Anthony Russell, the Earl of Bessington, relished the cool mornings. He could be himself, with no one around to spot him, to enquire after his health or to debase themselves in order to earn his favor. Ever since his father's death a few months earlier, Anthony had found his new responsibilities both wearying and frustrating. There was so much to do that he barely had time to go for a ride; there was always a tenant to take care of, accounts to go through, or debts to pay. He had barely known his father, but was not in the least bit surprised to find that he had left mountains of unpaid debts that had almost critically wounded the estate. It had proved to be much harder work than he had anticipated, but it seemed the estate was finally beginning to turn a profit. And, of course, his mother had organized a house party to celebrate, as if they needed to fritter away money on such frivolities.

She had not taken his criticism well, promising, at least, that he would not have to make much more than one or two appearances. At least that was a relief. He wandered through the woods that surrounded the estate, appreciating the little things, such as the dewdrops on a spider’s web and the colorful toadstools that littered the path. His valet would have a fit when he returned to the house, but Anthony didn't care. His loose shirt, trousers, and old boots were all he required for an early morning walk, the sense of freedom overwhelming his senses. This was what he needed. This was his relief.

Eliza only half-listened to her mother and sister's eager chatter, her wish that it would not last for the entire journey going unanswered. They would be pulling into the Bessington estate in a few moments, and Eliza could not wait to escape the confines of the closed carriage. Her mother, who was old friends with the Dowager Countess of Bessington, had been vastly excited to receive her friend's invitation to the house party, and, having been asked to arrive one day early before the other guests, instantly made all the preparations—much to her husband's amusement. Eliza's father had opted to remain at home, citing business affairs that required his attention. Lord Stockton would also attend the house party, much to Eliza's delight. Their carriage drives had become a regular occurrence, and Eliza was sure there was a proposal of marriage in their future. To her utmost dismay, she had also been told that Lord Penn would be attending, shuddering as she remembered the letter he had sent.

“My dear Miss Williams," it had read. "I am delighted to inform you that I, too, shall be attending the Bessington house party. What a pleasure it shall be to spend such a prolonged length of time with you. By now, I am certain that you have seen the sense in my proposal. I shall expect you to bring the Williams necklace to the house party and, at the end of the week, it shall be given to me and remain in my possession. If you do not, you know what the consequences will be. Speak to anyone of this matter, and you shall find yourself ruined in society’s eyes, and what will Lord Stockton think of you then?”

Eliza stared out of the carriage window, focusing on preventing any tears from falling—not that Sophie or Mama would notice. Lord Penn had her firmly in his grip, and she could see no way out. He wanted the Williams necklace, the family heirloom that was only worn by Mama on very special occasions, and would, one day, be passed to her. It was made up of jade, diamonds, and rubies and was the family's safety net. Lord Penn had courted her a long time ago, but both Eliza and Sophie spurned his advances, much to his displeasure. It now became clear that Lord Penn was determined to have the Williams necklace, and unless she could find a way out, he would get it. If she did not give it to him, he would call in her father's debts, which would ruin the family entirely. They would lose everything: their home, their social standing, and their chances to make an eligible match. However, Eliza knew that if she did give him the necklace, Mama would be heartbroken and her father furious.

She thought back to the night her father had come home, blazing drunk and shouting about Lord Penn. He had accused him of cheating at cards, one of the most dangerous and dishonoring accusations against a gentleman. Of course, there was no evidence of Lord Penn’s cheating, so the family had tried to quieten him immediately, knowing the scandal that would ensue should Lord Penn hear of their father's remarks. However, Eliza began to think that her father had been correct in his statements, for she was sure Lord Penn would stop at nothing to possess the Williams necklace.

Since that night, her father had never returned to his clubs, not once stayed to gamble or play piquet, never reached for a glass of port or whiskey. He was quiet and unsociable, waiting for Lord Penn to call in his debts whilst saying nothing to his family. Eliza's soft heart ached for him, whilst wishing desperately that there was an easy way out. The Williams necklace was packed carefully in her trunk, taken from her mother’s bedroom without her knowledge. Eliza hoped she could find a solution before the week’s end.

“Violet, my dear,” said Lady Bessington with her arms outstretched as she welcomed Eliza’s mother to her home. “How good it is to see you once more.”

“Catherine, it is as though you have not aged a single day since I saw you last,” Eliza’s mother replied. “Let me introduce you to my daughters. This is Eliza, my eldest, and Sophie.” Eliza and Sophie both gave elegant curtsies to the dowager countess, who studied them both with an appraising eye.

“Both beautiful, I see.” She smiled at them warmly, a handsome woman still, in spite of her years. “You are both very welcome. I do hope that you enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Eliza said.

Lady Bessington laughed.

“None of that nonsense, I beg you. You are daughters of my dear friend, Violet, so you must refer to me as Catherine. I insist.”

Surprised at being granted such an intimacy, both girls smiled and nodded, immediately feeling at home with Lady Bessington.

“You have a beautiful home,” Sophie remarked, aware of the magnificent paintings on the wall as well as the plush carpet.

"Thank you, my dear," Catherine replied. "My son has no time for such ‘frivolities,' as he calls them, so he has left the decorating of the house to me. It is something I greatly enjoy." Smiling, Lady Bessington rose to ring for refreshments.

“Girls,” their mother began. “Please go to your rooms and refresh yourselves. I shall be along momentarily.”

Realizing that their mama wanted a long, comfortable coze with her dear friend, Eliza and Sophie nodded, making their way from the drawing room up the grand staircase to their private rooms above.

The following day, Eliza and Sophie sat at the dining table with all the other guests, who had arrived earlier that day. Eliza was extremely thankful that she was sitting next to Lord Stockton and nowhere near Lord Penn, who was sandwiched between the buxom Lady Durness and the extremely large Lord Hutton.

"Are we to see much of Lord Bessington?"

Eliza's turned to her host, listening carefully for the answer to her mother's question. She had never met the earl who was, by all accounts, a fairly unpleasant individual. The rumors were that he was both extremely boring and incredibly serious, rarely smiling or finding amusement in anything. She would be interested to find out if it was indeed the case.

“I’m afraid my son is extremely busy with estate business,” Lady Bessington replied, a trifle hastily. “We shall see him on occasion, I am sure. He intends to greet you all tonight, although I cannot say exactly when.”

Eliza thought to herself for a moment, ignoring the rest of the conversation. Was Lord Bessington truly busy, or was he simply avoiding his guests? She imagined him for a moment – a serious, dull man, maybe with spectacles and a constant frown. Smiling to herself, she was thrown back into the present by the sound of her sister’s laughter. Glancing around, she was relieved to find that no one had noticed her lack of interest, although she was slightly perturbed to find that her sister was deep in conversation with Lord Stockton, leaving her out entirely. At the same time, she caught Lord Penn staring at her with a smirk on his face, aware he had her firmly in his clutches. Feeling a little unsteady, she rose gracefully and excused herself from the table for a few moments, choosing to visit the powder room to regain her poise.

“Ah, Anthony, so good of you to join us!”

Anthony bowed to the seated guests, waving away any attempt from the ladies to rise to their feet. He glanced around the table, noting the empty seat, before returning his gaze to his mother.

“Thank you, Mother, but I cannot stay for long.”

“Not even for a glass of port?” his mother queried, wishing her son were not so dismissive of her guests.

“Perhaps later,” Anthony replied, his interest already waning. “I am afraid I have much work to do on the estate, but I shall endeavor to return later this evening."

Slightly mollified, his mother nodded, accepting his excuses with grace.

“Thank you, Anthony, we look forward to seeing you later this evening.”

Nodding to his guests, Anthony left the room, hurrying back to his study. Whilst it was true that he had much estate business to catch up on, he also did not want to fritter away his time on such things as cards, port, and cheroots. He found such things dull and uninspiring, much preferring a good gallop on his horse or a walk in the woods in the early mornings. Hastening his steps around the corner, he walked straight into a young woman, knocking her back onto the floor.

“Oh, my apologies!” he said hastily, reaching for her hand. If only it had not been so dimly lit in the hallway, he might not have collided with her. “Are you quite all right?”

Eliza, highly embarrassed, got to her feet without his aid and straightened her dress.

"No damage done, I assure you," she replied primly. "Please excuse me." With as much dignity as she could muster, Eliza walked back to the dining room, wanting to escape the situation as soon as she could.

She assumed that she had walked straight into the earl, the candlelight hiding his features. It had been like walking into a wall; the man had been tall and solid. She was sure her legs must have been in full view, her cheeks flaming at the thought. Struggling to regain her composure, she seated herself gracefully but had to rise almost immediately as the ladies moved to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port and cheroots. With any luck, nobody would know of her disastrous first meeting with the earl.