While Sophia felt deathly silent on the inside, dread consuming every thought that would provide some sound in her mind, the Carltons' parlor was still swarming with people anxiously chattering. Their gowns of rich reds and blues, greens and purples moved about the room and the curls of their coiffeurs bounced around their painted faces as they shook their head in conversation. Someone was faintly playing the piano and the smell of fresh sweets wafted through the room.

Sophia smoothed down her dress, tucking her stray locks behind her ears with trembling hands—hands that wouldn't still as much as she tried. Her throat hurt as if she had swallowed a large rock. Speech had deserted her, leaving her throat a dry cavern.

She scanned the room for a sign of her aunt, who wasn't hard to find. Her aunt's red hair shone brightly amongst the tide of darker colors, and her neck adorned with several jewels twinkled brightly enough to warrant attention. Next to her, Lord Darius Shaw towered, slightly leaning to hear the words the Duchess of Carlton was spewing out of her mouth. With every second that passed, Darius' jaws tightened even more, his cheeks inflaming a startling red that almost matched his crimson coat.

Suddenly, he whipped his head toward her, his grey eyes cutting into her soul and leaving her paralyzed. Sophia's heart flopped in her chest at his glare. Never before had she seen such a rage before, for it seemed his eyes were smoking. Moments later, he made his way toward her. Sophia wanted to flee because even from across the room, she could feel terrible energy rolling off of him. Yet, she stood her ground.

To any casual observer, his gait was normal and relaxed. But as he got closer, Sophia could see the nerve in his throat pulse, the clenched fists and his jaw ticking uncontrollably. It was as if a storm was contained inside him, and any second it would billow out, leaving destruction in his wake.

He reached her and bowed, kissing her outstretched hand. "My lady. May we talk in private?"

Sophia swallowed, "Of course, my lord." Holding her hand, he dragged both of them to the corner.

As soon as they were hidden out of plain sight, with gritted teeth he choked out, "My lady. What is that I hear from the Duchess of Carlton, about some inappropriate advances by the Viscount of Herrick towards yourself, and you submitting to those advances? Were you not aware of the disgrace you and I would face as a result?" He bent towards her, hoping for her to submit and tremble under his gaze, but she didn't. She did, however, flinch at the musty smell his mouth emitted.

"But, my lord, our engagement has not been announced. There is no cause for all of London to know of my indiscretion." She tilted her chin up, looking him staunchly in his eye.

Sophia swore he let out a feral growl.

"That is true, but I shall not marry you. You are no longer pure. You have been defiled." He stepped toward her, circling his fingers around her wrist. "Do you know how long I have waited for you to be mine? Years, Lady Brighton." The pressure increased and Sophia winced.

"I assure you, my lord, that I still remain pure." It was not wording she wanted to say, but for her own sake, she had to salvage what remained of her precarious situation. Some engagement was better than none at all, and she had to think of her sisters now. In those moments she had spent with Viscount Herrick she had been selfish, thinking of only her needs and wants. Whether she liked Lord Shaw or not. It did not matter. Her siblings' future came first, as it always should have.

But If Lord Darius did not marry her and called off their secret engagement, Aunt Dahlia would surely not endeavor to support Sophia any longer. She would make her indiscretion public and everyone would flock to support the shamed aunt, not the disgraceful niece. When Sophia had ruined the marriage that was thrust in her aunt's hands, perfect for taking, Sophia had seen such a deep need for revenge and hate in her Aunt's eyes. Yes, if she had married Darius Shaw, her aunt needn't help her find a suitor, but this was a much better outcome.

As if she sensed Sophia's thoughts, Aunt Dahlia smirked at her from across the room, her purples gown almost swishing in distaste itself.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realize Darius' fingers digging deeper and deeper into her skin, his nails almost piercing the satin cloth. Sophia had to hold back a shriek of pain that threatened to escape her chest.

"You...you were seen with that.... defiling monster and you expect me to believe you?!" Darius' chest heaved as he screamed those words at her. He had forgotten for a brief moment that they were in public.

Moments later, a deathly silence encompassed the room. Noticing, he let her go as if she were a hot iron brand, which she certainly felt like as her cheeks flushed with red.

Slowly, the whispers started—first a couple. Then everyone was speaking in hosted tones, pointing at her and gawking. The weight of their gazes made her chest tighten as if a large carriage was sitting on her bosom.

"Lady Brighton, if you'll excuse me," Darius said aloud, before leaning to whisper in her ear. "Our engagement is over. I will not lay with a proper woman such as yourself who has lain with another man outside the bonds of matrimony. Farewell, Ms. Brighton."

He whirled on his heels, practically running out of the room, with an erect posture. As soon as he left, the world erupted into noise. Everyone flocked to Aunt Dahlia to know what had just occurred, all the while throwing sneers at Sophia.

Aunt Dahlia threw her a superior look, before turning towards the clamoring crowd. Holding her rich purple skirts, and putting on a solemn face, the Duchess of Carlton said, "My lords and my ladies. What you have just witnessed is something truly terrible that I feel the need to share. Soon after my niece's ball, Lord Darius Shaw besot with Lady Brighton, asked if he could come to court her. It seemed it was love at the very first sight for him. As custom decreed, I could make no ready promises. After all, we have many eligible gentlemen here today to woo Lady Sophia's' hand." She laughed in a forced manner, and the crowd joined in hesitantly.

Sophia licked her lips, wondering how her aunt would fabricate the rest of the story. Dahlia did not disappoint.

"But he insisted, and in my heart, I could not find to decline him so. Lady Sophia Brighton had also taken a liking to him, the few times he had called on her. The couple seemed joyous, and I was too, at the prospect of a good match and engagement, as anyone would. However, I had to observe regular debutante procedures. I could not let my niece marry so soon. It was uncustomary. It could raise questions and people could speculate about the scandal—for only women who got pregnant would wish to marry so fast to avoid ruin. Therefore, I held this gathering today for the sake of propriety."

Sophia could see everyone agreeing with the Duchess of Carlton, their throats bobbing up and down.

Aunt Dahlia let out a dramatic sigh. "Yet, it seemed my niece was not inclined toward Lord Shaw at all. Today when she disappeared from my sight for a few moments and I went searching for her, I saw in her in the throes of passion, with...." the Duchess tilted her chin towards Viscount Herrick who had entered the room and huddling in the opposite corner to Sophia. "With him."

The crowd collectively gasped and Sophia's heart plummeted. She wanted to cry that this was all a lie, but somehow the words would not come. Aunt Dahlia noticed her once more and seemed to wink at her.

"It seems my dear niece has been defiled and no longer remains pure. I..." Aunt Dahlia brushed away a fake tear, "I am of the thought that she wished to marry Lord Darius because her womb had quickened with Lord Herrick's child and she wanted to pass it off as Lord Adelaide's. But even then, she continued to see her child's father and I was horrified to come upon them in the gardens in a passionate embrace! I informed Lord Darius Shaw, Viscount Adelaide, immediately and he was shocked. It would have been a travesty for him to marry Lady Brighton...so he has decided to call off his courtship. After all this careful planning with the suitors...my niece." Aunt Dahlia gulped. "This has been a shock for me.... I..."

Aunt Dahlia dabbed at imaginary sweat beads and then pretended to swoon from shock.

Outrage had clambered up the walls of Sophia's mind and she wanted to spit at the well-woven tale her aunt had spun. Yet, she could only watch as the room once again grew silent, as every single person turned towards her with utter disgust in their eyes.

Shame draped Sophia like a heavy, leaden cloak. It was worse than she had thought. Aunt Dahlia had made sure she was the only one to blame and that the Duchess was a blameless piece in all of this. The smug look her aunt flashed her before pretending to weep told her that she was the one with power between them both.

Everyone was skinning her alive just with their gazes.

Sophia bowed her head, mortified. Her skin was a brilliant red, flushed with embarrassment like nothing she had ever experienced before. She walked slowly through the room to reach the front door, unable to make her body move any faster. Even though her aunt had not thrown her out yet, it was apparent that Sophia Brighton was welcome no more.

But she would run. She would not give everyone the satisfaction of her whimpers and pleas even though her humiliation dragged her down. The weight of it made her sink into the floor like it was water, and her the anchor that was sinking, sinking, sinking...

What had she done?

What had she gotten herself into?

Her hands were clutched in front of her, clasped in a tight embrace. Her mind encouraged her to cast her eyes and head downwards, but she rebelled against the instinct and stared straight ahead, In the corner of her eyes, she could see everyone running their gaze over her with utter repulsion.

Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, the soft hair beating against her skin and gracing her cheekbones as she tried to hold her tears at bay.

Do not cry. Do not show weakness. Be brave.

It was nearly impossible.

Slowly she could hear the whispers formulating, whispers that screamed "whore" behind her back, whispers that deemed her "ruined" and "soiled goods." The female population looked at her with reproach and the men with both distaste and curiosity for the woman who let desire ruin her, and if they had a chance with a now defiled woman for something less permanent than marriage. A few here and there grinned seductively as they took in her rumpled clothes, gave her smiles that were clearly invitations, while others looked away when they caught her eye.

It seemed like she was labeled a harlot. Her life was over.

All because the wanton part of her couldn't control herself and she had been desperate for attention and impulsive for love. And to make everything worse, her aunt had twisted the situation into something uglier than the truth.

The future for her family, for herself, was destroyed. It was the end of the line for Sophia.

It was all over.

By the time she stepped out of the house, she was broken into fragments, shattered with such loneliness that pierced her heart.

This is what it felt like to be a pariah, shunned out of society.

And there were years of this to follow. Because of her mistakes, now her sisters would suffer as well. If they were ever spotted by the upper class of London, they would not receive pleasant words, but only laughs.

In the safety of her carriage, on her way back home, Sophia broke down, crying furiously. Tears continuously dripped down her cheeks, salty as they traced the outline of her lips and slid down her jaw to her chest, disappearing between the dip of her breasts. Her upper body felt cold and stained with tears; tears that washed away the dirt on the skin of her body, but not the sins that stained it underneath. She felt disgusted with herself.

Huge sobs broke out of her, and wails pierced out of her lungs, loud and full of agony. Stupid Sophia. Why did she let her desires take control over her? Why was she not gullible and innocent as what was expected of her? Why did she have to act of her pleasures, act on her impulse?

Why, why, why?

Once she had let all her emotions out, she tried to calm down, thinking of what she could do next. Sophia could no longer save her family, but she mustn't lose hope and think the chapter of marriage closed for her younger sisters.

In five years, Colette would be eligible for marriage. Sophia would make sure her sister was permitted to enter society. She would even kiss her aunt's feet if she had to. Else, she could also ask Alessandra. Alessandra would surely chaperone her. Until then, her siblings and herself could survive on her tenants' rent for the next few years, provided her father did not gamble away all of their lands.

Her father. She had forgotten that it was he who had agreed to her marriage with Lord Shaw. It was her father who benefited the most from that alliance, who urged her to enter it even if she didn't want to. He hadn't listened to her protests and now.... now she had ruined it.

Her throat clogged up and she licked her dry lips. What would he do to her? Hopefully, he should not hurt her sisters. She would make sure he didn't.

But trepidation lingered in her soul at what was to come. 

A/N: Does Sophia deserve this as a result of her actions? What do you think is in store for Sophia?

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