1
LONDON, 1816
They called him the Dragon of London because they claimed he set women on fire.
Lady Celeste Harrington watched the Duke of Salcombe weave his way through the crowded ballroom, and she believed every word they said about him. Oliver Granier was the most physically handsome man she had ever seen in her seven and twenty years. He moved with a deadly grace. He knew all eyes followed him, most out of envy, some out of spite. He believed in his worth and Celeste couldn’t help but feel a touch of jealousy.
The duke might also be Celeste’s last chance of fulfilling the task her late father had given her, that of setting up a charity. It was proving more difficult than she had imagined. It took money and a great deal of social influence to establish a charity. Celeste had little of the former and none of the latter.
But with the Dragon’s help, that could change.
The duke paused in front of a hallway that led to a very quiet library. Her heart quickened. He must have received her note. He was going to meet her. She had sent the note anonymously,of course. She’d also not explained her purpose. No good could come from tipping her hand too quickly. And it might be that he had just happened to pause in front of that hall. . . but Celeste didn’t believe in happenstance.
He surveyed the glittering, noisy crowd, nodding here and there to those who caught his attention. A willowy young matron blushed. A silver-haired dowager gave him a saucy wink back. Men followed his eye to see what beauties he’d discovered.
Celeste knew he didn’t see her. She was rarely noticed. In a family of eight proud and beautiful sisters, she was the one usually overlooked. Perhaps her father had given her such a herculean assignment because he had known how difficult it would be for Celeste to be in charge of anything. She preferred to be home with her knitting needles, her garden, her cat, and her dogs. She adored dogs.
However, as her father wrote,You have a tender heart.Use it to help others. Create a charity that will help you right some of the wrongs in this world.
The challenge spoke to her soul. And because her father had shown in his last request that he believed in her, she had come to London to set right an egregious wrong she believed must be changed. One that was huge and glaring. One she would truly need a dragon’s help to set right.
The duke turned and strode purposefully down the hall. He was heading for the library. He was going to meet with her. Her daring, daring plan was now set into motion.
Almost panicked, Celeste looked around for her friend Dame Beatrice. Bea was thirty years older than her seven and twenty, but the only person other than her twin, Georgiana, whom Celeste trusted to help. By meeting with a renowned rake as the duke privately in such a social setting, Celeste knew she flirted with scandal. However, how else was she to talk to him? She couldn’t knock on the door to his residence and they hadno friends in common. Requesting a meeting anonymously had been her only choice.
Bea noticed Celeste’s summons. She bowed out of her conversation with friends and worked her way through the crowd. “Has he taken the bait?” she whispered conspiratorially.
“He has.” With a casualness she was far from feeling, Celeste led her friend across the ballroom and down the hall leading to the library. They strolled as if admiring the portraits lining the walls. When they came in sight of the closed library door, Celeste said, “Stand guard where you can see the ballroom and yet be close enough to warn me if we are about to be interrupted.”
“How shall I do that?” Bea asked. “A hand signal?”
“The door will be closed for privacy.”
“I could shout a warning.”
“That might not be wisest.”
“Well, how shall I warn you?” Bea demanded, the ostrich feathers in her hair bouncing with indignation.
Celeste chewedon the problem a moment and then replied, “Greet the person as if you are friends and talk so loudly that I will hear you through the door. That will be my warning to—” She stopped. She didn’t actually know what she would do. Perhaps jump out a window? Hide behind the furniture? “It will all work out.”
Bea wasn’t convinced. “Are you certain this is wise? I hear tell the Dragon has a temper.”
Celeste had heard that as well. They said he could be quite humorless when crossed, or when he felt some marriage-minded miss was trying to entrap him. Apparently, many had tried. Well, he had nothing to worry about on that score from her. “He’s mylast chance to see this charity established, Bea. It is a risk I must take.” She gave her friend a quick squeeze, walked over to the door, and, with a glance over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching, opened it.
Oliver was in a grumpy mood.
He’d just had words with Prime Minister Liverpool, and in front of Robinson, no less. They had rejected his ideas without really giving him a hearing. They’d told him to focus on his seat in the Lords and not think too much. Change happened slowly, they’d said. Britain needed to recover from the war. They couldn’t stir the pot too quickly.
Oliver could see so many things about his country and his government that needed changing, that he wanted to stir the pot with an oar. And, no, he did not wish to cool his heels until someone needed his vote. He believed his input in the planning was equally valuable. He had ideas, fresh ones, and he hated being patronized—becausethatwas what they had done. Without speaking the words, they had let him know they considered him...frivolous.
The library was lit by a small fire in the hearth. He pulled the missive from the inside pocket of his evening jacket. The handwriting was definitely feminine:Please meet me in the library at your earliest convenience to discuss a matter for your urgent consideration.
Urgent consideration. He smiled grimly. He understood what that meant. Women begged for his favor. He hated being pursued. It made him feel exactly the way Liverpool and Robinson perceived him.
And yet, here he was, because he really had nowhere else to go. He had little family and few friends. Perhaps hewasas idle and shallow as his peers thought him? But that was not the man he wished to be.
The room suddenly felt over-warm. He crossed to a window, pulled back the heavy drapes, undid the latch, and lifted the sash. Outside, the early summer night hummed with voices and laughter on the nearby terrace, despite it being unseasonably cool.
