Chapter One
London
April 1816
"She'll marry you, never fear."
Lady Pearl Moreston froze, her hand suspended over the
crystal handle of the parlor door of Oakshire House, the
finest mansion on Berkley Square. How dared her stepmother
make such a promise — and to whom? Instead of opening the
door, which stood slightly ajar, she waited to hear what
reply might come.
"But she's refused me twice already, Your Grace." Pearl
identified the tremulous tenor as belonging to Lord
Bellowsworth. "It seems dear that her wishes —"
Obelia, Duchess of Oakshire, cut him off. "Her wishes have
nothing to say to the matter. Do you wish to wed the Lady
Pearl or not?"
Scarcely waiting for the young marquess's stammering
assent, the Duchess went on. "When you get her to Hyde
Park, take one of the less frequented paths — the one
leading off to the north, about a quarter mile from the
entrance. You know the one? Good. No, don't interrupt.
She'll be down at any moment. Go all the way to the end,
to the little copse you will find there, and renew your
addresses, as...forcefully as you can."
"Forcefully? I — I'll try. But what if —"
"I told you not to interrupt. I have arranged to have
someone discover you, seemingly by chance, who will attest
that he found the two of you in a most compromising
situation. The Duke will be only too happy to consent to
the match, whatever his daughter's wishes might be. Her
hand — and her fortune — will be yours."
Pearl waited to hear no more.Breezing into the room, her
head held high, she exclaimed, "A delightful plan, to be
sure!"
Lord Bellowsworth started violently and began to stammer,
but the Duchess merely smiled. "Lady, Pearl. What a
surprise. We were speaking hypothetically of course."
"Of course you were," Pearl agreed. "A hypothesis I fear I
cannot help you to prove. You'll excuse me my lord, for
feeling indisposed for our drive today." day."
"Of...of course. That is to say...I never meant...I'll
give you good day, my lady, Your Grace." Bowing and
blathering, he backed out of the parlor and fled Oakshire
House.
Pearl turned to her stepmother, whose petite, blond beauty
so similar to her own mother's, even now diluted her anger
with long-remembered sorrow. "I know you have been anxious
for me to marry, but I confess I had not expected you to
resort to such measures as these to ensure it."
The Duchess appeared more vexed than apologetic. "You
leave me little choice," she said, flouncing across the
room to seat herself in a high-backed chair that rather
resembled a throne — her favorite. "Your father is
concerned about your future, and I feel bound to make him
easy on the subject."
"And, of course, the fact that the Fairbourne estate will
fall to me if I am yet unwed on my twenty-first birthday
has nothing to do with your solicitude." Pearl spoke
dryly, hiding any pain she felt from both herself and her
stepmother. Sevenyears ago, when her father had first
remarried, she had wished — She cut off that regret
ruthlessly.
Obelia tossed her golden curls. "You'll have a substantial
fortune in any event. If you marry well, you'll have no
need whatsoever for that property, which by rights should
go to Edward with the rest when he inherits. You cannot
fault me for looking out for my son's interests."
"Edward will scarcely be paupered by my inheritance of the
smallest of the seven Oakshire estates." She adored her
five-year-old half-brother, currently in the country while
his mother enjoyed the London Season. But even for his
sake, Pearl refused to sacrifice Fairbourne, a lovely
little estate in the north of Oakshire, where she had
spent many happy months as a child. She had definite plans
for the land and people there — plans to put some of the
theories she had studied into practice.
"That is not the point. It will divide the Oakshire estate
and lessen its consequence, which I cannot imagine you
would wish. Besides," the Duchess continued
peevishly, "that addendum to the entail was intended to
provide for any daughter who might prove unmarriageable.
As you've had any number of offers, it clearly does not
apply in your case. I believe the lawyers will agree, when
I explain how matters stand."
Before Pearl could reply, her father appeared at the
parlor door. "I don't hear my two favorite girls arguing,
do I?" he asked jovially. "What is it this time? The color
of the new draperies.
Obelia rose to greet the Duke, ushering him to the chair
next to hers. "Of course we're not arguing, my love. We
both know how that upsets you." She shot an admonitory
look at Pearl, "I was merely pointing out to dear Pearl
the advantages of matrimony, as I have been so blessed by
that state myself. I do so wish to see her comfortably
settled. Don't you?"
The Duke frowned, as he always did when this subject
arose — which it did all too frequently, in Pearl's
opinion. "So long as she's happy, and needn't be too far
away," he conceded. "I won't let my 'Pearl beyond price'
go to just anyone, you know. But I leave that in your
capable hands, Obelia, as I've told you often enough. And
Pearl's, of course."
"Of course," echoed the Duchess, clearly less than
perfectly pleased by his caveats. "You may always trust me
to do what's best for both of our children, my love."
He smiled fondly at his wife, and Pearl rose abruptly. "If
you'll excuse me, I have some reading I'd like to finish."