Prologue
London – December 1901
“Where on earth are we supposed to sit?”
Lady Jocelyn Layton, the Countess of Aston, blinked in confusion at the huge circular table in front of her. Though set with sparkling crystal and china interwoven with garlands of greenery and flowers, the lovely presentation was missing one very important thing.
Her sister, Lady Evelyn Lindsay, grinned, her green eyes sparkling. “Oh, I love it! Allison is turning up her nose at old traditions. She married a commoner, so what better way to make him feel comfortable than to not have assigned seating arrangements based on rank?”
The sisters had just come from their friend Lady Allison Croft’s wedding to Quinn O’Brien, a former police inspector. They were about to partake in the wedding breakfast that followed at the home of Allison’s older brother, the Earl of Hawkesmere. Though Jocelyn loved Allison dearly and wished her all the best in her new life, the flouting of every social convention had her head spinning.
“How are the rest of us supposed to be comfortable, though?” Jocelyn asked her sister in a whisper. “There are no place cards!”
Evelyn just shook her head and laughed. “We can sit wherever we like! What freedom!”
Feeling very out of her element, Jocelyn sat rigidly in the seat just in front of her, and Evelyn took the chair to her right.
“I didn’t spend my entire life learning the rules of society only to be put in situations where they are useless,” Jocelyn groused.
“Our education should have been spent learning more than trivialities such as the proper fork to use,” Evelyn replied. “I would have rather learned about philosophy and calculus than walked around balancing a book on my head!”
Evelyn was two years Jocelyn’s senior and was a confirmed bluestocking at twenty-four. She spent her days campaigning as a suffragette. Jocelyn admired and loved her very much, except when she was ridiculing everything Jocelyn was good at, which was quite often.
Unlike her sister, Jocelyn had excelled at etiquette lessons, had a very successful debut, and married well. But her husband, Albert Layton, the Earl of Aston, had died two years after their marriage. That had given her the wealth and freedom to take Evelyn in when their parents had died in a carriage accident last year. But every once in a while, Jocelyn would have liked a little acknowledgment from Evelyn that her skills, too, had merit. They’d provided the roof over their heads, after all.
Allison and Mr. O’Brien entered the room then, laughing, their blond heads bent together as they shared a private joke, and all of Jocelyn’s irritation fled. How could she care about something like a round table with no place cards when her friend had obviously met the man of her dreams and was gloriously happy?
“I still don’t understand what she sees in him,” Jocelyn whispered to her sister. “But I’m happy for her.”
“How can you not see what she sees in him?” Evelyn whispered back. “He’s handsome, intelligent, and kind. Any woman would be glad to have such a man.”
Jocelyn sighed. She hadn’t actually spent much time around Allison’s new husband, but perhaps Evelyn was right. She’d never thought of herself as elitist, but it just seemed so wrong that Allison, who was the daughter of an earl, should take up with a man who was Irish, had spent a good portion of his life in an orphanage, and then worked with the dregs of society. The ton had turned their backs on Allison, and Jocelyn was quite aware that her own reputation was suffering for being here today. But she loved her friend dearly, and she’d rather have her reputation stained than have abandoned Allison on such a special day.
Before she could say anything else, a man drew out the chair to her left. She glanced up and realized that he was Mr. O’Brien’s best man, a tall, lean man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes.
“May I join you?” he asked, lifting a dark brow.
She nodded stiffly, still a bit rattled by the unconventional seating arrangements. The wedding had been quite small, with only about thirty people in attendance. Jocelyn knew almost every person in the room except, of course, the man she was now going to have to sit next to. If the proper etiquette had been observed, she’d be close to the head of the table, nowhere near this man, who would be down at the foot.
A hint of bay rum teased her senses as he sat down, which was actually rather pleasant. She glanced surreptitiously at him from the corner of her eye, taking in his plain brown suit and slicked-back hair. He had a stiffness to him, a direct way of speaking, which made her think he’d once been a military man. She’d have to ask Allison.
Then she shook her head at herself, wondering why she cared. It wasn’t as if she’d ever see him again after today.
“Sebastian Ness,” he said, putting his napkin in his lap. “I am an inspector with the Metropolitan Police.”
He obviously didn’t know that someone else was supposed to formally introduce them. He certainly shouldn’t be doing it himself. However, now she felt she had no choice but to reply.
“I am Lady Jocelyn Layton, the Countess of Aston. This is my sister, Lady Evelyn Lindsay,” she replied tersely.
“That’s a mouthful.” He grinned, completely unaware of his faux pas. “Pleasure to meet you, ladies.”
She found herself smiling wryly in return. Though she would never admit it to Evelyn, maybe this man would not be the worst dinner companion. He was certainly pleasant on the eyes.
“Are you the one who took over for Inspector O’Brien when he got hurt?” Evelyn asked, leaning toward Jocelyn so she could be part of the conversation.
In any other situation, Jocelyn would have been embarrassed by her sister’s interruption, but Inspector Ness didn’t seem to mind.
“I am. We were sorry to see him go, but he still consults with us sometimes, and he seems very happy in his new life.” He gestured toward where Allison and Mr. O’Brien sat. “Lady Allison has been very good for him.”