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Prologue
The Barrow, Duke of Granby’s estate, 1840
Lady Theodosia Barrington hurried down the tiled floor of the hallway. The strains of a waltz were just reaching her ears as she scurried in the direction of the Duke of Granby’s ballroom. Cursing under her breath, she envisioned Lady Meredith,eyelash-batting viper, taking advantage of Theo’s absence to sink her gloved claws into the Earl of Blythe.
“Bollocks,” she whispered to herself.
In the future, it would be best to watch her intake of punch. Perhaps stop sneaking wine from the Duke of Granby’s servants. Her goal was to have Blythe escort her into the cool night air for a walk about the terrace and to steal a kiss, not take yet another inconvenient trip to see to her personal needs.
A kiss. From Blythe.
“Drat,” she hissed as her toe made contact with one of the ornate, overly large candlesticks decorating nearly every inch of The Barrow. The return journey to the Duke of Granby’s ballroom was fraught with a multitude of obstacles, most of which Theo couldn’t see. At least not clearly. The fault of poor lighting and her decision not to wear her spectacles to the house party. Better to be clumsy, though, than to have Blythe see her in that blasted bit of metal and glass.
Blythe’s opinion of ‘bespectacled bluestockings’ was less than positive. At Lady Ralston’s ball, he had disparaged the looks of one such lady within Theo’s hearing. She’d vowed at that moment that Blythe would never see her wearing spectacles and promptly put the loathsome frames away. Far better to be thought a tad awkward than hideously unappealing.
Theo wore her bruises, scratches, and resulting embarrassment as a badge of honor. A courageous fight to maintain what attractiveness she possessed. During her week at the house party, she’d so far stubbed her toes at least a dozen times, waved enthusiastically at a selection of Grecian statues in the garden thinking them other guests, and tripped over a mop plus the maid wielding it.
Then there was the unfortunate incident involving Lord Haven and a glass of ratafia.
Ill-mannered. Uncouth. The Marquess of Haven wasveryunlikeable.
Despite the marquess’s presence, when Cousin Winnie had received an invitation to attend a house party given by the Duke of Granby and his aunt, Theo had jumped at the chance to attend.
Lord Blythe and the Duke of Granby were close friends. His attendance was assured. Granby’s friendship with the golden, sunny earl was really the only thing Theo liked about Granby. His friendship with Lord Haven, on the other hand, didn’t recommend him at all.
The Marquess of Haven was disreputable. Impoverished. Prone to fistfights and gambling. Fond of making unkind comments about young ladies who couldn’t see well. In short, there wasnothingTheo liked about Haven. He reminded her of a brigand or a thief. At the slightest provocation, she thought he’d pull out a pistol and rob a coach. If one liked the appeal of, say, a highwayman or some other nefarious gentleman, Theo supposed a womanmightfind Haven attractive. But one would have to overlook his annoying sarcasm, unpleasant personality, and short temper.
The very first day at the duke’s estate, Theo had ruined Haven’s coat by spilling ratafia on him. Ratafia, unbeknownst to her, was an impossible stain. No amount of gentle dabbing or brushing had restored his coat. Hisbestcoat, Theo was certain. She had begged forgiveness. Most gentlemen would have graciously accepted her pretty speech.
Not Haven. He had thus far spent the whole of the house party glaring at her with his moss-colored eyes, flinging caustic comments at Theo whenever she had the poor fortune to come near him.
‘That elongated bit of marble isn’t what you think it is,’Haven would whisper to Theo as he passed her in the garden or, ‘I’m not a coat rack, but a marquess,’as her shawl touched his arm accidentally. And her personal favorite, uttered into her ear as she sat for dinner,‘As you feel your way around the other guests, aren’t you terrified you’ll ruin yourself?’
“Ow.” This time it was her shin banging against a marble podium holding the bust of one of Granby’s ancestors. A rather ugly one. At least as far as she could see.
“Stay in the middle of the hall,” she muttered to herself, determined to avoid the monstrous candlesticks with their ornately carved leaves of iron. The candlesticks mocked her, reaching out to grab at the skirts of her gown. A slight tug halted her progress rather abruptly as one of the blasted leaves succeeded in catching her. Blythe was sure to be dancing the waltz with Lady Meredith by now.
Theo tugged gently at her skirts.
The rush of air was instantaneous. The metal stand teetered dangerously in her direction. A candle dropped to the floor with a small thud before rolling away into the dark recesses of the hall. She struggled to grab at the heavy iron with one hand while attempting to untangle her skirts with the other.
The stand tipped wildly. Unlit candles pelted her arms and shoulders. She waited for the heavy stand to make contact with her head. Perhaps it would knock her to the floor and leave her unconscious. There Theo would lie on the cold marble, injured and unable to move, her absence unnoticed until another guest ventured out and tripped over her prone body.
“Drat,” she whispered.
A gloved hand, masculine in size and shape, caught the iron in a firm grip, surprising Theo and saving her from being bludgeoned. Due to the poor lighting and her bent position, Theo couldn’t make out her rescuer, but she recognized the buttons on his coat.
Her heart thumped in anticipation.
Blythe.
Every one of the handsome earl’s coats possessed buttons with the same distinct design: a bird about to take flight. There was a reason behind the bird, but when Blythe had related the story, Theo hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been too fascinated by the movement of his lips as he spoke.
“Lord Blythe,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering down as she carefully freed her skirts from a jagged iron leaf. “What a most timely rescue.”
Fingers wrapped firmly around her elbow. His touch warmed her entire arm.
“A moment, my lord. I’m almost free.” A playful, flirtatious laugh escaped her. “Much like our first encounter in the park when you came to my aid. Do you recall?”
