Chapter 1

“Ican’t believe you’re going to marry the Duke of Windhill,” Miss Ginger gushed, putting a hand on Isabella’s arm.

Isabella Abberton beamed, even though what she really wanted most of all was to pull away from Miss Ginger, who usually ignored her altogether at balls. Once or twice, Isabella had seen Miss Ginger bent close to some of the other ladies of the ton, their eyes on Isabella—or worse, on her younger sister, Felicity—clearly whispering and gossiping about them. And Isabella knew why. It was easy to gossip about someone who was the illegitimate, ill-favored daughter of a viscount—the child he’d had long ago with a maid before marrying his wife.

At least today, the gossip was something positive—something she was pleased to have people talking about.

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Isabella said, smiling graciously at Miss Ginger. Years of socializing with these people had taught her to put on a false face. No one would ever know how frustrated she was. No one would see through her disguise.

“No one has even seen the Duke of Windhill in years,” Miss Ginger breathed.

“Well, that’s not quite true,” Isabella argued. “People have seen him.”

“All right, he’s been seen out and about on occasion,” Miss Ginger allowed. “But he doesn’t socialize. He never comes to parties, and every lady who’s dreamed of being the one to capture his attention and have him as her husband has always been disappointed. How is it that he came to choose you?”

There was definitely jealousy in her tone. Good.

“I don’t know how he made his choice,” Isabella said. “He must have seen me and found me intriguing—that’s the only thing I can imagine.”

“You didn’t have a courtship, then?”

“No, he said that he was so eager to make things official between us that he simply couldn’t bring himself to wait.”

“How did you meet him? I thought he wasn’t even looking for a match!”

“Oh, he knows my father.” Isabella waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, what does that matter? The point is that I’m going to marry the Duke. I’ll make certain you’re invited to the wedding, Miss Ginger. I’m sure it will be an event to remember.”

“I never would have guessed…” Miss Ginger made a show of stopping herself mid-sentence.

Isabella knew what Miss Ginger hadn’t said, of course, and knew that Miss Ginger had stopped herself so that she could encourage Isabella to ask her to say it. It was a petty game. Still, Isabella would play. “You never would have guessed what?” she asked, pretending not to know what the answer would be.

“Well, I never would have guessed that the Duke, of all people, would want to marry…well, someone like you! When he could have anyone he wanted! Do you know what made him decide to do that?”

“I suppose you’d have to ask him,” Isabella said airily. “Perhaps he’s not as shallow as most of the ton. Perhaps it doesn’t trouble him to know that my mother wasn’t a lady.”

“I mean, you’re not truly a lady yourself, are you?” Miss Ginger asked. “If your mother wasn’t.”

Isabella laughed. She was used to these comments. “You know perfectly well who my father is,” she said. “If you want to go up to him and offer that opinion, tell him that you don’t think his daughter is a lady, I invite you to do so.”

Miss Ginger’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean that I wanted to say anything to the Viscount.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Isabella said. Miss Ginger’s father was only a baron. Isabella suspected that that had a great deal to do with Miss Ginger’s decision to be as obsessed with titles as she was. She would have liked to demean Isabella by making her believe that her position in society didn’t really count because of who her mother had been.

But Isabella had accepted the truth of her parentage a long time ago, and if she was honest, it was more difficult for her to accept her father than it had ever been to accept her mother. Her mother had been loving and kind, and she’d always treated her daughters with the utmost care. Meanwhile, the Viscount tended to act as if he had one daughter—Rosalind—and two ladies who had happened to come under his guardianship but for whom he felt no affection.

“Isabella!”

Isabella’s younger sister grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the dance floor. Isabella went along willingly, even though Felicity looked angry. She didn’t want a public argument, and she was more than happy to get away from Miss Ginger. The most important thing about tonight’s event was to help her sister make a good impression on the gentlemen of the ton so that someone might choose to court her even though she was the daughter of a maid.

“What is this?” Isabella asked as her sister pulled her out onto a secluded patio. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“I’m sure you know,” Felicity said.

Isabella thought she might. “Is this about the Duke of Windhill?”

“Yes, it is! You’re all anyone is talking about tonight, Isabella. People are saying you’re engaged to the Duke!”

“I knew that was bound to get around.” Isabella sat down on a stone bench and smoothed her skirts. The gown she wore was secondhand, having once belonged to her half-sister, Rosalind. Even though Rosalind was five years younger than Isabella herself, she was larger in stature and in girth, making it possible for Isabella to wear her cast-offs. As for Felicity, she was tiny compared even with Isabella, and Isabella often found it necessary to take in Rosalind’s old clothes to make them appropriate for her sister. She had done that on the gown Felicity wore tonight, and she took a moment now to admire it. She had done a good job with it, she thought. She’d added some ribbon to it to make it look special, like something more than just a cast-off that Rosalind no longer wanted. If Rosalind realized Isabella had done that, she would be angry—she became jealous so easily. But her anger would be directed at Isabella, and Isabella didn’t mind that. What was important was that Felicity was having a good experience tonight.

Right now, though, Felicity was frowning. “You’re not engaged to the Duke,” she said. “Why do people think that you are?”

Isabella couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “It’s pretty clever of me, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think so at all! Isabella, have you been lying to people about this? Have you been spreading the rumor that you’re engaged to the Duke?”

“It’s gotten them talking, hasn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you would do such a thing! When we both know that you have no such engagement at all! Why would you lie about this?”

“What kind of night have you been having, Felicity?”

“What? Why are you asking me that right now? This is about you.”

“Just answer the question, please.”

“Well—my night has been good,” Felicity admitted. “Three gentlemen have already asked me to dance, and you know that doesn’t always happen.”

“That’s right,” Isabella said. “People think the Duke of Windhill wants me, Felicity, and that’s making them turn their attention to you. You’re the loveliest young lady at this party, of course, but you know as well as I that people don’t notice us. But now, they will. Now I’ve given them a reason to notice you, and they’ll be able to see just how wonderful you are. It won’t be long at all before you find yourself a match.”

“Rosalind is going to be furious when she finds out what you did.” Felicity sounded rather awestruck. She had always feared Rosalind’s temper more than Isabella had.

“Well, she isn’t going to find out tonight,” Isabella replied. “She’s not even here. She had to stay home because she’s ill.”

“I know,” Felicity said, “but she’s sure to find out eventually, and then she’ll be outraged. And so will Father.”

“Let them be outraged. What can they do about it? By then, if my plan goes well, you’ll have already secured the attention of a worthy gentleman, and your future will be set. There will be nothing Father or Rosalind can do to take away what will be yours as a result of this plan.”

“Maybe they won’t be able to disrupt my future,” Felicity agreed, “but what about yours, Isabella? When Father hears what you’ve done, he may never let you attend another ball again. He isn’t going to like this at all, you can be sure of that.”

“No, he won’t,” Isabella agreed. “And perhaps he will stop me from attending future balls. But what of that?”

“How will you find a husband if you can’t attend balls?” Felicity demanded.

“Oh, that,” Isabella said dismissively. “You know that I never planned to marry, Felicity.”

“I know you never believed you could. But why not? If you’re so sure it can happen for me, why couldn’t it happen for you?”

“Father would never make the effort for me. He never even allowed me to have a debut season. You know that. I’m only allowed out now as a chaperone for you.”

“I still don’t understand why Father wouldn’t let you have a season of your own,” Felicity said.

Isabella reached up and touched the mole on her cheek, just below her eye. “I’m no beauty,” she said. “Our parentage is struggle enough, but looking the way I do…”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Felicity said loyally.

Isabella smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “But the gentlemen of the ton won’t see it through your eyes. I don’t have the kind of beauty they’re looking for the way you do.”

“You’re much lovelier than Rosalind.”

“You only say that because we know what she’s like as a person. Someone who didn’t know her wouldn’t think so.”

“They would,” Felicity countered. “She might not have a birthmark on her face the way you do, but her features are so unbecoming. She’s dreadful to look at.”

“Well, don’t let Father hear you saying that.”

“You know I won’t. But really, Isabella, you mustn’t give up on the idea of your own future when you could easily find a match if you only tried! And now, you’ve spread this rumor, and who knows whether Father will ever allow you out to a ball or a party again? You might have destroyed your last chance at making an impression on a gentleman.”

“Well, if I did spend it, I spent it on my sister,” Isabella said. “I can think of nothing better to have purchased with it than a future for you, Felicity. That’s all I care about.”

“I wish you would care about yourself,” Felicity murmured.

But Isabella knew she had her priorities right. Her mother’s dying request to Isabella, articulated over and over in the days before she had passed, had been to know that Isabella would care for Felicity. That Felicity would have a safe and happy future.

It was the only thing that mattered to Isabella now, and she was determined to see to it that it happened just as her mother had wished.

That meant finding a good marriage for Felicity, no matter how challenging it might be to do that. It meant that everything Isabella did was with the goal of bringing gentlemen’s attention to Felicity.

That was what she had been thinking when she had made up the lie about the Duke. And after all, His Grace rarely socialized or left his home, so it would be difficult for anyone to confirm—for a while, anyway—that she had made it up.

Someday, someone would put the pieces together. She knew that. But all she could hope was that by then, Felicity would have found a match with someone who deserved her. The most important thing to Isabella was to get her sister into society and away from the people who had always treated her so horribly. Isabella might be stuck with her father and Rosalind, but Felicity didn’t have to be.