Chapter 1
One
While most everyone in Society arrives in London well before the Season begins just so that they can prepare, this year there have been late arrivals.
The first being five Claxton bachelors, who joined the sixth already residing in London but had so far not made an appearance at any entertainment.
Four are the sons of the Duke of Arscott and two are cousins.
Nobody knows why they were delayed or why they were together, but the rumors are that the fathers are encouraging the older of the six to put their mind to seeking a wife.
I have no doubt that they will soon tire of London and seek their pleasures elsewhere, except for perhaps Lord Cecil, the third son of the duke, since he has duties as a barrister.
There were other late arrivals as well—a family new to London. Five sisters, recently out of mourning and the cousins of Marquess Retford. From what I understand, the five were born in Dominica and lived there practically their entire lives because their father served the Crown.
I have yet to meet the Driscoll sisters, but I will make a point to do so since I prefer to know my subjects when I write about them in my journal.
Even if they do not prove to make the Season more exciting, I am certain that one of the Claxton bachelors will.
After all, would it really be a successful Season if at least one Claxton didn’t find their way into the gossip sheets, or their name whispered behind fans?
Given Cecil and his brother Nevil are considered notorious rakes, I have no doubt that one or both will soon become the topic discussed over tea.
Therefore, I eagerly anticipate a much-improved Season and will keep my pen and journal ready to document their transgressions.
Observations of a Wallflower
Nicoll stood at the side of the ballroom in the London home of the Duke and Duchess of Ellings and watched over her younger sisters as they each took part in a country dance. At the age of seven and twenty she was already on the shelf and deemed unmarriageable, thus she had become their chaperone.
She had also chosen to stand near a door because it offered escape if the crowd became too much. She had never liked close and narrow spaces and could now add ballrooms inhabited by more people than she could count to her discomfort.
Nor did Nicoll mind the idea of never marrying and was thankful that she had been able to enjoy one of the two things she had been most curious about without having to take a husband. One of those being a kiss.
Further, she had absolutely no regrets and would likely never forget the kiss of Lord Cecil Claxton. It had been perfect!
Who would have thought that a pair of lips, the dip of a tongue, and arms about her person, pressing her body against his, could ignite such heat within her veins and tingling in areas that she gave little thought to such as her breasts and nether regions?
No wonder rakes were to be avoided because no doubt had Lord Cecil been the one to ask for the kiss and then set to seduce her, Nicoll might have been all too willing.
But, as she had made the request, he had simply obliged because he wanted his secret kept.
Yet even though he had been coerced, Lord Claxton had still delivered the most delicious kiss when he could have simply brushed her lips ever so sweetly and been done, which she was certain would have been quite a disappointment, even if she hadn’t know what a true kiss could be like.
It also made her even more aware of the dangers of being in the presence of a rake and therefore, she was more diligent in watching her younger sisters so that they were not lured away and into a dark garden where they might be seduced by a silver-tongued devil.
Nicoll took a deep breath and glanced around the crowded ballroom and noted her cousin, Roderick Driscoll, Marquess of Retford, who had inserted himself into their lives after her father passed away, also watched on.
She did not need a guardian, especially since he was two years younger than herself.
Nor did she welcome his interference in the lives of her younger sisters, three whom had not reached their majority, yet there was little she could do being she was a female and thus was forced to tolerate him.
She had attended similar entertainments such as this in Jersey and in Dominica, but they had not been the same, nor had the rooms been as crowded.
She was nearly overwhelmed until her eyes met those of Lord Cecil Claxton—rake, rogue, smuggler and excellent kisser standing across the ballroom, glass of wine in hand, watching her.
Heat filled her body at memories of their past encounters and as much as she would like to look away, and pretend that he was not present, Nicoll found it impossible to do so even though while he watched her, a woman with a daring bodice cut so low that there was a risk of her breasts being on full display, leaned forward and spoke to him. Probably inviting him to seduce her.
A stab of jealousy swept through Nicoll at the very idea of another woman enjoying the same type of kiss that Lord Cecil had given her, even though she had no right to experience such an emotion.
What she hated further was that the woman was likely free with her favors and would be able to experience far more with that rake than Nicoll could ever imagine.
Cecil was here because his father insisted, and that was the only reason. His two eldest brothers had already married and one had produced a son, therefore, there was no need for him to rush to the altar to ensure that there would be future Dukes of Arscott.
Instead, he came to the ball hosted by the Duke of Ellings because the duchess was his cousin, and he was in need of a mistress or at least a temporary lover.
It had been months since he shared a bed with a woman and a tumble or two should certainly help improve his mood.
Except, it wasn’t Lady Cristoph, a widow with insatiable appetites, pressed against him that he wanted, or even desired. He’d enjoyed her in the past, but he was looking for someone who was just as interesting outside of the bedchamber as she was within.
Was there no one who was not only desirable but intriguing as well? Someone who might be a challenge. Someone who…
His thoughts came to an end when Cecil spotted the woman who lived in his memories standing directly across the ballroom. A woman who knew how to bargain for what she wanted—Miss Nicoll Driscoll.
When had she come to London?
Cecil disengaged himself from the widow and crossed the room.
How could he possibly want Lady Cristoph when Miss Nicoll was in London?
Except, he could not pursue her because she was a miss.
Unfortunately, that reminder came to him just as he stopped before her. What could he possibly say to her? His secret no longer mattered and that was all they had shared, other than a heated kiss.
And, since any intelligent words had flown from his mind when he looked into her silver eyes, Cecil simply bowed, lifted her hand, placed a kiss on the back, straightened and then walked away.
She had walked away from him before—twice. Now it was his opportunity to do so.
Except, he may have just attracted unwanted attention, which neither of them needed.
Bloody hell!
Cecil could only hope that a scintillating scandal erupted tonight and the two of them were quickly forgotten.