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Chapter One
Spring, 1812
Kitty paused at the threshold of the ballroom, her gaze riveted to the dance floor and on one couple in particular amongst the revelry.
James was here.
Though Sophie had warned her once they arrived in London that he was too busy for any social engagements, Kitty had held out hope that he would appear at one entertainment or another, even if invitations directed his way were likely in short supply. It seemed, however, that fate had taken pity on her pining heart, as he now danced with Lady Francesca, daughter of the Earl of Dolefeild, at the very first ball her and Sophie had decided to brave together. She was not surprised, as Lady Aircourt was well known for her generosity in extending invitations to her events. James hadn’t spotted Kitty yet, so engrossed in dancing he was, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before his beautiful blue eyes landed lovingly upon her.
“The gall of the man, paying court to Dolefield’s girl out in the open.”
Kitty’s ears perked up at the barely hushed and greatly censorious voices only a few feet away. She turned to see a group of matrons whispering amongst each other, glaring furiously at Lady Francesca and James as the couple waltzed. One woman tutted. “He’s been sniffing at her skirts for weeks. I’m sure that massive dowry of hers has something to do with it. It’s a wonder that Dolefeild hasn’t stepped in yet.”
“I hear they were caught sneaking around Hyde park early in the morning without a chaperone,” another woman said with a conspiratorial grin.
“No!”
Kitty snorted under her breath. It seemed the Ton never ceased to invent some salacious tale to entertain themselves. The Berrington’s were not well liked amongst their set, thanks to Lord and Lady Dalton’s outrageous behavior, but Kitty knew that James and Sophie were not cut from the same cloth as their parents. Three years ago, a year before Kitty’s come out, poor Sophie had been victim to the gossips. Ridiculous rumors of an affair with Baron Wardely had been swirled about, utterly ruining her best friend’s already fragile reputation. It was unsurprising that society now managed to conjure up a similar story about James. Bullocks, the lot of it.
He washerfiancée after all.
Kitty’s heart stuttered at the memory of his confession and subsequent proposal just a few weeks ago, wherein James declared a secret tendre for her that had persisted for the past year. Why he’d suddenly gotten the courage to confess after so long, Kitty had no idea, but she had been thrilled nonetheless. Her own feelings, festering in her heart for nearly a year and a half, were just as strong. She was thrilled that he had expressed a desire for a short engagement though had been more than a little concerned when he’d left for London shortly after, especially considering it had been on the heels of her revealing her family’s biggest secret to him.
Her father was flat broke, and she had no dowry to speak of, most of the funds having been allotted to maintain the estate and keep up appearances. Fortunately, James had written her shortly after, stating that he was merely working to set aside some funds for the nuptials and asking her to wait to surprise Sophie with the news until things were settled, as he didn’t want to worry her. Knowing her friend’s penchant for spiraling into anxiety over the wellbeing of her loved-ones, Kitty heartily agreed but had made sure to cajole Sophie to come with her to London so as to tell her the news as soon as possible and perhaps offer her a place with them away from the wretched Lord and Lady Dalton. Thankfully Kitty’s father, still ignorant of the affair, had declared she would have one final season to snag a husband. Little did he know that she already had things well in hand.
“Oh, yes. You know those Berrington’s are always after money.”
Well, Kitty mused wryly, at the very least all this silly gossip was distracting everyone from Sophie, who was currently attempting to clear up an earlier mishap with the Marquess of Amberwood. Kitty rather thought that cajoling the man into a darkened terrace corner for a conversation on the matter wasn’t Sophie’s brightest idea, but her friend had seemed desperate to get him alone. She hoped things were going well, though when she went to check on them and inform Sophie of James’s presence, they seemed to be on the verge of a spectacular row. Perhaps Kitty’s impending nuptials would liven her friend’s spirits, for she couldn’t think of any other reason James would expose himself to the eyes of the Ton if not to make their betrothal public.
That did, of course, require the man to actually look in her direction. She looked away from the conniving matrons as they continued their silly drivel and back to the dancefloor, frowning upon realizing that James and Lady Francesca were nowhere in sight. Kitty craned her neck and peered into the crowd, for once thankful for her taller than average height. She spied a flash of Lady Francesca’s peach colored gown and watched the couple make their way through the doors leading to the foyer of the house. Lady Francesca’s arm was wrapped around James’s, and he stared down at her with affection as he led her though the doors and out of sight. A fission of unease crawled up her back, and Kitty fought to put the silly bit of anxiety aside. She took a bracing breath and moved towards the doors, resolving to discover what was likely a perfectly reasonable explanation for the two to walk off together. Alone. With no chaperone.
A giggle sounded near the front doors of the house as she emerged into the foyer, followed by a soft masculine voice that sounded distressingly like James. Heart in her throat, Kitty made her way outside, coming to a halting stop at the top of the front steps, her mind whirring at the shocking scene before her.
**
Sebastian Haverston, 10thDuke of Ashford, paused in the process of taking a swig from his flask, eyes narrowing on the sight before him. Lady Francesca strode down the marble steps of Lady Aircourt’s townhome, James Berrington all but glued to her side. Sebastian kept to the shadow of the wall he leaned against as the couple made a beeline for the street, Berrington holding up a hand to a hackney that he had spied waiting down the street a few minutes earlier.
“I was able to get a footman to deliver my trunk to your lodgings as you instructed, “Lady Francesca said, excitement plain in her voice as she gazed up at her beau adoringly.
Berrington nodded with a smile. “Good job, my love. We won’t need to take very long before departing for Scotland.”
So,thiswas the trouble Amberwood had meant when describing some sort of scrape the man’s cousin had gotten herself into. He’d earlier found the marquess prowling the ballroom in search of Lady Francesca and had offered his assistance in tracking down the wayward woman. Sebastian had thought Amberwood to have had things well in hand once they located the girl, hence the reason why he was currently outside and waiting for his carriage to be brought around. He despised balls, at least the ones put on by polite society, and had only been here to put a cease to some of his mother’s infernal pestering. He’d made his appearance and was eager to flee, though it appeared his assumption that Amberwood no longer required his assistance had been a miscalculation and a rather bad one at that, if Lady Francesca was managing to get this far. Sebastian pushed himself from the wall with a sigh. It appeared it would fall to him to intercept whatever disaster was about to unfold until Amberwood found his way here from wherever the hell he had wandered off too.
“Fancy seeing you here. Together,” he said as he approached the couple.
Berrington paled at the sight of him, as well he should. Most men feared him in even normal circumstances, let alone after being caught trying to abscond with the relative of a dear friend. “Your Grace. Good evening.”
Sebastian ignored the pup and leveled a pointed stare at Lady Francesca. “Really, My Lady? Berrington, of all people?”
She notched up her chin, defiance in her eyes. “You won’t stop us, Ashford.”
“Won’t I? As if I’d let Amberwood’s cousin be hauled off by a fortune hunting scoundrel.”
Berrington was well known for his massive debts and very public removals from most of the gaming dens in London. Sebastian himself had born witness to the rather entertaining sight of Arthur Barrow, owner of one of the more prestigious establishments, kicking the boy out on his arse in broad daylight. Certainly not marriage material for an earl’s daughter.
“How dare you!” Lady Francesca seethed, seemingly unaware of how much her companion was fidgeting after his words.
“Come on now, boy,” he said with an empty smile. “Back away. I’m not an enemy you want to make.”
