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28 October 1820

Burlington Arcade

Mayfair, London

Two years.

Two years and still, Lenora Audsley hadn’t entirely adjusted to her new life amongst the upper ten thousand. Hers was the proverbial rags-to-riches fairy tale. From a meager existence in Brighton to a lavish lifestyle amongst the haut ton. All thanks to her brother Landry Audsley, Earl of Keyworth, and his persistence in searching for her for eight long years—a half-sister he’d not known existed for the first decade of her life.

Had she wanted to, Lenora couldn’t have suppressed the smile curving her mouth as she and her adopted mother, Ruth Smith, and her sister-in-law, Celestia, the Countess of Keyworth, slowly wandered Burlington Arcade’s long, elegant passage.

Even the arcade was new and wonderous. All manner of high-end merchants lined either side of the tidy walking lane. Lenora tried not to gawk as she looked from side to side into the large, ornate windows. This was her first visit to the quaint shopping area the upper salons were all abuzz about.

Lenora shook her head at the marvel of it all.

The exclusive, covered market was one of the first of its kind, having been completed the previous March by George Cavendish, Earl of Burlington. Geared toward luxury items and extravagances only the upper crust could afford, Burlington Arcade provided a safer shopping venue for women than Oxford or Bond Streets. Or, truth to tell, the myriad of other fashionable streets the ton favored for their shopping excursions.

Usually, Landry insisted at least one footman accompany the women on any outing. Still, he’d acquiesced to his wife’s entreating smile when she explained Burlington Arcade was explicitly designed so that women might shop unaccompanied by a male. He’d reluctantly conceded that they might wander Burlington Arcade without Chambers, their burly footman. Nevertheless, Chambers, a former pugilist and reformed street youth, would still accompany them everywhere else.

Lenora supposed that was what marriage was about—compromise and concession. Putting your spouse’s desires before your own. A willingness to make sacrifices to keep them happy because your loved one’s happiness made you glad.

Lenora cut her smiling sister-in-law a side-eyed glance.

Celestia and Landry were so ecstatically content that it was embarrassing at times. Opposites in almost every way; theirs had been a love match. It was quite a romantic tale, in truth.

That had not been the relationship between Lenora’s adopted parents. Mama believed Lenora ignorant of her father’s indiscretions. Or that his last lover, pregnant and enraged, had shoved the vicar down a flight of stairs. Papa had refused to leave Mama and Lenora and make off with the tavern wench. Lenora imagined that as a man of the cloth, even Papa had moral boundaries he wouldn’t cross—adultery not being high on that list.

Mama would go to her grave before she discussed the final disgrace that drove them from Lancaster. Still, she must’ve known the townspeople gossiped—and were careless when a young girl was about. Especially a bashful girl with a tendency to hide amongst the bushes, behind draperies, or under tables and desks where she went unnoticed.

Enough.

Lenora inhaled a purgative breath and purposely returned her focus to the much more pleasant present. Earlier today, she, Mama, and Celestia had visited their modiste, Mademoiselle De la Cour, owner of Le Belle Haute Couture, on Bond Street before walking through Burlington Gardens to the Burlington Arcade on this fine autumn day.

Even Mama’s cheeks held a rosy tint from the brisk wind that had cleared the skies of coal dust before a sweep of silver-edged clouds once more claimed the heavens as was their wont in late October.

Chambers had placed their packages, including Lenora’s exquisite new ballgown for the Wimpletons’ Christmastide ball, into the coach and now awaited the women near Burlington Arcade’s Piccadilly entrance.

A pair of striking dandies—one wearing a saffron yellow waistcoat and the other a fuchsia and peacock blue striped travesty—approached the trio. The men’s gazes lit with masculine interest as they raked their bold perusal over Lenora and Celestia.

Flashing roguish smiles, the young bucks brazenly doffed their hats in Lenora’s direction as they passed by. One dared to wink and place his hand over his heart theatrically.

“Hmph,” Mama harumphed beneath her breath, prickling like an irate porcupine.

Celestia’s family owned a used bookstore—Tolmans’ Tomes and Tobacco—and Lenora had read several fascinating books acquired from there. One text discussed animals indigenous to the Americas, including porcupines and a smelly, striped creature called a skunk.

Mama’s hand tightened on Lenora’s arm as she speared the men with a frosty glare, her lips pinched in disapproval. “Audacious as the devious serpent in the Garden of Eden, the unrepentant rapscallions. I shall pray for their wayward souls.”

Once a vicar’s wife, always a vicar’s wife.

Mama had very stringent ideas about propriety and morality. Gentlemen flirting with a woman they’d not been introduced to most definitely was a black mark against them. Flirting, in general, was frowned upon.

“I fear it cannot be helped, Ruth,” Celestia put in with a wide grin and a mischievous wink toward Lenora over the top of Mama’s unadorned green bonnet. “Our Lenora is a diamond of the first water. A true original. Men cannot help but be besotted upon seeing her. Landry refused no less than nine offers for her hand last Season and four the previous year.”

Lenora had only been aware of six of the proposals. The others Landry must’ve felt were unsuitable, and the men weren’t even given permission to ask her to marry them.

Familiar heat crept up her face. She prayed the shadows from her ocean-blue bonnet and the arched ceiling would hide her blushes. Naturally, she would never admit it aloud—Mama would be scandalized—but Lenora was flattered, even if the masculine attention flustered her somewhat.

What woman didn’t enjoy a little harmless admiration?