Page 14

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a delicate pattern on the polished floors of Brooksdale Manor as Blanche tried to pick out the perfect dress for the day that lay ahead.

She had not been given the chance to see her friend, Penelope, ever since she had gotten married, so there was a lot for her to talk about.

Since she had not been able to get much sense out of her mother, she was also looking forward to receiving some much-needed advice.

Blanche's fingers glided over the array of dresses in her wardrobe, each one holding memories of different occasions, many like today.

But Blanche felt like she needed something special this time because she was heading out to Hyde Park for the first time as a married woman. She needed to make a statement.

Finally settling on a dress with a subtle floral pattern that seemed just right for a morning walk with an old friend, Blanche carefully adorned herself.

The intricate lace on the sleeves complemented the morning sunlight filtering into her room.

She took a moment to gaze at herself in the looking glass, appreciating the gentle elegance of her choice.

Downstairs, the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air as the staff prepared for the day.

Blanche descended the grand staircase, the polished floors echoing the soft melody of her footsteps.

She found Philip in the cozy sitting room, engrossed in a book, and she could not help but admire the quiet charm of the manor and the duke who watched over it.

"Good morning, Philip," she greeted, her voice carrying the warmth of the sunlit morning.

He looked up, a smile gracing his features. "Good morning, Blanche. You look radiant."

Blanche blushed at the surprising compliment, a heat spreading through her cheeks. "Thank you. I am meeting Penelope today. It has been ages since we caught up."

Philip nodded understandingly. "That sounds lovely. I am sure you will have a great time."

He rose to his feet and awkwardly stepped towards her, as if he was going to embrace her before she left. Perhaps the action of a real husband. But it was awkward, and he quickly seemed to realise that, so Philip stepped back and nodded at his bride-to-be.

"I shall be here when you return. Goodbye."

Blanche bobbed into a half curtsy, only making this a lot more uncomfortable. "Yes, thank you. Goodbye."

They remained there for a few more seconds, just looking at one another in a strange standoff.

Blanche wished that there were a way she could make it easier for them both to breathe in one another's presence, but it was strange.

They did not quite seem to know how to behave around one another. especially in private like this.

Perhaps, in time, the awkwardness between them would fade into nothing more than a distant recollection—a stumbling beginning to something more harmonious. All they required, Blanche supposed, was a measure of patience.

With that hopeful thought, she took her leave. As she stepped into the crisp morning air, a gentle breeze brushed her cheeks and carried with it the scent of dew-laced earth. A peculiar mix of anticipation and wistful longing stirred within her.

The verdant paths of Hyde Park beckoned, and the thought of a long walk and heartfelt conversation with Penelope lightened her step. There was comfort in the familiar, and Blanche looked forward to the respite only a dear friend could provide.

The sun continued to cast a warm glow over the park as Blanche met Penelope for a leisurely stroll.

The rustle of leaves underfoot provided a soothing backdrop to the impending conversation that weighed heavily on Blanche's heart.

Once the small talk was over and they had caught up on the basics of one another's lives, it was time for Blanche to tell her friend everything that she was struggling with.

As they meandered along the winding gravel paths of Hyde Park, the golden morning light filtering softly through the trees, Blanche finally allowed herself a breath. With Penelope beside her, the ever-present weight of expectation seemed momentarily lighter.

She hesitated, then quietly spoke. "Penelope, I find myself... unsettled. This new role—Duchess of Brooksdale—it feels like a masquerade for which I was never given a script. I am forever misstepping, it seems. I have never chased titles, and now I must wear one that does not feel my own."

Penelope, the truest of confidantes, glanced at her with warm concern. "You are not alone in that feeling, Blanche. The role of duchess is no small burden. But if anyone can learn to carry it with quiet strength, it is you."

She paused, then added gently, "I know this is not the marriage you envisioned. The scandal sheets forced your hand... but from what I have heard, the Duke is not without merit."

"He is not," Blanche agreed quickly. "He is kind, and we share a passion for history. Yet the union came upon us so swiftly, there was no time for real acquaintance. We are, in truth, little more than strangers. His mother, though—Lady Brooksdale—has been endlessly gracious."

Penelope gave a relieved laugh. "Thank goodness for that. If his mother had taken against you, your life would be immeasurably more uncomfortable."

"She has even proposed that we host a ball together," Blanche continued, her voice touched with uncertainty. "An introduction of sorts—to present me properly to society as the new Duchess of Brooksdale. She believes it might help temper the gossip."

Penelope’s eyes lit with approval. "I daresay she may be right. A successful ball would give the ton something else to wag their tongues about."

"Yes, but the pressure is immense. It cannot be merely pleasant—it must be perfect.

Not simply a ball, but a statement. A declaration that I am not some upstart with ambitions, but a duchess in truth.

Sometimes I fear society is waiting for us to falter.

That they see our marriage as nothing more than a convenient resolution to scandal. "

"They might," Penelope admitted gently. "But that need not mean they are right." She gave Blanche a knowing look. "You cannot allow the whispers of others to define your worth. You have always been more than what they see."

Blanche exhaled, her voice barely more than a breath. "I cannot help but feel that Philip and I are viewed as pieces on a chessboard—useful, but impersonal. No one speaks of affection. It is disheartening, to say the least. Especially because they might well be right."

Penelope squeezed Blanche's arm in a reassuring gesture. "People will always talk, my dear. But your strength lies in your authenticity. Their opinions are fleeting. What matters is how you and your husband move forward. Shape your story, Blanche, before someone else writes it for you."

A soft smile curved Blanche’s lips, a fragile hope blooming.

"Despite everything, I do think we are beginning to find something like understanding. We visited the Egyptian Hall recently. It wasn’t just a social obligation—we actually spoke, connected.

It felt like something more than mere civility. "

Penelope’s smile widened, her voice brimming with encouragement.

"That is a promising start. Sometimes, the strongest bonds form in the most unlikely circumstances.

Let this be the beginning—not just of your role as a duchess, but of a deeper journey.

And the ball—why, it might very well be the first step in turning the tide.

The duchess who has taken her rightful spot at Brooksdale Manor.

Everyone will see that you are exactly where you need to be, and they will take their vicious tongues elsewhere. "

"You will be there?"

Penelope chuckled. "Not only will I be there, I will be heralding how amazing the ball is, even if there are failings. I will ensure that everyone only focuses on what is good."

Blanche laughed. "I’m afraid the ton is not so easily misled.”

"I know." Penelope nodded. "But if anyone can do this, it is me."

Gratefully, Blanche linked her arm through Penelope's finally feeling a lot better.

Her mother might not have been able to lift her spirits with words of wisdom, but her best friend certainly had.

Perhaps it really was best for Blanche to stop tip-toeing around her marriage and finally throw herself into it.

At least in the form of making this the best, the grandest ball anyone had ever attended.

If she got it right, then Blanche would be able to turn the gossip on its head.

She would be able to get the ton talking about the success of the ball rather than the silly little moment in the blue parlour.

The sooner Blanche and Philip overcame all of that, the quicker they could get on with their lives. Whatever that was going to look like.