Chapter One

“It is simply imperative for a young woman who has passed the age of eighteen years to make it her goal to become a wife,” Diana Sutton proclaimed.

The room was immediately filled with the murmured agreement from a half dozen other ladies present. Regardless of personal opinion, they all spoke. None would dare do otherwise. Two ladies did not voice agreement. One spoke.

“Is eighteen not a little young to be considering signing one’s life away?” Sarah Sutton asked.

She sat immediately to the left of her aunt, the Dowager Countess Foster. Sarah’s hair was light brown and with natural curls the bounced and bobbed about her apple-cheeked, blue-eyed face. By contrast, the Dowager Countess lived up to her name, her hair was dyed black as night and a black beauty spot occupied the left corner of her mouth, today, but migrated according to her whims. Dark eyes and a statuesque face completed the image of a gypsy queen. Though none would dare make such a comparison in her hearing. There was much that could not be said directly to Diana Sutton’s face.

Except, of course, by her niece.

“Sarah, dear. You are young and lacking the experience of the world that I have. You are also far beyond that optimum age of which I have spoken. It was to you, that I was primarily addressing my remark,” Diana replied, lifting a teacup with a raised little finger and sipping delicately as if to punctuate her words.

The sitting room of Moncrieff Manor was light and airy. Tall windows let in rays of sunshine as well as the sight of the Manor’s fashionably well-kept gardens. The decor was in perfect taste, elegant but not overbearing. The ladies who occupied it were of similar taste. The only exception was Sarah. She wore a dark dress, plain but well-tailored, suitable for her plans for the day. Her shoes were not the delicate slippers of the other ladies, but stout and practical. Despite this, her beauty outshone every bejeweled and perfumed lady in the room, though she would have disagreed.

Diana cast her eyes momentarily to her niece with an expression of disapproval. Then she looked at one of the other ladies.

“Victoria, your daughter has recently become engaged,” Diana said.

“Indeed she has, Your Ladyship. Just before her nineteenth birthday and she could not be happier,” said Lady Victoria Cherwell, sounding grateful to have been asked.

“Madeleine, you have three daughters,” Diana said, turning her attention to a lady sitting next to Lady Victoria.

“Indeed so, Your Ladyship. All three married before they were twenty.”

“You see, Sarah. All happy and contented wives and mothers. That is our purpose, after all,” Diana said.

“Ah, I’m glad you used that word, Aunt Diana,” Sarah said. “Purpose. Our purpose. That is what I am trying to discover for myself, in fact.”

“It does not need to be discovered, my dear. It is self-evident,” Diana said in a tone that brooked no argument.

And for anyone else, there would have been none.

“It is not to me,” Sarah said, not unkindly.

She smiled as she spoke, softening the edges of her words to ensure they did not sound impertinent. There was a limit to how far she could push the boundaries of behavior with such a woman as the Dowager Countess. The line was far more blurred for her than for anyone else in the world. But it did exist.

“Does anyone else have anything to say to our wayward young lady of…” Diana raised her eyes heavenward for a moment as though recalling. “…two-and-twenty years.”

The emphasis was placed on the word ‘twenty’, just slightly. Diana Sutton would never do anything as crass as making a point bluntly. Sarah spotted the barb and smiled widely, hiding it behind a raised tea cup. Though she did not think it of herself, Diana was as subtle as a bull at times.

“It is the men who run the country, the great houses, the world in fact,” said Lady Emily Butterworth, wife to an Earl. “But behind each great man stands an accomplished wife. She knows how to raise his heirs, how to entertain those who would be his allies. How to increase his prestige with her own female achievements.”

“Well put, Emily,” Diana congratulated.

“But, what if a woman were never standing behind a man but beside him? What if the purpose of my life was to…I don’t know…become a celebrated academic and add to the knowledge of our civilization. Or a physician or…” Sarah unconsciously copied her Aunt’s earlier mannerism of looking heavenward in thought. “…Heaven forbid, a politician?”

The reaction was a heartbeat late in coming as the room waited to see what the Dowager Countess thought. She sniffed. They gave their reactions with gasps and murmurs of disapprobation. Sarah sighed. The event had been organized in order to present her with a group of women with married daughters. To persuade her that she should be making the finding of a husband her primary goal. But as determined as Diana was to convince her niece to marry, Sarah was equally as determined not to be rushed. Two immovable forces.

“May one ask, if Lady Sarah’s objective is not to find a husband, what it actually is?” asked Veronica Neilsland, wife to a Baronet.

Diana turned to look directly at her niece, one eyebrow raised.

“An excellent question. Well done, Lady Veronica,” she said, without looking at the woman.

Sarah politely directed her answer at the woman who had asked the question. She noticed the slight blush on her cheeks, raised by the approval of the Dowager Countess. Inwardly, she laughed to herself that her Aunt could produce such an effect.

But perhaps I should study how she achieves it. Is it not my ambition to wield a similar influence one day?

“I simply do not know, Lady Veronica,” Sarah said honestly. “I have something of a passion for the written word and have dabbled in poetry. I also enjoy painting.” She paused for a moment, thinking, again casting her eyes skyward, “I should like to travel, I think. To see something of the world.”

“Marvelous, magnificent,” Diana said enthusiastically. “All hobbies that can be indulged as wife to a respectable gentleman. I myself completed the Grand Tour no fewer than five times with my late husband. I also added many honest and honorable pastimes to my accomplishments.”

The chorus dutifully chimed in with their agreement. The only one who did not, but simply quietly listened, sipping tea, eyes missing nothing, was the woman who sat to the right of the Dowager Countess. Julia Sutton did not resemble her mother. She had her father’s height, though her golden hair would have matched Diana’s, had Diana not developed a penchant for black, as though to match her name. Sarah had noticed her cousin’s reticence and had not looked in her direction.

The comments will come, dropped into conversation here and there with a friendly smile and under the guise of a dutiful sister, though she is neither dutiful nor my sister. But the words will be sharp in their intent. Julia will not pass an opportunity to criticize. Especially on the subject of my living off her brother’s charity.

Sarah’s eyes went to the window and the gardens, with woods beyond. The shattered remnants of a tower were visible in those trees – part of the ruined castle that had been the first structure built on the site by the medieval Moncrieff family, of whom the Suttons were a descendant. The place had always been one of mystery and allure to Sarah, but also peace and tranquility. It was to that place that she went with easel and paints, or notebook and pencil. There, surrounded by nature busily reclaiming the work of man, she found solace from the sharp knives of Moncrieff Manor.

All except for Aunt Diana. Dear Aunt Diana. She may be imperious and somewhat close-minded but she has my best intentions at heart. I cannot say the same for Julia or Alexander.

The rest of the afternoon passed in somewhat dull conversation with Diana prompting her Ladies-in-waiting for opinions or stories, all of which Sarah could see were aimed at her and the subject of marriage. She smiled and listened attentively, and continued rebuffing the arguments her Aunt was making.

“One day, Aunt Diana. I shall meet a man with whom I shall fall madly in love and I shall marry and raise a family. But, I wish to find my own fulfillment first. However, if my true love were to walk through that door tomorrow, perhaps that will change,” Sarah said, an hour later.

Diana gave her niece a long, hard look. Then smiled and clasped her hand. Julia shifted in her seat, looking away.

“That will have to do then, my dear,” Diana said. “For now. Though I cannot promise I will not make it my mission to introduce as many acceptable gentlemen through that very door as I can. I will see you married, mark my words.”

Chapter Two

Daylight assaulted Leonardo Eversea. He groaned and closed his eyes from the narrow slit that had been his previous attempt at opening them. The sound of Seething Lane was rising to the garret that was his ramshackle terraced house. Hawkers, children crying, horses trampling. The sounds of ordinary Londoners going about their day. It was all too much. His head pounded like a drum. The ray of sunlight falling across him through the curtainless windows was unbearably hot and his mouth was dry as sand.

He tried again, this time managing a blink and a bleary-eyed glance around the room. The bed he lay atop was empty but for him. He was fully dressed, one boot on and the other…somewhere else. The fireplace was cold and dark.

“Up and at ‘em!” Thomas yelled as he kicked in the door and entered the room.

Leonardo winced, shielding his light-gray eyes, and peering towards the intruder.

“Lord, Tom. How can you be so loud?”

“Because I am a master drinker and you, my friend, are an amateur,” Thomas said.

He deposited an assortment of items onto a table that had one leg shorter than the others. Picking one out, he tossed it towards Leonardo, who caught it. It was a bread roll, still warm from the oven. Leonardo tore into it and then reached out for the stoppered clay bottle that he saw on the table.

“Cider, beer, or wine?” he asked.

“Neither. Milk,” Thomas said, handing it over.

Leonardo unstoppered the bottle and greedily took several long swallows.

“By God, when did London become so damn hot!” he complained.

“When it entered June, traditionally a summer month. But His Grace, the Duke of Ravenhurst, would not notice the heat so much if he chose a civilized residence, set amid its own part, light and airy and breezy. Instead of a tenement slum in a mire of humanity.”

“I have such a residence. I would rather my household not see me like this,” Leonardo said.

He swung his legs to the floor, regretting the move as his head swam. He chased a mouthful of bread with another mouthful of milk. Leonardo had hair the color of coal, contrasting to his steel-gray eyes. Wincing, he flexed broad shoulders, working stiffness out of them. Thomas also had dark hair, though shot through with lighter sparks of auburn. His eyes were blue and his face round. It was a face predisposed to smiling. Leonardo was a study in frowns and brooding glares, his cheeks angular and eyes perpetually narrowed. The only softness to his face was full, almost sensuous lips.

“This is the last time,” Leonardo said.

“Oh, I have heard that before!” Thomas crowed.

He hopped onto the table at the opposite side to the wobbly leg, balancing it. Picking up an apple, he took a bite.

“I mean it. This is not just the buyer’s remorse after a heavy night. I made a promise.”

“The old man is gone, Leo. He will not know…” Thomas began.

The look Leonardo gave him stopped the words in his throat. Thomas swallowed a mouthful of apple and looked abashed.

“Sorry, old chap. But…”

“An apology from you is always followed by a but, Tom. Let it go. Father made me swear that I would find a wife and settle down. The continuation of the Eversea name was all that mattered to him in the end.”

“The Everseas were here before there was an England,” Thomas said, somberly. “I heard him say it many times.”

“Yes. About time I began to take it seriously,” Leonardo snapped, made irritable by the state of his head.

Damn and bloody blast it! How many times must I do this to myself! I swear it Father, I will make you proud.

“Well, I will support my oldest friend as much as I am able. Even if it means seeing you shackled for life. Or…”

Leonardo pointed a warning at his friend, gray eyes hard. “Do not say it, Tom. I want no word of comparison between my father and me on that subject. I shall choose a wife that will neither shackle nor betray me. I will not end up like my father.”

Thomas shrugged, resuming munching on his apple.

“Then it will take a rare woman. One that you will not fall in love with and leave yourself so exposed. One that will allow you to enjoy yourself without complaint.”

“Love is not a requirement. A respectable woman who can produce an heir should be enough to fulfill my promise. There will be Everseas after me.”

“As you say,” Thomas replied, with a look of skepticism on his face that spoke volumes.

“Where is my purse?” Leonardo said, looking around him.

“Gone the same way as mine, old chap. We lost heavily last night. The perils of drinking first, gambling second. We were taken advantage of in the Hellfire Club, cleaned out playing Loo.”

Leonardo cursed, getting to his feet. “I shall have to speak to my bankers then and draw a fresh draught of money. What was I thinking, playing Loo atop a bellyful of brandy? Who do we owe?”

Thomas grimaced. “Monty,” he replied.

“Lord! Of all people! Moncrief is insufferable at the best of times. We shall have to win it back. I will not be in debt to that jackanapes,” Leonardo said.

Thomas grinned, leaping to his feet. “Well said, Ravenhurst! Shall I arrange a game for tonight?”

“Yes. No. What am I doing? A few seconds and I’m already breaking my own resolution. You are a bad influence,” Leonardo said, getting to his feet and picking up his coat from where it lay over the back of a chair.

“Moi?” Thomas said in protest.

“My business today is to return to the Mews and make myself presentable. Then draw some money and begin the task of presenting myself as an eligible bachelor to the Ton. Alexander will have to wait.”

“And we’ll have to endure his smugness whenever we see him next. You know he will take pains to ensure he is present at any social event we are,” Thomas complained.

“So be it. He can have his little victory until I have time to win the war. He’ll not find me such easy meat next time we play Loo. And I’ll make him pay for taking advantage,” Leonardo said with decisiveness.

He took up an apple from a pile on the table, sifting through the other refreshments Thomas had collected. His choice of the decrepit garret as a base for his visits to gambling halls and taverns was based on its anonymity. No household staff and a district where it was not safe to pay too much close attention to what one’s neighbors got up to. Had he been in the habit of returning, dead drunk, to his official London residence at the Royal Mews, Charing Cross, it would prove much harder to find a wife. A Duke known to be a worthless rake was as unappealing as a beggar. To the right kind of woman, anyway.

Leonardo moved aside the dirty lace curtains that screened the garret’s small window. Below, he saw a flower seller standing in the shadow of the Tower. A man hawked meat pies a few yards further down. Sheep were appearing at the top of the muddy street, being driven south towards the river. For a moment he felt an unbearable longing for the freedom those people had.

Probably an illusion. They are not forced to marry a complete stranger or have the direction of their lives set for them from the moment of their birth. But, they are also free to starve. Not as free as it seems. I should be grateful for what I have. But it feels like chains.

The pair finished their improvised breakfast and, concealing their faces beneath broad-brimmed hats, left the garret to find a carriage. Thomas hopped from the conveyance midway along the Strand to walk the remaining distance to his house on Cecil Street. Leonardo pulled down the blinds after his friend’s departure and closed his eyes in the stifling darkness of the carriage. Presently, it stopped at Charing Cross and Leonardo disembarked, crossing the street, and entering the Royal Mews. His house dominated the quiet cul-de-sac, a mansion of several floors, with two front-facing entrances. It was made of dark brick and white plaster, its roof a forest of chimneys.

When the front door closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. Another nocturnal adventure over and now safe at home, away from prying eyes. Once upon a time, his father would have summoned him, notified of his return by a servant. Leonardo would have been forced to stand in his study and endure a scathing assessment of his reckless and feckless behavior. Now that the old man was gone, Leonardo missed those tongue lashings.

A pile of envelopes sat on a table next to the door, upon a silver tray. He picked them up and crossed the long, marble-floored entrance hall towards the house’s imperious staircase. One caught his eye in particular.

An invitation from the famed Dowager Countess Foster? How it must have pained her to invite me. Rank does have its uses. Were I not a Duke of ancient and revered name, she would not allow me to pass the threshold. Not with my reputation. It will be a good place to start in my search for a wife.

Chapter Three

Sarah inspected herself in the full-length dress mirror. The dress was her usual taste, understated but elegant. Earrings of silver with small, cut rubies glittered among her bouncing curls that looked sometimes chocolate brown and sometimes bronze, depending on how the light caught them. The rubies were the perfect accompaniment to her hair and she enjoyed the contrast of the red against her bright, blue eyes.

I will certainly do. Not the brightest jewel in Aunt Diana’s crown but far from fading into the background. The center of attention will always be Cousin Julia anyway. And she is welcome to it.

There was a sharp rap on the door to her dressing room. Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, finding a calm center. A knock at the door of her dressing room meant that the knocker had already let themselves into her chamber, passing through the sitting room and study without waiting. And from the peremptory sound of the knock, it could only be one person.

“Come in, Julia,” Sarah called out in a pleasant, light tone.

Since you are already halfway in already.

The door opened and Julia Sutton stepped into the room. She cast a critical eye over her cousin’s choice of dress.

“Is that how you intend to present yourself this evening? Or are you yet to change?”

“I am changed and ready to receive our guests,” Sarah said patiently.

“Really? I would not have thought so. I mean to say, Sarah. You do realize that Mama is putting this whole soiree on for the purpose of introducing you to a husband?”

Sarah turned away from Julia and walked briskly through the study into the sitting room. A jug of punch sat on a table along with a cut glass goblet. Sarah poured herself some and sipped at it, using it to screen her irritation.

“Because, you really cannot be a burden to poor Alexander forever you know,” Julia persisted, following her.

Julia was festooned with jewels, gold, and silver which sparkled with precious stones. The finery was intended to distract from her plain features and too-long neck, which she had attempted to hide with artfully worked hair. Sarah offered her cousin a glass of punch but she waved it away irritably.

“I know that last week at the tea party Mama arranged, you were very forthright about not marrying. Even though you are now two-and-twenty – practically an old woman. But in reality, marriage means you are no longer Alexander’s responsibility.”

“I do not wish to be anyone’s responsibility. I should like to earn my own living,” Sarah said.

Even as she said it, she knew it had been a mistake. One did not express such views in front of either Aunt Diana or her daughter. Julia looked incredulous.

“Earn? Earn? Oh, it is worse than I thought. Not content with living off my brother, you would bring ridicule on the Sutton name. How do you intend to earn your living, pray tell? Mining? Farming? Perhaps you will become a pig farmer?”

Sarah felt the beginnings of anger at her cousin’s relentless hostility. It had always been so, born out of a competitive nature in the other woman. Sarah suspected that Julia was jealous of the closeness Sarah had with Diana, Julia’s mother. They had always found more in common than Diana had with either of her children. Alexander seemed blithely unaware of the distance between him and his mother. Julia was affronted.

An angry answer welled up in Sarah but she was spared the argument that would have ensued by another knock at the door.

“Come in!” Sarah called out, with no little relief.

The door opened to admit Alexander Sutton, Earl of Moncrieff. He had his sister’s coloring and height, though he was prone to portliness, while she remained willow slender.

“Ah, you’re both here. Good. All set for this evening’s ball?” he said with eagerness, rubbing his hands together.

“We are, Xander,” Sarah said. “Would you care for some punch? Mrs. Galloway made up a fresh batch this afternoon and it is excellent.”

“Do not mind me then,” Alexander said, coming into the room.

Sarah poured him a glass while Julia sniffed disdainfully. He sipped it, then took a gulp, smacking his lips.

“Excellent as always!”

“Xander, really. You should not make that noise when you drink. You sound like a stableman,” Julia complained, taking a seat in the room’s most comfortable armchair.

“In private I shall be nothing but myself. I have a long enough evening of pretense ahead of me as it is,” Alexander replied with a smile.

He held up his glass to Sarah. “Cheers,” Sarah said, refilling hers.

“Do I detect the usual friction in the air?” Alexander asked, tossing back the rest of his glass, and helping himself to more.

“I am sure you detect no such thing,” Julia replied, loftily.

When her cousin looked away, Sarah winked at Alexander. He suppressed a smile.

“I should think not too. This evening is about presenting our family in the best possible light. There are some guests that I particularly wish to impress.”

“Oh, who is that, Xander?” Sarah asked, seating herself on a chaise and patting the seat next to her.

Alexander accepted the invitation. Sarah arranged herself in a position of attentiveness.

I will show Julia how much of a burden I am. Cousin Xander is a lovely man and a true gentleman. Whatever support he wishes with any of the guests invited this evening, he will have it from me.

“A number of people actually. All very influential among polite society and beneficial for our family to be counted alongside. I should like your help in particular, Sarah. Your interest in the arts and nature give you a much wider scope of conversation…”

Julia was on her feet in a moment. “Oh, really, Xander. The implication being that I am limited! That is the last straw, perhaps I will not deign to attend at all given how superfluous I clearly am!”

Without allowing a single word in between her own, she flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her. Sarah looked at Alexander in open-mouthed astonishment.

“What was all that about?” she asked.

Alexander spread his hands hopelessly. “She is so infernally sensitive. I think perhaps she is a little jealous of you.”

“Of me! How ridiculous. Julia has such beauty and grace and is far more knowledgeable about society than I. She is much more at home at a function like this. I would rather do my dancing at the village fair. Although, I suppose I should not say so. Do you think that I should be focusing on finding a husband, as your mother does?”

“Good Lord no!” Alexander said quickly. “Have no fear, cousin. I would not join in with Mama’s determination to arrange your life for you. I think your desire to experience the world is admirable.”

Sarah smiled, patting his hand. Alexander could always be relied upon to lend his support and provide a shoulder to lean on. As a child, he had been distant, but as an adult, it seemed he was trying to make up for that aloofness. He squeezed her fingers in his own.

“I could not help but overhear what my sister was saying. About you being a burden on me? I want you to know that it could not be further from the truth. There will always be a place here for you. After all, it was your father that was the Earl, not mine.”

“I know, and I am grateful, Xander. Sometimes Julia’s disdain is somewhat relentless. It is good to know that you do not share it.”

Alexander smiled and looked as though he would say something else, but stopped himself.

“Well, I should return to the preparations. There is still much to be done.”

He lifted her hand and blew a kiss to it without touching it, then he stood and left the room. Sarah decided to lend her support and find out how she could be of help. Below the family rooms on the third floor, the house was a bustling, kicked anthill of activity. As she left her sitting room, she saw her Aunt coming along the passageway. Alexander turned a corner at the far end, deep in the giving of instructions to the butler, Greaves.

“Was Alexander just in your rooms?” Diana asked.

“Morning, Aunt Diana. Yes, he was,” Sarah replied.

Diana frowned, looking after her son.

“Is there something wrong, Aunt Diana?” Sarah asked.

Diana beckoned her close, still watching the end of the hallway. Then she looked at Sarah with penetrating dark eyes.

“Have a care with him,” she said.

Sarah frowned, wondering if it was a warning for her to keep her distance.

Surely, she does not think I have designs on my own cousin?

“He has always been a cold one, quite unlike me or his father. I would say he takes after my brother, Roderick. A black sheep if ever there was one,” Diana said. “Do not take what he says at face value, and always remember that Alexander never acts without a motive.”

Look out for its full release on the 9th of May!