“Are you alright? I heard you had a fall.”

I smiled at Priscilla. “I’m fine. A little bruised, but no permanent damage.”

“I saw Lord Cameron taking you over to the medic. Did he look after you?”

“Who? The medic?”

“No. Lord Cameron.”

“Yeah, sure,” I replied.

The man had huffed and puffed his way through the examination, hassling the poor medic because he didn’t want to miss out on any of the networking. As soon as the medic gave me the all clear, he strode off to insinuate himself amongst the lords while leaving me to fend for myself. Not exactly the caring fiancé that I had always dreamed about.

Priscilla touched my shoulder and I looked at her in the reflection of the mirror. We were in the queen’s suite getting ready for the ball, as was our tradition. My face was a scowl and I took a moment to smooth it away, giving her a cheery smile.

“You don’t have to marry him, you know,” Priscilla said softly.

I threw my hands up. “Haven't we already been through this?”

“I’m worried about you. You’ve only known the guy two weeks.”

“It’s been a month,” I replied, “You’ve only known about him for two weeks.”

“And whose fault is that?”

I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Priscilla cared about me and was only looking out for me. If anyone understood how twisted families could be, it was her.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to her. “I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re going through with this. I thought you loved it here.”

“I do. I do love it here.”

“So why are you leaving?”

“I don’t have a choice. If - when - I marry Lord Cameron, he wants me to take over his Westhaven Estate.”

“What about what you want to do?”

I shrugged. “I never expected to come and work for the queen. It was always the plan for me to marry and become a society wife. That was what I was brought up to be.”

“It doesn’t mean that you still have to be that. I get the whole viscount thing - that has always been a thing of your mother’s - but couldn’t you find a titled man here, in Merveille? At least then you wouldn’t have to move away.”

“London is my home—”

“Was your home,” she said, cutting me off. “And Westhaven isn’t even in London.”

“My mother will be there—”

“Didn’t you move here to get away from her? Now you’re willingly going back? I don’t like it.”

I sighed and hugged Priscilla. “I’m going to miss you,” I said, “Please don’t let us fight. I only have a few weeks left and I’d really rather spend them making happy memories.”

Her arms tightened around me and I knew I was forgiven.

“Come on. Let’s see what’s taking Alyssa so long to get ready.”

We walked into the queen’s dressing room to see her facing off against Savannah.

“I’m not wearing it,” Alyssa said. “I told you I wouldn’t wear it when you suggested it months ago. Nothing has changed my mind.”

“But it is tradition!” Savannah yelled in reply, her French accent thickening with her anger.

“What seems to be the problem?” Priscilla asked.

“Have you seen the dress Savannah wants me to wear? The dresses she wants all of us to wear?”

“I have,” Priscilla said with a nod, “I approved them.”

“What!”

“And you agreed to continuing this particular tradition. I believe Dom was there too, shall I call him to confirm?”

I hid my smile behind my hand. Priscilla and Dom were a great pair. They were the go-to experts on protocol and tradition and while Alyssa was slowly ridding some of the more archaic traditions, both Dom and Priscilla were working towards keeping some of the more entertaining ones.

“It looks like something out of ‘My Fair Lady’,” Alyssa grouched. “You know that scene when she is at Ascot—”

“Well, you do have more than a passing resemblance to the great Audrey Hepburn. Why not play that up?”

“But that dress!” She flung her hand towards the walk-in wardrobe where all the ladies’ dresses hung.

“Come on,” I said, “It’s not that bad. It’s not like you’re the only one dressing up. It was on all the invitations, so all the women will be similarly attired.”

“Fine,” she said, “But I’m not wearing the hat.”

“Of course you will wear the hat, as will we all,” Priscilla said, ushering her into the wardrobe so she could dress.

By the time we were all dressed and our hair and makeup had been done, Alyssa had calmed down. The dress looked spectacular on her, as we all knew it would. Savannah may be temperamental and acidic in personality, but she was an amazing stylist. We were all dressed in black and white - as per the Hunt Ball tradition. The dresses were a more old fashioned - vintage - style and indeed looked like they had been designed by the costume designer on ‘My Fair Lady.’ I loved my dress, regardless. It was enough to make me feel like a real, actual lady. Most of the time I just felt that I was playing dress up. The fact that my ‘lady’ styling was honorary had been shoved down my throat all my life, giving me a severe case of imposter syndrome. According to my mother, I wouldn’t be a real ‘lady’ until I had a real title - hence Lord Cameron and his offer to make me a viscountess.

There was knock on the door and then it was opened to reveal Will, resplendent in his scarlet tailcoat and white tie. All the ladies were to wear either black or white, but the men were required to wear scarlet jackets in honour of the hunt.

“I believe it is time to go,” he said, looking us all over.

Alyssa stepped forward and pecked his cheek as she hooked her arm through his. “You look beautiful,” he murmured to her and she looked up at him with such adoration that I had to look away.

I was so happy for them and in my heart of hearts I wished that someone would look at me like that, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

Will escorted Alyssa out and then Freddie was there to escort Alex, followed by Dom who was there for Priscilla. The rest of us followed in their wake, none of us yet attached. I would meet Lord Cameron at the doors to the ballroom as our betrothal wasn’t yet officially acknowledged by Alyssa. Something I was a tiny bit glad about.

I saw him immediately. Not Lord Cameron, who I should have been looking for, but Drew. He stood off to the side speaking to a group of men. He looked delicious in his tails and white tie - the man knew how to wear a tux. He lifted his head as if he felt my gaze on him and our eyes connected… across a crowded room. Ugh. I was pathetic and such a cliché. The corner of his mouth tipped up as he ran his hot gaze over me. I couldn’t help the blush that stained my cheeks in response.

“There you are,” Lord Cameron said as he took my elbow none too gently. “I’ve been waiting for an age to get inside.”

“You do know I was attending to the queen, don’t you?” I asked, looking at him.

I was eye level to him, which with my height wasn’t all that unusual, but it was the first time I’d really noticed. Was he really that short? I was tall for a woman and I rarely wore heels because of it. That meant the Lord Cameron was most likely below average in height. I saw a lot of flat shoes in my future. This man would not condone having a wife that could top him in the height while wearing stilettos. Darn it. I really like wearing heels.

“Yes, yes. Come on. There are several gentlemen that I’d like to speak to.”

“Fine,” I said, joining the receiving line.

I curtsied to Alyssa and she smirked at me. All the courtesies due her as the queen mostly made her uncomfortable and she eschewed them whenever she could.

“Your Highness, may I present Lord Cameron Broadcloth, Viscount of Westhaven.”

Lord Cameron bowed smartly and Alyssa’s eyes widened at me over his shoulder. I couldn’t read the look on her face, but I didn’t think it was good.

“Lord Cameron,” she said smoothly, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“It’s an honour,” he replied.

“Your Highness,” I curtsied to Will. “May I present Lord Cameron Broadcloth, Viscount of Westhaven.”

Lord Cameron bowed to Will. The prince and Alyssa shared a look before he arranged a cordial smile on his face to greet Lord Cameron. “Lord Cameron,” he said.

We moved on and Lord Cameron looked back over his shoulder at them

“They’re awfully young,” he said.

“The queen and I are the same age,” I replied defensively. “And Prince William is a couple of years older.”

“They just seem far too young to be running a country.”

“That’s because you’re used to Queen Elizabeth. How old is she now?”

“Ninety-one.”

“And how long has she been queen?”

“I believe she’s in her sixty-fifth year of reign.”

“So that would have made her twenty-six when she took the throne. That’s only two years older than Queen Alyssa and the same age as Prince William.”

He didn’t answer but I got the feeling that he was not impressed with my putting him in place.

“Look. There’s the Duke of Chandon. You must introduce me.”

“I will do no such thing,” I said, “I’ve never met the man.”

“Then what use are you to me tonight? Go on. Run along and mix with your little friends and I’ll get my own introductions.”

“Gladly,” I mumbled under my breath.

I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and headed for the doors that opened out onto the terrace. It was a lovely, clear night and I inhaled the cool air. The soft breeze was heavily ladened with the scent of roses from the rose garden and I closed my eyes to enjoy it.

“You look stunning,” a deep voice said behind me. “Like a vision from a Shakespearean drama.”

I turned and smiled at Drew.

“You do like to exaggerate, don’t you? Is it an Australian trait?”

He grinned as he joined me at the balustrade.

“I do believe that we Aussies like to… embellish,” he said, “but I assure you, that was not what I was doing. You look absolutely breathtaking.”

His eyes were intent on mine and I felt the compliment all the way to my toes. As I looked up at him I mentally compared the height difference between Drew and Lord Cameron. I could get away with wearing my highest stilettos if I was with Drew.

“Are you feeling okay after your fall?”

I blinked a couple of times to clear my head and then smiled. “I’m fine. Just a few bumps and bruises but nothing to worry about. I do wish I knew why Filigree refused the jump, though.”

“Maybe some small creature ran across the bottom of the fence on your approach. A rabbit or something.”

“Hmm, maybe,” I replied. He could be right. My eyes were on the fence, not on the ground. If a hare had run out in front of her, Filly would have shied, I had no doubt about it.

“Are you enjoying your first royal ball?” I asked.

He looked down at himself and grimaced. “I’m not too sure about the red coat.”

I laughed. “It’s tradition.”

“So Freddie tells me, doesn’t make it stylish though.”

“Alyssa was complaining about the same thing earlier. She was refusing to wear her dress.”

He looked over my shoulder and through to the ballroom where the queen and prince were circulating. “The dress is a little old-fashioned, I suppose. I like it.” He turned his eyes on me again and I felt my body heat up inexplicably. “I prefer the dress you are wearing though.”

I took a long drink from my glass to cool my body. I had no idea how to answer that, or even if I should.

“I think I might go and get something to eat,” I said, my voice tremulous.

“Let me escort you—”

“No!” I took a breath. “No. Thank you, but no. You should be networking. All these wealthy gentlemen trapped here just waiting for you to…” my mind blanked… “well, to do whatever it is you do.”

He shook his head at me and then took my hand and kissed first the knuckles and then the inside of my wrist. My eyes fluttered shut at the soft and, surprisingly erogenous, touch and then he was gone.

I found my way through the crowd to the refreshment table. It was actually an entire room off to the side of the ballroom. Tables laden with food skirted the perimeter of the room, attended by white jacketed chefs with their stiffly starched toques blanche standing tall on their heads. I walked around, trying to decide what to eat. My dress was predominantly white with just accents of black, so I needed to stay away from anything that might drip on me. Lord Cameron would no doubt be horrified if I soiled my dress.

“Oh my God! Jeanette Bower, is that you?”

I lifted my head at the familiar and yet unwelcome voice.

“Prissy Jameson,” I said, air kissing her on both cheeks. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“I’m on a European tour with Uncle Fitz and he happened to have an invitation to the hunt and the ball. What are you doing here?”

“I’m one of the queen’s ladies in waiting,” I replied and her eyes bugged out.

“No way.”

Prissy Jameson was one of those girls who knew everyone and everything. It was her single occupation to gather gossip like a squirrel gathers nuts. The fact that she didn’t know that I was now in the queen’s inner circle was a point for me and entirely unusual.

“Have you heard from any of the other girls from St. Margaret’s?” I asked, knowing it would send her off on a wild tangent in her mission to update me on everything she knew.

I listened politely as I selected a cracker with a piece of Will’s brie. I suppose it wasn’t Will’s brie anymore though. He had walked away from his entire cheese operation when he chose to marry Alyssa. His sister, Georgina, was the current cheese baron - or baroness. Actually no, she was a duchess, not a baroness so, Cheese Duchess was the correct term.

“And did you hear about the Broadcloths?”

The name brought me up short and the blood in my veins turned to ice. “The Broadcloths?” I asked, trying to hide my dread.

“Oh, dear yes. You know the father, the viscount, died a little while ago and the son, Cameron, I think his name is, anyway…” she barely took a breath as she spoke, her sentences running in to one another in her attempt to get the story out. “Well, the son discovered that the elder viscount hadn’t exactly been a shrewd investor with the family coffers and had in fact sent them broke. The new viscount had to mortgage his estate and his townhouse in order to cover the debts of his father or end up on the street.”

“Oh my goodness,” I said as she stopped to drag in a breath. My brain felt a little fuzzy around the edges. I was finding it hard to come to grips with what she was saying. My head did not want to accept the truth of what my ears were hearing and it was discombobulating, causing a sensation not unlike vertigo.

“I know, right? Anyway, the noise on the street is that he’s found himself a foreign bride. A rich foreign bride with a dowry enough to satisfy the extended mortgages and get his estate into the black. Can you imagine? They were such a well-liked family, but now no one will take the new viscount’s calls. It’s a tragedy. I pity whoever the bride is. The woman won’t know what she’s walking in to. From what I’ve heard, the estate at Westhaven is in such disrepair that it should be demolished. The viscountess has become a shut in, although that is probably because no one is taking her calls either.”

Prissy continued to prattle on, moving onto another subject about some other poor soul who had run afoul of the peerage. Meanwhile my mind was stuck on what she had said about the Viscountcy of Westhaven. Lord Cameron was broke and had found a rich wife. And that rich wife was going to be me. Something wild began to churn in my gut and I could feel my body heat rising. I did have a substantial trust fund and a large dowry, and it was evidently enough to bail Lord Cameron out of his financial woes or close to it at least. And if not, then where was the rest of the money coming from?

I had the awful realisation that the ‘business’ Lord Cameron was doing with my brothers had something to do with the money he needed for his estate to be solvent. Which begged the question; did Martin know? Which, in turn, begged another question. Were they ever going to tell me? White hot rage, the likes of which I had never known, flashed through me.

“I’m sorry Prissy,” I said, cutting the woman off mid-sentence, “I need to attend to the queen.”

I walked off without waiting for her reply and headed straight for the cigar room where I knew my brother would be ensconced. I needed answers and he was going to give them to me or I was going to cause a scene. Maybe not a scene. It wasn’t what I did. I was more of the brood and sulk and then give in sort, but I still needed to know what was going on.

I spied Martin and walked directly across the room to him.

“I apologise Lord Garthon, but I need to steal my brother away for just a minute.”

Lord Garthon nodded to me and I practically dragged Martin to the French doors that opened out onto a balcony. I closed them behind me and turned my glare on him.

“What is all this about, Jeanette?” he asked, his irritation plain, “I just about had Lord Garthon ordering a case of the merlot.”

“Tell me you didn’t know that Lord Cameron was broke.”

He blanched and I knew he had been keeping it from me.

“It’s not what you think—”

“So, he’s not broke?”

“No, he is, but—”

“Martin!”

“Shush! Let me explain. His financial situation was only brought to my attention a few days ago. I wanted to conduct my own inquiries before I spoke to you about it.”

“So your ‘business deal’ with him has nothing to do with buying a viscountcy for me?”

“Of course not and I'm offended that you even thought I would do such a thing. Lord Cameron was supposed to have contacts in London who he was going to show some of our wines to. Now I've found out that the whole thing was a lie. What made you think I had business with him anyway?”

“Mother said he was doing business with you and that if I refused him it would cause you to lose everything.”

“What?”

“I only agreed to marry him so that you wouldn’t lose the winery.”

“What!” Martin roared. “Mother told me he was your choice, that you wanted to marry him.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise. A thought struck me. I closed my mouth and narrowed my eyes.

“How exactly did you meet Lord Cameron?”

“Mother introduced us. She told me that the two of you had been corresponding and that Lord Cameron was here to ask for your hand.”

“Balderdash! Lies. It’s all lies.”

“You don’t want to marry him?”

“I’ve only known him a month, of course I don’t want to marry him.” I tried really hard to rein my temper in. “This is all mother’s doing. She has manipulated us both.”

“Leave it with me,” Martin said, his voice hard. “I will deal with it.”