Prologue

The final ball of the Season was always particularly noisy, and this one was no different. Arthur Russell grinned at the glittering assembly and sipped at the wine in his hand. He wasn’t sure how many glasses he’d had, only that it was enough to leave him warm and loose and thoroughly pleased with life in general. A quick glance around his close friends, Ralph, David and Samuel showed they were in much the same state, all of them flushed with wine and satisfaction.

He redirected his gaze to the floor. Men and women from all levels of the ton were dancing, drinking, or talking. His gaze flicked disinterestedly over the men and the women who were obviously paired with someone.

“Got your eye on a pretty lass?” David nudged him lightly in the ribs. “Plenty of them around.”

“That’s as may be, but why should I have my eye on just one?” Arthur smirked. “After all, there’s nothing wrong with examining the field.”

“You have a point there. And each pretty miss with her own special charms.” Samuel grinned back. “Why, I’ve heard that Baron Cordell’s second daughter doesn’t make any man be a stranger for long…”

“And why should she? She’s far from the fairest of maids…” Ralph waved a hand dismissively. “There’s nothing to that. Now the Seville girl… there’s a chit to give a man a challenge and the enjoyment of a good game and a great reward, I’ll wager.” He winked. “Rumor is that it’s not corset stays nor clever tailoring that gives her that bosom.”

“You don’t say?” Arthur blinked, then scanned the crowd until he spotted the girl in question. “Well, that might be well worth the challenge. But I must say, a nice chest isn’t worth much if it comes with a frigid and strait-laced miss who’s not of a mind to share her charms. A bit of a warm welcome is more to my taste, and I’ve heard some things about the eldest Hargrove… pretty face, and a very warm welcome, if you take my meaning.”

They all chuckled. Then David frowned. “A pretty face and a good bed partner’s all very well, but I’d like my woman to have a bit of spirit. It’s no fun if they’re meek as a milkmaid.”

“Mayhap, but who wants a harpy?”

“You’re both right.” Ralph gestured expansively, swaying where he stood. “I mean, you’re right, and you’re wrong if you see my meaning…”

“I don’t think I do…” Samuel blinked with bleary eyes.

“Well, you’re all talking as if you’d only have one choice. But why should that be the case? Why not have a meek maid for when you want a quick, easy tumble and someone with a bit more fire when you’re in the mood for more fun and a little less lady-like behavior?” Ralph swallowed a gulp of wine. “I daresay none of us have been exactly chaste, and I’ll wager that none of us has tied ourselves to one set of apron strings, or corset strings, as the case may be.”

Arthur grinned at Ralph’s lopsided leer. “There’s truth in that. Plenty of willing ladies outside the ton, and in it too, if one looks well enough. And no shame in playing the field for a few years. Sow your oats and all that.”

“I’ll drink to that,” David smirked.

“I’ll not.” Ralph shook his head. “Why settle for a few years of freedom before tying yourself to one woman?”

David shrugged, swaying gently with the effects of the wine. “Well, who says a ring on a girl’s finger has to be the end of a man’s freedom? For myself, now that Ralph’s brought up the point… well, a wife who has to fight for the privilege of her husband’s attention is likely to be more attentive, no?” He smirked. “I see no reason why my wife shouldn’t have to compete for my commitment after the wedding as well as before? It’s not as if they’re so very shy about doing rounds in the Marriage Mart. Let your wedded wife know that her status and security depends as much on keeping your attention as it did in gaining it, I say.”

Ralph shook his head, barely avoiding toppling head-first into a nearby shrub. “Say what you like, and put a ring on a girl’s finger if you want. As for me, I’ll swear here and now that there’s no power on this earth that’ll see me tied to a woman with any sort of promise. I’ll die a well satisfied-bachelor, and never mind all this nonsense of marriage. I’ll take oath on it here and now; you’ll never see me at the altar unless it’s trying to talk one of you away from it!”

“No need to go that far. Some of us must carry on the family name and all that. Someday.” Arthur grinned and raised his glass. “But not for some years yet, I pray. So for now, let’s toast to friends and freedom and the glory of a vigorous and passionate manhood!”

“Friends, freedom, and a passionate manhood!” Glasses clinked, and Arthur downed the last of his wine with a smile.

The ton was full of lovely and willing women, and the lower classes even more so. His father was a duke, and there was plenty of time to sire his own heirs.

For now, he would enjoy his freedom and do as he pleased.

***

Another Ball. Another round of the same old dances and most of the same partners. Being in Bath was a nice change from her parent’s country estate, and her aunt was a much nicer chaperon. Her aunt understood that a young woman needed to have some freedom in her life.

But still… every Season was the same, in Bath or London. Balls, dancing, finger foods, and abundant drinks. Men looking for wives, and girls looking for husbands. All being so proper and correct that it was a wonder anyone ever got to know anyone else well enough to get married.

And half the marriages were cool, arranged matters with little passion and less association. A matter of continuing family lines and securing social ties.

How dull.

For all that she had no interest in being a working girl, in truth, at least they got to flirt and enjoy themselves while courting. It might be a bit scandalous, but they had the opportunity to know what the marriage bed was like before they entered into a permanent arrangement. They could fall in love and steal kisses in dark hallways or the scullery or the pantry.

Movement caught her eye, and she turned her head. Her breath hitched.

He was handsome, dark-haired, and dark-eyed, with a lithe figure in a well-cut evening suit, his elegant features full of life and energy. And he was staring straight at her.

Their eyes met, and he smiled. It was a charming smile, with a dash of roguish humor and plenty of confidence, to say nothing of the interest she saw sparking in those dark brown orbs.

A subtle tilt of his head, a shrug of one shoulder, and an eyebrow raised in a question, and he slid the door to the terrace open with a languid, graceful movement. He held her eyes a moment longer, then slid through the door.

An invitation, and he was indeed a handsome man. He was clearly asking her to join him. And what could it hurt?

She took a step forward…

~

“Eleanora Beaumont! Are you listening to me?” Her father’s sharp voice dragged her attention back to the present.

“Yes, Father.” She dipped her head meekly, hands folded over her stomach.

Her father, Lord Beaumont, took a deep breath. Behind him, her mother looked pale and ready to burst into tears. Her two sisters were thankfully not in attendance. One was with her husband, the other was out with friends.

“You are certain on the matter?”

Eleanora sighed. They’d discussed this already, but apparently, it needed repeating. She swallowed back the hot flush of shame and the ache in her throat. The stiff chair – commonly used for receiving unwelcome guests in the front parlor – was no comfort to either that or the growing ache in her back.

“I am with child. A man I met in Bath. I have informed the father, and he will not – cannot – accept responsibility.”

“Rubbish. Any man brought up with proper manners would do his duty by a girl of your station. If he’s not honorable enough to do so on his own, I’ll call him out and have him either do right by you or meet him on the dueling field.” Her father scowled, his complexion flushed red with a combination of outrage at her, outrage at her erstwhile lover, and scandalized outrage at the world in general.

“It cannot be done, Father. He is gone. It would not be possible to challenge him.” To say nothing of the fact that she had no idea where his proper residence was. He’d hinted, during their liaisons, that he was visiting Bath, just as she was. She had known enough of his lodging situation to tell him of her condition, but he decamped soon after and she discovered that he had given her a false name so she could not track him.

“God’s breath girl! You didn’t even get the rascal’s name? He could be anyone. A stable boy or a servant, for all you know.” Over his shoulder, she saw her mother gasp and put a hand to her chest, either fainting or feeling faint. Tears sparkled in her eyes, tragic and forlorn in a way that made Eleanora’s stomach churn in a manner that had nothing to do with her… condition.

“I am sorry, Father.”

“Sorry does nothing for this situation, nor for the shame you’ve brought to this family!” her father scowled and began to pace. Eleanora watched him warily. He was not a man to strike his children or a lady, in a temper, but she’d never upset him quite so badly before.

Finally, he stopped. “If we cannot get your suitor…” he spat the word like it was a much stronger epithet. “… to behave honorably, then the best we can do is to have you married before your condition becomes common knowledge. Once you are married, your husband can keep you in seclusion until the babe arrives, and long enough to make it seem the babe is legitimate.”

Eleanora’s mother sat up. “But who…?”

“Lord Graven is a widower. He is much taken with Eleanora. At the least, he is fond of her and he has no other prospects nor any heirs who might complain. The dowry might need to be higher than usual, but he’s the most likely to be willing to take her in, and provide for her. And he’ll keep an honorable silence, if only for his own reputation.”

It felt as though her father’s words were frozen rocks, tumbling into her stomach and turning her numb and leaden with their weight. “Father… Lord Graven is near fifteen years your senior. He is… I could never have more affection for him than a child might feel for an uncle. A well-liked or even well-loved uncle, perhaps. But surely…”

“But nothing.” Her father spun to face her. “Do you not understand yet, you foolish child? After this, no man of younger years or better reputation would take you. You’d bring him naught but shame, bringing a bastard babe into the marriage. If you were an honorable widow, it might be less a problem, but as it stands… no, Lord Graven will give you shelter and some pretense of honor, and that is the best we can hope for.” He sighed. “I will write him directly.”

There was truth in her father’s words and sense, yet it stung like a slap to the face. Even more, the thought was unbearable. To be wed to a man older than her father, sent away and hidden away like an inconvenient painting or a horse put out to pasture. To be held in a loveless relationship…

She rose to her feet, arms crossed in front of her stomach, trembling with the pressure of her emotions. And terrified of what she was about to do. “Father… even if Lord Graven consents, I will not.”

“You will.” His expression turned thunderous.

She shook her head. “I will not.”

“You will do as you are told, child! You will behave with as much dignity as you have left in this shameful situation, and you will obey my directives. Or else you shall no longer be part of this family.” He loomed over her and never had he looked more like he might strike or shake her. Not even when she had embarrassed him at a family dinner when she was a child.

And still, she could not find it in herself to back down, not even with her mother’s tearful eyes pleading with her. “It seems I will not be a part of this family, whether I obey you or not. And if that is to be my situation, then I would do just as well to follow my own thoughts on the matter.”

Her father’s face turned an alarming shade of red. His hands clenched at his sides. Abruptly, he spun on his heel and marched over to the fireplace. Wrath was evident in the set of his shoulders. The cords of his neck, prominent with his effort to reign in his temper.

When he spoke again, his voice was deadly calm, like a winter wind slicing down from the sea and driving a ruinous storm before it. “Get out of my house.”

It was like a punch to the gut. “Father…”

“You have an hour to pack your things and leave this home. It is no longer yours. Neither is the Beaumont name. From this day and this hour, you are no longer a member of this family. You are hereby disowned until you come to your senses or prove that you can act with the decorum and propriety which you seem to sorely lack.”

Without another word or even a backward glance, he strode from the room.

The world seemed to sway, and there was a high ringing sound in her ears. She collapsed back into the chair, feeling as if the world had tipped sideways and thrown her off.

Disowned. She had not thought…

A hand jerked her from her thoughts. She looked up to see her mother’s tear-stained face. “Mother…”

“Hush, child. You must pack.” Her mother’s hand was firm as it guided her to her feet and toward her own rooms. “You heard your….Lord Beaumont.”

“Can you not speak to him?”

“Not now. He is far too angered. I will do what I can when his temper cools… but for now. You must leave.” Her mother led her upstairs and summoned a servant to bring two modest traveling bags. Together they packed a few essentials, a few of her plainer dresses, and other items.

Once the bags were packed, her mother gestured. “Downstairs and wait for me.”

Eleanora obeyed, feeling lost, sick at heart. She couldn’t seem to breathe properly.

This cannot be happening. It cannot…

But the packed bags were evidence, their very size a testament to her circumstances. Her vacation to Bath had taken twice the luggage easily. Her stomach churned, and it took all her willpower to stay on her feet.

Her mother appeared moments later, carrying a packet and a purse. The packet she tucked into one of the bags. The purse she folded into Eleanora’s hands. “This is the best I can do. It will at least give you a little help, I hope.”

Eleanora felt the tears she had not shed during the argument with her father break free. She gasped on a painful sob and huddled into her mother’s arms. “Mama… I am so sorry… I…”

“I know, dear. I know, my little Nora. But there is nothing to be done.” Her mother sighed. “I could wish you had shown more discretion or more obedience to your father. But your father is wrong to think that Society would not guess the truth of the matter if you were suddenly married to Lord Graven. And he might give you shelter, but I do not think he would lie for you. You would still be ostracized and seen as a wanton woman who preyed on a decent man when your ways caught up with you. Far worse, in the end, I think.”

“What am I to do?”

“Find a place in London or Bath. Do what seems best to you.” her mother’s clasp tightened a moment, then released her. “Be careful. Be safe. And write to me. At least…” Her voice cracked on fresh tears. “At least do send me word when my grandchild is born?”

“I will, Mother. I will.”

The clock chimed the hour. The family trap – an unassuming thing they seldom used – clattered to a stop. Her mother must have sent for it at some point. Her mother stepped back. “Goodbye, darling.”

She swallowed back further tears and the pain that threatened to send her to her knees on the cobbles. She forced herself to pick up her bags and lift her chin. “Goodbye, Mother.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It was the hardest thing she had ever done: turn away and climb into the trap. To set her bags at her feet and direct the driver to start. Even then, she could not help looking back.

It was nearly her undoing. Fresh tears started on her face as she watched her mother – slender and pale with her sorrowful gaze – disappear around the bend of the drive.

For better or worse, she was disowned. The house she had grown up in was no longer her home.

She would have to find a new one.

***

London, in the days after the Season, was a cheerless place. And all the worse, if one was without friends or family to call upon.

Eleanora staggered to a stop, shivering as thunder rumbled threateningly overhead and little swirls of wind did their best to sneak through her dress.

She’d decided, after some thought, to go to London. She was fairly certain her aunt would take her in but equally certain that her aunt would be as appalled as her father at her actions. And even if she was not, even if she offered shelter and care, it would drive a rift between her aunt and her father, and she’d no desire to cause further harm to her family.

She had not thought of what it would be like to be in London in her current state. Disowned, she could not seek shelter with anyone who might have known her or her father. And in any case, most of the ton were in the process of leaving for the country now that the Season was ended.

She had no idea where she might seek lodging. She had no idea how long the money her mother had given her might last. She had no idea even of what a good bargain or a bad one might be.

Nor any concept of what she would do when the money ran out. It would, at some point, she knew.

She’d always been told that disgraced women were destined for the brothels and back alleys, and she was beginning to be terrified that it was true.

The plop of a fat, icy raindrop on her arm startled her out of her thoughts. She flinched, then huddled in on herself as more drops fell, increasing steadily until she stood in a fair deluge.

In minutes she was shivering, soaked, and completely at a loss for what to do next. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing looked like a source of shelter or of food. She was freezing, her stomach aching with a need for sustenance.

And she had not the slightest idea where to turn.

Tears prickled in her eyes, then escaped to join the rain sliding down her face.

Gods above… what am I to do?

“Hoi there, love.” Eleanora started as a voice broke the sound of the falling rain. She looked up.

A few feet away was a young woman. She was dressed in simple but comfortable-looking clothing, a dress topped with a shawl. In the dim light of the street lamp, Eleanora could make out her reddish hair and lightly tanned skin. Then her attention skittered to the most important thing.

The woman was holding an umbrella over her head, tilted just far enough that the light could touch upon her features.

The woman took a few steps closer. “Hello there.”

Eleanora swallowed and forced her nearly frozen jaw to unclench. “H-h-hello.”

The woman gestured. “I’ve some space here under the umbrella if you’ve a mind to share. You look like you’ll freeze else.”

“I… thank you.” Eleanor grabbed her bags and huddled under the offered shelter gratefully, too cold and wearied and heartsick to care much who the woman was. “I b-beg your pardon. I’m…” She paused, then decided on a name. “Nora. Just Nora.” Eleanora Beaumont was no more; Nora seemed more appropriate for her situation.

“I am Scarlett.” Nora blinked at the name, and the young woman – she was young, about Nora’s own age – smiled and shrugged. “It’s a name, and I’m well-pleased with it. It serves me well enough.” She began to move up the street. “Now, I’ve lodgings not far from here, if you like. Or if you’re looking for somewhere or someone in particular…” She trailed off. “You’ll pardon me, but you seemed a little lost… were you waiting for someone?”

Nora swallowed back a bitter laugh like a sob. “No. No one. And nowhere.” She curled her arms around herself. “There’s… no one. I’m alone.”

“Hard luck, that.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She tightened her arms over her stomach, feeling the faintest flutter of life there. “I shan’t be alone for long. There will be two of us before long.”

“That’s the way of it, is it?” Scarlett’s eyes and her voice were warm and sympathetic. She walked along in silence for a long moment. Then she paused. “I don’t mean to presume, Nora, but… I should very much like…”

She stopped, then started again. “My lodgings aren’t so large, but they’re big enough for two, I daresay. You could come in and get warm and dry, at the least.”

The idea of warmth, of being able to change into dry clothing… such simple things sounded like a definition of heaven. Nora opened her mouth to respond, only to flush as her stomach rumbled loudly. She ducked her head. “I… do you know where I might be able to find a place to procure food?”

Scarlett smiled. “I do at that. There’s food aplenty at my lodgings. It’ll be simple fare, hot stew, and yesterday’s bread, but it’s warm and filling enough.”

Nora blinked. “I don’t want to… I couldn’t put you to any trouble….” She fumbled for her belt. “I… I do have some funds…” She stopped as Scarlett’s hand closed gently over hers.

“I’ll not take your money for a day’s company, nor even if you should choose to stay the night. You’d hardly be causing me any issues. Truth, I’d welcome the company.”

Warmth banished the chill of the rain and the wind and some of the ache in Nora’s heart. “You mean… you would?”

“Of course. I know well it’s not easy being a single young woman on her own. And I daresay we could both do better together than apart.” Scarlett tipped her head thoughtfully. “And there’s an idea if you’ve a mind for it. “

“I… what?” Nora blinked.

“Stay a bit. It’s far safer to be two than one in London, especially in some of the rougher parts of town. And I’ll wager you need someplace until you’ve found proper employment, no?”

She hadn’t even thought of that. “Y-yes.”

“Then stay. I’d not mind some help on the rent and the housekeeping, nor a housemate. Stay until you’re in a better position. Or until after the babe is born, if you like.” Scarlett smiled.

Nora stared at her. “But, surely you have better things to do… ”

Scarlett shook her head. “And how so? I haven’t children or a suitor. But I do like caring for children. Helped raise three of my siblings. And if you’re willing, despite the fact we’ve barely just met, then I’d like to make your ‘two of us’ the ‘three of us’.” Scarlett smiled. “I’ll not say anything if you’d prefer other arrangements, but in truth, I miss somewhat of the noise of others in my living space. And I rather think both of us could use a friend. Or, perhaps, all three of us.”

Relief like a draft of the best mulled wine soaked through her. “Oh, I would. I would like that very much.”

“Well then, Nora, welcome to London. And now… let’s be off home.” Scarlett took one of her bags, and together they moved off into the rain-soaked night.

And for the first time in days, Nora felt that things might be all right after all.

Chapter One

Four years later…

The plants needed watering. Nora frowned at the delicate crystal vase and its carefully arranged blooms. It was a part of her duties as a maid in the household of the Duke and Dowager of Bedford, to see that the flowers were kept healthy and bright, or at least changed out if they’d reached the end of their lifespans.

These, she thought, weren’t quite to the point of needing to be replaced with fresh flowers. Carefully, she edged the stems aside and tipped a little water from her pitcher into the vase.

Three years ago, she probably would have spilled the water and had to clean it up. Unused to working, much less as a maid, she’d been clumsy and shy. If the Dowager – though she’d then been the Duchess – hadn’t taken a liking to her, she might have been dismissed.

Now though, she was a practiced and deft hand at any task she could be set to. Cleaning, laundry, setting tables, clearing tables… she did her work quickly, and even if it was immodest, she rather thought she did it well.

There was a certain irony in the situation, given that she’d once wished idly for the freedom of a working-class girl. And now she had it; she had no desire to pursue the amorous relationships she’d dreamed of at the time.

She’d very little interest in amorous relationships at all, in truth. After how the last one had turned out, she was wary of any man who might approach her.

The chiming of a bell – a very familiar bell – pulled her from her thoughts just as she finished with the water. She set down the pitcher and looked around.

The bell was for the Duke’s study, generally the domain of the man’s valet or the butler. But the butler was attending the Dowager, and the valet, given the hour, was most likely laying out his master’s clothing and drawing his bath. Everyone else was already about their assigned tasks for the day.

With a grumbling sigh, she set the pitcher down and wiped the condensation off her hands and onto her apron.  There was no point in letting the man get irritable and insufferable by waiting until one of his assigned manservants could come take care of the matter.

She strode down the hall to the correct door and rapped lightly with her knuckles.

“Enter.” She turned the knob and stepped inside.

The study, the private workplace of the Duke of Bedford, was a spacious, airy room, divided partially by bookcases filled with various tomes. There was a low couch behind one, on which the Duke could rest if he felt the need or sit to entertain business discussions.

Not that he was making use of it now. The Duke of Bedford was, at that moment, standing at his desk, trying to put himself to rights.

Nora watched him for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence and give her his orders.

The Duke of Bedford. Arthur Russell, who until two years ago had been the Heir of Bedford. The only son of the previous Duke, who had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. Tall, lean, with blond hair and hazel eyes that went green in just the right light, he was a handsome enough man, with a teasing manner and a flirtatious smile. However, he was, like most men of his station, rather arrogant.

She worked primarily for the Dowager, and her duties meant she’d had few encounters with the Duke, none of them requiring more than a quick curtsy and a ‘Your Grace.’ Still, she could admit that he was good-looking, precisely the type of man she’d be attracted to…

Before. The type of man I might have been attracted to before. But I know his kind, and he cannot be trusted. She gave herself a quick mental shake just as the Duke happened to look up and see her.

Confusion crossed his face. “What the… oh! It’s you.” He blinked, swallowed, and smoothed back a stray lock of hair as he tried to adjust his cravat into a more proper position. “Where is my valet, then? Or one of my other manservants?”

Nora swallowed back a sigh of frustration and concentrated on keeping her eyes properly lowered and her voice calm and level, quiet as befitted a servant addressing her lord. “I fear they’re busy, Your Grace, seeing to the tasks of the morning. I do not think they heard the bell, my lord.”

“Oh gads, of course, they would be…” he trailed off, running his hands through his hair again. It only served to undo his previous efforts, though she was not about to point that out to him. “Well, I suppose if it has to be a maidservant who answers the bell…” He glanced over her, clearly wondering what her name was, then shrugged. “… at least you’re quiet. My mother’s little mouse. It could be worse, I suppose.”

Nora bit her lip to stop the retort that wanted to escape and kept her hands folded meekly in front of her. After a moment, the Duke cleared his throat. “All right then… I need you to do something for me. A favor, you might say, as it’s a bit outside your usual duties.”

“Your wish is my command.” Though she’d rather be tending the flowers still.

“Hmm… so it is. In any case…” He turned his head. “You can come out now.”

Nora blinked, barely keeping her expression in check and properly expressionless as a woman came around the bookshelves, from the area where the couch was hidden. Her hair was mussed, her dress creased, and her face curiously devoid of powders or gloss. Though she didn’t need it, with her thick, glossy chestnut locks and her fine porcelain skin. Deep brown eyes and a pert nose, and a perfect, lovely white smile. She was, in a word, stunning.

And clearly had been up to… activities with the Duke. Activities that Nora did not want to know about or think about.

“Right then. I need you to help Annabelle here out of the house and to the carriage. Without my lady mother seeing her.”

“My lord?” Surely he didn’t mean…

“Help Annabelle get outside and to the carriage. Before my mother catches on to the fact that I’m late for breakfast and guesses as to why. Or worse, comes up here and sees for herself.” He waved a distracted hand. “You can manage that, can’t you?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” And so she could. No one ever paid much attention to quiet Nora, the Dowager’s maid. She took a deep breath and throttled back her feelings of outrage on the young woman’s behalf. From the expression on her face, the young woman the Duke was saying a quick farewell to didn’t find the matter nearly as alarming as she did. “If you’ll follow me, my lady?”

“Of course.” The lady stopped and tipped the Duke a wink. “Until next time, Arthur darling.”

He smirked, smug and relaxed as he leaned on one hip against the desk. “Until next time, gentle lady.”

Nora bit back a comment and ushered the lady from the room. The back stairs were closer and would avoid passing the Dowager’s rooms or the morning room where she commonly had her breakfast. At this hour, Nora herself was the only one who used them, or perhaps the butler, though he wouldn’t be coming down until breakfast was done, not unless there was a caller at the door.

It was a matter of moments to guide the lady down the steps – she seemed to know them well, so perhaps it was the normal route – to the floor below, then down a short hall, out a side door into the garden, and around front.

The carriage was already waiting as if this was quite the usual thing. Perhaps it was. The Duke was rumored to be somewhat of a rake.

It was that which led her to come to a stop just before they reached the carriage. For all that it was no longer her place to be concerned with such things; she couldn’t help being worried. She didn’t want someone else trapped in her circumstances, or worse. She swallowed and breathed deep. “Ah… my lady, I beg your pardon, but… might I be permitted a question? Even if it is… an improper one for my station?”

The lady – Annabelle – laughed. “Well, I do not see why not. After all, this is not exactly a situation for your station either.” She smiled. “You may ask.”

Nora took a moment to make sure her voice was properly meek. “The Duke… he is not… he is not coercing you? Or… using you unfairly? Taking… advantage?”

“My, what a sheltered young thing you are if you think I am being taken advantage of.” The words should have stung, but there was no malice in them and nothing more than lazy amusement, the kind a cat might show after a bowl of cream, in her face when Nora looked up.

The lady continued, smiling slightly. “No, dear, it’s nothing of the sort. Say, rather, that I am taking advantage of his known penchant for… indiscretion, shall we say?… to amuse myself.” One hand gently tipped Nora’s chin up. “It is sweet of you to ask, especially circumstances being what they are between us, and I do thank you for the consideration. Misguided though it is. But you’ve nothing to worry about on that score, little miss.”

Nora nodded, ducking her head as she was released. “As you will, my lady.”

“You are a quiet, sweet little thing. Farewell, then. Perhaps we shall encounter each other again, in less… compromising, circumstances.” With that, the lady stepped away, stepping up into the carriage with graceful steps. Less than a minute later, the whole conveyance was out the gate and out of sight.

Nora heaved out a frustrated breath of air. “Concerned… if you knew what I knew, Miss Annabelle, about fickle men of the ton and their ways, you might be a good deal more concerned. As you should be.”

Best selling books of Lisa

★★★★★ 86 ratings

Read the book

★★★★★ 86 ratings

Read the book

★★★★★ 109 ratings

Read the book