Chapter One ~ 1819

“But, Sophie, you cannot do this!”

“I can do what I like,” Sophie replied.

It was hard to imagine that anyone could be more beautiful!

With her golden curls, pink and white skin and perfect features, Sophie Studley had sprung to fame the moment the bucks and dandies of St. James’s had set eyes on her.

After one month in London she was proclaimed an ‘Incomparable’ and after two months she was engaged to be married to Julius Verton, who, on his uncle’s death, would become the Duke of Yelverton.

The engagement had been announced in The Gazette and Wedding presents had already begun to arrive at the house in Mayfair that Lady Studley had taken for the London Season.

But now, two weeks before her marriage, Sophie had declared that she intended running away with Lord Rothwyn.

“It will cause a tremendous scandal!” Lalitha protested. “Why must you do such a thing?”

The difference between the two girls, who were nearly the same age, was startling.

While Sophie was every man’s ideal of beauty and looked like an English rose, Lalitha was pathetic.

An illness during the winter had left her looking, as the servants described it, ‘all skin and bone’.

Because of long hours spent sewing for her stepmother with an inadequate supply of candles, her eyes were inflamed and swollen.

Her hair was so lank and lifeless that it appeared almost grey. It was swept back in an unbecoming fashion from her forehead, which seemed to be perpetually lined with an expression of anxiety.

The two girls were almost the same height, but while Sophie was the embodiment of health and the joy of living, Lalitha seemed only an insubstantial shadow and on the point of collapse.

“I should have thought,” Sophie said in a hard voice in answer to Lalitha’s protest, “that even to anyone as half-witted as you the reason is obvious.”

Lalitha did not speak and she went on,

“Julius will, it is true, become a Duke. I would not have contemplated marrying him otherwise, but the question is, when?”

She made an expressive gesture with both hands.

“The Duke of Yelverton is not more than sixty,” she went on. “He may last for another ten or fifteen years. By that time I shall be too old to enjoy my position as a Duchess.”

“You will still be beautiful,” Lalitha ventured.

Sophie turned to look at herself in the mirror.

There was a smile on her face as she contemplated her reflection.

There was no doubt that her expensive gown of pale blue crêpe with its fashionable boat-shaped neckline and deep bertha of real lace was extremely becoming.

What was more, tight lacing had returned to fashion. The new corsets from Paris made her waist seem tiny and this was accentuated by her full skirts elaborately ornamented with bunches of flowers and ruching of tulle.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “I shall still be beautiful, but I would wish above all things to be a Duchess at once so that I could go to the Opening of Parliament wearing a coronet and play my part in the Coronation when it comes.”

She paused to add,

“That tiresome, mad old King must die soon!”

“Perhaps the Duke will not keep you waiting too long,” Lalitha suggested in her soft musical voice.

“I don’t intend to wait for either a long or a short time,” Sophie retorted. “I am running away with Lord Rothwyn tonight! It is all arranged,”

“Do you really think that is wise?” Lalitha asked her.

“He is very wealthy,” Sophie replied, “one of the richest men in England and he has a friendship with the Prince Regent, which is something that poor Julius could never aspire to,”

 ”He is older than Mr. Verton,” Lalitha said, “and, of course, I have never seen him, but I imagine he is somewhat awe-inspiring,”

“You are right there,” Sophie agreed. “He is dark, rather sinister and very cynical. It makes him immensely attractive!”

“Does he love you?” Lalitha asked in a low voice.

“He adores me!” Sophie declared. “They both do, but quite frankly, Lalitha, I think, weighing the two men side by side. Lord Rothwyn is a better bet,”

There was a moment’s silence and then Lalitha said,

“I think what you should really consider, Sophie, is who would you be the happier with. That is what is really – important in marriage,”

“You have been reading again and Mama will be furious if she catches you at it!” Sophie retorted. “Love is for books and for dairy maids, not for Ladies of Quality!”

“Can you really contemplate marriage without love?” Lalitha asked.

“I can contemplate marriage with whoever gives me the best advantages as a woman,” Sophie replied, “and I am convinced that Lord Rothwyn can do that. He is rich! So very very rich!”

She turned from the mirror to walk across the room to where the doors of the wardrobe stood open.

It was filled with a delectable array of gowns for which none of the bills, Lalitha knew, had been met.

But they had been essential weapons that Sophie must use to attract the attention of the Beau Monde, an attention that had brought her to date three proposals of marriage.

One was from Julius Verton, the future Duke of Yelverton, the second unexpectedly and in the last week from Lord Rothwyn.

The third, which Sophie had discounted immediately, was from Sir Thomas Whernside, an elderly, dissolute, hard-gambling Knight, who against all expectations of his friends, who considered him a confirmed bachelor, had been bowled over at the first sight of Sophie’s beauty.

There had of course been other beaux, but either they had not come up to scratch or else they were far too impecunious for Sophie to consider any one of them of the least consequence.

When Julius Verton had proposed marriage it had seemed for the moment as if all her dreams had come true.

It had exceeded Sophie’s wildest ambitions that she should become a Duchess and yet, while she had accepted Julius almost rapturously, there were various disadvantages to be considered. The worst was that Julius Verton had little money.

He was given an allowance by his uncle as heir presumptive to the Dukedom.

It was not a vast sum and it would mean that he and Sophie could live no more than quietly and in comparative comfort until he inherited the Yelverton estates, which were some distance from London.

But it would be impossible to keep up with the fast wildly extravagant London Society that Sophie enjoyed and envied.

There was, however, no question of her refusing such an advantageous social alliance.

Lady Studley had hurried the announcement to The Gazette and the Wedding was planned to take place at St. George’s, Hanover Square, before the Prince Regent departed for Brighton.

Sophie’s days were filled with fittings at the dressmakers, with acknowledging the presents that arrived daily at the house in Hill Street and with receiving with complacency the congratulations and good wishes of their acquaintances.

Sophie and her mother had not been long enough in London to have acquired any friends.

Their home, as they explained to all who wished to listen, was in Norfolk where the late Sir John Studley’s ancestors had lived since Cromwellian times.

Studley might be a respected name in the County, but it was unknown to the Beau Monde. Sophie’s personal success was therefore all the more gratifying, because she had nothing to recommend her apart from her lovely face.

Everything had appeared to run smoothly until, quite unexpectedly, Lord Rothwyn had appeared on the scene

Sophie had encountered him at one of the many balls that she and Julius Verton were invited to night after night.

He had been away from London and had therefore not been already astonished or bemused by the first impact of Sophie’s beauty.

Standing under a glittering chandelier, the candlelight picking out the golden lights in her hair and revealing the milky whiteness of her skin, Sophie was able to make the strongest of men’s heads swim as she smiled beguilingly at those around her.

“Who the devil is that?” she heard a voice exclaim and she had looked across the room to see a man, dark and sardonic, staring in her direction.

She had not been surprised for she was used to men staggering when they saw her and being at first tongue-tied and then over-voluble with their compliments.

Adroitly she managed to turn and speak to a man on her left, thereby revealing her perfect profile.

“Who is the gentleman who has just come into the room?” she asked in a low voice.

The buck she spoke to replied,

“That is Lord Rothwyn. Have you not met him?”

“I have never seen him before,” Sophie answered.

“He is a strange unpredictable fellow with a devil of a temper but rich as Croesus and the Prince Regent consults him on all his crazy building schemes,”

“Well, if he approved the Pavilion at Brighton, he must be mad!” Sophie exclaimed. “I heard somebody yesterday describe it as a Hindu nightmare!”

“That is certainly a good description!” the buck replied. “But I see that Rothwyn is determined to make your acquaintance,”

It was obvious that Lord Rothwyn had asked to be introduced to Sophie and now a mutual acquaintance brought him across the room.

“Miss Studley,” he said, “may I present Lord Rothwyn? I feel that two such distinguished ornaments of Society should get to know each other.”

Sophie’s eyes were very blue and her smile very beguiling.

Lord Rothwyn...