Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

“ R emember,” Owen Caney, the Marquess of Egerton, said for the fifth time that evening, “stand up straight. Talk to people, not around them, and big?—”

“—pearly smiles,” Alicia Caney, six years younger than the marquess, finished for him. She twisted her fan nervously between her gloved fingertips. “I know, brother.”

A ball, where families were made and lives decided, took place all around them. Alicia was already twenty years old, but had finally just made her debut into the elusive ton. Her years of growing up in an untraditional household gave the freedom to live how she wanted until responsibility knocked on the door.

Owen twined his sister’s arm with his own, pulling her through the ever-growing crowd. “I’ve had my fair share of balls,” he said, “do not tease my wisdom.”

“Wisdom?” she repeated with an airy laugh, pressing at the jade clips holding up her pinned brunette curls.

“Alicia,” he warned, the playfulness he might show at home nowhere to be found on that evening.

She bit her tongue, falling in line beside him. Be ladylike, she told herself. Charming.

They passed by rooms full of chattering aristocrats, Owen flashing smiles and nods along the way. Beautiful women walked the halls, their gowns shining delicately in the Benedict House’s candlelight.

“Smile at people,” her brother said.

Alicia bent her head down lower. “I can’t just smile.”

“You can, Alicia,” Owen said, the irritation lacing his words. “Try. Smile at the ton. They will remember you better that way.”

There was no easy way for her to tell him that she did not want to be remembered. Alicia sighed, ignoring her thoughts and lifting her head. Any lady or gentlemen who met her gaze saw the strongest smile she could muster. She glanced at Owen; he seemed slightly more relaxed.

“This is all for good reason, Alicia,” he said to her after a few more minutes of walking.

“I know,” she replied. “I know you don’t talk of it, but…I can’t imagine the responsibility you have for our family, Owen.”

He didn’t bother to meet her gaze. “Now is not the place for that.”

“I only meant to say that I will try for you,” Alicia quickly added before he changed the conversation. “My struggles are not purposeful. I will try my best for you.”

Owen finally glanced at her, their matching green eyes connecting for just a moment. It was gone quickly as he moved them along, circling back into one of Benedict House’s countless ballrooms. A trio of gentlemen talking beside a fireplace waved Owen over to them.

The men paused in their talks, bowing their heads towards him and setting their eyes upon Alicia.

“Good evening, Lord Egerton,” the gentlemen closest to them on the left said. He held a hand out to Alicia. “I don’t think we have been introduced.”

“This is my sister,” Owen introduced, “Lady Alicia.” He pointed to each of the men, beginning with the man to the left, “Lord Debany,” he moved to the one in the middle, “Lord Tally,” before finally addressing the one on the right, “and Lord Rochester.”

Alicia struggled amicably, giving an unbalanced curtsey that caused the men to fidget awkwardly. “Good evening,” she said, trying to keep her chin up.

The men looked her up and down, surveying the dress she wore and her pinned brunette hair. She struggled not to cover herself, to lay an arm over her stomach as they watched.

“How are things in Egerton, my lord?” Lord Debany asked pleasantly, moving on from the fumble.

“Quite well,” Owen curtly replied.

“And Lady Egerton?” Lord Rochester inquired. “I hope your mother is well.”

Alicia could see the annoyance on Owen’s face. His polite smile twitched into a frown. The trio of gentlemen did not seem as interested in Alicia as much as Owen had hoped.

“Quite well,” he repeated.

Before he could continue, Lord Debany spoke quickly: “Lord Egerton, you must take time this season to visit my associate’s gentlemen’s club. It has become the talk of London in the matter of months!”

“Don’t waste your time,” Lord Rochester interrupted with a laugh.

Lord Debany scowled at him. “Now, why would you?—”

“He just wants a marquess to visit the business he put money into.”

The gentlemen shared a laugh as Lord Debany tried to save himself from the embarrassing mess. Owen stared at them impatiently, waiting till they finished their pointless discussion. The moment there was silence, Owen stepped forward.

“I’m sure all you gentlemen are keeping an eye out for eligible ladies this Season.”

Alicia tried to hold back the embarrassed wince. Why would he outrightly say such a thing? She pulled out a wide smile. “Brother, how about we?—”

“Not now, Alicia,” Owen quickly hushed her.

Lord Tally, with a pinched face and rosy cheeks, turned his attention towards Owen. “You know very well we are always keeping an eye out, Egerton,” he said. “Ladies seemingly know less and less each year!”

A laugh came from the men, prompting Owen to join in. He eyed Alicia amidst the chuckle, a warning gleam in his eye. She pressed her lips together in a smile. Who knows, maybe the women Lord Tally courted had never had the pleasure of learning the pianoforte or reading literature. Alicia breathed a sigh, feeling a sudden tightness within herself.

“I will tell you, Tally,” Owen said, “that my sister is skilled in many things.”

Lord Tally looked her over. “Is that so?”

Avoiding the lord’s gaze, Alicia tried to tighten her grip around Owen’s arm—give him some sort of notion that it was time to move on.

“Go ahead, Alicia,” Owen said to her, slightly pushing her forward.

“Brother—”

He moved himself a foot away from her.

Alicia turned back towards the gentlemen, feeling their prying eyes stuck on her as they awaited a response. If there was one thing the ton knew about Lord Tally, it was his snobbish expectations and attitudes. She felt as though she sank in that very moment with his eyes set upon her.

“Reading has been a hobby of mine for years, my lord,” Alicia quietly said, arms crossed in front of her.

Lord Tally raised his nose at her. “Not a skillset, I believe.”

“What skill might you be seeking, my lord?”

“Can you sew?” he asked, almost interrogatively. “How about music, my lady? What can you play?”

Lord Rochester stepped forward. “A well-rounded lady should be well acquainted with the pianoforte.” His gaze landed upon Alicia. “How well do you know the pianoforte?”

“I’ve heard,” Lord Debany added, “ladies find recreation in embroidery.” He moved closer alongside the other gentlemen. “I’m sure you can embroider at your age, my lady.”

Breathing heavily now, Alicia had a palm pressed to the center of her stomach. A queasiness grew there, heavy and lingering, as the men continued their questions. “My age?” she repeated, a wave of embarrassment creeping up her spine.

“Well,” Lord Debany looked at Owen in a pitiful matter, “my apologies Egerton, I know your… predicament that has led you to being the head of your household can be harrowing, but—” he paused, eyeing Alicia, “—debuting a lady who has turned twenty is quite disreputable for your name.”

Lord Rochester huffed. “Disreputable?” he boisterously laughed. “It’s despicable! What about the youngest in your family? What was it? Lily, Penny, or?—”

“Penelope,” Alicia weakly mumbled.

“Right,” he said. “Lady Penelope. What might become of her?”

Lord Tally crossed his arms. “Truly a pity,” he said. “Egerton is quite the home.”

“I suppose the late marquess left it in a poor state, my lord.” the viscount looked upon Owen with those pitiful eyes once more.

Alicia turned, looking upon her eldest brother. He was already watching her, his gaze harsh and cold. It was unlike any she had ever seen before. And it shot right through her as though she were the cause of it.

Owen gave the trio of gentlemen a smile. “I appreciate your concern, my lords,” he said coolly. “The situation is far from ideal, but we make do with what we have.”

The tightness from before came back in a startling manner, as though Alicia suffered a wound from the inside out. She clutched at her stomach with both hands now, her fan lost somewhere in between. The shame washed over her quickly, like it had already been there.

“You’re a good man,” Lord Debany said, patting him on the shoulder, blocking Alicia from anyone’s view. “The late marquess would be proud of the gentlemen saving his family.”

Alicia took a few steps backward, bumping into a nearby gentleman who was in conversation with a beautiful young woman. They gave her looks at the interruption, and Alicia couldn’t find the words in her throat to apologize. She merely bowed, stepping back towards where her brother made his goodbyes to the gentlemen.

As if nothing from before was ever said, Owen tucked Alicia’s arm back under his own. Tension grew between them within their silence, despite the lively ball happening all around them.

“Alicia,” Owen said.

She grew hopeful in the moment, a sigh of relief building up in her chest. There would be an apology, and the brother she knew would want to move on with the evening in a gentler manner.

“You need to be better.”

“What?”

“How are you supposed to rectify the family name,” he began, “if you can’t speak to a few lords?”

“Owen,” she whispered, her voice coming out hoarser than she expected, “the pressure you place upon my shoulders is?—”

“What?” he snapped, suddenly gripping her wrist. “Is it hard, Alicia? Do you feel like sinking beneath it?” Owen closed his eyes and breathed deeply to calm himself down. When his eyes reopened, the sternness that remained held no kindness. “We all have a responsibility in the family, Alicia. You have one purpose. Find a husband wealthy enough to take care of Father’s debts. That is it. Is that too much for you?”

Even though he asked a question, Alicia knew that there was only one acceptable answer. She swallowed her tears, and swallowed the idea of her purpose being something different than what she was raised to believe. “No, brother,” she whispered. “It is not too much.”

Owen stood up tall, straightening his coats. “Good,” he said, extending his arm to her once more. “Shall we continue on?”

With one arm wrapped around herself, Alicia stepped away from her brother, trying to keep a poised smile on her face. “If you can do without me, brother,” she began, “I believe I might find a moment of solace in a quiet spot.”

His arm dropped. “Alicia.”

“Owen,” she interrupted. “I feel horribly ill suddenly.”

“Don’t play one of Penelope’s tricks on me.”

Surprisingly, a laugh escaped Alicia’s lips. “I don’t have that clever of a mind,” she joked, the lightheadedness leaving for a moment. As the humor faded, the feeling came back, and Alicia placed a steady hand on the wall to her right. “Perhaps you can find me a drink, Owen. Give me a moment to breathe, and I will be better.”

Owen looked at her warningly. “There should be a library down the hall.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Alicia made her way into a secluded library that was dimly lit by a few candles. It smelt of books and leather. The warmth crept into her like an embrace.

Alicia staggered, the wooziness from before growing more and more by the second. All she could do was remain still, letting her eyes drag over the spines of books, and wait for it all to pass.

She stood in the middle of the room, and for the first time since arriving at Benedict House, Alicia took in a deep breath, and allowed a tear or two to fall down her cheeks.