Page 1 of To Break the Rules

Chapter 1

Am I foolish, to be so intent on revenge, to risk everything I have for the chance of retribution? Perhaps, but everything I have is a lie, and sooner or later the truth will find me. At least, when the inevitable happens, I will have the satisfaction of having made him pay. That will be my legacy.

―Excerpt of an entry from Señorita Lucia de Feria, to her diary.

1st July 1814. Meeting of the Peculiar Ladies, Upper Walpole Street, London.

Lucia watched in amusement as the Peculiar Ladies made a fuss of a blushing Alice. A few days earlier, the young woman had defied her parents and married Nathaniel Hunt, owner of the exclusive and notorious Hunter’s, a gambling club frequented by the richest men of the ton.

That Alice, of all people, should have stood up and defied her parents was astonishing, as she was the shyest among their group. Lucia couldn’t fault her choice, however. Nate was handsome and rich, and clearly besotted with his new bride. Faced with a choice between him and the Honourable Edgar Bindley, there was really no contest. Honourable was a word that neither Edgar nor his vile father had any concept of.

The Earl of Ulceby, Lionel Bindley, was a greedy and selfish man who cared for nothing and no one.

Lucia knew this.

Her friends did not understand her link to Ulceby. The man himself would not know her if he passed her in the street, but she knew him. Her position at the fringes of good society was tenuous at best. Beauty gave you power, and Lucia had the attention of powerful men who hoped to seduce her. So, the invitations kept coming, for now.

Her funds, such as they were, had been used in their entirety to establish herself during this one season, to make herself a well-known figure, and therefore one not easily disposed of once the truth was out.

She had no illusions she would be welcomed into society then, no matter her financial situation. People who were friends to her now would no longer receive her, and she reminded herself daily to keep them at a distance.

Every morning, as she stared at a reflection of a woman with no place in the world, she reminded herself of her objectives, of what she sought to achieve. Friends did not enter that equation.

She had given her life over to one abiding desire.

Revenge.

She had rules to abide by, to make as many acquaintances among the ton as she was able, whilst allowing no one close.

Today, the Peculiar Ladies were gathered in the luxurious home of Miss Ruth Stone, whose father was of the merchant class. Rich to the point of vulgarity, he sought to enter the ranks of the ton but found doors closed to him on all sides. They could not ignore his wealth, but they’d never overlook his lack of breeding. Now his daughter was of age he’d pinned his hopes on her snaring an impoverished nobleman.

Unbeknown to Ruth, her father had been one of the men who had pursued Lucia the most relentlessly, intent on making her his mistress. Finding him hard to dissuade—no matter how many times she refused him—Lucia had changed tack and befriended his daughter.

Ruth was no fool and had run the household since she was little more than a girl, as her bird-witted mother had nothing on her mind further than spending her husband’s money. As she had hoped, staying with Ruth as her guest for a few days had shielded Lucia from Mr Stone’s interest. Despite her loathing of the man, who was a manipulative creature, she’d seen enough to realise he respected and loved his daughter and would not willingly invite her censure.

A word from Lucia could make his life very uncomfortable at home.

This was what men were, though, how they worked. They saw what they wanted and did whatever they deemed necessary to get it, caring little for who might stand in their way. Only one man had ever shown any care for Lucia, and even he could not protect her when it had mattered.

Men were loathsome creatures, self-centred and unreliable at best.

At worst… they were lethal.

Men flirted with her and Lucia allowed it, drawing them into her circle, giving them hope they might have a chance, but she never let them overstep the mark. They whispered the rumours of her parentage wherever she went—that her Spanish mother had been a courtesan—and most people expected her to follow suit. In fact, the woman in question had been Portuguese not Spanish, but English men were ignorant and careless, and it was the least of the things about her that were not as they appeared.

The offers from men had become increasingly lavish, ridiculously so, and she was careful not to bruise anyone’s pride as she rebuffed their advances. That was perhaps hardest of all, when she wanted to spit in their faces and tell them to go to hell. Yet it only increased her exclusivity and their desire to have her. They called her Señorita Ciudadela or Miss Citadel, and they laid bets as to who would be the first to breach her walls.

It disgusted her, but Lucia was playing her own game, and soon she would laugh in their faces when they realised who it was they’d been throwing themselves and their fortunes at with such abandon.

With difficulty, Lucia forced such dark thoughts away and returned her attention to the surrounding ladies. Ruth had invited Bonnie to accompany her to the Earl of St Clair’s summer ball, and Bonnie was alight with pleasure at the invitation. Sadness bloomed in Lucia’s chest as she watched them laughing and chattering together. She had seen friendships blossom between the ladies, and watched both Prue and Alice as they’d fallen in love and overcome the trials and tribulations of their courtships with support from the women around them. How she longed for that—to rely on an unwavering friendship—but real friendship required truth at its foundation, and that was something Lucia could not give. She was a morass of lies and half-truths and, though it would soon be at an end, she was not fool enough to believe the truth would win her any friends.

“Well, this is all well and good,” Lucia said, entering the conversation at last. “But I still have not smoked a cigar nor drunk a glass of whisky. “She arranged her skirts with deliberation, affecting a prim moue of displeasure expressly to make everyone laugh.

“When are you going to do it, Lucia?” Alice asked her, a glint of sympathetic warmth in her blue eyes.

“I thought at the Earl of Ulceby’s ball,” Lucia said, knowing that Alice would worry for her. She was a sweet girl and her limited experience of the Ulceby men had given her a healthy fear of the family.

“Oh,” Alice said, her surprise and anxiety as evident as Lucia had expected. “You’re going to that?”