Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Oh, is this not too exciting for words?"

Caroline Wentworth looked at her elder sister excitedly. "Soon you will be married," she continued, and Beatrice laughed, her voice ringing through the bedchamber. She glanced at the book that lay on Beatrice's bed and giggled mischievously.

"Confessions of a courtesan?" she teased. "My, are you already doing research on how to seduce your future husband?"

Beatrice blushed and shook her head. "Hold on, dear sister," she chastised. "Nothing is public yet."

Despite Beatrice's careful tone, there was no halting Caroline's excitement, however, as she continued feverishly.

"But by the end of the week, the announcement will be made… and tonight we will be dining with your betrothed! Oh, is it not everything you have ever dreamed of?"

Beatrice hesitated at this, though nothing could wipe the small smile from her face. "It is rather exciting," she admitted, "but I have to admit that I am quite nervous. I don't know Sebastian Fairchild in the slightest."

At this, Caroline leaned forward eagerly, her eyes wide. "Oh, but you will know him soon enough," she promised, then thought for a second and allowed a bright smile to appear on her face. "I've met him once," she admitted, and Beatrice swung round to look at her. Surprise was evident in her voice.

"You have?"

Caroline nodded eagerly. "It was not a great meeting, nor one of importance," she confessed. "But he is quite amiable and seems like a gentleman. He is very handsome. Every bit the hero from one of the novels we steal from our mother's secret library."

Beatrice's face lit up at this. "Oh, I have heard that he is quite attractive, but I was rather afraid to believe it," she admitted. "You know how some of the women in the ton are—any man who stands to inherit a title is deemed attractive. I hear that Lady Margery even found the Earl of Wilde's son an attractive prospect—evidently she was rather eager to marry and bed him, despite his shortcomings."

Caroline laughed softly and shook her head, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, you do not need to be concerned," she said, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. "He really is quite attractive. Tall, friendly… he is perfect for you, really. Oh, Beatrice… he will set your entire being on fire, I just know it."

"I have heard that he is quite the skilled lover," Beatrice confided with a blush. "I hear he has ruined more than one lady's reputation with his wicked ways."

"Oh, Beatrice!" Caroline exclaimed, scandalized, though she felt a secret thrill course through her at the thought. "You cannot say these things. Father will never let you marry a rake like that."

Beatrice merely grinned brightly and moved to sit in front of the large vanity, eyeing the maid who stood still behind her.

"Style it up," she ordered brightly. "With ringlets around my face."

The maid nodded quietly before her fingers deftly started working through Beatrice's blonde curls. Caroline watched quietly as the other woman worked on her sister's hair before flashing her own maid a smile.

"Oh, just a chignon please, Anne," she said with a small smile. After all, she mused silently, tonight was about Beatrice—it was not her place to attract attention whatsoever. She tugged uncomfortably at the deep green dress she had elected to wear.

It was not her color—it was far too deep, far too dark for one who preferred the brightness of red or the pastels she'd most often chosen. A hint of envy flashed through her when she glanced at Beatrice.

Her sister had made it clear that she was the one who would wear pastel colors that night. "It would look perfect with my hair and eyes," she had said—completely disregarding that Caroline shared the blonde hair and blue eyes Beatrice was so proud of.

But it was Beatrice who was getting married and as such, she deserved the attention—every bit of it.

Beatrice seemed to notice her sister's demeanor and she flashed her a quick look. "Do not fret, dearest one," she said with a small smile. "I am quite sure your marriage will follow swiftly on the heels of mine."

Caroline merely smiled at this, though Beatrice looked rather excited at the prospect. "Oh, do not be modest," she insisted with a laugh. "He is madly in love with you, you know? I have never seen a gentleman so mad about a lady."

It was all Caroline could do not to outright shake her head: she merely laughed softly and shrugged as though the topic was not really of interest to her.

"Oh, marriage," she scoffed with an uncomfortable laugh. "Do not misunderstand me, Edward is a fine young man, but… I am in no hurry to wed."

At this, Beatrice's eyes widened, and she looked at her sister with unbridled shock. "You… you are in no hurry? But Caroline…"

Caroline was not at all surprised that her sister was aghast at the idea of someone not wanting to marry. It was Beatrice's fondest hope that she should marry soon—and her greatest fear that she should not.

She leaned forward now and looked at her sister with a soft smile. "Edward is a fine gentleman," she reiterated, "though… he is sometimes quite overbearing, and it does tend to frighten me."

Beatrice looked at her sister as though she had gone mad, and a good-natured laugh left her lips.

"It is a good thing that a man is overbearing," she insisted. "It means he will take care of you. And of course, one can hope that he is then strong enough to make you his own."

Caroline merely shrugged at this. "I don't know," she admitted softly. "He is a great friend and while I do enjoy spending time with him, I do not truly see him as my future husband. I don't think of him in that manner. I cannot imagine bedding him." She shuddered at the thought and shook her head. "He is polite, but often he is just a bit too much. Too eager to touch me—to hold my hand or put a hand on my wrist," she admitted now. "And yet, there is no warmth or fire in my belly when we are together and… I do admit, he has tried at least once to kiss me, and it was a rather clumsy endeavor. Nothing at all like the passionate kisses I've read about."

Beatrice shook her head at this, frowning when the maid's fingers got stuck in a rebellious curl. Only once she'd fixed it, did Beatrice turn her gaze towards her sister again.

"You shouldn't complain about a gentleman giving you attention," she admonished. "I…"

Beatrice's cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson and she sighed. "I must admit," she said, her voice hushed—as though she was reluctant to share this. "I was rather afraid of not marrying in time."

At this admission, Caroline frowned, and she tilted her head to look at her sister. "Afraid?"

Beatrice nodded, emboldened by her sister's interest. "Well, I am twenty-four!" she exclaimed. "If I did not find a husband soon, I'd have been… a spinster!"

She said the last two words with an exaggerated shudder and closed her eyes. "Can you imagine? Is there a fate more horrid?"

Caroline leaned forward at this and took her sister's hand in her own. "Beatrice," she said, her voice gentle. "You'd never be a spinster."

Beatrice shook her head quickly, her lips curling downward. "I don't know," she admitted with a deep sigh. "I have had many suitors, but it always stops right before… you know, before there is even a chance of more… I don't know what it is that I do wrong…"

Caroline grabbed her sister's hand and gave it a quick squeeze, but Beatrice did not seem at all comforted.

"I… I was so afraid that I'd end up alone, Caroline," she admitted softly. "I try to be proper and ladylike, but no matter what I do… it just never feels as though I am quite enough."

A sympathetic look crossed Caroline's face and she looked at her sister firmly. "You are beautiful and clever. Perhaps a tad intimidating, but that is just because you are too good for most men. That's why you are not yet married."

"What do you mean? How am I intimidating?" Beatrice looked at Caroline curiously and the latter flashed her a sympathetic smile.

"I merely mean," she explained, "that you do not ever relax around men. You are only ever really yourself with me—and they think that you are intimidating because nothing ever breaks your mask."

Beatrice frowned at this and Caroline smiled softly at her sister, her blue eyes filled with warmth. "You have such a beautiful soul," she explained gently. "But you hide who you are behind this mask of propriety. If you allow others to see the real you, the kind-hearted woman I know and love, they will not be able to keep from loving you either!"

Beatrice merely sighed at that, and her brow furrowed slightly. "I wish it were that simple, Caroline," she admitted. "But you know as well as I do that we are expected to behave in a certain way in this society. Women must be feminine and graceful. We must always be polite and can never allow men to see us emotional—if I let my true self show, I fear that the ton would judge me so harshly."

Caroline folded her arms at this. "What of it?" she countered gently. "Anyone who would judge you for being yourself is not worth your time or concern. You deserve a husband who appreciates you for who you truly are, not some facade you put on for the sake of appearances."

Beatrice frowned a bit as her sister spoke, though a small smile started tugging at the corners of her lips. "You make it sound so easy, Caroline. But you know as well as I do that it is not that simple. You know what it means if the ton is against you. Besides… even if I were inclined to be myself, I wouldn't know where to start."

At this, Caroline reached out and took hold of her sister's hand. She gave it a quick squeeze and grinned, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"Start small," she advised. "Laugh genuinely, share your true opinions, allow your wit to shine through. I know it feels daunting, but I have complete faith in you, Beatrice. You are far stronger—and more endearing—than you give yourself credit for."

Serene gratitude flashed across Beatrice's face, and she squeezed Caroline's hand back. "Thank you, Caroline," she whispered with a furtive glance in the direction of the servants. "I do not know what I would ever do without you."

Caroline laughed softly. "Luckily you will never have to find out," she assured her sister. "And I will do whatever I can to make this easier for you!"

Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said softly. "I am rather certain that father is starting to give up on finding me a proper match. If Sebastian Fairchild does not want to marry me, I fear that I am doomed to a life of spinsterhood…"

"Oh, Beatrice," Caroline admonished. "You do not need a man to be happy."

Beatrice merely looked at her sister at this, as though the words made little sense to her, and Caroline sighed. "I only mean that you are a great person, and anyone would be lucky to be with you," she explained clumsily, a small smile appearing on her lips.

Before Beatrice could respond to this, a knock at the door interrupted them. The two sisters looked at the footman expectantly and he flashed them a stiff smile.

"My ladies. The earl has sent me to bring you to the drawing room. Our guests have arrived."

Beatrice jumped to her feet hastily at this, her face a stoic mask. Caroline moved quickly to take her sister's hand, her whispered promise drifting after them.

"All will be well."