Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Five Nights Later, The Cranberrys' Ballroom

M eredith twirled in a circle as she took in the sights and sounds of the crowded space. She was wearing a new gown she'd commissioned specially for the occasion. Lavender silk with an empire waist and tiny circles embroidered along the hem and sleeves. Her hair was pinned atop her head in a chignon, and she wore white slippers and gloves, and a diamond necklace that had belonged to her mother.

Mama . The thought of her always made Meredith's throat tighten. What would Mama think of her now? Would she be proud that Meredith had become a duchess? Or would she be horrified that Meredith had failed as a wife by being unable to produce an heir to the Maxwell dukedom?

Meredith shook herself and forced a smile to her lips. This wasn't the time to be melancholy. Or to ruminate on the awful past. It was the first ball of the London Season. Exciting and full of promise, filled with debutantes and gentlemen in search of proper wives. And this year, darling Gemma, Griffin's younger sister, was among them. Meredith adored Gemma, and she'd promised to help the girl navigate the Season. Meredith may not have had the courtship and marriage of her dreams, but she wished it for Gemma more than anything.

She knew exactly how Gemma felt, after all. The first ball of Meredith's first Season had been in this very place—the Cranberrys' ballroom. The family had hosted the first ball of the Season for as long as anyone could remember. Meredith glanced up at the chandelier filled with candles and, for a moment, it was as if she'd stepped back in time. Back to that night.

She'd been so full of hope. So convinced she would finally have a chance to prove herself to her father, to finally make him proud. She'd been planning to find the perfect suitor. A duke, just as Father had said. Just as Mama had wanted.

Meredith had set her sights on the Duke of Grovemont. He was handsome and young and from a good family with a large fortune. What's more, Ash and Griffin both liked him, and she trusted their judgement implicitly. She didn't know it that night, but she needn't have bothered trying to garner Grovemont's attention.

Not a sennight after her debut, Meredith was having supper with Father at his town house. Their dinners had become a regular occurrence since she'd come to London to prepare for the Season. In fact, Meredith had seen more of her father that month than she had the entirety of her childhood. She'd already decided that Society was ever so much more exciting than being stuck out in the countryside, alone. She was enjoying every moment of her first Season, just as she'd always known she would.

"Come to my study after dinner, Meredith," Father said as if it were an afterthought or something he'd just remembered. "There's something I need to speak to you about."

Meredith, of course, was certain he wanted to discuss her marriage prospects. She was dutifully prepared to tell him about her promising dance with the Duke of Grovemont at the Whitfields' ball the prior evening.

But when Meredith entered her father's study an hour later and took a seat in the large leather chair in front of his desk, he tossed a small stack of papers toward her and managed a tight, brief smile.

"There," he said, ever cryptic.

She pursed her lips and tipped her head to the side, not at all certain what he meant. "What is this?"

Father nodded at the papers. "It's all settled. You'll marry the Duke of Maxwell after the banns are read."

Meredith's heart plummeted to her stomach. "What?"

"The contract has been signed," Father reported.

Panic clawed at Meredith's insides. "But the Duke of Maxwell is…quite…old, is he not?" Her voice was high and thin, and she hated it.

"What does that have to do with it?" Father barked, narrowing his eyes on her, already disapproving.

"It's just that…" She searched her mind for the proper words. There had to be some way to make Father understand. "I barely know him. I don't—" She'd been about to say she didn't like what she did know about him. Not only was Maxwell old and unattractive, but there had also been rumors that he'd been cruel to his late wife. She'd died many years ago, but the rumors continued to swirl.

Her father impatiently slashed his hand through the air. "I thought you'd be pleased about this, Meredith. After all, you'll be a duchess . It's what your mother wanted." He grabbed his lapels and stared at her, anger radiating from him in nearly palpable waves.

"Did Mama know the Duke of Maxwell?" Meredith ventured, still hating how timid her voice sounded .

"What does that have to do with it? One duke is as good as the next. Maxwell's finances are in order. And he's willing to marry you. He doesn't seem to care that you do unladylike things like wear breeches and ride horses astride."

Meredith's cheeks burned. She'd spent her childhood knowing she wasn't exactly a proper young woman. But she'd had no one to show her. Other than her governess, who had been more interested in gossiping with the other servants than doing her job. As a result, Meredith had spent much of her youth gallivanting about the countryside with her brother and Griffin. She'd never considered how it might affect her marriage prospects. And if Father had been concerned about that, why hadn't he ever mentioned it?

She shook her head. There was no time to worry about that now. It took effort to breathe with the notion of marrying the elderly Duke of Maxwell encompassing her every thought. She had to think. Father had said one duke was as good as the next. Perhaps she should come at this a different way.

"I was hoping to catch the Duke of Grovemont's eye," she offered with a bright smile.

Her father scowled. "Grovemont's still a pup. And his family's holdings aren't as vast as Maxwell's."

Meredith swallowed hard. This couldn't be happening. Unwanted tears filled her eyes. "Yes, but ? —"

"But nothing. Maxwell it is." Father slammed his fist on the top of the desk, making the ominous stack of papers bounce.

Meredith folded her hands together in her lap and stared down at them. "But, Father, I don't want ? —"

Father leaned over the desk until his face was level with hers. Spittle flew from his lips. "What you want has nothing to do with this." His voice was hard and cold. His face had become a frightening mask. "You're my daughter and you'll do as you're told. The papers have already been signed."

Meredith swallowed hard and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. She nodded slowly as the reality of the situation filtered through her mind. Father was right. Her entire life, he'd only asked this one thing of her. And it was what Mama had wanted too. Hadn't Meredith always wanted to please Father? Hadn't she always wanted him to approve of her? To praise her for something? She would do as she was told.

"Very well," she said stoically. It wasn't as if she'd be the first or the last young woman to marry a man of her father's choosing. She had to be brave. "I'll marry Maxwell."

Father's face transformed into a wide, satisfied smile, and relief spread through Meredith's veins. She'd finally done it. She'd finally made him happy. He'd never smiled at her before, she realized.

"Excellent," Father said, straightening back to his full height. "We'll have the banns read and put the announcement in the papers."

Father left the room whistling.

Meredith cried herself to sleep.

Ash had made a jest of it. Griffin had first tried to talk her out of it, then he'd left . But she'd gone through with the marriage, nonetheless. Of course, she'd gone on to be a colossal failure. She'd failed to do the one thing that was her sacred duty as a wife—produce an heir. Father had died a few years after her wedding. At least he hadn't lived to witness her shame.

Meredith shook her head to clear it of the unsettling thoughts of the past. Tonight wasn't about bad memories. Tonight was about Gemma's debut…and Griffin's impending betrothal. Her friends needed her help. Gemma was a dear, and she loved the girl as if she were her own sister. And Griffin, well, Griffin had been like a second brother to her for as long as she could remember.

Meredith was worried about Griff. She'd worried about him for years, actually. Even though they'd had a row the night before he left—the night she'd told him about her betrothal to Maxwell—she'd spent endless nights praying for Griffin's safe return from the war.

He'd been different when he returned. There was no denying that. He'd had lines around the corners of his eyes, a permanent furrow to his brow, and he was far less quick to smile. But her dear friend was still there, and over the course of the past year, she'd been able to cajole him into laughing a bit more, enjoying himself a little…to remember the carefree, happy young man he'd once been.

Meredith had needed time too, of course. The years with Maxwell had taken their toll. To be sure, she hadn't been sad when her husband died, and she hadn't even felt guilty over her lack of grief. Awful of her, perhaps. But how could you mourn someone you barely knew? Someone who'd treated you like a stranger? Someone who harshly blamed you for failing to give him an heir?

No . She wouldn't think of it. Wouldn't think of him . That was all in the past, and it was high time both Meredith and Griffin stopped living in the past. They needed to enjoy themselves.

Griffin had an obligation to marry and produce an heir. He might not care about making his father proud, but his mother desperately wanted a grandchild. It was all she talked about. And Meredith and Griffin both loved the duchess very much.

As for Meredith enjoying herself…there was something else. Something she intended to do this Season. Something she hoped would clear away all the bad memories from her time with Maxwell. Something long overdue that she only planned to share with her closest friends. But first, she must see to Gemma and Griffin.

Meredith scanned the ballroom to find Gemma standing in a large group of young ladies near the wall. The eighteen-year-old was wearing a white satin gown with pearls at her neck and matching pearl earbobs. Gemma was tall and willowy with short, curly dark hair and large, kind eyes. Gemma liked to say that she was awkward. That she was too tall, her neck far too long, her eyes far too large for her face, and that her hair was an unruly mess. But she'd been assured repeatedly by her mother that the women in their family took a bit longer than others to come into their beauty. They all expected that once she blossomed, Gemma would be more beautiful than they could imagine. In the meantime, her lack of classical beauty didn't bother Gemma in the least. Perpetually happy, the girl had decided to devote herself this Season to enjoying herself and helping her many friends find agreeable matches. It was so like Gemma to think of others before herself. She had the most fiercely loyal, kind heart of anyone Meredith had ever known, and that, of course, was far more important than physical beauty.

Gemma came galloping over and stopped in front of Meredith, tapping her foot on the parquet floor.

"You won't believe what's happened," Gemma announced, crossing her arms over her chest. The girl had a fierce look in her eye that Meredith recognized immediately. The Southbury Stubborn Streak.

"What's wrong, darling?" Meredith reached out to touch Gemma's gloved elbow.

"Lady Mary Costner, that's what's wrong," Gemma nearly growled.

Meredith narrowed her eyes. She'd heard that name before and it was never associated with anything good. "What did Lady Mary do?"

"She's threatened all the other debutantes. She told all the girls that if she sees them dancing with any of the most eligible bachelors, she will spread rumors about them and ruin their reputations."

Meredith frowned, letting her hand fall back to her side. "You can't be serious."

"I wish I wasn't. Hideous girl. Who does she think she is?" Gemma plunked her gloved fists on her narrow hips.

Meredith glanced over to the large group of debutantes huddled against the wall. "Is that why all the young ladies are flocked together this evening?"

"Yes." Gemma nodded. "I intend to do something about it."

Warning bells sounded in Meredith's head. "Gemma, be careful," she advised. "These sorts of things can become messy. Scandal has a way of finding even the most unlikely victim." Meredith was thinking of her own dear friend, Clare Handleton. Clare knew all too well how quickly a scandal could ruin a debutante.

"I'll be careful," Gemma agreed, "but I refuse to let Lady Mary intimidate me. I intend to rally the troops to dance with all the eligible gentlemen!" Gemma declared before lifting her skirts and hurrying off in the direction of the wallflowers.

Meredith watched her go, biting her lip. Gemma always meant well, but she had the same stubbornness Griffin did when she made up her mind about something. And unlike Griffin, Gemma was exceedingly impatient.

Meredith should discuss the situation with Gemma's mother. She turned to search the ballroom for the older woman, but she found Griffin standing in front of her. A smile popped to her lips. "There you are, Griff."

Griffin was dressed in his best. All black evening attire with a white shirtfront and waistcoat and a perfectly starched snowy cravat. His dark eyes were shining with mischief, and it looked as if he'd just recently scrubbed a hand through his thick, dark hair. He was so tall and fit and handsome. It was entirely unfair of him to be so good-looking and an eligible duke. He would make some fortunate lady an excellent husband.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Griffin said. "I was speaking to some friends across the room. I just saw Gemma leave. Is she enjoying herself?"

Meredith sighed. "I'm afraid she's taking it upon herself to champion the wallflowers."

Griffin shook his head. "That sounds like Gemma."

"Yes, well, I intend to speak with your mother about it later, but since you're here…" She gave Griffin a sly smile.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" His deep voice was filled with suspicion.

"Like what?" She shrugged innocently.

Griffin narrowed his eyes on her. "Like I'm the first prize at the county fair."

Meredith threw back her head and laughed. "You just might be. You are, after all, an eligible duke, one who is looking for a wife this Season. And you are in the middle of a ton ball."

He winced. "Which means?"

"Which means…" Meredith clapped her hands together. "Let the duchess hunt begin."