Chapter 1

Lady Bernadette Attleboroughwas glad to be in Wessex. That was a sentiment that few of her dearest friends among the Oxford Society Ladies would ever express, given the somewhat draconian state of laws pertaining to women in the Kingdom of Wessex. But for Bernadette, locating herself in Wessex meant that she was not at home in her native East Anglia, and as long as she was not home, under her father's unforgiving roof, she would not have to face the consequences of her long-ago mistake.

A mistake that continued to hang over her head, like the Sword of Damocles, ready to end the life she had so happily built for herself over the last ten years.

"I'll give you this much, Surrey is a pretty part of Wessex," Bernadette's dear friend, Lady Muriel Godwin, commented as they rode together, along with Muriel's new husband, Lord Cedric Godwin, Marquess of Amesbury, through the countryside surrounding Lyndhurst Grove, gazing out the window at fields of green and a deep blue sky.

"All of Wessex is pretty," Lord Cedric said as he lounged by Muriel's side, watching her more than the landscape. Muriel glanced over her shoulder, as if she would argue with him, but Lord Cedric cut her off with, "As long as I am with you."

Muriel's expression turned from scolding to sly, and she leaned over to kiss Lord Cedric's lips softly. "You are a flattering rogue, sir, and I will not stand for it."

"No, you most certainly will not stand for it," Lord Cedric said, wickedness in his smile and a sparkle in his eyes.

Muriel laughed low in her throat and leaned toward her husband, then seemed to remember Bernadette was in the rear-facing seat opposite them, watching the entire display. She cleared her throat and straightened, saying, "I am so sorry, Bernadette, my dear."

"Oh, do not let my presence impede your newly-wedded bliss," Bernadette said cheerily. "I rather like seeing my friends so happily settled."

"Bernadette, how dare you!" Muriel gasped with pretend offense. "We are Oxford Society Ladies. We only enter marriage by accident."

Bernadette laughed, as did Lord Cedric, but her face flushed hot, and it took a monumental effort of will not to squirm in her seat. "You sound very much like Kat now," she said, hoping to deflect the conversation away from her. "Kat is Lady Katherine Balmor of Mercia, a good friend of ours from the Oxford Society," Bernadette explained to Lord Cedric.

"I have met Lady Katherine," Lord Cedric said with a wary, sideways look to Muriel.

"Yes, you have," Muriel said in return, grinning broadly.

Bernadette remembered then that Lord Cedric had met both Kat and their friend circle's other member, Lady Minerva Llewellyn of Wales, at his and Muriel's wedding several months before. Kat had been highly suspicious of Lord Cedric's intentions in wedding Muriel and had let Lord Cedric know. Kat had accosted the poor man as if he were a spy or a smuggler and she had been assigned to bring his criminal activities to light. Lord Cedric's brother, Lord Waldorf, had not approved.

"Regardless of what Kat thinks of the state of marriage," Muriel said, taking Lord Cedric's hand and threading their fingers together, "I have found it to be a perfectly reasonable state. I am happy."

The way Muriel and Lord Cedric smiled at each other had Bernadette sighing, both with joy for the two of them and with wistfulness for herself. She would never experience that sort of happiness in her life, and certainly not in marriage.

She had no interest in dwelling on her own fate, so she put on a smile and said, "I am quite looking forward to designing and executing this ball that your cousin, Lord Alden, intends to host, my lord."

Lord Cedric pulled his attention away from Muriel and smiled at Bernadette, though there was something ironic about that smile. "I fear you may have your work cut out for you, Lady Bernadette," he said.

Bernadette blinked and sat a bit straighter. "I should think not," she said. "I have been planning and organizing social events, from musical evenings to grand coming out balls, for nearly eight years now, since shortly after my graduation from Oxford University."

"Does Oxford offer a course on planning parties?" Lord Cedric asked, half in jest, but half in seriousness.

"No," Bernadette said, lowering her head somewhat. "I studied Music and the Classics at Oxford. As lovely as those subjects are, they do not exactly prepare one for an industrious career."

"Bernadette's most prized attribute is that she knows everyone in the ton, and she gets on with them, which is the closest thing to a miracle I have ever witnessed," Muriel said, winking at Bernadette. "She is far too sweet and amiable for anyone to say no to, which positions her ideally to introduce important people to each other, particularly within the sphere of grand social occasions."

"How extraordinary," Lord Cedric said.

Bernadette shrugged. "I have an eye for design, and I have gained a reputation for competence and accomplishment. Quite a few matches have come from the events I have orchestrated."

"So you are a matchmaker?" Lord Cedric asked.

"Not precisely," Bernadette said. "I merely set the stage and invite the players. What they all choose to do once the curtain rises is up to them."

"Admirable indeed," Lord Cedric said with a broad smile. That smile dropped a moment later when he said, "But I still fear you have an impossible task ahead of you, Lady Bernadette. My cousin Alden is…unique."

Bernadette had heard the whispers. Lord Alden Godwin was some sort of a naturalist as well as being a member of the high-placed Godwin family. He'd spent a great deal of his early years, after university, traveling abroad in exotic locations such as South America and the islands of the Caribbean.

From what Muriel had told her after Lord Alden wrote to her in London, saying that Muriel had recommended her services and asking if she would plan a ball for him at Lyndhurst Grove, Lord Alden had only just returned to Wessex two years before, and he had not been seen much in company since then. He was a man approaching fifty in need of a wife, and he had turned to Bernadette for help. That was all Bernadette needed to know.

"As I understand it, Lord Cedric, your cousin is quite well-situated in the world, and in addition to Lyndhurst Grove, he owns a townhouse in London and land abroad," she said. "I can think of a dozen ladies from several of the kingdoms of Britannia who would be overjoyed to marry such a man."

Lord Cedric and Muriel exchanged a look, both of them smirking, then turned those smirks on Bernadette.

"You might want to reserve your judgement about my cousin until you've met him," Lord Cedric said.

Bernadette's smile fell, and her insides pinched. "Is there something amiss with him?" she asked shyly. "Is he cruel or cold?"

"No, no, not at all," Lord Cedric said. "Quite the opposite. Alden is one of the most interesting and amiable men I've ever known."

Bernadette frowned. "Then why would you think it would be difficult to find a wife for him?"

Lord Cedric exchanged another look with Muriel, then said, "You will see soon enough. It appears we've arrived."

Sure enough, the landscape outside the carriage had taken on a tamer, more structured mien. Bernadette shifted to peer out the window once more and was greeted with the sight of vast gardens, a beautiful lawn that swept down to a small lake, and a grand estate house that stretched across the entire crest of the sloping hill they were traveling up.

The house was beautiful, not to mention as large as a palace, but the more Bernadette looked at it, particularly after the carriage had taken them around an extravagant but dry fountain and deposited them near the terraced front door, the more she could see that the building had been neglected.

"I wish Alden would hire a crew to make the most basic improvements to the appearance of this place," Lord Cedric echoed her thoughts as the three of them were helped out of the carriage by a pair of footmen liveried in forest green. "At the very least, the windows need a good scrub and some of this ivy should be pulled down."

Indeed, the palatial home was inundated with ivy. At least on the side that faced front. Bernadette noted gardens off to the east side of the building and wondered what might be growing on that face of the house.

They were greeted at the door by a rather young butler who seemed extraordinarily excited about his position.

"Good morning, good morning," he greeted them, gesturing for all three to come into the house. "I'm Mr. Smythe, Lord Alden's butler. You must be his lordship's cousin, Lord Cedric, Lady Muriel, and Lady Bernadette, the planner of parties. We've been expecting you. The entire staff is all aglow with the idea of this ball, Lady Bernadette. We simply cannot wait to see what you are able to do for his lordship and the entire house."

"Oh!" Bernadette blinked rapidly, startled at the young man's effusive greeting. "I will do whatever I can for Lord Alden," she said.

"Come right this way," Mr. Smythe walked them swiftly through the large but slightly neglected entry hall and down a side corridor. "You must be parched after your journey. Lord Alden is not quite ready to greet you, but if you will wait in here, I'll have Mrs. Pettigrew, the housekeeper, bring tea for you. She has been as eager to welcome you to Lyndhurst Grove as I have been."

Bernadette's head spun as Mr. Smythe introduced them into a faded parlor with an exquisite view of the countryside. She began to wonder if the man had been a footman until very recently, since he seemed intent on making certain everyone was comfortable and had the right number of cushions to sit with, then straightened a pair of candlesticks on a side table before leaving the room with another promise to bring them tea.

Bernadette sat and folded her hands in her lap, fighting not to laugh, even after the young man had gone.

Muriel could not contain her humor. She burst with laughter, then slapped a hand to her mouth as she sat on the couch with Bernadette. "I see that Alden has taken as little care with the hiring of his staff as he has with the appearance of his house," she said once she was able.

Lord Cedric sent her a flat look as he sat in the chair nearest to her and said, "It's more likely that Mr. Smythe was the only man foolish enough to take the position of butler at Lyndhurst Grove."

Bernadette frowned slightly. "Why would Lord Alden have difficulty retaining servants?" she asked. "Mr. Smythe is a bit too enthusiastic and perhaps untrained, but he did not seem to be unhappy."

Bernadette knew what unhappy servants looked like. She'd arranged parties and entertainments in households where the servants were miserable, and she knew the signs. Those men and women held themselves stiffly, said little, and generally looked as if they would just as soon bury knives in their employers' backs than serve them.

Lord Cedric's only answer was to clear his throat and say, "All will be revealed."

There was something Muriel and Lord Cedric were not telling her. Bernadette wasn't convinced Muriel knew the entire story herself, as she continually looked around the parlor, as if searching for something she'd been told about but had not yet seen.

"I am impressed with the size of Lyndhurst Grove," Bernadette said when the lack of conversation began to make her anxious. "I had my doubts when Lord Alden wrote to me about hosting as many ladies as I could invite to stay for the entire weekend with the ball as the climax of the event. But now I see that there are likely more than enough rooms for young ladies and their mothers or chaperones to stay in for the weekend."

"Yes, I agree," Muriel said, still looking around.

"There might be," Lord Cedric said, "but I'm beginning to wonder what state they're in. I had no idea Alden had let the place fall into such disrepair." His frown deepened, and he said, almost to himself, "He keeps saying he's been renovating the place and spending a small fortune on changes, but it appears as if he's done nothing at all."

That puzzled Bernadette. "Perhaps he's been making improvements to other areas of the house? Mayhaps the ballroom?"

Lord Cedric shook his head. "Alden only just hatched this mad scheme of a ball to choose a bride last month."

"I am certain all will be revealed in time," Muriel said, reaching over to pat her husband's hand.

They were interrupted a moment later as a middle-aged woman with a round face and ample bosom brought in a tray containing tea things.

"We're all so happy to have you here, Lady Bernadette," she said once everything had been set down and the woman had introduced herself as Mrs. Pettigrew. "We're all so very fond of Lord Alden, but to a one of us, we are desperate for him to find a wife and for this house to have a lady running it. Things have become a bit…disorganized."

"Is that so?" Lord Cedric said, arching one eyebrow as Muriel handed him the tea she'd prepared for him.

"A bit," Mrs. Pettigrew said.

Despite speaking a little out of turn about her employer, she didn't seem eager to say much more. She curtsied, and when it was established that none of them needed anything more, she took herself off to whatever other duties she had in the vast, shabby house.

"Extraordinary," Muriel said as she sipped her tea, her eyes alight with intrigue as she glanced to Lord Cedric.

Bernadette couldn't have imagined what her friend meant by that one word, but she had drawn her own conclusions. The servants were fond of their master, but deeply untrained. She wondered how many of them Lord Alden employed. Certainly not enough to have the house looking new and fresh, although it was not dirty or dusty, to be sure.

"Lady Bernadette, if you do not mind my asking," Lord Cedric interrupted her thoughts, "why do you spend all of your time arranging entertainments and balls designed to make matches for other people? Why are you not married yourself?"

A jolt of hot and cold hit Bernadette at Lord Cedric's question. She was in the middle of biting into a small fruit tart and nearly choked on it.

"Cedric!" Muriel scolded him, smacking his arm. "What an impertinent question to ask. You know Bernadette is one of my dearest friends and a fellow Oxford Society Lady. Marriage does not define her. She's not some simpering Wessex woman who only wants a husband to make her life complete."

"You were a Wessex woman," Lord Cedric replied, his lips twitching with mirth as he teased her. "Marriage has made your life complete."

Muriel made a frustrated sound. "This is why I did not want to marry you in the first place. A woman is more than the man she stands beside. Bernadette has built a thriving and respectable business for herself, and she has done it all on her own. You are a beast to ask why she has not thrown all of that out the window for a man."

"I was just asking, love," Lord Cedric said, taking a sip of tea and wiggling his eyebrows at Muriel.

They were adorable, as far as Bernadette was concerned. Even if Lord Cedric's question had skated too close to the thing that gave her the most anxiety in her life. She longed to have the sort of rapport with a man that Muriel had with Lord Cedric. For a short while, she had almost thought it would be possible. Indeed, sometimes that friendly sort of intimacy had almost seemed within her reach. But time had made it clear that loneliness and longing were to be her bosom companions, despite what certain bits of paper said.

No sooner had those thoughts crossed through Bernadette's mind, squeezing her heart and filling her with melancholy, than a tall, broad-shouldered, square-jawed man in slightly disheveled clothing strode into the room, filling it with his presence.

"So sorry to leave you all waiting," he said, greeting them all with an open smile. "I couldn't find Egbert, and you know I cannot complete any of my research without Egbert there to encourage me."

Bernadette drew in a breath and sat straighter, immediately affected by the man's presence. Though, if she were honest, much of that reaction originated in an area quite a bit below her heart.

"Alden," Lord Cedric said, rising and crossing to greet his cousin with a bow and a handshake.

"Cedric. So good to see you again. And you as well, Lady Muriel," Lord Alden said, full of warmth and good humor as he greeted Muriel with a deep bow.

Bernadette rose to greet her host and employer as well. Despite her tangle of circumstances, she was not immune to a man's charms, and Lord Alden had them in abundance. Her heart beat swiftly, and it was difficult for her to catch her breath as she moved around the small table containing their tea to approach him.

Simply put, the man was beautiful. He might have been close to fifty, but he was fit and strong, and he had the carriage of a man who spent a great amount of time outdoors. His hair was lighter than Lord Cedric's, despite their family resemblance, and the bits of grey at his temples only made him seem more distinguished, and more virile. But it was the distinct lines at the corners of Lord Alden's blue eyes that made Bernadette smile as she approached him. They were the lines of a man who had smiled and laughed much in his life. No wonder the servants spoke so highly of him.

Bernadette was certain at once that she would have no trouble at all designing the ideal ball to draw every unwed lady in southern Britannia, and that each one of those ladies would fall all over themselves to be the one Lord Alden chose. Not just to be his bride, but to fall into his bed.

"And you must be Lady Bernadette Attleborough," Lord Alden said once he'd finished greeting Lord Cedric and Muriel. His smile was warm and welcoming as he stepped forward, extending a hand to Bernadette. "It is such a pleasure to meet you," he said.

Bernadette was convinced he meant it. "And you as well, my lord," she said, curtsying as she took his hand. The clasp of skin against skin sent a carnal throb through her that nearly made her laugh. Perhaps those members of the ton who looked down upon Oxford Society Ladies as wicked heathens were right. Or perhaps Lord Alden was truly that magnetic.

"Oh, forget all that formal nonsense," he said, his charm reinforcing Bernadette's opinion that he was magnificent. "We're all so stuffy here in Britannia. Why, in the jungles of the Amazon, no one bothers with titles and forms of address. My name is Alden, and I do wish you would refer to me as such."

Bernadette wanted to laugh, the man was such a delight. And she wanted to sigh because he was so alluring. "I am not certain that would be proper, my lord," she said.

"Proper is overrated, Lady Bernadette," he said, still smiling at her and still holding her hand. "I have always been improper for my entire life, and it is too late to stop—oh! Egbert!"

Bernadette was so mesmerized by Lord Alden's amiable demeanor and the fond way he looked at her, even though they had only just met, that she did not notice the flicker of green at the cuff of his jacket. She didn't realize that the green was alive until it darted out of his sleeve entirely. She didn't realize it was a long, plump lizard until it grabbed hold of her wrist, then scurried all the way up her arm to her shoulder.

And then she screamed.