Chapter 1

Chapter One

" O h dear!" Nancy cried out as her ball sailed neatly past the hoop. "Not again."

"If you are not having fun, Nancy, we can stop," Cecilia called over, though she was loath to. Even against a player as sweet-tempered and uncompetitive as her best friend, it was difficult not to enjoy a game of pall-mall on such a beautiful day.

"No! I shall soon improve. I am merely out of practice. They did not play pall-mall in Venice."

"I'd imagine not," Cecilia teased her. "You'd hit the ball straight into a canal."

"I would, would not I," Nancy said mournfully.

With her light brown hair, blue eyes, and petite figure, she looked almost like a porcelain doll—even while pouting. Of course, Nancy never did pout for long.

"Oh, but it is just as well. We were much too busy. I was always accompanying Aunt Mary to some event or the other. Operas, museum outings, monuments. And then in Paris, there was so much shopping to be done—oh! I cannot wait for you to see my new gowns!"

"Nor can I! I expect you'll be the very height of fashion when the Season begins. You will be setting all of the trends. All the young ladies of the ton will dress according to your fashion, and the men will be swept away by your worldly European beauty." Cecilia sighed. "Oh, Nance, it sounds just wonderful."

"You would have loved it, Celie." Nancy gave her a sympathetic look. "It is not fair, you know. You being stuck here, while your brother gallivants across the continent."

"Fairness has nothing to do with it. And besides, it has only been two years since Father's passing. I needed to be here to take care of Mother."

True, she often was jealous of her older brother's freedom. But there was no use complaining about it—even as she dreamed of the life she might lead abroad if she'd had the means and motive to go beyond the English borders.

She shook her head and turned back to her friend. "In any case, I have you to regale me with your stories!" She plastered a brave smile onto her face. "When you describe your adventures, you do it so vividly, I feel as though I am seeing it all for myself."

Nancy placed a gentle hand on her wrist. "You will see it all for yourself," she said. "I am certain of it." She brightened, the moment of seriousness passing as a wry smile crept onto her features. "Perhaps on your honeymoon!"

"Nancy!" Cecilia could not help but giggle herself. "I should think that is far off."

"Not very far off. Celie, you are beautiful, clever, and accomplished. Any man would be pleased to have you as his wife."

"The question remains as to whether either of us will find a man who we would be pleased to have as a husband," she replied. "I am both more and less optimistic about my brother's chances than my own. I promised my father to marry an honorable man, and that I would ensure Zachary found a respectable match of his own. But there is such a shortage of honorable men in town—my brother included—that I doubt either of us will be able to satisfy such promises. I see no options to marry but rakes. And Zachary, it pains me to say, is unlikely to attract an honorable and respectable lady on his own."

"You worry too much, Cecilia," Nancy tutted. "I have heard you speak quite fondly of your brother. He cannot be all that terrible, for you to care for him so. And I am certain there are other gentlemen in the ton who will surprise you yet."

"I hope you are right."

Though she tried to keep a calm and practical head, Cecilia could not stop hope from fluttering up in her heart. Of course, there were bound to be at least a few gentlemen of honor. But what really ate away at her—what she could never admit to anyone, even Nancy—was that most secret desire: that she should find not only a respectable match but a love match.

Foolish, she knew. In her mind, she held her duty firm and clear. Her father had raised her to be as practical-minded as any man—giving her books, teaching her chess, and even taking her hunting on a few occasions.

Still, she could not stop herself from tumbling into romance novels night after night, when she was sure no one could see.

Cecilia knew it would be difficult enough to find a husband worthy of fulfilling her first promise to her father, without trying to complicate matters further with love. What were the odds she would be able to find both in one man?

"Nancy! Cecilia!" called a voice from the garden entrance.

"Hello, Mother." As she walked in Susanna Forbes, the Dowager Countess of Lindbury's direction, Cecilia noticed her mother was not alone. Shielding her eyes, she looked more closely—and then immediately broke out into a run. "Zachary!" she called across the garden.

Her brother hugged her tightly. "Afternoon, sister." Stepping back, he held her at arm's length. "I see you haven't gotten any taller in the year since I have left. Though—" He pointed at her nose, pretending to squint at something. "Dear me, are those freckles?"

She swatted his hand away. "Stop it." Immediately she broke back out into a smile and hugged him again. "Oh, we all missed you so very dearly!" She pulled back. "How was Europe? Did you have a favorite city? Did you write anything interesting in your travelogue for me to read? Oh, and Nancy is just back from a European tour, as well, and we were just saying that?—"

"Cecilia." Lady Lindbury cleared her throat, and nodded her head sideways, towards the second new arrival. "Would not you like to greet His Grace, as well?"

With no small amount of reluctance, Cecilia turned her attention to the second newcomer.

Tall. Dark, thick-haired. Every feature was infuriatingly well-formed. Though they had only met once—and though that meeting had hardly been a pleasant memory—there was no denying the power of that strong jaw, and those deep blue eyes. His were the sort of looks that could haunt a woman's dreams.

If, of course, that woman had not already previously overheard him prattling on and on about his disdain for marriage.

Cecilia gave him an icy grimace and her most perfunctory curtsy. "Your Grace."

"Lady Cecilia." He bowed in response to her abbreviated curtsy. "Wonderful to see you, after so many months away."

"Yes. Yes, it has been many months, I suppose, since we last saw each other," Cecilia said.

"Caught any good gossip in the meantime? I know you have quite a talent for listening at doorways," he said.

Cecilia's cheeks went red as she recalled that night. "And I know you have a talent for proclaiming your disdain for marriage for anyone to hear who might happen to be passing by," she said.

She remembered how the duke had gone on at length, boasting about a widow with whom he had been having an affair—a lady who, according to him, was unusually sensible for her kind, as she knew well enough not to expect anything so silly as love from her dalliance with the duke.

"I imagine you have not mended your ways, while you and my brother took your adventures across the continent?" she added.

"I am not aware of any ways I have that might have needed mending, I am afraid," he replied.

"Of course you do not," she said. "Allow me to give you a piece of advice, then. If you do not wish for people to overhear you, you would perhaps behoove yourself to avoid speaking so loudly as to wake up an entire household."

"Cecilia!" her mother said, stepping in closer and interrupting their argument. "I am glad to see you taking in the sunlight on such a beautiful day. And you have a friend over?" She shielded her eyes from the sunlight as she looked down the lawn.

"Yes," Cecilia said, trying to cool her temper. She glanced once more at the duke, then smiled, turning her attention more fully to her mother. "Nancy has come to visit. You have caught us in the middle of a game—Nancy!" She waved. Nancy walked over, mallet swinging at her side.

"Lady Lindbury, it is so very good to see you," she began, sweet as ever. "And…" She trailed off as she locked eyes with Zachary, her delicate cheeks reddening in a light flush.

"Nancy, this is my brother," Cecilia said. "And Zachary, this is?—"

Zachary stepped forward, taking Nancy's hand in his. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Miss…"

"Banfield," Nancy said softly. "Miss Nancy Banfield."

"Miss Banfield." He kissed her hand, then smiled up at her. He had the same coloring as his sister, all golden hair and fair skin. Nancy blushed even deeper.

Both Cecilia and Ian's eyes widened. But before Cecilia could say anything, the duke swept forward, repeating Zachary's hand-kiss with an even more dazzling smile. "A lovely name for a lovely lady," he murmured. "It is true what they say—even the greatest wonders of the world cannot hold a candle to a true English rose."

Though Nancy continued to blush at this new flattery from the duke, there was no mistaking the way her eyes continued to flicker in Zachary's direction.

Zachary's eyes lit when they fell on the mallet in Nancy's other hand. "You were playing a game, you said? What were you playing? Pall-mall?"

"Yes!" Cecilia proffered her mallet. "We have room for one more if you would like to join."

"Only one?" Her mother cleared her throat, nodding at the duke before walking away to sit down once more.

Cecilia sighed as her mother walked away, but turned to the duke with a strained smile. "Your Grace," she said through gritted teeth, "of course you would be welcome to join." As Nancy and Zachary walked away to fetch the other mallets and balls, she continued, "Though I wonder why you haven't tired of swinging your mallet about, after your European escapades."

Ian's mouth twitched up at the corner. "You remain thoughtful as ever, Lady Cecilia," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "I appreciate your concern for my… mallet, in particular."

Rather than back down, she tilted her head. "My concern is not for your mallet, Your Grace, but rather for the women you bother with it."

"Well. In that case, you may rest assured, Lady Cecilia, there is no bother. When I offer a woman my mallet, she comes willingly." He smiled. "I assumed you knew that, given your penchant for eavesdropping."

"I was not?—"

"Well then," Zachary interrupted, stepping forward and handing the duke a mallet. "Here you go, Harwick." The tension still hung thick in the air. He looked between the two of them, seemingly oblivious to it, before smiling back down at Nancy. "Shall we play?"

As they set up, Lady Lindbury retired to drink tea in the shade. The sun blazed high overhead, and bees buzzed pleasantly through the gardens.

"So, Miss Banfield," Zachary said, knocking a ball neatly past hers and through the hoop. "You say you were also traveling this past year?"

"Yes, with my aunt. She has a great many friends across the Continent and wanted to see them all. We went to Paris, Nice, Venice, Athens…"

"You don't say! That mirrors our itinerary very near exactly!" he exclaimed. "You say you have only just returned?"

"Yes, a few days ago. From Greece."

"Ah, that explains it. We began in Greece; I'd imagine our travels went in rather opposite directions."

"Still, it is a wonder our paths never crossed," Nancy said. "Not even in the middle! I suppose fate wished to keep us firmly apart."

"Or perhaps we were merely meant to meet here, in London."

Nancy looked up at this, right at the very moment she swung her mallet. The ball careened wildly off the path, and her cheeks went even pinker than usual.

"Oh, dear," she lamented. "I am not very gifted at pall-mall at the best of times, and yet I seem to be playing worse than ever." She looked over at Zachary, shy. "You must not think too poorly of me, my lord."

"How could I?" With a gentle click of his mallet, Zachary hit his ball—so that it landed right beside Nancy's. He nodded towards them. "There. It seems we are now on equal footing. Let us retrieve them together, and then I would be more than happy to assist you with your swing."

She smiled, and nodded, taking the arm he offered and allowing him to walk her down the field. "I would like that very much."

From a bit away, Ian observed the two of them—and, more intriguingly, watched Lady Cecilia observing the two of them.

Although, most infuriatingly, her observations were punctuated by her dedication to whipping him soundly at pall-mall.

"Hah!" Lady Cecilia jumped in glee as her ball went perfectly through yet another arch. Clapping her hands together, she turned to Ian with an unrelentingly smug expression, and a playful, mocking curtsy. "Your turn, Your Grace."

Ian followed suit, though his ball hit the arch just on the corner. He groaned. "Not again."

Cecilia smiled. With her fair complexion and golden hair lit by the sun, she looked bright as a sunflower, and moved just as gracefully, as she easily knocked her ball towards another arch. "You know, with all your earlier talk of mallets, I wasn't anticipating such a swift and easy victory."

"You have not won yet, Lady Cecilia." He knocked the ball again, repositioning it in front of the missed arch. "And I am afraid I am a bit…distracted, today. Under normal circumstances, I think we both know the swift victory would be mine."

"I know no such thing," she said coolly. "And I certainly do not see what there is here for you to be distracted by. Nothing but sun, and lawn, and friendly competition."

"Ah, yes," he observed dryly. "Very friendly."

She chuckled. "Unless, of course, you merely find yourself bored by the lack of disreputable activities to be found?"

"Disreputable activities?" His eyebrows lifted. "Why, Lady Cecilia, I haven't the faintest idea what on Earth you could be referring to."

"No gambling, for a start. And—" She sighed. "Oh, I do not know. Whatever other shameful activities you supposed gentlemen get up to while roaming across the continent."

"Is that all?" He chuckled and walked around to stop in front of her, blocking her shot and prompting a glare. "Please, do go on. I am most curious to hear what the young ladies of London consider to be shameful activities."

"I am certain you are." She swept around him to make her next swing. "Likewise, I also have no doubt you did your best to drag my brother towards your way of thinking."

"There wasn't much dragging involved, Lady Cecilia," he said, following her across the lawn. "Nor anything I feel ashamed about in the slightest. I believe your brother would agree with me. It is perfectly natural for a young gentleman to wish to see the world beyond his backyard, particularly before he is shackled to the altar."

She stopped and spun to face him. "Shackled! Is that really how you think of marriage?"

"I'd imagine it is how most men think of marriage."

She scoffed. "I have known plenty of men who would say otherwise."

"Oh, I would not say that in front of your mother. Or your brother, for that matter."

"You know perfectly well that is not what I meant."

"I know no such thing," he said, mimicking her tone from before. "Fear not, Lady Cecilia. I would never presume anything against your spotless reputation. Though I am curious to hear the names of these supposed paragons of virtue. I shall eat my mallet if you could name even one man of the ton who awaits married life with anything but a sense of duty."

"My father, for one," she said after a beat. "And he raised Zachary the same way. I understand my brother may have fallen in with your kind this past year, but now that he's back, it is only a matter of time before he returns to his respectable ways and takes a wife."

"My kind?" The duke's voice lifted in interest. "And what kind is that?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"I might. I might not." He shrugged. "In either case, I certainly wish you'd tell me."

She paused. "Rakes," she said bluntly. "The kind of man who proclaims his disdain for both love and marriage to anyone within earshot. The kind of man who has no interest in any kind of relation with anyone other than himself."

"When have I ever said a word against relations?" He took a step closer. "There are all sorts of relations in the world that do not require marriage. Or love, for that matter."

Her eyes dragged across his face, but she did not back down. "None of them respectable, I am sure."

"You know, Lady Cecilia, you speak with a great deal of confidence, for someone who has experienced none of what you speak," he said. He stepped in closer still. "Pray tell, where did you come to find all of these ideas of what is and is not respectable? In your books?"

She laughed in disbelief, eyebrows raised, and crossed her arms. "So you disdain books, now, as well?"

"Certainly not. I am merely pointing out that you have seen very little of the world, and yet seem to have formed such strong opinions on it when you do not know the first thing about it."

She lifted her chin. "I know plenty."

"Plenty about love?"

"More than you, clearly."

"There is that confidence again," he said—more quietly, now that they were only a few steps apart.

In the afternoon sun, she seemed to glow from within; the light turned her hair to pure gold, and her eyes to the soft green of a clear, still pond, even as fire flashed behind them. Her lips were soft and pink, and he could not help but wonder what it would feel like if?—

A giggle broke him out of his reverie.

At once, the two of them turned to see Miss Nancy Banfield, standing nearly as close to Zachary as Ian was to Cecilia, and laughing charmingly at something he'd said.

"Well," Cecilia said, the smile rising once more to her lips. "Well, well, well. That is not bad at all."

"Really?" the duke asked, sounding surprised as he crossed his arms. "Am I to understand that you are pleased to see your brother making eyes at your best friend?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Cecilia shrugged. "Nancy is beautiful and charming and sweet and intelligent. I would be most lucky to count her as a sister-in-law of mine. Anyone would."

"Ah. That." The duke snorted. "If that is what you are hoping for, I would not count so soon, if I were you." Cecilia looked up at him, brows furrowed, and he sighed. "Oh, let him have his flirtation. This is exactly what I was referring to: the poor man has barely been back in London a day, and already he can't so much as speak to a woman without his overbearing sister trying to push him down the altar."

Cecilia's jaw dropped. "Overbearing?" she said, voice rising. "How dare you!"

Ian chuckled. "I assure you, Lady Cecilia, I meant no offense." He nodded at the couple across the lawn. "I only wish to point out what is quite plainly right in front of you."

"You are wrong." Cecilia shook her head. "Zachary would not just flirt with Nancy. I mean, with Miss Banfield. He would not do that to her." She crossed her arms with a huff and shook her head again. "Moreover, he would be a fool to let someone like Miss Banfield slip through his fingers on the marriage mart. She is a most accomplished woman."

"Woman? Hardly. Miss Banfield is still a girl," Ian said dismissively. "He'll tire of her sooner or later. Sooner, if I had my guess."

Cecilia glared at him, then looked back and forth between the two flirting across the lawn. Tire of her? Tire of Nancy? Zachary would not. He couldn't!

And yet…if everything the Duke implied was true…

Even if it is true, it does not matter, she thought resolutely. She had made a promise to her father, one she intended to keep. Zachary had to give up his libertine ways and settle down eventually, and he would be lucky to make a match like Nancy. And she certainly could not let Nancy be the victim of any kind of rakish plot.

But if they were to marry…

Perhaps even fall in love…

Ian, still looking at her, cocked his head. Even having known Lady Cecilia for such a short time, it was clear from her expression that she had set some scheme in motion. "You are plotting something," he said accusingly. He bent down and knocked his ball through the second to last hoop. "I would be careful if I were you, Lady Cecilia. Do not interfere with business you are ill-prepared to deal with. You are fighting a losing battle."

Those maddeningly green eyes returned to him, stopping his breath a moment. Within seconds, that musical laugh returned. "Oh, Your Grace. Believe me, when I set my mind to something…" She knocked her ball cleanly through the final hoop. Resting her hands on her mallet, she returned to him with a sweetly devilish grin. "I always win."

Ian narrowed his eyes at her. Finally, he gave a little nod. "Very well," he said. "It looks like the game is on."