Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
To an outsider’s eye, Lady Eugenia Calthorpe’s life might appear utterly and completely untroubled.
After all, what could possibly trouble a Duke’s daughter?
What, indeed. It is a pity that there is no soothsayer among the ton at Lady Duncan’s Ball, to whisper a much-needed warning to the Duke’s daughter, to beware the Ides of March.
As Eugenia and Marco Bianchi, Count D’Asti, danced the first set of the evening together, they were so enthralled with one another that they failed to see two individuals glaring at them from across the room.
Percy Gale, the Viscount of Greywood, hardly even blinked, so intense was his focus on Marco Bianchi, the Count D’Asti.
Percy loathed the Count unreservedly, for playing quite a heavy-handed part in embarrassing his sister, Lady Henrietta, some weeks ago at Lady Mowbray’s St. Valentine’s Day Ball.
Granted, Henrietta might have brought some of the disaster on herself with her little tantrum in Lady Mowbray’s garden, but still.
Henrietta was his sister, and the slight against her would not go unpunished, if Percy could help it.
The other individual who happened to be glaring at Lord D’Asti and Lady Eugenia was a young woman who appeared to be quite close in age to Eugenia.
That would, in fact, be quite an accurate assessment.
Lady Eugenia and this particular young lady, with her ash brown hair and grey eyes, were only separated in age by a mere seven months.
Otherwise, the two young ladies were separated by a great many things.
Of that much, the Honourable Miss Lydia Errington was acutely aware.
She and Lady Eugenia were most notably separated by rank, circumstance, and level of wealth.
As children, they had played together, and their mothers still moved in the same circles.
Some might even have called Lydia and Eugenia friends, but they’d have found themselves to be mistaken.
Lydia was so busy with her glowering and silent dwelling on Lady Eugenia’s good fortune in life (as opposed to her own sorry lot by comparison) that she was paying very little attention to where she was going, as she moved through the rather crowded room.
Then, Lydia crashed into someone so hard that it rattled her teeth.
She gasped, staggering back, and struggling to keep her balance as she trod on her gown’s hem.
“I’m terribly sorry.” The words came out automatically. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
She paused, then, actually bothering to look at the man she’d bumped into.
He was familiar — she’d recognise his dark hair and hazel eyes anywhere, she was certain — he was a gentleman to whom she’d been introduced a mere few weeks ago.
Lydia wracked her brain, scrambling to remember his title, and, after a moment, it came to her.
This was Percy Gale, Lady Henrietta Gale’s brother, and the Viscount of Greywood.
“I rather noticed.” The Viscount answered with a wry grin, even as he reached out and lightly gripped her shoulders, helping her steady herself. “Dare I ask what managed to distract you so deeply that you forgot to look where you were going, Miss Errington?”
His hazel eyes twinkled with amusement at the light-hearted quip, but his gaze tracked back to the other side of the room.
Lydia traced his line of sight, then, following where his gaze had drifted to.
Interestingly enough, he seemed to be staring at Lady Eugenia Calthorpe and her dance partner, as Lydia herself had been doing, just moments before.
Why, Lydia wondered, was he staring at her childhood friend and at Eugenia’s dance partner, the Italian Count, with such keen interest?
It took her a moment to realise that he was still waiting for her to answer his question.
“I was not staring at anything of consequence, I am sure, Lord Greywood.”
Even as she muttered the words, Lydia could taste the bitterness of the lie on her tongue.
She only wished that Lady Eugenia Calthorpe was of little consequence, but it was deeply unlikely to ever be true.
Lord Greywood’s gaze flicked back to Lydia for a mere moment, and a flash of cunning flared in his mercurial eyes before he returned his focus to Lady Eugenia and Lord D’Asti.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you, Miss Errington.”
Lydia waved a dismissive hand.
“Think nothing of it, Lord Greywood.”
She did not linger any longer, despite the fact that the focus of his staring had piqued her curiosity. Lydia had things to do – opportunities to watch for – and she had no interest in being distracted from her purpose by Lord Greywood, nor anyone else, for that matter.
Marco found himself disappointed when the dance set ended.
He wanted, quite badly, to spend the entire evening dancing with Lady Eugenia Calthorpe, but more than one dance together would surely cause a scandal, or at the very least, a flurry of gossip, and Marco was resolved to avoid any future involvement in the ton’s scandals, if that was possible.
He wanted to court Lady Eugenia properly.
More than that, he wanted to shelter Lady Eugenia from the rumours and gossip of the ton in the way that he should have done for Susan Hastings (nee Wingfield), who was now the Countess of Seabury.
There would be enough time for dancing while he courted her, Marco reasoned, as the two of them strolled over to the refreshment table together.
He wanted to do this right, and be the kind of man that a young lady like Lady Eugenia truly deserved, which meant that he needed to be a far better man — a more careful man — than he’d ever been before.
“Thank you for the dance, Lord D’Asti,” Lady Eugenia murmured, sipping delicately from her glass of orgeat.
“It was my pleasure, I assure you. Every moment spent in your company is truly a delight.”
Marco smiled, genuinely meaning every word.
Lady Eugenia’s pale cheeks flushed at his compliment, turning delightfully rosy.
The tentative smile which curved her lips sent a thrill through him, setting his pulse racing.
Lady Eugenia’s smiles made Marco feel more alive than he ever had before.
As the two of them moved to join Eugenia’s brother, Edward, Marquess of Billington, and his wife, Georgiana, Lady Billington, a footman with a letter in his hand stepped into their path.
In unison, Marco and Eugenia stopped short.
The footman cleared his throat nervously.
“Lord D’Asti?”
Marco nodded.
“Yes, I am Lord D’Asti.”
The footman thrust the letter at Marco, then.
“This just arrived for you, my Lord. The messenger insisted that it be delivered to you with the utmost urgency.”
An uneasy feeling slithered through Marco as he took the letter. The footman bowed and disappeared, whilst Lady Eugenia hovered beside him, her warm presence the only boon combatting the chill which gripped him as he unfolded the letter and read it.
We will burn Ashewood to the ground if you do not return immediately.
Trembling with rage and fear, Marco carefully folded the letter and tucked it into his jacket pocket. His stomach churned, as if he might cast up his accounts. Swallowing convulsively, he turned back to face Lady Eugenia, offering her a bow.
“I must offer you my sincerest apologies, Lady Eugenia. I have just been made aware of an urgent issue, which I have no choice but to resolve immediately. Although I am reluctant to leave your company, I must depart London at this very moment.”
Lady Eugenia’s brow furrowed, and she wrung her gloved hands.
“When can I expect to see you again? I fear London will be rather bleak in your absence.”
Marco’s throat tightened painfully at her earnestness. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion.
“Believe me, Lady Eugenia, I will return to London as quickly as I can. I do not wish to be away for long. I hope to see you again soon.”
He bowed, feeling as though there was an anchor tied around his neck, dragging him to the bottom of an ocean of hopelessness.
Eugenia remained in the same spot, utterly motionless, as she watched Lord D’Asti’s hurried departure. A chill seeped into her skin at his absence, and she crossed her arms, trying and failing to fight off a shiver. Someone who happened to be passing by paused.
“Lady Eugenia Calthorpe, is that you?”
The voice was light and airy, and just loud enough to draw the attention of several young ladies nearby.
Eugenia turned towards the voice, surprised to see her old friend Lydia Errington’s slate grey eyes trained on Lord D’Asti’s retreating back as he disappeared through the door which led out into the entrance hall.
Finally, Lydia’s gaze shifted back to Eugenia, taking in her stance and expression.
“Good evening, Lydia.”
“Oh, my dear friend, do not tell me that you are developing an attachment to the Count D’Asti,” Lydia cooed.
“Whyever not?”
Eugenia stiffened, drawing herself up to her full height, though she was still shorter than her friend by several inches.
She bit her lip, already regretting the question before Lydia even had the chance to answer her.
Lydia looped an arm through Eugenia’s, tugging her back towards the refreshment table, away from Edward and Georgiana.
She lowered her voice only slightly, in a scandalised mock-whisper.
“I have it on good authority that the only so-called ‘emergency’ drawing Lord D’Asti away from London is that his creditors are closing in, set to carry him off for his failure to repay them.
He is most assuredly running from them, and it would not do at all for someone of your standing to find herself entangled with such a dishonourable cad. ”
“Dishonourable?” Eugenia sputtered, pulling her arm free of Lydia’s grip.
She balled her hands into tight fists at her sides, and a hot, angry flush crept up her throat and blazed in her cheeks.
When she spoke, her voice was far shriller than she’d intended.
“Lord D’Asti would never do something so cowardly and dishonourable.
Shame on you for insinuating such a thing, Lydia! ”
“Shame on me?” Lydia blinked, wide-eyed, and laid a hand against her heart, the very picture of sincerity.
“My dear Eugenia, I am only trying to keep your best interests at heart, as a friend should. Think of your reputation! But wait… you sound terribly sure of him. I do hope that you are not so close that you might be considered compromised. Why, you’d be ruined! ”
Eugenia wanted to argue, to continue defending Lord D’Asti, but anything she was thinking of saying died on her lips.
There were so many people, and they were standing so close, and all of them were staring at Eugenia.
Whispers erupted from every direction, and Eugenia nearly whimpered, tears stinging her eyes.
Biting her lip to hide its trembling, Eugenia spun away from Lydia and rushed over to Edward and Georgiana.
“Take me home, please.”