Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

July 10 th , 1813

T he morning sun had barely risen when Arabella found herself standing in her father’s study, the air thick with tension. The Earl of Worcester stood behind his desk, his stern face twisted with anger. There was a time when this mask of rage only appeared when he’d been drinking, but over the past ten years, since her brother had fled, it was the expression Arabella had become most familiar with.

She’d been summoned directly from the breakfast table to her father’s study, the tartness of the lemon curd she’d eaten still lingering on her lips. Why she hadn’t been allowed to finish her breakfast with her sisters, and just what was so pressing, she didn’t know. But given her father’s rotten mood this morning, she braced herself.

“Father, what is so urgent?” she asked as she stood by the window.

She’d learned long ago not to sit down across from her father. His anger seemed to be worse when he was given the opportunity to tower over her. Standing at least allowed her to maintain a position of strength. And she could dart out quicker if he exploded. It was sad that she had to think of her own father like a natural disaster about to blow up around her, but that was how he had been these last… well, thirteen years, really. Ever since her mother’s death.

“What is so urgent is that I need you to understand how important tonight’s ball is for the family. You will find a suitable husband tonight,” her father barked, his eyes blazing.

Arabella frowned. “I have every intention of being sociable and amiable, but I cannot guarantee that I will find a husband this very night, Father.”

What had gotten into him? Her father had been pressing Hanna and Emma into finding husbands for a while now, but this was only Arabella’s first Season. She’d had her coming out ball in March, and now it was July. Surely there was no rush. Not for her. Her sisters were in their third and fourth Seasons, which was a little concerning for them, but Arabella?

“That is not good enough. You will find a suitor tonight. I expect you to dance at least two dances with an eligible gentleman.”

Two dances meant that intentions had been declared. How was she supposed to do that? So far, she was still establishing herself on the marriage mart. She’d never been one to set her cap for the first gentleman she met. Instead, she wanted to find the right person, to fall in love, not to be forced on the first man who showed some interest.

“Did you hear me?” her father demanded and banged a ruler on the mahogany desk.

She looked up, the sound bothering her more than anything else. Despite his verbal outbursts, Lord Worcester had never been physically violent with any of his daughters. Not the way he had been with his son. At times, he’d push them or throw something in their general direction, but he never set out to harm them. Not physically, anyway.

“I did, but I do not know how I am supposed to do that. I am not well known among the ton yet, and I need to get to know someone before I commit to a second dance,” she said, hoping to reach her father’s more reasonable side. It rarely surfaced these days, but it was still in there somewhere.

Why was it that he always expected more of her than of her sisters, even though she was the youngest?

“I do not care, Arabella. You will find a husband, and tonight. I will not have you embarrass me like your two sisters, who are still unmarried and of no use to this family.”

Arabella felt a hot rush of anger. “You cannot speak about Hanna and Emma that way,” she snapped, her voice trembling. “They deserve respect, not your cruel words.”

The Earl’s face darkened, and he took a step toward her, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the room. “They have had years to find husbands. Hanna is almost two-and-twenty, and Emma will be twenty in a few months. That is long enough to find husbands. Do you know that Lord Hancock’s daughter got married in her first Season? She did not even finish the Season!”

“Lord Hancock is a member of the privy council and a cousin of the Queen,” Arabella pointed out, but this only enraged her father.

“Are you saying I am the problem? I am what is standing between my daughters and eligible gentlemen? Is that what you mean to say?” His voice rose to heights that told her she had to make her way to the door.

“That is not what I meant. I meant I would like to find a husband I can love,” she explained.

Her father’s temper had made it more difficult to find a husband. His drinking and frequent outbursts, which had started as a family secret but were now known to the ton, had taken care of that.

“Love. Do not be ridiculous. You will do as you are told,” he growled. “This family cannot afford any more disgrace. Find a husband and do it quickly, or face the consequences.”

“What consequences? Being trapped here in this house forever?” she shouted, her heart pounding.

Her father scoffed. “Is that what would be so terrible for you? Well, I will have you know those would be dreadful consequences for me, indeed. I had hoped to be rid of all of you by now. Three daughters. How did your mother curse me so? I hoped you’d at least find me decent sons-in-law, but no.”

She wanted to scream, to lash out at the man who had caused her so much pain and suffering. But instead, she took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. “I am tired of this constant fighting,” she said. “I want nothing more than to leave this house and find some peace.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heels and fled the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind her.

“Well then, we are in agreement,” her father’s angry shout echoed down the hallway, but she didn’t stop.

As Arabella exited her father’s study, the weight of her words and the guilt of her actions pressed heavily on her heart. The negative atmosphere of Hayward Manor seemed to cling to her, an invisible shroud she couldn’t shake off. She walked down the hallway, their argument still ringing in her ears, and headed toward the living room, hoping to find some solace.

There, she saw her older sister, Hanna, seated by the window with a book in her lap. She glanced at the door to their right, which led to their father’s study. It was a French door and usually stayed shut, but it wasn’t airtight and thus sounds traveled. There had been many an afternoon where Arabella had been forced to listen to her father berate one of her sisters through that door. And she realized Hanna had to have heard everything she’d said—including her declaration to want to leave the house.

She bit her lip, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Hanna, did you hear my conversation with Father?” Arabella asked. She hoped her sister hadn’t, but of course she had.

“It was hard not to. I could have left, but I assumed you’d tell me everything that happened afterward anyhow, and by staying here I would save you time,” Hanna said and then slipped off the windowsill. The light caught her auburn hair, giving it a brilliant red shimmer.

Arabella had always been envious of her sister’s lovely tresses. She’d inherited their father’s chestnut-brown hair, which she found awfully dull. At least she had their mother’s jade-colored eyes, a shade not often found and different from both her sisters’ darker eyes.

“I didn’t mean it,” Arabella said.

Hanna shook her head. “You did. And that’s alright. I would have meant it too. I do. I can’t wait to get out of this house. Neither can Emma. I had a letter from Alexander again, in reply to my last plea to bring us to Ireland.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“He said no again?” Arabella asked, though she knew the answer.

Alexander had been true to his word—he’d kept in touch with them by letter, but over the years, his letters had become less and less frequent. She assumed it was their oft-repeated request that he bring them to Ireland, where he’d started a business, that pushed him away. She’d believed him when he’d told them that he’d come for them if things got too bad. And maybe he’d meant it at the time. Alas, now, he clearly didn’t want to be near them, or perhaps he felt too guilty for not doing more for them.

“Of course, he said no,” Hanna replied, bitterness tinging her words.

“I am sorry,” Arabella murmured.

“For what? You did nothing wrong. It is him,” Hanna said. “Anyhow, I do not blame you for wanting to follow in his footsteps and leave this awful place behind. Please, do not tell Emma about Alexander’s letter. You know she will only be angry with him again, and the last thing we need is for her to write him another rage-filled letter.”

Arabella grimaced. It was true, it wasn’t just her father who made their home into a miserable place. The longer it took the three young women to find husbands, the more frustrated they became, and the higher the tension rose. As much as she loved her sisters, their bickering often got to her.

“I won’t, but don’t tell her I said I wanted to leave either.”

Hanna sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Arabella’s face. “I won’t. But you do not need to feel guilt, Bella. You must do what you need to do to find happiness. But remember, never settle for a man you don’t love. Otherwise, you’ll end up trapped again in a house you’ll always want to leave.”

Arabella nodded. She knew Hanna was right. The prospect of leaving the manor, of finding a life beyond its oppressive walls, was both terrifying and exhilarating. But the thought of settling for a marriage of convenience, of exchanging one prison for another, was something she couldn’t bear.

“Father seems to think I can find a husband tonight. Isn’t that ridiculous?” Arabella scoffed.

“Is he drunk already?” Hanna asked.

Arabella shook her head. “No, not at all. He really thinks so,” she assured her.

“What a foolish man. Do not listen to him. What is he going to do to you if you do not find a husband tonight? Throw you out on the street? It would be a scandal, and you know how averse he is to scandals,” her sister assured her. “Now if you find someone, wonderful! But if not, then do not worry. By no means should you settle. Promise me you won’t settle. Promise me you’ll find love.”

“I promise,” Arabella whispered, clinging to her sister.

They stood together for a moment, but then, with a final reassuring squeeze, Hanna pulled back and smiled. “Now, let’s get ready for the ball. We have a long night ahead of us, and who knows? Maybe tonight will bring us one step closer to the future we all deserve.”

Arabella nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Together, they would face whatever came their way, with courage and resilience. And perhaps, just perhaps, the ball would mark the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with hope and the promise of better days to come.

The ballroom at the home of Lord and Lady Hawthorn, their neighbors, was packed when the three sisters arrived. Their father had left them at the ballroom door under the guise of tending to business matters, although they all knew what this meant. He’d decided to have a drink to start off the evening on the right foot. At least that was how he justified it.

The grand ballroom was ablaze with the soft glow of chandeliers, the lively hum of conversation, and the rustling of silk gowns as guests moved about. Arabella stood with Hanna and Emma near a refreshments table. The three young women formed a striking tableau. Arabella, with chestnut-brown hair neatly arranged in intricate curls, wore a gown of pale blue that highlighted her jade-colored eyes. She’d noticed the way some of the gentlemen looked at her and had to confess that she rather liked the attention.

Hanna’s emerald-green dress accentuated her lovely auburn hair, giving it a fiery look, while Emma was as striking as always in her burgundy gown. Burgundy wasn’t one of the colors the ton considered fashionable, but Emma had never been the sort of girl to care about such things. She knew it looked good with her dark hair and thus wore it.

“Goodness, so many people,” Hanna said, sipping from a glass of red wine as her eyes darted around the space.

“Perhaps we can all find husbands tonight and get out of that house,” Emma said, likewise taking a sip. “I’ll settle for a baronet if I must.”

“I do not think Father would be happy about that,” Hanna pointed out.

Emma’s eyes flashed. “So what? I care little about what he wants,” she replied with a shrug.

“Let us not speak of Father and what he wants,” Arabella said, once again the peacemaker.

Why did she always have to be the one to smooth things over between her sisters? Why was she always the one who had to be reasonable?

Arabella sighed, her father’s warning echoing in her head still. Two dances. How was she going to do that? By all rights, by the time they returned, their father would likely be as drunk as a wheelbarrow and wouldn’t remember anything in the morning—but she couldn’t count on that.

In her experience, the more he drank, the more tolerant he grew of the spirits. Just then, the ballroom door opened once more to admit straggles.

“By Jove, look who has graced us with his presence,” a woman said, her voice full of contempt.

Arabella looked to the door again and saw who the woman was talking about.

A rather striking, tall man with dark blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the crowd had entered. He was a few steps away from her, and when their eyes briefly met, she felt a strange jolt. She stepped back, bumping into Emma, who let out a dramatic squeal.

“What is it, Bella?” Emma complained, but Arabella was still staring at the man.

She’d never seen him before. Not that she knew all the gentlemen of the ton. This was her first Season, after all. Still, something about him was captivating. It wasn’t that he was taller than most other gentlemen or more handsome—though he was. It was his attitude. He walked as though he were a man of consequence. His muscular frame was evident even through the impeccably tailored black evening suit he wore. His black hair was neatly styled, and he exuded an air of authority and charm.

Arabella, intrigued by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, turned to her sisters. “Who is that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Hanna glanced over and then leaned in to whisper, “That’s the Duke of Sheffield. Don’t dance with him. He is as difficult and high in the instep as he is handsome.”

Emma added, “He’s also known for being distant. Hardly anyone knows him. He comes to these events with an air of arrogance like you have never seen, Bella.”

That was why he’d stood out. His bad attitude must have caught Arabella’s attention. She watched as the Duke moved through the crowd with ease. The whispers and stolen glances followed him, but soon he disappeared from sight.

Dukes had that sort of effect on people. Every young lady wanted to make herself a duke’s ball and chain, that was known. And if he was as handsome as this one, then all the better.

However, this sort of man was exactly the kind Arabella knew she had to stay away from.

“I heard his parents died on the crossing to Ireland when he was five,” Hanna said.

Arabella looked up, shaking her head at her sister. Mentioning Ireland was a terrible idea. Alas, it was already too late.

Emma looked up, her eyes narrowed. “I wonder if His Grace knows Alexander,” she mused.

However, the connection made no sense to Arabella at all. “He was a mere boy when they passed,” she pointed out.

Emma waved a dismissive hand. “And so what? He may well be familiar with the families of consequence in Ireland. I ought to have a word with him. In fact, I should go to Ireland myself and issue a stern rebuke to our brother. How dare he abandon us like this? It has been weeks since I received a letter from him,” she scoffed, crossing her arms.

Arabella looked down at her half boots, knowing that if she looked directly at her sister, Emma would see right through her and know she had received a letter.

However, she didn’t have to, for Hanna gave it all away.

“He said he would write to you soon,” Hanna said.

Arabella took a deep breath, while Emma dropped her arms.

“He wrote to you? When? Why did you not tell me?”

Not this again. Please. Not tonight…

“Because of how you’d react,” Hanna replied, waving a finger up and down at her sister.

Emma, her voice tinged with bitterness, replied, “He is abhorrent. Alexander is almost worse than Father.”

“Come now,” Hanna said. “He is not. And why should he have to take care of us? He is our brother, not our father. Besides, we are old enough to have found husbands.”

“Speak for yourself,” Emma fired back. “I am only in my second Season, not my third like some people.”

“Can’t you swallow your spleens for once?” Hanna hissed.

Arabella rubbed her temples, incapable of taking this argument much longer. This was only her second ball, and it was turning into a disaster. She felt the walls closing in, the noise becoming overwhelming. It was bad enough that their father continued to make them miserable, but her sisters’ bickering was spiraling out of control as well.

“I need to go outside for some air,” she said, but her sisters were too absorbed in their discussion to hear her.

Arabella made her way through the crowd and toward the terrace. The night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. She stepped out into the garden, taking deep breaths and letting the calmness of the night wash over her.

The stars twinkled above, and for a moment, she felt a sense of peace away from the demands and expectations that weighed so heavily on her.