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A n enormous feather perched atop Juliana’s head, the height of which she was certain could dust the ceiling of her room in Pendrake Manor, her brother’s London mansion. Her hand drifted upward. She had an overwhelming desire to pluck the ridiculous thing from her hair.

Her entire family had gathered in her bedchamber as she prepared to make her debut into society. Even Simon Beckham, her brother’s man-of-business leaned against the door frame.

“Try not to touch it, my dear,” her sister-in-law, the Duchess of Burwood, said, her tone kind but firm.

Honoria was the gentlest of creatures, but at the moment, her impending motherhood had transformed her into a tigress.

“Susan has done an exceptional job fastening it on with the tiara and into your coiffure, but I worry the slightest contact might dislodge it. Your hair is so fine and silky.”

And straight . Juliana didn’t mind her hair, but Miss Price had grumbled about the lack of curl and the ability to hide the feather’s end completely. No doubt used to Honoria’s thick red curls, Honoria’s lady’s maid found Juliana’s plain blond locks unremarkable.

“As soon as you make your bow to Prince William and Princess Adelaide, and we are comfortably at home, you may remove it,” Honoria said. “At least until the ball this evening.”

“Listen to Honoria,” her brother, Drake, said. “She knows about these things.” Although her brother—well, half-brother—was now a duke, neither he nor Juliana had been brought up in society.

Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a fine lace handkerchief. “It’s such a shame the king has been so ill and won’t be presiding.”

Simon gave a soft chuckle. “It’s probably for the best. Old Prinny would probably pry himself from the throne and chase Juliana around the room.” He gave a low whistle. “You look beautiful.”

Heat flooded Juliana’s face, even though Simon flirted with everyone and, to him, she was only Drake’s baby sister.

Drake narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You’re one to talk about the king. Behave yourself, Simon.”

As Juliana gazed at the people she loved more than anything in the world, she hoped she wouldn’t disappoint them.

The pressure to be perfect weighed upon her.

Honoria and Drake had made such a fuss about her coming out in society even though, at twenty-two, she was well past the age of the other debutantes, but the pressure came not from her beloved brother and his wife, but from within and from her own exacting standards to be, at all costs, good.

She would have much preferred to be out riding at Hartridge House, Drake’s estate in Dorset, where only the trees and woodland creatures could witness any possible misstep. Animals didn’t judge.

Juliana fought to pull in a calming breath, but Miss Price had pulled the corset so tight her attempt proved unsuccessful. She turned back toward the mirror and examined her reflection sideways, hoping the constricting garment had made her appear marginally—and more fashionably—slimmer.

“Come now!” Drake called her attention back. “It’s time to stop admiring yourself and allow others to do so.” Held out his arm. “Like the prince.”

Was it too late to push them out and lock herself in her room? Why did she have to be presented into society? Even though Drake was a duke, she was simply Miss Merrick, the daughter of two commoner parents.

“It will be fine, Juliana.” Honoria patted her hand, her soothing voice making Juliana believe perhaps it would be.

It wasn’t.

Two hours later . . .

Seated across from Drake and Honoria in the carriage, her mother’s arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, Juliana fought back the tears.

Humiliated.

Mortified.

Crushed.

One careless step as she backed away from the prince and princess, and her foot had caught on her long train, sending her sprawling for all to see.

After a collective gasp, a deafening hush settled over the assembly.

A titter of laughter broke the silence and grew increasingly louder as each person joined in.

The sound assaulted her ears and brought heat to her face.

Why, oh, why had she ever agreed to this? She stole a peek at Drake and Honoria, and shame filled her at having brought embarrassment to the family.

“I’ll never be able to show myself in polite society again.” She choked back the sob, hating the emotions flooding her.

“Nonsense,” Honoria said, compassion filling her eyes. “Tomorrow, the incident will be all but forgotten.”

But in that compassion, Juliana saw the truth. Even Honoria doubted her words. Juliana still had much to learn about society, but one thing was clear, the ton loved gossip and took perverse pleasure in people’s embarrassment—especially those they considered beneath them.

Juliana sniffed again. “Will you call off the ball?”

Honoria and Drake exchanged a glance, and Juliana’s stomach knotted.

“Other than having Frampton turn people away at the door, it’s too late to cancel,” Drake said. “But I shall remain by your side the entire night. No one will so much as dare to say anything, or I shall wither them with my ducal glare.”

Honoria held a gloved hand to her mouth, stifling a little laugh.

Juliana voiced what Honoria no doubt was thinking. “You don’t have a ducal glare, brother.”

“It’s true, Drake,” their mother said. “You’re about as frightening as a lamb.”

“Aunt Kitty, then?” Drake asked.

Tears still in her eyes, Juliana laughed along with everyone else at the image of Drake’s Aunt Kitty threatening people with her cane. The woman was formidable.

Later that evening, Juliana prepared herself, hoping the ball would go more smoothly than her presentation at court. People did arrive, but rather than delivering smiles and congratulations, many of the guests either offered comforting words or said nothing at all.

However, there was a small contingent of guests who—although they said nothing to her face—stole glances at her from across the ballroom and snickered behind their fans or hands, whispering in the ears of those who would listen.

One in particular, Miss Lydia Whyte, set Juliana’s nerves on edge.

She’d met the woman at Drake’s house party the previous summer.

Since Miss Whyte was approximately the same age, Juliana hoped they might become friends once Drake revealed himself and assumed his position as duke.

But the moment Simon had introduced them, Lydia’s cold assessment as she raked her gaze up and down Juliana’s body indicated otherwise.

She’d even heard the woman make a snide remark about her to that odious man, Lord Middlebury.

Granted, those less-than-generous attendees were not among Drake and Honoria’s closest friends.

Although unable to attend the ball due to the recent birth of their baby daughter, the Duke and Duchess of Ashton sent their well wishes, welcoming Juliana into society and predicting she would be the diamond of the Season.

Ha! Unlikely. Juliana’s humiliating presentation was the least of it.

Not only was Juliana a commoner, but she did not possess the qualities attributed to such beauties.

More well-endowed in the bosom than most young ladies her age, her one advantage was her mother was an excellent seamstress and could work magic with the fit of Juliana’s gowns.

Lady Montgomery assured Juliana that her own come-out had been much more disastrous, and yet she secured a love match with the man of her heart. The truth of Bea’s statement shone in her eyes when she gazed at her husband, Lord Montgomery, the same love reflected in his.

Yet, as the evening continued, and the dancing began, her only partners, other than Simon, had been the married men and friends of her brother.

Even Drake wanted to dance with her, a faux pas Honoria was almost willing to allow but convinced Drake they shouldn’t provide any more fodder for the gossip sheets.

Honoria’s apologetic glance was hardly necessary, as Juliana quite agreed.

No amount of glittering crystal or lovely strands of music from the string orchestra could make up for the feeling of being unwanted.

Would the evening ever end?

Heaviness settled in Juliana’s stomach as she watched the other couples on the dance floor. Her gaze landed on Mr. Victor Pratt dancing with Lydia. Lydia laughed at something Mr. Pratt said, then tapped him on the arm with her fan during a pass in the dance.

Mr. Pratt had been friendly during Drake’s house party but not overly so. Respectful would be the word Juliana would use. At the time, Juliana had indulged in some girlish fantasies about him. She couldn’t imagine him with someone like Lydia. But of course, she really didn’t know him.

He was handsome, for certain. That long blond hair tied back in a queue, giving him an air of rebelliousness, intrigued Juliana. Honoria had described it as dashing, and Juliana agreed. But as one of the few unmarried men in attendance that evening, like the others, he kept his distance.

The dance ended, and he rejoined his sister, Priscilla, and her husband, Dr. Marbry.

When he inclined his head to listen to something Priscilla was saying, his gaze lifted and locked with Juliana’s.

Giving a brief nod, he said something in return, and then he strode forward, stopping Juliana’s heart.

Victor wondered if his dance with Lydia Whyte would ever end.

The woman was relentless, and he knew if he didn’t dance with her, she would pound him to death on the arm with that damnable fan of hers.

In truth, he didn’t even want to be at the ball.

He’d been perfectly content wallowing in his dark thoughts until his sister, Priscilla, had appeared at their parents’ home that afternoon.

“You have to go, Victor. Poor Juliana will need some friendly faces and at least a few eligible gentlemen to request a dance.”

Victor’s skin prickled at the word poor . “Why poor ? I have a feeling it’s more than the fact her parents are commoners.”