‘We think it would be best if you kept your distance from Lord Nicholas.’
‘And if I don’t?’ But in Thea’s heart she already knew the answer.
‘Maybe nothing. Perhaps you would fall in love and marry. But if he discovered the truth, would Lord Nicholas continue to look on you with love—or would he turn his back with condemnation and contempt?’
‘I could not bear that.’ A tear stole unnoticed down Thea’s cheek. She knew what she had to do. She must set herself to destroy any vestige of the relationship which might have begun to blossom between herself and Lord Nicholas. It should not be too difficult, should it, to give him a disgust of her if she really tried? To make him wonder what he had ever seen in her?
No one must guess. Not Lord Nicholas. Not ever Nicholas.
And, whilst Thea found herself reduced to the blackness of utter misery, Lord Nicholas Faringdon was equally prey to extreme emotions. Against all the odds he had fallen in love. He wanted nothing more than to ask for the lady’s hand in marriage. She fired his blood. She intrigued him. She entranced him. If he had his way, Miss Theodora Wooton-Devereux would become Lady Nicholas Faringdon in the shortest possible time.
A smile of satisfaction touched his mouth. There was nothing in the manner of that lady towards him that might indicate that she would not welcome his addresses.
Dear Reader
In The Disgraced Marchioness, the first volume in The Faringdon Scandals trilogy, Lord Henry Faringdon succeeded in finding happiness with beautiful Eleanor in New York. This left Henry’s handsome younger brother, Nicholas, to administer the Burford estates in Herefordshire in the name of his infant nephew. I wondered what Nicholas’s future would be, bound as he would be by a sense of duty—and so was born The Outrageous Débutante.
Nicholas is a typical Faringdon, with dark good looks, unused to having his will thwarted, and driven by ambitions. What will happen when his path is crossed by Theodora, a delicious débutante who is just as strong-willed as he, and certainly given to outrageous behaviour? Will it be possible for Nicholas and Theodora to find any future together after so stormy a first encounter? And when scandal strikes again, far too close to home, can their love even be declared, much less survive? Nicholas has to face the grave demons of his past, Theodora the truths of hers, both of which have the power to wreck any love affair between them. It could all so easily end in heartbreak …
Still the Faringdon history is not complete. Sarah Russell has yet to find her destiny. Although not a Faringdon by birth, her fate will become involved with that of the notorious Lord Joshua Faringdon, the Black Sheep of the family, cousin to Henry and Nicholas. Look out for their turbulent love affair, in The Enigmatic Rake, coming soon!
I hope that you enjoy this passionate encounter between Theodora and Nicholas, as much as I did in bringing them together.
About the Author
ANNE O’BRIEN was born and lived for most of her life in Yorkshire. Here she taught history, before deciding to fulfil a lifetime ambition to write romantic historical fiction. She won a number of short story competitions until published for the first time by Harlequin Mills & Boon®. As well as writing, she finds time to enjoy gardening, cooking and watercolour painting. She now lives with her husband in an eighteenth-century cottage in the depths of the Welsh Marches.
Recent titles by the same author:
RUNAWAY HEIRESS
PURITAN BRIDE
MARRIAGE UNDER SIEGE
and in The Faringdon Scandals: THE DISGRACED MARCHIONESS
Don’t miss the third instalment of THE FARINGDON SCANDALS THE ENIGMATIC RAKE Coming, March 2006
The Outrageous
Debutante
Anne O’Brien
Prologue
The sun beat down from a sky so pale with heat as to be almost colourless. From the deep ochre sand and rock of the Syrian desert, ruins of a Roman town stood proud, as if grown from the earth. Arches lifted their broken heads to the heavens, columns rose with splintered capitals and walls crumbled into dust. They might have stood there since the beginning of time, and would continue to stand until the hot winds and cold nights reduced them once more to nothing but grains of sand. Nothing moved in the landscape except for a pair of lazily circling eagles and the lizards that basked on the hot stones. Nothing moved until two figures emerged from the distant heat haze, to fly across the firm sand towards the ancient town. A pair of fine Arabian horses, their riders crouched low as they encouraged them to pit their strength and speed against each other. Far behind followed a small group of riders, at a more sedate pace, leading well-laden pack horses.
The two riders drew rein before the remains of a magnificent triumphal arch. The animals danced at the curbing of their energies and tossed their heads. They were beautiful, both satin-skinned greys with the short curved necks and small heads of true Arab breeding. The riders controlled them with ease as the horses resisted the firm hands on the reins and fought to run.
As they finally settled and consented to stand, sides heaving, the riders dismounted. They walked towards the crumbling stonework and, securing the reins to fallen masonry, sank down in the shade. Then they proceeded to unwind the scarves that had been draped around head and face against the sun and sand and to loosen the all-encompassing robes that protected their clothes—to reveal that the riders were female.
‘That was wonderful! So much light and space. I love the elemental heat of it—even when my nose is pink and I have sand in my mouth!’ The younger woman wiped the back of her hand over her dry lips as she watched the slowly approaching caravan, then turned her brilliant blue eyes on her older companion. ‘You have no idea how much I shall miss this place, Mama.’
Lady Drusilla Wooton-Devereux smiled her understanding, in complete accord with her daughter. ‘I, too, regret leaving it, Thea. And Sir Hector would not be averse to remaining at the Court of Constantinople for a few more years. But his position does not allow him free choice in the matter. We must make the most of the remaining days here.’
Theodora Wooton-Devereux pulled the long veil completely from around her head, to reveal the interesting fact that her hair was of a rich gold, a burnished cap in the sunlight and cut as short as any boy’s. She ran her fingers through the short strands where the wisps stuck to her heated forehead and cheeks. Unconventional it might be—shockingly so, some might say—but it drew attention to the face of a Beauty. Glorious deep blue eyes, the dark, elegantly arched brows, the fine cheekbones and straight, almost masterful nose. Miss Wooton-Devereux’s delicious mouth with its full bottom lip curved in unalloyed pleasure. She was without doubt a striking young woman.
‘What will it be like in Russia when Papa is sent to St Petersburg?’ she asked. ‘Cold, I expect.’
‘Not so much now in the summer months. But in winter, yes. A land of ice and snow, temperatures so low you could not believe it. Even the rivers freeze over.’ Lady Drusilla smiled at the memories, surrounded as she was by extreme heat and dust. ‘Your father and I spent a few months there—he was in a lowly position in the diplomatic ranks in those days, of course—before you were born, Thea.’
‘How exciting it must have been—you as a young bride. I shall