*   *   *

Alexander shook his head, sending foul water in all directions. He scraped the muck from his eyes and watched his quarry vanish down the lane. Who the devil was she? Dressed like a servant but quite obviously gently born. She was a conundrum. He stepped out of the ditch and propped himself against the carriage wheel in order to remove his boots and tip out the water.  It was fortunate they no longer fitted him as snugly as they’d used to.

He tossed his sodden cape on to the box and stared gloomily at his ruined topcoat. The blue superfine jacket had cost him a pretty penny and it, like the rest of his garments, was quite beyond salvage. The young woman was right to castigate him; he had been driving far too fast. He shrugged, he seldom drove any other way, caring little if he came to grief. However, he had no wish to take anyone else with him if he went, and certainly not the lovely young termagant he’d just encountered.

He checked his horses were none the worse their experience and then leaped into his carriage and recovered the reins. His breeches were so wet he slid from side to side as the curricle gathered speed. He had no option, unless he wished to nosedive over the edge he must return to his hunting box at a walk.

His mouth curved as he recalled the shapely young woman with abundant russet curls and sparkling green eyes. His groin tightened as he relived the delightful few moments when he’d been removing the debris from her person. Perhaps that old fool Dewberry was right; now was the time to put his house in order and find himself another wife.

For the first time in many years his pulse quickened. He would discover who the young woman was - perhaps she would do? He frowned. What was he thinking of? The last person he required as his wife was a spirited girl who would make demands on him that he would be unable to fulfil. He had his mistress to take care of his bodily needs. What he wanted was a meek submissive girl, of impeccable pedigree, who would be prepared to remain in the country and provide him with the necessary heir.

*   *   *

Isobel slowed her pace as she approached her home. She had no wish to explain why she’d felt the need to run like a hoyden across the fields. She slipped inside, using the side door as usual, and returned to her apartment without being waylaid by her parents or any of her younger siblings.

Mary, who had been taking care of her since she left the schoolroom, threw up her hands in horror. “Lawks a mussey! Whatever next! You look like a vagabond, my lady. Did you take a tumble?”

“Something like that; an extremely unpleasant and overbearing gentleman attempted to run me down. It was a miracle I didn’t meet my Maker at his hands.” Laughing at her maid’s expression, Isobel kicked off her clogs and untied the bow holding her cloak in place. “But he got his comeuppance. He fell into the ditch twice and quite ruined his smart clothes.”

Her abigail clucked and tutted as she removed the soiled garments, Isobel allowed her mind to wander at the unexpected encounter. Who could this gentleman be? From his demeanour and appearance she was sure he was a wealthy man, someone used to giving orders. An unexpected frisson rippled down her spine as she recalled the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the feel of his hands as they travelled up and down her body.

He was a handsome man, but too autocratic and quick tempered for her taste. He must have a box somewhere and have come down to shoot; perhaps she might make discreet enquiries from their own gamekeeper. Evans was bound to know who owned a property of this sort in the neighbourhood.

“There, my lady, I shall do what I can to restore your gown. I have sent for hot water, and there’s a good fire in your parlour.”

Isobel pushed her arms into her robe and smiled at her maid. “Anything, Mary, as long as it’s warm. I expect you already know why I was summoned to the library earlier?”

“I do, my lady. If you will forgive me for saying so, I think it’s high time you were seen in Society and found yourself an amenable husband.”

For some inexplicable reason an image of the dark eyed stranger flashed across her mind. Heavens above! Imagine what her life would be married to such a one? A gentleman like him would not suit her at all for he would forever be making demands on her. She hastily turned away hoping her pink cheeks had not been noticed. She wasn’t exactly clear what took place in the marital bed, but the thought of him touching her naked body made her pulse race. Pushing such wanton thoughts firmly away, she went to sit in front of the fire until her washing water arrived and she could put on a clean gown.

Her father would be waiting for an answer. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a few weeks in the capital with her favourite relatives. As Mary quite rightly said, at nineteen years of age she would be one of the older debutantes on view. However, whatever her parents might think she had no intention of selling herself to the highest bidder. She knew her duty, but would never agree to marry a man she could not at least feel affection for.

Chapter Two

Grosvenor Square, March 1811


Alex riffled through the pile of invitations on the silver tray in his study. His glance fell on one from Lord Illingworth, he was launching his daughter and his niece at a ball that very night. He flicked over the card and quickly scribbled an acceptance on the back and rang for a footman to take it around. It was decidedly bad form to reply so late, but he was certain the cachet of having a duke at the ball would make up his bad manners.

Spreading out a fresh piece of paper he sharpened his quill and wrote down what he was looking for in a bride.

1. Impeccable pedigree.

2. Quiet.

3. Not bracket faced.

4. Intelligent.

He scratched his head with the end of his pen lost in thought. The list seemed rather short, was there something else he should add to it? His mouth curved - of course.

5. Tall

6. Prefers country life.

7. Loves children.

There … that should do it. If he found a young woman who fulfilled all his criteria he would offer for her immediately. The sooner he produced the required heir the better, then he could continue his rackety lifestyle without having the family lawyers constantly complaining. He had no intention of living with his wife once his duty was done, his mistress provided him with everything he needed apart from a son. A fleeting image of the lovely, russet haired girl he’d encountered in Norfolk flickered into his head. His enquiries had not produced her name or whereabouts, and he’s been obliged to return to Town a few days later on urgent business matters and had all but forgotten the encounter. He pushed the picture away— she was safely in Norfolk and he must find himself a bride.

*   *   *

Isobel stood beside her cousin waiting to greet the monstrous crush of people invited to their come-out ball. She must remember to bite her tongue and keep any sharp comments to herself even if seriously provoked.

Petunia, a diminutive, fair-haired girl, as pretty as a cherub and with a sweet nature to match, would have no such difficulty. Isobel felt like an ungainly beanpole at her side. With her hair piled up in this ridiculous fashion on top of her head it added a further few inches. Good grief! Even her evening slippers had heels upon them. She would be staring over the heads of most of the gentlemen present and that would surely be enough to put them off before they’d even spoken to her.

“Isobel, my love, please do not scowl so, it is your come out. You are supposed to be enjoying yourself, not looking as if you are about to have a tooth pulled.”

Her dear aunt’s kindly reminder caused Isobel to relax. “I beg your pardon, Aunt Laura, you are right to chide me. It’s just that I feel over large and I was wishing I were a foot and a half shorter tonight.”

Petunia stretched up to kiss her cheek. “You are the most beautiful woman here, like a goddess, so tall and elegant. With your lovely red-gold curls and huge green eyes I’m certain you shall be the talk of the town.”

“You are dear to say so, cousin, and I love you for it. However I can’t tell you how unpleasant it is to be staring at the top of a gentleman’s head all night.”

Her companions were still laughing when the first guests were announced. Uncle Benjamin, who had been absent from the line, hurried to join them, brushing cigar ash from his person as he did so. He’d been blowing a cloud in the billiard room and no doubt downing a steadying brandy or two.

He beamed at her. “My dears, I shall be the proudest man in London tonight. I expect to be beating off your many suitors with a stick before the evening is finished.” He winked at her as he took his place beside his wife. He knew how she felt and appreciated, as no other person did, what a sacrifice she was making in order to save her family from disaster.

“I think you are a trifle premature, Uncle. However there are a prodigious amount of people invited, it would be churlish of me not to find someone to make me an offer when there is so much choice.” His laughter made several heads turn in their direction. “I am deeply grateful for the opportunity you have given me, my lord. Tonight I shall make an effort to simper and flutter my eyelids in exactly the way Pet has shown me.”

She loved her relatives; if she was honest she preferred them to her own family. Whatever the outcome of this venture she was determined to enjoy her stay in Town. She would attend all the soirees and at homes with good grace, but when everyone else was still abed she would ride in the park and visit the sights. Her lips curved at the thought of her trip to Hatchards that morning when she had been able to purchase several promising novels.