What is a proper young lady to do when she finds a stranger sleeping in her bed?
Angelique Grafton doesn't know much about love. Resigned to marry the man her late parents intended for her, she can't help dreaming of more than a loveless marriage. W...
Dear Diary, Sometimes I wish I could say what's on my mind. That I could speak up for myself. But what good has wishing ever done anyone?
"How was your ride in the park?" Aunt Christine asked the moment Angel entered the drawing room.
"Very pleasant, thank you." She smiled, determined not to rise to the bait. Sitting down on the sofa opposite her aunt, she took a biscuit from the plate set out on the table and poured herself a cup of tea.
The older woman remained quiet for a short while but could not contain herself. "Did they catch up with you?"
She gave her aunt an innocent look. "Who?"
"Nothing." With a sigh, her aunt lifted her tea to her lips.
Angel did the same so she could hide her smile. Making her aunt believe her scheme had failed, even for a brief moment, was a petty—but sweet—revenge. Unfortunately, it didn't last nearly as long as she would have liked, as Joan returned not much later.
"Oh, Mama!" Her cousin sank down on the sofa next to her mother with a dreamy sigh. "Lord Pensington is the most handsome man I've ever seen. Those dark eyes!"
Aunt Christine threw an annoyed look in Angel's direction as she realised she'd been lied to, but turned to her daughter. "He is very handsome, indeed. We must ensure that we invite him to your coming-out ball, and you shall look your very best."
"The marquess and his family are already invited," Angel muttered, receiving glum stares. "As he is an old friend of James's, he would have been included in the first set of invitations sent out."
"Very well then," Aunt Christine said. "Tomorrow we are due at the modiste's. We must find an exceptional dress for Joan to wear to the ball." After a derisive look in Angel's direction, she added, "And something for you as well."
The cousins' coming-out ball had been planned for quite some time already, with only the final preparations to be done now that the Grants had arrived in London. Angel rather dreaded the occasion as the idea of having everyone's attention on her nearly made her break out in hives. At least in this, Joan's need to be the centre of attention worked in her favour. She could hide behind her cousin and everyone would be happy.
"I do believe Lord Pensington might have taken a fancy to me," Joan gleefully said. "I would be a perfect marchioness, don't you think?"
After listening to her aunt and cousin discuss the merits of catching a wealthy and titled husband for some time, Angel excused herself and retired to her room. One could only listen to their chatter for so long without contracting a headache. Maybe she would have felt differently if she had her own mother here for the season. Perhaps then she would have sat in the drawing room discussing the handsome marquess over a cup of tea and biscuits.
A pang of longing shot through her at the thought of a world she would never experience. With both her parents gone, she would never have anyone other than the Grants and her brother. Picking up her diary, she sat down on the window seat where she could look out over the garden behind the house. Once she married Philip, she would have her own family. Children to fill the void. She'd always wanted a big family, and getting married would give her that chance. So why did the thought not make her happy?
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