Page 64

CHAPTER ONE

Hertfordshire, England

Rebecca Eliot, daughter of the late Earl of St. Germans, clasped the hand of the coachman who helped her down from her carriage in front of the Blue Lion Inn.

The sun was just beginning to set, creating the most beautiful array of orange and pink colors in the sky.

Her face shifted to a wide smile, never having felt more free from the confounds of society than she did at that moment.

At six-and-twenty, she was considered a spinster, firmly on the shelf. And she had long accepted that fact, but it was her mother who held out hope for the last couple of seasons.

Rebecca knew she didn’t have any memorable or attention-capturing features with her brown hair and brown eyes.

While she possessed a trim figure, so did many other women.

Rebecca was the type of woman who had always blended into the background, and after attending eight seasons, donning fashionable ball gowns, which decorated the walls at countless events, she accepted it was unlikely she would marry.

If her plain looks didn’t attract a suitor, her associations hadn’t helped. First, there was her brother, the current Earl of St. Germans, who was rumored to have ruined a young debutante years ago and fled London, only to stroll back into their good graces when he flashed his handsome smile.

Then there was her closest friend, Theodosia, who had made quite a name for herself in various attempts to secure one of the eligible titled gentlemen, or ruin the members of a set of well-liked ladies.

Rebecca never carried quite the same level of disdain that Theodosia had for them.

They were all beautiful and darlings of the ton, which she might have envied, but she had always tried not to engage in Theodosia’s act of disdain.

Between her brother’s and Theodosia’s behaviors, Rebecca had been deemed a lost cause.

No gentleman wished to seek a match with the sister of a rumored debaucher of women and best friend of the most vicious, opportunistic gossip of the ton.

The ones who did were men old enough to be her grandfather or fortunate hunters.

She was at least fortunate her father, when he was alive, didn’t see fit to marry her off to the few who had made offers without even so much as deigning to have a single conversation with her.

Her brother cared little about her prospects, and since she’d long reached her age of majority, he only shrugged his shoulders when she declared she wished to return to their home in Derbyshire.

He had allowed her to travel with only her maid, driver, and a coachman to accompany her, while her mother had wished to remain in Town to attend the last few parties of the season.

The freedom of being on her own for the first time thrilled her.

“My lady,” Baxter started, “do you wish for me to escort you inside?”

Rebecca shook off her woolgathering and focused her attention on her coachman. “That won’t be necessary. Maggie and I shall be fine on our own. My brother sent word to reserve rooms for us.”

Rebecca started towards the entrance of the inn, Maggie following behind. They met the innkeeper, who introduced himself as Mister Hanner and gave them each a key to their chambers.

The pair ascended the stairs, navigating to the rooms that Mister Hanner had indicated. When Rebecca reached her door, she turned the knob, as the innkeeper stated the rooms would be unlocked.

“My lady, I don’t think…” Maggie’s voice trailed off.

But Rebecca had already pushed the door open.

“Do you typically waltz into other people’s rooms?” a rich baritone asked from inside the chamber.

His voice immediately mesmerized her, and she fixed her gaze on the figure seated on the large wingback chair.

He had one hand behind his head and a leg draped over the armrest. She noticed almost immediately that he was naked from the waist up, a sight she had never seen before.

And she understood at that moment how young ladies could be taken in by the male form as the urge to run her hands along his chiseled muscles was quite strong.

“Are you unable to speak?” he asked, pulling her from her increasingly wanton thoughts.

“I…I thought this was my room,” she said, uncertain how she had spoken the words given the impact the man in front of her had on her. She needed a glass of water. And a fan. Definitely a fan.

He swirled the drink in his other hand as she took notice of his rich, light auburn hair. His hair was styled longer than most gentlemen, and she longed to push it back from his face so she might better determine the color of his eyes.

“Well, Angel, unless you aim to share this chamber with me tonight, I believe you have stumbled into the wrong room.”

Her cheeks immediately warmed, and she knew she must have been as red as a tomato. Based on the way he smirked at her, the reaction wasn’t lost on him.

“My lady,” Maggie said from behind her, her tone protective, “your chamber is next door.”

“Well then, ‘my lady’ is it?” he asked, coming to stand, then crossed the short distance to her and captured her hand in his. He brought her knuckles to his lips, then stared into her eyes.

Green. His eyes were the deepest emerald green, and they pulled her into a deeper trance than his voice had.

“If you should change your mind. You know where to find me.” He winked at her, and his expression was full of mirth.

He was toying with her. Saying shocking things to see how she would react.

Typical rakish behavior, whether or not he’d meant what he said.

He needn’t know that her body was on fire and he’d unlocked desires she hadn’t even known she had.

Doing her best to school her features, she shifted her expression to one of boredom.

“Come, Maggie,” she said. “I believe we have experienced all there is to see here.”

The auburn-haired god chuckled. “Hardly. But given I have no desire to see some angry father or brother on the dueling ground, you had best scurry along to your own chamber.”

She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to depart, not giving him the satisfaction of glancing back at him. No matter how much she might want to. Rebecca continued down the hall to the next room and hurried inside.

Maggie pointed towards the fresh water in the basin on a nearby table. “Why don’t you wash up, my lady? I shall ensure your things are brought up and ready to dress you for bed while you take supper in the dining room.”

“But what about you? Don’t you wish to join me?” Rebecca asked.

Her maid shook her head. “I am sure we are both quite tired. I’ll have my dinner brought to my room after I lay out your bedclothes.”

Rebecca gave her a small nod and then went about freshening herself from the day of travel.

The cool water did little to ease the effect the scoundrel next door had on her, but at least she felt more presentable for dinner.

Maggie re-pinned Rebecca’s hair, and then Rebecca glanced in the mirror before she departed from her chamber.

She hurried past the mysterious man’s door, passing Baxter carrying her small trunk along the way. Descending the staircase, she followed the noise until she reached the dining room.

Rebecca sat at one of the empty tables, glancing around the room to take in the surrounding people.

Her parents had never allowed her to eat by herself at an inn before.

There was a bar where a few men clanked tankards and laughed at something one of them had said.

Several other tables had other patrons, who appeared to be from various classes, but she didn’t recognize any of them.

“Are ye wanting drink or supper?” a pretty blond barmaid asked.

Rebecca smiled at her, catching the gentlemen with the ale out of the corner of her eye. “Both. I’d like a tankard of ale and a hearty bowl of stew. With bread and butter, if you have it.”

She had been the proper miss who drank only sherry or champagne, and she was starting her new life on her own.

She’d do whatever she desired. Her brother had let her try ale before, but it was a novel experience to drink a tankard at an inn where no one knew her and she could behave however she wished. Within reason, she supposed.

“Coming right up,” the woman said.

A man at the bar watched the maid as she walked away. Based on the way the woman grinned back at him, Rebecca wouldn’t be surprised if they had some sort of understanding. A notion she might have felt a pang of jealousy over.

A few minutes later, the barmaid set down the ale and the bowl of meat stew with bread, just as she’d asked. Rebecca drew a deep inhale, taking in the rich aroma, realizing how famished she was.

Picking up her spoon, she dipped it into the bowl and closed her lips around it, just as a figure plopped down in the chair across from her.

“Do you think it wise to dine on your own, Angel?”