Lady Rebecca Bolton really was a beauty.
Her slender figure and the porcelain-coloured skin filled every woman around her with envy, her delicate fingers, the full lips and the brown eyes with this spark of danger, made the men dream.
Her nearly waist-long, dark brown hair was pulled up in a complicated hair dress while the tiny curls framing her face took the severity from her. With the crimson red ball gown supporting all these features, Rebecca was the centre of attention at the party. Which was perfectly correct, for it was her engagement party (her second one, she had buried her first husband six years ago at the age of nineteen).
The lucky chosen one was Lord Richard Boyd and it was an open secret that this marriage would be the rescue of his financially stricken branch office. Quite a good deal for him - at least superficially seen.
But there were rumours. Nasty rumours. And while the façade was perfect, every single person in the salon secretly thought about these rumours when looking at the engaged couple. But no one would ever have talked about it loudly. Nearly no one.
“I wonder if she will again find a way to get rid of a second baby as fast as she did with the first.”
Rebecca, reaching for a glass of champagne, froze, then turned, very slowly, her mien as cold as ice.
She new that some people thought her losing her baby when she was seventeen wasn’t that involuntarily. But saying it, here, at her engagement…
But before the young woman could finish her sentence, her twin brother was beside her, placing a gentle hand upon her arm (while her fiancé stood, helplessly), glaring at the culprit.
“You’ve offended my sister’s honour.”
Jonathans voice made even Rebecca shiver. He took off his right glove and tossed it in front of the young boy’s feet who had made the heavy mistake of rising his voice to high.
“I challenge you to a duel.”