Chapter 1
As misunderstandings go, the one that led to the Dowager Countess of Wake being mistaken for a lady of the night would qualify as rather large, unfortunate, and beyond insulting. That it was made by a man who caused the very proper Adeline to imagine just the sort of things that might go on in a house of ill repute only served to make her even more furious than perhaps the misunderstanding warranted.
In her defense, she’d just had a somewhat startling shock after pulling a crimson corset from a stack of neatly folded fabrics when the forceful clank of the door knocker sounded throughout the house. She was working her way through the swatches in the drawing room, trying to make decisions on the gowns she would have made for her first Season since becoming a widow. That the modiste had included the under apparel must have been a mistake. The red was Adeline’s favorite color, a flaming decadent shade that no lady would ever wear—even under her clothing.
Especially not a widow.
No doubt it was the “especially not a widow” thought that got to her. When Adeline realized she’d never have another opportunity to put on something so utterly unacceptable, she did, well, the unacceptable. Before she could think better of it, she loosened the front laces and slipped the corset over her head, letting the extraordinary garment settle over her dark widow’s dress. The knock at the door was all but forgotten as she inhaled deeply and tightened the crimson ribbons under her breasts before tying the ends together.
It was magnificent. Naughty. But she didn’t care. It made her feel, of all things, feminine.
She spied a length of luxurious fabric that surely confirmed this box had been delivered to the wrong address and was intended for someone else. Someone so very unlike her. Not that it stopped Adeline from pulling the gold swath of tulle from the stack and wrapping it twice around her waist. In no time at all she had fluffed the gossamer cloth and fashioned the sash into a big, perfect bow.
It was completely out of character for her to indulge in such unfitting behavior, but why stop now that she’d started? Feeling deliciously wicked to be so brazen, she pulled the sleeves of her dress low on her shoulders and twirled a couple of times. She admired the forbidden elegance enhancing her shape, which was always hidden behind the straight, waist-less fall of her skirt.
What would the ton think if she, a dowager countess, showed up for the first ball wearing such a brilliant shade of red? Or her stays outside her gown? She smiled just thinking about all the horrified expressions she’d see on the faces of Society’s elite ladies of the ton. And then Adeline wondered what the handsome gentlemen would think of her. Widow or not, twenty-two was much too young not to ever look at or think about a man again. To want his eager kisses and the soft stroke of his masculine hand against her skin.
So caught up in the freedom of her improper thoughts, the richness of the fabrics, and the childlike innocence of spinning around as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she didn’t hear the footsteps down the corridor. Somewhat belatedly, she did hear her housekeeper’s gasp.
But it wasn’t Mrs. Lawton she noticed standing in the doorway when she stopped whirling.
Adeline took in the tall, black-cloaked figure whose gaze was staring straight at her as her skirts settled around her legs and she regained her balance. The housekeeper was trying her best to keep the stranger at bay, but her petite form was no match for the powerful-looking man whose brows suddenly knitted together in a frustrated frown of resolve.
Adeline’s first thought was to hurriedly rip off the stays and restore her clothing to suitable order. Knowing that was impossible without making matters worse, she pulled her bare shoulders back and stood fast. After two years of marriage to Wake, she was good at handling embarrassing situations and concealing her true emotions. She would remain seemingly unruffled by the unexpected invasion and deprive the man the entertainment of seeing her flustered or trying to remove the corset.
“I tried to stop him, but he brushed right by me as if I wasn’t there,” her housekeeper informed her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lawton,” Adeline said. “There’s no reason to fret. I’ll take care of this.”
The woman hesitated before nodding and disappearing into the corridor.
The stranger regarded Adeline so closely she wondered if he could see inside her and know exactly what she’d been thinking and feeling when she’d donned the stays and lowered the sleeves of her dress. She was looking him over, too, and realized there was something familiar about the man’s thick, dark, sand-colored hair and how it waved naturally across his forehead and fell to the top of the collar at his nape. Faint curiosity wove through her. They had met, but she couldn’t put a name to his face.
This was no surprise considering the fact her husband had never wanted her to look another man in the eyes on the few occasions he’d allowed her to attend parties with him. It wasn’t long after their marriage that he’d started insisting she spend her days at his country estate whenever he visited London. There had been no convincing him otherwise, though she’d tried on many occasions. Wake had been gone two years now, and thinking of him and that time of her life had become less and less frequent.
Whether or not she’d ever met the gentleman before her now, this wasn’t the way to start a new neighbor visit. Well, no matter now. The deed was done. Adeline expected him to realize his mistake, explain the reason for his action and apologize for barging into her house unannounced, and then hurry penitently away.
“Who are you, sir,” she asked, “and what do you want?”
For a moment, she thought perhaps the man might have recognized her as the once-decorous Countess of Wake and make amends, but then, without reference to who she was, who he was, or even a well-mannered greeting, he stated boldly and with definite impatience, “I want to see the madam of the house.”
His voice, deep and dark as the mantle he wore, washed through her like a warm sip of spiked apple-and-cinnamon cider. There was no demand in it—there didn’t have to be. His determination showed in his countenance. Yet, his demand without benefit of reason or introduction didn’t sit well with Adeline, no matter that he might very well be one of the finest-looking men she’d ever seen.
He strode farther into the drawing room, the tail of his cloak flowing majestically out behind him. His wide shoulders moved just enough to add to his roguish, compelling appeal. Adeline sensed a commanding strength within him that most ladies would find attractive.
But not her, she reminded herself.
One husband controlling her life had been more than enough for her.
She was a widow now and decidedly done with men of all varieties—except the ones in her imagination, of course. Those she could manage.
The man crossed his arms on his wide chest as if he’d done nothing wrong, and looked her over from head to toe. This time, however, his appraisal caused an unaccustomed catch in her breath. He took in every inch of her that was possible to see. An indecent and entirely inappropriate tingle traced a pathway across her breasts and then shivered down to her lower abdomen. That made her feel even more wretched at being caught daydreaming—until indignation struck.
It didn’t matter that he looked so dashing he had her senses heightened when he’d stopped a mere step or two in front of her. He was a stranger with no manners and showing no remorse. Anger started to simmer inside her. This ogre was sorely in need of a lesson in manners.
Difficult as it would be, considering her flagrant abuse of respectable attire, she had every intention of handling this ill-mannered scoundrel and making short work of getting rid of him.
Since he appeared to be a determined man on a mission, Adeline asked again, “Who are you, sir?”
His head cocked back in irritation and his expression had a rakish hint of mystery about what he was really thinking. “It’s not customary to ask a gentleman his name in a place such as this,” he said, seeming to give no weight to answering her simple question.
A twinge of concern pricked her instinct at his comment. She had hoped there would be no problems with opening the small boarding school for unfortunate girls in the building behind the house. Now, he was giving her reason to doubt that. It was perhaps more than a little unusual to put such a charitable establishment in the middle of a valuable street of houses, but she and her two friends and partners, Julia and Brina, had agreed it was simply the perfect place.
They could have never found such an ideal property on their own. Their solicitor had been invaluable in all aspects of starting the school. It was agreed by all that Adeline would live in the main house. She would be completely separated from the school and the girls by the tall yew hedge with an arched trellis for a gate, thereby keeping her at a distance from anything unseemly. Though it had satisfied her wish to be close and available if, for whatever reason, she might be needed after the school commenced. And they’d been purposely quiet while furnishing the school so they wouldn’t be disruptive to the neighborhood.
Moreover, this street was in St. James. Not the center of Society’s crown jewel, the bustling, prestigious Mayfair—where most of the inhabitants had no inclination to know about, much less be near, the everyday people who made up the larger portion of London’s growing population.
Adeline searched the man’s broad brow, angular cheekbones, and square chin and jaw, hoping that his comment had nothing to do with the school, and said, “It’s the polite question to ask. When a man doesn’t offer it no matter where he is,” she said tersely. “I’ll show you out.”
Copyright © 2019 by Amelia Grey
