London, England

1834

"Christ, Will. Get a grip."

Will dragged his gaze across the ballroom until he met the steely gray eyes of his best friend, Leo—otherwise known as Lord Farrington. Leo was wicked smart, prince-charming handsome, and a wealthy earl. But mostly, he was bloody annoying.

At least, presently so.

"Were there no women on the continent?" Leo continued. "Have you truly been out of touch with society for so long that you go slack-jawed at any woman who passes within ten feet of you?"

Will rolled his eyes, but it did not stop his friend from continuing in chastising banter. "You gave Lady Priscilla a look that was certainly not deserving of her spinster attire. Not even an inch of her collarbone was showing in that number she is wearing. Her collarbone, Will."

"Perhaps I thought she had a nice smile," he replied blandly, shrugging.

Actually, there had been plenty of women on the continent. Despite what Leo might believe, Will was not eyeing up the ladies of London because he had been starving himself of the opposite sex.

He was staring because he was looking at them for an entirely different reason.

Coming back home had felt bizarre for Will; England was different from when he had left. Just recently, King William IV and his entire family had been killed in a gruesome carriage accident. Everywhere Will went, he heard people speaking about it in hushed tones, and the mood in London was bleak. William's brother was ascending the throne, and people were not terribly happy about it.

Thinking of that, Will leaned over to Leo. "Did you receive an invitation to King Ernest's coronation?"

"Did I receive an invitation to the coronation?" Leo repeated, looking at Will as though he had sprung another head.

"Yes, I do believe that was what I asked."

"No, of course I did not get an invitation. I am not that important," Leo scoffed and then glanced away, watching the dancers twirl around the room. It was brightly lit that evening, glowing and warm on an otherwise blustery night. Will could almost hear the wind whipping outside. Tree branches swayed dramatically beyond the large glass windows which surrounded the ballroom.

Will frowned, taking in Leo's response. "Well, I was invited."

Leo jerked his head back to look at him. "What do you mean you were invited?"

"I mean, I went home yesterday, and there was an invitation."

"To the King of England's coronation?"

"Yes, to the King of England's coronation, Leo."

Leo looked slowly away, his eyes trailing a pretty blonde woman for a moment before snapping his gaze back to Will again. "I know a great many people attend, but I did not think they sent out personalized invitations. I thought it was simply implied that if you desired to stand amongst the crush of people, you could. Perhaps it was merely a...general announcement."

"It had my name on it," Will said flatly.

Leo appeared puzzled, which was precisely how Will felt. "No offense, Will, but...why? You haven't even been in England for the last few years."

"No idea," Will replied, shrugging. It was what he had been wondering himself since yesterday. "I was hoping you would have gotten one too."

"Sorry, mate. Cannot help you there." Leo clapped a hand on Will's back just as he took a sip of his drink. Will sputtered and glared at his friend, who then grimaced, mumbling an apology into his own glass before suddenly straightening. Will was momentarily alarmed at what Leo had seen, but the approaching lady soothed his worries.

"Lady Humphries, good evening," Leo purred, giving excessive attention to the lady's gloved hand as he took it in greeting. Will knew Lady Humphries to be the ton's most alluring widow, understandably. She was ravishing in that untouchable way, dripping in sophistication.

The lady smiled, her hooded green eyes dancing in humor as if there were a joke only she was privy to. Perhaps she was laughing at Leo. However, in Will's experience, most women were known to swoon when Lord Farrington lavished them with attention as he was doing now to her.

"My lord," she said smoothly, dipping her head in greeting. Then she turned to Will and cocked her head to the side. "And...it is Lord Trotten, is it not?' When Will nodded, she added, "You have been out of society for some time, my lord."

"I have," Will acknowledged, enjoying the way Leo appeared annoyed at the direction of the conversation. Being that it did not revolve around him. "I daresay most people here either do not recognize me or do not even know who I am," he added.

Lady Humphries gave a sparkling laugh. "Oh, I make it my business to know who is who. I have little else to do, after all. Besides, you are friends with Lord Farrington." She flashed a flattering smile and gestured back to Leo, who was looking rather pleased with himself.

The two of them began conversing. Will couldn't be certain of what, as his attention was drawn across the ballroom. A Quadrille was in motion on the dance floor, and a woman was speaking at an alarmingly loud volume across the sea of dancers. He believed she was directing her speech to her partner, but he had never seen such a display before. Will couldn't make out her words, but the look on the gentleman's face was telling enough. Was that Lord Greyson?

Regardless of who it was, he seemed less than thrilled at the situation.

The lady seemed to either not notice or not care; she was smiling enigmatically, her bright face lighting up the dance floor.

Will thought she seemed carefree, an unusual trait for a woman of London society. They were usually so formal, so stuffy. Not to mention, dreadfully dull, if he was honest.

"You've been gawking at women all night, but when Lady Humphries approaches, you turn away?" Leo hissed in Will's ear, an incredulous tone in his voice. Will glanced over at him to see that they were alone again, Lady Humphries seemingly having disappeared into the night. He ignored Leo, looking back to the peculiar woman on the dance floor.

"And...oh, God," Leo groaned dramatically, noticing Will's line of vision.

"And now you are staring at Lady Emilia Shepard."

"Is that supposed to be bad?" Will asked, his voice coming out distinctly breathy. He was watching her move across the room, floating rather than dancing. Her honey-colored hair bounced as she weaved through the throngs of aristocrats.

"Well," his friend considered. "It depends on why you are staring."

"I am here because I need to find a wife, Leo. I wouldn't have come back to England otherwise."

That was the only reason Will was inspecting the ladies of London tonight.

"Then, yes, it is bad."

"How come?" Will asked without taking his eyes off Lady Emilia Shepard. The dance ended, and she paraded to the side of the room, sitting in a row of chairs that were arranged against the wall.

"Well look, Will. She's a wallflower."

Lady Emilia continued to smile as she rearranged herself in the uncomfortable-looking chair. She wore a pastel dress that draped around her like a cloud, making her appear ethereal. Glancing about the room, her eyes suddenly met his, and Will froze.

"A wallflower?" he repeated, dazed. Lady Emilia did not look directly away as another woman might have done upon meeting the gaze of an unknown gentleman. She merely cocked her head to the side.

"Yes, a wallflower, Will," Leo said, sounding exasperated. "Have you forgotten basic vocabulary as well?"

Will hadn't forgotten what a wallflower was; it was merely that he couldn't believe this woman to be one. He couldn't discern the color of her eyes from where he stood, but he could sense the liveliness in them—the realness.

"But...why," Will couldn't help but ask. He forced himself to look away from Lady Emilia, glancing at his friend instead.

"Oh, she is simply a tad...peculiar. Beautiful, but peculiar." Leo casually lifted one shoulder, displaying his indifference. He took a sip of his drink before saying, "Between you and me, I find her lack of awareness rather charming. However, the ton does not agree. So, wallflower it is."

Will surveyed Lady Emilia again, her eyes still shining bright even though she sat idly by as others around her danced and chatted. Without thinking, his feet propelled themselves across the room.

"Not for long," Will muttered to himself.