CHAPTER 1

Present day,

Spring 1811, En Route from Bath to London

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

It was a simple line in the novel that Sylvia had been reading recently, but it struck her hard.

Perhaps that was why she still, even after two years, did not talk about her father much. She always thought that time would make it easier to remember him, and to speak after his death, but every single time she tried, it was like there was a thick lump of emotion that lodged in the base of her throat, almost bringing tears to her eyes.

That was not what this novel was talking about, but that was how Sylvia related to that line.

Little lines in novels like this had brought Sylvia comfort, which was why she spent most of her time with her head in a book. Losing herself in the lives of others was a lot more enjoyable than facing her own reality…

Not that her own reality was as dreadful as it could have been, Sylvia would never forget that. She could have been very much on her own, struggling through every single day. If her Aunt Grace had not needed her assistance while she recovered from a long illness of her own, then Sylvia might not have been accepted by anyone.

"Oh, I have missed traveling through the country," her aunt declared as the carriage rumbled on, dragging Sylvia's attention from her book. "It has been so long…"

Sylvia smiled. It was so lovely to see the color back in her aunt's cheeks and to witness her renewed zest for life. There were times when Sylvia had worried that she might not see this moment, just as she had not been lucky enough to see it with her own father. But Aunt Grace had the sort of strength that Sylvia could only wish for.

"I am going to miss Bath, of course," she continued with a hearty laugh. "But I am thoroughly thrilled to rejoin the social whirl of the London Season. The glamour, the dances, the dresses… oh my, dear Sylvia, I can not wait for you to see the dresses."

A complex mix of apprehension and resignation stirred in Sylvia. She had always wanted to see the London Season with her own eyes. She could only imagine what it was like from what others told her and what she had read about. There was a part of her that could not wait to experience it first hand.

But she was also incredibly anxious to stand out. She might have been with her noble aunt, and had noble blood… but she had not grown up as a high born member of society. She had spent her days helping out her father in the vicarage, not learning the dance steps to every song that might be played at a ball. Not the required etiquette needed to be considered polite. Sylvia was terribly worried that she was going to stand out in the worst way possible.

"Yes," she finally replied stoically. "I am sure it will be quite wonderful."

"Oh, I can assure you, you are going to love it, Sylvia." Aunt Grace turned to face her with a shining light in her eyes. "Actually, now that we are on the way to London, there is something more serious that I would like to discuss with you."

"There is?" These words made Sylvia's blood run ice cold. She bolted up a little straighter, trying to work out what her aunt might be referring to.

"Yes." Aunt Grace reached out and held her hands softly before she continued talking. "Sylvia, I believe it would be wonderful for you to attend the Season. Not merely as my companion, but as my niece."

Sylvia's breath bundled in her throat. She understood the implications of that all too well, and that terrified her. If she went as her aunt's niece, that would mean she would be coming out in to society, introducing herself to the world of high society as if she truly did belong there. Sylvia just knew that she would most certainly stand out if that happened. She would be expected to dance with gentlemen and even to court them, which truly seemed like a ridiculous notion.

Unfortunately, she could not find the right words to express this out loud.

"I would be most honoured to sponsor you, dear Sylvia, for I hold great faith in your potential. I believe such an opportunity would be a most splendid benefit for you. You are such a lovely and beautiful young woman who has dedicated her whole life to caring for others. It is time to do something for yourself. You need to step out from the shadows and in to society."

This unexpected proposal left Sylvia wrestling with a whirlwind of emotions. "Aunt Grace, this is truly unexpected," she gasped as she tried to wrap her head around this. "I am truly touched by your kindness, but I can not shake off the idea that I do not have a place in high society."

"Oh, but you do. I will sponsor you as stated…"

"But I am merely a vicar's daughter, not fit for the elite circles of London…"

Aunt Grace smiled reassuringly. "I will be there to guide you along the way, my dear, and I would not suggest this if I did not think you could handle it. I truly think you will enjoy it."

Sylvia's heart was racing, she felt like she could not control herself. Unfortunately, she had nowhere to run because she was trapped in a carriage. "I… I am a spinster, Aunt Grace," she continued, allowing her worries to keep spilling out, which may not have been the best idea. "I fear that participating in the Season as a spinster will expose me to ridicule and a dismissal from the ton. I do not think that I will be accepted at all."

"I see," Aunt Grace replied with a soft smile. "I appreciate your concerns. While I believe there is no cause for alarm, I do recognise your feelings."

Sylvia braced herself, waiting for more. There was a determination glimmering in her aunt's eyes, which worried Sylvia because it usually meant that she was going to get her own way. Her aunt was so charming and sweet, that it was difficult for anyone to refuse her of anything that she wanted.

But there was nothing.

Aunt Grace said nothing, she did not press the issue at all. Instead, she allowed the conversation to hang in the air, with an aura of silent hope around her. Every time Sylvia tried to say something, to keep the conversation going, her mind went blank. There was nothing there, no words coming. She did not know what to say to all of this.

Instead of trying to talk, she allowed her eyes to drift out the window so she could gather up her thoughts. The worry that she had already been feeling about London intensified. No longer would she be able to hide in the shadows and observe from a distance. Now she was going to have to think about actually partaking.

But she could not envision herself as one of the heroines from her romance novels. She could not imagine herself enjoying the dresses and the dancing. Every time she pictured a ball room, she was in the center of it with a spot light dancing on her as everyone pointed and laughed at her. Sylvia could not even begin to imagine what terrible comments would be thrown her way, but she was all too aware that she was not going to like it.

The uncertainty of the palpable reality that lay ahead of her was utterly terrifying. The Season and the changes that could be brought into her life left her struggling for air. She had already been through so many shifts, she had already been forced to adjust to too many new realities that she was not ready for. But this was the scariest one of them all.

As they neared London, and the first sights of the city's grandeur and its bustling streets caught her eye, Sylvia could see how woefully unprepared she was. This was a stark contrast to her now comfortable life in Bath. Trepidation filled her heart.

She could still recall the promises that she made to her father in his dying days. She said that she would be strong and graceful no matter what came her way, but she did not think it would be this.

What would my father say to me if he were still here? she wondered quietly to herself, but honestly there was no answer. She would not have found herself in this position had her parents lived. She would have still been at the vicarage in the countryside, living the life that she had always known. No fancy balls and big dresses, no one laughing at her or asking for her hand to dance. There might have been no adventure, but there also would not have been fear…