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Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hyde Park, London—1810

"Bella! Should you go so high?" Grace hissed from the ground below, where she waited with two local girls who had dared Isabella to attempt her current feat of bravery.

Fourteen-year-old Lady Isabella Collingwood, perched precariously on a branch half-way up the tree, peered down at her best friend with a teasing smile. "Oh, this? It's only half-way to the top."

She turned and began scrambling up the branches as quickly as she could, the sounds of her friends' nervous giggles fading behind her. It was a different world up there. The city faded all around her, leaves and branches clustering around her like a screen, and if she ignored the faint smell of smoke and the clatter of wheels on cobbles in the distance, she could pretend she was in the country climbing trees with her older brother.

"You'd best hurry," Grace chimed in again, her voice fainter. "There's a group of women walking closer, and I think I recognize Lady Ellory."

Lady Ellory was a notorious gossip, but Bella wasn't concerned. She didn't think anyone from her parents' world would recognize her at present—part of the dare had been to disguise herself as a boy.

Her long, awkward limbs were clad in rough-spun trousers; a loose shirt of her brother's was tucked into the waistband, and she'd been careful to wind her dark blond braid up under a newsboy's cap. Lady Ellory, in all her glamor and glory, wouldn't look twice at a lad climbing a tree.

She ignored her friend. She and Grace Lyndon had been close all their lives. Their older brothers were best friends as well, and their families moved in the same circles, even if Bella's illustrious father would have preferred they didn't. Lord Collingwood seemed to think his children above the companionship of the viscount's children. Simon was a second son, after all, with little prospects, and Grace didn't even have a title to her name.

All that didn't matter to Bella. The parties and the expectations and the "my lord" this and "my lady" that—it was all dreadfully tedious. What interested her was the next adventure, the next rebellion, and the next genuine connection. All the foppery of the London ton made her want to yawn.

She set her hands to the more slender branches at the top of the tree, steadying herself as the upper boughs bent and swayed under her weight. She no longer attended to whatever conversation was going on beneath her, though if she had she would have wondered why her friends' giggles had suddenly stilled.

Instead, she looked out through the curtain of leaves at the high tops of buildings all around her, row upon row, and the nearer trees of Hyde Park marching along in well-cultivated lines.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and smiled. I should live here, she thought dreamily, like a bird. She would gladly trade a life under the scrutiny of her continually disappointed parents and the harassing eye of society for a life of freedom. She was not a beauty and had never been. Her mother reminded her of it often.

"Your arms are too long, and your face too plain," Lady Collingwood would say on occasion. "A girl without natural beauty must be more careful of the way she presents herself. Grace and elegance will cover a multitude of wrongs."

Or, Bella thought with a giggle, I could just capitalize on the fact I look rather boyish and trade in my petticoats and silks as I am now. No one looked disappointed in my appearance today, after all.

She knew her friends would be missing her, and so she began to climb regretfully back down the tree, moving quickly over the familiar path she had already taken. A little too quickly. Near the base of the tree, her boot slipped on the rough bark, and she tumbled down to the bottom branch, bruising her hip before catching herself and controlling her fall to the ground.

Her own squeal of laughter died on her lips as she raised her gaze to see that her friends were no longer the only onlookers at the base of the tree. Lady Ellory and two companions were standing just a few feet off, looking at her with a shock that could only mean one thing: They know who I am.

In a moment she realized why: her long blond braid had fallen loose of the hat when she tumbled to the ground, and was hanging over one shoulder with incriminating clarity. Lady Ellory gasped and looked away, drawing her friends with her along the path and whispering in a low voice as she walked.

"What are the chances she'll forget she saw me?" Bella asked with a forced laugh.

Grace looked back at her with a pained expression. "It was Lady Ellory, Bella. Everyone will know the truth before evenfall."

Bella kept up her bravado. "It is no matter," she said. "It was worth it."

The expression on her friends' faces told a different story.

***

When Bella appeared in the dining room for the evening meal, she could see that the news of her afternoon exploits preceded her. Lord and Lady Collingwood sat stiffly at the far end of the great oaken table, lips pressed tightly together, anger flashing in their eyes. James, her older brother, looked as though he was doing his best to contain laughter, and when he glanced up at Bella there was sympathy in his eyes.

"A little late, aren't you?" Lady Collingwood began as Bella took a seat across from James. "We've been waiting to begin."

Bella glanced at the clock on the wall. "I am only a few minutes late—" she began, but was interrupted before continuing.

"A lady is never late, even by a few minutes," her mother snapped. "But then again, what are we to expect from you?"

Bella dropped her eyes to her plate. She was used to the occasional dressing down from her parents when she did something they considered unladylike, but something felt different about tonight.

"We heard about your little adventure in Hyde Park," her father chimed in icily.

"What were you thinking?" Lady Collingwood added.

"Come now," James interjected lightly. "It isn't as bad as all that. What harm was really done, in the end?"

Bella smiled at him gratefully, but this seemed to only irk her parents more. Lady Collingwood barely constrained her fury as she launched into an explanation of exactly what harm Bella had wreaked on London with her actions.

"Do you know who I heard the story from?" she gasped. "Not Lady Ellory, nor any of her companions in the park. I heard it from my maid, who had it from another friend whose mistress had been speaking of it. The gossip is all over London, Isabella. Everyone is speaking about how you were caught frolicking in the park dressed as a boy. This is not the sort of thing a lady of means and reputation can get away with."

"Perhaps if we lived in the country," her father added, "such childish behavior could be excused. But here in the heart of London it has most certainly been noted. You are only a few years away from your first Season. Do you think gentlemen will line up to dance with a girl who was climbing trees in trousers only a few years before?"

James burst out laughing, but immediately covered his hand with his mouth. Lady Collingwood glowered at him.

"Go on then, James," she prodded. "What exactly is so funny about all this?"

"Just…the mental image," he said, holding back a second laugh and winking at Bella. "And, I suppose, the implication that Bella's future suitors will have such long memories."

"They may not," Lady Collingwood snapped, "but their mothers will. This is no laughing matter. Her reputation will be ruined if she continues in this way. It is likely ruined already."

"I would think," Lord Collingwood intoned in support of his wife, "that, considering how close you two are, you would find it in yourselves to put aside your mirth at a time like this. After all, you will not be seeing each other for some years after this most recent escapade."

His words sank in by degrees. Bella frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We are sending you away," Lady Collingwood announced, reaching for a sip of wine. "You leave us no choice, Isabella. We sent a post to your Aunt Nellie this very afternoon and have no doubt that she will undertake the task of turning you into a proper young woman—far away from the distractions and scrutiny of London."

"Aunt Nellie?" Bella asked, incredulous. "Ireland Aunt Nellie?"

Her aunt, who was rumored to be as strict as she was eccentric, had married an Irish man of little consequence and moved away from England when Bella was a little girl. She hardly remembered the woman and she had never visited.

"Yes of course," Lord Collingwood sniffed. "My sister has many faults, but she was properly trained in the ways of a lady and is fully equipped to take you under her wing, wayward as you may be."

"But she lives in Ireland," Bella repeated. She looked desperately across the table in James' direction, hoping he would leap to her aid.

He did, clearing his throat before interjecting, "Surely you are not considering sending Bella all the way to Ireland. Perhaps Aunt Nellie could make a visit here—"

"Nonsense," Lady Collingwood snapped. "We have allowed this to continue long enough. Isabella is wild and unkempt, wholly unbecoming in everything she does, and undeserving of the title of ‘lady' that has been handed down to her by her father. I fear that if we do not take drastic action, she will bring all manner of shame down on the head of our family."

"Bella is a bit outspoken, certainly," James said, looking ill at ease, "but nothing more. She means well. Don't you, Bella?"

"Stop calling her that," his mother snapped. "Her name is Isabella. Any shortening of her name only serves to reinforce her childish behavior."

Bella felt tears pricking her eyes. "Father, Mother," she said, "I can do better, I promise. I don't need to be sent away." She had not considered, in all her antics, that they would result in a few years away from home entirely. She would have to leave her friends, the city she knew from childhood, and, worst of all, James. He was her champion in all things, and she would be completely lost without him.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. "This is too little, too late," her father intoned, with all the manner and gravity of a judge passing a final sentence. "As soon as we hear back from your aunt, you will be sent away. I suggest you use the intervening time to pack your belongings and bid your friends farewell."

"We can only hope," her mother added with a sigh, "that you are a changed girl when you return."

***

Barely a fortnight passed before Bella found herself climbing into a coach one dismal morning, her belongings in chests and bags strapped to the back, her parents watching from the window.

James walked her to the carriage, his friend, Simon, loitering in the background. Simon was a gangly lad of James' same age, handsome and familiar. She'd known him her entire life. He had appeared early for a meeting with James and intercepted the farewell with Bella.

She blushed at the sight of him, a school-girl's crush impeding her ability to say more than a few words, but he grinned at her as though she was his own kid sister.

"Don't look so glum," he said lightly. "It won't be that long, and London won't forget you. Grace has already assured me she intends to write you every day."

"And you?" Bella asked, wanting to drag out the goodbye as long as possible. "Will you write?"

Simon shrugged. "If you wish."

She didn't expect to hear from him, any more than she expected London to remember her. She knew Grace was a faithful friend, and expected her brother's regular communication, but beyond that she knew her memory would fade from the ton as soon as she had rolled around the first corner. That was what her parents were counting on, she knew. They wanted all her mischief and wild ways to be forgotten.

It was a full three weeks before she received her first letter from London, ripping it open eagerly in the misty bower of her aunt's well-tended garden and reading hungrily for news of home. As she expected, James was the first to write.

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