Leith wished more than anything that John and Trem were still in London.But they were on their Grand Tour of Europe, overdrinking themselves on wine and tupping God knows how many French and Spanish and Dutch maidens.
In short, they were useless to him, and Leith had to act without their counsel.
At his desk at home, Leith had penned the note.The note that now was folded in his pocket.He had long ago learned to mimic Monty’s hand.
Once the maid named Olivia received this note, this note that looked in all respects like it had been written by Monty himself, she would be out of their lives for good.
Monty would thank him one day.
Leith went around the back of Carrington Place and found the door that he knew was used by servants.God knows he and Monty had snuck out of it enough times over the years.
It was the morning, so the numerous Carrington siblings and the dowager countess were still abed, thank God.Only the servants were moving about, seeing to their duties.Leith moved quietly, careful to encounter no one.
Soon, he had done it.He had found the tinderbox where Monty had told him he left notes for Olivia.He placed his note there and closed the cabinet.
He turned and nearly collided with a maid.
For a moment, his heart stopped.Was it Olivia herself?he thought, frantically.
But it wasn’t.
“My apologies,” he said, and swiftly headed down the stairs.
Hopefully, he thought, the maid hadn’t recognized him.
Out on the street, Leith felt queasy about what he had done.He didn’t like subterfuge or dramatics of any kind.
But Monty was threatening to ruin his life.And if Monty ruinedhislife, he would ruinLeith’slife, because they were best friends.
No, Leith needed to maintain order.
He needed to keep everything under control.
Chapter One
London, England
May 1820
Thirteen Years Later
Miss Beatrice Salisburywas far too wild.
No,wilddidn’t do her justice.
She was unkempt.
That was the Marquess of Leith’s first thought when he laid eyes on the unfamiliar young woman sitting in the drawing room of his best and oldest friend, the Earl of Montaigne, and his wife, Olivia, the very new Lady Montaigne.
In fact, he realized, as he surveyed Miss Salisbury, she was all wrong.Yes, he supposed to some, she would be pretty, but not tohim, certainly.Her dark hair, long and wavy, was barely held back by its pins.Between her two front teeth, a gap drew the eye.Her dark eyes, almost black, slid around the room with mercenary interest, as if assessing the value of everything they alit on.She had the air of a caged animal, a woodland creature who someone, for some reason, was trying to domesticate.
Not to mention, her gown was so out of fashion that she might as well have been wearing the costume of a different century.
Monty had told him before this meeting that the chit came from a respectable gentry family in Somerset that had fallen on hard times.
As it turned out, in fact, she was a distant relation of Monty’s.
Miss Salisbury was his third cousin.
