Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

" I ndeed? But you will not be gone long, will you?"

"I fear I must be away for many months," replied the tall, handsome man who stood before her.

Thalia Fletcher, eldest daughter of the Earl of Windham, tried to hide her disappointment. "Many months? And none may persuade you from such a quick departure?"

"No," the man chuckled. "It is time that I took in the sights and smells of the continent. My Grand Tour, I fear, cannot be postponed any longer."

"We shall be sorry to see you go."

"Indeed, I shall be sorry to leave you all. But I will return with tales of adventure and intrigue," he assured her with a chuckle. His mirth, however, was not shared. Thalia only managed to offer him a small smile as her companion took his leave, moving to greet a gentleman nearby.

As he left her, Thalia allowed herself a brief, quiet sigh. She glanced around the ballroom, her disappointment growing as she searched the familiar faces around her. Lord Branton was leaving? And so soon?

It seemed as if every eligible bachelor in the ton was planning to desert the festivities of the Season for adventures abroad.

"You have heard Lord Branton's news then?" sighed an older woman, sidling up to Thalia. She followed Thalia's gaze to where several young men stood, chatting, and laughing with the abandon that can only be afforded to those secure in their wealth and desirability: the ton's most sought-after bachelors.

"There will be many sorely disappointed by his departure," Thalia replied.

"Ah, do not despair, dear Lady Thalia. There will be others. Your sister does not lack for suitors," the woman continued. She offered Thalia a warm smile. "My daughter should be lucky to have half of the attention that is paid to Lady Selina."

Thalia shifted, glancing across the ballroom to where her younger sister stood, deep in conversation with two other young women. One of which, Thalia realized, was the daughter of Lady Wright, the woman to whom she now spoke.

"Your sister is lucky to have you," Lady Wright continued, casting a glance at Thalia that was not entirely free of pity. "Those of us who are no longer seeking a match – widows or spinsters as we are – should not abandon our younger sisters and daughters to make matches on their own. Who knows what trouble they might get themselves into, should we leave them to their own devices?"

Though Lady Wright chuckled amiably at the thought, Thalia could not join in on her jest. She nodded, watching her sister closely. "Indeed," she murmured.

Lady Wright's words perfectly mirrored the worries that plagued Thalia's mind. As she watched her younger sister, she felt her heart gripped in the all too familiar vice of apprehension.

A young man moved to speak with Selina, and Thalia's interest perked up a little. The reason he had struck up the conversation was obvious; Selina was easily the prettiest woman in the room. With cherry blond hair that framed her face in gentle waves, even pinned up as it was, full luscious lips, and wide green eyes, she was truly the pinnacle of beauty.

Instinctually, Thalia's hand went to her hair. Their green eyes were the only things that these two sisters had in common. Where Selina was curvy and alluring, Thalia was thin and slight. Where Selina's hair was blond and thick, Thalia's was dark and straight as a pin.

But Thalia did not have long to reflect upon their differences. Within minutes, the beautiful Selina had moved away from the young man, politely declining his company.

"I beg your pardon." Thalia offered Lady Wright a kind smile. "I must go and speak with my sister."

"But of course. We shall have you and Lady Selina for tea soon, I hope."

Nodding Thalia took her leave. Though she was not keen to leave the company of someone like Lady Wright – a mother and a widow with whom Thalia had much more in common than she did with ladies her sister's age – Thalia had work to do. She skirted the edge of the room, maneuvering to where her sister now stood, happily watching the couples at the center arrange themselves for the next dance.

Upon spotting her older sister, Selina's smile faded. "Come to scold me, sister?" she murmured as Thalia moved to stand beside her.

Thalia placed herself beside her sister, looking out into the ballroom. "I believe I saw Lord Mayten ask you for a dance just now," she asked in a low voice. "Why did you refuse him?"

Selina sighed, a bored, long-suffering sound that Thalia knew all too well. "I did not wish to dance with him."

"It was merely a dance –"

"I have told you, Thalia," Selina protested, growing irate. "You know perfectly well why I would not entertain the attentions of a man like Lord Mayten."

Now it was Thalia's turn to be vexed. But she bit her tongue before any harsh words could leave her lips. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to speak calmly, as if explaining something to a child. "I know you desire a match of mutual admiration. But in our situation –"

"Of love!" Selina's voice rose as she spun to face her sister, the dancers quickly forgotten. "Not admiration! I wish to marry for love! Is that such a terrible thing? Do you hope to see me miserable and bored, married to a man for whom I have not an ounce of respect?"

"No, of course not." Thalia glanced around, making sure that no one had observed her sister's outburst. She lowered her voice, hoping that her sister would do the same. "I only wish to see that you are well provided for."

Even as Selina opened her mouth to reply, Thalia knew she was not going to like what her sister had to say. Nor was this the proper place for such a conversation.

"Come," she murmured, catching hold of her sister's hand and guiding her from the room as quickly as propriety would allow. Thankfully, Selina's outburst of retaliation was cut short, and she was forced to follow her older sister in silence.

Leading her out of the ballroom and into the hall, Thalia glanced around only a moment before continuing into the library. There, she found a small, secluded corner beside two large, windowed doors. These led out into the gardens which were now blanketed with the silence of night, cut off from the mirth and mayhem of the gathering inside.

Selina's arms were crossed, her angry words spilling forth before either of them had come to a complete stop. "Well?" she pressed, her tone thick with annoyance. "What is it that you are to lecture me about this time? Every time we speak you find something wrong with me, some way I have misstepped, something which needs scolding. I should have known that I could not simply enjoy a ball without you finding some fault with me. So, what will it be this time?"

Thalia suppressed a sigh. There had been a time when Selina had been slow to anger. But now it seemed that every time her elder sister tried to speak with her, she succeeded in infuriating Selina.

"Selina," Thalia began, choosing her words carefully. "I wish to see you happy, of course. My only desire is to see that you are content and cared for. But to hope for a match of love… is not reasonable. Nor is it a guarantee of happiness."

"What can you possibly know of such things?" Selina snapped.

Thalia did not know whether it was her sister's words, or the pain in Selina's eyes that made her wince. "That is exactly the point." She sighed, turning to face the darkened world outside. "I do not wish to see you end up like me, Selina. A spinster. With no place but my father's house to call my own."

"Oh please, do not start that again," Selina groaned. "You point to yourself as some tragic, self-sacrificial saint. You are no worse off than I am. You are hardly four years my senior. Just because you were so happy to accept your dismal fate as an old maid –"

"Selina!" Thalia was scandalized by her sister's callousness. "All I have done has been for your own good."

Selina scoffed. "You claim to be so selfless, so noble, looking after me as if you were my mother." Her voice rose to a dangerous level. "But must I remind you, that you are not? You are not my mother, Thalia. I wish nothing more than for you to stop acting like you are!"

Before Thalia could reply, Selina had spun on her heel and thrown open the doors. "I need some air," Selina growled, pinning her sister with a reproachful glare. "Just because you have given up," she added, her voice low and angry, "does not mean that I have. I will find a love match. And I will not settle for anything less."

As she turned to go, Thalia placed a hand on the door, pulling it wider to allow herself out after Selina. "Sister, wait. You cannot go out alone –"

"I can and I shall, Mother ." Selina's eyes still raged, pinning Thalia to the spot.

Helpless, Thalia remained where she was, watching as her sister stormed out into the gardens.

Her sister was in no real danger. Thalia would stay here, looking after Selina from afar, until her fit of childishness had concluded.

But Thalia's heart thudded painfully in her chest, wounded by her sister's accusations. She did not mean to smother Selina. Thalia knew full well that she was not her sister's parent. But Selina did not fully understand the weight, or the danger, of their present situation.

It might be well enough for a young woman to wish for the romance and thrill of attraction in a partner, but Thalia had never been afforded such a luxurious way of thinking. Nor could she allow her sister to be swept up by such fancies.

With a sad shake of her head, Thalia continued to watch as her sister took in the night air. Though she faced away from the manor, Thalia knew Selina well enough to see that her temper had already begun to fade. Soon enough, she would have forgotten her anger and would return to the ballroom, eager for light and laughter once more.

Selina's night might yet improve. But Thalia's enjoyment of the evening had taken somewhat of a beating. Still, it did not matter. She was not here to enjoy herself. A woman like her could afford no such luxury.

"Your Grace."

A young woman nearby gracefully wound her way around a couple to his right so that she might stand before him. "You look well this evening."

"And you, Lady Eloise, are rapturous as always," mused the duke, ensuring the woman could feel his hot breath upon the back of her hand as he bent over it with a tantalizing kiss.

Scandalized, but clearly enjoying the attention, Lady Eloise blushed and giggled. "The ball has already begun. You are rather late. Do you not worry that your tardiness will be looked upon as a slight to our hosts?"

She sought to playfully scold him, so Benedict, the Duke of Ravenwood, made a show of putting a hand to his wounded heart. "You besmirch my good name, Lady Eloise. I would never seek to injure our good hosts. Perhaps," he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "you seek to admonish me because I have left you alone all this while, and you are angry that I did not arrive earlier to keep you company."

The woman's eyes shimmered with flirtatious delight. "Since you arrived late, you will have to make up for time lost. Do you think of dancing tonight, Your Grace?" she asked.

Benedict grinned. It was a simple enough hint. And bless her, a na?ve request. Dancing was the least of the pleasures he would be enjoying tonight. Something in her eyes told him that she sensed the danger in their acquaintance. But a known rake though he was, his charm and good looks were enough to entice the woman to test the boundaries of propriety. A dance first and then, who knew? The night was young. Perhaps there might be a more private, pleasurable dance shared between them before the evening came to a close.

"Eloise!"

A high-pitched, maternal voice cut through the murmur of the hall. Benedict recognized Lady Wright and smiled to himself as she hurried toward them, a look of fear pinching her features. "Eloise," she repeated, a little out of breath. "Come away."

"But, Mother –"

Shaking her head, Lady Wright grasped her daughter's hand in her own. "There is an urgent introduction I wish to make for you," she informed Eloise hesitantly. As Benedict glanced between the two women, it was clear that no one – himself included – believed the excuse in the slightest.

Benedict knew the truth: she had spotted her daughter speaking with the infamous duke and had raced to pry her from his fiendish clutches. She no doubt worried that his corrupting presence would have an unsavory effect on the young woman.

Even as Lady Wright narrowed her suspicious gaze at him, Benedict chuckled. "It would seem that I must lose the pleasure of your company, Lady Eloise," he said gallantly. But, unable to stop himself, he took up Lady Eloise's hand once more, kissing it for a little longer than appropriate. "For now," he added with a wink.

Letting out a gasp of incredulity, Lady Wright took hold of her daughter and whisked her away.

Benedict grinned to himself. It was going to be a splendid evening. The music and mirth from the inner ballroom were already washing over him.

Grinning, he eyed the guests around him with unveiled pleasure. He had arrived fashionably late as always, and as expected, those in attendance noted his arrival.

Thoroughly amused, and happily drawing several curious glances as he moved, Benedict followed after Lady Wright and her daughter. The ballroom opened up off of the hall, greeting Benedict with the familiar sights and smells of a tantalizing evening. His gaze landed on several women who were now eyeing him with a mixture of curiosity and thinly veiled admiration.

Good.

He smiled to himself as he turned to seek out a drink. Just then, however, a small figure stepped before him and, as they both attempted to sidestep, collided with him.

Benedict felt the cloth on his arm grow heavy and wet as the contents of the person's drink splashed over him.

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" cried a light, delicate voice. Small hands reached out to inspect his dripping clothing.

As the woman looked up at him, eyes wide with apprehension, Benedict could not help but grin. "Please, worry not. It is not every day that I am doused by such an extraordinary beauty. I may consider it a baptism of sorts."

"There is no need to speak such sacrilege," the woman admonished with a giggle.

As he continued to look down upon her, Benedict realized that he recognized this beautiful face. And it was, indeed, beautiful. Perhaps the loveliest in attendance tonight. "I believe we have been acquainted, have we not? You attended the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Bancroft."

The woman nodded in shared realization. "Yes, Your Grace. We were briefly introduced then. But you may not remember my name. I would not blame you. I am Lady Selina Fletcher."

Giving her a gracious bow, Benedict straightened. "It is a pleasure to be reacquainted, Lady Selina."

As she giggled again, Benedict knew that he had found his amusement for the evening. He was looking for a wife, was he not? It would not hurt to flirt with such a pretty face and see where it might lead.

He opened his mouth to remark upon the splendor of the evening's décor when he was cut short. But not by Lady Selina.

Another woman stepped forward, carefully placing herself slightly between Selina and Benedict. "Your Grace," she said calmly, "I see you have met my sister."

This woman Benedict did not recognize. Yet, glancing between the two ladies before him, he could not deny the resemblance. Though Selina was far prettier than the other, he noted that they shared the same light green eyes and high cheekbones.

Where Selina's hair was fair and gold-spun, the other woman's less desirable looks were well-matched with mousy brown waves.

Yet this newcomer was no less intriguing. Few women were able to meet his gaze with such cold confidence as she did now. Benedict offered her a small bow. "I have indeed been acquainted with Lady Selina. But you and I have not yet been introduced."

"This is my sister, Lady Thalia," replied Selina, casting a wary glance at the woman beside her.

Curious , Benedict thought. He was intrigued by the obvious difference between the two sisters. But he was not at all put off of his game. "A pleasure, Lady Thalia. I was just about to remark to your sister that I have never seen a finer-looking ball. And it is not simply the décor that I find enticing," he added to Selina with a grin.

It was to Selina he looked, but it was Thalia who again replied. "Indeed? I should think that a gentleman such as yourself would pay no interest in the efforts made to decorate a ballroom."

"You think I would not care about the planning and preparation that has gone into such an event?"

Thalia shook her head. "No. I presume your interests lie only in the pleasures that may be found here."

Was that a jab at him? Benedict eyed Thalia curiously. "You seem to know my character well, though we have only just been introduced. What pleasures, then, would you say, should entice a gentleman like me if not the adorning of the ballroom?"

A slight blush reddened Thalia's cheeks. Benedict found himself amused by it. She did not seem to be a woman who blushed often. "I cannot speak on your behalf. Though I can assure you that my sister shares no interest in the pleasures you might seek here tonight."

"Is that so? You make no mention of yourself. Is that because you desire the same pleasures as I, Lady Thalia?" Allowing his eyes to move up and down her, Benedict was rewarded with an angrier, redder blush than before. The pink that colored her cheeks ran down her neck to the inviting breasts that peeked out of the top of her dress. How far down, he wondered, does her blush go? He wouldn't mind finding out.

But shaken as she was, Thalia held her head high. "I believe my sister and I are needed elsewhere, Your Grace. If you will excuse us."

As Thalia moved away, Benedict shifted, cutting Selina off before she could retreat. "Lady Selina," he murmured, gazing down at her with a sly grin. "I do hope we shall see one another again. Very soon, if I were to have my wish." He looked her up and down, savoring the view he had from such a height.

Selina beamed up at him and nodded. Only as she offered him a brief curtsey and moved to join her sister, did Benedict notice that Thalia was still blushing furiously. Curious indeed .

The duke watched as the two women made their retreat. When Thalia cast a scathing glance back at him over her shoulder, he smiled. A thoroughly fascinating pair, he mused. The younger sister was obviously the beauty of the family. Graceful and poised, she would indeed be a desirable woman to have at his side. No doubt his mother would approve.

But there was something interesting, in a very different way, about the eldest sister.

Benedict turned away to seek out more of the evening's entertainment. This would not be the last that he would see of those enticing sisters. He would make sure of it.

"Are you going out so early?"

Benedict paused in the doorway, gritting his teeth. He had intended to make a quick getaway, without rousing the household.

Hanging his head a moment, attempting to recant his irritation, Benedict plastered a smile onto his face as he turned to his mother.

"Indeed. Though I hardly owe you an explanation as to my whereabouts," he offered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

His mother, Marina, stood before him, hands clasped tightly, hair greying at the temples. She was an elegant woman, her poise never giving way to the decline of age. Of course not. Such a cold, unyielding woman as she would never allow such a show of frailty.

"I am sure your plans can wait a moment longer. Come." The woman turned in confident expectance that he follow her.

Benedict's jaw twitched in annoyance, but he did as she asked, following her into the drawing room. He was slightly curious about what she had to say. But as soon as that curiosity was satisfied, he would not hesitate to take his leave.

"Well?"

"You attended the ball last night," she said simply.

"Do not tell me that you have brought me here to simply confirm what both you and I know. Or do you truly seek to pointlessly waste my time?"

"Was it satisfactory?" his mother pressed, ignoring his comment. "Have you made any progress?"

"Progress?" he asked, glancing around the room distractedly.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she snapped. As he raised an eyebrow, she pinched her lips together. Calming herself, Marina tried again. "You must marry. Soon. I am tired of watching you gallivant about, doing little to uphold the dignity of this family's name."

She shook her head, looking out the window as if she could not face her son. "I have heard the stories of your exploits. Of the women you have had your fun with and then cast aside. I can only imagine how many others, of social status far beneath yours, to which you have done the same."

"You should congratulate me, then, Mother, on my wide-reaching influence."

Her hands, gripping one another in front of her, turned white. "You are far too old to be unmarried! You have a legacy to carry on."

Again, Benedict's reply was heavy with derision. "I assure you, Mother, that the legacy I carry on will be entirely deserving of you and my father."

The fear in Marina's eyes was exactly what Benedict wanted to see. She knew, too, how little respect she and her husband deserved.

She hesitated, her fa?ade slipping further. "Your father would be so disappointed to see what you have become," she added quietly.

Though rage tore through his veins at her words, Benedict kept up his mask of detached amusement. "I would hope so. Seeing as it was he who first disappointed me. I simply seek to repay like with like. Now, are you finished pretending that you hold any sway over my actions, or would you like me to indulge your fancies a little longer?"

His mother did not reply. Benedict turned toward the door. Then, seeking to provoke her just a little more, he paused.

"You will be delighted to hear, then," he added, "that I am on my way this very morning to visit a young woman I met at last night's ball."

At this, Marina perked up. "This morning? Who is it?"

"Ah, that would ruin the surprise, Mother. Patience. You shall see soon enough."

"Is she worthy of you?" she asked carefully, concern mixing with a hint of disapproval.

She did not even know the woman and she was ready to blame him for making an ill-suited choice. "What little confidence you have in me," he chuckled. Good. The longer she sat here, worrying that her son was going to propose marriage to a chambermaid, the better. He would happily provide such discomfort for his mother. "As I said, everything will become clear in time. Now, if you will excuse me, I do not wish to be late."

"Benedict –"

Benedict did not wait to hear what Marina was trying to say. He gave his mother a nod and turned away. Even as he did so, Benedict's demeanor changed. His smile twisted downward into a long-suffering grimace. His shoulders fell. His mother had no sway over the choices he made regarding his future. But that did not mean that she could not be utterly insufferable as she fruitlessly attempted to exert control over him.

Besides, his mother was wrong. He was not delaying marriage. Benedict was happy to accept the prospect of matrimony. In fact, he would welcome a wife: the sooner there was someone else in the household to waylay Marina's misguided attempts at being a mother, the better.