ChapterOne
William Stanton, heir to the Earl of Harrington, guffawed at his cousin Percy’s latest tale of late-night antics. The group of young men occupied the corner of William’s first ball. At nine-and-ten, just home from his second year at Oxford, he was an unusual sight at formal events. He’d hoped to have until he reached his majority before giving in to the formalities of society.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a few heads turning toward them at the loud laugh. Their small group was drawing attention from the row of seated matrons against the ballroom wall. Still chuckling, he turned his head and froze, gaping.
Standing alone, an iceberg with the sea of ball-goers flowing around her, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. A cliché perhaps, but undeniable. Unlike the married ladies in chairs, who leaned toward each other to gossip, or the twittering nests of girls new to the marriage mart, this creature was solitary and serene. Her plum-colored ballgown stated that she was married, but she appeared closer to his age than that of those lining the room. The honey curls pinned high on her head gleamed with youthful lustre, unlike the gray streaking most of the mamas’ heads.
She was also staring back at him, her expression unreadable.
His mouth was still open from the laughter he had stopped mid-breath, and he snapped it closed, straightening an inch and squaring his shoulders. He pivoted to face her fully, even as one of the other young men in the group nudged him.
She arched a brow before breaking eye contact and turning to peruse the dance floor.
Percy’s friend, whom he had met an hour ago, asked, “Who’s the lady? Do you know her?”
“Not yet. Who d’you think could introduce me?”
“I’ve no idea. Our host, I suppose.”
He had just been introduced to the earl whose home they occupied that evening, so he could not waltz up and ask about a woman who could be a duchess for all he knew. Disheartened, William turned back to the group of young, mostly-idle aristocrats in his cousin’s set. Balls held no appeal to him. He’d rather be out with his childhood friends than making small talk with strangers, and he was years away from hunting for a wife at such events.
He had planned only to gain introductions to a few members of the House of Lords who Percy knew, lingering just long enough to do his duty. Thanks to his father’s irresponsibleness, he was trailing his cousin around, learning the politics of an earldom for the remaining weeks of the Parliamentary Session instead of the usual post-matriculation activities like a Grand Tour or frequenting gaming hells like most young aristocratic men. He was lucky his mother had salvaged enough funds to get him through the next year to graduate Oxford.
At some point, he would need to think of marriage, if for no other reason than to replenish the family coffers. But after a mere hour at one ball, he’d become bored with the vapid misses in pastel. They simpered and primped, opening and closing their fans and peeking at him in some mating ritual he neither cared about nor understood. Until he’d spied this paragon of poise.
The goddess who stood apart did not flutter or flit, nor did she whisper to a companion behind a fan. Composed and confident in her solitude, she held herself apart and observed. What must she make of the yapping pile of earls-in-the-making he lingered with? Did she see them the way he viewed the girls his age?
Only she could answer that question. He broke away from his circle and strode through the crowded room toward where he’d last seen her, determined to forego propriety and introduce himself.
Spying a flash of purple skirts disappear around a tall couple who’d just arrived, he maneuvered in that direction. A simpering miss, apparently feeling quite daring or the effects of the champagne, stepped into his path and fanned herself like it was an Olympic sport.
He sidestepped. She matched it. Sighing, he bowed. “I beg your pardon, miss. I was looking for a friend, if you’ll excuse me.”
Turning, he found a different path to the ballroom entrance and peered at the stairs where the ladies’ retiring room lay, then at the front hall and door. The lady had vanished. He hadn’t seen her speak to anyone, and he could not even ask someone her name.
Gritting his teeth, he returned to Percy to learn his duties for the future. He’d ask his cousin about her tomorrow, or his friend South would have ideas. South was always creative at circumventing society’s rules.
* * * *
William woke early the next morning, as was his routine. Throwing clothes on without a cravat or jacket, he made his way to the library to meet with his mother for an hour before breakfast. Entering just after him, hair a shade lighter than his due to gray streaking the gold, she stood almost as tall as him. They shared the same long, lean build and not-easily-ruffled demeanor, unlike his sister, Emily, who was younger by three years and took after her father in creativity and temper.
William contemplated his mystery woman’s age. It was likely midway between Emily’s and his mother’s, but just as his mother did not look her age, mystery woman’s appearance left a wide margin for error.
His mother grabbed some documents from her desk and moved to the seating area, the rust cushions and curtains offset by touches of yellow, a thick patterned rug with similar colors beneath them.
“Mama, what do we need to accomplish today?”
“Who did you and Percy meet last night at the ball and the club?”
He and his cousin had headed to White’s after the ball, to discuss the bills currently under review in the House of Lords. An off-night for Parliament was most often used for squiring wives, sisters, or daughters to a ball—or looking for a wife depending on one’s situation—followed by political machinations at White’s, one of several private men’s clubs favored by Peers of the Realm.
William ran through the members he had spoken to, and the topics covered.
When he had arrived home last week from university for the summer break, he’d been looking forward to continuing to learn the earldom bit by bit and spending evenings with his closest friends. Instead, his mother had pulled him into the library, brackets around her mouth indicating her worry. “William, I have had to step in and keep an eye on things. Funds are tight. We have enough to get you through university, but I need your help in maintaining the business of the earldom, please.”
His father’s over-indulgence in drink had been apparent to everyone for a long time, but he had not realized it had become that out of control. In the blink of an eye, his summer plans were forgotten. His concern was for his mother and family, as well as the dozens of servants and tenants who relied on the earldom for rent and food. “Mama, you know if you need me here, I’ll stay. I can finish Oxford later, or read the books in my own time.”
She hugged him. “I know you would, my son, but I do not want that for you. And there is a limited amount any of us can do with your father still the earl.”
