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Chapter one
Jay
JayOrtonwasboredout of his skull at his cousin the Duke’s dinner party.
Everyone was standing around in the rather gothic-looking Great Hall of Thornley Castle, waiting for the dinner gong with drink in hand. It was one of those dreadful, formal affairs where people justtalkedat each other as though it was still the eighteen-hundreds and better forms of entertainment hadn’t yet been invented. But one didn’t really decline an invitation from the Duke, not when you were the most notorious member of the least-liked family in England and your claim to a familial connection with him was hanging by an exasperated thread.
A thread that Jay seemed to be doing his best to sever entirely, for no reason that he could explain to himself other than that he had to do something to entertain himself and irritating people was one of his favourite pastimes. Another of his favourite pastimes was looking at beautiful women, and he was managing to combine the two as he nodded to the stunning blonde across the room and said to his cousin, “The Curdle Girdle, eh?”
Jay suppressed a grin as Leo, the Duke, scowled and was forced to ask, despite himself, “The Curdle Girdle?”
“The exquisite Sophia Clements over there,” said Jay. He examined the woman as he spoke. She saw his attention and regarded him for a moment with her usual marble coolness before stiffly turning her attention back to her mother’s conversation.
But Jay continued to look, taking in the golden waves of hair spilling down her back and the sparkling silver dress that hugged her slim, athletic body. She practically gleamed.
He hadn’t seen her in years, but they were neighbours of sorts. His father’s estate was only a mile or two from the village outside of Harrogate, Yorkshire, where Sophia had lived until she went to America some years ago. They had met sometimes, when younger, at various social events in their local area but had never really spoken. Sophia never really spoke to anyone. She was boring beyond belief.
It irritated him for some reason that she was so beautiful and always looked so cheerless. What was the point in looking like that if you were going to keep it all locked away and never have any fun with it?
He had a vague recollection of trying once to flirt with her. He must have been about nineteen, half-drunk in some dimly lit marquee at some dreary function or other—a wedding? A funeral? He couldn’t have told the difference. And Sophia had been there, all alone (she usually was, unless she was at her mother’s side). So he had gone over and said something, he had no idea what, but he was already an accomplished flirt even at that age and he wasn’t used to meeting much opposition. He especially wasn’t much used to being looked at with complete disinterest, Sophia’s expression fixed and lifeless. She hadn’t even looked him in the eye, just turned and walked away.
“The most beautiful woman in the world,” he said now to the Duke, “and zero sex appeal. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“I would hate to live in your head,” said Leo, drinking most of his champagne in one go.
“That’s why they call her The Curdle Girdle,” continued Jay, in a careless manner perfectly pitched to disgust his fastidious cousin. “As soon as you get near her, every fluid in your body curdles. From navel to knee, your body shuts down.”
“Jay, can I make a suggestion?” said Leo, swapping his glass for a fresh one from a passing server. “Next time my aunt invites you to Thornley. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Come. Breathe. Exist.”
Jay made himself laugh as the Duke walked away.
Dinner was eventually announced. Jay found his name on the seating plan and snorted when he saw who he was next to.
The Curdle Girdle herself, Sophia Clements. Frigid Bridget. The Bone Borer. He’d given her many nicknames in his head over the years of their slight acquaintance.
She glanced briefly at him, the movement more of a flinch really, as he sat down next to her at the long, ornately laid out dining table. Jay turned his head, observing the bare golden shoulder, the wave of golden hair, an attempt at “Hello” ready on his lips, but she turned back to studying her place setting, minutely adjusting the perfectly positioned silver utensils to align even more perfectly.
Jay left her to it. He was bored of making polite small talk, he was bored of being good, so he drained his glass, held it out for a refill, and began a loud and deliberately preposterous conversation with a man he vaguely knew across the table, until he made the man snort into his champagne with laughter, possibly horror, he wasn’t sure, didn’t particularly care.
He was regaling the man with an account of the time he seduced his father’s mistress (true story), but the real target of his exaggerated ribaldry was the brunette sitting next to the man. She was smiling incredulously at him. She might be appalled, but she was curious. And that was most of the battle won. Jay winked at her and gestured at a waiter to refill his glass.
He drank deeply, taking a pause for breath, and noticed that Sophia hadn’t yet touched her drink. She was probably teetotal. It would be the icing on the frosty cake.
“It’s rather good,” he said, nodding towards her glass. He felt her stiffen beside him. “Vintage Krug, ‘88, I think. Shame to waste it.”
She picked up the glass and put it next to his plate. “You’re welcome to it.”
“I wasn’t asking for it.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She half reached out to take it back but hesitated, letting her hand fall. It landed on the tablecloth in his line of sight. He found himself studying the slim golden fingers and the perfect little pink nails. “But you’re still welcome to it,” she said.
He reached for the glass. She snatched her hand back to her lap. “Well, thank you,” he said, tilting the glass ironically towards her. “Cheers.”
“Oh…” She reached for her water glass, but he tsked, chiding her, “Terribly bad luck to toast with water.”
