Lady Marchent continued, "My consideration in keeping you out of society was as much for your good as anyone else's. I should hate for things to not go well and your prospects for another season be diminished if the extent of your circ.u.mstance were to be known. The ton will not tolerate such imperfection, Amber, and no parent would credit a match of their son to someone with such a blemish. I am uncomfortable to think of this duplicity even as I realize that it is the best option for my child."

Amber lowered her eyes, emotional for a different reason than she was before. Imperfection. Blemish. The feel of her mother's hand on her face as she lifted Amber's chin left her unsure whether to view her mother as a compatriot in this or someone expecting Amber to fail. "I want the best for all of my children, Amber. Do you believe that?"

"Of course I believe that, Mama," Amber said, eager to forgive her mother's neglect if only they could return the level of comfort they had enjoyed before this horrid turn of fate. More than ever she wanted her mother's good opinion.

Her mother dropped her hand and nodded. "We shall be walking to the Middletons and are to be received at three o'clock. I shall lend you my parasol so you need not trouble yourself with a bonnet that could upset your arrangement upon its removal."

"Thank you, Mama," Amber said with a smile. "I will make you proud, I promise."

"It went so well," Amber said once they were on the street following the Middleton's tea, which had gone famously. Amber's story of the rinse was well received and even sympathetic, making for a most comfortable and companionable afternoon. She now walked side by side with her mother while Darra trailed behind them. Of everyone in attendance, Darra had by far been the least responsive to Amber's charms.

"It did go very well," Lady Marchent said with a nod and a relieved smile. "I was quite pleased with your behavior and how the tale regarding the rinse was received. You were very engaging to the other women and handled yourself very well indeed."

Amber smiled at the compliment and felt the comfortable rea.s.surance that this wig would return her to her place in society. Never mind that her head itched atrociously. "So I may attend the ball at Carlton House tomorrow night, then?"

Lady Marchent hesitated, and Amber felt her grip on her mother's arm tighten the smallest degree.

"You said that I could, Mama," Amber reminded her. "You said if the tea went well I could go to Carlton House."

"It is so soon," Lady Marchent explained. "Perhaps it would be better to wait for a less formal event to make your reentry." She glanced over her shoulder at Darra and Amber followed the look.

"Darra does not want me to attend, does she?" Amber said.

"It is not that," Lady Marchent said. "Only she has enjoyed a different kind of attention since your absence. If she had more time for her to accept that things have changed once again she will be more supportive."

Amber bit back a sharp retort about her mother considering her feelings as much as Darra's. "All my suitors will be there," Amber said instead. "And I am of a mind to make a decision as quickly as possible. It would do no good to refuse such an enviable invitation from the Prince Regent himself and miss an opportunity to secure my prospects."

Lady Marchent remained thoughtful as they pa.s.sed a gentleman who nodded and bowed to them. They greeted him and then resumed their conversation. "You haven't had time to plan your dress," Lady Marchent said.

"I have the emerald dress I did not wear to the Covington's. My maid can have everything in readiness." She tightened the grip on her mother's arm. "Please, Mama. Let me go. Don't let Darra's discomfort in sharing the attention prevent me from making progress toward my own potential."

Lady Marchent let out a heavy breath. "Let me convince your sister of the wisdom of it," she said, slowing her step and letting go of Amber's arm. "Go on ahead. We'll only be a short distance behind."

"Thank you, Mama," Amber said, smiling so as not to show her disappointment in her mother's reluctance. She leaned in and gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek before quickening her pace, allowing Lady Marchent to fall even with Darra.

Amber reached the house before her mother and sister, but rather than go directly to her bedchamber, she stepped into the drawing room and closed the door enough to be hidden but still able to overhear the conversation as her mother and sister entered the house. They were only a short distance behind her so she did not have to wait long.

"It is not fair," Darra whined. "I am always pulled about according to Amber's will, and I can hardly stand it."

"I am sorry," Lady Marchent said sincerely, rippling that pool of jealousy not yet dried up within Amber's chest. "But she is quite ardent in her desire to make a quick match and to let an opportunity pa.s.s for her to pursue such a thing would work against that. Surely you can see the wisdom of this course. It is in your best interest as well as hers."

Darra let out a breath and lowered her voice, causing Amber to lean closer to the gap in the doorway. "He prefers me, Mama, I know he does."

He? Amber thought. He who?

"Then you have nothing to worry about, my dear," her mother said. "Your sister has any number of suitors to choose from. Once she's made her match, you will be free to pursue whomever you please."

They continued up the stairs to their rooms, and only after they were gone did Amber come out of her hiding place and continue to her own bedchamber. She rang for Suzanne and then explained the plans for tomorrow as she sat before her dressing table so that Suzanne could remove the pins holding the wig to the binding.

"I must look my very best tomorrow night," Amber said, watching in the mirror as Suzanne lifted the wig off Amber's head and moved it to the pedestal set on a table beside Amber's vanity. She thought of Darra's long dark hair-her real hair. Who was the "he" she had mentioned?

Suzanne untucked the wrapping, and Amber sighed with relief as it was unwound from her head, leaving an oddly satisfying ache behind it. Though she was glad for the success of the Middleton tea, she was equally grateful that her mother had not obligated her for any events this evening. She felt in need of the time to prepare for tomorrow and felt rather fatigued.

Her reflection took her by surprise and she blinked quickly. Hair stuck out in several directions and the bald portions were still red and scabbed from where the blisters had been. It was truly gruesome, but with the wig it no longer mattered so much. She had successfully attended the Middleton's tea. She would attend tomorrow's party at Carlton House-the epicenter of society.

It will work, she told herself, looking away from the horrible reminder of her condition reflected in the mirror as she reached for one of the lace caps Suzanne had purchased for her a few days earlier She put the cap in place and looked back at her reflection. It has to work.

Chapter 11.

Fenton introduced Thomas to Waiters on a night when the entertainment was thin and Thomas's patience with wife-hunting was even thinner. The famous club, known for its gaming, was reserved for only the highest of the ton. Thomas had enjoyed himself more than he'd expected. That he left thirty pounds richer than he'd been upon arrival improved his opinion that much more. After that first evening, Thomas and Fenton had attended a few other times and after an a.s.sembly last night, returned again.

Too many gla.s.ses of brandy combined with other distractions sent Thomas home with a pounding head and pockets on the verge of empty. It wasn't until morning, however, that he realized the extent of his carelessness. He had gambled away nearly a hundred pounds in one evening and awoke sick to his stomach for more reasons than one.

He left his rooms in search of sun and wind to clear his head and found himself seated at the back of St. Paul's Cathedral. He was not the only person to seek refuge in the church on a Sat.u.r.day morning, but he sat long enough to see everyone who had been there upon his arrival be replaced with another set and still did not feel absolved of his regret.

He reviewed his memories of the evening before, more ill at ease with himself each time he ran through his actions.

Why had he accepted that third gla.s.s of brandy? It was not like him to be so free with his drink.

Why had he allowed himself to become so distracted by the conversations going on around him that he was inattentive to the cards in his hand? He was usually such a shrewd player.

Why had he kept playing when he'd lost the twenty pounds he'd promised himself as his limit? He was not a man with a sizable allowance that gave him margins for frivolous spending; he knew better.

He did the equations in his head of how much of this year's corn harvest would equate to those hundred pounds. How much would he spend on his workers who planted, raised, and harvested it? How many families in Northallerton lived off a hundred pounds for an entire year? How many other families could only dream of that much?

With elbows braced upon his knees, he let his thoughts wander down equally dark roads that had little to do with money and far more to do with the pattern his day-to-day life had taken on. He hated that he spent the majority of his time pursuing pleasure that often was not that pleasurable. He hated the growing covetousness he felt toward friends with seemingly endless funds at their disposal. He hated the late mornings and too-long afternoons that became late evenings, which resulted in a foggy head, only to repeat the unproductive efforts of the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. He hated weighing out the merits of every woman he met and wondering if his attentions would be welcomed. He hated that he had not felt drawn to a single one of them-except the one he knew would not welcome him.

The thoughts cycled through his mind and surged through his heart, building like a thunderstorm in his head and chest until he found himself pleading in silent prayer for G.o.d to help him find direction. He wanted to be working his land. He wanted to find a comfortable wife. He wanted to please his mother. He wanted to be mindful of his finances. He wanted to ride his horse through the countryside again without caring how his cravat was tied. He wanted to secure his future. He wanted . . . he wanted . . . he needed to feel at peace with himself. That peace was proving to be fleeting the longer he stayed in this blasted city. The realization brought his thoughts back to the idea that had plagued him increasingly these last weeks: did he belong here?

Which of the women he'd become acquainted with would be satisfied with a husband who sat in the saddle? Would any of them be able to find comfort on his annual income with the rest of his income being dependent on his harvest and management? Would they be comfortable in a country house not yet built rather than an estate with history and distinction?

As the years went by, the smell of the shop, or in his case, the farm, would cling stronger and stronger to Thomas and affect his standing in social circles. His sons would need to pursue careers of their own despite the land they would one day inherit. He did not expect to have adequate fortune to lay about them as they entered maturity. His daughters would have small inheritances but need to marry well to ensure their comfort, likely to a man of trade, which would move them below the society Thomas himself belonged to, if only just. Had Thomas met any woman who could find happiness in such a life? Never mind that each woman he met was compared to Amber Sterlington-her beauty, her figure, the effect her voice had on him each time he heard it. One more aggravation to heap upon the others.

As his mind turned to matters of more immediate attention, he became even more morose. Due to his extravagance, he had spent the majority of the finances he'd brought with him to London. Next week he would need to pay another month's rent of his rooms, which would leave his pockets near empty. He could appeal to his solicitor for an advance on next quarter's allowance, but Mr. Jefferies would inform Albert, and the idea of his brother knowing what he'd done burned in Thomas's chest like a blacksmith's fire. He would have to withstand his brother's censure for the irresponsible management of his funds.

Or, perhaps Albert would clap him on the back and express his relief to see Thomas become as irresponsible as every other man in London. Albert had been the second son when he'd come to London and unburdened by the responsibility of one day becoming the Baron himself. He had therefore been quite the rake-even more so after Charles had died and Albert faced the expectations of an inheritance he was not eager to fulfill. Albert had often said that Thomas was too straitlaced and should embrace the pleasures afforded the younger sons of the n.o.bility. Thomas had never wished for such dissipation, it was not in his nature, and had endured his brother's ribbing with tolerance and amus.e.m.e.nt. Yet now he had started on that same path-a path that had left Albert at odds with their father after Lord Fielding had ordered Albert back to Northallerton and railed him on the level of propriety he expected. The breach never entirely healed before the old Baron pa.s.sed. Thomas had no desire to create such chaos within the family, which would not be a concern if his behavior was above reproach.

Thomas sat on the back pew for another half an hour, then bowed his head in another supplication to the heavens. He did not have the means or the interest to stay in London much longer, but he hated the feeling of returning home with his tail between his legs.

As much as you deserve, he scolded himself. He quickly attempted to think beyond his self-judgment. How do I fix this?

No answer came, and he returned to his rooms, thinking of the upcoming evening's entertainment-a ball at Carlton House. It was an honor to be attending as Fenton's guest, but he would have to pretend his way through it to not be a pall on the frivolity. The very idea was wearying. Following the ball, Fenton would likely encourage him to return to the gaming h.e.l.ls and try to win some of his purse back, but the thought was beyond consideration. Thomas would never step inside those halls again, which meant Fenton would likely no longer be Thomas's escort around town. He could not expect Fenton to avoid such pleasure simply on account of Thomas's regret. Would Thomas present himself at entertainments alone? Would he be turned away from the higher-level events if he showed without Fenton's recommendation? Thomas hated how small he felt, how out of place.

Unable to find any other remedy, Thomas penned a letter to his solicitor requesting additional funds. His neck was still hot with embarra.s.sment as he mailed the letter to Yorkshire. That Albert would find it all very diverting did not give Thomas any peace of mind. He did not like the changes this town was making upon him, and as he readied himself for the evening, he questioned again why he was there at all and why he had come to London for a wife he hoped would never want to return to the city.

Chapter 12.

Suzanne helped Amber to dress in a crepe evening gown a rather daring shade of green for a debutante. That Amber had not yet worn it increased her excitement regarding the notice she would surely attract. Suzanne added a diamond and pearl necklace that was to become Amber's upon marriage and four pearl bracelets that added a feeling of refinement to the ensemble.

It was a relief to have Suzanne start on the binding for her head, hiding the gruesome sight from Amber's view in the looking gla.s.s. The wrapping had to be pulled as tightly as possible so as not to be easily displaced over the course of the evening, but Amber asked for a bit more ease tonight. She would be wearing it for hours and did not want a headache as frightful as the one she had after yesterday's tea. Once the binding was in place, the wig was pinned to it, creating the bond to her head that allowed her to move freely rather than carefully looking this way and that for fear of upsetting the piece.

Suzanne was proficient in how to style and arrange the wig to its best representation, freeing Amber's thoughts to consider the evening before her. All of Amber's suitors would be at the ball, and she was committed to make a decision tonight. Lord Sunther was her first choice; he would therefore be the focus of her attention.

Though position itself was no longer her chief objective, she did not want to give up on the possibility of an arrangement with the most eligible bachelor of the season. More, she felt Lord Sunther was the kind of man who could come to love her despite all the complications he would unknowingly be presented with in having her for a wife.

"How is it, Miss?" Suzanne said.

Amber looked up as she turned her head to inspect the arrangement. As tonight's event was at the Prince Regent's opulent residence, it was among the most formal events of the season, and Amber had told Suzanne to be additionally attentive.

Suzanne had left one long curl of the dark hair to hang over Amber's shoulder. The rest of the hair had been braided with ribbon the same color as the gown and then wrapped and pinned to give the appearance of a crown of sorts, into which Suzanne had threaded the white flowers with diamond centers. The only concern Amber had with the style was if showing so much hair might draw attention to the change in color. But surely she could repeat the story of a rinse to those who had not yet heard it.

"It will do," Amber said, though she continued to inspect the intricacies of the style. Did it look like a wig? she wondered. Her concern served to further convince her of the importance of tonight's ball. She would increase her attention to Lord Sunther and have an official proposal by the end of the week, if not the end of the night. Any one of her other suitors would be overjoyed at such a prospect; surely he would be as well once she convinced him of her interest.

As Suzanne replaced the dressing cape from Amber's shoulders with a white cashmere shawl draped at her elbows, Amber filled her stores of confidence for the evening ahead. It was imperative that she have absolute a.s.surance-tonight would be a night she would never forget.

By the time Amber, Darra, and their parents arrived at Carlton House, it was already crowded. Lord and Lady Marchent made the appropriate rounds of greetings and gave a few introductions to people Darra and Amber did not know. Amber kept a close eye out for her suitors, casting them a smile when they met her eye, but she was eager to see Lord Sunther most of all, and he was the one she did not find amid the crowds.

It was some time before Lady Marchent and her daughters found themselves at the edge of the dance floor, showing that the girls were ready to dance. Lord Marchent had already disappeared into a card room with a group of gentlemen. Amber did not expect to see him again until it was time to leave, a.s.suming he didn't leave in a hired carriage for other entertainments.

Mr. Harrington approached Amber before she'd even had a chance to a.s.sess the couples already on the floor. He greeted Darra and their mother before turning his eager attention to Amber. "You are pretty as a picture tonight, Miss Sterlington," he said as he bowed over her hand. "I am glad that you are recovered from your illness. Society was quite dimmed by your absence."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Harrington," she said with a wide smile. "I so worried this color might be too daring." She swished her skirts while looking at him from beneath her lashes. The neckline was the most daring aspect of the gown, and she felt sure he noted it while appearing to inspect the color of the dress.

"Forever not!" he said as though offended by the prospect. "It enhances your beauty to the height of all things charming and . . . and beautiful."

Amber smiled and ducked as though modestly embarra.s.sed by his stumbling flattery. "My mind is very much put at ease by your compliments, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for being ever so kind."

"Of course," he said, dipping his head slightly. "Would you join me in the next set?" His eyes were bright with antic.i.p.ation.

"Most certainly," Amber said, wishing she had checked the order of dances for the night. She hoped to waltz with Lord Sunther and did not want to waste the opportunity on Mr. Harrington though she had yet to see the former.

"Wonderful! Shall I fetch you a drink in the meantime? Prinny has put out his very best champagne this evening, truly delightful."

"I would love a gla.s.s of champagne before the next set, thank you, Mr. Harrington."

"Very good," he said with another quick bow. With a click of his heels, he was off to the refreshment table in another room. Amber watched him go. Could he be the husband she needed him to be if Lord Sunther did not rise to the occasion? He often proclaimed of her beauty, and she worried at his reaction when he realized that all was not as it appeared to be. She bit her lip as she watched his retreating back.

"Miss Sterlington," a voice said, drawing her eye up to see Lord Sunther's. By the time Amber recovered herself from the surprise of seeing him so suddenly, he had already turned to look at Darra. "Miss Darra."

The sisters offered the proper curtsy at precisely the same moment. When Amber raised her head, Lord Sunther's eyes were still on her sister. Darra looked back at him, a soft smile on her face and a new light in her eyes. In the s.p.a.ce of a moment Amber understood the conversation she'd overheard between Darra and their mother the day before. "He prefers me," Darra had said. "He" was Lord Sunther-there could be no mistake of it, and the knowledge filled her chest with fire. How dare her younger sister pursue a man who only knew of Darra's existence because of Amber's reputation.

"You look dashing tonight," Amber said before Darra could speak, determined to undo whatever charm Darra had cast upon him. "I do love that waistcoat."

He looked at his simple gold waistcoat and his ears colored slightly beneath her compliment.

"Amber will be dancing with Mr. Harrington for the next set," Darra interrupted in a shocking display of forwardness. "Were you of a mind to ask for a dance, my lord?"

Amber could scarcely believe her sister's words and was battling between apologizing on her behalf or laughing it off as an ill-timed joke when she looked at Lord Sunther. He was all smiles and soft looks as he stared back at Darra.

"I should most like to partner you, Miss Darra. If you are not otherwise spoken for."

"Not at all, my lord," she said, smiling with the same degree of eagerness Lord Sunther had in his expression.

"Your champagne?"

The far less well-appointed Mr. Harrington held out the fluted gla.s.s to Amber with his pudgy hand. Amber smiled as she accepted the refreshment, then thanked him most ardently in hopes of giving a fine display of her graciousness to both men. Beneath her facade of confidence, her heart was racing with both fury and fear.

Lord Sunther moved to Darra's other side, and though Amber attempted to remain engaged with Mr. Harrington in conversation as they awaited the dance, she was aware of the muted exchange between Darra and Lord Sunther and how each was quite comfortable with the other. He did not know that Darra was using him as a weapon against the sister of whom she was obviously jealous and that was unfair to him in the extreme. Amber would not stand for it.

The current dance ended, and Amber set her gla.s.s down on a small table so Mr. Harrington could lead her to the floor. She lined up with the other women, Darra to her right. Before the music began, she turned to look at her sister who returned the glance with one equally a.s.sured and knowing. The sisters held one another's eyes for a moment before facing forward once again.

They said nothing as they perfectly executed the first steps of the dance, but Amber had no doubt that Darra knew a glove had been thrown all the same.

Chapter 13.

Lord Norwin arrived late, but asked Amber for the next waltz, which she accepted minutes before Lord Sunther asked Darra for the same dance. It was the couple's third dance, and though they had both had a variety of partners in between, Lord Sunther had only asked Amber to dance once, and that after she had flirted so shamelessly she feared the invitation had come only so she would focus more on the dance than on him.

As Lord Norwin led Amber across the floor, she attempted to attend to his conversation despite keeping a sharp eye on Darra and Lord Sunther, who seemed quite amiably engaged with one another. Too amiably.

"So it would seem Lord Sunther is to be the gentleman of your attentions, then?"

Amber turned her eyes to those of Lord Norwin's, which were decidedly out of humor. "Pardon?" she asked, unsure what she'd missed in his conversation.

"You can hardly bear to take your eyes off him," Lord Norwin said. He did not smile nor apologize for his forward commentary. "I would like to make it clear that I will not stand in your way."

"Oh, Lord Norwin," Amber said, embarra.s.sed to have been so rightly caught. "You misunderstand my notice. It is just that-"

"There is no need to explain yourself to me," Lord Norwin said. Amber was as equally struck by his words as his tone, which, though cool, was surprisingly gentle. "My attention has been quite captured by another young woman myself, and I had wanted to be sure of my own mind by paying my attentions to you before I chose to further my situation with her. Do not feel badly for finding yourself in the same position." He smiled, but it did not relieve her discomfort. She could not afford to lose his attentions-anyone's attentions. "I wish you quite happy. Lord Sunther is lucky to have your distinction. It will credit him well as he rises to his t.i.tle so unexpectedly settled upon him these last months."

Amber was spared from having to reply when the last chords of the dance ended and Lord Norwin led her to the edge of the ballroom. He bowed over her hand. "Shall I a.s.sume you wish me every happiness in my own choice?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows in expectation.