( COMPLETED STORY)
What happens when the rakish Lord in the whole of London is truly falling in love with a simple, plain, and most ordinary girl, something he has been avoiding- his innermost fear. True love?
Miss Amy Ott is London's newest riddl...
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The soirée was much bigger than Amy had expected. During the week, she'd thought the guest list would only consist of her family and the Croftmans, but she'd been wrong. There were almost a hundred people inside Wardington Park. Some were obviously peers, while others were simply wealthy individuals from around Bedfordshire. Land gentry, like the Croftmans.
Wardington Park was beautiful. Golden chandeliers sparkled from the ceiling, their candles causing all the marble floors and papered walls of the ballroom to shimmer.
Christa saw someone she knew across the room and excused herself before anyone could stop her. Amy watched as she began to whisper with a group of other young women—all of them fair in beauty. Unlike Amy.
"Amy!"
Turning, Amy smiled as Jane approached and slipped her arm into crook of hers. After formally addressing her uncle and his wife, Jane asked if the girls could be excused, and the request was granted.
Over her shoulder, Amy looked at her aunt and uncle. Hensman and Sally Eaton's faces held that of the dignified disdain of the peerage, but the duke's eyes twinkled with the mischief of the night ahead. Known as a rogue of the worst kind, the Duke of Hensman was never discreet about his affairs outside of his home—and sadly, everyone seemed to take very little pity for Sally because after all, they hadn't been a love match and she'd failed in her one duty—to birth an heir. Their only child was Christa, which meant that after four generations of Eaton men, their line had come to an end.
Jane looked in the direction that held Amy's attention and frowned, "Sad, is it not? Unless they can marry Christa to a man willing to take on the Eaton name, they're done for."
Amy shook her head and turned back around as they moved toward the tea table. "Can't imagine a man willing to take on another man's name."
Jane smiled, "Can't imagine a man willing to take on the mean-spirited Christa."
The girls smiled at one another.
Once they reached the lemonade, a gentleman Amy didn't know offered to get their drinks. He smiled warmly, his face young, round as his belly, and as red as his ginger hair. His suit didn't quite fit him either. His black breeches looked to have been painted onto him. His coat was no better, and the cravat that he wore around his neck was red and did nothing except make him look like a tomato.
"Lady Jane." He handed her a cup. He turned to give Amy her glass but looked to Jane for the introduction.
"Mr. Nelson James, this is Miss Amy Ott."
Nelson bowed and then smiled again, showing each one of his white teeth. Because of his added weight, he looked very young, nothing like the rest of the gentlemen present. "I hope that once we are in London, I might have your first dance."
Amy's eyes went wide. She surely did not want her first dance to be with Nelson. He seemed like a good person, but... not her first dance. Not her very first dance.
