Kissing the Wrong Lord (Preview)

Chapter One

The ballroom looked like a fairy wonderland. At least that was what Lady Isabel Fiffet thought as she slowly walked through the grand house, clutching the arm of her very best friend in the world, Mary Ann Talbot. The two young women stopped abruptly, gazing around in awe, craning their necks toward the ceiling.

They were at Hillcrest Manor for the Jameson’s annual ball. The revered local family had outdone themselves with the decorations for it. There were flowers everywhere and candles lit, flickering like stars in the night sky. The orchestra was already playing. At least a hundred people were milling around, chatting and laughing, primed for a night of revelry.

“Oh, it is simply enchanting,” whispered Mary Ann, her eyes so wide they were almost popping out of her head. She fanned herself vigorously. “I must admit I am just a trifle overcome, Isabel. This is the ball of the Season.”

Isabel nodded. “It certainly is, Mary Ann. The cream of local society shall be here this evening. I am nervous, too.” She smiled archly. “But do not tell anyone. It shall remain a secret between the two of us. I want everyone to think that I am as calm as a lily pond this evening.”

Mary Ann laughed softly. “Well, you do not appear nervous at all, Isabel. You always look so composed and serene. I envy you that.” The young woman bit her lip, glancing at her friend. “And, of course, you are the most beautiful lady in the room. As always.”

Isabel smiled at her friend affectionately. “You are too kind, dearest.” She gazed down at her gown. “What do you think? Mama spent a small fortune on me for this ball. I wanted to stand out. Is it too much?”

For a moment, she was in an agony of doubt. The gown was spectacular—ivory silk, with diamantes scattered like stars through it. And her headdress was just as eye-catching. A matching ivory silk band with a plumed feather. Isabel knew the colour she had chosen for this evening contrasted nicely with her auburn hair. But did she look a little overdone? As if she were trying just a mite too hard?

Mary Ann gazed at her, her eyes drifting from head to toe. “No, it is not too much at all. It is one of the most beautiful and striking gowns I have ever seen, Isabel. No one will forget you in a hurry.”

Isabel sighed, flicking out her fan. “Well, we both know the reason that I have gone to so much effort this evening, Mary Ann.” She paused dramatically. “The whole ton is abuzz with speculation that Earl Ridlington will be making an appearance tonight.”

Mary Ann giggled. “Yes! The elusive Earl, who has just moved into the district. No one has even seen him yet. The speculation is growing to a fever pitch.”

Isabel laughed. “It surely is. Well, I suppose we do not get many new arrivals in the district. Especially not arrivals that are quite so distinguished. Do you know where the Earl hales from?”

Mary Ann nodded. “He is from Cheshire, in the northwest. I believe he owns a grand estate and land near Liverpool.” She paused, leaning in closer to her friend, her voice lowering. “The speculation is why this Earl has decided to move all the way to Somerset, leaving such a grand estate behind, and become resident at Cumbria Lodge. No one seems to know.”

Isabel frowned slightly. It was a mystery. Cumbria Lodge, while an imposing country manor, was not palatial. It had been owned previously by a gentleman from London, who had used it as a country escape. But that had been years ago. Ever since, Cumbria Lodge had been vacant, falling into disrepair. The last time Isabel had seen the house, it was covered in wild brambles, completely overgrown. It would take a lot of work to get it up to scratch and made liveable again, ready for receiving visitors.

“Perhaps Earl Ridlington just wants a change of scenery,” she said thoughtfully. “Perhaps he is sick of the North. Apparently, it is bitterly cold up there. Somerset is milder. It might just be that.”

Mary Ann nodded but didn’t say anything. Isabel’s frown deepened. The speculation around Earl Ridlington was reaching a fever pitch. He had a very revered title—there were only so many earls in the whole of England. The rumour was that the new Earl in the district was young, very wealthy, and handsome. And eligible. Apparently, he didn’t have a countess at home.

At least…not yet.

Isabel’s heart thumped uncomfortably. There were so very few eligible gentlemen in this district, and she wasn’t interested in any of them. They all bored her to tears apart from the fact that she was the daughter of an earl herself. Her family had high aspirations for her marriage. Not just any gentleman would do. But until the arrival of this new Earl, her father had been the most noble person in the district. Everyone was on a slightly lower social scale to her. A fact which was rather irritating, for it made the potential marriage pool very shallow, indeed.

Isabel knew that all the local young ladies were setting their sights on this new Earl. But she had a distinct advantage. She was the only daughter of Earl Fiffet. She was one and twenty. She had a reputation as one of the most beautiful and accomplished ladies in the district. And more than that, she was determined. She wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by. Lord knew when there would be another one. And she was only getting older. She didn’t want to end up a spinster. That would be a fate worse than death. Nor did she want to lower herself. A young earl would do her very nicely, indeed.

She glanced around anxiously. She just had to meet him. Was he already here, weaving his way amongst the crowd? Or would he remain forever hidden?

“Come on,” she whispered to Mary Ann in a determined voice. “Let us mingle. It is the only way we will discover him. To catch an earl we must find one, you know.”

***

Half an hour later, Isabel was almost stiff with boredom. She and her best friend had been swept up as soon as they had entered the ballroom, surrounded by gentlemen eager to secure a place on their dance cards.

She sighed heavily. It was always the same whenever they attended a ball, of course. She was the only daughter of Earl Fiffet. Mary Ann was the younger daughter of a baron. They were both high-born and very eligible. Ripe for the plucking, as her father often said, rather sardonically.

It was just such a pity that the gentlemen intent on doing the plucking were such a dull lot.

She gazed around sharply, her antennae on high alert for any unknown gentlemen in the crowd. Suddenly, she spotted one. A man of average height, with sandy coloured hair and a slight paunch. She narrowed her eyes. He might be the new Earl, but if he was, he wasn’t as handsome as rumour had it.

She turned to Mary Ann. “I have spotted a stranger in our midst. To your left, chatting with Lord and Lady Carnarvon. Do not make it obvious that you are gawking at him.”

Mary Ann craned her neck, seeking the gentleman. She looked as eager as Isabel felt. But that was hardly surprising, either. Mary Ann was just as bored with the local gentlemen as she was and as keen to marry.

But then, her friend’s face dropped. Slowly, she shook her head.

“He is not the new Earl,” she said, sighing dramatically. “He is the house guest of the Carnarvon’s. A distant cousin from London. I cannot remember his name now. But apparently, he is not flush with wealth.” She wrinkled her nose. “And he is not very handsome, either.”

Isabel stared at the man from behind her fan. “No. He is not. The only thing going for him is his age. He cannot be more than five and twenty.” Abruptly, she turned away. “It is hopeless, Mary Ann. I feel like we are looking for a needle in a haystack. Is the new Earl even here?”

Mary Ann bit her lip. “It is so very crowded it is hard to know.” Suddenly, she linked arms with Isabel. “I know. Let us go for a tour of the house. The new Earl might not be in the ballroom. There are other places.”

Isabel smiled slowly. “I like how you think, dearest. If the mountain will not come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must seek out the mountain. Lead the way.”

They giggled softly as they wove their way through the crowd. Isabel glanced back at the sandy-haired gentleman. He wasn’t anyone’s idea of a dashing romantic figure. He looked like he enjoyed his pudding just a little too much and was rather bug-eyed.

Isabel sighed deeply. She knew that her standards were probably too high. She wanted a title, wealth, and a gentleman who was young and handsome. Her mother was always telling her to get her head out of the clouds and stop reading so many Gothic romances. But Isabel adored them and couldn’t stop reading them. She would daydream she was the beautiful heiress taken by the dashing highwayman who was really a duke. Or the impoverished but beautiful lady who marries the brooding, handsome earl with a dark past. She would become lost in the story worlds and yearn for such heightened romance herself.

She had never found it. The gentlemen in the district were all the same, peas out of the same pod. They liked riding, hunting, and fishing, in that order. They had limited conversational skills. They didn’t read. Even worse, they weren’t particularly handsome or charming. She found them tediously dull. And she had never even felt a stirring of romantic passion or love for any of them.

Her heart hit the floor. Was Mama right when she told her that such a thing didn’t exist? That it was only the invention of poets and novelists?

They finally exited the ballroom, wandering down the long hallway. People were milling around everywhere. Surreptitiously, they glanced into various rooms as they passed by. A group of older ladies sat in one of them, eating cream cakes and gossiping. Isabel spied her own mother in the centre of the room, holding court. The Countess of Fiffet was the doyenne of the district, the highest-ranked lady for miles around. People always fawned all over her.

In another room, there were gentlemen playing cards and drinking brandy. Isabel saw her father there, standing near the mantelpiece. He was smoking a cigar and looked like he was arguing politics with two other gentlemen. Papa had very set views on politics and could talk for hours on the subject.

Her eyes slid past him, focusing on the other gentlemen in the room. But to her dismay, not one looked unfamiliar. Earl Ridlington was clearly not in this group. They kept going down the hallway. They were almost to the back of the house, where the wide French doors were swung open. Isabel saw couples milling around in the gardens, taking advantage of the mild evening.

Abruptly, she stopped walking, turning to Mary Ann.

“It is hopeless,” she said in a quiet voice. “He has either decided not to come this evening, or he is coming later. I feel like we are on a wild goose chase, dearest.”

Mary Ann sighed. “I fear you are right. Will he ever come out of his hiding hole, or is he quite determined to burrow himself away at Cumbria Lodge forever?”

Isabel shrugged her shoulders. There was no way of telling. Perhaps the new Earl was a social recluse. It would explain why no one had caught sight of him in the district at all since he had taken up residence.

Suddenly, there was excited chatter all around. Isabel turned her gaze back down the long hallway towards the ballroom. She caught a glimpse of a tall masculine figure with dark hair moving through the crowd. People were stepping back, parting for the figure to pass, rather like the Red Sea parting for Moses.

“I think it is him,” said a young lady near them, in a breathless voice. “It is the new Earl!”

Isabel turned to Mary Ann, gripping her arm tightly.

“Come on,” she whispered, excitement rearing to life again within her. “We must go back. This very instant.”

Quickly, they made their way back down the hallway. When they finally reached the ballroom, it was difficult to progress. People were jostling, craning their necks, watching the figure move through the crowd. But Isabel suddenly had a clear view of him.

Her heart leapt. He was handsome. Very handsome, indeed. Tall, with a muscular frame. He had warm brown hair, almost the colour of caramel. A chiselled face. His eyes were light blue and speculative as they roamed around the room. Even better, he was smiling. It seemed Earl Ridlington wasn’t a recluse, after all. In fact, he looked very friendly.

But then, he was swallowed up by a group of people, all eager to talk with him. Isabel sighed, turning to Mary Ann.

“Should we just linger at the edge of that group?” she whispered. “We must seize our chance to be introduced to him, dearest. Before he is snapped up by all the ladies.”

Mary Ann bit her lip. “It seems forward. Should we just stay here and see if he gets to us?”

Isabel frowned. She didn’t want to take the chance that he might not pass their way.

“Well, well, well,” said a deep voice behind them. “If it isn’t the Terrible Two.”

They jumped, swivelling around. Isabel smiled with delight. It was her dear friend, Francis Byrd. They had grown up on neighbouring estates together. Francis was like the brother she had never had.

“Why are you both staring so avidly in that direction?” asked Francis. “You look like you have spotted the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

Isabel laughed. “It is the new Earl, Francis! He has arrived at long last!” Her face fell. “But he is surrounded. We will never get a chance to be introduced to him, I fear.”

Francis rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone going crazy over that man? It is all rather too dramatic.” His gaze settled upon Isabel. “Will you dance with me, Bel? You did promise that you would save a spot on your dance card, you know.”

Isabel sighed impatiently. “Perhaps later, Francis. I am too preoccupied.”

Francis pouted. “Isabel, you are impossible.” He sighed irritably. “He is not that interesting. I have already spoken with him. My father and I called upon Cumbria Lodge just the other day.”

Isabel’s eyes lit up. She gazed at her friend. This was the chance they needed. If only she might persuade Francis to make the introductions.

Chapter Two

Isabel’s friend, however, wasn’t having a bit of it. His lip curled with disdain when she asked if he could introduce them. He stared at her without speaking.

Isabel sighed. “Francis, you are being impossible. How is that you even called upon Cumbria Lodge?”

Her friend smiled. “Well, as it happens, my father knew the Earl’s stepfather many years ago,” he said slowly. “I am not familiar with all the details. But the acquaintance was enough that Father insisted we call upon him. And so, we did.”

“Tell us about him,” piped up Mary Ann, her eyes avid.

Francis scratched his head. “I do not know what to say. It was a rather humdrum visit. Tea and macaroons in the drawing room.” He frowned. “Earl Ridlington is here with his mother and his brother. They are intending to stay in the district for a while. That is about all that I know.” He shrugged helplessly.

Isabel fixed her gaze upon her friend. “I promise that I shall dance with you if you will introduce us to him. Please, Francis.”

Francis rolled his eyes again. “Oh, very well. Come along, then. I will see if I can infiltrate the group.”

Isabel and Mary Ann stared at each other, their eyes wide with excitement. Francis was already away. Hastily, they followed him. Isabel felt her heart start to thud as they edged closer. The Earl was laughing at something. Suddenly, he turned, spotting Francis. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Byrd, isn’t it?” he asked, turning to the young man. “You called upon my family the other day.”

Francis nodded. “Indeed, Lord Ridlington. I am honoured that you remember.”

The Earl smiled in a friendly manner. “I would hardly forget. We have not had many visitors since we have arrived in Somerset.”

Isabel noted that he spoke with a slight northern burr. It was charming. She gave him a dazzling smile. He looked a little taken aback, but his blue eyes were shining as they beheld her.

“May I introduce these ladies?” asked Francis, turning to them. “Lady Isabel Fiffet and the Honourable Mary Ann Talbot.”

The Earl bowed in a courteous way. “A pleasure, ladies.” His eyes lingered on Isabel. “You are both local to the district?”

Isabel took a deep breath. “Indeed, we are, Lord Ridlington. My father is Earl Fiffet. We own fifty acres and have an estate not so very far from where you are residing.” She gave him another dazzling smile. “Why, we are practically neighbours.”

The Earl laughed. “Well, that is good to hear. We do not know any of our neighbours yet.” He hesitated, looking almost shy. “Perhaps we should start making house calls.”

Before Isabel could respond, Lord Carnarvon suddenly waylaid the Earl, drawing him aside. Lord Ridlington bowed to them briefly before turning to the older gentleman. Their time with the Earl was clearly over. It seemed that everyone wanted a piece of him.

Mary Ann sighed. “Oh, he is so charming! It seems that the rumours were correct about him.” She held out a white-gloved hand. “Look. I am trembling.”

Francis and Isabel laughed. Mary Ann was always so dramatic. Isabel often thought that she could tread the boards and become an actress if she wasn’t such a high-born lady. Still, she had to admit that her friend was right. Lord Ridlington was charming. And very handsome indeed. He was also wealthy and an eligible bachelor.

Were all her romantic dreams coming true, at long last?

He appeared to have liked her. He had even intimated that he might call upon their home. It was a promising start. Abruptly, she started imagining a courtship, just like in the Gothic novels she read. Although without the haunted houses and devilish secrets which always abounded, of course.

“You promised me a dance, Isabel,” said Francis, breaking into her reverie.

Isabel fell back to earth with a thud. She turned to her friend. “Of course, I did. Well, let us not delay. They are dancing the minuet. One of my favourites.”

Francis took her hand. Slowly, they made their way to the dance floor, bowing to one another. Francis was a skilled dancer. Before long, she was lost within the music.

She gazed at her friend as they danced. Dear Francis. She hoped that he found a lady soon, who he could sweep off her feet. But her friend seemed uninterested in marriage entirely. He never courted anyone seriously. But then, he was only a year older than she was. He had lots of time. It wasn’t the same for gentlemen as it was for ladies. They were never considered ‘on the shelf’ if they hadn’t married by a certain age. She knew many bachelors who were in their thirties and seemed in no hurry to change their marital status.

She pursed her lips as she thought about it. If only it were the same for ladies. But the cruel fact was, young ladies did have a shelf life. If they weren’t married by the time they were five and twenty, they started to wither on the vine. Suddenly, they were considered old maids, past their prime. Time was ticking. She felt the pressure immensely.

She glanced back at the new Earl, making his way around the room. There was no time to waste. She would make sure that she enchanted him, every opportunity that she got. It was like being in a Roman arena. You only got a few chances to prove yourself before you were eaten by the lions. Any false step could be fatal.

***

Henry Ridlington, younger brother of the new Earl, made his way carefully around the ballroom, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing footman. He truly hated high society events like this and usually avoided them like the plague. It was only because his brother, Daniel, had insisted that he had even stepped foot inside this house tonight.

He sipped his champagne thoughtfully, gazing around. The young ladies all looked like flitting butterflies in their white and cream silk gowns, dazzling with diamonds. He didn’t know any of them, of course. His family had just moved into this area. They were a very long way from home. But young ladies were the same everywhere, in his opinion. These ones would act exactly the same as the ones in Cheshire. All they cared about was dresses, dancing, and finding a husband, in that order.

He grimaced, downing his champagne. No one knew him here yet. And he liked it that way. He could stand back and just observe. He pulled at the cravat wound tightly around his neck. He felt overdressed, like a trussed-up turkey. He had never gotten used to these clothes.

Suddenly, his mother was by his side, frowning. “Henry. There you are. I am just letting you know I shall be in the drawing room with the other ladies if you are looking for me.”

Henry’s face relaxed as he gazed at his mother. The Dowager Countess Ridlington. A very grand title indeed and one that he had never envisioned she would have when he had been a lad. Back then, she had been the Widow Burnley, an impoverished genteel lady of no particular standing. But that had been before the late Earl Ridlington had so astonishingly set his cap towards her, pursuing her quite relentlessly.

He studied his mother’s face. She was still a handsome woman, for two and fifty. Her face was practically unlined, and she only had a smattering of silver within her black hair. But back when he and Daniel had been children, she had been one of the most beautiful women in Chester. Which was the reason, of course, that she had caught Earl Ridlington’s eye. Within three months, they had wed. A whirlwind courtship which had changed the course of his and his brother’s life completely.

“Of course, Mama,” he said, gazing at her fondly. “Go and join the other old ducks. You should start to make some friends.”

His mother laughed. “Old ducks? How uncharitable of you, Henry. They are esteemed older ladies. But yes, it will be good to perhaps encourage some friendships.” Her face fell a little. “We are so very far from home. It seems like Cheshire is on the other side of the world entirely.”

“Just the other side of the country, Mama,” said Henry, in a gentle voice. “We can return for a visit at any time. It will just take a while to get there.” He gazed at her sympathetically.

The Dowager Countess took a deep, ragged breath. “Of course. I am being a bit melancholy. It is a fresh start for all of us. Daniel is so eager to make it work. We must all play our part.”

Henry nodded. “Yes. That is true. And part of doing that is this evening.” He leaned over and kissed his mother on the forehead. “Go and enjoy yourself, Mama. You deserve it, after all you have been through.”

His mother smiled tremulously up at him before drifting away towards the drawing room. Henry’s heart tightened as he watched her go. She had endured so much recently. First, the sudden, shocking passing of the Earl. Then the vicious web of gossip that had spread around them, forcing their departure from Alderley Manor, the ancestral estate of the late Earl. Now, she had to pick up the pieces in an entirely new area of the country.

He sighed heavily. It hadn’t been a good time for any of them. So, when Daniel had abruptly mentioned moving to Somerset, in the south of England, they hadn’t put up any objections. Somerset was so far away from Cheshire that no one would know them, their background, or what they had been through. It was a chance for an entirely fresh start.

He sighed again, grabbing another flute of champagne. Cumbria Lodge, the house Daniel had leased for them, had been a bit of a shock. While a grand old country home, it had clearly been neglected for years. Daniel and his mother had set to work, hiring a team of maids to dust and clean the house and another team of gardeners to attack the gardens. There was a pile of brambles almost as high as a tower on a corner of the estate ready for burning. But at least the place was habitable now.

Mama had been in her element, acquiring new furniture, setting up their new home. She had always had a good eye for home decoration. And now that Cumbria Lodge looked presentable and their weeks of work finally over, Daniel had told them it was time to start socialising. They must try to make connections in this district. It was the only way they would start to feel properly settled and not like outsiders.

Henry gazed around him. The first step was this ball. He detested balls. He always had. A lot of simpering dandies and a lot of empty-headed ladies. But then, it had been different back in Cheshire. Whenever they attended social engagements there, the ton had known their background. They had never been able to escape it. What Daniel had said was true. This could actually be a chance for a fresh start.

He took a sip of champagne. His heart tightened. No, it didn’t matter where the ball was situated. It didn’t matter if it was in the north of the country, or the south, or the east or west. The ton were the same everywhere. They were obsessed with their silly dances, their pointless accomplishments, their narrow lives. There didn’t seem to be one genuine person amongst them. Ever.

It was all about social standing, wealth and accomplishment, in that order. They were terrible snobs. They never judged a person by the goodness of their heart. It was all superficial. And he truly didn’t know how he was going to endure an evening in their company at all, even though he had done so many times, of course. But it had always been through gritted teeth.

The ton were not Henry’s type of people at all.

He watched Daniel, the new Earl of Ridlington, walking around the room. He was being fawned over, of course. Everyone wanted a piece of him just because of the title. If only they knew that the new Earl wasn’t quite the blueblood they imagined. If only they knew that the new Earl was not the man they thought he was. How would they react to him then?

His eyes narrowed. He could just imagine. They would hastily turn away, ignoring him, whispering about him behind their hands. The invitations to these high society events would trickle away. When they saw him in the street, they would cross the road.

This world was an illusion. It always had been, and it always would be.

His face darkened. Sometimes he wished he could lead another life. But his mother and his brother needed him for now. He must stay with them before setting off. Besides, he truly had no idea yet what that life might be. So, he might as well be here as anywhere else. At least it was better than Cheshire. At least for the moment.

He was so deep in his dark musings that he didn’t even notice the young lady. He turned around, swinging his arm, almost completely knocking her to the floor. It actually looked so comical that he had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter. Quickly, he suppressed it, gazing at her as she straightened, trying to compose herself.

A young lady, probably in her early twenties. She was dressed in a striking gown of silver, which sparkled in the candlelight. She was petite and quite short, with a slender build. Dark auburn hair, coppery, almost the colour of russet. She had a pointed heart-shaped face, milky complexion, and the most stunning cobalt blue eyes, fringed with golden-red lashes.

And then he noticed that the front of her gown was wet. A largish stain, which had clearly come from his champagne flute. He had just doused this young lady in champagne. A fact which she was only just becoming aware of. She gasped as she looked down at it, brushing at it ineffectually with one hand.

His loins stirred involuntarily. She was very beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that for a moment, he was frozen. He knew that he should step forward and try to help her. He should at least enquire if she was all right. But all he could do was stare at her like some schoolboy who had just noticed a woman for the very first time in his life.

---

“Kissing the Wrong Lord” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

A new Earl has moved into the district and the tantalising Isabel Fiffet is over the moon. Despite all the eligible ladies buzzing about the news, Isabel is determined to win the prize – a wealthy and handsome husband. However, when she stumbles across a vexing stranger at a ball, her heart is inconveniently set ablaze. She has no intention of losing her time with this man, yet maddeningly she keeps running into him again and again…

Could an electrifying desire for this captivating stranger ruin her ambitions for fame and fortune?

Lord Henry Ridlington, the Earl’s younger brother, is contemptuous of the entire troublesome ton. So when he lays eyes on the seductive Isabel at the ball, he deems her a shallow society girl like all the others. If only he knew this would be the beginning of a perilous game of passion… Henry finds himself unexpectedly smitten by her tempting beauty, but trouble lies in wait ahead of him…

Only time will tell if their lust for one another can triumph over secrets and machinations…

Even if their paths crossed by chance, Isabel and Henry become inextricably linked by their inescapable passion for one another. With Henry’s brother staking a claim on Isabel though, she will be forced to choose between love and wealth… Will their feelings prove powerful enough to overshadow every barrier in the way? Or will a long-hidden truth coming to light end their all-consuming romance?

“Kissing the Wrong Lord” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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