Chapter 1

One

A bead of sweat trailed down Eden’s forehead. She wanted to wipe the moisture away, but her hands were otherwise occupied. They were, in fact, full of bolts of fabric she desperately wished to place somewhere else. Roslyn, her sister-in-law, was currently being fitted for several more gowns for her debut season. The shopping seemed to be never ending, and all Eden wanted to do was hide away in her sitting room and read. The idea of the upcoming season distressed her. She didn’t like the ton or society, and had never had a debut season of her own.

“Are you certain you wish to have gowns made from all of this?” Eden lifted the bolts so Roslyn could see them. “You already have…”

“I don’t have enough gowns. Do you have any sense of the amount of balls, soirees, and picnics we are about to be invited to?” Roslyn lifted a brow. “More than even I can imagine, and I can picture many.” The girl sighed. She was standing in the center of the seamstress’s dressing room while the woman frantically pinned her hem in place. “I have been waiting so long for this, and I do not want to be a failure because I lack the necessary attire.”

Roslyn had a similar coloring as Eden. They could be mistaken for sisters in truth, and not just by marriage. Though Eden was a head shorter than Roslyn, they both had golden blonde hair. Their eyes were both a light shade, but Roslyn’s was blue and Eden’s green. “I understand that you feel you’re at a disadvantage.” Eden didn’t get to finish her thought before Roslyn turned her head to glare at her.

“My brother is, was, a fool,” she said with enough vehemence to slice a person to ribbons. “His death, while unfortunate, was easily preventable if he’d had the good sense to use the intelligence his birth had given him.”

“Some might say that his lack of intelligence is what led to his demise,” Eden said drolly. Her marriage had not been a love match. Her father, and the late Lord Moreland’s father, had wanted the union. Neither of them had been given a choice. Perhaps, if love had been a part of their marriage, William never would have strayed, and with Eden’s dearest friend at that. She’d lost her friend and her husband in one act of selfishness.

Roslyn laughed. “I shouldn’t find that funny,” she said between chuckles. “But there is too much truth in that statement to ignore its veracity.” Roslyn took several deep breaths in an attempt to get her laughter under control. “In all seriousness, most gentlemen don’t stop to think about how an amorous affair might lead to disastrous consequences. My brother was more foolish than most. Not only did he tup his best friend’s wife, that very wife was your friend too. How did he not realize that was a horrible decision?”

Eden shrugged. “I stopped trying to deduce the inner workings of your brother’s mind many months ago.” While she’d been grieving the loss of her reputation more than his death. The ton spoke about her in hushed tones that were not as hushed as they thought them to be. Eden didn’t know if Roslyn realized how much the ton gossiped about their family, and that it might make her chances of finding a husband harder than it should be. Even though they were about to enter society and it might be a battle, Eden was determined that Roslyn would not have a husband like William. One of them should find a gentleman who believed in marriage and love. Eden had given up on that for herself. It was enough that she didn’t have to worry about how she’d survive and that her young son would always be safe.

“Set that fabric over there,” Roslyn gestured with her hand. “I’ve already discussed with Madam Broussard what type of gowns I would like. She’ll know what to do with them.” She smiled. “I hope you have had some new gowns made as well.”

She had, but not nearly as many as Roslyn had ordered. “I won’t embarrass you.”

“You never would.” Roslyn’s smile faded. “You’re too young to be alone. You should reconsider your decision to never remarry.”

Roslyn was only four years younger than her. Eden had turned three and twenty a couple months earlier, and she couldn’t imagine ever trusting another man with her life again. She was finally free from the dictates of a man, and she had some trusted friends, widows like herself, she could rely on. Eden didn’t need to remarry. “I am content with my life.”

“But we’re finally out of mourning…”

“And that’s a good thing. It allows you to have your debut now. It is enough that you wish to marry, and we will ensure you have a good husband.” One that wouldn’t be unfaithful and hold her in the highest regard. “I’m happy with my circumstances.” She smiled as brightly as she could, even though she didn’t feel particularly happy at that moment. Eden was hot and irritable. All she wanted to do was go home and rest. It had been a trying day. “Don’t distress yourself unnecessarily. I promise I’ll be all right once you marry and move away.”

Roslyn stared at her for several moments in silence, then nodded. “Have it your way. The lord knows you always do. I swear you’ve become more stubborn since William’s death.” She tilted her head to the side. “I suppose that was bound to happen, wasn’t it? His actions, while shocking, affected us both in ways neither of us could have foreseen.”

“That they did,” Eden agreed. William had always been selfish, but that had been the worst thing he’d ever done, and it had led to his death. “At least he had the good sense to ensure we are both taken care of, and that Caden has a suitable guardian for his estates until he reaches his majority.” Eden had funds of her own, so she didn’t need to seek anything from her son’s guardian, Roslyn had a dowry set up by her father, but William had added to it. It was almost as if he had known his scandalous behavior might prove a detriment to his younger sister.

“I’m done with the hem, Lady Roslyn,” the seamstress said. “We can remove this gown and then start on the next one.”

Roslyn nodded, and the seamstress helped her out of the gown. Eden sighed. This afternoon would never end… She would survive it, though. Roslyn depended on her, and she wouldn’t be another selfish person in the young girl’s life. Neither of them had a parent they could rely on. Roslyn was already in the next gown with the seamstress pinning where the alterations needed to be made when Eden snapped back to attention.

“Is Claudine going to visit again soon?” Roslyn asked.

Claudine Grant was another widow who had befriended Roslyn. She had come to visit while they prepared for Roslyn’s debut season. She had left when her husband’s father noticed her in Hyde Park. Since Claudine avoided her father-in-law, she had bolted. “I think she is to return soon.” There would be a meeting with other widows that Claudine would need to attend at the Dowager Countess of Wyndam’s in the next week. “But I don’t believe she’ll be coming to Moreland House.”

“Oh,” Roslyn said, a little crestfallen. “I like her. We should at least invite her to dinner.”

That was a splendid idea, but she didn’t know if Claudine would want to stay in London long. She would likely wish to return to the widows’ estate, Matron Manor, that the Widow’s League owned. Eden had been invited to join the league after William’s death, and it had been her saving grace. Amongst other widows, she’d discovered what she truly wanted for her life. Recently, she had even been bold enough to attend a masquerade filled with scandalous behavior. Her cheeks heated as she remembered that night. It was one she would never forget, and also never tell another soul about. It was her secret. One she relished more than she wanted to admit. “I can invite her, but I cannot guarantee she’ll accept.”

“All we can do is ask,” Roslyn replied, then shrugged. “I do hope she accepts, but I understand if she cannot.”

Eden smiled. Roslyn was very much unlike William. He was selfish and only thought about himself. His sister was kind and loving. How could two siblings be so dissimilar? She hoped that Caden wouldn’t be anything like his father. It was her job as his mother to ensure that he would make better choices. Her son was her sole focus. “I’ll send her a missive when we return home.” Eden was almost certain she was already at Lady Wyndam’s, but even if she wasn’t, she would be soon.

Roslyn nodded and returned her attention to the seamstress. Eden found a nearby chair and plopped down on it, overheated and exhausted. After this fitting, they should be ready for the season. If only Eden was prepared for the vacuous gossip of some of the ton’s leading matrons…

Maxwell Holden, the Duke of Carrington, stared down at the missive on his desk. His mother was being her normal tedious self… She didn’t come to town often, but apparently, she was going to deign to present her person in London, and soon. It was enough to drive a man to drink. Especially when his mother decided to meddle, and she most definitely intended to.

Apparently, she had decided it was time that Max found a wife. While he understood the reasoning, and happened to agree with her, he’d never admit as much to the woman. She would become even more unbearable then. He didn’t want a wife, but he knew he wanted one. He had become guardian to his niece, Sarah, over a year ago. She’d been young enough that having a nanny to take care of her had been adequate, but now he realized she needed more than that. The little girl required a mother.

Which meant he would have to marry. He cursed his brother for dying. Sarah’s mother, Caroline, had died giving birth to her. Caroline had never known her mother, and Max’s brother, Owen, had barely paid any attention to his daughter. He’d drank himself into oblivion every day after his wife’s death. If Max hadn’t hired a nanny for Sarah, he doubted Owen ever would have. His brother had lived that way for several years before his behavior had caught up with him. He’d had one too many glasses or decanters of brandy and went riding in a storm. The horse had become spooked and thrown him. Owen’s neck had broken on impact.

Sarah had become his responsibility the moment she’d been born, but he’d been able to pretend for a time it hadn’t. He had hired the nanny and went about living his life. Now he had to find a bloody wife so his niece could have a mother. He ran his hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated breath. He didn’t want a wife. But when had what he wanted ever truly mattered?

He had too much responsibility in his life, and it had started before he even reached his majority. His father died when Max was barely five and ten. He’d never attended school beyond Eton, and had taken his place as the new duke immediately. His family depended on him. That was his duty, and now finding an appropriate wife was another task expected of him.

Perhaps he should have a few drinks himself. He shook that thought away. Max rarely overindulged in spirits. He had learned that lesson when his father, then brother, had died from too much excess. Hell. What was he going to do? Max gave in and poured two fingers of brandy into a glass. One drink wouldn’t hurt…

“What are you brooding over?” Emmett North, the Marquess of Crawford, said as he sauntered into the room. “Pour me a glass, would you?”

Max shook his head, but did as his friend asked. He handed Crawford a glass of brandy, then sat back behind his desk. He set his own brandy down and asked, “Why are you here?”

“I heard you attended the Duke of Sinbrough’s masquerade a little while back,” the marquess said in a casual tone. Max just stared at him. There was never anything casual about his friend. He was asking for a reason, but he didn’t know what it could be.

“That was six weeks ago,” he said. He kept his tone as neutral as Crawford’s had been. He didn’t want to let anything slip. “I’ve attended before.”

“Not very often,” Crawford replied, then sipped his brandy. “What made this one different?”

Damn… His friend was right. He hadn’t gone to one of the Duke of Sinbrough’s debauched events in quite a while. For the most part, it wasn’t his type of ball. Honestly, no ball was one he liked to attend, but it had been important to him to go that night. It was when he first realized he would have to marry soon. It was like his last night of decadence before becoming the man who would soon have a woman he called his. He would never tell Crawford all of that. His friend would make it out to be something bigger than it actually was. He shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And you don’t think you should have gone now?” He lifted a brow. Crawford was mocking him, and he didn’t know why.

“What are you really asking me?” Max didn’t have the patience for games. There was too much for him to decide, and the marquess wouldn’t let this go easily.

“I heard you found yourself a woman.” Crawford sat up straighter. “A blonde goddess that Sinbrough wanted for himself.”

Max grinned at that. He had spent the evening with a blonde and it had been memorable. So much so that he’d thought of her every day since. It was too bad he didn’t know her identity. He wouldn’t mind a few more nights with her before he found himself a suitable wife. “The Duke of Sin unquestionably wanted her for himself.” Max shrugged. “She hadn’t been interested. The lady definitely had more refined taste.”

Crawford barked in laughter. “Sinbrough does spread his love around more freely.” He lifted a brow. “Who was she?”

He frowned. She hadn’t told him her name, but he knew almost every inch of her body. Her mask had covered nearly her entire face. “I don’t know.”

“How is that possible?” Crawford downed his brandy, then grabbed the decanter to refill it. “You did spend the entire evening with her, did you not?”

He had… “I fell asleep, and she left before I awakened.” Max really should have insisted she tell him her name. He’d been more inclined to ravish her at the time, though. “She never removed her mask. It’s not like I attend those masquerades very often. I doubt I would know most of the people there.” Or at least recognize them… “Some ladies prefer that their identities remain unknown.”

“That is true,” he agreed. “However, most of them at least tell their lovers their given name. This one didn’t share at all?”

“No.” He didn’t need the reminder that he’d blundered. Max had given her pleasure, but he’d lost his mind when he’d seduced her. All he had been focused on was her and her delectable body. She’d been so bloody perfect. “If I could change that, I would. Why do you ask?” He hoped Crawford didn’t want to bed the woman himself. He might have to beat his friend senseless if he did. Max thought of her as his, and yes, he knew he shouldn’t. She didn’t belong to him, but his desire for her was not yet quenched.

“It’s probably nothing,” he said. “I heard a rumor you were looking for a wife, and then, in the same discussion, the gentlemen were discussing your night at the masquerade. Some are wondering if you intend to marry her.”

Max laughed. The gossip that went around the ton could be ridiculous. “I do intend to marry,” he told his friend. “It is time. Sarah needs a mother.”

“But since you don’t know Lady Seductress’s name, you can’t very well marry her.” Crawford grinned. “I don’t envy you searching for a suitable wife. Do you have anyone in mind?”

He shook his head. “None.” He sipped his brandy. It burned as it traveled down his throat. “I have requirements, though.”

“As you should.” Crawford grinned. “Care to share them?”

“She has to be beautiful,” he said. “If I have to marry, I want to like actually looking at the woman.”

“That goes unsaid,” the marquess agreed. “And the rest?”

“She should be biddable. I don’t need a woman harping on me daily.” That sounded like a damned nightmare. “I don’t need an heiress, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt that she didn’t need to marry me for my fortune.” What else? “She also has to be kind and capable of loving a child that isn’t hers. I won’t have her neglecting Sarah when that is the very reason I am even considering marriage.”

“So, to summarize,” Crawford began. “You do not want a simpering young miss or an acerbic bluestocking, but something in-between. One with beauty and a flush dowry.”

He glared at his friend. “You make it sound as if my list isn’t attainable.”

Crawford rolled his eyes. “Because none of those young debutantes are going to show you who they really are. All they will see is your title, and they’ll pretend to be the type of woman you want. The only things on that list of yours you will be able to check off immediately are the beauty and the dowry. You’re going to need help with the rest.”

Bloody hell… “Are you volunteering?”

Crawford wrinkled his nose. “I’ll speak with Lyonsdale. Between the two of us, we can uncover the rest. Just let us know which young ladies catch your attention, and we will investigate them for you.”

“Thank you,” he told his friend. The Earl of Lyonsdale, Crawford, and him had been inseparable since they met at Eton. “I appreciate your assistance in this.” Max’s wife would have to be the most suitable woman he could find. His young niece had enough upheaval in her young life. He lifted his glass. “To finding me a wife.”

Crawford held up his glass. “To surviving the season.”

They both drank the rest of their brandy, then set down their glasses. It would be an interesting season. Crawford had that last bit correct. There wasn’t much that slid past the marquess. He had an uncanny ability to see through everyone and everything.