Kent, 1812

Vivienne Fox had decided not to get married just for the sake of it. As she told her father at breakfast that morning, a week after he'd informed her of her good fortune: 'I'm twenty-four years old. Until I came into my legacy no man took the slightest interest in me, let alone one with a title.'

'But dear ...'

'Now they're queuing up at the door ... men who rejected me year after year and laughed behind my back. It's humiliating. Aunt Edwina intends to trot me out like the family dog on Sunday, all bathed and brushed so I can simper and flutter and wag my tail, and all to gain the attention of a pack of brainless, chinless ... braying fools!'

'My dear, don't be so angry.'

She waved a handful of invitations in the air. 'Is it because I've suddenly become a more worthy person? Is it because I can dance, play the piano and sing any better than I did last year, or the year before, or all the other years before that? Is it because I've grown to be beautiful?'

She answered her own questions. 'No ... no ... no ... no! It's because Vivienne Fox, eldest daughter of the Reverend Ambrose Fox, has suddenly become endowed with riches beyond her wildest dreams from the ill-gotten gains of a sugar plantation, which was owned by a remote cousin – a cousin we'd never heard of. Moreover, he made the fortune on the sweat of slave labour!'

'Oh, I'd heard of Philip Dubois. I met him shortly after I married your mother. He was considered to be an undesirable relative by her family, but your mother liked the adventurer in him and said he made her laugh. He came to visit you after you were born, and was very taken with you. It was kind of him to leave you his fortune, but then, you're his only blood relative.'

'So although he was considered an undesirable acquaintance, his money does not carry the same stigma, therefore your unmarried and least attractive daughter is suddenly desirable. The whole idea is obscene, and you must promise me that you won't tell anyone of my sudden legacy, especially the size of it.' She scattered the invitations across the carpet. 'There, that's disposed of them. I will not accept any of them!'

Her father smiled at her tirade. 'You're being much too passionate, Vivienne. No man will be interested in having a scold for his wife, whatever the price on her head. You must learn to be a little less forthright, and ... well, try not to be so clever. Ordinarily, men don't like women who can out-think them. It makes them feel foolish.'

'If it does then they are foolish.' She smiled at him. 'You don't expect me to pander to a man's pride by acting like some dizzy miss – not after you taught me to reason and think independently. I don't make you feel foolish, do I?'

'That's different. I'm your father and have different expectations.'

'Then I'll wait for a man who is just like you – one who is extraordinary.'

'And when you meet this perfect gentleman?'

'Because you are so eager to get rid of me, dearest Papa, then I will ask him to marry me and be done with it.'

'You cannot propose to a man!'

She grinned at the shock in her father's eyes. 'Why ever not?'

'It's just not done,' he spluttered.

A lame excuse if ever she'd heard one. 'I will make it done if he pleases me. And if I can't find a man I like, then so be it. Instead I will embrace spinsterhood and become a favourite aunt to my sisters' offspring.'

'Just give a suitor a chance. Be pleasant and well-mannered, that's all I ask,