Pulling off her gloves, Sophia saw that her palms had turned a soft pink. Oh, dear lord, she had slapped the man.

It was not as if he hadn't deserved it but...dear, dear lord, the things he made her feel!

Her entire frame quivered like a bow and her body still hummed like a sparrow's song. Every single cell in her body seemed aflame as they danced in delight. The blood rushed to her ears, galloping like rampant horses as she made her way back to the ball.

Alessandra accosted her on her way there, and Sophia let out a little scream, startled.

Taking in Sophia's disheveled state, Alessandra's dark red eyebrows shot up. "Sophia." Her lips curved into a wicked smile as if she knew exactly what Sophia had been up to. Sophia's blush first crept up her neck and then stained her cheeks. Her cousin did not miss much, especially her walk of embarrassment and shame.

Alessandra tugged at Sophia's dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, and patted down her hair. "You look as if you tumbled into a bed of a very delicious rake, if I may say so myself. If you have decided you were to have some scandal in life you might consider being discreet about it, oui? Make sure everything is right and proper."

Sophia blinked at her. "You are not going to chastise me for being irresponsible? For being naïve and childish? It is so...unlike me, is it not? Oh, do say something, cousin."

Alessandra smirked. "You are the motherly one between us. Not me. Besides, you know me, dear Sophia. I always love an opportunity to spit upon London's finest. They deserve to be humiliated once in a while when someone goes against their rules. Besides, any ruination would inadvertently affect my mother. I call that a double advantage."

"It would affect me as well." There was a desperate edge to Sophia's tone that made Alessandra purse her lips.

"Very true, but Sophia, you are no imbecile. I am sure you will be careful." Alessandra's eyes grew stern. "But I do see you want me to reprimand you since you don't seem to be able to do it yourself. Very well. Be careful. Jests aside, you cannot afford to tumble into utter ruination. Don't get caught if you decide to explore your inner passions."

"Your mouth is urging me to not do anything reckless, but I fear your underlying message is find your inner passions—which is exactly what my heart shouldn't be hearing. Alessandra, it isn't really helping," Sophia said, an unusual whine in her tone.

Sophia twisted her fingers together. What was she doing? Getting Alessandra to reprimand her because her own traitorous body would not listen to her own mind's reason? She was much more strong-willed than that.

Except now. Except when all you want to do is not be strong-willed, but rather pliant under Lord Herrick's hands.

Alessandra blew air through her mouth. "You know I am horrid at advice. You have always told me that your father has been a constant load on your back to get married as soon as possible. Do not risk angering him. I understand your will to be free. If I were in your position, I would wish the same. I cannot tell you to not do what you desire because you deserve to be happy and follow your heart. But I beseech you--be careful, all right. Follow your heart, but don't forsake yourself or your family."

She shook her head, her eyes gleaming like molten gold. "Now I am prattling. But I hope you understand. Be happy. Live, love, smile." Alessandra cupped Sophia's cheek tenderly.

"You sound like my mother." Tears automatically swum to Sophia's eyes and she shifted her head away. Every time she thought of her mother and how her father took her away, Sophia's heart would rage against her chest. He would pay one day.

Alessandra pulled her into a small embrace.

"Yes, Aunt Lillian would have said the same, if she were here. I truly wish she was here for you. My mother and I are not always on the best of terms, but having her beside me as I navigated society for my debutante period...it was supportive. Needed." She squeezed Sophia's hand.

"But I am here for you, all right? Always have been, always will. I know my mother never tried to help you with taking care of your siblings and did not let me either. I am sorry. I wish I could have done more."

"Thank you, Alessandra. You, being the one person, I could share my woes and troubles with—it was more than enough all these years. I would have gone mad without anyone to correspond with. I oft wish you could be with me forever, so I could lean upon you as if you were a staff. The very prop of my life."

Alessandria let out a throaty chuckle. "My husband would not be very happy to know some woman is stealing his 'forever' away from him." She placed a palm on Sophia's cheek, soothing her. She then linked it with Sophia's arm and pulled them both towards the chatter and music of the ball. "Come now, tell me about this mysterious man. Is it Lord Herrick?"

Sophia stopped in her tracks, raising her shocked eyes to Alessandra's. "Was it that apparent?"

Aleksandr shook her head, her red curls flying. "Nay. I just happened to notice you disappeared right after you danced with him."

"But...but if you have drawn that conclusion, many others will. Alessandra, what if it is too late? What if I am already ruined? Stupid, traitorous heart. I was so desperate—just flinging myself into his arms." Sophia's lower lip trembled. "What have I done? I thought nothing would happen. One night was all I asked for. I shouldn't. I shouldn't have."

Alessandra ran her palms down Sophia's arms. "Relax. That is why you were in the powder room with me. Your disappearance is accounted for, dear Sophia and it is not with Lord Herrick."

Sophia caught on. "Oh. Oh! Thank you, Alessandra. Why are you doing this? Is it not wrong for me to search for scandal? You should not encourage it."

Alessandra pursed her lips. "You truly don't know?"

Sophia shook her head and Alessandra huffed.

"Sophia, remember when we were children playing together and I said that love was a fantasy?" Sophia nodded and Alessandra continued, "Do you remember what you said in return?"

"No." Her breath caught in her throat.

"You said it was only a fantasy for those who didn't believe. And you said you believed it. You said you believed it with all your heart."

Sophia gulped, overcome with emotions and tears that threatened to spill out.

"I saw the way you looked at Lord Herrick and he at you. I think that is who you have always believed you will find, and for that, I am glad. You deserve it, Sophia."

Alessandra kissed Sophia's cheek. "You of all people deserve to know happiness in your future."

"How was your debutante ball, sweet sister?" Colette blinked up at Sophia, as they both sat on the well-worn sheets on Sophia's bed. Their feet were curled under them, their hair hanging down like ropes down their back—one gold, one black. It had been late into the night when her ball had finished and Sophia had returned home. Every bone in her body ached and all she wanted to do was sleep forever. But unfortunately, Colette being ever so curious, had woken her up just as the clock struck nine.

Sophia's eyes grew glassy in remembrance. "Oh, simply marvelous. Colette. The ball was like I had stepped into a pulsing heart, where magic fractured its very veins. The air had such an energy about it, like tinkling glass."

Colette licked her lips. "That sounds delightful."

"There was light everywhere good dripping off the table, the clothes, oh the clothes and the jewels!" Colette, it was...beautiful. Earth-shattering. And..." Sophia paused.

Should she tell Colette of her misstep? They, after all, shared everything, and it would be nice to share a pivotal moment of her life with her sister. It was only at this age of thirteen summers, that Colette finally grasped a sense of maturity and less impertinence.

And Sophia was bursting to deliver the details.

"And...?" Colette's blue eyes had grown wide with curiosity as she drowned in the drops of information her sister fed her. They suddenly brightened as a realization struck her. "Did you meet someone?"

Sophia gaped at her. "How...how?"

"Well, there was a story you once told me, where the princess was dreamy when she thought of the prince. Her lips were pink, and her cheeks stained with the same hue. You remind me of that image."

"A perceptive one like your cousin, are you?" Sophia let out a trembling breath. "Well, you are right on that count. I met someone, a prince of sorts."

"You did?" Colette grinned. "Is he to court you now?"

"He may not have that intention toward me-"

Her explanation was suddenly cut off by a large bellow from downstairs. It tumbled through the air and echoed throughout the house. "Sophia Victoria Brighton!"

The two sisters looked at each other, horror drawn on their lips. Their father was home.

-------

Sophia's dress pooled around her feet as she made her way downstairs. Her heart started up a frantic rhythm, as every second heightened her trepidation.

She stepped around the banisters of the stairs and froze.

Lord Darius Shaw.

He gave her a slow smile, his grey eyes glinting like the edge of an executer's ax. She gulped, her throat bobbing up and down. His hands, clad with white gloves that went well with his green attire, were crossed in front of him.

Sophia's father pushed himself off the chaise. Another man, with close-cropped, salt and pepper hair, followed suit.

"My lords." Sophia barely kept her voice from wavering. The windows were still shut, not letting any sunlight into the room. As shadows of the hall played with their features, it cast all of them in a wicked illuminance. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"My lady, that is no way to address your future husband. Darius, is more appropriate, is it not?" The grey-haired stranger spoke, a low rumble from his chest.

"I...hu...hu...husband?" Sophia had never stuttered in her life, but words failed her now. Her throat clogged up and her mouth went completely dry. The world spun on its axis and she had to contain herself from throwing the contents of her stomach out—not like there was much. The excitement of the night had previously culled the drowsiness from the wine she had ingested. However, now it seemed to hit her full force, even though she had rested. Her head throbbed.

Darius' eyes twinkled, two silver stars that spindled through her soul. "Indeed, my lady. Your father and mine," a nod towards the stranger, "have worked out the minuscule details these past few weeks. However, this proposition was said years ago. We just agreed it would be the best time to reveal my honorable intentions when you were officially presented to society. We are to be wed a few weeks from now. I shall be courting you by the next week."

Her lungs were burning, fire licking her skin. She looked at her father, a silent plead to him, asking him to confess that this was a jest. He refused to meet her eyes.

"So...my debutante period...it is all a façade? My search for a husband...a cover for a previous agreement?"

Darius winked. "Of sorts, yes. If I married you without any proper setting to 'meet' you per se, one might, everyone think I got you by dishonorable means. They might think I have disregarded society's ways of how a young woman should get a husband. They might think I have not let other men try for your hand, that I won you by cheating...per se." He stepped forward and the thick shadows of the night crawled across his face.

"And I never want a scandal to touch my name. If I do anything, it will be the honorable way—no deceit, no going behind one's back. Your aunt will know of this soon. But be assured that she will continue to finance you for a few weeks, for appearance's sake. Do not fret that she will not accept."

Sophia flinched. Of course, her aunt would her niece being sold off like a breeding horse. One less burden for her. A bitter taste flooded Sophia's mouth.

He gave her a superior smile, and she could imagine the pride that was pounding through his veins. Pride and vanity and ego. Her stomach clenched. Her only hope now was to appeal to her father—her own flesh and blood.

Her father was by no means a 'father', in the very definition of the name, but he had always been in line with her choosing a rich husband. What had changed? Or was it all a folly from the very beginning?

"Father, may we speak privately?" Sophia inclined her chin and her father just blinked at her. Slowly he walked towards the indicated place and she joined him.

Sophia lowered her voice to a low treble. "Father, what is the meaning of this? I was under the supposition that I would find a wealthy husband of my choice. My fortune was to be yours on marriage. I thought I had a choice, Father. Why would you encourage a dowry and a debutante ball, if my intended was all arranged?"

"Appearances matter, Sophia."

Sophia wanted to scoff. Everyone in London spoke ill of the Brighton's. Now he was worried about reputation?

He licked his lips, his grey eyes flickering. He looked at her, his bloodshot eyes raking over her. Something in his gaze...was odd. Desperate. Scared. He was scared. He feared something else, something bigger—something that would affect him if this marriage did not go through.

Darius wanted it on honorable terms and her father had to comply. He was scared of the consequences if everything fell apart. He needed money so bad, that waiting for Sophia to get it for him was unacceptable. So, he had sold her.

This has been going on for years, Darius had said. In all probability, Darius and his father had paid bribes for her father to keep quiet and stay loyal to the deal. They must have made an insurmountable offer for her, one that benefited him and no other suitor could compete.

Sophia's heart plunged. A part of her had always hoped for redemption for her father. Regardless of what he had done to her and her mother, he was her father. But it seemed to him, she was only a piece for him to remove from his board and be conquered by the enemy.

They continued to stare at each other, silence stretching between them. It finally broke when he sneered down at her.

"You will do what I say now and marry the man. We have an agreeable deal and you will not raise any cry. Understood?"

"But, Father-"

"No buts. Do it or else there will be consequences."

Sophia heart cracked, creating a wide fissure in her chest that spread through her entire body--until she was felt like she was shattering into a thousand pieces. Cracking, splintering, breaking.

The one choice she had; now gone. Taken, taken. Everything was being taken from her. Her mother, her freedom. Now her possible happiness. All by him and she couldn't do anything about it.

She would not cower. She would not break. She would not.

"All right, Father."

He smiled. She left with a curtsy.

And she broke. 

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