CHAPTER 1
Dear Chauncey,
Meeting you this year has been the greatest joy I’ve had since my parents’ deaths. Thank you for being my friend. I have found several rocks that will be excellent for your collection.
Your friend,
Kitten (The Chemist)
London, August 1807
Tears blurredPippa Price’s vision as she stared up at the two helpless kittens who looked down at her. She could tell by their deep, pensive stares that they were begging her to save them, yet she was helpless.
Ginger was a deep-orange color cat that her Papa had named after jesting that the cat’s father must be of Irish descent. Cobalt looked very much like his mother, Hydrogen, who was somewhere roaming the townhouse with her black fur and a patch of white on her tail.
Their quiet meows urged Pippa to find a solution as she took several deep breaths. Mind made up, she would climb the tree herself and save them. They were the last of her family, and she would not abandon them. It was of little importance that she didn’t particularly like heights, nor had she ever climbed a tree before. Her chest tightened, shoulders heaving with the realization of what she was about to do. It didn’t matter; she was doing it for her kittens. They needed her.
How could she not even climb a tree to save Ginger and Cobalt?
Pippa refused to be pathetic, something her two cousins, Jane and Helen, had insisted since she had arrived in London. She was not pathetic. Pippa was her mother and father’s daughter, and she would save Ginger and Cobalt. She couldn’t save either of her parents from their illnesses, but she would save her kittens from falling from a ridiculously tall tree.
Hastily dashing away her tears with the back of her hand, Pippa inhaled a deep breath, trying to find her strength. She was done crying like a child still in leading strings.
Gliding up to the tree, she wasted no time in stretching one arm up and raising her foot to gain purchase. It was hard to maneuver her legs under the heavy layers of her green day dress. Pippa stilled for a moment. Perhaps she should remove the dress to move freely.
“May I be of some assistance?” a boy called out from behind her, interrupting her internal debate.
A loud sigh of relief escaped her. Thank heavens she did not undress! That would’ve been horrifying.
She turned to find a rather tall, impeccably dressed boy standing in her aunt’s garden. He must be a part of London Society with his rich dark-blue coat and silk waistcoat. An air of importance surrounded him along with his aristocratic nose and sharp chin.
Pippa eyed him warily, curious where he’d come from. “Who are you?” she asked, trying not to seem impertinent, but, really, did he just appear in the garden?
He gave her a quick bow, and she smiled for the first time in weeks. This simple act had lightened her mood immensely, and she wondered what type of person could bring someone joy just with their mere presence. No one had ever bowed at her before.
“I am the Marquess of Lennox, and you are?”
Taking a step away from the tree, Pippa remembered the manners her mother had taught her before her untimely death from a virulent ague. “Miss Pippa Price.” She dipped a curtsey, her legs spread too wide, her body shaking, nearly causing her to tip over as she bent her knees. Pippa took in his dark eyes and brown hair that blew in the light breeze. “Aren’t you rather young to be a marquess?”
“I’m the heir to the St. Clara dukedom. Lennox is my father’s lesser title.” He crossed his arms, jutting his chin out slightly as he announced to her who his father was.
Pippa would’ve laughed at him if she didn’t feel the least bit envious. Ever since her father died less than a year after her mother from the same illness, she did not know who she was without them. This boy—no—this marquess, knew exactly who he was and was proud of it. For that reason alone, she could not mock him.
“Well, my lord, my kittens are stuck up there.” She pointed to where the frightened kittens sat perched on a branch. “Does a marquess know how to climb a tree?” she challenged him, not wanting to fetch one of her aunt’s servants to retrieve Cobalt and Ginger. Her uncle would surely fuss about the inconvenience of having“the little beasts”disturb his servants.
The kittens meowed repeatedly, the sound breaking Pippa’s heart so much that tears fell again.Drat!She hated crying in front of others, but the kittens and their mother were the onlythings she had left of her home. She hastily wiped her eyes. She walked toward the house to get help but stopped when the prestigious lord approached the large oak tree, pulled himself up by a branch, and began climbing.
Pippa stumbled back with her mouth agape; she couldn’t believe that an heir to a dukedom would climb a tree for her, a person he’d never met.
Pippa was riveted as the young marquess went higher and higher up the tree until finally he was nearly at the top. Heart pounding in her chest, she sent a silent prayer to the heavens that the boy would not fall to his death while saving her precious kittens. It would be a travesty, as she couldn’t help but notice what a handsome-looking young man he was.
“What are their names?” he called down to her calmly, as if he wasn’t standing precariously on a branch that looked too thin to hold him.
“Ginger and Cobalt,” she called up to him.
His right foot slipped, and her breath caught. The marquess righted himself with no sign of fear on his attractive face.
He shuffled along slowly until he reached the kittens, holding his too-long arms out. He seemed young to her, but he was tall, taller than her father was, but his face was young and full of joy.
