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Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose affection had brought her into public at an early age.

She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the attentions of the officers, to whom her uncle’s good dinners and her own easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance.

—Pride and Prejudice

LORD THOMAS HOLDEN—Viscount Kingston—walked home in the dark wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake.

In a moment of gratitude and chivalry, he’d asked a complete stranger to become his daughter’s chaperone.

A tall and beautiful stranger, who didn’t look a day over five and twenty.

With long dark hair and brown eyes that a fellow could get lost in.

And she’d even seen him in his nightshirt and without his wig.

He rubbed his eyes and quickened his pace in the darkness.

It didn’t matter what Mrs. Wickham thought about him.

She was a young widow and would be the sort of happy companion that his daughter needed.

His late wife, Lady Euphemia, had been a devoutly religious woman who didn’t tolerate laughter or any light-mindedness.

Thomas exhaled a long sigh thinking about her.

Marrying Euphemia had been his mother’s choice of partner.

Not his.

She’d been five years his senior with an impressive dowry, and she’d never allowed him to forget her age or her worth.

Still, he’d done his best to be a good husband and father.

But Euphemia hadn’t wanted love or affection.

She’d wanted religious perfection. If they were Catholic, Thomas was certain that she would have become a nun.

Unable to stand up to her, Thomas had retreated to his library and his studies, and now that Euphemia was gone, he didn’t know how to live again.

Unlocking the door to the rented town house, Thomas felt his shoulders slump.

He regretted leaving his home and estate near Lyme Regis and coming to Brighton.

Not that he blamed his beloved Chloe for attempting to elope with Captain George Peckham.

He blamed himself. Chloe wanted to meet new people and participate in Society after her mother’s death.

Thomas had been too intimidated by London, so he’d taken her to Brighton.

But since he had no acquaintances and his daughter was not used to socializing outside of religious meetings, they’d not had much success.

No doubt, Captain George Peckham had thought that they were easy pigeons to pluck.

Slowly climbing up the stairs, Thomas decided that hiring Mrs. Wickham was the best choice that he’d made since his wife died. She would provide a lively and safe companion for his daughter.

And then he could return to his library and fossil studies.

THE NEXT MORNING, Thomas kept glancing out the window in the front study to see if Mrs. Wickham had arrived in his carriage yet.

He didn’t know how many possessions she had or how long moving residences would take.

He wondered if he ought to have gone and assisted her.

Thomas would never have admitted it out loud, but he was very curious to see how Mrs. Wickham looked in the daylight.

Was she as young and as lovely as he remembered?

Setting down his quill, Thomas stood up from the desk and walked toward the front windows. All he’d been able to write in the letter to his fellow fossil correspondent was the salutation. His mind was too taken up with his daughter’s new chaperone to concentrate on anything else.

The door to the study opened, and his daughter burst into the room.

There was a pretty pink in Chloe’s cheeks and her features were alight with anticipation.

Thomas was glad to see her spirits so recovered.

His daughter had been quite downcast when they’d spoken first thing this morning, but he’d assured her that there was nothing to forgive.

He often worried that Chloe, being reared by Euphemia, was too prone to assume herself an unredeemable sinner.

Thomas had given his daughter a hug, kissed her forehead, and assured her, “Everyone makes mistakes, darling.”

Chloe all but ran into the study. “She’s here!”

His daughter exited the room almost as quickly as she’d entered it.

His wife would have insisted that their daughter walk and behave herself with sedate decorum.

Thomas liked to see Chloe energetic and happy.

He followed her out to the gray-tiled marble entry and saw his butler opening the door for Mrs. Wickham.

She was even more stunning in the sunlight.

Her gown was a dark purple with large, puffed sleeves that highlighted her narrow waist. Her large, dashing hat was of a similar shade and trimmed with ribbons and bows.

The color made her dark eyes sparkle and her brown hair shine.

Alas, this morning it was curled and up in a suitable coiffure.

Thomas missed seeing her hair down and long in all its glory.

He thought her too pretty for words when she entered his house, but then Mrs. Wickham smiled, and Thomas’s entire body thrummed in awareness of her. Perhaps hiring her had been a mistake.

Mrs. Wickham curtsied deeply to Chloe. “Miss Holden, you are even more lovely in the daylight. I am so pleased to meet you again.”

The pink in his daughter’s cheeks turned a darker shade from the compliment.

His daughter had not received many of them.

Euphemia had thought vanity the most disgusting of sins.

She’d demanded that their daughter dress in somber colors and have her hair arranged simply.

And since neither Thomas nor Euphemia had been particularly handsome, Chloe’s appearance was rather ordinary.

Her features were regular and unremarkable, her hair a light shade of brown and her eyes a dark shade of blue.

Chloe bobbed a schoolgirl curtsy. “Mrs. Wickham, I am so happy to see you again.”

Her new chaperone took off her hat and wrap, then gave them to the butler. “Oh, please, call me Lydia, Miss Holden. For I foresee that we are going to be the best of friends.”

“I should like that very much,” his daughter said. “And you may call me Chloe.”

Mrs. Wickham—Lydia—took Chloe’s arm and linked it with her own. “Now, I need to learn everything about you, Chloe. Such a pretty name. Do you mind calling for some tea so we can become better acquainted?”

“Of course! Sullivan, will you bring a tea tray to the parlor?” Chloe then turned to her father. “And you must come as well, Papa. I am certain that Lydia wishes to get to know both of us.”

His eyes moved to the beautiful widow. She was dressed elegantly, but not expensively. And the woman’s face appeared to be a little gaunt, as if she hadn’t eaten enough for several weeks or months. But it was her bright smile that drew him to her. “If I have your permission, ma’am?”

She waved a hand. “Oh, don’t ma’am me! Call me Lydia, and I should love to get to know you better, my lord .” Then, she winked at him. For a moment, Thomas thought that the widow was being flirtatious, but then he remembered that he’d corrected her about calling him by his title last night.

“My friends call me Kingston, ma—Lydia.”

She shot him another dazzling smile and then allowed his daughter to enthusiastically lead her to the front parlor. “What a beautiful room. I love all the blues. It’s a perfect parlor to have near a seashore.”

Chloe grinned and blushed prettily. “I like it, too.”

Lydia and Chloe sat next to each other on a sofa, and Thomas took a seat on a chair near them. Not that it mattered; Lydia’s eyes were focused on his daughter.

“Your father mentioned that you were eighteen years old, Chloe.”

His daughter nodded.

“That’s the perfect age.”

Chloe snickered. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course,” Lydia assured her, taking one of his daughter’s hands into both of hers. “I am two and thirty. You are just the right age to be joining Society. Have you been to many parties and assemblies in Brighton?”

His daughter let her head fall. “I went to a few public assemblies with Papa, but since I do not know how to dance, I haven’t made many friends or acquaintances.

Except for the awful George—Captain Peckham; he sat out several dances with me and flattered me most dreadfully.

I even thought that he loved me. I was unpardonably foolish!

I hope that he won’t tell others about my folly. ”

Lydia took a long sip from her teacup and then shook her head.

“You needn’t worry about Captain George Peckham ever again.

First thing this morning, I sent a little note to my dear friend, Mrs. Forster, and she wrote back immediately to assure me that it will be handled at once.

Her husband is a general in the army, and she assures me that the captain will be sent to a regiment up north.

The army doesn’t want a scandal any more than you do, Chloe.

Nor does it reflect well on the young man who tried to abduct the daughter of a viscount. ”

Exhaling loudly, Chloe’s shoulders fell. “I am relieved. Not that I wanted to see him again, but I fear that now I will have no one to talk to at assemblies.”

Lydia clucked her tongue. “More young men will flatter you most dreadfully once I teach you how to dance. Why have you not ever learned before?”

Chloe’s neck turned a telltale red, and she looked to her father.

Thomas cleared his throat. “My late wife was very pious and opposed to dancing.”

Lydia’s eyebrows raised, and her mouth rounded to an O. “So, Chloe is not allowed to dance, my lord? I can assure you that dancing is essential to meeting suitors.”