Chapter 1

1

* P lease Note: This novella can be read as a standalone, but it picks up where the free prequel novelette left off, with the girls having just decided to play a game in which they dare one another to face their fears. If you haven't read the short prequel and wish to, you can read it for free on my site HERE .

Miss Margaret Taylor had never swooned, not once in her entire life.

But this evening? Well…

This evening she was willing to make an exception.

Because there were dares and then there were dares . And mere seconds after agreeing to one—after committing to doing the one thing she'd never dreamed to do, dance in public—here she was.

Her heart raced in her chest, and for a moment her vision blurred at the edges.

All she could see was the Duke standing directly before her where she sat amongst her fellow wallflowers.

Towering over her, to be precise.

The young, handsome, famously charming Duke of Carver. The Duke every young lady wished to marry.

The Duke who'd never once noticed her existence before.

The Duke…who'd just asked her to dance.

Would you do me the honor? He'd said it with that dazzling smile. His teeth were so perfectly straight and white, it only added to her certainty that this…was not real.

She was most certainly dreaming.

No one's smile was so very perfect, hence none of this was real. Not the crowd forming to await her answer. Not this unexpected excitement at the table of wallflowers who were only ever forgotten and abandoned in their corner.

And definitely not the handsome Duke with the perfect smile and the sandy-colored hair who was smiling down at her. Her . Poor Meg , as her family and friends called her. Pegleg Meg by those less generous.

No. None of this could possibly be real.

Clearly she was dreaming.

"Meg," Felicity hissed beside her, her dark brown curls bobbing as she leaned over. "Remember the game."

Meg blinked, and for some reason this made the Duke's smile broaden.

"I did not intend to make you uneasy, Miss Taylor," he said, as his friends behind him, and hers as well, all seemed to let out an exhale at once now that he'd broken what was rapidly becoming an awkward silence.

"Oh no, I…" Her voice trailed off as her mind went blank.

This was real.

This was truly happening. A duke had asked her to dance.

Felicity pinched her arm. A not-so-subtle reminder that an answer was expected. She glanced over at her brave, often brazen friend, and Felicity winked. "I dare you," she mouthed.

Meg's lips parted and her eyes widened. Oh yes, the dare. How could she forget the game they'd only just decided to play.

A game of challenges and dares. A game they'd learned about from their friend Ann's older sister Franny.

Franny, who was watching her now with such concern, Meg had the horrible urge to cling to the slightly older lady's skirts like a child.

Meg lifted her chin. But that was the point of this game, was it not? To learn courage. To face their fears.

And as Meg's greatest fear was having her worst flaw on full display, dancing was the dare Felicity had chosen for her. She might not actually have a peg for a leg, as everyone seemed to believe. But she did have a limp. An impossible to ignore one, that made everything she did look awkward and clumsy.

So Felicity had challenged Meg to accept the next man who asked her to dance.

And Meg had laughed.

She nearly laughed again now, though this choking sensation felt more like hysteria than amusement. Just moments ago she'd laughed aloud at the very idea of any gentleman asking her to dance.

Everyone knew she did not dance. She'd made excuses often enough that gentlemen had stopped asking.

Until today.

Until now.

It was almost uncanny the way he'd asked just moments after she'd made that dare.

"I-I—" I cannot . That was what she wanted to say, but the handsome duke's smile held her captive, and the glint of laughter in his eyes held no malice. In fact, the amusement in his eyes made her want to laugh as well. It seemed to say that all was well and that she was perfect.

She blinked as her feet slammed back down on the floor of this ballroom and her head was once more back on earth.

Perfect? Her? Ha!

His brows hitched ever so slightly as he studied her. He was waiting.

Seconds ticked by with each heartbeat, and she was vaguely aware of her friend Ann rushing to her rescue by filling the silence. The sweet redhead was asking the gentlemen gathered how they were enjoying their evening. Or…she tried to ask that, but her stammer made it difficult to understand her.

Felicity nudged Meg's arm with a loud hiss to ‘ say yes already '. Meanwhile, her painfully shy friend Jane seemed to be shrinking beside her at all this newfound attention at their table.

All in all, she and her friends had managed to take a perfectly normal moment and make it dreadfully awkward.

That sounded about right.

"Isn't that so, Jane?" Felicity was saying to the pretty blonde currently trying to disappear into a fern.

They were all buying her time to recover from her shock, but dear, shy Jane shouldn't have to be tortured by attention.

This was her challenge and Meg meant to accept it. She drew in a deep breath and lifted her chin. "I would be happy to dance."

Everyone ceased speaking at once and all eyes were on her.

It was then that she realized just how much of a scene the Duke had caused by coming over here. By singling her out, by…

By asking her to dance.

Everyone knew she didn't dance. For the briefest moment she wondered why he might have asked.

"You would," the Duke affirmed, his tone just a little...off. But Meg couldn't quite bring herself to look at his face to see his expression.

The last time she'd met his gaze, his smile very nearly blinded her. She had to have all her wits about her to face that flash of charm yet again.

His arm was before her, in her line of sight, and Meg placed her hand upon it, her gloved fingers resting on the dark, fine wool of his suit. For the second time in her life she pondered if she might swoon.

But no. She was not a young lady who swooned. Now, her mother on the other hand… She cast a quick glance around to see if her mother was part of the crowd hovering nearby.

The most romantic and exciting moment of Meg's life would surely be ruined if one of her mother's dramatic swoons ended her first dance before it could begin.

No sight of her mother—not surprising, really, since her mother had taken to depositing Meg with her fellow wallflower friends before partaking in gossip with her own acquaintances.

The duke guided her away from the table, and Meg was vaguely aware of her friends' hushed squeals of excitement and their giddy whispers that followed her.

This was it. Like magic, she'd been dared to accept a dance, and her dance partner had appeared.

No, it wasn't magic. It was fate. It was the heavens rewarding her bravery. It was…

Well, it was still more than a little fantastical.

This was even better than her most fantastical, romantic daydreams.

To be honest, her daydreams typically did not revolve around her. They were dreams fit for a perfect version of herself who'd never existed in real life. The real Meg Taylor was far too imperfect for such an exciting, heartwarming moment.

Her heart fluttered wildly.

But here she was. On the arm of a duke.

A duke who was walking slowly beside her.

Very slowly, indeed.

Was he attempting to be courteous to her condition?

She risked a glance at the crowd around her, her skin tingling with pleasure at the whispers as they passed.

For the first time in her life, she felt like the brilliant debutante she'd been meant to be. The belle of the ball. A diamond of the first water.

The Duke asked her to dance. Do you see who he chose? Who is she? I cannot believe it, the Duke is finally dancing. But who is that? Why, it cannot be Miss Taylor.

She caught enough whispers to know that everyone was as shocked as she. But the Duke's slow pace was beginning to be cumbersome. Almost like they were barely moving at all. Her slippered feet shuffled on the wood floor, and if she wasn't mistaken, the crowd's mood was shifting as well.

Excited whispers were turning to curious stares. The crowd felt as though it were descending on them rather than parting for them, and the whispers…?

The tone of those whispers seemed to shift all at once like an ocean current.

The Duke stopped before they reached the ballroom's dance floor, and he turned to her once more.

And that was when she finally braced herself for an onslaught of masculine charm…and looked up. For the first time since she'd accepted his offer of a dance, she lifted her gaze, and…

And she saw it.

Horror.

Discomfort, at the very least, but then again...no. Her breath caught and her belly dropped swiftly, as if the room had just been flipped upside down.

Her first assessment was accurate. The look in his eyes was very clearly horror. Even that charming smile had frozen into a sneer that made her blood run cold.

But it was the whispers that drove away the last wisps of hope, and in its place was a deep and soul-crushing mortification as she caught the snickers and snide tones.

He asked Pegleg Meg. Did you see? She actually thought he chose her, the poor thing. I'd heard he was incorrigible. Isn't he just awful? What a wicked trick. How sad for her…

The whispers were laced with laughter, and the laughter was filled with malice.

And for the first time in her life, Meg truly wished she was a young lady who swooned.