THE FALLEN WOMAN
By K.L. O'Keefe
Chapter One
England, 1822
Two months ago, Leona Lennox had a most enviable life. Now that everything was ruined, there was nothing she could do to change her fate. She was, without a doubt, the unluckiest girl in London.
It was amazing how quickly one’s circumstances could change. Not long ago, she was the toast of the ton, a darling of society, and an absolute paragon of virtue. Her name was synonymous with beauty, and her face inspired odes and poems. She could have had her pick of any eligible bachelor in town. Every man with a beating heart wanted to be with her, and every woman with a pair of eyes wanted to be her.
Until she met Lord Wintergreen.
Her father warned her about handsome men. In fact, he had always encouraged her to choose a plain husband. “That’s what your mother did when she chose me,” he would say, “and you’d be hard pressed to find a happier couple.”
Leona tried to follow her father’s advice. She would dance and flirt with any man, disregarding all sorts of flaws. Gaps in teeth, cracked teeth, crooked teeth, missing teeth, gangly arms, bald heads, long noses, crooked noses, moles, warts, spots, bushy eyebrows, no eyebrows—there was no minor deformity she couldn’t overlook. No matter how open she kept her mind, none of the plain men, or even the handsome ones, ever set her heart racing. Leona wondered if there was something wrong with her, for she seemed to have an incurable disinterest in every man who approached her.
And then there was Lord Wintergreen. When she saw him, she knew he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen, with his curly black hair and vibrant green eyes. When she met his gaze across the room, Leona nearly swooned. Fortunately, her best friend, “Silly” Sylvia Westcock was standing beside her, ready to prevent her fall.
When Leona stumbled, Silly gave her a little shove. “Are you alright?” Silly asked, turning her fan on her friend, generously fluttering air toward Leona’s flushed face. “Did you catch a cold or something? Are you ill? You know what the problem is? It’s too hot in this dreadful room! I swear, I’ll never go to another one of Lady Tutterington’s balls for as long as I live… are you alright?”
“I… I…” Leona stuttered. Was she alright? She knew her friend would repeat the question until she managed a proper response. “It… must be the heat. Yes. It’s stifling, isn’t it?”
“Maybe you should step outside… get some fresh air? It might do you some good. Nothing restores color like fresh air. One time, I--”
“No!” Leona nearly shouted. She wanted to keep her eyes on the handsome arrival as long as she could. “That is, I… I’d rather not.”
Silly took a moment to study her friend’s face. “That far-off look in your eye… the shortness of breath… could the impossible really be possible?” Silly leaned closer to Leona, eyebrow raised. “Someone’s caught your eye!”
Leona wasn’t surprised by the accuracy of her friend’s prediction. They had been friends since they were children, and could practically read each other’s thoughts. “W-well… yes…” Leona reluctantly admitted. “But you make it sound like I’ve done something awful.”
“That depends on who you’re looking at,” Silly added with a smile. “Well, who is he? No, let me guess.” Silly’s gaze swirled around the room, searching for her friend’s potential paramour. “Is it Mr. Cotton?”
Leona wrinkled her nose. She’d danced with Mr. Cotton on several occasions, but she only did it because no one else would dance with him. He never remembered the steps, and he tread on her feet. Apparently, Leona was the only young woman who was gracious enough to risk bruised toes. “No, not Mr. Cotton. Heavens no!”
“Is it Mr. Bellweather?”
“No!” Leona denied it so adamantly, she almost felt guilty. “That is… he’s a nice young man, but he has spots. And he stutters. He is very nice, though.”
Finally, Silly’s eyes settled on a man standing between Misters Bellweather and Cotton. She didn’t recognize his face, but she had heard enough about him to know what to expect from him. Silly always knew the latest gossip. “Oh. It must be Lord Wintergreen.”
Leona’s eyebrow shot up. “Who?”
“Lord Wintergreen,” Silly repeated. “The man with the black hair. Is he the one who’s caught your eye?”
“Is he the one with the delectable curl resting ever-so-adorably on his masculine forehead?” Leona asked, dreamily.
“I suppose you could say that,” Silly answered with a sigh. “But you would be better off without him!”
If only she had listened to her friend, Leona could have avoided her predicament. Her life wouldn’t have become a horrible mess.
Instead, she asked, “Why do you say that?”
“He’s a rake. And an accomplished one, or so I’ve been told,” Silly replied. “I have a cousin whose heart was broken by him.”
Leona’s shoulders fell. “Oh.”
“And from what I’ve heard, she’s not the only one he’s left in his wake. He seems to thrive on making a bad reputation for himself.”
“M-maybe it’s not as bad as you think?” Leona suggested hopefully. “Maybe everyone has misjudged him? I try not to make a habit of judging people before I’ve met them. Unlike you, I don’t really care for gossip.”
“Well, I think you’ll have a chance to form your own opinion. He’s heading in our direction.”
Leona’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. It was true. When she looked up, Leona saw Lady Tutterington heading toward them—with a certain young rake at her side.
“Hello, dears!” When Lady Tutterington approached them, she merrily waved an arm.
Silly and Leona bobbed simultaneously, acknowledging the marchioness’s arrival with a curtsy.
“Hello, Lady Tutterington,” Silly greeted the older woman. Leona had tried to speak, but now that Lord Wintergreen was standing so close, she had apparently lost her voice. “This is such a wonderful gathering. I’m having a lovely time. I can’t remember a time when I’ve had a more… lovely time.” Lying wasn’t Silly’s forte.
“Splendid, Miss Westcock. I’m glad to hear it. Say, have you met Lord Wintergreen?” The marchioness made a gesture toward the man at her side.
Before either of them could reply, Lord Wintergreen spoke up. “I would have remembered meeting such pretty young ladies. It would have been an unforgettable pleasure.”
Leona was clutching Silly’s arm to keep herself from falling. Lord Wintergreen’s voice was so rich: it was the personification of caramel and velvet. She nearly melted at the sound of it.
“This is Miss Sylvia Westcock,” Lady Tutterington introduced him to the bespectacled brunette, and directed his attention to the willowy blonde. “And Miss Leona Lennox.”
“How do you do?” Lord Wintergreen’s eyes flickered over Leona for the merest second. “I’m honored to meet you both.”
Leona’s lips quivered. Speaking had never been so difficult. “It… it is… I…”
Before she could complete her thought, Lady Tutterington interrupted. “Oh! My lord! You simply must meet the Duchess of Carbury. Come, come. We mustn’t waste any more time.”
Leona narrowed her eyes. Since when was she a waste of time? And why had he regarded her with such disinterest? Men usually frothed at the mouth at the sight of her. Wounded, she scowled at the back of Lord Wintergreen’s head as he was ushered away. But the scowl on her face was meaningless, because her heart was still fluttering beneath her chest.
Even if he was disinterested, she was still smitten with him. Even if he was a rake, she wanted to pursue him. Or better yet, she wanted him to pursue her.
After their in
itial meeting, Leona attended every social gathering she was invited to, hoping to see him again. Whenever she entered a room, Lord Wintergreen was the first person she searched for. Though she saw him many times, she only managed to elicit the faintest acknowledgement from the object of her desire. He would catch her gaze across the room, but he never approached her. She tried smiling at him, but he never returned the gesture. Lord Wintergreen never asked her to dance, never spoke to her, and never went out of his way to greet her. Leona returned to her house after every party, sad and disheartened. She endured several restless nights, rolling in her bed, imagining his face. She was convinced: angels must have touched his face. Such celestial beauty didn’t exist in this world!
Leona couldn’t believe how unlucky she was. The only man she wanted was the only man who didn’t want her.
After nearly a dozen balls—during which he always ignored her—and a thousand disparaging remarks from Silly, Leona’s moment finally happened.
“Miss Lennox, I believe?”
At the sound of his silky voice, she froze. It had been over a month since she met him at Lady Tutterington’s ball, but she never forgot the sound of his voice.
When she turned to face him, Leona wavered on her feet. This time, she didn’t have Silly to hold her upright. “L-lord… Wintergreen,” she stammered his name. “What a… a pleasure to see you again. It’s been awhile, has it not?”
“You look lovely, Miss Lennox.” As he said this, he took her hand and kissed it. “You know what I’ve decided? I think you’re the most ravishing creature in all of London.”
Was she hearing him correctly? Was she having one of her daydreams? Did those words really come from his mouth? “Thank you, my lord. You flatter me.”
“But it’s not flattery. It’s true,” he insisted. “You’re beautiful enough for every young lady in this room. You outshine everyone else so greatly, the other young ladies should be ashamed to show their faces in the presence of your beauty.”
“I’m…” Leona couldn’t complete her thought. She felt dizzy. “You’ve hardly spoken two words to me, my lord. I’m surprised you feel that way.”
“Yes. I suppose you would be surprised to know how I feel about you. You’d be surprised by all the… wicked thoughts that run through my head.”
Leona’s face never felt hotter. Their conversation had crossed into the realm of impropriety, but she didn’t care. After all, her thoughts about Lord Wintergreen weren’t always ladylike.
“I’ve rendered you speechless,” Lord Wintergreen said with a chuckle. “You look flushed, Miss Lennox. Would you like to step out in the garden with me? There are so many things I’ve been waiting to tell you.”
Leona looked at her dance card. She was supposed to dance the next quadrille with Mr. Cotton.
Then she stole a glance at Lord Wintergreen, who was looking so extraordinarily handsome in his midnight blue greatcoat, it would have been impossible to deny him anything. How could she feel guilty about abandoning Mr. Cotton when the man of her dreams was finally acknowledging her existence? Lifting her arm, Leona said, “Lead the way, my lord.”
Tucking her arm under his, Lord Wintergreen steered her away from the crowd and into the garden. It was dark, but she could see a grin on his face.
“What are you smiling about, my lord?”
“I’m with you, Miss Lennox. Why wouldn’t I be smiling?”
“But it’s a very cheeky smile,” she continued. “You look as if you’re up to no good.”
“Well…” He turned to face her, practically devouring her with his eyes. “Miss Lennox, I’ve managed to steal you away from everyone else and… you’re alone with me. It’s not proper, you know.”
“To be alone with you? I’m sure it isn’t.” Leona knew she shouldn’t be alone with any man, especially one who was the subject of Silly’s repeated warnings.
“It makes me wonder,” he began, “if you would let me do something even more improper.”
Leona tilted her head and held back a giggle. This was the most exciting moment of her life, and she was practically drunk with giddiness. She felt like she’d been waiting her entire lifetime for this moment. “It depends on what you have in mind.”
“A kiss, perhaps?”
He wanted to kiss her! She opened her mouth to reply, but the only response she could muster was a nod. A very emphatic nod.
The next thing she knew, Lord Wintergreen’s lips were on hers. His tongue caressed her mouth in a way that was very improper indeed. But she didn’t care. Lord Wintergreen was so seductive, he could have led her to Hell and back and she would still be smiling.
Because she was so far under his spell, she didn’t protest when he started kissing her neck, or when he slipped his tongue into the valley between her breasts. She didn’t protest when he led her into his carriage, which took them to his townhouse in Mayfair. She didn’t protest when he carried her up the stairs to his bedchamber, or ask him to stop when he started removing her clothes.
How could she, when it felt so good?
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Leona knew she was doing a very bad thing. His hand was caressing her in places she never thought a man’s hand would caress, but she let it happen. Good God, she didn’t even know his given name!
As he parted her legs, Leona wondered if she was becoming a harlot. She didn’t have much time to worry about it; however, because he was doing something to her that made her feel as if the lower half of her body was exploding into a thousand little pieces. She never knew it was possible to feel so wonderful—so alive!
Leona’s head was still spinning when Lord Wintergreen said, “I need to get you back.”
Leona grabbed her garments, which were strewn beside the bed, and clutched them to her body. Suddenly, she was very aware of her naked state. “Pardon?”
“To the ball. We need to get you back to the ball,” he went on. “Otherwise, won’t your father wonder where you’ve gone off to?”
Lifting her leg, Leona started to pull on her stockings. She didn’t even remember Lord Wintergreen removing them. Everything was such a blur. “Oh dear, of course! How long have we been gone?”
“Almost an hour.”
Her entire life was ruined in less than hour.
However, the consequences of her actions weren’t apparent right away. When she sneaked out of his carriage and slipped back into the ballroom, Leona hadn’t been gone long enough to raise suspicion. In fact, Mr. Cotton approached her and told her she missed their quadrille, voicing his regrets in such a casual manner, it was as if she’d never been gone!
Lord Wintergreen winked at her from across the room, and in her head, Leona was imagining a grand love affair. She thought they would meet up again and again, and he could make her feel wonderful for the rest of her life. She thought he might marry her, and they would live happily ever after.
Unfortunately, Leona’s happiness didn’t last long.
The next time she saw Lord Wintergreen, he seemed determined to avoid her. She tried to approach him several times, but he always found a clever way to excuse himself. If he saw her walking toward him, he started heading in the opposite direction. He acted as though she didn’t exist.
As if that wasn’t heartbreaking enough, Silly had some very important gossip to share with Leona at the end of the London Season.
“Did you hear about Lord Wintergreen?”
Leona tried to appear indifferent. “What about him?”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t been pining for him for months!” Silly teased her friend. Of course, she might not have teased her at all, had she any knowledge of Leona’s life-altering tryst. “I have some very interesting news concerning Lord Wintergreen.”
Leona held her breath. She hated when Silly kept her in suspense. “For goodness sake, what?”
“He’s gone back to Newcastle,” Silly said. “And wait until you hear this. The entire time he was in London, he had a fiancé in Newcastle. A fiancé! I always th
ought he was a cad, and this proves it. Did he, or did he not, flirt with every single young lady in this room?”
Leona swayed on her feet, and Silly grabbed her shoulder. “Oh dear…” she murmured. “Oh dear…”
“What is it?” Silly asked. “You’re not going to swoon on me, are you? You know, Leona, you could do far better than Lord Wintergreen. I told you he was a rake. He’s the worst sort of man. Truly! You could have any man in this room, and you know it. I know Mr. Cotton is infatuated with you… and don’t get me started on Lord Netherdale… or Mr. Quinton… or…”
Leona wasn’t listening anymore, because everything her friend said was wrong. Leona couldn’t have any man. In fact, no man would have her.
Not when she was carrying another man’s child.
Chapter Two
The viscount glared at his friend beneath heavy eyelids. It was too early to have to deal with this.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Andrew shouted as he pulled back the curtains, inviting light into the viscount’s dreary bedchamber. “It’s not natural to lie around in bed all day, old man. What time is it, anyway? Is it past noon yet?”
Tristan Nichols, otherwise known as Viscount Randall, narrowed his eyes until they were practically shut. The light through the window was an unwelcome guest—as was Andrew, at the moment. The viscount wanted to pull the blankets over his head and hide, but he thought it would look childish. “There’s nothing wrong with resting,” he blearily offered his own opinion.
“Until half past noon?”
“I don’t see why you’re raising a fuss,” chimed the viscount as his face erupted with a cavernous yawn.
“Are you ill or something?” Andrew asked. “You’ve locked yourself away in this grand old house. I hardly see you anymore. I’m here because I’m concerned about you. You’re completely wasting your life.”
The viscount’s cheeks elongated as he suppressed another yawn. “If I choose to idle away in bed all day, it shouldn’t be any of your concern, Andrew. You sound like my mother… or even worse, my old nursemaid. Now, go away.”
The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) Page 1