Sarah Jane was ecstatic days before the event, but as nightfall came day after day, a fretful alarm grew in her belly. She didn't belong here, and all she wanted to do was to fit in—finally be a lady.

A thought haunted her. What if she was never meant to be presented to the ton, to take her rightful place in society? What if they just found her a touch too odd?

She had transformed into someone she could not recognize, and although she felt uncomfortable to her toes, both Lady Killsworth and Lady Huntington assured her that her transformation would shock and delight Lord Killsworth. The ton would be appeased, and everything would be set into rights.

Night after night, she told herself to be still while waiting to succumb to sleep. Sarah Jane had filled her mind with images of a loving husband, young children shouting about, and a home where she comfortably rested. And night after night, she had found herself to be longing for the companionship more, feeling more alone in London than she ever was when she moved from place to place.

Mathilda had kept her company, but she longed for someone to hold her while she told him of her fears, of her dreams.

Deep into the night, as her mind finally went at ease, her nerves settling into the mattress and her body burrowing in the covers, she dreamt of her place. She dreamt of never having to move away and dreamt of kissing a handsome stranger into the dead of the night. She would murmur his name, beckoning him to collect her in a lover's embrace. But every time her lips parted, only one name came out.

Anthony.

His name had come out hoarsely, startling her in her dreams and she stirred in the bed, changing her position until she drifted to sleep once again. Her memory of having said his name lost in the sea of dreams and completely erased at the break of dawn.

Finally, they have reached the day of her debut.

Tonight, she would be presented to the ton, and they would have to like her, because... well because she could not afford to be anything but optimistic.

From the moment she stood from bed, her heartbeat did not stop its nervous rhythm—blood pulsating underneath her skin, small beads of sweat dotting her arms and forehead even as she dressed herself in elegance.

Her silken gloves clung to her sticky skin, and she longed for another bath.

As the carriage settled Lady Sarah Jane with Lady Killsworth inside its coach, she watched Anthony climb and choose a seat beside his mother. She was staring at him, but her mind began to wonder at the crush awaiting them. She prayed that she won't embarrass herself in front of all the gentlemen she would be meeting tonight.

After all, one of them would likely be her husband.

"Will you still be moving back to your bachelor's lodgings?" Lady Killsworth inquired as they were in Anthony's crested carriage.

"It seems like the proper thing to do, but I am thinking about it. Our finances are needed elsewhere," he said shortly after the footman closed the door.

He watched Sarah Jane play with the reticule in her prettily gloved hands. "You look lovely, my lady." He said with a cheery smile.

But Sarah Jane didn't appear to hear him. Her thoughts had already formed a long list of all the possible things that might go wrong tonight.

Her fingers twisted in her lap, crumpling the skirts of her expensive gown, which had been most lovely in white satin, bearing hints of cream and sage ribbons adorning the bottom of the hemline. The scallops and frills were very much in style, but she felt as if she should have been in a different dress, something heavier to cover herself in protection.

Anthony cleared his throat. She looked at him in surprise.

"I said, you look quite lovely tonight, my lady." He repeated himself.

It was dark and she couldn't see if he meant it or if he was teasing her. His face usually gave him away.

"Beg pardon, and thank you, my lord," she said, as practiced.

Her fingers were clothed in white satin that traveled up from her arms to her elbows. There was only a tiny part of flesh seen under the sleeve, and even that would be covered up by the excessively long flowered shawl that came with the gown. She ought to thank the heavens for having a cool night.

They reached Lady Huntington's manor in only little time. They were early, but the carriages had already begun building up in the opening lane.

The door of the carriage swung open, and Anthony hopped down, helping his mother down, then Lady Sarah Jane. "You will do fine," he whispered once Sarah Jane stepped firmly on the ground.

"Yes, you shall. Just remember to keep a smiling face, a graceful walk, and your opinions to yourself," Lady Killsworth intoned before they handed their cards to the footman.

She kept a pleasant smile on her face as they entered the large house.

Husband, husband, husband.

That was the reason for this torture. She consoled herself with the picture of a husband, so handsome that angels floated around him. She pictured cherub-faced little thick-necked children running around fields, calling her mama. Her genuine smile couldn't come soon enough.

"The Viscount Killsworth, Viscountess Killsworth, and Lady Sarah Jane Riverton." The announcement was made, and a few old ladies who were sitting by the entrance hall acknowledged them with a nod.

There wasn't even any music. This hardly constitutes as a grand entrance.

Sarah Jane quickly curtsied upon seeing Lady Huntington approaching.

"The announcement was made too early." The old lady said with a scowl. "You will be introduced again." She pushed all of them non-too-gently towards a secondary parlor that had large French doors exiting to the ballroom.

And behind the curtains was the grand entrance she was promised.

The parlor situated itself securely behind a dark purple curtain in velvet, its golden ropes hanging loosely as it shielded them from the gathering crowd. Settees and chaises adorned with soft textiles carefully embroidered and brocaded with gold flowers surrounded the parlor, inviting her to relish the little amount of solace before the grand reveal.

While Lady Killsworth and Lady Huntington discussed the number of titled peers attending the party, Anthony and Sarah Jane sat primly on the covered couches while a maid offered them a silver tray of freshly poured lemonade. However, the chill in the air wasn't particularly inviting her to take the refreshments.

She stared at the light mist forming at the corners of the windows as she felt her palms moistening again. Why was she so nervous? It wasn't like she hadn't prepared. On the contrary, she was extremely prepared.

Well, probably a bit too prepared, except for the names. Names of whom she should have memorized. But they would all be introducing themselves to her later anyway so this did not signify, really.

Her hands began to shake. Sarah Jane found herself to be in a terrible mood.

Her eyes slowly shifted to the side, feeling Anthony's heated gaze bearing down on her. "Will you stop staring," she whispered harshly, then raised her chin. "It is highly impolite."

Crossing his legs with a chuckle, he said, "I say, Sarah Jane. I don't think I know you." All white teeth smiling through the rim of the glass he recently purchased from the silver tray.

It was quite a common London evening in his opinion, and his throat was parched from the quiet simmering heat in the room.

"Stop using my given name, my lord," she said again, tilting her chin even higher. Casting her eyes downward to the slouched viscount beside her, she stretched her neck even further. "I'm supposed to have never given you leave."

He leaned in conspiratorially. "As I do remember most of the conversations I partake in," he paused then smiled, and teasingly whispered, "my dear, dear, Sarah Jane." She was aware that the last part was added just to irk her further.

"I know you have done so. There is no 'supposed to have never' about it." He examined the glass purposefully, noting the frosted etchings on the glass, and then took a large sip, cooling his throat and leaning away to a respectable distance.

"I'm not supposed to know you."

"But you do. Very well, in fact."

"No."

"My dear, dear, Sarah Jane—"

"Stop that!"

Anthony stopped, chuckling at the ill-humored girl beside her. Any other given day, she would have sparred with him with a smile, giving him a mouthful before he had a chance to finish his glass.

He leaned in, raising his brows jauntily. "No one will hear us here."

Sarah Jane tilted her chin, rolling her eyes, thoroughly annoyed with him.

"Ah, but if you keep stretching your neck, people might mistake you for a bird, my lady." He grinned at her affronted expression and relaxed back in his seat.

The two matronly ladies walked towards a very eligible gentleman standing by the hall. Talking animatedly with him, they started to point to her direction, trying to be as discreet as possible although failing miserably. The gentleman followed Lady Huntington's fingers and offered Sarah Jane an encouraging and polite smile.

Sarah Jane removed her eyes from the two ladies and the gentleman, and brought her head down, scowling at the thought of the insufferable man beside her.

"Can you stop teasing, please? I am overwrought."

This seemed to get his attention. He returned the glass to the tray, leaning forward as his elbows touched his knees.

"What is wrong?"

Sarah Jane pulled the shawl tighter around her and licked her lips. "I am cold. It is exceptionally chilly."

Anthony raised one brow; he rather thought that it was a perfectly temperate night—the right amount of chill in the air, mingled with the heat from the warm bodies in the room.

He also rather thought that she was lying.

Mathilda had mentioned to him that Sarah Jane had been easy to annoy these past few days. Was there something amiss? He had been so busy that he never had the time to ask after her ever since that intimate breakfast they shared.

He knew that being presented to the ton may prove to be a nerve-wracking experience as he did have a debuting sister once, but it would do her no good pretending that she was well when it certainly wasn't so.

"What is wrong," he repeated, unsure how else to coax an answer from her.

She cast him a sideways glance, clutching her skirts tightly in balled fists. "Nothing is wrong. I just want you to keep quiet."

"Well if you sit and pretend, then you will not feel any better."

Her jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

It was why she was in a foul mood. She had to be this some other person that Lady Killsworth and Lady Huntington painstakingly instilled in her that she could never be comfortable talking to these people. There were so many rules, so many things that she could not do, and the thought of her blundering made her want to be swallowed in the river Thames.

"You are nervous, and if you just admit that you are, then that is only the time I can help you."

She pulled the shawl even tighter and secured it in place by crossing her arms. "I truly am cold. How dare you say I pretend? I don't pretend anything."

Except all the formalities had all been pretentions.

She had been pretending to no end and she has gotten quite annoyed by it all. He was so close to the truth, so close at discovering her inner fears, of the sham that she was that she could not bear to be in his sight any longer.

"What help are you? You should stop teasing and leave me alone."

And there was a lie again. Something foreign began spreading in his chest, and before Anthony could check himself—

"Well, I shall leave you be," he spat as he rose, flipping the tail of his coat as turned his back on her.

Anthony carefully adjusted his cravat and pulled his coat tightly across his chest. He cast Sarah Jane a backward glance, giving her a view of his furrowed brows and pressed mouth before he walked out of the parlor.

An awful feeling crawled up her toes.

She had insulted him because she was in a sour mood, a sour mood in which he had no part in the reason for its existence. She ought to apologize to him, but her pride was keeping her in place. Besides...

"I say, where did that boy go?" Lady Huntington harrumphed and thumped her cane towards the empty part of the couch that Anthony had vacated, leaving her thought unfinished.

Undisturbed, Lady Killsworth moved her shoulders in an indistinct manner. "I haven't the faintest idea."

Sarah Jane had an inward battle with her conscience for about half an hour, and by the time she decided that she really ought to apologize to Anthony for her untoward behavior, there were already a lot of people buzzing about the ballroom behind the purple curtain.

She was a beast, and he didn't deserve it.

She stood so quickly that she almost lost her balance. Barely a step out of the carpeted floor, Lady Huntington speared her golden capped cane, holding its edge to block her way.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" She intoned, sounding as if there was no hope of winning an argument with her tonight.

Sarah Jane looked lost. "I... ah—well, that is to say..."

"Speak up! How will the gentlemen know of your wit if you got your tongue twisted in your mouth?" Her eyes wandered towards the commotion from behind the curtains.

Sarah Jane moved an inch for escape, the rod swung higher.

"Ah, ah, ah! Sit down!" Lady Huntington firmly commanded before putting the cane back on the floor to help herself on her footing.

She moved to the curtains and peeked at the orchestra, waiting until the conductor noticed her. And then, two of her fingers were up in the air, calling a footman to her side.

"Tell them to begin," she ordered and speared the frozen Sarah Jane a look that said, Well? Are you going to move?

Sarah Jane immediately took gingerly steps towards the elderly lady and linked arms with Lady Killsworth. The pretty matron tapped her shoulders twice and tipped her chin up.

"Remember what I taught you," she reminded softly before plastering a sweet contented smile on her face.

The crowd hushed and the orchestra began playing the soft beginnings of a sonata. A man cleared his throat and announced the presence of Lady Huntington. A few seconds later, two footmen materialized from nowhere and pulled the curtains open.

Sarah Jane fixed a sweet smile, as she recited the husband, thick-necked children mantra in her head. She surveyed the big room of people in grand clothes, and she swallowed with a smile. She begged the One above to not let anyone notice that sweat was beading on her forehead.

Lady Huntington was saying something about how Sarah Jane was from the country hailing from an Earldom of a certain Lord Rosenberg, and that she was, in fact, a far, far relation of the Killsworth name.

Sarah Jane was slowly losing track of Lady Huntington's words, her mind had a distinct buzzing sound, and the only thing that kept her in that ballroom was the rasp in Lady Huntington's voice when she started to say that in her old age, pets and pretty projects were a blessing.

And then her eyes settled on Anthony, looking achingly handsome under lowly lit candelabra. His skin glowed under the light, his hair groomed formally and his face cleanly shaved to perfection, yet showed a shadow of the beard that once was.

He was too far away, but she could feel his cobalt blue assessing her, taking her appearance, watching her scrupulously.

It was the damnest thing because even as she undoubtedly knew how furious he was with her, his gaze and attention could only be interpreted as support.

It melted her heart.

It made her feel even worse for what she did.

Lady Killsworth started speaking and Sarah Jane could only hear words without forming meaning. Her eyes moved towards the other people—anyone—just away from Anthony's gaze.

And then there was an elbow digging on her side, she looked at the two ladies and they were both staring at her.

It seems like everyone has been taking to staring at her tonight.

"Good evening members of the ton," she said with the right amount of pride and the right amount of sweetness as practiced. She then dropped to a curtsy, and they all proceeded to descend from the elevated platform.

They were all still looking at her, some more than others. But the others who weren't looking only pretended as they cataloged every information that can be deduced from her, forming remarkable opinions of her character before even having one word of conversation with her.

They spoke in hush tones, and she couldn't understand a word they were saying. She smiled and acknowledged everyone who introduced themselves.

They exchanged a few words here and there. Talked about the weather, the lemonade, and the countryside where animals roamed freely.

Sarah Jane was starting to enjoy herself, tension leaving her body as she was already beginning to make friends with some girls her age who were also wearing white and cream in slightly different designs and adornments. It wasn't so bad, she mused, most of them were friendly though a little dim of spark.

And then there was a very loud collective gasp.

The crowd nearest the French doors towards the entrance hallway had turned to see who was entering. Sarah Jane could recall the butler announcing someone but she hadn't been listening intently on who it was. The ton looked very interested to know, and so was she.

And there she saw the most beautiful woman who walked on earth.

Her hair, a buttery gold that complemented skin as pale as snow highlighted an awe-inspiring youthful glow and pinkened cheeks under the candlelight. Her eyes, even as far as Sarah Jane was, could be seen to be as the very striking color of blue, lined with thick lashes that framed it so delicately she would wager they were combed. Her mouth hinted a smile, a pink glossy rosebud mouth that allowed people to believe that she spoke no wrong, no ill.

And then she moved.

The lady didn't even walk, she floated.

Everyone had moved closer, not forcibly so, but they were all drawn to her.

Sarah Jane was still a few steps from the elevated platform, as far from the entrance as she would ever be. And there she remained to be, unmistakably forgotten as if yesterday's news.

——-
A/N: Ah, envy, such a bitter twin sister of defeat. In the next chapter I will try to explore how an unlearned teenage-thinking (but already 21) would deal with envy. I remember not recognizing the emotion in my early teen years and would result to bitter backstabbing, angry lashing, and pity-party crying. Not one of my proudest moments, I can tell you that, but am only human and we humans are quite fragile things really.

Thank you for reading my work. It always gives me pleasure to find new readers and meet them or talk to them! I've spent hours dreaming of this story, hours researching so that it would be historically accurate, and hours writing it to the best of my abilities. Comments are highly appreciated so that I can improve further. If you've enjoyed yourself reading this, kindly consider giving it a vote so that it bumps up Wattpad's algorithm :) Thank you!!