Prologue
Bath, England, 1851
Adam saw the small package slip from the grasp of the lady ahead of him. He might not have noticed, except he had been watching the pleasant sway of her hips as she strolled along Great Pulteney Street. Despite the attractive Palladian architecture rising up on either side of him, the honey-haired beauty had all his attention.
When the package slipped from amongst the others she carried, he darted forward, wondering why her maid who walked beside her wasn’t carrying more.
“My lady, a moment,” he said to catch her attention and get her to halt. He knew her to be one not only because her gown was well-made of a pretty summer cream-and-lavender cotton, but also because she had a lady’s maid beside her in the plainer clothing of her class.
At his words, however, she kept walking.
“My lady,” he tried again, feeling a little awkward as he dogged her steps, until the maid glanced over her shoulder before tugging on her lady’s arm.
At last, she stopped and turned.
Adam had been right to think her a lady. A patrician nose, amethyst earbobs, and an intelligent silvery-green gaze with which she took his measure confirmed his assumption.
“Have we been introduced?” she asked, as any upper-class female would when accosted in public.
“No,” he confessed. “And I never would be so presumptuous as to approach an unfamiliar lady upon the street except you dropped this.”
Holding out her package, he felt like a supplicant. Her generous mouth suddenly opened in anOof surprise. Then she nodded, but she didn’t move forward to retrieve it, remaining motionless as she stared at him.
Instead, her maid finally took the paper-wrapped item, which had felt like something light and frivolous. Perhaps lace gloves for a ball.
Glancing at her hands, they were ensconced in gloves that weren’t nearly as fine as the ones he’d imagined but perfectly clean.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said when she found her voice, wresting his attention back to her stunning face. “I would have been sorely disgruntled to arrive home and find I had lost my purchase.”
“Indeed,” he said, for he could think of nothing else to say, no way to keep her talking. Yet Adam couldn’t help wishing propriety allowed him to ask her name or introduce himself. But that would be too forward. On the other hand, he could let her know of his interest.
“I hope I shall see you again, my lady. Perhaps at an assembly one evening.”
She paled. “Unlikely, my lord. Again, my gratitude. Good day.”
Then she turned and walked away.
Chapter One
London, 1846
“Upstairs,” Alice ordered the two young ladies in her charge. They were spoiled by their mother. But they were also smart and eager to learn whatever Alice could teach them. They rarely talked back, nor complained when made to conjugate French verbs or practice the violin.
Today was going to be a geography lesson followed by a discussion in French, and as their governess of the past two years, Alice was proud of the girls’ progress. Their education had been less than satisfactorily handled by the ones who came before her. And their eldest sister, Susanne, who was now out in society and eager to marry, suffered from a distinct lack of learning.
Luckily, the young lady in question was also sweet and pretty, but Alice felt badly at how few significant thoughts Susanne had in her head. Moreover, she was unable to speak a second language, nor play an instrument. She was, in a word, uncivilized.
On the other hand, the eldest Beasley daughter had her entire life ahead, full of promise, with every door open and every opportunity still afforded her. Alice, taking her seat in the salonthey used for lessons, had grown up with the best education money could buy, and her future had fallen like an unfortunate squirrel down a well. Despite being the only offspring of a depleted, nearly bankrupt earl — atlow tide, as her mother called it — Alice’s prospects were now limited to working as a governess for Lord and Lady Beasley’s daughters until they outgrew her.
Then, with an ounce of luck, Alice hoped she would find another position equally fulfilling with younger children who would need her longer. Then she could settle into the next household, perhaps for a decade.
And after that? Maybe another situation of equal length before she could retire to the country in a small, tidy cottage.
It sounded pleasant.Not the least bit dreadful, dreary, and tedious,she promised herself. And after the drama of her own early twenties, she ought to be glad of a calm respite — for the rest of her life.
So why did she want to put her head into a pillow and scream, at least once every day?
“Mrs. Malcolm,” Pauline got her attention. “Would you please speak to my mother about piano lessons again? I think I prefer the pianoforte to the violin.”
