What harm was there in Meghan going in Linnie’s stead? Didn’t she deserve the same fun Linnie had before she married? Of course she did. In a world that increasingly denied women the freedoms men enjoyed, Meghan should be able to have one last grand adventure before her wedding.
Fueled by that sense of rightness, she fast cooked up a plan and even included her younger sister, Andromena, and cousin, Fleur. The last of the unmarried McQuoid lasses would go. Andromena took Helia’s invitation. Fleur availed herself to Cassia’s.
They would meet at midnight in Lord and Lady Rutland’s ballroom.
But Meghan lied to her partners in crime. She couldn’t, however, lie to herself.
Her being here wasn’t just about one forbidden night out.
What you are doing here is far, far, far more egregious.
“My lady…”
No, Meghan was worse than her sister.
In less than a fortnight, she’d be married to the dashing Duke of Hartwell. Their union would further strengthen the McQuoid-Smith ties to the Tremaine family. Even with all that, Meghan stood on the cusp of entering Lord and Lady Rutland’s ballroom.
Nor would her family of the greatest romantics ever condone what she intended to do here.
To find August Archdale, the Earl of Culross and now enemy to her family, and profess her love.
Because if she did not, if she did not stand before him and tell him once and for all, she would never be at peace. She’d spend a lifetime living in regret and wonderingwhat if?
This would not be the first betrothal broken by a McQuoid. Granted, they were the ones in the habit of doing the breaking and not being the breakers.
But surely her family would understand? Surely, they would let true love stand.
Ending her betrothal to the duke marked her a villain. Even thinking about it did.
But she was not even sorry. She’d resisted the idea of a match between them from the onset. It hadn’t mattered. Everyone from cousin to sister to aunt, uncle, and mother reminded her of all the benefits.
What a stunning match she, a wallflower, who had also enjoyed a number of Seasons, could make and with a man so good and so kind.
They hadn’t said the wallflower part, but it had been implied.
And he had been. Kind.
All through the courtship.
Worn down, questioning her own ability to be loved, she came to believe there was no other recourse. Certainly, she didn’t want to be the lone unloved, unmarried McQuoid amidst dozens of happily wed and desperately in love ones. Plus, there was also the matter of Lord Culross being lost to her.
She said yes. Her decision was greeted with joy and celebration from the other McQuoid-Smith’s.
Then slowly, it changed. Bit by bit. Not her family’s satisfaction at her impending union, but the duke.
While deliberately seated beside one another at every event, dinner, and parlor game, he’d been exceedingly charming and attentive. Complimenting of her looks and dress.
Not that she’d ever wanted to be lauded for empty accomplishments.
He’d also laughed at the jokes she told and praised her for her wit.
And if August rejects you, will that make it easier for you to enter into marriage with a pleasant, but aloof gentleman hand selected by your family?
“My lady?”
Startled, Meghan looked at the tall man in a white Volto mask. The gold epaulets upon his ivory uniform were all that marked him as a servant. The butler, to be precise.
Behind his eerie mask, he cleared his throat.
