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Prologue

February 1885

London, England

Miss Adeline Mallory accepted the footman’s hand and climbed from the carriage in front of her family’s townhouse in Mayfair. Her chaperone, Mrs. Wesley, followed her down the two short steps, then up the stone pathway to the stairs leading to the gleaming white front door with the well-polished brass knocker shaped like a roaring lion.

Before she reached the top step, the door was opened by Grimsley, their ancient and much-loved butler. “Good evening, Miss Mallory. I hope you had a pleasant time at the ball.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she had yet another entry to add to her ongoing chronicle Adeline Leaves the House. That was the running saga she kept in her journal, where each day she recorded the mishaps that happened to her every time she left the comfort of her home. Not that her life was full of mishaps—well, not all her life—but there were certainly enough to fill the pages of the three journals she’d kept since she had been old enough to write.

Tonight’s misfortune, however, was the proverbial last straw. This Season was starting out no better than all the others. The red stain on her pale blue ball gown was a stark reminder of her clumsiness. Although she had a good reason to believe one of the girls who had hated her for years purposely jarred her elbow, making her glass of punch spill down the front.

While she still had the anger churning in her stomach, she smiled and nodded at Grimsley, then marched down the corridor to the drawing room. Precisely where she knew her parents would be sitting this time of night, mother doing her endless needlework and father reading.

Such a peaceful couple, how could they have produced such a clumsy, inept daughter? Adeline pushed away the self-pity slowly making its way into her thoughts. She’d accepted a long time ago that she was not like other girls. And at every single event for the past six years, the other girls made sure she knew it.

Shifting the material on the front of her gown to cover the red stain, she said, “Good evening, Mother. Father.”

Her parents looked up from their tasks and smiled at her. The love in their eyes almost brought her to her knees. How would they receive the request she was about to make? The last thing she would ever want to do was to hurt them, but she’d made up her mind on the way home from the Everson ball and nothing would dissuade her.

“How was your evening, my dear?” Mother patted the spot alongside her on the sofa as an invitation for Adeline to join her. Taking a deep breath, she settled next to Mother. “It was a typical ball. Nothing different.”

“No special gentleman?” Father grinned.

“No. I’m afraid not.” She kept a bright smile on her face, even though she was all knotted up inside, and felt as if she were about to burst into tears. If she showed any sort of weakness, she would never get their permission.

Mother patted her hand. “Not to worry, dear. The right man will present himself when the time is right.”

“Soon, I hope,” Father mumbled, as he picked up his book to continue reading.

“Arthur!” Mother chastised.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it came out.” He raised his book to cover his face.

“Father, I need your attention.” She turned toward her mother. “Yours, as well, Mother.”

Unable to sit any longer, Adeline hopped up and moved back a few spaces so she could see both of her parents clearly. It was nice to have a good view when one was about to break one’s parents’ hearts. “I shall not participate in another Season. I have attended my last ball.”

Two pairs of blue eyes similar to her own looked up at her, Mother with a slight frown, Father with a more pronounced one. “What do you mean, dearest?” Mother said.

“I am twenty-four years old, and by most measuring sticks, a spinster.” She raised her palm when both parents opened their mouths to speak. “Please let me finish. It doesn’t matter that you don’t think I am a spinster. The rest of the world perceives me as such.”

Mother glanced over at Father, a look passing between them she’d seen many times before. It was the ‘whatever is she talking about now’ expression.


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