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Havelock House

Hanover Square, Mayfair

London, England

The desultory rain continued to speckle the window glass as Lady Nancy Wooster formerly Prentice, a daughter of an earl, and widow of Viscount Havelock stared out onto the streets of Mayfair with a frown. Was snow during Christmastide merely consigned to memories of childhood?

It now seemed it always rained during the autumn months and leading into winter.

Whatever happened to the snow that used to occur or even the colder temperatures?

Everyone always remembered the year of the Frost Fair as well as the horrid time two years ago when there wasn’t a summer due to terrible clouds, but still.

She would have enjoyed seeing a few lacy snowflakes outside instead of the ever-present rain.

Perhaps she was suffering from ennui. She’d lost her husband two and a half years ago, and though their union had had its problems, not having that companionship—broken as it had been—had left an emptiness in her life.

Yes, she had a twelve-year-old son that she adored to pieces and who was the heir to the Havelock viscounty, but he’d elected to stay at school with his friends for the holiday, so that left her alone.

And that was entirely his prerogative. He wanted to be there and had been a bit lost since his father died.

It was understandable that he would wish to spend that time with his friends and those with whom he felt the closest.

There would be other Christmastides to be with him, when he hopefully would no longer blame her for the awkwardness between her and his father.

That hurt the most, but she refused to tell him the truth so early in his development, refused to put shadows over his memories of his father.

The soft clearing of a masculine throat at the drawing room door wrenched her from the maudlin thoughts. She turned about to glance at the aging butler—Mr. Farnsworth. He’d been in her husband’s employ since before they’d married, and she hadn’t the heart to ask him to retire for his own health.

“What is it?” Not that she minded the interruption, but she… minded it if that made sense. “Is all well?”

“As far as I know, it is, my lady.” He offered a silver salver. “The post has arrived.”

“Thank you.” At least there was that distraction. After removing a small handful of envelopes from the tray, the butler departed, and she settled herself on her favorite low sofa near the fireplace where cheerful flames danced behind the ornamental grate.

There were many invitations for the Christmastide season—routs, dinner parties, a ball.

It seemed there was a bit of the Season still left even this late in the year.

None of them interested her, for though she’d ordered a few pretty gowns for the holiday, now that it was here, she wasn’t all that motivated to attend.

With a sigh, Nancy set them aside to shuffle through the remainder. There were a few letters from friends who had already settled into their country estates, and one of them was in sunny Rome for the winter.

How lovely would that be? She had never been anywhere outside of England.

Even though her husband had promised her, literally, that he would show her the world, the farthest from London she’d been on holiday had been to Brighton, and beyond that, to Kent where his country estate was located.

In fact, that was where his mother and two sisters lived year-round, and though Nancy had received an invitation for her to stay with them for the Christmastide season, that didn’t appeal to her either.

The sisters were both married with families of their own, and her former mother-in-law—the dowager viscountess— was a frail woman whose regard favored her daughters and not much of Nancy.

They were lovely people, of course, and they reminded her a bit of her departed husband, but they weren’t the type of people she wanted to spend cozy winter days with, no matter how much those nieces made her smile.

On the other side of that coin was heartbreak, and she just didn’t think herself strong enough to survive that.

Then her breath caught as she cracked the seal of a letter and began to read the first few lines.

This letter was from Lady Katherine Healy, formerly Gibson, youngest sister to the current Earl of Armestead, and it contained an invitation to a house party at Armestead Hall, which was north of Watford in Hertfordshire.

Except the earl was the very man she’d refused a betrothal to thirteen years ago.

Goodness, I haven’t thought about Edward in a spell.

Apparently, his sister Kitty wished for her to spend the Christmastide holidays with them and a bunch of friends and acquaintances so she wouldn’t feel so alone, and more to the point, since the letter was a few days old, the house party had begun today.

She reread the letter once more before her mind wandered.

Over the years, Nancy had done outings with Kitty and they had visited each other when Edward was out of pocket; she didn’t even know if he knew they were friends.

Not close enough to share intimate details of their lives, of course, but it was lovely to have someone to share tea with and the occasional juicy bits of gossip.

To be honest, she hadn’t seen Kitty since the woman had returned to London from her six-month wedding trip to the wealthy gentleman Mr. Healy.

After that, they’d shared tea at Kitty’s new townhouse and there had been copious amounts of gossip and talking, but none of it centered around Edward. In fact, he’d barely been mentioned.

Perhaps that was as it should be, but if Nancy attended the house party in the country, she would have to see Edward again.

Good heavens, is that something she wanted?

What was he like now? Had he ever married? Did he have children?

It had been her Come Out year when she’d met Edward as a young woman of eighteen.

Everything had been exciting and new during that time, and there had been no shortage of men paying court to her, for as an earl’s daughter, not only did she command a large dowry, but she wasn’t horrid looking, and all those years ago, willowy blondes had been the sought after “look” of the Season.

She’d met Armestead at her Come Out ball.

Of course, he hadn’t yet been the earl at the time and held one of his father’s courtesy titles, but she’d thought him handsome and dashing, but he was also arrogant and thought himself better than others, called his best friend the “earl’s fool,” and generally portrayed himself as aloof.

She didn’t like that , and in those idealistic years when she’d finally been free of the schoolroom and tutors and being “finished,” she erroneously thought to marry for love or not at all.

And she’d certainly not loved Edward despite the attention he’d lavished upon her.

Compounding the issue had been the fact that her parents had married for love and they were happy. They were the ones who’d unofficially arranged the match between Armestead and herself; their first meeting was at her Come Out ball, and everyone within the ton knew the reason why.

Gossip made society go ‘round, after all.

That night, she had danced two sets with him, one of them a waltz, and she had been struck by his looks as well as his potential.

He’d said all the right things, had been everything polite and even charming despite the rumors.

They had been the envy of many people that night, and perhaps that notice had gone to her head…

or perhaps she’d been afraid of it. Even now, so many years later, it was difficult to tell.

When Edward had taken her outside her father’s manor house in the Surrey countryside to look at the stars and moon on that summer night, he’d stolen a kiss—her first kiss.

Oh, it had been magical indeed, but she’d always been a bit stubborn, and one of her downfalls was considering gossip as fact.

It didn’t matter that there had been a connection on that dance floor or that something had been exchanged between them in that kiss, he was arrogant, thought she would fall at his feet in gratitude for taking her out as an innocent, untried girl.

Hadn’t he almost expected her to accept his proposal?

Hadn’t he said to his friends that he would be her best offer that Season?

Burning with self-righteous, youthful anger as well as humiliation, Nancy had decided right then on that terrace that the heir to the Armestead title and properties probably didn’t know how to give love except to himself, and if he ever fell for her, he would never love only her, for he was quite popular among society ladies—of good standing and not.

As soon as he asked that all-important question, she promptly turned him down despite the fact that her parents had arranged everything for her.

She’d left him there outside and returned to the ballroom feeling oddly triumphant and a touch regretful.

When he’d come back in, she gave him the cut direct and absolutely refused to have anything else to do with him.

Much to her parents’ dismay and the shock of her friends.

Not that it mattered.

Six months later, she was married to the Viscount of Havelock after a whirlwind courtship.

He wasn’t the earl her parents had wanted, but he did have a title, and more importantly, he had declared his undying affection and love to her.

At the time, Nancy had been ecstatic with how things had turned out.

Life had never been so rosy or lovely, but it was only a couple of years later, when their first born had his first birthday that she discovered Havelock never loved her at all, that he was in love with someone else and always had been, but because he was a newly minted viscount, he had to make the match with her for legitimacy and to continue his line.