Chapter 1

One

N icolas Winters leaned over the billiards table, eyes narrowed, and lined up his cue with practiced precision. With a deft stroke, the red ball rolled smoothly into the corner pocket. A triumphant grin spread across his face as he looked up at his friends.

“Well played, Winters,” James Barton, Viscount Blackwood, drawled, taking his cue in hand. “But do not get too cocky. I believe it is my turn now.”

As James lined up his shot, Johnathan Hargate, Duke of Hargate, crossed his arms and studied the table. “I must say, Blackwood, your skills have improved considerably since our days at Eton. I recall you being quite terrible at this game.”

James chuckled, taking his shot and sinking the ball in quick succession. “We all start somewhere, Hargate, though I seem to remember you spent more time buried in books than with a cue in hand.”

“Sharpening the mind is hardly a waste of time,” Johnathan said good-naturedly, “unlike wasting away in idle pursuits.”

Nicolas smirked. “Come now, what’s life without a little idle pursuit now and then? All work and no play, as they say.”

The clack of billiard balls punctuated their banter as James took another shot. He straightened with a self-satisfied grin. “Idle pursuits, my friends, have their merits.”

Nicolas laughed and shook his head. These private moments with his friends were rare and cherished, a respite from the expectations and pretenses of London society. Here, in the relative privacy of Blackwood’s country estate, they could let their guards down and simply enjoy each other’s company.

As he reached for his glass of brandy, a sound outside caught his attention—the unmistakable rhythm of hoofbeats growing louder. Frowning, he glanced toward the window, noting the ominous clouds gathering in the grey sky.

Johnathan set down his glass, his gaze following Nicolas’s. “It would appear a storm is coming. The sky looks rather ominous.”

“It is likely just a messenger,” James remarked, though a flicker of unease crossed his face. “Could be news from London.”

Nicolas felt the weight of dread settle in his gut. News from London was rarely good, but what else could it be? They were not expecting anyone and given the time of year and weather, it was not likely to be one of their peers. He watched as the new arrival disappeared into the house, then rode back down the drive a few minutes later. Whatever it was about, they would know soon enough.

“It is your turn, Winters,” Hargate said.

Nicolas moved back to the billiards table, cue in hand. As he leaned over to line up his shot, a sudden burst of footsteps echoed from the corridor, and all three men turned toward the door.

The heavy oak door swung open. Selina, Viscountess Blackwood, stepped into the room, her face flushed from her brisk walk through the manor. In her hand, she held a folded letter, concern filling her gaze.

“Nicolas,” she said, her voice steady but urgent, “I was in the entry hall when this letter arrived. The messenger said it was of the utmost importance, so I brought it myself.”

His stomach clenched. He strode forward and took the letter.

The room grew still as he broke the wax seal, then unfolded the paper. His friends watched him, the air thick with tension. Nicolas’s eyes scanned the words, his heart sinking with each line. He lowered the letter, his face set in grim determination.

“What is it?” James asked, breaking the silence.

Nicolas’s jaw tightened. “It is Joslyn. Lord Forge has compromised her in public. She’s being pressured into marrying him—she will be ruined if she refuses.”

Selina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Your sister? Oh, Nicolas, I am so sorry.”

Nicolas crushed the letter in his fist, his mind racing. “I must leave for London immediately. I will not let that bastard ruin her life.”

Johnathan stepped forward, his expression dark with concern. “You can not ride out in this weather. The storm is nearly upon us, and the roads will be dangerous.”

“I do not have a choice,” Nicolas said, urgency clawing at him. “Joslyn’s future is at stake. I can hardly sit here and do nothing while that libertine forces her into marriage.” He dropped his cue stick on the billiards table, a resounding thwack resonating through the room. “He cares nothing for her.”

Selina stepped closer, her brow furrowed with worry. “The storm will be treacherous. You could get injured, or worse. Please, at least wait until the weather clears.”

“There is no time.” His voice softened as he glanced at her, seeing the genuine concern etched across her face. “Every moment I wait, is another moment Forge has to manipulate her. Marriage to that scoundrel would be far worse than social ruin. I cannot delay.”

Johnathan frowned, clearly unconvinced. “You are a skilled rider, but no man can outrun a storm. At least take precautions. Do not be reckless.”

Selina nodded. “Your sister needs you alive and well.”

Though their concern warmed his heart, it was not enough to change his course. “I will be careful, but I must go. I can not let Forge ruin Joslyn’s life.”

Selina’s gaze lingered on him, her voice full of worry. “Promise me you will send word when you arrive safely.”

“I will,” Nicolas said, offering her a small smile. “Thank you.”

With a nod to his friends, Nicolas turned and left the room, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on his shoulders. He knew the journey ahead would be fraught with danger, but there was no alternative. Joslyn needed him.

As he reached the stables, James caught up to him, his eyes filled with determination. “Nicolas, let me come with you. I will have my coach readied at once.”

Nicolas paused, tempted by the offer. He pulled his greatcoat closer to block the wind. Traveling with a friend in a well-equipped coach would be safer. “I appreciate it, James, but this is my burden. I will not drag you into it. Besides, a horse would be both faster and better able to navigate the mounting drifts.”

James’s frown deepened. “You would be better protected from the storm in a coach.”

Nicolas clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It is merely a winter squall. I have survived worse, James. I will be fine.”

After a long, assessing look, James sighed. “Very well. But remember that no man is invincible, and act accordingly.”

“You have my word,” Nicolas assured him, reaching for his reins.

James nodded, stepping back as Nicolas mounted his horse. “We will be waiting for word.”

With one last glance at his friends, Nicolas spurred his horse into the approaching storm. Soon snow swirled around him, the wind howling as he rode through the icy landscape. The cold bit at his skin, but he hardly felt it—his mind consumed with thoughts of Joslyn.

Forge’s actions were unforgivable. Though aware of the man’s reputation, Nicolas never imagined he would stoop so low. The no good scoundrel had manipulated the situation to force a marriage, knowing full well what the consequences would be for Joslyn.

Nicolas’s blood boiled at the thought. He would stop Forge, whatever it took. He urged his horse faster, the wind whipping at his coat, but the storm was closing in. Snow fell thickly, obscuring the path ahead, and the road grew slick with ice.

Still, Nicolas pressed on, pushing his horse through the deepening snowdrifts. Joslyn’s happiness depended on him reaching London in time to save her. He could not afford to fail.

Suddenly, a deafening crack of thunder split the air, the ground shaking beneath him. His horse reared in fright, nearly throwing him from the saddle. Nicolas fought to regain control, his heart pounding in his chest. “Easy, boy,” he said, trying to calm the panicked animal.

With a wild snort, it bolted toward the trees, its hooves slipping on the icy ground. Nicolas leaned forward on his horse, his hands gripping the reins as the animal plunged ahead, blind with fear.

“Damn it,” Nicolas cursed under his breath as he struggled to steer the horse back onto the road. They were veering dangerously close to the dense tree line.

The wind howled around them, the plump snowflakes creating a thick, blinding sheet. His pulse raced as he fought to regain control, pulling hard on the reins to slow his horse. But just as the animal responded, another crack of thunder split the sky.

The beast reared again, and this time, Nicolas lost his grip. His body lurched forward, and before he could react, his forehead collided with a low-hanging branch. Pain exploded in his skull.

He hit the ground with a heavy thud, knocking the breath out of him. His head spun violently, the world around him a blur of white and grey.

A fleeting image of Joslyn, pale with fear, her future in limbo, flashed in his mind—a reminder of what was at stake.

Then darkness claimed him.