Chapter One

London was the last place Michael wanted to be…

He stared out of the bay window on the second floor of his stately London townhouse, surrounded by the recently refurbished and decorated private study. It had taken months of painstaking work to return the townhouse to its former glory and yet he was in no mood to enjoy the fruits of his labour. His mind was in a terrible state, all because of the city he had no choice but to return to.

The city wasn’t at fault, in truth. It was its occupants who bothered him. The people who traversed the cobblestoned street, parading in rouge and waistcoats, feigning respectability. The very same people who would willingly frame an innocent man for their own gain, destroying a family in the process. Those were the very individuals he would have to face now that he had returned to London, and he was not particularly keen on it.

But even though London was not where he wanted to be, it was where he had to be. In order to uncover the truth and clear his father’s name, he had to do whatever it took. Even if it meant diving into the den of snakes all over again.

Anger simmered deep in the pit of his stomach. It was never far from his grasp. In the past four years, he drew on it whenever he needed motivation to continue on his path of vengeance. And other times, it consumed him without thought, taking over every bit of his senses until he could focus on nothing else. The past reared its ugly head at the worst times and, on several occasions, he nearly turned from his path. The pain, anger, and sorrow were tearing him to shreds piece by piece.

But then he thought of his father and his dying moments.

He recalled his mother who withered away from grief after his father’s death.

He thought of his sister, who remained positive and vibrant despite the social disgrace foisted upon their family and the impact it had on her prospects for marriage.

And he remembered very clearly why he was doing this.

Michael turned away from the window, facing the mahogany desk littered with correspondence and documents. Everything—or nearly everything—he required to establish his father’s innocence lay scattered across the vast surface of the massive desk. He had spent countless hours poring over them, going through each and every one of them until he knew them by heart. He put the pieces together over and over again, in his mind and with the physical documents, but it was not enough. There was still one missing, one thing that would ensure he left this matter behind him with nothing but fulfilment.

He had to enact his vengeance. And Lady Elaine Sutton of Suthenshire was his key to doing exactly that.

Michael picked up a letter from an old country lord, whose estate he’d recently left before coming to London. It was one of many, of course. He’d gone from smoky coffeehouses to fabulous estates of retired officials all over England, gathering the evidence he needed to prove that the Earl of Suthenshire was guilty of deceit. That the convictions against Michael’s father, the late Duke of Ryewood, were false. Just looking at them was enough to stir familiar hatred in his heart.

“Michael?” A soft knock accompanied the gentle voice on the other end of the door. Michael dropped the letter, turning to face his sister as she slipped into the room.

Her small frown smoothed away the moment she looked at him, but Michael knew it was never far behind. He had not been home for very long and Clarissa had taken to following him around the house with worry written all over her face. It was a far cry from the little girl who had once followed him around in absolute adoration. The person before him was a woman now and she could tell that something was wrong.

Michael had no intention of disclosing the truth of his obsession anytime soon, so he forced a smile. “Yes? Is anything amiss?”

“Oh, nothing is amiss,” she assured him as she came forward. “I am merely here to keep you company, that is all.”

“Oh? Did you think that my years away from this place have turned me into the sort of man who cannot bear solitude?”

“No, I believe it has made you the kind of man who appreciates the company of a sister he holds so dear.”

Michael felt his smile turn genuine at the sparkle of mischief in Clarissa’s blue eyes. They were so much like their late mother’s, from the hue to the shape to the vibrancy it was always filled with. She shared many things with the late Duchess of Ryewood—the same honey-blond hair that cascaded down the length of her back, its fullness an envy of many other ladies her age, the same slim figure, and the same beautifully, pouty lips. Michael always knew that his sister would have men lining up at her feet for a chance to marry her and, now that she’d debuted for her first Season, that assumption was easily confirmed. He wouldn’t be surprised to find a dozen more flowers waiting for her downstairs.

Michael draped an arm around her shoulders, leading her away from the study, away from thedesk. “To think that you’ve turned one-and-twenty and you are still so attached to our companionship.”

“I am not attached,” Clarissa denied immediately. “You have been travelling all over London for four years and you have only returned three days ago. It is no fault of mine that I wish to spend time with you before the Ton catches wind that the Duke of Ryewood is in London.”

“So it is my fault then?”

“Will you not tell me why you were gone for so long?

Michael nearly darkened at her words and had to remind himself that she was innocent in all of this. “I was attending to business,” he lied.

Clarissa’s frown deepened, her bottom lip jutting in her signature pout. In her youth, that expression was all she needed to get her way. But it wouldn’t work so easily today.

“Pray, spare me such a glance,” Michael chastised easily, pulling away from her as they made their way down the hallway with no destination in mind. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know the position of a duke is no easy one.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But I do not want what happened to Papa to happen to you as well.”

“It shall not,” he replied firmly.

“Will you promise me?”

Michael glanced down, noting how she batted her eyelashes at him. He laughed softly, rolling his eyes. “That will not sway me, and you are well aware of it.”

“How do you know it has not already swayed you?”

“Because I have not conceded to your demands.”

“Hm,” she hummed. “Will you be attending dinner with Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Henry? They asked me to confirm your attendance, even though I already assured them you would be there.”

“And why would you tell them such a thing?”

“Because it is the truth.”

Michael sighed. He had more planning to do. He had not been in London very long yet and he knew the rumors of his return were only just beginning. If he was seen out and about, then it would set ablaze all through the Ton. He wasn’t ready for that as yet.

“Michael.” Clarissa took his hand, forcing them to stop. She gazed up at him with utmost seriousness. “We have missed you. Not only I, but Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Henry as well.”

The sadness in her voice tore at him a little. Michael was already responding before he gave it another thought. “I shall be there.”

Clarissa’s smile was so quick, thathe wondered if he had imagined her previous frown. “I shall inform them at once.”

Without warning, she reached up on her toes and pressed a kiss on his cheek before hurrying away with a pep in her step. Michael stared after her, realising a little too late what she’d just done.

He sighed, turning back the way he’d come. He supposed that over the four years they had been apart, Clarissa had only become more adept at getting her own way. And he was no better at fighting her charms.

Though he supposed spending time with his aunt, uncle, and sister was the least he could do after being away for so long, he wouldn’t have to worry about that for now. With dinnertime still a few hours away, he had plenty of time to peruse the documents and go over his plan.

Plenty of time to ensure that when he encountered Lady Elaine for the first time, he would be prepared.

***

Tears pricked Elaine’s eyes for the second time that day. She fought them valiantly but a lone tear escaped, blazing a hot path down the side of her face. She quickly wiped it away before her father could see.

“Right here,” she murmured, her throat thick with emotion. She hoped her father would not be able to tell.

With one arm wrapped around his waist, she helped his frail body settle into the plush armchair facing the window of the drawing room. She tried ignoring the fact that the armchair was now fading in colour, as was nearly everything else in the townhouse. The signs of neglect she’d once been able to ignore now showed themselves in every scratched surface, every faded and peeling wallpaper andevery worn piece of furniture.

This particular chair had once been her favourite growing up. She would spend hours reading poetry and working on her embroidery in that very spot. But that was before her world came crashing down around her. Now it was the closest, most comfortable chair for her ailing father to rest in the drawing room when he was not confined to his bed.

“It is quite windy today, Papa,” she said softly, grateful that the lump was now cleared from her throat. She forced a weak smile to her lips. “Would you like me to open the windows?”

Lord Edward Sutton, the Earl of Suthenshire, looked up at her with cloudy eyes filled with something she couldn’t name. Pain, she realised as her heart broke in two. He was in pain and she could do nothing to help him.

“No wind,” he rasped. She assumed he wanted to say ‘no window’ but couldn’t manage the full sentence. His words ended with a fierce, dry cough.

“Very well,” she said. “I shall fetch your blanket.”

Edward clutched her skirt, the closest thing to his fingers, and held as firmly as he could. “Sit…sit with me…”

Elaine swallowed. For a moment, she could only stare at him, fighting the wave of sorrow that washed over her. Her once-proud father who wore his title and prestige like a badge of honour had been reduced to a skinny, frail man bested by illness. Watching him deteriorate before her eyes had only made the last few years far more terrible than it could have been.

Again, she forced a smile to her face but she doubted this one was very convincing. “Very well,” she said gently, claiming the armchair across from him. “I have been on my feet all morning. It would be nice to rest for a spell.”

Edward sank into the armchair as if he had been using the last of his strength to keep her from leaving. Elaine looked out the window. She couldn’t bear to look at her father for too long. It always left her in tears.

“Thank you…my dear,” Edward rasped once more.

“Papa, you should save your strength.”

“I have nothing left. But you…”

Goodness, it was far too difficult to keep herself together today. Perhaps it was because today was the anniversary of her mother’s death five years ago. Each year she expected it to get easier and each year she was proven otherwise. Influenza had claimed her beautiful mother far too early and, shortly after, her father’s health began to decline. Their physicians worked tirelessly to figure out the root of his illness but, as their coffers ran dry, so did the help of those they hired. It wasn’t before long that Elaine was left to take care of her father herself.

“That is not quite true,” she replied, striving for a lightness in her voice, though it sounded flat to her ears. “You have Simon. He may be away at Eton but he would forsake it all, should he know you needed him.”

Edward shook his head slightly. His eyes often watered, a side effect of his illness the physicians had said, but the pure pain etched into his face made Elaine wonder if they were real tears.

“And there is Aunt Lorna and James. They are ever at hand to assist us. We are never truly alone.”

Edward shook his head again as the tears fell down his cheeks. Elaine thought he might have something else to say but then his eyes drifted close and sleep claimed him instantly. She paused for a moment, watching the staggered but very real rise and fall of his chest before she allowed herself to relax. She preferred him when he was sleeping, she decided. He always looked more at peace.

But it gave her a moment of peace that she did not want. With nothing but silence as her companion, there was no stopping the waves of emotional memories that assaulted her. She would never forget the day she lost her mother, the day English Society lost the Countess of Suthenshire. She had been so well loved that nearly all of the Ton came to her wake.

Elaine never knew many of their names. They paid their respects but they did not care about the disgraced Earl and his children. They gossiped about them behind their backs and had little empathy for Elaine and Simon. Of course, Simon went off to Eton shortly after Edward fell ill so he didn’t know the extent of their father’s state. Nor did he have to suffer the scrutiny of their ruined reputation and a significant dip in finances. That was Elaine’s burden to bear and hers alone.

She spent her days in the same manner. Taking care of her father, maintaining appearances in Society, keeping her brother ignorant of the true direness of their situation, and longing for the opportunity to save her family.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Elaine blinked, realising with a start that she’d started crying again. She wiped her tears quickly and croaked, “Come.”

The door opened and their weathered butler, Paul, appeared. His loyalty to the family remained unwavering, even though so many of the other servants had left due to their inability to compensate them.

“Lord and Lady Abney to see you, my lady.”

Elaine quickly stood. “Pray show them in,” she told him hurriedly as she made her way over to the sofas arranged in the centre of the room. “And please prepare us some tea.”

He nodded and slipped out of the room just as Lorna and James appeared. As usual, Lorna’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, breezing into the room with a pep in her step. Her son, Elaine’s cousin, followed closely behind, his expression as grim as always.

As mother and son, they were always an interesting sight. The Dowager Viscountess of Abney rarely let her feathers get ruffled, a lively spirit capable of improving the mood of anyone she was near. Quite unlike James, the current Viscount of Abney, who viewed life through serious and critical eyes. Despite his austere demeanour, he was one of the kindest, most gentle people Elaine knew.

Then again, she did not know many people, since she spent most of her days cooped up in the house.

“Elaine, my darling.” Lorna swept to her side and placed kisses on both cheeks like she always did. “How is it that each time I see you, you grow more and more beautiful?”

Elaine flushed. “It is such a pleasure to see you, Aunt Lorna. And you as well, James.”

“Elaine,” James greeted gruffly. He ran a scrutinous gaze down the length of her. “Are you well?”

“As well as I can be,” she confessed, settling into a seat. “Though I was curious when I might hear from the two of you again.”

“Mother is to be blamed for that,” James said, sinking into the sofa next to Lorna. “She feels the need to entertain every one of her friends whenever they pay her a visit. And they are always paying her a visit.”

“Oh, do not be envious, James,” Lorna huffed. “It is most unbecoming of you. If you wish to make as many friends as me, you need only say so and I shall gladly teach you my ways.”

“I do not wish to learn your ways.”

“I would beg to differ,” she huffed, laughing. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”

James gritted his teeth, getting visibly annoyed. Elaine watched in fascination. She couldn’t understand how James was so oblivious to what his mother was doing. Anyone could see that Lorna liked getting him riled and yet he walked into her trap every time.

“Famous last words of an envious man,” Lorna sang and laughed when James grunted in frustration. “He likes to get himself in a huff,” she said to Elaine. “Let us ignore him. We are here for you, after all.”

Elaine smiled. The last time they’d spoken, Lorna had mentioned sponsoring Elaine’s debut for the London Season. Elaine had spent days imagining what that would be like. She’d hoped to debut at the proper age of ten-and-nine or twenty like most ladies of her station but, given her situation, she supposed she should count herself lucky that she still got the chance to do it at one-and-twenty.

As if she heard the direction of Elaine’s thoughts, Lorna said, “We cannot wait any longer. Any older and you will lose half your potential prospects and that simply cannot be done.”

“I am grateful for the opportunity, Aunt Lorna,” Elaine told her. “But I’m afraid I must admit that I am unsure of what exactly I should do.”

“Oh, goodness, it is such a pity that Margaret left us so soon. She should have been here to guide you. It is not fair that she shall not get the chance to see you debut.”

Lorna’s shoulders sagged with sadness and a moment of silence hung heavy in the room. As Elaine’s maternal aunt, Elaine knew how close Lorna had been with her mother. Lorna was still mourning her as much as Elaine was.

As usual, James was the one to bring them back to reality. “There is nothing we can do to change the past,” he stated, though his voice was a little softer than usual. “But we can fix the present. And presently, Elaine, you need to grasp every opportunity you can to get married.”

Elaine nodded, determination coursing through her veins. She had to get married. It was the only way to save her family. She was their only hope. Even if her brother were to return and claim responsibility for the earldom, he would be managing a husk of a legacy. But she had the chance to make things right.

It no longer mattered that she had once dreamed of marrying for love; that cherished dream was now painfully beyond her grasp.

“I am ready,” she said firmly.

“Marvelous,” Lorna chirped. “Lord and Lady Jones’ ball is upon the morrow—”

“Upon the morrow?” Elaine gasped.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. I have arranged for everything already. I have a number of dresses for you to be fitted in for the ball, but we shall have to make time to visit the modiste shortly.”

Elaine glanced worriedly at James. “Is not the morrow a trifle too soon?”

“It is never too soon,” Lorna answered her with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The quicker you are out in Society, the quicker you will be noticed by potential suitors. We do not want them turning their attention to other ladies before you show, now do we?”

“I suppose not…” Yet it did little to quell the sudden burst of anxiousness trembling within her. She had not expected to have to do it tomorrow.

“There is nothing to worry about, Elaine,” Lorna gently reassured her, clearly sensing her apprehension. “You are a beautiful girl with a lovely, demure disposition—”

“Demure?” James echoed incredulously.

“Yes, demure. At least, that is what the gentlemen will think when they meet her. Men love demureness.”

“Is it not best for me to be my true self?” Elaine asked.

“Yes, of course. But in a demure manner, of course. Worry not, darling, I shall be right there to guide you.”

“And I shall spread the word that you are seeking a husband,” James spoke up.

As Elaine baulked— for even she recognised how outrageous that was—Lorna sighed. “You shall do no such thing. You would frighten them all away. We do not want anyone to presume she is desperate.”

James frowned. “But she is desperate.”

“But they need not be aware of it!” Lorna exclaimed. She caught herself and drew in a slow breath. “James, my dear, you should simply focus on securing her a respectable dowry and utilising your connections to ensure we remain invited to any forthcoming events.”

James seemed bemused by Lorna’s impatience, which only amused Elaine. While Lorna tended to poke James’ buttons for fun, James seemed to be utterly clueless when he did the same to his mother.

But he conceded with a nod. “Very well.”

“Lovely.” Lorna turned her attention back to Elaine, smiling. “Now, is there anything you would like to inquire of us?”

Elaine frowned in contemplation before shaking her head. “I have no questions. Whatever you instruct me to do, I shall do without hesitation. I am merely grateful for all your assistance.”

“You are family, darling,” Lorna murmured. “How could I face Margaret in my sleep if I allowed her family to fall to ruin?”

Elaine managed a smile at that, somehow. “Truthfully, I wished I was attending the Season under better circumstances. I longed to be free to choose a gentleman with whom I have fallen in love, rather than merely the first suitable match who might aid in saving my family.”

Lorna reached out to grasp Elaine’s hand. “Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to receive both.”

Elaine knew better than to believe she could be so lucky. The past few years had proven that she was not the most favourable person in London. But she hoped that what little luck she did possess would be revealed in the form of a kind husband who could save her from ruin.