Chapter 1

London, April 1813

Three Months Later

The ballroom was a spectacle of opulence, filled with swirling skirts, twinkling chandeliers, and the melodic strains of a quadrille, when Rosy Blackmore moved gracefully through the throng.

"Where are they?" she mumbled under her breath while keeping a bright smile on her lips, not wanting anyone to think her unsettled.

She had to appear as dazzling and light-hearted as she always did. Otherwise, this Season—her third—would end as the previous two had. With her alone, unattached, and staring spinsterhood in the face.

Spinsterhood! Who would have thought she, Rosy Blackmore, would ever be considered in danger of being on the shelf? How had this happened? Rosy shook her head and caught her reflection in the window. She was as beautiful as ever. Not to sound vapid, but she had always known she'd been blessed when it came to how she looked.

She'd inherited her mother's beautiful green eyes and curled brown hair. Her skin, the shade of unblemished porcelain, stood out due to the rosy hue that always colored her cheeks. Her lips always looked as if they were slightly puckered, and her nose had a rather distinct slope she'd been complimented on many a time. Her looks, she knew, had always been her biggest asset. While her sister Joanna was wittier and brighter than any general in the King's army, and her sister Sally was kinder and more compassionate than even a nun, she'd relied on her looks.

And her personality—or so she'd always believed. However, something had changed over the last year or so. She hadn't drawn as much attention towards the end of the prior Season. And when Christmastide came around, she'd found it hard to fill her dance card. Another unexpected development.

In fact, the only time she'd managed to dance every dance had been at the annual Twelfth Night Ball—a masked affair. And even then, when she'd felt certain the gentleman dressed as a fawn who'd paid her special attention would surely turn out to be a suitable partner, she'd been disappointed. It was almost as if upon discovering her name, the man had turned away.

Why?

Between this unfortunate development and her parents' insistence that she marry well—meaning someone who was at least a marquess—she'd had a vexing few months.

However, she wasn't about to let her third Season end as badly as the prior one. She would find a husband this time around. She was certain. And this ball, the first of the Season, would prove to be the one to turn her fortunes around.

Rosy's eyes scanned the crowd in search of Joanna and Sally. They were meant to be here tonight, accompanied by their husbands, the Duke of Wells and the Duke of Chester, respectively, and Rosy had decided she would ask them to help her find a gentleman to court. They were well connected, after all.

Alas, as Rosy made her way through the sea of dancers, she couldn't spot them anywhere.

A sense of apprehension gnawed at her, casting a shadow over the festivities. She knew she shouldn't worry—her sisters were both busy women, given their social engagements as well as their brood of children. But still, she had been looking forward to seeing them, and their absence put a damper on her mood.

Determined not to look like an unwanted wallflower, she wandered through the ballroom and into the banquet room. Once there, her gaze fell on a gentleman standing by the table. His tall, imposing figure cut a striking silhouette against the backdrop of the elegant setting as he stood and loaded his plate with dry cake, cheese, grapes, and an assortment of other delicacies.

Rosy squared her shoulders and approached him, a smile on her face.

"Good evening, Lord Stokes," she said, recognizing him from prior social engagements. "How lovely to see you again. I trust you're enjoying the festivities?"

She picked up a plate, wishing to look nonchalant. It wasn't that she wanted Lord Stokes to court her or anything of that nature. In fact, she didn't truly care for him, but she needed to get asked to dance, sooner rather than later.

The Earl of Stokes turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Good evening, Lady Rosemary," he replied, his tone polite but distant. "Indeed, the ball is quite lovely."

Rosy sensed a hint of coolness in his demeanor, but she pressed on, determined to engage him in conversation. "Have you tried the strawberries? They're positively divine," she remarked, gesturing towards the platter of fruit nearby.

Then, panic surged when she realized she hadn't even tried the strawberries yet!

Perdition. What is wrong with me? How can I recommend a fruit when he knows I just wandered into the room and haven't even had a chance to try it? He'll think me a fool!

Indeed, he eyed her plate, then her. "Indeed? Were you here before? I thought I saw you arrive a few minutes ago, and I hadn't seen you in the banquet room since. I've been here a while myself, trying to escape the hustle and bustle."

She gulped. "I… well, I meant they are in season, so they are surely delicious."

"Are they? I thought they were imported from Spain."

Imported strawberries?

What was she doing? What had happened to her wit and charm? Now she was ridiculed for talking about produce? And what was the matter with him? A gentleman should never point out when a lady made a mistake. It was unseemly. He was supposed to change the topic or play along with her.

"I meant… I just… How is your sister, Lady Charlotte?" she asked, desperate to change the subject herself if he wasn't going to.

The Earl shrugged. "She is well," he replied, but said nothing further.

"Good, good. I saw her at Almack's some weeks ago. She is a lovely dancer. Do you dance?" she asked, aware she was sounding a little desperate.

And to her mortification, his reaction only confirmed her fear.

"We danced together at the Twelfth Night Ball, Lady Rosemary," he reminded her.

Her cheeks burned a bright red, but then a wave of anger swept the mortification away. How was she supposed to know that? They were in costume!

Keeping her composure, she beamed at him."Ah, well, that is the danger when it comes to masquerade balls—one never knows with whom one has the pleasure of dancing. Perhaps another time we can dance together, fully aware of who the other is," she suggested and smiled, although her cheeks were now hurting from the false sentiment.

Had she just asked him to dance with her? What was the matter with her?

"I think not, Lady Rosemary. I would not want you to waste your time with me. I am a mere earl; after all," he said and then left her standing in the banquet room, utterly horrified.

A mere earl? What did that mean? Fighting to regain her composure, Rosy plastered on a smile and turned to retreat from the scene, just as a gaggle of young ladies entered and eyed her with suspicion. She retreated, but when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw them whispering and looking in her direction.

Even more unsettled, Rosy made her way through the crowded ballroom, hoping to find her sisters, who might help her decipher this odd conversation. However, instead of them, she spotted another all too familiar figure standing by the orchestra.

"Judith?" she muttered to herself as she recognized the woman.

Lady Judith Birks had once been a friend to her older sisters, but an ugly falling out had driven a wedge between the women. As time had passed, the tension had eased somewhat, but Rosy hadn't had occasion to spend much time with her since, as she'd relocated to Scotland some while ago.

Rosy wasn't sure what to do with this unexpected situation. She couldn't deny the pang of curiosity that tugged at her as she considered approaching Judith.

Before she could make up her mind, however, Judith spotted her and waved, her expression surprisingly warm.

With a hesitant smile, Rosy advanced, unsure of what to expect.

"Good evening, Lady Judith," she greeted, working hard to hide the surprise from her voice.

"Lady Rosy, it's been far too long," Judith replied, her tone friendly but guarded. "How have you been? Are you sisters going to be here?" She looked past her as if seeking her sisters out.

Rosy hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "They will be, yes. As for me, I've been well, thank you," she replied diplomatically. "And yourself?"

Judith smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Scotland has been good to me. In fact, I will be headed back there shortly," she said. "I'm only here because my father is getting remarried next week."

Rosy's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, I heard he was betrothed, but I didn't know the wedding was so soon. I heard his new companion is rather lovely, is it true?"

Rosy remembered Judith had held some disdain for the last woman her father had courted, but if her smile was anything to go by, she quite liked this new lady.

Judith nodded, a genuine smile lighting up her features. "She's absolutely delightful," she replied. "I couldn't be happier for my father. A wedding is always a blessing." She leaned forward rather conspicuously. "I do hope it will not be the last one I attend this year. Thought I rather fancy the idea of being the bride. Don't you?"

Rosy couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at Judith's words, a stark reminder of her own romantic struggles. "It would be lovely indeed, I am sure."

She felt the sudden urge to escape this conversation but did not quite know how. Alas, Judith seemed to sense her inner turmoil, and she frowned in concern.

"Rosy, is something troubling you?" she asked gently. "I know we've not spent much time together over the last few years, but I think I can read you quite well still, and you appear troubled."

Rosy didn't want to share too much with Judith, given their history. Yet, she couldn't keep her misery to herself any longer. She had to talk to someone, and perhaps it was preferable to speak to someone who was going to leave the country in a few days.

"It's just… I haven't been able to secure many dances tonight," she admitted. "And the gentlemen… they seem as though they no longer care for me."

Judith's brow furrowed in confusion. "Oh, I see. I had wondered why you weren't dancing when you used to be such a social butterfly. Although I thought it was because you were not interested in dancing with just anyone anymore," she mused.

Rosy's heart sank as she realized what Judith was implying. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Judith hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to broach the subject. But then, with a sigh, she explained gently, "Well, Rosy, when I returned to town, I heard rumors that you and your parents were not interested in any suitors who were not dukes or marquesses."

Rosy felt as though the ground had dropped out from beneath her. Mortification washed over her like a tidal wave as she realized what people were saying about her.

"But that's not true," she protested. "My parents would like it if I courted a high-ranking gentleman, but I-I just want a nice man, someone who cares for me. It's not about titles or status—they do not concern me at all!"

Judith's expression softened with sympathy as she reached out to place a comforting hand on Rosy's arm. "I see," she said gently. "I am sure that is true, but it pains me to inform you that from all I have heard, the ton is under the impression that you've become a little picky because of who your sisters married."

A mere earl…

Lord Stokes' words suddenly made all the sense in the world to Rosy. He'd thought she was insincere, that she'd reject him anyhow if he showed any interest. Indeed, it had to be why he'd acted so ungentlemanly. He'd believed her to play games.

Rosy felt as though she'd been punched in the gut. The realization that her reputation had been tarnished in such a way was almost too much to bear.

"So, the whole town thinks I will only court a marquess or a duke?"

Judith nodded, but before Rosy could say anything else, her companion excused herself.

"I am sorry to be the bearer of such unfortunate news. Anyhow, I must go. Please do call on me sometime this week if you like. I'd like a chance to have a cup of tea with you. And tell Joanna and Sally, but…" She nodded towards a tall, dark-haired gentleman who'd just entered. "I am afraid my companion has arrived."

With that, Judith departed, leaving Rosy behind, her cheeks burning with shame.

How could she ever hope to salvage her reputation now?