Page 1 of A Counterfeit Engagement

It was a glittering night, a night for triumphs.

Thousands of candles sent their light out across the dancefloor and reflected from the long mirrors on the walls.

The crush of people was so great that only the very tall, the very beautiful, and the very ingenious stood out.

To an untutored eye, the mass of people moving about the assembly rooms would have blended into an indistinguishable whole, but the two young ladies looking down from the balcony were expert in distinguishing every nuance of such a crowd.

The younger of the two, Miss Williams, was a lady somewhat lacking in real understanding.

She was well provided-for on the marriage mart by a rich and generous father, and had nothing but contempt for any lady unlucky enough to be otherwise.

Her rose-leaf complexion and fair hair had been known to attract a number of suitors, only some of whom were frightened away by her lack of sense.

Her gown was like herself – rich, pink, and without discernment.

Her bosom friend, Miss Collins, had chosen not to advise her towards a better one.

Its overabundant lace and flounces accentuated the elegant simplicity of her own gown, a slender white column accented with small touches of imported lace.

It gave a feeling of modest simplicity coupled to immense riches, not to mention setting off her dark hair and vivid blue eyes.

Amid the crush of a London ballroom, she stood out.

She and her modiste had made certain of it.

Under the cover of the orchestra, Miss Collins turned to Miss Williams with the arch smile she used to presage particularly vicious pieces of gossip.

“My dear Miss Williams,” she murmured softly, “I have it at last. I know how I shall capture the Duke of Belford.”

The two ladies looked out over the ballroom.

Jonathan Haverly, the Duke of Belford, was easy to spot among the crowd.

His upright figure and graceful movements would have drawn the eye even had he not been rather taller than most of the gentlemen present.

He was a handsome man, with strong, regular features and thick, slightly wavey brown hair, though it was of little matter.

Any gentleman of his fortune and lineage, regardless of his appearance, must be regarded as a catch.

At the moment, he was speaking with two of his particular friends.

Miss Collins identified them easily as Mr Arthur MacCraig and Viscount Nathaniel Jones.

The one was too Scottish and the other too bookish to be of any interest to her, but they might do for some of her hangers-on or lesser cousins.

Or if they proved to be a bad influence on her intended, she would gently disengage them from him.

There were many ways for a wife to accomplish such things.

Miss Williams spoke, interrupting her reverie. “Capturing him is only half the question, my dear Miss Collins. And surely subduing the gentleman’s family is the more difficult half of the equation.”

Miss Collins gave her intimate friend a smile too tense to be sincere.

She disliked any reminder of how new her family’s riches were, even in subjects that made it difficult to avoid a mention.

“You are quite right that such a noble family is likely unwilling to accept any new-made fortunes such as my own,” she murmured softly.

Her smile sharpened. “But, my dear Miss Williams, what if they first became accustomed to something much worse? My family’s wealth would then seem like a blessing in comparison. ”

“I am afraid I do not quite follow you,” Miss Williams said. “What on earth are you planning?”

“Do you remember my unfortunate cousin, Miss Sophia Anderson?”

“Yes, of course,” Miss Williams said at once.

“A sad affair. I was at a party when the news broke, and no one could talk of anything else the whole evening! Poor Mrs Anderson, to become a widow and suddenly poor, all at once! And then, of course, Mr Webb broke off his engagement with Miss Anderson. I had never understood what he saw in her, but still it was rather bad of him.” The two ladies gazed out over the dance floor, where Mr Roger Webb was presently engaged in dancing with a young lady rumoured to have a fortune of fifteen thousand pounds.

They were a pretty couple, both with golden blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes.

Miss Collins had it on the best of authority that neither cared two straws about the other.

“He was most shameless,” Miss Collins said in a cool tone.

“Well, as you likely know or could have guessed, the family has never been back to London since. They have been living, as my mother insists on informing me at regular intervals, in a small town near Lyme, and in no very great style. They have a cottage, I am told, and some few domestics, and while there are no doubt worse forms of poverty, no man of sense would ever consider marrying either Sophia or her younger sister, who is doubtless of age by now.”

“I grieve for them,” Miss Williams said in a tone of perfect indifference, “but how can it solve your present difficulties? The Haverlys will not be more inclined to accept you and your new money because others have none at all.”

“At present, certainly not. But what if — someone — were to start a rumour that Johnathan Haverly, Duke of Belford, was actually engaged to my poor cousin? Imagine that they believed such a tale. All the family would be utterly horrified. They would doubtless rush upon him and my cousin to end the engagement. They would succeed, of course, since there was never any engagement to begin with. And having only just escaped the horrors of the nearest relation to a family of no wealth or connection whatsoever, they would be in a much better humour to accept mine, with wealth enough to satisfy anybody and no worse sin than that of having gained it rather recently.”

Miss Williams gave a brightly artificial little laugh. “You plan like a general, my dear Miss Collins. I am avid to see how it all unfolds. But what a pity for your poor cousin! Don’t you rather think she has suffered enough already?”

Miss Collins sniffed. “I am sorry for her, of course, but sacrifices must be made. As you said, I am like a general, and I will never get anywhere by blunting the edge of all my weapons.”

“You are too bad,” Miss Williams said, rather smilingly. “I think this coming Season will be a most interesting one, after all.”

At that moment, the orchestra was playing with enchanting skill, the night sky visible through the windows was dark and clear, and the moon shone down with enough radiance to delight anyone with a heart open to beauty. Unfortunately, neither of the two young ladies regarded it in the least.