PROLOGUE
Hetty brushed her fallen chestnut curls away from her face. This latest bout of temper had truly been epic. And now she was wandering the streets of London lost. Shadows were growing longer and darkness was starting to creep between the buildings. It would soon be nightfall.
To make matters worse, she had left her Mayfair home without a farthing to call her own. Hetty knew that she shouldn’t let her mother get the best of her. But the Dowager Viscountess, Lady Moberly was an opposing figure that expected obedience always.
Hetty was eighteen years old, no longer a child. By her reasoning, if she was old enough to join the marriage mart, she was old enough to make her own decisions. Instead of finding more freedom, as she had hoped. Hetty was smothered with rules and lessons on how to do everything from turning her fan to her posture and conversation.
Hetty had already had a governess, a fine one that had taught her how to act like a lady. The Dowager was going too far expecting Hetty to dance with the imbecilic young fops. It wasn’t her fault that these young men were the offspring of her mother’s friends.
To make matters worse, Daniel her oldest brother, Lord Moberly, had taken his expectant wife off to their country estate. Her other brother, Sinclair, no longer lived at home. He and his beautifully shy wife Frances lived in their own London townhouse.
The Dowager had no one else to focus on. Hetty desperately wished she would pick up needle point or the harp. Honestly, anything that would get her mother to stop breathing down her neck.
At the first drop of rain Hetty turned her face heavenward and inquired, “God, do you truly hate me? Couldn’t you hold off on the rain?”
A snort of laughter was the response.
The rain had started to pick up. Two drops became four, and then four became ten, soon they were too many to count. Hetty whipped her head around only to have her hair cover her eyes once again.
With a huff, she pushed the dampening locks away to see who had deemed to laugh at her.
She really should have known. There was only one ‘somebody’ that managed to creep beneath her skin just by being alive.
“Bloody hell, Miles Warner, it would have to be you!”
Lord Chambers was a highly sought after Earl. And currently occupied the top space on her mother’s most eligible bachelor list.
Miles, raised one of his raven black brows, “Shouldn’t your Nanny be with you?”
Hetty’s blood was boiling, he always referred to her age whenever they encountered each other. She was sick to death of being treated like a child.
“Shouldn’t your Nurse be with you?” Hetty countered, “I had now idea you were allowed out of the asylum by yourself.”
Miles jaw hardened and his ice blue eyes tried to cut straight through her. But Hetty was cold, angry and impervious to supercilious rakes.
“What are you doing out here on your own?” Miles’ tone was beyond condescending.
“I am enjoying the fresh air,” Hetty retorted and then felt ten times the fool when lightning flashed across the sky causing her to shiver.
Miles lips twitched, “Yes, a lovely evening for a stroll.”
“Just stop, Lord Chambers, I do not need your commentary!” Hetty turned around to leave but a strong hand caught her arm.
“I cannot let you go about in the rain without an escort, especially when night is coming on.”
Hetty turned her face to meet his gaze. She could tell that the last thing Miles Warner wanted to do was spend time with her. However, she was tired and lost, perhaps it was time to give in. But not without a little dig first.
“Interesting that you consider yourself a proper escort. I would think that the infirmary would disagree. Perhaps we should return you there, do you still have your white coat?”
Miles’ eyes blazed, “Perhaps we will see if there is a room for you as well. Only a deranged lunatic would stand in the rain arguing when they were clearly lost. Or a small child, take your pick.”
Hetty honestly should have thought long and hard about her next move. But gut reflexes had won out and Hetty’s hand went flying. A loud crack reverberated through the air as her gloved hand hit his cheek.
She had only a moment of horrified silence as she stared into his infuriated eyes. Dear Lord above, what had she done?
“I am so terribly sorry,” Hetty’s eyes filled with tears.
Lord Chambers bent at the waist and scooped her up over his shoulder. One moment Hetty was standing on the pavement and the next she was staring down at his firm buttocks encased in fawn breeches.
Mortified to be in such a circumstance she began to squirm and pound his back with her fists.
“You cannot carry me off like this. It isn’t done! Put me down this instant! Do you hear me?”
His only response was a resounding smack on her derriere.
Hetty was stunned, no one had ever touched her there, least of all a man. And to be honest it burned a little where he had struck her.
“Ouch! You oaf, you can’t just go around hitting people!”
A chuckle rumbled up from somewhere in his chest. It sounded rusty like he hadn’t laughed for a long time. It was a lovely sound, and Hetty found that she had to force herself not to smile in response.
“That’s rich coming from the girl that just assaulted me,” his smug tone burned Hetty clear through.
“You deserved it!”
Another smack came down on her buttocks, if anything harder than the last one.
“Ouch! Stop hitting me you bastard!” Hetty growled at Miles.
It was a good thing that she couldn’t see the wide smile that had split across his face. She might be a right pain in the ass, but she gave as good as she got. And Miles could respect that.
“There is no reason to question my parentage. I assure you that I was born in wedlock, but thank you for inquiring.”
Hetty only screamed in exasperation. Miles Warner, The Earl of Chambers, was without a doubt the biggest idiot in London and perhaps in all of England.
If she never saw him again it would be too soon.