Eton, Winter 1794

After the funerals he was sent back to school. What else could be done with a boy, even one who had just become the wealthiest child in Great Britain?

The brand-new Earl of Strathmore, Lucien Fairchild, was desperately anxious to return to Eton. There, with his friends, he could try to pretend that nothing had changed; that when he went back to Ashdown at the end of the term, he would find his father and mother and sister still alive and well.

He knew better, of course, but he was not yet ready to accept the finality of death. Perhaps when he turned twelve, it would be easier.

His former title had been Viscount Maldon. The Eton headmaster who greeted his carriage was quick to call him Strathmore, as were the school servants who took charge of his baggage, but behind his back, twice he heard voices murmur, "The orphan earl." Lucien cringed when he heard the phrase. It sounded unbearably pathetic. He resented his cane for the same reason, but at least that would be gone in a few weeks.

It was midevening when he arrived at the boarding house where he was lodged. As soon as he had shed his coat and gloves in his room, he went in search of his particular friends, all of whom lived in the same house. As usual, they had gathered in Rafe's chamber, which was the largest and the warmest.

Lucien limped into the room without bothering to knock. His three friends were sprawled in various positions across the furniture. Nicholas was a viscount, Rafe a marquess, and Michael the younger son of a duke, but those titles were mere courtesy, while Lucien was now a peer of the realm. He wished to God that it wasn't so.