Chapter 1

Grace burst into the ballroom.

“Oh, dear.” Althea’s disapproving tone was already sounding behind her. It wasn’t helped by the short sigh of her cousin, Tabitha.

Grace chose not to look back at her family. Instead, she took off as best as she could between the crowds of the ballroom. She ducked down to avoid being caught in the eye by feathers thrust into ladies’ updos. They were so eager to join the dancers that they had begun to jig by themselves.

The sounds of cacophonous laughter and violin music filled the air, making it even harder to orientate herself in this mess of bodies and overly fine gowns, but Grace knew where to go. It was always the same since Eleanor had married and was now with child.

Eleanor could be found by the table that the food was on.

Grace appeared by one such table decked with punch bowls and glass plates topped with cakes and ice cream. Eleanor stood beside the table, a glass bowl in her hand and a spoon of cream on the way to her lips.

“Grace!” Eleanor smiled. She dropped the spoon back in the bowl and turned to Grace, in danger of knocking her over with the roundness of her belly. “Oops, sorry,” Eleanor caught her wrists and steadied her. “I do not yet think I am used to my new size.”

“I do not need any more help falling over, Eleanor. You know that.” Grace’s jest made them laugh together as they held hands. “I am delighted to see you doing so well though and to see you so happy.”

Eleanor beamed at her and dug into her bowl of cream once again as she pushed her spectacles up her nose.

It was true that Eleanor had never been so settled or as delighted with life as she had been since she married Dorian, the Duke of Dayton.

“Thank you. I wish I could see you smile more.” Eleanor’s own smile faltered. “I trust that you have come running across the ballroom to escape your mother.”

“I swear, she has grown worse.” Grace sighed, blowing one lock of her honey hair which had escaped her updo out of her eyes. “Ever since my cousin has come to stay with us for the Season, it has made my mother realize all the more every way in which I am deficient.”

“Deficient!?” Clearly outraged at the choice of word, Eleanor actually lost interest in the desert she had been demolishing. She put down the glass bowl and turned to face Grace fully. “Grace, you are not deficient.”

“Try telling that to my mother. Ahem.” Grace cleared her throat and lifted her chin higher, putting on a new tone of voice and doing the best impression of her mother that she could possibly master. “I am telling you, Grace, that all my lessons over the years must have gone in one of those ears of yours and out the other without stopping in the middle.”

“Pff, is that what she says? She is getting worse,” Eleanor agreed with a taut nod. “Even though Philip and I have always argued, for we certainly don’t see eye to eye on all matters, we always defended one another to our parents. Does your cousin not jump to your defense?”

“Tabitha is sweet in nature, but she wouldn’t dare say boo to a goose,” Grace hurried to explain. “It’s one of the reasons my mother has fallen in love with her so much. Tabitha is the perfect lady in every way.”

She is the lady I am not, to my mother’s frustration.

Grace tried to laugh, to pretend it did not matter, though in truth, she had felt like a knife had been stabbed into her heart.

She’d known for years now that her mother was hardly pleased with her, let alone proud of her, but the arrival of Tabitha had only emphasized her mother’s dislike.

“What else does she say, Grace?” Eleanor asked, her tone more serious now.

“Oh, she tells me I go outside too often. That I am far too tanned to be a lady. That I fall over too much to be a lady. That I… that I am in every way, not a lady.” Grace was struggling to hold onto her forced smile now. Eleanor saw it and kindly offered her hand, the two of them squeezing their palms together in comfort.

“I am sorry,” Eleanor whispered.

“It doesn’t matter. I am hoping tonight to spend time with you all, and I will forget my mother for a while. Speaking of which, where are Violet and Diana?”

“Oh, they’re here. Violet’s sister, Celia, is here too.” Eleanor looked up, her face losing any hint of warmth. “Ah, someone else is coming this way too. Erm, Grace, let me pour you some wine.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a feeling you’re going to need it.” Eleanor winked and turned to pick up a glass of wine from the table, thrusting it into Grace’s hand just as two women appeared at their side.

“There you are, Your Grace.” It was Grace’s mother. Althea curtsied low to Eleanor, something Eleanor clearly found very amusing indeed. Both Grace and Eleanor knew that Althea had hardly approved of Eleanor’s bluestocking ways.

Strangely, a lot of that disapproval had vanished when Eleanor became a duchess. “Allow me to introduce my niece to you, Tabitha.”

Grace turned to look at Tabitha, feeling that now familiar tightening in her gut which communicated pure sadness. She liked Tabitha, dearly; she was a kind and sweet woman, but she was everything Grace was not. Try as she might, Grace couldn’t help comparing herself to her cousin.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Your Grace.” Tabitha’s willowy figure dipped into a perfect curtsy. Her pale golden hair glimmered in the candlelight, one curve kissing her neck in the most perfect way.

Grace had a rather large gulp of wine which did not go unnoticed by her mother. Althea’s eyes glowered in her direction.

“My cousin has told me so much about you,” Tabitha said sweetly to Eleanor.

“Grace and I are dear friends indeed,” Eleanor said with confidence, turning to take Grace’s hand in her own.

“Yes, they are,” Althea said a little tartly, clearly still watching the way that Grace now clung onto the wine glass for dear life.

Before anymore could be said between them, a gentleman walked past them, reaching for a glass of his own from the table. He brushed Grace’s arm, perhaps not even noticing she was there at all, but the quick movement set her off balance.

“Careful,” Althea hissed though the damage was already done. Grace staggered on her feet, only catching her balance because Eleanor was already holding onto her. Yet she managed to tip the glass of wine down Tabitha’s ivory white gown.

Oh no… I did not mean to do that.

“Grace!” Althea squeaked. Momentarily, she seemed to forget in her fury that anyone else was in the room to hear her ire. Her cheeks flushed as red as the wine.

“I’m so sorry, Tabitha —” Grace snatched up cloths, trying to dry the spill for her, but she was cut off by the same gentleman who had knocked into her.

“My dear lady, I am sorry,” the gentleman addressed Tabitha alone. “I should have paid more attention to where I was going.”

“Strange,” Eleanor muttered for Grace’s ears only. “It’s as if he bumped into her.”

“I’m invisible,” Grace murmured back.

“Please, let me help you.” The gentleman gallantly took Tabitha’s hand. “Let us find a maid to help you with your gown.”

“Oh, you are too kind, sir.” She spoke in honey soft tones.

“Too kind,” Eleanor mirrored the words, mimicking the tone but in a sicklier way. Grace had to bite her lip not to laugh.

“Thank you, sir,” Althea called after the pair of them as the gentleman serenely swept Tabitha away across the room. “Too kind indeed!”

Once the pair vanished into the crowd, Althea spun around. Her glower was so sharp that Grace was not the only one to flinch, for Eleanor did too.

“What were you thinking?” she hissed.

“Thinking?” Grace repeated. “Mama, he bumped into me. I didn’t mean to do it —”

“If you had better control of yourself, better poise,” she wrinkled her nose as the words escaped her fast, “such things would never happen, but they always do seem to happen around you, don’t they?” The air was dead for a second as Grace stared back at her mother, the words cutting deep. “Why can’t you be more like Tabitha?” With this final cutting remark, Althea stormed off, her fingers fiddling with the beads around her neck in a nervous habit.

“She’s as charming as ever, your mother, isn’t she?” Eleanor declared and passed Grace another glass of wine. “Drink that and ignore her.”

Grace found it easier to abide with the first order than the second. She gulped from the wine as Eleanor linked arms with her.

“Feeling suffocated?” Eleanor whispered.

“As if a pillow has been thrust over my face!”

“Then let us get you out of here for a while.” Eleanor towed her away across the room. Grace was enjoying her wine too much to notice where they went. After a minute or so, she realized where they had ended up.

They stepped out onto a balcony leading out of the ballroom and overlooking the garden, and they were not alone. Eleanor had beckoned their friends to join them.

Violet, the Duchess of Barlow, was the first, and she was already talking eagerly of something she had seen in the ballroom. Soft and mild in manner, Diana was behind her, and lastly came the forever seductive Celia.

“Well, that settles it,” Violet said with a huff. “Grace, your mother has to be one of the most determined women I have met.”

Realizing that Violet was scoffing, for she had witnessed the same interaction as Grace and Eleanor had but from a distance, Grace nodded and sighed.

“Determined not to have me as her daughter, do you mean?”

“Is it truly so awful?” Diana whispered with horror in her tone, her cheeks pinkening. “I’m so sorry, Grace. It is unkind indeed.”

“It cannot be changed.” Grace did her best to shrug and pretend it did not matter. “We all have our trials in life, our obstacles to overcome. Unfortunately, mine is my mother.”

“I think we need a little distraction, don’t you?” Celia suddenly offered up. She moved to Grace’s side and elbowed her. “As much as good claret can distract you for a while, it has its consequences with headaches the next day.”

“Hmm, perhaps you are right.” Grace stared down into the reddish liquid. “Oh well, perhaps it’s worth the headache tonight.” She knocked back more of the wine, happy to take the role of jester and make those around her giggle as she drained the glass. The empty glass was swiftly taken from her, however, before she could ask for a refill. Celia held it at some distance.

“You think too much of what your mother thinks,” Celia insisted with a wave of her hand. “It’s high time you thought of something else for a while.”

“A distraction?” Violet suggested. “A good idea indeed. What did you have in mind, sister?”

“Well, you remember the dares I gave you all, do you not?” Celia looked around them all, arching her perfect eyebrows with a glint in her eyes.

“Oh, those dares.” Diana blushed a deep scarlet with her words. “I am not looking forward to going through with mine.”

“Mine turned out to be the best thing that happened to me,” Violet confessed with a giggle.

Grace couldn’t help smiling. It was true indeed that the dare Celia had given her own sister had led to Violet marrying the man she was now so in love with. Just like Eleanor’s tale of love, the dare had somehow started a journey which had led to complete happiness.

“Not every dare can go as well as yours did, or yours,” Grace added, glancing at Eleanor.

“It was hardly a smooth journey,” Eleanor protested as Violet nodded in agreement. “Yet Celia is right. Perhaps it is time, Grace, that you were to do your own dare.”

Grace swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. She could remember distinctly unfurling the piece of paper that Celia had handed to her, reading the scribbled note there on the page.

It had filled her with so much nervousness at the time that she had promptly hoped they would all just forget about it. Of course, they hadn’t.

“Do you remember your dare?” Violet asked.

“No,” Grace lied.

“Grace…” Celia’s warning tone was mischievous. “Even if you couldn’t remember it, I remember what I put on all the papers. I could recite them all, so we can figure out which one was yours.”

“Fine.” Grace sighed heavily. “The dare was… to kiss a gentleman.”

There was stunned silence for a second. It was broken first by Violet, who swung around to her sister and swiped her on the shoulder in reprimand.

“How could you do that to Grace?” Violet asked.

“She needed a little shaking up.” Celia waved a hand at Grace. “She doesn’t know her own beauty and could do with a gentleman to boost her confidence.”

“What confidence?” Grace murmured though no one really heard her.

“Was that exactly what was written on the page?” Diana asked in amazement. “To kiss a gentleman?”

“Not only that.” Celia continued to smile with that same glint in her eye. “Grace?” she prompted her on.

“Fine.” Grace sighed again. “It was to steal a kiss from a gentleman under the moonlight.”

“Well, at least you made it romantic too,” Eleanor added with a laugh.

“Some romance if I’ll be attacking a gentleman with my lips.” Grace’s joke made them all laugh again before Eleanor nudged her with her elbow.

“Why not give it a go?” she whispered. “Why not make tonight that night?”

“Because it’s a ridiculous idea!” Grace laughed, brushing off the idea.

“Are you worried about scandal?” Diana asked, her hands shaking a little.

“Hardly.” Grace cast her eyes to the heavens pleadingly with these words. “With how much I make a mess of myself, falling into people and over things, I am in danger of making a scandal whenever I walk out of the house… as my mother likes to remind me daily.”

There were murmurs of agreement from her friends about her mother.

If Grace was honest with herself, she was also curious to know what a kiss would be like. Having seen Violet and Eleanor wed, she could see that intimacy came with its perks, its happinesses, but she just didn’t believe it was a future open to her.

“Look, let’s be practical. I cannot kiss a man,” she said with sudden seriousness. “No man would wish to kiss me back. I am neither poised enough, prim enough, nor slim enough. It ought not to be attempted.”

“Your mother’s words have poisoned your mind; that is the problem,” Eleanor declared with sudden heat. “Grace, you are beautiful.”

“As beautiful as lichen on a rock, I fancy,” Grace added with a smile, but none of her friends were laughing now.

“You are beautiful,” Celia added. Grace shook her head. She knew the truth. Her mother had been telling her just how much she lacked in beauty and poise for years now.

“Let’s not think of that woman anymore,” Eleanor said with finality. “Let’s pick a gentleman instead for you.”

“Pray, do not,” Grace begged, but her words went unheeded.

“What of Mr. Merryweather?” Violet suggested. “He’s a gentlemanly sort.”

“Too gentlemanly,” Celia said, shaking her head. “He would not kiss anyone.”

“Lord Davenport?” Diana said, chewing her lip. “He is a handsome man.”

“That he is.” Eleanor nodded. “Yet he is not here tonight.”

“Mr. Thorpe?” Celia went on. “What of him?”

“He’s currently infatuated with you, sister,” Violet reminded her. “Despite the fact you keep him at arm’s length.”

“Well forgive me for trying to get rid of him then.” Celia’s words made them all laugh.

“Look, none of these men will work for me,” Grace said, controlling her mirth. “If I was to do this, if I was to even try, then I’d want a kind gentleman. Someone soft in manner, gentle, someone easy to talk to. I neither need a confident lothario, a demanding alpha, nor a passionately infatuated man.”

“Then I have just the gentleman.” Eleanor flicked her fingers then took hold of Grace’s shoulders commandingly. She steered Grace back to the glass door which led back into the ballroom. “What of him?”

“Him who?” Grace asked, squinting as she looked into the ballroom. “I see a sea of gentlemen.”

“The Marquess of Morton,” Eleanor said with a soft sigh. In time, all her friends then sighed in a similarly besotted way, then laughed at themselves for it. “He’s a sweet man, handsome, kind. He is everything on your list.”

Grace’s eyes settled on the dark blond hair of the Marquess of Morton, the soft features, and the kindly smile as he talked with a gentleman beside him. It was true, the few times she had talked to the gentleman in the past, she had found him kind indeed.

It would be good, wouldn’t it? To think of something else other than my mother’s disapproval for one night.

“Very well, I shall try it. And woe betide the poor Marquess of Morton when he’s got me coming at him in the moonlight.”