CHAPTER1
To the Lord and Lady Kent,
Lord Bernard Hayman, Marquess of Wimpole requests the pleasure of the Viscount of Woking and his family to attend the Leisure Ball at Windham Hall on Tuesday, 14thof April current, 9 o’clock p.m.
* * *
“Sit up straight, Felicity. Shoulders back.” Hands pulled at Felicity’s arms, yanking them behind her until her back began to burn. “There, like that.”
In and out. Breathe in and out.
The mantra was the only thing that had gotten her through the last month; it would have to get her through tonight too.
“Now, girls,” her mother started, “do not forget the importance of tonight. Remember to smile amiably. We cannot let a single moment go to waste.”
“Yes, Mother,” Felicity said in unison with her sister, Delilah.
It was a speech they had heard time and time again over the last few months. When Felicity hadn’t been able to debut at eighteen, her mother saw it as an opportunity to spend the following year relentlessly hammering in lessons on how to behave in polite society. As the Viscountess of Woking, Edith Kent had taken great pride in raising four daughters to follow in her footsteps and marry someone in the nobility. Their entire lives had revolved around dance lessons, French tutors, flower arranging, and proper etiquette. A lifetime of preparation had been all for the next five months.
The season had officially begun a month ago, and Felicity’s parents had rented Kering House in London for the family, which included Felicity and her four younger sisters, to reside in. Since first arriving in the city, time had flown by in a blur. Despite being a year younger, Delilah had debuted with Felicity. They had found solace in going through their first season together. Felicity could not imagine going through all the dress fittings and teas without her closest sister.
The two girls sat across from each other in the carriage with their mother on the bench next to Delilah. They all wore different shades of blue, their mother claiming it was the most flattering color for them all. Her mother and sister had the same shade of rich brown hair and steely blue eyes. The robin’s egg blue gown made Delilah’s pale skin seem to shimmer whereas their mother’s dark blue dress accentuated the depth of her chocolate curls. Felicity, however, inherited her father’s pale blonde hair and glowing green eyes. The sky-blue shade of her own gown seemed to highlight her mother’s beauty rather than her own, but when it had been suggested that Felicity wear this gown rather than her favorite emerald green one, she had not argued.
“We are next,” her mother announced as their carriage jostled forward to the front of the line of arriving guests. “Chins up, smiles on,” she demanded as the door swung open, and her mother stepped out of the carriage.
“Here we go again,” Delilah quipped, disdain dripping from her every word, “like farm animals off to the slaughter.”
“Delilah!” Felicity was not shocked by her sister’s opinions, but she knew their mother would be furious if she had heard it — not that Delilah would care.
The night air was cool and crisp against Felicity’s face, instantly washing away the stuffiness from the carriage ride. Nervous butterflies filled her as she trailed after her mother. The opulent carved front door was being held open by a footman for the stream of guests entering the house. Felicity had yet to grow accustomed to the quantity of people that attended every event. They had been to so many balls and operas and luncheons already that the events and their hosts were starting to run together. Despite this, Felicity still felt her nerves rise as they entered the estate.
“Oh, that gown is just awful, don’t you think dear?”
Felicity had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at her mother. She was half convinced that the only reason her mother dragged Felicity to all these balls was so she could whisper judgmental thoughts on the ton in her ear. At least, it would be if the family didn’t need Felicity to marry well. Besides, the yellow dress in question looked quite similar to one Felicity had worn last week.
When they entered the ballroom, Felicity’s breath was stolen by the sheer number of attendees. As was her mother’s habit, they circled the room and took in everyone there. It was her mother’s way of sorting through which of the suitors would be worth Felicity’s time and attention while also letting everyone else see that they were here. In her mother’s mind, it was the way to start off an event on the right foot. In Felicity’s mind, it made her feel, well, a lot like an animal off to the slaughterhouse.
“The Earl of Cromwell is in attendance,” her mother nudged again, “and looking very dashing in his tails, don’t you think?”
She only nodded, knowing her mother didn’t require a response. Despite her mother’s incessant asking, she rarely wanted anyone’s opinion but her own. Felicity didn’t mind the rambling too much; it allowed her the space to have her own thoughts. As her mother continued to drone on in her ear, Felicity took a moment to glance around the ball.
It was a grand room. The white marble pillars rose from the checkered tile floor up to the painted ceilings. Decadent, crystal chandeliers hung from one end of the room to the other. A second-floor balcony wrapped around the entirety of the ballroom, the railings wrapped in greenery and flowers. The walls were filled with gilded paintings of nobility — the host’s ancestors, she was sure. On the west side of the room, the walls boasted three sets of large glass doors that led to the veranda and the setting sun. They were framed with navy velvet drapes that swagged across the tops of the arched panes.
People filled every nook and cranny the hall had to offer. The dance floor was filled with guests, dressed in their very best, bowing and curtsying as another song began. The musicians played from the second-floor balcony, centered against the north wall. The rest of those in attendance gathered on the outskirts of the room and along the rest of the balcony, making introductions and filling their dance cards.
Felicity had entered the room less than an hour ago and had no doubt her own dance card would be filled soon enough. Every ball her mother had dragged her to had been like that. When the Queen had named Felicity the Diamond of the season three weeks ago, her mother had been over the moon. It was the greatest honor a young woman could receive in her quest to find a husband. Being the Diamond singled her out as the Queen’s favored amongst the presented ladies. It left Felicity with no lack of callers or willing dance partners. It also made all of the other debutantes view her as competition. But more than anything, it made Felicity more anxious. The accolade added pressure to make no mistakes and walk away from this season with a husband.
“Are you paying attention to what I am telling you, Felicity?” Her mother’s shrill voice cut through the noise of the room, pulling Felicity out of her thoughts.
“Sorry, Mother, I was taking in the splendor of the room…” The displeased scowl on her mother’s face made Felicity tack on, “a-and looking at all of the suitors present.”
Somewhat appeased by that, her mother looped their arms before pulling them to stroll around the room once more.
“There can be no mistakes, my dear,” her tone was still sharp. “Right now, you, as the Diamond, are a prized possession. But one wrong move, one wrong look, one wrong curtsy can ruin the effect. And we cannot afford second chances.”
The weight of their circumstances settled back on Felicity’s shoulders like a well-worn cloak. As the oldest of four daughters, it was her responsibility to make the most advantageous marriage possible. Her sister’s own successes and livelihood depended on it. Despite her father being a viscount, they had hardly enough to live on. As he had aged, her father had waned in his drive and work ethic. Without the sense of how to manage money and with a wife who happily spent everything she could, there had been nothing left for Felicity’s debut last season.
“You will take the next year to make sure you are ready. We all will,” her mother had said one night at dinner in an attempt to excuse the situation.