CHAPTER 2
PART 2 - Evedon Manor, Mayfair, London
Edward Bellamy, Duke of Sussex, had arrived at Evedon Manor with the hope of finding himself a wife this year. He'd had little interest during the previous few seasons, always dipping his toe in at the balls and parties to see if anyone piqued his intrigue, but no one ever caught his attention. Sure there were lots of girls who were pretty enough, maybe even amusing enough for a night or two, but no one ever moved him enough to want to marry any of them.
He'd become somewhat bored of the ladies of the ton, especially now coming across the more desperate ones and their Mothers after being around for the past few years, the ones throwing themselves at any Lord or man of worth after receiving no proposals the previous year, or heaven forbid the year before that; for he knew there were some ladies out for their second or third year in society, trying to bag themselves a husband before they were eventually married off to some plump old aristocrat, who'd surely have a heart attack the moment he got inside the poor young lady's cunt.
He hadn't told anyone of his intentions to marry, he did not need the terrifying Mothers pushing their daughters upon him, dragging him off to listen to them play the piano forté off key over weak tea, and ramble on about embroidery and such. Christ, they were fucking dull! And he certainly didn't need his friends asking questions, making jokes, possibly even getting in the way of his plans to find a suitable wife to make future heirs with; because he chose to spend his time with a group of lust addled, hedonistic boozehounds who would surely see his plan to marry as a jape, or an excuse to embarrass him. No, he'd keep it to himself, for now.
"Ready for another round of fresh debutantes, Bellamy?"
Adam Cleaver was Edward's best friend of twenty years; meeting when they were only children of four after their fathers became friends at the Gentleman's Club they themselves now frequented as men. Lord Duke James Bellamy and Lord Earl Robert Cleaver were firm friends and avid hunting partners until James had died five years previous of a long fever, making Edward the Duke at the young age of nineteen.
Edward and Adam even shared the same birthday, having been born only hours apart. Adam was one of the only people Edward could trust after his father died, that and his sister, but he rarely saw her these days, what with her living in the country with a family of her own.
"What has you so excited this year, as if it will be anymore eventful than the last parade of dull chits?"
"Oh I don't know, brother," Adam mused, "I think I grow weary of fucking wenches and maids. Besides, I've spotted some serious talent here today. Who knows, my friend? Maybe even I will be tempted into marriage this season!"
Edward laughed heartily and patted his friend on the back as he walked alongside him into the hall, knowing Adam as only somewhat of an unruly rake who lived for drink and debauchery, his favourite thing of all being a good fuck; something these delicate young ladies had no clue about yet, the poor things! Marrying a cad like Adam would traumatise them for sure.
"Well Cleaver, tonight may have just gotten a bit more interesting then, especially as pigs will now surely fly as hell freezes over."
The ballroom was filling up; a grand, old hall with high walls painted a deep navy blue, adorned with golden sconces and white flowers. Buffet tables lined the edges of the grand hall, covered with delicious hors d'oeuvres, colourful small square cakes, and numerous fruits and cheeses, surrounding a fountain of champagne alongside the lemonade table dotted with tiny crystal glasses, and large pitchers shaped like swans' wings.
Thousands of candles covered the chandeliers and sconces that overlooked the ballroom, the tiny flames glittering against the dark walls, casting shadows that danced along with the small orchestra, who were on a bandstand at the edge of the ballroom, surrounded by ivy leaves and more white flowers.
Margot walked into the hall on the arm of her brother after their Mother and Father, while her twin sisters followed closely behind. She stared up at the ceiling, and back around the room, drinking it in.
The girls were all in awe of it all; the music, the dancing, the gentlemen and ladies in their finery after having presented themselves to the ton earlier that day, and the myriad of balls and parties could now begin. A whole new world had finally been opened up to them, when during previous seasons they'd be rushed to bed as the older ones dressed up and attended the summer balls, leaving the girls home to entertain themselves. Margot was excited, she felt a fire in her belly, but at the same time it felt like it had been somehow filled with a hundred butterflies.
"It's beautiful," Amanda gasped, hooking her fingers onto George's shoulder from behind and leaning forward, "Are all they all as dazzling as this?"
"Pretty much," George scoffed, "but they just get more and more boring as the season goes on." Albert reached back and smacked his son on the back playfully.
"Do not listen to him, girls," Helena retorted, "I met your Father at a ball just like this, and it was the most magical night of my life." Albert gave his wife's waist a squeeze as he kissed her gently on the forehead.
"Look at my gorgeous family," she sighed proudly, "I wish Elizabeth were here too, I could burst into tears with pride!"
"Please don't," George retorted dryly, his mother tutting and rolling her eyes at him for spoiling the moment while Albert and the girls stifled a giggle. "Shall we do a round?" He asked brightly, clinging a little tighter to his sister's arm.
"Let's," Margot replied cheerfully as they began to walk the room.
"Welcome to the ton, sister," he muttered into her ear as she giggled and allowed him to lead her.
Edward was somewhat content, the champagne was flowing, the music entertaining, and a lot of the girls were pretty enough to look at and ponder for a short while. All in all it had been a decent night so far, but it was still early, and he yearned for some excitement.
Adam strode towards him alongside Jonathan Mason, second son to Baron Simon of Wiltshire, and they were looking somewhat pleased with themselves.
Jonathan Mason was another sickeningly rich rake disguising himself as a respectable, eligible bachelor to the rest of Noble London. His jet black hair, dark eyes, and sharp jawline had earned him adoration from the ladies of the ton. Fathers hated him for fear of him corrupting their daughters, for he had corrupted a few daughters already! Mothers were wary, but they were easy, for Jonathan was especially good at charming the mothers!
Adam Cleaver, with his blonde hair, sparkling sea blue eyes and dimples, had gained quite a female following of his own. His smile was enough to make a woman weak at the knees and he knew it all too well, often using it to his advantage when in the presence of a lady, or a bar maid, lady's maid, Gentleman's club escort. Whoever really; as long as she's pretty and has a tight wet cunt, was usually his standing.
