Chapter One #2
“It’s better than some, and you have me to vouch for you.” Lydia winked. “Perhaps you’ll meet a man and fall madly in love with him, just as it happened with Samuel.”
Gently, she nudged the cat from her lap. “Can lightning strike twice, though?”
“Perhaps, or you might find a different kind of love, but none of it will happen if you don’t put yourself out there again.
” Lydia tugged her up from the sofa. “And if the man you’re taken with is titled, all the better.
You’ll live a wonderful life and will finally have the coin to treat yourself to a few luxuries. ”
“That would be lovely.” While Samuel would have given her the world if she had asked, the truth was, he was limited in the income he had.
If she was honest with herself, Constance only wanted a man, not a title or full coffers.
She’d never known what it was like to live a life of luxury.
Where she thought she’d start her adult life, and perhaps have a family of her own with Samuel, fate intervened and took that from her.
It had been shocking, but she’d not had the experience of being a wife or taking care of a household before she was a widow.
“But not necessary. I want a man who can see past my looks. Is that asking too much?”
Samuel had always told her he never knew how he’d landed a woman as beautiful as her, but she’d never believed him, for she knew she had a long face and her features were neither remarkable nor even noble.
But he had taken care of her in death, left her a small, modest townhouse and a bit of savings.
It wasn’t enough to make a splash though society or gain the notice of a desperate villain, but it would see her comfortable for a few years.
If I’m careful. A lonely life, but at least she wouldn’t struggle.
“Oh, it’s necessary, cousin, and don’t downplay your attractiveness. You have always had an undeniable something men find irresistible.”
“Do stop. We both know that is a lie.” Constance chuckled, but worry pressed in upon her. “On second thought, I don’t exactly need to husband hunt just now…”
“You do,” Lydia interrupted as she drew her out into the corridor.
“The war took far too many eligible men from society. Now there are too many women all vying for the same men. You need to make your mark to be sure they don’t forget you.
Now tell the butler to call your carriage. Time is dwindling.”
Three hours later
Prentice House
Berkley Square
Mayfair, London
As Constance accepted assistance out of the carriage by Charles Morton—Lydia’s husband—she glanced up at the brick facade of the impressive townhouse. “Oh, I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered to her cousin, who came abreast of her.
“You can and you will,” Lydia said as she alighted from the carriage after her. “And you look gorgeous.”
“Well, it is your gown.” In an effort to ignore her nerves that felt strung too tight and the knots of anxiety in her belly, she smoothed a gloved hand along the front of the frock.
Made of satin in a light blue hue, it made her feel as if she were a fairytale princess each time she walked.
The bodice, lined with tiny silver glass beads, showed off far too much décolletage for her liking, but Lydia had assured her it was quite acceptable in society these days.
“And it reflects your spirit and personality, not mine.”
“Pish posh, Connie. You were born to wear such pretty things, and if you’d let yourself remember the girl you were during our Come Out year, you would remember that you were once carefree and vivacious as well.”
“I haven’t been that in far too long.”
“Because you’ve grown too comfortable in hiding behind grief. It was easier to shut yourself away behind closed doors and blame it on grief, when we both know it’s your inability to live through stress.”
“True.” But that didn’t help now. “This is far too fancy a place.” Perhaps if she continued to make excuses, she could run back into the carriage.
“Gammon. It only means the guests will be movers and shakers of society.” Lydia patted her arm. “Let’s go inside. You’ll feel more relaxed in no time.”
Charles chuckled as he took his wife’s arm. “You heard her, Mrs. Knight. She doesn’t enjoy waiting or delays.”
“Oh, don’t I know it.” Constance let the couple go up the short walkway ahead of her, but when she went to follow, the heel of her slipper caught in her hem. The unmistakable sound of fabric rending drifted to her ears. “Well, drat.”
Lydia glanced at her from over her shoulder. “What it is?”
“I’ve torn my hem and my heel is caught.” It was her fault for being vain enough to wear the slippers with the short elevation. “I’ll quickly sort it and then find you in a few minutes once inside. Have Charles secure me a glass of champagne.” The bubbly French wine would help to calm her nerves.
“You’re certain?” One of her cousin’s eyebrows rose in question.
“Yes. I’ll be just a minute.” Already, she crouched on the pavement to untangle the fabric.
“It’s starting to rain, so don’t be long else you’ll ruin your gown.” Then Lydia and her husband went into the townhouse, along with a few other couples who waited behind them on the walkway.
It only took a few moments to untangle her hem from the heel of her shoe. However, when Constance stood, someone flew out of the shadows behind some shrubbery at one corner of the house. He attacked her, wasn’t concerned when she screamed.
“Stop squawking.” The gravelly voice grated over her nerves. When he put his hands on her shoulders and dug his fingers into her flesh, he shuttled her backward between shrubberies until she connected with the brick of the house. “You’re a pretty little bird, aren’t you?”
Terror froze the blood in her veins. Her breath came in fast pants as she worked to shove him away from her body. “Let me go.”
“I don’t think so.” Though she grappled with him, his hard grip on her arms never wavered.
“You’ll fetch a decent price, I think.” Then the atrocious man had the audacity to grab at the bodice and gave it a tug.
Thankfully, the gown was tight enough that he didn’t succeed in baring her breasts, but he came perilously close to causing a scandal.
“I’ve got two other women waiting at the docks to ship out to India.
Men with more coin than sense pay handsomely for young, English women. ”
Chill bumps broke out over her exposed skin. The need to retch came over her, as did the feeling of acute panic. As best she could, Constance kicked and lashed out at her attacker with her hands.
“None of that. You can show your spirit to the maharaja bloke who has ordered you and the others.” Then he lashed out with a gloved hand.
The sound of the slap echoed in her ears seconds before the pain registered.
“Better,” he said as she slumped back against the brick wall of the townhouse.
“Now, let’s go. The ship leaves tonight. ”
“No.” Though she shook her head, the strength leeched from her knees, and they buckled.
The wall at her back was the only thing keeping her upright.
Honestly, the will to fight left her, and she knew in that moment that this stranger would haul her away to an unknown fate, but then the brigand was suddenly yanked away.
Suddenly, she could breathe, and as she stumbled forward out of the shrubberies and fell to her knees on the pavement, she gawked at the sight of her rescuer as he exchanged blows with her attacker.
Good heavens, what is happening? Seconds later, a wave of anxiety rose up, but she battled it back as best she could. Under no circumstances could she embarrass herself like that, and the concentration on that kept her from worrying about the rain.