Yvette Hamilton laughed seductively as she favored the handsome, hazel-eyed gentleman before her with a smile. Her most charming smile. The smile that melted male hearts with ease and had more than one suitor declaring his undying love for her. She had perfected the maneuver over the years and had become quite skilled at using it. Well aware of its power, Yvette employed it sparingly and only when she wished to captivate a special someone.
Yvette was no longer wasting her time. She had a life-changing goal to meet before the end of the year. This was her third Season after all. She should be married by now or at the very least engaged to be married.
It wasn’t from a lack of offers. No. That was most definitely not the case. She had been the toast of her first Season and even her second. She had been swimming in proposals from fine young gentlemen from good families with excellent prospects, and even a few from those of questionable standing in society. She should have been satisfied with any of them.
But she was not.
No, Yvette aspired to something better.
Not content to settle for just any husband, she had her sights set on a far loftier goal. Determined to make the most brilliant match possible, only a duke would do for Yvette. And her goal was to be affianced to him by Christmas. That gave her only three more months.
She wasn’t bold enough to think she could snare a prince, even though two of Queen Victoria’s sons were still unmarried. But as luck would have it, earlier that summer she met Lord Shelley, the gentleman in front of her whom she now favored with her stunning smile. He had been traveling abroad for the past two years, and having just returned home, he was now in the market for a wife.
And Yvette would make the perfect wife for him.
One day he would inherit the title of Duke of Lands-down and Yvette intended to be his duchess. The competition for his attentions had been quite fierce all summer long, for a prize such as Lord Shelley was rare indeed, but as summer turned to fall, Yvette had emerged as his favorite.
“You are looking quite beautiful this evening, Miss Hamilton,” Lord Shelley said.
“So you’ve already told me.” She cast a flirtatious eye around the ballroom, as if she had tired of him, and fluttered her new lace fan. That had been her strategy with him from the start. Lord Shelley was a man used to having women fall at his feet. Yvette refused to be one of them.
He whispered to her, “That is because I can think of nothing else when I look at you.”
Yvette tallied his compliment to the growing list she kept in her head and felt a slight surge of victory. One by one, the other young ladies vying for his attentions all summer had fallen out of favor with him, leaving only Yvette and her greatest rival, Lady Louisa Fairmont, to battle it out. Yvette was positive that she would win him in the end.
She turned and stared into his knowing, hazel eyes. Fair-haired and charming, Lord Shelley was a good looking man. He had straight teeth and a well-proportioned nose. At thirty years old, he was of average height, but his title gave him the air of a much taller man.
“You are very kind, my lord.” She glanced away.
“May I get you some punch?” he asked.
“Oh, that would be lovely. Thank you.” Such a coup! He was fetching her some refreshment. He’d never offered to do that before. Inwardly she gloated a little.
“I shall return immediately.” Lord Shelley walked off toward the refreshment table.
As he left, her dearest friend, Lady Katherine Spencer, joined her. “So, how is your quest progressing?”
Yvette grinned, pleased with her evening’s endeavors. “I believe quite well, Kate, quite well.”
Her friend gave her a quizzical glance, her freckled face wrinkled with disgust. “I don’t understand why you wish to marry him so much. He’s a terrible bore. Let Lady Louisa have him.”
“He’s going to be a duke.” That settled the argument as far as Yvette was concerned.
Kate’s soft expression darkened a bit. “Still . . . he’s not romantic in the least. I don’t believe you’ll be happy with him.”
“I shall be quite happy being a duchess, I can assure you. It will make up for any supposed deficiencies in his character.” Yvette confirmed with a nod of her blond head. When she was a duchess her life would magically change for the better. She simply knew it.
“If I were you, I’d go after Lord Eddington,” Kate said in a voice full of longing. “He’s the most dashing gentleman I’ve ever met. You should try to marry him.”
Yvette laughed at the utter absurdity of such a prospect. “Lord Eddington? I could never marry him!”
“Why ever not? He’s devastatingly handsome, he’s rich, and he makes all the ladies swoon . . .”
“Putting aside the fact that he’s been like a brother to me, he’s . . . he’s . . .” Yvette struggled to find the proper words. Oh, Jeffrey Eddington was indeed all the things Kate had said. Yvette also knew him to be charming, funny, sweet, and unfailingly loyal. In fact he had grown quite dear to her. Even she had to admit that he had a special place in her heart. But as for marriage? It was completely out of the question.
“I know you used to be sweet on him, Yvette.”
Perhaps she had nursed a childish infatuation for Jeffrey years ago, but as a mature woman she had quite outgrown such silliness. “Well, I am not sweet on him any longer. Besides, he is not marriage material.”
“Because he’s a . . . a bastard?” Kate asked in a furtive whisper.
It was common knowledge that Lord Eddington was the illegitimate son of the Duke of Rathmore and a stage actress. Yvette wanted more for herself in life than that. “I can’t very well marry Lord Eddington if I wish to become a duchess, now can I?”
“Are you enjoying the ball, Yvette?”
At the sound of a very deep familiar voice, Yvette’s heart raced as she turned in his direction. There stood the subject of their gossip, Lord Jeffrey Eddington, and by the look on his face, he had heard everything she had just said.