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CHAPTER 1

Between Hearth and Society

“Well, you still have time to change your mind, Diana.” Selina smirked.

Diana looked upon her sister’s face. She didn’t need to have been raised with her to know that her eldest sister was teasing her.

It’sher usual manner, after all.

It didn’t matter that Selina was now the Duchess of Seymour. Diana knew better.

“Exactly! Our sister is right, Diana,” Herbert, their older brother, chimed in. “The Season does not start till a few more weeks. See this charity event as a rehearsal.”

“I am in no need of a rehearsal for something. I have no intention of participating actively.”

“Right, we forgot.” Selina turned to her brother with a mischievous smile. “You are determined never to marry.”

Diana fixed her sister with a pointed look.

Selina was not one to allow anyone to deny her the right to speak her mind. Diana always admired that about her sister.

And envied.

“Oh, Sister… firm on your decision to remain unwed like your namesake Diana,” Selina continued in a fake dramatic tone. “Unbothered by the whims of mortal men.”

“Selina, might I suggest saving those musings on Greek mythology for your literary gatherings?” Diana would hiss if it weren’t utterly unladylike to do so.

“I must agree with Diana, Selina.” Herbert chuckled.

For sure he will be coming back with a clever retort.

Diana refused to believe for a moment that her brother would side with her in that matter and deprive himself of the grand opportunity to tease her.

“After all, our little Diana would most likely be Hestia. You know, the one I always forgot when that awful tutor asked us to recite all the gods of the pantheon.”

“Oh, but of course!” Selina exclaimed. “Hestia, the goddess everyone forgets. The one that is always in the background. You might call… Hmm.” Selina pretended to be deep in thought, tapping her finger on her chin. “I wonder how one might call such a person who actively avoids the limelight.”

“My sweet sister,” Herbert hastened to add mockingly, “would perhaps the termwallflowerbe appropriate?”

“Most eloquently so, dear brother,” Selina agreed, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “And if we were to be more poetic, we might even call herthejilted wallflower.”

“Exceptional.” Herbert’s laughter bubbled forth. “You for sure have a flair for poetry.”

“I do not find you the least amusing, just so you know.” Diana arched an eyebrow. “May I remind you that I have indeed tried my hand in the marriage mart once? I hope you two remember how that went.”

Diana had to muster all her self-restraint so as not to throw a tantrum in front of the ton, who never missed the opportunity to attend any event thrown by the Duchess and the Duke of Seymour. So, she decided that the best course of action was to divert her attention—and gladly, the setting gave hermany opportunities. The Seymour estate was nothing if not impressive, after all.

The famed crystal chandelier cast a sweet light on the vast ballroom, with its gilded plasters and impressive murals. Her eyes ran over the items on display to be auctioned later in the evening as many of the guests mingled and walked around the gallery with their lace dresses and ornate fans, tailored suits and silk scarfs.

Porcelain sets and rare jewelry, a week in the family’s villa in Derbyshire, a painting from an up-and-coming artist, a gown of rare beauty, and books from Selina’s collection. It was an impressive collection, and it was no wonder that a great crowd of the ton’s finest was there.

“Are you appraising the art, Diana?” Selina asked, her tone laced with amusement. “Though I suspect you hold it in far higher esteem than your prospects.”

“It is so good to see you have so much fun, dear sister,” Diana said through gritted teeth, “but don’t you have more important things to do, seeing as you are the hostess of this charity event? Other than torturing me, I mean. Unless there was something regarding that in the program that I missed.”

“Do not worry, everything is running smoothly.”

“Unlike your expectations of marriage.” Herbert seemed determined to not waste any opportunity to jab at her.