A Perfect Hero

London, 1814

hispers had begun to circulate in the church. Oh, but it was wrong . . . so wrong. For only moments earlier, all she could think was that no other day could have been more perfect for this...her wedding day.

High above, the sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows of St. George’s Church in Hanover Square, bathing the interior of the church in a radiant, ephemeral glow.

It was a sign, Lady Julianna Sterling had de
cided as she stepped from the carriage and ap
proached the church. For too long, a cloud of shadow had been cast upon the Sterlings. She’d viewed the beautiful day as a symbol of her life to come, a good sign. For surely on such a glorious, golden day like this, no hint of darkness would
dare come to pass. Her union with Thomas Markham would be blessed, blessed as no other.

And yet, but moments later...she battled a low-grade panic. Thomas should have been here by now.

Where was he?
Where?

A hand touched her elbow. Julianna looked up into her oldest brother’s gray eyes. If Sebastian no
ticed the whispers of their guests, he ignored them.

“You look like a princess,” he said huskily.

Julianna struggled for a smile and miracu
lously produced one. Her gown was of sheer, pale pink silk—her favorite color—draped over silver satin. Matching pink slippers encased her feet. Sheer Brussels lace adorned the sleeves; embroi
dered on the hem were delicate white rosebuds, shot here and there with glistening silver thread. But perhaps the most striking feature was the long, elegant train, which swirled behind her.

“I feel like one,” she admitted softly. “But thank you, my lord. I daresay you’re rather dash
ing yourself.”

“And what of me?” Another voice, this one be
longing to her brother Justin. “Am I not dashing as well?”

Julianna wrinkled her nose. “Desperate is what you are,” she retorted, “if you must seek compli
ments from your sister.”

“Minx,” Justin drawled.

Sheltered on each side by her dark-haired,
suavely handsome older brothers, Julianna slipped dainty, lace-gloved hands into the crooks of their elbows. For twenty-three years Sebastian and Justin had protected her and sheltered her to the best of their ability—not that she had wanted it or needed it—but she loved them dearly for it.

Justin cocked a brow and addressed Sebast
ian. “While I realize it’s normally a mother’s duty to see that a young bride is adequately pre
pared for her wedding night, I trust you’ve seen to it that our sister has been apprised of all the...how may I put this delicately ...the req
uisite information—”

“Actually, I asked that Sebastian save that duty for you, Justin. After all, you are a man of vast experience in that particular arena, are you not?”

It was a rare occasion to see Justin discomfited; Julianna savored it.

“Besides,” she went on mildly, “there is no need. While I am not a woman of excessive skill, I do pride myself on my imagination—to say nothing of the fact that I became quite adept at listening at keyholes in my younger years when the two of you were in your cups. I garnered quite an education, shall we say. Therefore, I pre
dict no shortcomings in that area.”

Sebastian straightened himself to his full height. “The devil you say—”

“Julianna!” Justin was saying. “Now see here—”

“Stop looking so disapproving, both of you.” They appeared so shocked that Julianna couldn’t withhold a laugh.

Little did she know it would be the last time she laughed that day.

While her brothers were still glowering at her, her gaze shifted to the nave of the church. From the time she was a child, Julianna had cherished dreams of being married in St. George’s in Hanover Square, built nearly a hundred years earlier—why, the marriage of the king’s son, Prince Augustus, had taken place there in grand fashion! And thanks to Sebastian, the fanciful dreams of a child were about to become a reality—it was he who insisted her wedding take place at St. George’s.

Julianna did not argue. It wasn’t simply a child’s fanciful dream; she knew, too, that for Se
bastian, it was a symbol of prosperity and success.

They had come such a long, long way, the three of them, since the days when Society shunned the Sterlings. Upon their father’s death, it was Sebastian who had restored respectability to their name.

The box pews on either side of the aisle were filled to overflowing. But Julianna noted several heads had begun to turn, traveling from the back of the church where they stood just to the side of the doors, to the front near the sanctuary . . .

Where Thomas should have awaited her.

An uneasy knot had begun to gather in the pit of her belly. “I daresay fully half the
ton
is here,” she murmured.

“I do believe you’d have invited the whole of England had Sebastian allowed it,” Justin said, with a faint smile. Sebastian made no comment.

The church was still. In the west gallery, the or
ganist coughed while waiting for a signal from Reverend Hodgson, who had begun to shift from one foot to the other.

Several minutes later, Sebastian reached for his pocket watch and flipped it open, his expression grim. The ceremony was set for one o’clock.

It was nearly a quarter past the hour.

Julianna could not bear to look inside the church. The faces of the guests had turned from mild inquiry to pitying glances; the whispers had turned into an ominous hush.

Julianna looked up at Sebastian imploringly. “Something’s wrong,” she said, her voice low. “Thomas should have arrived by now.”

Justin was not so generous. His features were tight-lipped. “He’d better have an explanation for this. My God, late for his own wedding—”

“Justin! Thomas is a good man, a compassion
ate man, the best of men. You know as well as I that he has a heart of gold!”

“Then where the devil is he?” growled Justin.

Julianna began to fret. “Oh, a dreadful acci
dent has surely befallen him, for there is noth
ing that would keep him from this day! He is an honorable man. He—” her voice cracked “—otherwise he would be here. He
will
be here! There must be some reason . . .”

And so there was.

The side door opened. Three sets of eyes swiveled sharply when Samuel, Thomas’s brother, suddenly appeared.

It was just like Justin not to bandy words. “Egad, man, where is Thomas?”

Sebastian stepped forward as well.

Samuel paused before Julianna. She could barely breathe. His bearing was such that it seemed he carried the weight of the universe on his shoulders.

Something was horribly, horribly wrong. She sensed it. She
knew
it. “Samuel. Samuel, tell me what’s wrong!”

It was only later that she realized she should have known ...He avoided her gaze. “I’m sorry, Julianna. But Thomas is gone.”

Her heart gave a feeble thud. “Gone?” she said faintly.

“Yes. A note was delivered to me a short while ago. Oh, but I know not how to tell you this! Last night, you see—last night he left for Gretna Green...with Clarice Grey.”

Samuel raised anxious eyes to her. “Julianna,” he ventured tentatively, “did you hear me?”

Julianna stared. This couldn’t be happening. It was a dream. Nay, a nightmare! Her heart was as cold as the stone beneath her slippers.

Behind her there was a collective gasp.

“Gretna Green!” someone was saying. “He’s eloped to Gretna Green with another woman!”

And then it was spreading through the church, like a flame set to tinder, until her ears were roar
ing and she couldn’t even think. Everyone was staring at her. She felt the touch of their eyes like shards of glass digging into her skin. She felt bar
ren. Naked.

She had little memory of leaving the church. Sebastian and Justin hustled her outside and into the carriage, shielding her from the gaping stares of the guests, who had already begun to file from the nave.

When they rolled up in front of Sebastian’s town house, she had yet to speak. Justin was still swearing, muttering something about a duel, when he leaped from the carriage.

Sebastian touched her shoulder. “Julianna?” he murmured. “Jules, are you all right?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she heard herself say in ut
terly precise tones. But she wasn’t. Inside she was cringing. With utter calm she turned her head to
ward her brother.

“There will be a scandal, won’t there?”

A ghost of a smile crept across Sebastian’s lips.

“We’re Sterlings, Jules. Perhaps it’s inevitable. But we’ve weathered scandal before, haven’t we?”

He meant to comfort, she knew. Yet how easy for him to say. After all, he was a man. It was eas
ier for men. Men weren’t branded as spinsters. As ape-leaders. Some old windbag wouldn’t forever be whispering behind her fan about how
he
had been deserted on his wedding day . . .

She wanted to weep, to cry, to hurl herself into Sebastian’s arms and sob out her heartache. As a child, he was the one who soothed her hurts and scrapes.

But this was a hurt he could not heal.

Through eyes so dry they hurt, she stared at him, pressing her lips together. She dared not blink, for she knew the tears would begin in earnest then. He searched her face endlessly, and she wondered if he could see the gash in her heart, the twist in her soul. She tried to be brave. She
would
be brave. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t weep. Not yet.
Not yet
.

For that would come later.

Sebastian leaped out, then extended a hand. Ju
lianna took it, alighting from the carriage. As she stepped toward the house, she felt the warming kiss of the sun upon her head. Mocking her, re
viling her.

It was all gone, she thought wildly. All gone...her girlish hopes, her fanciful dreams.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and sob her heart out.

For something had happened that day. She was forever changed.

Forever shamed.

One