The Lady, by Ava Bond
An excerpt: from The couples’ meet cute in the opening chapter:
And this new world which Flora was happily settling into, shifted entirely, and was sent utterly spinning.
A warm reddening blush started at the base of her neck, creeping higher as she stared up at him.
He was a god.
For a good, long moment she froze as she gazed wide eyed up at the man. He looked remarkably similar to one of the bridegrooms—to the rakish earl in fact. He might have been Langley’s twin with just a few subtle differences, and yet there was something more sincere and earnest about his expression, about the intensity of his gaze, around his chin, face, and build—a physical strength of purpose which marked him out as somewhat different from the earl.
The young man saw her quick glance and gave barely a nod of acknowledgement, but his face relaxed into something warmer when Flora shifted, so he could sit down next to her. Bravery flooded through her as the voices continued to flicker on behind them. It could not just be the ton’s interest in a duke and rake’s wedding—it had to be directed towards this new man. She had heard whispers about the earl’s baseborn brother, and here he was in the flesh. Sat next to her.
He was a matter of great interest to the beau monde. But Flora was fascinated to note this young man did not seem to mind, perhaps he was simply used to everyone watching him.
“I thought,” Flora whispered as the young man sank into his seat, “it is not normally acceptable to be late to a wedding.”
The man smiled as he looked sideways at Flora, “I was seeing a patient. My brother will forgive me, and hopefully, my future sister-in-law will as well.”
He was a doctor. Memories from when Elsie had been sick and had been treated by Langley’s doctor came rushing back to her. It had to be this young doctor. The man had been recommended by the earl. Flora, though, had been too busy, delighted with her recent arrival into Town. The Season was going on, and so she had not been remotely interested in meeting a doctor, who she assumed was probably portly, four times her age, with grey hair…
A swell of regret plummeted through her.
This man was better described as an angel. With gleaming, dark-gold hair bronzed light brown at the curled edges, it needed a slight trim to be truly fashionable, but Flora rather liked his bucking of these trends. Flora judged him to be around twenty-six or seven, but she was not certain. He was certainly older than her, but she rather liked this too.
His eyes were bright, a clear green colour that reminded her of lime, or something fresher, that made her stomach tighten. There was a depth and wisdom wrapped in them too. At least, that was what she told herself. He was a touch shorter than the earl but a little more muscular, which Flora suddenly decided she very much liked.
“I am called Philip Caton,” the doctor said, offering his hand to her with a formality that was again uncommon amongst the ton. Flora was used to bowing and kissed knuckles, but Caton did not look remotely interested in such gestures.
“Flora,” She found her voice as she took his hand. He was warm, and she wished to lean into the touch. “Lady Flora Fitzsimmons,” she corrected, forgetting for a moment her title.
“My lady.”
