Chapter One
London, May 11, 1812
LadyElizabethMontclairdidnot set out to witness a murder.
In truth, she had set out to catch a glimpse of Mr. Henry Audley—the most devastatingly handsome young Member of Parliament in all of Westminster. That the evening would end in bloodshed and catastrophe was rather vexing, indeed.
At present, however, she was thinking only of how fetching her hair looked today—the one feature Henry Audley had ever noticed about her. She had every intention of making the most of it if she managed to see him today.
She was standing in the Ladies’ Gallery of the House of Lords, idly fanning herself and suppressing a giggle, while her dearest friend, Lady Charlotte Wrexham, attempted to convince her that politics were of actual interest.
“Of course they are, Lizzy,” Charlotte insisted, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “There is nothing so thrilling as a lively debate between gentlemen of good breeding and education!”
Elizabeth arched a brow, more amused than convinced. “Charlotte, I do not deny the importance of tariffs and tithes, but I have yet to hear a gentleman debate them with any real eloquence—let alone charm.”
Charlotte gasped. “Politics are not meant to be charming!”
“Then they ought to be conducted more competently,” Elizabeth said with a sigh, snapping her fan shut with a flick of her wrist.
Charlotte gave her a long-suffering look. “You are incorrigible.”
“I prefer discerning.”
Charlotte laughed. “Then why, pray, did you agree to accompany me here? This is hardly the opera or a musicale.”
Elizabeth smiled, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because, dearest Charlotte, Mr. Henry Audley is expected to speak in the House of Commons this very evening.”
Charlotte blinked. “Henry Audley? That… earnest fellow from Hertfordshire who speaks of nothing but reform?”
Elizabeth exhaled, exasperated. “He is brilliant, Charlotte. Passionate. Intelligent enough to make the Lords appear slow-witted, and—if one studies him closely—rather handsome in a thoughtful, brooding sort of way.” She paused, tilting her head. “At least, when viewed from the proper angle.”
Charlotte snorted. “You are absurd. He really is rather plain, Lizzy.”
“Not at all. He is precisely the sort of man I should marry—someday, when I am ready to endure the tedious reality of matrimony.”
Charlotte gave her a knowing look. “Your father would never approve.”
Elizabeth grimaced at the thought. Her father would rather set himself on fire than allow his only daughter to marry a mere Mister, no matter how intelligent or idealistic he might be. The Montclair name belonged in the House of Lords, not the House of Commons.
But her father was not here, was he?
That meant she could steal a moment for herself.
She straightened her posture and flashed a dazzling smile. “Fortunately, my father is closeted with some meeting or other this evening, and my mother has no idea where Westminster even is on the London map. We are chaperoned only by your mother, and she is presently engaged in conversation with that rather deaf Lord Witherspoon, which means she shall remain entirely occupied for the next half-hour at least. Therefore, I shall take a little walk, find some place where I might catch a glimpse of Mr. Audley in the House of Commons, and return before I am missed.”
Charlotte frowned. “Lizzy, I do not think—”
Elizabeth cut her off with a cheerful wink. “Do not think, dearest. Simply pray that I do not lose my way in this infernal labyrinth of corridors. Or worse—that I am forced to listen to a dull speech about tax reform.”
Before her friend could protest, she turned on her heel and slipped away, her heart thrumming with excitement.
Shehadnodifficultyavoiding detection. The halls were dimly lit, the grand marble floors muffled by thick carpets, and no one took note of a young woman slipping away from the crowd.
As she descended a narrow staircase, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one followed. She had never ventured this far before—and it was exhilarating. The House of Lords was filled with dignitaries, noblemen, and political minds of great consequence, but she found herself far more intrigued by the secrets of its corridors, the whispers in the alcoves, and the glimpse of something just beyond her reach.
As she approached the arched entrance to the House of Commons, her breath caught in her throat.
There—through the open doors, beyond the gilded railing—was Mr. Henry Audley. Her pulse quickened.
