CHAPTER ONE
If it’s thelastthing I do,I will free myself of that scoundrel. Sipping her third glass of champagne in an absentminded motion, Cecily Nottingham, the new Countess of Kensington, glared daggers across the crowded ballroom at the man she’d pledged to love, honor, and obey in a church of God, less than one month ago.Even if I have to kill him.
Tonight, her husband’s hand caressed the delicate arch of another woman’s back as he guided theladyacross the parquet dance floor and outside to a romantically lit terrace.
Cecily wondered if anybody present didnotknow that that woman was his lover. For since their nuptials, Flavion had exhibited no discretion whatsoever. All too late, Cecily realized that she’d married a narcissistic, good-for-nothing, parasitical bastard.
Both Cecily and her father had been fleeced.
Swindled.
Duped.
The villain, Flavion Nottingham, the Earl of Kensington, stood at above-average height and was slim with blond hair and gloriously cobalt eyes. In addition to being inordinately handsome, he possessed an uncanny ability to charm any lady he so desired. One might call it agift.
His lady love, Miss Daphne Cunnington, nearly equaled him in beauty. A twinkle caught Cecily’s eye and curdled something ugly in her stomach. For Miss Cunnington’s dark ringlets were being held in place by a heavily bejeweled barrette purchased with the money from Cecily’s dowry.
Which now belonged to Flavion.
It was not the first gift he’d bestowed upon his lover since his windfall.
A fleeting urge gripped Cecily, to run across the ballroom, slip outside and rip the barrette off Miss Cunnington’s head. Cecily would not be sorry if she pulled a few strands of hair out as well. In her mind, she could picture the scene —Miss Cunnington’s high-pitched wails drowning out the sounds of the orchestra as she clutched at her ruined coiffure, her face pinched and red.The thought could almost make Cecily smile.
Almost.
Instead, she lowered her gaze from their retreating figures to watch the bubbles in her champagne glass. She would not give in to boorish behavior. Cecily was aladynow.
It was not Miss Cunnington, anyhow, who vexed her most; her degenerate louse of a husband deserved that honor.
And herself for being so gullible.
“I had no choice but to court you. I have responsibilities – quite noble of me, really,”he had told her, with not even the tiniest trace of regret in his voice.“The earldom needed the blunt.”
He had explained this to her approximately two minutes after consummating their vows.
That had been twenty-four days ago.
Every night since then, she’d locked the connecting door between their chambers and wrapped herself in a cocoon of icy anger. Based upon his persistent requests to enter, he still expected her to present him with an heir. His sense of entitlement knew no bounds. Cecily, however, would not allow him to touch herever again.
During mealtimes and in passing, the bounder impudently assumed that she would be a cordial and biddable wife. He expected her to peaceably accept her circumstances as though she were any other lady of theton. But she was not, never had been, and never would be. As the only daughter of the well-known, self-made millionaire, Thomas Findlay — an orphan who had created his own wealth from nothing but cunning and determination, she could not settle for intolerable circumstances. Shewouldnot.
“But we live amongst thehaute ton,” Flavion had told her. Had she truly expected his undying love and flattery to continue indefinitely?“You ought to be grateful to me! You are now the Countess of Kensington, for God’s sake. You have duties, my lady.”
Impossible.
Absolutely not.
Flavion, apparently, had comprehended to knowherno better than she had thoughtshe’dknownhim.
Despite all the lessons and training she’d received from her governess, her middle-class notions of marriage could not be so easily relinquished. She’d married believing she’d found a love match. Instead, she was the pawn of a horrific business transaction.
She wished her papa had not sailed for America so soon after the ceremony. He would never have allowed this farce of a marriage to stand.
A gust of wind blew, causing the gauzy curtains to billow out from the panes of glass along the ballroom. Cecily could barely make out the outline of her husband and his lover standing scandalously close to each other. Were they in fact touching one another? By God, they were — from hip to chest.
A man possessed of even a morsel of honor would at the very least have feigned affection for his new wife whilst in public. Instead, Flavion’s unrepentant disregard laid her open to scorn and ridicule. And as each day passed, the situation grew more unbearable. Making matters worse, but unable to help herself, Cecily could not pretend to be anything other than a lady scorned. She had fallen from the pinnacle of happiness to the depths of despair. Her dreams were shattered.
She was trapped in a loveless marriage.
