1 Chapter 1

1

David Lambert swirled finest claret around his crystal glass, watching its ruby perfection as it moved before raising it to his lips. He didn’t actually drink it, just wet his lips and lowered it. He needed a clear head. He looked out at the gathered party, ensuring every last vestige of disdain he felt for them was buried, and nothing showed on his face but fashionable boredom. Lies were fascinating things. All it took to be believed was absolute confidence in its execution. And, in this particular instance, the visual accoutrements of wealth and status which proclaimed him to be of the set who drank such fine wine. It had taken a long time, but his patience had paid off, and finally he was receiving invitations to some of the more exclusive events. His attendance at Sir Granville Fallows’ house party was testament to it. He almost smiled.

He slid the gold watch from the pocket on his waistcoat, flipped it open, glanced at the hands which had not moved in many a year, then dropped it back into place. He knew the dark green of his embroidered waistcoat and the emerald nestled in the perfect whiteness of his cravat highlighted the green in his eyes. He also knew that if he wore blue his eyes would take on a bluish hue. Muddy grey eyes and hair of an indeterminate shade of brown coupled with average height were a definite asset when one had no wish to be remembered. He made an infinitesimal adjustment to his cravat, raised the glass to his lips again, and watched his vibrant companions carefully. It was an interesting gathering. No blushing maidens and hopeful mamas here. The guests were…seasoned. David raised his glass to his lips to hide his smile. It certainly promised to be profitable.

The dinner gong sounded. Jewels glittered in the candlelight as the guests moved to dine. Ladies took the arms of gentlemen and the ancient dance began. Large double doors opened silently as if by magic as the guests approached, and the hundreds of invisible servants on whose shoulders such a magnificent event rested, slid into place with well-oiled precision.

The February air was chill, despite numerous fires, candles, and heavy brocade drapery at the windows. David shuddered. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or if someone had stepped over his grave. He placed his glass on the tray of a passing servant with a nod and turned to the Dowager Countess of Westborough who had appeared beside his arm. They had been introduced earlier in the evening. A handsome woman, probably at least twenty years older than his nine and twenty. She was still attractive but knew it. Somehow, that made her less so.

He bowed courteously. “My lady, you do me an inestimable honour.” He placed her hand on his arm and joined the stately procession past wood panelled walls adorned with enormous, serious paintings of what he presumed to be his host’s family. She glanced up at him and applied her fan, sending a waft of deeply unpleasant perfume his way. There was no doubt some hidden meaning to the way she waved it, but the Lord alone knew what. He didn’t much care, but he ventured a guess and allowed a slow, slightly flirtatious smile to spread over his lips, and slanted her a lazy glance.

She smiled in return and slid the fan onto her wrist beside her reticule. “Mr. Lambert. I don’t think I’ve seen you at Sir Granville’s parties before.”

“Indeed, you haven’t, my lady. This is the first time I have attended one.” He allowed his smile to deepen as her fingers tightened a little on his arm.

“Do you know many people?”

“A few.”

“Then I shall be delighted to introduce you about.”

“You are too kind.”

She looked up at him with a sparkle in her hazel eyes. “Although I feel incumbent upon me to mention that if you are looking for a bed partner for the weekend, you would be well served to look elsewhere.”

David swallowed his surprise and managed to summon a smile he hoped conveyed shock at her forthright statement, tinged with disappointment. “Duly noted,” he said, and was apparently successful because she preened. He was most certainly looking for a bed partner. He was always on the lookout. Sir Granville’s weekend parties had a certain reputation, but it would be a bed partner of a very different sort to the countess. He could only hope that she meant what she said, and he wasn’t expected to set up a flirtation.

She nodded graciously to the footman who held open the door for them. “I find it is always best to establish the parameters of a relationship on such a weekend as this.”

David smiled again and flicked a glance in the direction of the footman holding the door, staring straight ahead. His heart did an odd flutter in his chest. Beneath the customary powdered wig, he found a pair of large, dark, lash fringed eyes of a colour, that if pressed, he would have described as violet blue set in a sharply sculpted pale face graced with plump, red lips. It was a truly, truly exquisite face. David’s heart beat faster as he manoeuvred so he could glance again, but he was caught looking by the footman himself. The young man met his gaze. Those violet blue eyes widened for a second and a gentle flush appeared like rouge on porcelain-pale cheeks. He blinked a couple of times and looked away, swallowing as he did so. Judging by the dark eyebrows and lashes, David surmised the footman had dark hair. He was astonished to discover he was hot all over. Dismissing the feeling, he escorted his companion to her chair and took his seat beside her. He settled in and allowed himself to be consumed by the convivial company of outrageously wealthy men and women. The entire table, nay room, sparkled with jewels and gold in the soft candlelight, and echoed with the soft murmur of genteel conversation.