Chapter One
London, 1848
“You received my missive,” came a smooth masculine voice behind Lady Purity Diamond, making a shiver race down her silk-clad spine.
Purity knew beyond a doubt she ought not to have strayed from the well-lit and crowded ballroom at the Marquess of Lansdowne’s house on the south end of Berkeley Square. It was unlike her to do anything out of the acceptable and customary. Anyone who knew her would agree.
However, her entire day had been a little off-kilter, and she blamed her odd, restless mood upon its earlier events. She had slept poorly, awakened late, and lost a favorite glove by noon. When getting ready for the ball, she’d had a mishap with the hair curler.
Or rather, her maid, Alice, had the mishap, but it was Purity who suffered the disastrous effects of a too-hot papillote iron with a dreadfully singed curl that smelled of burned hair and pomade.
When someone else’s rickety-wheeled carriage blocked passage along Berkeley Street, causing her and her mother to be later than was fashionable, she knew she would welcomethe next day’s dawn. Before that, however, she wanted to enjoy everything the evening offered.
Thus, it had been a great disappointment when her friend Harriet told her she’d missed the unveiling of a costly new painting in the marquess’s drawing room.
Determined not to leave without seeing it since there would not be another ball at Lansdowne House that Season, Purity left her mother chatting with one of her fondest acquaintances. While knowing she ought to wait for Harriet, who was upon the dance floor, as it was the last dance and the ball would end along with the music, Purity went alone.
Despite having seen the drawing room once the year before, she paused in the entrance, admiring the robin’s egg blue walls and the bold mauve band of color under the chair rail. Shining gilded accents were everywhere, amplifying the Etruscan design, right up to the patterns on the cream-and-pale pink ceiling, which, if studied long enough, would give one a neck ache.
The painting she sought was over the fireplace. Everyone that night was cheering it as a triumph. For a closer look, Purity crossed the polished floor onto the thick carpet, which muffled her steps as she approached the west wall and the marble mantle.
With two lamps still lit, she admired the masterpiece first from a few feet away and then moved closer to examine its detail. While glad she had managed to view the acquisition, she couldn’t say she was particularly taken with it.
Another large work in a dark palette with very pale people reenacting some tragedy.
Maybe the painting would have seemed more interesting if Lord Lansdowne was presenting it.
And that’s when it happened.
Interrupting her musing came the deep-timbered male voice and whomever it belonged to, speaking of a missive.
Taking a deep breath, standing as straight as possible to make herself a wee bit taller, Purity turned.
The attractiveness of the man observing her stole her breath as well as her senses. A rum duke if ever she saw one.
Who was he? How did she not know him?
“Good evening,” she replied, keeping her tone calm, although in truth, she was a little afraid. This was the first time she’d ever been alone with a man who wasn’t her father, brother, or one of their trusted family friends.
Although one of her brother’s friends had kissed her, so perhaps he wasn’t so trustworthy after all.Regardless, she’d never been on her own with an absolute stranger.
Impeccably dressed in black tails, slate gray trousers, and a vivid blue waistcoat, he approached her without responding, his eyes taking her in. He came to a stop beside her, turning his attention to the marquess’s recent purchase.
Purity stared up at him, about to dart away now that he was no longer blocking her exit from the room. He was a head taller as most men were, since she and her older sister, Clarity, were both slightly below average. From the close proximity, she could tell his thick, coffee-colored hair was soft, and he had a little crimp in his earlobe.How odd!
Then he turned and looked down at her, and she nearly gasped aloud.
His eyes were amber, the color of golden toffee or a medium sherry. It might be a trick of the lighting, but their beauty mesmerized her, rendering her motionless. Moreover, the little shiver had become a sizable quiver.
“I was worried you would not receive my note in time to meet tonight or wouldn’t be allowed entrance.”
At these puzzling words from him, she shook her head. “I do not understand, my lord.”
For the first time, he appeared uncertain, but he offered her a winsome smile. “You can read, can you not? Don’t be ashamed if you can’t. After all, I understand you do other things extraordinarily well.”
With that, he reached out and lightly wrapped a gloved hand around each of her upper arms, drawing her closer.
Purity ought to be terrified, but he exuded charm and warmth, and was not the least bit threatening in manner. Moreover, the door was open, and his grip was loose. She could break away and be in the wide hallway in seconds.
