CHAPTER 1
Eden eyed herself carefully in the large mirror in her room. Her mother, the Duchess of Norfolk, had been after her again to go on a reducing diet. For much of Eden’s life, she had been told that she needed to be on a reducing diet.
She turned to the side and noted that indeed her stomach did poke out a bit, and her hips were certainly more curvaceous than her best friend Sophie’s could ever dream of being. But surely, they were not overly offensive? Her breasts were large. There wasn’t much she could do about that. She lifted them and tried to press them back in, only succeeding in humoring herself.
Turning back to the front, she brought her long curling blond hair over her shoulders to cover her breasts: it tickled in a pleasant way. Sighing sadly, she realized that there simply wasn’t much she could do but follow her mother’s plan. Maybe with some pounds off she might have a bit more luck attracting a member of the opposite sex.
The reality of it all was that Eden had been lonely since Sophie had gotten married. It was true that Sophie had tried to get together for tea and always attended their Bluebell meetings. But they didn’t live in each other’s pockets any longer. They rarely shared secrets anymore: Sophie had a new best friend, and it wasn’t her.
Eden went over to ring for her maid to come and help her dress for the day: it was quite an easy task to throw one’s night shift over her head, yet it was another thing trying to dress one’s self. After donning a day dress in pale pink and having her hair put up in a simple braided bun, Eden pushed her spectacles higher on her nose and raced down to the breakfast room.
If one was going to start a reducing diet, it was always wise to begin with a hearty breakfast.
“I do hope that you were not intending to eat all of that?”
Eden’s hand stopped part way to her mouth, clutching her fork filled with the most mouth-watering sausage on the earth.
“Because this is just what I was speaking about, Eden,” the Duchess came into the room stopping at the sideboard. She placed a few pieces of fruit on her plate and a torn piece of bread.
The Duchess was small in stature, much like Eden. But whereas Eden was all curves, the Duchess was nearly skin and bone.
“I am sorry, Mother,” Eden mumbled before quickly sticking the fork into her mouth and trying to stifle the moan of satisfaction.
“You don’t need to be sorry, Eden,” the Duchess sighed. “I am only trying to help.”
“I know,” Eden tried to smile at her. “I know you want what is best for me.”
“My mother was very strict with me, and it was a good learning lesson. I want the best in life for you.” The Duchess leaned over to grasp her hand to give it a squeeze before turning back to her fruit.
“Would you like butter or marmalade?” Eden asked even though she was more than certain that her mother would refuse.
“No thank you, darling. I’ve noticed a few dresses feeling tight; I will just stick with this for now. We are to go to the theater tonight, so be sure that your club meeting does not go too long this afternoon, dear.”
“Yes, of course, I had almost forgotten. Thank you, Mother,” Eden went over to kiss her mother’s gently-lined cheek.
“Are you going to the lending library this morning?” the Duchess inquired.
Eden nodded, “Yes, but I shall be back in plenty of time for the meeting. I love you.”
“Love you too. Don’t forget a hat, you don’t want to burn,” her mother cried out, but she was already dashing up the stairs.
*****
Eden had perusing the bookshelves of the lending library, and there was nothing that she hadn’t already borrowed. It was truly a sad day when you couldn’t even find a good book to read, she thought to herself.
So, leaving there, she and her maid walked a few stores up to see if there was anything new in Boswell’s Bookstore. The bell over the door welcoming them in alerted the man behind the counter, and he glanced up.
“Lady Eden, what a pleasant surprise! I’ve just got a new shipment, and there is one by Mary Shelley entitled Frankenstein that I am certain you will like. It is dark and creepy and eminently frightening.”
Eden laughed, “It does sound like something I would like. I wonder what that says about me.”
“Perhaps that you enjoy a bit of danger, or maybe even seek it?” That deep melodious drawl that never failed to raise the hair on the back of her neck caused her to whirl around.
“Phillip,” she exclaimed, “you read?!”
It certainly came out much more rudely than intended. But standing there, right in front of her, was none other than Lord Phillip Randall, Marquis of Lancaster, Stealer of best friends, Ravisher of too many hearts to mention, and Irritator in the extreme to Eden.
His lips twisted slightly: “My mum just taught me last week. We are going to try toilet training when she thinks I’m ready.”
“Very funny. I meant that I didn’t know that you enjoyed reading,” Eden stammered out, irritated that he had her off balance.
“I dare say, Sweet Cheeks, there are many things that you do not know about me.”
She flushed with anger: “What did I tell you about those ridiculous names?”
“Sugar Plum, there are so many things that you say to me, I have a difficult time sorting them all out.”
Eden turned to the clerk who was clearly amused with the play-by-play.
“I will return later for the book. Phillip, I do hope the toilet training works out for the best. Good day.”
“Until later, Dumpling,” he chuckled when he heard her exasperated huff just as the door was closing.
Phillip turned to the clerk: “I will take that book.”
“I am sorry, Lord Randall. But I promised it to Lady Eden.”
“Not to worry, it is a gift to her.”