Chapter One

London, April 5, 1818

I n the heart of London, where secrets whispered through the gambling halls and masked intentions danced in shadowed corners, Lexi found herself seated opposite the most formidable matchmaker of the ton. And yet, the stakes had never been higher for her even though she wasn't even holding a single card in her hands.

"Your sister has the prince's ear, but your family will not be redeemed unless she has his heart," Mrs. Dove-Lyon said as Lexi sat on the edge of the settee in her office, a room perched a floor above the bustling gambling den like Mount Olympus, allowing her to reign from above.

She considered the Black Widow's dire words. Oh dear, she was all-knowing indeed, as her reputation predicted, the silent ruler of the ton. Lexi had been warned not to seek her out because the word in town was nobody dared refuse the matches Mrs. Dove-Lyon made. Still, any prospect, no matter how frightful, was more than she currently had. Lexi shifted on the settee, careful to maintain her posture despite the tumult in her stomach. She needed a husband now, for if a distant cousin inherited from her father and she didn't have a titled husband before her sister's inadvertent doom, she could be homeless.

She'd come hoping for a perfect life, and there was no greater expert in manipulating fate than her hostess. Yet Lexi's heart ached with a pain so profound it weighed on her eyelids, making each blink a battle. Sleep had eluded her since…since her sister's story took its dark turn. But today was about her. She was here to script her perfect ending—everything would fall into place, even if the pieces were still up in the air. She'd never accept anything less than perfection; she was a Wentworth, after all.

Lexi always took the initiative. And nobody had ever told her the matches forged at the Lyon's Den were ever less than filled with love. It was worth trying lest she end up as a spinster or, even worse, this season's overlooked nestling and ruined by association with her sister.

And that was not acceptable, for a Wentworth had to be the best. There was no margin of error, no room for failure, and no… ouch!

Lexi set the cup of hot chocolate aside. Her tongue felt the sharp edge of that tooth inside her mouth, though she hoped the hot chocolate wasn't going to make it worse again. "It is true, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and there is no point denying it. Melissa, my twenty-four-year-old widowed sister, has moved to a country estate and is supported by the Prince Regent."

"She's his mistress then. Good for her," she said with astonishingly little affront. Most women around Mother's age were outraged by Melissa's escapades as if being a mistress was a disease for her reputation that would spread from her sister's scandal. Well, it had been. For Lexi, it was a social condition and had had the effect of ruining her life. Lexi wrung her hands and tried not to make eye contact with Mrs. Dove-Lyon for too long, but when she did, there was nothing as scary as she'd imagined from her friend's letter. Although she wore a veil and Lexi couldn't make out her features, she had an air of calmness about her that instantly inspired Lexi's trust. Maybe it was good that Lexi had sought her out after all.

But then why was her hostess so intimidating?

"I see why you've come to me." Mrs. Dove-Lyon bent forward and turned the tray holding a pot with a taller and narrower spout than that for tea and a hole in the lid with a stirrer. On the same tray was a set of two small cups. There wasn't milk and sugar as would be ready for tea. Now Mrs. Dove-Lyon refilled her cup with the creamy, scorching, chocolatey liquid. "So, you wish to wed a title then?"

Lexi had to answer now; it was what she'd come for. "Yes. The perfect match."

"Ah… you are one of those who seek perfection?"

Lexi feigned a self-indulging blink, but her insides bristled against the candidate Mrs. Dove-Lyon had sent. If her family was known for anything among the ton, it was flawlessness, like diamonds of the first water ought to be. Everything in their family was perfection: their lineage, townhouse, and everything around them, from the butler's cravat to the mares in the stables. The Earl of Wentworth, her father, didn't tolerate mediocrity, complacency, or faults. If something was wrong, it had to be fixed or left behind. They weren't flawless, but her parents refused to admit as much. Only the crème of the crop was worthy to be a Wentworth. And a Wentworth deserved the best. The only question that remained was where such perfection in the form of a match could be found in time.

Granted, sometimes they were too perfect and rose higher than they should fly, especially since Prinny took her sister for his pleasure. It was like Icarus, who finally flew so high he melted the wax of his wings when he came too close to the sun. Could Mrs. Dove-Lyon cool the wax of her wings and make sure Lexi could flock with the noblest in the country?

"And how long has it been since you have…" Mrs. Dove-Lyon waved grandly, but Lexi didn't understand. It was too hard to concentrate with the stinging hot chocolate and the jolt of pain from the heat. She'd ached in her mouth for a while and hadn't slept well because the pain in her tooth had been bothering her for days. Lexi couldn't wrap her mind around what Mrs. Dove-Lyon insinuated.

Her hostess raised her eyebrows and tilted her head backward. She must have worn face powder and pomade on her lips because she had more color than Lexi would have expected, given her wrinkled hands; it showed even through the veil. Her silver hair swept elegantly into a chignon, and her eyes held the depth of countless untold stories. In her tailored silk gown, she commanded the room, each wrinkle around her mouth a testament to wisdom gained through years of smiles and sorrows.

"When have you last…"

Lexi gave a faint shake of her head; she didn't understand.

"Dear girl, are you a virgin still?"

"Oh yes, of course." Heat rose to Lexi's cheeks, and she felt like the little pot for hot chocolate stirred on the inside with steam coming out from the rims of the lid.

"And you are only nineteen?"

"Yes, nineteen and ten months."

The older lady eyed her from head to toe. "It is a shame only your sister's actions stand in the way of your happiness. But tell me dear, what would make you happy in a man?"

"I don't know. I suppose I'll know when I see the perfect man."

"Well, you need to know now since you tell me time is of the essence. Girls come here because their mothers want them to find a titled husband. But imagine I presented you with a man with the looks of an ogre; his title wouldn't make you want him." She leaned forward again. "In my experience, even a handsome young man isn't enough if he has nothing to his character but a title. So, tell me, what do you hope for?"

Lexi hadn't considered sharing her wishes before. Nobody had ever asked her, and the only person she confided in, her sister, knew anyway. But she had an inkling of an idea from observing the men she'd met at balls and dinners and even the sons of her mother's friends. Most of what she wanted, however, she'd found in the heroes in the romantic stories she devoured every night before falling asleep. Lexi's favorite was Prince Jai, who had climbed mountains, fought off tigers, and conquered a country to be with Princess Leela. Someone like Prince Jai would be perfect; she'd dreamed of him night after night even though he didn't even have a face yet. Sometimes, she'd even dream of a kiss… But here and now, her cheeks had begun to burn, and it wasn't from the hot chocolate. She thought of Jai and said, "I would be most obliged if he could surprise me with his affections."

"How sweet. You want to be conquered then?"

Lexi wrung her hands and felt the sharp edge of her tooth again with her tongue. That was where the bolt of discomfort had erupted. "I think so, but I have never experienced it, so I don't know."

"I certainly hope so, or you wouldn't be here, dear. A conquest of the heart is part of the rescue of the soul and redemption of ideals. It's a lovely construct, romantic, and my favorite challenge."

"Challenge?" Would the matchmaker find it difficult to find a man for her?

"It's a challenge because you shall both have to be surprised. Otherwise…" Mrs. Dove-Lyon drew spirals in the air with her hands as her voice trailed away. "So, how can you afford my fees?"

"Since my sister's marriage to the late baron, my family's fortune has grown," Lexi said. "I haven't needed to spend my pin money in a long time."

"I understand. So your sister caught the baron's eye, and you essentially disappeared into the shadows."

"Yes."

The widow sipped her chocolate, impervious to the temperature. "Tell me what else you wish for in a husband."

"I truly don't know." Lexi inhaled and surveyed the room for clues, but none came.

"That's not acceptable. You must have some criteria. Should he be old and frail to ensure a short marriage?"

Lexi didn't know how to respond. What a shocking thing to say!

"That idea makes you grimace. Let's see… do you wish him to be tall and muscular?"

Lexi shook her head. "I've never considered that." She had, but it wasn't practical to worry about such things.

"Darling, I know girls talk. They imagine their future husbands and weddings down to the last detail of the flower decorations. When you dreamed of your future, what was it you imagined?"

Lexi considered for a moment. "A kiss," she mumbled. "I've always dreamed of a sweet kiss." At the idea alone, her lips flared, and she swallowed.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon poured herself another cup of the steaming liquid from the little hot chocolate pot into the small cups. "Have some more, it's delicious."

Lexi did as she was told, just as she'd been taught, even though she didn't want any more—just as she didn't want to listen to what she ought to do, should want, and was expected to accomplish. The hot chocolate was just more of the same luxuries of her life, too sweet and potentially scorching. And when the sweet and hot liquid touched the painful bit in her mouth again, she winced. Quickly, she set the delicate little cup with the blue flower painting on the saucer and held it in her lap.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon seemed surprised when she saw that Lexi's cup was still full. "Do you not like hot chocolate? It's the best in town, a recipe with cream and milk and a special ingredient." Mrs. Dove-Lyon gave her a curious look, her head tilted slightly as if she could read Lexi's soul.

"What's that?"

"White sugar."

"Oh," Lexi managed but refused the spoon that Mrs. Dove-Lyon held up. The affected tooth in the back had started to pulsate and wouldn't stop. She lifted her hand to her cheek and couldn't help but emit a soft moan.

"You've got to see a dentist," Mrs. Dove-Lyon stomped on the floor with her cane. "I know the signs!"

Lexi flinched. "How did you know?" She dropped her hand to her lap, mortified to have given signs of any sort.

"You think of a sweet kiss but have a sweet tooth. Or rather, a rotten one. No." The widow shook her head. "I cannot match you if you are in pain."

"I can't be matched because I am in pain?"

"Not like that, no. You are in hardship; I can help with that. But you are in pain because of a tooth, aren't you? And you have to do something about both. I have a plan."

Lexi couldn't lie and her lower lip darted out to a pout before she could stop it. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was not a woman to contradict, and she was right, even though Lexi didn't want to admit it. She needed to do something about the void in her tooth. The one in her heart would come next.

The widow seemed to take stock of Lexi now that she'd focused on her being in pain. She sipped her chocolate and observed, "You look like your own shadow. I suspect your sleeves are not usually this loose. Haven't you eaten well?"

"All month," Lexi mumbled and tongued the sharp little gap between her teeth. It had gotten bigger and when she looked at it in a mirror, blacker.

"Have some water at least." Mrs. Dove-Lyon poured her a glass from a pitcher on the side table. Lexi appreciated the gesture, albeit she willed it for naught. Hot and cold, sweet and sour, crunchy and gooey, everything that could trigger the sharp pain would sting her mouth which would move to her jaw, and finally make her head feel as if it were going to pop.

The Black Widow slid the sparkling crystal glass across the little coffee table, spilling a small amount. Lexi bent forward to reach for it, but then the pain lurched through her head again as if she'd been shot from the inside. The pain hadn't been this intense until now. It had really started to throb and react after she'd sipped at that infernally hot hot chocolate, with its "secret ingredient." Perhaps that and the stress of this situation had made the pain culminate.

Instinctively, her hand came to her cheek and her tongue to the tooth.

"That's it, I'm sending you myself."

With a bang of her cane, Mrs. Dove-Lyon whacked the leg of the settee upon which Lexi was seated. Even this tiny vibration sent another wave of shock through her body.

A tall man, muscular, with a worldly look, opened the door. He bowed to Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

"Puck, get the carriage, please. Take her to 87 Harley Street," Mrs. Dove-Lyon commanded. The man stood in the doorway and arched a brow at Lexi.

"They work miracles of all sorts there. And you need one, dear girl." The older woman gave a knowing look.

The queen of London's underground gambling establishment gave orders as if Lexi's consent weren't required. "And stay with her if she's scared. Don't let her come back with that tooth!"

Lexi inhaled sharply, one hand on her cheek, the other flying to her heart. "Without my tooth?"

Mrs. Dove-Lyon rose, lightly leaning on her cane. "Sweetheart, I know how the world works. Even the best modern doctors cannot cure some ailments that befall us." She rubbed her stomach as if uncomfortable memories lingered within. "When I was a nurse in the war, most injuries resulted in infections. And then, the surgeons chopped off whatever caused the problem." Lexi gasped but Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued as if it were the regular course of business. "It's the same with teeth; they come out when the doctor doesn't know what else to do with them. I saw many a young soldier lose a tooth, many at the same time more often than not. As long as the front is nice and white, you will soon carry on smiling as always."

Lexi's stomach churned. The thought of being reduced to the state of those soldiers, gap-toothed and broken by life's cruelties after standing up for the country with pride, filled her with a creeping dread. Her fingers instinctively brushed against her cheek, feeling the small, sensitive spot where a hole marred one of her back teeth. Panic clawed at her chest—what if she lost it? The slightest imperfection could spell the end of any hope she had left. In a society that valued beauty almost as much as a title, how could she face the world, her prospects dwindling to nothing, if she were no longer perfect?

Lexi swallowed hard. Nothing less than perfection was an option. Nor was it acceptable in her family and in her station. She'd never lost a piece of her body, much less had one surgically removed. She came for the perfect match and not a dentist's appointment.

"I'm not a war hero, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I cannot afford a flaw if I am to make a good match."

"I make the matches, dear girl. All you need to do is to keep your heart open for love."

Lexi's mind swirled with doubt. How could she leave her heart open for love when it had never been part of her criteria for a marriage? Swallowing hard, Lexi steadied herself.

"What if my heart has better judgment than my head?" Lexi's voice was edged with determination, and she chastised herself for speaking out of turn with Mrs. Dove-Lyon, her only hope. "If love is the key to a good match, then I shall guard my heart even more fiercely from the candidate you choose for me."

"You'll see, darling girl. If I send you down a path, you'll find love there."

Lexi arched a brow and tugged at the lace of her dress. How would Mrs. Dove-Lyon bring about such a miracle in matters of the heart?