Page 56 of To Break the Rules

―Excerpt of a letter from Mrs Alice Dowding to Her Grace, Prunella Adolphus, Duchess of Bedwin.

28th July 1814. Mr and Mrs Digby-Jones’ ball, London.

Lucia closed her eyes. Dancing with Silas was the nearest thing to flying she could imagine. Oh, he was far from the best dancer she’d ever taken to the floor with, it was true, but being in his arms was her place of safety, and he made her heart soar.

Of course, everyone believed Lucia had chosen her protector, but she didn’t much care. Silas did his best to counter the gossip by clarifying he was courting her and that there was nothing the least scandalous going on. That bothered her more, tying him ever closer to her and the very real scandal that would erupt soon enough. She had warned him, but he would not listen, so she had given up trying. Despite her best intentions to keep him and the world at arm’s length, she trusted him.

Lucia had not meant to allow anyone close ever again, and yet here she was, madly in love with a man who didn’t even know her real name, and with a cluster of young women who had become dear friends urging her on and excited for her happiness. She’d broken every rule she’d ever made to protect her own heart and yet, tonight, dancing in Silas’ arms, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. There would be time enough for her heart to break if things went badly, but for the first time since her first love affair had ended, she promised herself she would not be afraid.

George Norton. She had not thought of him for so long. He had been three years older than her and seemed so worldly, so wise. He had two sisters, Hannah and Jane, and she had loved all of them. Their mother and father had been strict, god-fearing people who were rather distant parents, content to leave their upbringing in the hands of Dharani and a variety of tutors.

She had gone to live with them when she was ten, after moving about a fair bit in the wake of Anne-Marie and her various lovers. It had been the first home she’d ever had since leaving India, and she’d been happy, safe.

George had begun courting her in secret at sixteen, holding her hand and stealing the odd kiss under the stairs when he could. Lucia had loved him with all her heart, and dreamed of a day when they would marry and have a home of their own. But when he’d finally faced his parents, a few months before her eighteenth birthday, the dreams she had constructed proved to have been built on sand.

When he’d discovered everything, he’d returned to face her. He’d been cold and distant and so removed from the way she’d known him she could not understand the change he’d undergone. At first, she believed it was his parents manipulating him, but she’d soon realised that wasn’t the case.

Lucia had seen the disgust in his eyes when he accused her of lying to him, of trapping him in her web of deceit. If she’d not been so desperately hurt, she might have laughed at that. She’d been so very innocent. Yet, everything had been her fault, everything they had been to each other now seemed viewed in a different light, tainted simply by the blood in her veins.

It had very nearly destroyed her. It might have, if not for Dharani. They moved away, and Dharani tried to find another position. In the meantime, they’d lived on the savings the old woman had put aside and the occasional gift from Anne-Marie, when her conscience pricked her enough to send money. It wasn’t often, but they managed and, little by little, Dharani helped Lucia pick herself up and face the world again.

Dharani had made her see that it was George who was weak and stupid, and that it was his heart that would never have been true. She taught Lucia to have pride in herself, and in everything she was. No matter her illegitimacy, one day she would find her place in the world, and Dharani would be there to crow with delight when she did. So, Lucia did it for her, for Nani maa, who had always protected her and lifted her up when the world seemed a terrifying place to be, and the future too hard to face. She did it for the memory of her father who had loved her, and had wanted her safe, happy, and loved.

She had promised herself she would be strong and fearless when she faced the ton and their cruel scrutiny, but she’d thought that had meant doing it alone. For the first time, she allowed herself to hope she’d been wrong.

“Lucia!”

She turned, a little breathless and still laughing as Silas escorted her from the dance floor.

“Prue!” she exclaimed, moving to embrace the young woman. “Oh, and Alice, too. How lovely,” she said, delighted to see the two young women. Both had married recently and the fact they’d chosen their husbands well shone in their eyes.

Prue had stunned everyone by marrying the Duke of Bedwin, a rather dark and frightening figure who’d been dubbed The Damned Duke by the ton. Prue assured everyone it was absolute rubbish, and he was a pussycat in reality. Her lofty title had not changed her down-to-earth attitude in the least, and Lucia would have put money on the fact her fingers were ink-stained beneath her lovely silk gloves.

Alice had also married a man no one would have paired her with. She had tamed Nathanial Hunt, libertine and amiable scoundrel, and proprietor of the exclusive gambling club, Hunter’s.

He looked excessively happy about it, too.

“It’s been too long,” Alice said, beaming at her. “And we’ve been missing all the gossip.”

They waited as Silas gave Lucia a sly wink and removed himself on the pretext of fetching her a drink.

“Is it true?” the two women chorused at once, almost bouncing on their toes. “Is he courting you?”

Lucia laughed, charmed by their obvious delight. “It is,” she admitted, flushing a little.

They then subjected her to a barrage of questions about Lord Cavendish, and Lucia realised why the man had hurried away as fast as he could. Her fiancé-to-be was no fool.

As they chatted merrily, the other members of their peculiar group gathered around them. Kitty and Harriet arrived arm–in-arm, bickering about something in the good-natured manner of fast friends. Ruth arrived next and took Lucia’s arm, quietly congratulating her on her good fortune.

“He’s a fine man,” she said, nodding with approval. “I insist you introduce me, however. Just so I can be certain, you understand,” she added, her eyes dancing with laughter. She adopted an expression of studied nonchalance before asking, “Does he have any friends?”

Lucia grinned at her. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.

“It’s so romantic, Lucia! You are lucky,” Minerva said, joining their little clan with Bonnie in tow. “Though Mama would have murdered me for marrying a man with his reputation, title or no.”

Bonnie gave an unladylike snort of laughter at Minerva’s rather blunt comment, but Minerva just gave her a defiant glare and carried on.

“But I shouldn’t have cared a jot if he loved me like Lord Cavendish loves you. It’s so obvious he’s besotted with you, and what’s the point of having a title or a spotless reputation if the man is a fool, or cruel, or you’re not in love with him?”