Chapter 1

Salisbury, England

November 10th, 1816

Dawn had found the bleak town of Salisbury, chasing away the gray mist that veiled the cottages scattered around Salisbury Castle. Tiffany lay in bed, with her eyes closed, savoring the chilly, damp air that blew in from the balcony. Life is tiring, she thought, imagine how close to heaven I would be if I never had to get out of bed.

Truthfully, she was quite sick of all the socializing her parents' title required the family to do. Worse, she was the only one in the family who didn't like the endless schedule of balls, dinners, and high teas.

There was a curt knock on the door. "Who is it?" Tiffany sighed, reluctantly sitting up. The knob turned sharply and her mother, Duchess of Salisbury, stepped in with her impeccable ladylike grace. The sort of grace Tiffany was sure she had failed to inherit.

"Tiffany, darling, I don't understand you! Do you not remember? Your father has been invited to Paris. We leave today. I reminded you last night. It's past six, and look at you, still in bed!" the Duchess primly sat by the side of the bed, her hand on Tiffany's arm.

"Of course I remember, Mother, how could I forget with all the excitement about it last night?" The Duchess and her son had been running about the sitting room in delight when her father came home from London with the news.

Both of them had literally paraded in front of her in the very best of their wardrobe, and pumping comments from her afterward. "Which should we choose?" or "Do I look fat in pale pink?" She had never been more relieved to finally retire to her room at night.

"That's good. Now, I'll call for Charlotte, so you can tell her what gowns to bring along. Oh goodness, I have my wn gowns to pack too! We all know how your father hates it when I simply can't decide which ones to bring and hold him up." With that, she quickly turned and left, eager to go back to her gowns. How typical of mother, Tiffany thought and smiled lightly, brushing her luscious amber hair in front of the carved Victorian mirror.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She really wasn't pretty, or so she believed. She did not qualify as thin, yet not voluptuous like her mother. Her hazelnut eyes seemed common and if only she had golden locks instead of the auburn waves which spilled down. If only she had pretty blue eyes and rosy cheeks, if only…

"Miss, her Grace sent me. How may I be of service to you?" A petite blue-eyed maid stood demurely by the door. Snapping out of her thoughts, she sighed, laid down the brush, and turned to her wardrobe.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. The Duke stopped pacing, looked up at his son, Jared, and exclaimed for what must have been the tenth time that morning "What in heaven is taking that woman so long!" Click, click, click. "Jared, would you PLEASE find out what in god's name is taking her so long?"

Jared looked up from his book. "I will, Father, as soon as you stop pacing the drawing room in your new shoes. The clicking noises are about driving me insane!" Looking to Tiffany, he whispered, "You go check on Mother now. I went last time."

Tiffany rolled her eyes as she ascended the stairs. "Mother, are you done?"

"In a minute, now all I have to do is decide between the peacock blue cocktail dress and the pink chiffon one, or do you think the red satin one would do better? You know, Margaret was telling me how passionate a country France is." Impossible, Tiffany shook her head, that woman was impossible.

"Lawrence! How good to see you! I thought you weren't coming, after all!" Her father's voice sailed up the wide, curved staircase. Lawrence. She suspected she had better greet her fiancé. Lawrence was the Viscount of Bournemouth, and her parents had arranged for them to get married for as long as she could remember. He took her out for rides regularly, danced with her at gatherings, did everything a fiancé should, yet, there was something, or rather nothing, between them. She couldn't explain it. In fact, she thought the trip might be an opportunity to be away from him and seriously consider their relationship.

Straightening her back and curving her lips into a polite smile, she strode into the room. "Lawrence! How thoughtful of you to see us off! You needn't have ridden all the way here; we're only going away for a week." Tiffany curtseyed.

Lawrence smiled cheekily, and announced, "No, darling, I suppose you have no idea. I happen to be invited to Paris too. Now, don't look so shocked my dear, I thought you might be pleased."