Part 1

1793, London

Lilly gazed at her reflection in the mirror dejectedly once more. She had been hiding in the ladies' retiring room for the last twenty minutes. It was far past time for her to rejoin her mother in the ballroom, but she just couldn't get herself to do it. There really was no reason for her to go out there again. Long ago Lilly had been dubbed a wallflower, more like a wallweed in her mind.
On the surface she had bright green eyes set against dark lashes that would sparkle when she laughed. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a severe knot at the nape of her long slender neck; a style that was more suited for someone three times her own twenty years. There were no flaws to her rosy complexion. She sighed again as she smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her painfully undersized lime green gown. The poor thing was at least two sizes too small and five years out of fashion. Lilly looked practically stuffed into the gown. Maybe that was why no one really spoke to her? They were all too embarrassed to be seen with her.
Lilly never thought herself beautiful, especially not in her mother's rejected clothing. The Viscountess Catherine Ashby never seemed to give any thought to her only daughter. Lilly's father was not any better. He had his heir, Charles, and his whiskey, therefore little else mattered to him. She shook her head silently.

So Lilly was on her own. However, she was determined to marry no matter what it took. Lilly knew deep down in her heart that she had to get out; there really was no way around it. Her home became a prison for her, forever holding her back. If she wanted to be free she had to leave. Therefore she absolutely had to marry.

Looking down at her hands, she gently rubbed her gloved fingertips together. Not a day went by that she didn’t thank God that it was fashionable for a woman to wear gloves almost all of the time while in the company of others. There was nothing that would have brought more shame or embarrassment to her, let alone the gossip, than the sight of her own hands. She was ashamed of them, ashamed of what had happened to them. If it had been her feet it wouldn’t have mattered since no one ever saw them, but her hands were there for everyone to see.

Lilly was determined however, when she stood and straightened her gown. There was no time like the present to start husband hunting and one could not find a husband hiding away. With renewed ambition, which she didn’t know she had, Lilly headed for the door.

Just as she was reaching out her hand to open the door, it burst open with a loud bang. Lilly let out a small cry as she jumped back from the open door and stared at her mother on the other side.

Catherine Ashby was the epitome of feminine beauty with flawless pale skin, an ample bosom, and golden blond hair. No one could say that she was ever out of fashion, always knowing and wearing, for that matter, whatever the new style happened to be. She usually had an unpleasant, snooty air about her, which most people would find distasteful. However, on this particular evening she seemed very excitable.

“Where have you been?” She asked in a high shrill voice.

Lilly raised a delicately arched eyebrow. “You were looking for me, mother?” This was unusual; her mother hardly ever came looking for her.

“I have searched everywhere for you!” she exclaimed with an extravagant wave of her arms, before falling into the plush chair behind her.

“Did you want me for something?” Lilly asked tentatively.

She did not even look up while she spoke, but smoothed her gloves up her arms. “You disappeared so suddenly, I wanted to make sure you were alright, darling. You know how I worry.”

Lilly was completely taken aback. Not in her memory did she ever remember she mother worrying about her. Let alone wondering where she had disappeared to.

She tried her best not so sound surprised when she replied, “It was just getting rather hot in the ballroom, mother. I thought I would come and freshen up a bit.”

Catherine stood from her seat slowly. “Well, if you are quite ready, there were some people I wanted to introduce you to.”

Her mother’s first statement had come as a surprise. This last statement however, hit her like a ton of bricks.

“You want me to meet people?” Lilly forced out after a moment of silence.

“Of course,” she said, almost too casually for Lilly’s taste. “It is high time you met some of my friends. They have been dieing to meet you, you know. I have waited too long, I think. You really should be more social, after all you are my daughter and I cannot be having a hermit for a daughter.” Lady Ashby paused for a moment, sweeping her eyes over Lilly’s appearance, taking note of all the little imperfections. “Furthermore, I do not know what possessed me to let you out of the house in that old thing. We really should take you shopping for something new.” Not waiting for a reply, she gave a curt nod and bustled out of the room.

Lilly just stood there for a moment before picking her jaw off of the floor. Wanting her to be social, buying her a new dress, had her mother finally and completely lost her mind? Lilly could not believe the words she had just heard. She could not remember the last time she had had a new dress, and a dress that fit her the way it should. Maybe with a new dress, someone might notice her for once. Maybe husband hunting wouldn’t be as difficult as she had originally thought.

Picking up her skirts, she quickly followed after her mother so that she would not lose her in the crowd. Lilly soon found herself in the middle of group of married ladies and their daughters, standing by the stairs where the newly arrived guests would descend. They were discussing gloves and fans.

“I was just telling mother what lovely gloves you have, Miss Ashby,” stated Lady Gillian Bennett snidely.

Lilly had known her for years but most recently was on very negative terms with her. It might have been when Gillian had come for a visit several months ago and had insisted on Lilly taking off her gloves while they were having tea. Lilly had naturally and gently refused, but Gillian was not going to take no for an answer, especially when it came to terms of propriety. She had rudely yanked off one of Lilly’s gloves, exposing what Lilly had tried so hard to conceal. It cost has her her favorite pair of gloves for Gillian to keep her secret. However, Gillian always took it upon herself to poke at Lilly whenever she had the opportunity.

“They are not nearly as nice as yours,” Lilly replied through clutched teeth, noticing that Gillian was indeed wearing her gloves.

“Oh these old things?” Gillian asked with a slight smirk. “I guess they are alright, for being nearly antique.”

Lilly bit her tongue, knowing full well that Gillian was trying to bait her. So she kept her silence and raised her fan to cover her scowl.

After that, she paid very little attention to the conversation at hand. Her mind drifted in and out, catching bits every now and then, especially the ones aimed in her direction. She had the great fortune to be facing outward, so she could watch the other guests go by.

Let the hunt begin. She made notes in her head of potential husbands as they walked by their little group. Lilly liked to think that she wasn’t going to be very picky, however that did not seem to be the case. Some were too old, some too young. He has a drinking problem… his breath stinks like onions… he worships the ground his mother walks on… The list droned on in her head.

Lilly then caught sight of the Earl of Pembroke as he came their way. He was a fine man as far as Lilly was concerned. He had a modest fortune left to him by his late father, a decent sized estate, no unsightly vice like drinking or gambling if one could over look the fact that he was thirty-two and already losing his hair. Besides he did not even grant her a sidelong look when he came to ask Gillian for a dance. Lilly would rather gag then be with someone who wanted to court Gillian. So she went back to scoping out the prospects.

Scanning the room once more, her eyes quickly settled on the man who had just entered the ballroom. He stood casually at the top of the stairs waiting to be announced, with an elderly woman on his arm – his mother or aunt mayhap. The air was quickly sucked out of Lilly’s lungs and the loud din of the ballroom seemed to die down. All eyes were on the man on the stairs.

He was tall and his elegant black evening jacket stretched against his broad shoulders. Wrapped around his narrow waist was a sash of red, blue, and white, which stood out against the black of his suit. There was a dangerous air about him, accented by the hard square lines of his jaw and the steel blue of his eyes. His jet black hair was slicked back and the ends curled around his ears.

He was definitely the most handsome man that Lilly had seen in a long time. There was something different about him. He didn’t seem as pompous and self-righteous as the other men present. She secretly hoped he was a poor knight or better yet a bastard son. This way, matching-making mothers would stay away from him, thinking he was not good enough for their daughters. Maybe Lilly would have a chance then…

“The Marquis de Dumont and the Countess of Davenport!”