He Painted the Woman From His Dreams — Two Weeks Later She Knocked on His Bedroom Door by Mistake

It is the beginning of October at Wrenholm Park, and the ninth Duke of Wrenholm has woken before dawn with a face he has never seen pressed against the inside of his mind. By breakfast he has lifted a brush to a fresh canvas in the north painting room and laid down a young woman in warm flesh tones, a stranger he cannot explain. For a fortnight he paints her again and again, until his aunt arrives from London and a small autumn gathering is arranged on the green lawns. What he does not know is that the young woman who steps from a country carriage in dark-bronze travelling silk has come into his house carrying more than one quiet purpose.