Chapter 1
“Oh, is this not too exciting for words?”
Caroline Wentworth looked at her elder sister excitedly. “Soon you will be married,” she continued, and Beatrice laughed, her voice ringing through the bedchamber. She glanced at the book that lay on Beatrice’s bed and giggled mischievously.
“Confessions of a courtesan?” she teased. “My, are you already doing research on how to seduce your future husband?”
Beatrice blushed and shook her head. “Hold on, dear sister,” she chastised. “Nothing is public yet.”
Despite Beatrice’s careful tone, there was no halting Caroline’s excitement, however, as she continued feverishly.
“But by the end of the week, the announcement will be made… and tonight we will be dining with your betrothed! Oh, is it not everything you have ever dreamed of?”
Beatrice hesitated at this, though nothing could wipe the small smile from her face. “It is rather exciting,” she admitted, “but I have to admit that I am quite nervous. I don’t know Sebastian Fairchild in the slightest.”
At this, Caroline leaned forward eagerly, her eyes wide. “Oh, but you will know him soon enough,” she promised, then thought for a second and allowed a bright smile to appear on her face. “I’ve met him once,” she admitted, and Beatrice swung round to look at her. Surprise was evident in her voice.
“You have?”
Caroline nodded eagerly. “It was not a great meeting, nor one of importance,” she confessed. “But he is quite amiable and seems like a gentleman. He is very handsome. Every bit the hero from one of the novels we steal from our mother’s secret library.”
Beatrice’s face lit up at this. “Oh, I have heard that he is quite attractive, but I was rather afraid to believe it,” she admitted. “You know how some of the women in the ton are—any man who stands to inherit a title is deemed attractive. I hear that Lady Margery even found the Earl of Wilde’s son an attractive prospect—evidently she was rather eager to marry and bed him, despite his shortcomings.”
Caroline laughed softly and shook her head, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, you do not need to be concerned,” she said, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. “He really is quite attractive. Tall, friendly… he is perfect for you, really. Oh, Beatrice… he will set your entire being on fire, I just know it.”
“I have heard that he is quite the skilled lover,” Beatrice confided with a blush. “I hear he has ruined more than one lady’s reputation with his wicked ways.”
“Oh, Beatrice!” Caroline exclaimed, scandalized, though she felt a secret thrill course through her at the thought. “You cannot say these things. Father will never let you marry a rake like that.”
Beatrice merely grinned brightly and moved to sit in front of the large vanity, eyeing the maid who stood still behind her.
“Style it up,” she ordered brightly. “With ringlets around my face.”
The maid nodded quietly before her fingers deftly started working through Beatrice’s blonde curls. Caroline watched quietly as the other woman worked on her sister’s hair before flashing her own maid a smile.
“Oh, just a chignon please, Anne,” she said with a small smile. After all, she mused silently, tonight was about Beatrice—it was not her place to attract attention whatsoever. She tugged uncomfortably at the deep green dress she had elected to wear.
It was not her color—it was far too deep, far too dark for one who preferred the brightness of red or the pastels she’d most oftenchosen. A hint of envy flashed through her when she glanced at Beatrice.
Her sister had made it clear that she was the one who would wear pastel colors that night. “It would look perfect with my hair and eyes,” she had said—completely disregarding that Caroline shared the blonde hair and blue eyes Beatrice was so proud of.
But it was Beatrice who was getting married and as such, she deserved the attention—every bit of it.
Beatrice seemed to notice her sister’s demeanor and she flashed her a quick look. “Do not fret, dearest one,” she said with a small smile. “I am quite sure your marriage will follow swiftly on the heels of mine.”
Caroline merely smiled at this, though Beatrice looked rather excited at the prospect. “Oh, do not be modest,” she insisted with a laugh. “He is madly in love with you, you know? I have never seen a gentleman so mad about a lady.”
It was all Caroline could do not to outright shake her head: she merely laughed softly and shrugged as though the topic was not really of interest to her.
“Oh, marriage,” she scoffed with an uncomfortable laugh. “Do not misunderstand me, Edward is a fine young man, but… I am in no hurry to wed.”
At this, Beatrice’s eyes widened, and she looked at her sister with unbridled shock. “You… you are in no hurry? But Caroline…”
Caroline was not at all surprised that her sister was aghast at the idea of someone not wanting to marry. It was Beatrice’s fondest hope that she should marry soon—and her greatest fear that she should not.
She leaned forward now and looked at her sister with a soft smile. “Edward is a fine gentleman,” she reiterated, “though… he is sometimes quite overbearing, and it does tend to frighten me.”
Beatrice looked at her sister as though she had gone mad, and a good-natured laugh left her lips.
