Prologue

Bath, England, 1851

A dam saw the small package slip from the grasp of the lady ahead of him. He might not have noticed, except he had been watching the pleasant sway of her hips as she strolled along Great Pulteney Street. Despite the attractive Palladian architecture rising up on either side of him, the honey-haired beauty had all his attention.

When the package slipped from amongst the others she carried, he darted forward, wondering why her maid who walked beside her wasn’t carrying more.

“My lady, a moment,” he said to catch her attention and get her to halt. He knew her to be one not only because her gown was well-made of a pretty summer cream-and-lavender cotton, but also because she had a lady’s maid beside her in the plainer clothing of her class.

At his words, however, she kept walking.

“My lady,” he tried again, feeling a little awkward as he dogged her steps, until the maid glanced over her shoulder before tugging on her lady’s arm.

At last, she stopped and turned.

Adam had been right to think her a lady. A patrician nose, amethyst earbobs, and an intelligent silvery-green gaze with which she took his measure confirmed his assumption.

“Have we been introduced?” she asked, as any upper-class female would when accosted in public.

“No,” he confessed. “And I never would be so presumptuous as to approach an unfamiliar lady upon the street except you dropped this.”

Holding out her package, he felt like a supplicant. Her generous mouth suddenly opened in an O of surprise. Then she nodded, but she didn’t move forward to retrieve it, remaining motionless as she stared at him.

Instead, her maid finally took the paper-wrapped item, which had felt like something light and frivolous. Perhaps lace gloves for a ball.

Glancing at her hands, they were ensconced in gloves that weren’t nearly as fine as the ones he’d imagined but perfectly clean.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said when she found her voice, wresting his attention back to her stunning face. “I would have been sorely disgruntled to arrive home and find I had lost my purchase.”

“Indeed,” he said, for he could think of nothing else to say, no way to keep her talking. Yet Adam couldn’t help wishing propriety allowed him to ask her name or introduce himself. But that would be too forward. On the other hand, he could let her know of his interest.

“I hope I shall see you again, my lady. Perhaps at an assembly one evening.”

She paled. “Unlikely, my lord. Again, my gratitude. Good day.”

Then she turned and walked away.