Chapter 1

The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes

London

May 5, 1820

The warm, walnut-paneled library of Lady Hamilton’s townhouse should’ve been comforting. Flickering candles illuminated the chamber just enough to see, while still allowing a lady to conceal herself if necessary—as it was absolutely necessary at this particular moment for Miss Amelia Burrowes. Soft leather cushions on the chairs and chaise invited one to sit and relax, while the red and tan Turkey carpet added a richness that soothed the senses. Altogether, the room exuded a calmness and security Amelia dearly needed in her life. Unfortunately, it couldn’t dispel her growing dread.

Outside the closed door, people laughed loudly, making her jump. Heart racing, she listened keenly for one distinctive voice, her fingernails sinking into the arms of the chair until the expensive upholstery creaked, in danger of permanent harm. She tried to relax her grip but couldn’t stop herself. Without a doubt, Mr. Burke would find her no matter where she hid.

When Mama had first hinted that the family was once again attempting to find a husband for her, Amelia had smiled and tried to look hopeful. Her pretended interest and cooperation had pleased her mother every time the subject had sporadically come up over the past ten years. Each attempt had, however, come to nothing. Amelia’s reputation had sustained irreparable damage in her come out Season when her betrothed, Jonathan, Lord Carrington, had died. Over the years, she’d come to accept her fate as a spinster. Embrace it, even. If she couldn’t have the gentleman she’d truly loved, what was the point of marriage, after all? That had been her stance throughout the years.

Until now.

Next year, her two younger sisters, Caroline and Margaret, were supposed to make their come out. They could only do that if someone sponsored them, and Mama was determined that someone would. After all, Amelia’s reputation could still be repaired by a good marriage. And once Amelia was accepted back into society, her younger sisters would most likely be invited to fashionable events and hopefully catch husbands of their own.

To make certain that happened, Mama had begun a campaign, carried out with military precision, to find a husband for her. It counted little what the man was like, and not at all how Amelia felt about him. Only his willingness to ally himself with a woman who’d acted scandalously mattered in the least.

At last, through a variety of friends and acquaintances, Papa had discovered just such a man—a Mr. Lawrence Burke of Chesterfield in Derbyshire—who was amenable to the idea of marrying her. They would meet in London at the beginning of the Season and, if they thought they might suit, proceed with the settlement of her very large dowry.

From the moment Mama had explained the plan, Amelia had had grave doubts about her re-introduction to Society, especially when told where it would take place. Lady Hamilton, the aunt after whom she’d been named, had agreed, albeit reluctantly, for Amelia to attend her ball, which opened the Season each year. Amelia hadn’t been out in Society for almost ten years. She’d been to several local affairs in Benington during that time—well after the scandal had died down, of course—but hadn’t set foot in London since her betrothed’s death.

To do so now seemed to be tempting fate, but Mama was adamant. Amelia must repair her reputation as much as possible. She must be seen, but only with Mr. Burke, and must under no circumstances dance or flaunt herself. She was not to ride alone with Mr. Burke in any kind of conveyance but could walk beside him in the park for half an hour only. Circumspection was paramount, Mama had said, until after the wedding.

Despite her mother’s confidence, Amelia had doubted this scheme would work from its very inception. The ladies of the ton had notoriously long memories, especially where scandal was concerned. All Amelia would have to do was show her face, and tongues would wag once more. Oh, but she did hate being infamous. It had taken almost a decade for her to be able to walk down the street at home without having people stop and point and whisper. Why must they tempt Fate now? But of course, she knew the answer to that—her sisters. And because she was the one who’d put the family beyond the pale, she was the one who must make the sacrifice and marry the man from whom she was now actively hiding. The man who was supposed to be her salvation.

Earlier in the evening, after dinner, Papa had introduced her to Mr. Burke, who’d seemed rather nice on first acquaintance. A gentleman of one and thirty, not overly tall, with curly brown hair and eyes a shade darker, a full-lipped mouth, and a not-so-prominent chin, Mr. Burke could not be called unhandsome. He’d greeted her pleasantly, talked of generally approved topics—like the weather and boating, of which he seemed extraordinarily fond—then asked to escort her around the room. Their conversation had continued in that general vein until they reached the far end of the room, where no one could hear their lowered remarks.

“I must say, Miss Burrowes, your father’s letter putting forward his desire for our nuptials took me by surprise, but not nearly as much as the amount he’s proposed for your dowry.” He’d smiled, revealing white, predatory teeth. “Much more than my uncle had given me to believe. I understand it is imperative for you to marry.” His eyes darkened, and Amelia repressed a shudder at the hunger in them. “I believe I shall enjoy making the match very much.”

A sickening drop in her stomach made her steps falter. Every gentleman who’d been interested in marrying her over the years had expressed similar sentiments. Luckily, none of the other attempts had borne fruit, for the thought of actually marrying those suitors had, by and large, given her the jim-jams. They would have had no affection for her whatsoever, simply lust for her body and her father’s bank account. Of course, those would be the only reasons a gentleman would desire to marry a fallen woman, but it hurt to think her husband must be one so mercenary.

This time, however, something in Mr. Burke’s demeanor had so incensed her that she’d made some slight excuse to be taken back to her mother. Mama had not been pleased, but Amelia didn’t care. If not for the dire consequences for her sisters, she would’ve refused Mr. Burke out of hand and requested to be taken home to Benington immediately. Instead, she’d resorted to hiding. The idea of being seen with the rapacious Burke turned her stomach, although she would have to do so at least once tonight or face Mama’s wrath.

She gazed about the quiet room. Without doubt, Mama would soon send Papa, or one of her brothers who’d turned out tonight, to find her. If it was her youngest brother, Tim, she could possibly wheedle him into remaining with her instead of doing his duty and dragging her back to the ballroom.

Her reverie was broken by the sudden opening of the library door.

“There you are, my dear.”

Discovered, drat it. Again, Amelia tightened her grip on the arms of the chair.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Mr. Burke smiled at her as he entered the library and shut the door. The hollow thud sounded like a death knell. “What are you doing in here? This is hardly the time to try to improve your mind.” He started toward her, his smile turning into a leer. “We might, however, take this opportunity alone to become…better acquainted.”

Amelia bounded out of the chair as though shot from a cannon and somehow managed to land on her feet. Instinctively, she backed toward the fireplace. “I don’t think that is wise, Mr. Burke. Our betrothal is supposed to help repair my reputation. If we are to become better acquainted, it must be done properly, in full view of my parents and Lady Hamilton’s guests.” She must get them out of this place before he did something that would make it impossible for her to refuse his suit, which she now so desperately wished to do.

“Come, come, Miss Burrowes. Or should I say Amelia? Being alone with your intended cannot matter so much in the eyes of the ton .” Pacing slowly toward her, Mr. Burke held out his hand. “In your case, they may well assume we’ve been intimately acquainted as soon as the betrothal is announced.” He leered at her. “Why not make their suspicions correct?”

Completely outraged, Amelia stopped backing away. How dare he assume she would do such a thing? Even if her reputation was soiled, to think she would simply submit to his crude suggestion—and in her hostess’s library of all places—could not be borne. The devil flew into Amelia, and she stalked toward him. “I will not stand here and be so insulted, Mr. Burke. I may not have the sterling reputation of the other young ladies of the ton , but common decency demands that you treat me with some respect.”

To her dismay, her outburst, rather than acting as a deterrent, seemed to inflame his ardor. His eyes widened, and he grinned as he continued toward her. “Ah, you do have spirit. I suspected as much. One does not come by a reputation such as yours without some spark of passion.” He licked his lips. “This arrangement may prove to be a better bargain than I could have hoped for.”

Dear Lord, she needed to get out of this room before he ruined her for once and all. Dodging around the chair, she made a break for the door, but he grabbed her wrist and swung her around to face him.

“What’s your hurry, my dear?” He showed his teeth again, making him look just like the wolf in the Grimm brothers’ story.

“Let me go, sir.” Amelia twisted her wrist, trying to break his hold, but he was strong. She’d likely have a bruise there tomorrow.

“Not without some token of your affection, surely? We must learn to get along amiably, mustn’t we?” Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against him until it seemed every inch of her touched his body. “Much better, don’t you think?”

“I do not, Mr. Burke.” Well, this would teach him. She raised her foot and stamped hard on his. “Ouch.” Her soft kid slippers were no match for his leather dancing pumps. Now the arch of her foot ached.

“A veritable spitfire, aren’t you?” His grin widened. “Let’s see if that all that passion can be redirected.” He darted his head down toward her, seeking her lips.

“No.” Twisting her head from side to side, she tried desperately to avoid his mouth. “Mr. Burke, please. Stop.” She got her hands up between them and gave a mighty push, but the effort had no effect on him whatsoever.

It did, however, distract her from evading his determined efforts to kiss her, and he dropped his mouth onto hers with a triumphant cry.

Amelia’s heart sank. What could she do now? Maybe if she held herself aloof, did not respond at all, he’d think her unfeeling. God knew she didn’t want his kisses, though he was remarkably gentle once he settled into it. Ceasing to struggle, she forced herself to relax, go limp in his arms, show that the kiss meant nothing to her whatsoever.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage him. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, pushing insistently, trying to gain entry. Oh, absolutely not. Once again, she pushed against his chest, digging her palms into his jacket and trying frantically to back away.

The click of the library door opening froze Amelia, posed, unfortunately, like a reluctant nymph being ravished by some errant god.

“Kate? Are you in here?”

The man’s voice spurred her to desperate measures. Of one thing she was certain: she couldn’t afford to be compromised by Mr. Burke. Then she’d be forced to marry him or become even more of an outcast in Society. Praying for strength, she hauled back her hand and thumped him on his ear.

He grunted and released her.

Amelia sprang backward, her hands covering her mouth, scrubbing at her lips. Turning her gaze toward the door, she looked into the startled, gray-eyed gaze of a very tall, very handsome stranger.

The man’s eyebrows had shot straight up, but now returned to normal. His lips drew into a disapproving pucker. “Well, you are certainly not Kate.”