Chapter One
2 September 1822
Sommer-by-the-Sea
“Really, Lora,” saidLady Harriet, “you must make a decision soon.” Lady Lora Preston sat in a plush chair in the Rostov Tearoom, her gaze drifting beyond the rim of her teacup to the world outside. Sunlight filtered through lace curtains, casting intricate shadows on the painted blue walls framed by white wainscot panels. Her glance shifted to the petite vase of autumn flowers and the crisp white linens topped with lace overlays that draped the table. She sipped her tea as the soft hum of whispered conversations and the gentle clinking of fine china created a soothing symphony around her.
Lora’s close friend and confidant, Lady Harriet Lockford, was in an affectionate, teasing mood. A sly smile played on her lips as the waitress approached, setting a fresh pot of steaming tea between them before she slipped away.
Lora took a deep breath, allowing the rich aroma of black tea, warm bread, and freshly baked scones to fill her senses and for Harriet to continue.
“How many seasons have gone by without you securing a proposal?” Harriet pressed, her eyes following the waitress’s retreating figure before settling back on Lora.
“If we count this year.” Lora’s finger tapped thoughtfully against her cheek as she gazed at the exposed wooden beamsoverhead. A playful pause lingered between them, the corners of her mouth hinting at a concealed smile. Harriet, nee Manning, daughter of the renowned Dr. Bertram Manning, now blissfully wed to Asheton, Earl Lockford, had taken it upon herself to become Lora’s ardent matchmaker, a role she embraced with zeal and genuine care.
Lora, the daughter of the Earl of Fallsmith, was a striking woman with an elegant presence. Her chestnut hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, each strand catching the light to reveal subtle hints of auburn. Her vivid green eyes sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief, a gaze that seemed to pierce straight into the soul.
Encouraged by her parents to nurture her independent spirit, Lora carried herself with confidence and compassion. There was an undeniable poise, a reflection of her noble upbringing, tempered by a warmth that drew people to her. Her laughter could ease the sternest of dispositions, and her unwavering determination was a beacon to those fortunate enough to call her friend.
And yet, beneath the polished exterior, there was a restlessness, a yearning for something more than the predictable social engagements and parade of suitors. Perhaps it was this silent quest for a genuine connection that kept her heart unclaimed, a secret she harbored even from dear Harriet.
“That would be three.” She glanced at Harriet before she picked up the menu. “Proposals are not the problem. The issue is who they’re from.” A fleeting image of Lord Davenport’s incessant boasting about his horses flashed through her mind, prompting an amused smirk. “I suppose I prefer quality over quantity.”
“You don’t belong on the shelf.” Harriet hovered the teapot over her cup and then refreshed it. “You are smart, witty—”
“I do have all my teeth, that should be worth something,” Lora interrupted without raising her head from the menu, smiling all the while. “You should speak to my father. He is of the same opinion as you.” She peeked over the menu. “I should take bets on who will be the first to find me a suitable suitor.”
“Oh. Lora, be serious. I warned you that if you didn’t take this seriously, your father would find a suitor for you.”
She didn’t need to glance at Harriet. They both knew her father could only be held off so long, and with his recent illness, he had mentioned suitors to her more than once.
“What about Lord Penton? He is quite the catch.” Harriet lifted a sugar cube with the delicate silver tongs but, after a brief pause, returned it to the bowl.
Lora wrinkled her nose at the mention of the man’s name. “Absolutely not. He is as dull as dishwater.”
“Earlier this week I saw you in the park with Mr. Charles Hastings. What is Mr. Hastings like?”
Lora paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “He’s quite the gentleman, Harriet. Polished and articulate, with a charm that’s hard to ignore. He shows a genuine interest in my work with the clinic, always asking thoughtful questions, and offers astute suggestions. He is considerate. He carries himself with a quiet confidence and has an air of distinction about him. It’s refreshing to spend time with someone who seems to genuinely care about the causes I hold dear. Still, there’s an intriguing sense of mystery about him, something that keeps me curious… and perhaps a little wary. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something about him that feels… not entirely genuine.”
Harriet’s brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity deepening. “Not entirely genuine? That’s a bit concerning,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “It’s good to trust your instincts, Lora.Sometimes, they pick up on things that aren’t immediately obvious.”
Continuing on her line of inquiry, Harriet shifted to another potential suitor. “What about Sir Edmund Law?” She took a sip and glanced at Lora over the rim of her teacup. “He has a fine estate and a respectable lineage.”
Lora shook her head, still reading the menu. “Too pompous. I could never abide his constant preening.” She glanced over the top of the menu. “I liked you better before you became Lady Lockford. When you were Harriet Manning, an aspiring female doctor—”
“I spent all my time at the clinic. Now, I spend my time between my dear Asheton, our son Colin, and finding you a husband. And do not change the subject. If none of these fine gentlemen interest you, tell me, what do you want in a man? And by the way,” she pointed to the menu in front of Lora. “There aren’t that many items on Tatiana’s menu.”
“He must be intelligent, of course.” Lora placed the menu on the table and began ticking off the traits of her perfect man on her fingers. “And kind, with a sense of humor.”
“And handsome,” Harriet added with a wink. “Don’t forget that.”
Lora smiled. “Yes, and handsome. But more importantly,” her smile faded as she leaned toward Harriet, her eyes narrowing with a severe glare, “he must be fair-minded, respect my independence, and support my work. And he must understand and agree that my endowment is mine to manage.”
Harriet was about to respond when her eyes widened slightly. Someone had entered the room. Her voice took on a teasing tone as she stared over Lora’s shoulder. “This ideal man of yours must also be tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of command about him. I would think dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that could charm the birds from the trees. Aconfident man, yet with a warm gaze that,” Harriet leaned in close and whispered, “would curl your toes. Would that suit you, my friend?”
*
Across the room,Adam, Viscount Wesley, Lora’s brother, spotted the newcomer and stepped over to him. “Rockford. I didn’t know you were in Sommer-by-the-Sea.”
