Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 1

League Rule Number 5:

A man's best lover is a spirited lady, but one should treat spirited ladies the way one would a wild horse, with a firm hold and gentle voice.

Excerpt from The Quizzing Glass Gazette, April 21, 1821, The Lady Society Column:

Lady Society is in mourning. The dangerous rakehell Viscount Sheridan has been rendered blind. She cannot help but miss those dark brown eyes that scorched more than one innocent young lady's heart as he watched them from the shadows of a ballroom. Oh, my dear Viscount Sheridan, won't you come out into society again? Lady Society is issuing you a challenge. Do not hide from her, or else she will unearth those secrets you hold most dear.

Perchance there is a lady who might yet tempt your sightless eyes and convince you to live again. Would you not like a woman once more to warm your bed? A woman to tame your wicked heart?

London, April 1821

Using his silver lion's head cane, Cedric, Viscount Sheridan, rapped it harshly against the cobblestones of the winding path in his London townhouse garden as he tried to navigate his way to the fountain. All around him the world was a winter gray. Yet his other senses assured him it was spring. Sunlight warmed his face and arms where he'd rolled up his sleeves. A flower-scented breeze tickled his nose and tousled his hair. Cedric took seven measured steps, counting them in his head.

Seven steps to the center of the garden, then five steps to... He caught the tip of his boot on a raised stone, stumbled and collided with the ground. He stifled a cry as stones bit into his palms and the bones of his knees cracked.

Panting, every muscle tensed, he lay on the ground for a long moment, fighting off the waves of shame and the childish urge to whimper with the pain. His eyesight hadn't been the only thing he'd lost. It seemed sense and balance had abandoned him as well.

Finally he picked himself up, patted the ground around himself to find his cane and rose unsteadily to his feet. He was a grown man of two and thirty-he could and would bear this pain as any well-bred gentleman was expected to.

It was a small mercy none of his servants were around to witness this moment of weakness.

Once more. Five steps to the fountain, he reminded himself, and taking care to lift his feet higher, he avoided any more raised stones. He should know this path by now, as he had walked it a hundred times. Yet he still couldn't see it as clearly in his head as he knew he should. When the tip of his cane rapped lightly on the stone fountain's base, he bent over and reached out to find the ledge and, with a great sigh of relief, sat down.