s departure has devastated my wife and daughter. I’ll admit I came down rather hard on the girl, and unfortunately, we parted on bad terms. A circumstance I greatly regret.” He let out a sigh. “I’d go in search of her myself, but I can’t afford time away from the earldom right now. In the aftermath of the war, I’ve lost three of my tenant farmers, two in battle and the other from illness. I simply must rectify the situation or the future of Brentwood could be in jeopardy.” His lordship came to stand by the fire, his strong profile highlighted by the flames. “Since you’re already headed overseas, I must take advantage of our association and ask for your help.” The earl moved back to his desk and pulled a velvet pouch from one of the drawers. “I’m prepared to give you whatever funds you might require to cover any expenses incurred on my behalf.”
Quinn’s mind reeled. He couldn’t afford to be distracted from his main goal, yet he didn’t wish to refuse his employer, not without a very good reason. “Do you know where she’s living in Canada?”
“The man she left with, Private Samuel McIntyre, hailed from Toronto. That much I was able to discern. It would be the most logical place to start.”
Even with Quinn’s limited knowledge of Canadian geography, he knew enough to realize that Toronto was a far cry from Halifax. But then, it was feasible that his siblings might have been sent somewhere near there. Apparently, the Barnardo organization had a receiving home in Toronto and many of the orphans ended up on farms in the province of Ontario. Still, it would take time away from Quinn’s own search to have to look for the earl’s wayward niece.
An uncomfortable idea twisted Quinn’s gut. “Did it occur to you that Miss Julia might be married to the man by now? I can hardly wrestle her away from her husband.”
“I don’t believe that’s the case.” The earl’s shoulders drooped suddenly as though his burden too weighty. “Amelia admitted several days ago that she recently received a letter from Julia. She said her cousin sounded rather desperate. That she needed to find a new place to live, but that money was an issue, and she didn’t know what to do. Though Amelia was not happy about it, I insisted on seeing the letter. It was postmarked from Toronto, a rather large city from what I understand.” His brows swooped down. “I hate to think of my niece being in trouble. I want her to know she can come home, though I fear she may not have that impression right now.” He straightened, adjusting the sleeve of his riding jacket. “Finding Julia will no doubt be a challenge, one I’m willing to reward handsomely should you succeed.”
Quinn stared at his employer, the man’s impressive carriage and intelligent gaze confirming that he was every inch a person of title. The earl had given Quinn a position in his household at a time when he’d been quite desperate, and over the years his lordship had promoted him from footman to his personal valet. In truth, Quinn owed the man a great deal. How could he refuse to at least try and help him? Besides, if Julia was indeed in dire straits, and Quinn could offer her some assistance, then he had to try. “Very well, your lordship. I’ll do my best. But even if I do find Miss Julia, she may not wish to return to England. I won’t force her to board a ship against her will.”
“I understand.” The earl pursed his lips. “Perhaps an added incentive might ensure you do your utmost to persuade her.” He walked toward Quinn, a gleam in his eye. “If you succeed in your endeavor, I will reward you with one of the tenant farms for your own. Free and clear.”
Hot tingles shot straight up Quinn’s spine. His own property? A place where he could reunite his family and fulfill the promise he’d made to his father nine years ago? How could he turn down the chance—no matter how slim—to provide a real home for his mother and siblings?
He squared his shoulders and nodded. “You have my word, sir. I’ll do everything in my power to bring your niece back to you.”

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