Lady Lavinia Crawford could not believe that her mother had such low opinions of her. She was seated on the blue armchair, her arms on each of the arm rests, her brows raised. Most times, staring at her mother was like staring in a mirror. They looked so much alike, they only took different actions and had differing opinions.
“I have had enough of all your nonsense, Lavinia. I shall have no more of seeing you in the stables with Ewan. He is to tame the horses and not you. From now on, you shall attend every ball that we get an invitation to. You must find a suitor as soon as possible.”
Lavinia shook her head. Her eyes met squarely with her mother’s. “Mother, there is absolutely nothing wrong with me helping Ewan tame the horses.”
“You are a Lady!” the Duchess snapped. “And you shall act as such. You must cease to behave beneath your status, Lavinia. When will you grow up?”
“But I am already grown, Mother! And if these things that I do please me, then I see not why it should bother you, Mother.”
The Duchess nodded towards her hair. “Such unruly hair. Did you have Rebecca brush it today?”
Lavinia touched her hair and was not surprised that it was all out of place, most of the pins Rebecca, her lady’s maid, had put in, had fallen out. She tried to put the hair in place with her hands.
“How would you find a suitor if you behave in that manner? You have to behave right so you do not bring shame to us, Lavinia.”
Of course, Lavinia thought, smiling. All her mother cared about was her reputation and she wanted to protect it at all cost, even at the cost of Lavinia’s happiness.
“As always, Mother. You are more concerned about your reputation than my happiness.”
She did not understand why her mere attachment to the horses in the stables bothered her mother.
The Duchess shook her head, and rose. “Lavinia. This is certainly not about the horses. Do you even understand anything that I have said at all?”
Lavinia rolled her eyes and snorted. Standing up, she made her way across the room and stared at the painting of her mother.
“Lavinia!” the Duchess snapped.
She turned.
The Duchess rubbed her temples and sighed. “Oh dear Lord.” She looked up immediately and spoke. “This is not about the horses. This is about your behavior, Lavinia.”
Lavinia narrowed her eyes. The Duchess ignored her and went on. “You slouch when you walk, Lavinia. You feed the horses and work in the stables. You speak as you please. You run in the field behind the estate! It is no way for a Lady to behave, Lavinia! This is not how I raised you! What has come over you?”
Lavinia swallowed. Her mother went on. “You walk barefoot in the field.”
“So that I can feel the grass beneath my feet!” exclaimed Lavinia.
“You are a Lady, Lavinia,” the Duchess snapped. “You do not even attend balls. How then do you think you will ever find a good match?”
“But mother…I do my charitable work, I am often at the orphanage —”
“Which is a good thing of course, but not so much that it gives you an excuse to not attend a ball.”
Lavinia groaned internally. She had a low opinion of balls. They were only filled with the members of society who only cared about propriety and who was not proper. It was full of gossip and whispers. She never wanted to be a part of that: a part of people who were untrue to themselves.
Lavinia shook her head. She could not believe that her mother had taken her away from the horses to reprimand her on how to live her own life. It was infuriating to say the least.
The door to the drawing opened very slowly, calling the attention of both mother and daughter. Charles Crawford, the Duke of Somerset, walked in. He took no notice of Lavinia, as his eyes were trained onto her mother instead, his wife.
“Darling Augusta,” he said, and smiled.
The Duchess blushed and walked over to him. He kissed both her hands and held them, before looking up.
“Ah…” He grinned when he saw Lavinia. “John informed me that you have been here with Lavinia for the past hour. Is all well?”
Lavinia closed her eyed and held her breath. Surely her mother would not involve him in matters that were no concern of his. He was not her father, and so he needed not to know anything about their arguments.
“I was just explaining to Lavinia that she should start acting like a proper lady. She should focus on her improvement, so as to be able to find a suitor.”
The Duke closed his eyes and nodded. “I agree, Augusta. I have wanted to speak to you about this, but I did not know how to approach the subject.”
Lavinia stared at her mother in disbelief.
The Duke went on. “Lavinia needs to start acting responsibly and taking her life seriously. ”
He walked around the Duchess to take a seat. “We must take this matter up or else she may never take it seriously.”
“I am not your father, who might have endorsed your irresponsibility. Therefore, if you refuse to find a suitor by the end of the Season, I shall have no choice than to find a suitor for you, myself, and you must be wed to him. Further to this, I shall stop you from visiting that orphanage so often.”
Lavinia was hurt that he could mention her late father in such a way. The Duke often did that, often reminded her that her father had committed so many wrongs, and as his offspring, she would never hear the last of it. It was as though he wanted her to know that he had saved her from the life her father had created for both herself and her mother, the fact that her mother had never asked him not to speak to her in such a way hurt her.
She did not want him to know that that had hurt her the most, so she shook her head. “You can’t do that. You cannot force me to wed against my will…and you can’t stop me from seeing the children.”
“I am afraid he can, Lavinia. If you care about the orphanage, as much as you claim, then you must find a suitor,” her mother said, moving to stand beside her husband.
Lavinia looked from her mother to the Duke and closed her eyes. She was deeply hurt. “But Mother —”
The door opened, and Mr. Spratt, their butler walked in.
He nodded in acknowledgement to everyone in the room.
Lavinia nodded in return.
He held out a stack of letters on a silver platter before the Duke and said, “Your letters, as requested, Your Grace.”
When Spratt left, the Duke began to look through the stack, whilst the Duchess faced Lavinia.
“It is of no use for you to argue,” she said.
“But Mother… the end of the Season is nigh.” She raised her hands in the air. “If I do not continue to give to the orphanage, the children would starve.”
“Then it is best you —”
“Colin is returning,” the Duke interrupted, throwing the letter he had been reading down and taking off his spectacle. The Duchess took up the letter and began to read. Lavinia was frozen and silent.
Colin was coming home? She raised both her brows. It had been so long that she’d almost forgotten she had a stepbrother. Colin was the only child borne by The Duke of Somerset’s first wife. Lavinia had known Colin for as long as she could recall. He had been such a shy lad. He was used to being on his own all the time, she had often had to seek him out, if he had wanted his company. She was certain he never liked it.
When he turned twenty-one, he had decided to explore the world. He had pleaded with his father for a long time, to let him go on the journey, but the Duke had not initially agreed with the idea. However, he conceded later on and gave Colin his blessings. One early morning in summer, he rode off in a carriage and his last gesture to his family, Lavinia and her mother included, was a nod.
“It is a good thing, I suppose. Colin can take her through all she needs to know about being a Lady. He can try to guide her, if she wants to find a suitor. Seeing as he is older and has seen the bigger world.”
Lavinia could not believe her mother had said that. She shook her head. “Mother?”
The Duchess turned to her. “We shall have no further discussion on this, Lavinia. The decision is final.”
Lavinia shook her head. Hurt and angry, she turned to walk out of the room, however, her eyes caught a note on the table, it topped the stack of letters. Scribbled in bold letters were the words:
“I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
Lavinia froze for a second, while her heart beat frantically within her breast. She looked back at her stepfather, but saw him talking to her mother, the both of them, laughing. The Duke placed the letter he had been holding over the note. He had not seen it yet. She swallowed hard. She wished he had seen it. She wanted to see his expression, to know how he would react to it. She looked up at him, and then back at the note peeking out.
“Lavinia?”
She flinched and looked up to see her mother looking at her. “Are you alright?”
Lavinia stared her mother in the eye. “Mo—”
“If this is another argument, then do not speak to me.”
Lavinia huffed, and headed out of the drawing room. However, what she had seen still haunted her.
Chapter Two
When the carriage wheeled to a halt, Lord Colin Crawford, the Marquess of Grandview, looked out the window, his eyes trained on the large estate before him. He sighed. The estate was still as it had looked all those years ago. It was as though it had never aged. It had been five years since he left home and went on to explore the world. Now, he had had enough of the world and had felt like he wanted something new, something different. He thought that perhaps, returning home was what he needed.
“My Lord,” the coachman said, pulling open the carriage door.
The double French doors of the house pulled open, and Spratt walked out, a small smile on his face. Mr. Phillip, or old Phil, his father’s valet, walked out behind him. Old Phil had worked in the estate longer than Spratt. Behind him were two footmen, who rushed to bring his trunk inside.
“My Lord.” Spratt bowed slightly.
Old Phil laughed and bowed as well. “It has been so long, My Lord.”
Lord Grandview smiled. It indeed had. He nodded towards them and headed into the house. He looked around, feeling quite uncomfortable. He wondered if returning home had been the right choice to make. He wondered if by returning home, he could finally have a sense of belonging.
The paintings of his mother which had once graced the walls in the hallway were now taken down. All had been replaced by paintings of his father’s new wife. He stopped walking. Was she being forgotten? So easily? He felt a strange shiver run through him. Perhaps, if he had never been born, she would still be here.
Of course. He had come home to not only his father, but his entire new family as well. They had been the reason he had left in the first place. He had begun to feel like he no longer belonged there. Even now, he still did not feel as though he did. Had he made a mistake coming home? Returning and hoping to finally be fulfilled. Had he made the right decision?
The clump of shoes down the hallway made him raise his head up. He looked up to see his father and the Duchess walking towards him. They were both smiling. The Duchess approached him first, she smiled warmly at him. He took her hand, bowing low over it, while she curtsied.
His father walked forward after the Duchess stood back. “Welcome back home, Colin.” He hugged him.
It had been so long since he had seen his father, and yet it seemed that nothing had changed, they were as uncomfortable with each other as ever. He smiled. “Father.”
“Your letter came from Scotland, just seven days ago.”
His father led him into the drawing room. “Oh. I had left by then of course.”
His father took a seat, the Duchess beside him, and Colin opposite. He wondered where the Duchess’ daughter was. He remembered that she had been quite a lass before he left. She often bothered him, even when he had insisted on being left alone. The memory made him smile. He hadn’t stayed for long after his father was wed. He left almost immediately. Lady Lavinia must be all grown now.
He was tempted to ask where she was, but he did not.
“How were your travels? France, to Scotland and even to Portugal?” the Duchess asked.
“My travels were fine, thank you,” he said.
The Duke looked at his wife and took her hand in his. They looked at Colin. He felt unsettled by their gaze. Had something happened?
“Perhaps you would like to retire to your bed chamber and come down when you are refreshed. You have only just returned from a long journey,” the Duke suggested.
Colin nodded. His father was right. That was what he needed at the moment. Whatever they had to say to him, he preferred that they did so after he was refreshed. He needed a hot bath. With a nod, he turned and made his way upstairs to his bed chamber.
***
Colin came back down after he had a bath and had a bit of rest. His meal had been brought to his bed chamber in a hamper, courtesy of the Duchess. He was not certain how long he had been, but he didn’t want to be holed up in his bed chamber any longer. He wanted to walk around the estate, see all the things he had missed. He wondered what more changes had been done to the house, aside from the taking down portraits of his mother. He made his way down the stairs, his hands clasped behind him.
As he walked down the hallway, the door to the drawing room opened, and his father emerged. The Duke froze when he saw him. “Colin. I am glad you are here.”
“Is anything the matter?”
The Duke shook his head. “Nothing at all, but I do have something of great importance I would like to discuss with you, if you are not too fatigued?”
“I am not.”
The Duke smiled. “Alright, come in.”
Colin walked into the drawing room. The Duchess was seated, a book in her hand. One of his mother’s books. The Duke joined her there, and Colin took a seat opposite them.
He nodded. “So…”
The Duke sat up, cleared his throat and spoke.
“Colin, we are well pleased that you have returned home, and there is something that I shall request of you.”
He nodded once, reluctantly, urging his father on.
“Lavinia, your stepsister. She is not quite what is expected of her as a Lady. As you are her elder and sophisticated, I would like for you to tutor her on mannerisms. How to act as a Lady suitable to be wed. I want her married off before the end of the season.”
Colin could not believe what he was hearing. He had only just returned and his father was placing Lavinia as his responsibility. He stared at them, he had not been expecting any form of welcome, but he felt slighted that this responsibility that was being saddled on him almost immediately. He could not believe his ears.
The Duchess spoke up. “Lavinia just needs the right tutor, so she can learn to act like a proper lady. I suggested the idea to your father, and he thought it was perfect.”
“You are the right person for this, Colin.” His father continued.
His father was not even asking him if he would, he was assuming that he would. Colin was not sure what hurt him more. The fact that his absence for five years had not helped their relationship in the least, or the fact that his father did not seem to care for him and his plans, only what he could do for him.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed.
“That is not all,” the Duke said.
Colin looked up.
“You should also start considering being wed. You have returned just at the right time. You need to start knowing the ways of the Duchy, preparing for responsibility, and that includes being wed, so that you may produce an heir.”
Colin wished he had stayed in Scotland. His father was once again trying to push him too hard. Colin did not want to be wed to anyone that he didn’t love. No matter how his father pressured him, he would never be wed to just anyone, he needed to be certain that she would be the right person.
Seeing as he had no say in it all, according to his father, all Colin did was nod once. The Duchess smiled warmly, and his father nodded proudly. He stood up. “I will retire for the night.”
He pulled open the door and was about to walk out when he was bumped into. When he looked up, he was stunned.
Standing before him was a Lady, in a grey dress, her blonde hair was packed roughly in a bun, the side of her face was smudged with dirt. Her hazel eyes stared back at him, her smile was apologetic.
“Pardon me, My Lord. I had been coming in, I hadn’t even thought that perhaps you’d be on your way out as well. I had hoped to welcome you home properly…”
She was still talking, but he had lost the sound of her voice in his ears while he stared at her. Lady Lavinia. It had been so long. She had changed in the time that he was away. He could not help being stunned. She was all grown now, into a proper lady.
And she was still speaking, perhaps lost in her own thoughts and was saying them all out loud. The way her brows rose as she spoke, the way her hands moved in the air, the way her hazel eyes held apology, he was tempted to laugh. She was hilarious. It was perhaps a good thing that she had bumped into him and began speaking endlessly. He had been in a sour mood, but now, because he was amused by her, his spirits were lifted.
“Lavinia, be quiet,” the Duchess said.
Lavinia was still looking at him, but she had stopped talking. Her eyes were wide. “Was I going on too much?”
He chuckled lowly, and nodded.
“Thank you, for the warm welcome, My Lady,” he said kindly.
She smiled.
“Lavinia!” the Duchess snapped. “Where were you? I sent for you long ago.”
Colin had a feeling that if he left her alone with them, the wrath of their parents would be on her. She didn’t look as though she needed his help in facing them, but somehow, he felt obliged to save her from them. He understood what it was like to be under the scrutinizing gaze of his father.
“I was busy, Mother.”
“Doing what, exactly? And what is that on your face, Lavinia? Where were you?” The Duchess sat up now.
“I was in my bedchamber, Mother.”
“Oh dear Lord.” The Duchess rubbed her forehead. His father did the same.
Colin found it amusing, that Lavinia rattled them so much.
She looked at him, he looked away quickly and tried to hide his growing smile. He was reconsidering his sentiments about being her tutor. Perhaps it would not be so bad. Perhaps she would not trouble him so much.
The family was spending the summer at Dain Castle, the Marquessate of Dain’s county seat all of the way up North in Dain County. The ancestral home was a sprawling, impressive stone fortress that was cozy and ornate inside.
Sebastian watched as his son ran across the wide, verdant lawn. William was a strapping lad of five years. He had his mother’s blonde hair and green eyes. He was a precocious child, who showed no signs of the wasting illness. He seemed, for all the world, happy and healthy.
“He’s never still,” Eliza said, shaking her head. She was dressed in a bright blue muslin. Her blonde hair in a neat bun.
“No. He can’t bear it,” Sebastian agreed, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. He was still madly in love with her. He knew that he always would be. Though theirs had originally been a marriage of convenience, it had grown into something that was so much more. With every day that passed, he fell more and more in love with her.
“Where are Lord and Lady Colchester?” she murmured. Matthew and Judith were staying there, as well. Heaven knew, there was more than enough room for everyone.
“Lord and Lady Colchester are coming down with their flock of children,” Sebastian told her. “I passed them all on the stairs.” Matthew and Judith had given birth to twins one year, and then had a third the next. They showed no signs of stopping, for Judith was pregnant again already.
“Good,” Eliza said.
Sebastian and Eliza had no plans of any more children. There was too much at stake, even if Teresa claimed that she was content with her life. Though they had found ways to still make love—they were careful.
“They should be here any moment,” Seb murmured, turning to peer through the closed French doors that led into the house.
The butler walked out, then, with Judith and Matthew and their children walking behind him. They went to greet them. William came running up to greet his cousins. The children all acted as though they hadn’t seen each other in ages, though they had all breakfasted in the nursery together.
“Oh, Eliza,” Judith said, taking her hands in her own. “I received a letter from Lady Frobisher, who is spending the summer at her husband’s estate just outside of London. She’s written to tell me the most awful news.”
“What is it?” Sebastian demanded, a chill running down his spine.
“It’s Lord Wyhurst,” she replied. “He’s getting married.”
They all shared dark, worried looks. Sebastian feared for this lady. No good could come of her marrying the Earl of Wyhurst.
“That poor lady,” Eliza crooned, her fingers moving to her lips. “Who?”
“Lord Willington’s daughter, Lady Arielle Northrup.”
“Oh, but she’s only just debuted this past Season,” Eliza gasped, no doubt recalling her own disastrous debut ball.
Sebastian felt angry, though he didn’t know what could be done. Though he had been there to save Eliza when she needed him, he wondered who would rescue Lady Arielle, when Lord Willington had already made up his mind.
The sun slipped out from behind the clouds as they all stood there, each of them worried for the fate of that poor lady at the hands of Lord Wyhurst.
The Colchester children ran out across the lawn with the future Lord Dain. William’s nurse was chasing after them, trying to get them all to sit down on the picnic blanket, to no avail.
Meanwhile, Teresa was wheeled out by Sister Agatha onto the terrace. She smiled as she beheld the gathering, and Sebastian recalled what she had said, years ago. Though she had suffered, there was still joy in her life. But what joy could be found, when one was married to a dishonorable gentleman?
Sebastian turned to Eliza. “Perhaps, Matthew and I ought to talk to Lord Willington.”
“It might work,” Matthew mused.
“Oh, would you?” Eliza asked. “I cannot bear the thought of any lady having to live her life with that scoundrel.”
Sebastian kissed her on the cheek. It was certainly a start.
“Perhaps we all ought to go,” Eliza suggested. “Surely, Lord Willington would listen to reason.”
“That’s a very good idea, my love,” Sebastian murmured. “You are the most persuasive lady of all of my acquaintance.” The smile that they shared was all too knowing. The one thing that Sebastian had learned, aside from how to open his heart to love was that Eliza Campden, the Marchioness of Dain, when determined to have her way was a most formidable opponent.
Eliza stood in front of the full-length mirror in her mother’s old room, her heart aflutter. She gazed awestruck at her own reflection. Could this be the same rambunctious child who had once hiked up her skirts to climb to the top branches of a tree? Were it not for the same mischievous twinkle in her forest-green eyes, Eliza might not have believed it herself.
The dress was perfect, as Judith had promised it would be. The soft blue crepe with the modish bell-shaped sleeves and empire waist, set off the viridian speckles in her irises. Her long dark hair had been gathered up above the nape of her neck into a bun, with jet-black curls framing her cheeks.
“See, darling? How fair you look!” Judith’s merry gaze met Eliza’s in the glass. “A proper young lady all ready to step out into society. I only wish I’d had such fanfare.” She pinned a few tiny white blossoms along the crown of Eliza’s head. “Your brother will be pleased, I’m sure.”
Eliza smiled. “I hope so. You don’t think he’ll act beastly tonight, do you?” She had grown up stuck to Matthew’s side, and she was well aware of his taste for tricks. The young baron’s title had done nothing to diminish his capricious nature, only masked it.
Judith pursed her lips. “I shan’t allow it if he tries.” Matthew was her beloved husband, and she too, knew of his jesting ways. “But I believe he’s serious about this, you know. He understands what it means to you. And for you.”
Eliza bit her lip. “He’d better.” She had only been waiting for years for this day to come, for her chance to ascend out of what she had begun to see as the doldrums of ‘normal’ life. The world had grown dull and slow in her parents’ absence, colored only by the tales of balls and music and surreptitious romance overheard from Matthew’s friends. She imagined the ton as a jewel at the end of a long, dreadful tunnel.
At last, that jewel was within her reach!
“Well?” Judith’s voice drew Eliza out of her thoughts. “What do you think?” She tugged gently at the dark curls that framed her sister-in-law’s face, drawing them down along her cheeks. “I think you’re positively lovely.”
Eliza clasped her hands together. Her smile returned, brighter and more exuberant than ever. “Oh, Judith! I feel like a princess!” It all felt so wonderfully surreal, as if she was visiting someone else’s enchanted life. The hours of classes, the lessons in music and etiquette, seemed a lifetime away.
“Come on then, Your Royal Highness,” Judith teased. “The ball awaits!”
Less than an hour later, Eliza found herself standing at the foot of the steps leading up to the entrance of Colchester Manor. She was flanked on either side by her brother and his wife, and they watched with amusement as she took everything in. A stream of finely-dressed ladies and gentlemen—all of them members of the ton, moved around them. Everywhere she looked, Eliza saw silks, feathers, jewelry.
They had just finished greeting their guests. Eliza’s head spun with names and faces, to the point where she feared she might make a faux-pas.
“What are you waiting for?” Matthew nudged her gently. “Don’t tell me I’ve gone to all this trouble just for you to stand there like a hitching post.”
She glared at him. “Wouldn’t it kill you to see me happy for one moment, Matthew?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I suppose it might. That’s why I’ve gone to such lengths to toss you to the ton. Perhaps they’ll clothe and feed and shelter you now.” But then he smiled. “Don’t dawdle, Eliza. The world is waiting.”
Indeed, she sensed the eyes upon her while she ascended the stairs and passed across the threshold of the ball room. The manor’s front hall was lively and hot, ablaze with chandeliers to chase away the shadows. Eliza could still hardly believe this grand to-do was all for her sake. She was, however, determined to make the best of it.
And there was certainly no shortage of young gentlemen in attendance, whom she knew would now be judging her as a potential bride. Eliza wound her way through the milling crowd, glancing here and there among the smiling, laughing faces and realizing how many she didn’t recognize. To the younger sister of a baron, whose fortune was comparatively small, the ton loomed higher and more glamorous than ever.
The weight of her future struck Eliza then, in that moment, with unexpected force. She turned around, her skirts swirling, looking for her brother. Much to her chagrin, she found that Matthew had disappeared! Not truly, of course; she had no doubts that he was simply lurking somewhere out of her sight. She sighed and began her search, craning her neck to try and get a better view through the crowd.
As it turned out, there were many young nobles who bore more than a passing resemblance to Matthew Trent, Baron of Colchester. Eliza skirted the perimeter of the ballroom. She did not want to be seen mingling without a chaperone, or speaking to a gentleman alone. Surely Matthew must have known that! Frowning, the debutante listened for her sibling’s voice, or his laughter.
Though she had made many acquaintances, she wasn’t yet prepared to speak to anyone without either Matthew or Judith present. Her heard knocked about in her chest.
Finally, she spotted him sitting at a table along the furthest wall. Strangely, there was no sign of Judith, but Eliza was sure that this time, she could not have mistaken her brother. She approached him in a huff. “You fiend, running off and leaving me! Do you have any idea how I must look fleeing from guests at my own—”
That was the moment he turned to regard her and silenced her fountain of words in an instant, for he was not, in fact, Matthew. He raised his eyebrows. “I’d imagine you must look rather amusing.”
“Sebastian!” Despite her irritation, Eliza could not keep her face from lighting up. “He didn’t tell me you were going to be in attendance tonight.” Now she felt foolish for not knowing him, though it had been a while since she’d last laid eyes on Matthew’s best friend.
“You couldn’t possibly believe I’d miss it,” he answered. Sebastian stood up to his full, broad-shouldered height and surveyed the room above her head. “Ah, there he is, the devil. Cutting this way like a shark through open water.” He pointed casually, and Eliza looked up to see Matthew striding toward her, apparently out of nowhere. A look of mild but long-suffering annoyance colored his features.
Matthew gave his sister a look. “I am trying, dear sister, to give you your freedom—within reason. There is no possible way you’d prefer to have me breathing down your neck at every turn.”
With this, Eliza grudgingly agreed. “But people are watching, Matthew,” she argued, keeping her voice low.
“Then let this be a lesson to you in how to act under scrutiny,” he replied easily. “Provided your coming-out goes well, the ton will be watching for the rest of your life. Even when you think they aren’t.” He turned to Sebastian. “Should have known you were lurking in a corner.” The gentlemen shook hands. “I take it you haven’t spied anything that’s tickled your fancy?” If embarrassingly blunt, the question was honest. Sebastian’s proclivity for women, and his disdain for the institution of marriage, preceded him.
Sebastian chuckled. “At Eliza’s coming-out ball? Perish the thought.” He smiled at Eliza. “Were there ever a night for me to act a gentleman, it’s this one.”
Eliza grinned back. “A far cry from the future Marquess of Dain I knew as a child. Would that you had been such a gentleman then, when I was so admiring!’
“Would that you had been anything other than an intolerable little brat,” he teased. “Always meddling, always underfoot. Many times I thought Matthew really must have had a younger brother.”
The lady rolled her green eyes, but the smile hadn’t left her face for a moment in Sebastian’s presence. He had always been her unabashed favorite of Matthew’s friends, and now as she gazed at him, his tawny, lionlike hair and piercing blue eyes did not escape her. There was a sharp, cool undertone to those eyes, but from Eliza’s perspective, they were rather more like diamonds than blades.
Matthew cleared his throat. “If I may suggest,” he said to his friend, stepping somewhat in between the two. “I think it’s time for us to fade back into the scenery. My wife would be a much more suitable visible companion for my sister.” He called Judith over from where she had been waylaid by a group of gossiping ladies, and as the two ladies reconnected, he glanced into his sister’s face.
Eliza knew that expression of wordless warning all too well. Matthew was often accommodating of her whims; he was not a fool. He had told her before to be wary of Sebastian, regardless of whatever affection she might feel. The Marquess of Dain was a sworn bachelor, deeply opposed to the respectable life represented by such things as a wife, a well-kept house, a brood of children. He would, as Matthew was quick to remind, bring her nothing but trouble.
Judith caught that look also and shooed her husband away, shaking her head. “Pay no attention to him, dear Eliza,” she said, patting her sister-in-law’s hand. “He has only your best interests in mind.”
“I know.” Eliza peered over her shoulder as she let Judith lead her away, back toward the spot where Matthew and Sebastian stood together, talking and laughing. Every young lady who walked by Sebastian tried to pass him a demure glance, hoping to catch his interest. But he paid no mind to any.
The night swept by in a whirlwind dream of laughter and conversation, candlelight and dancing. Eliza accepted offers to dance from a score of hopeful suitors, each with a gracious smile. Some of them she found quite charming indeed, but her eyes and thoughts kept returning to Sebastian Campden. A secret desire—to dance with him at her debutante ball—formed in the back of her mind. Nonetheless, she knew it could not be. The ton had already marked him for what he professed himself to be: a rogue, a rake, a playboy. He could never be pinned down, and it would only sully her reputation to try.
Still, she kept her little fantasy close as others courted her. One gentleman in particular displayed a striking persistence in his pursuit of her, asking for her hand to dance. He was tall and lean, like a jackal or a racing dog, his head topped by a vain plume of wiry dark hair. The eyes, brooding and intense, bored into Eliza’s each time she happened to catch them, so that she quickly glanced away.
After the second dance, she returned to Judith’s side and whispered, “Who is that gentleman?” She could feel him still watching her at a distance.
Judith, so rarely haughty, turned up her nose. “The Earl of Wyhurst,” was all she said, her tone rife with disdain. And then, “We would both do well to stay far away from him. As would any other lady.”
The scathing judgement from gentle Judith took Eliza aback. Certainly she had heard murmurs of Lord Wyhurst, and not flattering ones. The gentleman was decently attractive, but rather too old for her liking. And his stony stare was that of a gentleman out for possession, not love. Which, as far as Eliza was concerned, simply would not do.
“I agree,” she said to Judith, nodding. The two ladies made a point to slip back away from the dance floor before the band began again, lest the ardent Earl try to seek out Eliza once more.
“What’s the matter?” Matthew asked, upon his sister’s return. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Sebastian laughed. “Perhaps she has. I hear the manor is haunted.” He winked at Eliza.
Eliza’s heart fluttered in her chest. Oh, if only all dreams had potential to come true!
Chapter Two
Ordinarily, Sebastian had precious little use for balls, especially those of the debutante variety. As the Marquess of Dain, and a member of the ton himself, he was constantly invited to events full of useless finery, and it was his custom either to demur entirely, or to be present only just long enough to make it known that he was there. He knew, of course, what the ton thought of him, and he told himself he didn’t mind. They had never, ever done him any favors.
But for Lady Eliza Trent, he was willing to make a rare exception. Sebastian had known the feisty, emerald-eyed lady since she was no more than a babe in her mother’s arms, and he had watched her grow into a lovely young lady. Perhaps, he thought, lovelier than she ought to be. That was the only acceptable way to explain the magnetism he sensed about her, the force that attempted to pull him in whenever she was nearby.
Naturally, such attraction was nothing less than unacceptable. Underneath his at times, contentious relationship with his sister, Matthew was too devoted a sibling, too steadfast a guardian, to allow his sister to settle for anything other than total respectability. After all, she was the sole remaining vestige of his once-happy family, and Matthew had managed to eke out a life of comfort, stability, and happiness with Judith.
Why shouldn’t he want the same thing for Eliza?
Sebastian understood more than anyone that he was not a good match for Lady Eliza Trent. She deserved a husband able to give her the future she wanted. Not him. Yet, as he watched a series of gentlemen invite her onto the dance floor, he felt something very like a pang of regret. Had things been even a little different, perhaps he would have taken her into his own arms.
It was not to be. To spare himself the indignity of longing, Sebastian turned away and went to fetch a fresh drink. The single thing keeping him from making an early retreat was the knowledge that Eliza would be brokenhearted to find him gone without saying goodbye. And because he always found himself strangely beholden to her sparkling green eyes, Sebastian stayed. He sat at the table with Matthew and Judith and some of their other friends, and he drank wine. Tonight he’d make no trouble.
It was the least he could do for Eliza.
The night seemed to drag on for a small eternity. Remembering his vow to stay out of trouble for Eliza’s sake, Sebastian instead battled the heavy chains of boredom. The air in the ballroom had become hot and hazy with candle smoke, but he didn’t dare go outside, for fear he’d start walking and end up at his own home.
His struggles had not gone unnoticed by Matthew, who prodded him once and said, “Careful, Seb, or the ton might think you’re having too much fun.”
Sebastian immediately mustered a grin. He straightened in his chair, downed the last of his wine. “They ought to think this a pleasant change of pace.” Immediately, as if of their own accord, his eyes picked through the crowd for Eliza. He used the pretense of chaperoning to excuse his interest. All her life, Matthew and his friends had been there to look out for the girl. Sebastian was continuing the tradition.
When he finally located her, however, his heart turned with something other than suppressed desire. At some point, unbeknownst to him, she had been swept up by a gentleman for whom he felt nothing but distaste. If Sebastian was a rake and an outcast, Richard Griffin, the Earl of Wyhurst, was a spoiled, villainous peer. He was not well-liked among the ladies, being far too notorious a cad, but Sebastian knew far too many gentlemen who aspired to the Earl of Wyhurst’s station.
“I shan’t say I’m worried about her.” Matthew’s voice filtered into Sebastian’s ear. “She would despise the sentiment. “But I do hope society will prove fortunate for her, and that she can find a place among the ton. You know as well as I that Eliza can be…” He paused, searching for words. “She can be difficult.”
Sebastian nodded absently. His gaze was trained on the dancing couple—she in the pale blue dress that flowed like water over her figure, and Lord Wyhurst in an offensively blood-red jacket and snow-white cravat. He stood out among his more sedately dressed brethren, which Sebastian suspected was the Earl’s goal all along.
Matthew was still talking. “I think—” He paused, having finally taken stock of his friend’s distraction. “Sebastian, are you listening? Do please let me know if I’m boring you with my troubles.” Matthew laughed and shook his head, “Never mind. Your head’s been elsewhere all night. I’ll regale you with my woe some other time.”
“Do you like her associating with Lord Wyhurst?” Sebastian inquired abruptly. He cared little if the question betrayed his true thoughts, so disquieted was he by the notion that Lord Wyhurst meant to court Eliza.
“I don’t,” Judith interjected unhappily. “She ought not to have given him a second glance.”
Sebastian was in full agreement, but Matthew apparently dissented. “Now, now, darling,” he soothed. “Eliza is hardly a child; she’s seventeen. And we all know Lord Wyhurst has the means to take care of her. If that’s what she wants, so be it.” Despite his calm words, Matthew’s eye stayed on the couple as he settled back into his chair.
Sebastian looked sidelong at his friend. Surely Matthew was aware of the less savory points of Lord Wyhurst’s reputation. It struck Sebastian as nearly inconceivable that Matthew would let his sister be seen at all with a gentleman so garishly dressed and forward. But perhaps that was an inkling of jealousy speaking, which Sebastian quickly tucked away.
Besides, the dance didn’t last forever. Presently, Eliza returned to Judith’s company and Sebastian relaxed, though he decided to keep track of the earl from then on, just for his own peace of mind. It was often quite easy to spot Lord Wyhurst even across the room, what with his glaring jacket. How he got away with sporting outdated fashions, Sebastian didn’t rightly know. Any other gentleman was asking for a lashing from the ton if he went out dressed that way.
But Lord Wyhurst was hailed by his cohorts as avant-garde, a free thinker, a pioneer. Bolstered by positive reinforcement, Lord Wyhurst had grown an ego the size of his sprawling country estate. These days, he moved within the ton as if he owned it, tossing coin at anyone who spoke against him.
Sebastian had to admit, it was incredible how many problems a well-placed sovereign could solve. And that was something Lord Wyhurst knew well.
With the ladies away to socialize, Sebastian lost sight of them—and, shortly thereafter, his interest in Lord Wyhurst. He was appropriately relieved when Matthew stood up and gestured toward the ballroom exit.
“Come have a smoke with me, Seb. Fresh air would do us both some good.”
On that, Sebastian couldn’t agree more. He followed Matthew out to the back terrace of the manor, where the French doors still stood partially open to the cold night air. The draft blowing in from outside was scented refreshingly by grass and rain. Sebastian stood in its path, feeling somewhat reinvigorated.
He was not much of a smoker himself, but he didn’t mind the smell of Matthew’s pipe, or the blue smoke of cigars that often filled the rooms after dinner. The two gentlemen stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, each enjoying the relative quiet.
He could sense that Matthew was getting ready to speak. Sebastian had known his friend long enough that truly, not many words needed saying. He knew that whatever was coming had to do with Eliza, and he knew, too, that he would not like to hear it. He turned to the sliver of dark blue velvet sky that was visible through the manor doors and prepared for an admonition of some kind, gentle as it may be.
Matthew inhaled deeply and blew out a white plume of smoke. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then he began, “Seb, about my sister…”
Sebastian sighed. “What of her, Matthew? She’s seventeen years old, well educated, perfectly groomed. She’ll have no trouble finding a good husband. Especially not after this event you’ve put on.” He stopped short of acknowledging Eliza’s beauty, her grace, her charm. That, he could tell, was what Matthew had been expecting. “You’ll have to fight off her suitors,” he said.
Matthew chuckled. “I won’t be surprised if she does it herself.” He took another puff of his pipe. “All I want is for her to be happy. It’s what she deserves after the life she’s lived so far.”
Seb made no argument. He remembered, through the fuzzy lens of childhood, the long, protracted illnesses of first Eliza’s mother, then her father. They had been kind, compassionate souls, all too willing to extend loving charity toward the sad-eyed noble child that their son had befriended. Indeed, growing up, Sebastian had spent as many nights at the Colchester estate as his own, and though theirs was considerably more homely, he had always felt like he belonged.
“That’s very true,” he said, adding, “No one doubts your intentions, my friend. I, least of all.” He did doubt Matthew’s judgement on occasion, but he kept that part to himself. For all that Matthew appeared to encourage Eliza’s freedom, Sebastian knew the idea of giving her over to society made Matthew nervous. He was a brother, and not that much her elder, but he had always thought of Eliza as a charge in need of protection.
“I must admit, I am relieved to hear you say so.” Matthew smiled. He held his pipe in his right hand, watching the smoke wreath up from the bowl toward the ceiling.
“Ah, so you were the one doubting me.” Sebastian smiled to make sure his friend knew the comment was mostly in jest. But there was undoubtedly a kernel of truth there.
Matthew cleared his throat. He blew one more plume of smoke and extinguished the pipe, tucking it back into his pocket. “We ought to get back before Eliza realizes we’ve gone. You saw how she was when she lost sight of us.”
“She was nervous,” Sebastian replied. “I’m sure she has acclimated by now.”
As they approached the ballroom doors, Sebastian looked for Eliza’s blue gown, her dark hair and laughing green eyes. At first, he was not suspicious that she was nowhere to be found; it was a large and crowded room. Then he realized that one other person remained unaccounted for.
Richard Griffin, the Earl of Wyhurst.
Suddenly determined to locate Eliza, Sebastian separated from Matthew without saying a word, unwilling to alert him to a problem that was still only a hunch. Perhaps Judith and Eliza had nipped away to the parlor, and perhaps Lord Wyhurst had done everyone a favor and departed early. Unlikely, given how enamored the earl had seemed, but a hopeful possibility.
After a thorough search of the ballroom, he had found no trace of either lady, or of the earl. The only places left to search were in the magnificent winter gardens behind the manor, accessible through a row of doors at the back. As Sebastian angled his way toward the open terrace, he began to come upon clusters of ladies speaking in hushed tones, an ominous sight to anyone familiar with the ton’s voracious love for gossip.
“Have you found them?” Matthew had caught up at last, having conducted his own investigation. He was visibly worried, his brow deeply furrowed.
Sebastian shook his head. The doors to the terrace stood just ahead, through which he could see almost nothing. A trio of ladies slipped hurriedly across the threshold, glancing back over their shoulders as they rushed away.
“Oh, no.” Matthew’s face fell, and then darkened with anger. Jaw set, he strode toward the terrace.
A stone of dread had begun to grow in Sebastian’s stomach. He had no choice but to let his friend lead.
