Chapter 1

"Surely my feelings must count for something?" Dorothy argued. "I do not disagree that rank and fortune are advantageous, and I will my do my duty in seeking them, but I cannot ignore my preferences entirely in the person of my future husband."

This was a vexing conversation but not one that she could avoid on the brink of her second London Season. It was time for Dorothy to find a husband, and she knew this as well as anyone, but she wished to go about this necessary task in her own way, rather than in accordance with cold rules and instructions.

"Feelings?" said the white-haired and frail Solomon Hoskins rather querulously, pulling a woolen blanket more closely around his legs. "Making a match is not about feelings, Daughter. It is about money and name. You must listen to your brother on this, for he will be Lord Prouton after I am gone. Feelings can come later, as they did for your mother and me."

"That's not what Mother told me," Dorothy objected, thinking of the cheerful and spirited woman from whom she had inherited her glossy chestnut-brown hair, rosy cheeks, and sparkling brown eyes flecked with gold. "She said she was always aiming to marry you, Father, from the very first time she saw you in a family friend's garden at sixteen years of age."

"Be that as it may, be that as it may…" Lord Prouton said, and then drifted into a silent reverie at the mention of his beloved wife, now dead for almost five years.

In this daydreaming pause, Dorothy sighed and helped her father secure his blanket. He had suffered a stroke not long after her mother's death and was now largely housebound and ruled by the will of her older brother Patrick, a man of excellent sense, at least in terms of business and money matters.

Any hopes that the discussion of her future marriage might now be at an end were quickly scuppered as Patrick entered back into the fray.

"What Father is saying is that the family's fortunes rest significantly on you making as advantageous a marriage as possible, Dorothy. Your feelings cannot be allowed to obscure that goal. I might be only a baron's heir, but my investments have brought our family a significant fortune, but if you were to marry a viscount, an earl or marquess, or even a duke…"

Patrick halted briefly to sigh longingly at the prospect and then continued to lecture his younger sister.

"If you were to find a husband of significant rank and fortune, our family's connections and my own potential marriage prospects would be boosted immeasurably. As the only daughter in the family, you must step as high on the social ladder as you can. That is your contribution, as mine has been multiplying our fortune. Marriage is an opportunity to be exploited, not an occasion for sentimentality."

"I've heard all this before, Patrick, and I'm not ignorant of social realities. This is my second Season in London, not my first."

"Precisely why I must reiterate it. I did not press you to make a match in your first Season, did I? Regardless of your beauty, and the favor showed to you by the Queen and some of her household, I agreed that it was better to show the goods at the auction house long enough to attract the highest bidder possible rather than accept the first to offer."

"Is that how you both see me, Patrick? Goods in an auction house?!" Dorothy snapped at him.

He looked at her in surprise at this retort. At four-and-twenty, Patrick Hoskins had the appearance and manner of a man at least ten years older, including the style of his clothes and hair. To Dorothy, he had always seemed middle-aged and stuck in his ways with little capacity for fun, humor or even ordinary human feeling.

"It was only a metaphor, Sister. Do not be hysterical. You must admit, I did not encourage you to accept that viscount who offered for you in your first Season, did I? It was because I guessed that you might be of interest to a higher ranking and richer noble in your second Season. But we cannot sit back and wait for this—we must make it happen."

"You did not press me," Dorothy conceded, thinking with some revulsion of the middle-aged and pot-bellied Lord Capstone, who had indeed offered for her hand early last Season while making it clear that he expected to continue to maintain his vulgar mistress and her offspring after their marriage.

Even if Patrick had pressed Lord Capstone's suit, she did not think she could ever have gone through with a marriage to a man who would evidently hold his wife in such contempt.

"Very well, we are in agreement on the important issues. Now is the time to strike while you are still relatively young and new to the ton, but your beauty and grace are known and acknowledged. So, I will be hosting a dinner party here next week, in advance of the formal opening of the Season. I've invited our new neighbors."

Dorothy nodded wearily. She could cope with sitting through a dull dinner with neighbors in this new and affluent district that Patrick had decided their family must occupy in order to showcase their increased wealth.

Sadness flashed through her at the thought of their small but comfortable old house on the northern outskirts of London where she had so many happy memories of her mother and childhood.

Patrick had decided that they should move to fashionable Mayfair for Dorothy's second London Season, and so here they were in a big house on an affluent square, where many high-profile balls and events would doubtless be held over the coming months. Dorothy had a completely new wardrobe for the new Season too, underlining the importance that Patrick placed on her success in this year's marriage mart.

"Which neighbors should I expect at this dinner?" Dorothy asked, personally disinterested but still wishing to be prepared for whomever she might face.

"Two earls—not one but two! The Earl of Granford and the Earl of Hinderton," Patrick pronounced delightedly. "Best of all, even the Duke of Dawford has accepted my invitation. With three of the ton's most eligible bachelors at the table, you must be at your best, Dorothy. It will give you a real advantage over other girls before the Season officially begins."

"I see," Dorothy said, tight-lipped. "Among these men, is there one in particular to whom you wish me to pay attention?"

"Well, the Duke of Dawford, of course," Patrick replied, as though it were obvious. "He will be the most senior ranking man at the table, and his fortune is one of the largest in the kingdom. Dawford has completely turned around his estate's material position through his investments, you know. The City fellows speak of him like a prophet."

"Do they indeed?" Dorothy commented, still uninterested in the face of such praise.

"Yes, he's very well thought of in the Lords too. His speeches are often printed in full in the newspapers, and he has the ears of all kinds of influential people, from merchants to royalty…"

In his comfortable chair, Lord Prouton was now dozing gently, ignorant of his children's continued conversation. Dorothy doubted that he would have anything to say even if he were awake, beyond exhorting her to be guided by Patrick.

"Apparently, Dawford took up the reins of his estate at only fourteen years of age after a challenge in the courts. The financial guardian willed by his father had died, and a blackguard son had run down the Dawford fortunes to his own advantage. Once Dawford got wind of it, he ran the fellow out of town and made his own investments—every one a success. What a man!"

"Yes, that would impress you, wouldn't it, Patrick?" Dorothy said with sarcasm that her brother failed to detect as she made for the door. "In fact, if you're so very taken with this duke, why don't you marry him?"

"Don't be so facetious, Dorothy. You're not a child to imagine that English law would allow such a thing between two men, and even if it did…" Patrick reacted hotly at first but then collected himself. "Anyway, I will not be distracted with nonsense. Yes, the Duke of Dawford impresses me greatly. It would be a feather in our family's cap if you could capture such a man's favor."

"Is our family's cap very much in need of urgent feathering?" Dorothy asked, knowing that Patrick's view of an ideal husband's qualities was unlikely to match her own. "Remember that until I've met the man, we can't even know whether that particular feather will suit…"

If she were to be tied to a man for life, Dorothy wanted more from him than the same obsession with investments and returns that occupied her older brother. Was it unreasonable to ask for some personality, principles, and maybe even love of the kind she had witnessed between her parents?

Patrick rolled his eyes at this remark, drawing a supportive tutting noise from their father.

"Again, I must caution you to rein in your levity, Sister," he said seriously, wagging a finger at her. "We're speaking of a man of great power and influence, and you must show some respect. If the Duke of Dawford comes to think ill of our family or, God forbid, we cross him in some way, his disfavor could do real damage to our social position."

"I understand, Patrick," she sighed, having now had enough and moving towards the drawing room door. "There's no reason to suppose I would ever be less than civil and polite to a guest in our home."

"Be more than civil and polite to the Duke of Dawford. Make sure you pay particular attention to your toilette and conversation for dinner. You should wear Mother's pearls, I think. It would also be as well for you to look up the Dawford family in Debretts so that you have some background knowledge…"

Dorothy gave a non-committal gesture of farewell, and Patrick made no attempt to detain her, seeming satisfied that she would cooperate with his scheming to capture a rich husband with an elevated position.

After she had closed the door, she could hear him continuing to regale her father with stories of the Duke of Dawford's accomplishments.

"Foolish, affected little man!" Dorothy muttered to herself.

She knew that saying such things to Patrick's face would only result in a tiring argument that changed nothing. Her brother simply couldn't understand anyone's view but his own.

Drawing a cream cashmere wrap around her pale blue muslin day dress, Dorothy made for the back garden to cool her head.

This Mayfair garden was larger and better designed than the one at their former home, with flower beds and trees arranged to the precise plan of some previous owner or gardener. Still, it lacked the charm and comfort of their rickety old garden with its creaking swing, murky pond and the ancient sprawling apple trees that she had climbed as a child.

Regardless, Dorothy appreciated the peaceful atmosphere of the new garden. She only wished she could find a climbable tree just to scandalize Patrick. Perhaps she would sit in it and wave to their neighbors. That would certainly be an unforgettable introduction to the Duke of Dawford!

She actually had no idea yet which of the neighboring houses belonged to Patrick's new idol. The ton had largely been absent at their country estates when the Hoskins family moved to Mayfair. It was only this week that Society was beginning to return for the Season.

"Pompous Patrick and his damned ambition!" Dorothy cursed as she walked now, confident that she was far enough from the house to be unheard.

If Patrick didn't care so much for fortune and status, they could have stayed in their old home and she could have had years to find and marry the man of her choice…

Dorothy was jolted from this resentful reverie by the unexpected sight of an elderly and confused-looking woman wandering among the lavender bushes. Her black dress and white cap perhaps indicated that she was a widow, and she looked somewhat unsteady, although not as frail as her father.

But who was she, and what was she doing there?

"Help!" the old woman suddenly called out, genuine fear in her voice. "Oh my! Someone, please, help me!"