She stood against the pillar in the shadows, scowling at the members of the ton dancing merrily in the center of the room. She did not want to be at a ball. She did not want to be squeezed into the tight bodice of her dress. Most of all, she did not want to see the one man she had ever fancied herself in love with flirting with the most desirable woman in England.

“Stop scowling, Adeleine. You’ll never find a husband looking like that,” her mother scolded, frowning at her youngest daughter.

Adeleine scowled some more. Her mother had been voicing her worries concerning that fact that she had not yet found a husband for some time now. She was well into her third Season already. Her older sisters had found theirs in their first. The gossip columns have since concluded that Lady Adeleine Sterling, fifth child of the Earl of Exeter and Lady Exeter, was doomed to be a spinster. That did not put Lady Exeter in good spirits. In fact, it only caused her to accept all invitations to every little soirée that came Adeleine’s way.

As her mother walked off to greet her friends, Adeleine found her gaze once again focused on James Phillip Ashbourne, Marquess of Wycliff. He was currently dancing with Lady Elizabeth Sheldon, the most beautiful woman on the marriage mart – if not the whole of England. Her shining white-blonde tresses always gave her an angelic halo around her face, her eyes a piercing yet demure cornflower blue, her nose perfectly sculpted – not too sharp and not large – as was the rest of her face, and her mouth always rosy. Being the Duke of Canterbridge’s only daughter, Lady Elizabeth would have been extremely sought after even if she were plain. But she was not. She always said the right words at the right time, unlike Adeleine, who sometimes was too dry in her speech.

Also, being the Duke’s only daughter, Lady Elizabeth was spoiled beyond belief – not that it was reflected in her personality. She had the best of the best – the most expensive gowns, jewelry, anything there was, she had. It was only natural that she had Wycliff, the most sought after and unattainable bachelor in England.

Adeleine had been secretly in love with Lord Wycliff since the first day she met him. He, a boy at the time, had saved her from the clutches of her brother during a somewhat intense game of Highwaymen and Robbers. Her brother, Charles, had been a robber, James the highwayman, and she a lady. Charles had been in the process of robbing her of her bonnet, when James had swooped in, taken the bonnet, and presented it to her gallantly. Ever since then, she had harbored a severe tendre for James Phillip Ashbourne.

However, it wasn’t soon after that he and her brother were sent off to Eton. Upon the end of Eton, the two had naturally enrolled in Oxford. Charles had returned home during holidays, but James had his own family to return to, and thus did not visit.

She had spotted him from across the room at Lady Macclesfield’s ball a week ago, and had immediately recognized him, although she had not seen him in almost ten years. He had grown taller, much taller. He towered over the members of the ton, even her brother. Charles had always been tall – Adeleine’s head barely reached up to his shoulder. Barely. James’ features were more pronounced, his hair a darker shade of black, but his eyes were the same warm emerald colour she remembered.

She had no qualms about losing herself in his eyes. And apparently, everyone else felt the same way as well.

“Would you care for a dance, Lady Adeleine?”

“Oh William, you know I don’t dance,” Adeleine replied, swatting at her friend’s outstretched hand.

He grinned. “I’m well aware of that fact, yes. But I was only hoping to put a stop to some of the gossip going on about you these days.”

Adeleine sighed. “I’ve resigned myself to a life of spinsterhood, I’m afraid.”

“Nonsense. Any man would be honored to have you –”

“Will you take me as your wife?”

William blanched. Then he sputtered. Finally, he swiveled around to see if anyone with a particularly large mouth was nearby. “Adeleine! Do you know what could have happened? You could have just ruined yourself! Offering yourself out like that. It’s plain unthinkable!”

She grinned. “It’s fun seeing you like this.”

William groaned. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You can fetch me some lemonade,” Adeleine quipped, smiling innocently up at her friend.

“If that will make you happy, I suppose I can.”

She watched him weave through the large crowds, stopping occasionally to greet a lady or two, to satiate a desperate mother’s attempts to marry off her daughter.

“Ady! What are you doing in this dark corner by yourself? Are you not aware of the types of men who lurk in such corners, only hoping to encounter a girl like you?”

“Charles!” Adeleine squealed – in a strictly lady-like fashion, of course – and stood on her toes for a hug. “You’re back! Why did you not return earlier? We’ve all been dying to see you! Mother especially. She wants to know if you’ve managed to meet a lovely lady as of yet.”

Charles laughed. “Ever so talkative, I see. I had originally planned on returning next week, but I received some rather interesting news from Wycliff, and had to see what the fuss was about.”

“Really? What news?” Adeleine asked, her eyes drifting off to the tall handsome Marquess who was now dancing with Lady Elizabeth’s cousin.

“He wants to ask Elizabeth to –”

“Elizabeth?” she questioned, brows furrowed.

“The Duke of Wellington’s daughter.”

“Oh. Lord Wycliff is going to ask Lady Elizabeth to marry him?”

Charles nodded. “He has never been too good with women, so he wants a second opinion. I see nothing wrong with Elizabeth. She is actually quite lovely. Everything a man could ever want.”

Adeleine felt her stomach drop to her uncomfortably numb feet. “I gather the two should be betrothed any day now?”

Her brother’s gaze sharpened on her face, his eyes narrowing a bit. “Yes, I would expect it so. Have you spoken to Wycliff?”

“Have I spoken to him? No, not at all. Was I supposed to have said something to him? I do recall seeing him on multiple occasions when I was but a child, but that hardly warrants a necessity to seek him out and –”

“Your lemonade, my lady,” William said grandly, handing her a cup of lemonade with exaggerated grandeur.

Adeleine smiled at him gratefully. Never had she been so relieved to see her friend – she was on the verge of resorting to babbling a string of nonsensical sentences in attempt to hide the fact that she was, indeed, flustered.

Just as Charles was about to clap William on the shoulder in greeting, the Marquess of Wycliff made his grand entrance.

“Ashbourne, how was France? I would like you to meet Eliz – Lady Elizabeth Sheldon,” James announced, appearing behind Adeleine.

Adeleine stiffened. What was she supposed to do? She could not very well turn, smile, and ask James – Lord Wycliff – how he was. She was, after all, a lady – and ladies do not act forward, especially when they haven’t been officially introduced. She wasn’t even entirely certain that James even remembered her. The last he had seen of her had been more than ten years ago.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Elizabeth.”

“And I yours,” Lady Elizabeth replied, smiling faintly. “I have heard a great deal about you from Lord Wycliff.”

“Have you indeed?”

Adeleine was beginning to wish she could drop through the floor and end up somewhere else – even her head in her chamber pot was preferable to this. The Marquess of Wycliff was still standing behind her, and she had her back to him. Adeleine was not sure that having her back turned to a member of Society was deemed polite.

William coughed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Charles said, startled. “This is Lord William Clarendon, and the girl in front of you is my sister.”

After Wycliff and William had nodded their greetings, Wycliff turned to Adeleine, who had moved out of the way to complete the circle.

“Which sister may this be?”

Adeleine flushed.

“My youngest sister.”

“Not Adeleine?” James fixed his gaze on her once again. “You’ve certainly grown.”

“That’s usually what happens,” Adeleine replied, not immune to the fact that he had remembered her name.

“Lady Elizabeth –”

“Oh please, everyone calls me Elizabeth,” she cut in. “Lady Elizabeth sounds so odd.”

“But of course,” Charles responded, “Elizabeth. How is your father?”

“Father is doing quite well. He is in Paris now, tending to something or other.”

Adeleine let her attention waver. She was entranced by Lady Elizabeth. It was admiration with just a hint of jealousy. Elizabeth looked so comfortable and in her element, standing there making small talk with her brother. Her dress was so tight that Adeleine was certain Elizabeth had to be gasping for breath, but she was not. Or perhaps, Elizabeth just had a tiny waist. Elizabeth was tall. The top of her head reached inches above James’ shoulder – a good match for Lord Wycliff, Adeleine thought – while Adeleine reached only inches below. She felt like a frump. A young country frump.

“Adeleine, it is time for the dance you promised,” William said suddenly, with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes, but gave her hand to him.

“If you’ll excuse us,” William announced, leading Adeleine away from the small group they had formed.

Charles nodded, Lady Elizabeth smiled, and James said, “Enjoy yourselves.”

“I don’t want to dance,” Adeleine stated, veering off to the gardens.

William made no sounds of protest.

They did not venture deep into the garden for they were without a chaperone – even though everyone knew that Lady Adeleine and Lord Clarendon have been the best of friends since they were children, and that both parties had agreed that they were just not a good match for marriage. Nevertheless, gossipmongers were apt to exaggerate and leap into conclusions.

“What do you think of Lady Elizabeth?” Adeleine asked, sitting on a bench surrounded by rose bushes.

“She is immensely beautiful.”

“Isn’t she?”

William took a seat next to her. “But, of course, you, my dear, are the most beautiful in the world.”

That earned him a smack in the upper arm with her fan.

“What was that for?”

“For not being truthful.”

He shrugged. “Women,” he muttered under his breath.

“How is Carlotta recently?” Adeleine asked sweetly, knowing it was against Society’s standards to speak to a man about his mistress.

“You should not be asking about that. In fact, you should not even know about it,” he lectured, pulling at his cravat.

“Your valet –”

“— will not be happy. I know. But I employ him,” William interrupted. “What about your mother? What would she say if she saw those gloves?”

Adeleine looked down. Her white gloves were stained with lemonade – hardly visible, but her mother’s eyes were sharp – and were balled up in her hands, no doubt wrinkled.

“That was an awful attempt at changing the subject,” Adeleine responded.

He groaned, knowing that she would not let the subject go unless he gave her a decent answer. “Carlotta is getting along grandly. Her first performance is later this week. And no, you cannot attend.”

Adeleine pouted. “One day, you’ll find yourself a lovely young woman to marry you, and –”

“Really, Lady Adeleine, don’t you think you are much too old for such fairytale endings?” a third voice came in.