Chapter 3

The grand ballroom of Almack's Assembly Rooms shimmered with opulence as the Season finally came to life in front of Chloe's eyes. Chloe had to admit that it was absolutely beautiful. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their myriad prisms casting a warm, golden light that danced across the room, over the sea of excitable aristocratic faces. The walls were adorned with elaborate gilded moldings and intricate plaster work, the delicate patterns winding gracefully around the room like the threads of a golden tapestry. Rich, velvet draperies in deep shades of burgundy and royal blue framed the tall windows, their heavy folds adding to the sense of luxury that flooded the room. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, their vibrant arrangements adorning every corner and table, their blooms carefully chosen to reflect the Season's finest. At one end of the ballroom, a raised dais held the musicians, a small orchestra whose melodies filled the room with a harmonious blend of strings, woodwinds, and the occasional soft flourish of a harp. The music was both lively and refined, perfectly suited to the sophisticated atmosphere of Almack's. It was perfect, and yet…

Chloe was thoroughly not enjoying herself.

She moved gracefully through the crowd, her pale blue silk gown swishing softly around her feet. The delicate embroidery of the gown accentuated her petite figure, and her golden curls framed her face like a halo, drawing admiring glances from many in attendance. Despite the external admiration, her heart was heavy with the pressure to secure a suitable match, an unyielding expectation from her father. He had been very firm with her that morning, that she was to make a good impression, and now she could feel his eyes on her the whole time, a silent reminder of her duty. A duty that she could not shake off, however hard she tried.

She sighed softly, wishing for the freedom to follow her own heart rather than the rigid path laid out for her. She even wished that she did not have to be here tonight, at this ball. She would have much rather been at home, daydreaming about the ghost from her past…

"Lady Swift, might I have the honor of this dance?" A smooth voice interrupted her thoughts. Chloe turned to find Lord Daniel Thompson, bowing elegantly before her. Now this was a man that her father would like for her. So of course she could not refuse.

"Of course, Lord Thompson," Chloe replied with a practiced smile, extending her hand to him.

Daniel took her hand and led her to the center of the ballroom, where the other couples were already gliding gracefully across the polished floor. His touch was light, but firm, and he exuded an air of confidence that commanded attention. Tall and impeccably dressed in a black tail coat, Daniel moved with an elegance and precision that spoke of years of refinement and practice.

As they began to dance, Chloe could not help but notice how perfectly he fit the image of the ideal suitor . His dark hair was neatly styled, and his chiseled features were softened by the warmth in his deep blue eyes. There was a charm about him that was hard to ignore, a charm that made him a favorite among the ladies of the ton. And yet…

He was simply not the man for her. She did not even need this dance to know that he would never be the man for her.

As the music began, Chloe moved with grace, her steps light and fluid. Just as she was taught to do when she was forced to take endless dance lessons as a child. Lord Thompson's grip was firm, his movements precise, yet she felt no warmth in his touch. Her mind wandered to Anthony, as it often did during moments like these. How different it had been to dance with him, to feel the genuine affection and unspoken connection that had always existed between them.

Now those were dances that she would always remember…

But of course, Anthony was not here to dance with her tonight. She could not forget that he had cruelly abandoned her.

"You look ravishing tonight, Lady Chloe," Lord Thompson remarked, his gaze lingering on her. "It is no wonder you are the toast of the Season."

Toast of the Season?

Chloe was sure that was not a title that had been bestowed upon her, but of course, she did not wish to be rude either.

"Thank you, Lord Thompson," Chloe replied, her smile tight. "That is very kind of you to say."

She felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine, and not from the cold. She simply did not have any connection with this man, and never would, and there was no way that she could force it. As the dance ended and Lord Thompson led her back to the edge of the ballroom, Chloe excused herself, claiming a need for refreshment.

She moved swiftly to the refreshment table, seeking a moment of respite from the suffocating atmosphere. She took a glass of lemonade, its coolness a welcome relief against the heat of the crowded room. But she was not to be left alone for long. It was mere moments before Mr. Gregory Havisham was beside her.

"Lady Swift, may I have the honor of this next dance?"

His voice was more kind, and his smile more genuine, but Chloe knew that his charm was not sincere. He did not intend to settle down, and even if he did, it was unlikely that her father would approve, for he carried a reputation that was far from spotless. Known for his gambling habits and a string of fleeting romantic entanglements, he was not considered a stable or serious match by the standards of the ton. But still, she agreed to dance with him.

As they took to the floor, Chloe found herself comparing him to Anthony again , as she had with so many others. As she could not stop herself from doing. Gregory was amiable, his conversation light and entertaining, but he lacked the depth and sincerity she admired in Anthony. Without that, what would they share? She would never be able to have a true bond with him.

"Lady Swift, you seem rather pensive this evening," Gregory observed as they twirled gracefully.

"Do I?" Chloe forced a smile. "Perhaps it is just the weight of the Season's expectations."

"Ah, the infamous pressures of Almack's," Gregory said with a wry grin. "Do not let them trouble you too much. You are a jewel among us, Lady Swift."

Chloe's smile faltered as she thought of the real jewel in her heart.

The evening wore on, and Chloe dutifully danced with several more gentlemen, each one blending in to the next in a blur of polite conversation and measured steps. Her father's approving nods from across the room did little to lift her spirits. The weight of her duty pressed heavily upon her, the prospect of a loveless marriage looming ever larger.

What would she do if she did not find a husband this Season? What would her father do? It did not bear thinking about.

Once she was given a moment alone, Chloe quickly scanned the room and spotted Sera standing near the edge of the dance floor, engaged in conversation with a group of young ladies. She made her way towards her friend, weaving through the throngs of elegantly dressed guests, needing to talk to the one person in the room who she was sure really understood her. As she approached, she caught Sera's eye and gave a small, urgent nod. Sera excused herself from the group and met Chloe near the refreshment table.

"Oh my," Seraphina gasped. "Tonight is quite the start to the Season, is it not?"

Chloe did not even have an answer to that. It might have only just begun, but she was already thoroughly exhausted.

"I do not think that I can dance another step," she confessed. "How much longer must we tolerate this?"

Seraphina grimaced. "Unfortunately, this is only the beginning."

Chloe groaned, before they both laughed. If they did not laugh about it, then Chloe might cry. She most certainly did not think that her father would approve if she burst in to tears, and unfortunately, she knew that his eyes were on her the whole time. No matter where he was in the room, or what he was doing, his eyes were on her.

Seraphina gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know it feels unbearable, Chloe. But remember, we are not alone in this. Almost every girl here feels the same pressure."

Chloe sighed, glancing around at the other young ladies, each seemingly lost in their own world of expectation and duty.

"I wish there were another way," she murmured. "Something more than this endless parade of forced smiles and shallow conversations."

Any other way would be better than this.

Anything at all.

***

Julian was bored.

He always found these kinds of events thoroughly boring. As he stood at the edge of the opulent ballroom, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with a cold, calculating intensity, he realized that there was no one here that he wanted to talk to. Unfortunately, everyone always wanted to talk to him.

The chandelier's light glittered off his perfectly tailored coat and the medals that adorned his chest, which he knew would add to his imposing presence. He observed the fluttering gowns, the sparkling jewels, and the forced laughter that echoed through the room. Each face, each conversation, was analyzed and categorized within seconds. Much as he was bored, he could not deny to himself that he thrived in this environment, a battle field of social maneuvers where he always emerged victorious.

As Julian took a sip from his crystal glass, his gaze lingered on the couples twirling on the dance floor. The sight of their carefree expressions only deepened his sense of ennui. He could easily predict the motivations behind each smile, the hidden agendas behind every polite exchange. It was a game he had mastered long ago, one that no longer offered any real challenge. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a cluster of young ladies, their laughter like the tinkling of delicate glass. Among them stood Lady Chloe Swift, daughter of the Earl of Hadleigh.

A slow, predatory smile spread across Lord Frampton's face as he observed her. Chloe was the epitome of grace and beauty, her golden hair cascading in soft curls around a porcelain face. She was petite, with an elegance that seemed to come naturally, her expressive green eyes drawing him in even from a distance. The fact that she remained unmarried after two Seasons intrigued him. There must be more to her than the pretty face and charming demeanor. His mind raced with the possibilities as he watched her from across the room. Chloe represented more than just an alliance with the influential Swift family; she was a prize, a symbol of his power and control.

Julian adjusted his cuff links, his movements deliberate and measured as an idea popped in to his mind. Perhaps there was a way that he could make this night so much more interesting for himself. He moved towards Chloe with the precision of a predator closing in on its prey, his smile widening as he approached her. The crowd seemed to part before him, the other guests instinctively stepping aside as he made his way across the ballroom. He was about to claim her as his own, and he could not wait.

The boredom that was over coming him before dissolved. In its place, a desire to claim. A desire to remind everyone in the room that he was always a force to be reckoned with. Of course, she would be thrilled as well. Any lady he turned his attention to was always happy, as were their parents, that was one of the great things about being a duke.

He approached Chloe with calculated charm, his movements smooth and unhurried. He was a master of these encounters, and he knew exactly how to make an impression that would linger long after the night was over.

"Lady Chloe Swift," Lord Frampton's voice was smooth, his eyes locking on to hers with an intensity that left little room for doubt about his intentions as soon as he was in ear shot. "I must say, you are even more enchanting in person than the rumors suggest."

Chloe turned towards him, her smile polite but guarded. She did not look as pleased to see him as he thought she might be. But that was alright, there was still time. If anything, that made her even more fascinating to him. Julian could not help but notice the envious and admiring gazes surrounding them, surrounding him . The other ladies in the room watched him with longing, their smiles brightening whenever he glanced their way.

Yet, he remained focused on Chloe, sensing the complexity beneath her composed exterior.

"Your Grace," she replied, curtsying gracefully. "You flatter me."

"I merely speak the truth," he said, taking her hand and brushing his lips against her gloved fingers. "I have been most eager to make your acquaintance."

As he straightened, he saw a flicker of something in her eyes… nervousness perhaps, or a hint of defiance. Julian liked that. It would make the game all the more interesting. Anything to make the game interesting inspired him.

The orchestra began to play, but Julian paused for a moment, heightening the tension. He enjoyed these small moments of control, the way anticipation hung in the air. The other guests watched with bated breath, waiting to see what he would do next. He smirked, still not quite ready to ask. But it was inevitable, he would ask when the moment was right. But only he would be able to decide when the moment was right.

Julian could feel the collective gaze of the ballroom fixed on him and Chloe. He reveled in the power he held over them, knowing that every subtle move, every hesitation, only increased their fascination.

"Tell me, Lady Chloe," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of command. "Do you enjoy these gatherings, or do you, too, find them lacking?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to discern the meaning behind his words. "I find them... necessary," she replied carefully. "But often quite monotonous, I suppose."

"Ah, monotony," Julian echoed, his gaze intense. "A plague upon the privileged, would you not agree?"

She smiled, but it was clear that she was not entirely sure how to react. It was up to him to carry this on. He allowed his lips to curl up into a smirk before he allowed those words to fall out of his mouth. The words that they all knew were coming.

"Please, accompany me for a dance. I would be most honored, Lady Swift."

***

"Please, accompany me for a dance. I would be most honored, Lady Swift."

Had he really just asked that?

In shock, Chloe hesitated, her eyes darting to Seraphina beside her, who offered an encouraging nod. Although the encouragement might have simply been because Chloe could not refuse. Not when a duke asked her to dance. She could feel Lord Frampton's confidence radiating off him, his certainty that she would comply, just as so many others had before her. Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his.

"Of course, Your Grace," she replied, her smile polite but strained.

As they moved to the center of the dance floor, Chloe's mind raced. The Duke was not a man to be trifled with. His reputation was as imposing as his presence. Tall and broad shouldered, he carried himself with an air of authority that made lesser men quail. His dark eyes seemed to pierce through anyone he looked at. His jaw, set in a permanent expression of sternness, added to his intimidating aura. Rumors about him circulated through the ton like wildfire. They whispered of his fierce temper, his ruthless business acumen, and the mysterious circumstances surrounding his family's fortune.

Some even said he had single handedly negotiated trade deals that saved the crown from financial ruin. Others spoke of duels fought and won, his skill with a pistol unmatched. It was likely all untrue, but Chloe did not know how to feel as she stood opposite this man.

As they stepped onto the dance floor, Chloe could feel the weight of his gaze. It was as if he were assessing her, measuring her worthiness. She struggled to maintain her composure, aware of the eyes of the other guests upon them. They were all going to be gossiping, and that terrified Chloe more than anything else. Chloe caught sight of her father standing at the edge of the room. His expression was one of approval, his eyes fixed on her with a look that spoke volumes. This was what he wanted for her. A match that would elevate their family's status, a connection that would solidify their place in society. The weight of his expectations pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

Lord Frampton led her into the dance with a practiced grace, his movements precise and controlled.

"You look exquisite tonight, Lady Swift," he said, his voice low and intimate.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she replied, her body stiff and her smiles forced.

She tried to focus on the steps, the rhythm of the music, anything to distract her from the unsettling feeling of being in Lord Frampton's arms. Why did he make her feel this way? What was it about him that terrified her so much? As they glided across the dance floor, Frampton began speaking, his tone dripping with confidence and self assuredness. This seemed to be a speech that he had practiced often. He said it as if it was a script which only made this feel a million times worse.

"You know, Lady Swift, I have recently acquired a new estate in the Lake District. It is quite the property. Several thousand acres, with a manor house that rivals any in the country. The views are simply breath taking."

Oh no.

Now she was going to have to suffer him bragging. She had been through this with lords before, and it was always hard to smile through.

"That sounds lovely, Your Grace," Chloe replied, keeping her tone polite.

She could not help but notice the way his eyes gleamed with pride as he spoke about his latest acquisition, as if it were a trophy to be displayed rather than a home to be cherished.

"And, of course, my investments have been flourishing," Lord Frampton continued, undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. "The venture in India has been particularly successful. The returns have been more than satisfactory. My business acumen has always been a point of pride."

"Indeed, Your Grace," Chloe murmured, her mind wandering as he bragged about his wealth and successes.

She caught sight of her father again, his approving gaze never wavering. The pressure to secure a suitable match weighed heavily on her, making each of Lord Frampton's boasts feel like a chain tightening around her heart. His grip on her waist tightened slightly as he guided her through a particularly intricate turn.

"It is essential to maintain a certain level of prestige and influence in our circles, would you not agree? Connections and wealth are what keep us at the top, after all."

Chloe forced another smile, her thoughts drifting to the days spent with Anthony. His laughter, his kindness, the genuine connection they shared… it all seemed so far away now, replaced by the cold reality of societal expectations.

"Yes, Your Grace, they are important."

His gaze bore into her, as if searching for a sign of agreement, or perhaps admiration. Chloe's mind raced, struggling to keep up with the conversation while battling the rising tide of discontent within her. She felt like a marionette, her strings pulled taut by the expectations of those around her. She had absolutely no control over her own movements at all.

Finally, the music swelled to its final crescendo, signaling the end of the dance. Chloe felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over her.

Lord Frampton escorted her back to her mother, his hand lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Swift. I look forward to our next."

"Of course, Your Grace," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. She curtsied politely as he bowed and took his leave.

Thank goodness that was over. That was a nightmare. Although she knew that was unlikely to be the end of the nightmare. Her father was most certainly going to want to talk about it, whether she wanted to or not. Chloe's heart sank. The Season had not gotten off to the greatest start for her, and there was still so much to come.