It was because of this very hatred of being noticed that she had become who she was in society. A wallflower, drifting unnoticed at the edges of every gathering. People barely registered her presence, and that was exactly how she wanted it. The endless eyes, the constant scrutiny... they all made her feel like she might be undone.
Her family’s fractured past had only reinforced this retreat. The struggles and losses they had faced had shaped her into someone who found solace in books and solitude rather than drawing rooms and lively dances. She had grown accustomed to the comfort of silence and the escape that only a well-written book could provide.
But this rumor that now clung to her like a second skin had shattered that fragile peace. Suddenly, all eyes were on her. A cold wave of nausea rose from the pit of her stomach, her heart pounding so fiercely she feared it might betray her. She knew, deep down, the rumor had gone too far. Something had to be done, soon. Otherwise, she feared she would be swallowed whole by the very thing she had tried so desperately to avoid.
“Lucy!”
Dorothy finally spotted Lucy standing near a tall marble pillar at the far side of the ballroom, her posture calm and composed amidst the crowd. Summoning every ounce of courage, Dorothywove through the sea of gowns and conversations until she reached her cousin’s side.
“Lucy,” she called her again, her voice trembling despite herself. “There’s a problem. The rumors... They’re spreading faster than we thought. It’s getting out of hand. I’m… I’m starting to worry. If the truth comes out, it will ruin everything. We have to do something before it’s too late.”
Lucy’s eyes flickered as she scanned the room. She reached out and took Dorothy’s hand firmly. “Shh. Not here,” she said softly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.
Dorothy swallowed hard, the chill of fear creeping through her veins. “What do we do, Lucy?”
Lucy pulled Dorothy forward. “Come with me. We can speak somewhere private.”
“Dorothy, you have to stay calm,” Lucy said to her. They were standing beneath the sweeping branches of the garden’s oaks, where the distant laughter and music from the ballroom were muffled by the thick greenery surrounding them.
Dorothy tugged at a stray curl escaping her carefully pinned honey-brown hair and exhaled a shaky breath. “Stay calm?” she repeated, voice high-pitched and tremulous. “How am I supposed to stay calm when I’ve become the ton’s favoritescandal? I mean, I’ve never been good at lies. Honestly, I’m terrible. If fibbing were a sport, I’d be the one tripping over my own feet, face-planting right into the truth every time.”
She clasped her hands together nervously, pacing a few steps between the trimmed hedges. “I never thought it would balloon into this monstrous gossip machine, Lucy.”
Dorothy’s rapid-fire confessions tumbled out like a flurry of scattered papers. “I hate lies. I’ve always hated lies. When I was little, I’d get so flustered trying to tell one that I’d end up blurting the truth by accident. Now here I am, living in a lie that’s so complicated, I might need a ledger to keep track!”
Dorothy stopped abruptly and looked up at the stars, as if seeking answers from their glow. “Honestly, Lucy, I don’t know if I can keep this up much longer. My heart races, my stomach’s an utter mess, and I’m pretty sure I’ve aged at least ten years in the past week. Maybe I should just confess and be done with it. Although knowing my luck, that would probably backfire too.”
“Dorothy! Stop,” Lucy said, seemingly amused. “You’re doing it again.”
Dorothy paused to look at her. “Doing what?”
“Prattling,” Lucy said, cutting in with a patient smile as she took a deep breath. “Maybe I need to refresh your memory about why all of this is happening in the first place. Why are we doing this?”
For a moment, Dorothy stared at the high garden wall, as though considering whether she might simply scale it and flee London altogether. Her breath left her in a sigh. “Because Lord Hensley refuses to leave me alone,” she said at last. The words tasted bitter in her mouth.
The truth, or at least the version she could bear to admit aloud, still troubled her so much every time it crossed her mind, regardless of the fact that she had probably thought about it over a thousand times.
Lord Hensley was an old friend of her father, Howard, and the very embodiment of everything Dorothy wished to avoid in a husband. He was pompous, persistent, and fond of recounting hunting stories in which he was always the hero. He had been visiting far too often these past weeks, strolling through their drawing room with the proprietary air of a man who believed a wedding was merely a formality.
Her father had not been himself these past months. The household had learned to move more quietly and to speak in gentler tones, for the very sound of raised voices seemed to tire him. Howard was ill, and because of this, he was a bit too eager to see her settled, and Hensley’s interest had seemed a convenient solution.
Dorothy had no intention of marrying Lord Hensley, yet her father, Howard, was insistent on her doing so. The thought of being trapped in a union not of her choosing was intolerable, but a lady could not simply refuse without causing an uproar.
Dorothy exhaled, the words tumbling out before she could reconsider. “Even though we both knew how risky this was, I cannot shake this feeling, and it is unsettling me more than it ought. I know we agreed the only way to keep Lord Hensley from pressing the match was to make him believe I was already ruined by another man. But now…” She glanced at Lucy. “… I am not certain it was wise to choose His Grace, the Duke of Walford, as our phantom scandal. We have never even seen the man. What if the whispers about him are true?”
Lucy’s brows lifted, as though she’d been waiting for this hesitation to surface. “Whispers? Dorothy, there are so many stories about the Duke of Walford that no one knows which to believe anymore. What we do know is this: he never leaves his estate. Even when business calls, he sends someone else to deal with it. A recluse, through and through. That, my dear, is the only rumor we can trust, and it works splendidly in our favor.”
Dorothy’s gaze dropped to the roses, and she traced a fingertip along a velvet petal. “He lives in northern England. You truly believe there is no way he could have heard this rumor already?”
Lucy gave a careless wave of her hand. “None. We are tucked in our own little corner of London, far from his notice. This is only for a short while. Once Lord Hensley decides he cannot marry you because you are ‘ruined’ and turns his attention elsewhere, we can undo the tale. All will be as it was before.”
Dorothy stopped beneath the yew arch. “What if, in the meantime, we damage an innocent man’s reputation? What if it comes back to us?”
Lucy met her gaze without flinching. “Then we will handle it. These rumors don’t affect gentlemen like they might affect you. But I do not think the Duke of Walford will so much as hear your name before this business is done. Just hold steady a little longer. Or are you saying you have changed your mind? Dorothy, whatever it is that you decide to do, you know I will always support you, right?”
Dorothy let out a soft sigh. “My mind is unchanged.”
One thing was certain. Dorothy did not want to marry Lord Hensley. That truth had been fixed in her mind for some time, and Lucy had known it. Between them, they had devised what had seemed, at the time, a most sensible plan to make sure of this. If they could make society believe that Dorothy had been ruined, Lord Hensley would withdraw his interest without further argument.
