Page 1 of Sin and Serendipity

Chapter One

London, May 1819

Robert Falston, Viscount Darrington, nudged the library door open and poked his head inside, scanning his gaze over the darkened room. Empty.

With a sigh, he pulled the door shut and continued down the silent, candlelit corridor, his irritation growing with each step of his well-polished Hessians.

Where was that idiot brother of his?

Freddy had disappeared from the ballroom some time ago, and Robert had been commissioned by their mother to find him and bring him back. He had a feeling he knew what his brother was up to—and who he was with—but where he’d gone was anyone’s guess.

Rounding a corner, Robert stalked down the corridor, his mouth set in a firm line, his steps silent on the plush Turkish rug. Chasing after his wayward brother was not how he’d planned to spend his evening. Freddy was twenty-one years old, for God’s sake. Old enough to know better. He should be in the ballroom right now, mingling with their guests, dancing with the young ladies and charming their mothers.

Robert should be doing the same, although, truth be told, he’d never been overly fond of society functions, nor the inane conversations and banal activities that went with them.

But, for better or worse, attending such functions was expected of him, and he would do his duty.

And so will Freddy, he thought. As soon as I can find him.

He’d already checked the billiards room, the gray salon, and now the library, all to no avail, which left only the gardens and…

His steps slowed as the door to his study came into view. A frown creased his brow. The door was slightly ajar, but he would swear he’d closed it earlier, after his meeting with his man of affairs.

Pausing just outside the door, he leaned down, listening for sounds of life inside. He could just make out the low murmur of a female voice, though the whispered words were too soft to be intelligible. His jaw clenched. Damn it all, he’d hoped he was wrong. He’d hoped Freddy would behave himself tonight, but here he was, engaging in an illicit rendezvous with his current lover, and in Robert’s blasted study, no less.

With the tips of his fingers, he nudged the door open and stepped inside, his footfalls silent on the dense carpet. The room was dark, the full moon’s glow streaming in through the windows behind his desk doing little to penetrate the shadows.

A feminine giggle sounded from the vicinity of his favorite leather chair facing the stone hearth, long gone cold. “Oh, Freddy, you’re so sweet,” the voice tittered. “I had no idea you felt that way about me. Why, I—”

Robert cleared his throat. Loudly.

The girl’s words broke off, and a thick silence blanketed the room, the only interruption the faint tick-tick-tick of the gilt bronze clock sitting on the fireplace mantel.

One tick. Another. A third. And then a mass of brown curls slowly crested the back of the chair until two eyes appeared—the largest, loveliest brown eyes Robert had ever seen—and blinked back at him with cautious curiosity.

“Good evening,” he said evenly, clearing his throat again. Damn, this was awkward. “Are you...decent?”

Delicate brows furrowed. “Am I decent? Well, I—yes, I suppose so. At least, I’d like to think I am.” She rose another few inches, revealing a pert nose and a wide, lush mouth, her beautiful eyes flicking over his person. “Why do you ask? Are you a vicar or something?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “No. Only a viscount, I’m afraid.”

It was obvious by now Freddy wasn’t here, and this was not the assignation Robert thought he was interrupting. Who this girl was, however—and what she was doing in his study—still remained to be seen.

“A viscount?” she asked. “Oh. Then you must be Lord Darrington.”

“At your service.” He sketched a shallow bow. “And you are...?”

She rose and circled the chair, coming to a stand before him, and the first thing that caught his attention was how unusually tall she was for a woman, only a few inches shorter than his own six-foot frame.

Her frame was decidedly more curved, he noted, raking his gaze over her plump breasts and lush hips. Deliciously curved.

“I am Miss Eleanor Wrencroft, my lord,” she said, dipping into an efficient curtsy. “Ellie to my friends.”

Ellie. The name suited her.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Wrencroft,” he said pleasantly. “However…might I ask what you are doing in my study? This room was meant to be off-limits to the guests.”

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. “I know, my lord, and I do apologize for the intrusion, but I was desperate for a moment of privacy to...to...”