One True Love

One True Love

by Lisa Follett

Lord William Prescott is in want of a wife.

Unfortunately, the lady he wants is betrothed.

Miss Cassandra Chambers simply cannot understand her attraction to Lord William. After all, she is supposed to be in love with Mr. Miles Parker. In a scandalous twist of fate, Cassie's future changes when Lord William rides to her rescue, saves her from ruin, and makes her his wife.

When William comes to believe Cassie's heart may always belong to another, he is determined to lock away his own. If only he could lock away his desire for his
One True Love.

©
2011 Lisa Follett

All Rights Reserved.

Table of Contents

Dedication

To my one true love –my husband. I love you forever.

A special thanks to Elizabeth, my dear friend and editor.

Chapter One

Lord William Prescott touched the ring in his pocket. Another refused proposal to add to his list, yet, he refused to believe in a silly curse.

"William, why do you look so melancholy tonight?" Mary startled him out of his thoughts. The drawing room buzz went quiet. His siblings thought the curse particularly amusing. He had suffered their teasing since he was in leading strings, but he did not think he could bear it tonight.

"Did Miss Peterson refuse your suit?" asked Jane. He decided the real curse upon his head were his four pesky sisters.

"She refused." His hand slipped back into his pocket.

"Twelve rejections. I do not know how you bear it, dear William." Anne's eyes twinkled while she squeezed his arm in sympathy.

"The curse is your destiny
–your fate.
It is such a shame. You would make a wonderful husband and father." Elizabeth's smile reached her dark eyes. He knew she teased, but tonight it cut deep.

Simply because every woman he courted refused his suit, or managed to get themselves in a compromising position with someone else, did not prove the curse existed. Did it matter that Lady Charlotte Manvel ran off to Gretna Green with Viscount Martindale the same night she rejected his proposal of marriage? Surely, no one would believe such a thing, simply because Miss Martin fainted dead away when he appeared on her doorstep with a bundle of flowers in his hand. And really, how could anyone associate the curse with Lady Fiona Berkeley's tendency to run and hide whenever he came near?

"A man's lot in life, his fate, his destiny, is made by his own actions and reactions, not by some ancient tragic tale." William took a swallow of his brandy. "Just because every second son since the third Marquis of Camberley lived life alone, did not mean it was because of a curse. If anything, each of my predecessors used the curse as the perfect excuse to stay a bachelor."

"And you should follow in your predecessors footsteps if you ask me." James, his notorious rake of a brother chuckled in his brandy. At this rate, he would be in his cups before dinner was served.

"I did not ask you," said William.

"Tsk, tsk, no need to be so testy. I do not understand why you are so determined to marry," said James.

"Marriage is an honorable institution James," said Elizabeth.

"If it is so honorable then why are you so firmly upon the shelf, sister?"

Elizabeth paled. At nine and twenty, she much preferred her writing to finding a husband. His entire family, with the exception of himself, avoided the marriage shackles. The only one who needed to marry was Stephen, the heir to the Marquis of Camberley.

"James, really! Mind your manners," his mother, Lady Camberley scolded her youngest son. "I am sorry, William. I thought Miss Peterson would surely come up to scratch."

"At this rate England is going to run out of eligible young ladies,
and
widows,
and
spinsters. Perhaps you should go to the continent to find a wife, or America," said Stephen.

"Perhaps I might." William finished off his brandy and stood up. He felt restless and needed to move. He looked out the front window in time to see a carriage stop in front of the house. "It appears the new vicar and his family has arrived."

"About time, I am starving," said James.

He watched as an older balding man with a paunch belly and spectacles on his face stepped out of the carriage. The man's dour expression left little to recommend his Sunday sermons. He had yet to meet the new vicar since he recently moved into his own home over an hour away. The vicar turned and helped down an overlarge woman with curling gray hair and a jolly smile on her face. They seemed a rather odd pair. He could only assume the woman was the man's wife.

"Poor souls –to be thrust in the midst of a Prescott family supper. What will they think?" he muttered.

"What did you say, William?" asked his mother.

"Nothing."

Mary leaned against him to peer out the window, "I heard that." She piled her hair on top of her head tonight in waves of dark loose curls that matched her chocolate colored eyes. They shimmered with laughter. "Now you behave yourself, William."

"Me behave? Look who is calling the kettle black, you little hellion."

"I am not a hellion Lord William Spencer Prescott. I am independent!" Mary huffed and turned away from the window. He laughed at his twin, the mischief-maker of the family.

He turned back towards the window and froze. The air whooshed from his lungs as he watched an angel alight from the carriage. "Who is the young woman with the vicar and his wife?"

Elizabeth peered over his shoulder. "That would be Miss Cassandra Chambers, the vicar's eldest daughter." She gave him a quizzical look, as if trying to decide whether or not to say something more.

"She is quite a beauty," said Jane from across the room.

"Intelligent and witty as well," said Anne.

"Yes, too bad she is already betrothed William," said Mary.

Of all the damnable luck! He shook his head and peered into his empty glass. He needed a refill. He moved away from the window and waited for the vicar's family to enter the drawing room.

A few moments later William sucked in his breath when she came through the doorway. The candlelight bounced off her golden curls and shone like the fairy dust from one of Elizabeth's stories. Her lush pink lips curved up and the world melted away.
God, she was beautiful
.

"William, do come and meet our guests." His mother turned to the vicar. "I believe you have met everyone except my son, Lord William Prescott. William, this is Mr. Joseph Chambers."

He shook the vicar's hand. "I am pleased to meet you, sir."

"Lord William, may I present my wife, Mrs. Chambers."

"Mrs. Chambers." He took her gloved hand and raised it to his lips for a light and proper kiss of air, but his eyes strayed to her daughter.

"And this is my daughter, Miss Cassandra Chambers," said the vicar.

"
Miss
Chambers." He took her hand, and lifted his gaze to her eyes, large green pools in which he could simply drown. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Her smile lit something inside of him. He kissed her hand, holding on a fraction too long. He did not want to let go. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before she spoke.

"My lord," her silky voice shivered down his spine to the lower regions of his body. When she curtsied, he caught a glimpse of her milky white skin against her properly cut bodice hiding what appeared to be delectable round breasts. He moved his eyes to her face before anyone noticed his brief moment of impropriety.

Her rose silk gown clung to her generous curves and gave her cheeks a pink glow. She had the face of an English rose, slightly round and angelic, and topped with a pert little nose. Something tugged at his heart, but alas, he did not have to feel the pain of her rejection. She could not be his.

The weight of the blasted curse crashed around him and roared inside his ears. He would find the perfect wife, his one true love, despite the curse, his family's infernal teasing, and the t
on's
vicious harpy gossips. He would follow his parent's example and find happiness.

His parents enjoyed a marriage beyond the pale of polite Society.
They
actually loved each other. Six children later and they still acted as if they were in the first blush of love.

The butler announced that dinner was served. William offered Miss Chambers his arm. The warmth of her presence wrapped around him like a fur-lined coat on a winter night. He mentally scolded himself for acting like a besotted fool, but when he looked upon her face, he could not help but feel an attraction, which ran deep into the well of his soul.

He looked ahead and reminded himself of her betrothal, muttering under his breath, "Damn the curse!"

"I beg your pardon, Lord William?"

***

Cassie peered out the carriage window as it rumbled down the long drive to Nightingale Hall. The u-shaped mansion dwarfed the land with its sheer size, columns, and towers, like a castle she once read about in a book. The combination of wild nature, and perfectly manicured lawns of the surrounding park left her feeling as if she tumbled into a magical world.

The inside of the house did not disappoint her imagination. Cool white marble floors and painted cherubs on the rotund ceiling in the entryway delighted her senses, and the cozy round entrance surrounded by tall Roman Columns reminded her of a gazebo. The butler escorted her family down a wide hallway awash in candlelight from wall sconces, and graced with dozens of paintings from portraits to landscapes. She wished she could take the time to stop and study the masterful art, but she hardly caught her breath before they entered a drawing room like no other. Spacious and filled with members of one of the most elite families in all of England, she arched her neck to see the faces in a forest of towering Prescotts.

Cassie knew her sister would expect to hear every detail of the evening. Unfortunately, Jocelyn took to her bed, plagued with a head cold. How could she possibly describe how her slippers sank into the burgundy and gold Aubusson carpet in the drawing room, or how the soft tan colors of the walls trimmed in a green the color of the darkest forest made the room seem brilliant? The drawing room was filled with the finest furnishings, a grand piano she knew her mother would covet, a fireplace higher and deeper than the tallest Prescott, and dozens of candles. Perhaps she entered a dream rather than a drawing room.

Her pulse quickened and a frisson of awareness stirred inside her when Lord William bent over her hand during their introduction. "Miss Chambers," his deep masculine voice sent a shiver down her spine all the way to her toes.

She found herself drawn to his hard, angular face that softened into a boyish grin when he smiled –a grin that stole her breath away. Dark chocolate eyes collided with her own and she nearly melted from the heat. His thick brown hair with golden lights fell over his eyes, and she had the oddest desire to brush the locks away from his face.