Chapter 1
“This is a bad, nay, a terrible idea. I’ve told you that a hundred times,” Olivia Darington hissed at her sister Jane as they hurried through the icy streets of London.
Their satin slippers would be quite ruined by the time they arrived at Lord Fincham’s townhouse.
Not to mention what was left of their tattered reputations.
“And I told you that if you don’t like it, you don’t have to come. You weren’t even invited in any case.”
Olivia merely scowled at her irascible sibling. Though Jane may be two years older, she certainly wasn’t two years wiser. If anything, she seemed to be getting ever more idiotic with age.
Bad enough that those nasty scandal sheets had dried up their social calendar faster than a drought in July. There was no need to add to the gossip by flitting about London with one of its most sought after bachelors.
Well, that was just fine.
If Jane wanted to flit and flirt with Lord Fincham then Olivia would be there to watch her. Judgementally.
What Jane even saw in the scoundrel Olivia didn’t know.
Perhaps he was conventionally handsome with his broad shoulders, and sable hair, distractingly green eyes, and chiselled chin.
But he was also irascible and wicked and altogether dangerous to be around.
Olivia knew this from experience. And so did Jane, come to that.
Years spent growing up on a neighbouring if far more modest estate to the late earl’s had taught Olivia that Alexander Stratford was as pleasant as cow dung.
But for some reason Jane seemed to have forgotten a childhood spent being tormented by the arrogant earl and his odious friends. Olivia would never forget.
Even now, all these years later, she could still feel the worms in her hair, the dirt in her boots, the spiders in her bed…
If she were inclined to being fair, she would admit that the earl and his circle had been among the very few people who hadn’t turned their backs on the Daringtons when Papa’s gambling had essentially had them unceremoniously dumped from the ton.
But regardless of it being Christmastide, and therefore the season of good will, she wasn’t inclined to be fair, and so her mood remained foul, and her nerves remained frayed.
She would continue trying to get her sister to back out of this less than salubrious house party that the earl was hosting, no doubt for the very dregs of Society.
People did like to mix with their own kind, after all.
“You’ve made your feelings about this party, and Alexander come to that, quite clear,” Jane continued now. “And –“
“Alexander?” Olivia interrupted. “My, aren’t we cosy?”
Jane rolled her eyes.
“We’ve been friends since childhood, Livvy.”
“I think you’ll find we’ve been enemies since childhood, Jane,” she countered fiercely. “How can you forget the things he did? It took me almost two days to unstick my fingers from that teacup.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes as a sound suspiciously like a laugh emanated from her older sister.
Why would Jane suddenly decide that Alexander Stratford was friend rather than foe?
It can only be that she’s developed a tendre for the cad.
The sudden twist in her stomach at the idea of Jane and Lord Fincham forming an attachment to each other took Olivia by surprise.
It must be sisterly concern for Jane that had her feeling so – so uneasy about the idea.
After all, Jane’s memory might have been befuddled by a pair of emerald eyes, but Olivia’s certainly wouldn’t be.
She needed to keep her focus. She needed to get Jane to forget this foolish endeavour to be friends with Fincham’s set.
To forget this troubling tendency to throw caution to the wind and risk her good name just because of a little mishap with father’s finances.
Well, a rather large mishap to be frank.
Yes, Jane needed to forget all this nonsense.
And Olivia needed to forget this odd feeling in her stomach when she thought of the earl and his eyes…
Jane came to a halt while Olivia was still having stern words with herself, and they both stared up at the imposing white stucco building before them.
The sisters were unlikely to know anyone here.
What little friends they had retained since father’s embarrassing demise at the end of the Season when his debts were no longer secret had already retired to their country seats for the Yuletide.
For the first time in Olivia’s memory, they hadn’t received an invitation anywhere, not even for a dinner or a card evening at a country neighbour’s house.
Both Mama and Jane had found that hard and humiliating enough. But it was when Papa had announced that they wouldn’t return to their seat in Essex at all and would in fact remain in Town until he “set things right” that Mama had taken to her rooms and Jane had started to become rather wild.
Both were protesting their circumstances in their own ways, it seemed. And neither way was exactly helpful.
For the first few weeks, Olivia had tried to rally their spirits with talk of how magical London would be during Christmastide. But it was no use and eventually she’d given up entirely since all her efforts were now spent on acting as a nanny to her sister.
Her life had become utterly ridiculous. Thanks in no small part to Alexander Stratford.
Olivia cast a critical eye over the people sweeping towards the steps of the earl’s townhouse.
Not quite the demi monde she feared but not much better. She didn’t recognise most of the faces and the ones she did weren’t exactly in the same circle of the Darington family. At least, they hadn’t been until their fall from grace.
Olivia glanced toward her sister, noting Jane’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.
Well, she conceded wryly, she was falling from grace. Jane seemed to be leaping enthusiastically from it.
“Ready?” whispered Jane.
No, I most certainly am not ready to see that blackguard Fincham again, Olivia thought.
“Yes,” was the only answer she gave.
It was one house party after all. How much could possibly happen in such a short space of time?
“Did you invite the delectable darington girl?” Alexander scowled at Elliot’s lascivious tone.
Yes, he’d invited Jane Darington. Elliot did mean Jane. He hadn’t yet met the irritating little termagant, Olivia. And Alexander absolutely didn’t want him to.
Loathe as he was to admit it, Alex knew that the description of delectable applied to Olivia Darington in spades. Something that annoyed the hell out of him, frankly. She should look like a withered old hag to match that personality of hers.
Granted, he hadn’t seen her in years. She’d never been ‘at home’ when he’d made the obligatory house calls in deference to their parents’ friendship and their being neighbours whilst at Fincham Hall.
Not to him, in any case. And while Jane Darington had happily accepted every invitation thrown her way since Sir Alfred’s disgrace, Olivia hadn’t ventured outside the door of their townhouse.
Not that Alexander had been watching out for her.
Of course, since the Darington’s demise his mother had disassociated herself from the family faster than Alexander could blink.
But that didn’t surprise him. In the grand tradition of the ton, nobody cared about men’s vices if the facade remained intact.
Once they could all pretend not to know about gambling, whoring, and hell-raising in their glittering ballrooms they could do as they pleased.
“I did, as I said I would.”
Alexander cast a glance around his own ballroom.
It wouldn’t be a crush. Most families of Quality had returned to the country.
He remained because his mother had gotten it into her head to host a house party at Fincham and Alex could think of nothing worse than having single women thrown at him with gleeful abandon by his mother and her cohorts.
Despite the countess’s pleas, demands, and guilt trips, he’d merrily waved her off to spend her party explaining his absence from his own home.
In truth, he didn’t mind spending some time in Town this Christmastide though it wasn’t his favourite place to live. He liked his other homes. Preferred Fincham Hall to the rest. Even though the neighbours were intensely annoying. Well, one neighbour, he conceded.
Granted, the last time he’d seen Olivia Darington he hadn’t exactly acted the gentleman.
But in his defence, the bloody chit had started it!
Bad enough she’d attacked him with snowballs.
But snowballs with rocks in where more vicious than necessary to his way of thinking.
Gluing her teacup had been childish though. He knew that.
London with Elliot would be nice and relaxing. Or should have been if not for this blasted ball.
The last thing he wanted was a party. He was only throwing the damned thing because he’d needed an excuse to stay in Town to stop his mother whittering on at him. And when he’d mentioned it to his sociable friend, Elliot had been unsurprisingly enthusiastic.
As the second son of a notable marquis, Elliot St. Clare rarely if ever turned down a party of any kind.
He was rich and handsome, with entrée into the best of Society because of his family name, and no expectations on his shoulders. He had nothing to do but attend parties.
Alex didn’t usually mind them too much, either. And mercifully, his mother’s ilk had departed Town already. Those who remained where by and large less staid and therefore, more fun.
Plus, Jane Darington had grown to rely on him for any sort of social life. And much as he despised the hellion she was related to, he found that he’d warmed to the more genteel, less fiery Jane.
Judging by Elliot’s leer, he had too. But while Alex’s affection was that of a sibling, Elliot’s was very much not.
And while Jane Darington was none of his business, Alexander felt compelled towards protecting the chit.
“Just behave yourself, St. Clare. The girl has had a tough time of it. She might be – vulnerable.”