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CHAPTER ONE

The male specimen in front of Angelica Hutton was exquisite.

His features were proud and handsome, his mouth tilted in a lopsided smile, and the lines of his body hard and lithe.

Her hand itched to take out her notebook and draw his strong nose, the bend of his arm, the dip of the muscle in his hip.

Such a shame that no decent lady would ever do such a thing.

As a matter of fact, she had been eyeing the handsome stranger for too long. Already her companion was pulling at her arm and whispering frantically: "Please, my lady, we must go! You shouldn't be here!"

Sally was probably right—Angelica had no business spying on the three young men who had abandoned propriety and dived into the lake in a state of undress.

They had nothing on but their trousers and white linen shirts, and the translucent fabric left Angelica very little to imagine.

She had never seen a naked man before, so the view of the man's chiseled torso was quite distracting.

If she could only memorize the contours of his chest, maybe later she could?—

"My lady!"

"Yes, yes, Sally. We must go, I know," Angelica sighed.

She regretted leaving such a lovely sight, but her companion was probably right.

If she was to be found peeping on men in such a state, her reputation would be ruined.

And if there was one thing about Angelica Hutton that rankled her the most, it was her sterling reputation.

Always careful, always proper, always wary of any blemish or possible stain to her pristine reputation. How exhausting it all was.

Angelica sighed again and walked away from the reeds hiding her and Sally from view.

They went up the hill and returned towards Ainsley Manor, where she had been staying for the past week.

It was a house party, one organized by the new Countess of Hartfield, who only invited Angelica because she was the most prized debutante of the season.

However, after getting to know each other, Angelica was happy to discover that the lady was, in fact, a very sweet and intelligent woman.

They had several rousing discussions on philosophy and science, and to Angelica's surprise, the Earl of Hartfield often joined them.

Never before had she met a peer who was as interested in what his wife had to say as the earl.

The two were obviously a love match, and Angelica envied them greatly.

As she made her way back to the manor, she wondered if she would ever be so lucky.

When she arrived at the house, she was greeted in the drawing room by her mother.

"Darling, you look positively wild! You were out in the sun again, weren't you? Oh, Angelica, you know the sun wreaks havoc on your skin. What will we do if you become sunburnt? That would be a tragedy."

"A tragedy, mother, is the state of affairs in Antigua. My skin hardly qualifies for such a hyperbole."

Lady Hutton shook her head in dismay. "You have been reading the papers again, haven't you? Angelica Hutton, mark my words—No man —"

Angelica mouthed her mother's next words, since she knew them by heart: "—wants a clever wife.

" She did this while turned away, for if her mother saw it, she would surely catch the vapors for her daughter's rudeness.

But still, Angelica couldn't contain herself enough to avoid responding—"Perhaps this woman doesn't want a dull, unread husband. "

Her mother huffed in frustration. "There you are again, babbling nonsense. Do speak like a proper lady, please."

Angelica turned to remove her bonnet and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, mother," she replied with feigned calmness.

She had long ago abandoned all hope of her and her mother understanding one another— there was only so much a young lady could do to try and educate one's own mother.

Lady Hutton was a perfect product of her age—pretty, respectable, and silly.

She was everything Angelica should have aspired to be, but alas, Angelica could not seem to practice vapidness as well as her mother.

"Remember why we are here, dearest—the season is almost over, yet you have not accepted a single offer of marriage! And you had four. Why, oh why did you refuse Lord Lenchley? He was handsome and so well off."

Angelica curbed a hiss of annoyance. "He was also as dumb as a doorknob, and whenever we spoke, his eyes would glaze over in the most unappealing way."

"Hush! How you speak, it is shocking. I've never spoken to your papa that way, nor have I disparaged a member of the peerage! The season is almost over!"

"Yes, so you've mentioned, Mama."

"And you are yet unbetrothed—you being the toast of the ton! Angelica," her mother approached her with pity and worry, "You are almost nineteen years of age. You will never be this young and beautiful again! How will you fare without a husband to look after you?"

"Mama, I'm not averse to the concept of matrimony," Angelica replied, her heart stinging from her mother's insensitive words.

"But I am averse to the idea of marrying a dolt.

I have a pretty face and an acceptable dowry.

All I want is a chance to find someone who does not treat me as a pageantry pony. "

"A pageantry pony! Why, I never…" Her mother's shocked response faded into silence as they were joined in the drawing room by the Countess of Hartfield and two other ladies.

Angelica stayed for as long as was polite, and then made her excuses and left for her room.

There she found Sally already setting a water basin with tepid water on a small table by the mirror.

"Thank you, Sally," she said, smiling at her companion. It really wasn’t Sally's responsibility to tend to her ablutions, but they both appreciated the quiet time together. Sally looked at her with a shrewd expression.

"You seemed much intrigued by the view we had by the lake, my lady."

Angelica smiled. "Yes, quite. Such handsome men, don't you agree? And so shockingly undressed."

Sally smiled back. Being older and more experienced than her friend, Sally was the one Angelica leaned on to explain the ways of the world. Lord knew she could not ask her mother any of the questions she had racing through her mind.

"Do you think that, beneath those wet trousers, they really look like the statue of David? For I swear, those bulges seemed a bit larger."

"My lady!" Sally crimsoned and let out an outraged laugh. "It depends on the gentleman, frankly. Some resemble poor David, while others are… more endowed."

"Really? How is that possible?" Angelica wondered aloud. "Surely it is very uncomfortable to move around with such a thing between one's legs."

Sally's laughter echoed in the chamber. Angelica laughed with her, her mind conjuring images of men walking awkwardly to accommodate their comically large bulges. She should draw it in her red notebook—the one she kept secret from everyone but Sally.

"Was there one who struck your fancy? Perhaps a blond-haired, chiseled-jawed individual with a slender form?" Sally needled.

Now it was Angelica's turn to blush. "Do not be silly, Sally. I know nothing of them. As far as I know, they are all incredibly dull and stupid. You know I could never fancy a stupid man, no matter how handsome he is."

"I remember well your aversion to vapid men. Poor Lord Lenchley was so infatuated with you, yet you wouldn't give him the slightest encouragement."

"Well, that was entirely his fault. He referred to Homer as a 'terrible bore', and he believed one could sail over the edges of the world."

"That is true," Sally conceded, turning serious. "Even so, your mother seems adamant to see you betrothed by the end of the season. What shall you do?"

Angelica frowned. She had no answer to that. How could she stave off her mother's relentless search for a husband during this house party?

"I'll leave you to your drawing," Sally said, pressing a warm hand to Angelica's shoulder. Angelica smiled in gratitude, withdrawing the red notebook from beneath her mattress.

Once Sally was gone, Angelica took a sharpened pencil from her supply satchel and opened the notebook on a clean, new page. Then, with the sure and unguarded movements of a true artist, she sketched a lithe form with a lopsided grin.

Mr. Neville Drent— 'Nev' to his friends – was still shivering from the cold waters by the time he reached Ainsley Manor.

His clothes were soaked through, his hat lopsided, and his boots squeaked as he walked in wet stockings.

But it was all worth it—they were finally here, after months of loitering in London.

He loved Ainsley Manor. His friend Hartfield had tailored his country home to suit his new wife, and her presence was evident from the moment Nev stepped inside. There was an air of joy and love that permeated the walls, echoing Hartfield's own marital bliss. Lucky bugger.

As he entered the house, he and his friends were greeted by Hartfield himself.

"Well, if it isn't the three riders of the apocalypse," Hartfield commented sardonically. "But instead of Death, Famine, and Plague, I see before me Sloth, Gluttony and Lust."

The last was directed towards Nev, who laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I've missed you too, old chap. Your lake was too tempting to resist."

Hartfield returned the smile. "No need to apologize. But do behave yourselves during this visit, gents—we have ladies present."

"And how does your lady fare these days, Hartfield?" asked George, Nev's burly companion.

"Eveline is lovely, as always. She would be happy to entertain all of you. Also, we have an announcement to make during dinner."

Nev quirked an eyebrow. "You're not leaving the country again, are you? London was a terrible bore without you."

Hartfield laughed. "No, nothing of the kind. You'll have to curb your curiosity and await dinner, my friend. Now, do go and replace those unseemly clothes—you look like drowned rats."