Chapter One

Iris

Tears gathered in Iris’ eyes as her finished dress reflected at her in the mirror. While one might think they were tears of joy, she felt anything but happy. None of it felt right, from the tight corset to the scratchy fabric. The material seemed to bind her, forcing her to gasp in big breaths while her skin grew hot.
It was all too much.
“Is everything alright?”
Pulled from her stupor, she glanced at her maid’s reflection, brows brought together with worry.
Iris had known Anna since she was just a child, a gentle girl with sandy-blonde tresses and a complexion as rosy as a summer dawn. Despite the age gap between them, their bond had only strengthened over time, a source of comfort to Iris.
With a slight tremor in her hands, she pulled and tugged at the corset. “How am I expected to frolic in a gown that restricts my breath with such severity?”
“Allow me,” the maid murmured, quickly reaching for the corset laces. “I’m afraid we cannot let the dress be quite so lax at the ball, yet I don’t see why it must be tight at present.”
As the corset loosened enough for her chest to move as it should, Iris released a deep breath.
“Is that better?”
“It is a small fix for now, yet it won’t mend the rest of my mounting problems,” she murmured, aware of how red her cheeks looked through the mirror. The reminder made more tears well in her eyes.
Anna’s expression softened as she continued to muse the light blue toile around her legs. “It is only for one night. Surely you can put on a brave face until you have the chance to get into something more comfortable.”
“One night will soon bleed into the rest of my life,” she uttered, wiping her eyes. “This is a nightmare I cannot wake from.”
“Don’t think of it like that,” the young maid urged her, gently taking a hand in hers with sincerity in her eyes. “Perhaps he will be a noble man with virtue and a handsome face to gaze upon. Having him as your husband may not be so harrowing.”
“I can’t be sure my father had a handsome face in mind when he made the arrangements,” Iris said bitterly, feeling the constriction of the dress once more at the thought of being forced into a marriage she had no say in. “How would you feel if you had no choice in who you were to marry?”
A grave look crossed Anna’s face as she busied herself by fussing with the dress. Her cheeks reddened. “I do see how it could cause some distress. However, I know not how it feels. I can only pray your match is kind-hearted and of sound mind. You must trust that your father has your best interest at heart.”
She huffed a big breath and urged her cheeks to lose their muddled color. “I don’t see why my father must make that choice when he won’t be the one forced to live with that decision. I will bear the brunt of it, whether he is a good man or not.”
“It is an unfortunate truth,” the maid murmured, seemingly in agreeance.
Iris took another look at herself in the mirror, overwhelmed by it all. She found it impossible to manage the fluttering of her heart and the dread that crept within her chest. “I may very well collapse before I even make it to the ball!”
As she felt short of breath again, Anna never left her side and tried to make the dress more comfortable with her fretting. “Breathe deeply, my lady. Struggling will only cause more discomfort.”
Urging herself to relax despite the weight of the unknown on her chest, she did as her maid urged her, and she was able to slow her heart down enough to swallow back the fear. While it remained in her stomach as raging butterflies, it helped her to find composure.
“That is better.”
An embroidered handkerchief was handed to her, and Iris used it to dab beneath her eyes after she gave her murmured thanks.
A loud gasp tore her attention away from her own reflection as two other figures appeared behind her. Her mother, Matilda, strolled in with her younger brother at her heels, dress sweeping as she went.
Tristan was only ten, with his boyish face and a tendency to muse his clothes to feel more comfortable, to their mother’s dismay. It seemed she didn’t bother to fix the untucked material of his linen shirt.
Matilda’s eyes watered as she gazed upon Iris with such awe that she wondered if that feeling should be mutual. Yet, her subdued cooing only gave her the urge to roll her eyes in response.
“My lovely daughter,” she beamed, reaching toward her as she approached. “You look beautiful, my darling!”
She knew the dress was fitting for any debutant, especially one prepared to announce her engagement. Yet, it felt like a waste on her. It seemed like it was made for someone more willing to accept the marriage on her behalf.
“I feel like a prized cow on the way to slaughter.”
Her sarcasm earned her a laugh from Tristan, and while she wished to savor that joyous sound, her mother’s straight face was void of amusement. Surely, she saw no humor in the situation.
“We selected the finest dress for you, Iris. That is no way to thank us or the modiste for her hard work.”
Groaning internally, she knew there was no point complaining about the gown to her mother. She would never understand how she truly felt about it.
“I don’t see why I can’t have the freedom to choose my husband as you once did,” she mumbled, unable to look at herself any longer.
Matilda took a pensive breath and fussed with the toile as Anna had. “Your father put a lot of effort into making this match for you,” she returned, matter-of-fact. “He met the young man himself and even said he is very pleasing to the eye if that will help quell your worries.”
Pleasantness is objective, she thought to herself but refrained from speaking it aloud.
Instead, she huffed. “I don’t even know his name.”
It was true that she knew nothing about the gentleman. They were meant to announce their engagement at the ball the following day, but she was yet to be made privy to his identity. The unknown only made her more apprehensive.
Her mother ran her fingers through her hair and carefully spread it over her back. “Your father will arrive in the morning and tell you all about your betrothed then. You needn’t fuss about the details.”
She found it difficult to not fuss, for it was her future that would be changed forever, all at the hands of her father. He would decide whether or not she would marry a man suitable enough or beyond horrible—all out of her control.
When she said nothing, Matilda continued with a small smile. “If I were in your position, I would be excited and intrigued by the mystery.”
Iris curled her lip mockingly at that, bristling at how ridiculous it sounded. It was a foolish thought, and she couldn’t agree less.
While other debutantes surely basked in the opportunity to be met with surprise and the chance to be wed to the man of their dreams, she had no such wish. She never longed to have her wedding arranged without her input in mind.
“I don’t want to marry,” she muttered, lifting her chin with a surge of confidence. “I want to explore the world and live for myself. There are many beautiful places in England that I have yet to see, and I wish to do just that.”
Her mother snickered as if she didn’t take her wishes seriously. “You will have all the time to explore after you are married. Your honeymoon will involve exactly that, in fact.”
Her cheeks flared with color, angry from the lack of understanding she received. While she was aware her mother was used to the many customs expected of her and the family, Iris had hoped she would understand, given her arrangement with her father.
She wondered what it was like to have the chance to find love on her own accord when she was ready. The pressure of being rushed into marriage made her want to scream.
“I highly doubt that,” she returned, her voice sharp. “After our wedding, I will be expected to birth and raise his children. I will never be young and free like I presently am. It’s unfair that Tristan has the freedom to do as he pleases, and yet I don’t.”
Matilda’s eyes hardened. “You mustn’t say such things, and there’s no need to bring your brother into this.”
Iris folded her arms over her chest and averted her eyes. She watched as Anna stood to the side with her hands neatly tucked before herself, gaze shifted down to the floor.
With the uncertain silence that lingered between them, her mother sighed. “I was like you once, my dear. Free-spirited and wild, unlike many others. But I soon came to find that marriage and raising a family is one of the most fulfilling things a woman can do. With time, I am certain you will see it the same as I do.”
Despite the gentle hand on her shoulder, she didn’t feel comforted by the prospect of being married off and sent away. “I will never change my mind. You and Father are forcing me into a life of misery.”
Steeling herself from her mother’s disappointment, she only caught a glimpse of her annoyed expression, surely from her refusal to see it any differently.
“Enough of this now,” Matilda murmured, eyes piercing through her reflection. She put an arm over Tristan’s shoulder and ushered him toward the door.
Without another word, the two of them left the room. Left to stare at her irritated face in the mirror, Iris forced herself to not cry, no matter how the tears threatened to spill. She reached for her own lacing, to no avail.
“Could you help me get out of this?” she asked Anna, struggling with her flurry of red cheeks and watery eyes.
“Certainly,” the maid said just above a whisper as she hurried over and began unlacing the dress.
By the time she was freed from the ball gown and in her regular dress that fit more comfortably, her cheeks were muddled with tears as she sat on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap.
The mere idea of throwing away her freedom to marry a man she didn’t know made her heart ache and felt like a cold hand gripping the back of her neck. It was all so sudden, and she scarcely had the time to think it over properly.
Before long, her engagement would be announced to make it even more real and unavoidable. Everything was ready, yet she wasn’t prepared to seal her fate.
She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t stand to marry a brute she knew nothing about.
She had only one choice left.
Standing from her place, she hurried over to the writing desk and plunked herself down. Reaching for her quill pen and ink, she began to write.
With trembling hands, she inked the words onto the paper, addressing it to the two people who had brought her into this world. The words were heavy on her heart, but she knew they had to be said…
“I am but a young woman,” she wrote, “with so much of the world yet to explore. I cannot be tied down by the yoke of marriage just yet. Give me six months, and I shall return to my duties as a daughter and wife, but not before I have had a chance to truly live.”
As she signed her name, she felt a sense of freedom wash over her, a feeling she had never known. These six months were for her and her alone, a time to break free from the shackles of convention and explore the world on her own terms. She would go where the wind took her, follow her heart’s desires, and experience all that life had to offer. For six months, she would be her own person, a woman in charge of her own destiny.
Once the note was written and set aside to dry, she regarded it with an apprehensive eye. As if the reality of her decision had hit her at once, she couldn’t ignore how torn she felt doing so without anyone’s permission.
She had never done anything so bold, yet it felt like the right choice. She couldn’t turn back on the idea.
Sighing to herself, she stood with resolve. She moved around the bedroom, gathering everything she would need for a long journey ahead.
She had to leave by nightfall.

Chapter Two

Euan

The Season was a dreadful time to be in London, especially for those reluctantly searching for a wife. At the very least, his bride had already been found for him.
Euan let go of a heavy sigh as he walked into the ballroom, immediately overwhelmed by the grand display of people and noise.
The debutants were dressed as finely as ever with their feathers and frills, the most eager of gentlemen had their sights set on certain young ladies in particular. The orchestra played their plucky music to put the entire building in the proper mood for dancing.
The disingenuous grins and insincere flattery were utterly draining, and he considered himself lucky to be immune to their ploys. The air was thick with deception as these men and women donned their masks hoping to lure a wealthy partner or gain entrance into high society.
The flirtations and feigned interest were all part of an elaborate charade, a game he had no interest in playing. The thought of engaging in such artificial and meaningless conversations made his stomach churn
Euan wished he were with his mother in Cheltenham and away from the hustle and bustle of the marriage market. Unfortunately, she was unable to accompany him, and instead, he was left in the company of his younger brother, who was sent to meet his future bride.
Darragh strode up beside him with a wide grin spread across his face, looking into the sea of gowns and finely dressed gentlemen. He took in a satisfied breath and nodded. He was certainly more excited about the event and the chance to celebrate as he wished.
At least one of them felt the desire to rejoice for the engagement.
When a servant strode by with a silver platter of champagne, his brother wasted no time grabbing two. He handed one to Euan with a smirk.
“I hope you don’t plan on standing there all evening.”
“And what if I do?”
“That is hardly a way to celebrate your upcoming engagement, brother!” Darragh chided, clapping his shoulder despite his lack of amusement.
“Do as you wish, but I am only here to meet my betrothed,” he grumbled, looking out across the crowd of partners dancing and basking in the merriment. He refrained from sipping from the glass, not wishing to be under any sort of influence when she eventually arrived.
“Your appearance will scare your new bride. You should relax. Drink and find something to be joyous about,” he joked, elbowing him enough to receive a sideways glance.
His jaw twitched, irritated by it all—to which his brother did not help the matter. “I will relax when I can escape this foolish affair.”
Darragh gave him a mock look of authority. “Mother was very clear about her orders. It has been five years since Father died, and you cannot afford to delay the inevitable. You must marry soon.”
It wasn’t news to Euan. He had been the unlucky recipient of his mother’s scolding on many occasions, especially as of late. It seemed the only thing she would discuss, even if he wasn’t in the mood.
By then, he was quite tired of hearing about it and gave in to his mother’s arrangement.
Though he had the opportunity to seek out a wife for himself, he simply couldn’t be bothered. As a result, a debutante had been selected for him. While the entire affair was nothing short of irksome, he found solace in the fact that the worst of it was now behind him.
He chuckled humorlessly. “Perhaps I should relinquish my title and let you have it instead. You fare much better at these events than I do.”
While he half expected his brother to give him a look of interest in return, he threw his head back and laughed. “I could never become a good duke. I fancy my freedom too much.”
It was an undeniable truth that of the three brothers, Euan was the only one who had taken the responsibilities of a duke seriously. He had been groomed for the role since birth and had dedicated himself to learning the ins and outs of governance and leadership.
In stark contrast, his brothers had never shown much interest in the weighty obligations that came with their noble birth.
“I never wanted the title either, yet here I am. If it were up to me, I would have nothing to do with the ton,” he admitted, hardly able to stomach the noise and commotion around him.
“That is where you allow your prejudices to cloud your capacity for merriment, brother,” he murmured, leaning in before taking a sip from his glass. “If you drink and dance enough, you can forget where you are entirely!”
Euan rolled his eyes, tired of his brother’s nonsense. “You ought to do exactly that and leave me in peace.”
He snickered with a shake of his head before heading out to mingle with the others.
He watched as Darragh glided to and from, unable to help himself from flirting with the debutants. He did so naturally, jesting and charming them with his words. It seemed that each time he smiled, they did the same, and he was soon swept into the dance along with them.
He had always been the charmer, while Euan didn’t do well with crowds, given how he tucked himself away, hoping to hide from anyone seeking a dance partner.
Those who didn’t dance stood in their social groups and gossiped as always, leaving him to stand on his own while he watched and waited. He didn’t mind not being intertwined with the others, for he didn’t stand to benefit from it.
However, several of them looked at him oddly, as if he had some feature about him that stood out from all the rest. As if he didn’t belong.
It had always been the same with those people, no matter where he went or what the occasion was. They looked down upon him due to his Scottish lineage.
When words got around that his father married his mother, the scandal gripped London by the throat. It was all they could talk about with their whispers and prying eyes. It seemed that habit never went away, even as he grew older and found himself in the position of a man.
Even as a duke, he and his family had never truly been accepted by the ton.
It only made balls and events that much more unbearable.
As the night wore on, each minute seemed to crawl by at an excruciatingly slow pace. Darragh, lost in the moment, drank himself into a stupor and danced with reckless abandon. Euan watched on, a growing sense of unease festering within him as he worried that his brother’s behavior would embarrass them both.
As he stood there disengaged from the ball, his attention was interrupted when several mamas stood before him with smiles that spoke of exactly what they wanted.
“Isn’t this a most agreeable ball, Your Grace?” one of them asked, eyes twinkling with the prospect of speaking with a duke.
“Most agreeable indeed,” he said flatly, allowing his lip to flicker into the slightest smile.
“I hate to overstep, but perhaps I may offer you the chance to meet my beautiful niece, Lucienne. She plays the most magnificent pianoforte, and her voice is even finer than a canary’s,” the woman turned and pointed toward the crowd of dancers. “That is her in the yellow gown. Isn’t she the fairest lady you’ve ever seen?”
“There are many fair ladies here this evening. However, I must interrupt before you continue.”
The hopeful mamas seemed shocked by his statement. One brought a hand to her collar. “Does this mean you already have a lady in mind?”
“You could say I am otherwise engaged,” Euan murmured. Unwilling to share the full of it, he knew the small crumb would keep them preoccupied long enough to grant him his freedom once more.
“Oh,” she said under her breath, glancing with her companion scandalously. Surely, they would run with the hint and tell the rest of the ton by the end of the evening.
The mamas excused themselves with their polite curtsies before they scurried off to gossip with the others.
Able to breathe in peace, he folded his arms behind his back and scanned the group of partygoers for any sign of Lord Linfield or his daughter. When he saw no sign of them, his anger only festered and bloomed.
Before long, Darragh left the dancing behind and returned to his brother’s side, where he slung an arm around his shoulder, smelling of drink.
“Are you not amused, brother?”
“Not at present,” Euan muttered, more angered by his wasted time than his brother’s uncomely state.
“And why might that be?” he asked, eyes glassy with his drunken stupor. “You have all the reason in the world to be elated!”
His blood boiled at the thought. “Not when my betrothed doesn’t have the decency to make her appearance this evening. I cannot stand the dishonor and embarrassment it brings me! They have no right to make me wait here like a common fool.”
“Perhaps they are merely running late.”
“I have been waiting nearly all night. Surely they mean to mock me,” he uttered, aware of the fire in his veins just from the thought. “Linfield will hear about this—”
Before he could continue with his grievances, Henry Linfield arrived accompanied by his wife, both wearing grave expressions. However, their daughter was nowhere to be seen.
Henry met his eye as he walked in, and surely he could feel the intense anger from Euan’s gaze. He cleared his throat and approached him, visibly faltering in his presence.
Linfield bowed his head as his wife, Matilda, curtsied.
“Your Grace,” he murmured, swallowing thickly.
He knew whatever news they had for him couldn’t be good. Not while their daughter was absent from the very place she was meant to be.
“The hour grows late,” Euan said, expression hard to show his displeasure. “How much longer do you intend to make me wait?”
“It is exactly that,” Henry began, barely able to meet his eyes even if he was well aware it was proper. He glanced nervously toward his wife. “Our daughter Lady Iris ran away from home last night, and we were unable to find her despite our efforts.”
While their distress was palpable, and indeed they were worried for their daughter, he was blinded by his fury.
He had been promised her hand at the arrangement of his mother and Lord Linfield. While he had been apprehensive himself, the very idea of being disrespected so blatantly made him wish he had never shown up in the first place.
“We fully intended to have her here this evening and announce—”
“Enough.” Unable to hide his rage, Euan straightened his waistcoat and gave the couple a look made of stone. “If you cannot uphold your end of the agreement, then I will hear no more of it.”
Henry gave him a bewildered expression, surely grasping at whatever excuses he could conjure, but he was not interested in hearing any of them.
He glanced at his brother. “We are going.”
While Darragh went to object, he promptly shut his mouth and nodded. He knew what was good for him occasionally.
Without another word, Euan trudged away from the Lindfields with his brother in town, stewing about the girl’s insolence. The shame lingered in his mind like a foul taste, poisoning his thoughts and fueling his growing ire.

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