One

I was there the first time the master caught sight of the woman who would destroy him.

I had just left the kitchens, where I had paused to reassure myself that Ermintrude had preparations for the meal well under control. I was heading for the front hall to check on the footman, for Martin was quite young and had never had to greet so many people in one evening before. I didn't need to pick my way through the muddy yard to inquire on the situation at the stables, for Dawson was wholly reliable; he would be able to handle the onslaught of coaches and teams. On my way to the foyer, I could not resist pausing at the discreet servants' entrance to the ballroom and taking a moment to observe the celebration under way.

It was a marvelous sight, all whirling color and dancing candlelight, and for a moment my heart swelled with pride. At last, Grey Moraine was resuming its place as the finest manor home within fifty miles, the social center of County Banlow. Oh, the balls we had had when the old master was young and healthy! The summer hunts, the winter holidays! The house would be full to bursting with elegant ladies and witty men. Nothing in these parts had been prized more than an invitation to spend a week at Grey Moraine.

Nothing had made me happier than the announcement that the new master was planning his first grand entertainment.

He had arrived at Grey Moraine six or seven months previously and instantly won the hearts of all the servants who had served his uncle so faithfully for many years. A few of the elderly grooms and cooks were pensioned off, and quite generously too, but everyone else was kept on. He had almost no staff of his own to bring along, for he had been a soldier before Grey Moraine unexpectedly fell into his hands. Therefore, the only servants to accompany him were a well-mannered valet and an elderly groom who cared about nothing except earning a place near horses. Both were properly deferential to those of us who had served at the mansion for so long. One could hardly have expected a transition to go more smoothly.

And then the news that the master wanted to have a ball! Throw open those wide, carved doors, fill the great expanse of the ballroom with flowers, trail rose petals and candelabra down the sweeping stairway that led out to the side gardens. The cook and the butler and I were in transports. Ermintrude had menus made up before the end of the day, and Harlan had immediately toured the wine cellar to see what else we might need to stock. Such a bustle of cleaning and cooking and festooning as you have never seen while we prepared the house for its first major event in more than fifteen years.

And then she walked in the door, and with a single smile laid out the brief and disastrous course that the master's life would take.

Martin announced her as Lady Charis. I had a moment to get a good look at her face—she had small, sculpted features, absolutely pure white skin, and enormous dark blue eyes—before she sank into a graceful curtsey. Her dress was the same shade as her eyes and it seemed to spread around her as she dipped low and straightened, so that she almost appeared to be a water nymph rising from the sea. The guests standing near enough to see her began murmuring to each other, their faces alive with interest and admiration. I could easily guess what they were saying. But she's so beautiful! Who is she, do you know? Look at that girl's face! I haven't seen her in County Banlow before. Who is this lovely creature?

The master, who had been standing a good twenty yards away, abruptly broke off his conversation with Debrett Horton and made his way through the crowd to greet the new arrival. "I am Duncan Baler, owner of Grey Moraine," he introduced himself, taking her small hand and bowing over it very low. She might have been the queen herself, to judge by his obeisance. "Welcome to my house! I am very glad to have you here."

A faint color washed over her white cheeks. You would have thought she was both embarrassed and exhilarated at the attention of a rich and attractive lord. And yet Duncan Baler, despite his many fine attributes, was actually not a handsome man. His face was a bit sallow, though good-natured and honest; the skin was weathered from his years of soldiering. He bore more traces of his military past in his upright bearing and air of physicality, and his broad shoulders were not easily confined to the polite dimensions of a dress jacket. He wore his brown hair shorter than the current fashion and did not bother with some of the sartorial excesses practiced by other young men of the time.

But he was master of Grey Moraine and had inherited, besides the property, quite a sizable fortune. Any young lady with the slightest interest in making her way in society would have acquainted herself with both those facts.

"Lord Duncan," she said, and her voice was rich and deep. "I hope you forgive my forwardness in arriving at your home without an invitation."

I practically gasped at her words, for that was bold indeed. Lady Charis was beautiful, and every line of her face and body bespoke generations of exquisite breeding. But such an action shouted, Adventuress!

The master smiled down at her. I could not be sure, but it appeared as if he squeezed her hands, which he still held. They were so small they were lost between his big ones. "I can only be grateful that you were brave enough to do so!" he replied. "How did you hear of such an insignificant event as my ball?"

The people nearest him laughed a little at that, and Lady Charis smiled back. "I have been traveling from Lefton to Manningham," she said, naming two cities separated by at least three hundred miles. Any journey between the two of them would take a traveler through County Banlow. They were each decently sized towns—not that I would know from firsthand observation, since I had never left County Banlow—and both were respectable destinations. Yet neither was a seat of high fashion, and it was unlikely that many of our other guests had spent much time in either.

In fact, no one in this gathering could be expected to know her.

"I stopped at the Red Owl Inn last night to break my journey," she continued. "There, the talk was of nothing but your grand ball! The first one to be held at Grey Moraine in more than a decade! I admit to an ungovernable curiosity. Even in Lefton, we have heard of Grey Moraine. I simply had to come and see it for myself." She made a quarter turn to bestow her smile on all the nobles gathered near enough to overhear. "I hoped that the presence of an army of witnesses would dissuade you from throwing me back out in the night. I will be very quiet. You will hardly notice I'm here. I would just like to peek in a few corners and gaze at a few marble statues. Then I will be on my way."

"You will do no such thing!" the master declared, tucking her little hand in his arm and drawing her deeper into the room. As if connected to him by ropes and tethers, the small crowd of revelers stepped right after him. "You will dance with me. And perhaps you will dance with a few other fellows. And then you will dance with me some more. Dinner will be provided at midnight, and I will be delighted if you sit beside me to eat. Then more dancing—until dawn. Perhaps past dawn, if the musicians can still feel their fingers to keep playing. Won't you stay for it all?"

"If you're sure," she said.

Copyright © 2007 by The Berkley Publishing Group.