When a duke's youngest daughter disappears in the night, Alistair Baston, man-of-affairs, and rakish second son agrees to keep a watchful eye on Lady Isabella Avery, the dukeâs tomboyish and stubborn eldest daughter. When their search unexpectedly leads to a dangerous carriage ambush, and the pair running from murderous highwaymen, Alistair finds himself caring for Lady Isabella more than he ever thought possible.
Lady Isabella was more than a little infuriated when her father assigned his man-of-affairs as her personal guard. Able to handle daggers and pistols, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But, when Isabella finds herself unable to resist Alistairâs charms, and they share their first kiss⌠guilt swells in her chest. How can she possibly give her heart to a gentleman while her sister was still missing, or perhaps may even be dead?
When a duke's youngest daughter disappears in the night, Alistair Baston, man-of-affairs, and rakish second son agrees to keep a watchful eye on Lady Isabella Avery, the dukeâs tomboyish and stubborn eldest daughter. When their search unexpectedly leads to a dangerous carriage ambush, and the pair running from murderous highwaymen, Alistair finds himself caring for Lady Isabella more than he ever thought possible.
Lady Isabella was more than a little infuriated when her father assigned his man-of-affairs as her personal guard. Able to handle daggers and pistols, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But, when Isabella finds herself unable to resist Alistairâs charms, and they share their first kiss⌠guilt swells in her chest. How can she possibly give her heart to a gentleman while her sister was still missing, or perhaps may even be dead?
Spring 1817
London, England
Standing at the edge of the Middletonâs ballroom, Lady Isabella Avery slipped behind an azure, velvet curtain. Firstly, because she was avoiding her future dance partner. Secondly, because she was avoiding her mother who was with said future dance partner. She sighed, glancing out at the dance floor from her hiding place with the cold windowpane at her back, thinking how odd she must look to the patrons outside on the terrace.
Every week her mother, the Duchess of Waverly, dragged her by her ear to these dances for one purpose: to pair her with Viscount Edward Middleton. And to make matters worse, Edward also expected to wed her.
Thanks to her mother.
A sparkling pink gown caught Isabellaâs eye. She watched in envy as the young debutante danced a country reel.
Taking a small step around the edge of the curtain, she focused on the ladyâs satin-clad slippers, the way her feet pointed and arched with every step. She drew her gaze to the hem of the ladyâs skirt. The fabric bounced and swayed, catching the warm candlelight in the satinâs shine.
Oh, how she loved dancing. If only she could find herself an agreeable partner. And if it were acceptable for two ladies to dance with one another, she would far prefer to dance with her sister. Her sister would not ogle at her breasts or place her hand far lower on her back than is proper. No⌠She and Violet would dress in their motherâs old powdered wigs and hoop skirts. They would hold hands while they twirled until they were so dizzy theyâd fall flat on their bottoms, as they used to when they were children.
âThere you are!â Isabellaâs mother yanked at her upper arm, nearly tearing the delicate lace of her sleeve. âI have been searching for you for ages. Edward is hoping to claim the next set.â
âMy apologies, Mother.â Isabella donned a wistful smile and hooked her motherâs arm around her own. âSurely my dance card is full enough already?â
They stepped out onto the perimeter of the dance floor. âYour dance card can never be too full, darling. Not until Edwardâs name is on it at least once.â
Isabellaâs nostrils flared. Spotting Edwardâs familiar dark golden hair, she steered herself in the opposite direction.
The duchess brought her spectacles up to the bridge of her nose. âWhile I have you, be a dear and help me find your sister. I have lost sight of her again.â
Oh, Violet⌠Why must you disappear?
Isabella let her eyes glance about the elegant ballroom. The wood floors appeared to be so recently polished it was surprising that not a single patron had fallen and broken their hip. Her gaze trailed further upward, to the balconies lining the two-story, sky-blue walls of the ballroom. She did not think Violet had a reason to head for the balconies. Her sister was much too fond of dancing and making herself a spectacle to hide in such a place.
And just there, in the far corner, standing next to a stone marble statue, stood her sister with⌠âLord Taunton.â The name slipped from her lips.
âWhat was that, dear?â The duchess turned to her, causing a blonde curl to fall out of place.
Isabella let out a low growl. Lord Taunton was not the sort of gentleman a lady should associate with. Not that Isabella gave a jot about societal standards, but really⌠Lord Taunton? Her sister ought to have known better. The gentleman was a drunkard and rumored to be the worst sort of scoundrel. He attempted to bed any and every woman he came into contact with. The list of his depraved acts had to be miles long.
Heavens help her if she would allow the ignominious lord to have Violet as one of his accomplishments. âShe is there.â
âOh, thank goodness for your young eyesâbut a lady does not point,â the duchess promptly reminded her, slapping Isabellaâs outstretched hand.
Her mother squinted through her wire-rimmed spectacles.
A lady also does not squint⌠but it seemed the duchess had forgotten that particular lesson on decorum.
âI feared she had found her way to the gardens again. Heavens help me if I have to save that child from another scandal.â
Isabellaâs lips turned up at the corners. Her mother was always so worried over her children. âThen we must retrieve her. We do not want Violet socializing with a scoundrel such as Lord Taunton, do we?â
The duchess removed her spectacles and turned to her with a grim expression. âPerhaps you should fetch your brother and have him keep a closer eye on Violet.â
She flashed her mother a reassuring smile and left her with a peck on the cheek.
Making her way through the ballroom, Isabella passed through a kaleidoscope of colorful patrons. Gentlemen donned their best and brightest waistcoats, their whitest and most crisp cravats. Ladies wore the latest in Regency fashion and no doubt had their dresses tailor-made for the occasionâivory evening gloves, puffed sleeves, and gowns created with the finest of silks and satins.
She spotted her brother, Simon, dancing with a young, beautiful, fair-haired lady. Isabella made her way toward the couple, but a large, masculine hand took hold of her shoulder, stopping her forward movement.
âIâve been searching for you all evening.â Heat stained her cheeks at the man bold enough to touch her.
Isabella whipped around to face him.
Edward.
The very gentleman she had been hoping to avoid all evening. âLord Middleton. How lovely to see you,â she lied, dropping into an elegant curtsy.
Edward had danced with Isabella twice during the Harper ball last week and was seeking to do the same this evening. It was a gentlemanâs way of silently announcing his claim on a lady.
But Isabella did not want to be claimed.
Yes, Lord Middleton was handsome enough with his slicked-back dark-blond hair and piercing chestnut eyes, but if she matched with someone, the gentleman had to at least have a sense of humor, quick wit, and the ability to make her laugh.
Edward did not possess any of those qualities.
âHow many times have I told you to call me âEdward?ââ he asked on a laugh.
âQuite a few times, my lord. But being as we are out at a public function, it would be rather inappropriate.â
âTrue.â Edward placed her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow. âWhere are you off to in such a rush?â
âI was searching for my brother,â Isabella replied politely, turning back to face said brother who was no longer in sight.
Blast.
The viscount led her along the perimeter of the room. âMay I offer my assistance?â
âI do not wish to trouble you.â Iâd rather you leave me so I may continue my task undisturbed.
âIt is no trouble, I assure you.â Edward craned his neck, searching over the crowd. âHave you been enjoying yourself tonight?â
She had spent most of the evening dancing with gentlemen she did not particularly care for, and consequently, had attempted to hide behind curtains⌠âOh, yes. The music is lovely.â
âIndeed.â He nudged her with his elbow. âYou must promise me a dance after we locate your dear brother. You are the guest of honor, after all.â
This again. She glanced down at the frustratingly full dance card dangling from her wrist. âMy mother is the guest of honor,â Isabella corrected.
Edward gave a little one-sided shrug. âEither way, I am inclined to dance with the guest of honorâs eldest daughter at least once this evening.â He leaned closer. âBut Iâd prefer it to be more than once.â
Isabellaâs brows shot up. âDo not forget about the guest of honorâs youngest daughter. Violet would not want to miss out on a dance with you, my lord,â she insisted, attempting to direct the conversation away from herself.
Edwardâs lids lowered, and his lips turned into the smallest hint of a smile.
A shudder ran down Isabellaâs spine. What that expression suggested she did not wish to know.
A flash of color caught her attention and brought her gaze to the west corridor. Lord Taunton entered the darkened space with Violet in tow. Meanwhile, the viscount driveled on about the music and the dancing.
Isabella had to think of a way to be rid of him.
âI believe I just saw your brother step into that alcove.â Edwardâs voice regained her attention.
She did not need Simon anymore; she needed to reach that corridor. âNoââ But perhaps I can send Simon to fetch her? âI mean⌠yes. Let us fetch him.â
Edward led her to a curtained alcove far from the west corridor. âReading,â he announced as they reached the closed azure curtain. âI have a young lady here who has been searching for you.â
The velvet fabric sailed open, revealing quite the bawdy display. Isabellaâs eyes fell to a gentleman in the corner fondling a stunning dark-haired woman. She was scantily clad in a dampened satin gown that clung to her vivacious curves. The woman took her long, slender fingers and raked them through the gentlemanâs auburn tresses.
It was disgustingâyet fascinating all at once.
Disgustingly fascinating?
She watched as the auburn-haired gentleman lowered his lips to the womanâs bosom.
âAnd which young lady isâ Bella!â Simon took a sidestep and blocked her view of the erotic display, snapping the curtains closed. He took a step forward, composing himself. âMiddleton. Dear sister. How may I be of service?â
Narrowing her eyes, Isabella attempted to peek through the small opening of the fabric. âWhat were you doing in there? Who is that other man?â
Simon stepped into her line of view. He crossed his arms over the lapels of his perfectly tailored jacket. âNothing and no one.â
Isabella stifled her laughter. Oh, how she loved baiting her eldest sibling. âI am fairly certain I saw a young lady in there. Does Mother know of your scandalous activities?â
Simonâs nostrils flared as he glanced between her and Edward.
âCome now, my lady. Let us not tease Lord Reading.â Edwardâs grip tightened on her arm, and Isabella turned to face him. His expression was stern, almost as if he were giving her an order.
How dare he. Treating her as if he owned her already.
Isabella feigned a smile. âI am suddenly parched. Lord Middleton, would you be so kind as to fetch me some lemonade?â Bloody bastard.
Being the proper gentleman he was, Edward bowed and placed a featherlight kiss on Isabellaâs hand. âI will be but a moment.â
Once Edward was out of view, Isabella turned to Simon and rubbed her sore shoulder with her fingers.
A lady must always maintain a good posture. No gentleman wants a wife with rounded shouldersâŚ
Isabellaâs upper back fell into a more comfortable slouch. âWe have a situation.â Simon cocked his head in bemusement. âViolet disappeared with Lord Taunton.â She kept her voice low so none of the nearby patrons could hear.
âWhat?â Her brotherâs fists tightened at his sides. âWhere are they?â
âI saw them enter the west corridor.â She placed her hand on his forearm. âGo. Quickly. Before someone discovers them.â
Simon stomped off, leaving Isabella alone. A slight giggle came from inside the alcove, but before she could sneak a glance, Edward appeared at her side.
âYour lemonade, my lady.â Edward handed her a small glass, and Isabella gulped the beverage down in two large swallows.
âLovely.â She swiped the back of her hand over her lips, enjoying the astonishment in Edwardâs eyes. âThank you.â
Edward cleared his throat. âNow that your brother has conveniently disappeared, may I have the next set, my lady?â
She glanced toward the corridor her brother had vanished through. She could not possibly excuse herself to follow Simon. So she sighed, placing her now empty glass on a small table, and accepted Edwardâs hand.
A bloody waltz.