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Prologue
Lady Masterson’s Garden Party, outside London
Lady Andromeda Barrington stepped discreetly behind a tree, determined to sketch the gorgeous concoction Miss Anne Cummings wore. The frothy gown of pale pink had been designed in such a way to resemble the careful opening of a flower. A fabulous design. Romy wondered who had made the gown. Madame Fontaine? Surely if it had been made by Madame Dupree, Romy would have known.
Pencil clutched in one hand, she pulled out the small notepad she always carried from the pocket cleverly hidden in the folds of her skirts. Pockets were something she insisted on, for they were useful for a variety of things. Just as Romy got the design stitched on Miss Cummings’s skirts correct in her sketch, her view was blocked by an enormous pair of shoulders garbed all in black.
Black. At a garden party. Like an oversized vulture.
Still, Romy didn’t look away; she stopped her sketch of Miss Cummings’s costume, all her attention taken by the large form in front of her.
Grumpy Granby, as she’d christened the Duke of Granby, was difficult to overlook. The height of Granby, nearly a head taller than all the other gentlemen surrounding him at any event, certainly drew the eye. As did his powerfully built form. Granby’s massive shoulders strained against the fabric of his clothes as if he spent his days chopping wood instead of doing ducal things. Large, booted feet encased in expensive leather had been stomping among the lesser mortals of Lady Masterson’s party all day while Granby stared everyone down with his patent frosty manner.
Romy had known several dukes; she was the daughter of the Duke of Averell, after all. But never had she encountered a gentleman who seemed to look down on so many of those around him as did the Duke of Granby.
It was shortly after her debut when Granby had first drawn her eye, at the opera of all places. The sheer...enormityof Granby made him difficult to ignore. He’d stuck out dramatically against the other gentlemen making their way up the steps to their private boxes. Granby himself had easily towered over Mrs. Hammond, the young, glamorous widow clinging to his arm. Oblivious to his lack of interest in her, Mrs. Hammond had been chattering away as Granby dragged her forward.
It had reminded Romy of a bear who hadn’t quite decided to shake off the small fox attacking its arm. This observation had not been helped by the fact that Mrs. Hammond’s shoulders were swathed in fur.
Granby’s chilly gaze had swept the throngs of thetonat the opera with disinterest, passing over Romy, who was making her way to her family’s box, without pause. Later, during intermission, as her brother Tony had escorted Romy to the refreshment stand, Granby’s glance had once again drifted over Romy with indifference even though she was mere inches from him.
Romy was accustomed to being looked at but not with such apathy.
Perhaps his manner had been what spurred her to observe the length of his coat. It had been far too short for a man of Granby’s height. The latest fashion dictated a gentleman’s coat come to mid-thigh. Had he not nearly stomped on her skirts with his gigantic feet, she might have mentioned such a thing to him as a kindness. He’d nearly torn her gown.
That night, she had addedcarelessto the list of attributes she’d assigned him.
Days later, Romy and her mother, the Duchess of Averell, had attended the Cambourne ball. Once again, her gaze had focused on Granbyandthe incorrect length of his coat. Either his tailor was blind, or Granby simply wasn’t very observant.
Another aspect of Granby she didn’t care for.
At the ball, Granby had stood against a far wall, ignoring the entire herd of twittering young ladies attempting to garner his interest. He viewed them all with the same cold detachment Mrs. Hammond had received at the opera. Couldn’t he at the very least put a polite smile on his face? While she couldn’t put her finger on why, Granby’s disdain bothered her.
As did his bloody coat.
While a gentleman’s attire wasn’t exactly Romy’s forte, she was well-versed in the latest fashions. And the length of his coat was obvious. At least to her. His inattention to this one detail bothered her, for in all other ways, his appearance was impeccable. Cravat always crisp, though Romy didn’t agree with the bland color. Boots always polished. Waistcoats also boring, but properly fitted.
Butnotthe length of his coat.
It was a glaring, troubling omission.
Romy pressed closer to the bark of the tree, careful not to tear her gown, and peered at Granby. He was nauseatingly wealthy and could certainly afford the best tailor in London. She shook her head, taking in the coat he wore today. As expected, the length fell closer to his hip, and not mid-thigh as it should. Her perusal naturally lent itself to the long length of Granby’s legs. It took a moment. Hewasexceedingly tall.
Goodness.
Andimpressive. His trousers strained over the bunched muscles of his thighs, more apparent because the length of his coat was incorrect. Could his tailor not measure properly? It was as if the fabric hadn’t been given enough room to account for—
Oh, dear.
A tiny, barely noticeable shiver followed the burst of heat flooding up her cheeks.
Romyshouldn’tknow about such things. The vast majority of young ladies of her station did not. But she had two older brothers. Tony was a notorious rake and the other, Leo, owned a gambling hell and pleasure palace. Romy wasn’t entirely ignorant of how her brothers lived. And the Duchess of Averell, her mother, had insisted her daughters not be raised in ignorance, as so many girls were.
Romy also possessed a vivid imagination, useful not just for clothing design.
Her fingers clutched the pencil tighter as she forced herself to look away from the lower section of Granby’s body. The Duchess of Averell might be more progressive than most, but she would still object to her daughter ogling a gentleman in such a manner.
“Grumpy Granby,” she whispered into the bark of the tree. “Please move your giant form so I may continue my sketch.” Romy focused her attention on the view of Miss Cummings’s skirts not blocked by Granby. The designappearedto be honeybees.
