Chapter Two

October 9, 1819

Greenwich House

London, England

As Lavinia Greenwich walked through the streets of her Marylebone neighborhood on her way home from the shops, she breathed in deep lungsful of crisp, clean air. It would rain soon—seemed like it always rained in the autumn—but she didn't care. Gray, overcast skies and having the rain dampen everything in her world suited her just fine, for that was her mood these days.

Little more than a year after mourning for her husband, she hadn't been able to reclaim a more jovial mindset. She missed Adam fiercely, probably always would, but the day of his death felt sometimes an eternity away, then just as soon as she drew another breath, her chest constricted, and the pain left from his parting assailed her as if it had been yesterday.

So if nature wished to plunge England into dreariness, she was all for it.

Soon after she'd lost her husband, her mother had moved into their house with her to essentially serve as a companion. It wasn't ideal, for her mother considered herself the mistress of the house, but Lavinia seldom had the strength to argue let alone make day to day decisions.

Perhaps it was time to change all of that and focus on something new. Adam hadn't been wealthy by any stretch, and though she would be kept comfortably for a few years, what would happen once that was over? It left her sick with worry in the dark of night in her lonely bed. No matter the fact she didn't think she could open her heart to someone new after losing Adam, she needed to secure her future, for those were the cold facts of being a woman within English society.

Drat it all, and she wouldn't have been put in such a perilous position if it weren't for one man—Elliott Thorne—the roguish Viscount Aldridge.

Quickly, she stuffed that thought back down in her mind, for she wasn't ready to unleash her fury. Soon, though. She would gather up her courage and call on him in his big townhouse across Mayfair, and she would hold him accountable.

But for now, it was just her and the soggy weather. Fifteen minutes later saw her ensconced in her own drawing room, sitting near a cheerful fire and sipping a hot cup of tea with the tiniest hint of sugar.

"There is something for you in the post today," her mother mentioned, breaking the cozy silence that had fallen over the room.

"Oh?" Had the invitations started coming already? "I've only been out of mourning for two months. It is somewhat daunting to know I'll need to re-enter society so soon." Her mother was the daughter of a baron, who had died when Lavinia was a small child, but that connection kept them clinging—however desperately—to the outskirts of the ton.

"Daunting, perhaps, but necessary. It'll keep you from the workhouse." She passed an envelope to Lavinia. "The weight of the stationery shows promise as much as the seal."

With a frown, Lavinia stared at the scrolled names on the front of the envelope—Mr. and Mrs. Adam Greenwich. She turned the envelope over and her frown deepened at the seal in a blob of brown wax. "I'm afraid I don't know the Earl of Foxborough."

"Does that matter when an invitation is proffered?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Get on with it, child. Let's see what it says."

Though she detested when her mother referred her as "child," and at thirty-one years of age, she was well past that stage of life. "Fine." Easily, she broke the seal and then pulled out a card covered with the same pretty, flowing handwriting as on the envelope. "Oh, my."

The new Earl of Foxborough, Viscount of Aldridge, wishes you to attend his first annual Harvest Ball in Surrey at Wynneham Hall on the 30th of October with a house party ahead of the ball. Your presence is anticipated the 25th of October for tea.

It was an invitation to a house party hosted by the same enemy she'd thought about before entering the townhouse. Not that he knew he was her enemy. And when did he become an earl? When she'd known him, he'd been a viscount. What had occurred in his life that she'd missed while being involved in her own? Her chest tightened slightly. Had she done him a disservice by refusing to speak with him over the years, and especially after Adam had become sick? Once upon a time, the man in question had tried to win her regard over his best friend, but in the end, she had married Adam.

Why did he want her to attend a ball now?

"Let me see." Her mother held out a hand.

In shocked silence, Lavinia gave over the invitation. "To be fair, the envelope was addressed to both Adam and me, and done in such a delicate hand I suspect a woman helped him with a guest list." Was the lady his wife? Had he married?

"Perhaps they didn't know your husband died." Her mother held it at arm's length, for she refused to acquire spectacles that might help her to see close up. "Wasn't that Thorne fellow a viscount when you knew him?"

"Yes. Viscount Aldridge."

"But he's an earl now."

"So it would appear."

"How?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Lavinia shrugged. As curious as she was about that, it didn't matter, for she wouldn't attend his house party or subsequent ball, no matter how much she missed dancing. "I don't have any inclination to attend." Except, if she did, she could finally have the revenge upon Elliott Thorne that she'd wanted since Adam's health began to decline. "What he did to my husband is reprehensible."

"Allegedly did. There is no way to know if he thought Adam would have been put into danger like that." Her mother looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes. "And why wouldn't you go? House parties are lovely, especially during this time of the year. Truly you should socialize more anyway."

"You only say that because you adore the attention." Her mother had always been a social butterfly. "You think that I should attend despite the error on the invitation?"

Her mother gave her back the missive. "Didn't you tell me you feel this man was responsible for your husband's death?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then I suggest going to the house party. If you truly want revenge, this is your best chance, and Surrey isn't that far from London. You can be back within a day if you truly aren't enjoying yourself." Her shrug was an elegant affair. "And before you ask, no, I cannot accompany you. I have quite a full social schedule for the remainder of the month, and you really should be looking for a second husband. The coin dear Adam left you won't last forever."

Lavinia gasped. "Surely you don't want me to marry that man?" Once upon a time, she had considered accepting a suit from the viscount—now earl. He and Adam had jockeyed for her affections over fifteen years ago, but ultimately, no matter how charming Elliott had been, Adam had been the safe, smart choice. Adam had been ready for the responsibilities of marriage and in being an adult whereas Elliott acted as if he had the world at his feet and he didn't need to work at anything.

"Of course not. I well remember that turbulent time in your life with him, but a house party means many people in attendance." One of her mother's dark eyebrows rose. At a few years past fifty, she had retained her looks and was still much in demand at society functions. "Since he has become an earl, it must mean he is focusing on setting up the rest of his life. His need for a wife has precipitated this, mark my words." She nodded with a satisfied expression on her face. "And since he is an earl now, that means gentry from the surrounding community will attend the harvest ball, and since you've snubbed your nose at every man I've put in front of you, perhaps you can find someone in the country."

"All those strangers, and on a strange property, as well." Lavinia frowned once more at the invitation in her lap. Wynneham Hall in Surrey. It wasn't a familiar address, for the last she'd known of Elliott, his family seat was in Derbyshire. "I'm not like you, Mama. I find it disconcerting to be in the public eye; don't like the attention."

"Bah!" Her mother shook her head as if that statement were pure gammon. "You used to though. There was a time when you were society's darling."

"A long time ago." It seemed an eternity since she'd danced attendance on society and chased the image of perfection they demanded that was so difficult to attain. "I was sixteen then, much younger than other girls making their Come Outs."

"It didn't hurt your cause."

"Perhaps." That summer and autumn had been a whirlwind, especially since two of the men vying for her hand had been handsome military men, and older than her by nine and ten years respectively. By Christmastide, she was engaged to Adam, and they'd enjoyed a two-year engagement period before they'd wed. "However, losing Adam affected me on a deeper level than I'd anticipated."

She'd never thought she would have to give him up to the sands of time or the turn of fate, at least not that soon. Yet she'd had almost twelve years with him, and even that hadn't seemed long enough. Though their union had been dotted with challenges—him returning to the war, then him becoming a spy, a handful of miscarriages, and the general loneliness and grief that came from all of it—she didn't regret one moment of the life they'd built together.

With the exception of Adam being assigned the case that saw him poisoned and would eventually send him to an early grave. Now life was far too precious to care what the tabbies of the ton thought. No longer did she wish to dance attendance on them or their rules. Where she assumed she would have a lifetime with her husband, he'd been snatched away prematurely, and none of the dreams they'd had together were ever realized.

When will I mourn for those things?

"Pish posh, dear. You are still young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Make sure you don't put yourself in the grave with Adam merely because you are lonely."

"Ha!" Lavinia couldn't help an unladylike snort of laughter. "Still young? That's debatable. There are days when I feel positively ancient."

"Compared to me you are young and still have much living to do." With a sigh, her mother gestured to two gowns that had been draped over the back of a low sofa. "Which one for the charity ball I'm throwing?"

"Does it matter what you wear? You will be the star."

"Which is exactly why I must look my best." Her mother grinned. "Now, the rust-colored silk or the saffron taffeta?"

For long moments, the two of them discussed the merits of each gown. Truly, her mother would look ravishing in either, and since she'd already admitted to having a full social calendar for the remainder of the month, both gowns would be worn. Eventually, once tea was finished, her mother stood.

"I have letters to respond to, but while we are on the subject of fashion, you should make certain to take the ballgown of orchid silk. That nearly royal purple hue looks lovely against your skin and hair and is still close to mourning colors if you wish to fall back on that excuse. Besides, it is perfect for harvest time or for making a splash that is sure to be noticed."

A trace of heat went through Lavinia's cheeks. "I'm not sure I wish to be noticed, even if I do need a second husband merely for survival." Her heart tremored. How could she be expected to flirt with another man when she remembered Adam so intensely at times?

"It will grow easier with time, dear." There was a softness to her mother's expression that gave her a bit of support. "When your father died, I was indeed lost, lonely, and angry. I think it's a natural response to death, for such a thing is quite final."

"How did you bring yourself out of it? Everyone will say that over a year is time enough to resume my life, but how can I do that without Adam?" Every time she assumed she could function as if nothing had happened, that's when memories of her husband rose up and wrapped about her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. His death had happened, and it had left a large whole in her life as well as her heart.

Nothing could ever fix that.

"You keep taking one step—one day—at a time." Her mother stood, and as she passed Lavinia's chair, she rested a hand on her shoulder. "It probably won't happen all at once, but at some point, you'll wake up and realize you are going to be well enough and that you would like to rejoin the world of the living. That you'll crave the activity and buzz of conversation once more. It won't erase the fact you've lost someone precious, but it will help you to see that death and grieving aren't the only things available to you now."

She tamped down on the urge to give in to the sobs clogged in her throat. "Am I supposed to forget him?"

"Of course not, dear, but it's more of making room in your life for the grief. Those feelings aren't something you will ever forget; they will be with you until you slip from this mortal coil, but you will eventually learn how to move them aside and make room for joy and happiness again. For excitement and anticipation." Her mother patted Lavinia's shoulder. "It is a complicated problem to be sure, but you are still here, and you shouldn't behave as if you were an actress in a Greek tragedy."

"Perhaps you are correct. Thank you for that insight."

"You're welcome. I must run. We will speak more at dinner tonight." Then she exited the room, leaving Lavinia alone with her thoughts.

With another glance at the invitation, she leaned over and let it flutter to the tabletop near the tea tray. What should she do? The last thing she wanted was to see Elliott and be obliged to do the pretty with him at a society event. All thoughts of revenge aside, it was a daunting task. For the past year or so, she'd closeted herself inside her house, fearful of needing to return to life without Adam at her side. It was only in the last few weeks that she'd gathered the courage to venture to the shops by herself without a maid or her mother accompanying her.

Yet…

There was a certain curiosity bubbling through her chest at the possibility of being in the public eye again and circulating with guests… and dancing. Above all, she'd probably missed that the most. And to taste champagne again. How decadent that would be!

She slid a hand along the front of the dove gray dress she'd chosen for running her errands today. Of a simple design without frills, it was one of the last remnants that remained in her wardrobe from her mourning clothes. Without a doubt, she would welcome the return of wearing colors, for she did enjoy beautiful, colorful clothes and rich fabrics.

The sad fact was that if she didn't make changes to her life, she would be stuck in the same old patterns, be left alone to wither and age by herself while her mother would probably snag a husband before she would. Losing a spouse didn't mean she was bound to wring her hands and walk the halls alone for eternity.

That wasn't a practical scenario, and she would probably go mad from having no one to talk to over the years.

Then her hand went upward to finger the pink enamel rose pendant that hung on a golden chain. She'd put it on today because it was pretty and not as obvious as jewels, but she'd forgotten in the moment that Elliott had gifted her that necklace long ago as a token of his affection, months before she'd ultimately chosen his best friend.

Those had been halcyon days when she'd been in much demand, constantly taken driving and walking by both men on different days. Visits to summer traveler's fairs or harvest fairs if they were in the country as they'd been the horrible day the men had quarreled. If they were in Town, there were visits to the opera or dinners at Covent Garden. And always there were stolen kisses and daring caresses from both as they'd competed for her ultimate affection.

The necklace had been a sweet promise made when she'd assumed they would have a future, before everything shifted, and the men had nearly entered an illegal duel. During that confusing time, her heart had ultimately chosen infatuation, the safe choice, and the charm of being in love over desire and excitement and the unknown future that her brain screamed. Adam had given her a pearl brooch set in silver as an engagement gift, and her future was sealed as easily as that.

I cannot allow such folly to guide my life again.

With a soft cry, Lavinia shoved those thoughts away. She wasn't that frivolous girl any longer and she certainly didn't fancy Elliot that way anymore. He'd been responsible for killing her husband, the man who'd truly held her heart, and he needed to be made to pay. Or at least proffer an apology. Would that heal the anger she still held? It was anyone's guess, but at least she would have said her piece and could stop thinking about that.

When she chose a man to marry for a second time, she wouldn't allow her heart any part of that decision. She couldn't. Love had nearly torn her apart the last time, so she would choose based on facts and being kept solvent for her future. A union in name only? It was too early to say, though coupling was something else she missed. There was something all too delicious in lying with a man and being sentflying.

Yet her heart would need to remain her own. Nothing else could be contemplated in this moment.

Perhaps then she would be able to finally tell Adam goodbye and leave love as a benchmark in the past as a warning to herself that it was foolish and fleeting.