Chapter 3

The candles at Payton House shone bright golden light onto the polished marble floor of the ballroom. Belinda, standing by the big archways at the back, stared out across the bright expanse, her heart thumping with a mix of pride and nerves. She jumped in surprise as she heard the butler announce the first guests.

"Lord and Lady Arnott, and their daughter, the Honorable Miss Prestwick."

Belinda looked over at the low stairs that led down into the ballroom. Usually, she would be there with the family, lined up to greet the guests, but they had decided to change that rule. She swallowed hard, her cheeks flaming with shame. She had wanted to attend her sister's debut, and Estelle had insisted on it, but to organize things so that Belinda would not be in the public eye was not easy. Once the Ton had disgraced a person, there was no way that person could appear in public without that disgrace being discussed, and Estelle's reputation needed no tarnish put on it on the first day she appeared in society.

Belinda stood where she was and gazed out over the ballroom, feeling her heart twist with pain.

"Lord and Lady Westbrooke, and their son, the Honorable Mr. Newbridge."

Belinda watched as a couple walked down the stairs, followed by a young man perhaps four years her junior, his pale clover-honey hair bright in the light. Mama and Papa had stationed themselves near the stairs, so that Estelle could meet the guests informally, without the need for a reception line. Estelle curtseyed to the guests and Belinda grinned to herself, watching the young man bow low. Even from here, she could see the flush in his cheeks. Evidently, Estelle made quite an impression.

"Lord and Lady Atheridge, and their daughter, Lady Julia," the butler announced.

Belinda watched as another group descended the stairs. The young lady was of a similar age to Estelle, dressed in a pastel pink gown. The two young women curtseyed to one another, Lady Julia poised and gracious like Estelle. No smirch hung over their honor—they were free to enjoy themselves.

She swallowed hard again; her throat tight. She did not resent Estelle's happiness—she loved to see her sister's joy, and she wanted to protect her from what had happened to her, at all costs. It was another good reason to hold the ball privately—her parents could be as selective as they liked about the young men on the guest-list. Not that, she thought sadly, one could tell who was going to be bad just by looking at their name or their pedigree.

She let her gaze move around the ballroom and watched the footmen moving silently behind the refreshments table, their dark red livery rather grand against the white backdrop of the ballroom walls.

Her head whipped round again as the butler made another announcement.

"Lord and Lady Lavenham, and their daughter, the Honorable Miss Tate."

"Lila!" Belinda said aloud, pressing her hand to her lips as the delighted sound escaped her. She grinned, watching as her best friend crossed the floor and, after a moment of gazing out over the ballroom, spotted Belinda and walked over to her.

She felt her heart grow warm. Lila was one of the very few friends she had—one of the only people in London who had refused to believe the rumors. Lila had guessed immediately that there was more to the story and lost no time in asking Belinda about it. In a world where only Belinda's own family had shown any care for hearing her side of the story, Lila was a deeply valued friend.

The taint to Lila's own reputation for remaining Belinda's friend was something Lila didn't seem to care about—her parents had already arranged a match for her, and they were somewhat unconventional in any case. Lord and Lady Lavenham were not much part of the Ton either—they were rather eccentric and learned—and any further exclusion counted as a good thing, since they eschewed high society and its foolish whims.

Belinda watched as Lila drifted towards her. She was of average height, her blonde hair arranged in an elaborate coiffure, her dress pale green. She walked across to where Belinda stood, her long oval face breaking into a grin as she saw her.

"Belinda! My dear, dear friend. There you are!" Lila exclaimed, reaching for Belinda and embracing her. Belinda held her tight, smelling the floral scent of her friend's perfume. Their dresses rustled as they stood back.

"Lila," Belinda greeted her warmly, stepping back to look at her. "It's grand to have you here."

Lila smiled. "Look at you! That dress suits you beautifully. Blue is a fine colour on you."

Belinda blushed.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, looking down at her dress. It was a new gown, a pale blue muslin, the waistband darker blue like the ribbons that framed the puff-sleeves. The neckline was a low oval and the long skirt fell from the fashionably high waist to her ankles. Estelle had insisted that Belinda wore her new gown, saying that it suited her so well that she simply had to. Belinda had privately thought it would not matter what she wore, as the Ton would ostracize her anyway.

"What do you think of this evening?" Lila asked. They were not too far from one of the two long refreshments tables, and Belinda grinned, noticing that Lila had somehow acquired a glass of lemonade in her one hand without Belinda even noticing her taking it.

"I think it will be a fine evening for Estelle," she commented, reaching for one of the glasses and nodding as the footman on duty poured her the same lemonade.

"Grand," Lila said warmly. "She looks lovely. So young!" she grinned. She was a year younger than Belinda, just four-and-twenty, but they both, it seemed, felt much older than seventeen-year-old Estelle, just entering society.

"She does," Belinda said a little sadly. It felt strange, having her sister already so grown up.

"It looks like it shall be a fine evening," Lila commented, sipping her lemonade. "Good lemonade," she added with a smile. "Your cook does a much better one than the one that they serve in town."

"Good," Belinda said with a chuckle. "I'd be surprised if it was worse."

Lila let out a snort of laughter and they both giggled loudly. A few heads turned and Belinda went white. The scrutiny of the Ton frightened her. She stepped instinctively back into the shade of the pillar.

"Sorry." Lila looked downcast. "I didn't mean to draw so much attention."

"It is not your fault," Belinda said firmly, making an effort to step out of the shadow of the pillar. "If we cannot laugh at a ball, where then?"

"Quite so," Lila agreed firmly. "How long will the ball proceed?" she asked, changing the topic.

"Four hours," Belinda explained, glancing up at the candles, which were bigger than usual. Most candles would burn for three hours, but her parents had made sure to purchase four-hour ones for this ball, making it last for the longest acceptable length.

"Whew. And that means a lot of standing around and chatting," Lila said with a grin. "And a lot of dances."

"Mm," Belinda agreed. She glanced over to where a quartet of dark-dressed men were setting up their cellos and violins to play later. The ball would feature all the popular dances, including the controversial waltz. It was fashionable, Mama said, and so it had to be included, and Papa would not have gainsaid her in anything. All he wanted was for the evening to be as happy as possible. Belinda had not paid much attention to choosing the music—she was fairly sure she would not dance anyway. After eight years out of society, she doubted even whether anyone at the ball besides Lila still knew her, and she didn't think she would make any new acquaintances—not with the horrible scandal that still clung to her.

The noise in the ballroom increased. The space was getting quite full, the guests starting to arrive in force. There were at least thirty people in the room and another five at the top of the steps, waiting to be announced by Mr. Priester, their butler.

"What do you think about the latest fashion for Whitework embroidery for bonnets and caps?" Lila asked Belinda, distracting her from the arrival of the guests.

"Um...well, it's quite pleasant, I suppose." Belinda did not really have an opinion. She had been out of society and tended not to keep up with fashions. Whitework, she knew, was a design embroidered with white cotton on a white background.

"I like it too," Lila agreed, sounding pleased. "Mama said it's silly, as you can barely see the patterns, but I think it's quite pretty—and it's French, which has to be good," she added with a grin, sipping her lemonade, and lifting one wry eyebrow at Belinda.

"Mm," Belinda agreed, not really listening. She was watching the door, where three guests walked down the stairs into the ballroom. The three were striking people—a tall lady, dressed in dark gray, her gray-streaked brown hair in an elaborate chignon, and a young man and woman. The young man was most likely her son, and walked beside her, his head and shoulders rising above the crowd. Like the woman in gray and the younger woman, he was also tall. He wore deep black, his velvet jacket darker than his hair, which also looked black under the pale candlelight. The young lady walked behind them, her black hair arranged in a high bun and her dress one of white muslin, suggesting that she was also new out in society. She looked around the same age as Belinda's sister.

"Who are they?" Belinda asked softly. It was not just their striking appearance which held her interest, but the sudden silence that had descended on the hall. People stared, and some people turned away. More than one lifted their hands, whispering to one another as the group passed them. The three people walked with their heads high, oblivious to the whispers as if they walked behind an invisible shield.

"That's her grace the Duchess of Norendale and her children," Lila explained softly, leaning closer so she could not be overheard. "That's her son. He is now the Duke of Norendale, following the passing of his father several years ago."

"I see," Belinda replied, frowning. "What is..." she murmured, wanting to ask Lila why people were staring at the group, and whispering behind their hands, but Lila's parents, Baron and Baroness Lavenham, had wandered over. Lila's face brightened as she spotted them.

"Come and greet Mama and Papa!" she urged Belinda warmly. "Mama! Papa! Come on," she called as they walked swiftly over. Lady Lavenham smiled fondly at Belinda.

"My dear! How grand to see you."

Belinda greeted them, and got swept up into an embrace by Lady Lavenham, who smelled of rosewater and was wearing a soft gray gown. Her face was much softer than Lila's, a softened oval one.

"Come, my dear," Lady Lavenham murmured. "We were going to take the air on the terrace. Will you come with us?"

"Um...yes," Belinda said in a small voice. She glanced at Lila, who grinned and nodded.

"It's getting stuffy in here already," Lila commented, and before Belinda could object—she had wanted to stay to watch the new arrivals a little longer—she was being guided towards the doors with the Lavenhams.

She turned to glance back at the ballroom, looking for the Duchess and her family. The bright candles lit up the Duke of Norendale, standing at the edge of the room just a few feet away. His stance was straight-backed as if he was enduring the evening rather than enjoying it, his frown long-suffering, and she lifted a brow in surprise. He looked exactly like she must have when she was standing at the back. The tension and discomfort were identical.

His coal-black eyes met hers for a moment. She shivered. Even from the distance of perhaps ten feet away, she could see a brooding, angry glare in his eyes, full of bitterness and rage. She shivered again, instinctively drawing her thin shawl around her. She glanced around, wanting to look away from that hard, brooding gaze. Lord and Lady Lavenham, along with Lila, were out on the terrace—she could just see their heads where they stood beside the rail. She moved to join them, but she was stuck, caught between a group of dowagers and the doors to the garden.

She froze as she recognized one of the ladies, who was looking straight at her. It was Lady Talbot, one of the Ton's well-known scandalmongers.

"...and just as I was saying, Amy, it's a disgrace," Lady Talbot stated loudly. "A disgrace!" She repeated the words as if she enjoyed saying them. Belinda felt paralyzed as the woman's piercing eyes held hers.

"Quite so, my dear. Quite so," another lady murmured in agreement.

"She should not have attended. The whiff of scandal around her will cling to her poor sister, young Estelle. She's ruining her chances of advancement."

"Quite so," the other lady agreed again.

Belinda felt tears prick her eyes. They were talking about her!

The group of women had all turned to look towards the ballroom and all seemed to notice her standing there, because, for a moment they fell silent. However, Lady Talbot, who Belinda recognized as particularly cruel, continued loudly.

"A disgrace, I say. If one must behave so shockingly, one should have the grace to exit high society."

"A disgrace. Disgrace!" One of the women who Belinda did not recognize hissed the word. Neither were hiding that they were talking about her.

Belinda glared at them, but she could not stop tears of shame from sliding down her cheeks. She looked around wildly. She had hoped to exit the hall quietly and spend some time with her friends, but to do so, she had to find a way through the group that were tormenting her. She stood where she was, too scared to move.

"You would think," the other woman began again, but then, just as she was about to offer another insult, a low voice interrupted them.

"Hold your tongue," a man growled. "Lest you regret your next words."