Excerpt6

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

      Emma Marks peered intently over the rail of her luxurious, private theatre box, scanning the crowd far
below with a deep sense of satisfaction. After three months in London, she still found it hard to believe she
actually belonged here, among the glittering ton. No one would have disputed it, not when the Prince of
Wales himself had declared her the most beautiful, witty woman to grace the city in a decade.
  No small accomplishment for a girl who'd been repeatedly cut and shunned back in New York.
  Her father's money was far too new for American Society. Nothing she'd done had ever been good enough to
gain entry to Mrs. Astor's charmed circle.
  But the English were different. They seemed more than willing to accept her, as long as her father's pockets
remained deep and she had a trunk full of beautiful Worth gowns for every occasion.
  Emma's aristocratic companion, Lady Jane Bennett, leaned forward as well, her lovely face alight with
sudden intensity. "He's here, Emma. Viscount Sherbourne. Look straight ahead, in the box directly across from
ours."
  Viscount Sherbourne.
  Instantly intrigued, Emma lifted her jeweled opera glasses for a better look. Jane had been singing the
elusive viscount's praises for quite some time, but Emma had never had the opportunity to evaluate him for
herself.
  "Straight across," Jane whispered impatiently. "You're looking too far to the right."
  Emma redirected her glasses, but in truth, she wasn't expecting much. She and Jane had very different ideas
about what sort of man would make a good husband. A title was extremely important—she wasn't hypocrite
enough to pretend otherwise—but she also longed for a man to fall in love with. One who appealed to her on a
wildly romantic level.
  For instance, she'd much prefer a handsome young baron to an elderly, potbellied duke.
  Jane, however, thought elderly dukes the better choice. After all, she was bound to outlive them.
  Smiling to herself at this rather pessimistic attitude, Emma finally found the box Jane indicated. To her
surprise, neither of the two occupants appeared ready to drop dead of old age.
  Both men were uncommonly attractive. The first reminded her of a warrior angel, stern and golden, while
the second was as wickedly dark and handsome as Lucifer.
  Captivated, Emma's gaze settled on the dazzling blond man. Awareness swept over her, startling her with
its intensity. Something about this aloof, brooding stranger touched a chord deep inside her and resonated
through her very soul.
  "Which one is Lord Sherbourne?" Emma asked, trying to contain her escalating excitement. At last, she
thought, at last I’ve found someone worth pursuing.
  "That handsome blond gentleman." A strange, wistful note crept into Jane's voice as she, too, stared across
the theatre through her opera glasses. "The dark one is the Earl of Basingstoke."
  "An earl?" Emma reluctantly dragged her gaze away from Sherbourne and gave the dark-haired man
another look. She could certainly do worse than return to New York a countess. "Perhaps I should set my cap
for him, then."
  "No," Jane said sharply. "Basingstoke is a terrible rogue. No one will ever tame him."
  Emma gave Jane a long, considering look. To her amusement, Jane blushed and looked away.
  Very interesting.
  "I don't know," Emma teased. "Sherbourne is a mere viscount."
  Jane frowned, oblivious to Emma's gentle taunt. "Sherbourne will be the Earl of Warren eventually. Believe
me, you couldn't possibly do any better."
  Emma fought a smile as she met Jane's annoyed blue gaze. Despite their burgeoning friendship, Jane must
rue the circumstances that forced her to sponsor an American upstart like Emma.
  Jane's father had been a marquis, but he'd gambled away the family fortune and died without a male heir.
He'd left Jane nothing but an elegant London townhouse and a mountain of debts. Considered firmly on the
shelf at the grand old age of twenty-five, Jane had agreed to sponsor Emma this Season. The hefty fee she'd
charged would help save her home.
  "I'm certain Sherbourne is every bit as wonderful as you say." Emma wondered at her willingness to drop all
thoughts of pursuing the earl. Usually she liked her men dark and dangerous, but something about
Sherbourne repeatedly drew her gaze. "But I don't know, Jane. Look at him. Perhaps he's too perfect."
  "Too perfect?" Jane laughed softly and shook her coiffed blond head. "I fail to see why you consider that a bad
thing."
  As Emma continued to contemplate the beautiful viscount, Jane leaned forward and lowered her voice
conspiratorially. “I have it on good authority that Sherbourne has no choice but to make a financially
advantageous marriage. With Lady Natalia off the market, you’re the only one with a dowry large enough to
suit his needs. He must offer for you. It’s merely a matter of time.”
  Emma winced at Jane’s matter-of-fact pronouncement, but couldn’t fault her since Emma’s father had hired
Jane specifically for this sort of knowledge. Emma’s family had an immense fortune, but no title. It was
expected that the man she married would have a title but no fortune.
  Lifting her opera glasses once more, Emma risked another quick glance in Sherbourne’s direction. This time,
to her utter chagrin, she found him staring back at her.
  Her first impulse was to keep scanning the crowd as though she had no idea who he was, but something in
his expression gave her pause. His finely chiseled features were set in grim resignation, as though the mere
sight of her had sent him into a deep, dark depression.
  While hardly flattering, his strange reaction intrigued her even more. Perhaps Jane was right. Perhaps this
paragon of English decency really was desperate enough to ask for her hand.
  She set aside her glasses and gave Jane an expectant look. “Tell me everything you know.”
  Jane smiled, completely in her element. “His father is the tenth Earl of Warren. The family holdings are
extensive. The earl gives an absolutely smashing ball every year at the beginning of the Season. Very
exclusive guest list.”
Emma shook her head in frustration. “I don’t care about any of that. I want to know about Sherbourne. Has he
ever been involved in a scandal? Does he have a mistress? Has he ever gambled too much on horses or made a
fool of himself with brandy?”
  Jane looked affronted at the very idea. “Of course not. He’s a very fine young man. He’s—”
  “I know. I know. He’s a paragon.” Emma held up one hand in protest. “Please, Jane. Think. There must be
something.”
  The music swelled to a final crescendo, signaling intermission. They’d whispered and plotted through the
entire first act of the mediocre play. Not that it mattered. Socializing seemed to be the main entertainment on
Drury Lane.
  Jane looked around, as though to double check that no one was close enough to hear. “Did you know
Sherbourne offered for Lady Natalia? It’s not common knowledge, and I’m certain he doesn’t want anyone to
know. Especially given the fact that his brother stole her away.”
  “Viscount Sherbourne and Captain Dylan Blake are brothers?” Now that was an interesting little tidbit of
information. Emma knew Captain Blake, though not as well as she would have liked.
  “Captain Blake escorted me to dinner,” she reminded Jane. “At the Duke of Clayton’s party.”
  There had been quite a scandal when Lady Natalia had been caught in a compromising situation with
Captain Blake in her father’s garden. Emma hadn't seen what happened, but she'd heard all the gossip.
  Jane raised a knowing brow. “Ah, yes. I remember. You were quite put out when you couldn’t capture the
captain’s attention.”
  “He only had eyes for Lady Natalia.” Emma shrugged, as though Dylan Blake’s inattention had meant
nothing to her. In truth, she’d been extremely jealous, because Dylan Blake—while hardly the sort of man
she’d consider marrying—was exactly the sort of man she could imagine herself falling in love with. Witty
and darkly handsome, he was a decorated war hero and had traveled extensively.
  “The whole thing was terribly romantic.” Jane sighed with pleasure. “I’m so glad the duke allowed Natalia
to marry her dashing captain.”
  “Very romantic,” Emma agreed. The star-crossed lovers had married just last week—a hasty, private
ceremony, followed by a lengthy honeymoon in Scotland—where they, apparently, hoped to wait out the
scandal.
  Emma wondered if Sherbourne had loved Lady Natalia. Had his intended bride’s betrayal hurt him?
  Low male voices interrupted Emma’s thoughts. Someone conferred with their footman on the other side of
the brocade curtain that gave their box the illusion of privacy.
  “Who could that be?” Jane rose gracefully, pleased as always by the prospect of visitors. The fact that suitors
had actually begun to seek Emma out, despite her lack of pedigree, was a testament to Jane’s social clout.
  Jane swept back the curtain and her face went comically blank when she saw who stood on the other side.
“Lord Basingstoke.”
  “Good evening, Lady Jane. I’ve come to arrange an introduction between my friend and your lovely
companion, Miss Marks.”
  Emma turned to see the dark half of the pair she’d spied on earlier. A hint of mischief lurked behind Lord
Basingstoke’s smile as he stepped aside to allow another man to enter the box.
  Viscount Sherbourne. As though Emma's interest had summoned him, he stood before her in all his golden
glory, a sinfully beautiful man with the face of an angel.
  Jane recovered quickly from her surprise and graced both men with a gentle smile. "Lord Basingstoke. Lord
Sherbourne. May I present Miss Emma Marks of New York City?"
  "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lords." Emma rose and extended her hand. She tried to exude as much grace
and dignity as possible. Her father had spent a fortune to insure her manners and bearing were fit for a queen,
but she always worried that those who'd come from generations of wealth and privilege would see through
her façade.
  Sherbourne stepped forward. He cut an elegant figure in his finely tailored black evening wear. "The
pleasure is mine," he murmured, his voice clipped and deep and oh-so British. Taking her gloved hand, he
brought it briefly to the lush heat of his finely drawn lips.
  Such an extravagant mouth, on so harsh and chiseled a face.
  As he lifted his head, their gazes caught and held. For a moment, she lost track of time and place.
Intelligence and loneliness radiated from the rain-washed depths of his deep blue eyes and convinced her
there was far more to this man than even Jane knew.
  As she reluctantly withdrew her hand from Sherbourne's light grasp, Basingstoke offered her a charming
smile. "Are you enjoying your visit, Miss Marks?"
  "I'm enjoying London very much," she responded truthfully. Unlike New York Society, English aristocrats
had the ability to appreciate eccentricity, even celebrate it on occasion. Hence their easy acceptance of an
American heiress who dressed outrageously and wasn't afraid to speak her mind.
  "I hear you're quite the traveler," Basingstoke continued. "Tell us about your journeys. Have you been
anywhere fascinating and exotic?"
  “I've traveled extensively on the Continent during the past few years.” Emma warmed immediately to the
subject and wondered if Basingstoke might be the more interesting of the two, after all. "I must admit,
however, to being a bit of a history enthusiast, the older and dustier the better. I'd love to visit Egypt, but I
haven't yet had the chance."
  "What a coincidence." Again, Basingstoke seemed secretly amused. "Sherbourne is an amateur archeologist.
He's fascinated by all things Egyptian. In fact he's sponsored several expeditions and has an amazing collection
of artifacts."
  She let her gaze drift back to Basingstoke's friend, unable to contain her sudden excitement. "Have you been
to Egypt, Lord Sherbourne? Have you seen the pyramids and the Sphinx?"
  Something hot and bright flickered in the depths of Sherbourne's cool eyes, but it disappeared so quickly
she wondered if she'd imagined it. "I've never left England," Sherbourne admitted remotely. "My
responsibilities don't allow for frivolities such as travel."
  Frivolities? She would have been incensed at Sherbourne's judgmental tone, if not for the fact that
Basingstoke had mentioned the viscount's interest in history and artifacts.
  For some reason, Sherbourne seemed embarrassed by what his friend had revealed. As though his pursuit of
such things undermined the bland, boring demeanor he obviously worked so hard to cultivate.
  What other interesting things lurked beneath that cool, perfect exterior?
   As though she hadn't understood he'd meant to rebuke her, Emma smiled. “Well, no wonder you collect
Egyptian artifacts. Everyone needs a little something exotic in their lives. I’d love to see your collection.”
  Jane gasped audibly at Emma’s forward behavior, but Lord Basingstoke merely chuckled and gave her a
covert wink. As for Sherbourne, he looked slightly stunned. He obviously had no idea what to make of her.
  “I keep my artifacts in the country, at Sherbourne Hall, but perhaps something can be arranged.”
Sherbourne took a deep breath, as though girding himself for something unpleasant. “In the meantime, would
you allow me to call on you? At your earliest convenience?”
  Emma shared a quick, surprised look with Jane. Oh, the poor man, she thought, honestly sympathetic. He
must need her dowry even more desperately than Jane had implied.
  “Of course you may call on me,” Emma replied graciously. “I’d be delighted.”
  “Excellent. You may expect me tomorrow morning.” Bowing stiffly, Sherbourne turned and left the box.
  Basingstoke smiled and shrugged. "What can I say, Miss Marks. He's an acquired taste.” He started to take
his own leave, then seemed to think better of it. Turning, he extended his hand toward Jane. “It was a
pleasure to see you again, Lady Jane. You’ve been absent from Society for far too long.”
  Jane stared at his hand, flustered for no apparent reason. Basingstoke laughed and produced a single red rose
with a quick flick of his wrist.
  Emma had been watching him, but she had no idea how he’d accomplished the magical illusion.
  “Oh, Lucien.” Jane accepted the rose with her heart in her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
  Lucien? Emma couldn’t contain an amused smile when her very proper companion used Lord Basingstoke’s
given name. Apparently, the earl's bad behavior was only one reason Jane wanted her to stay away from him.
  As for herself, Emma couldn’t wait for the chance to speak privately with Lord Sherbourne. She knew just
the thing to rattle his icy reserve and reveal what lay beneath.