Chapter 1

168K 4K 693
                                    

Surely a gentleman of high birth and decorum wouldn't have the audacity to comment on ladies' fashion, when as a man he has little to no experience of such a matter.  Lady Eliza, evidently, was dreadfully mistaken from the conversation she had just overheard between the Marquis of Kent and his cousin, the awful Duke Harrington. Both men had had the gall and audacity to criticise her as though she was nothing more than a lame mare, to be looked at and judged.  

Silently she curses their children, and their children's children as she walks down the west corridor of Haineworth House, her anger barely contained in her clenched fists. It had not been her idea to attend such a lively event, as her disdain for others often kept her confined to her uncle's estate. In fact, she had slipped away to find the library when she had stumbled upon the men, cigars in their hands, hidden in the shadow of the doorway. Unimpressed that the entirety of London's elite was in attendance, it appeared to Eliza that the two men were seeking the same solitude as her, which had afforded them an ounce of sympathy from her before they decided to insult her pride.  

It was people like them, shallow and ignorant souls that thought that an excessive income provided them with the excuse to insult and sneer at the slightest thing that gave them displeasure, whom Eliza could not stand, nor entertain.  

Breathing in deeply, she plasters a polite smile upon her face, determined to act at the height of decorum.  Tonight could be an exception, as her most devoted friend, Lady Charlotte Bennett is celebrating her engagement to Thomas Haineworth, a most loyal and kind man, who Eliza had approved of the moment Charlotte had introduced them.  She will be happy, she will smile and curtsey and pretend that nothing is amiss.  

A flash of gold catches her eye and she pauses in front of an ornate mirror, a foot away from rejoining the ball.  Floor length, it reflects the dark wood of the hallway, the many eyes of the paintings behind her staring into her soul. Their unturned lips and high noses seem to judge her dress of pale blue silk, sneering at the meek colour and modest neckline.  

While Eliza is no fashion expert, however, she had thought that the lace sleeves and tiny frills upon her waist made her look ladylike and presentable. She had even paired it with a simple set of pearls. The critical eyes of the late Lady Haineworth did not agree. With a sigh, Eliza casts a disdainful look over her appearance, tucking loose black curl back into place, and heads through the double doors to the party.  

The large ballroom gleams with the light of many candelabras, the golden light painting the scene below in a warm glow. The floor was a sea of gorgeous dresses, the women smiling as they dance with men in tailcoats, the more boisterous girls flirting with suitors as their parents look on with furrowed brows. Champagne is downed in unfathomable amounts as butlers navigate the sea of people, drinks stacked up on silver serving plates.  

At the bottom of the stairs and feeling in dire need, Eliza snatches a flute from a passing orderly and downs it in a second, barely feeling as the alcohol flows down her throat. She discards the empty glass and reaches for another as she scans the room, searching for Charlotte.  Feeling as though she is being watched she glances to her right to see Lady Celeste Lincon staring at her with a scandalised expression.  

Offering her a small smile, Eliza wipes her mouth as daintily as she can with her white gloves and raises the second glass to her lips, taking a polite sip. A sliver of golden brown hair draws her attention away from the shocked girl, to where Charlotte is sitting with her fiance, many friends gathered around.  

"My dear Eliza, you look awfully flushed," Charlotte says, as she notices Eliza approaching, rising to greet her. "Did you find what you were so eager for?" She takes her hand and pulls her down to the chaise lounge. Their audience leans forward, thirsting for the gossip that might pass through her lips.  

To Defy A DukeWhere stories live. Discover now