1

London England 1732…

“Oh, Devon, it looks stunning,” gushed her sister-in-law Eleanor as Devon came down the stairs. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Sully?” She asked Devon’s brother. He wasn’t paying attention as he looked over the invitation in his hand. “Sully?” Eleanor snapped, getting her husband’s attention.

Sully looked up and took a look at Devon in her yellow ball gown. “Oh… yes, perfectly acceptable,” he said, returning his attention to the invitation. “Must we go to this thing? I so despise Lord Stafford. He’s a pompous blowhard that thinks he’s somehow better than all the other men in the House of Lords. And his daughter is even viler.”

“Of course, we have to go. Page Stafford’s coming out is the first event of the season. Everyone who is anyone will be in attendance, and if we are not, the tongues will be wagging. Frankly, I do not want to be the focus of rumours,” she said, straightening the lapels of his dinner jacket. “So, we will go, we will dance, we will eat, and you will smile.”

“Can we not just make an excuse, perhaps tell them the boys are ill?” Sully suggested.

“We are going,” Eleanor said, lacing her arm with his. “Come, Devon, let us enjoy the night even if your brother is set on pouting.”

Devon understood how her brother felt. Page Stafford was a pretentious little twit that felt the world revolved around her and that everyone else was somehow lesser than her. She particularly liked to flaunt her good fortune over Devon.

Devon had missed her coming out. She had been so young when a philandering rake had fixed his sights on her. He had been a business associate of her father’s. He’d come over for dinner one night, and from the first time he smiled at her, Devon had been hopelessly in love. Bradly Lock had been a handsome, suave man who spoke sweet words of love, showering her with gifts. It was a whirlwind romance, and six weeks later, Devon was engaged. At seventeen, she thought of herself in a love match. She gave herself to her fiancé before the wedding and became pregnant. At that point, it was too late to back out, but she hadn’t wanted to.

They were married quickly, and the moment the priest pronounced them man and wife, Bradly changed. He was no long dutiful or loving but distant and mean. It wasn’t long before Devon realized she had been duped. Bradly was in dire straits financially. He was in terrible debt. He had married her for her dowry and no other reason. She was stuck in a sham of a marriage, not the love match she had believed it to be.

Devon did her best to make the most of her unfortunate situation, but as the days became weeks, things got worse. Devon learned her husband was going around sleeping with women and making a fool of her. Devon had spent many nights crying, and she found it hard to hold her head up in public. She was devastated, but the disgrace didn’t end there. Not six months after they were married, Bradly ran out on her. He took every penny they had and disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving Devon alone, pregnant, and destitute. She never saw her husband again.

Humiliated, Devon had gone to her family and told them Bradly had left her, and they decided to lie. They told everyone Bradly had gone off on a business trip, and four weeks later, when he had not returned, they told everyone the ship he had been on had sunk, and there were no survivors. It was better that everyone believed her husband was dead to salvage her tattered reputation. Devon had dressed in black and appropriately mourned her husband as society deemed fit, and then she went about her life with the stigma of a single mother and widow.

She raised her young son with the financial aid of her family. Her father had died two years later, and now her brother Sully had inherited his title and fortune, and he had been so considerate to give Devon a piece of his inheritance to help her manage her home and raise her son Dorian.

Even though she had the support of her family, Devon had been forced to reduce her household to a mere four staff members, each of which got paid poorly and worked many positions in the household. They had become invaluable to Devon, and they felt more like family than employees. She didn’t know what she would do without them.

Even though the lie of her husband’s death salvaged some of her reputation, the fact that she was penniless Devon still suffered a social stigma. She was a black sheep among the Ton, but because of her family’s reputation and standing, Devon was still invited to events and treated with false respect. To keep up appearances, she attended these functions, but like her brother, she really would have preferred to refuse but couldn’t.

Devon rode in the same carriage as Eleanor and Sully down to the country house of the Stafford Manor just north of London. It was a short ride to the Waghorn estate. Lord Stafford was a Baron who wished to marry his only daughter off to a man of great wealth and title. She was a nasty little social climber, and most people didn’t like her. Like Devon, people smiled at her face and whispered behind her back, Devon included.

When they reached Waghorn, Sully’s footman opened the carriage door. Sully got out first and then took Eleanor’s hand and assisted her out of the carriage, then did the same for Devon. “Keep a weathered eye. You might meet a nice suitor tonight,” Sully said as Devon stepped down.

For four years, he had been saying that to her at the start of every event. Devon knew her brother dreamed of the day she would remarry, and he would no longer have to support her. She knew he loved her, but she was a burden. The problem Sully never faced was that no man wanted to raise another man’s child. As much as men seemed to like Devon, her child sent men running. The only men that seemed to want to have anything to do with her were rakes, men looking for a mistress but not a wife.

They mounted the steps to the doors, which opened as they reached the top step. Once inside, Sully offered his arm to his wife, and the butler offered his own to Devon for introductions. Her brother and sister-in-law entered the ballroom as they were introduced to the party. Devon was introduced next. Once the formalities were over, the butler bowed respectfully and left Devon to her own devices.

She smiled when she spotted her dear friend Kathy Carrington already enjoying the festivities. When Kathy saw Devon, she quickly left her much older husband’s side to greet her. Kathy was a year older than Devon. She had come out and immediately been the talk of the town. She had so many suitors it hadn’t been long before she was engaged and married. Her husband was a man in his forties and had sown his wild oats and was looking for a pretty young wife to secure his heir. He wasn’t a homely man, but he wasn’t a looker; he was a nice respectable man with money and title. It was a marriage of connivance, but it seemed to work for them. They already had one son, and Kathy was pregnant again.

Kathy reached Devon and took her by the hands, then kissed both cheeks. “My God, you are glowing,” Devon laughed. “You are always so beautiful when with child. I never looked that radiant. I was a swollen mess the whole time.”

Kathy giggled. She was a lovely woman with raven curls and dark eyes. Her skin was like alabaster, and her figure was flawless. Even now, four months pregnant, she was the picture of beauty. “Oh, Devon, you are jesting, my ankles are swollen, my stomach is bloated, and I ache all over. You, on the other hand, look incredible. Is this a new gown? Absolutely stunning,” she then laced her arm with Devon’s, and they began to stroll the fringes of the ballroom. “I wouldn’t say it too loudly. It may offend our hostess, but you are easily the most beautiful woman in this house tonight,” she smiled and nodded politely at another guest, then she hugged tightly to Devon’s arm. “Isn’t it exciting?”

“What?” Devon had no idea what was exciting about this party.

Kathy looked at Devon with shock. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

Kathy looked around to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “All of London is buzzing about him.”

“Who?” Devon hadn’t heard a word, but then she didn’t exactly associate with many people.

Kathy took Devon aside, where they wouldn’t be overheard. “There is a new Lord in London. No one quite knows where he’s from, but gossipers suggest France. He’s been in London for a week, and somehow Lord Stafford has gotten him to join us all for dinner. Few people have seen him, and everyone is talking about how mysterious he is. He travels with one servant who runs his whole household. They said he isn’t married and that he tends only to leave the house at night, and he spends his time playing games of chance at the gentlemen’s club.”

“So, he’s a rake,” Devon sneered, “how delightful, London was in need of another philander.”

“That’s just the thing. He’s gone to the clubs but never partakes in the ladies the club provides. He plays cards the whole time and then goes home. They say he’s young too. Oh, it’s terribly exciting. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“You’re married,” Devon reminded her friend.

“Oh, I know, but you’re not. And you look lovely tonight. I intend to live vicariously through you,” Kathy giggled.

Devon sighed. “I’m sure he will be busy with our hostess the whole night.”

“Pish-posh, so it’s Lady Stafford’s party, he’ll spend some time with her undoubtedly, but that doesn’t mean he is interested in the little tart.”

“And he won’t be interested in me either.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a child. We both know the moment men learn about Dorian; they lose all interest.”

Kathy sighed. “That does pose a problem,” she then smiled. “So, lots of men say no, but it only takes one to say yes, and you’ll never find him by being a wallflower,” Devon honestly didn’t think such a man existed. A new guest arrived, and the Stafford butler cleared his throat and spoke loudly above the crowd introducing the new arrival. “That must be him,” Kathy breathed, her attention focused on the archway.

Devon turned to look, and she sucked in a surprised breath. A new face stood in the archway, looking out over the ballroom. He seemed indifferent to the attention he demanded. He stood tall with his broad shoulders squared. He had a commanding presence. His dinner jacket and trousers were expertly tailored to his powerful body. Though he was dressed in finery, he didn’t look like a man of leisure.

His raven hair was long and tied back at the nape of the neck. His jaw was clean-shaven, square, and strong. His cheekbones were high, his nose straight, and his eyes… she’d never seen eyes like his. They were vivid silver that seemed to almost shine, hidden beneath long dark lashes that would make any woman envious. He was the most beautiful man Devon had ever seen. He left her speechless.

“Lord Amadeus Granger, Count of Moreau,” the butler said loud and clear. Their host instantly greeted him.

“He’s beautiful,” Kathy breathed as if caught in a trance. Devon couldn’t blame her; he was stunning. He shook hands with their host then bowed to his daughter, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss on her knuckles. Page giggled, and he smiled… oh, dear Lord, his smile was incredible. His teeth almost sparkled. They were so white. He said something, and Page playfully blushed and ran her hands over the skirt of her powder blue ball gown.

He must have complimented her dress. It was an elegant dress. An expensive dress and it did look good on her. Page was a pretty young woman with dark hair and bright eyes. She had a curvy figure which men liked, unlike herself. Devon was thin. Her hips weren’t curvy, and her bust line was lacking. She was short and trim but not in the proper shape. Men didn’t like women shaped like Devon; they liked women shaped liked Page and Kathy. A man like this would never pay a woman like her any mind. Still, it would be nice to have him notice her, but she was sure every woman in the room was hoping to catch his eye.

The Count moved through the room like he glided on air shaking hands and politely nodding to those he met. Page and her father were right at his side. “Come,” Kathy said, pulling on Devon’s arm. She rushed Devon over to her husband, who was next in line to meet the Count. “Jackson, introduce Lady Lock,” Kathy said, patting her husband’s arm anxiously.

“And this is Lord Carrington, Earl of Laverick,” their host introduced Jackson.

Jackson shook the Count’s hand, and then Kathy gave her husband an impatient look. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Granger. Please allow me to introduce my lovely wife,” Kathy looked at her husband again. “And if I may be so fortunate to have the pleasure, I would be delighted to introduce Lady Lock, Baroness of Burdett.”

Lord Granger turned his eyes to Devon. She curtsied respectively since the man did outrank her even if he wasn’t from London. Lord Granger took Devon’s gloved hand in his and bowed. His eyes locked with hers, and he kissed the back of her hand. She saw a spark in his eyes, and then Devon became flushed when an erotic image flashed before her own. It was a brief but unmistakable vision of this man’s hands and mouth or her naked flesh, setting her body on fire. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Count.”

He smiled, and that erotic image returned. “The pleasure is all mine,” his English was very fluent and confidant. He most certainly had an accent, but it sounded muddled, and it was hard to place. She would have liked to have had time to talk with him at some point, but the receiving line kept moving as introductions were made to the rest of the guests. Devon felt oddly abandoned by his moving on. Devon shook her head. He was like every other man; he would never have an interest in her.