Katherine Langford is in London ready to make her debut to society when she discovers that the home next door is being rented by the "Murderous Marquess" Hayden Rowling. Always impulsive, Katy decides to sneak over and take a peek at the notorious M...
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Gentle Reader, I'll never forget the moment I first laid eyes on the man who planned to murder me...
LONDON, 1825
Katherine Langford was coming out. Unfortunately, what she was coming out of at the moment was both her elaborate ball gown and the second-story window of her aunt Mercy's Mayfair mansion. She might have managed the latter without incident if the silk flounces adorning the bodice of her gown hadn't become entangled in a nail head protruding from the inside of the windowsill.
"Karina!" Katy whispered frantically. "Karina, where are you? I'm in dire need of your assistance!"
She craned her neck to peer into the cozy sitting room she'd inhabited quite comfortably until only a few minutes ago. A fluffy white cat drowsed on the hearth, but Karina, like all of Katy's good fortune, seemed to have vanished.
"Where has that silly goose of a girl gone?" she muttered.
As she struggled to work the ruffle free of the nail, the slick soles of her kid slippers danced and skidded along the tree branch that jutted out just below her, vainly seeking purchase.
She stole a reluctant glance over her shoulder, her arms aching from the effort. The flagstones of the terrace below, which had seemed so attainable only minutes before, now seemed leagues away. She considered bellowing for a footman, but feared it was her brother who would come running and discover her predicament. Although only two years her elder, Anthony had recently returned from his first Grand Tour of the Continent and was only too eager to lord his newfound sophistication over his baby sister.
The discordant strains of a string quartet tuning their instruments wafted out of the French windows on the north side of the house. In a very short time, Katy knew she would hear the clatter of carriage wheels and the murmur of voices and welcoming laughter as the cream of London aristocracy arrived to herald her debut into their society. They would have no way of knowing their guest of honor was hanging out of a window two stories above, having forfeited her one stab at respectability.
She might not have found herself in such a predicament if Hero Fiennes Tiffin, her brother-in-law and guardian, had hosted her debut at Deansbrook House, his sprawling West End mansion. But his cousin Mercy had cajoled him into conceding the honor to her.
It took no great leap of Katy's overactive imagination to envision her aunt's guests gathered around her broken body as it lay sprawled on the flagstones. The women would press their scented kerchiefs to their lips to muffle their sobs while the men ''tsked " and"tutted " beneath their breath, murmuring what a terrible pity it was that they would be forever deprived of her vivacious company. She gave the rich violet poplin of her skirt a rueful glance. If the gown didn't suffer too much wear on the way down, perhaps her family could bury her in it.
