Chapter 1

CHAPTER

a

1

T heodora Cronenworth, called Theo by her family, strolled down the London street toward her home. She'd just attended the latest rally of the Matron's Brigade, and she was lost in thought, struggling to deduce why she was still a member.

The group claimed to have begun a crusade against the dandies and vixens of the demimonde. The city had become a den of iniquity and they were determined to clean it up. Illicit conduct was rampant, and from the most toplofty aristocrat to the lowliest opera dancer, people were openly wallowing in sin and vice.

There seemed to be no limit to their depravities and civic leaders ignored what was happening. In fact, many of them were the worst offenders. So the Brigade had been formed.

The ladies had shrouded themselves in the mantle of moral indignation, and their purported goal was to root out decadence, but from Theo's perspective, they simply argued amongst themselves over which direction to take. They also liked to point fingers as to who was sufficiently devoted to the cause and who wasn't.

When they finally chose a target, it was a female who had no power or rich friends to protect her. The Brigade liked to punch down at those who couldn't fight back and their focus enraged Theo.

In her view, if a woman was lured into wickedness, it was always the fault of a corrupt man. She constantly suggested they shame some of the scoundrels who instigated so much of the trouble, but the group wouldn't hear of it. She'd flat-out been apprised that they didn't dare harass any important males, and their cowardice infuriated her. None of their motives were true and they were a gaggle of hypocrites.

Her stepmother, Georgina, had encouraged her to join. Theo was clever with words, and she'd been tasked with writing pamphlets that would spread their message, but any message she penned was watered down to irrelevance.

Though she never discussed it, her own family had been destroyed by a cad when she was a little girl. Her mother had run away with him and vanished forever. Theo had never learned his name or any other information about him, but he'd never been held to account for his mischief.

Shouldn't he have been? Could any prominent gentleman ever be forced to answer for his dissolution? Shouldn't women demand better behavior from them?

Well, if the tepid antics of the Matron's Brigade were any indication, no changes would ever occur.

She shoved the issue out of her mind. It was a beautiful May afternoon, the sky clear, the temperature balmy, and it was silly to waste any energy fretting about the situation. She wasn't the Brigade's prisoner and she didn't have to continue to participate.

She was walking slowly, enjoying the sights and sounds of the busy area. She was alone, without a maid or chaperone. She tried her best to act properly, but with her just turning twenty-four, she chafed at the restrictions imposed on her due to her gender. She wasn't frail or stupid. Why carry on as if she was?

She could walk down a public street without encountering any difficulties, and she could get where she was going all by herself. She detested the frivolous rules that were meant to guide her, and more and more, she found herself embracing inappropriate habits. Her petty rebellions were futile and trivial, and they exasperated Georgina, but Theo relished her minor mutinies and wasn't about to stop.

Why should a female be treated like a wilting flower who couldn't take care of herself? Why should she be considered inferior to a male? Why should she be denied an education? Why shouldn't she be allowed to vote? Why shouldn't she be allowed to live on her own, handle her own affairs, or spend her own money without having to seek a man's permission first?

Her novel ideas incensed Georgina, and her stepmother repeatedly complained that Theo was too obstinate. Everyone agreed that it was wrong for a woman to remain single, that she should shackle herself, so she'd have a husband who was in charge. Georgina insisted that was Theo's problem: She needed a spouse who could make her obey.

So far, Theo had avoided matrimony. In most instances, she deemed men to be idiots and fools, and she couldn't imagine having one of them lord himself over her, but Georgina had pushed her into a betrothal with her son, Arthur, who was Theo's stepbrother. Initially, Theo had rebuffed the preposterous notion, but gradually, she'd wondered what sort of future she'd have if she didn't marry him.

It wasn't as if she had a hundred suitors lined up and begging her to wed. She might have once been a grand catch for some lucky fellow, but after her father had died, her prospects had tumbled. She didn't have any assets to offer to a beau, and Arthur was willing.

For all of Theo's braggadocio and modern thoughts, the sad fact was that marriage was a woman's sole option. If she didn't wed, she was viewed as odd and eccentric and her chance of having a satisfying life was very slim. Plus, a woman was supposed to have children; it was her God-given duty, so how could Theo be content as a spinster?

After significant nagging by Georgina, Theo and Arthur had gotten engaged, but mostly, they'd done it to silence her. They'd entered into the arrangement as if they were conspirators, and with Arthur being thirty and a London dandy, he was in no hurry to be a husband. He liked being a bachelor too much.

She was in no hurry either, but she was definitely betrothed, and she had a ring on her finger to prove it. They had never picked a date for the wedding though, and occasionally, Georgina would inquire as to whether they should start planning it, but Arthur would change the subject.

Theo's decision had infuriated her sister, Charlotte, and it had driven a wedge between them that Theo couldn't mend. Charlotte loathed Georgina and Arthur so intensely that she'd embarrassed them by accepting a job as a teacher at a boarding school. She refused to understand Theo's position, but she knew how relentless Georgina could be. She knew too how hard Theo tried to keep peace in the family, how she succumbed to pressure rather than quarrel.

Theo and Charlotte had been raised in a house filled with conflict, and Theo's great wish was to never stir trouble. Despite how she envisioned herself as being tough and resilient, there was a distinct probability that she was a complete milksop.

She'd convinced herself that it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing to marry Arthur. A woman's lot was always precarious and she had to look at the bigger picture. What if Arthur and Georgina died? What if she had to manage on her own?

It was frustrating to admit it, but Charlotte was much braver than Theo. She was more determined and resolute. She was passionate about her beliefs and she stuck to them. Theo, on the other hand, was prone to sway with the wind and bend in the easiest direction.

Perhaps it was her advanced age, but the issue of security was frequently vexing her. It was a weight she carried from when their mother had run away. One day, they'd had a mother, and the next, she'd vanished with a paramour.

Their father had hunted for her, then had eventually announced that she'd been sick and had perished in France. He'd proclaimed her a harlot and betrayer, and he'd ordered them to never think about her, to never talk about her. Then he'd married Georgina, a widow who'd been wed to one of their cousins. With no warning, Georgina and Arthur had become part of the family.

That type of bewildering circumstance left a searing impression. Charlotte's response to it was to act as if she hadn't been affected in the slightest. Theo's was to brace for the worst, to peer around corners and down the road, in case disaster might be approaching.

Up ahead, she could see their town house. It was a fine residence, in a row of connected houses that were three stories high, with shutters and flowerboxes under the windows. Each door faced the street, which was convenient when it was raining and it was a simple matter to climb into a carriage. They were situated in a posh section of the city and their neighbors were wealthy men involved in government or business. There were some second and third sons of the nobility too, with everyone possessing a fancy pedigree.

She should have been pleased that they could count themselves among the toplofty members of Society, but she'd grown up in the country, at their estate of Peachtree Haven, and she'd never considered herself to be a Londoner.

In prior centuries, her male kin had earned their fortunes as soldiers, then they'd parlayed them into shipping and imports, so her father had been rich. But he'd been deceased since she was fifteen and Arthur had taken over their company of HH Imports.

Four years previous, when Theo had been twenty, he'd declared that they were selling Peachtree to another cousin and moving to London. Theo and Charlotte had fought with him about it, but he wouldn't relent, and it had been the final straw for Charlotte. Her sister had departed and never returned, while Theo struggled to settle in town, but had never quite fit.

As she strolled down the block, she noticed that the door on the house across the street was propped open. A few months earlier, their elderly neighbor had passed away and it had been sold. A team of carpenters and masons had been remodeling it, but they had no information about the new owner. She was oddly obsessed with the unknown person and she often pondered who it might ultimately be.

She'd let a fantasy arise, where it might be a perfect friend. Why couldn't it be?

It had been difficult to make friends in the city. Most women her age were already married with a half-dozen children. She had nothing in common with them, and they were too overwhelmed by maternal chores to participate in the hobbies Theo enjoyed: writing, painting, loafing in lending libraries, and shopping in bookstores.

She was lonely, and with her own life so gloomy and unsatisfying, it was easier to fixate on the lives of others.

The carpenter's foreman was a chatty fellow, and on several occasions, he'd invited her inside to assess their progress. In the front parlor, there were still bricks and boards stacked in piles, but the project was almost finished, with the new occupant about to arrive, so she wouldn't be able to snoop much longer.

She went over and peeked in, and she called to the men, but the place seemed to be empty. She could hear murmuring out in the rear garden though, so maybe they were taking a break.

On her last visit, they'd been preparing to add a stained-glass window on the staircase landing, and she wondered if they had. She wasn't normally brazen, but she'd meticulously followed the modifications and felt as if she had a stake in the outcome. She tiptoed up the stairs, and to her delight, the glass had been installed.

It was a beautiful piece of art: a Madonna seated on a bench in a rose arbor. With the afternoon sun shining on it, the entire area was dabbled in warm shades of crimson. She studied the details, then headed down to the foyer. She still hadn't crossed paths with any of the workers, and she'd have liked to speak to the foreman so she could have gushed about the window, but he was nowhere to be found.

She would have exited but, behind her, she heard murmuring again. Thinking it would be the men, she walked over to a nearby parlor and looked in.

To her stunned surprise, it wasn't the carpenters or masons. A man and woman were standing there and they were engaged in a very torrid kiss. Their arms were wrapped around each other, their torsos pressed tight, their hands roaming. For a brief moment, she was frozen in her spot and she spied on them when she shouldn't have.

She'd been raised in a world where people never displayed their emotions, and they certainly never exhibited physical passion. She tried to recollect if she'd ever previously seen a couple kissing and she didn't believe she ever had. The sight left her excited in a manner she didn't comprehend.

She knew more than she should about marital conduct. When she'd been an adolescent, Georgina had employed a lusty housemaid who'd provided plenty of ribald stories, but Georgina had fired her prior to her telling Theo everything she'd been dying to learn.

This was carnal behavior of the most illicit sort. It had to be the kind of activity Arthur would expect from her as his bride, and she attempted to picture herself locked in a fervent embrace with him, but she couldn't imagine it. Clearly, she hadn't sufficiently contemplated the ramifications of matrimony.

The man was incredibly handsome: tall, blond, muscular, magnetic. The woman was gorgeous too: statuesque and voluptuous, with striking auburn hair.

They were wearing expensive clothes, expensive jewelry, and evidently, she'd stumbled on her new neighbors. From how zealously they were carrying on, she supposed they had to be newlyweds. She was agog, but also terrified they would glance over at her before she could tiptoe away. It would be humiliating to have this be her first encounter with them. She'd never live it down.

She'd meant to furtively escape, being anxious to dash away, but to her dismay, they came up for air.

"You are a randy dog, Jackson Bennett," the woman said, her voice low and sultry, as if they were sharing secrets.

"You've always known that about me," he replied. His voice was a soothing baritone that tickled Theo's innards.

The woman shifted and, suddenly, she was staring right at Theo. She was very bold and didn't seem to mind that they'd been putting on a show for a stranger. She didn't leap away from him, didn't blush or stammer with excuses.

She simply snickered and said, "Look, Jackson. We have an audience. Or shall we call her a Peeping Tom?"

The man stared over too, and he had the most glorious blue eyes Theo had ever observed on a human being.

"May I help you?" he casually asked her.

His question yanked Theo out of her stupor. "No, no, I don't need any help. I just popped in to…ah…see the stained-glass window on the stairs."

He chuckled. "What is your opinion of it? Was it worth the money?"

"It's lovely," Theo mumbled like an idiot.

The ardent pair hadn't stepped apart and it was obvious they were waiting for her to leave.

"Will there be anything else?" he demanded quite imperiously.

"No, and I most humbly beg your pardon. I have no idea what I'm doing in here."

The woman snidely said, "We're tired of you. You can go now."

Theo couldn't abide such a snotty attitude, and usually, she'd have offered a snotty comment in response, but she was too mortified.

For reasons she couldn't have explained, she curtsied to the man, as if he was an exalted person who deserved that type of deference. He exuded a power and authority that made her eager to bow down.

"I'm sorry I interrupted," Theo told him. "I will be ashamed forever and I hope you can forgive me."

She spun and fled and, behind her, the woman tittered and said, "What an odd little pest."

"You didn't have to be so rude to her," he said.

If the woman retorted, Theo was running too fast to hear.

She raced through the courtyard that separated the two rows of houses, and she flitted into her own house and shut the door. She prayed they hadn't peeked out to see where she went, for then, they'd be aware that she lived directly across the street.

If they were the new neighbors—and they had to be—she might never be able to go outside again. The notion of bumping into them in the future was nauseating, and she marched up to her room, so she could hide and let her heated cheeks cool.