The Secret Diary of a Magnificent Lady (Preview)

Prologue

Diary Entry

April 5, 1812

Henry Montague is quite a nice young gentleman, and I wonder when I shall see him again, if ever. He is a marquis and his father a duke, therefore they are quite busy. But I long to make his acquaintance again, for I am nearly fourteen years of age and I have not spoken with him since the age of twelve. Of course, he is two years older than I am, and he very well could be doing a tour of Europe for studies or Oxford.

But I do count the days that my family will once again be invited to Hampton and mingle with that society so that I may see Henry again. Would he remember me? We only played together a few times in large groups of other children, and I scarcely spoke a few words to him.

However, I watched his every move, and his natural way of leading everyone of us children in playing a game had fascinated me. I remember his dark locks of hair and brown eyes that were filled with kindness. He is nothing like the other boys of nobility, who are quite ill-mannered and snobbish. No, Henry Montague is none of those things. I do wish that one day I could be his wife, for he is the perfect man to marry.

Then, not only would I marry for love, but I would also become a marchioness—and then, eventually, a duchess. How funny a joke it would be to all my relations to finally have a title. Me?

Oh please, Duke of Hampton, invite my father to an event at your home in London or in Hampton so that I may see your son Henry again. I promise to myself that next time, I will speak up and converse with him instead of hiding in the shadows, as painful as that would be for me. If only I had the confidence of my sister, then I would be able to speak with Henry.

I will wait, and wait, until once again we meet,dear Henry. I hope that it is not long. Would you notice me? Would you remember me, the girl named Matilda?

Chapter One

April 5, 1817

Henry Montague, the Marquis of Kimboldt, allowed his valet to tie his cream-coloured cravat, as he lifted his chin in the air. It was a very fine day indeed for hosting Lord and Lady Brentwood in the gardens. But that was not why he had chosen his best tailcoat in mint green and waistcoat underneath it to match—it was out of respect for his dearest friend, Mary Anne Brentwood. She was the daughter of Lord and Lady Brentwood, and he counted her amongst his closest friends. For they had been through much together, and because she did not spend much time in London, it was a treat indeed that her family had arrived for the London season the day before, from their country estate.

A knock sounded on the door. Henry’s valet moved to open it.

“The Brentwoods have arrived,” the servant reported.

“I will be down straight away,” Henry informed him. He quickly perused his reflection, running his fingers through his black hair before turning to dart out of his bed chambers.

As he walked down the hall, he took attention to his cuffs, fixing them into place. It had been ingrained in him that a son of a duke should afford the most attention to detail as possible.

The grand staircase which he descended was very grand indeed, with polished mahogany railings. The walls beside it were tall, decorated with tapestries and paintings of Henry’s ancestors, for the Duke of Hampton was an old title, and one of great nobility dating back to the Tudors. Therefore, much was expected of the Duke of Hampton—which included that he marry well.

“There is my son—remind me to have a word with you on tardiness,” the Duke of Hampton announced, giving Henry a hard time as he already stood with the Brentwood family, as well as the new Duchess of Hampton,Mrs Fiona Lambert, in the receiving foyer at the bottom of the staircase. Outside the open door, Henry could see the large, ornate carriage that the family had arrived in.

“Oh, but it is only a matter of making an entrance, sir,” Henry said, countering his father’s judgment with a joke as he walked directly to the Brentwoods. With a bow, he continued, “Lord and Lady Brentwood. Such a pleasure, as always. It has been too long.”

“Indeed it has, Marquis, we are very glad to be in from the country.” Lord Brentwood gave him a bow in return as Lady Brentwood curtsied. Then, Henry shifted his attentions to Mary Anne, placing her hand in his with a sweet kiss on top of her silk glove.

“And you,Miss Brentwood, always good to see you. I have missed our conversations,” he ventured.

“And I as well, sir.”Mary Anne gave him a curtsy. But there was a knowing look between them, for the two of them solely. It was a look of jest, for their friendship was far beyond such formalities. Still, they had to retain such a manner when in the presence of others.

“Now, we have set up tea and games in the garden. Shall we?”the Duke of Hampton,Mr. Montague, said.

“Yes, of course,” Lord Brentwood replied.

The Duke held his arm out for his wife. She was Henry’s mother, for his mother had died some years before and Fiona was the Duke’s second wife. She was agreeable enough, but Henry never saw fit to confide in her or treat her as anything other than his father’s wife—definitely not a second mother.

The Duke and Duchess of Hampton were followed by Lord and Lady Brentwood, side by side, and Henry and Mary Anne took their place behind the two noble couples. Mary Anne looped her arm in Henry’s and whispered, “I have much to acquaint you with, dear friend.”

“Then we shall take a turn in the gardens as soon as we are able.” He patted her hand.

He was quite intrigued by what his friend might have to say. They often retained correspondence in the way of letters, but it had been almost six months since he had last received one from her.

He and Mary Anne had a very special friendship, one that they had nourished since they were children. Indeed, their family had always been friends throughout the decades, with each new generation maintaining the connection. But Henry felt as though Mary Anne was one of the few of the nobility he was forced to have connections with that he could truly call a friend. She did not expect him to behave according to his station, and that was what he liked about her company. In her presence, he could simply be himself—not the marquis and future duke of Hampton.

Together, the party walked out into the gardens. Indeed, the Duke’s gardens were well known in the St James borough of London, almost as grand as those at St James Palace. His estate took up an entire city block—not only for the very large home, but for the gardens, which included a grassy lawn, formal gardens, and a labyrinth of overgrown arbors. It was quite the statement of nobility and wealth.

White linen tablecloths trimmed with lace covered small tables on the lawn, surrounded by chairs. Tiered trays were adorned with cakes, biscuits, and delicacies, along with a service of tea in fine white China.

“We have all manner of lawn games for your enjoyment,”the Duke declared, “for it is a very fine day. These April showers are relentless this time of year, so we make the most of it when the sun does come out.”

“Indeed, a very fine day of sunshine. I am prepared to challenge you to a game of horseshoes, your grace, for I believe that the last time you were the victor, and I plan to redeem myself,” Lord Brentwood asserted.

“Care to put a wager on such a thing, Brentwood?”the Duke replied.

Henry and Mary Anne sat at a table alone, drinking the fragrant black tea, which Henry took with a splash of milk and Mary Anne took with two cubes of sugar, as they listened to their fathers get into a playful bicker over the games.

“I will take that wager. What do you say? One guinea per game?” Brentwood offered.

“That is a rich game, but worth it,” the Duke answered.

The ladies were quick to dismiss the gambling of their husbands and engage in their own conversation of the latest fashions hitting London for the season.

“Tell me, dear friend, what news do you bring from the countryside?” Henry asked Mary Anne, taking advantage of the fact that their parents were engaged in their own conversations elsewhere.

“So much to say indeed, friend. Perhaps that might be better left to a walk in the gardens, but as for any other news, the country has been quite bland,” Mary Anne said.

“Of course, that is because I have not been there for almost a year,” Henry teased her.

“You might be quite right about that, for every eligible woman has been exhausted waiting for your return,”she teased him right back. “Though I am quite sure that that will be remedied at the Winton ball, come next week. You will be flooded with the glances of many eligible women, begging with their eyes for you to dance.”

“Yes, the Winton ball. I wish I could escape such a thing. You know I have no enjoyment for dancing,Mary Anne,” he lamented, lifting his teacup to his mouth to take a small sip.

“Yes, since you have always said such a thing, Henry, it has not escaped my attention.”

The two laughed to each other, while their parents stood from the table and begin to enjoy the lawn games together. Henry knew this was the precise distraction that was needed.

“Miss Brentwood, shall we take a turn in the gardens?” He stood up, holding out his hand to Mary Anne.

“I would be delighted, sir.”

Together, they walked away from their parents, making their way to the private arbors adorned with fragrant honeysuckle flowers that had been enjoying the vast spring rains and were in full bloom.

Once they were out of reach, Henry could not hold his tongue on the matter any longer.

“Now, friend, you must tell me the news.”

“Oh, Henry, it is absolutely dreadful,”she wailed. A look of desperation came across her face.

“What is it? You are not hurt, are you? Are you in distress?” He turned to her, concerned for his friend’s well-being. He had never seen her blue eyes look as sad as they did now.

“I am not hurt physically, but I am hurt of heart. I have such pain,dear Henry, for I am in love with someone who is quite forbidden to me. I haven’t the faintest idea of what I shall do; neither does he. We are quite distressed, indeed.”

A smile came across Henry’s face as he understood his friend’s meaning quite clearly. “Do you mean to tell me,Mary Anne—the woman who said that she should never fall in love—has now done this very thing?”

“Yes—so it is dreadful, is it not? You are quite right, I have always said that I would not be a victim of the heart, and look at me. I can scarcely go a minute without thinking of my dear Jonathan.”

Henry’s brows raised. “Jonathan? And does this Mr Jonathan have a full name?”

“Yes, he does, Henry, and that is the problem. For his name is not one of nobility, and you know how my parents have made it well known that I must not marry unless it is to a suitable match of nobility, into the aristocracy. They will accept no less.”

“And this is Jonathan is not of nobility?”

“No, he is not. Mr Jonathan Harper is an attorney, a very good one at that. He makes a comfortable living, for his clients are ones that my parents or yours might have business with. He is paid quite well, but nowhere near the means that you and I are accustomed to. Especially not wealth that my parents would deem suitable for me. Oh, Henry, it is so incredibly unjust and unfair. He has no title, and his family name is not a known, old family name such as ours. What ever will I do?”

“Well, he must be quite the man, if he was capable of capturing your heart. What do you plan to do about it?”

“We have been back and forth over all our options, and Jonathan feels that our only chance to be together is an elopement,”she confessed.

“An elopement! Mary Anne, that is quite serious, as you very well know. There is no going back from an elopement, or the scandal that follows it.”

“As I am well aware, friend. I do not make this decision lightly. I have agreed to an elopement, but Jonathan has asked for several months in order to plan such a thing. He is having a busy season, but at the end of it, he will have more than enough money put away to set us up. I do not doubt that my parents will cut off all wealth and deny him my dowry, out of spite and anger for my defiance of their wishes. Therefore, we do not wish to elope until he has saved enough up to take a new house and set up the living for us.”

“And you are quite sure this is what you want, Mary Anne? For the living will not be what you are accustomed to. It sounds like he lives very comfortably, indeed, but nowhere near the luxury that you have been raised in.”

“Yes, I have taken that into consideration. But it is not as if I will be plowing fields and kneading dough. There will be enough for household staff, as I am accustomed to, but not the luxuries of extravagant jewelry and dresses. But I dare say, friend, I am very much in love with this man, and I am willing to sacrifice for that. In truth, it does not matter to me—I would rather marry for love than for money.”

“But what of your parents? They might not speak to you for years, and possibly for the rest of your life. Have you considered that?” he asked.

She put her hands on her hips. “My word, Henry. Of all people, I would think that you would be happy for me. You do not care what others think of you, and I thought you would understand, yet here you are, pointing out all the negative reasons why I should not be married to my Jonathan.”

“I am only saying the truth. Could you possibly live without your family speaking to you again? That is the truth of what may happen,” he pointed out.

She sighed. “I know. You are right. I love my parents, of course, but I am willing to take the risk and maintain hope that eventually, after a year or two, they will at least speak to me again.”

“Then it sounds like you have this all figured out. I wish you both the best. And, of course, you can guarantee on maintaining my friendship and acquaintanceship no matter the scandal that breaks out after your elopement. For we will always be true friends, will we not?”

“Yes, and I am very glad to hear it. But there is a problem, a quite pressing matter. My parents have been pushing another suitor on me.”

“And who is it this time?” Henry smiled and crossed his arms across his chest.

“The old and vicious Earl of Holbrook, Mr George Mason.”

Henry let out a laugh.

“It is not funny, Henry,” she scolded, playfully slapping his arm. “He is quite vile indeed.”

“Yes, that is true. And I think you shall have the privilege of condoning that statement, as he is expected at the ball next week.”

“Yes, something my mother has reminded me of almost daily. Therefore, I am short on time to come up with a plan. I am quite frightened that my parents will grant him permission to take my hand in marriage at the ball, perhaps even announce it without my permission. I just need time, Jonathan needs time. Whatever shall I do, Henry?”

“This is a predicament. Let’s walk in this direction,” he suggested, taking her arm.

They walked along, side-by-side. Henry was deep in thought, trying to figure out how he could possibly help his friend to marry for true love. She was very dear to Henry; he looked upon her as he would a sister. Henry wanted her to be happy above all else, and if he could have a hand in guaranteeing her happiness, he would do anything he could to secure that for her.

For he did not want to lose her to the vile Earl of Holbrook, who would keep her practically locked up in his country estate and not allow him to visit. The Earl was a quick-tempered man of jealousy, and Mary Anne would surely become a shell of herself if she were to marry him. Though, deep down, Henry knew she was more likely to do something rash like runaway to America before going through with a wedding to the Earl. He himself had often thought of such illogical actions when his father began to list the ladies of nobility that Henry should consider taking as a wife. As of late, the names had been listed ever so frequently, and he knew that his father was becoming quite fed up with his disinterest in marriage.

Then, it occurred to him—something that would be beneficial to himself, as well as Mary Anne.

“Mary Anne, my parents have also been pressuring me to find and take on a wife by end of the year, and I am in no way prepared to do such a thing. Perhaps there is a way that you and I can help each other.” He gave his friend a sideways grin.

“I am listening, please do go on.”

He took her arm and led her deeper into the gardens, toward the water fountains. For anyone wishing to not be overheard, the rushing water of the fountains provided the ideal cover for secrets.

Chapter Two

As droplets of rain hit the glass of the parlour room, Matilda sat at the pianoforte, lazily stroking the keys with her eyes on the glass instead of at the sheet music in front of her. For how could she play when her mind was so agreeably engaged on other matters—the Marquis of Kimboldt, Henry Montague. There was a ball in her future, to mark the beginning of the London season, and she wondered if he would be in attendance. He was a man who had occupied her thoughts incessantly, since she was young.

It was quite possible that he would beat the ball if he were in town, for he was a worldly man who was constantly abroad furthering his mind with studies in Paris, or at his country estate in Hampton. But his London home was very close to the estate of Lord and Lady Winton, who would be holding the ball at their home in St James’ Court. Matilda’s own home was located in the northwest area of London, in a small outlying village called Hampstead Heath.

Undoubtedly, Matilda did love her home, and there were grand estates surrounding them such as Kenwood house, where the Earl of Mansfield resided. While her own home was not as grand as one might find Kenwood house to be, it was very agreeable. Her father was a gentleman and her mother a lady, and their wealth had been handed down through inheritance, making them a family of society, not of nobility. Those in society always made sure that Matilda understood that distinction.

“Why have you stopped, dear? That is such a lovely tune. And on such a day as today, there is not much else that we can do, since we cannot go into the gardens,” Matilda’s mother, Mrs Ayles, said.

“Sorry, Mama, my thoughts had escaped me,” Matilda admitted as she began to play again.

Her sister Emma let out a soft laugh. “No doubt your thoughts are agreeably on the ball at Lord and Lady Winton’s, or so I know that’s where my thoughts lay.”

“Oh yes, dear, as both of you should be thinking of such an event. With Emma being almost one and twenty, and you, my dear Matilda, nineteen years of age, it is high time that both of you find a suitable husband of my liking. Neither of you are getting any younger, and you are losing the most valuable tool a young woman has in order to capture such a husband—youth.” Mrs Ayles reminded her daughters.

Matilda looked at Emma—with her back to her mother, of course—and rolled her eyes at her sister. They had been hearing such words since they were very young indeed, before they had their own coming out season.

“That may be true, Mama, but you know my standing on finding a match that I also find agreeable. I will not be roped into marrying someone simply for comfort of home,” Emma replied. “But I have every notion that I will find such a man at the ball. I will find the one.”

Matilda smiled at Emma, for she found her sister to be very confident and she respected her very much indeed for it. She often wished that she herself had the confidence her sister displayed. For Emma was not at all worried that she was becoming older and had yet to find a suitable match—she had all the faith in the world that she would eventually meet the man that captured her heart, mind, and was able to provide a comfortable means of living. Matilda, however, did not have this confidence, and she worried that she would have to marry whoever her parents chose for her in the coming year.

Emma was widely reputed as a woman of beauty, with her blond locks and large blue eyes. She took after their mother, while Matilda looked much more like their father with light brown hair, and brown eyes. Indeed, she considered herself quite plain in comparison to her sister. When they walked into a room together, all eyes were on Emma, further validating the notion that Emma was the far more beautiful sister.

Matilda looked down at her plain white empire-waist gown, embellished with a pattern of green leaves. She fixed the skirt and then placed her fingers back on the ivory keys.

“I should hope so. For the amount of money your father has spent on your ball gowns, I should expect to see a return in investment,”her mother said, lifting a cup of tea to her mouth.

Emma laughed. “And so you shall, Mother.”

“Yes, Mama, I have no doubt that Emma will find a perfect match, and any man would be lucky to call her his wife.” Matilda had a big smile on her face for her sister.

Emma walked over and hugged her from behind, placing a sisterly kiss on top of Matilda’s head.

“And so shall you, dear sister. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m finding this book rather droll—I am to my room to fetch another.”As Emma headed toward the door, Matilda started to play her tune again, though quietly.

“I have been hearing those words for quite some time now, promises of finding a match. Your father and I shall soon be finding one for the both of you, if you do not show any promise of an engagement this year,” their mother fussed.

“Oh, that reminds me. Speaking of engagement, my dear friend Katrina James told me just yesterday that she heard the news that the Marquis of Kimboldt, Henry Montague, is engaged. Can you believe that? I shall return,” Emma announced in a whirlwind statement as she swept out the door.

Matilda’s fingers slipped on the keys, making a very loud piano sound that startled her mother.

“My Lord, Matilda, have some compassion for my nerves; you shall see me spill this hot tea all over my beautiful day gown,”her mother cautioned.

“Sorry, Mother, perhaps I have played too much today,” Matilda replied quickly, standing up and moving to the window so that she could have her back to the room completely. Her breath had quickened, her heart pounded. She gave the rain on the window her full attention, needing to concentrate on something in order to stop herself from fainting.

Henry Montague, engaged? Oh, how could it be so? Of course it is so, you imbecile, he is a gorgeous and eligible Marquis, the son of the Duke of Hampton. It is a miracle that he has not been married already. The time has come. If you had more confidence, perhaps you would have found a way to engage him in conversation when you saw him one year ago at the assembly. But you missed your chance, and now it has been taken. Oh, how I wish I had the confidence of my sister Emma.

“How is it your sister finds it fit to give us such news and walk out? Does she not think that we wish to know more? Well, I daresay that we shall find out more at the ball if the Duke and Duchess are in attendance, which I believe they will be. Oh, how I wish your uncle were still alive—it was his acquaintanceship with the Duke that allowed us to mingle with that society when you and Emma were children. But once he passed, the connection was lost, for the Duke did not have a strong bond with your father in the way he did with your father’s brother. Still, we must make what we can of the past connection. Perhaps we will garner an invitation to the wedding, if I could put your father to good use and force him to mingle at the ball with the Duke. Such work; if I were a man, we would be very well-connected, indeed. But that I must leave such things up to your father, who prefers to be at home at all times, we have missed out on many opportunities of society, and for you, dear Matilda. Now, I must go to your father with this news, and force him to speak with the Duke and the Marquis at the ball so that we may be on their minds when time for the wedding invitations to be sent come around. For I will be in attendance at the Marquis of Kimboldt’s wedding.”

“Yes, Mama,” Matilda agreed without turning from the window, for she did not want her mother to see the tears that were gathering in her eyes. She was glad for the solitude when her mother walked out the door; at least now she could mourn the loss of her feelings for the Marquis in private.

Later that night, however, she had a better idea: to write down her feelings in order to release them from her heart and mind. She opened the bottom drawer of a dresser and pulled out her diary. It was a small, leather-bound book, with gilded edges on each page. It was her most prized possession and held all her wishes and secrets.

She sat down at her desk and began to write.

It is done. Today, my sister graced me with the news that Henry Montague, the Marquis, is engaged. To whom, I do not know. But what can be said of this news is that I will never have the opportunity to be considered a prospect as his future wife. Though I know that I am not of nobility and the woman he is engaged to very well must be, I still engaged in flights of fancy that may have been possible. Ever since we played as children, he has held my heart. Now, however, that possibility is gone. I shall not sleep well this night, knowing this. I shall be in a state of mourning for some time and do not know what I shall do with all of these feelings, except write them down here and hope that it will grant me some relief.

Chapter Three

“Oh,sister, you look absolutely beautiful—come sit, so I can do your hair,” Emma said to Matilda.

Matilda walked into Emma’s room wearing a soft, cream-coloured silk gown adorned with strips of lace on the bodice, right along the plunging neckline. The lace then fell from the empire waist down the front of the dress until they reached the bottom hem. Matilda indeed loved this dress, for it made her feel very delicate and refined, while Emma, on the other hand, had an extravagant blue dress that matched her eyes. Along the low, plunging neckline was beautiful and decorative beadwork that moved down to the hem of the bodice and then down the front in long strands, which moved slightly when she walked. This was a dress begging for attention, while Matilda preferred to be lost in the crowd—she did not like the stares of strangers on her.

“I think these strips of lace will do nicely in your hair, don’t you agree?” Emma held up the lace.

“Yes, indeed, I do. But you don’t have to do it, allow Sarah to,” Matilda said, looking at their housemaid Sarah, who helped them lace up their corsets and pulled their dresses over their heads. She often did their hair.

“Oh, all right, don’t make such a fuss. I enjoy doing your hair, I will help Sarah,” Emma winked at her servant. Sara smiled and started to put the ringlets of Matilda’s dark hair up against her head, weaving in strips of lace as they went.

“Do you think I should do the same with the beads of ribbon for my own hair? I think a few dangling at the edge would be quite fine,” Emma suggested.

“Oh, yes, so much so that they move when you dance, for you will have many enquiries for your hand,” Matilda advised.

“As so shall you, sister. Yes, we shall both have such a pleasant time. Indeed, I am very excited, for Katrina has told me that there are new men entering society, for the mild weather has brought in many from country estates that would normally not come to London at such a time. Therefore, maybe we shall meet some new ineligible acquaintances.”

“As well as avoid those that we do not wish to converse with,” Matilda added, looking at her sister.

They both laughed and said entirely in synchronicity, “The Earl of Holbrook,Mr George Mason!”

Then, they erupted into laughter.

“What a vile man. You know, at the last assembly, he put his hand on my lower back in the most familiar manner—it was quite shocking. I am only fortunate that no one saw,” Emma said.

“And do not let Mother and Father hear you say that, for he is an aristocrat, and they would have the Earl proposing to you by the end of the night,” Matilda replied.

“True, sister. That is a dire warning indeed. Let us not speak of the Earl again, so as not to give our dear mother and father the notion at all. The man is invisible, as far as I’m concerned.”

“What in heavens is taking such time?We should be in the carriage already.” Mrs Ayles stormed into the room.

“Oh,Mama, you look very fine indeed.” Emma smiled as she looked at their mother, who wore a dark, wine-colored gown adorned with black lace. A fine compilation of black feathers and beads decorated her hairdo.

“Yes,Mother, you look lovely. I believe you put your daughters to shame,”added Matilda.

“Yes, yes, keep your flattery for the men that you will ensnare to marriage. Your father is quite beside himself waiting in the foyer, with, I daresay, a second glass of brandy. If you do not hurry, he will have a third and embarrass us all when we arrive. It is quite the journey from Hampstead to St James’ Court, and we must be on our way.”

“We are almost finished here. We only need to apply our gloves and cloaks, and we are joining you downstairs straight away,” Matilda told her.

“Make haste, girls, make haste,” Mrs Ayles warned, moving out the door.

Matilda looked at Emma, and they both giggled again. For both of them were in high spirits, and it was only the beginning of the evening.

In the carriage, the party was very excitable indeed for the thirty-minute journey from Hampstead South to the borough of St James’ Court. St James’ Court was a very distinguished borough because of its proximity to Kensington Palace and the royal residences of St James Palace, but a stone’s throw away. It was the residence of many families of aristocracy, those directly related to the royal family of London, King George and his son, the Prince Regent.

Because of this, Matilda was more nervous than usual when arriving at a ball. This was a ball of nobility, which meant it was likely the Marquis would be in attendance, not to mention the judgments of high society, which could be very cruel to someone as plain as she from a family without a title.

As if sensing her nervousness, Emma reached out and squeezed Matilda’s hand, and Matilda was glad for the knowing look that her sister offered.

“Do not leave my side, Emma—that is, when you are not dancing—for I am very nervous indeed.”

“Well, child, she cannot attend to you all night, she is not your governess. I expect both of you to mingle and talk to as many gentlemen as possible. Your father has agreed to help make introductions as necessary, have you not, sir?” Mrs Ayles put in.

All turned and looked to MrAyles, sitting beside his wife. He was a genteel gentleman, fairly quiet and enjoyed his solitude, even though that sort of demeanour did not lend itself well to being well known in society. His gray hair moved down his sideburns, and up under his felt beaver hat. He was dressed in a black tailcoat, with a white waistcoat and cravat to match.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say dear,”he said agreeably.

Matilda and Emma smiled to each other, knowing it was quite a thing of annoyance for their father to have to attend such things, but they also knew that he wished for his daughters to find good matches, considering they had not had the good fortune of having a son. Indeed, after Matilda was born, the doctor had warned Mrs Ayles that it had been a very difficult birth and that she should not risk having another child, for it could be a deadly decision. Therefore, they did not try for a son—something that always had Matilda feeling quite guilty.

“Oh, look, we have arrived,” Mrs Ayles announced excitedly, looking toward the window. They were approaching a long line of carriages on the cobblestone streets of St James’ Court. They would have to wait their turn until their own carriage pulled up in front of the stately home. It did not take long at all, and in no time there was a footman opening the door to their carriage and unlocking the steps.

Mr Ayles exited the carriage first, and extended his hand to help his wife and his daughters descend onto the sidewalk.

“Is it not a grand prospect?” Matilda whispered to Emma, feeling inadequate with the fine building standing in front of them. It was a great stone building done in the Georgian style, and it seemed to sprawl the entire block in both directions. There were many ladies and gentlemen on the broad steps leading up to the doorway, mingling as they made their way to enter the grand home.

“Yes, very fine, indeed. I am quite excited. I can hear the music, can you not?” Emma said, and Matilda noticed the sound of the string music coming from inside.

Stepping into the grand foyer of the home, Matilda thought the home was well decorated for the height of the London season, with early spring bloom garlands abound hung from the staircase and from the walls, careful not to intrude on the grandeur of the rich tapestries.

She smiled at Emma as she inhaled the wonderful scent of the flowers and the girls followed their parents as they lined up to greet the hosting family, the Wintons.

“Lord and Lady Winton, it is a pleasure to be invited to such an event, we thank you kindly,” Mr Ayles said. Mrs Ayles, Matilda, and Emma, offered a curtsy to the Lord and Lady, as well as to their children lined up beside them, the eldest of which was barely fourteen years of age.

When all introductions were made, the Ayles family moved from the foyer toward the reception rooms and the grand ballroom. The most well-known families of the ton were in attendance, and Matilda had never seen such extravagance at a ball. Indeed, there were the finest fabrics adorning the ladies and gentlemen, and she felt overwhelmed by just how many people were milling about—and the evening had yet to officially start. Many people had yet to arrive and others were in line outside in carriages,awaiting their turn to get in.

“Mr Ayles,” Mr James said, walking over with his family—his wife, Mrs James; his daughter, Katrina James, who was a dear close friend to Emma; and their sons Taylor and Peter, along with their wives. But alongside them was a gentleman that Matilda had never seen before—a very tall and handsome gentleman.

“Mr James, a pleasure as always,” Mr Ayles said, shaking his hand.

“Good evening to you all,” Mrs Ayles put in with a curtsy that Matilda and Emma both repeated. Katrina moved in front of Emma, taking her hands with a nod at Matilda.

“Mr Ayles, may I introduce a gentleman that I have recently had business dealings with, Mr Thomas Kent,”Mr James said, introducing the Ayles family to the tall, handsome gentleman. Matilda noticed immediately that this Mr Kent smiled with a bow at Mr and Mrs Ayles, but then his gaze fell quickly on Emma.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir, and your lovely family,”Mr Kent said.

“Mr Kent, I’m obliged to you, I am sure. May I introduce my wife, and my two daughters Matilda and Emma Ayles?” Mr Ayles gestured to each woman in turn.

“A great pleasure to meet all of you, and if Miss Ayles isn’t already engaged, I wondered if I might ask for your hand in the first dance?”Mr Kent turned to Emma.

“I thank you, sir, I am not engaged,” Emma responded with a smile.

“Excellent, excellent.”

A pause took hold over the group as a moment of awkwardness abounded at how the two exchanged such radiant smiles. Indeed, everyone felt as though they were intruding on a private moment between Emma and Mr Kent. Sensing such a thing, Mr James cleared his throat.

“Well, what say you of this ball, Ayles?” He directed his question directly at Mr Ayles.

“Quite extravagant indeed and very loud,” Mr Ayles responded.

Mrs Ayles took it upon herself to speak directly with Mrs James, allowing the other people of the party to engage in conversation.

“Katrina, so lovely to see you,” Matilda said to her sister’s friend, who stood beside Mr Kent.

“And you, Matilda. It has been too long since I have come to your home to visit with you all. These rains have been merciless, have they not?”

“Yes, quite indeed,” Matilda agreed, making small talk with Katrina as her eyes glanced over to her sister and Mr Kent, standing beside them. They said nothing to each other, but their smiles were telling.

“Mr Kent is here from Cornwall,” Katrina explained to Emma and Matilda.

“Yes, I am indeed,” he confirmed.

“Come, let us to some refreshment before the dancing starts,” Mr James interrupted the conversation, taking Katrina and Mr Kent with him.

The James family and Mr Kent left the Ayles family to continue mingling about the reception room. Emma looked at Matilda and squeeze her hand.

“What a fine gentleman, was he not?” Emma said.

“Yes, quite handsome. Though I am distressed that you will leave my side for the first dance,” Matilda admitted.

“Do not worry, for I am sure that your hand will be asked for by the second dance, if not sooner. You look very agreeable this evening,” Emma reassured her sister.

But Matilda was no longer listening, as her heart dropped to her knees. A tremble took hold of her and before she had hold of her tongue, she blurted out to her sister, “Look, look there. It is the Marquis. Do you think the woman at his side is his new fiancée?” Matilda gushed. Henry Montague had caught her eye as he stepped into the reception room. Her heart was all aflutter, and she began to feel the heat of the room. The woman at his side was very pretty indeed, and seemed quite regal. She must be a person of nobility, Matilda decided—with her fine gown, straight posture, and porcelain skin, there was no question to her aristocracy.

“Oh, yes, so that is the Marquis. No, I do not know who the woman is at his side, though I dare say it must be his fiancée. She is quite a lovely thing, and they do seem to be exchanging whispers and smiles, do they not?” Emma replied. “She will make a fine marchioness and a fine duchess, once he inherits his father’s title.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Matilda whispered. Her spirits had plummeted, for seeing Henry looking as fine as he did it was hard for her, but then seeing him with his fiancée on his arm was much harder. Still, she could not stop marvelling at how handsome he was. His dark hair was polished, but still unruly as a lock fell over his brow. He wore a light grey-coloured waistcoat underneath a regal dark navy-blue tailcoat, beige pantaloons, and a cream-coloured cravat. His dark eyes were framed by long, dark lashes, and his square jaw gave him the appearance of a very strong man, not to mention his broad shoulders.

“Matilda, I do believe that you are staring,” Emma teased,drawing Matilda out of her gaze at the Marquis.

“Heavens, you are right. I feel foolish. Shall we get some refreshment before the dancing begins?” Matilda responded,wanting to getaway from being in sight of the Marquis.

“Yes, let’s get refreshment and let us mingle, as well.” Emma quickly reported their activity to their parents and then they were off, walking around the reception room to take refreshment from a servant who held a silver tray with port.

“Look, Matilda, is that not the Duke of Croydon?” Emma asked her as they moved through the crowd.

“I am not sure,” Matilda replied.

“I believe it is. Such nobility in attendance,” Emma commented.

When Matilda looked around, she saw that Emma was correct. The Baron Greystone was present for the ball, along with his family. The Earl of Manchester and his family were also in attendance,as well as the Viscount of York. There were families with titles everywhere they turned, and Matilda wondered how there was room for families such as hers to be there, too.

“Let’s continue in this direction, for I do find all of these flowers quite pleasant,” Matilda suggested,urging her sister toward the edges of the room simply to escape feeling overwhelmed.

Emma laughed. “Such fine clothing and people and leave it to you to want to give all your attention to the flowers.”

“I like what I like, I suppose.” Matilda joined her in laughter.

As they moved to the edge of the reception hall, Emma was right, for it was not long before another family acquaintance was introducing a few more gentlemen to the young ladies who then asked for their hand in a dance. Mr Roberts asked for Matilda’s hand in the first dance and she was glad for it, for he was an old family acquaintance. He would not make her nervous, as she had danced with him plenty of times before at other occasions.

By the time the music began, Emma and Matilda had several dance partners waiting to partake in the amusement with them on the dance floor, yet Matilda could not keep her eyes off the Marquis every time she came into the area where he stood. Though he was too far away for her to hear him, she could see him everywhere.

Matilda danced with Mr Roberts, and then for the third dance with Mr Travis Mynes, and on and on—her dance card was quite full, as they say. Still,none of the men sparked any interest in her heart, except for polite conversations.

The evening continued on, and every now and then Matilda would find a moment to rest at her mother and father’s side before being asked yet again for a dance. She dared not say no, for her parents would surely scold her.

After Matilda had filled her responsibilities to those she had promised dances to, she felt overwhelmed and overheated. She stepped out onto the veranda off of the back reception room that overlooked the gardens to take a breath of air. But in truth, it was so that she could come to terms with how startled it was for her to finally see Henry Montague again, for he had become something of a myth to her and her diary.

“He has a fiancée, Matilda, do not worry your heart of him any longer. He can never be yours. You must enjoy yourself tonight, no matter how torturous it is. Just get through the night, just get through the night, just get through the night…” she repeated to herself over and over, trying to convince herself that she could forget about the man who had taken up so much space in her heart for so many years by just talking him away from her mind. A notion easier said than done.

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“The Secret Diary of a Magnificent Lady” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Matilda Ayles is not a woman of nobility, but her heart has always beaten for a charming Marquess ever since she was a child. But when she suddenly finds out the striking news that her childhood sweetheart is engaged to another, her hopes dissolve and her heart is torn apart. Is there anything left to let her believe that the door to his heart might one day be open again, or has she lost him forever?

Henry Montague is under a lot of pressure to marry a woman of his father’s choosing. When a dear friend approaches him with an unusual request, he decides that they have no other option than scheming together . But as their false betrothal is celebrated among their ignorant families, he finds himself enraptured by a woman he meets by chance. Will he find a way to court the fascinating lady who has stolen his heart, even though he is engaged to another?

Matilda’s diary holds all her secrets, and when it falls into the hands of Henry, she wants nothing more than to run away. Will having all her secrets exposed to Henry cause more chaos in her life, or will it offer her a way to achieve what her heart deeply wants?

“The Secret Diary of a Magnificent Lady” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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