Chapter One
London, 1819
The moment was at hand.
Nicolette glanced at Salvatore, her partner and best friend,
pretending she didn’t feel the piercing eyes of two
hundred and thirty-seven aristocrats on her.
“The world-renowned musicians—Salvatore Casale
and Nicolette Rockwell!” The footman’s voice
reverberated off the high ceiling of the ballroom.
Nicolette squared her shoulders as whispers spread quickly
throughout the room. She knew what they said. She and Salvatore
were by-blows of wealthy English lords, mistakes to be locked
away forever. True, she may be a marquess’s bastard,
but she was wealthy, and she had done it all on her own
with no help from the father who’d turned his back
on her the day she was born.
And why should she care what the ton thought of her? After
all, her gown was made from as fine a silk as any of the
other women present. Her hair glimmered with diamonds, a
gift from one of her many admirers who refused to take back
the beautiful gems.
Releasing an unsteady breath, Nicolette took everything
in. The long, narrow ballroom, the musicians playing on
the elaborate stage, London’s elite spread out beneath
four enormous gold-plated chandeliers. She scanned the crowd,
looking for the man she must enchant. A man who must become
so enamored of her, he would risk everything—even
marriage to the greatest heiress in all of England.
She nodded at the people they passed, watching as women
whispered behind their fans, their eyes not wavering from
Salvatore, her incredibly handsome friend. Salvatore had
an exotic quality, rare in men. His beauty drew women like
moths to a flame. His long, dark hair shone brilliantly
under the lights, his golden eyes framed by long, black
lashes, which Nicolette teased belonged on a woman instead
of a man. Those light eyes could hypnotize any woman. Even
when he was young, his power over the opposite sex had been
obvious.
“There he is. In the doorway, the tall one,”
Salvatore said, his voice unusually tense, his hold on her
tightening.
Nicolette followed his gaze to a set of double doors off
to the right. Her heart skittered at her first glimpse of
Darian Tremayne, Earl of Kedgwick. Short, brown hair framed
arresting features; square jaw, aquiline nose, and dark
eyes—eyes the same shape as Salvatore’s.
In his hand he held a glass, and as he brought it to his
lips, his eyes met hers over the rim. Her stomach clenched
in a tight knot. He was more striking than she had imagined.
Her confidence wavered. She glanced at the women who clustered
nearby, their gazes smoldering as they stared at the powerful
man who seemed aware of their scrutiny, his gaze flitting
over them in a callous way that made her blood run cold.
“Do not be too obvious,” Salvatore’s
voice broke into her thoughts. “Men enjoy the chase.
He is watching our every move, so it is apparent he is taken
with you.”
All her life she’d heard of Darian Tremayne, Salvatore’s
older, legitimate brother. Salvatore resented the man who’d
been lavished with their father’s wealth, title and
attention, while he and his mother had been abandoned and
left to starve on the streets of London.
“Look, here comes his bride-to-be.”
Nicolette’s gaze followed Salvatore’s to a
petite blonde making her way toward Darian. Dressed in a
mignonette-green ball gown with satin trimmings and puffed
sleeves, Elizabeth Dutton, the daughter of the Duke of Durham,
with her pinched features and beady eyes could not be considered
a beauty by any means…which made things easier for
Nicolette and her mission.
During the next hour Nicolette mingled and danced, while
keeping an eye on Darian as he played the perfect gentleman
to his fiancée. Elizabeth appeared completely enamored
of her future husband, if her vibrant smile and robust laughter
were any indication.
They were perfectly suited. Wealthy beyond measure, Darian
and Elizabeth had never wanted for anything in their lives,
which meant these two incredibly spoiled individuals wholeheartedly
deserved each other. While they had been pampered, she had
lived a life of poverty, sharing a lumpy cot with Salvatore,
while listening to the sounds of whores pleasuring their
patrons. Their only escape had been music.
“It appears our fun has ended for now. We are being
summoned by Lady Perrin.” Salvatore motioned toward
their vivacious host, a rotund woman known for her heavy
drinking and loose tongue.
Nicolette took a deep, calming breath as they made their
way through the crowd to the stage. Though she had played
before kings and queens and not suffered from nerves, tonight
was different. She needed to enchant Darian Tremayne, to
seduce him right beneath his fiancée’s nose.
Elizabeth’s father, a man known for his strict moral
code, had made it perfectly clear that Darian, a rakehell
with a penchant for voluptuous actresses, was to remain
faithful to his wife-to-be. Any indiscretion and the wedding
would be called off.
As Nicolette took her place at the piano, she ran her
fingers lightly over the familiar keys. She smiled softly,
feeling the tension slowly fade. The piano was like an old
friend. At the lowest point of her life it had become her
salvation, and she owed it all to Salvatore. He’d
taught her how to play—how to feel every chord to
the very depths of her soul. She nodded at her partner,
who stood with violin at the ready. Their gazes locked.
Salvatore smiled softly, she began to play, and as always,
her eyes closed of their own accord as she gave herself
over to the music.
* * * * *
Salvatore watched Darian, who stood apart from the crowd,
leaning against the back wall, a drink in hand. His brother,
the esteemed Earl of Kedgwick. The man who had been blessed
with legitimacy.
Already Darian was captivated with Nicolette. From the
moment they had started to play, his brother had not moved
a muscle, his gaze riveted on her. Salvatore knew the look
in the other man’s eyes—desire. He had grown
accustomed to the attention directed at Nicolette since
she had matured into a young woman. Now it appeared that
even his brother was not immune to her charms.
If Nicolette could stop Darian’s upcoming marriage,
then he would have the revenge he had dreamed of since his
father abandoned him and his mother. Word had it the old
bastard, while on his deathbed, made Darian promise he would
marry the Duke of Durham’s daughter, Elizabeth, thereby
joining together two of the most influential families of
the ton.
Salvatore smiled to himself, imagining his father rolling
over in his grave when that union did not take place—and
how furious the countess would be when the Kedgwick name
was once again scandalized.
Salvatore glanced to Darian’s right, to Elizabeth.
For an instant she looked away, but then peeked his way
again. Salvatore held her gaze and she shifted, a blush
racing from her neck to her cheeks. He smiled at the woman
before turning toward Nicolette whose eyes were still closed.
How striking his Nic was. Her beautiful, classic features
had been the inspiration behind many of the scores he wrote.
How lost he would be without her in his world. Together
they had conquered Europe, playing in every large city to
a full house.
It seemed like yesterday she’d wore her hair plaited
and raced about in boys’ clothing. Overnight she had
blossomed into a striking woman that made men stop and stare.
Waist-length, silky auburn curls that floated when she walked
had replaced the braids of her youth. Long, thick lashes
framed her large, green, almond-shaped eyes. She had a small
upturned nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and a long, slender
neck, which gave way to full breasts that made her small
waist appear even tinier. Indeed, Nicolette had no idea
of her power over the opposite sex.
Lord help him when she did.
As though sensing his gaze, Nicolette opened her eyes,
and her lips curved into a soft smile. His heart warmed
with love for this woman who was partner, friend and constant
companion.
She never complained about the tedious life they lived,
the constant traveling, the constant entertaining, the constant
practice and push to do better. Already they had been accepted
into all the finest homes of Europe’s aristocrats.
Though they were wealthier than they’d ever dreamed,
this life was not for the faint of heart, and he wondered
if, like him, she yearned for a life of stability.
* * * * *
Nicolette couldn’t stop trembling. As Salvatore
steered her past the swelling crowd and out the double doors
onto the veranda, she tried to convince herself she had
iron control over her emotions. Yet, with every passing
moment, it was obvious that she was not as prepared to seduce
Darian Tremayne as she’d thought. She must gather
her thoughts and remember her focus.
“He could not take his eyes from you the entire
time. You should have seen his face. He was clearly mesmerized.”
Salvatore’s smile was triumphant as he looked down
at her. “This is proving to be easier than I imagined.”
“I am not so sure I can do this.”
He lifted her chin with gentle fingers. “I would
never force you to do something you do not want to do. If
you desire, we can leave now and never look back.”
She met his unwavering gaze and knew he meant every word.
Salvatore would never hurt her—or make her do anything
against her will. He had been her only family since her
mother’s death nine years ago. Since that time, he’d
supported her in everything she’d chosen to do, and
now it was her time to pay him back for all he’d done.
She sighed heavily. “I’m fine. My confidence
is just beginning to waver.”
The words brought a renewed smile to Salvatore’s
lips. “Nic, you are the most beautiful woman here,
and it is common knowledge Darian Tremayne cannot resist
a gorgeous woman, particularly an auburn-haired, green-eyed
Venus.”
She rolled her eyes. “You forget I am immune to
your charm.”
He laid a hand over his heart and attempted to appear
hurt, but failed miserably. “I am serious, Nic. Truly,
you have more fire in you than any other woman. A man would
be a fool to deny you.”
If only she had Salvatore’s confidence. “I
certainly hope you are right.”
“You are ever the courageous one,” he said
with a light laugh, hugging her to him.
She rested her head against his shoulder, taking the comfort
that only he could give. How many times had he been there
for her? All her life she’d been able to rely on only
one person, and that was Salvatore. Only he knew the hell
her life had been. A life as a bastard, always watching
those fortunate souls of the ton who held the titles, the
wealth, the prestige—while she and Salvatore had lived
in a shabby brothel, eating scraps, yearning for the day
they would escape.
“Please forgive us. We did not mean to interrupt.”
The deep voice startled Nicolette out of her thoughts.
She turned to find Darian Tremayne and his fiancée
watching her and Salvatore intently.
Nicolette’s pulse skittered to have the man she
was to seduce, standing before her in the flesh. A shadow
fell across his face, hiding all but his dark eyes, which
held her pinned to the spot. The hair on the back of her
neck stood on end. It seemed at that moment he could see
all the way to her soul.
“You did not interrupt us,” Salvatore said,
breaking the awkward silence. Releasing Nicolette, he stepped
forward and lifted Elizabeth’s hand to his lips. Lady
Elizabeth, it is an honor to meet you at long last.
The woman’s cheeks blazed crimson.
Salvatore glanced at his brother. “And you as well,
Lord Kedgwick.”
Darian’s arrogant gaze shifted from Nicolette to
Salvatore, his lips quirking in a sly smile. How she yearned
to slap that smile clean off his face.
“You were exceptional,” Darian said, his gaze
returning to hers, before dropping to the low décolletage
of her gown.
At her side Salvatore straightened and cleared his throat.
“Thank you, my lord.”
Elizabeth stared at Salvatore. “You are most talented.”
“Thank you, Lady Elizabeth,” Salvatore replied,
pulling Nicolette up against him.
Darian finally turned his attention to Salvatore. “Have
we met before? You look familiar.”
Doing his best to look perplexed, Salvatore shook his
head. “I doubt it. Nicolette and I grew up in London,
but I have to believe we frequented different establishments
than you.”
“Perhaps you played at White’s?”
Salvatore shook his head. “Never.”
“Watiers’?”
“Sorry. We have not been in London for years. We’ve
spent most of our time in France.”
Darian’s gaze strayed to the large windows where
couples danced by. “Elizabeth was just telling me
that she would love to dance with you.”
Elizabeth frowned up at her intended. “I did?”
Darian nodded.
“Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?”
Salvatore asked, dropping Nicolette’s hand and extending
his arm for the duke’s daughter.
Nicolette watched in strained silence as the two disappeared
into the throng of dancers, ever aware of the earl’s
dark eyes assessing her. In all her eighteen years, she
had never been so nervous. Being an entertainer, she had
never been the quiet type, and always adapted to any given
situation. But this was not just any given situation.
“Tell me, Miss—”
“Nicolette.”
He smiled as though amused, obviously unaccustomed to
women using their Christian name. No doubt he thought her
unladylike for doing so. “Very well…Nicolette,
who taught you to play like that?”
The way he said her name was almost like a caress. No
doubt he used that voice often to get his way. His tone
annoyed her. “Salvatore taught me.”
A dark brow lifted in surprise. “Truly?”
She nodded, wishing Salvatore would hurry up and make
his way back to her. “He plays several instruments,
quite brilliantly, in fact. The violin is his favorite.
One day he was working on a score, and he asked for my help.
I caught on quickly and from that moment on, I knew I wanted
to be a musician.”
His gaze once again strayed to her neckline. “It
is obvious you enjoy what you do.”
“Indeed, I am most fortunate,” she replied,
glancing past him, hoping to see Salvatore walking her way.
She saw him on the dance floor and smiled. There was an
elegance about Salvatore that many men lacked. Perhaps it
was his musical background that gave him the gift to dance
better than most. Whatever it was, he had the ability to
draw women to wherever they went. In fact, even from where
Nicolette stood, she could see the clusters of women watching
him, wanting him.
“Are you in London for long?” Darian asked,
bringing Nicolette’s attention back to him. His gaze
was so intense she shifted on her feet. She could not wait
to escape this man. If only there was another way.
“I can not say for certain. We have several engagements,
but Salvatore does not like to stay in one place for long.
He bores easily.”
“And you.” His gaze wandered down her length,
assessing her like she was prized horseflesh. “Do
you become bored as well?”
She bit into her lower lip, fighting the urge to tell
him exactly what she thought of him and his too-intimate
stare. “At times I become bored, but not nearly as
much as Salvatore.”
“Is he your lover?”
His abrupt question made her falter. She opened her mouth
to respond, but no words came out.
He laughed, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.
“I did not mean to offend.”
Now she could add liar to his list of faults, because
he most certainly had meant to offend. She squared her shoulders.
Who did he think he was? Just because he was part of the
aristocracy didn’t mean he could ask her such an intimate
question. He would have never been so bold with any other
woman present. But she was a bastard, and therefore, rude
questions could be asked without thought of consequence.
In his world, she was beneath him—a servant, a mere
musician, meant for his amusement.
With a flick of her wrist, she opened her fan to cool
her heated cheeks, hoping that she at least appeared composed
when she felt anything but. “My private life is none
of your concern.” Revenge or no revenge, if she stayed
a moment longer in his company she would surely say something
she’d regret. Her heart hammered against her ribs
as she walked past him.
He grabbed her wrist lightly, and she stopped to face
him. His arrogant grin faded as his gaze slipped to her
chest again. When his thumb skimmed over her erratic pulse,
she pulled away.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said,
his voice low and intent.
Unable to stand the predatory gleam in his eye a moment
longer, Nicolette turned on her heel and left him staring
after her. She could feel his gaze burning into her back.
To add to her fury, she heard his laughter all the way back
to the ballroom.
