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“The end of the Season draws near. After your display of scandal at the Midsummer Ball, you need to learn your place. The Royal Dance approaches, and you and I are to attend.”
Eloise sighed. The Royal Dance was the finale of the Season. It was there the final flourish was given, and those couples who had stayed the course were presented to the King himself. It was the moment when all became official and there could be no reneging on a promise. If Eloise and Lord Crawford were seen together there, then it was expected that a marriage was imminent.
“I have no wish to attend the Royal Dance,” she scoffed, folding her arms with a stubborn expression on her face.
“It wasn’t a request, Eloise. You’ll attend, chaperoned by Penelope and Claudia. We’ll be presented to His Majesty and the following week we’ll be married. You know how these things work.”
Eloise knew well enough how these things worked. She had attended the occasion several times before and watched as couples in love curtsied and tried not to giggle in the presence of the monarch. The occasion was supposed to be a happy one – a chance for society to celebrate the ending of a successful Season, and the mating of the songbirds. But the thought of her own presentation filled Eloise with dread. This would not be the happy occasion of a match made in love, but the cruel forcing of something she had no wish for and would only bring heartache.
“And if I told His Majesty I didn’t want to marry you?” Eloise mocked.
Lord Crawford laughed and shook his head.
“Do you think he would listen? A man with more mistresses than children. He wouldn’t care, Eloise, and neither do I. I’m going to marry you, and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it.” He rose to his feet.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a square piece of stiff paper. It was the invitation to the ball, and he handed it to her, smirking as he did so.
“His Majesty requests the pleasure of your company at the Royal Dance, to be held in the great hall of the Mansion House by kind permission of the Lord Mayor…” Eloise read.
Had she been accompanying Jackson to such an auspicious event she would have been excited, but the prospect of being on Lord Crawford’s arm brought with it only dread. She tossed the card aside and sat back on her chair by the window.
“I’m sure I’ll be… delighted to attend,” she said hesitantly, as he brought himself down to her level and placed his hand on her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“He’s gone, you know. He doesn’t care about you. He’s already found another woman.”
Eloise stared at Lord Crawford in disbelief. This was nothing but a wicked ruse. He was lying. Surely, he was lying…
“I don’t believe you,” she snapped, and he smiled unpleasantly at her.
“Don’t you?”
Eloise shook her head. Jackson had told her he loved her. They were going to be married. He had promised to do all he could to find her sister… no, it could not be true, and she refused to believe he would abandon her for another woman, even as Lord Crawford’s words brought doubts to her mind.
“You’re lying. You want me to believe it, but it’s not true. How could you be so cruel?” she exclaimed, knocking his hand from her chin, and turning her face away from him.
“Is it cruel to tell you the truth, Eloise? He doesn’t love you. It was all a ruse. You’ve admitted as much. He’ll find another woman to claim his inheritance through. You meant nothing to him. He only wanted you for your vows. He wants his inheritance, and he doesn’t care who helps him to get it. I’m sure he enjoyed his wicked way with you, a fact that I’m willing to overlook. But as for loving you… no, Eloise. He never loved you.”
Tears rolled down Eloise’s cheeks. She could not bear to hear his words, even as she tried not to believe them. He was surely lying, or…
“No, it’s not true. It’s not!” she cried, and she pushed him away and rose to her feet, hurrying from the room, as Lord Crawford laughed.
“You mean nothing to him, Eloise. Nothing at all. Why hasn’t he written to you? Why hasn’t he come here looking for you?” he called after her, as she covered her ears with her hands.
“I won’t listen to you, I won’t believe you!” she shouted, as tears rolled down her cheeks. She rushed to her bedroom, wanting nothing more than to escape this hell and be in Jackson’s arms.
* * *
“I’ll wear black,” Eloise monotoned, and the maid looked up at her in surprise.
“Black, My Lady?” she asked with an uncertain voice, and Eloise nodded.
“It’s my right to wear what I wish, isn’t it?”
The maid nodded and began to rummage in the wardrobe. It was the night of the Royal Dance, and Eloise was getting ready, assisted by a new maid engaged by her father and with strict instructions to do nothing more than dress Eloise and assist her with the tasks of the boudoir.
“I won’t have you making friends with maids anymore, Eloise,” he had told her.
Eloise missed Delphine terribly. She had heard nothing of her maids’ fate since their cruel parting at the hands of Lord Crawford. It angered her to think of the way Delphine had been treated. They had been the dearest of friends, and now Delphine had no one.
