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.
