Prologue

March 30, 1818

Dear Lexi,

It grieves me deeply to learn of your family's recent misfortunes and how society has cast you aside. Do not despair nor lose hope, for you will not be blamed for such circumstances. Remember that your dear sister, too, faced her tribulations and may have succumbed to the allure of the prince's charm in her times of sorrow as many others of his mistresses have.

Malicious whispers, though they wound us grievously, often fade with time. I implore you, do not act in haste or desperation. I have heard of a certain Mrs. Dove-Lyon, a notorious matchmaker, who helps people find love when they have given up on long since. But her establishment is of questionable repute.

Some know her as the Black Widow of Whitehall. I don't have her contact information, but she is the patroness of the Lyon's Den, a gambling hall in Cleveland Row, supposedly a blue building with white trim. If you visit her, I implore you to exercise caution lest you unwittingly invite further calamity into your life.

Your self-respect is of far greater import than the fickle opinions of society, and to abandon hope of a love match may cause this most precious virtue to falter. Consider a visit to Mrs. Dove-Lyon but carefully, please. And remember, my dear friend, you are ever deserving of happiness and love.

Yours most affectionately,

Ashley Sinclair, future Countess of Langley

Fort Balmore, Elysian Fields, England