Chapter 1
MADDIE
Kent, England
The December chill sent a shiver through Maddie’s spine, or perhaps it was her muddled thoughts, as she watched her maid Polly fold clothing into a trunk.
After arranging several gowns, Polly continued with an assortment of flimsy garments that hinted at intentions decidedly improper for an unmarried lady.
Her mother would suffer an apoplexy if she even knew that Maddie owned them.
Lady Madeline Dawson—Maddie to those closest to her—observed this endeavor with quiet exasperation, wondering when she had become so transparent.
It was true that Viscount Ashworth would also be at St. Albans’ estate for the duke and duchess’ Christmas house party.
It was equally true that they were lovers, a scandalous fact she had managed to conceal from everyone except Polly.
She could only pray the maid would keep such dangerous secrets to herself rather than sharing them with the household staff—or worse, Maddie’s ever-vigilant mother.
“It must be lovely to have such a warm, handsome companion for the winter,” Polly teased, noticing how Maddie had been watching her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, “I expect this time you’ll return with a ring upon your finger.”
“Lord Ashworth is . . . kind,” Maddie replied, her voice deliberately neutral while her thoughts wandered to her most recent encounter with the viscount.
After a day of tedious social calls, she had been alone with him again—not by accident, but by design, as it had become their regular arrangement.
What followed had also become routine, though no less forbidden.
“Unlike some.” Her voice hardened as her unwanted memories forced their way in.
Polly tied the trunk closed with deft fingers, looking sidelong at her mistress. “Perhaps it isn’t love, but you could still have a contented marriage.”
“I’m aware of what I could have.” Maddie’s voice was firm—perhaps too firm. She sighed, releasing her growing irritation with the control she’d perfected over five years of hiding her true feelings.
“I just wish to see you happy and settled,” Polly said, “even if it’s different from how you might have planned things.”
Planned things? Maddie had planned to marry the man she loved. Not to be jilted without explanation. Left to gather the broken fragments of her heart and reputation while the man responsible simply vanished from society.
Maddie’s exasperation deepened. She supposed she didn’t wish to remain unwed forever. But it didn’t mean she wanted to be pushed down the aisle by her maid, either. “That will be all, Polly.”
“Yes, my lady,” Polly said, turning toward the door with a small curtsy that couldn’t quite hide her concern.
As the door clicked shut, Maddie moved toward the window, touching her fingers to the cold pane of glass.
The low clouds pressed like a weight against the city, as gray and chill as her future might be if she didn’t choose wisely.
The first time she’d given herself to John, the only man she had ever loved, had been at Christmas .
. . and, in truth, she hadn’t much cared for the holiday since he left.
Everyone thought they knew what would make her happy.
And what was best for her. Her mother, who had filled Maddie’s days with constant social activity, was no doubt expecting a betrothal between Maddie and Louis before the Christmas decorations were even hung at the St. Albans’ estate.
Her meddlesome lady’s maid, was already so sure that Maddie would finally find wedded bliss with the viscount.
But even if she agreed to marry Louis, they both knew it would never be love.
Marrying him meant surrendering to a comfortable, passionless existence—giving up on the hope of ever finding true love again.
Louis was calm and nurturing, her closest friend, but that same spark simply wasn’t there.
She recalled his hands on her skin and how he successfully brought her pleasure.
Not that he had much recent competition besides her own hand.
But it just wasn’t the same. It felt good.
It was a distraction and staved off the surface of her cravings, but it wasn’t electrifying and intense like it had been with John.
With Louis, it was comfort and a means to an end. For them both.
The first time she’d lain with John, it had been as if she had found the missing piece of herself. He’d playfully used a kissing ball to explore her body, and it had been one of the most thrilling intimate experiences of her life.
She had felt complete, seeing with perfect clarity how their entire future would unfold.
Their loving marriage, their beautiful children .
. . everything had seemed so certain. Perfect, even.
And then he was gone. He hadn’t even found the courage to face her when he jilted her.
She learned from his sister that he’d fled to the Continent like a thief in the night.
John had abandoned her to face the scandal of his disappearance alone.
How unfair and cruel that the woman faced endless scrutiny about why she wasn’t worthy enough to wed, while the man went about his life with all the freedom society afforded his sex.
That was almost five years ago. Even after she’d clawed her way back from the scandal of it all, she could acknowledge, only to herself, that he still consumed far too many of her thoughts.
But it was Louis who had been there by her side when she picked up the pieces of her life. Perhaps she shouldn’t have allowed their friendship to become intimate, but it suited them both. Wasn’t that the benefit of having a close male friend? That he was a safe choice to be intimate with?
Louis wasn’t searching for a wife, having trust issues of his own after living in the middle of his parents’ toxic marriage.
It had suited him to cross the boundary in their friendship over pursuing anything more serious.
Only recently had he suggested that the pair of them would make a happier marriage than most in the ton.
Even if it would never be one of love that extended beyond friendship.
A knock sounded at the door, followed by Polly’s brisk voice. “The carriage is waiting out front. Your mother is quite put out that you aren’t downstairs already.”
Madeline pulled herself from her bitter reflections and straightened her back, composing herself with the rigid discipline of a woman who had learned to navigate society’s judgmental gaze.
She had nothing to feel poorly about. If she wanted to enjoy sex with a man, that was her business.
Men did so all the time without a second thought.
And she had little doubt that wherever John was, he certainly hadn’t taken up the life of a monk.
She would enjoy the house party and the freedom that it might afford. It might be her last event as a free woman, if she decided she was ready to give up her schoolgirl dream of a loving marriage and agreed to marry her closest friend instead.
“Of course,” Maddie said, starting toward the door with a mask of perfect composure.
At least a house party would allow many opportunities for Louis to help her forget about the pain she relived each Christmas. Well, probably not forget, but at least an orgasm would distract her from it for a while. And that would be enough.
The carriage finally turned up the drive to the St. Albans’ estate, its wheels crunching in the deep snow.
Madeline clutched at the seat beneath her, desperate to be on her own feet again and away from the confines of the carriage—and her mother’s endless commentary on Louis’ many virtues and Maddie’s advancing age.
Four-and-twenty meant she was a long in the tooth spinster, according to her mother, at least.
The carriage stopped before the marble steps where her hosts awaited, followed by a gathering of servants who began unloading luggage.
She waited until they brought down her trunk before stepping out into the cold.
The air stung against her cheeks, momentarily distracting her from the anxieties that had plagued her during the journey.
“Maddie, my dear! How good to see you,” the duchess said warmly, immediately taking her into an embrace that sparked more painful memories.
Maddie closed her eyes, pushing aside thoughts of John as she hugged his sister. If things had been different, they could have been raising their children together as a true family, but . . . No. She couldn’t allow herself to continue thinking that way. It had been five bloody years already.
“You look radiant, Your Grace,” Maddie said, noting that the duchess had given birth just a few months prior, yet looked remarkably unaffected.
“None of that,” the duchess replied with a laugh. “You have called me Rosina for years. Just because I married a handsome duke doesn’t change things between us.” Rosina then greeted Maddie’s mother, who had waited quietly, watching the scene with approval.
Maddie might argue that the woman’s brother jilting his betrothed was a more significant cause for awkwardness between her and Rosina. Especially when Rosina favored her brother so strongly in appearance, except for where her hair was golden blonde, John’s was more of a deep brown.
Great. Now she was thinking about his hair. Ever since the invitation to Rosina’s gathering had arrived, the thoughts and feelings she had buried deep—never daring to name, let alone face—had clawed their way to the surface, flooding her with relentless, nagging memories. It was deuced annoying.
Rosina had invited Maddie to the house party, despite all that had been in the past. Maddie might have declined, but there wasn’t a planet where her mother would ever turn down an invitation from a duchess.
The Duke of St. Albans stepped closer, his smile warm and devoid of the pity Maddie had grown to despise. “I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, offering her a courteous bow.