Prologue
A Vicious Viscount
June 1818
London, England
Miss Fenella Franklin tried to fade into the horrid wallpaper of the ballroom. She was too tall to hide behind the potted plants. She picked at the gold lace overlay of her bottle-green dress and wondered if those nasty girls were right. Were men intimidated by her? Did they see her as an Amazon? Her father was extremely tall, and Fenella had inherited most of his physical characteristics, including his white-blond hair and gray eyes. It seemed no one wanted to talk to her, but there was plenty of whispering about her.
She glared at the group of malicious debutantes, giggling and casting sidelong looks at her. It seemed intelligence was also a strike against her. Bluestocking, they’d hissed and sneered behind their fans.
Drat! Fenella was a laughingstock her first season, an embarrassment to her ambitious mother.
If only she could have waited one more year and come out with her younger sister. Miss Evelina Franklin would take the ton by storm, and no one would blather about their lack of a title or hiss mushroom as they passed. Everyone loved Evie. She was petite with thick locks of dark honey hair and soft brown eyes that could convince a man to do almost anything.
Fenella couldn’t convince a young buck to dance with her with a bat of her eyelashes or a flick of her fan. The last set had been dreadful, a simple country dance. The gentleman had rolled his eyes when she failed to glide around him at the proper time. It wasn’t her fault he only came to her chin and his arms were short. No, she wouldn’t dance again tonight if she were dragged by the hair.
That image made her giggle.
Her gaze locked with her mother’s, who weaved her way through the guests with displeasure in her eyes. Fenella hated being the sacrificial lamb. Her father was a baronet, not a peer, but quite successful in the wholesale trade. Lady Franklin was determined to find a titled gentleman in need of a large dowry. An impoverished baron or viscount would move them up in London’s social circles.
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Fenella prepared for the onslaught of accusations and instructions. She jumped at a male voice behind her.
“Why are you hiding in the corner? A woman of your… stature cannot conceal herself.”
Fenella turned and cast her eyes down on the handsome man. His midnight hair matched the onyx eyes, slightly slanted like those of a cat’s. He was dressed complete to a shade in a black double-breasted waistcoat, breeches, white shirt, and expertly tied cravat. When he smiled, her stomach flipped.
“I do beg your pardon. I am Herbert Manning, Viscount Shelton.” He bowed and took her limp hand, placing a light kiss on the back of it.
The warmth of his lips seeped through her glove and sent wings fluttering in her stomach. She nodded just as her mother appeared beside them.
“Ah, Lord Shelton, I see you have met my daughter,” gushed Lady Franklin.
“And your name is?” he asked, keeping his focus on Fenella.
“Miss Fenella Franklin, my eldest.” Lady Franklin looked from one to the other. “I’m sure Fenella would love to dance the next set if you do not have a partner.”
“I’m afraid I don’t care to dance,” he said, his eyes never leaving Fenella’s face. “Would you care to promenade? I much prefer conversation.”
Fenella wanted to fall on her knees and thank this attractive man who had just given her mother the cut indirect. She laid a gloved hand on his arm, taking smaller steps as she had been taught. A long stride was not ladylike and accentuated her height.
“These gatherings are a monstrous nuisance,” he whispered conspiratorially as they walked the outer boundary of the large room. “I believe you’d rather be elsewhere, too.”
She laughed, enjoying the astonished looks from the girls who had just received her indignant glare. “Yes, I’d rather be anywhere.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Green-eyed chits, the lot of them.”
She caught her breath at the intimate touch and his words. “Please, my lord, I appreciate your kindness, but what would they possibly be jealous of? My lack of title, my ability to tower over them, or my dull, academic conversation?” His attention had emboldened her, and her natural humor overtook her awkwardness.
“They’re envious of your wealth, your wit, and your guileless demeanor.” He stopped for a moment, looking into her eyes with a charming smile that made her knees a little weak. “Myself, I find you quite lovely. These dandies wouldn’t know a diamond of the first water if she fell into their lap.”
Fenella gaped at him, her face heating. Wit? Guileless? She silently cursed the red surely staining her cheeks.
“Ah, forgive me. I’ve embarrassed you,” he apologized and continued their stroll. “I tend to overplay my hand, or so I’m told. Say you won’t hold it against me.”
She laughed. “You are the first male who has been genuinely kind to me since the Season began. I would hold nothing against you, my lord. Besides, you rescued me from another lecture.”
“By your mother?”
Fenella nodded. “I’m afraid my younger sister would have been better suited for a season. She is everything I’m not.”
“Then let us discuss everything that you are and she is not,” he answered with a smile. “Tell me one of your unique accomplishments.”
They strolled by the refreshment table, and she grinned at one particularly unpleasant female as her confidence increased. Looking up, she noticed a smirk on Lord Shelton’s handsome face. He stopped and nodded at the woman.
“Lady Annabelle, how good to see you again,” he acknowledged with a nod of his head. “Have you met my friend, Miss Franklin?”
“Ah, yes, I believe we met at Almack’s,” said the brunette with a fixed smile. “I hope you are enjoying the party, Lord Shelton?”
“Quite. I’ve found the company to be intriguing.” He looked down at Fenella. “Shall we?”
Fenella turned her back on the woman without another word. Her heart pounded with the excitement of it. Would that be considered a cut indirect? She hoped so. She truly hoped so. A little voice tried to ruin her euphoria. Why had this man searched her out? Pity, most likely. No matter, she was grateful for his company.
“Back to our conversation,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “A unique accomplishment that your sister does not share?”
“Hmm…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I can add a column of numbers in my head with perfect accuracy. I keep all my father’s ledgers.”
His eyebrows went up. “That’s fascinating. I’m terrible with accounts. Very good with money but terrible at remembering where it went.”
She laughed. “So you are good at spending it.”
“Oh, yes. My father bemoans my extravagance, but his coffers are overflowing.” He winked at her. “All parents need something to complain about, you see.”
They spoke of horses and early morning rides on Rotten Row. He preferred London to his estate, only going home during hunting season or when his father demanded it. She shared her love of the country and tried to convince him of the joys of living outside of Town. By the time Lord Shelton deposited her at her mother’s side, Fenella was enamored.