Prologue

1814

London, England

“Your gentleman caller does not come around anymore, does he?”

Violet’s hand that held the pencil froze and hovered over the sketchbook. She had not wanted to listen to the conversation, as frustrated with her cousin’s interference as her sister was, but now, she had no choice. Dropping the sketchbook firmly into her lap, she sat straight and pushed the loose curls of blonde hair that had fallen out of her chignon back from her face.

Across the room, she could see who had spoken. Her cousin, Louise, was practically crowing in victory as she walked up and down the room.

“Mama was right. No good comes from encouraging the attentions of a man like Sir Percy Babington, does it?” Louise practically giggled with the words.

“I…” Penelope trailed off.

Violet’s eyes shot to her sister to see Penelope was sitting forward in her chair, barely paying attention to the embroidery in her lap.

“No, he does not come around anymore,” Penelope said miserably and stabbed the embroidered cloth with the needle another time.

“We knew he was no good. It shows a poor judgment of character, that is what my Mama says,” Louise crowed another time as she walked in front of Penelope.

I have had enough of this.

Violet stood to her feet and dropped her notebook so loudly on the table beside her that both Louise and Penelope flinched. Penelope’s fair curls turned in Violet’s direction and Louise spun around, her red hair whipping with the movement.

“We hear the opinions of your mother from her own lips, Louise. Do you have an opinion of your own to share?” Her tartness earned a warning glare from Penelope behind Louise’s back, clearly telling her to be quiet, but Violet did not listen. She strode across the room instead, meeting Louise’s gaze.

Violet may have been significantly shorter than Louise, but she would never cower to her cousin’s pride.

Louise’s lips opened and closed, but no words passed them. Clearly, she had not expected such words to escape Violet.

“No? Well, perhaps we should leave my sister to her embroidery. She is content here in peace, and that peace and quiet is rather being disturbed at present. If you wouldn’t mind.” Violet spoke with a sweet and kindly tone, even if the words were to the point.

Louise was wrongfooted. She narrowed her brown eyes, clearly wishing to be tart too, but apparently, words failed her. She hurried from the room instead, and Violet followed, being careful to close the door behind her. Once Louise was gone, Violet turned back into the parlor and sighed, leaning on the door.

“Oh, good lord! Save me from our cousin’s proud ways,” she gushed, rather relieved when she brought a smile to her sister’s lips.

“You think we would be used to it by now after how long we have been here,” Penelope murmured, looking down at her embroidery once again.

“Used to it? No, indeed. Our cousin is as changeable as the English weather. Sometimes she is kind, other times, like the clouds, she is so ill-tempered that she marches around the house, practically making the floorboards shake beneath her feet.”

“Do not let her hear you say that!” Penelope shook her head madly.

“She can hear it. I do not mind.” Violet crossed the room and sat down by her sister’s side, flopping into the chair. She had hoped her jest would bring another smile to her sister’s lips, but it didn’t on this occasion. “Penelope, are you well, dearest?”

“Of course,” Penelope lied.

“You know I can tell easily by now when you are fibbing to me, do you not?” Violet leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially, as if it were the greatest secret ever told. “You are my sister, Penelope. I can read you like a book.”

“Do not tease me, Violet.”

“I am not teasing. I am trying to make you smile, though I admit I am failing in my task at present.” Violet sat back again. “You have a habit of flattening your lips together when you lie.” Penelope purposefully lifted her head and smiled as if to dispel the illusion of a lie. “It is a good attempt, but you still lied. Would you tell me what is wrong, sister?”

She half-expected Penelope to start speaking at length of Sir Babington, the gentleman caller who had spent months trying to earn Penelope’s attention, and when he had it, had frittered off very quickly. Like a bumble bee that persists with one flower, Violet thought Sir Babington just the same. He had waited until Penelope had turned her head toward him, then he had flown away.

“I…” Yet Penelope was not one for indulging in long speeches of what was in her heart. Violet usually had to tease it out of her.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, dearest.” Violet reached for her sister and took her hand off the embroidery, clasping her fingers in her own.

“I know.” Penelope lifted her head, revealing there were tears in her eyes.

“Oh, what is wrong? Is it Sir –”

“Please, do not say his name. It is something quite different that upsets me.”

“Pen, what is it?”

“I feel… Oh, it is all the time at the moment.” Penelope flung back her head dramatically. When she accidentally pricked herself with the needle, she cried out and lifted her finger to her lips, sucking on the blood. “Every morning,” she murmured once she lowered her hand again, “and this morning, it is far worse.”

“What is worse?” Violet leaned forward, feeling her worry begin to burn within her. “Goodness, what is wrong?”

“I feel so sick. All the time.” Penelope’s words were barely audible, they were so quiet. “Every day, it is like this gnawing sensation in my gut.” She gently placed down the embroidery beside her and rested a hand on her stomach. Her other hand was now clutching at Violet’s, as if it was the giver of life itself. “Violet… I fear…”

“Fear what?” Violet did not get an answer to her question, for Penelope had lifted both hands to her lips. There was an awful sound within her throat, one that forewarned what was about to happen.

Violet was on her feet within a second. There was no chance they could make it to a privy or a chamber pot in time. Instead, she dragged poor Penelope to the garden door and flung it open.

Beyond the door, late-blooming irises and poppies swayed in the breeze. Penelope pushed them all to the side and bent her head down as she began to retch in the grass.

Violet kicked the door shut behind them, not wanting Louise or anyone else in the house to discover what was happening just yet. Not until she knew the cause of this sickness.

Bending down to her knees, Violet held her sister’s hair and rubbed her back whilst she was sick, taking care of her.

“There, there. Let it out, Pen. All will be well again in a minute.” Violet made her tone soft. When Penelope finished and sat back, wrinkling her nose when she caught sight of what she had done, she offered a small smile to Violet.

“That is what our mother used to say. ‘All will be well again,’ she said that so much.”

“That she did.” Violet wouldn’t let herself grow sad at the mention of their mother. At this moment, she had other things to worry about.

Must I call a physician? Is this some passing sickness, or a bad filet of fish that has been ingested, or something else entirely?

“Penelope, we should take you upstairs so you can rest. As mother said, all will be well.”

“No, Violet, no, not this time.” Penelope’s words were rather wild. For one who was usually so quiet and softly spoken, it was starkly against her character. She pulled on Violet’s hands, not letting her leave just yet, and tugged her back down to her knees. She entwined their fingers together, latching onto Violet. “I fear I know what the cause of this sickness is, and it will not pass, not before everything becomes apparent.”

“Before what becomes apparent?” Violet asked. Penelope didn’t answer at first. The tears returned to her eyes, and she began to cry. The tears spilled quickly down her cheeks, running so fast that the drips hung off her chin. “Penelope, you are scaring me. Pray, tell me more before I go mad with worry.”

“I know what the sickness is.” Penelope spoke so quietly now that Violet had to lean forward to hear her. “It is not food poisoning, nor is it an illness that can be healed. Violet, it is of my own doing. Of mine and Sir Babington’s.”

Violet felt her body turn cold as she sat back on her knees. She prepared herself to hear the words, even before Penelope could utter them.

“Violet, I am with child.”

Chapter One

Benedict, when I find you…

Sebastian’s thoughts trailed off. As the sun shone down heavily, making his palms clammy around his steed’s reins and his back hot beneath his tailcoat, he rode on. He drove the horse forward with a kind of wildness to him, picturing himself as feral as the animal beneath him, with hair loosened by wind and skin buffeted red.

When Sebastian reached Hyde Park, he didn’t bother turning the horse in through the open gate. He vaulted the fence instead. The horse managed it easily and passersby squealed, either with delight at how impressive such a feat was, or the shock of the horse traveling so fast.

Sebastian couldn’t stop a small smile creeping into his face. He rather liked the idea of ladies giving him a wide berth, and the fans that fluttered across their faces now and the gloved hands that were lifted to lips in shock thrilled him.

Yes, stay away from me! It is for your own good.

When he reached the main path of Hyde Park, Sebastian had to slow down. There were far too many people to ride safely. The steed came to a steady trot, snuffling and snorting in his reins, frustrated at going so slow.

“I know, boy, I know,” Sebastian said deeply, comforting the steed as he patted his neck with a strong hand. “I’d rather be somewhere wilder too.” The horse had kept him company on his travels abroad to the continent. Like him, the steed seemed to suffer the confinement of London society and the ton too much. “To be back in the wilderness of Spain again, eh?” The horse snorted, as if agreeing with him.

“Your Grace Ashbury! Is that you?” a familiar voice cried.

Sebastian was forced to pull on the reins and put on a polite smile, turning to greet whoever had called to him. A rather rotund fellow with pudgy red cheeks that gleamed in the sunlight. The man was rather a dandy, with so many bows on his shoes that they had to appeal as much to the ladies as they did to him.

“Lord Melbury.” Sebastian bowed his head from atop the horse, greeting the man that had once been a close friend to his father.

“Well, well, I did not know we would have the pleasure of your company out here today,” Lord Melbury declared and walked toward Sebastian’s side, swinging the swagger stick in his hand in emphasis of each word.

“Nor did I,” Sebastian muttered before he lifted his voice louder. “I was supposed to be engaged with my brother today. It is the season for the hunt after all.”

“Ah, I see by your face that your brother has not turned up. I do believe young Lord Westmond is on a rather different hunt today, and not one that includes searching for foxes.” Lord Melbury was clearly thrilled by his own jest, chuckling away and turning his red cheeks a deeper shade of scarlet. He lifted his swagger stick and pointed through Hyde Park.

Sebastian gritted his teeth as he looked forward. Late-blooming flower heads swayed from side to side, dancing in his view, and the early turning autumnal leaves of horse chestnuts got in Sebastian’s way. He squinted through the blur where he eventually found his brother.

There you are.

Benedict was standing by the lake in Hyde Park, with no less than two ladies on either side of him, and a cluster of other ladies hovering close by. Each one was fluttering their fan and fussing with the necklines of their gowns.

Sebastian sent a pleading look to the heavens.

Surely, he cannot fall for such tricks.

Yet Benedict was smiling kindly down at the two ladies on either side of him, his eyes rather wide, like a child promised the taste of hot chocolate for the first time.

“He seems rather content, if you ask me,” Lord Melbury added with another laugh.

I didn’t ask.

“If you would excuse me, Lord Melbury.” Sebastian bowed his head another time from atop the horse and moved on quickly, keeping his rather rude thoughts to himself. He crossed the distance to his brother in seconds, pulling the horse to such a halt at the side of the lake that it whinnied loudly into the air and drew the attention of many.

The cluster of ladies nearby all turned their heads toward Sebastian. The fluttering of fans grew faster, and some primped their cheeks and pressed their lips together, bringing more color to them.

Save me from scheming ladies looking for a husband!

“Sebastian! Is that you?” Benedict cried good-naturedly.

“It shouldn’t be me. I should be miles away from here on a fox hunt right about now. As should you.” Sebastian didn’t get down from the horse at first. He fixed a knowing glare on his brother, watching as Benedict offered an apologetic smile.

“I am sorry, brother, I rather got a little… waylaid.”

“So I see.” Sebastian’s eyes flicked to the two ladies beside Benedict. They were both unashamed in their attention to Benedict. One had her arm through his and her gloved fingers were practically clinging to him. The other had adjusted the neckline of her gown so much that Sebastian was forced to lift his eyes elsewhere. “I apologize for interrupting, ladies, but I am in need of the company of my brother.”

“Oh! But we were so enjoying Lord Westmond’s company,” the first lady cried from where she stood on Benedict’s arm.

“This is Lady Hayes and Lady Bella, Seb,” Benedict said hurriedly.

“A pleasure, your Grace.” The young lady, Lady Bella, turned her attention on Sebastian and curtsied so far that she was in danger of tripping over. Sebastian chewed the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

I must get them away from Benedict! He does not know the danger he is in.

“Careful, Lady Bella. The ground is uneven here and you are likely to trip.” He cast a glance down to the earth beneath them. At once, Lady Bella looked down and nearly wrongfooted herself entirely as she stood straight.

Sebastian jumped down off his horse and tied the steed’s reins to the nearest branch of a tree before looking back to Benedict. The fool was now offering his other arm to Lady Bella, to stop her from falling over.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Sebastian muttered to himself, so quietly that the group seemed none the wiser to the fact he had spoken at all.

“The ladies were in need of a drink, Seb,” Benedict declared, lifting his gaze from the women at last. His deep brown eyes that were so like Sebastian’s own were rather moony as they stared at Lady Bella. “There is a teahouse not far from here.”

“Ah, and how do the ladies like their tea?” Sebastian asked as he crossed toward them. If he was going to protect his brother from their advances, then it was high time he was more forthright, even if it became rude.

I do not care what anyone thinks of me, after all.

“Do they take tea only with marquesses and nothing less?” His words clearly hit the mark. As the Marquess of Westmond, his brother was one of the most eligible bachelors of the season.

“I beg your pardon?” Lady Hayes said hurriedly as her sister blushed bright red.

“It is not the tea they want, but the company, Benedict.” Sebastian stepped near his brother, practically putting himself between him and Lady Hayes. At once, she was forced to release Benedict and step back.

“Seb, I –” Benedict’s tone was pleading, but Sebastian spoke over him.

“I imagine their thirst suddenly came upon them when they saw you. What do you say, Lady Bella? Am I wrong?” His question hit the mark for she stepped back too, also releasing Benedict.

“Come, Bella,” Lady Hayes said, striding forward and reaching for her sister’s arm. “It seems the Duke of Ashbury does not want our company today.” Lady Hayes towed Lady Bella away, though the latter kept looking back to Benedict as she went, offering a sweet smile and a wave that seemed to linger.

Once they were gone, wandering around the lake with other ladies, Sebastian heard his brother sigh beside him.

“Seb, I swear, I do not understand you.”

Sebastian smiled a little at these words and turned back to face his brother. Benedict’s fair hair was a contrast to his own, not just in color, but in style. Unlike Sebastian’s that was wild from the ride, Benedict’s was well-coiffed. It went with the pristine nature of his tailcoat and waistcoat. He was even well shaven, and he scratched at his chin now, shaking his head.

“Am I an enigma? Ha! If only, what a man would give to be anything half so interesting as a mystery.” Sebastian laughed and walked around his brother before taking hold of Benedict’s shoulder and steering him to look at the ladies that had just left. “Those ladies are not for you, Benedict.”

“You are becoming worse than a belligerent mother of a young lady of the ton,” Benedict said wryly, earning a deep chuckle from Sebastian.

“I suppose I am, but with good cause.”

“What good cause is that?” Benedict asked, laughing. Despite his laughter, he still waved after the ladies, and his eyes seemed rather dazed as he watched them. “They were perfectly pleasant, they had charm, and were very handsome. Pray tell me why I could not enjoy their company?”

“Do you want the detail or the quick version?”

“The quick version, please, or we’ll be here all day and your horse will be most upset at the wait.” They both shot a glance toward the steed that was already pawing at the ground with his hooves, unhappy to be still so long.

“Come. If he sees us walking away, he will calm down. As we walk, I will give you the quick version of this lecture that you wanted,” Sebastian said and steered his brother away, aware that Benedict drove the fine heels of his hessian boots into the ground, trying to stall their progress.

“I don’t remember asking for a lecture, as such…”

“Then indulge me, for I am your brother.” Sebastian encouraged Benedict to walk the other way around the lake. With late summer turning to autumn, more and more trees above them were turning brown and orange, but their leaves hadn’t fallen just yet. Sebastian ran a hand through these leaves, snapping off a few of them before offering them to his brother.

“This is an odd gift,” Benedict murmured.

“This is how the ladies of the ton see you, brother. They see you as something that is easy to pluck.”

“Oi!”

“Hear me out,” Sebastian pleaded. “You are young, a marquess, wealthy, with your own estate –”

“As much as I enjoy your compliments, is there a point to this?” Benedict asked with one raised eyebrow.

“There is.” Sebastian paused in their walk and held his brother’s gaze. “Many ladies seek your company for one reason only. They see you as a viable husband.”

“What a shame!” Benedict said with thick sarcasm. “Was it not you who encouraged me to marry? I know I am the one who wants to marry, but you seem to have alighted on the idea with keenness. Why should the lady I wish to spend my life with, bother you so?”

“Yes, I am very eager for you to be wed and to see you happy.”

“And you? Will you wed?”

“We have been over this before.” Sebastian turned his back and continued his walk. He was not in the mood to have that particular conversation today, so he had to bring it to an end quickly. “I have no cause to marry. You should though. I think it will add to your happiness greatly.”

“If that is the way you feel, then why do you scare away every young lady that comes near me? Good lord, Sebastian, you’re better than a bulldog for a guard.”

“Am I?” Sebastian stood taller and adjusted the tailcoat on his shoulders.

“That was not a compliment!”

“I choose to take it as such,” Sebastian said with a smile, prompting his brother to shake his head again. “Now, listen, you know I want what is best for you.”

“You’ve said it a thousand times, though I do not always understand your ways.”

“Then hear me out a little more.” Sebastian took his brother’s shoulder once again and urged him to stop. The two came to a halt in the long reeds that surrounded the lake. As they swayed in the breeze, their leaves practically hissing beside them, Sebastian pointed through the reeds and across the lake, toward where the ladies were walking. “You are young, and not yet experienced with ladies.”

“How can I be if you frighten them all away?”

“By learning from my knowledge.” Sebastian gestured to the ladies another time. “Lady Bella was so keen to get your attention that the neckline of her gown was never fixed, and Lady Hayes was most reluctant to release your arm at all, was she not?”

“And?”

“And? You do not see a problem with these things? Ha! Benedict, you are naïve. Any lady who is truly interested in you will not resort to tricks.” Sebastian held his brother’s gaze as his voice became solemn. “They will get to know you first, not your title, before they decide they like you. As much as I want you to marry, I want it to be the right woman. Marry the wrong one and it could be a life of misery. What kind of brother would I be if I allowed you to do that?”

Sebastian urged his brother on again. They walked around the lake, coming dangerously close to Lady Hayes and her sister.

“I suppose you are right.” Benedict sighed with the words. “Though I still do not know how you can judge a lady as being artful and cunning with just one glance.”

“One glance is sometimes all that is needed –” Before Sebastian could say anymore, a cry went up from the lake’s riverside.

“What was that?” Benedict was already hurrying forward, before Sebastian could stop him.

Sebastian followed behind, though at a much slower pace. He could see Lady Hayes up ahead had tripped on the reeds and was now prostrate on the ground, but at a rather unnatural angle. Her gown seemed to be adjusted just so to flatter her, and the hem of her skirt was lifted a little.

“Subtle, indeed,” Sebastian murmured wryly, watching as Benedict caught up with the lady.

“Lady Hayes, goodness, are you injured?” Forever the gentlemen, Benedict took off his top hat and bent down to his knees, offering his hand to Lady Hayes. Beside them, Lady Bella stood, waving a hand in front of her face as if she might swoon from the shock of it all.

This is as good as being at the theater!

Sebastian worked hard to hide his smile as he reached their side.

“I fear my sister is greatly injured, Lord Westmond,” Lady Bella said with drama in her tone.

“As do I,” Lady Hayes spoke quickly. “It is my ankle, my lord. It is in need of attention.” When she lifted her leg a little too easily, urging Benedict to check for an injury, Sebastian hid his laugh behind a cough. He earned merely a glare from Benedict, who knew that it really was a laugh, though the ladies didn’t seem to notice.

“Then we must get you to a physician, my lady.”

What!?

Benedict’s declaration left Sebastian shaking his head, fearing that his brother’s rather young and naïve ways would always make him a target of a pretty lady. One smile and he was enamored. Sometimes, Sebastian had to save his brother from himself.

“Good lord, what is that?” Sebastian said and stepped forward, pointing down at Lady Hayes.

“What?” she asked.

“Ah, I see what it is. A spider. It has just crawled under the hem of your dress, my lady.”

“Ahh!” She jumped to her feet, so remarkably quickly that Sebastian had to turn away to hide his laughter. Benedict caught up with him and pulled on his tailcoat.

“Seb! That was not funny.”

“I think it was remarkably amusing. Look at poor Lady Hayes now, her ankle seems to have miraculously recovered, does it not?” Sebastian gestured back to the lady who was hopping up and down on both feet, terrified that a spider might be under her gown. “See?”

“Ah…” Benedict acknowledged it all with a nod. “I trust you are recovered, my lady?” His words made Lady Hayes freeze with her sister at her side, both attempting innocent looks that no longer worked.

“I am pleased to see your recovery was so fast. If you would excuse us.” Sebastian bowed his head and took his brother’s shoulder, steering him away once again. “How I wish you had come fox hunting, Benedict. As amusing as this all is, I could have done without it.”

“You are better than any chaperone, I’ll give you that, Seb. In fact, I hope you will continue with your duties tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow evening? What is happening then?”

“A ball, at Lord Melbury’s house.”

“A ball!?” Sebastian scoffed. “You know I am not a fan of them –”

“Yes, I know. Who would go to a ball when the enjoyment of riding their horse wildly is to be had? Did you knock people over on your way here like skittles? The way you ride, I would not be surprised,” Benedict added wryly.

“They jumped out of the way, for the most part,” Sebastian continued the jest, much to his brother’s delight.

“Say you will come tomorrow night, please.”

“To a ball?”

“Please. Besides, without you to watch over me, I might just fall for the charms of a pretty woman who is out to marry my title.” Benedict’s astute words had Sebastian falling still and offering a glare.

“You have played me.”

“It has worked though, has it not? Say you will come, brother?”

Do I have a choice?

Chapter Two

“Can Mary spare the time?”

“I am afraid not,” Violet said as she stood behind Penelope and gathered her hair together. “It seems the one maid we have has been forced to join the many others that are already attending to our cousin.” Violet turned her gaze on Penelope in the vanity mirror above the table where she sat, seeing the nervous way that Penelope chewed her lip. “Have no fear, I’ll do a good job.”

“I do not doubt it,” Penelope said, though her voice lacked enthusiasm. Violet knew how much her sister longed for the assistance of the one maid they had at times.

In the quiet room, Violet began to pin Penelope’s hair, preparing her for the ball. She took extra care tonight, placing pearls attached to pins into the curls at the rear of her sister’s head, to ensure attention would be drawn to the fairness of Penelope’s hair.

“Quite beautiful,” Violet said after she stood back and surveyed her work.

“Thank you, but I fear I –” Penelope broke off as she held a hand to her mouth, making that sound that was now so familiar to Violet.

Casting a worried glance toward the door, Violet reached beneath her bed and fetched an empty copper chamber pot, before bringing it to Penelope and placing it on her lap.

“Th-thank you.” Penelope stammered, clearly trying to hold in her sickness as she bent over the chamber pot.

“Well, if I have to grab your curls and hold your hair back again, I’ll ruin all my good work,” Violet said softly as she dropped down to her knees in front of her sister. To her delight, she saw her jest pleased her sister, and a small smile appeared, even if it only lasted for a few seconds. “There, how are you feeling now?”

“A little better.” Penelope still stayed bent over the bowl though, clearly reluctant to leave it just yet. “It’s not getting any better, is it?”

Violet held her sister’s gaze, wishing with everything she had that she could say it was.

Yet it is not.

It had been a challenge indeed these last couple of weeks to hide Penelope’s state. The sickness had at first been played off as a passing illness, but now they were forced to hide it, out of fear that if her uncle or aunt, or Louise, saw Penelope was sick so much, they might call a physician.

He could know exactly what causes Pen’s sickness. What then if he were to tell our uncle and aunt?

Violet slowly stood to her feet and walked around Penelope as she placed down the chamber pot, apparently done for the moment with her sickness.

“What am I going to do, Violet?” Penelope broke the silence in the room.

They looked at one another in the vanity mirror. Penelope sat down on the stool and Violet stood behind her, with her hands gently resting on her sister’s shoulders.

“What will happen to me?” Penelope whispered.

“Have no fear.” Violet forced a smile into her cheeks. “I promised I would think of something, did I not?”

“Are you able to think of miracles?” Penelope asked with a laugh, though there was no real humor in it.

“Perhaps I am,” Violet said with false pride, then laughed at herself. “Trust me, Pen, that is all I ask, all is not lost yet. Have we not hidden your secret well so far?”

“By the grace of God, luck, and our maid.” Penelope gestured to the door, beyond which in another part of the house, Mary was now helping to care for Louise. Violet nodded, knowing how fortunate they were to have Mary’s help. She had hidden Penelope’s sheets on more than one occasion and washed them herself, to stop anyone from discovering that Penelope no longer bled.

“Well, in these situations, most women marry,” Violet uttered the words she had been afraid of saying.

“Marry? Me!?” Penelope spluttered. She stood to her feet and turned to face Violet. “I cannot marry.”

“All I am saying is that it would be a way to hide the pregnancy.”

“Yes, so it would. Yet I cannot marry. Not now. After I was so fooled by one man, I thought he genuinely…” She broke off, as tears appeared in her eyes.

“I know, I know,” Violet cooed softly and stepped forward, taking her sister in her arms and embracing her tightly. “I know what he made you think. We were all mistaken about him. We all thought he cared for you.”

Deep down, Violet seethed with anger, though she hid it for her sister’s sake. Sir Babington had a lot to answer for. He persuaded Penelope to believe she was in love, and that he loved her too, all so he could have one night with her, then he left, without another word.

He has done this to her.

“The mere thought of marrying frightens me, Violet, I cannot do it,” Penelope said miserably as she stepped back again, her eyes red with the effort of trying to quell those tears. “I cannot stand up in a church and vow to love another man forever. How could I?” She laid her hands on her stomach.

There was no swell there yet, but there was a child growing inside her. The thought of what that child was going to be born into made Violet’s heart thud harder and that anger swell again.

For Penelope, and for that child… I must do something!

Penelope lifted a hand to her lips. Clearly, in danger of being sick, Violet reached for the chamber pot, the copper cold to the touch, and thrust it into her sister’s hands. Penelope took hold of it and bent forward, but nothing came.

“Oh, Pen, perhaps you shouldn’t come to the ball.”

“I must! Or our aunt will know something is amiss, will she not? I have already missed three events these last two weeks.”

“I know, I know.” Violet sighed and turned away, her mind thinking quickly.

Penelope is right. She cannot miss any more events.

Yet it was only a matter of time before Penelope’s pregnancy started to show. At first, they could play it off as weight gain, but no one would be fooled for very long.

Think of something, you fool! Have you not promised to protect Penelope from all evils of this world? I failed to protect her from Sir Babington. I will not fail again!

“I’ll need a new gown, Violet.” Penelope’s words made Violet look up to see her sister had at last been sick, but some of it had caught on the gown.

“Oh, sister, do not worry. I’ll call for Mary and she’ll help us to get you changed speedily. Here, sit down, rest.” Violet took her sister’s arms and steered her to the nearest chair. “I’ll be back in two minutes.” She bent down and kissed her sister’s forehead before she parted. She heard Penelope whimper at that touch, as if she wanted Violet there longer, before she left.

Closing the door softly behind her, Violet wandered into the corridor, wringing her hands together. It was an old nervous action of hers, clenching and releasing her hands, rather like a cat with long claws.

She was on her way to Louise’s room to ask for Mary’s assistance when she caught sight of another chamber door that was open. It was to her aunt’s chamber, beyond which her aunt was striding back and forth, ready for the ball.

“Oh, oh, listen to this, Mavis,” she cried to the lady’s maid that hurried on behind her.

Well, at least a maid can be spared for someone else other than Louise. Rather a surprise.

Violet kept her thoughts to herself. Louise was the cherished daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Notley, and all their attention and money usually went to her.

Violet stepped back into the shadows of the corridor and peered around the edge of the doorframe, watching as her Aunt Deborah fluttered around the room with a scandal sheet in her hands. The lady’s maid hurried behind her, trying to proffer forward a necklace.

“It talks of the Marquess of Westmond,” Deborah said with a manic wave of her hand. She waved the scandal sheet so hard in the air, it was almost like a lady’s fan, fluttering at her cheeks. “The Marquess, though the younger brother of the Duke of Ashbury, is certainly the much talked of gentlemen of the season. With enough money to his own name and a vast country estate, he has caught more than one lady’s eye.’”

“Mrs. Notley, your necklace.” Mavis tried to offer the necklace another time, but Deborah was so caught up in her own words, she didn’t even seem to notice. Her pudgy hand lifted the scandal sheet another time as she continued to read.

“Whereas the Duke has earned a reputation for travel and can be seen in the corners of balls and assemblies, plainly eager to not be present, his brother is another man entirely. So many dances he has shared with young ladies this season that it is plain to observe his eye could be won by any lady discerning enough to have him. Will the Marquess of Westmond find a bride this season? This writer is sure to write of the gossip when she hears more.’”

Deborah ended her speech by closing up the scandal sheet. “Oh, Mavis, what a thing that could be for the girls.”

“The girls?” Mavis said in surprise, lowering the necklace on her palm.

“Oh, think faster, Mavis. You must realize I am thinking of one of the girls catching his eye. There are three young ladies under this roof that we must see wed.” Deborah crossed the room and threw the scandal sheet down on her dressing table before turning back to take the necklace from her maid.

Violet slowly crept closer to the door, to better listen to her aunt.

“Lord knows it will not be an easy task,” Deborah declared with a grimace. “My Louise is a beauty and has already charmed many a gentleman. Penelope may be a little plainer, but she has demureness I suppose. That will work in her favor. As for Violet, oh! My sister left me with a challenge when she bestowed Violet into my care.”

The words made Violet flinch and reach for the wall beside her. She planted a palm to the plaster, hating the way Deborah spoke.

It was hardly my mother’s choice to pass away, was it?

“That girl can speak without thinking. Heaven knows what some gentlemen think of her.”

“Yet she is a beauty, is she not, Mrs. Notley?” Mavis’ words were clearly unwelcome, for Deborah snatched a ring out of her maid’s hand and made her scurry back.

“I suppose she has a certain charm,” Deborah added reluctantly. “Yet the girls must marry. How can I not think of this Marquess of Westmond? So wealthy, so desired, and respected. Oh, imagine if he caught the eye of young Louise? What a happy thing that would be!” Deborah clapped her hands together in delight, making the extra fat on her arms jiggle.

Violet stepped back away from the door, creeping away on her tiptoes, yet she listened on, reluctant to disappear completely.

“Hear what else it has to say, Mavis.”

“What of your bracelet, Mrs –”

“Shh!” Deborah said firmly and returned to her scandal sheet. “Whichever lady turns her eye on the Marquess of Westmond might be in for a greater challenge than they thought. Allow me to warn any young lady readers out there, for though the Marquess can clearly be charmed by his smile, the older brother does not look so easy to charm. The Duke of Ashbury may have only recently returned from his travels, but he seems reluctant to let his younger brother dance with every lady at a ball.’ How troublesome,” Deborah continued on. “Well, with Louise’s charms, we must hope she can slip by this Duke.”

Violet crept away. Walking on the tiptoes of her shoes, she moved onto Louise’s room, though she paused outside of the door, not quite knocking, for she was deep in thought.

The Marquess of Westmond…

Here was an interesting prospect. Here was a man that was wealthy and had a country estate. It could be the perfect way to hide Penelope away from the worrisome gossip of the ton. With money to their names, Penelope would be well taken care of. Who would care then if she had a child? The rumors would struggle to travel far from the country, and they would have the fortune to care for the child.

“They could be happy,” Violet murmured to herself under her breath. “Penelope and the child… they could be happy.” She lowered her hand from where she had raised it to knock on the door and crossed to the nearest mirror on the landing.

Framed in gold with a beveled edge, the mirror reflected back her image. Violet fussed at her reflection a little. She brushed back the loose golden locks from her updo that framed her face, peering at the green eyes that stared back at her. She had never thought of herself as particularly pretty, rather plain in comparison to her sister, yet Mavis had described her as a beauty.

Violet had always found her green eyes were rather too large on her face, and her lips were far too plump. They were nothing like Penelope’s that were slim and had this habit of curling into an elegant smile.

Could it be possible for me to catch a gentleman’s eye?

She adjusted her Pomona green gown, so bold in color that it matched her eyes, then she tweaked a few of the golden gems in her hair. Once content with her appearance, she stepped back.

“This could work,” Violet muttered to herself. So caught up in her thoughts, she neglected to knock and call for Mary after all. She shot back across the corridor, hastening to her room, and bustled through the door.

She moved so fast that Penelope jumped on the other side, nearly dropping the chamber pot she had balanced in her lap.

“Let me guess, Louise cannot afford to spare Mary?” Penelope asked with a wry smile. “You would think two maids were enough for her without taking the one we shared.”

“Pen, Pen!” Violet said enthusiastically, hurrying forward, “I have had an idea.”

“You certainly seem excited by it.”

“I am. Nervous too, but oh, determined as well.” Violet grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it forward, sitting down in front of her sister and taking her hand.

“Do not come too close, Violet, I don’t want to ruin your gown too.”

“Tush, if it happens again, I will hold back your hair for you. Now, listen to me.” Violet leaned forward. “To take care of you, we need money and a house. To get either of those things, we need a husband.”

“Violet, I told you. I cannot marry. Besides, how am I supposed to convince a gentleman to marry me in such a short space of time?”

“No, Pen, I do not mean you. I mean that I shall marry. If I could catch the eye of a gentleman and persuade him to accept my hand, well, you would be safe. Is it not a wonderful idea?”

“Wonderful? My thought was reaching for impossible!”

“Pen!” Violet sat back, affronted.

“No, I didn’t mean why would any man want to marry you. I meant how will you get a man to marry you so fast.”

“Well, I suppose I will have to make a plan.” Violet moved to her feet and clasped her hands together. “Here is what we shall do.”

Be sure to read the rest when this book releases on 19th July!