Being a lady on the marriage market in England was a difficult task—especially when the available options were much older men or completely insufferable young men with no direction in life. I pitied the poor girls who would end up marrying those boys who had barely outgrown their nappies and were only there on the marriage market due to society’s pressure.

But the difference between me and those boys was that I didn’t want to get married either. And the similarity between us was that I also liked girls—I just hadn’t realized it yet. Usually, I only observed other young women from afar when visiting the dressmaker or attending some party or ball hosted by noble families.

That week, there had been a ball hosted by my own family. Father had handpicked the families who would attend, as in his words, certain members of society didn’t deserve to share the same space as us—either because they didn’t pay their debts, were gossips, or were simply dishonest and ignorant.

And in his words, neither of the two daughters my mother had brought into the world would ever marry the son of someone like that. While I agreed with Father, I constantly pushed my younger sister Julienne onto our mother, claiming she was already ready for marriage. Although I loved my sister, I mostly did it to avoid the burden of responsibility. Nearly six years had passed since my debut, and unlike the girls currently navigating the marriage market, I was no longer even a viable option at 23.

Most men avoided me, always seeking out the younger girls. In a way, I found it pleasant—not having to dodge the suitors my mother tried to push onto me. There was only one man I could tolerate in society: Lord Dominic Russel. But whenever we were together, our conversations never revolved around marriage or children like most couples. In truth, the two of us only pretended to court each other to maintain appearances, though it never went anywhere. We feigned conversations, staged fake outings, and at times, he would even confide in me about his secret encounters with other men.

Then came the day I met someone who, without my knowing, would stir my heart more than I thought possible. The daughter of my mother's friend arrived at our estate for tea, and she took my breath away. The young woman was stunning—like one of those paintings I had once admired at the museum. She had a beautifully curvy figure, gorgeous hair, and breathtaking eyes.

I stood up from my seat where I'd been hiding with a glass of whisky instead of tea, placing my cup back on the table. I saw the young woman approaching and gave a subtle nod before walking over to greet her properly.

"Lady Selene Duval, eldest daughter of the Duke. It's a great pleasure to meet you, my lady," I said, my voice laced with a slight French accent from my father's side. I knew I'd have to turn on a bit of charm if I hoped to befriend this lady, though something deep inside me whispered that friendship wasn't all I desired.