CHAPTER ONE
“Ruined? By the Duke of Walford? Impossible. She’s practically a wallflower. How ever does a quiet girl like Dorothy Lockhart catch the eye of a recluse like him?”
“Exactly. I’ve heard he barely leaves his estate. The Duke hasn’t been seen in years! I am almost certain no one here even knows what he looks like.”
“That’s what makes it so strange. If the rumors are true, how could anything have happened between them without anyone noticing?”
Stay calm, Dorothy… Don’t panic. People talk. It’s what they do.
The voices dwindled as they passed near the punch table where Dorothy stood, her fingers trembling as she gripped her glass. The glittering ballroom seemed to close in around her, every word cutting sharper than she expected it would. She fought tosteady her breath, forcing herself to remain composed, though inwardly she chastised herself for her poor decisions.
What had she expected, coming to the very ball where half the ton was already whispering her name?
Her hands betrayed her calm, trembling ever so slightly against the delicate rim of her glass. She longed to vanish into the shadows, to find the quiet corners where she had always felt safe, where people’s eyes and their silly remarks could not reach her. Yet here she was, at the center of attention, and she knew better than anyone how the gossip had taken root. There was no innocent explanation for the rumors.
Their origin was her fault alone.
The murmurs circled relentlessly, drifting closer once more. Dorothy’s breath hitched as she caught fragments of conversation. From the voices, she couldn’t tell who was speaking, but she knew it had to be one of the notorious gossip circles that thrived in every corner of balls.
“Have you noticed how well Lady Cecilia has done since marrying the Duke of Ashbourne? Three fine children, and she carries herself with such grace.”
“A perfect example of what a match with a duke should be. It baffles me that Dorothy couldn’t follow in her sister’s footsteps.”
“Do you think perhaps she was so desperate to marry a duke herself that she… well, compromised more than she should have?”
Dorothy’s fingers tightened around her glass until the delicate crystal threatened to crack from her grasp. Her heart pounded unevenly, the pressure of their whispered accusations settling over her. Cecilia, her sister, had indeed secured a match the ton envied, a life seemingly perfect in every regard. Now, Dorothy found herself the subject of questions and suspicions.
Guilt coiled in her chest. Had she misjudged everything? Was this spiraling chaos the consequence of some irreparable mistake?
Her eyes flickered toward the grand mirror across the room. The reflection staring back was fragile, almost lost beneath the sparkling chandeliers. The carefully constructed mask of composure felt brittle, threatening to shatter with every passing moment.
Why had she allowed it to come to this?
She was about to look for Lucy, her cousin, hoping to find her and talk, needing her companion more than ever, but before she could move, a soft yet firm touch landed on her arm.
She froze, her pulse quickening.
“Well, well. Dorothy,” came a smooth voice from just behind her. Dorothy turned slowly to face the trio of women who had been whispering moments before, their smiles polite yet tinged with amusement, judgment, and a subtle hunger for scandal. One of them took a step forward, and her eyebrows pulled inward in an almost sorry expression. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked.
“Yes, we thought to ask,” the second one chimed in. “We’ve heard so many things… such troubling whispers, really. It’s difficult to know what to believe.” She lowered her voice just enough. “Dorothy, we all care for you, you know. But… well, people are saying rather unsettling things.”
The third one nodded. “It’s not true, is it? These rumors about you and the Duke of Walford? It’s quite... scandalous.”
Dorothy forced herself to meet their eyes, masking the turmoil tightening her throat. The women’s words were carefully chosen to sound concerned, but Dorothy knew better. Their polite smiles and soft tones were nothing more than a cover for their real goal. To gather gossip they could spread throughout the ton. Their false sympathy felt as sharp and clear as the scent of orange blossoms woven into her hair.
The first lady continued to speak. “Of course, we don’t know the full story. Sometimes things happen that are… difficult to explain to the world. But you must be careful, dear, or your reputation may suffer more than you imagine.”
The group exchanged small, knowing glances, as if silently agreeing to watch and wait for what would come next. Dorothy’shands clenched at her sides, nails pressing into her palms, grounding herself against the rising tide of guilt and fear.
She lowered her gaze briefly before meeting their eyes. “I… I cannot deny that things have been difficult,” she admitted, her words faltering slightly. “It seems the whispers have a way of growing beyond what one can control. But we all make mistakes, do we not?”
One of the women inclined her head, her tone softer still. “It’s only natural to feel that way, dear. But remember, the ton is quick to judge, and often with little mercy. What matters is how you hold yourself amidst the storm.”
Dorothy forced a faint nod, though inside a tempest of guilt churned relentlessly. Instead of responding, the ladies exchanged mischievous glances before turning away. Dorothy could tell without doubt that she had given them enough to discuss for the whole week. She was going to be the talk of every drawing room and garden party in the ton.
To think that just a week ago, she had been practically invisible to them, merely a name on the periphery, exchanging only casual greetings at balls before retreating to the farthest corner of the room, unnoticed and unremarked upon.
Dorothy’s steps faltered as she forced herself to turn away from the whispering group. Her thoughts were a tangled mess as she sought out Lucy in the crowd, craving the comfort her cousin’s presence always brought. The attention was suffocating. Shehated it. Loathed it with a depth that made her stomach churn and her head swim.
