CHAPTER 1

LONDON

April 1867

"What do you mean Artemis has eloped?" Lady Thalia Renier's shocked exclamation reverberated throughout the cavernous drawing room of her father's London townhouse.

Her stepmother, who sat on one of the flower-patterned upholstered sofas, took a sip of her tea with exaggerated nonchalance, as if she had not just announced her daughter's elopement.

"Lower your voice, Thalia. There's no need to make a fuss about it. Your father and I gave this union our blessing. True, I would have preferred a grand wedding, but the important thing is that the marriage goes through."

"No need to make a fuss? Have you and my father both lost your wits?" Thalia's voice increased in volume and pitch the longer this mad conversation continued.

"Well, they were engaged. The announcement has been made and all the contracts signed. Your father is very pleased with the financial arrangements, and everything is in order. Lord Andrew Radcliffe is a great catch."

"My sister has eloped with a never-do-well rake, and you think this is a capital idea?"

Her stepmother actually smirked. "Well, he might be a rake, but as for never-do-well... I daresay he has done very well for himself indeed. Not only is he the brother and heir of the Marquess of Ashford, but he has amassed a tidy fortune for himself. Truly, your sister could not have done better."

"I will find them," Thalia said, storming out of the drawing room. "I will put a stop to this madness."

Her stepmother rushed after her. "You will do no such thing. Nobody forced Artemis to elope. She and Lord Andrew are in love. For once, don't make a fool of yourself."

Thalia faltered for a moment as she yanked on her gloves and received her cloak from the butler. Her stepmother's words stung. Was defending those one loved making a fool of oneself? If it was, so be it. But she couldn't stand by and let her sister ruin her life. Her stepmother cared for nothing but money and status. In her description of Lord Andrew Radcliffe, her sister's fiancé, those were the only two attributes she mentioned. What about character, integrity, loyalty? Did he love her sister? Would he be faithful?

She would go after her sister. She needed to at least try to stop Artemis from making the same disastrous mistakes she had made. Maybe she would catch her in time to prevent this ill-conceived union.

But where to begin the search? Well, Lord Andrew's residence would be a start. Her stepmother had said he was the Marquess of Ashford's brother.

Ashford...the name sounded familiar. Wait! Wasn't that the man society called the Murderous Marquess after his wife died in mysterious circumstances? Good God! Whatever had possessed her father to allow her sister to marry into that family?

One thing was certain. She would get no help from her own family. If she was to save her sister, she would have to do it by herself.

WILLIAM RADCLIFFE, the Marquess of Ashford, didn't know what to expect upon his return to London after five years, but it certainly wasn't to be accosted in his own home, the very morning of his arrival, by a red-haired spitfire.

As he watched from the balcony above the foyer, the whirlwind of a woman barged past his surprised butler.

"Where is Lord Andrew? I need to see him at once!"

Judging by her irate expression, things would not go well for his scapegrace brother if the fiery lady caught him.

"Excuse me, miss?" he called in his most haughty voice. "May I be of assistance?"

Her gaze snapped up, seeking the source of the voice. Their gazes collided, and he felt a surge of satisfaction as her eyes widened for an instant, before she immediately narrowed them in defiance.

"Are you Lord Andrew?"

"Alas, no. Lord Andrew is my younger brother." He descended the wide marble staircase with an easy stride and came to stand before her. "I'm Lord Ashford, at your service," he said, executing a bow. "And who do I have the pleasure of receiving in my home?"

She blanched, and Liam's temper surged at her reaction. No doubt she had heard the rumors and believed him to be a murderer. And yet...she had dared to come here.

"I'm Lady Renier, Lord Ashford," she replied, sketching the briefest of curtsies.

Liam didn't acknowledge her. He would have had her thrown out, except for two circumstances. One, he was looking for Andrew himself, and this woman's reason for seeking his brother might be related to his own. And two; he was, quite simply, enthralled by her beauty.

As a sculptor, he was used to seeing the potential in a block of marble. To see the shape of the sculpture in the raw stone. That talent helped him where she was concerned. She wore a frumpy, unbecoming gown that covered her from neck to toe. Done in a strange shade of brown that clashed with her gorgeous coppery curls, the hideous garment had a ruffle around her shoulders. It fell almost to her waist, obscuring her curves. Yet it couldn't hide the alluring dip and flare of her body from his practiced eye.

The structure of her face was a study of bold beauty. Slashing eyebrows, full of character and fire. Big, luminous eyes of a blue-gray hue that seemed to sparkle with inner light. High cheekbones and a wide, luscious mouth. Those lips provoked him almost beyond reason. He wanted to bite them, then soothe them with his tongue. He wanted to conquer them and then invade the warm, moist cavern of her mouth.

With sudden clarity, the perfect block of creamy marble with the most delicate pink undertone that he had been saving for a worthy piece found its purpose. He now knew why he had impulsively bought the three-ton block of stone, then carried it from Tuscany to London, at great expense and inconvenience. He had carried it to sculpt her.

And for that, he needed to further his acquaintance with this unlikely muse.

"I need to see your brother, my lord," she repeated into the awkward silence.

"I am unaware of his whereabouts myself." A dark thought crossed his mind. Surely this could not be the chit who had ensnared his brother. The notion was disturbing for reasons he didn't care to examine. "Has my brother injured you in some way, my lady?"

"Not me. I don't even know him. But apparently, he compromised my sister and has now eloped with her."

"The devil you say!"

His thunderous exclamation had her flinching, but she squared her shoulders and shoved a paper in front of his face. He took it and scanned the note. The good humor his muse had inspired evaporated as he read the few scribbled lines, presumably from his brother's ‘betrothed' addressed to her family. The note stated she was eloping with Lord Andrew and would return after the wedding. And urged them not to worry. Ha! The shameless jade.

Hell and damnation! Had he traveled all the way from Tuscany for nothing? Was he too late to help extricate his brother from this trap?

"When did they elope?" he snapped.

"This morning, my lord," she replied, lifting her chin proudly. "It is fortunate I returned to Town when I did, as my family doesn't even care enough to pursue them and attempt to stop this travesty."

"Your aim is to stop them?" Well, that was surprising. Her family's attitude was more in line with what he would have expected from scheming relatives.

"Absolutely! I find these goings on most suspicious, as my sister had no intention of marrying anyone. In fact, she was only waiting to reach her majority to receive her inheritance and move in with me. She was a month away from achieving that goal. And yet, during these last few weeks, while I was away in the country, my sister not only met but also got engaged and eloped with your brother. I suspect my stepmother had a hand in this. I won't let her ruin my sister's life as she did with m—"

Her impassioned speech came to a sudden halt as she perhaps realized she was about to reveal too much. Her earnestness was real. His tempting muse could be an ally, for she seemed as determined as he to prevent this disaster of a wedding.

"It seems you and I are of the same mind."

She actually looked him up and down, as if judging and determining they could not possibly agree on anything.

"How so, my lord?"

"You and I both want to stop our siblings from contracting this misbegotten marriage; so I suggest we join forces."

"How do you suggest we go about that?"

"Well, locating the runaway bride and groom would be a good beginning."