Clara Wilson has come all the way to London to clear her name (after her wilfulness has left her quite unweddable across the ocean). But before she even has a chance to practise her curtsey, she stumbles into the arms of Seger Wolfe, Marquess of Rawdon. Clara has never felt love before, but she has no doubt when she meets the Marquess that this is what it feels like. Too bad love is the last thing on her mind - she's here to find a husband, not a rake.
Every good gossip knows that the notoriously wealthy Marquess loved and lost years ago, and few have missed the way his broken heart drove him from society ballrooms into society ladies' bedrooms. But when he meets the misplaced Clara Wilson at one of the town's ever-so-scandalous secret balls, the desire he feels for her is too strong, and it pulls him back into the swirl of aristocratic London. Now he finds himself competing for the heart of the inappropriate beauty, and risking his own heart in the game.
The London Season
May 1883
Dearest Adele,
It is finally upon me—my first London ball. You cannot imagine how my hands are trembling, for I fearthat I will not fit in, that everyone will see throughme and know that I am not one of them.
I hope that will not be the case, of course, for I dolong to be a part of the Society here—the daily ridesin Rotten Row, the receptions, luncheons, and eveningsat the theater. It has been an exhausting but gloriousexperience so far, Adele, though I admit most of my acquaintances have been frustratingly superficial.
I realize, of course, that that is to be expected. Iam in England after all, and people are extremelyreserved. I suppose my frustration comes from whatoccurred with Gordon two years ago. I must be anoddity. I crave adventure and my heart wants it, yetI know how dangerous it can be.
Good gracious, listen to me. I must strive to movebeyond that mistake if I wish to live a proper andvirtuous life. I only hope that my heart has not becometoo complicated for this distinguished place.Sometimes I find it difficult to just smile and bepretty, which is what is expected of me. I want somethingdeeper than that. Something more honest.
Indeed, what a challenge this is going to be . . . .
Your loving sister,
Clara
Already late for her first ball in London—quite notably the most important ball of her life—Clara Wilson stood in the doorway of her sister's boudoir, watching her chaper-one, Mrs. Gunther, flip through a huge stack of invitations.
"I'm sure it's one of these," Mrs. Gunther said, spilling a few of them over the edge of the silver salver onto the mahogany desk. "It has to be."
Mrs. Gunther was a staunch woman—the only personher mother trusted to act as Clara's chaperone in London.She was a great social matriarch in America and camefrom a very prestigious family with very old money, but unfortunately for Clara, her memory was not as sharp as it once was.
"It was at—or somewhere near—Belgrave Square. I atleast know that. I remember Sophia describing it."
Clara's tiny heels clicked over the marble floor as shecrossed the room to peer over her chaperone's shoulder.There were certain to be a number of balls ‘at or somewherenear' Belgrave Square this evening. "Is there anyway I can help you remember, Mrs. Gunther?"
They had to find it soon, for they were already late.
Mrs. Gunther flipped through invitation after invitation. They all looked the same—square, ivory cards with fancy titles in lavish print, and they all belonged to Clara's older sister, Sophia.
Three years ago, Sophia had become the first Americanheiress to marry a duke. She and her husband, James, wereimmensely popular among the Marlborough House set,and there were never any shortages of social engagementsto attend at any given moment. Which made the task offinding the correct invitation all the more difficult now.
"The Wilkshire Ball, the Devonshire, the Berkley . . . "Mrs. Gunther said. "No, no, no. The Allison Ball. Couldthat be . . . ? Wait, Lord and Lady Griffith . . . was that it?"
Mrs. Gunther continued to guess haphazardly at thenames, and Clara's hopes for the evening took a deep,sickening dip and settled uncomfortably in her belly.Everything depended on this one night, and if Clara didnot reach that ball tonight, there might not be a secondchance. For Clara—the latest American heiress to invadearistocratic London—had to pass the test. In order to beaccepted and welcomed into British society like her sisterhad been, Clara had to glide into a London ballroom andwin the approval of the Prince of Wales. Or end up returningto New York, where her position in society was fragile, to say...
JULIANNE MACLEAN came to the romance genre after completing a degree in English Literature with a focus on nineteenth-century novel study. She fell in love with some of the classic romances Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice and after a brief stint as a government auditor, she decided to try her hand at becoming a modern-day romance writer. She lives in Nova Scotia, Canada, with her husband and seven-year-old daughter.
Julianne loves to hear from readers, and can be reached via email through her website at www.juliannemaclean.com, or by regular mail:
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