Chapter 1

 

 

April, 1810

London, England

 

Lady Phoebe Johansen stood at the top of the grand marble staircase and looked down on the throng of people mingling at the Sanderson Ball. There were well over one hundred people in the room. Her stomach clenched and her fingers tightened on the arm of her step-brother, Noah, Marquis Felding. He patted her gloved hand in what she assumed he probably thought was a comforting manner. It wasn’t and Phoebe feared she’d be ill. It would not do to cast up one’s accounts in front of the ton at the first ball of the Season. On the other hand, she would be noticed, and ruin any chances of securing a husband. Perhaps becoming ill had its benefits.

An array of colors swarmed before her eyes. Pastels on the pretty, young debutantes, and bolder colors on the matrons. Phoebe longed to wear a gown of deep, emerald green, but it would be scandalous to do so at the age of twenty while still unmarried. If she ever did marry, that would be one of her first purchases. The problem lay in the if. Noah promised not to force a union with a man who cared only for her dowry. Her mother added that unless Phoebe curbed her reckless nature, Noah may not have a choice.

It wasn’t that she was against the union, and children would be wonderful, it just wasn’t practical. Who would take care of Mother and Phillipa, her youngest sister, once Noah and her other sisters married? Someone needed to remain home and she would not leave the care of her family in the hands of servants. If only Noah and her mother would agree, she could simply enjoy her Season and get on with her life.

Noah squeezed her hand and she looked up at him. “Are you ready?”

She wanted to scream no, and run from the room. “Don’t forget your promise to me.” She wanted that last assurance before she stepped into the lion’s den, that he would not make a contract without her input. She also idly wondered if her father would have given her the same promise, but he died little over a year ago, right before she was originally to make her debut. Also, if her father were still here, her concerns would be more focused on finding the right husband and not so much on her mother’s and sister’s futures.

“Do you promise to heed Victoria’s warning?” He countered as he began to lead her down the stairs.

Noah’s father had married Victoria when Noah was only seven and she insisted Noah call her by her first name because she never wanted him to think she was trying to take the place of his own mother. “Of course,” she snapped. “Besides, what could possibly happen at a ball?”

Noah stopped and turned to her. “Do not make light of anything your mother warned of.”

The urgency and seriousness of his tone took her back. “I promise, I don’t. I’ll try and remember all the rules mother drilled into my head these last weeks.”

“See that you do.” Once again he began to lead her down the stairs. An attractive couple stood at the bottom and watched their approach. As they came closer, Phoebe amended her opinion. The woman wasn’t just attractive, she was beautiful. Her auburn hair and clear blue eyes gave her a striking appearance. The gentleman beside her was tall, his dark hair streaked with grey, though his face was as youthful as Noah’s. As Phoebe was introduced to the Earl and Countess of Meadows, the woman leaned in. “You can call me Janine and this is Martin.” She bestowed a warm friendly smile on Phoebe, her eyes glittered.

The Earl took her hand and bent to kiss it. Janine linked their arms, led Phoebe away from her brother, and began introducing her to the haute monde.

 

* * *

 

Taylor Qualls, Lord Sandlin, stood with a group of friends, waiting for Felding to make an appearance with his reckless sister. When pressed, Felding simply explained that Lady Phoebe was naïve, saw only the best in everyone and that he was afraid she wouldn’t recognize the danger of a situation until it was too late. Felding was probably just overly protective since this was his first of four younger sisters to be presented, all for whom he was responsible.

“They are finally here,” Meadows muttered and pulled his wife away to go greet Lady Phoebe. Taylor looked up the stairs to see his friend and his breath caught. That was Felding’s younger sister? He couldn’t take his eyes away from the dark-haired, porcelain skinned, petite beauty as she made her way down the wide staircase into the ballroom.

Felding led her to Martin and Janine, who waited at the foot of the stairs. At the greeting, Lady Phoebe smiled brightly, warm and welcoming. An unusual expression amongst the ton. Meadows made a grand show of bending with a flourish over Lady Phoebe’s hand before releasing her to his wife.

A smile pulled at Taylor’s mouth as he watched Felding watch his sister. If she were his sister, Taylor wasn’t so sure he would let her roam too far away. Not in a venue full of gentlemen who would first note her beauty and consider her connections and worth later. Felding remained in his spot a moment longer before he and Martin turned in his direction.

“I daresay, Felding, you had best have a drink.” Sir Richard Lavins handed Noah a glass of champagne when he reached their group.

Felding tossed it back, practically swallowed the contents in one gulp before he glanced at their group of friends, Lavins, Dillon Chambers, Marius Parker and Taylor. They had known each other since Eaton and attended Oxford together. There were few secrets between them and Taylor knew Felding counted on these very friends to protect his sister.

“Thank you,” Felding grunted and turned to study the occupants in the room. Taylor followed his line of vision and soon began observing as well. As he anticipated, several men, young and old alike, had taken interest in the new arrival. The young woman in question appeared oblivious to it all, for not once did she show favoritism when introduced or even seem to notice the many pairs of eyes watching her proceed around the perimeter of the ballroom.

“You could have warned us, you know,” Parker offered, barely keeping his chuckle hidden.

“I told you gentlemen may find her attractive,” Felding retorted, not bothering to look at his friends.

“Exactly,” Dillon Chambers agreed. “You just didn’t explain how attractive.”

Felding turned sharp eyes on him. “Exactly what are you saying?”

“Your sister might be one of the loveliest young ladies yet to be presented. I fear your brotherly affection makes it impossible for you to see her for the beauty she is.”

“Am I going to have to worry about you as well as the others?” Felding asked, without any humor.

“Not at all.” Dillon threw up his hands and took a step back. “I have no wish to become leg shackled. I was merely pointing out a fact that you appear to be unaware of.”

Taylor watched the exchange. While Dillon may not wish to be married, it was a requirement for Taylor. He returned his attention to the ladies crowded into the ballroom once again and wondered which one he would make his Countess at the end of the Season. He had no choice in his fate, only who would share it with him.

The orchestra tuned their instruments, prompting the gentlemen to begin their hunt. Taylor lifted a glass off the servant’s tray closest to him and moved to his designated section of the room – the doors leading to the back gardens. At one point in his life Taylor had wished for siblings. Now, after witnessing Noah’s tense stance and clenched jaw, he was rather glad he was an only child. Noah’s usual good humor disappeared in the face of the many gentlemen who asked for an introduction to Lady Phoebe.

A country dance began and a young man led Phoebe to the dance floor. Taylor leaned back against a marble column and checked on the actions of his friends, and noted they had all moved to separate doorways or alcoves as ordered. Each of them had been assigned an area to watch, in the event Lady Phoebe found herself innocently led into a dangerous situation or at least ruinous to her reputation.

Those actions had not gone unnoticed either. Several of the matrons conversed behind fans but Taylor didn’t have to be a mind reader to know the topic of discussion. They either nodded or pointed to Lady Phoebe, Felding or one of their friends, Taylor included. When Lady Pratt looked directly at him, Taylor merely smiled and inclined his head. The biddy’s nose rose in the air and she returned to her gossiping friends.

He still thought this was a bit much. Lady Phoebe was a lovely young debutant and would gain the attention of several gentlemen. Those same gentlemen would honorably pay a call on her at the appropriate time, not try to whisk her away to ruin her. After a few balls he was sure Felding would relax so he and his friends could return to their own entertainments, such as dancing or seeking a wife, and guarding Lady Phoebe would be a slight memory of the Season.

 

* * *

 

Overheated, Phoebe refused another dance and stood with Noah. She had been here for two hours and had never been so hot in her life. Sweat trickled down her back and she wished to lean against the corner of the wall to relieve herself of the itch. The drips would probably not disappear until she was away from these people and this room.

She placed an empty glass on a table against the wall and fished a handkerchief out of her reticule. Very delicately she dabbed the moisture from her upper lip. If it would not ruin her, she would wipe her entire perspiring face. There had to be a way to escape the oppressiveness of this room.

Phoebe clutched the handkerchief, straightened and looked around. People were everywhere. She wasn’t even sure if it was possible to make it to the other side of the ballroom and into the hall, let alone the retiring room. Good thing she did not have that need because if she did, the feat would be near impossible.

Phoebe was about to ask Noah if he had any suggestions and stopped, intrigued for a moment. Across from them a voluptuous, beautiful redhead watched her brother with poorly hidden humor. Phoebe turned and was about to ask who she was, but found her brother in deep conversation with an older couple. Turning the other direction, she realized that Janine and Martin had taken to the dance floor. She shrugged. She would find out later.

In her quest to escape, Phoebe returned to her search, turned to look behind her and sighed. There were lovely doors open with a garden just beyond. It wasn’t that the doors were any lovelier than others, but these special doors offered a heavenly relief. And better yet, there was no one crowding around them. She could stand there or walk out onto the terrace and catch a cooling breeze.

She looked up at Noah to ask him for an escort but he was still involved in a conversation. Phoebe waited a few more moments, tapping the toe of her foot, hoping he would notice, but he never glanced her way. He was completely oblivious. A wet trickle ran down the side of her neck and Phoebe decided she would not remain in this room a moment longer. If Noah was going to ignore her then she would step outside on her own. Besides, what harm could there be in getting a bit of fresh air?