Prologue

S elena Brooks gazed over the sea of dancers on the ballroom floor, their laughter rising in waves of merriment. An emotion she could not feel and had not experienced in longer than she could remember. In many ways, she had been alone her entire life. Her uncle had taken her in as a young child—not out of affection, but because it was expected. The previous Earl of Foxcroft, her uncle, had been a wastrel, running his estates into debt and leaving the task of salvaging it all to his son. Selena did not believe for one moment that her uncle had acted out of kindness.

When her father died, Selena had been left a modest inheritance. Though not wealthy, her father, as a second son, had at least secured her a small dowry. Her uncle, however, had gambled it away, leaving her with nothing. Now, in her second season, she stood without any prospects, a wallflower soon to be labeled a spinster if nothing changed. Her gowns had seen better days, many repurposed and restyled, but there was only so much that could be done. Several dresses were starting to show signs of wear, and would not endure much longer.

She was ready to accept defeat. Balls and soirees were not yielding any results. No gentleman would offer for her. It was time to let go of the dream of marriage and find a new purpose for her life. The hope of a family and a home of her own had slipped from her grasp. No gentleman seemed willing to accept her simply as she was. Apparently, it was not enough to be herself; they wanted connections and wealth. It did not seem to matter that she was considered a beauty—a fact that was not mere vanity on her part.

Selena resembled her mother, who had once been the most sought-after debutante of her season. Her mother, however, had fallen in love with her father, the second son of an earl, and refused all other suitors. They had shared a true love match. Selena remembered those happier days before she lost both her parents at the age of ten. She had known joy once. Since then, her life had been overshadowed by grief and loss—a weight she had never fully shaken.

Resigned to returning home after yet another disappointing evening, she slipped from the ballroom. She was heading toward the entrance when an overheard conversation halted her. Selena ducked behind an alcove, hidden from view.

“Have you heard?” one woman said.

“You will have to be more specific, Lady Darby,” the other replied. “I have heard a great many things.” The woman had the sort of haughty tone that grated over Selena, and most definitely not in a pleasant way.

“The Earl of Foxcroft might actually be considered a respectable match soon,” Lady Darby laughed. “Or so my husband claims. Imagine that—to no longer be a fortune hunter! He is bolstering his coffers by doing scandalous things. Imagine—a nobleman engaging in trade! No true gentleman would stoop so low.”

They were rude old biddies. Selena clenched her jaw. David was not a fortune hunter. That would imply he hadn’t worked tirelessly to restore the family’s fortune. Though he wasn’t quite there yet, he had made significant strides, and Selena tried to be as frugal as possible to help his cause.

“He should have married an heiress,” the other woman sniffed. “That is what one does when an earl finds himself penniless.”

What did they know? David was not the type to marry for money alone. Selena respected him for his integrity. He had resolved to rebuild their fortune on his own merit. He had already told her that he intended to fully restore her dowry, not that it mattered to her. She would not want any man who would consider her only once she had money. A gentleman who valued her only for her wealth was not worth having.

“And did you see that cousin of his?” one of the ladies scoffed. “Why does she persist in attending balls in such unfashionable attire? It is positively pitiable.”

And that was why she was finished with society. Women like these only deepened her misery with each passing day. She could no longer bear it. It would be far better to retreat from society altogether. She stifled a sigh. Yet, as much as Selena wished to leave the ton behind, she knew she could not. David felt responsible for her, believing her lack of success in society to be his fault. She could not bear to disappoint him. So, she resolved to endure one more season. Her third would be her last.

“It is a shame,” the other woman said. “She is a pretty girl. With a proper dowry, she would have been married in her first season. But being a poor orphan ruined her chances.”

She had to leave. She could not listen to their gossip another moment. They stood directly in her path, leaving her no choice but to walk past them with her head held high, as though they had not just torn her and David apart with their words. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she stepped from the alcove.

Selena forced herself to maintain a slow, dignified pace as she walked down the hall. The two women fell silent when they noticed her and, thankfully, did not speak as she passed. At the entrance, she requested her shawl from a servant and fidgeted as she waited for it to be brought. Once it was in her hands, she wrapped it around herself and left the foyer as quickly as she could.

With no chaperone to answer to, she was able to slip out of the house unimpeded. David had escorted her to the ball, but he was engrossed in conversation with a potential business partner. He would be furious that she had left without him, but he would forgive her—he always did. Her cousin was a dear man, nothing like the other gentlemen of the ton. And even if some eligible man suddenly took notice of her, she couldn’t trust it. She would rather be a spinster than be wed to a man she could not respect.

Society had stolen every chance she had at happiness. Let them all go to the devil. She did not need them, and, by Jove, she would prove it. If only to herself.