Page 1 of A Wallflower Takes a Duke

PROLOGUE

December 1833

Cock and Magpie Coaching Inn

Somewhere North of London

No. Not now—.

Lady Wilhelmina Tindall, daughter of the Viscount of Rumsford, tamped down the pain in her chest and brushed aside a tear. Shewouldnot cry.

Two peers of the realm, a duke with a bloody nose and an earl with a bleeding gash above his eye, brawled in the mud and snow in the yard of the inn like common stable boys.

And once again, a pother of trouble was all her fault. No matter that both of said peers were grown men and impossible blockheads, she’d be blamed for all the mayhem.

She always had been…ever since she’d been a small girl at Montcliffe Abbey. Yes, chaos had swirled around her many times over the years, but it was never her fault…she’d nevermeantto cause mayhem.

Her one and only Season was supposed to have been the answer to coming into her own and finding the love of her life. She’d put so much hope into this magical time, but she knew now she’d never had a chance.

Because of four huge mistakes she’d made:

First - Thinking she could float through a Season with Julian at her side, showing her exactly what she needed to do, never allowing her to misstep, all the way.

Second - Convincing herself she could choose a husband from among all the suitors vying for her hand, based on Julian’s advice.

Third - Believing the man she would marry didn’t have to be the man she truly loved. How could she have known her heart had needs of its own and would ignore her wrong-headed advice?

Fourth, and biggest? - Believing Julian would never let her fall.

WILHELMINA TINDALL’S DIARY

June 15,1833

Mayfair, London

Tonight, Mr. Leonard Pennyroyal, third son of Viscount Strathmore, told me he thought he could learn to love me. I was flattered, of course, but a little mystified. How does one know one is going to come to love someone?

Could it be what he really meant is he could learn to love the fortune Papa has promised to settle on me?

As soon as Mr. Pennyroyal returned me to Lady Fitzroy’s company, Julian appeared out of nowhere. He claims to be desperately seeking the “perfect” wife, which one would think should take up all his time.

He swept up to me, gave me one of his grave, doltish looks, and leaned close to my ear to tell me the viscount’s son is in debt by five thousand quid to Hugh’s gambling hell. After that cryptic comment, he disappeared into the crush of Miss Lilith Montague’s coming out ball. I’ve heard rumors Papa has sworn to challenge His Grace to pistols at dawn if he finds out Julian has dared to approach me again.

The only thing that keeps me from shooting him myself is the memory of how this tangle of friendship began…

1

OCTOBER 1820

MONTCLIFFE ABBEY, ESSEX

Mina’s favorite way to fall asleep wasn’t working. She’d counted the plaster cherubs circling the medallion on the ceiling of the nursery. Twice.

She lifted the counterpane and carefully swung her bare feet out onto the cold floor. She’d decided her slippers would make too much noise, echoing down the hallways of cavernous Montcliffe Abbey.

It had to be the music. The music swelled to a crescendo every hour when the musicians in the ballroom two floors beneath the nursery took a short pause before commencing again within no more than a few minutes. Her bare toes tapped in time to the tune against the bitterly cold floor of the nursery. Nurse insisted Mina should sleep with a window open to the wintry air “for her own good.”

Said nurse, Miss Wimple, now snored loudly from her adjoining room under a pile of blankets and quilts. The woman’s loud rumbles, accompanied by the constant stops and starts of the music below, made sleep impossible.