Chapter One
The Honourable Miss Dorothea Sutton paused on the marble steps leading into the ballroom, peering back into the group of guests in search of a familiar figure. The first strains of “Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot,” a popular country dance, had begun inside, but she was more concerned with spotting the little figure in crepe purple who bustled up the stairs just behind her, bedecked in ribbons and feathers as per usual.
“Aunt Thalia,” Dorothea breathed, relieved. “I am so glad to see you.”
Mrs. Thalia Davenport was Dorothea’s father’s sister, a woman who had married into money, if not a title, and lost her husband early to the dropsy. It was in part a sad tale, but ten years after his death, Aunt Thalia seemed to have recovered nicely. It had never been a love match between herself and Lord Davenport, and now, as a woman of means in a city that smiled upon such things, she made the most of her life.
She was wearing a gaudy display of silk and a tocque that rivalled that of the duchess only a few steps behind her. Somehow, she pulled it all off, right down to the amused smirk she now wore in response to Dorothea’s nerves.
“Heavens, dear, if I was as pretty as you I would not waste my complexion on worry as you do,” she said, snaking her arm into Dorothea’s and pulling her forward into the crowd. “I rode over here in the carriage with you, after all. I only stopped for a moment to speak to a friend outside, and you were accompanied by your mother and brothers.”
“Stepmother,” Dorothea corrected her as they walked into the ballroom. “They have already gone ahead, and I wanted to wait to enter with you.” She lowered her voice. “You know it is the first event I have been to since the mourning period lifted. I am not sure how to behave in society anymore.”
“A mourning period that was unusually extended,” Aunt Thalia said drily. Dorothea knew she was referring to the year and a half of full mourning that her stepmother, the dowager viscountess, had instated after the viscount’s passing. Dorothea had felt again and again that there was not space for her own grief in the household—so overshadowed was it by her stepmother’s wailing and isolation. “You ought to have been out in society much earlier,” Aunt Thalia went on. “We have much to make up for.”
Dorothea looked around the glittering room, feeling suddenly small and out of place. The ceilings were arched and magnificent, painted in the Grecian style and edged with gold. Chandeliers and lanterns were interspersed throughout the space, bringing an almost blinding light to the environment. And the people…
Dorothea caught her breath looking at them. Each seemed more magnificent than the last: the gentlemen in high-collared jackets with expensive fabrics, the ladies in long pale gowns trailing the ground as they danced. There was a confidence in them that Dorothea craved.
In contrast, she was wearing a pale green muslin that was more suited to dinner parties, with her auburn hair pinned up in a simple style and only a pearl pendant around her throat for ornament. She looked at her aunt with concern.
“I’m nervous,” she said softly.
“You are?” Aunt Thalia responded, arching an eyebrow. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Dorothea laughed despite herself. “How are you so calm and collected?” she asked. “I am dizzy at the sight of all this grandeur.”
“I’ve had many more years to let the shine dim on all this finery,” Aunt Thalia responded. “Such events begin to look the same after a time. But for you,” she put a hand on Dorothea’s arm, “you need only take a breath and remember that you are a beautiful young girl embarking on her first Season. This sort of scene is made for girl such as yourself.”
Dorothea bit her lip. “I’m glad you convinced Mama to let me come,” she said. “I do not think she would have permitted us to travel to London if you had not insisted. As it is, you appealed to her better angels.”
“I appealed to something,” Aunt Thalia grumbled. “I am not sure why you insist on calling her Mama. She was only married to your father for a handful of years before he passed, and the woman was never kind to you.”
“She prefers it,” Dorothea said, shrugging it. “And I do not like to cause strife.”
“No, you don’t.” Aunt Thalia smiled wryly. “That is where we differ, dear.”
“How did you convince her to come for the Season?” Dorothea asked. “All I saw was a plethora of grumbling and then a message from you in the post that seemed to change her mind at once.”
“I set up some meetings between her and a few of my noblewomen friends,” Aunt Thalia said, annoyed. “You know how she always wants to be in with the finest people in the ton. She cares so highly of her own reputation, and when I mentioned in my letter that people would begin to wonder what she had to hide by not leaving her country home, I think it was the deciding factor.”
“Yes, Mama does so care about appearances,” Dorothea sighed.
“When it comes to her, at least,” Aunt Thalia frowned. “If she truly cared about the family name, she would be making sure that her only daughter was having the Season she ought to, rather than keep you hiding away from the public eye.”
“I am not exactly her daughter,” Dorothea pointed out. “She seems busy enough with her son’s problems.”
Aunt Thalia gestured across the room. As though sensing that they were speaking about her, Dorothea’s stepmother Miriam, the Dowager Lady Ashcroft, was coming towards them from across the room.
“Ah,” Dorothea said. “It seems I have not been forgotten after all.”
The dowager viscountess stopped short of them in a bloom of purple silk, snapping open her fan and looking around her with a frown. “It’s uncommonly warm in here,” she said. “Dorothea, why in heaven’s name did you linger so on the way into the ballroom? We did not even realise you were gone until we were at the refreshment table. How am I supposed to chaperone you if you are always slipping away when I least expect it?”
“One might wonder,” Aunt Thalia interjected sweetly, “if a chaperone could lose her charge so soon into an event, might the problem lie with the chaperone instead of the young lady she is watching over?”
There was no love lost between these two women, and the ice in Lady Ashcroft’s gaze was a testament to the fact.
“I suppose she was safely with you the entire time?”
“I did find her on the steps,” Aunt Thalia said, then widened her eyes and added in a tone of mock horror, “but who knows what mischief she’d gotten up to whilst waiting for me there.”
“Mama,” Dorothea interjected quickly, wanting to make peace between the two women. They were staying in Aunt Thalia’s sprawling townhouse whilst in London, and Dorothea knew that if this little squall continued, it would bleed over into the next few days with uncomfortable consequences. “How fortunate it is that you wore your violet silk. You can see from looking at the other ladies present that it is in the newest style.”
“I feel strange being out of my sable,” Lady Ashcroft said, her face falling into the affectation of grief with which Dorothea was so familiar these days. “But I suppose I will rally the best that I can, to enjoy this scene that is so repugnant in light of my late husband’s passing.”
“What a cheerful outlook you have,” Aunt Thalia said drily.
“I appreciate you trying, Mama,” Dorothea added. “I know that it is difficult for you. It is strange for me, too, to be in a public event for the first time following Father’s death. I know that it is hard.”
“Please, dear,” the dowager viscountess sniffed, “I know it’s hard, but try not to make everything about yourself.” She fluttered her fan and looked around the room. “It really is stifling in here. I’m going to sit in the alcove over yonder and catch my breath. Dorothea, you will accompany me.”
Dorothea looked out at the magical, swirling couples on the dance floor with yearning in her heart, and was thankful when her aunt came to her rescue.
“Oh, is that Lady Juliette I see across the room?” Aunt Thalia’s face, combative a moment before, eased into a pleading smile. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lady Ashcroft, but it seems that Dorothea’s friend is near at hand. We simply cannot afford to snub the daughter of a duke, can we?”
The dowager viscountess hesitated. “I think—”
“Good, then it’s settled.” Aunt Thalia beamed. “I’m so glad we agree. Come with me, Dorothea.” She pulled her away before Lady Ashcroft could interrupt their progress.
Juliette was indeed near at hand, looking pretty and bright in a pink gown with lace virtually everywhere about her. She had pale gold hair in perfect ringlets atop her head, and a pearl bandeau holding the hair in place. Her eyes brightened at the sight of Dorothea.
“Miss Sutton!” she cried. “I hardly dared believe you would be here this evening.”
“I wrote to tell you of my intention,” Dorothea said, catching her friend’s hands in her own. They had known each other since childhood, but in recent years had seen less of each other.
“Yes,” Juliette said, “but I was not about to count on it; not until I knew your gorgon of a stepmother had not devised some way of keeping you at home.” She suddenly looked up at Aunt Thalia, blushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand to her mouth. “I ought not to have said such a thing.”
“No need to apologise on my account,” Aunt Thalia said with a small smile. “I’ve had similar thoughts this very evening.”
“Nonsense,” Dorothea said firmly. “Mama is trying her best, and she has allowed me to come to London for the Season. That is progress, is it not?”
“And how long do you think she will allow you to stay?” Juliette asked pointedly, exchanging a look with Aunt Thalia.
Dorothea hesitated. She had to be honest. “Probably not long,” she said quietly. “But let us enjoy the time together while we can.”
“That, I can agree with!” Juliette giggled suddenly. “My mind is full of all the grand adventures we shall have together. I cannot wait to show you the city. Shall we go to the menagerie? Or perhaps Richmond Park?” She clasped her hands together. “And of course we shall attend every ball and introduce you to every handsome bachelor in the ton.”
Dorothea blushed. “I do not think I am ready for handsome bachelors.”
“Dear, you’re coming out in society,” her aunt pointed out. “It is a sign, as public as can be, that you are ‘ready for handsome bachelors.’” She put a hand briefly on Dorothea’s arm. “I know that you aren’t used to much freedom and attention, Dorothea. Your father should not have allowed Lady Ashcroft to take you so much in hand; it has not served you well. Still, allow yourself a little fun tonight.” She released Dorothea’s arm and winked. “In that spirit, I shall leave you ladies to your own devices for a time. I know you want to giggle about the latest gossip, and I have no desire to stand in your way.”
She smiled warmly and then floated away to another group of friends nearby, leaving Juliette and Dorothea alone. Juliette turned to Dorothea, her eyes bright.
“So,” she said. “Has anyone caught your eye yet this evening?”
“Anyone?” Dorothea asked.
“Don’t be coy,” Juliette laughed. “It does not suit you. You know that I am speaking about gentlemen. Have you met any that captured your fancy?”
“I haven’t met any at all,” Dorothea answered honestly. “I only just arrived, and Aunt Thalia had to work hard to keep me from being relegated to a corner with Mama. I haven’t danced a single dance.”
“Well, we shall have to mend that problem at once,” Juliette said, seizing her arm and dragging her around the edge of the dance floor to a group of gentlemen laughing and talking over cups of punch. Dorothea blushed fiercely, but maintained her composure as Juliette sank into a quick curtsy and introduced her. “Bradford,” she said, speaking to the tallest of the gentlemen. “I hope I might introduce my friend Miss Sutton. She is fresh in from the country and looking forward to a charming evening.”
Bradford looked down at Dorothea with a dark, steady gaze. “How can the evening fail to be charming now that Miss Sutton has arrived?”
Dorothea felt a hot blush enter her cheeks. She was not used to attention of any sort, but this manner of direct flirtation was entirely beyond her. She curtsied and dropped her gaze. “A pleasure, sir,” she said, hating how mouse-like her voice was. She sounded like some simpering damsel without personality or conviction, not at all like herself.
Fortunately for her, Bradford seemed to find the mouse-like lack of personality to be an asset in a woman. For he was not dissuaded from asking her to the next dance. He proved to be an excellent partner and, though their conversation was almost non-existent, Dorothea had a wonderful time going through the paces of a lively Scottish jig and left the dance floor feeling invigorated.
No sooner had she caught her breath, however, that Juliette was pulling her towards another group of people. First, there was a moustached soldier with a twinkle in his eye, then a waltzing artist who was friends with Juliette’s brother, then a stout little fellow who Juliette swore had both title and money who danced terribly but seemed quite keen on Dorothea the entire time.
It was all a bit dizzying and marvellous fun.
“Are you having a good time?” Juliette asked during one of the breaks in the dancing. She and Dorothea were in the corner sipping lemonade out of cut crystal. “All the dancing has put stars in your eyes.”
“I am,” Dorothea said with an apologetic smile, “although I feel a little bad for my partners. I get so nervous, and I haven’t anything to talk about. I wish that I could relax and charm them, as they are making such obvious efforts to charm me.”
“Heavens.” Juliette raised her eyebrows. “You are so obviously on your first Season, Dorothea. Not a soul here expects you to be a good conversationalist. That is not our role. We are to float about like beautiful flowers in a garden, ripe for the plucking.”
Dorothea laughed, a little scandalised. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “My governess always told me it was one of the duties of an accomplished woman to be equipped for good conversation.”
“Yes, but good conversation can be limited to a discussion of the weather,” Juliette teased. “You needn’t embark on a discourse on politics.”
“I won’t embark on a discourse on anything at the present rate of things,” Dorothea said drily. “As soon as I find myself in a conversation with an eligible gentleman, I grow nervous that I’ll say the wrong things. I know that I am a year older than I ought to be in my first Season, and it feels as though I will say the wrong thing, as though there are secret rules everyone is following that I am ignorant to.”
“You are too hard on yourself,” Juliette said. “But tell me, who of the gentleman you’ve already met rises above the rest?”
“They are all quite remarkable,” Dorothea said kindly. “I am pleased to have had the chance to meet them.”
“Oh.” Juliette looked disappointed. “That is a very correct answer, and by that token, I know that no one has caught your eye yet.” She crossed her arms. “Fear not, for I will not give up. I shall find someone that makes Dorothea Sutton lose her head.”
Dorothea pursed her lips. “I do not ‘lose my head,’” she said. “Alas, you chose the wrong friend all those years ago, if you expect raptures and romance from me.”
“I don’t believe it.” Juliette looked over at Dorothea with mischief in her eyes. “Everyone is capable of raptures and romance.”
At that moment, Dorothea happened to look across the room in the direction of the door. She had been glancing around in pursuit of her family, but her stepmother still remained in the alcove and it appeared that her stepbrothers, upon finding the card tables in the cigar room, had not resurfaced. Instead, Dorothea’s gaze fell on a gentleman she had not noticed before, talking with another young man near at hand.
The gentleman was tall and sturdy, wearing an expensive but Spartan brown coat in a high cut. He had light brown hair trimmed shorter on the sides than on the top, and a sharp set to his jaw that intrigued Dorothea. He looked to be no older than six or seven and twenty, but there was a sobriety in his stance and manner that made him seem older.
Juliette followed her gaze, noting her attention before Dorothea could think to look away.
“Ah,” she said. “Have you hit upon somebody at last? A gentleman worthy of our lovely Miss Sutton’s affection?” She peered at the two. “The shorter one, with the dark hair?”
Dorothea shook her head, and then blushed. “No, I mean—neither.”
“Ah, the tall one then.” Juliette raised an eyebrow. “I am not well-acquainted with him, only his friend. But one friendship is enough for an introduction, I think.”
Dorothea looked away at once. “Don’t tease me,” she said. “You have created an entire narrative around a glance.”
“Helena of Troy launched a war with just a glance,” Juliette pointed out.
“And a lot of good that did her,” Dorothea retorted.
But it was too late. Juliette was already tugging Dorothea across the room towards the two gentlemen, her smile broad.
“Lord Hastings,” she said, addressing the dark-haired gentleman with her usual cheerful air. “Would you mind if I introduced a friend of mine? This is Miss Dorothea Sutton. She’s new in town, and I dearly wish her to get acquainted with all my dear friends.”
The dark-haired gentleman beamed charmingly and bowed. “Any friend of Lady Juliette’s is a friend of mine,” he said. He turned to the man at his side. “And may I introduce you both to my friend, Lord Knightley?”
“Ah,” Juliette said with a smile, curtsying in response. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”
Lord Knightley. Dorothea felt at first as though she had been sorely let down. Knightley appeared to be even more handsome up close. His eyes were almost the same pale brown as his hair, and his gaze as he observed her was quite direct, but his title was entirely disarming. She knew in an instant that no gentleman high enough in the peerage to have “Lord” in front of his name would want her, the penniless, title-less daughter of a deceased viscount.
The next moment, as the disappointment eased, Dorothea felt a strange relief. If the man in front of her, so handsome and intriguing, was indeed out of her reach, she need not preen for him as she had for the other men. There was no pressure at all, in fact. Nothing she could say or do would put her further out of the reach of this gentleman, since he was already as unreachable as the sun and stars.
She smiled, then, meeting his gaze. It was the first time she had looked directly at a gentleman all evening, and it felt strangely freeing.
“A Marquess’ Season of Secrets” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Dorothea, trapped in the shadows of her overbearing stepmother, longs for a voice of her own. Isolated from society and overshadowed by her family, she yearns for freedom and self-expression. When she meets Knightley, a wealthy Marquess burdened by responsibilities, he ignites a spark of hope for her to finally speak her mind and follow her heart.
Will he be the one to liberate her silenced thoughts and feelings?
Knightley, a distinguished Marquess, carries the weight of his position on his shoulders. Love has never been a priority for him, as his life has been consumed by family duties. However, when he crosses paths with Dorothea, a woman who matches him in both wit and sentiment, a new wonderful chapter begins in his life. Intrigued by her intellect and captivated by her spirit, Knightley finds himself drawn to Dorothea, against his own expectations.
Can a stoic Marquess’ heart melt after meeting his intellectual and emotional match in a captivating woman?
As Dorothea and Knightley navigate their growing connection, they struggle against manipulations, and Dorothea’s controlling stepmother, all of which threaten to tear them apart. Despite the many challenges, their love blossoms, and they discover the strength to fight for their happiness. Will they defy societal expectations, finding solace and liberation in each other’s arms? Or will the barriers standing in the way of their shared future defeat their love?
“A Marquess’ Season of Secrets” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
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