PROLOGUE
“Psyche, of all mortals, is too beautiful to belong to earth.”
Lucius Apuleius,Metamorphoses
SUMMER 1810, LONDON
The sun was low over the rooftops, igniting a glorious spread of oranges and pinks, while above the stars twinkled in the darkening firmament as if to mirror the joy in his heart.
Simon was home.
He walked across the back lawn to where he would find his lovely Psyche awaiting his arrival.
More than eighty years ago, the Aldritch brothers had built two freestanding townhouses side by side, after they had made their fortunes, sold off their businesses, and invested in propertyto join the gentry as newly minted gentlemen of leisure. And one of their first actions was to build monuments to their splendid success. The result had been two matching buildings of great beauty, with colonnades, ornate porticos, and statuary upon the roofs, all within verdant gardens. Yet it was the walled garden shared by the two homes which was the true jewel of their commission.
Forty years later, when Simon’s father, Lord Blackwood, had purchased one of the properties, it had been with the stipulation that the garden would continue to be shared by the owners of each household, which some astute legal work had ensured. Lord Blackwood had gladly paid a small fortune for such a magnificent testament to the architectural arts, agreeing to the hidden garden between the connected properties.
The baron had come to regret the agreement. Much to his chagrin, in 1792, when Simon had been a babe toddling in the nursery, the adjoining property had been sold off to a common tradesperson. Not just any tradesperson—heaven forfend—a tradeswoman!
Simon knew the year of this terrible event because his father would speak of it often, lamenting the decline of the neighborhood. Personally, Simon thought that Eleanor Bigsby was beyond compare. The widow had moved to London after her husband died and had purchased a struggling artificial stone business. She had not wasted any time, building it into the preeminent stone manufacturer in England. Weather-resistant neoclassical statues, architectural decorations, and garden ornaments of great artistry had raised the enterprise to new heights under her leadership, with a client list boasting both King George III and the Prince of Wales. She held the only Royal Warrant for such a business.
Simon picked up his pace when he saw the archway leading to the secluded domain.
In his estimation, Eleanor Bigsby’s greatest accomplishment was not her empire of moulded stone, but rather the twin daughters she had raised as a lone parent while conquering the high commerce of London.
He entered the garden, pausing to take in the exceptional beauty of the towering columns and lush vegetation that encircled the magnificent stone urn filled with a profusion of flowers. Along the border of the hidden area were silent sentinels—Roman gods and goddesses watched on as Simon rushed forward to greet the ravishing creature of grace seated on the bench positioned below the urn.
“Madeline!”
Her head rose, and her face lit with joy as she leapt to her feet. “Simon!”
They rushed into each other’s arms, and Simon took in her beloved features. Madeline Bigsby had a delicate, heart-shaped face, a slender upturned nose, enormous eyes of lustrous amber, and arching eyebrows of honey brown to match her silky hair. She was dressed for dinner, ravishing in her silk evening gown, and he had dreamed of her often in his bed at Oxford.
More than dreamed, if he were honest.
He lowered his head on impulse to brush his lips over hers in a moment of heady passion, before composing himself. Just a year apart in age, they had been meeting in the hidden spot for as long as he could remember. Growing up next door to her made returning to London an event to look forward to. He thanked his good fortune that his father disdained the country and had rarely traveled there since his epic quarrel with Simon’s older brother Peter, who had died many years ago. Lord and Lady Blackwood preferred the comforts London offered to rusticating, so he required his stewards come to London to meet him. Simon had no complaints because it had meant more time spent with Madeline.
“You are taller,” she exclaimed in her sweet voice, thrilling him to his very toes. It was wonderful to be home after months of letters. To hold her in his arms and breathe in the scent of orange blossoms, which he liked to imagine her bathing in. Simon grunted as he pictured such an event. Madeline was a young lady, so she favored modest bodices, not least because of the men she worked alongside, but her creamy skin … He believed he would be unmanned when he eventually saw her naked.
“I put on muscle since I was last home.”
Madeline’s eyes dropped to his shoulders in shy appreciation as she squeezed his biceps. “I can tell,” she whispered.
Simon shook his head to clear his thoughts, stepping back so they might sit. He could not continue to be a gentleman unless he unhanded her.
“How was your day?”
Madeline sighed heavily, twisting her fingers in her lap. “I wish Henrietta was interested in working with me at Bigsby’s. She has gone off to be Uncle Reginald’s private secretary, so it is official. I am to run Bigsby’s when Mama retires while Henrietta plays hostess to the political elite.”
“You will be excellent in any role you choose,” Simon replied. It was true. Madeline was a gifted young lady of great intelligence.
“If I were choosing, I would continue to sculpt new pieces and work with the craftsmen! I have no wish to contend with the business dealings. Mama is imposing, but even she has to address the prejudices of small-minded men who think a woman’s place is at home. I will learn to manage them as she does, I suppose … but it is not what I enjoy. I enjoy working with the craftsmen.”
Mrs. Bigsby, indeed, cut an imposing figure—six feet tall with a firm jaw and determined nature. The thought of Madeline,who was far more dainty at five feet two inches, filling her mother’s shoes in negotiations with clients and vendors was difficult to picture, but he knew she would find a way to do it if she willed it so.
“Then I shall learn the business dealings. When we wed!” Simon declared it in a cheery tone and, for a moment, they both considered the perfection of working side by side in the future as man and wife.
Eventually, the content expression on Madeline’s face faded as reality set in. “Lord Blackwood will never allow it. One of his spares engaging in trade?”
