CHAPTER 1
PART 1 - Dalton House, Mayfair, London
Dalton House was one of the largest homes in Mayfair, nestled right in the heart of Grosvenor Square. On this particular morning, the house, along with every other home in the city housing a young, unmarried lady, was buzzing with excitement. Footmen were readying horses and carriages outside, while kitchen maids brought in milk and eggs from the milkman, and bread, flour and pastries from the local Baker. Florists combed the streets carrying corsages and floral arrangements for drawing rooms all over Mayfair.
Housekeepers from every house on the square were hurrying to and fro, running last minute errands for the Mothers of the Ton who were busy readying their daughters for the day ahead. In most people's' opinion, it was one of the most important days for any single young lady.
It was a seasonably warm June morning, the sun already beaming through the large, high windows at twenty past seven, rousing Margot from her broken sleep. She had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, wondering what was in store for her future, now she was of age. For today was the day that she, alongside her two sisters, were to be presented to the ton.
Margot was the youngest of five children. Her father, Lord Albert Pryor, Viscount of Cornwall, whose family lineage went back over two centuries, was one of the most respected men in England.
Albert doted on all four of his daughters. There was his eldest, Elizabeth, who had not long since celebrated her twenty first birthday, which also happened to be the second wedding anniversary to a Viscount of her very own, William Bennington III; a love match their mother still boasted about over two years on.
Margot's other sisters, twins Amelia and Amanda at the age of nineteen, had not yet been presented to the ton either. Last season the girls had spent the summer in Paris with their Grandmother, perfecting their French and spending warm evenings in her grounds, learning the Quadrille and Waltz so they too could land themselves only the crème de la crème of husbands as their elder sister did before them.
Their delay also meant all three remaining unmarried sisters could be presented together, as they had wished to be. Elizabeth had faced a pit of vipers after her debut two years prior; former friends she had grown up with turned to enemies after the handsome Viscount became smitten with her after the annual Silver Ball, only a week into the season. Jealousy should they face it, was not something the other sisters wished to face alone.
Then there was Margot.
Margot had grown into an alarmingly striking young woman, as had all of her sisters. The Dalton daughters were known beauties who all shared the same light golden hair and pale skin to match their Mother's. Many gentlemen had been charmed by them as they had grown into fine young women who were now ready for the marriage mart; much to the excitement of the young men of Mayfair!
Albert knew he would have no trouble wedding all four of his daughters; several friends and acquaintances often expressed their interests in their own sons taking one for a bride, not that he had actually said yes to any of them, for they were still his baby girls in his eyes. Accepting that even his youngest was now on her way to be married off was quite difficult to comprehend!
The eldest child and only son, George; was still unmarried at the age of twenty four, which was not uncommon for young titled men of London, however many young ladies would drown their own mothers to get a proposal from George Dalton!
He too shared his sisters' blonde hair but against chiselled features, and instead of his Mother's crystal blue eyes three of his sisters had inherited, he along with his youngest sister Margot had the vibrant green eyes of their Father, that shone bright like emeralds and revealed tiny flecks of gold when in the light; eyes that had made many a lady swoon. But much to his Mother's chagrin, he had not yet tied himself down to married life, and showed no current interest in the subject either.
Margot was startled by a loud sing songy voice that was getting gradually louder outside her bedroom. Dragging herself to sit upright, she stretched out her arms, lifting her face up to the thin beam of sunlight peeking through a gap in the curtain, smiling as she breathed slowly in through her nose. Her Mother's voice became clearer as she burst through her bedroom doors and threw open the curtains, still chattering all the while, followed by a flurry of maids who began to run a bath and hang Margot's dress and veil before getting her ready.
"Today is the day, my dear," Helena beamed, placing her hands on her daughter's cheeks as she sat on the bed beside her, gently pinching them, "are you excited?"
"Of course," she sighed sleepily, forcing a sweet smile back at her Mother.
Helena had hoped for love matches for all of her children, as it was the only way she herself knew, and she couldn't bear the idea of any of her beloved children settling for anything less than true love. She and her husband had raised their children well, and had prepared them as much as possible for marriage, even if some details were best left for the wedding day, there are some things a lady does not need to know until she absolutely has to!
"Won't she look lovely, Mrs Langley?" She grinned, springing back up from the bed and hurrying towards her Head Housekeeper, "You and your sisters will be the talk of the season, Margot I'm quite sure!" She stepped back to take another look at her youngest, and smiled at Mrs Langley, clasping her hand as tears filled her eyes.
"She surely will, Ma'am," Mrs Langley replied cheerfully, looking in agreement at the girl she'd helped raise for eighteen years, whilst giving Helena's hand a squeeze. She swiftly swept a tear from her own eye with the other hand, before Helena let go and hurried back towards Margot, not having yet left her bed.
"Darling, we have much to do! Up you get and into the bath," she chimed, "and be sure to eat some breakfast; Juliette and Rose will be back to dress you later." She gave her daughter a soft pat on the bottom as Margot jumped up and glided past her into the bathroom, rolling her eyes as she closed the doors behind her.
After submerging herself in a deliciously scented tub for a good thirty minutes, Margot was brought sharply back from her daydreams before being taken swiftly back into her room by her personal handmaids, Juliette and Rose, and sat down at her mirror where they proceeded to fuss around her, applying rouge to the apples of her cheeks, brushing her hair incessantly, then fixing it into a pile of soft waves fixed with small green gemstone pins, finished off with her veil, and an elegant, long white feather.
They left her dress until the end, a decadent river of creamy white satin that ended at her toes, the neckline and hem encrusted with tiny pearls and emerald gems that twinkled up close.
It was being given the final touches by Madame Levaux, one of London's finest Modistes, as her Mother hurried around with Mrs Langley and what seemed like an army of maids in and out of each daughter's room to finish dressing them for the Debutante Ball which was taking place just two days after Margot's 18th birthday, making her possibly the youngest debutante of the season this year.
"It is finished, my lady," Madame Leveaux sighed, her strong French accent hanging off her lips. She stepped back and clapped her hands, admiring her handiwork. "That is all three of you done!" Margot walked the few paces over to her mirror and sat down as gently as possible so as not to crinkle her dress, her mother would kill her for so much as a dimple in that silk today of all days! She was suddenly a little shocked at the woman looking back at her.
"Oh!" She gasped, staring at her reflection. She looked so grown up, like a proper lady, when inside she actually felt a bit like a frightened child.
"Perfection, no?" Madame Leveux purred, smiling as she grazed the girl's cheek with the back of her hand. "You are ready, cherié!" Margot smiled weakly back at her through the mirror, watching her sashay out of the room.
