Prologue

Somerset, England

1806

“A race?” Andrew asked, watching as Lady Violet steered her horse forward. Sitting side saddle on a grey mare that was almost as tall as his own stallion, Lady Violet cut an impressive figure. Andrew pulled his horse up alongside hers, just as he always did, reluctant to let her out of his sight. She may have been a fine rider, but she had fallen off on more than one occasion, and he would always ensure he was the one there to pick her up when it happened.

“Oh, unless you think you cannot win?” Lady Violet said with a teasing tone.

“Ha!” Andrew laughed at the girl next to him. She was often bold in such ways, playfully teasing him where other girls sat quietly behind pianofortes and barely made a sound. “How can I refuse a race now?” he asked as he steered his brown steed forward an inch. She did the same with her horse until they were both inching their horses forward one step at a time.

“If we go all the way up the hill like this, we may be here for some time,” Lady Violet said with a laugh.

“That I do not have a problem with,” Andrew assured her and glanced back over his shoulder, across the estate.

His father’s house, Cloveden, was one of the finest estates in Buckinghamshire with huge acres of estate surrounding it. At this distance, he could just make out the house, tall with yellow bricks and red accents, with so many windows that Andrew could not count them with a single glance. The two wings of the house stretched to the side and curved around a formal knot garden, with borders of flowers and a fountain in the middle. Despite its beauty, Andrew preferred to spend his time in the wilderness of the wider estate, amongst the trees and parkland riding his horse.

The house is my brother’s domain and always will be. This…this is where I am free to be me.

He looked back to Lady Violet who was looking at him a little quizzically.

“I’d say you are reluctant to go home for tea,” she said with a smile. “Our parents will be waiting for us.”

“Let us have that race at least,” he said, eager to prolong the time away for as much as possible. “To the summit of that hill.” He pointed to a hill nearby, cloaked with trees around the base and exposed at the top with open grassland, it offered the perfect view of not just the estate, but the surrounding towns and villages too.

“Very well,” she said, inching her grey mare forward again, when Andrew matched the advance, she giggled. “On the count of three. One…two…three!”

Together, they launched their horses forward. The grey and the chestnut set off with great gallops, matching one another in strength and stride as Andrew and Lady Violet leaned over their horse’s noses, urging them on.

When Lady Violet’s horse began to pull out in front, Andrew urged his horse faster, but it did little use. All the calls for his steed to hurry did little good. Soon, he was trailing behind her, with his horse’s hooves clomping against the undergrowth and the roots around the trees seconds after the grey mare.

Lady Violet steered her horse expertly through the trees, dodging the branches as though it were some sort of practiced dance, avoiding each bough easily, and twisting around old stumps that could upset a less-skilled rider. When she escaped the trees and stretched out across the grassland, the gap between them was growing wider. Andrew still wasn’t out of the trees yet.

Why do I feel like I am always chasing at this girl’s heels?

He didn’t have any longer to answer his question, for he had to bend down beneath a branch to prevent himself an injury. It was the last tree in his path though as he reached the grass and followed her up the last stretch of the hill. When he neared the top, she had clearly already been at the summit for a few minutes, for she cheered her victory and turned around to him with a big smile.

“I think you are a little pleased,” he said, laughing as he brought his horse back to a slow canter.

“If this is a little pleased, then goodness knows how I look when I’m ecstatic.” Her jest brought a laugh from him as the horse came to a stop. “I am merely pleased I have managed to stay in the saddle for once.”

“You are a fine rider,” he pointed out.

“I still frequently fall.”

“That I cannot deny, yet it comes from being so eager to ride faster and harder all the time.”

“I should fall less,” she said, setting her bright green eyes on him.

“I will never mind picking you up when you do fall, Lady Violet.” His words had come out deeper than he had expected. His voice had not long changed, growing deeper and deeper almost every day. She smiled all the more at his words then turned and began to clamber down from the mare.

“Well, for this rare defeat of you in a race, I think I deserve a prize,” she said. “What do you think?”

“What prize would you like?” he asked her, arranging himself to climb down from his horse too.

“A kiss.” Her words surprised him so much that he nearly fell as he jumped off the horse. She giggled at his response. “Well, if you do not want a kiss –”

“I never said that.” His hurried reply made her laugh all the more. He crossed the distance between the two of them, moving closer toward her.

A kiss… The errant idea had slipped into his dreams on occasion, but the real thing… It seemed almost impossible.

“Well, I’ll have to find someone else to kiss me instead,” Lady Violet said, ready to walk away back to her horse to find someone else.

This urge had taken over Andrew. It was a kind of stirring for her, a need that if she wanted a kiss, he should be the boy to offer her one. He reached out, taking her hand in his and pulling her toward him. She collided with him, placing her other hand to his chest as he bent down toward her. The kiss was fast, just a press of lips together, yet it changed everything.

Andrew held the touch of their lips for as long as he could, aware that Lady Violet was kissing him back with the same kind of urgency. The heat of the kiss crawled up his chest and neck, urging him to place his hands gently on her waist, keeping her near him. When they eventually pulled away from each other, her green eyes were wide with a kind of wonder and her lips were parted.

Andrew couldn’t stop touching her, not yet. He lifted a hand and played with one of her golden locks that had fallen out of her updo in the wind. He tangled the golden thread around his finger, indulging in the silkiness as his eyes flitted down to her lips again, wondering what it would be like if they could kiss another time. She seemed to be thinking the same thing, for she bit her lip, and a great blush dappled her cheeks.

“Well, I am glad I won the race,” she had said, her lips spreading into a smile. “Or I may have missed out on such a prize.”

Chapter 1

Bath, England

1814

“Well, I must marry soon, Drew, or Father will arrange it for me.”

Andrew turned away from his brother, hating the nickname John always gave him. It came from when he was a child and had a stammer. Unable to pronounce other names clearly, including his own, when he had struggled with the syllable ‘And’ and only managed to say ‘Drew’, the name had stuck. Andrew hated it, for it reminded him of the stammer, constantly.

“I had no idea you were interested in marriage, John,” Andrew said, tightening his hold around his glass. “Quite frankly, if our father or anyone here knew of your behavior…I am not sure many ladies would consider you for a match.”

“Ha! You know me well,” John said, delighting far too much in his own libertine ways for Andrew’s liking. “Yet my behavior shall remain our secret, won’t it, Drew?” John’s piercing blue eyes pinned Andrew to the spot.

“That it shall,” he said with a sigh, looking away again.

The Bath Assembly Rooms were busy this evening, with the lofted ceiling molded in plaster lit by the orange candle chandeliers. Beneath the candles, people wandered to and fro, some gentlemen with their noses stuck high in their air because they were wearing such large cravats, and some ladies with their faces tilted at an angle, in order to balance ostrich feathers.

Andrew looked between these faces, searching for one person in particular.

She will be here. Father said as much.

“Who are you looking for?” John asked as he filled up his glass from the punch bowl behind them.

“No one,” Andrew lied. He didn’t need anyone to know about his particular affection for a certain lady, least of all John, who might well tease him mercilessly for having such an ambition.

Second sons are rarely considered eligible bachelors after all, he thought with frustration.

“John…” Andrew paused and gestured down to his glass. “That is your third one. We only arrived twenty minutes ago. Don’t you think you should slow down a little?”

“Slow down? Tush,” John said with a laugh and flicked his head, tossing the black hair out of his eyes. “I need a little lightness if I’m going to consider marrying one of the ladies here.” He practically downed the glass.

Andrew grimaced and looked away, down into the punch bowl that was disappearing quickly because of his brother’s attention. In the reflection in the liquid, he could just about see himself. He possessed the same black hair and blues eyes as his brother, but their faces were different. Where John possessed good looks from a long nose and a thin face, Andrew had a square jaw and more angular features.

“I do not think you being in your cups will help persuade a lady to marry you.” Yet Andrew’s words seemed to go unnoticed by his brother. “Why do you even wish to get married in the first place? You seem to spend more time at the brothel than you do at home these days.”

“Shh,” John said, waving the empty punch glass. “I do not want all and sundry to hear that, do I?”

“If you don’t want people to know, then just do not go,” Andrew said, shrugging, as it seemed the best solution to him.

“Clearly you have not indulged in such delights yourself yet.”

I have no wish to.

“I must marry, Drew, as I need a wife to produce an heir. That is all.”

“That is all?” Andrew asked, grimacing at the nickname once again. “Do you mean to say that you do not even care if you like the lady or not?” He nearly dropped his own punch glass. “That’s an awful thing to say. No, that is not enough. It is a dreadful thing to even think!”

“As long as the lady is eligible, with a suitable dowry to make our father happy, and beautiful enough that I do not mind taking her to bed, not much else matters to me,” John said, looking around the faces at the assembly.

“Good god, man,” Andrew said, despairing of his brother. “I do not think I have known anyone as cold mannered when it comes to marriage as you.”

“You love me really, I’m your brother,” John said, laughing as he poured himself another glass. Andrew didn’t answer, for he was so angered by his brother’s words. “What of Lady Alice Hengleby? She is certainly a beauty.” Andrew searched the crowd where his brother was pointing to a young lady with black hair and greyish eyes. She had pretty features, elfin in nature, but there was not the trace of a smile.

“I have heard the lady is not fond of conversation,” Andrew said. “Surely you want a lady you could at least talk to?”

“As I said, she needs to produce an heir and have money, those are the priorities.”

“Permit me to scoff and deride such a thing,” Andrew said with mockery. “Even you must here how absurd that all sounds.”

“I am merely being practical. How many people do you know that have married for love, hmm? It’s an illusion only.”

It is not. Andrew had seen enough love matches in his life to know that they were possible, and he also knew well enough to feel the keen sting of love. That was why he was eagerly searching the crowd of guests with such frantic eyes.

“Ah, there you two are.” A familiar voice made the two of them turn round to see their father approaching them. The Marquess of Rembrall was a formidable presence, almost as tall as Andrew and John, with a wide face and sharp blue eyes. His voice was the most commanding thing about his presence though, and he used that voice to urge the two brothers toward him. “Come, quick. There are some people I must introduce you to.”

Andrew sighed with disappointment and looked back toward the door. He had to accept that maybe she wasn’t coming to the assembly after all.

“Well, I say introduction, you have met them in the past, many times, even if it has been a few years since you have seen them. John, do you remember the Earl of Wiltshire?”

Andrew nearly tripped on the floorboards of the assembly rooms in surprise at hearing the name.

“Vaguely,” John said. “Fair haired chap, has a habit of talking for England.”

“Yes, that’s the gentleman. Though for goodness’ sake, lower your voice when you say such things,” the Marquess said, glancing to Andrew, as if pleading for his help. Andrew cleared his throat and nodded his head at the punch glass in John’s hand. The Marquess clearly understood, for he took the punch glass away.

“I was drinking that,” John said calmly.

“Well, you can drink more later, after you have become reacquainted with the Earl of Wiltshire and his daughter.”

“His daughter?” Andrew said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

The three of them passed through a group of people, moving around the violinists that were playing the music for the dancers, before they came to a stop, beside a pair that had their heads turned toward the dancefloor.

“Lord Wiltshire?” the Marquess said, addressing the man. “I have found my sons at last.” Lord Wiltshire turned around instantly, his smile growing wide.

“Look at you two, the last time I saw you both you were far shorter than me, look at you both now. As tall as the clouds,” the gentleman chuckled, pointing up to their greater height. Andrew offered a smile in response, but his gaze was keenly taken by the young lady as she turned around.

Violet.

With blonde hair that was fastened neatly into a myriad of curls, she was striking in appearance. When she turned, her eyes went straight to him, rather than his father or his brother, that startling green color in those large bold eyes took his breath for a minute.

The last time he had seen her was before his university days, before he had left and she had spent more time with her governess. In that time, she had grown up a little more, and was even more beautiful than she had been when they were children. She smiled, making something jolt in his stomach.

Ah…it seems I am as hooked on her as I was all those years ago.

“Lady Violet, do you remember my sons? This is Lord John Weston, Earl of Walden, of course,” he said, pointing to John. Lady Violet curtsied as John bowed deeply. There was a pause in the air as the two fathers seemed to be looking between the two of them, analyzing their reactions to meeting one another. Irked and confused, Andrew slyly nudged his father’s elbow. “Oh yes, and this is Lord Andrew Weston, my second son.”

“How could I forget either of them?” Lady Violet said, curtsying to Andrew as he bowed to her. “I seem to remember racing our horses quite a lot, My Lord,” she said, addressing Andrew alone. He thought for a minute her cheeks had blushed, but it could have been from the heat of the room rather than the memory of what they had shared years ago. “Have you improved since our last race?”

“By leaps and bounds,” he said, “we will have to have a rematch.” He rather hoped the prize of such a race would be the same as it was last time. A kiss. She could clearly remember that day for she blushed a little as she looked at him.

“John has been talking much of you recently, haven’t you, John?” the Marquess said.

“I have?” John asked in surprise, earning a sharp elbow from his father that seemed to go unnoticed by Lady Violet and the Earl of Wiltshire.

“He has been saying how long it is since we saw you last.”

“Oh, yes I was,” John said, evidently cottoning on and trying to continue the bluff. Andrew winced, realizing with horror what was taking place. As the only daughter of the Earl of Wiltshire, Lady Violet had a significant dowry to her name, as well as a grand standing. She would make John a fine wife in terms of being a good match.

The thought of seeing Lady Violet on John’s arm though curdled Andrew’s stomach. John had never taken notice of her before, not like Andrew had. He could remember what a superior horse rider she was, how playful in nature, how witty too. She had fine manners and was considered a perfect lady, but beyond that façade of propriety, Andrew knew something of the heart that dwelled in her breast. She had a kindness to her that few other people had. It was the thing that had first made him fall in love with her.

“Well, my daughter has been talking much of tonight and seeing you both again too,” the Earl of Wiltshire took up the conversation. Andrew was astute enough to see the way Lady Violet frowned a little. Andrew had to hide his want to chuckle behind his punch glass, though Lady Violet saw it. She looked at him and lifted her eyebrows, sharing in a private joke with him for a brief second, as though to ask him silently, ‘how odd our fathers are to tell such fibs’?

Now he had seen her again, Andrew did not see the point in delaying making an attempt to court her.

“Lady Violet,” he said, earning her attention. “Have you come this evening in the hope of dancing?”

“I have indeed.” She presented her dance card excitedly.

“Well, I would be honored if you would –”

“John, you were just saying how much you’d like a dance, were you not?” The Marquess’s words cut Andrew off. He hadn’t even managed to finish the invitation before his father was pushing John toward Lady Violet. “Perhaps you could escort Lady Violet into the first dance?”

“Lady Violet? Would you do me the honor of sharing the dance?” John asked with a charming smile.

“I would be delighted to, My Lord,” she said and placed her palm on his arm.

Andrew felt the sadness settle in his stomach as he watched Lady Violet walk away on his brother’s arm.

***

“You are a fine dancer, Lady Violet,” Lord Walden said as they turned in their cotillion, swapping places to the gentle violin music.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Lady Violet said. Her mind was working quickly, trying to understand something of this gentleman before her, who she had not seen for many years.

She was doing her best not to glance back to the edge of the dancefloor, for she knew what she would find: her father eagerly watching the two of them dance. Her parents had said again and again how it was high time she married, not only that, but that the marriage should be a fine match, with a titled gentleman, and one of some wealth.

Lord Walden certainly fits that description.

He was handsome too, with his strong features and bright blue eyes. He had charm to him, complimenting her as they danced, yet something was missing.

“It was lovely to see you again, My Lady,” Lord Walden said with charisma as they circled one another. “It has been so long, and if you will permit me to say so, you have matured into a great beauty since we have been apart.”

“You are too kind, My Lord,” she said with a small smile. “Tell me, can you even remember when we last met?” She couldn’t resist asking the question, wanting to see how far she could push Lord Walden’s attempt to charm her.

“Well, I…” He was tongue-tied for a minute.

“We were young, My Lord. Time makes us forget.” She couldn’t help teasing him, as he shook his head with laughter. In truth, he’d had no effect on her either all those years ago.

Though another did.

Her eyes involuntarily slide to the edge of the dancefloor, where she looked for another. Lord Weston was watching her.

Seeing him staring at her so intently, her heartbeat raced. She held that look for a minute, even as she circled Lord Weston’s brother in the dance.

To her mind, there was little competition between the brothers. In terms of status, Lord Walden might be the elder brother and the future Marquess, but he had none of the true charm that his younger brother had. Lord Weston was more handsome, with the kind of angular features that made her want to stare at him for a long time. He also had the kinder heart. She could remember vividly going horse riding with him when they were children and when she had fallen off on one occasion, the care with which he had shown to ensure she was well was staggering.

“I believe you must be one of the finest dancers on this floor tonight.” Lord Walden’s compliment was smooth, but it left her feeling empty.

She could marry this gentleman. He was handsome, charming, and well positioned. It would certainly make her parents happy. Yet she wished that Lord Walden and Lord Weston’s places were swapped round. If she could have set her cap at Lord Weston, she would have been infinitely happier for it.

“Do you say all such lines to ladies you dance with, My Lord?” Her teasing wit startled Lord Walden, whose eyebrows shot up on his head.

“Oh, you have a sharp tongue, My Lady.”

“My apologies, I am told I can be plain speaking, but it is merely being playful, I assure you,” she said with laughter, though he did not immediately join in, and it was a little forced when it came.

“I daresay I can grow used to it.”

Used to it? I do not want someone to grow used to me, but to like me!

Even as she thought the words, she could hear her mother’s own warning repeating in her mind.

‘Not everyone is so fortunate to marry for love, Violet. We must marry who we can, in order to be comfortable. That will make you happy.’

“May I request the honor of a second dance with you this evening?” Lord Walden asked as they walked around one another. She bit her lip, thinking of refusing. She had little choice. If she wished to make her parents happy, then she had to encourage the suit of Lord Walden.

“Of course, My Lord,” she said with a forced smile. “I would be delighted.” Though her eyes slipped to the edge of the dancefloor to see that Lord Weston was watching her. She felt her heartbeat quicken again when she watched him, for she longed to be dancing with him instead.

Her parents would never allow her to marry a second son of a Marquess, so she would most certainly not be permitted to approach him. She could never marry Lord Weston.

Chapter 2

“It’s a second dance,” Andrew muttered angrily to himself.

“What was that?”

He flicked his head round to see that his father and the Earl of Wiltshire had disappeared, and at his side was his friend Lord Henry Stirling, having approached through the guests quietly and not yet announced himself.

“Nothing,” Andrew lied, trying to bring a false smile to his cheeks.

“I know you well by now, my friend,” Henry said, nodding his head forward and letting the fair hair bounce at his temple. “Something is amiss.”

“No more than our usual complaints,” Andrew assured him.

“Ah, I see,” Henry said, realizing straight away to what Andrew was referring to. “Being a second son is tiresome, is it not? I have had to spend half an hour standing by my brother as three ladies vied for his attention. Do you know, I think they didn’t look at me once? Perhaps they thought I was a candelabra rather than a person.”

Andrew laughed at the description, for he certainly knew what Henry meant. It happened often enough that they both seemed to disappear into the shadows, with ladies giving only their attention to the older brothers.

“Drink?” Henry asked.

“Yes please, it’s much needed,” Andrew said, looking down at the empty punch glass in his hand. They walked toward the drinks table, leaving Andrew to glance back once at the dancefloor.

Lady Violet had become a fine dancer, delicate and yet bold when she needed to be, quite a striking presence on the floor, but to Andrew’s mind, John was forcing his smiles with her. They did not make a natural pairing.

“Drink that, it may make you feel better,” Henry said. Andrew eagerly took the punch glass and sipped, turning his head away from the floor so that he didn’t have to suffer watching Lady Violet dancing with his brother any longer. “I’ve seen that look before,” Henry said, pointing at Andrew’s face. “John is the cause of your irritation tonight, is he not?”

“That is an easy guess to make,” Andrew said with a sigh. It was not that he had any dislike for his brother. He did love John, as any brother would, but there was such a disparity between their situations that every now and then, resentment creeped in. Andrew had to work hard for his life and livelihood. It had instilled in him a diligent nature, whereas John was delivered everything on a plate. Even as children, Andrew had suffered the stammer that he had to work through, and though John could have been a good brother to help him through it, John had merely teased him for it instead.

“Well, it seems that little society we started when we were children was going to last a lot longer than we ever thought,” Henry said, sniggering as Andrew laughed too. When they had been little, they had started their own society called the Second Sons, to bemoan their difficulties in their situations. Neither of them had expected they would still be suffering in their situations all these years later.

“Your quest to find a wife is not going well then?” Andrew asked, eager to distract himself from the crippling sensation of seeing Lady Violet dance with John.

“No,” Henry said decisively, elongating the word for dramatic effect. “The second son of a Duke is not enough to tempt many a woman. What I would give for the notice of just one lady. That is all I ask. I hardly want the ridiculous attention my brother gets. Tell me, Andrew, does not that look foolish to you?” Henry said, gesturing across the room. His elder brother was currently surrounded by young ladies, all eagerly trying to get his attention. “It looks like feeding time at the menagerie in the Tower of London!”

“Ha!” Andrew laughed heartily. “I think you are right.”

“One lady, that is all I ask,” Henry said again as he leaned back on the wall beside him. “What do you wish for?”

“One lady too,” Andrew assured, “but…it is one lady in particular.”

“Oh? You have me intrigued,” Henry elbowed him, clearly trying to get more information out of him. “Tell me more.”

“It hardly matters,” Andrew said, though his gaze lifted to the dancefloor. Henry’s gaze followed his, and he made a grunt of realization.

“Good god, are you telling me the one lady whose attention you want is now dancing with your brother?”

“Yes,” Andrew said, seeing no point in denying it.

“The plight of the second sons,” Henry said acerbically.

“I know.”

Andrew traced Lady Violet as she danced a second time. He could still remember when they had gone horse riding together, both at just fourteen years of age. That kiss she had won from him at the end of the ride was imprinted on his memory.

“You all right, Andrew?” Henry’s words brought him back to the moment and he looked around, shaking the memory off.

“I am fine,” he said with a lie, feeling anger build in his stomach as he watched his brother lead Lady Violet into a circle. “It’s just I…I wouldn’t want to live life in John’s shoes, for I never wish to be like him, but right now…I was standing in them.”

“Hmm, I know how you feel,” Henry said in agreement.

Andrew’s hand tightened around the glass, thinking how cruel the world was that the woman he loved could be courted by his brother.

***

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