Prologue

Prologue

Devonshire Estate, 1803

The loud, panicked sounds of the horses as they fell to the ground echoed through the cold, night air. The carriage charged into a tree trunk and broke into pieces as the frenzied animals pulled in all directions. The duke felt his body slam into the side of the carriage moments before it crashed down on top of him.

An eerie silence fell all around him, as the horses broke free and ran into the thick brush surrounding them. He tried to move when the icy realization trickled down his spine. His legs were the only part of him not in complete agony.

He could not move his legs to get himself to safety. "Help! Can anyone hear me!"

He cried out in desperation. He had waited in that same position all night and had been found by a kind farmer the next morning. He was cared for, and survived… the duke still used the invalid chair the old man had built for him.

His family, on the other hand, had not known how to treat him after the accident. The doctor had declared that at the young age of twenty, he would be without the use of his legs. What was more, his father had just passed, and he had taken on all his responsibility as the new duke.

He at least had the love of a good woman. At least he had been convinced of it at the time. But the wealthy heiress had taken one look at her bedridden husband-to-be and had walked out on him.

Family visited less frequently—the duke felt all but abandoned. He began to announce affair after affair just to have company. As time went on, an invitation to one of The Duke of Devonshire celebrations had become most cherished.