Chapter 1
One
“It’s such a beautiful day,” said Jo as they strolled toward the Serpentine in Hyde Park. A light breeze fluttered the leaves of the tree branches bending over the path, adding some respite from the late afternoon sun.
Dinah, Lady Cornelius Davenport, sighed. She and Josephine, Lady Hardingson had been friends since childhood, growing up on neighboring estates in Surrey. They had experienced their first Season together and been witnesses at one another’s weddings.
But oh, for the love of Athena, could the woman refrain from spouting one more positive, glowing observation?
“Enjoy it while you can, for winter is coming,” Dinah said, pointing to the right and ignoring her friend’s eye roll. “Look! I see some leaves turning yellow already.”
“Oh, truly?” Jo paused to snap her parasol into place as they left the shade of the small copse. “I love autumn and the brilliant colors. I couldn’t imagine living somewhere where you didn’t experience each season.”
A silent scream echoed in Dinah’s head. Another quieter voice intervened. Our personalities complement each other. Negativity and positivity combine to create the perfect balance.
Dinah considered herself pragmatic rather than negative. She only appeared slightly waspish when compared to Lady Jo Sunshine. She peeked at her friend, so opposite in looks and personality.
They both wore walking dresses, but Dinah’s was a deep-blue muslin with minimal white lace trim.
Jo’s was a lovely shade the color of fresh butter with tiny daisies embroidered along the square neck, short puff sleeves, and hem.
Dinah’s only accessory was a straw bonnet with a wide ribbon to match her gown, unlike Jo’s delicate gold earbobs, cameo locket, and elaborate bonnet with more white and yellow daisies bouncing with each step.
Her creamy complexion and sun-kissed curls had been the envy of the debutantes when they’d made their come-out together.
“I’m so glad your mourning was over before summer,” said Dinah. She squinted, trying to identify the short but stocky gentleman walking toward them.
“Stop squinting. It will put a crease in your brow,” scolded Jo. “You should get a pair of spectacles and see everything you’re missing.”
“Never. I associate those dreadful wire things with the elderly.” Dinah continued her previous thoughts. “Anyway, you looked dreadful in those gloomy colors.”
“Not to mention the horrid bombazine I wore in full mourning,” agreed her friend with a delicate shiver. “If I wore your deep-blues and greens, I’d look like a dirty mop. I envy your glorious sable locks and golden skin.”
“And I always wanted your porcelain coloring. Mother always said I looked like a commoner with my dark coloring and freckles.”
“That’s because she sees anything different as bad. We should all be little biscuits, shaped exactly the same way,” Jo snipped. “You used to ignore whatever your mother said.”
“That was a long time ago.” A sliver of annoyance stole through Dinah as she struggled to change the subject again. Yes, she’d been willful, more apt to break into spontaneous laughter, but that had been before her father died. And her mother remarried.
“I miss your father,” said Jo, sharing her thoughts. “He was so full of life.”
“Until he wasn’t,” mumbled Dinah, finally able to recognize the approaching figure. “Here comes Lord Frederick—I mean Lord Burstone. Gracious, I’ll have to get used to his new title.” After the death of his two brothers, he was now heir to the Scuttleton dukedom.
“Ladies,” the marquess greeted with a bow. He was well-built but only stood a head above Jo and at eye level with Dinah. His blond hair had darkened over the past several years to almost a dark honey color. “It’s a lovely day for a walk.”
Dinah rolled her eyes. “Not another remark on the fine weather or I shall scream.”
Lord Burstone laughed. “Then perhaps you should find another companion.” He smiled at Jo. “Lady Hardingson could find a ray of light underground, so I assume she has put you in such a nettle.”
“Guilty as charged,” added Jo. “How is your father, my lord?”
“Doing much better, thank you. That tumble down the steps at Westminster gave us a start, but nothing was broken but his pride.” Lord Burstone turned to walk beside them. “And your family, Lady Hardingson?”
“All are well, thank you.” She smiled up at him. “You look quite dapper today.”
Dinah swore the man’s chest puffed out as he tugged at his striped cream waistcoat beneath the fawn-colored jacket and matching trousers. His black boots shone in the sun as they moved along the path. “You make my day all the brighter, my lady.”
Dinah hadn’t had a chance to warn Jo about this.
The marquess, a friend of her husband, had been to their townhouse for dinner last night.
He had confided to Cornelius that he was interested in Jo.
For the love of Cupid, why would he want a widow instead of a younger debutante?
And why had both men pleaded for her to help in this endeavor?
She listened as her two companions prattled on about the mild summer, the cooler temperatures soon approaching, and a soiree to be held the next week. Good, Dinah thought, relieved. I’m not needed.
“How long have you been back in Town?” asked Jo as they paused near the Serpentine, watching the swans.
“Only a week. Though Paris is beautiful, I missed the grime and glory of London.” Lord Burstone reached inside his coat and pulled out a napkin with a slice of bread. Pulling off a chunk, he tossed it to the swans paddling toward them now. He offered the bread to the women.
Jo gave a tiny squeak of joy and pulled off a heel. The birds competed for the treats, and Dinah found herself smiling at her friend, who seemed to find joy in the most mundane things. She chewed her bottom lip, suddenly missing the precocious girl who had faded away after her father’s death.
She accepted the bit of bread from Jo and joined the feeding frenzy. When an older swan had snatched bread from the mouth of a cygnet, the mama swan had swooped down and chased the intruder off. Dinah found herself laughing with the others. It caused an odd flutter in her chest.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” said Mr. George, collecting her parasol, gloves, hat, and spencer. “His lordship is in the library having tea.”
“Excellent,” she said, taking the stairs to the first floor.
She found her husband at his desk, sipping from a china cup and perusing a magazine.
Dinah’s eyes narrowed. He glanced up and smiled at her.
Had the dimple in his chin winked at her?
Don’t be bacon-brained, she scolded herself, but her belly still fell into a tumble as she remembered last night.
“You’re just in time for tea, my dear,” he said, standing to greet her. He kissed both her cheeks and returned to his desk. “Just reading about a new theory on animal husbandry.”
“Your sheep again?” she asked with a raised brow. “I do think you would have married one of those ewes if you’d been allowed.”
He looked up at the ceiling, then grinned at her as his dark eyes swept over her. “They would never compare to you, sweetheart.”
She laughed. A second time that day. Why did it feel so strange?
But it warmed Dinah’s cheeks to know he was thinking of last night too. After almost two years of marriage, it still amazed her how they seemed to turn into completely different people when they joined under the counterpane.
Cornelius was Jo’s brother, so she’d known him for most of her life.
They had a strong friendship and cared for each other deeply, but they weren’t in love.
Dinah’s mother had convinced her that those marriages were myths, or the couples ended up miserable because romantic love never lasted.
What she thought had been love was only lust, her mother had warned.
Trust me on this matter, Dinah. Marry a man you like, and you will be able to tolerate him until death do you part. Marry a man you love, and you’ll only be disappointed when the passion is gone and you have nothing else in common.
So, Dinah had married her friend and cast her childish thoughts of romance from her mind and her heart. Marriage to a friend who, when the lights were out and they were alone, stirred such desire in her… Her mother had insisted it was only lust, and one of the benefits of marriage.
Enjoy it but don’t read anything more into it. Men are randy, and they want sons.
This had been her deepest regret. The lack of children thus far.
“Did you enjoy your stroll with Josephine?” he asked.
“Yes, and you’ll never believe who we ran into.”
“Frederick,” he blurted out, then grinned. “Sorry, he stopped by, and I told him where you were.”
“You know it will never work. She was close to Lady Annette and knows him for the rogue he truly is.” Dinah poured herself a cup of tea and refilled Neel’s. “It’s a fool’s errand you send me on.”
“He’s changed, Di,” said Cornelius. “I admit he was a Corinthian to the bone, but these past five years he’s learned to face consequences. He may have pinched the girl’s arse, but she broke his nose—”
“At Almack’s! Her first Season! She was an outcast and left London.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, his voice deepening.
She recognized that look, and heat crawled up her neck. “Don’t change the subject. He deserved a broken nose for his actions.”
“Yes, and then he fell in love with Josephine and tried to court her, and she refused to consider him, telling him why.” Neel shook his head. “I’d say a broken nose and losing a good woman makes them even. Besides, the offended female is married and happy now.”
Dinah snorted. “I suppose, but you should warn him not to get his hopes up. I think Jo is enjoying her freedom.”
“I know. Hardingson was so controlling. He wanted to know where she was and what she was doing every moment. I can’t even imagine what that had to be like.” He added a dollop of milk to his tea. “But she cared for him… at first, anyway.”
“Of course she did. Jo is a romantic at heart. But who knew the man would become so obsessed after they were married.” Dinah had almost been relieved when the ship carrying Lord Hardingson went down. While Jo had been distraught, Dinah had seen the stress in her friend’s face ease.
“Would you want to marry again if something happened to me?” asked Neel, waggling his dark eyebrows. “Or would you be devastated and become a spinster?”
“I can’t be a spinster if I’m a widow.” She considered the question. “I’m not sure what I would do. It depends on how old I was and if we ever had chil—”
“We will, Di. It will happen if we’re patient.” Always his response.
Sometimes, his optimism grated on her. He was just like his sister, always thinking the best of people and believing the future was bright.
Dinah wasn’t a pessimist, but she was a realist. And not every woman was able to conceive.
She had even told him last winter that if he grew tired of her, of trying, she would not hold it against him if he took a mistress.
He had refused, and she had been relieved.
“Have you decided when we will leave Town?” asked Dinah. She was ready for the peace of the countryside. Autumn in Kent was pretty, and she always enjoyed the harvest festivities. Neel had needed to see his solicitor and attend to some financial matters, so they had spent the last month in Mayfair.
“Within the next couple of weeks,” he said, his eyes returning to his copy of The Farmer’s Journal. He looked up, his mouth opening to say something, then closing.
“What?”
“What?” he asked.
“You were going to say something.”
Neel shook his head. “Later,” he mumbled.
Dinah studied her husband as she finished her tea. He was plotting something. She could see it in his eyes and the twitch of his mouth at the corner. And she would wager a month’s pin money it had to do with his sister and the rake.