Chapter One

Marriage of Convenience

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

As the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve I looked around and took in all the couples who were ringing in the New Year with passionate embraces.

Then I looked to my left, watching as Katja walks away, her long legs carrying her slim figure through the crowd quicker than the fireworks burst above the Thames. After four years together I'm slightly stunned that it has taken her this long to realise that an engagement ring from me will never make its way onto her hand, but then I remembered the slap she whipped across my face. Maybe four years had given her false hope; with hindsight, I should have ended it sooner.

I guide my way through the masses of people, going in the opposite direction, wanting and needing to escape the frivolity that this night had become. The fireworks burst in rainbow coloured drops against the inky night sky, the crackling and whirling filling my ears as smoke blurs my vision.

I'm quite in awe of New Year's Eve in London, this being only the fourth time in all my thirty-two years that I've seen in the New Year outside Scotland, all those being the years I'd spent with Katja.

The further down the river I walk, the quieter my surrounds become, and my shoulders begin to relax under the heavy coat that swamps me. I feel my phone vibrate against my hand in my pocket, the first of many messages that'll be received in a flurry in the next five minutes. I let the phone store all the messages that I'll no doubt delete in a mass exodus in ten minutes, as I veer away from the river bank taking a shortcut to Knightsbridge.

Pubs, bars and club doors are bursting with revellers drinking themselves into a three-day stupor as the celebrations continue into the heart of the capital. I keep my head down, my overgrown dark blonde hair hiding my blue eyes so that I won't be forced into eye contact as I dodge yet another drunken couple making out.

Why people would want to be that affectionate in public is beyond me, but as Katja screamed earlier, I seem to be incapable of showing any emotion. Blame it on my cold hardened heart or perhaps my father's continuous adultery and my parent's subsequent divorce, but love has always seemed pointless in the grand scheme of things. Then again, many people would blame my shortcomings on the fact that I never did come to terms with my inherited Title and fortune, and so I meet everyone with wariness and apprehension.

Avoiding another smooching couple I turn the next corner only to be winded as I'm body slammed by a young woman fleeing a nearby restaurant, her arms juggling a coat and a clutch bag which falls as she steadies to balance herself.

"Sorry," I hear the woman sob, although I'm sure the crying isn't linked to her apology.

She drops to the cold, wet ground, retrieving the contents of her bag as her short party dress rides upwards to reveal her tanned legs. I bend to help her, searching her face for answers as to what has upset her so much. The loose curl of her dark hair masks her face although I catch a glimpse of mascara-stained tears streaking her cheeks.