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December 1823

It was a dark, starless night when Alexander Gordon, The Earl of Charmian, let himself in through the front door of the family townhouse in Mayfair. The hour was late, and Alex expected his sister and the servants to be asleep.

This was not the case.

Music coming from the drawing room made him pause with the door half cracked before a blistery wind hurried him inside. He gaped at the lit candles lining the hallway as though the entire household was still wide awake.

Shrugging out of his overcoat, he removed his hat. That was when he heard the sound that hadn’t graced these halls in the nine months since his elder brother’s tragic death.

Laughter.

His younger sister’s familiar laugh, along with another—a musical sound that seemed to rival the pianoforte as it trickled into the hallway.

What on earth?

He’d bent down to remove his snowy boots when a far more mysterious sound reached his befuddled ears.

Barking.

No, not barking. Snuffling. It was the crude sound of labored breathing and clogged sinuses, and it was the only warning he received before two little balls of fur and fat barreled down the hall in his direction.

His housekeeper Mrs. Lange appeared behind them, frazzled and out of breath as she scurried behind them, coming to a halt and dropping into a hasty curtsy when she spotted him standing there, his snow-covered coat dripping onto the foyer’s rug as he tried to make sense of the spectacle before him.

“What—?” was all he managed before one of the pugs stopped running in a tiny circle and lunged for his ankles.

“Oh heavens,” Mrs. Lange cried, her wide eyes filled with horror at the sight before her. “We did not expect you home until the morrow.”

“Yes,” he said, as he stared down at a panting little face. “I’d hoped to return before the snowstorm.”

“Of course, of course,” she muttered, distracted by her attempts to corral the two dogs.

“Who is here?” he asked.

“Oh!” She straightened, abandoning her attempts to garner control over the pups and they both watched in horrified fascination as the smaller of the two sniffed the other one in the most unseemly manner.

“I do apologize, my lord,” the housekeeper said softly.

He remained quiet. He did not believe the dog’s current fixation on sniffing was Mrs. Lange’s fault, but he assumed the less said to acknowledge this situation the better. “Our visitors?” he prompted.

There it was again. Laughter. He turned his gaze toward the drawing room, and Mrs. Lange did the same. “The Duchess of Redmayne, my lord,” she said, her voice still breathless from her earlier run across the foyer.

“Ah.” His aunt. Mystery solved. Though, in fact, she was truly his great aunt, better known as Mrs. Gertrude Trumbolt, Dowager Duchess of Redmayne. Or, as she was known to Alex and his sister—Aunt Gertie.

“Of course,” he muttered to himself as he headed toward the drawing room. Gertie always cause a stir when she arrived. Though they hadn’t expected her here for another week.

Mrs. Lange seemed to read his thoughts. “Her arrival was a surprise, my lord.”

Of course it was. There was nothing Aunt Gertie loved more than to cause a stir…those tiny, fur-covered balls of energy currently chasing one another around his feet was new, however. He hadn’t been aware his great aunt could bring any more chaos into their lives, but it seemed he’d underestimated her once again.

Mrs. Lange took his coat from him, as well as his hat, and he headed toward the sound, oddly intrigued to see what scene was going on in this room that could bring such merriment and levity to a house in mourning.

He strode into the room as befitting the new earl, which was to say, with his chin held high and no hesitation in his steps. In hindsight, he realized he really ought to have paused, if only briefly—but then how was he to know that he would be entering a room filled with a whirling dervish?

It happened quickly. One moment he was standing and the next he was knocked off his feet, landing unceremoniously in a heap, along with two females. He saw his sister splayed beside him, her dark hair a haphazard mess as she grinned at him, breathless with laughter.

If his sister was there, who on earth was this young lady in his arms? His hands automatically came up to steady the girl who’d landed atop him.