Chapter 1:
The Rumored Couple
IT WASN’T THE EXQUISITELY decorated hall, the expansive spread of hors d’oeuvres crafted by the esteemed master chef, nor the fancy new gown adorning the earl’s only daughter, Caroline, that turned heads at the ball that evening at the Earl of Burleigh’s residence.
“Look, over there!”
“Is that Lord Lowell? No, it can’t be!”
It was the Viscount Giles Lowell, son of the Earl of Bancroft, and the woman accompanying him that caught everyone’s eyes. The two paid no mind to the attention they garnered: They stood close together, each with a glass in hand, never taking their eyes off one another. They were, it seemed, madly in love.
“Oh my, they’re so intimate!”
“So, the rumors were true!”
Lord Giles Lowell of House Bancroft—a notorious bachelor, immune to the charms of any woman, whose affections were impossible to win—had at last found his heart’s desire. The rumors about his relationship, which had only recently spread through the capital, began with several people claiming to have seen the pair riding in a carriage without a canopy. Before long, these whispers were accompanied by other rumors: “I saw them enjoying an intimate teatime,” “I saw them picking out jewelry at Harriet, that high-end boutique…” On and on they went, whirling through the capital’s high society just as the social season ramped up.
House Bancroft enjoyed the trust of the royal family. Although it had been engaged in diplomacy for generations, it elected to decline higher titles and remained firmly at the rank of earl. Bancroft possessed a vast domain, and its high status in the peerage was as steadfast as the family’s friendships with important people both domestically and abroad.
Giles was the heir to that family. His academic and military accomplishments were common knowledge—and he was handsome, to boot. It was no wonder every eligible woman dreamed to be his wife.
No woman, however, had ever caught the gaze of his grayish-blue eyes. Not once had he shown up to a party or other social gathering with a woman in his company. He had even refused to receive any parties aiming to discuss marriage. Up until now, at twenty-three years old, there had never been a single rumor about him having set his sights on someone. With his perfect looks, chilly appearance, and stoic bearing, he had earned himself the moniker of “the Icy Scion.”
None of which was to say that Giles was antisocial: he had plenty of close friends and could even sometimes be seen enjoying pleasant conversations with older women like his godmother, the Marchioness of Heyward. But he always put up a wall between himself and the young ladies. In this way, he was the precise opposite of his best friend, Lord Russel, who everyone knew had already had several romantic entanglements.
And yet Giles’s stubbornness—one could almost call it his fastidiousness—only seemed to add to his appeal. The Earl of Burleigh’s daughter, Caroline, was first among countless women vying for his heart, and bets were placed every social season as to who would finally win his affections.
Everyone was incredulous when they first heard the rumors that he had found love. And Giles making his first appearance at a party with a woman who wasn’t his relative confirmed the rumors at once.
Not only that, but…
“The Icy Scion is actually smiling?”
The man rarely showed emotion, yet here he was, beaming at the woman next to him. His smile was so handsome that the cheeks of every nearby woman glowed, except the very woman he was smiling at: she carried on chatting with him like his expression was a mundane, everyday occurrence.
“Say, do you know her?”
“She seldom comes to our parties. I believe she’s the daughter of Baron Clayburn.”
“Clayburn? Oh, that nobleman who lives out in the country.”
The woman in question was as plain as the subdued color of her gown. The rumors held that she was Fiona Clayburn, the elusive eighteen-year-old daughter of Baron Clayburn who only stayed in the capital for brief stints during each social season. Given her rare attendance at parties, few in the capital knew her by sight.
She was ordinary-looking, anyway, and not the type to leave a lasting impression. What did draw everyone’s attention, however, was the beautiful, glittering ring on her left hand.
“That yellow diamond! It’s so beautiful!”
“They’re truly engaged, then?”
“I can’t believe such a plain girl would be the one to win Lord Giles’s heart.”
The young ladies who had hoped to be Giles’s wife clenched their teeth as they glared at Fiona. It was common for Giles to merely show his face at parties before making a prompt exit; the fact that he was here now as a proper escort, never leaving Fiona’s side for a moment, further fueled the flames of jealousy.
Giles paused his conversation to elegantly lift Fiona’s hand and bring his lips to the finger that bore the diamond ring. The sight of this sparked a shrill commotion from the jealous onlookers, and some brave soul chose that moment to intrude upon Giles and Fiona’s private world.
“My, my, look how intimate you two are.” It was Lord Richard Russel, Giles’s best friend and the son of the Marquess of Molins. Handsome like Giles, but jovial where Giles was cold, Richard was popular with the high society crowd. The sight of both handsome young lords in such close proximity was enough to make the women present swoon.
Richard smiled as he approached, but Giles’s answering smile did not meet his eyes. “I didn’t know you were here, Rick.”
“I got here long before you two. I waited for you, but as you didn’t seem to notice, I decided to come over and interrupt.” With one smooth motion, Richard captured Fiona’s slender hand from Giles, causing further commotion from onlookers as he kissed the back of it. “Good evening, Miss Clayburn. I hope you are enjoying the ball?”
“Yes, thank you. I hope you are as—oh!”
Giles swiftly reclaimed her hand. The plain look of displeasure on his usually impassive face served yet another shock to their audience.