Chapter One
London, England
April 1812By all accounts, being invited to the crush of the season would have been revered, or, at the very least, celebrated. Lord and Lady Kensington’s ballroom glittered, as an array of candles reflected in the large, crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. The women of thehaute ton, having paid their modistesthe highest prices for the right fabric and cut for their shimmering, expensive gowns, flirted shamelessly with the gentlemen, who, themselves, were just as turned out in their fashionable, tailored evening wear, most exuding nothing less than a modest charm. In such an atmosphere, even the toughest matron relented with her young charge.
It was bound to be a splendid evening.
But not everyone shared in the merriment.
Lady Triana Abernathy rotated her neck to remove the kinks before risking another glance at the ormolu clock on the ornate, marble mantel. Twelve-thirty. With an irritated, narrowing of her eyes, for surely the thing was broken, as more than five minutesmusthave passed since the last time she looked, she calmly turned back to the multitude of couples before her and did her best to stifle a yawn.
Apparently, it was going to be a long night, but then, when was it ever not?
She noticed a wayward strand of hair out of the corner of her eye, so she attempted to tuck it back into her elegant coiffure, succeeding only in having it fall right back into her face.
With a disgusted sigh, she blew at it from the side of her mouth, not caring whether she was displaying unladylike behavior or not. After all, what did it truly matter? Her dance card was empty and would likely remain so for the entirety of the evening, but such was the fate of a spinster. After four unsuccessful seasons, she should be used to sitting at the edge of a ballroom, and yet her mother continued to drag her to every event they could gain a coveted invitation to, all in the chance that someone might actually forget the torrid scandal surrounding the Earl of Trenton — Triana’s errant father.
“Might I have the pleasure of the next set, my lady?”
At the sound of the deep, cordial voice, Triana glanced at the sandy-haired, Viscount Wistenberry, wincing when his gracious offer was accepted by a breathless and almost thankful reply from the red-haired woman sitting on her left. Lady Isabella’s face split into a brilliant smile as she was gallantly led away on his arm.
Triana’s mother would say that any young lady with no marriage prospects should appropriately jump at the chance to dance with such a suave, eligible gentleman in the slight hope that he might become enamored enough to propose at some point, but to Triana, if said gentleman were also a notorious libertine, what kind of life could a young lady expect once the deal was made? But then, Triana knew the purpose of polite society was to make the arrangement, not to promise happily ever after.
“Would you look at that?” Triana’s gaze shifted to the blond who sat to her right. Korina gave a shake of her head as she watched the latest couple take to the floor. “That has to be some sort of record for Lady Greenville. While I knew she was an old prude, I never imagined that she could move her fan to cover her gossiping mouth that fast.”
Triana’s lips twitched, as she was inclined to agree, for she’d always thought Lady Greenville was rather abominable, but she decided it would be in the other girl’s best interest if she offered a friendly warning. “You should be cautious what you say, should the wrong person hear you. I know things are different in New York, but that particular lady is cousin to the king.”
Korina snorted. “I’m not impressed. Besides, it’s not as if my behavior is any worse than Wistenberry and his false attentions toward Izzy.” She waved a hand toward the dance floor where they had taken their places for the next set.
Triana glanced at her curiously. “You don’t think his intentions are sincere?” “Hardly.” Korina rolled her eyes. “Either Wistenberry is truly dense, or he has been fully aware of Isabella’s fascination for him. If you ask me…” She stuck out her fan to make her point. “…his sudden attentiveness has more to do with his fear of being disinherited for not producing a legitimate heir, rather than his having had a sudden change of heart. Not to mention that none of the other debutantes will go within a mile of him, so I think the conclusion to be drawn is fairly simple. What easier prey for an unrepentant rake than a dusty spinster who worships the ground he walks on?”
Triana gave a heavy sigh, for even though Korina had been raised in America, she tended to see more in English society than most. And while her rather outspoken opinions were generally less than complimentary, Triana had to admit that they were usually correct.
After a moment, Korina lifted a delicate brow and asked, “I think I’ll head over to the refreshment table to see what I can stir up. Care to join me?”
Giving a small smile, Triana shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll stay here and keep vigil for Eastbury.”
“A full time occupation, to be sure,” Korina murmured with a wink before taking her leave.
As she walked off, Triana overheard a conversation between two elderly matrons that were passing by.
“I don’t know what Lord Wistenberry was thinking to askthatgirlto partner him for the waltz!”
The second woman nodded in agreement, her fleshy chin bouncing animatedly, as her mouth pinched in disapproval. “I agree. Even with his sordid reputation, he could do much better than that shy wallflower! But what can one expect? She’s been chasing after him for years. Such shameful behavior. One can only hope Lord Ashfield takes his daughter to task after this. What a disgrace!”
As the rest of their conversation dwindled away, it was all Triana could do to hold her tongue, resisting the urge to chase those horrible biddies down and defend her friend. While it might have been true that Isabella had long held atendrefor the viscount, she had never gone so far as to blatantly chase after him! But, as usual, it was the men of thetonthat were spared those vicious tongues — when they were more than deserving of such scorn!
Gentlemen, indeed…
Just recalling all the lurid offers Triana had been approached with in the past year alone made her stomach roll. Esteemed members of society? Ha! To think that she’d believed most of her father’s former acquaintances to possess an actual, beating heart, only to grow up and find the smiling, grandfather figure that had patted her on the head as a child had all the characteristics of a slithering snake!
As for marriage… well, Triana wasn’t about to cast aside her freedom, just for the sake of being wed. While becoming some stodgy, lord’s wife would undoubtedly keep her from wasting away as a pitiful relation with a house full of cats for company in her old age, she wasn’t about to jump feet first into a loveless union. She’d heard too many horror stories about women who had become a wife simply because it was their duty — and ended up in a lifetime of misery.
Her own parents were a prime example and one she didn’t care to duplicate.
At least Triana had her brother’s support, the one thing that had kept their reputation from completely sinking into the muck. Travell Abernathy, the Viscount of Curdiff, was an up and coming voice in Parliament who had managed to find high favor with the Regent, having been personally invited to Carlton House several times. At only thirty years of age, he had managed to regain a portion of the wealth their father had gambled away, thus, combined with his popularity, many regarded him as quite a catch. Which was why Triana could now venture out into public and remain relatively unscathed, but she knew better than anyone that circumstances could change at any time.
“If your intention was to hide from Eastbury in plain sight, you’re doing a remarkable job of it.” Triana glanced up to see Korina holding a cup of punch, her hazel eyes dancing with her usual devil-may-care merriment. “I thought I should warn you he’s headed this way.”
