Chapter One

A s Mabel Meadows, the former Comtesse de Retha, strolled along the Serpentine with her sister, Leona, one morning in London's Hyde Park, she eyed the shallow waters with suspicion. She was not fond of water, and the serene, glass-like surface of the lake gave her pause. Though she had crossed the Atlantic three times now, she had done so with significant discomfort and while the Serpentine was a man-made lake that sat in the center of a carefully cultivated park, Mabel couldn't help but wonder what sort of mysterious things lurked beneath.

"Alfred took me here just the other day," Leona said, beaming. "He's terribly fond of this park."

"Is he?"

"Yes. He seems to know everything about it."

"Is that so?" Mabel asked, her tone betraying that she wasn't particularly interested in her soon-to-be brother-in-law.

It wasn't that she didn't like him. On the contrary, Alfred Trembley was a very kind, pleasing sort of man, but his personality mattered very little to her. In Mabel's eyes, he was taking her only sister away, and for that, Mabel couldn't find it in her heart to genuinely like him.

Alfred Trembley had fallen madly in love with Leona during his tour of the East Coast of the United States. He had come to a dinner party while visiting friends in Philadelphia who just so happened to be neighbors of the Meadows family. Mabel, Leona and their father, Robert Meadows, had attended and Alfred was instantly drawn to Leona. They formed an attachment to one another rather quickly, and when the Englishman had declared his love for her a few weeks later, Leona had happily reciprocated.

"For instance, did you know that the Serpentine used to be a river itself? I believe it was called Westbourne. It was a tributary of the Thames."

"Really?" Mabel replied unenthusiastically, tucking her hand into her pocket.

She pulled out a small deck of playing cards and began bending and ruffling them back and forth against her palm in an absentminded sort of way. It was a ridiculous little habit, one she had started years prior when she had stolen a deck from her father's office. He had let her keep it and she had been known to keep cards on her at all times. The fluttering of the deck in her hands was soothing.

Leona noticed her sister's tinkering.

"I wish Papa could have made the journey," she said, smiling sadly. "I think he would have enjoyed meeting Alfred's family."

"That's optimistic of you. You know how Papa feels about the English."

"English shipbuilders," Leona corrected her. "He has nothing against the rest of them."

As the chief shipbuilder for the United States Navy, Robert Meadows was not only consistently busy but frequently unable to leave his home and work behind, limiting his opportunities to travel. He had recently undertaken a project that would not let him go for several months. Because Leona and Alfred had been so eager to marry as quickly as possible, and since Alfred's mother, the dowager countess, requested it, the wedding was set to take place in England. Mabel had stepped in to chaperone her sister overseas.

Apart from supplying his daughters with luxurious lifestyles, Robert Meadows had left Mabel and her sister to be raised by a series of maids, governesses, and tutors. Ever since their mother died in childbirth nearly seventeen years ago, Robert Meadows had preferred to keep his children at arm's length. Mabel believed that he had grieved deeply, but as she had never actually witnessed it, she could only assume that it was simply too painful for her father to maintain relationships with his daughters. She had tried countless times to foster a connection with him, but he had always kindly rebuffed her, which had unfortunately led to Mabel seeking out attention elsewhere.

"I'm sure Papa will visit once he has a chance," Mabel said. "Likely on one of his own ships."

Leona nodded, yet she seemed unconvinced. Mabel cleared her throat, deciding to return to the previous subject.

"Come. Tell me more about what Alfred said about the rivers. Westbourne, was it?"

"Oh. Well, he said Westbourne was originally one of the rivers that London used for drinking, but that it has since become polluted."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. And you know, the Trembleys have a home in Henley-on-Thames, right along the river's edge. Boxwood Park."

"How fascinating," Mabel said, though she didn't really think so.

Try as she might to feign interest, Mabel couldn't bring herself to focus on her sister's words. Something was bothering her. A sort of unease that had continued growing since arriving in London. Every time she thought about her sister's marriage, she became melancholic and a disquiet would fall around her. Mabel would only have her sister's company for a little while longer before she would have to return to her father in Philadelphia. The idea of traveling the Atlantic again, alone, made her heart heavy.

"It's a beautiful morning, is it not?" Leona asked, as they strolled arm-in-arm along the dirt path. "I always thought London was supposed to be dreary and wet, but it's really rather charming."

Mabel glanced over her shoulder to see their young supervisor. A footman named George, dressed in blue and gold livery with his arms straight at his sides, followed the two sisters at an even pace behind them at a respectable distance. The Earl of Trembley had insisted that one of his footmen accompany them during their morning walks, and as guests of the earl, she permitted it, though it felt as if they were being spied on.

"I see very little charm about it," Mabel said under her breath as she shuffled the deck of cards.

"What was that?" Leona asked.

Mabel cleared her throat as she stopped fidgeting with the cards. Placing them back in her pocket, she turned to Leona, and plastered a false smile on her face.

"Nothing, dear."

But her sister gave her a contemplative gaze.

"You hate it here, don't you?"

Mabel tried to stifle a sigh as she observed her sister. Leona was the picture of demure innocence with her angelic face, pale blonde hair, and warm brown eyes. She was dressed in a lace-trimmed pale blush-colored gown as she glided along the banks of the Serpentine. She was gentle and kind, with an open heart for nearly every creature under the sun, and was just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

And Mabel was her opposite in every way.

With raven hair, blue eyes, and a penchant for trouble, Mabel had had a troublesome youth that had spilled into her adulthood. Today, she had dressed in a cardinal-colored Redingote-style gown, a fashion in strict contrast to her sister's.

"I do not hate it here," Mabel lied, dipping her lace parasol down as another herd of gawkers stared as they walked by. "I only find it… a bit trite."

"You're lying. I can tell. Oh Mabel, I wish you would give this city a proper chance."

"Well, I'm trying, but it's difficult," she said honestly. "And how can you tell when I'm lying?"

"You always tilt your head as your brow lifts, like this." Leona made a ridiculous, exaggerated face, causing Mabel to laugh. Leona's face melted back to its usual smile. "It's true."

"Goodness, I hope I don't actually look like that."

"Only when you lie."

"Which is rarely."

One of Leona's pale brows lifted to show her doubts, but Mabel had been sincere—after all, each sister had their own definition of lying. Leona, who had always seemingly had more in common with the saints than other children, believed anything untruthful was a lie. Mabel, on the contrary, would contest that lying was more complicated to define.

"It's just that, I've never seen so many people stare so openly before," Mabel said. "There seems to be no shame in it."

"Yes, but," Leona began. "You know why they are staring, don't you?"

Oh, it was apparent, but Mabel hadn't expected that her divorce status would cause such a stir. While it had incensed certain circles back in Philadelphia, where her notoriety had all but put her poor father into an early grave, she hadn't believed that her reputation would be viewed as such a provocation here.

Why should anyone here care about her divorce? She was no one to these people, particularly to the members of the ton. Yet since arriving at the Earl of Trembley's home two weeks earlier, there had already been two articles written about her divorce in the gossip pages. And they hadn't been particularly flattering.

"Of course, it's obvious, but I can hardly change who I am," she said nonchalantly, ignoring the ache in her heart at the thought that she was the cause of her sister's disappointment—that her sister had not received the welcome she deserved from society because of notoriety by association.

Mabel had come to terms with her demoted position in societal circles, but it bothered her that Leona had to suffer because of it. It would have been easier for Leona if she had stayed in Philadelphia, thousands of miles away from the peerage and their judgment. Mabel had experienced enough lords and ladies to last her and her sister several lifetimes. It would have been easier if Leona had just married a nice merchant from Philadelphia and kept an ocean between her and the aristocracies of Europe.

But that hadn't happened. Leona had fallen in love with an earl's brother and ignored all of Mabel's warnings. She had tried to explain that these people were not the simple, well-to-do merchants that filled their social ranks back home. They were different. Inherently different. They were part of a class that didn't exist in America, and they would forever make sure that Leona knew she was incomparable to them, just as Mabel's in-laws had done. If Leona had any self-preservation, she would have rebuffed Alfred's advances, turned her back on his offer of marriage, and run as far away from him as possible.

Only she hadn't, and now they were being subjected to the scathing glares of strangers who knew little more than what the papers told them.

As if hearing Mabel's thoughts, Leona gently bumped her shoulder into her sister's.

"You will stay, won't you? I don't think I could go through with it all. Not alone."

"My dear, I would not have crossed the Atlantic again if I didn't intend to stay for some time." Mabel shivered at the memory of their passage. "You know how I feel about water."

"But you were always such a marvelous swimmer when we were children. Do you remember?"

"Yes, but you're forgetting that I nearly drowned that one time."

"Oh, I remember," Leona said with a frown. "The moment I realized you were in danger was terrible. I froze completely. It was like when we used to play outside in the winter as children and the snow would get underneath the collar of our dresses and slide down our backs."

"I hated when that used to happen," Mabel said with a shudder.

"When you went under the water, I thought you were lost, but you insisted—"

"Yes, and see what it has gotten me? A fear of water," she said.

Leona shrugged.

"You know, Alfred nearly drowned once. When he was at school. His brothers saved him, thankfully, but he does not fear the water."

"How fortunate for him," Mabel answered.

After a stilted moment, Leona leaned into her sister, lightly bumping her arm against hers again.

"You will not abandon me here, will you, Mabel?"

What she wanted to do was grab her sister's hand and force her back home with her. The dread she felt at the thought of her sister becoming part of this society was just as Leona described it, like a chunk of snow was sliding down her back. But she couldn't do anything about it. Not when Leona had made up her mind. So, instead, she gave her sister something between a smile and a grimace.

"Of course, I won't."

If her sister had paid attention to Mabel's marriage, she would have known there was no reason to wed anyone, particularly when she was so young. They were well-to-do ladies after all, and even if they weren't of the first society in Philadelphia, they were wealthy enough not to settle. They certainly didn't need to marry anyone, especially people overseas.

But Mabel had done the same thing, hadn't she? Three years earlier, she had believed herself desperately in love and had been eager to become a comtesse. How foolish she had been back then.

"I do so like Alfred's family," Leona said as she scanned ahead, lifting her head up so that the sun could shine on her face. "His brother Fredrick is an amusing fellow."

"He is. I quite like his fiancée, the lady Violet. I'm surprise they were open to the idea of a double wedding."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, it just seems something that wouldn't be done here. Particularly as members of the aristocracy."

"Yes, but they don't seem nearly as frightening as you made them out to be," Leona said smartly. "Not all members of the ton are cold, miserable people."

"No, just the family I married into," Mabel said darkly.

"Come, let's not think about that," Leona said. "How do you like the countess? She is a delightful person, isn't she?"

Mabel smirked despite herself. She did genuinely like the matriarch of the Trembley family and the way she seemed to rule over her sons despite being half the size of them. But "delightful" was not the word she would use to describe the dowager Countess of Trembley. Despite her charms, including her deep affection for her sons, she was also known to be capricious, wavering back and forth between being irritated with her boys and doting on them. Mabel believed she was rather fierce, as mothers of multiple boys must be, but she was too much of a lady to let her guests see.

"I quite like the countess, though she is rather surprising," Mabel confessed. "I had imagined a sour, dour woman. One who couldn't see past her own upturned nose."

"Oh, Mabel, you've nothing but contempt for members of the ton."

"And why shouldn't I?" she asked, one brow lifting. "England, France, Germany. It doesn't matter. All these European peers are the same. They loathe Americans."

"Did the comte's family…" Leona began but shook her head. "Never mind."

Mabel knew that her sister was curious about her former marriage, and Mabel rarely spoke in detail about it. Today, however, she was feeling generous.

"You may ask me," Mabel said.

"Did the comte's family treat you poorly when you first arrived?"

The Comte de Retha, Pascal Anouilh, had been a passionate man who had come into her life like a zephyr. Mabel had quickly fallen for his charms, and when he confessed his love for her, she had been overjoyed to accept his proposal, eager to have him sweep her away to his castle in the north of France. She had believed him when he told her that they would be happy there, for why wouldn't she have? But all too soon she had realized what a mistake she had made.

"The comte's family never got the chance," she said with a slight bitterness.

"Why is that?"

Mabel sighed, gazing out over the sparkling water as they came to a halt. A pair of swans were moving gracefully over the top of the water.

"Because they refused to meet with me," she said, remembering her first days in France.

"But why?"

"I was not to their liking, I suppose."

Leona frowned.

"Why, that's ridiculous. You're one of the finest ladies I've ever known."

Mabel smirked.

"You, my dear, are too flattering."

"I'm not flattering, I'm telling the truth."

"Well, thank you."

"Was he…" Leona began, but seemed unable to finish.

Mabel didn't wish to divulge too much to Leona. There was no need to taint her innocence by telling her that Pascal had turned out to be a cruel, brutal man who took pleasure in Mabel's misery.

At first, she had tried to be accommodating. To please her husband as best she could, even once she realized that their relationship had been based on lies. But Mabel hadn't been raised to quit. She had believed that the love she genuinely had for Pascal would be enough. Eventually, he would see that his choice of bride had been a good one, and he would come to care for her.

But it had all fallen apart within a year.

When she returned home and pursued a divorce, everyone had been shocked, and Mabel had faced her share of censure in the past two years. But in all honesty, the past two years had been some of the best of Mabel's life. She had spent nearly every day with Leona, safe under the protection of her father and their wealth.

"We needn't talk about the comte. This is your time, my dear. Let us talk about the Trembleys."

"Well, we've talked about all of them, except the earl."

Mabel misstepped at the mention of the earl before she regained her footing.

"Yes, well, the earl. He is another matter entirely."

Leona glanced at her sister, the crease between her brows deep.

"Is he? I thought he was amiable enough."

"There's something about him I don't quite like," Mabel said, frowning.

"Oh, don't say that," Leona said quickly, glancing over her shoulder to make sure they weren't overheard by their escort. "The earl is perfectly likable."

But Mabel wasn't convinced. Upon first meeting Derek, Earl of Trembley, he had misused her title and refused to call her by her proper, divorced name. It had irked her, not only because she wasn't happy being reminded of her former title, but because he had blatantly ignored her request. This discourtesy gave her a bad taste for the Earl of Trembley and made her struggle to see any good in him.

The only thing she could say in his defense was that he didn't look like a disagreeable man. With his dark, rust-colored hair and hooded brown eyes that had flecks of amber in them, the earl was a man of smooth features. He was not eye-catchingly handsome, yet the longer one observed him, the more beguiling he became. His mouth, for instance, had seemed as simple as any at first glance. But when he spoke, haughtily as was his nature, Mabel longed to hold her fingers to his lips and silence him. The sharp shape of his jaw, meanwhile, was such a defined line that his cheeks appeared indented. It unnerved Mabel to have such a ridiculous desire to run her fingertips against his skin.

She shivered. What a silly thing to want to do, especially to a man she found so conceited. No, it was not wise to think about the earl like that. Not at all.

"There's something unlikable about him."

"Unlikable? I think that's an unfair description. The earl is quite agreeable. He's so, well, dignified and distinguished," Leona said as she lifted her chin and set her shoulders back, mimicking the earl's rigid posture in an almost comical way. Mabel smirked. "You must admit, he's rather impressive."

Mabel would admit no such thing as she harrumphed. From the first moment they were introduced, Mabel could name a dozen things that she found lacking in him. But while she did not like him, she could not help but be intrigued by certain cracks she had noticed in his polished demeanor. The earl wasn't as perfectly flawless as he would have everyone believe. Most notably, there seemed to be a slight, almost undetectable shake to his hands at times. They seemed to quiver whenever he grew agitated, which was usually whenever Mabel was nearby. Upon realizing that she had noticed, he placed them behind his back immediately, but she found her eyes drawn to them all the same every time they were in a room together.

"There's an arrogance about him," she said a little too loudly, almost as if she were trying to convince herself. Leona gave her a confused look and Mabel regulated her voice. "I mean to say he's vain. And the way he breathes, I find distasteful."

"The way he breathes?" Leona repeated, somewhat amused. "I didn't notice anything about his breathing."

"Come, tell me more about Alfred," she said purposefully. "He's occupied so much of your time since we arrived. I rarely see you during the day, except for during our morning walks."

Leona smiled shyly as a pretty pink touched her cheeks.

"He is kind, and considerate, isn't he?" She beamed as they continued to walk. "Just yesterday, he asked what my favorite dishes were, to list them from one to twenty."

"Twenty? Can someone have so many favorites?"

"I do not know, but he said he should want only my favorite things made every day for the rest of our lives, so that I never have to suffer any displeasure."

Mabel tried desperately not to roll her eyes.

"My, it does sound as though you two are quite taken with one another."

"We are more than taken with each other, Mabel. We are in love."

Love . What a juvenile pursuit. Indeed, love happened only in fables and stories. It did not exist in the real world. Mabel had made her own attempt at it and had found that only heartbreak and pain as her reward for trusting someone so completely. Really, the only thing she could ever hope for now was someone to rely on, but even that seemed too far outside her grasp.

Mabel didn't wish to break Leona's heart with the truth however, and so she only nodded.

"Well, it sounds like it," she said reassuringly, rotating around to see the footman. "I wonder if we should return to our carriage? I'd hate to keep poor George out all morning."

The footman was close behind Mabel and Leona. He appeared as serious as any man could, which made Mabel want to laugh. Her maid, Juliette, had been at odds with the footman since their arrival.

"I'm sure he doesn't mind. Besides, the earl was most considerate to afford us an escort."

Mabel didn't think the earl had been considerate at all. She knew the footman was only there to ensure they didn't embarrass the Trembley name, and she found it most irritating to be followed.

"Yes, most considerate," she mused quietly.

"See? And the housekeeper, Mrs. Bramble, has grown accustomed to our daily walks," Leona said pragmatically as she glanced over her shoulder. "Besides, I would hate to stop simply because we are thousands of miles from home. I do enjoy them so."

Mabel grinned at her sister.

"So do I. And believe me dear, regardless of where we end up, we shall always make an effort to attend to our morning walks together."