Chapter One
Adelaide Barrett stared around the ballroom of her eldest sister, Henrietta Pembroke, her head filled with the thick wafts of perfume and the heavy expectations of her family.
The ballroom was elegantly decorated in sapphire blue and silver, with a vast selection of biscuits, meat, and cheese, bread, and various red wines separated along three refreshment tables.
A large crystal bowl sat in the center of the wine table with orange peels and mint leaves floating inside.
It was everything Adelaide knew she could expect from her countess sister, and it was everything that made her feel as though she was trapped in a cage like a sideshow attraction.
Completing the trap was the iron grip her mother had on her arm.
There had been an endless parade of suitors to whom her mother had introduced her that evening.
From the tightening of the viscountess’s hold, Adelaide knew yet another introduction was imminent.
She held her forced smile, trying to mask the discomfort Lady Josephine’s fingers were unleashing on her arm.
“Mother, you are hurting me,” she said softly through her closed, smiling teeth.
Lady Josephine Barrett gave her youngest daughter a sidelong glare but said nothing in response to Adelaide’s complaint. Instead, the viscountess began leading her toward another gentleman whose graying hair Adelaide could see long before she saw the color of his eyes.
When they reached the man, Lady Josephine let go of her daughter’s arm, but not before delivering the slightest imperceptible pinch. Adelaide swallowed a yelp as she forced her face to maintain a grimacing smile.
“Adelaide,” her mother cooed as if she were her most treasured gem. “I would like you to meet Baron George Hampton. He has four estates and connections to a duchy.”
Adelaide glanced at the gentleman as her mother enthusiastically announced his financial worth to her and three other women standing nearby. The man simply gave a falsely humble smile as he bowed.
“Delighted to meet you, Lord Hampton,” she said, stiffly curtsying.
The baron, whose duchy connections were likely distant and removed at best, gave a modest nod as his eyes appraised her.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrow.
Adelaide imagined glaring at her mother for leaving the rest of the introduction to her. She would never willingly speak to a gentleman who could be no less than fifty, two years older than her own father. Why should she be required to introduce herself to such a man?
“Barrett,” she said flatly. “Adelaide Barrett. My mother and father are the Viscount and Viscountess Barrett.”
Beside her she could feel the weight of her mother’s scrutinizing gaze. Her disinterest was apparent in her bland tone, and the viscountess was surely displeased with her youngest daughter.
As she always is, she thought, ignoring her mother’s warning eyes, just as the viscountess had ignored Adelaide about the pain she was inflicting on her arm. It might be easy for her mother to be proper and polite at all times, but Adelaide did not possess such a skill. Nor did she wish to.
The baron did not seem to notice anything amiss as he held out his hand to her.
“Well, Miss Barrett,” he said with a wolfish grin. “I trust you will grant me the honour of sharing a dance set.”
Adelaide swallowed to prevent a sharp rejection from flying from her lips.
She wanted to tell him how ludicrous it was for him to expect people to believe that he had any relevant connections to a duchy.
He likely barely knew anyone with an earldom, and he was far from a popular choice for young brides, as he was clearly far more advanced in age than the young ladies in the room and yet unmarried.
She could say none of those things, however, particularly with her mother standing beside her. She clenched her teeth together until her jaws hurt as she continued to smile.
“Delighted,” she said again, taking his hand, which she could feel was cold, even though both their gloves. She would rather dance off the roof of the townhouse than dance with the man. But she would rather dance with him than continue to be leashed by her mother’s fierce grip on her arm.
To the floor, he conducted her, her smile resembling more a grimace with each step.
He guided them into the formation for a country dance, placing his hands upon her waist with an intimacy that unsettled her.
The self-satisfied, arrogant smirk upon his countenance conveyed to her that he was already envisioning her as his bride.
She did not endure arrogance with ease; it was as perilous as it was unappealing.
“To which duchy are you connected?” she asked.
With her mother far enough away to be unable to hear her, she was bolder with her words.
She did not, however, change her expression, having glimpsed the viscountess watching her with glaring, predatory eyes.
Adelaide knew that if she stepped out of line just once, her mother would have a savage lecture awaiting her at home.
But she did not care. She had little patience for the foolish, nor did she suffer their company gladly.
The baron’s smile never faltered, although something in his eyes flickered.
“It is currently my second cousin’s title,” he said, speaking very slowly and deliberately, as if thinking too carefully about what he was saying.
“He has a son, but he is gravely ill, and his son is only twelve. He will not be fit to claim the duchy until he comes of age, and I am the only living male relative.”
Adelaide giggled at his fanciful tale.
“If there is truth to your story, then I pity your cousin,” she said. “However, what would happen if your cousin did not perish? What if he recovers and goes on to rule his dukedom for another ten years? His son will be of age by then, leaving you with no chance of inheriting his title.”
The baron balked at Adelaide as though she had slapped him. His eyes flickered with disgust, though he maintained his sly smile.
“Then I shall still have my four estates to console me,” he said. “Wealth in land is still wealth, my dear lady.”
Adelaide scoffed, and that was the last word spoken between them for the remainder of the dance set. When it concluded, Adelaide was relieved. That was, until the gentleman left her beside her mother with nothing more than a stiff bow and a curled lip. Her mother leaned in; her eyes narrowed.
“What did you do?” she hissed.
Adelaide made a face and shook her head.
“He is trying to usurp a duchy which is not his to claim,” she said.
Her mother looked at her with a distaste she knew well.
“And you are trying to uphold a dignity that is not yours,” she hissed.
“When will you learn that you must be more ladylike and less bold? Your sisters were betrothed before their third seasons, and yet you cannot get a single suitor to call on you after one dance.”
Adelaide shook her head, her cheeks flushing. She had expected such a reaction from her mother. But it never became easier to accept her admonishments.
“Just look at your sisters,” the viscountess continued, her tone instantly changing to one of pride and love.
“Henrietta is mingling with her guests with such grace and charm that she is the envy of all the other countesses in attendance.” She paused, glancing to the other side of the room, where Adelaide’s other sister walked arm in arm with her husband.
“And Catherine is a portrait of wedded bliss. In her six months as a baroness, she has been more charitable than half the ton ladies combined in the past year.”
Adelaide bit her cheek to keep her expression from souring.
She knew her sisters had taken better to their prim and proper upbringing than she had, and that her parents wanted nothing more than to marry her off as they had done with her older sisters.
But hearing such praise of her sisters, when all she ever received were lectures and disapproval from her parents, made her distaste for elegant social events and societal expectations even stronger.
She wanted them to be proud of her. But could they ever be proud of her for who she was, rather than behaving as though her every breath was a ruinous scandal to their reputation?
When Henrietta approached with her gracious smile and chiding eyes, Adelaide prepared herself for a stilted, pointed conversation.
Her mother and sisters had no reservations about talking about her as though she was not present, even at social affairs.
She did not wish to listen to the passive, stinging remarks made toward and about her, but nor could she make a scene.
She glanced around, hoping to find someone with whom she could speak, if only for a moment.
However, what she saw was Baron Gregory Heyden approaching with a stride as ancient as Bath’s great abbey.
Her mother had compelled her to dance with him at previous assemblies, and she could discern the tremor in his hands, which was manifest even as he held them at his waist, and the cloudiness of his advancing years was as revealing as ever.
He would have been too aged to be her grandfather, she was convinced, and a dance with him would be nothing but a source of mortifying discomfort and torment.
She looked to her mother, prepared for a brilliant, expectant smile on her face.
However, Adelaide realized that she and her eldest daughter were engaged in a conversation, apparently about the recent marriage matches in the ton.
It was a conversation that would, undoubtedly, turn to Adelaide’s failure to secure a match.
But for the moment, her mother and sister were occupied, and a moment was all she needed.