Chapter One
London, Twelfth Night, 1814, The Earl of Hazelton’s Town House
Madeline Atwood had two choices. She could rush back up the stairs, ask Anna to help her remove the stolen ballgown, replace the pilfered slippers and carry on as before, no one the wiser. Or she could continue her descent to the ballroom, where there was music and dancing and her one chance to fulfill her lifelong dream. One magical night when she could pretend she was a debutante at a grand London ball.
Maddie peered over the servants’ staircase. No one was there. Thank goodness. Now was her chance. The other servants were down in the kitchens preparing copious amounts of food. Or they were scattered about the rooms of Lord Hazelton’s town house, catering to the two hundred guests who were enjoying themselves at the Hazeltons’ annual Twelfth Night Ball.
Maddie glanced down at herself. She was wearing a sapphire ballgown that (thankfully) fit her perfectly and white satin slippers with blue satin bows on the tips. The slippers were too large, but she would make do. Her friend, Anna, had helped her twist her blond hair into a chignon, though Maddie had not been brave enough to pilfer any jewelry from Lady Henrietta’s collection. She was already taking too much of a chance as it was.
Maddie took a deep, shaky breath. If she continued and was found out, she’d be risking everything she’d worked for these three past years. Molly was depending on her. Dear sweet Molly, seventeen years old. Out in the country living with Mrs. Halifax, who’d taken in the sisters after Papa’s untimely death and the subsequent nightmare they’d endured. Molly needed Maddie to provide for her. She was all her younger sister had. The day Papa had passed away, his throat so ravaged by consumption, he’d barely been able to speak.
“Take care of your sister, Madeline,” he’d croaked.
“I will, Papa. I promise.”
And then Maddie had gone and done something that had not only compromised Molly’s future, but her own. Which was why at the age of one and twenty, Maddie, the elder daughter of a baron, was working as a lady’s maid for one Lady Henrietta Hazelton in London, scrimping and saving every ha’penny to send back home to her sister.
Maddie peered down the staircase once more. A thrill of excitement shot through her. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be dressed this way. She shouldn’t be contemplating what she was contemplating. But after three years of following the rules every second, she was about to burst. Tonight, she intended to take a chance, to have a bit of fun. Just a small taste of the life she’d always thought would be hers until it all went wrong.
What she was about to do was stupid and selfish. But if she had to endure one more day in the drudgery of service without anything exciting, or even mildly out of the ordinary, she’d go mad. There was no choice, really. She already knew what she would do. She had known it since the moment she’d woken up this morning with her outlandish idea lodged in her brain and whispered it to Anna in the early, cold, dark moments before they slid from bed and began their chores. Maddie was going to sneak into her employer’s ball and pretend to be a guest.
Chapter Two
Justin Whitmoreland, the Marquess of Whitmore, was bored. He was always bored at ton events and this one was particularly boring. Hazelton’s Twelfth Night Ball was an annual affair attended by nearly everyone in London. Justin was here for only one reason, however. To assist his closest friend, Sebastian, the Duke of Edgefield, who happened to be unhappily married to Justin’s sister, Veronica.
Edgefield had asked Justin to meet him here to stave off the gossip as to why Veronica wasn’t in attendance. As a duke with a prominent role in Parliament, Sebastian was required to attend such affairs. But without his duchess at his side, there would be questions. The lie was more plausible when Sebastian wasn’t the only one spreading it—Veronica was feeling poorly…for the second Twelfth Night in a row.
Thankfully, Sebastian had promised that all Justin need do was mingle for an hour, mention to as many people as possible that Veronica had unfortunately fallen ill again—rotten luck, that!—and then he could take his leave. His duty to Edgefield fulfilled, Justin would be free to go to one of his favored gaming hells and spend the remainder of the evening engaged in much more pleasurable pursuits.
He didn’t have much longer for pleasurable pursuits. This would be his final Season as a bachelor. He intended to make the most of it. Next year, his eighteen-year-old twin sisters would come to town to prepare for their debuts. He adored his sisters, all three of them, and he would do anything for them, but there was no doubt the twins’ presence would require a significant change to his normally profligate schedule. He would be expected to squire them about town and eventually choose husbands for both of them, with their approval, of course. He had no illusions that his headstrong sisters would not be entirely involved in selecting their own husbands. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted all three of them happy. He even held out hope of Veronica and Edgefield reconciling. Though that was taking much longer than expected.
Fiercely loyal, Justin had a soft spot for his family and friends, which was precisely why he was here at this excruciatingly boring ball tonight, helping Edgefield pretend to be happily married. In fact, Justin had been here nearly a quarter of an hour already, though he had yet to locate his friend in the crush.
Justin expelled his breath. By God, the ball was even more crowded than last year…filled with marriage-minded misses and their mothers. The Season was not yet underway, so the ladies of the ton used Hazelton’s ball as their one opportunity to march their darlings under the eyes of perspective grooms before it began.
Justin had already dodged half a dozen such mamas, their prim little daughters standing demurely at their sides. He was a thirty-year-old bachelor marquess, a prime target for such duos.
He glanced up.
Blast.
Lady Hazelton herself and her horse-faced daughter Henrietta were headed directly toward him. He needed to remove himself. Quickly.
Turning and pushing through the throng, he made his way down the nearest corridor and into the last room on the right. He shut the door behind him and pressed his back against it, closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief.
He’d narrowly escaped. Lady Hazelton and Henrietta were one of the most strident pairs he’d encountered. Insistent, loud, and not given to graciously accepting polite refusals of their requests. Justin made it a habit to keep from their sight.
“That was close,” he murmured to himself, releasing a deep sigh into the empty, darkened room.
“What was close?” a lively female voice asked.
Chapter Three
Maddie immediately regretted the words that had flown from her lips. Molly always said she was too quick to speak at times. She certainly had spoken too quickly one very important time in particular. She should have remained hidden by the potted palm she’d jumped behind when the door to the drawing room opened. She should have remained silent.
She’d been brave enough to descend the servants’ staircase, lift the skirts of her pilfered blue ballgown, and tiptoe down the corridor toward the grand ballroom, but then a pair of footmen had come round the corner, and she’d fled into the first room she found.
A drawing room. A thankfully empty drawing room. She’d been trying to work up the nerve to continue with her plan ever since. She’d nearly convinced herself to do the intelligent thing and scurry back abovestairs with her tail between her legs when the door swung open, and a gentleman had rushed in.
