Page 1

Prologue

“My lady?”

Susanna looked up from the page she had been attempting to read, almost grateful for the interruption. The book had held her attention for perhaps a quarter of an hour, no more. The words kept sliding away from her, and she had read the same line three times without taking in a syllable of it.

“Yes?” Her eyebrows lifted at the sight of the gentleman in the doorway, and the small weariness went out of her. “Goodness. This is an unexpected pleasure. I have grown quite unused to callers since my husband died, and I fear the house is not — ”

“It is because of his absence that I have come to speak with you. There is no one now to stand between you and your affairs.”

The gentleman came quickly into the room. His clear blue eyes were bright with a concern that did not sit easily upon a face she had only ever known to be pleasant, and Susanna sat up a little straighter, gesturing at once for him to take a seat.

He did not take it. Instead he crossed to the pianoforte and stood beside it, one hand resting lightly upon the closed lid as though he might, at any moment, decide upon a piece to play. And then he began to pace, three steps and back again, along the length of the instrument.

“But of course,” Susanna said, watching him. She had known this gentleman a great many years, and in all of them she had never seen him pace. “Is there something the matter?”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Warrington. There is.” He glanced at her, then away, then back. “You will recall that a mutual acquaintance of ours has been the recipient of particular kindnesses from us both.”

“I do.” She knew at once of whom he spoke. “His need for support was evident, and I was glad to offer it.”

“Indeed. And he was of use to us in return, to me, to you, to a good many of our acquaintance besides.” His smile was thin, and did not reach his eyes. “We each of us considered our support of him a generosity. I fear now that our generosity has opened a door.”

Susanna’s hands went still in her lap. A first, small unease moved through her, no more than a draft finding the edge of a curtain.

“If I might be so bold, Lady Warrington — I am afraid that your own consideration of this fellow may have brought a thing very near to scandal into your house.”

“In what way?”

The gentleman looked down at the floor, his hands gripped together before him. “I have lately discovered that an attempt was made to transfer particular debts to me. Debts that were never mine to bear.” His jaw tightened. “I have gone over the matter until I am certain of it. I can put no innocent construction upon it.”

A sharp breath caught in her lungs.

“And you,” he continued, lifting his head, holding her gaze without flinching, “were a good deal more generous than I. That is your nature, and many are grateful for it. In this matter, however, I fear it has left you the more exposed of the two of us.”

Susanna pressed her lips together and studied him, watching the concern spread further through his expression the longer he stood there. “You fear these same debts may have been pressed into my accounts.”

“Hidden away. Given to you without your knowledge or your consent.” He wet his lips. “I do not wish to alarm you. But some of these debts come from sources I should not care to name in a lady’s drawing room. If they are attached to you, and if they are discovered — ”

“Then my reputation, and my late husband’s, could be gravely damaged,” she finished for him, and he inclined his head.

She said nothing for a moment. She pressed two fingers lightly to her temple and leaned forward, closing her eyes, turning the thing over as she was accustomed to turn every matter over — deliberately, and without haste. It had been her own thought to bring this fellow into their affairs, to make use of his skill with figures and ledgers where her husband had neither the patience nor the inclination. A generosity, nothing more. She had been the one to press it upon her husband. And now to learn that the generosity had been turned against her —

“I am very grateful,” she said, opening her eyes, “both for your concern and for your willingness to bring it to me. I shall look into it at once.”

He put one hand to his heart. “I pray I have not alarmed you too greatly.”

“On the contrary.” She rose, and reached out so he might bow over her hand, though she was the one to press his fingers, firmly, in thanks. “Had you said nothing, I should have gone on entirely unaware. Now I may make certain that everything is precisely as it ought to be.” Her mouth curved without much humor. “On this occasion, I fear, I have been a little too trusting.”

The gentleman released her hand, but he did not move toward the door. He lingered, and offered her a small, steadying smile.

“Lady Warrington, I have long admired your kindness,” he said, and the words did soothe her, a little. “Your generosity, your consideration of those in lesser circumstances than your own, it has been an example to me, and to my wife, of what one ought to do with one’s wealth and one’s standing. I pray this single dark moment, if it comes to anything at all, will not weigh against a lifetime of good you have done.”

Her heart warmed toward him. “You are most kind to say so.” The tightness in her shoulders eased by a degree. “It is a timely reminder. My first instinct is to draw back from every kindness at once, to think only of how I might protect myself. I shall not do that.”

He bowed. “I hope it is not as I fear,” he said, turning toward the door. “It may be that all is well, and there is nothing in it at all. But I have learned, of late, to distrust accounts that arrive already balanced — neat sums requiring nothing of a man but his signature.” His hand found the door. “When a thing is settled too tidily, Lady Warrington, I have come to ask who did the settling, and to what end.”

“We must pray it is nothing,” she answered, though the words felt thin in her mouth. “I thank you again — for your willingness to come, and for your discretion.”

With a last glance toward her, he quit the room.