CHAPTER1
ELKINGTON HALL, THE MIDSUMMER BALL
Miss Eliza Wingfield had been lurking in a quiet corner of the Elkington Midsummer Ball, sipping a glass of orgeat and watching the comings and goings in the ballroom for several minutes, talking with Lady Matilda Calthorpe in low tones when a frisson of murmurs ran through the crowd. The Duchess of Elkington was proclaiming loudly that she expected Lord D’Asti to propose to her daughter, Lady Catherine Stewart, that very night.
Everyone was gossiping about that fact when Eliza spotted her sister, Susan, in the entrance hall with Matilda’s sister, Lady Eugenia, who looked quite stricken, and as if she was considering bolting from the Ball at the Duchess of Elkington’s words, until Susan gripped her arm and gently propelled her forward, murmuring something in her ear that made Lady Eugenia take a deep breath and nod.
Lady Matilda leaned over and gently prodded Eliza in the ribs. “Do you think Her Grace is talking that loudly about Lord D’Asti’s expected proposal because she saw my sister and wants to send the message that he’s taken?”
Eliza darted a guarded glance around them, trying to make sure that no one was paying them undue attention over what Matilda had said. When she replied, her words were measured and careful because the Duchess’ daughter, Lady Catherine, was actually quite close to them, delicately plucking a glass of orgeat off the refreshment table, and might very well hear them.
“Perhaps so, but I wouldn’t concern myself with such things if I were you. I think you and I should just be grateful that we have the luxury of living outside the spotlight. There are benefits to being a wallflower, after all, and chief among them is that no one notices us.”
Lady Matilda laughed and nodded, the candles’ glow casting a warm golden hue on her dark mahogany-brown hair.
“Right you are. I’m deeply grateful to be the quiet one that hardly anybody ever notices, especially after how difficult things were for poor Eugenia after The Society Reporter eviscerated her in that awful article after Lady Duncan’s Ball this past March. It was terrible. I’d hate to be put in that position.”
Eliza hummed her agreement as the two of them watched Eugenia and Susan, hovering close to the entrance hall. Curiosity burned in Eliza’s veins, but she knew that all would be revealed in due time if they simply waited and watched. No sooner had Eliza thought it, than the two started across the room, on their way to the refreshment table.
Susan and Eugenia paused as they came across Miss Lydia Errington, who curtsied stiffly when she saw them, her lips pinched as if she’d just tasted something unpleasant. Eliza and Lady Matilda sucked in a gasp in unison, both waiting to see how this little encounter might play out, in light of what they’d heard of recent events. They held their breath, not even blinking, and strained to hear what might pass between the two.
Lady Eugenia took a deep breath and returned Lydia’s curtsey with a graceful one of her own before stepping close to Lydia and speaking so quietly that only Lydia and Susan could hear her, much to Eliza’s disappointment. She would have loved to hear what Eugenia had just said.
Whatever it was, it must have struck a nerve, because Miss Errington turned positively grey and began trembling. Eugenia gave the girl a placid, victorious smile as she brushed past her to retrieve a glass of orgeat. She and Susan both took glasses and nodded to Lady Matilda and Eliza before rushing back over to hover beside the entrance once again. Eliza grimaced, nodding at their sisters’ retreating backs.
“I’d much rather be invisible than have a target on my back. Our poor sisters have both been through such unfortunate drama on their respective paths to happiness — though it seems that Eugenia’s still hangs in the balance at this very moment — it almost makes me wary of ever pursuing matrimony if one must run such an awful gauntlet on the way to the altar.”
Lady Matilda’s eyebrows shot up at that, her blue eyes rounded with shock as she surveyed Eliza.
“Are you saying you don’t want to get married at all?”
“Not necessarily.” Eliza’s cheeks heated with a blush as she gestured at herself. “I want a family and children, of course, but I fear I have quite a different outlook on matrimony than most of the other young ladies. So many girls only care about status and money. Most of them fling themselves at a man for his rank and wealth, regardless of his character, and I can’t bring myself to be that way. When I marry, I want it to be because I love the man I’m marrying, and he loves me. However, I must admit that I find the idea of a man falling in love with me rather far-fetched when I am more than a stone heavier than is considered fashionable, and there are plenty of lean, pretty girls who will have better prospects than I do, simply based on the fact that they have beautiful faces and waifish, delicate bodies.”
“You have a beautiful face, too!”
Lady Matilda’s protest was both vehement and heartfelt, but Eliza had difficulty imagining any man pursuing her, with her more than ample curves and cherubic, round face.
“You are too kind.”
Eliza’s voice was soft, maybe a little misty at the edges from her friend’s sweet proclamation, and she looked around the ballroom in search of a reason to change the subject. On the other side of the room, the Duke of Elkington stood beside his mother, a pained expression etched onto his handsome face as the Duchess all but shoved a thin, well-bred young lady at him.
She had perfectly coiffed raven-black hair, which was the exact same colour as his, and big, dark eyes. The expression on the Duchess of Elkington’s face was determined - hungry, even - and Eliza thought that she might have heard the Duchess mention something about a fine match, and the Duke’s duty to marry and have children.
She cringed and nodded in his direction.
“Look at the poor Duke, being reminded that he has a duty to marry and reproduce, all while the well-meaning Duchess — who surely only wants the absolute best for her beloved son — shoves a girl he couldn’t be more disinterested in, at him. The girl has likely been picked for her good looks, good breeding, and her rank, among other things, I’m sure. It all sounds rather awfully transactional, doesn’t it? I feel sorry for the man, to be so constantly bombarded by women who probably don’t care one whit who he is or how he feels. All they care about is the prospect of becoming a Duchess and the power and security that might afford them. It’s positively abhorrent.”
“That’s the way the world works, Eliza, whether we like it or not.”
Lady Matilda sighed, shaking her head.
“All I’m saying is that I hope the Duke is afforded the opportunity to find true love and real companionship with whomever he marries. There is hardly a woman in the world who would say no if he were to propose to them, but would they stop to consider his happiness, his wants and needs, at all?”
Lady Matilda opened her mouth, as if to refute what Eliza was saying, but subsequently snapped it shut with a small shake of her head and curiosity glittering in her blue eyes. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke.
“Do you believe in true love?”
“I’d certainly like to,” Eliza murmured, and smoothed the front of her pale champagne-coloured dress. “I could never agree to marry a man unless I believed that we were truly in love with each other, which is why I am most assuredly going to end up a spinster.”
