Chapter One

There was something so deliciously primal, mysterious, and curious regarding reading about murder between the pages of a good book.

Or so Mary Tomlinson thought as rain drummed steadily on the window glass while she turned the page of the thrilling, Gothic novel she’d been engrossed in for the past four days. The snap and crackle of a cheerful fire behind a plain wrought iron screen lent a coziness to the drawing room of her brother’s modest townhouse—Number 12 to be precise—and filled the room with much needed warmth. If the temperature dropped any further, the precipitation would soon change to snow, and frankly, it was too early in the season for that.

What would it be like to stumble upon the body of a murder victim? Would she have that sort of personal courage, or would she be one of those women who fainted at the sight of a grisly, bloody wound? There were no answers, but she was glad her life didn’t move toward the criminal element. Though, truth be told, it might be the best fun to investigate a murder and really test the bounds of her intelligence.

Then she uttered a snort of unladylike laughter, for when would she ever be put in such a position as to find herself front and center of a murder investigation? What a silly notion.

She blew out a frustrated breath at the sound of her brother’s voice then righted herself on the low sofa so that she sat in a more proper posture. By the time he came fully into the room, she’d arranged her skirting demurely over her legs with her book resting in her lap. It would seem for the next few minutes, the leisure time of reading would be interrupted. “Where else would I be?”

When William came into her sight line, her niece trailed in his wake. “Ah, there you are.” He possessed blond hair like hers though his had thinned over the years. Since he worked as secretary to the English ambassador to Austria, William Swanson was only home a few months out of every year. His wife had died ten years prior and he didn’t quite trust his daughter’s governesses over the years, so when Mary’s husband had expired four years before, it had been agreed she’d come to live with them. Her days now revolved around seeing that the house was taken care of and keeping an eye on Adelaide when she wasn’t at school. “Mary, love, I need a moment of your time.”

“Oh? How so?” She set aside her book while bouncing her gaze between her brother and Adelaide, her nineteen-year-old niece, who looked as if she would sprint through the room if given a chance to show the excitement she tried so hard to hide.

“You’ll never guess, Aunt Mary. I can scarcely believe it myself!” That same emotion reflected in her blue eyes and lay stamped all over her face.

“Yes, well, calm down, child. Unless my sister agrees, you will not be going.” He held up a card in his hand as he held Mary’s gaze. “It would seem my daughter has been invited to a Christmastide house party in Oxfordshire.”

“What a lovely surprise.” Mary rose from her sofa to take the invitation from her brother. “That should be a wonderful way to spend your time, and good experience I daresay. Who invited you?”

“Belle Bright. She’s the daughter of Viscount Stanwick, and she is my roommate at Mrs. Bainbridge’s School for Young Ladies.”

“Viscount Stanwick, you say?” Not having heard that name in many years, it immediately ripped open a closed doorway to her past she’d thought long forgotten. The strength left her knees, and she was obliged to sit rather quickly on a nearby chair, which disturbed the third nap of the day of her feline, Admiral Nelson.

“Auntie, are you quite well?” Alarm etched through Adelaide’s expression as she and her father exchanged a glance.

“Yes, don’t mind me. The name took me by surprise, is all. I used to know a Francis Bright many years ago.”

The girl nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, he is Belle’s father. The viscount.”

“Ah.” Why would that name resurface now? He had been a mistake on her part, but one she had no regrets over. Deliberately ignoring her history with the man, she finally focused on the invitation in her hand.

Lord and Lady Stanwick, as well as the Honorable Belle Bright, desire the honor of Miss Adelaide Swanson’s presence at Stanwick Hall in South Oxfordshire for a Christmastide house party from 21^st December through 4^th January. Travel is, of course, weather dependent.

“This is quite an honor,” she said slowly as she looked up from the missive that had been written in pretty scrolled handwriting and the paper decorated with gold flecks. Since neither she nor William were of the ton, but William’s wife had been a daughter of a baron, that was enough of a connection to warrant invitations to a handful of society events. Not to premiere balls or meeting anyone within the beau monde high on the instep, but decent outings that could help a young lady plan her future if she were clever and resourceful.

“It is indeed, and seeing as how my social calendar is full through the end of the year, I don’t mind if Adelaide goes.” When the girl stifled a squeal, he held up a hand. “However, since she no longer has a governess, she’ll need a companion to accompany her.”

“Oh, please Aunt Mary!” Adelaide threw herself onto her knees in front of Mary’s chair. She crushed her free hand between hers. “This is the most important invitation I’ve ever been given, and I know I’m still in finishing school, and it’s too early to have my own Come Out, but don’t you think this will be good experience?”

The girlish ramblings and the plea in the young voice coupled with the hope in her niece’s rounded eyes all worked to punch through Mary’s natural tendency to deny going down that particular rabbit hole.

With a sigh, Mary glanced from the card to her niece’s upturned face. “Let me think upon it, for this isn’t something I can answer immediately.”

“All right.” When she realized that Mary wouldn’t be the pushover that her father sometimes was, Adelaide stood. “I’m going to pack just in case.” With a wave to William, the girl ran from the room while Mary slumped in the chair.

“Good heavens.” With her mind spinning, she peered at the invitation again. “I never thought I would have cause to see Francis Bright again. At least not in this lifetime.” She watched in stunned silence as William dropped into a chair that matched hers.

“That was fourteen years ago, and it wasn’t a scandal because no one knew about it.”

When she had been a young woman of twenty, she’d met a reckless, exciting son of a viscount in Hyde Park, who was a good ten years her senior. Her father had been a prominent merchant at the time, and he had connections everywhere. In any event, she’d been out driving with one of her female friends on Rotten Row when Francis Bright lost control of his high perch phaeton. At the last second, he stopped the horse with a few inches to spare before his carriage would have slammed into the one she rode in. While her friend had fainted from fright, Mary had kept a level head and had dressed him down before ever knowing his name.

Apparently, he’d thought it all a lark, and since he was quite arrogant and thinking the world revolved around him, he’d hopped down from his carriage and into hers. Seconds later, he kissed her then released her before crowds of onlookers swelled. As he’d jumped to the ground, he promised her that he would see her again.

She’d countered that he didn’t know who she was, but he’d merely laughed and said if a man wanted something badly enough, the lack of knowledge wouldn’t prove a hinderance.

William’s soft cough jogged her from the memories. “Someone always knows of someone else’s scandals.”

True to his word, Francis Bright had somehow discerned who she was. He issued an invitation to her to a masquerade ball his parents were throwing at the end of the week, promising another meeting just as exciting as their first.

She’d agonized over whether to attend, but in the end—and at her own brother’s urging and reminding her that he would be quite the feather in her cap should she land him—she’d pulled together a quick costume of a Greek goddess and mask. Halfway through the ball, Francis had whisked her from the ballroom and into the shadows of the butler’s pantry. The kisses he’d treated her to—her first kisses from anyone—had completely turned her head.

After that, she passed the best summer of her life, for Francis was determined to conduct a courtship of sorts with her, except all of their meetings were of a clandestine nature. Mary hadn’t realized it at the time, but such a man with that sort of rule wasn’t of a mind to court a woman, but she’d been young, not much older than Adelaide, and his romantic attentions had more than turned her head. She’d fancied him—no, she’d loved him—and would have followed that man anywhere if he’d said the word.

During that time, he saw to it that her name was on the guest lists of a handful of society events where he would meet her and then they’d sneak off to unused rooms or gardens. One night, she gave him the only gift of any value she had. They came together a few times after that, and she’d been all too certain he was the man she would marry. It would make her parents so proud, and then her father wouldn’t need to worry over her future any longer, for as the daughter of a merchant—even one with multiple connections—she’d never be able to land in the ton unless Francis Bright offered for her.

Until one evening when his parents hosted a rout, and she was there. While she stood to one side of the drawing room, impatiently waiting for the designated time when she would meet with Francis in his bedchamber upstairs, he arrived in the room with a beautiful brunette clinging to his arm. Shortly after that, his father called everyone to order and announced the engagement of his son to the darling daughter of a marquess. Her gaze had met his across the room. He’d given her a shrug and that damned charming grin that had made her do scandalous things, but then just as quickly, he dismissed her.

Her whole world had crashed down around her feet that night as she’d had no choice but to clap for him and the lady. When the guests in the room swarmed about them to congratulate the newly engaged pair, she slipped out of the room, but as she’d gained the entryway, the butler had her evening wrap ready and waiting.

“Remember, Miss Swanson, men of the aristocracy find their entertainment cheaply but marry dear. Guess which one you are?” Then he’d escorted her from the house, put her into a hired cab, and sent her on her way with the parting words, “I trust you won’t persist in hanging about now. He’ll be a viscount someday, and he doesn’t need the temptation.”

She jerked and came out of her thoughts when William laid a hand on her arm. Dear lord, the Bright’s butler had been a cad, but then what had she expected? For days afterward, she’d been numb, for it had finally dawned on her that Francis had never been in love with her. He’d only been led by lust. Would he have kept her on as his mistress? If she hadn’t found out about his true plans, would she have let herself become a kept woman?

The sympathy in her brother’s eyes with that slight hint of pity, strengthened her resolve and she straightened her spine. “When you came home from university, you were the only person I told of that wonderful, terrible summer. Not even Mama and Papa knew what I’d done; it would have broken their hearts.”

“They would have understood. Young women go quite mad when they fancy themselves in love with bounders.”

“Perhaps, but Papa had his business to grow, and Mama was struggling with the cancer by then, and we didn’t know it.” He clasped her hand. “Don’t think badly of yourself for one mistake made in the past. It could have been much worse had you fallen pregnant.”

That was certainly true. She had been fortunate in that regard, but then, as evidenced by the barrenness of her marriage a couple of years later, there was obviously something not quite right with her body. “I don’t wish for Adelaide to make the same one.” The thought of being the girl’s companion, or potentially seeing Francis—or rather Lord Stanwick as she should think of him now—had the power to rob her of speech and take some of the starch out of her fight. “While I can only hope he doesn’t remember me after the string of women he must have done the same things to—men like him always do—there is every possibility he will remember, and that would be awkward.”

“It was a long time go, sister dear. Men don’t have that good of a memory.”

Oh, how she wanted to believe him! “I suppose it would break Adelaide’s heart if I tell her I don’t wish to serve as her companion due to one little indiscretion in my youth.”

“If you tell her that, she’ll want to know what you did, and that I won’t allow,” he said with a gentle smile.

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.” She didn’t remember much about the Bright family, for Francis hadn’t shared details about his personal life. That should have been yet another warning to her, but she’d been blinded by infatuation and far too young besides.

“Honestly, I don’t know why my mind is in such a pelter. The viscount is no doubt married. He has his own life now, and I was never to be a legitimate part of that. I have long ago consigned him to the dust of time and memories, and there are no lingering feelings for him.” She shrugged as she held her brother’s gaze. “This will be good for Adelaide.” Had the viscount even had a niggle of remembrance or concern when he’d realized his daughter’s roommate had the same last name as the girl he’d tupped all those years ago?

Relief lined his face. “I’m so glad. She will be in good hands, for you have outgrown your penchant for scandal years ago.”

A sad laugh escaped her throat. “Unfortunately, that is true. I sometimes miss those days.” When she’d sneaked about with Francis Bright, her life had been nothing but thrilling excitement and heady sensations. In a way, she’d enjoyed much more freedom than she now had as a widow, but then, she was far too old to want a return of such a life.

“Don’t be a goose, Mary.” William released her hand. “The life you lead is nothing to sneeze at. Quite frankly, Adelaide and I would fall to pieces if not for your nurturing and bossing.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she once more regarded the invitation still held in her hand. “If all of our personal history were to suddenly vanish, we wouldn’t be the people we are today.” Then she looked at her brother. “Will you arrange transportation? Likely, we’ll need to overnight at a posting inn if the rain continues. Six days until the house party begins sounds like a large swath of time, but it truly is not if we are to prepare correctly.”

William groaned. “Why do I have the feeling this is going to cost me precious coin?”

“Because, dear brother, it will.” With a sigh, she stood and left the invitation on her vacated chair. The viscount was in her past. There was no more cause to give him thought or even think about him. He chose his life; she had hers... more or less. “Adelaide will require a few new gowns, as will I. I have been a widow far too long these past four years. It is time to enjoy life as it is now.”

“Quite a bold statement for a widow,” he teased as he also rose to his feet.

“My darling brother, I am a woman of four and thirty. How much trouble could a woman my age possibly get into while chaperoning her niece at a house party?” It seemed absurd to even think about. “I shall be consigned to the other chaperones, none of us gentry by any stretch, and we will watch from the sidelines as the young people take to the glittering ballroom or fill the time with asinine parlor games and activities in the snow, all in the elaborate dance of finding a mate.”

“Surely it won’t be as dull as all that. You might find that someone asks you to dance. After all, you still have your looks.”

“Oh, you poor, sweet, deluded brother of mine.” She giggled as she retrieved her Gothic novel. “I am not in the market for love and romance. And if all the above fails as entertainment for us unfortunates who are neither servants nor guests, there is always reading.” On her way out of the room, Mary gave him a wink. “Murder in a fictional sense is quite thrilling, and will be my saving grace, I have a feeling when I’ve nearly gone made at listening to Adelaide’s glowing reports on various young men.”

In fact, I should probably make certain I bring a handful of books with me, for being a companion will undoubtedly prove quite a boring stint. Thank the stars William’s library was eclectic, progressive, and covered many topics of interest.