Chapter 1

London

August 1812

Grace, Lady de Courtenay grimaced as her hair was pulled yet again. It was hard not to be impatient while her maid attempted to put the finishing touches to her dark brown hair. She hated the obnoxious curls that continued to plague her and caused Elsie to spend more time than surely was necessary in order to tame the unruly locks into some kind of manageable coiffure.

She looked up at her reflection and attempted not to sigh. What she really wished to do was stick her tongue out at the mirror, but such a childish antic would gain her nothing this day. At the age of almost thirty, she still appeared young, although too young to be a widow.

Her marriage to her second cousin had been arranged years ago by their parents, and she had had no reason to decline Adrian, the young Earl de Courtenay, when he had proposed on bended knee. She had looked forward to a lifetime of wedded bliss as they began their lives together, despite her younger sister teasing her about marrying a man who had the same first name and surname as their brother. Indeed, since her husband was one of the few earls who took their title from their surname, Grace walked into the church Miss de Courtenay, and came out Lady de Courtenay.

Unfortunately, her husband had died of an unknown malady only a fortnight later.

Because she had married so young, her husband’s death seemed as though it had been another lifetime ago. She still felt like a naïve young woman in so many ways, despite her age. Since she had not produced an heir, her husband’s title passed down to her brother, with whom she lived as her only male relative. Since their parents were also deceased, their younger sister was in need of female companionship and who better than Grace to help keep a watch over her.

A brief shake of her head brought her out of her melancholy mood, and she once more examined her reflection. A clear complexion was framed in a round face. Her eyes were a deep brown, and yet the green gown she wore brought out flecks of hidden color if one cared to look close enough. Not that anyone ever did. Her mouth looked like a perfect little bow; it was a compliment her mother had used many times in the past. Her chin had her cringing despite the many years her father had claimed it was her best feature. Her finger brushed the slight cleft that had been so much like his own, and she missed the times when he used to remark on the resemblance. Grace was not vain enough to consider herself beautiful, but she supposed she was comely enough. She had resigned herself to never marrying again and remaining forevermore a widow, for who would wish to marry someone her age?

Another tug from the brush brought her out of her musings. Surely there must be a bald spot on her scalp from this last attack on her hair. Patience. Grace needed a lot of it right now. Her eyes met the maid’s reflection as she stood behind her, a worried look upon the girl’s features.

“Sorry, milady,” said Elsie in a voice tight with apprehension. Clearly she assumed a reprimand was about to fall upon her head.

“No need to fret,” Grace reassured the young woman. “I am not my sister, who would take you to task for your attempts to put her hair in order.”

Elsie let out a startled gasp. “I would never speak ill of your sister.”

A small smile lit Grace’s face. “I know you would not, which is why I hired another maid for her and sent you to attend me instead. I know how trying Miranda can be.”

As if she knew she was the topic of conversation, her younger sister flew into the room without so much as a knock. Miranda made her way across the floor to flounce upon the bed in a most unladylike manner. Her sister was a lovely little creature used to getting everything she ever desired. Younger by almost nine years, Miranda was the baby of the family, and had been doted upon by their parents to the point of being spoiled. The two sisters were as different as night was to day, at least in their personalities. As to their looks, there was no doubt they were sisters since they had the same features right down to their unmanageable curling hair.

“Leave us, Elsie,” Miranda ordered, looking down on the maid as if the poor girl had given her offense.

Elsie bobbed a curtsey and left quickly.

Grace turned upon the stool to stare at her sister, who swung her legs back and forth upon the edge of the bed. “You have no cause to be rude to Elsie. It is not her fault that she could not please you and was taken away from you. You were treating her unkindly, and you know how much I hate it when you act toward our servants in such a way. It is uncalled for, Miranda.”

Miranda shrugged with a wave of her hand. “She is yours now to do with as you wish. You have given me someone who is far better at seeing to my needs than Elsie ever could.”

“You just did not give her a fair chance. She is young and was new to her position here in the household. You should have more compassion for those less fortunate than you are. Not everyone can be born to wealth and privilege, Miranda,” Grace said with a stern look at her sister.

“It is not of any import to me where she came from,” Miranda replied offhandedly. She examined her fingernails as though she had not a care in the world before she returned her attention to Grace. “Where are you heading today?”

“Adrian and I are off to Miss Clemens’s Book Palace.” Grace pulled on a straw bonnet and tied the white ribbon into a neat and proper bow beside her cheek.

“Yuck! Why ever do you constantly have your nose pressed into a book?”

“There is nothing wrong with reading, Miranda. You might try it sometime. You may just learn something.”

Miranda laughed. “I know all there is to know, or shall ever need to know, on how to be a proper wife once I marry.”

“There is more to life than just marrying a nobleman.”

Her sister scrunched up her face in disgust. “You must be joking, Grace. Why Adrian has not found another suitable match for you and married you off at your age is beyond me. You are on the shelf, dear sister, and, if you do not marry soon, then no man of any worth will have you.”

“Adrian knows the reasons why I will not have any of the few bucks that come pounding upon our door. They are only looking to my fortune and not what I, myself, will bring to our marriage. There is more to me than just my wealth.”

Miranda stood. “Why that is just ridiculous, Grace. No wonder you are as yet a widow. I would think having been once wed you would want the security another marriage would bring you instead of being under Adrian’s roof.”

Grace headed toward the door. “I hate when you get into one of your condescending moods. One day, you will meet a man who you cannot wrap around your little finger, will not care about your dowry, nor your pretty face. Then how will you impress him?”

They began walking down the stairs to the foyer. “That will never happen to me. I can have any man of my choosing,” Miranda said with a smug look of satisfaction upon her pretty face.

Grace laughed. “We shall see, shall we not?”

“Is this a wager then?” Miranda asked, her eyes lit up with excitement.

Their brother Adrian came up to meet them at the bottom of the stairs. “What is this little minx trying to swindle you out of this time, Grace?”

She looked up toward her brother, handsome devil that he was. Adrian was three years younger than she, and Grace adored him. He had thus far avoided wedded bliss, and, if the gossip was true, he had just taken a new mistress.

Grace laughed again. “We had not gone as far as to determine the price. Well,” she asked with amused eyes toward her younger sibling, “what do you wish to wager this time?”

Miranda’s hand went to her chin as she contemplated her options until her eyes lit up. “We shall wager the perfume Adrian brought you from Paris against the bonnet he bought me.”

“Are you sure? You love that bonnet.”

“It seems a fair trade, but you shall never win because I never lose a wager. You have said so yourself a hundred times before.” Not waiting for an answer, Miranda left the room and was heard moments later at the pianoforte.

“What a little scamp. Dare I ask what she is so smug about this time?” Adrian asked while he assisted Grace with her wrap.

“The wager is mostly about how she will bring a man down to his knee with nothing more than her charm and beauty, although we have as yet to stipulate a date as to when she thinks such a wager will be won. One day, she will meet her match who is just as stubborn as she is.”

Adrian laughed as they walked to their waiting carriage, and he held his hand out to help her with the step. “That will be a day I have long waited to see.”

“That will be two of us. I can hardly wait for a young man to come into her little world and bring that young woman down a peg or two. I love her to pieces, but she has much to still learn.” Grace sat back to enjoy the outing with her brother. With thoughts of a new book to read, she wondered when, if ever, a man would walk into her own life who would share her love of the written word and accept her just the way she was.