Chapter 2

Duncan Swinton, the Duke of Blackmoore, arrived at the ball with his mother, Anna. The atmosphere was alive with the sounds of music, dancing, and shared laughter.

“I am so happy that you decided to attend tonight.” The Dowager smiled warmly at her son, who was dressed smartly in a black suit and towered over her with his tall frame. “It is the beginning step of an important journey.”

“An important journey?” the Duke repeated, amused by his mother’s theatrics. “You make it sound as though I have embarked on some ambitious mission by making an appearance tonight.”

Anna gave him a knowing smile.

“My dear, if you are not the one on a mission, then surely many young women in attendance today will be,” she noted. “You do not have to look too hard to notice that you are one of the most sought-after gentleman here tonight.”

Duncan shrugged. That was nothing new to him. As the Duke, he was used to commanding the attention of a room wherever he went. It had lost its charm early on for him as he thought that people were all the same. Even though he was born into upper society, the people that inhabited it bored him greatly.

“That may be the case,” he replied, “but I am afraid it won’t be met with much success. My stance on the matter is clear, and I do not wish to court any woman I meet tonight.”

Anna heaved a deep sigh, shaking her head.

“I know what your feelings are about marriage, but it is time for you to change them,” she argued in a serious tone. “You are well aware that I am only getting older by the day, and it is my wish for you to give me grandchildren. But even more importantly, you must give yourself an heir. It is your duty as the Duke.”

Duncan could not help but scoff at his mother’s naive statement, but he quickly covered it up to appear as though he was stifling a cough, not wanting to offend her.

“Do you really believe that I should be bringing a child into this world?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “After what I endured during my own childhood?”

Their conversation had suddenly taken on a heavy tone. His mother was an expert in the art of diplomacy, and he noticed how she put a pleasant smile on her face as she started to respond to him. As members of the nobility, they had eyes on them wherever they went. It would be unwise to be seen squabbling in public as rumors travelled fast in the city.

“You know that you are not your father,” she replied in a hushed tone, the smile never leaving her face. “It is pointless to say that your child will endure the same as you as you have the control to decide that.”

“His blood runs through me. I am sure he was not keen on traumatizing his eldest son either when he became a father, and yet…”

His mother narrowed her eyes at him, a silent warning for him to not reveal too much as they were in public and ran the risk of someone overhearing, but the Duke did not care much about that. It was not as though his father’s activities during his life had been a secret from the world.

“Since you brought up the subject of fatherhood, shall we recall of the ways in which father dearest proved he was the best one?” The Duke’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “One of the standout ones for me was how he chose to be a cruel and absent parent to me, opting rather to spend his time gambling instead.”

“We know that he had his demons…”

“I would say that is putting it lightly. By the end, he had fully transformed into those demons, and there was no distinguishing where his personality ended and where his demons’ personality started.”

The Duke had a tumultuous relationship with his father and did not recall it fondly by any measures. He wished not to speak ill of the dead but felt he would be dishonest if he did not bring up the ways in which his father ruined his childhood.

“My dear, you must find it in your heart to forgive him,” Anna replied. A mother’s heart was softer than anything else in the world, after all. “It is the only way you will be able to find any peace.”

“Mother, do you remember his last days with us? He nearly emptied out the family’s fortunes with his habits. But even then, he wished to go out to the tracks for the horse races, so he could lose some more money, leaving his sons to be orphaned children and widowed wife with nothing of substance…”

The Duke realized that he had taken things too far when he saw his mother’s polite smile fall and be replaced by a wince.

“I know you have your complaints, and I do not blame you.” The Dowager’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But you are not your father. His failure at being a good father should not have any bearing on your future.”

The apple does not fall far from the tree,the Duke wanted to say, but he decided to dial it down, not wanting to upset his mother more. After all, he did love her immensely and did not wish to cause her unneeded anguish.

“For tonight, let us agree to disagree,” Duncan suggested, gesturing over to a waiter that was passing by with a tray of drinks. He picked up a glass of bubbly champagne and took a sip, the cold liquid calming him immediately.

“I am still hopeful you will change your mind,” his mother replied.

“I suppose I cannot stop you there,” he shrugged, throwing his metaphorical hat in the argument.

Just then, a shrill voice caught both their attention. They turned around to see a short woman with blonde hair make her way towards them. It was Lady Barbara Trew, daughter of the Marquess of Thornhill — the most persistent and annoying lady in all of London. She did not waste a second of time before trying to force her way into a conversation with the Duke.

The Duke groaned loudly, unable to hold in his obvious displeasure at her arrival. The Dowager nudged him discreetly.

“Please, be polite,” she pleaded with him right before Barbara approached them.

“Your Graces.” Barbara smiled brightly at them as she greeted them. The Duke could not help but note how artificial it seemed since it did not reach her eyes. “It is so lovely running into you here.”

“Of course,” the Dowager replied sweetly. “How has everything been with you?”

“Oh, everything has just been grand,” she replied in her same sickly-sweet voice. “It is so nice to see everyone here again. The Season is truly one of my favourite times of the year.”

She tried to meet the Duke’s gaze as she said the word ‘everyone’, but he was tactical and knew that she would be trying to force a connection with him once again. He had a bored expression on his face and instead chose to focus on his glass, where the bubbles were forming continuously at the bottom and rising to the top.

“I am well aware,” the Dowager replied. “You have always professed your liking for these events.”

“What is not to like about them?” Barbara asked, throwing her head back in a sultry manner. The Duke wondered if she thought that would be an attractive thing to do and amused himself by thinking about how it had nearly the opposite effect on him.

“Besides, it is a great occasion to meet all manner of people…” she continued, pursing her lips. “In fact, tonight, there is one particular person in attendance who has everyone quite curious.”

The Duke gave no reaction, even though he was listening to the conversation. He simply took out another sip of his drink. The Dowager, however, had a more favourable reaction.

“Who are you referring to?” she asked.

Barbara looked around, as though she was about to divulge an important secret.

“Well, I have heard that the Scarred Lady will be attending tonight.” Her voice was hushed, and her tone was horrified.

“The Scarred Lady?” the Dowager inquired. “Why, I have never heard of such a person, but her name makes her sound as though she has stepped out of the pages of a novel.”

Duncan found his interest piquing ever so slightly. He was so bored of interacting with the same kind of people at every ball that he would welcome an interaction with this lady whose reputation seemed to precede her.

“You do not know?” Barbara turned to face the Dowager. “Your Grace, her story is famous. In fact, it is not unlike a fable. Sometimes older women tell it to their children if they give their mothers grief before sleeping.”

“I am afraid that I do not keep up with the stories as well as I used to,” the Dowager replied.

“No need to worry.” The artificial smile returned to Barbara’s face once again. “I am here and will tell you everything you need to know.”

She looked around once again and then dropped her voice down to a whisper.

“Many years ago, a carriage, carrying six members of the same family, was traveling home after a sojourn to another town. Of course, it was the summer, but the weather had taken a turn for the worst…”

The Dowager was fully engaged in the story by this point, and even the Duke was listening in.

“No one really knows the details of what happened, but people say that as they were about to cross the river, the driver lost control of the carriage. It went crashing down the side of the bridge. The mother, father, sibling, and other members of the staff drowned straight away as it was too late in the night for help to arrive in time.”

The Dowager let out an audible gasp, bringing one of her hands to clasp her mouth that had hung open in shock.

“That is terrible.”

“Indeed,” Barbara noted. “She was the only one that survived the incident but not without incurring ugly scars on her face.”

“I feel for her. That sounds like an awful burden to have to live through.”

“You should not,” Barbara replied, much to their shock. “There have been whispers that it was her fault that the family died in the first place as such accidents are not commonplace that time of the year. She may even be cursed…”

“Enough!” The Duke stepped in, unable to be a quiet bystander any longer. “It is not dignified for anyone to speak about someone who endured such an awful tragedy that way.”

“Your Grace, you know I am only repeating what the others are already saying…”

“Even then,” he said firmly, “you should not be gossiping over such topics.”

Duncan realized that his tone had come out harsher than he had intended in the heat of the moment. Barbara’s cheeks flooded with color, and she looked down to her feet.

“Well… I was just saying…” she muttered, embarrassed. “Oh, I believe I am being summoned. I shall take my leave.”

Barbara scuttled out of there quickly, and Duncan was relieved to be left alone with his mother again.

“The gall of some people…” he muttered, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

“Careful, my dear. She is still the daughter of the Marquess. He was there for our family in times of need.”

“You mean just father,” the Duke replied. “He borrowed money from the Marquess, only to gamble it away. I had to pay off his debts.”

“Oh, stop now.” His mother held him gently by the arm and began to lead him out to the crowd of people. “It is time to start off on the right foot. There are many lovely, young ladies I would like to introduce you to.”

“Of course.”

“Lady Greenwald,” Anna smiled as she greeted an older woman. “Lovely to see you here. That must be your daughter?”

Lady Greenwald nodded. “Why, yes. I would like to introduce you to Lady Elena. Today is her debut, and she is very excited to meet everyone.”

The Duke could feel two inquisitive new pairs of eyes on him. He knew that he was expected to make a polite intervention at this point, perhaps ask the young lady for a dance.

But when he looked at her, he could not help but notice how much younger she appeared to be. The Duke thought she must be about nineteen which was the usual age for a young woman’s debut.

“Good to meet you, My Lady,” he replied in a lackluster manner. Faking his emotions was one thing that the Duke had never learned how to do.

“You know, the young people these days, they have so much to discuss,” Lady Greenwald said. “I am sure these two could find a lot in common with each other.”

“Of course, I think so too,” the Dowager agreed.

“For instance, my Elena is an enthusiastic embroider. She has recently learned many new patterns.”

The Duke found himself tuning out of the conversation. Even if he was looking for a potential lady this evening, he was sure that someone with hobbies as bland as embroidery would never make the cut.

The Dowager noticed the abject lack of interest on her son’s part and quickly made an excuse for them to exit the conversation.

“Thank you, mother,” the Duke chuckled as they moved away from them. “You are ever so perceptive.”

“It is only so we do not waste any time,” the Dowager replied, her eagle eyes scanning the room for any familiar faces. “I want you find someone you have an actual interest in.”

“I do not think you will have much success in a venue such as this.”

“There is Lady Lancelot. I know she had a daughter of marriageable age as well. Come, let me introduce you to her.”

“Only just this once, mother,” the Duke reminded her. “I do not wish to be held up here for too long.”

Yet again, the cycle repeated where he was subject to a round of bland introductions. His initial idea about all people in high society had yet to be challenged as all the women he was being introduced to appeared to be the same person, just in slightly different costumes.

By the time his mother had introduced him to the fifth lady that night, he knew that he could not do this anymore without effectively losing his mind.

“I am sorry, mother, but I need a break,” he told her. “I admire your commitment to finding me the woman of my dreams, but I must step out to catch a breath of fresh air.”

“Fine,” the Dowager replied, “but I hope to see you back here soon.”

The Duke did not have the heart to tell her that any efforts on her part were futile. He had no intention of marrying, and it would take some sort of a force majeure for him to even consider changing his mind.

He escaped the noise of the ballroom by slipping away outside. The fresh air hitting his face was a welcome change from the clustered atmosphere inside.

He decided to take a walk around the garden, wanting to clear his mind. As he reached the end of the garden, he heard some female voices coming from behind the fountain.

His first instinct was to ignore them and go on his way. The last thing he needed to do was speak to more women tonight.

But something inside of him beckoned him to stay. He noticed that the voices sounded a little too aggressive for casual conversation. Quietly, he began walking towards them until he could make out what was being said. Behind the fountain, he could make the silhouettes of three ladies cornering someone.

“I am surprised you even had the gall to show your face here,” one of the women said, acid dripping from her tone.

“Do they even let you step out the house?” another one jeered. “It feels like there should be a law prohibiting your movement.”

“I believe she is selfish,” a third voice said. “She knows that she is risking cursing us all by coming here, and yet she chose to do so anyway.”

“Oh, just look at her,” the first voice pointed out.“Truly a face that only a mother could love.”

“I am surprised she even showed up.”

“What an awful scar!”

Duncan realized then that the lady that they must be speaking to must the same one that Barbara was talking about. He felt his blood boil at the kind of treatment the women were subjecting her to, and yet, she had not seemed to have uttered a single word in her defense so far.

“Are you devoid of language as well?” one of the women taunted. “Do you not understand what we are saying to you?”

“I do not wish to respond to things I do not consider important,” came the reply.

Duncan could not help but feel impressed by the calm manner in which the woman had responded. Surely, it meant that she must have a strong exterior protecting her from the cruelty of others. He had not even met her yet, but this quality of hers immediately set her apart from the rest.

He always had an urge to help a damsel in distress, but surprisingly, just the fact that she seemed to not be asking for help made him want to step in all the more.

“That is enough.” He moved past the fountain, separating himself from the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. “I do not think any of you should be speaking to this young lady like this.”