Chapter 1 – Callie
Sussex, England
Fall 1816
Could nothing ever go right? Callie had no sooner walked into Lady Fairfax’s home to find that her stepmother was a guest at the house party. She could hear Eugenia’s voice carrying from the drawing room before the maid had finished her curtsey. The sound caused her to sigh and roll her eyes before she could stop herself.
She should turn around. Climb back into the carriage, instruct the driver to take her anywhere—London, Bath, the nearest coaching inn with decent wine. Lady Fairfax’s house party had been a bad idea from the moment she’d accepted the invitation, given the woman’s penchant for matchmaking. Discovering that Eugenia and Bella were there made it far worse.
But Callie wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of running her off, so she handed her gloves to the footman and continued inside.
The entrance hall had a marble floor and enough fresh flowers to supply a cathedral. The drawing room beyond held two dozen guests arranged in clusters of polite conversation. Callie scanned the room to see who else Lady Fairfax had invited in hopes of making a couple grand matches she could brag about to her friends.
The woman knew better than to try her hand at pairing Callie off. The two of them were members of the Wicked Widows League—a small circle of widows who’d found each other after burying their husbands with no intention of replacing them. Her friend understood that Callie’s presence at these parties was about merriment, not finding a husband.
Not that any sensible man would have her. Five years married to Viscount Langford and not a single pregnancy. He’d been generous with pin money and never yelled or hit her. But he’d wanted a wife who managed his household, warmed his bed, and gave him an heir. She’d fulfilled the first two obligations without complaint. The third had been beyond her, and Langford had made certain she knew it was her failing.
Not that either of them could know that for certain. What she did know for certain was that he’d also regularly failed to give her orgasms, as those were earned by her own hand. By the fourth year of marriage, Langford had stopped coming to her bed at all, deciding that the company of women at the brothels better suited his needs if his broken wife wasn’t going to give him a child.
No man who wanted an heir would give her a second look. But the men who wanted a pretty young widow in their beds hounded her in droves.
She’d obliged a select few. On her terms, with men who understood the arrangement and didn’t expect more. Her body was her own now, and she intended to keep it that way.
“Callista, darling. What a treat.”
There she was. Eugenia, Lady Neville, materialized beside the drawing room door with a teacup in one hand and a false smile. Callie’s father had married Eugenia three years after Callie’s mother died, and the woman had spent every moment since trying to polish the Neville family name into something worthy of her own ambitions.
Behind her stood Bella. Arabella Browning—Eugenia’s daughter from her first marriage. Family only by the technicality of her father’s second union. Nineteen, fair-haired, and possessing the kind of wide-eyed sweetness that made people want to protect her. Another falsehood that the chit had perfected.
“Lady Neville.” Callie kissed Eugenia’s cheek because manners demanded it, and people were watching. “I didn’t realize you and Bella would be attending.”
“Lady Fairfax was kind enough to extend an invitation. She’s taken a particular interest in Bella this Season.” Eugenia’s gaze traveled down the length of Callie’s dress—deep emerald, cut lower than propriety preferred—and her mouth thinned. “I see you’ve continued your commitment to making an impression.”
“I do try.” A wicked widow, indeed.
“You outdo yourself.” Her tone and sharp stare indicated she in no way meant her words as a compliment. “Your father asked me to remind you that your conduct reflects on the family. All of us. Bella has her future ahead of her. I trust you won’t do anything to cast a shadow over her prospects. Your shortcomings already cause concern.”
Even if Callie was in fact a barren widow, she was of no blood relation to Bella. So if the men of the ton were too dim to understand that for themselves, one might argue that they shouldn’t reproduce at all. But Callie kept her expression pleasant and her hands still at her sides.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Eugenia held her gaze a moment longer, then turned to greet another guest with the warmth she reserved only for people who could be of use to her. Bella stepped into the gap her mother left, placing a hand on Callie’s arm with gentle concern arranged across her face.
“We’re so glad you’re here, Callie.” Bella pitched her voice to carry toward the women near the drawing room door. “It’s been far too long since we’ve been together as a family.”
The words were warm. But when Bella leaned closer, she tightened her grip on Callie’s arm.
“Don’t get in my way.” Bella’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Lady Fairfax has hopes to match me with a high-ranking gentleman while we’re here. So then I’d outrank you, and I’d be able to perform my wifely duties.”
She pulled back with the same sweet smile and squeezed Callie’s arm again before releasing it.
The words landed, poking the bruise her stepsister aimed for. Callie kept her expression fixed and her breathing even, because it wouldn’t do to cause a scene in the middle of the drawing room. Bella had always been jealous of Callie and was set on finding a way to prove that she was better than her.
It was a competition that Bella played by herself, as Callie didn’t much care to compare herself to her stepsister, but that didn’t seem to dissuade her.
“I wish you luck in your endeavor.” She matched Bella’s false brightness with her own.
Bella’s smile didn’t waver. Neither did Callie’s.
Lady Fairfax announced luncheon before Bella could say anything else, and Callie could have kissed the woman. The guests moved through the glass doors onto a wide stone terrace where tables had been set. The afternoon sun was warm, even with the cool fall breeze.
Callie claimed a glass of sherry from a footman and found a seat at one of the smaller tables near the edge of the terrace, as far from Eugenia as she could get. She needed a few minutes without someone reminding her of everything she’d failed to become.
She was halfway through her first glass when the chair beside her pulled back.
“Is this seat taken?”
She looked up, and her breath caught.
Max Whitmore stood beside the table with one hand on the back of the chair grinning down at her. She hadn’t noticed him in the drawing room, probably too consumed with Eugenia and Bella to notice.
He looked the same as he did years ago, but even more handsome, if that were possible. His dark hair was slightly windblown and his deep dimples on full display. His coat was fitted to his shoulders that had filled out in the years since she’d last seen him.
The Marquess of Deering. He’d inherited the title since she’d known him—his father had died, and with it came the marquessate and everything the Deering name carried. The ton had whispered about the old marquess for years. Gambling. A mistress he’d made no effort to keep discreet. Darker rumors of women who had been assaulted by the man. Max had been the heir everyone watched, waiting to see if his roguish son would prove to be his father’s legacy in more than just title.
“Unless you don’t prefer my company, Lady Langford.” His voice was even deeper than she remembered.
“Lord Deering. Please.” She gestured to the chair. “I would be delighted to have your company.”
Why had she said that? Could she be any more forward?
He sat. And the proximity of him—his arm near hers on the table, the breadth of his shoulders taking up space beside her—did something to her that she wasn’t prepared for. She’d been attracted to men since Langford. She’d taken a few of them to bed. None of them had caused the same intense reaction.
“It’s been some time,” she said, because she couldn’t be trusted with only her thoughts.
“It has. I was sorry to hear of the passing of your husband, my lady.” She couldn’t be certain if his words were genuine or not, but his expression gave away nothing.
“Thank you, my lord. But one must find ways to move on with life.” She took a sip of her drink, mentally chastising herself for saying that to him.
“Indeed one must.” His gaze held hers a moment longer than was necessary, and the corner of his mouth curved. Those dimples again. She was going to have a problem with those dimples, if she didn’t get herself under control.
A footman set plates before them, and Max thanked the man without looking away from her. She busied herself with her food to avoid staring back at him. That lasted all of thirty seconds, and then her focus was back on watching Max.
“I must confess, my lord, I’m surprised to find you anywhere near one of Lady Fairfax’s parties. You must know she considers herself somewhat of a matchmaker. You don’t strike me as a man seeking the assistance of the dowager to find a wife.”
“Ah, on that you are correct. But my mother insisted.” He picked up his glass. “She has opinions about what I should be doing with my time, and attending Lady Fairfax’s party was at the top of her list. My mother is far more aggressive in her pursuit than Lady Fairfax, so this seemed to be the more favorable choice.”
Callie laughed. “I suppose I can see the logic in your decision.”
“And what brings you here? Is Lady Fairfax working her talents in your favor?”
“She knows far better than to do that. There is hardly a need to go through that again.” She covered her mouth. “Please accept my apologies. I shouldn’t have said that.”
But Max was already chuckling. “I’ll admit, I’m delighted you are here. You are the most pleasant guest in attendance. I am certain to spend the entire party at your side avoiding Lady Fairfax.”
That notion didn’t sound all that bad from where Callie sat. “I’m not certain Lady Fairfax would approve of you using me as a shield, my lord.”
“On the contrary.” He tipped his glass toward her. “I’d be in the company of the most beautiful woman in attendance.”
“You are a shameless flirt, my lord.” But it didn’t stop his words from heating her entire body.
“You make it so very simple.” His eyes were warm, and his dimples deepened when he looked at her. How did women not melt in this man’s presence?
She held his gaze and her heart raced.
“There’s a riding excursion planned for tomorrow,” he said. “Lady Fairfax has arranged it, so I imagine there will be some attempt to pair us off with suitable companions. I’d prefer to choose my own.”
“Is that an invitation, Lord Deering?”
“It’s a strong preference.” His mouth curved. “But if you require a formal invitation, I can have one drafted and delivered to your chamber by this evening.”
She laughed before she could stop herself—a real laugh—and she calmed herself when she noticed others watching them. “That won’t be necessary. I shall accept your company.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
It had been a long time since a man had made her feel like she was the only woman in the entire world. In truth, he was the only man who had ever made her feel this way. Even though that wasn’t what this was, it still felt wonderful to have his attention.
“Lord Deering.” Lady Fairfax’s voice cut through the moment. “I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to Miss Browning.”
Callie’s stomach dropped before she turned her head.
Lady Fairfax stood beside the table with Bella on her arm. Bella’s sweet smile focused on Max. Her gaze moved from Max to Callie and back. Irritation flickered behind her eyes before the sweet mask settled back into place.
Max rose from his chair, because that was what a gentleman did. And as he stood, Callie watched his entire demeanor change. The warmth in his expression was gone, and he was every bit the marquess he was expected to be. The Max who had been leaning toward Callie and making her laugh was replaced by a stiff titled gentleman.
“Miss Browning.” He bowed over Bella’s hand. “A pleasure.”
“My lord.” Bella’s voice was so sugary sweet, it made Callie’s teeth ache. “I’m so looking forward to getting to know each other better over the course of the house party.”
“Indeed.”
Callie sat in her chair and watched her stepsister direct her sweetness at the man who’d just been flirting with her.
It was obvious who Bella had set her cap for. Max didn’t appear to share that same level of interest. But if he were to take a wife, Bella was the kind of wife he would seek.
One that could give him children and carry on his title. Not a barren widow.
She excused herself without a word. Her stepsister would make Callie’s life miserable if she should interfere, even if by no fault of her own. And Max had no idea what was in store for him if Bella and Eugenia had chosen him as their target.
She should warn him. She should also keep her distance from the man and his dimples.
But she also already knew she wasn’t going to do either of those things.
