Chapter One

For all the magic of the Far East, there was always something about London that spoke of kinship to Clayton Thorne’s soul. Perhaps they were both a little dirty, he thought with amusement as the scent of all the coal-fueled homes and businesses along the waterfront reached his nose, but a diamond of the first water nonetheless. His hackney coach sped west into better neighborhoods until it reached Regent Street. Neither he nor his valet spoke, both tired after the early six-month return journey from Calcutta.

The afternoon tide coming into port had been late enough that he was yawning, but not so late that he could easily retire straight to bed without hearing about it from his brother if he delayed announcing his return. Still, weariness threatened to drag his eyelids closed even as the coach came to a complete stop. Between himself, his valet, and the coach driver, they managed to unload three trunks and the important satchel of papers. The coach waited with the luggage as Clayton and his valet struggled to get each trunk up to his first-floor rooms, moving slower and slower as weariness overcame them.

His valet nodded at him as they set the last trunk in the center of the parlor. The man’s smile was thin but genuine. “Welcome home, sir.”

“It’s good to be back, Hoskins.” Clayton collapsed into an armchair without removing the dust cloth, sending up a puff of many months’ dust. He coughed several times until he cleared the irritation from his throat, shaking his blonde hair into his eyes. Brushing the hair from his eyes, Clayton considered it was definitely time for a haircut while his feet were on solid ground. Getting a haircut while on a ship rolling with the waves in the middle of the sea was dangerous for one’s ears, not to mention a somewhat lop-sided style.

“Hoskins, if you would be so kind as to ask one of the footmen to go to Thorensbury House, I expect Tobias will want to see me this evening. I’m not sure I’m quite the best company for supper, but I’m sure that won’t stop Georgiana from inviting me.” His sister-in-law was the consummate hostess, but he would be horrible company tonight. He quietly groaned as he rose to get paper and ink from his study, and he scratched out a few lines. He started to fold the note only to remember that his pantry was empty. Clayton added a postscript begging for scraps from his brother’s table, wondering if maybe he ought to suggest supper there after all. Supper would mean dressing up and making pleasant conversation—he wasn’t sure he had that in him.

“Yes, sir.” The valet began removing dust cloths so there was room to sit down, though he would never think of sitting in Clayton’s presence. Hoskins was nearly fifteen years his senior, but the man had not seemed any more bothered by the extended trip than Clayton himself, and at twenty-eight, even the nobleman had been feeling the months of travel well before the end.

The idea of collapsing into bed without first going to visit his brother was very appealing, but he knew how Tobias, the Earl of Thorensbury, would react to that. Unless he was injured, Clayton’s duty was to the family before all else. “I’d best change, and I could use a shave before I go. After you have that sent, of course,” he added, nodding at the folded paper he had handed his valet.

“Quite right. Why don’t you sit for a moment, sir, unless you wish to retrieve something from your luggage?” Message in hand, Hoskins hurried out the door to find an available footman. Clayton had no idea how the man had the energy to jump right into his duties without flinching.

Clayton returned to his luggage, feeling a bit guilty for making Hoskins leap into service so quickly. He was elbow-deep in one of his trunks when Hoskins returned. Between the two of them and their fatigue, it felt to Clayton like the simple actions of redressing in clean clothes and shaving took forever. There was a knock at his door as he was sliding into his jacket. He opened the door since he was standing right there, pleased to see the familiar face of one of Thorensbury House’s footmen with a large hamper.

“Welcome home, sir,” the man greeted him, barely betraying any surprise that Clayton had answered his own door. “His Lordship’s cook had dinner made up for you in no time.”

“Come in, come in.” Clayton gestured. “I probably owe Mrs. Powell a gift, the angel. What do you think, Hoskins?”

The valet reentered the front rooms after disposing of the shaving implements and nodded. “Some of the spices, sir.”

“Yes.” It was a good thing one of them still had wits after their journey.

Hoskins took the hamper of food from the footman, who retreated to the door. “Your gelding is below, sir. His Lordship is waiting for an answer as to when he might expect you, sir.”

“I’ll eat a few bites and be on my way. I doubt I’ll remain awake too much longer.” Clayton watched as Hoskins unearthed sliced ham and made him a plate. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Talbot, but I can’t stay too long. You can tell him I will also call upon them tomorrow morning to be more sociable, and we can go to the warehouse together then. I don’t have the energy tonight.” The footman bowed his acknowledgment of the message and let himself out.

Clayton followed the good smells to his coffee table and slid onto the settee as his valet set the plate down. “You must be famished, Hoskins, don’t let’s stand on ceremony. Do eat. We’ve had a long journey.” He liked and respected his valet and wasn’t about to let the man suffer just for propriety’s sake, not after they had journeyed together so far from home. On the trip, Hoskins had been valet, footman, secretary, and accountant, not to mention friend, sounding board, and confidant.

“Heavens no, sir. I’ll be just fine eating after you are through.” Not leaving the matter open to discussion, the valet moved away, shaking his head as he disappeared into Clayton’s bedroom to continue airing out the chambers.

Clayton sighed but would not force the point if his man wanted to return to polite society’s expectations. It was proper. Hang propriety. I couldn’t care less after six months at sea. Not that he was all that concerned with society’s wishes on an average day. He wolfed down his food, however, too hungry to delay his meal. “I’ll need my coat and hat, Hoskins—” The man appeared with the items before he could even finish the sentence. “Thank you. I don’t expect I’ll stay longer than I must.” Hoskins assisted Clayton with the greatcoat. Clayton picked up the satchel of papers and slung the strap over his head.

“Very good, sir.”

As the son of an Earl, Clayton was raised with servants, carriages, and all the domestic assistance he could ever need. Now that he made his own living, as the second son, he had only his gelding, and even the horse had been more his brother’s than his own while he was away. I hope the poor beast did not suffer for my absence.

Clayton was greeted with a familiar whinny, so he relaxed and shoved away the worries for another time. Clayton brought the gelding an apple and gave the fine beast some attention. “Hello, old boy. I’ve missed you.”

He rode quickly to Thorensbury House, feeling every jolt despite the gelding’s gentle gait. The townhouse was well lit and still very much awake, as evidenced by the waiting footman. Clayton dismounted and handed his reins to the footman. “I don’t expect I’ll be long, but he might appreciate not standing about in the cool evening while my brother dissects my latest travels.” The footman bowed his acknowledgment, and Clayton hurried to the door opened by the butler just as he reached it. “Good evening, Dowding.”

“Good evening, sir. His Lordship awaits you in his study.”

“No need to announce me, Dowding, thank you. I can find my way.” Clayton handed over his hat and greatcoat, took up his satchel once more, and then made his way down the hall to Tobias’ study—the same study in which his father had spent most of his time. He found Tobias bent over the desk, writing.

“My kingdom for a glass of whisky,” the younger of the two siblings announced with appropriate comedic melodrama.

When the Earl’s head flew up, Clayton could see lines of age that had not been there prior to his Far East journey. The sense of age and weariness disappeared as soon as Tobias smiled, however. “Welcome back, brother.” The Earl rose and moved around his desk to shake Clayton’s hand firmly. “It is good to see you looking well.”

“It’s good to be home,” Clayton agreed, sinking into one of the armchairs in front of the desk. “I don’t have the energy to stay long tonight, Thorensbury, but I can say we did well. The crates of fabric and goods were taken straight to the warehouse. But there are some gifts in there as well that I didn’t have time to unpack.”

Instead of returning to his chair, Tobias Thorne went to his sidebar and poured two snifters of brandy, one of which he offered to Clayton, before leaning against the corner of his desk. “Good to hear. I told Georgiana we would see you tomorrow, so she’s likely planning a supper fit for the celebration of your return.” His gaze traced Clayton’s face. “I hope your journey was not too dreadful.”

With a sigh, Clayton sipped from his glass and tried to relax his shoulders. “No, just long. Six months aboard ship drove me to distraction by the end.” He patted the leather bag in his lap. “New trade agreements, import/export contracts, and shipping schedules. Also, receipts for the first consignment. If they faced better weather than I, the first ship might well be nearing England in a matter of weeks. I thought we might go to the warehouse together tomorrow to open the new crates.”

The Earl nodded. “Good.” He sipped from his glass, but the action seemed to cover a moment’s hesitation, which was entirely unlike the brother Clayton knew.

He frowned. “What’s the matter?”

His older brother sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead. Hints of weariness reappeared, aging his brother beyond his thirty years. “I found some old correspondence belonging to father when I had the furniture in here moved. Seeing you reminded me.”

Clayton nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything. “And?”

A dark look crossed his brother’s face. “Here, read it for yourself.” He moved behind his desk again and withdrew a packet of papers from a drawer. He flipped through them quickly until selecting one and holding it out.

Clayton glanced down at the signature. “Wilensdale? I wasn’t aware father was acquainted with the Duke.”

“Nor I. Keep reading.” Tobias drained the rest of his brandy in one long pull.

Skimming the pleasantries, Clayton read the key facts as quickly as he could. The Duke wrote that he agreed the first steps of their father’s idea had gone well, but that the business opportunity wouldn’t require him—Clayton’s father, the late Earl of Thorensbury—to be involved at all, for Wilensdale had it all under control. Clayton’s puzzlement was written on his face. “What is this?”

Tobias held up the rest. “These were exchanged a few months before father died.” A pained look shared between the brothers accounted for their sad remembrance of the late Earl’s demise after a long struggle with melancholia—it loomed large in their memories still. “It seems Father took an idea for a new business to the Duke of Wilensdale. The Duke was agreeable at first but then blindsided Father, double-crossing him and taking the business for himself. One of the Duke’s later responses refuses to accept that Father might have lost any large sum of money, so it seems Father blamed Wilensdale for at least some of his money troubles.”

Clayton felt his heart turn to lead and sink into his stomach. “Will the letters alone be proof of their partnership?”

His brother shook his head. “There’s never any explicit agreement of partnership, nor any contract of shares in the business. Even with only the Duke’s replies, it seems clear to me that the conversation was genial until it took a very sudden turn. That letter,” the Earl indicated the paper in Clayton’s hands with a pointing finger, “is the turning point. I can practically hear Father’s rude response to it, and the Duke’s replies turn sharper as well.”

Clayton’s stomach roiled with the possibilities. Had their father gone into business trying to dig himself out of debt, only to be swindled by someone like the Duke of Wilensdale? I can’t very well challenge him to a duel over incomplete correspondence. It was all he could do to remain in his seat and not release the boiling rage churning in his gut.  If Clayton or his brother had known how deeply their father’s personal finances had sunk, they might have been able to do something before their father’s melancholia claimed him, but neither had had any idea at the time. Why hadn’t Father come to us about this idea? Perhaps more importantly, what could lesser nobility like us do to return the ill wishes and knock Wilensdale down a notch?

Chapter Two

“Oh my dear, sweet Lila. You look magnificent.” Lila’s aunt’s eyes glistened as she peered past Lila into the modiste’s mirror. The cerulean ball gown flattered the young blonde woman better than a truer pastel shade might, really making her blue eyes stand out and sparkle. “You will do your father proud,” Aunt Maria added, dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes.

The satin dress was a lovely color, and it suited her very nicely. The azure and gold brocade trim at the high waist and hem shone in the reflected sunlight within Madame Gautier’s shop. “Thank you, Madame. You have remade me a lady.” Her slippers were made to match the brocade, and the gold thread’s shining peeked from beneath her skirts when she moved.

Both older women laughed politely at her jest—Lila had been a lady from the day she was born to the Duke and Duchess of Wilensdale—though she had not meant it as such. Until now, she had felt unprepared for her entrance to society. This gown helped her feel the part. Still, all Lila could think was that it ought to be her mother taking her for this final fitting of the gown she would wear at her debut soirée two days hence. Not that she didn’t appreciate her aunt, but she missed her mother sorely at times like this. Three years was not nearly long enough to distance herself from the raw emotions of losing her mother to a sudden illness. Aunt Maria had so far managed to guide Lila around the many emotional moments in preparing for her debut, but this one brought tears to her eyes.

“Here, my dear,” her aunt offered quietly, extending the handkerchief.

Lila took it, mute, and wiped her eyes. The modiste politely averted her eyes and checked the puff of the sleeves and how well the neckline lay. Lila had no desire to turn into a watering pot in such a prominent location. Already she spied familiar faces directing longing glances through the front window, even if she and her new finery were hidden for the moment behind a screen to maintain her dignity and the surprise of her attire. “This is perfect. Are the other gowns prepared?” There were many events planned for the opening of the London Season, and more would likely be announced before the social year concluded that summer. While some of Lila’s gowns had been ordered and made in advance, it was hard to get the same quality outside London.

“Yes, my lady. Camille will help you with the next.” The Frenchwoman gestured politely to the dressing room where one of the seamstresses had helped Lila dress.

Lila handed her aunt back the handkerchief with a small smile. Don’t cry. Just keep moving; don’t cry. As she passed toward the dressing room, her aunt and the modiste returned to the settee and their tea tray. She was glad her aunt had decided to remain at Wilensdale House this week as they finished all the plans for the soirée. As the Dowager Marchioness of Evensburg, Maria had the skills to ensure such a grand party was put together properly. For all Lila had been doing in the country as her father’s hostess, she believed herself unequal to the task of the far more demanding London ball. With Aunt Maria at the ducal manor at breakfast each day, they had saved time with their preparations, but more importantly, maintained Lila’s emotional stability.

Presented with a lavender gown as she entered the dressing room, Lila smiled and tried to push back further thoughts of her mother until she could be alone later. She had enough to worry about in the next two days leading up to the party, like her father’s repeated reminders of the status of her suitors. Lila loved him, but unlike her romantic mother, she knew the Duke of Wilensdale cared not for matters of the heart, only titles and land. Any marriage Lila made would be a business transaction to her father, even though she had promised her dying mother she would marry for love.

When Lila’s mother’s sudden illness had confined her to bed, the duchess had grown bored with optimism very quickly, but, at the time, Lila had refused to believe her mother wouldn’t recover. The fact Lila was distraught, and her husband was not had led the duchess to a frank discussion of how rarely love was a part of noble marriages. It had mattered so much to her that her only child married for love, that Lila had sworn she would. She would have promised her mother anything if it might help her get well, but the promise had begun haunting her as soon as her debut was mentioned last winter.

It would be up to Lila to try and find a marquess or Duke who might suit her father’s wishes with whom she could conceivably fall in love to honor her promise to her mother. All the while, every other debutante schemed for the same, the highest positions available to them. What Lila wouldn’t give for her mother’s help navigating through society without incident.

Again Lila put her mother from her mind and tried to focus on her new wardrobe, particularly the next one with its lace overlay. To which one of the many parties coming after her own she would wear this dress escaped her in that instant, but the lacy gown made her look like a princess if she did say so herself.

*****

The day of Lila’s debut flew by as both she and her aunt saw personally to the details to make certain the Duke’s hospitality would be the pinnacle of the season’s opening weekend. Lila herself was so nervous she could barely remember everything that happened leading up to dinner. Still, as she had not been formally introduced to any gentlemen yet, her dinner partner was her cousin, who made it his purpose to force her to smile and forget herself. Lila had to admit she liked her father’s heir despite his position, which would someday oust her from her own home if she had not yet married.

It was only after dinner when her father took her hand and led her to the dance floor that she could begin to believe the night had been a success. “You look just like your mother,” her father told her. “She would be proud of you tonight.” It was uncharacteristic of him to praise her, but she was beyond grateful.

“Thank you, Father. I wish she were here to see it.”

Her father led Lila through the minuet without error, though he was a bit stiffer than many gentlemen who joined the dance around them. “As long as you can attract the eye of a Duke or marquess, there’s no reason to think she isn’t smiling on you from Heaven.”

That stung a bit. No doubt the Duke meant it as encouragement, but Lila knew full well her mother had wished her to look beyond the title and judge men on their personal merits, not their wealth.

“There are a number of gentlemen here tonight with whom a match would be more than suitable. I shall introduce you to most of them. See that you give them reason to call upon you come tomorrow.”

“Yes, Father.” There was nothing else she could say. Lila knew her duty, even as she hoped these men would not be awful people twice her age. Surely there are young noblemen of a station Father won’t abhor? Lila focused on the dance rather than dwell on hypothetical problems, trying to float the way her dance instructor liked.

As the dance ended, her father’s attention was drawn to one side. “Perfect. Come, my dear, let me introduce you around.” He escorted her to one side as the dancers readied themselves for the next set, heading straight for a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman more than ten years her senior. As soon as the man saw them coming, he turned a brilliant smile on her. He bowed as the Duke arrived beside him, nodding to the other nobleman. “Good evening, Your Grace. Please allow me to present my daughter, Lady Lila. Lila, His Grace, the Duke of Amberdene.”

The handsome Duke bowed over her hand. “Good evening, my lady.”

“Your Grace,” Lila murmured, curtseying.

“May I have the honor of this dance?” His brown eyes were kind, and he didn’t look through her as so many had. Then again, now that she had been introduced to him, he was permitted to interact with her.

Lila saw her father’s slight head shake in her peripheral vision and smiled even as she raised the dance card at her wrist. “Perhaps the next dance, Your Grace? I must greet our guests before allowing myself the privilege.”

Amberdene returned her smile, accepting the card and signing it—twice. If that wasn’t a positive signal, she didn’t know what was. “Very well, my lady, until the waltz.” He nodded politely to her father and let them pass. It seemed whomever the Duke had been conversing with was not high on her father’s list of introductions.

The Duke reclaimed his daughter’s hand, his fingers tightening briefly on hers in approval as he escorted her onward. Lila was introduced to three marquesses, another Duke, and two Earls who would one day inherit their father’s grander title and their grandfather’s. At least the Earls were of an age with her, which seemed like a much more pleasant arrangement than someone more than ten years her senior—or the one marquess who was older still. Apparently, anyone less would not suit, for her father bypassed them completely, despite the visible evidence that many had hoped for a chance to greet the Duke and his daughter on her debut. Lila’s dance card filled rapidly, and she had to refuse the request of one marquess who would have claimed two dances as the Duke of Amberdene had.

The first strains of the waltz precipitated the arrival of the Duke of Amberdene at her elbow. His nod in her father’s direction begged forgiveness for stealing her away amidst an ongoing conversation, but that did not preclude him from taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor. “My dear lady, you looked rather hemmed in by all your adoring suitors.” His hand settled at her waist, though she did not feel any fluttering such as the ladies in her books did upon meeting their true love.

Lila felt heat flood her cheeks. She had been surrounded; it was true, but she would not have brought attention to it. “I hope you are enjoying your evening, Your Grace.” He danced well, directing her around the floor with ease. His shoulders were muscular but not more than any other man. His physique suggested he didn’t do anything more tiring than horseback riding and likely spent much of his time in business or more relaxed leisure pursuits. Hopefully, such a man would have time to spend with his wife, though she had trouble picturing herself in that role.

“A fine showing, Lady Lila.” The nobleman’s eyes strayed briefly from her own, but it was only a momentary lapse.

Is it too much to ask that he be distracted by someone off the floor rather than my bosom? “I don’t believe I’m familiar with Amberdene,” Lila said, following his lead around the dance floor. “Are your lands far from London, Your Grace?”

“Not that much farther than Wilensdale, but north of London instead of west. With the coastline, we have more storms than I believe you are used to, but the beaches are well worth it.” He seemed more than happy to expound upon his lands as if that would make her like him more. Perhaps if she were more like her father, it might. “Does your father entertain much in Wilensdale?”

“Now and again, he does. More often dinners with business acquaintances than balls such as these.” If her aunt hadn’t helped, Lila doubted this would have been such a success.

“Every nobleman should have a ball now and again. Society would languish if not for such events to bring together like minds for business and pleasure. I’m sure I haven’t had one in recent history, but now that I’ve seen your esteemed guest list, I certainly shall. You have done very well, Lady Lila. All the prominent members of the ton have come tonight. Most are here to see you, I would imagine, but they will all have to strive to reach similar excellence with their gatherings this summer.”

It was hard to tell how he might behave in a more personal setting, but as they discussed the upcoming Season and finished their waltz, Lila could hope that he would call upon her in the coming days. She begged silently that the Duke would have more personality in a less crowded setting. Perhaps then he would sweep me off my feet.

The Marquess of Strickland was her next dance partner, and he waited to one side politely as the Duke of Amberdene bowed over Lila’s hand once more.  “I shall see you shortly, Lady Lila. I look forward to getting to know more about you during our next dance set.”

As the marquess swept her into the next dance, Lila pasted on a polite smile but found herself sighing mentally. If her father forced her to marry a Duke, Amberdene would not be completely unpalatable, but she felt nothing for him. Her mother’s words weighed on her—judging Amberdene on his merits was hard to do when he had not given her any insight into himself. He seemed too eager to impress her and had done nothing to engage her emotions, only discuss his duchy’s selling points. Still, she had high hopes for the other gentlemen to whom she had been introduced, for surely one of them might interest her enough she could fall in love with him.

*****

Lila awoke the next morning when her maid threw the curtains open. She groaned quietly at the shaft of bright sunlight that fell across her face. Apparently, it was later than she usually slept of a morning, but then, she had been up quite late the night prior. She idly wondered if she could plead a headache and go back to sleep. Her feet ached, a reminder of her evening of dancing with the gentlemen of the ton. “What time is it, Leeson?”

“Past nine o’clock, my lady. Your father and aunt await you at breakfast.” Lila let her head fall back on her pillow and moaned, making her maid giggle. Lila’s young maid was the closest person to her these days, in the absence of her devoted mother. Were they not so unequal in social status, they might have been friends.

“You should thank your aunt for allowing you to sleep this long when your father would have had you up an hour ago.”

“Surely he can let me sleep after such a long night,” Lila whined. Even so, she threw back the covers and rose. If it was as late as Leeson said, she had little time to waste. She would not be so hasty to dance the night away again. Lila tossed her nightdress to the maid and scrubbed quickly at the washstand, allowing Leeson to dress her in a chemise. While Lila drew on her stockings, her maid laid out a green day dress and then fussed with her corset. They made remarkable time together, and soon enough, Lila was headed downstairs to meet her family and break her fast.

Upon entering the breakfast room, her aunt looked up with a smile, but it was her father, laying down his broadsheets and giving her a delightedly smug grin, that drew Lila’s attention. “Good morning, Father, Aunt.”

“Good morning,” both echoed. It was the Duke who elaborated. “You have done us proud, Lila. You have graced the scandal sheets, which offer very flattering promises about your potential.”

“They’ve already dubbed you the diamond of the Season,” her aunt added, looking quite pleased herself.

Her father nodded in agreement. “You certainly won’t have to settle for an heir at this rate. Amberdene seemed interested, wouldn’t you agree?” He didn’t wait for her to comment. “If you secured an offer of marriage from him, it would certainly secure my ties in the sugar trade. His connections are many and far-reaching. Most promising, indeed.” He grasped the broadsheets again but fixed her with a stern gaze. “You must do everything you can to ensure he offers for your hand.”

There was no way to respond to such comments but, “Yes, Father.” Lila nodded politely, feeling her appetite wither. The Duke of Amberdene had been a perfect gentleman the night before and a good dance partner. But is it too much to expect to have my heart race at the sight of him? Lila felt nothing in particular for him—truly, neither pleasure nor distaste, for which she was grateful—but her lack of any feelings in his regard made him less appealing in her eyes. At least she could imagine they would get on well enough, perhaps even grow to love one another at some point. She prayed that she might be able to find love in such a match despite her father’s favor for the Duke’s titles and connection. Please Mama, help me find something worthy in him. I will make a love match—I won’t let you down.

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Prologue

London, 1804

 Love was in copious supply for Jessie during her carefree childhood, most often in the form of her two closest friends, Abigail, and Anthony. As her family’s nearest neighbors, the three had grown up together. With the Clarks spending their summer at their country estate, Jessie had the happy pleasure of an invitation to join them. Her mother had constantly reminded her how lucky she was to be the recipient of favors by such a prestigious family.

None of that mattered to Jessie.

These were her best friends, and that was all she cared about.

Spring was only just transitioning into summer, and the air was hot and humid that day. Jessie smiled at the feel of the sun on her skin and watched her two best friends as they chased each other endlessly. The trio had been out here for hours, even missing lunch.

Her mother would chide her undoubtedly for growing too dark and tan, but she didn’t care. Though fair skin was fashionable and tan skin was frowned upon, Jessie didn’t worry about the opinions of others. As she soaked up the rays, it couldn’t have been farther from her mind.

Today everything was perfect.

Jessie let out a girlish laugh as she scrambled up into the treehouse that her best friend’s father had built. The summer air was redolent with the scent of roses, and the young blonde girl inhaled the fragrance deeply.

“You can’t catch me,” the 11-year-old giggled, glancing back at Abigail, who was her junior by a year.

Abigail shook her head in denial. “You will not best me,” the other girl laughed. Her dark brown hair was wild and flew around her face as she pursued Jessie. “I shall be the victor.”

“I think not,” the third member of the party, Anthony, declared. His eyes appeared a deep shade of hazelnut in the afternoon light. Jessie had often noticed the sparkle in those eyes.

“Oh, you think you can win, Brother?” Abigail challenged her older sibling. Glaring, she shook her head. “This is my game, and I am determined to succeed.”

Hopping down from the treehouse, Jessie threw her arms into the air. “Neither of you will be the victor,” she said softly. “As I shall win!”

With that, she launched away, diving, and darting behind the cover of the trees as her friends dashed after her. Anthony pursued her determinedly, his hands skimming her back as he came within inches of collaring her. Diving away, she managed to evade him. His foot sprang out to block her, but she leaped over it.

“I do believe you’re trying to cheat, Anthony Clark!” Jessie exclaimed in mock horror.

Anthony grinned boyishly. “Would I do such a thing?” he chuckled innocently, raking a hand through his dark blond hair.

“I wouldn’t put it past you!” she shot back with a giggle.

“He’s far too competitive,” his sister chimed in from behind a tree. “Probably because he’s such a sore loser. You’ve never seen such a crybaby as when my brother fails to win.”

“I resent that!” Anthony protested in offense, rushing toward his sister’s hiding place.

Jessie smiled at her friends, lovingly shaking her head at their antics. Their melodic laughter rang out loudly in the woodland that surrounded the Earl of Plymouth’s vast estate.

Jessie had often thought her friends’ father must have been the richest man in England to possess such a large home with these majestic grounds. Her own home was more modest, so she loved to visit this place. It was always filled with fun and laughter. Sometimes, she envied her friends for having a sibling. As an only child, she had not been blessed with such fortune.

Jessie completed another lap around the tree in which the treehouse sat. Grabbing the bark of the tree, she attempted to pull herself back into the treehouse, but suddenly her foot slipped and she lost her balance. A scream escaped from her lips as she tumbled the short distance to the ground and landed awkwardly on her foot.

The instant her foot touched the ground, Jessie knew that something was seriously wrong. Pain cascaded through her leg, and she felt the prickling of tears at the back of her eyes.

“Abby! Anthony!” she called out hoarsely, cradling her leg.

In an instant, Anthony was at her side, brushing her matted blonde curls from her forehead. His face was contorted in concern, and she knew the injury must be bad from the horror etched into his expression. The older boy dropped to his knees beside her, his fingers running over her tender leg. He clasped her hand tightly, and their fingers intertwined. He offered her a reassuring smile, wordlessly promising her that she would be alright.

“Is it your foot?” Abigail asked worriedly, wringing her hands together as she peered over her brother.

Jessie’s breath hitched painfully in her chest. “My leg hurts,” she gasped, screwing her blue eyes shut. “The pain- I can barely breathe.”

Hot tears trailed down her cheeks, and she gritted her teeth to ward off the pain. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. Tiny shards of agony shot through every nerve in her leg. Jessie heard an inhuman howling and suspected it may have spilled from her lips.

“Brother, we simply must do something!” Abigail shrieked, visibly starting to panic.

Anthony bobbed his head in agreement. Without a word, the 13-year-old boy scooped Jessie into his sturdy arms and strode toward the house. Her arms wound around his neck as she clung to him, breathing in the comforting scent of his chest. Despite the pain, she felt safe, calm, and protected in his hold. Every movement made her leg ache, but she focused on the way his arms felt around her instead of the pain.

The moment the three friends reached the house, chaos set in. A servant was sent to fetch the physician, and the surgeon while the countess fussed endlessly over Jessie. Anthony’s mother was a kind soul, but she was far from calm. The worry in her eyes was evident as she instructed another servant to alert Jessie’s parents to the accident.

It was only hours later after the surgeon had set her leg and the physician had assured her that she would be fine, that Jessie finally had a chance to relax. Her parents had been and gone, agreeing to allow her to remain in the house for the next few days.

“How could you be so foolish?” her mother had asked. “What will the Earl and Countess of Plymouth think of you?”

 “It was an accident,” Jessie had sobbed, mournfully soaking in her mother’s disdainful expression.

 Lady Allen had shaken her head. “They extend a kind invitation to you, and you repay them by causing all this disruption. This doesn’t look good for our family. What a clumsy girl, you are.”

 “Let the child be,” her father had stepped in, placing a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder. “She didn’t mean to get hurt.”

 “Our daughter is always like this,” her mother had retorted sharply. “We can only hope that she doesn’t bring such negative attention to us when she gets older.”

 Her mother’s words still rung in her ears. It hurt that the woman who’d birthed her was more concerned with the opinions of others than her own health. Swallowing hard, she was glad that she didn’t have to return home for a while. At least that would give her some respite from her mother’s critical eyes and condemnation.

The physician had insisted that she shouldn’t be moved back to her own house as the return journey to Grosvenor Square would be too long and painful for her in this condition, so her parents didn’t have a choice. He ordered that she must remain there until she was fully healed. However, she was not going to be alone as her governess was to stay at the house with her until she was sufficiently recovered to return home.

Abigail had fussed over her for several hours before the countess had finally pried her away from her best friend’s side. The younger girl had been reluctant to leave, but she had grudgingly agreed to let Jessie get some peace. Now, Jessie lay alone in the dim candlelight with only her recollections of the day.

A faint knock on the heavy wooden door stilled her thoughts. “Come in,” she called.

Just like that, Anthony entered the room. Jessie hadn’t seen him since he had gently laid her down on the bed when they’d arrived at the house. She noticed he was holding a small book in his hands. Concern was etched on his face as he looked at her small, prone body in the bed and Jessie ventured a reassuring smile.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, setting the book down on the end of the bed and wringing his hands.

“Much better,” she assured him. “The physician gave me a tincture of laudanum, and my governess has gone in search of some more herbs to soothe my pain.”

“I was worried,” he admitted. “I hated to see you in so much pain.”

“I’ll survive.”

He picked up the book and handed it to her. “This is for you.” Their fingers gently brushed as she took the book from him, and Jessie shivered at the sensation.

“What is it?”

“It’s a book.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “I can see that,” she scoffed good-naturedly. “I meant, why are you giving it to me?”

“It’s my favorite book. I read it whenever I feel upset, or I cannot sleep. It’s the tale of a valiant knight who rescues a damsel from an evil dragon. He must fight the dragon and overcome many obstacles to save her. The story always makes me feel better. I thought that you might need it more than I do.”

Touched by the gesture, Jessie smiled softly. It was the first time that she’d genuinely smiled since her accident. Anthony’s cheeks were tinted with a faint hue of red as she smiled at him. Her blue eyes possessed that familiar sparkle again as she gazed at him.

“Thank you, Anthony,” she whispered.

“I wanted to do all I could to help you,” he assured her. “I couldn’t stand seeing you in so much pain.”

Jessie swallowed hard. Her mind was whirling as she took in the intensity in his voice. She was deeply touched by how heartfelt his words seemed. In his presence, she felt so safe and secure.

“You saved me today.”

“I’ll always be by your side,” he promised. “I’ll protect you from any bad things that may happen, Jessie.”

The room grew silent as their eyes locked. Before she even realized what she was doing, Jessie leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. Instantly, she pulled away and shrugged innocently.

Jessie felt her heart flutter inside her chest. Her love for him was a platonic adoration that had been forged through time and strengthened today. Deep down, she sensed that the years ahead would bring challenges for her, but she was sure that he would be there at her side to keep her safe whenever she needed him.

He was her rock, and she loved him for that.

Chapter One

8 years later

Jessie sat on her bed, staring out at the winter landscape. Her mind was full of negative thoughts. How could it not be? Jessie was betrothed, yet it did not make her happy. She was not marrying the man of her dreams. In fact, she loathed the man she was to marry.

Nathaniel, Viscount Barrington, was the pinnacle of everything she despised in a person, and he had destroyed all the innocent dreams she once had. When she was a little girl, she had always wished to marry for love, but she didn’t love Nathaniel. In truth, she didn’t even like him.

Barrington’s smug and arrogant demeanor sickened her. He was boastful and superficial, and his vast wealth did nothing to tempt her to think otherwise. Yet, despite her dark and disgusting thoughts about him, their betrothal would soon be official. The announcement would soon be in the newspapers, and the banns would imminently be called.

This was not how her life was supposed to be. As a child, she had always imagined herself as a princess who would be swept away by a charming prince someday. Or, at least, she would marry someone she cared about. Sadly, there had only been one man for whom she’d ever really harbored an affection.

That thought triggered her mind to drift back to thoughts of the single man who’d ever really affected her. She couldn’t help but remember a day long ago when she’d injured herself and been saved by a boy who was not yet a man. Anthony disappeared from her life many years ago, but he never left her thoughts. He had been one of her closest friends, and she had truly thought that he would never desert her.

After tragedy struck his family, he’d disappeared from her life, fleeing without so much as a goodbye. It hurt to know that he was out there somewhere in the world, uncaring and oblivious to her unhappy existence here.

Jessie shook her head. She still longed to feel close to him. Reaching under her bed, she plucked out the small steel locked box she kept under there. As she opened it, she stared down as the mass of trinkets inside. Searching through the pile, she retrieved two items and placed them beside her on the coverlet.

Taking the leather-bound book in her hands, she ran her fingers over the covers, relishing the familiar feel of the rough leather. She’d kept this book close to her for eight years and read it over and over again. While she loved the story, it was the deeper meaning behind it that strummed at her heartstrings.

It was the book Anthony had gifted her on the day she hurt her leg.

Swallowing hard, she opened it and flicked through the well-worn pages. Though the ink had faded slightly, she started to scan the words.

The prince reeled back, his sword cutting through the rough neck of the dragon, finally slaying it. It swayed this way and that, roaring in pain. Finally, he knew the fight was over as it crumpled to the ground with a mighty crash.

 Rushing over to the supine princess as she lay on the bed, he smiled at her. She was locked in a slumber from which only a kiss could stir her. Leaning down, he brushed her lips and pulled back with an anxious wait.

Her eyes fluttered open, momentarily unseeing as she regained her senses. Her blue gaze was deep and tormented, still saturated with the memories of the dragon’s claws snatching her away. Suddenly, she snapped her head to glance at the dragon’s body, lying on the ground next to them. At that moment, the prince knew she realized she was safe. He drew her into his arms cradling her. No longer would she have to worry about anything.

 He would always be there to protect her from that moment onward.

Jessie felt a single tear track its way down her cheek as she recalled how she’d dreamed of finding a prince who would save her in such a way. Many a night, she’d opened this book and read it by candlelight, lost in her fantasies of a romantic prince slaying any demons that plagued her. Now, she knew the story by heart. She suspected the book’s original owner would be significantly less familiar to her if she saw him now.

Of course, she was sure that it would be a long time before she saw Anthony again.

With a melancholy sigh, Jessie snapped the book closed and placed it back into the box before lifting the other item on the bed. As she unfolded the letter, gently letting her fingers brush the broken wax seal, she gulped.

While the book stirred pleasant memories within her, this letter brought tears to her eyes every time she read it. Her mind whirled as she skimmed over the impersonal words.

“I regret that I couldn’t say goodbye.”

 “I fear I shall be gone for an extended duration. I do not hope to return except to attend to urgent business on the estate.”

 “I trust you will take care of my sister in my absence.”

 At that moment, Jessie wanted to rage and cry. Anthony’s last letter to her had arrived after his departure. As the Plymouth home had been in mourning, she hadn’t even found out that he’d left until the letter arrived. She’d never heard from him since.

She felt another tear roll down her face when she remembered the days after she discovered he had left. It was in the wake of the terrible tragedy that had defined his family’s life forever. She hated to think of it because she felt his pain like it was her own. When they were children, they’d shared everything, but he’d refused to turn to her after the death of his father. He’d eschewed any attempts she made to try and contact him. Before she could reach out, he’d gone.

Although she didn’t know every detail of what happened, she was aware that the Earl of Plymouth had been killed in a horrible carriage accident and that Anthony blamed himself. Unfortunately, he’d shut himself off from her after that.

Jessie wished things could have been different. There was a small part of her, deep down inside, that still dreamed of what life would be like as Anthony’s wife. For years, she’d pushed away those feelings. Ever since he’d left town, she’d put any hopes of being with Anthony out of her mind. Now, this impending betrothal had coaxed old memories from the depths of her heart and these thoughts haunted her.

Sadly, those girlish dreams couldn’t possibly come true.

From what she’d heard from Abigail, he was perfectly happy in Europe on the Grand Tour. Truthfully, Jessie was a little jealous that gentlemen were able to undertake those travels through Europe and experience all the delights of the continent. So many wealthy young men were able to embark on a journey that was filled with the richest culture and arts while, as a woman, she would never be able to indulge in such a thing.

Jessie’s mood darkened. It was likely that Anthony was enjoying himself more than he ever could in England, considering his seeming reluctance to spend any length of time in London. She suspected he would find some pretty French girl to marry. They would have the cutest, most elegant children and be the perfect family. Of course, Jessie would be married to that despicable viscount instead. A shudder ran through her.

Dwelling on her inevitable marriage to the Viscount would strip her of her sanity if she allowed it. She needed to escape from the tumult of thoughts in her head. Rising to her feet, she left the parlor. A walk outside in the crisp air would be just the trick for clearing her mind.

Jessie rose from her bed, glancing in the mirror as she passed it. Soaking in her reflection, she was struck by how mature she looked now. Childhood was long gone, and her slender face was that of a woman’s now. Her blonde hair was pinned up, with a few curls cascading around her face. However, sadness resonated in her deep blue eyes. To many, that melancholy would be imperceptible, but she could see it swirling in the depths of her gaze.

She wondered if there would be a time when she would ever be happy again.

Certainly not if she did go through with her marriage to the viscount.

Gritting her teeth, she resolved not to waste another thought on Barrington that day. Pushing her pain from her mind, she exited her bedchamber, determined to fix her mind on happier thoughts. As she padded the hallway of her home toward the door, she paused outside her father’s study.

From the other side of the door, she could hear the heated voices of her parents, and a frown furrowed her brow. It was rare for her parents to argue so intensely and she felt a frisson of concern. While she knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, her inherent curiosity got the better of her. Holding her breath, she leaned toward the heavy wooden door.

“How could you be so foolish?” her mother yelled harshly. “Didn’t you think about what you were doing?”

“Would you have preferred every merchant in the town to batter down our doors?” her father shot back. “I was left without any alternatives.”

“How did you end up owing such a large amount to Viscount Barrington? Did you gamble our fortune away at the card tables?” Without waiting for a response, her mother plowed on. “It all makes sense now. How could I have been so naïve? I thought you simply wanted our daughter to make a good marriage, but instead, we are surrendering her to pay for your debts! Can you imagine what our neighbors would think if they found out how much money you owe? We would become the laughing stock of every person in town. Do you want us to be pariahs?”

“I had no choice but to take everything on credit,” he responded firmly. “Your pretty clothes and perfumes have cost me a fortune.”

Jessie heard her mother cluck in disgust. “You’re placing the blame on my shoulders? How dare you!”

“Your demands for every luxury in England caused this!” yelled her father. A crash sounded as if he’d slammed his hands down onto his desk. “I was trying to make you happy. It’s all I’ve ever done since I took you as my wife. But nothing was ever good enough for you, was it? There always had to be more. No matter how much I gave you, you never quite managed to be satisfied.”

A scoff sounded from her mother’s lips. “If you were a real man, you would have kept our finances in order instead of squandering our fortune,” she sneered. “Jessica is the one who must now pay the price, and all we can do is conceal your misdeeds from our friends and neighbors, so we never become the object of the most terrible scandal in all of London.”

Her father sighed. “Indeed. I didn’t want anyone to find out, not even you. I tried to keep this from you, but I suppose it is better that you know the truth. Yes, I made the deal with Viscount Barrington and promised him Jessica as collateral. Now that I cannot pay, he has made it clear he intends to collect. She will be his wife, and there is no choice in the matter.”

Jessie gasped reeled back as the revelation hit the air. A wave of dizziness crashed over her, almost knocking her off her feet. Steadying herself against the wall, she couldn’t believe her ears. This couldn’t be real. Surely, her dearest father wouldn’t have done such a thing! Yet she’d heard it herself and there was no room for misunderstanding. The physical ache in her heart intensified. It was bad enough to have been betrothed to the viscount, but it was even worse to be sold to him to repay her father’s debts.

How could this be?

Turning back to the door, she swallowed down the bitter tang of bile that flooded her throat. She didn’t want to hear any more, but she couldn’t seem to drag herself away.

“You know how our daughter is,” her mother was saying. “She will fight us.”

Lord Allen cleared his throat. “Yet, I also know how you are,” he responded wearily. “You have a lifetime’s experience of making people do things they do not wish to do.”

A harsh laugh sounded from her mother. “I see that you wish to defame me, but I shall take that as a compliment. You’re right. I will ensure that Jessica marries the viscount. I will not see us ruined like beggars in the street. This marriage will be the finest that London has ever seen, and all our friends will believe it is the happiest of occasions. When Jessica walks down the aisle, she will do so with a smile. Yes, she will be left with no room for disagreement. You can be certain of that.”

Jessie felt herself inhale sharply and stumbled backward. Beneath her ribs, her heart thrummed wildly. Her head was spinning with a deluge of thoughts. Once again, she wondered how her parents could condemn her to a lifetime of misery so readily. The betrayal from her mother wasn’t unexpected. Lady Allen had always cared about status and the opinions of others more than she’d ever cared about her daughter. A lifetime of knowing her mother had made her realize that the older woman liked to shape the world to benefit her.

However, the thought that her father could see her ruined in such a way hurt badly. Ever since she was a little girl, she had trusted him, looked up to him, and respected him. In almost every way, she had been the model daughter. Now, he had sold her to that man like she was nothing more than chattel to be bartered.

It hurt. It really hurt.

The last time she could remember feeling such pain was that day so many years ago when she broke her leg. That same agony engulfed her once again. Of course, back then the pain had been entirely physical. This time, it was her emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Betrayal loomed like a physical presence in front of her, cutting her deeply to her core. She was entirely alone at that moment in time, and she had no friend to soothe away her pain with kind words or tender smiles.

Shaking herself out of her solemn reverie, she spun on her heels and returned swiftly to the parlor. Her appetite for exercise had been quelled by what she’d heard. Now, she longed for solitude to reflect on that terrible revelation. She felt like cattle bound for the slaughter with no possible escape.

Chapter Two 

The clock struck three in the parlor, but Jessie didn’t stir as she sat frozen on the large corner chair. As she contemplated what she had just overheard, she found it less and less believable. Turning it over in her mind, chewing on every single, terrible revelation, she just couldn’t seem to put it into perspective.

How could her father do this to her?

He was a respectable man, and while they didn’t share the wealth of some of the country’s families, they were far from poor. What in the world would have possessed him to sell her a viscount that she neither loved nor liked? He’d always wanted the best for her, even acting as a buffer between herself and her mother when the other woman had turned a critical tongue on her.

No, this had to be a mistake. She must have misheard their words or interpreted them wrongly. It was simply impossible. The only problem was that she knew it was entirely probable.

Jessie’s mother had come from a high-born family and demanded that her husband kept her in the style to which she had become accustomed during her youth. Though her father had only come from a family of merchants, he’d done as well as he could and tried so hard to please his young wife. Although her grandfather had been elevated from a common man to a lordship, her father’s side of the family had never been able to truly shake the legacy of their births. Jessie had spent years listening to the servants’ whisper and giggle about it.

When she failed to bear a son, she had set upon spending all her husband’s money to ensure there was nothing left to be entailed away. Seemingly, she had burned through their finances more quickly than anticipated. Added to the business mistakes that her father had made, it was no wonder that their money had drained away so quickly.

Now, Jessie was the one who had to suffer all because of her parents’ mistakes.

The opening of the door startled Jessie, and the young woman was surprised to see her parents enter the parlor. Primly, her mother entered first, hands clasped in front of the lace-trimmed ivory dress. Lord Allen traipsed behind his wife, shuffling forward stiffly. His face was etched with guilt, but her mother simply gave her a curt nod as she came to a standstill in front of Jessie, impassively staring down at her.

“We need to talk to you, Child,” the older woman announced without preamble. “Your father has something to tell you.”

Jessie gulped audibly. Schooling her expression into one of ignorance, Jessie fixed her gaze on her father. “Yes, Papa?”

He cleared his throat nervously and began to pace the floor. His form was vibrating with tension, but Jessie couldn’t even feel the slightest twinge of sympathy for him, as she normally would. The betrayal was too fresh and raw.

“Jessica, as you know, your marriage to Viscount Barrington is an important event for our family,” her father said formally.

Scowling, Jessie scoffed. “It wouldn’t be an event at all if you were not forcing me to marry that objectionable man.”

“Have some respect for your father,” her mother snapped. “I don’t wish to hear you talk like that again. You’re our child, and you will behave in a suitable manner.”

“Yes, I do understand that he is not the sort of husband you envisaged,” her father agreed, glancing at his wife’s irritated face. “I’m afraid I’m culpable, Jessica. I didn’t want you to know the truth, but now I see it would be wrong of me to keep it from you.”

Jessie narrowed her eyes. “What truth might that be, Father?”

He cleared his throat again. “Living in London and living up to the life of the ton is an expensive endeavor. Many of our neighbors enjoy limitless wealth, and money is of no importance to them. As you’re aware, I have never attained their status or money.”

“Money and status have never mattered to me,” Jessie interjected, cringing under her mother’s scornful glare.

Her father turned to her. “I know that child, but we cannot escape the conventions of society. Money matters to people in this town, and I couldn’t allow my family to be viewed as paupers. I wanted to give you and your mother everything you wished for.”

Jessie shook her head firmly. “I never wished for anything but love,” she replied.

“That’s because you’re a dreamer, Jessica,” chimed her mother derisively.

Ignoring his wife, Lord Allen continued. “Over the years, my income was not large enough to pay all of our debts. I never intended for the situation to become so severe but before I knew what was happening, it had grown out of control. My creditors demanded their repayments, and I was in a bind. I shan’t go into detail but, by a happy chance of fate, Viscount Barrington agreed to lend me a small sum of money.”

“It doesn’t sound like such a happy twist to the story,” Jessie commented, earning her another dark stare from her mother.

“Unfortunately, it did not cover all my debts, and I had to borrow more,” her father sighed, his eyes dulling. “Eventually, he agreed that he would only cover my latest debts if…”

“If what?” she demanded.

“If we could arrange your betrothal to him,” he admitted, shame coloring his face.

Despite her knowledge of the situation, hearing it from her father’s lips made the truth all the more real. Nausea flooded her throat, and she tasted the bitter flavor of betrayal. When she’d heard her parent’s argument through the door, she’d still enjoyed the luxury of denial, but she could no longer hide behind it. The truth hung between them, twisting, and flailing in her chest.

Rising to her feet, Jessie stared up at her father, imploring him with her eyes not to force her into this. When he refused to meet her gaze, she desperately felt that all was lost. “What if I refuse to marry him? What then?”

“Jessie,” her mother intervened. “You need to be reasonable. Our family is indebted to the Viscount. He has been very good to us. Without his funds, we would have been destitute. Is that what you want? Do you wish to see your mother tossed into the workhouse?”

Repressing a scoff, Jessie turned back to her father. “How can you allow this?” she asked him. “How can you force me to marry a man I despise?”

“Nonsense!” sneered her mother. “Despise him? How can you despise a man of such wealth and status? I never heard such foolish words.”

Narrowing her eyes, Jessie scowled. “Money doesn’t make a man good.”

“It makes him a good husband,” replied Lady Allen. Her eyes flickered to her husband. “Don’t you agree, dear?”

Until that moment, her father had never looked so old. Although he remained calm, his salt-and-pepper hair seemed to have turned grayer. His blue eyes were devoid of any sparkle, and his face looked weary and haggard. If she wasn’t so furious, Jessie might have felt a touch of sympathy for him.

Before he could venture an answer, Jessie’s mother interceded again. “Jessica, you are refusing to look at the positives. The Viscount is an esteemed member of society. He has so many connections, and he can give you a good life. A marriage to him will make you happy.”

“Happy? Is abject misery your definition of happiness?”

“Don’t be silly, girl! You sound hysterical, and the Viscount will not want a hysterical wife.”

“How lucky I must be,” she mumbled, too quietly for her mother to hear her.

Seemingly losing her patience, Lady Allen threw her arms askew. “Do you know how many girls would give anything to be in your position? He’s one of the most eligible bachelors in the county. His presence is coveted across the whole of England. I’ve heard that the Earl of Hereford and the Duke of Devonshire longed to marry their daughters to him.”

“If all these noblemen wanted their daughters to marry the repugnant Viscount, perhaps they should have borrowed money from him,” Jessie snapped. “It seems that is the way to secure his heart.”

Her mother looked like she was about to explode from fury, and her father frowned. “Jessica, please. Your mother and I only want what’s best for you.”

Swallowing back the tears that roughened her throat, Jessie blinked rapidly. “Do you truly believe this is what’s best for me?”

As her father remained silent, lowering his lashes, the girl glanced between her parents and sighed. She knew how her mother could be once she’d set her mind on something and she would not be moved. Many years of experience warned her that she needed to try a different way to persuade her parents that this prison of a marriage would be wrong for her. She wanted them to understand that she wouldn’t be happy if she married the viscount.

Jessie only had one final weapon in her arsenal to try and change their minds. “I wanted to marry for love,” she sighed pleadingly.

“You can learn to love him. Time brings great love if you are patient. My marriage to your father was arranged, and we learned to love each other in time.” Her mother shrugged. “You simply must open your mind to the possibility.”

Disbelievingly, Jessie turned to glance at her mother. “Why should I do such a thing?”

Ignoring her question, she continued. “I do not want to see any more hostility toward Lord Barrington, Jessica. He is a man of honor, and you will treat him as such.”

A slight blush colored Jessie’s cheeks as she remembered her poorly hidden dislike of the Viscount. While she had always remained entirely composed in his presence, her adverse reactions to him had been tangible. Jessie was a very expressive young woman, and she always struggled to conceal the look of disgust that flashed across her face when he greeted her with false sweetness. His brash, rude manner and constant boasts of his own talents had annoyed her to no end.

Jessie swallowed thickly and averted her eyes from her mother’s piercing gaze. Tears welled up once again behind her eyes, but she fought them off with every ounce of her strength. All her life she had believed that hope sprung eternal, but she couldn’t see any hope. Darkness surrounded her, and she couldn’t find a way out. It was almost unbearable.

No savior was coming to her rescue.

In this cruel world, Jessie was alone.

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Chapter 1

Edwina Ferguson reached her hand out towards her mother as the woman let out a rattled breath, but the woman only turned her head. She knew her mother was ashamed of her tears, but Edwina wished so much that she would at least let her comfort her. Her mother had always been a serene and graceful woman. For much of Edwina’s childhood, she thought of her mother as a beautiful white swan idly floating upon a lake.

Now, though, the woman in front of her was but a shell of what she’d once been. Her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes were puffy and red from tears. In truth, there was little trace of the statuesque beauty that Baroness Framsberry, Sophia Ferguson, once possessed. Her vibrancy had fizzled away, and she had become withdrawn. The stress of their financial situation had truly taken its toll on her.

Four men stood in their drawing-room surrounding the Ferguson family’s prized pianoforte. After a few moments of discussion amongst themselves, the men decided that the best way to remove it from home was to hoist it up and tilt it through the doorway as best as they could. Edwina’s heart sank to see them lay their grubby hands on the beloved pianoforte. Mother is surely torn apart inside by watching this scene!

“Careful there, boys!” one of the men barked loudly at his fellows. “Don’t want to scratch the woodwork! The thing won’t be worth half as much as it will be if it’s all scratched and dinged up, d’you hear?”

The men bumbled their way through the home, nearly bumping into Maria Burnette, Edwina’s lady’s maid, along the way. Maria stepped lightly out of their way, huffing at the men’s rudeness, and turned to shut the drawing-room door behind them. She caught Edwina’s eye, and her expression was both sympathetic and sisterly.

When the creditors had finished their task of removing the pianoforte from the Ferguson residence, one of them came back inside to tip his hat at Edwina.

“My lady,” he said, “give our regards to the Baron Framsberry.” It was all the man said before turning on his heel and joining his fellows in the street.

Edwina let her breath out in a wisp of air and tucked a lock of auburn hair back behind her ear. Her mother hadn’t turned to look at her at all yet. She simply stared at the empty corner where the pianoforte had sat for all of Edwina’s life. It had been a treasure of an instrument, an heirloom from when her mother had been a girl herself. Edwina’s childhood had been filled with beautiful melodies and comforting memories from that very pianoforte.

And now it was gone.

“Mother,” Edwina started to say. She only stopped when she realized that there was little consolation her mother could receive to comfort her.

“Edwina, my love,” her mother said. “I hate for you to see me in such a state. It’s just so hard to bear; even the pianoforte…” Her mother straightened her back, holding a handkerchief to her pursed, thin lips. “Well, I suppose that it won’t do to sit around sobbing over it, will it? Burnette, would you be so kind as to start a fresh pot of tea?”

Maria curtsied silently, her face neutral, and she turned to slip quietly through the drawing-room floor.

The Baroness tried to smile, but her eyes looked like a ghost’s. Edwina gently laid her hand upon her mother’s and tried to put on a cheerful expression, though she was sure that she did not look so convincing.

“It’s only an object, after all,” her mother went on to say. She ended the statement with a shivering sigh that seemed to course through her entire body. “I have you, my dear, and your father… That’s all I’ll need to be happy. I’m going to take a minute alone in my sitting room, my love. By the time I return, the tea should be ready to serve. I hope you don’t mind?”

At the mention of her father, she had seen her mother wilt only slightly, as if she were a flower taken away from the sun. Edwina felt her heart bruise even more at the thought of her parents’ love shriveling. The Ferguson home had been rife with tension of late, and it had been all Edwina could take to see her parents eating silently together and not meeting each other’s gaze when they did deign to speak.

Edwina shook her head, assuring her mother it was quite alright to take her moment alone. It was apparent that the Baroness needed some time to process her emotions somewhere on her own. With a slight dip of her head, the Baroness moved to the drawing-room door like a phantom, quietly shutting it behind her.

It had not even been a fortnight ago when Edwina heard her parents arguing in her father’s study one evening.

Edwina was retiring to her bedchamber and about to wish her parents goodnight. The sound of a tense conversation caused her to pause. Her father’s voice was tight and curt, and her mother’s voice was full of despair. It had set off bells of alarm in her head. She had never heard either one of them sound truly upset with the other.

“What can you mean ‘bankruptcy‘?” her mother had wailed. The words had torn a hole in Edwina’s world; she felt her knees nearly go weak at the shock, even now as she sat remembering. “Howard, whatever will we do?”

“Now, now, my dear,” her father had said. “Bankruptcy isn’t quite on the horizon as of yet. I have made several agreements with the creditors, a few deals here and there. We shall have to make sacrifices, but—”

“And you did not think to inform me before all of this could occur?” the Baroness interrupted.

“How could I have foreseen such a thing?” her father had answered sharply and then corrected his tone. “I’m sorry, Sophia, I shouldn’t be short with you. I just don’t understand how this could have happened. I was so sure that these partnerships would bode well for us.”

“But how could you have kept it from me?” her mother cried, her voice thick with pent-up emotion. “Howard, how many more months would you have hidden this truth?”

Her father’s voice dipped miserably, and he said something Edwina could not hear. By then, Edwina hadn’t been able to stand anymore. She had stolen away into her bedchamber and let the tears overtake her. The stress of the situation was simply too much to bear.

Since that night, the knowledge had taken up space in Edwina’s mind permanently. The memory of her mother’s distraught voice had snuck into her dreams; more than once, she had awoken with the words ringing in her ears. The notion that bankruptcy was not yet a serious threat had not made her feel any better, though she supposed it would make it easier to hide the fact from any prospective suitors. It was not exactly a silver lining, though it would make things a speck more bearable.

The height of Edwina’s misfortune, though, was the fact that she was coming upon her third season. The thought beat over and over inside her mind. She sat upon the drawing-room sofa, anxiously pulling at a loose button upon her marigold day gown. Her first season had been quite the trial and error; she had not truly been impressed with any of the young suitors she had been introduced to, though she had attracted a small handful of interested bachelors. One had been much too frumpy, and another dreadfully uninteresting. She had not felt a spark with the third and had nothing much at all in common with the fourth young man. Much of their conversation had been spent in awkward silence, and their dance had been stiff and uncomfortable.

The nerves of not finding a suitable husband during Edwina’s first season had carried over to her second. She was lovely enough, but she would flounder on her words whenever she was introduced to anyone. They would always end up offering their hand to another young woman, and she would be left as the wallflower again.

There must be a way to attract the attention of a suitable gentleman. The time has come to take matters into my own hands; I must not fail this season!         

          Edwina let her eyes drift to the door as it creaked open, expecting to see her mother returning. Instead, Maria entered, and her hands gripped a tray with her mother’s favored porcelain teapot balanced in the center.

“I suspect that the Baroness will want to take her time away,” Maria said. “I spied her on her way up the stairs. I’m ever so sorry, my lady.”

“I doubt she’ll be down in time for tea, but it was good of you to bring a place setting for her anyway,” Edwina agreed. “She’s been spending more and more time away in her parlor. I cannot blame her; our situation has been so hard on her. And my father…” Edwina was at a loss to comment on her father. It had been some time since he had even shown his face.

“If this news becomes public, Maria, I fear that we shall have a truly vicious scandal on our hands,” Edwina said. Her voice was thin and tight with stress. She put a trembling hand to her brow, her head pounding with nerves. Watching the creditors haul away her mother’s pianoforte had taken quite a toll upon her. “You know how the members of the ton like to talk. If they have something to crow about, then they’re all the better for it.”

Edwina sighed shakily, feeling at least a drop better for having someone to speak to about the nightmare in which she and her family had found themselves. Maria Burnette had been her lady’s maid for quite some time, and the two young ladies had formed a strong bond so that Edwina felt comfortable using Maria’s Christian name in private. Maria had always proven a trustworthy companion, and even now, she laid a comforting hand upon Edwina’s shoulder.

“Here, my lady,” she said. “Let me pour your tea. Your poor hands are shaking! Take a moment to calm down. I’m sure that you’ll catch the attention of some handsome gentleman with healthy coffers and a title to match. You just have to shake the nerves off first, that’s all.”

Maria did not need to mention that Edwina was beginning her third season. Finding a husband was of the utmost importance, and her time was quite limited. Edwina knew all of this, but she had been terribly nervous during her first and second seasons. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t acted the wallflower then! Perhaps her family would not have found themselves in such a situation if she would have already secured a husband with a good title and family name.

Edwina and Maria had been correct in their assumption. The Baroness did not come down from her private rooms for tea, nor did she for dinner. It had been hours since Edwina had seen her mother, but she could not fault her. The pianoforte had, after all, been her mother’s prized possession. At dinner, Edwina ate her venison meat pie in silence, her stomach churning.

I will have to fix this on my own. What I must do has been made ever more apparent with each passing moment.

As Edwina made her way to her room, she steeled herself. That morning’s gossip sheet was still sitting on her dressing table. With a steady hand, she snatched the parchment up, letting her eyes drift across the words.

“This season’s bachelors are ever in abundance,” the sheet read in bold letters.

“It is said that the Earl of Waterham, recent in his title, is in search of a bride as well as the very handsome Baron Ebsworth. The Baron is known to have substantial shares in the sugar trade; any young lady would be lucky to swoop him up! But the Marquess of Sheradale is, indeed, upon whom a smart young debutante should settle her eye. Our young wealthy lord is slated to inherit a duchy of considerable wealth. Luck is with her who catches his eye! The three most affluent eligible gentlemen will undoubtedly be quite coveted by this year’s debutantes.”

          Edwina nervously ran her hand through her auburn hair. She sat down hard at her desk, scooting forward with a purpose, and from the first drawer, she produced a sheet of plain, smooth parchment paper. Edwina dug out her quill and dipped it into a pool of jet-black ink. She touched the tip of the quill to the paper and began to write fervently.

Earl of Waterham
New gentleman on marriage mart
Good family name
Fine business connections

Baron Ebsworth
Shares in the sugar trade
One of the wealthiest bachelors
In good standing with businesses

Marquess of Sheradale
High title
Flourishing business deals
Promising estate

Many of the facts Edwina discovered from her good friends, Susanna and Phoebe. The two young women were ever so excited about their first season on the marriage mart and always kept their ears open about eligible gentlemen. Edwina was glad for that now.

The Baron Ebsworth, she knew, enjoyed riding in Hyde Park. Susanna had spotted him there more than once on her walks out with her mother. Edwina knew the Marquess of Sheradale would be a good match as he had a good title and family name. She had heard that he enjoyed hunting best of all, but she would have no opinion on that, of course. Her mind thought back to Phoebe, who had been buzzing about the gentleman only days ago; she had said that he was also quite the reader.

Edwina sighed, laying the quill down. At this point, it didn’t matter to her if her suitor had much in common with her at all. Though, there was one trait that she would insist he possesses. Her future husband must be truthful with her. Edwina had heard her mother’s broken-hearted sobbing in her father’s study that night. The fact that the Ferguson family would suffer sacrifices distressed her mother, certainly. But what sent Sophia over the edge was that the Baron hadn’t breathed a word of their situation to her at all. In fact, his insistence that his silence was because bankruptcy was not yet looming over them had not seemed to lessen the Baroness’ despair at all.

Edwina could not bear to be so humiliated and deceived by someone she held so dear. It had been enough that her father had kept their dire situation hidden away; she would not be able to stomach that from her future husband as well. Honesty would be of the utmost importance.

Edwina would be diligent in her search and would not rest until she discovered the gentleman who could pull her family out of the mess that her father had put them in. Edwina let her anxieties out through another long sigh but felt a little better with the plan in hand.

When she finally crawled into bed, Edwina closed her eyes and tried to let the weight of the world slip away. Slumber came with great difficulty, but when it did, it arrived with an armful of dreams. She fell asleep with a smile as she pictured the man who would come to her family’s rescue. He would be good-hearted, kind, and best of all, he would never, ever lie to her.

Chapter 2

Edwina had taken three days to study as much as she could about the gentlemen on her list. It had been a tedious process, but she had compiled a list of topics that she believed could get her through a lengthy conversation with each of them. And it was a good thing she had, for when her mother descended from the stairwell like a waif to inform her of the Countess of Welshire’s ball, Edwina knew she would be ready.

Maria took great care to make sure Edwina looked lovelier than ever. Edwina’s auburn hair was delicately curled, and Maria had lined her lips and eyes with a flattering rouge. When Edwina glanced in the mirror at herself, she felt a shoot of satisfaction take root in the pit of her stomach.

Tonight would be the night.

Edwina chose her most striking dress, a lovely peacock blue that complimented the auburn shimmer of her hair and accentuated her figure. She turned to the side and then back again, gazing at herself, ensuring she looked as stunning as she could. Satisfied with her appearance, she stepped lively down the stairwell to meet her parents. Her mother looked pale in a mauve gown, and her father was as wooden as a marionette at her side.

The carriage ride there was as silent as Edwina assumed it would be. Her parents were gravely quiet, but Edwina used it as an opportunity to go over what she knew of the gentlemen on her list in her mind. She was grateful when the carriage slowed in front of Welshire Manor; the stillness in the carriage had been insufferable. She had never seen her parents act so cold towards each other, and Edwina had found the effect stifling and unpleasant.

When the carriage door was opened for her, she stepped out to the sound of a boisterous orchestra. Merry laughter met her ears from all corners of the entrance hall. As the Fergusons filed into the ballroom, Edwina’s heart leaped to spy Phoebe and Susanna in the corner, chattering to each other gleefully.

At least I shall have my friends at my side.

Edwina felt a tiny drop of nerves leave her body as she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up. She could not act the wallflower tonight. Though, perhaps one tiny chat with Phoebe and Susanna wouldn’t hurt. She drifted to the corner where the young women whispered and gossiped, joyous smiles on their pretty faces. Her parents were not far and could easily see her from their position in the ballroom.

“Edwina!” the two exclaimed at the same time. They beckoned her over and embraced her.

“You look lovely, dear,” Susanna said. “I was just telling Phoebe that her mother has quite outdone herself with the decor this time! Wouldn’t you agree, Edwina?”

Phoebe dipped her blonde head, ever gracious. “Thank you so much, Susanna,” she said. “Mother has had this ball on her mind for ever so long. I will be certain to let her know of your compliments. And the guests! Oh, Edwina, have you ever seen such handsome gentlemen? My heart is aflutter!”

It was true; there was a host of attractive young bachelors. But where were her chosen three? Edwina scanned the ballroom like a hawk, eyes narrowing. Her heart lit up when she spied the three gentlemen on her list, all standing in the same general area. The Marquess of Sheradale had a glass of something in his hand and was sipping upon it heartily; across from him, she could see the profile of the Baron Ebsworth, laughing at something that another gentleman was saying. And there, just beyond the Baron, was the Earl of Waterham, his dark black hair striking against the candlelight.

Edwina’s heart glowed with anticipation. She let her eyes focus on the gentlemen while she idly listened to Phoebe’s and Susanna’s conversation, agreeing where it was expected. Normally she would be fully engrossed in her friends’ conversation, but she had much more pressing matters on her mind.

Eventually, the Earl of Waterham looked up and caught her eye, just as she’d hoped he would. He saw her glancing his way, and his dark brows ticked upward just a smidge. Edwina had practiced looking coy in the mirror at home and employed the tactic now. She practically saw the interest fill his eyes, and her excitement built up in her chest, her heart beating wildly behind her breast.

“Ooh, Edwina!” Susanna squealed. Her hands shot to her mouth in glee. “It looks like you’ve got the eye of a gentleman!”

Indeed, the Earl had begun meandering over through the ballroom, ducking around guests in his attempt to get to Edwina. She swallowed nervously, trying to keep her anxieties from becoming apparent on her countenance. Her fingertips trembled slightly, but she stilled them, pressing her hands together. Edwina quickly carried herself back to her parents’ side, aware of the Earl’s eyes on her at all times.

Perhaps she could end her family’s troubles right this instant if she were able to capture the Earl’s heart!

Edwina let a tiny smile grace the bow of her lips as the Earl approached. He bowed to her courteously, showing his straight, white teeth in a smile, and then turned to her father, who had fallen into somewhat of a daze.

“Excuse me, my lord,” he said. “I was wondering perhaps if I may introduce myself.”

Edwina’s father scrunched his eyebrows, seeming to come out of deep thought. Once his eyes settled on the eager young lord in front of him, he nodded fervently.

“Why, of course,” he said. “Certainly you may, my good man. Please, allow me to introduce myself and my daughter. I am Howard Ferguson, the Baron Framsberry. May I present my daughter, Lady Edwina Ferguson?”

“My lady,” he said, turning to her. “Jonathan Eastbridge, Earl of Waterham. I’m enchanted to make your acquaintance. Would you be so kind as to allow me the honor of sharing your next dance set?”

Edwina’s joy was practically shining through her eyes; she knew it, though she could not help it.

“Of course, my lord,” she said. “I’m quite enthralled to meet you.”

Edwina was aware of every word she said, how her voice sounded. Thankfully, the Earl seemed only to notice her beautiful face and slender body.

As the music started up again, the Earl extended his arm for her. The two took to the ballroom floor, whirling around the other couples. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phoebe and Susanna mooning over her and her dance partner happily. They would want to know every detail; of that, she was certain.

“My lady, might I say that you look marvelous tonight?” the Earl said as they twirled. “I caught your stare from across the ballroom, and I must say that I am glad to have spotted you.”

“And why is that, my lord?” Edwina asked, glancing up at him through her lashes.

“Well, I was searching for a lady who could be my equal in looks,” replied the Earl. “Your countenance is quite striking, Lady Ferguson. If you wouldn’t mind my saying so, my lady, I believe the two of us would make quite the lovely child.”

Edwina winced, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She raised her eyes to look at him; he wore a broad smile that seemed too large for his face.

The nerve of this man!

It was true that the Earl was quite handsome, but the more Edwina stayed in his presence, the quicker she realized that the lord was more conceited than anyone she’d ever met. When he leaned in a little too close, the nauseating smell of scotch wafted from his breath. Edwina blanched, her face contorting. The last thing she needed in her life was a prideful drunkard. A man such as that could not be the picture of honesty, though he did have a good title and a vast inheritance.

Still, Edwina had two other names on her list. When their dance set came to a close, she curtsied graciously, allowing the Earl to escort her back to her place. She stood there in the company of her parents for a few moments before clearing her throat.

“Mother, Father,” she said, “would it be alright if I visit the refreshment table with Phoebe and Susanna? I find myself quite parched.”

“Of course, of course,” her father muttered, uninterested.

Edwina did not immediately re-join Phoebe and Susanna. Instead, she wandered around the ball, her skirts in hand, seeking out the Baron Ebsworth and the Marquess of Sheradale. Hopefully, either one of them would be better than the Earl, who was already back at the refreshment table with another glass of scotch in his hand.

Edwina stopped when she caught sight of Baron Ebsworth, sighing in relief. She hoped that he would see her and perhaps approach when he moved towards a lovely young lady and her chaperone. The young woman curtsied gracefully, and the Baron bowed low. The two of them fell into a conversation that Edwina could not hear. It would be rude and out of custom to cut into their time together, so she moved on.

Edwina sifted through the crowd, the music lifting into the air again. One by one, the dancers took their place. She picked her pace up, drifting between couples and around groups. The Marquess was sure to be there somewhere! And yet, she didn’t spy him among the host of people.

Edwina was just about to turn back to Phoebe and Susanna when she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision. His dark maroon coat stood out in the candlelight. Edwina’s heart leaped, and she tried her best to look as poised and demure as possible, to showcase her loveliness, but then her joy sank back into her stomach. On his arm was a lovely young lady, smiling beatifically, her ginger curls piled high on her head. They were headed to the dance floor; as the Marquess turned, she caught sight of his enamored expression, and a wall of dread toppled down upon her.

The gentlemen were already both spoken for; it was too late. She had been too slow and had chosen wrongly. Edwina’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she trudged back to the corner. Her stomach twisted in knots as she considered failing another year, and a spinster’s fate loomed on the horizon, seeming ever imminent. If such a thing befell her, it would be impossible for her to help her family. Edwina tried to keep her head up, but deep down, she knew that she was in trouble.

*****

Marcus Steele, the Viscount Sedgeford, adjusted his position as quietly as he could. He had been crouched behind a shipping crate at the London docks for what felt like an eternity, staying as silent as he could. He had been waiting on the men for some time. Now that they had finally arrived, he felt a bloom of anticipation creep into his stomach and up into his lungs. Marcus barely dared to breathe as he pulled out his quizzing glasses.

The glasses had been specially made for him, crafted to see much farther than the average device would allow him. His endeavors always required secrecy, and the ability to spy from a distance was necessary. The War Office provided him with a great many tools to ensure his job was always done as discreetly as possible, but the quizzing glasses had become his most favored.

Two of the men next to the docked ship were still shrouded in shadow. Marcus let out an exasperated sigh, but when one of the men strode into the moonlight, he adjusted the quizzing glasses.

It was as he thought: the Marquess of Halenshire.

Satisfaction grew in Marcus’ chest, but he had to remain hidden. In order to discover who was plotting against the Crown, it was imperative that he not be found out, and his work here was not done yet.

Marcus’ back ached terribly from his position, but the men had to be wrapping up their meeting soon. He had been watching them from his shrouded hiding spot for an hour, and they were looking increasingly fidgety. One of the men nodded to the others, and the three of them shook hands. Marcus noted the gesture. For the Marquess to shake the men’s hands, it would certainly make sense that the other two would be members of the ton as well. His suspicion had added support; he would have to let his commanding officer know.

When the men had all dispersed, Marcus kept hidden for another ten minutes at least to ensure that they’d made it a safe distance away. When he finally stood, his back cracked, as did his ankles. He brushed back his light brown hair and pulled his overcoat around his shoulders, the collar high around his neck. Marcus turned his head left and right before he pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time. A quarter until midnight. He would have to hurry to make it to the War Office’s secret location, but he would get there on time if he kept his steps quick. A carriage was not employed to take him to where he needed to go.

No, this mission was far too secretive even to entrust the employment of his carriage driver. The War Office always kept their secret rendezvous locations within walking distance of wherever they sent their officers, partly, so they did not need a carriage driver. It also allowed them to hear pistol shots, should their officer be discovered.

Marcus knew that his job was rife with danger, but that only spurred him on further. The more he could prove himself, the more he could do for the Crown, the better he felt. It was more rewarding than unnerving; Marcus always prided himself on his ability to set fear aside when he was on a mission.

Marcus strode down the street quickly and quietly; if there were anyone around him on the empty street, it would be unlikely that they would take notice of him. He knew how to stay in the shadows, and he also could step lively when he wanted to; more often than not, he had to combine those two talents in the name of the Crown.

Marcus rounded a corner in a back alleyway, checking to see if he was completely alone. He let out a sigh of relief; the only thing he could hear was the slosh of the waves and the tinkling of the harbor bell. When footsteps began to sound down the alleyway, he straightened, his hand straying to his pistol.

“Easy there, Steele,” an amused voice said. “I see you’re ready as ever.”

“Just in case, sir,” Marcus said, a smile playing about his lips. “You know I like to be careful.”

“As you should,” the man agreed, stepping into the moonlight. “You are the pride of the War Office’s undercover endeavors for a reason. I suspect that you’ve discovered something tonight?”

Marcus nodded, tapping the case which held his quizzing glasses.

“I have, Auric,” he said. “As we suspected, the Marquess of Halenshire is meeting with unknown men in the dead of night at the docks. I was unable to see the faces of the others, but it’s not out of bounds to believe that he is working with other members of the ton.”

“Good work,” his commanding officer responded. He reached a hand back to scratch at his salt-and-pepper hair, cut short against his scalp. “You’re going to have to keep a close eye on the Marquess; I want to know what he’s up to at all times. The Marquess is a prominent member of the ton, as you know. He’ll likely be attending this year’s London season. I hate to do this to you, Marcus, but…”

“You want me to attend the season as well,” Marcus filled in for him. “If it’s for the good of the Crown, then it must be done. I’m not exactly in the market for a wife, but…”

Auric sighed, his relief apparent in his face. “No, I should think not,” he said. “And the War Office is ever grateful for it. It would be difficult for us to lose someone as thorough at your job as yourself to mundane married life. A wife would surely put an end to your career here. I must thank you for giving me no objection; I thought for certain that you would fight me on the matter. I’m glad to see that I was wrong in that.”

“Truly, I’m left with little choice,” Marcus replied with a wry smile. “You know as well as I that I have little interest in marriage and heirs. Though my mother would be overjoyed, my dedication to the Crown’s security is too important to risk. I hate to disappoint her —”

“You shall just have to act the part,” Auric said pleasantly. “Try to sense who the Marquess is working with through young ladies in their first season. It will be easy to get them to open up, and courting will serve as a proper cover.”

Marcus sighed; the grim smile still had not fled from his lips. He knew from previous missions what his superior was going to suggest and had already accepted it himself. It would not be kind to lead on a young lady, but his duty came before all else. The security of the monarchy and the brotherhood he had found in the War Office’s special operations was enough for him.

Auric patted him on the shoulder and shook his hand heartily, bidding him goodnight.

“Be safe,” Auric said. “And for God’s sake, don’t look so down about your cover on the marriage mart. Perhaps the pleasant company and conversation of a young lady are what you need.” He chuckled to himself as he made his way down the alley and out of sight, leaving Marcus alone.

Marcus brushed his hands down his black coat and stole away into the night. He would meet up with his carriage a little further down the street. He had led the coachman on for years by insinuating that he visited a mistress in the dead of night for a secret rendezvous. Marcus even implied she was a member of the ton who was betrothed to another, and he hid his humor at the shock on the man’s face. No, no one was to know that he was undercover. Not even his mother, much as that pained him.

The Dowager Viscountess Sedgeford pined for grandchildren, for Marcus to have a family. He could tell by the longing he saw on her face each time they encountered children on the street. At one time, she had asked quite frequently about when Marcus would begin searching for a bride. The more the seasons and the years fell away, though, the less hope she held on to the hope in her heart.

Marcus hated to break his mother’s heart, but it had to be done. For the safety of all Great Britain, he would do absolutely anything, even if it meant breaking the hearts of those that he held dear to him.

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Chapter One

“Oh, Lady Christianna, there you are!”

Christianna could feel her heart sinking as she looked up from the pianoforte to see the Countess of Willowshire coming through the throng of people towards her, wearing that beaming smile of hers that was pretty much all teeth. Taking a deep breath, Christianna gathered her music sheets together, giving the Countess a pleasant smile.

“Lady Willowshire. I hope you enjoyed the music.”

“I did, very much so.” The Countess beamed as she looked around the drawing-room. “Don’t you think this looks charming right now, Lady Christianna?”

“It certainly is, My Lady. If you’ll excuse me?”

Before Lady Willowshire could respond, Christianna curtsied and stepped away from the pianoforte. While she liked to play it, she didn’t want to be stuck at the keys all the time. Even she got fed up being the one who provided the music, and Christianna needed time on her own to sit down and soak everything up.

Avoiding eye contact with everyone, Christianna made her way through the house and stepped out of the back door onto the terrace. It was mid-afternoon, but the chill from the morning was still there. It was a surprisingly cool day, considering the previous days had been lovely and warm. The winter months were beginning to creep in early. Christianna thought about going back for her shawl, but she decided against it. She just wanted a moment alone.

She sat on the edge of the terrace wall, clutching her folder to her chest, and stared out into the garden. Why was she so apprehensive now when the week before it had been fun? Christianna could still remember the laughter and gaiety of her birthday party. She hadn’t stopped smiling the whole evening.

Christianna wished she was back there now. People had complimented her playing, and she had not been alone for more than a few seconds. Everyone kept coming over to talk to her. Correction, the gentlemen had come to talk to her. Christianna may have been young, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew the gentleman had their eye on her, and it was flattering. She had liked the male attention for a little bit.

It would have been a better evening if he had come to introduce himself. I would have enjoyed talking to him.

Him. Adam Beckett, Viscount Balenbury. He had been present at the party, either hovering close to a petite, plump lady who turned out to be his mother, or he was hiding in a corner scowling at everyone. Christianna had been immediately caught as soon as he walked into the room. Everyone had; the chattering dying down when they realized Balenbury was making an entrance. Christianna had been surprised at everyone’s reaction, especially when she saw a few people giving him nasty looks. What was that about? Was he a bad person?

She should have asked, but Christianna had been too shy to do so. Instead, she threw herself into talking to anyone who wanted to converse with her, silently hoping that Balenbury would approach her to introduce himself. Then she might be able to find the courage to ask why some of the guests looked at him with such sneering expressions.

Even when he was in a crowd, Balenbury certainly stood out. Not too tall, but tall enough to be noticed. His jet-black hair was cut short, and he wore a goatee that framed his hardened mouth. Christianna found herself trying not to stare at his mouth. His suit was a light brown; it fit nicely on his frame, but the cut of it looked a little out of date. Did he not keep up with what everyone was wearing? From the look of it, Balenbury didn’t seem to care. There was something about him that told Christianna that he wasn’t a man she should be around.

And yet she couldn’t stop looking at him. It had been a week since the party, and Christianna hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. What was it about him? What was it about a man she had only glanced at and not spoken to that had Christianna fascinated? Why was he taking up so much of her thoughts? It was confusing, and Christianna didn’t know what to think about it.

“Christianna?”

Christianna looked up. A petite girl with pale red hair had stepped out onto the terrace, wearing a beautiful dress in powder blue. She was frowning at Christianna. Clearing her throat, Christianna put her folder aside and smoothed down her skirt.

“Chloe. Forgive me, I needed some air.”

“I had a feeling that was the case. You wandered off twenty minutes ago and I was beginning to worry.” Chloe Harrington approached her, shivering as she settled onto the wall beside her friend. “Why haven’t you come in yet? It’s cold out here today.”

“I didn’t realize so much time had passed.” Christianna glanced towards the house. “It was getting a little too much for me.”
Chloe frowned.

“That didn’t seem to bother you last week, I noticed. What’s wrong?”
“I…”

Christianna hesitated. She could talk to her closest friend about anything and everything. But somehow broaching the subject about Viscount Balenbury didn’t seem to be an appropriate topic.

Why not? You’ve talked about boys before.

That was the problem. Lord Balenbury wasn’t a boy. He was a man. And Christianna could not stop thinking about him.

“Chrissie.” Chloe took Christianna’s hand. “We always talk about things. You know you can talk to me about whatever is troubling you.”
“I know I can.”

“So?”

Christianna sighed. She looked out at the garden.

“I’ve been thinking about my party. About…” She stumbled over her words. “God, I’m going to sound like a fool.”

“Oh, Chrissie, when have you ever been a simple fool?” Chloe tilted her head to the side as she regarded her friend. “Did something attract your attention last week? Or rather, did someone catch your eye?”
“Well…”

Chloe’s eyes twinkled. She grinned.

“I knew it. I had a feeling if you’re this distracted it would be about a man.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Because I know you. You’re like this all the time when you find a boy attractive.”

“This is hardly a boy, Chloe.”I know, but it’s sort of the same thing.” Chloe gently shook her friend’s hand. “Come on, talk to me. You saw someone to your liking, didn’t you?”

“I…in a manner of speaking.”

Chloe laughed.

“You’re making it sound like a bad thing. Unless he’s undesirable, I don’t see the problem.”

“That depends on which way you think about it, considering how he was being treated during that party.” Christianna took a deep breath.

“Viscount Balenbury.”

It took a moment before Chloe reacted. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. She looked like Christianna had hit her over the head.

“You…what…Viscount Balenbury? Really?” Chloe’s mouth opened and closed as she spluttered. “Are you mad?”

“From your reaction, clearly.” Christianna glanced towards the house. Hopefully, no one had heard that outburst. “And will you keep your voice down? I don’t want everyone to hear this.”

“I can’t help it!” Chloe lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “Are you mad, Chrissie?”

“What’s the matter with that?”

“Because he’s far from the perfect choice for you. Don’t you know the scandal that surrounds him?”

“What scandal?”

Chloe frowned.

“I’m not sure I should share this. It’s only what I’ve heard from Mother.”

“Since when has that stopped you from forming an opinion?”

“True.” Chloe paused. “Lord Balenbury used to be married. He was a little older than us when he married the beautiful Lady Edith Westbrook, but the marriage barely lasted three years. One day, Lady Edith died very suddenly. An inquest was held, and the official determination was that she had died of an overdose.”

“You mean she took her own life?”

“Not exactly. It looked that way, but there were many people that believed she didn’t take her own life. Or that she died of natural causes.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. Christianna stared.

“Are you saying that people believed Lord Balenbury killed his wife?”

“That’s what I heard.”

Lord Balenbury had murdered his own wife? She didn’t get that impression when she looked at him. Christianna just couldn’t see it.

“Why would he do that? Did he have any reason for doing it?”

“Rumor was that he was having an affair; although, nobody’s found out who the lover was.” Chloe looked like she was getting into this story, her eyes sparkling. For someone who didn’t like her mother’s gossiping ways, she had certainly inherited the gift for it. “People say his wife found out that he was with another woman, so he made sure that she kept quiet for good. It’s been five years, and nothing was ever proven, but people don’t forget something like that. Nor do the rumors die down.”

Christianna knew rumors never really went away. She had barely started her Season, but she was aware that people were comparing her to her oldest brother and if she would turn out like Patrick. She was not her brother, but the family tended to be joined together when one of them did something to threaten the family’s reputation.

“Since then, Lord Balenbury has been something of a hermit.” Chloe went on, her voice quickening in her excitement. “He withdrew to his country house and refused to see anyone. His mother was still in Society, and she was very good at deflecting the rumours away from her son, but, as you know, mud sticks. This is the first time in five years that he’s ventured back into London.”
Five years. Christianna couldn’t imagine how anyone could come back to Society after being made into something they more than likely didn’t deserve.

You don’t know the man and you already believe that he didn’t commit a murder?

Should I then condemn someone who had no proof against him?

“That explains why he kept away from everyone and why people reacted in such a way when he entered the room,” Christianna sighed. “He’s probably still seen as the bad one in this matter.”

“Do you think he’s innocent?”

“Chloe, it’s only rumours, much like everything else in London. Scandal is far more interesting than the truth, Mother says.” It seemed to be the case right now. “If Lord Balenbury did kill his wife, he would have been charged and hanged years ago, but he’s still very much alive and he was never arrested.”

*****

“Adam, dear?”

Adam looked up. His mother was sitting across the table from him with a frown, her eyes drifting to the glass that was still in her son’s hand.

“Mother?”

“You’ve been staring into your glass for the last five minutes.” Lady Balenbury sighed. “And I’m sure you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

Adam bit back a wince. He put the glass down and rubbed at his eyes.

“Forgive me, Mother. I was going over things in my head. I guess I forgot where I was.”

“I noticed.” The Dowager Viscountess shook her head. “You need to stop thinking so much and just enjoy yourself. Living your life to the fullest isn’t going to hurt you.”

Adam wanted to make a retort with regards to that, but he kept it to himself. It would just result in him being angry over memories that wouldn’t leave him alone and his mother getting upset. She meant well, even if it was a little too much. The sweet woman didn’t deserve his callous remarks.

A bit of recklessness did hurt people. It had hurt Adam, and he hadn’t even been involved. His wife had seen to that.
Edith. It had taken over a year before he could think about her without fresh anger building. Now he was merely indifferent. But she was still there, hovering in a part of his head and refusing to leave. Adam did his best to ignore her.

It didn’t often work.

“I’m glad you could actually join me for dinner.” Lady Balenbury picked up her glass and took a sip, giving her son a smile. “It’s nice to see you sitting across from me while I eat. I feel lonely dining here with nobody to talk to.”

“I know you’d like to have me eat meals with you more, Mother.” Adam pushed his food around on his plate. He had eaten a little, but he wasn’t very hungry. “It’s only because I’ve got an appointment tonight that I’m here. I’m going to be out late.”

His mother’s smile flickered a little, and she gave a sniff.

“Nice to know your family is a far second.”

“Mother.” Adam wished he wasn’t so good at putting his foot in it. “You know I adore you, and I would love to spend more time with you. I’ve just got some things to deal with first.”

“Just as long as you don’t forget your mother.” Lady Balenbury cut into her chicken. “I’m glad to see you actually venturing into Society for the first time in years, and I don’t want to see you retreat again.”

Adam wasn’t going to do that. Not this time. He had spied a reason to venture back out into the public eye, and that reason had been a young woman with golden hair who kept looking at him from across a crowded room. She had watched him with a keen gaze, never approaching him but always very aware of his presence.

He had no intention of openly approaching her. Not once he realized that she was the special guest, the one having a birthday. And the younger sister of Patrick Fletcher, former heir to the Earl of Carnarvon.

The man who had turned Adam’s life upside-down.

“Adam?”

“Mother?”

Lady Balenbury tilted her head to one side. Now she was looking concerned.

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“Hmm?” Adam tried to look innocent. “What look?”

“That look which says you’re going to be up to something soon. And it’s going to be something that brings a lot of trouble.”Adam snorted.

“That’s not likely to happen, Mother. I’m not the one who decided to go against Society’s rules, am I? That was done for me. I was merely condemned by association.”

And almost arrested and charged for his wife’s death. Adam had not forgotten that, and from the way people had been looking at him once he set foot outside the house, they hadn’t forgotten about what happened either. They saw him as a killer, even though he had protested his innocence many times in the beginning.

Now he had just given up. Let them think about what they liked about him. Adam had decided he wasn’t going to care anymore, but he was going to make sure that he got his revenge over what happened.

Patrick Fletcher had been an integral part of it all, and Adam had suffered the brunt of his actions. Sadly, the man was no longer of this world, but his family was. Especially his little sister; the beautiful Christianna.

He shouldn’t consider that eighteen-year-old who played the pianoforte with such delight and had a smile that made Adam’s chest warm at the sight of it beautiful. She was the enemy. But Adam had been struck by her as soon as he walked into the room. Christianna was young, but she lit up the whole room. The gentlemen who had been invited were certainly aware of it, and she wasn’t alone for more than a few seconds before someone was trying to get her attention. Lady Christianna would certainly get an advantageous match.

If Adam didn’t get there first to do some damage.

“Whatever you’re up to, Balenbury…Adam…” His mother hesitated. “Please…don’t hurt anyone. Or yourself. I don’t want to see you miserable again.”

His mother had been on his side the whole time. One of his few very supporters. Adam gave her a smile and put his knife and fork on his plate.

“I’m not going to break this time around, Mother, so you needn’t worry about that. It’s not me you have to worry about.”

“But I do worry.” She sighed. “I always will.”

“I know.” Glancing at the clock, Adam got to his feet and walked around the table. He kissed his mother’s head. “I’d better be off. Don’t wait up for me. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

“I’ll make sure Fosgett keeps the door unlocked for you to come back in.” The Dowager Viscountess bit her lip as she looked up at her son.

“Take care of yourself out there. It’s getting foggy even now.”

“I will.” Adam took her hand and kissed it, giving it a squeeze before releasing her. “Good evening, my Lady.”

He could feel his mother’s eyes on him even as he left the room.

Chapter Two

Once safely in her carriage and having handed her folder across to her maid, Christianna pressed her fingers to her temples. She had been looking forward to having her first Season for a long time. Christianna liked to think she was a sociable person, and she could hold a conversation with someone that was meaningful. But from her week in London, meeting people with her mother before the Season truly started, Christianna was shocked at how bland the conversations were.

Women talked about fashion, the weather, and what everyone else was doing. Basically, a lot of gossips. It seemed to be something they thrived on. Lady Carnarvon felt uncomfortable with it as much as her daughter, but she pinned a smile on her face and listened attentively, nodding in all the right places. Christianna wished she could have her mother’s composure. Holding back her opinions made her want to have a lie-down.

At least Edward and Louisa were going to be with her at future engagements. Christianna had missed her brother while she was at school, and she was looking forward to catching up with him further. She was also keen to hear more about her new sister-in-law. According to her mother, their meeting was not exactly conventional.

Anything that wasn’t straightforward would certainly capture her attention.

Hopefully, her first Season would be interesting and Christianna wouldn’t have to grow bored at going out every day to see people and listen to the most boring topics.

It didn’t take long to get back home. Christianna’s head was throbbing as she got out of the carriage and up the steps. She was glad that her maid Isabella didn’t attempt to strike up a conversation; it was too much right now. She had things to do, but Christianna could barely keep her head up. The headache resulted in her stomach churning as well.

Christianna handed her hat and coat to the butler, Miller, before turning to Isabella.

“You go and see if Mrs. Crosbie needs you for anything. I’m going to retire for a little bit once I’ve seen Mother.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Isabella curtsied and walked away. Christianna looked at Miller as he put her coat away.

“Where’s Lady Carnarvon, Miller?”

“In the drawing-room, Lady Fletcher. Shall I tell her you’re home?”

“I’ll do it, thank you.”

Christianna entered the drawing-room and saw her mother sitting on the couch by the fire, her dark head bent over some embroidery. She looked up and smiled when she saw her daughter.

“Christianna, darling. How was the tea party?”

“Long.” Christianna flexed her hands around her music folder. They were feeling sore now.

“Lady Willowshire was her usual self.”

Lady Carnarvon’s smile faded, immediately replaced by a frown.

“That’s not how you should talk about a Countess. Especially when her influence is needed.”

“So, I have to pander to her whims every time she comes to you?” Christianna complained.

She immediately regretted her words when her mother’s eyes narrowed, her lips pursed in disapproval.

“I did not raise you to forget your manners, Christianna. We should be lucky that we’re in her favour.”

Christianna disagreed, but her head was throbbing too much for her to argue back. She turned away.

“I’m going to take a nap before dinner, if that’s all right? I have a terrible headache.”

“Of course. If you don’t feel like coming down later, just ask for a tray to be sent up.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

Christianna climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. Dropping her folder onto the dresser, she slipped off her shoes as she sat on her stool, carefully sliding the pins out of her hair. As her curls fell down her back with each pin sliding away, her thoughts turned back again to Viscount Balenbury. Again. It was like she was being infected by the mere sight of him.

How was it even possible to be consumed by one man when they hadn’t even spoken? Christianna had thought she wouldn’t find herself in a position where her mind was possessed by a person she had only seen from afar, but it was happening. Lord Balenbury simply persisted in her mind, his piercing gaze focused on her. That sent a shiver down her spine.

He had come into the room with such a scowl and barely spoke a word to anyone. However, Lady Balenbury had come to greet Christianna. She was a lovely lady, and Christianna had warmed greatly to her. She was very friendly, very sweet. How she was the mother of a man who looked like he was about to burst into flames, Christianna had no idea. They were completely different.

Had Balenbury been like his mother before? Had he been warm and friendly years ago when he was married? Christianna liked to think so.

She wanted to believe that he had been much like his mother when he was younger. The scandal of his wife dying and people pointing the finger at him without proof had to have taken a toll on him. It was just not fair that this happened.

Then again, life wasn’t fair. If it was, her father and brother would be alive.

With all the pins finally out and her hair flowing down her back, Christianna climbed onto her bed and lay down. It felt nice to be lying on the pillows, the cotton smooth against her cheek. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off. A short nap would help her headache ease off, and Christianna would be able to feel less like her head was about to explode.

“Christianna.”

Christianna was aware of someone brushing her cheek and she opened her eyes. Then she started upright. Viscount Balenbury was there, sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing the same clothes from that day at the party. His eyes were a piercing hazel, focused completely on her face. But he wasn’t scowling this time. He looked…soft. Gentle.

What was he doing in her room? Christianna’s heart missed a few beats before stumbling back into rhythm.

“What…what are you doing in here?”

“I came to see you.” Viscount Balenbury tilted his head to one side, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. “You look really beautiful when you sleep, do you know that?”

Christianna didn’t know what to say. His voice was a beautiful tone, deep but melodious. It sent shivers all over her body, something tightening in her gut.

“Is this a dream?”

“What do you think it is?”

“I…I don’t know.” Christianna licked her lips. “But I don’t want to wake up.”

Something flickered in Lord Balenbury’s eyes. He shifted closer, leaning towards her.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes drifted to her mouth. “Do you believe I’m innocent?”

Christianna didn’t need to think. She nodded.

“I do. I trust you.”

Lord Balenbury’s expression darkened. He reached up and brushed his fingers across her cheek before cupping her jaw.

“My sweet Christianna.”

He tugged her towards him, and Christianna went with him willingly, falling into his embrace as he kissed her. He didn’t start off gently; instead, he grabbed onto her and took her mouth hard, practically devouring her. It had Christianna gasping, clutching onto him as desire built in her belly at a frightening speed. Oh, God, if this was what kissing was like…

Christianna started when she heard a sudden knocking. Immediately, Lord Balenbury faded away, leaving her reeling and falling off the bed. Gasping, she jolted to stop herself from falling and she woke up. She was still in her room, still on her bed, but she was alone. There was no sight of Viscount Balenbury.

It had really been a dream. She had been imagining him taking her like he was a starving man.

And someone was knocking at the door.

“Christianna? Are you all right?”

Christianna frowned and sat up.

“Mother? Is something wrong?”

“I came up to fetch something and I heard you talking. Are you all right in there?”

She had been talking in her sleep? Christianna hadn’t realized she had been doing that. And her mother had heard her? Christianna bit back a groan.

“I’m fine. I guess I…I’m overtired. My mind…well, there’s a lot going on.”

“All right.” Lady Carnarvon didn’t sound convinced, but she let it go. “If you want me, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Christianna heard her mother’s footsteps fading away. She slumped back onto the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Her heart was still racing.

How had she been talking in her sleep? And how had she conjured up Viscount Balenbury like that? Christianna had never had a dream like that before.

She was going to have to choose her words carefully in the future, especially if it was as if Lady Carnarvon was listening in at the door while she slept.

*****

The fog was coming down rapidly. Adam hadn’t seen anything like it in a long while. Out in the country during the late autumn, early winter months, the fog would be present, and it would feel like it was lingering for days on end. On a bad day, it left Adam’s mouth feeling like he was sucking on coal.

Keeping his hat lowered over his eyes, his collar turned up, and his cane gripped tightly in his hand, Adam made his way through the streets. He didn’t think members of the ton would be out at this time of day in this weather, but Adam wasn’t about to take that chance. People openly stared at him, and he didn’t need to be intelligent to know what they were thinking.

They would be wondering how he could show his face again after all this time.

Adam had wondered in the beginning as well. If he was honest, he would prefer to be back at his country house, hiding away from everyone. It had been painful to start with, but eventually peaceful as he accepted that this would be his future. Even if he did go back to Society, he would always be on the outside. Smears stayed, no matter how much you tried to scrub. Even when they weren’t of your doing.

But his mother had said it would do him good to come out every now and then, slowly integrate back into the public eye. Adam didn’t like the idea of doing that, but he could hardly argue with the Dowager Viscountess. She had done a lot for him to the point she had isolated herself from anyone who dared speak a word against him. He did owe his mother a lot, and he would pander to her on occasion.

That was how he had ended up at the house of the Earl of Carnarvon for a surprise birthday party for his younger sister. Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing when his mother told him where they were going, but she said they couldn’t be rude. He was just surprised that the family even extended an invitation to them, considering what had happened in the past.

Patrick Fletcher, former heir and the apple of his father’s eye, had turned Adam’s life into a mess. Within a few short months, he had broken Adam’s marriage. Even now, it was seen as Adam’s fault, not the man who had set the wheels into motion. Somehow, even in death, Fletcher came out looking like a dramatic hero, while Adam was forced to slink away and hide to stop people talking.

The talk had not gone away, but it wasn’t as painful. However, even though the anger had faded, it was still there, and he had felt it threatening to build as he hovered in the Earl of Carnarvon’s home pretending to celebrate Lady Christianna Fletcher’s birthday. It had left a nasty taste in his mouth, and he was still trying to get rid of it.

Just like he was trying to get rid of the image of Christianna Fletcher out of his head. She was eye-catching, that was true enough. And she was beautiful. And that smile of hers…

He pushed that aside. No, he would not think about that. It certainly helped with what he had in mind with his plan, but he wasn’t about to let it consume him. Adam needed to keep a clear head about him.

Revenge, in his case, was going to be served cold. And it was going to taste so sweet once it was achieved. But not if he got distracted and started thinking about Lady Fletcher’s beauty.

She is innocent in all this. She was a child when Edith died.

She’s a Fletcher. It doesn’t matter.

The fog was getting thicker by the time Adam reached his destination, a building just off the main street a half-hour walk from his house. He had considered taking a carriage, but he didn’t want his driver to know where he was going. The fewer people knew about what he was up to, the better. His servants were known to talk a lot, and his plan would be all over the house and spreading to other households within a couple of days.

It was a shame; he wouldn’t be looking over his shoulder going through the murkier streets of London in a carriage.
Getting inside wasn’t a problem. The doorman, hovering just inside the main door, was merely a shadow as Adam came in and took off his hat. He only materialized when another servant appeared to take his hat, coat, and cane, standing near the door with a scowl as if he expected the Viscount to cause trouble. Adam gave him a nod before turning away.

He was going to cause trouble, for certain. Just not in the club.
The clock in the main room chimed the hour as he entered. Right on time. The room was partially full, people playing cards or just sitting around drinking. It wasn’t White’s, but the atmosphere was a little more relaxed than Adam expected. The lower classes didn’t care what you looked like as long as you weren’t a complete fool or behaved as such.

He could get behind that.

A tall, thickset man in his late thirties with thick blond hair and an equally thick beard was sitting by the fire, a glass-half-full of a yellow-brown liquid. He was in a large chair, but he seemed to be too big for it, his body seeming to spill out of the chair. Adam had never met him before, but his contact in the area had given an accurate description. This was a man who would do anything for the right price. He could be a bully, a thug, whatever you wanted.

Perfect. Adam knew he could use a man like this to his advantage.

He crossed the room and stood near the fire.

“Mr. Jackson?”

“That’s me.” Jackson’s ice-cold blue eyes looked up, narrowing ever so slightly as he focused on him. “Are you the man Victor told me about?

The one who had a job going?”

“I am.” Adam turned to put his back to the fire. The heat tickled his seat and the backs of his legs. “Did Victor give you the conditions I laid out for you?”

“He did, and I looked them over.” Jackson tilted his head to one side as he regarded him with a curious expression. “I must say, it’s a little surprising that you’re asking me to do this.”

“Surprising how?”

“Well, it is…not like my other jobs.” Jackson shrugged. “But I’m not going to argue. Especially with what you’re going to pay me.”

“Good.” Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. Glancing around to make sure no one was looking their way, he handed it to Jackson. “It’s all there. And there’s a little extra to come your way if you manage to carry this out successfully for me.”

Jackson arched an eyebrow.

“There is?” He opened up the envelope and looked at the money notes. “You must really want something from this woman if you want her to be accosted in your presence. Nothing too nefarious, I trust?”

“Nothing like that at all.” Adam wanted something. Lady Christianna Fletcher was not going to know what happened once he was done with her. “But there is a bit of revenge involved. Don’t worry,” he added when a flash of worry passed across Jackson’s face, “I’m not going to violate her. I just need your help to get our paths to cross.”

He had explained this in the letter he had passed to Victor. Victor was a man to be trusted. He knew a lot of people who could be useful to do practically anything, and they didn’t necessarily have to have scruples. Just what he needed.

For a moment, he thought Jackson wasn’t going to agree to this. It would be typical for someone to turn it down and keep the money once it was handed over, but Jackson grinned and took a hefty gulp of his drink.

“All right, I’ll do it. This feels like easy money for me.” He sat back and made the envelope disappear. “Maybe I should advertise my services.”
“If you make this successful for me, I’ll send more money to you at a later date.” Adam would if it meant getting what he wanted. “But apart from that, I don’t know you. Don’t greet me if we pass in the street. Just do what I ask and leave.”

“Of course. Anything for easy money.” Jackson waved down a steward, who approached them. “But for tonight, have a drink on me. I insist.”
Adam hadn’t planned on staying long, but the fog was bad outside. He didn’t feel confident walking home with it as it was; besides, the fire was nice, and the atmosphere was more comforting than he expected. He smiled and settled himself into the chair across from Jackson.

“Why not? I’ve got time.”

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Prologue

“My Lord, we have arrived at the Thatcher Townhouse,” the coachman announced.

Edward inhaled sharply, just before the carriage door was opened. The day’s light shone on him acutely. He squinted his eyes for a bit before he finally alighted, shoving both hands in the pocket of his breeches and looking around with his lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn’t set foot here in so many years.

There was an old saying that Edward recalled. It was forever engraved in his memory. Home was where the heart was. It was a saying dear to Edward because for the longest time, he struggled to understand where his home was. This was why he travelled around a lot and had never truly returned to his place of birth, the county of Carnarvon. But now he had no choice but to return. His heart wrenched at the memory of the news he had received concerning the deaths of his father and brother, respectively, their ship had capsized during their voyage. The news not only broke his heart, it had also scarred him.

It had been eighteen months since this occurred, but Edward found it difficult to get over. He found difficulty in trying to fit into something he had never prepared his mind for. He had thought that he would be free for the rest of his life, to make his own choices, reside wherever he wanted, and even be whoever he wanted. But that was impossible now. After the news of the passing of his father and brother, Edward had returned to the countryside. He had stayed there for the past eighteen months, trying to understand his responsibilities. His mother felt that he was prepared enough, Edward assumed. For she had sent him a letter, requesting his presence in London. Edward had not known what to make of the invitation. Of course, he knew that he would eventually have to go down to London for a season before returning back to the countryside, but he did not feel ready. And he might never have felt ready. This was why he had simply asked that preparations be made for him to leave. It was now or never.

Just as Edward was still taking in his environ, he saw the entrance door open. Mr. Jenkins, the age-long steward to his family, appeared pleased to see him, but he was not who arrested Edward’s attention to the point that he forced a smile. It was his mother, the Dowager Countess of Carnarvon. Her chestnut brown hair that was exactly the same color as his, she emerged with a bright grin to welcome him. With his younger sister, Christianna, away for her education in Bath, the Dowager Countess was alone in the townhouse.

“Edward, my dear,” she cried.

Edward moved on impulse. He let his feet lead him to meet his mother midway. She embraced him once they were close enough to each other. Edward was happy to see her, he truly was. He only feared the purpose behind her summoning him. He knew his mother well enough to know that she did everything for a reason. But he did not want to appear too desperate or too suspicious of her. He would be patient until she revealed all in due time.

“I am exhilarated to see you, darling. Come. Come. We must go in. After your long journey I know you’d want some tea to feel refreshed,” the Dowager was saying.

“Indeed, Mother.”

The Dowager laughed when they walked through the threshold. “I had tea at Rosenberg Manor the previous day.”

Edward could not help the small smile that graced his lips. His mother was slowly making her reveal; or quickly, because it seemed she was desperate for him to know.

“Rosenberg, you say?” Edward looked at her. He was not stunned that his mother had come across such influential nobleman at Everfair manor. The Duke of Rosenberg was, after all, in affiliation with Lord Richmond. “Exciting was it?”

The Dowager grinned. “It indeed was. I was mostly amazed by how grown the Duke’s daughter is. Lady Alice; you might recall her from your younger years.”

Finally, they both walked into the drawing room. Edward took a seat.

The Dowager Countess went on. “She had her debut ball last season. How lovely, isn’t it?”

“Truly lovely,” Edward agreed.

“Lord and Lady Richmond are hosting a large ball at Everfair Manor. Lady Alice will be there. So I want you to attend as well.”

Although Edward knew where the conversation was heading, he was still irked. “What is this all about, Mother?”

The Dowager’s smile faded instantly. She narrowed her eyes at Edward. “How obvious do you need me to be, Son. It is apparent enough what I speak of, is it not?”

Edward clasped his hands together but said nothing. The Dowager went on. “I want you to find a wife. You’ve been taking the situation too lightly for so long a time. It is high time you took this more seriously, Edward. Lady Alice is a good match for you. Trust me to have surveyed every area possible. All that is needed is your effort in trying to court her.”

But Edward wanted to make no effort. He cared not a bit about Lady Alice. He cared not about getting married at all. He had barely had a hold on running the county, which was not his birthright in the first place. He was not ready to be wed, not in the least. More so he was certain that he would not be attracted to Lady Alice. Not when his attention had already been arrested… by the lady’s maid of Lady Richmond.

After he had attended a picnic two months prior, with the family of his cousin, Owen, who was the Marquis of Richmond, Edward encountered a woman. He had simply been walking past until he saw her. Time seemed to freeze when this happened. And this caused him to stand still and stare, albeit with stolen gazes here and there, as he guessed the true purpose of his sudden stop. She was utterly stunning and innocent. Something about her mesmerized him. Everything she did stole his attention. It made him just stand and stare. He stared so much that he began to note even the littlest things. Like her beautiful green eyes that were the color of emeralds, her bow shaped lips that begged to be savored with as much attention as possible. The skin around her neck was bright and each time Edward looked at her, he imagined burying himself there. There was so much about the woman that captured him. There was an aura surrounding her. One that was novel to him. One that was refreshing. And even though he did not speak to her, watching her had made him feel like he had known her for so long a time.

“Edward,” the Dowager called. He snapped his gaze towards her and raised a brow.

So instead, Edward nodded, smiled, and said. “Of course, Mother. I shall attend the ball.”

“Splendid!” The Dowager nodded. “I look forward to your meeting with Lady Alice.”

Edward barely nodded, for he was a tad excited as well. Of course, not because of his proposed meeting with Lady Alice but something more. He would be seeing the Lady’s maid again, after two weeks. After all, his dreams of her had been his only solace in the past weeks.

Chapter One

“All the guests arrive tomorrow. I dare say that we have done well enough with the preparations so far. Do you not think so?” Lady Richmond smiled.

Louisa Brown nodded in agreement. Her mistress was indeed right. The preparations for the house party had been marvelous so far. The manor was well decorated and ready to receive guests.

“I feel there is something missing from this list. Although I am not quite certain what.” Her mistress said.

“The bedchambers?” Louisa suggested.

“No. I have discussed that with Mrs. Kane. The bedchambers are ready. But there is something else…”

“What do you have in mind, my Lady?” Louisa asked, walking closer to Lady Richmond, who was seated on the green floral designed rosette that was situated near the French windows.

However, while Louisa awaited a response, Lady Richmond’s attention shifted its focus. It did not take long, however, for her mistress to reply. Although her response was not in the least what Louisa had been expecting.

“Those flowers are terribly arranged. Do you not think?”

Louisa’s eyes followed Lady Richmond’s. They stopped by the table at the other side of the drawing room.

“You should go over there and set it right,” said Lady Richmond.

Louisa turned to her and curtsied. “Yes, my Lady.”

She was eager to set the flowers right and Lady Richmond knew this. Aside from taking great pleasure in the smell of herbs and plants, Louisa Brown had a talent for arrangements. She was greatly pleased when her mistress asked her to utilize her skills and interest.

“The Duke and Duchess of Rosenberg shall reside in the east wing,” Lady Richmond announced. “The largest bouquets of white roses shall be kept in the Duchess’s chambers.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Louisa replied while still arranging the flowers.

Lady Richmond was quite kind. Louisa had worked as her Lady’s maid for quite a few years. Since the Lady made her debut into society. Louisa had known no better ease. There was kindness in the Lady’s eyes, and she treated Louisa well. Louisa was stunned most times, when Lady Richmond simply delved into certain matters that Louisa imagined were quite personal to her.

Louisa was deep in her thoughts while she arranged the white roses in the drawing room, setting them in between red roses so the white color could stand out. When Louisa was satisfied with what she had done, she took a little step back to stare at it. It looked better now, more beautiful. This made her smile. She was certain Lady Richmond would approve.

“Everything looks organized. I trust that all will be perfect.” Lord Richmond’s voice echoed as he walked through the door.

Lady Richmond smiled. “It will.”

Lord Richmond took a seat by her mistress and his smile did not seize as he spoke on. “I anticipate Edward’s arrival.”

Lady Richmond chuckled. “Since seeing the Lord Carnarvon at the picnic months ago, you have been looking forward to seeing him again.”

“It has been a long time since we sat and spoke as we used to when we were lads.”

On hearing the name, Louisa’s interest was piqued. Heart thudding, she placed her hands on the flowers again and began rearranging.

Touching the flowers seemed to calm her a bit, but her mind had delved into a quicker race. Lord Carnarvon was going to come down to the manor? Her cheeks heated up. She did not know how to feel about such a news. It was stunning. She had encountered Lord Carnarvon at the picnic that took place at Hyde Park two months ago. She recalled that he had isolated himself for some time; simply observing, she supposed. But that had given her an opportunity to steal glances at him and also make her notice that he stole glances at her as well. He was quite attractive; his demeanor, his poise, and even the way he made it so easy to stand out. With his brown hair combed across in neat layers, that even the soft breeze could not ruffle it. Louisa was mesmerized by him. This had led to her dreams of him in the past two weeks. She often awoke with a start, sweating. Now the man who haunted her dreams was going to be at the manor. The idea made her jittery.

However, despite whatever tricks her emotions were playing on her, Louisa knew better than to let any of these emotions get to her head. They were fleeting and she was certain that with time, they would pass. Her mother might have let her emotions lead, but Louisa trusted that her mind would lead.

“…Louisa would deliver them to Mrs. Kane,” the Marchioness said.

On hearing her name, Louisa composed herself and turned. She curtsied to Lord Richmond before walking to stand by Lady Richmond. “my Lady.” She curtsied again.

Lady Richmond smiled at her. The steward at her other hand took the ink and pen from her and excused himself. Lady Richmond handed the list to Louisa.

“Take this to Mrs. Kane, tell her these are what should be prepared both in the bedchambers and for the meals. Request that rose bouquets be taken to the first bedchamber in the east wing. We have guests arriving today,” Lady Richmond said.

Louisa took the list and curtsied. “Yes, my Lady.”

Louisa made her way out of the drawing room and headed straight to the kitchen, where Mrs. Kane was. As usual the kitchen was bustling with maids walking in and out. The housekeeper, Mrs. Kane, stood by one corner, addressing the head cook, Mrs. Phillips. Louisa made her way over to where they both stood. “Louisa,” Mrs. Phillips smiled.

“Mrs. Phillips, how do you do?”

“I am well, dear.”

“Louisa.” Mrs. Kane greeted her curtly. She was not as jovial as Mrs. Phillips, but she was a good woman. And she took her job very seriously. Louisa smiled at them both, having gotten their attention.

“Lady Richmond has asked that this list be used for the preparations,” Louisa said, before handing Mrs. Kane the list.

Just as she was about to speak further, she heard behind her. “Is that Lou?”

Louisa’s smile broadened. She always smiled when she was called by Georgina. Georgina was Mrs. Phillip’s daughter. She was ten and nine years old. Louisa had grown fond of her since her time at Everfair Manor. “How do you do, Louisa?”

“I am well, Georgina, and you?”

Georgina crossed her arms across her chest and shrugged. “Excited for the guests arriving tomorrow.”

Louisa faced Georgina now, leaving Mrs. Kane and Mrs. Phillips to look through the list. “Pray tell why that might excite you.”

Georgina grinned. “The nobles are arriving! There shall be young noblemen to look forward to.”

“You aim for what can never be achieved.” One of the maids teased as she passed. Georgina’s cheeks flamed. Louisa knew then what Georgina was on about. Perhaps she fancied a particular noble. Louisa shook her head. It was best the lass forgot it. “That is too far away a dream,” Louisa whispered.

Georgina shrugged. “It is indeed too much to wish for a better life. ”

Georgina reminded Louisa of her own mother. Like Georgina, Louisa’s mother had wished for the unattainable. She had ingenuously believed that she could escape the life by marrying up. She had been deceived and she had given her all to have that life. Recalling this, Louisa felt herself angered. If only her mother had known better. “It certainly is not too much to wish for a better life, Georgina.” Louisa smiled. “But you must be careful what it is you consider to be this better life.”

Georgia frowned. “Pray tell what you mean.”

Louisa sighed. “I know what it feels like to wish that you were not in this position, to wish that you could live better when we are surrounded by the luxuries of the nobles. My mother wished the same, so greatly that after my father’s death, she put herself in a path to it. And she did catch the attention of a nobleman.” As Louisa told the story, the memories she bore surfaced, so that she lived in the moment she spoke of, and this brought her pain. But she went on. “My mother fell for this nobleman who promised her so much. He promised to change her life forever and she held on dearly to this hope that she lost sight of the truth…”

Georgina, who had been listening intently asked. “What truth?”

“The impossibility of becoming a noble.” Louisa swallowed. The memory of her mother slumping in the kitchen replayed in her head. She shuddered. “But one day he wedded a Lady of his class. And my mother was left devastated. Her health deteriorated until… she died.”

Georgina was silent after Juliana spoke. She said nothing; all she did was stare for a while. Louisa raised both her brows. Georgina cleared her throat. “That is quite sad. I truly sympathize with you. But you must understand that not every nobleman is as the one you speak of, she probably just didn’t play her cards right. ”

“And you must know that not all noblemen are as the one you wish for.” Louisa said in return. Georgina cocked her head to the side and was about to respond when Mrs. Philips interrupted. “Go on now, Georgina. I need to have a chat with Louisa.”

Georgina creased her brows and stared at her mother in confusion. Louisa was certain she wished to protest against her mother’s request, but Mrs. Phillips maintained a stern gaze. Georgina then sighed before heading out of the kitchen, narrowly missing a collusion with a help carrying a plate of pudding.

“Tis best to keep her mind away from such matters. Georgina hungers to become a mistress herself.” Mrs. Phillips continued, “Thank you for what you said. I hope it touches her deeply; although, I doubt that she has given the point of the story any chance to sink in.”

Louisa could see that. She knew that Georgina was still in denial even after her story. But she had thought the best way to take Georgina’s mind away from such was to talk to her properly about it. “She must be reminded each time she brings the matter up. She must begin to live in reality.”

Mrs. Phillips picked an apron and draped it around her. “Of course, I shall. Thank you again, Georgina. Excuse me. I must make known the preparation plans.” Louisa nodded, while Mrs. Phillips moved to the center and spoke. “Pudding was requested for in the list, aye. We must begin right away. More pudding!”

The instant she did this, the kitchen was bustling again. Everyone moved faster, the fires were started, ingredients were being prepared. Everything began moving so fast. No matter how many times Louisa had stayed in the kitchen in the past few years, she had never truly gotten used to it. Especially when it was so busy this way. It made her nostalgic. It made her most uncomfortable.

She felt a bit dizzy as it was.

“…So you see, dear…” Mrs. Philips stopped talking. Louisa had her eyes slightly closed.

Mrs. Philips took a step forward and held her still. “Are you ill, child?”

“Just a bit dizzy. I presume I simply need some air,” Louisa responded quickly.

Mrs. Phillips nodded. Louisa excused herself immediately. Once outside, Louisa was able to breathe easily. She braced herself the instant she was hit by the soft air outside. Nostalgia filled her as she stood there. Her memory dug far back to her mother’s death. Her mother had died in the kitchen. She had died while she was working. Louisa had been trying to reach her, amidst the business in the kitchen. The scenario was forever itched in her memory. Louisa was still lost in nostalgia, when she heard her name being called, she turned. Mrs. Kane was walking up to her. She had a large basket on her left arm. Louisa wondered what message she had for her, although she suspected greatly that it had to do with herbs or flowers.

“Lady Richmond has requested that you gather the flowers for the guest’s chambers. She says you have a good eye for it, yes?” Mrs. Kane asked.

“Indeed. I do.”

“Good.” Mrs. Kane sighed. She handed Louisa the basket she was holding then. “Pick enough for two bedchambers, at least. I hear the Duchess of Rosenberg has quite a love for white roses.”

After a curt nod from Mrs. Kane, Louisa made her way outside, to begin the search for flowers fitting for the bedchambers. As she walked, she could already see flowers aligned. She set her basket to her side and made to begin the selection, when the neigh of a horse caught her attention.

Not so far from where she stood, the neighing horse stood on its hind legs, and the rider was thrown off his saddle. Louisa gasped, fear gripping her. The horse landed back on its four feet and raced past her.

Louisa’s heart thudded. The sounds could be heard in her own ears. She had experienced too much loss and danger in her life. Seeing this made it worse for her. But for a certain reason, she was unable to scream. Perhaps it was the scare that the situation brought about that made her unable to do so; however, Louisa did the next best thing. She set down her basket and rushed over to see if the rider was alright. She feared that the worst may have just occurred. As she neared him, her heart began to thud. And even worse when she saw the face of the rider. Her heart skipped so much it made her flinch. Before her, laying on a haystack, was Lord Carnarvon.

Chapter Two

 Edward rubbed his temple whilst his thoughts wandered. He was now in a carriage that was heading to Everfair Manor and there was a thrill within him. As he looked out the window, he saw what he had been missing about London. The busy streets. The zeal. The Ton. Everything about London was vibrant, as always. Not as quiet and isolated as the countryside.

Although he did enjoy the countryside. It was peaceful. And that peace had helped him through the past eighteen months. He wished he could prolong his stay there. But even he knew that was impossible. He knew that soon enough, he would not only have to take up the responsibility of being the Earl of Carnarvon, but also take up the family responsibility attached to it. He needed to be wed and to bear an heir. These demands had been for his brother, Edward thought. Simon had accepted that those responsibilities were his, as he was the heir. But Edward on the other hand had embraced a life of freedom. It was why he appalled the thought of doing these things now. They had never been in his plans. They had never been anything he’d worked towards. But now they appeared before him and there was no escape.

A sudden jolt moved him physically, drawing his thoughts away and placing his attention on his surroundings. With that jolt, the carriage halted acutely. Edward creased his brows. He looked outside. They had not arrived at Owen’s home, but they were closer, as he noticed that they were now at the outskirts of London, where Everfair Manor was located. He recalled this path.

As a lad, Edward had loved visiting Everfair Manor. The manor had a pastoral scenery that he loved, despite it being in London. It was had a garden that bloomed beautiful flowers, a path that had lovely trees and a massive land space behind it that was often used for horse racing. His times at the manor had been most interesting.

He was interrupted by the appearance of the coachman by his window.

“My Lord.” The coachman bowed.

“What has happened?” Edward responded.

“There’s a fault with the wheels m’lord.”.”

Faulty wheels would take quite some time, Edward thought. He did not have the patience to wait all that while; besides, Everfair Manor was not so far away anymore. He could complete the rest of his journey on a horse back. He asked that the carriage door be opened. Once he alighted, he felt the fresh air all over him and it was exhilarating.

“I will ride the rest of the way to the manor. Hand me a horse,” Edward requested.

The coachman bowed before stepping in front of the carriage and untying one of the horses. While he did this, Edward took notice of the path. Traveling had opened Edward to seeing a lot of things, but it had never changed how he felt about London. None of the places he had visited during his travels gave him the homey feeling that London did.

“My Lord.” The coachman approached with a horse. Edward took its reins and mounted it. While the coachman stepped aside and inclined his head, Edward raised the horse’s reins and moved.

As the horse moved, Edward realized that he had no firm hold on it. For some reason, the horse seemed to objective to his command. This baffled Edward, but he was certain that he would get a grip on it. After a while, dward neared a winding path, the horse began to neigh loudly, while trying to move in another direction. Edward tried to take hold, but the horse moved forward with a jerk and Edward lost his grip. This caused him to fall off.

Fortunately, Edward felt something a tad comforting where he fell. He had expected a harder impact. He lay there for a moment, with his eyes closed, assessing the damage. He kept hearing the neigh of his horse going farther and farther away, until he no longer heard it. The horse must have been far off. He groaned. The pain he felt after his fall had not been so intense, which meant that no severe injury had occurred. He sighed and opened his eyes gradually. What Edward saw when his eyes opened stunned him to utter silence. Above him, were a pair of emerald green eyes staring down at him. He was mesmerized by the eyes that he took no notice of who it was, until the person moved back with a gasp. Heavens, he had not heard anyone approaching. How had that been possible?

Edward sat up quickly and turned to stare at who it was. His lips parted when he took notice of the maid. It was the maid from the picnic. The one who had caught his attention. She was dressed in a long black ruffle dress, and a white apron was placed above it, while her hair was hidden beneath a black bonnet. In a matter of seconds, Edward imagined what her hair looked like beneath that bonnet. And what it would feel like to run his hand through them. His thoughts dug deeper, as he began to imagine himself close to her. So close that he could feel her breath on his skin, press himself against her and hover his lips over hers, until she yearned…

Edward snapped himself out of those thoughts. He was once again drawing up images to suit his fantasy. He groaned silently. These images were in accordance with his endless dreams about her. Edward tried to caution his thoughts from straying for they threatened to go farther than what his eyes saw.

She bowed her head and did a curtesy. Edward was more interested in simply looking into her eyes. He had never seen such beauty. But seeing as her head was bowed, he was forced to change his focus.

He cleared his throat. “That was quite a fall.”

“Are you hurt, my Lord?” she asked. Edward was once again hooked. Her voice. He had never heard her speak. But hearing her do so now, was miraculous. Her voice was like a melody. It was his focus on her voice that made him unable to respond on time. He caught himself, soon enough, and responded.

“Not quite. I feel no intense pain.”

“The haystack cushioned your fall. It saved you from severe harm,” she responded.

Haystack? Edward looked down then, to see where he was rested. She was right. Beneath him was a stack of hay. This was why his fall had felt soft. He smiled. “I am lucky, I suppose.”

“Yes, indeed, my Lord,” she said and finally looked up.

Edward smiled. “What is your name?”

“Pardon?” she replied. Edward had a feeling that she heard what he had asked. Perhaps her surprise made her ask that question. He was also surprised at his question. But he was curious.

“I asked what your name was.”

He watched her swallow. “Louisa Brown, my Lord.”

“Well, Miss Brown, pray tell what you are doing out here?” he asked, rising.

“I was assigned to pick flowers for the guests’ chambers, my Lord.”

A slight ache coursed through Edward when he had risen fully. This caused him to gasp. In a matter of seconds, however, Miss Brown was by his side, placing a hand on his arm, he presumed it was to help stable his balance. A surge went through his body when he felt her hand on him. He froze for a bit, and so did she. But she did not move away from him. The thrill that swept within him made his eyes dart to her lips. If he leaned in a tad, his lips would meet hers. He swallowed as he imagined what kissing her would feel like. His entire body quivered from merely imagining sharing a kiss with Miss Brown. His hand itched to reach for her, to caress her while savoring her. While Edward’s thoughts spiraled, he saw that Miss Brown’s cheeks had turned crimson and she avoided his gaze like a plague. He found that intriguing. His eyes averted to her hand that was still on his. She made no attempt to let go. That gave Edward somewhat of an edge. He nearly succumbed to his want, as he considered clasping his hands over hers and tilting towards her.

If only…

“Are you alright, my Lord?” Miss Brown asked, both brows raised. Her cheeks were still reddened. Edward held back a smile. He wondered, however, what might have triggered her to feel so flustered. Were her thoughts far off gone as his were? Did she imagine him touching her, kissing her, caressing her? Did her contact with him also cause a jitter to run through her? All this he wondered and hoped for.

“My Lord…” Miss Brown called again, she was still unable to look at him.

Edward caught himself quickly from having fantasies while Miss Brown’s hand rested on his arm. He cleared his throat as his consciousness returned. nodded. “Yes, I am.”

At his response, Miss Brown smiled sweetly. “Can you walk on your own? Do you feel pain?”

“No, not at all. I feel normal. ”

It looked like Miss Brown attempted to disagree with him, but she stopped herself and inclined her head. “Very well, my Lord. ”

Miss Brown did not let go of Edward until he stood more firmly. She let go of him gradually, taking the warmth her hand. Edward stared down at his hand and wished she had not let go. Perhaps he should have said he was not strong enough to walk? He was certain she would have held him as they made their way to the manor. And although that was not what he had in mind for her, when they touched, it was close enough.

Edward was quick to feel the absence of her touch. “You must go into the house now; you must have come a long way,” Miss Brown uttered.

He swallowed and tried to control his thoughts and this unexplainable want he had for Miss Brown. His momentary silence had surely caused her to wonder why he was not heading for the house yet or yearning to see his cousin. He did not wish to leave just yet. He wanted to speak to her some more. And in order to do that, he needed to change his focus. So, he said something to keep the conversation going.

“I shall take my time to look around some more. The manor seems to have changed a tad compared to the last time I was here.” In order to make his stillness go without notice from Miss Brown, Edward spoke up with a snort of feigned amusement. “I seem to have broken nothing, that gives me the liberty to do so.”

“But of course, you can do that as you walk to the house. It is quite a walk from here, your Lordship.”

Miss Brown Edward cocked his head to his side and looked at her. “Thank you for coming to my aid.”

Miss Brown blushed and nodded. “It was nothing, my Lord. Shall I escort you then?”

He looked towards her. She was not looking his way. He grinned. “You fear that I might miss my footing?”

“I fear that the fall had slight effects, my Lord. I only wish that you not be alone.”

The fall from the horse’s back had been quite a scare, and although Edward would never wish for that to happen to him again, he was thrilled that it gave him the opportunity to meet Miss Brown again after two months. And not just that, he was able to have a closer look at her while his fantasies replayed in his mind. He only wished he had more time to talk to her. But he knew that he did not, as she had work to do. He did not want to be the reason that she did not do what was required of her. He had to quit his fooling around.

“It would be best that you returned to gathering the flowers; I can take the rest of the walk alone,” Edward announced.

Miss Brown objected swiftly. “I think not, my Lord. At least permit that I walk with you until you near the house.”

She was bold and quite obstinate, Edward thought. Something told him she would not let him walk alone, but she also had something to do. However, if they both walked all the way to the house, they would not have to depart so soon and quite frankly, he wanted to speak a bit more to her. An idea came to him then. In order to kill two birds with one stone, all he needed to do was walk with her while she picked the flowers. He would have the opportunity to spend a bit more time with her while she got her work done.

With this thought in mind, Edward said to Miss Brown. “Perhaps we could stop, and have you pick those flowers you were assigned to pick, before heading towards the house.”

Miss Brown reacted to this suggestion with her eyes widening a bit. “That would not be necessary, my Lord.”

“I insist,” Edward said. Just then he saw before him, an empty basket. It must be the basket Miss Brown had spoken of. He stopped before it and nodded towards her. “We must begin.”

Reluctance was apparent in her motions, but Miss Brown eventually took up the basket and nodded. “As you wish, my Lord.”

“So, Miss Brown,” Edward began with a smile as she began to pick flowers as she walked, “where did this talent come from? How do you know to pick lovely flowers?”

“My mother taught me,” she responded with a steady smile. The soothing tone in which her reply came made Edward only want to watch her. There was a serenity that came with watching her pick the flowers. Perhaps it was the way she smiled when she came across them, or the way her fingers wrapped around its root, or the way she breathed out in relief when one was comfortably in the basket. Edward wondered what it would feel like to lay by the flowers and adorn her with kisses, touch her, and have her want him as he wanted her. And to bask in the flowers while doing so would be bliss. The imagery he had was further heightened when Miss Brown cast her lashes downwards in somewhat of a slow-motion; Edward guessed it was an attempt to avoid meeting his gaze, and he found it utterly seductive; although, he would wager that that was not her intent. He sucked in a breath and stuck his hands in the pockets of his breeches. What was happening to him?

“This is all I need,” she said in a low tone. Edward looked at the basket to see that it was filled with different flowers.

“It comes to you easily, yes?” he asked.

Miss Brown nodded. Her smile was full. “Just like with the herbs. It feels as though I know the flowers.”

Edward nodded. He looked ahead then and saw that they were approaching the house. Regrettably, he might have added. Beside him, Miss Brown’s smile became faint.

“You must announce your presence, my Lord. As I must return to my duties.”

Edward knew this as well. But he had no response for her. He would rather watch her go rather than say goodbye, for he hoped to have this sort of meeting with her again.

“Have a lovely day ahead, my Lord.” Miss Brown curtsied.

“As you.” Edward responded and stared ahead. While he made to go further, Miss Brown cut through a corner, stunning him. Edward stood still and watched as she disappeared in that direction. He narrowed his eyes. “We shall meet again, Miss Brown. “

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Chapter One

“Is that as tight as it can go?”

Emma Preston’s eyes fluttered closed as her mother’s cold voice filled her ears. She had never been one for hiding her emotions. She never could find her way around learning how to do so. As her lady’s maid and friend, Louisa, would so often tease her, she wore all of her heart on her sleeve.

Whatever she felt put itself on display all over her face, in her countenance. All anyone who cared to know had to do was take a good look at her. They’d see quite easily just how she truly felt. She was aware that this was one of her many problems.

It was how her mother, the Viscountess Rushmore, could always tell when Emma was displeased about things that she would rather have her preening over. Of course, this would in turn cause the viscountess to be terribly upset and Emma would only end up being scolded.

That same heart on her sleeve was the reason why society derived joy in ridiculing her. They knew that it always affected her so. And because it did, they were only too happy to keep at it.

If only she could learn to hide those emotions, to master the art of being impassive like Lady Northwich, who always left people guessing just what she was thinking or feeling. Emma believed her life would be significantly better if she could master her emotions in this way.

Alas, as much as that was one of her many problems, she certainly couldn’t dispute that it was perhaps the least of them.

In fact, in that moment, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Particularly the fact that she could not breathe. She feared that if the modiste tightened her corset any further, she would certainly collapse.

How am I expected to spend the entire night in this thing?

A heavy sigh slipped her lips and as her insides protested in pain, she instantly regretted the deed. It was a sad thing that her discomfort would only grow worse, as the question hadn’t been directed at her, but at Miss Barnes, the modiste.

As though her thoughts had been heard, her fears were made into reality. Miss Barnes pulled tighter and for a split moment, her world spun. It took all of her willpower to keep from swooning.

Her heart sighed in relief as she began to feel better. Fitting days were often dreaded, as she would once again be reminded of her failure to meet the Ton’s standards of beauty. Of course, her mother never failed to do every possible thing just to ensure that Emma looked as socially acceptable as possible.

Emma couldn’t imagine making the viscountess more upset than she already clearly was by doing something she would only describe as throwing a tantrum.

God forbid I end up on the floor. Mother would never let me hear the end of it!

Emma was beyond grateful when she heard the modiste say, “I’m afraid that is as tight as it can go, my lady. She barely has room to breathe as it is.”

Her mother scoffed in frustration, throwing the scandal sheet in her hand aside.

For a moment, silence reigned and Emma simply watched her from the mirror, aware that her mother was trying to calm herself by getting her anger under control. If there was anything she knew about her dearest mother, it was the fact that Lady Rushmore hated a scene. The only thing she hated more than that was causing one.

Emma watched her with envious eyes as she took slow, calming breaths. They were breaths Emma would give anything for.

Just then, her mother’s eyes fluttered open, piercing Emma with her gaze. She held them captive, daring her to look away.

Emma didn’t even think to try.

“You could not possibly have gained a few more pounds, could you?” her mother exclaimed. “I thought I made it clear that you were to do the exact opposite. My goodness! All that dieting the entire summer and nothing to show for it!” There was a pause as she eyed her. “You have not been stealing pastries behind my back, have you? You’d better not lie to me.”

Emma began to pick at her fingers, as she often did when she was nervous. In truth, there had been a few times when Eunice, the cook, had been gracious enough to slip her a few plates of biscuits and pies. However, she did not think that was the reason for the pounds she hadn’t succeeded in losing.

There had also been many days, weeks even, that she’d all but starved herself, surviving only on fruits and vegetables.

What had she to show for it?

Very little.

She had since made her peace with the fact that she would never become as petite and pretty as the other ladies. No matter what she did, the number of walks and rides she took, all in a bid to drop some pounds, she would always be short, fat, unflattering Emma.

She would never be like the other ladies of the Ton. So slender and frail, lovely to look at. As some gentlemen would favorably say, “A sight for sore eyes.”

How could she not remember the time when Lord Wendwick had told her that her looks would only make such eyes sorer?

It had been during her first Season, and she’d been only nineteen. Her heart had broken into pieces for she’d truly fancied him, believing him to be a kind gentleman. Alas, he couldn’t stand the sight of her.

He’d ended up getting married to Lady Jane; tall, slender, beautiful Lady Jane who walked with the grace of a gazelle and pride of a lioness. She’d since birthed him an heir. As the heavens would have it, she’d managed to maintain her perfect figure after childbirth.

Emma truly believed that if there was indeed a God, then he must have a bone to pick with her. It was the only explanation as to why he’d been so impartial to her.

Just then, her mother’s voice thundered in her ears, startling her. That was when she realized how far off in her thoughts she’d wandered.

“Did you hear me at all? Or are you going to make me wait all day for an answer?”

“No, Mother,” Emma said hastily. “Forgive me. I was simply… lost in my thoughts. I did have a few biscuits every now and then. Other than that, I abided strictly to the diet. I swear it. You must believe that I’m telling the truth. Please.”

Those identical jade green eyes stared back at her, fierce with disdain. There had been a time when it’d have broken Emma to see that look. Then, she had decided one day to accept her relationship with her mother for what it was so it wouldn’t have the power to hurt her anymore. She’d been right to do so, it appeared.

Her own mother, the one person in the world who was meant to love her without restraint or conditions, also could not stand the sight of her. Why? Because she loved society too much and cared all too gravely about their acceptance. As long as Emma failed to fit into that society’s standard of beauty, her mother would never be able to love her.

This was a hard truth with which Emma had had to make peace.

Then, there were those two Seasons in which she’d failed, disgracefully. They’d given her mother all the more reason to hold her in contempt.

Now she was in her third Season, yet she had no hopes for prospects.

The Emma who used to be hopeful that she would meet a gentleman who would sweep her off her feet, not minding the fact that she was big around the edges, perhaps even loving her all the more for it—that Emma was long gone.

To dream of such was exactly what it was, a dream. A foolhardy one at that, as it was certain to never come true.

Who in their right mind would choose her over all those other beautiful ladies? Especially as she wasn’t getting any younger and there were new debutantes every Season. She was destined to live a spinster’s life. It was only a matter of time before her parents realized and accepted that as well.

As her mother recovered from her momentary burst of anger, she turned to the modiste. “Make it a size smaller. Thankfully, the first ball of the Season is still a fortnight away. I shall make certain she has only one meal a day.” Holding Emma’s gaze once again, she added, “It will be a meal of lettuce and cabbage, of that you can be certain. I suggest you begin to prepare your mind to fast. And heaven forbid you think to make Eunice sneak you pastries. If I ever find out, I assure you, she shall be in need of a new place of employment.”

Emma’s eyes widened. It was clear that her mother knew just how to make her comply. Of course, she would never be able to live with herself if Eunice lost her position on her account. Ever so cleverly, her mother had made certain that Emma would obey her every command.

She dropped her head in a sigh. “Yes, Mother.”

The viscountess was obviously satisfied by this, for she looked away then and picked up her scandal sheets once more.

“Carry on,” she said. “There are about five more dresses to try, I believe.”

Risking another sigh, Emma turned so she would face the mirror once more. It was in its reflection that she sighted Lady Clarissa and her two best friends, Lady Jane and Lady Anne, snickering as they pointed at her and spoke in whispers. It was hard not to miss Lady Clarissa’s stunning red tresses. Emma sighed, thinking of her own dull blonde hair.

Emma didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know that they were laughing at her, as always. After all, those three had formed a habit of making her life more difficult than it already was with their constant ridicule.

Pay them no heed, Emma. They’re simply unkind souls, the voice inside her head whispered.

“It’s easier said than done,” she whispered in response.

If only she could never again be affected by their words and actions simply because she made the decision not to, her life would be so much better. Alas, beggars weren’t in the streets riding horses for the sole reason that those horses weren’t wishes.

As Emma tried on the third dress that was the same dreary shade of ivory—with the most minimal trimmings, too—she looked herself over in the mirror.

Green orbs stared back at her. Dull blonde tresses framed the sides of her face. Her bosom protruded from her chest as though announcing its presence. Arms that could be mistaken for dough rolls and a waistline that was almost as large as the mirror stood out.

The only thing that was beautiful about her as far as society was concerned was her porcelain skin, naturally crimson lips, and those jade eyes her mother had blessed her with. Her cheeks were deemed too full. Her nose, too big.

For a long time, it had been almost impossible to not see herself through the eyes of others. To not look upon her image with disdain and revulsion.

It had taken some time before she’d realized that she needed to be kind to herself. That there had to be, at the very least, more than one person who would look at her and smile. Who would tell her how lovely she looked even in the dull ivory shade that barely made her noticeable.

Her mother would always say that the less attention she drew to herself, the better. The more frills on her dress, the bigger she appeared. It was the reason why her dresses remained boring. Not that Emma minded. She rather liked being a wallflower.

Nevertheless, she had needed to learn how to love herself despite that. Emma had decided only a summer ago to be that person. The one who would always look at her with love and adoration. She owed herself that much. She deserved that much.

The journey had not been smooth. There were days when it still felt impossible, but she refused to give up. To Emma, it was all that mattered.

An hour and half later, she slipped back into the dress in which she’d come in. It was like being out in the sun after days of being locked in a dark cell.

As they rode back home in their carriage, she was grateful for the silence. It afforded her the chance to nurse in silence the bruising she felt in her ribs and to fill her lungs with as much air as she could.

One thought refused to leave her mind though.

The thought that at least one more time, she should let herself hope.

She could not help wondering, Could I really?

Chapter Two

“Careful, my lord.”

“Thank you, Dunham,” Nathaniel Stapleton said to the footman as he dropped from his carriage. When he felt the solid ground beneath his feet, he took his time to adjust his coat. Then, hat on head, he looked up to behold Fairwood’s manor.

He had spent the entire time from when he received the letter of invitation to that very moment preparing himself to attend this ball. For him, it meant re-entering society after two years of being absent from the Ton.

If it was up to him, he had every intention of staying away from ballrooms for the next decade at the very least. The time away had been wonderfully peaceful. He had had less to worry about where the gossip mill was concerned.

All that had filled his days in the time away was doing right by his father, filling the shoes that his late brother had left behind, and making certain the family estate continued to thrive, not merely stay afloat.

So far, even if he said so himself, he had managed to achieve success in all of those endeavors—except filling his brother’s shoes.

There could only ever be one Benjamin Stapleton. His brother had been one of a kind, and Nathaniel knew better than to pressure himself to measure up. He simply strove to do what he could so that the void would not be so glaring. He wondered if Benjamin would approve of all he’d done so far.

I hope so.

Adjusting his coat once more, he began to walk towards the doors. All around him, other guests arriving, assuring him that he was not as late as he’d thought he would be.

He was thankful for the shroud of darkness and the hat. Although, he was aware that the mystery they afforded him would soon be gone. There would be no hiding the moment he stepped into the ballroom that would no doubt be filled with bright lights, if that chandelier in the Fairwood’s grand hall still remained. He had no doubt that it did.

Nonetheless, he supposed it was bound to happen at some time. He had braced himself for the murmurs, whispers, and those who would be brazen enough to walk up to him and greet him in person.

Now that he was the Marquess of Sandford, sole heir to the Dukedom of Warneford, instead of merely a spare second son, there were many people who wanted to be in his good graces.

People who had never bothered to hide how much they looked down upon him simply because he had been born second. Alas, it was the way of society, was it not? People treated you according to your social status. It was what determined your level of importance and just how much respect you should be accorded.

He scoffed as he finally reached the door.

How could anyone expect him to care for society and its ways? Everything about the current social stratification was ridiculous.

Don’t even get me started on all those rules of etiquette, propriety, and whatnot.

Nathaniel was of the opinion that the people who’d sat down to make them must have been going through many life problems. It was the only explanation he could accept.

“Lord Stapleton, Marquess of Sandford,” he said to the butler.

Mr. Laude, who was already smiling, dipped in a bow. “I bid you welcome, my lord. If you would follow me.”

He nodded, urging the butler to lead the way. He followed as soon as Mr. Laude started to walk. The closer they grew to the ballroom, the deeper the sinking feeling in his stomach grew.

I wouldn’t be here if not for Mother.

She was a dear friend of the dowager countess. As she and his father were away on a long trip, Nathaniel was expected to attend the ball on her behalf. She wouldn’t have had it any other way, Nathaniel knew this.

He supposed it helped that Lady Fairwood was one of the few people in society who delighted him. Unlike the many others, she very much enjoyed laughing in the face of what was proper and what was not.

It was for this reason that he admired her very much.

I will bear this night for her sake and for Mother’s.

Finally, they reached the ballroom. Noise from loud chatter filled his ears. He was not surprised to see the grand hall filled with almost all of society in their finest. After all, it was Lady Fairwood’s ball.

“I hope you enjoy your evening, Lord Sandford,” Mr. Laude said as he bowed again.

Nathaniel nodded at him, a small smile on his face. “I doubt I will. Thank you, nonetheless.”

He left the young servant who seemed to have been taken aback by his response and stepped into the ballroom.

The noise flooded his ears at once, drowning out his own thoughts. As he started to move through the crowd, he willed himself to grow accustomed to it all once again.

Two Seasons was indeed a long time to have been away. More than enough time to forget how loud these things could be, having grown accustomed to the silence of solitude.

Thankfully, as he walked deeper into the ballroom, searching for the perfect spot, he realized that they didn’t seem so loud anymore. He could finally hear himself.

It was in that moment that he became aware of the looks he’d expected. They were, of course, accompanied by loud whispers and pointing fingers.

Just as he’d predicted.

It would be no surprise if his name reappeared on all the scandal sheets on the morrow. He could just see what the headline would read.

New heir to the Dukedom of W—, Lord S— sighted at the Fairwood’s ball.

They would go ahead to list every item of clothing he had worn, what his demeanor had seemed like, the people with whom he shared conversations, and most particularly, the ladies who appeared to have caught his attention.

Of course, there would be speculation surrounding his possible reason for re-entering society. He had no doubt they would end up surmising that he was back to join the marriage mart, as he could already hear them whisperings.

It was to be expected, was it not? Now that he was marquess, everyone would believe the next thing to do would be to take a wife and sire an heir, securing the dukedom in his family for another generation.

He could already see the calculating gazes of the mothers. He’d be blind to miss the inviting looks of the ladies.

Nathaniel scoffed.

It is indeed precisely as I’d thought.

Now that he held a higher social standing, they were all suddenly interested in him.

He wished for the attention as much as he wished to take a wife that Season. It was worthy of note that he had no intention of doing the latter. Nonetheless, there was nothing he could do to stop their interest.

The only thing he had control over was how he chose to react. He easily reached his decision; he would continue to ignore the attention until the end of the Season.

He sighed as he finally found that perfect spot.

Yes, indeed. The best thing he could do was ignore them.

Until then, I shall count the hours until this dreary Season’s end.

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Chapter 1

“Ouch!”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Lady Arabella,” Susan whimpered as if the pin had struck her instead.

“I think you might be turning me into a pincushion,” Arabella rubbed her shoulder where the pin had stuck her. Lady Arabella Fletcher tugged at the baby blue sleeve of her ball gown to rub the offending spot.

“Oh, no, I think you’re bleeding. Hold this down like that,” Susan ordered, tugging Arabella’s sleeve out of the way while she reached for a handkerchief to dab the blood.

Arabella held the sleeve out of the way while Susan tended to the wound. She thought about poking fun at the Lady’s maid for being so bossy, but she was too busy keeping the drop of blood from touching the fabric to bother.

Susan dabbed at the small droplet before setting the sleeve back in its place.

“There,” she said, smoothing out any wrinkles the shift in fabric might have produced.

It was a beautiful dress that gave off an iridescent shimmer as one walked throughout the room. It was a favorite of Arabella’s mother, the Countess of Edenwood. Lady Edenwood said it matched Arabella’s eyes perfectly.

Yet Arabella found it a pain—and more than just in the physical realm. She was continually fighting wrinkles in its delicate fabric as well as snags in the modest train.

Though the dress was from last season, Lady Edenwood had insisted it be brought out again and adjusted to fit the current trends. Arabella would have rather seen it finding a final resting place in her bedroom hearth.

“I think I should just wear the green one. I’m going to be poking myself all night. Perhaps the next ball,” Arabella suggested.

“You know her Ladyship especially told me to lay this one out for you,” Susan scolded in a motherly tone. “She would be furious if you came down in another, especially that green one. She thinks it makes you look sickly.”

“Well, then, perhaps I shouldn’t go at all since it clearly isn’t ready.”

Susan actually laughed out loud at the idea.

“I must admit that I was fairly impressed at how skilled you have been thus far at avoiding social engagement, but I don’t think her Ladyship will be letting you weasel your way out of tonight’s ball.”

“But all the pins, Susan,” Arabella spoke in a fictitious plea, “I am sure to return home in a spotted dress.”

“Well, there wouldn’t have been so many pins if you hadn’t carted me off to the bookstore three times this week alone. How’s a maid supposed to get any work done?”

Arabella smiled at the accusations thrown her way. Susan was nearly twice Arabella’s age and came from a vastly different background. Still, she was the closest Arabella had to a best friend.

“It’s not like I enjoy taking you from your work to chaperone me. It’s foolish, really, if you ask me. What could possibly happen if I went to a store on my own? And in my defense,” Arabella added hastily, “we only went to three different stores because the book I wanted was sold out at the first two.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? I bet you already finished that one too, and tomorrow morning you’re going to be carting me off for another one. You know, I once heard a gentleman say that women who read too much made bad wives.”

“And what gentleman said that? Whoever it is, I will be sure to avoid him.”

“I fear most men feel that way, my dear,” Susan spoke with a heavy sigh.

“Well, then, I suppose I am doomed. Why even bother going? Help me out of this gown. I would much rather stay home and read anyway,” Arabella said sarcastically.

She motioned to the bed behind her, where her current read was safely tucked beneath her pillow. Arabella knew Susan wasn’t really averse to women reading, she only feared displeasing the mistress of the house.

Lady Edenwood was not fond of her daughter’s vivacious appetite for books and liked to share her opinions on the matter often with Arabella. Nor did she like that Arabella’s current selections came from the lending libraries’ controversial Gothic romance section.

“You won’t be getting out of this ball that way either, I’m afraid,” Susan responded.

She tugged lovingly on one of the gold locks that cascaded down Arabella’s hairstyle and rested on her shoulder. Arabella did her best to screw her face up in pain as if it really hurt.

“I hate these stupid things,” she huffed after a few moments of silence. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I am sure I am the only Lady in all of society who would rather be at home with a book by the fire then spinning and twirling on a dance floor with hundreds of eyes staring at you.”

“You must go because you must find a husband,” Susan said in an exasperated tone. “As much as I am sure you wish it, you cannot marry the characters in those pages,” Susan jerked her head back toward Arabella’s bed. “And to find a husband, you must peruse the meat market. All you need to do is find the diamond amongst the thrones…or is it rose in the rough…I can’t remember,” Susan said with a giggle and wave of her hand.

“And what if I do not want a husband? Why can’t I be like a man? They are free to come and go as they please, say what they wish, and do whatever they want. Gentlemen don’t need Lady’s maids accompanying them on outings, or mothers to push them towards matches.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that last one. Even gentleman have the pressure of matrimony.”

Arabella opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by her mother’s sweet floating voice as she entered the room. Lady Edenwood always seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere or do something. Often, the beginnings or endings of conversations were cut off simply because she was out of the room.

“Look, Arabella! It finally came today. I was getting quite worried, but it was worth the wait, wouldn’t you say?” Lady Edenwood cooed as she came into the room and held out the mask in front of her.

It was in matching blue silk with a gem lace overlay. On the right-hand side was a large white feather that curled at the top. It looked pretty ridiculous to Arabella.

“Go ahead and have Susan put it on now. It’s nearly time to go. It will be nice to see the finished look as well.”

Arabella waited as Susan wove the ribbons through the ringlets of her golden hair and tied it into place. It was surprisingly light and covered just over her eyes and the top of her nose.

“I think if you add some extra feathers to her hair, it will be just right,” Lady Edenwood said after studying her daughter for a few moments.

“I’ve already been jabbed all over with pins. Now must I also be feathered?”

“We want you to stand out, dear,” Lady Edenwood reprimanded as Susan got to work with the feathers.

“I don’t,” Arabella grumbled under her breath.

“And don’t think you can just sit in a corner reading tonight,” Lady Edenwood went on as she stole a glance of herself in the mirror. “If I have to, I will search you for novels before we leave. You are not bringing a book at all, nor are you allowed to search the Duke of Chiswick’s library while we are there. I want you out and about, preferably on the dance floor, for most of the night.”

“Oh, why bother, Mother? I’m sure I already know all the gentlemen that will be present tonight, and I can assure you that I will never fall in love with a single one of them.”

“You are nearly twenty years old and already halfway through your third season. Your father might have been patient with you in the past while you endeavored to find romantic attachments, but that time is quickly passing. You need a husband,” Lady Edenwood said firmly.

“Perhaps I am looking forward to the idea of spinsterhood,” Arabella countered. “I wouldn’t have to be shown around like a prize horse, nor would I be shackled to the whims and wishes of a man. I could do whatever I want.”

“Whatever you want?” Lady Edenwood repeated with a scoff. “My dear, your father may give you free-range, but what will happen when he has passed and his estate goes on to your cousin? Do you really think Fredric will be charitable enough to support you to the comforts and standards you have grown accustomed to? I can promise you now that he won’t. Your only chance for a secure future is within the bonds of matrimony.”

Arabella scrunched her nose up as the image of her cousin Fredric Fletcher came to mind. Son to Lord Edenwood’s younger brother, he anticipated his time as Earl just as a pig licked its chops before the slop was poured into the pen.

“Don’t wrinkle your nose like that, or it will stick that way,” Lady Edenwood scolded. “And I mean it, Arabella. You need to start seriously considering what your future will look like if you choose to stay reclusive at these social events. Better to pick a man yourself than wait until only the bottom of the barrel is left.”

Arabella heard the stink of bitterness in her mother’s tone and wondered if she was thinking of her own marriage. Arabella knew that her grandparents had arranged their union. Lord and Lady Edenwood had never laid eyes on each other until the day their engagement was announced. Though the arrangement had been made to benefit both families, it had brought together two people who couldn’t have been more polar opposite from one another.

Lady Edenwood was an outgoing and sociable person where her husband preferred to stay in the country shut up in his office. Where Lady Edenwood was enchanting, entertaining, and at times quite fierce in her opinions, the Earl was meek, pleasing, and short of words.

Arabella didn’t think her parents disliked each other, but they certainly didn’t love each other. It was that situation that Arabella feared the most. Not fierce hatred, but cool indifference she watched pass between her parents every day and knew would continue for the rest of their lives.

I’d prefer to be a spinster than suffer that kind of marriage!

Chapter 2

Edwin St. Clair, the Marquess of Haleshire, had barely walked through the front door of his father’s London townhouse when he was instructed to wait outside the Duke’s office doors.

He was kicking himself for instructing the carriage to take him to his family’s townhome instead of the residence he had let out for the remainder of the season two streets over. Edwin had made the decision to take up his own residence rather last minute and had guessed that with the short notice, nothing would have been ready for him there.

At least his father’s home would boast fresh baked goods, hot tea, and a comfortable bed already waiting for him to rest his weary bones in.

Edwin had traveled both day and night for the past three days since arriving at the Liverpool docks. His mother had written to him and expressed the need for his presence quite urgently or else forfeit the terms of the arrangement made between himself and his father, the Duke of Adenshire.

Still, he never expected that he would be forced to see his father quite so suddenly. He had at least hoped to change his jacket and perhaps brush off some of the traveling dust from his black thigh-high boots.

“You may enter,” a voice finally called from within the office.

Edwin threw open the two oak doors, hoping a grand entrance might detract from his current state of bedraggled dress.

“Dear Lord, you look a fright,” his father announced, despite Edwin’s efforts.

“I didn’t have time to refresh myself. I was under the impression that this was an urgent meeting,” Edwin explained to his father.

Before another word could be said, the office doors flew open for the second time, this time with squeals of delight from the Duchess of Adenshire.

“Oh, my Edwin,” she said, reaching out her hands and coming to him in a rustling of her golden skirts.

Edwin easily towered over his mother. After a failed attempt at wrapping her arms around his neck, she settled for wrapping them around his waist with a little giggle.

“I can’t believe how much you have changed in such a short time,” she said as she stood back to examine her son.

Tears glistened at the Duchess’s eyes as she touched the stubble that was growing along his square chin.

“Three years is not a short time,” Edwin responded with a chuckle.

“Three and a half years, to be precise,” his father countered.

He looked over to his father. It was hard to see the change in oneself as it was a gradual thing, but by being away from the Duke for such an extended time, it had left Edwin almost shocked when they first laid eyes on each other. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was his late grandfather sitting in the Duke’s high back desk chair.

There were a great many similarities between the Duke and Edwin. Both had the same tall, broad-shouldered stature that made them intimidating to just about everyone. They also shared the same square jawline with a perfect dimple in the center.

Unlike his father, who once had blond hair that had grayed in his time away, he shared his mother’s rich chocolate brown color with matching coffee eyes. His mother had always called them kind eyes, and perhaps on her face they were, but for him, most just found his intense stare a bit unnerving.

“Our original agreement, if you remember,” the Duke continued from behind his desk, “was three years to see the world, and then you would return home and do your part for the family.”

“Yes, I remember, Father,” Edwin did his best to hide his disdain for the matter.

“Do you?” the Duke asked as he raised a gray brow. “Because I believe we agreed that if you did not return in three years, you would forfeit your current living allowance. Yet you didn’t seem in any hurry to return home to us.”

“Your Grace, it is not always easy to travel such long distances,” the Duchess interjected in hopes of mollifying the tension between the two men. “Sometimes you must take into consideration ships and winds and things of that nature,” she continued.

Edwin smiled down at his mother and her feeble attempt to defend him though she seemed to have little knowledge on the matter.

“I’m sure it was only these limitations that kept our son away past his time.”

“Really?” the Duke scoffed. “Last, I heard you were taking up residence in Paris. Were the wind and waves far too dangerous to cross the channel in a timely manner?”

“Actually, I left Paris last fall. I spent the winter in Dublin. But you are right, Father, I wasn’t held up by natural determents. I simply had no wish to return as of yet. If Mother had not written to me and informed me that you were going to make good on your threats, I might not have come at all.”

Edwin always considered honesty to be the best policy. Even if a man expressed an opinion he disagreed with, at least it was the truth. There was nothing worse in his mind than a man who could not be trusted at his word.

He watched the unspoken conversation between his mother and father. She held her delicate little chin just a bit higher, daring her husband to reprimand her actions. He only held her gaze for a brief moment before relaxing back with a heavy exhale.

“Well, she was right. I had every intention of lessening your funding, maybe even removing it altogether. If that is what it takes for you to come to your senses, then I will do it.”

“Come to my senses?” Edwin scoffed.

“Yes. You are the son of a Duke and the future of this family. You have never taken your responsibility seriously. You’re twenty-seven years old, and still, you are unmarried. Most gentlemen of your age with lesser titles are already settled with a child.”

“Perhaps here, Father, but there is a whole world outside of this small country.” Edwin opened his arms wide to make his point.

“When I am gone, your mother and brother will only have you to secure their futures. It is time you started to take on some of the responsibilities of the Dukedom.”

“Fine. I am happy to take on some more responsibilities. I can take over the financial running of the estate. I can do that from anywhere.”

“You know what I mean,” the Duke said in an exasperated voice. “Right now, your sole responsibility is to secure our future posterity.”

Edwin let out an exasperated huff. Turning, he found the decanter of brandy and poured himself a glass. Walking across the long room, he relaxed into one of the couches near the book-shelved covered walls.

Edwin half expected his mother to reprimand him for getting dust on the furniture. When she didn’t, he settled further back into the cushion, relishing in the feeling of sitting without being jolted about in a carriage.

To be honest, his body was aching from being so long in the tight confines of a carriage. His build didn’t afford much comfort when riding in a closed coach. He much preferred his open-aired phaeton. It was not only much more freeing, but also a great deal faster than the carriage he had arrived in. Unfortunately, when one was in a hurry, they couldn’t take the time to consider comfort.

The Duke stood up, placing both his hands atop his desk. He glared down at his eldest son. Edwin guessed that he hoped the intensity of his blue gaze would impress upon him the urgency of the current situation.

Instead, Edwin took slow sips from his brandy, enjoying the warmth that traveled through him. Slowly he felt his body relax a bit more and with it came the intense sense of exhaustion.

“I am sure our son understands both the blessings and responsibilities that come with his lot in life,” the Duchess attempted to defuse the situation again. “He is here now. There is no longer a need for threats or tongue lashings, your Grace.”

“I’m not entirely sure you are right,” the Duke retorted. “I don’t think the boy has any intention to fulfill his end of the bargain.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Edwin called out from across the room.

He always hated it when his parents discussed him like he wasn’t there. In his youth, it had been over letters sent home from school explaining how he preferred pranks over completing his schoolwork. As a young pup first out in society, it had been over the dangers of his phaeton and his complete lack of interest in marriage.

“The bargain was you come home and find a wife. By my estimation, you have a little more than half the season left to fulfill your end.”

“And if I don’t?” Edwin asked. He set his drained glass on the table next to the couch with a loud clink to reiterate his irritation at this whole conversation. He wasn’t some child that his father could order around. Yes, he could withhold the monthly income he received, but even that was only a temporary obstacle.

It was also a risky move in regard to social gossip. If the Duke were to make good on his threats, the whole Ton was sure to find out. It would reflect poorly on the whole family, something he was sure not even his father would be willing to risk.

Edwin was going to call his bluff here now and with any luck, he could be back on the road and heading toward the next adventure in a week’s time.

“Well,” the Duke responded with a smug smile on his face. “I heard you rented out the blue townhouse on Garden Row.”

“Yes, what of it?”

“How will you pay for it when I contact my solicitor and inform him to withhold all your income until the day you are Duke yourself.”

“You would leave your own son a vagabond on the streets of London?” Edwin asked.

His heart sank a little as he took in his father’s facial expression. The Duke was determined. He would go through with this threat; societal gossip be damned.

“No,” the Duke said as he menacingly intertwined his fingers. “You will be here, at my home, at my whim and pleasure, until the day I die. And, my boy, let me warn you, I am a very healthy man.”

“Don’t say such things,” the Duchess shot at her husband with a gasp. “Never joke about your health. It isn’t lucky.”

Both son and father automatically rolled their eyes at the mention of luck. The Duchess of Adenshire was a believer of just about anything pertaining to superstition. In Edwin’s youth, they had often joked that she might have been tried as a witch in another life, as she was so obsessed with the nonsense.

The Duke’s eyes met his son, and they both relaxed some of the tension that had built over the discussion. Leave it to the Duchess to find a way to make peace between the two of them, even if she hadn’t intended to at that particular moment.

“Look, I don’t want to force my hand on this matter, but I feel as if you have left me no choice,” the Duke said in a softer tone. “We must–”

“Ensure the line, yes, I know,” Edwin finished for his father.

“Fine, then we are in agreement. Find a Lady by the season’s end, and all this nasty business can be done with,” the Duke stated as he relaxed back into his chair.

“Oh, a wife isn’t all that bad. I rather think I made your father a better person than he was before me,” the Duchess cooed.

“You are completely right, my dear.”

“All right, I said I would do it. You two can stop pressuring me now. Tomorrow I will make it known I am in town…”

“Actually,” the Duchess interrupted, “the Duke and Duchess of Chiswick are holding a masquerade ball tonight. I was visiting with the Duchess just before I came in here. She already knows you’re in town and fully expects you to attend tonight.”

“Tonight?” Edwin repeated.

He looked down at the watch he kept in his vest pocket. It was nearly sunset outside the window, and he only had a few hours between now and the start of a private ball.

He would have much preferred to clean himself up, have an early dinner, and retire for the evening. Though the brandy had soothed some of his internal aches, he was still exhausted and in need of some proper rest.

“She would be very disappointed if you weren’t there,” the Duchess persisted.

“Even if I have been traveling day and night three days straight? Come now, I don’t think Cousin Mary is quite that unreasonable. I am sure she will understand and accept my apology for not attending tonight.”

“You have been gone for far too long if you actually believe that to be true,” the Duke scoffed. “This masquerade will be one of the pivotal events of the season. There will be more prospects attending tonight’s ball than any other event for the rest of the season, I would wager. Not to mention, I won’t be attending, and your mother will need someone to accompany her to the ball.”

“What about Andrew?”

“He is still in the country,” the Duchess explained. “We expect him in a few weeks.”

Edwin let out a low grumble. The last thing he wanted to do the day he returned home after a long, extended trip was to socialize with simpering Ladies and their overbearing mothers at a ball.

“I suppose I can see what is presentable from my trunk. The Garden Rowhouse isn’t ready just yet. Probably tomorrow, I would guess.”

“So take your own room,” the Duchess responded. “We will send up some hot water and shaving supplies. You certainly can’t go looking like that,” she touched his face lovingly again. “If I remember correctly, an unshaven face is bad luck when looking for love,” she finished.

Edwin chuckled. Though he had relished every minute he was away from home, he couldn’t help but realize how much he had missed his mother and her quirky ways.

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I am not looking for love. Lucky for me, I only need a wife and an heir. Love need not have anything to do with it.”

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