Chapter One

Aaron St. James gripped the tenth gilt-edged ball invitation he had received in his fist as tightly as if he meant to disintegrate it with his bare hand. He knew perfectly well that no one truly wanted him at such events. They merely wished to gander at him with their whispers of pity and scandal, all while they threw their unwed daughters at him with the hopes of him choosing one to inherit the prestigious title as his duchess. He gazed upon the cold, shadowy hearth before him, bitterly reflecting how much it resembled the chill of his own heart.

With his other hand, he traced the familiar curves of the signature of the last note he ever received from his younger sister, Charlotte. After two years of rereading the wounding words and reliving the events which led to the note, he could recite each word by heart and read it with his fingertips as if they were ten extra, unseeing eyes. He bit his cheeks against the overwhelming emotion that gripped him as tightly as he gripped the insulting invitation while he recalled the last time he spoke with his sister.

It had been an arbitrary argument. Aaron knew that now. Charlotte had come to him, pleading with him to allow her to marry the man that she loved. That was something that any man of high society with a younger sister of whom he was guardian wished for her: to find a match and marry, so that she would be cared for the rest of her days. And so he would have been, had it not been a mere merchant captain with whom she had fallen in love.

But so it was, and rather than give his blessing and be happy for his sister, he sternly rejected the gentleman’s offer for his sister’s hand. He told her that she must find a better match than one of such a lowly status. Charlotte had begged him, with tears streaming down her cheeks, to reconsider and understand that she was truly in love. But Aaron had impressed upon her the importance of her duty to marry well and secure both her future and their family’s legacy, just as their father would have. He had even called her selfish and spoiled when she continued to argue and threaten to defy him if he did not change his mind. He had been so certain of his righteousness that he had stood firm in his decision. He had no idea then how much he would come to regret his heartless stubbornness.

Each time he thought of that night, each word dug deeper into his conscience, constantly reminding him of how he tore apart his family. It had been his duty to protect and care for his sister after their father died. Instead, he had hurt her, shattered her dreams and sent her away from that discussion with anger and bitterness in her heart. The last thing he had said to her was that she needed to be more mature before she considered marriage and stop having childish tantrums. Now, he wished he could have known those would be his last words to her. He would have chosen them differently, had he known she would disappear that very night.

Aaron walked to his desk, noting how the evening shadows were lengthening across the room as he sat in his chair. He stared at a stack of invitations quite similar to the one which still remained clasped in his closed fist. He tossed it to the side of his desk where it brushed against an untouched glass of brandy. He stared at it for a moment while he thought about how much he wished that Charlotte was simply in her chambers, preserved just the way they had been when she vanished, or in front of the pianoforte which she loved so much, which still had her sheet music arranged just as she had left it.

He was unsurprised when his mother entered the room quietly, but without waiting for his permission. He looked up at her, the shadows beneath her eyes telling of her many sleepless nights since her daughter vanished. Worrying about what had become of Charlotte was clearly taking its toll on the dowager duchess, and Aaron knew that he was to blame. Catherine St. James had never blamed Aaron in any way for what had happened. And yet, each time she or Aaron sent a letter in search of Charlotte, to every possible destination, that remained unanswered, he felt more and more culpable. Why could I not simply relent? He wondered, even as he offered his mother a small smile.

“Good evening, Mother,” he said softly, starting to rise from his chair.

The dowager shook her head, giving him a sad smile of her own.

“You need not rise for me, darling,” she said, approaching his desk. “I merely came to ensure you are well.”

Aaron shrugged, trying to appear calm and unbothered.

“I am well, Mother,” he said. He gave her an appraising gaze. “Are you all faring well?”

His mother returned the shrug, the only response she gave to the question since Charlotte’s disappearance. She glanced at his desk, touching the invitation which Aaron had tossed aside, idly attempting to smooth its wrinkles. 

“Our peers are speaking a great deal of late regarding your solitude these past two years,” she said with an emotion-laden voice.

Aaron fetched his brandy glass and turned away from his mother, trying to hide the frustration in his expression. He poured another drop of spirits which he did not intend to drink into the glass to appear busy as he shrugged again.

“Let them speak,” he said with practiced indifference. “I stay away because I choose to. There is nothing more they should know about the matter.”

The dowager fell silent, and Aaron thought the matter settled. But suddenly, she gripped his arm from behind, squeezing it with surprising strength.

“Aaron, you cannot expect me to lose yet another child to stubbornness and pride,” she said, her voice quivering. “I will not do it. I understand why you lack the desire to ingratiate yourself with society. But it will be the death of you, and I will not stand by and watch that happen.”

Her words struck deeply with Aaron, piercing the defenses he had constructed around his emotions. His shoulders sagged as he turned to face his mother once more. She was right. He had already cost her one child. He could not be the reason why she lost him, too. Even if he felt deep down that she would be better off without him, after what he had done.

“Very well,” he said, forcing another tight smile and gesturing toward the crumpled invitation. “I shall attend Lady Juliette’s ball.”

The dowager looked immediately relieved. While she was still clearly exhausted, the lines in her forehead smoothed as she gave him a genuine smile.

“Thank you, darling,” she said.

Aaron nodded his silent acknowledgment, internally rebelling against the idea. He had no desire to return to the society which reminded him of how much he had failed, not only his family but also another who was once very dear to him. But he could not bear that look of pain on his mother’s face. So, he forced another smile as he went closer and embraced his mother.

“I love you,” he said. Never again would he make the mistake of making terrible, bitter or indifferent words be the last he spoke to someone he loved. He had at least learned that lesson well.

Later that evening, he met his cousin and closest friend, Lord Graham Easton at Watier’s Club. It was a newer gentleman’s club, having only been established a few years prior, and the clientele of the club was still growing. That made it the perfect place for Aaron to frequent, as the exclusive atmosphere felt almost anonymous to him. He sat across from his cousin, sipping delicately on his glass of brandy. Graham lounged comfortably in the opposite chair, looking as at ease as ever.

Aaron, however, was far from easy, despite the atmosphere and the rich leather seats and decadent brandy. Even though there were rarely large groups of patrons at Watier’s, Aaron kept glancing around, dreading the moment someone recognized him and came to inquire about Charlotte or his intent regarding the season’s events. Still, being in his cousin’s company was deeply appreciated, so he tried to make the best of it.

“How has business been faring, Cousin?” he asked, trying to keep conversation easy and familiar.

Graham shrugged, his disposition enviable to Aaron.

“I am without cause to complain,” he said. “It has been some time since there was any difficulty with shipments from France, and my workers seem content enough to perform their jobs to satisfaction.”

Aaron nodded.

“That is excellent,” he said. “Do you have plans to attend Lady Juliette’s upcoming ball?”

His cousin raised an eyebrow curiously at him.

“I have considered it,” he said. “Do not tell me that you intend to attend.”

Aaron sighed and nodded.

“I promised Mother that I would go,” he said.

Graham looked at him with great surprise.

“That is incredulous,” he said. “I would think that, with Lady Vivian’s increasing appearances in society of late, you would resist any opportunity to see her.”

Aaron’s fingers whitened as he gripped his brandy glass fiercely.

“Pardon?” he asked, praying he had misheard his cousin.

Graham looked at Aaron with sheepish sympathy.

“You did not know,” he said. “Forgive me. I should have said nothing.”

Aaron shook his head and gave his cousin a broad, too-bright smile.

“Nonsense,” he said. “I appreciate the warning.”

Yet as he tried to portray an air of casual indifference, Graham stared at him cautiously. And not for nothing, Aaron knew. Lady Vivian had once been his intended, the woman he planned to marry and build a future with. After Charlotte had disappeared, however, his family’s reputation became marked by scandal. Aaron could have cared less, but for one thing. Lady Vivian ended their betrothal, forced by her father to marry an elderly earl, Lord Elderwood.

Society has a perverted desire to destroy all things precious to us, he thought bitterly, gripping his glass so tightly that his hand ached. It can take a sister and a future bride and then ridicule the man from whom it took them for the rest of his days, and still blame the man for the expectations it places upon them all.

Of course, the last thing he wanted was to see his former lover, especially beneath the gossip-starved eyes of ton members. Attending the ball would be difficult enough without the additional reminders of his mistakes and ruin. But now that there was a chance that she would be attending, as well, he fervently wished he had rejected his mother’s plea. If there was a chance that the gossip might have been limited before, that chance would be erased if he and Lady Vivian attended the same ball. Must fate truly continue to be so cruel?

“Aaron?” Graham asked softly. “Are you all right?”

Aaron shook his head to erase the thoughts, realizing that he had sat in brooding silence for several minutes. He looked into his cousin’s worried eyes, putting the drink to his lips and taking a long sip. Fate might be tormenting Aaron more with each passing day. But there was no reason why Graham should wallow in Aaron’s suffering.

“Yes,” he said. “That news surprised me, but I am all right.”

Graham nodded, but the doubt in his eyes was palpable. 

“Shall we retire for the evening?” he asked.

Aaron forced the most disingenuous smile.

“Not at all,” he said. “Tell me about the events you have attended thus far this season.”

Graham nodded, still looking skeptical as he began telling a tale of a particular ungainly young lady who danced like a lightheaded toddler. Aaron tried to listen with interest, but his mind would not leave the darkness of his failed relationships with both his sister and his former lover. He had loved them both more than he could ever love anything else in all of England. They had been cruelly taken from him, one as the result of the other. And as the weight of the failures sat between his cousin and him in Watier’s dim lighting, he reminded himself that it was truly he who was to blame. He could never make those things right. But now, he had to live his life as though that did not matter. Could he?

Chapter Two

In the townhouse of the Earl of Garenshire, Helena Crawford sat in the drawing room with her father and her younger sister, Emily. Her father was reading something silently, a cream-colored paper with gold around the edges. Helena recognized it as an invitation to some sort of social event, and her breath caught. Surely, her father could not be entertaining the notion of attending any event. Not after everything that had happened to their family.

“Daughters, it would seem that Lady Juliette has invited us to attend a ball she is hosting in a few days,” he said, glancing at both his daughters. His voice, once commanding and strong, now sounded broken by grief and scandal. Even the smile he offered to Helena and Emily appeared sickly and defeated, evidence which was corroborated by the lines around his eyes and the sagging of his jowls. “I believe that it is time that we attend and rejoin society. Two years of isolation is enough. The two of you deserve a chance to find good husbands and secure your futures, despite all that has happened to us.”

Helena’s hands shook as she recalled the events of the last society ball she attended. It was still difficult for her to believe that just two years prior, she had what she had considered to be the perfect life. She was betrothed to the most handsome man in the entirety of the ton, Lord Simon Warwick, and she could hardly wait to be married to him and become the marchioness of Wardom. Her wedding preparations had just begun, and she awoke each day with pure joy at the trips to town, dress fittings and accessory shopping that lay ahead of her.

During that time, she had the dearest of friends. Diana was the daughter to a well-respected marquess, and they got along with great fervor. Diana had made arrangements to spend many nights with her throughout the process of planning her wedding, and she joined Helena and Emily on the trips they had made during the brief period she was betrothed. She had loved Diana as though she was another sister, and she had believed herself to be the luckiest woman in London. She had believed, foolishly, she knew now, that nothing horrible could never happen, with how happy she was. Despite her mother’s death five years prior, she believed that she had found her way and her place in the world again, and that the wonderful people in her life would always be there.

But as with the day her mother died, consumption claiming her life after just a short time, fate proved to have other plans for her than joy. The ball which had ruined her reputation had started as a lovely affair, with decorations of her two favorite colors: lavender and dove gray. Vases and wreathes permeated the fragrance of jasmine, which was her favorite flower. Even though the ball had been hosted by Lady Beaumont, it was easy for her to imagine that the ball was being hosted in her honor. It seemed like a night that would be the very definition of perfection.

She had mingled with friends and acquaintances who all congratulated her on her betrothal, the banns of which would be read that Sunday during the service at St. Peter’s church. She sipped some wine and delighted in the music, even when Simon asked Diana to dance with him twice. She supposed she should have been suspicious at the delight in Diana’s eyes as Simon escorted her to the floor. But she had not thought it of any significance until after her dance with the rake; a man whose name she never knew but whose face she would never forget.

He was a very handsome gentleman, very opposite to Simon’s fair skin and blond hair, with black hair that was pulled back at the nape of his neck and eyes so dark they were almost as black as his hair. There was a dimple on the left corner of his mouth when he smiled, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Too late would Helena realize just why that was. But Diana had introduced him to her as a dear friend, so when he had asked her to dance, she had accepted without question.

The disaster began when the gentleman stepped on the hem of Helena’s dress, ripping it so that it needed repair. He had been apologetic, offering to assist her, but for propriety’s sake, Helena politely declined. She hurried off to the adjacent sitting room so that she could repair the hem and return to the ball. However, as she repaired her dress, the man entered the room, closing the door behind him. He approached her with a strange look in his eyes, one which haunted Helena every day.

She once more declined his help, but he was upon her before she knew what was happening. He pressed himself against her, gripping her wrists in his hands. He was not hurting her, but what happened next left wounds that never ceased weeping. The door flew open and in walked Diana, along with other guests of the party. Helena had been caught in the compromising situation with the gentleman, and Diana had led the guests there. Only later did Helena learn that Diana had hired the gentleman and orchestrated the event so that Helena would be ruined.

Simon immediately rejected her in front of all the guests present at the ball that evening, thinking her guilty of impropriety, just as the rest of the ton did. He instead chose to marry Diana, which he did just one week after the ball. Helena had tried to plead her innocence and explain herself. But none would hear her, as no one ever heard a woman who had been ruined in such a manner. To make matters worse, the rake vanished, leaving her ruined and without a husband to salvage her reputation. Thus, she had spent two years isolated away from the ton, having no friends left and no acquaintances who wanted to be associated with such a horrible scandal.

“There will be no chance for me to find a husband, Father,” she said softly, immediately regretting her words when the earl’s shoulder fell, and his weak smile crumbled.

Emily rose from her seat and knelt beside Helena, taking her hands in her own.

“But sister, it is time that we reclaim our place in society,” she said. “Never mind finding husbands. That will come whenever it comes. I, for one, do not want any husband who would dare judge my sister guilty without understanding why he is doing so. But Father is right. We deserve to rejoin society and be the noblewomen we rightfully are.”

Helena looked into her sister’s earnest face. It was hard to believe that Emily was only two years younger than her. At nineteen, Emily could pass as Helena’s niece. Their faces were eerily similar. However, like their father’s, Helena’s face was prematurely lined with the years of strain and worry that had come in the two years since her ruin. But as her sister began to dance across the polished wooden floor, her protective instincts engulfed her. She could not be selfish and ruin her sister’s life as well as her own. She needed to do what was best for Emily, no matter how uncomfortable it was for her.

She thought about something which their aunt, the widowed Beatrice Montrose, told her immediately after the scandal broke.

“People judge others to mask their own unhappiness,” she had said. “You must not allow their opinions of you become your own.”

Beatrice had stood by her family through the entirety of the scandal, defending them at every instance. She had believed Helena’s account of the event from the very first moment, and she had not allowed anyone to cause any direct discomfort with their harsh words or unwarranted admonishments. Helena still did not know quite how to prevent the opinions of others from taking over her own opinions of herself. But there was wisdom in those words. Just as there was wisdom in those of her father and sister.

“Very well,” she replied, observing her sister’s delight while striving to conceal her own trepidation. “I will agree to attend the ball, Father.”

The earl nodded, a weak smile returning. He watched Emily dance with a combination of pride and regret. Helena could guess why he felt those things. He was proud of his youngest daughter’s resilience and strength in the face of the adversity their family had faced. But he regretted how Helena’s scandal had affected both their futures. Even though she knew her father did not blame her, she knew he still wished things were different. As did she.

When the night of the ball arrived that Saturday, Helena stood before her looking glass as her lady’s maid, Martha, helped her into a pale blue, fine silk gown. The modiste had outdone herself with the dress, meeting all Helena’s requests perfectly. Helena had asked for little, apart from it being a color and a style which was modest and would attract little attention. But it was still beautiful, more so than Helena felt she deserved.

Martha’s hands were gentle as they worked to style her honey-colored hair into a Grecian Knot, while Emily fetched a pale blue ribbon to accessorize it. Emily looked radiant in her pink silk gown, with her cheeks flushed pink to match and a pink gemstone tiara. Helena smiled softly despite her own reservations and dread about the ball. Her sister deserved to look and feel as beautiful and wonderful as she did. Helena could find a way to pass the evening without making the night bad for her sister. Even if it meant she stayed out of sight for the duration of the ball.

Emily brought the ribbon, as well as a pearl necklace and a pair of pearl earrings, to Martha, who set to work putting them on her mistress. Martha gave a sad smile as she fastened the necklace around Helena’s neck.

“Your mother loved this necklace and earrings,” she said. “I recall countless events where she would consider nothing but those earrings. Of all the innumerable pieces of jewelery she had, those were her favorite. She would dance down the hall and down the stairs on the way to meet Lord Garenshire as they prepared to go for the evening.”

Helena listened, not realizing that she was crying until the maid wiped away her tears with weathered hands. Martha had been her mother’s lady’s maid until the countess died. The earl had hired another to be Emily’s lady’s maid when she was old enough, and Martha had stayed on with their family to be Helena’s.

“I miss her, Martha,” she said, her voice breaking.

Martha cupped her cheeks and nodded, her own eyes damp.

“I know, milady,” she said. “I also know how proud she would be of your strength. She would be delighted to see the lovely young women the both of you have become.”

Helena bit back a sob as Emily put a hand on her shoulder.

“Mother would always share a dance with me before they left for balls, even with no music,” she said, sniffling. “I would watch her dress and think about how I could not wait to be as beautiful and elegant as she was.”

Martha turned to Emily and smiled, nodding.

“And you certainly are, milady,” she said.

Before her family left for the ball, Helena slipped away to the music room. Her mother’s walnut-crafted grand pianoforte shone, well-maintained, with its rich, reddish-brown hue. The setting sun cast its shadow along the floor of the room, making it look as though a long figure were standing behind it. Helena approached it, moving her fingers across the keys and drawing forth a melancholy tune that filled the refined space. The pianoforte carried memories of happier times for Helena’s family, times which Helena found herself missing more and more each day.

Her mother had been patient when teaching her music lessons, and she had delighted in both her daughters performing with her on evenings when the entire family gathered in the music room to enjoy each other’s company. Often, the three Crawford women entertained the earl with their musical and dancing prowess, and they had all been so happy. Music had been their one shared passion, and it was the source of much delight for all four of them. And during her betrothal, Simon had joined their family to listen to her play, admiring her talent which once impressed any within the ton who heard her play. Now, in the wake of all the horror her family had experienced, each note echoed with the weight of everything they had lost and the absence of the happiness that could never again be theirs.

Emily found her standing at the instrument, and she approached with warmth and understanding in her expression. As the music faded to silence, she placed a gentle hand on Helena’s shoulder, silently lending her strength. Helena leaned against her sister and drew from that strength, just as she had countless times since their world began to crumble. She had been Emily’s comfort after their mother died. And since the scandal, Emily had been hers. Helena did not know what would become of her without her devoted sister and their close relationship. Despite all the horrible things, Helena found deep gratitude for Emily.

Their father’s muffled voice called from below, summoning them to join him so they could depart for the ball. Emily took Helena’s hand, giving her a gentle, reassuring smile. Helena returned it as she linked her arm through her sister’s. Her smile was almost genuine by the time they reached their father, who was waiting for them in the entryway of their townhouse.

“My daughters, you look beautiful,” he said. There was some sincerity behind his words. But the pain and weight that lingered in his eyes took away the joy of the kindness. Still, she and Emily each kissed one of his cheeks and allowed him to lead them to the waiting carriage.

Helena sat straight-backed and silent against the velvet squabs of the coach. Emily chatted excitedly as the carriage wound through the streets of London toward Lady Juliette’s townhouse. The earl listened quietly to his youngest daughter, seeming like Helena to prefer to enjoy her delight rather than to speak of any concerns. But Emily noticed Helena’s tension and placed a gentle hand over her restless fingers, which were folded with tense perfection in her lap. Helena did her best to smile once more. She would do her best to hold her head high that evening. But she knew that the evening would test every bit of her hard-won composure.

Chapter Three

Aaron sat silently in the carriage with his mother as they travelled to the dreaded ball. He stared out the window, but he could see the dowager with a sidelong glance. She looked directly at him as though she wanted to say something, and he was sure she had noticed his rigid posture and the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his knee.

She looked away, her sigh only evident in the noticeable rise and fall of her shoulders. She looked to her other side, touching the empty seat beside her, the seat which would have been Charlotte’s, were she still with them. She did not need to speak for Aaron to know that she was thinking of all the times that Charlotte sat beside her, bursting with excitement about the event they were about to attend.

“Thank you for agreeing to attend this ball with me, darling,” the dowager said, her voice thick with the emotions that her memories were no doubt evoking within her.

Aaron shrugged, knowing he should not say the words, even as he spoke them.

“It is my duty to attend such events,” he said tersely. “It is what is expected of me.”

His mother’s recoiling confirmed the coldness of his words. He had done a poor job of concealing his discomfort about rejoining society. He was aware that she was only trying to help him. But in moments like that, he wished she would stop helping.

When they arrived at Lady Juliette’s townhouse, Aaron tried not to look as miserable as he felt. But the tension was evident, even in his mother’s smile as she greeted acquaintances on their way into the manor. Aaron noted the stares; indeed, they were impossible to miss when many people ceased their conversations and looked at him with wide-eyed amazement. It was as if a foreign wild animal had just entered the house, and no one could look away.

I knew this was a horrible idea, he thought, even as he formally greeted one of his father’s business partners. This is all I have to look forward to this evening.

Still, he pressed on, escorting his mother to the ballroom. Candlelight illuminated the room in golden splendor, which was accentuated by the gold candelabras and chandeliers, the gold framed paintings and the green of the ribbons and wreaths that decorated the room. The orchestra began the first musical notes of the evening, and couples began making their way to the center of the dance floor. It would have been a delight to Charlotte, and to his mother if she were there with them. But to him, it was merely his cage for the rest of the evening.

He excused himself to allow his mother to mingle at her leisure, retreating to a grand marble column, his posture unchanged since he boarded the carriage. His mother had found a temporary moment of happiness speaking with one of her friends who had remained in correspondence with her after Charlotte vanished. Thus, he was content to hide behind the pillar for as long as he could manage.

He was not oblivious to the eager glances of the young debutantes and their ambitious mothers. However, he paid no heed, employing his icy demeanor to deflect and disregard their aspirations. He was certain that the evening would yield fresh fodder for gossip, as had often been the case. Yet he was no stranger to finding himself the subject of scandalous whispers. He would persist in his indifference, as he always had. As for his mother, she would be spared, as long as he maintained his presence of mind and did not outwardly display his discontent.

“Quite the impressive assembly, is it not?” Graham remarked, suddenly materializing beside him.

Aaron looked at his cousin, relieved to see one face which did not give him a terrible chill.

“You need not remind me,” he retorted sharply, obscuring his face as he rolled his eyes. “Those thirsting for scandal have already fixed their appetites onto me. I can practically hear what they are saying from across the room.”

Graham clapped him gently on the back, giving him a sympathetic look.

“I know how unhappy you are here,” he said softly, fixing his expression as though the men were engaged in a lighthearted conversation. “But it is a wonderful thing you are doing for Aunt Catherine, escorting her to this ball.”

Aaron nodded and sighed.

“I am aware,” he said. “But it feels far from wonderful.”

Graham nodded and went to speak again. But there was a shift in the crowd, drawing Aaron’s and Graham’s attention to the entrance. The butler announced the arrival of the earl of Garenshire and his daughters, Lady Emily and Lady Helena Crawford. He noticed that the guests stopped to stare at the family as they had at his mother and him when they arrived. He also saw how one of the women guided the other through the parting guests with a quiet dignity that was unlike the demeanor of the giddy, foolish young ladies who were trying to get his attention. As they moved closer to the brilliant light of the chandeliers, Aaron could tell that the dignified one was the older sister. 

Her face was similar to her sister’s, and he might have questioned the age difference, were it not for an ageless weight and sadness in the eyes of the older one. Lady Helena, was it not? He quietly mused as the women followed their father, who seemed to be projecting a proud ambiance, shielding himself and his daughters from the judgments of the gossipers.

When the older sister led the younger to a shadowed alcove framed by climbing vines just a few paces from him, Aaron realized that he knew why they were the new focus of all eyes. Lady Helena, if he recalled correctly, had been the center of a scandal a couple of years prior. It was just before Charlotte disappeared and Vivian ended their betrothal. The woman had been caught in a compromising position, after which the man with whom she had been found vanished, leaving her reputation ruined.

Aaron had not meant to eavesdrop. But he caught one sentence that further piqued his curiosity about the sisters. Particularly, Lady Helena.

“Darling, I know that you are excited, and I am very grateful for that,” she said, in a voice so low it was miraculous that Aaron could hear. “But you must maintain proper decorum. Your smile is brilliant, and your wit is unmatched. But you must temper that with a little restraint, as any proper lady would do.”

Lady Emily paused, seemingly taking a measured breath, her expression one of keen interest in her sister’s counsel rather than one of reproach.

“Of course, Sister,” she said. “I can manage that.”

Lady Helena smiled at her sister, and Aaron noticed for the first time how beautiful she was. He was drawn in by their dignity and their quiet confidence despite society’s censure, and he felt more intrigued than he had all evening.

***

Helena was relieved when their aunt approached the two sisters, carrying herself regally as she worked through the clusters of people who had stopped to stare at them. As childish as it was, it was soothing to have the presence of a maternal figure with her as she struggled to appear unbothered by the staring and whispering.

At the woman’s arrival, people stopped whispering and began to pretend they were attentive to other things.

“My darlings, you both look so beautiful,” she said, smiling warmly at Helena. “I am proud of your bravery. Everyone, especially the two of you, deserve to find happiness, regardless of past sorrows. Your mother would be proud, as well.”

Helena bit back tears at her aunt’s kindness.

“I wish that everyone felt as you do, Aunt,” she said, glancing toward a group of particularly prying individuals.

Beatrice turned and gave them a pointed glance which left no room for debate as to what she was thinking about their disgusting leering. The matrons scurried away, looking frightened, which brought a brief smile to Helena’s face.

But a moment later, the Crawford sisters were no longer the focus of the room. The butler announced the arrival of Lord and Lady Warwick, and Helena felt a sudden pang of dread. She watched as Diana and Simon entered, looking admittedly astonishing after their two-year sojourn in Italy, to whence they had vanished after their sudden wedding. Diana wore a Continental-style dress, similar to the blue of Helena’s, with a low neckline which exposed the top of her bosom, a high waistline which accentuated the outline of her breasts and a full skirt with rosettes dotting it, complete with a train which glittered with sapphires. Simon was dressed in a suit which matched, save for the gemstones and rosettes, which were replaced with gold embroidery. He looked smug as he walked beside Diana, whose confident smile had not changed one bit since Helena learned the truth of her betrayal.

When Beatrice had learned of the events that transpired, she could scarcely contain her wrath as she divulged what she had overheard at an intimate supper gathering hosted by Lady Melbourne, one of her dearest acquaintances. She recounted how audaciously Diana prattled on about her cunning machinations that led to Helena’s unfortunate predicament, and how she had achieved her aim: to ensnare Simon for her own purposes.

The memory made Helena feel ill, and she gripped her fan tightly. The bitter truth had made Beatrice’s loyalty and support all the more invaluable. But it had done little to soothe the anguish caused by such deep betrayal of the two people Helena had loved and trusted most outside her family.

“I know this is difficult, Sister,” Emily said, shifting closer to her older sister. “But remember how devastated we were, and how Aunt Beatrice’s revelation helped us transform our grief into anger. Perhaps, that is no better in some ways. But hold onto the strength we both took from that to battle any heartache that lingers.”

Helena nodded silently, taking both her sister’s and her aunt’s hands when they were offered. But her stomach churned with agony and refreshed humiliation as the couple finished their descent from the stairs into the ballroom proper.

People whisper about them as they did about Emily, Father and me, she thought bitterly to herself. But do they truly know the depths of Diana’s manipulation and disloyalty?

***

Aaron watched with bemusement as the ball guests continued to be distracted from him by the entrance of Lord and Lady Warwick. There was more gossip, only this time, it had nothing to do with him. It seemed that Lady Warwick, before her marriage to Lord Warwick, had been dear friends of Lady Helena, and her esteemed husband had, at the time, been betrothed to Lady Helena. There was speculation regarding her quick marriage to the gentleman after he ended his betrothal to Lady Helena. Aaron was not quick to believe any rumors, not after seeing what ton members could do to even their most esteemed peers after times of crisis. But it did give him insight into the story which followed the Crawford sisters like a horrible smell.

The next couple to enter, however, stopped Aaron’s heart. He had been advised to brace himself for the eventuality. And yet, as he perceived the rhythmic tap of what appeared to be a jeweled walking stick upon the polished floor, he realized that he could never have anticipated such a moment. Vivian entered in an elegant gold gown on the arm of none other than Thomas Rutherford, the elderly earl of Elderwood. His painfully slow progress into the ballroom might have been comedic to Aaron, particularly with the way that Vivian rested her hand on her husband’s shoulder with practiced grace and false support. But the wounds from the end of their betrothal, broken promises and rejection were reopened as he beheld her.

Aaron saw her eyes surveying the crowd of people, and he instinctively knew who she was looking for. He began slowly backing further toward the back of the room, but it was not quite enough. Vivian’s eyes found him, holding his gaze as he stood unable to move. Another moment later, Vivian was making her way subtly in his direction. Aaron’s heart stopped. He had vowed not to make a scene for the sake of his mother. But now, it seemed that Vivian intended to make a scene with him, instead.

If not for the sudden tightening of Lord Elderwood’s grip on his wife’s arm, evident by the way her eyes widened and she looked at him with surprised annoyance, she might have made her way to him. But the old man’s weathered face flashed with knowing bitterness. Vivian tried to progress on her set path, but there was a stumble in her step. It appeared that the man was a little stronger than he appeared. And it seemed that Vivian was learning the fact for the first time, as well. Watching their battle of wills, Aaron was able to find marginal amusement. I wonder how that makes you feel, my darling, he thought dryly as he reached for a glass of wine on a nearby refreshment table and took a long drink.

***

Graham had noticed the two young women which had garnered a great deal of attention when he first arrived. The subsequent arrivals, which seemed to be more interesting with each one, had distracted him briefly. But as the orchestra announced the first set, he began searching for them once more. They were both lovely, looking as similar as two sisters can without being twins. But one of them was considerably more remarkable, capturing Graham’s attention fully.

The older sister was talking softly to the younger one, looking quietly uncomfortable, yet dignified in her discontent.  The younger girl was smiling, which Graham observed at once. He noted Aaron persistently rebuffing the attentions of the other unmarried young ladies, a circumstance that undoubtedly accounted for the increasing number of them appearing pouty and brooding, whispering amongst themselves behind their fans and casting Aaron disdainful glances. But Graham had a single focus. He approached the sisters, bowing and smiling warmly at the younger woman.

“Good evening, my lady,” he said. “I wish to know if you have space on your dance card to share a dance with me.”

The older sister looked on with calm wariness. The younger lady, whose name he had heard was Lady Emily, giggled and nodded, blushing.

“I believe I have a spot or two left,” she said, laughing at her own joke. 

Graham laughed, as well, thrilling in the sound as he offered his hand.

“Shall we?” he asked. He wished to make himself sound more charming, with more intent as the young lady put her hand in his. But her beauty, while impressive from across the room, was stunning, now that he stood close to her. He prayed he could make up for his lackluster dance invitation as they danced.

With her older sister looking on, Graham and Lady Emily began the dance. He was careful to keep the proper amount of formal politeness in his grip and his steps. However, holding the lovely young woman so close to him and looking into her light hazel eyes, he could not deny the intensity of the awareness she awakened in him.

***

Aaron watched as Lord Elderwood insistently led his young bride to the floor to take part in the minuet which constituted the first dance of the evening. He had abandoned his jeweled cane at a seat near a refreshment table, his limp noticeable as he and Vivian took their positions and began the dance. It was clear that the elderly earl was putting in his best effort to perform the dance. But Vivian’s perfect execution of each step displayed just how difficult it was for the gentleman. What it did not do, however, was conceal her impatience for her slow, awkwardly moving husband and his stilted, halting movements. It was clear that she wished to be dancing at a pace more befitting her age and dancing experience. Aaron had no pity for her. She had destroyed his heart after the most devastating loss his family had ever suffered. He felt justified in drawing a little amusement from her irritation as she danced.

He was no longer laughing when the path of the dancers brought Vivian and her husband directly toward Aaron. There was no place to which he could retreat and was thus finally forced to acknowledge the couple. He gave a curt nod, keeping his eyes just above their heads, rather than meeting their gazes directly. Vivian, however, was not deterred. She fixed her eyes on him, twirling and stepping as they continued on the floor. 

“Good evening, Aaron,” she said, her voice dripping with sickening honey.

Aaron narrowed his eyes, sparing her only a bare glance.

“My lady,” he said coldly, pretending as though she were any other stranger in the room.

The response caused her cheeks to flush with humiliation, which renewed a bit of Aaron’s earlier amusement. But when the earl uttered a pointed cough, Vivian’s expression changed to one of a most savage glare. Aaron turned his back to hide a bitter smile. What had Vivian gotten herself into after she ruined his life?