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L ord Grenville’s ball, held later that night in celebration of the Anti-Trade Slaving Bill passing its final reading, was well attended. Thank goodness the bill had passed! There were still those that opposed it, but the majority of Lords knew it was the right thing to do.

Serena’s mood matched the gay occasion. She couldn’t wait to see Julian and share the celebration with him.

“Do stop craning your neck. Lord Julian is escorting his sister Lady Courtney tonight, so he will be here,” her younger sister, Valora scolded.

Her younger sister’s dance card was already full. She was a beautiful woman, and tonight she looked like a Greek goddess in her pale apricot gown and fair hair laced with pearls, the elaborate coil making her neck look as graceful as a swan’s. Valora had already turned down several offers of marriage. She’d turned them down because of one man—Lord Marlowe. Serena herself did not mind being the elder sister still ‘on the shelf’ at three and twenty. She was adamant she did not wish to marry.

“You can talk,” Serena said. “You’ve been looking for Lord Marlowe, but we all know he won’t leave the card room all night, not until he has to escort Miss Tiffany and Lady Claire home.”

“Do I hear my name being spoken in vain?” Claire glided to a stop next to them. Lady Claire Deveraux, Lord Marlowe’s younger sister, arrived with her cousin, Miss Tiffany Deveraux, in tow.

“Valora’s moping after your brother again.”

Claire sniffed. “I wish you wouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve your affection. He treats women as disposable pleasures and unfortunately, he isn’t the only male who thinks like that.”

Serena silently agreed with Claire’s observation. Serena was the elder of the two sisters but with her mousey brown hair and rather tall height, she’d not had much success on the marriage mart compared to Valora. Privately, Serena was pleased. Marriage was not for her. Not yet. Besides, she had Julian to fall back on. She was sure he’d marry her if she asked. He was her best friend.

“Ladies have little choice but to find a husband and I, for one, want to find a man who I won’t find boring. Lord Marlowe would never bore me, I’m sure,” Valora declared.

“If he even noticed a wife existed beyond providing him with children,” Claire added dryly.

“You are too hard on your brother. He has a big heart and he wants the best for both of us. I’m just not sure he understands what that best is. I, for one, don’t want to be married off as if I’m cattle. I’ll marry, but only for love. I want what my parents had,” Tiffany proclaimed with quiet dignity.

Serena squeezed Tiffany’s hand. Her friend’s parents had been killed over six years ago by highwaymen, leading her to reside with her father’s brother, Lord Marlowe. Now his son, Tiffany’s cousin, Fane Deveraux, was the new Lord Marlowe.

“Don’t you hate how men seem to be the ones making all the decisions, as if we don’t have minds of our own? Take today. Men got to decide whether England adopted this latest bill. Why can’t women have an opinion too? Men get to make history.”

Tiffany turned to Serena. “There have been famous women throughout history. Look at Joan of Arc, Queen Elizabeth, or Catherine The Great. You have to be brave enough to push the boundaries of propriety.”

“It would appear you have to be royal, you mean,” Serena replied haughtily. “I just want to have a voice. To have the right to express my opinions and create debate.”

“Mother says if you express opinions, no man will want you as his wife. Then what will you do? Stay a spinster, childless all your life? How will you survive financially? Reliant on your brother, father… And what will happen when they are gone? That life is not for me.”

“Money is the bane of our powerlessness. Men own everything. My dowry will become my husband’s to do with as he will. It’s not fair.” Serena stamped a foot to no effect at all in her dainty slippers. “If I had my own money I’d set up a paper and share my thoughts with the world.” Where had that idea come from? She had no idea, but it was a good one. No one could shut her up if she owned the printing press.

“If you want to make money, talk to Tiffany,” Claire said.

“Claire,” Tiffany hissed, looking around.

Serena looked at the two ladies and could see they shared secrets. Claire merely shrugged her shoulders. “You could help her.”

“Help me with what?” she asked Tiffany curiously.

Tiffany led her away to a quiet corner. “I do a bit of investing—in shares. And I’m quite good at it.” Serena’s mouth dropped open. “My father taught me and I use his stockjobber. He was the only stockjobber who would take my orders.”

Never would Serena have guessed the poor orphaned ward of the Earl of Marlowe was doing something so scandalous. Since the South Seas debacle, most stockjobbers would not allow women to invest. They blamed women for the market falling as they considered women invested in things they knew nothing about and caused the share prices to fall.

“Are you saying you are earning your own income?” Serena looked the rather plain woman up and down. There were hidden depths to her, it would seem.

Tiffany looked over her shoulder. “I don’t want anyone to know, especially Lord Marlowe. But I have a few thousand pounds invested in shares. If my returns continue like this, I won’t have to marry unless I want to. Please say nothing to anyone. I don’t want anyone to know just yet. I don’t need fortune hunters at my door.”

“A few thousand pounds?” Serena thought she could do quite a lot with that sort of money. “So, could you invest on my behalf? How does it work?”

“You could give me some of your pin money and I’d buy shares on your behalf.” She looked at Serena. “You know this is not a get rich quick process. It takes time. And I cannot guarantee the shares will increase in value all the time.”

Serena’s head whirled with possibilities. If she could earn her own money… She could set up her own paper. But what if no one wanted to read what she wrote? Just then, she noticed Lord Julian and Lady Courtney arriving.

“May I call on you tomorrow to discuss this in more detail? I would be very interested in acquiring your skills.” Serena noticed Lady Lauren was accompanying Courtney. “In fact, we should tell the other ladies. Some of them need money more than I do.”

Tiffany looked across the ballroom and spied Lauren, too. “Since her brother’s death, Lauren’s father has been drinking and gambling more. I’m surprised Courtney got her to come tonight.”

“She’s in one of Courtney’s gowns. I recognize it from last year. Lauren’s looking thinner, too. I wonder if she has enough food. I suspect she’s giving most to her younger sister, Madeline. That father of hers will see them lose the roof over their heads. We really must help her. You could help her,” Serena urged Tiffany.

Tiffany sighed. “It’s supposed to be a secret. If I tell too many, well, secrets have a way of slipping out.”

“We ladies should help each other, don’t you think? Men have their clubs. So why shouldn’t we?”

Tiffany slowly nodded. “I’ll talk with Lauren privately. She is unlikely to want our pity, but a practical solution might just be acceptable if it comes from me. She has her pride.”

“Don’t we all,” Serena said under her breath.

Saying goodbye to Tiffany, she walked over to Courtney’s side and slipped her arm through Julian’s. “Are you going to run and hide in the card room tonight too, or will you be brave and keep us ladies company?”

She loved teasing him. Julian was the quiet, dependable type who never seemed to get phased by anything or anyone. A man who always knew the right thing to say, no matter what social level a person was. The ultimate politician. She looked at him sideways. Plus, she had to admit, he was rather handsome.

She didn’t know why she wished to hang onto his arm this evening. It wasn’t solely because they’d shared a private moment at the House of Lords. But rather his mention of the Prime Minister, Lord Grenville, suggesting he marry.

Why the idea of Julian marrying upset her she didn’t want to face. He’d been her constant companion throughout her life. The one who understood her desire to make a difference regardless of her sex. He didn’t talk down to her. In fact, he included her in his conversations and actively sought her opinions. Yet he talked about marriage and not with her. Was he considering someone else? Her heart began to ache in her chest.

What would happen to this—relationship—if he took a wife? She must have been staring because he leaned in and whispered, “Is there something the matter?”

“No. Just some ideas are whirling in my head.”

He smiled. “Then if you’ll excuse me for one moment, I see Lord Grenville beckoning me.”

She watched Julian walk away and suddenly noticed many, many female eyes doing the same thing. She wanted to scream out that he was hers, but she and Julian had no such understanding.

For the first time in her life, she was unsure of Julian. How did he see her? As simply a friend? She knew she wasn’t a great beauty, but she was pretty, if a bit tall. Still, Julian towered over her. He’d never once tried to kiss her. Did he desire her or was she simply a platonic friend?

She thought about what it would be like to kiss Julian and suddenly, that was all she could think of. Her skin heated and she noted just how fine he looked in his evening clothes.

As she stood wondering why she’d never felt such desire for Julian before, her stomach clenched as she watched him escort Lady Penelope Wilton, the current ton diamond among the latest debutantes, onto the dance floor for the waltz. Julian never danced the waltz. Lady Penelope was the daughter of the Duke of Wiltshire and would be an absolute coup for Julian, the second son of a Marquess.

Lord Grenville was beaming as he watched the couple glide across the floor. They looked good together. Julian was tall, dark and handsome, while Penelope was a fair-haired, slender pixie. It was as if the ballroom had fallen silent watching the beautiful couple.

She turned away from the sight, sick to her stomach.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Valora asked.

“I think I might need some air. I’ll just step out onto the terrace for a moment. No need to fuss. I won’t leave the lighted area.” With that, she pushed through the crowd and slipped outside, taking deep breaths to quell the panic rising inside her.

What would she do if she lost Julian?

She didn’t know how long she stood outside. She said hello to a few other women also taking some air, before a voice sounded in her ear.

“Valora said you were feeling unwell. Are you all right?”

She turned to look at Julian, concern for her on his face. “You danced a waltz. With Lady Penelope.”

He frowned down at her. “Lord Grenville put me in a position where I could not refuse.”

“So, you aren’t considering her for marriage?”

His face broke into the most smug smile. “Is that jealousy I hear coming from your mouth?”

The awful man was gloating. “Certainly not. I merely wished to know what my friend is thinking. I’m not sure you and Lady Penelope would suit.”

“Why shouldn’t I consider Lady Penelope? She is of sound social standing, which would help my rise in parliament.”

Serena couldn’t get her mouth to work. He was considering her. Why else would he ask such a question? She didn’t have an answer because Julian was right. Lady Penelope would make him a fine wife. Certainly marriage to a duke’s daughter would help in his career goal of becoming Prime Minister.

“My head is pounding,” she said, swaying slightly. “I think I really must go home.”

Once again, concern replaced his impish grin. “I’ll fetch Valora and alert Lady Vale. Stay here in the fresh air.” He dashed off.

She wanted to cry. Never had she ever considered Julian would marry another. But on the carriage ride home, she suddenly realized she’d not thought of her dreams of writing for the paper since Julian had arrived at the ball.

And that wouldn’t do.

*

“Your plan worked,” Julian said to Courtney. “She seemed most upset I’d danced with Lady Penelope.”

Julian couldn’t believe his sister’s advice had worked. He’d worried himself sick, thinking Serena didn’t see him as a man. That since they had been friends from a young age, that is all he would ever be—a friend. If that had been the case, he’d have a terrible time convincing her to marry him and he wanted no other as his wife.

His sister squeezed his arm. “I told you. Make her see you as a man, not as a friend. It was the waltz that did it. She couldn’t stop watching you and then suddenly, she needed fresh air.”

He had his answer now. Serena might be desirous of more than a friendship if her snipe about Lady Penelope was to be believed. The truth was, Serena was right. Penelope may help with his parliamentary career, but she’d drive him batty as a wife. “Any advice on how to proceed from here?”

“Come now, Julian. Don’t be such a buffoon. You need to woo the lady. Surely, you know how to do that. You’ve been as thick as thieves for years. You know her better than anyone. What will turn her head?”

Julian thought about Courtney’s question for the rest of the evening. He was careful not to dance with Lady Penelope again. The last thing he wanted was the ton thinking he was nursing a tendre for Lady Penelope. That would not help his plan to court Serena.