Chapter One

In the gardens of George Creston's residence in Boston stood a tall, slender young girl of fifteen. Her hair, which was tied neatly back, was a distinctive light golden color. She had luminous blue-green eyes which changed in intensity depending on her emotional state. Under her large, wide-brimmed gardening hat, she possessed dainty facial features and a milk-white complexion, like her late paternal grandmother before her.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps in the garden. Victoria looked up and put her pruning scissors down. She smiled. "Hello, Aunt Grace," she greeted calmly.

"Aunt Grace" was Mrs. Grace Marie Watson, nee Creston, the widow of Admiral Peter Stewart Watson, the mother of Serena May Watson and Peter Stewart Watson Jr., and the younger sister of Victoria's mother. Grace was a petite and beautiful woman with faded blond hair and soft blue eyes. She smiled frequently and was a favorite with her nieces and nephews because of her understanding nature.

"You've been in the garden for two hours, Victoria," Grace scolded teasingly.

Victoria smiled slightly. "Really? I didn't even realize that." She slipped her pruning scissors into her apron pocket. "Is it time for tea?"

Grace shook her head. "No, we still have half an hour before tea, dear. Shall we take a walk around the garden? I would like to see the progress you've made."

Victoria nodded and walked in step with her aunt. There was a brief silence between them until Grace spoke. "Do you hear from your parents?"

"Yes, I do," Victoria answered, pausing here and there to examine a flower and to prune it, if necessary.

"How is your mother?" Grace asked with casual curiosity.

Victoria did not face Grace, her voice sounding slightly angry. "She is well, I suppose. She seems to be in good spirits, or so I gather from her letters."

"That's good," Grace agreed, nodding. "I imagine your father's letters burst with humor and exuberance."

Victoria's face brightened somewhat at the mention of her father. "Yes, his do."

"You must miss your father terribly," Grace remarked, trying to get a reaction out of Victoria.

"I do," Victoria admitted with some reluctance. "But then we can't always have what we want, can we?"

Grace studied her niece but decided not to comment. She forced a smile. "How do you feel about your entry into society as a debutante?" she asked lightly, a slender hand reaching out to admire a rose.

Victoria shrugged. "I can't say that I particularly care, but I know it is something that I must endure." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "And I certainly cannot imagine meeting the man of my dreams at a ball where I am expected to simper and to act stupid in general."

Grace laughed lightly. "You'd be surprised. I met your Uncle Peter at my debutante ball." She smiled in remembrance. "He really did not want to be there. After all, he was a good deal older than most of the young ladies, and he was bored by most of the simpering and flattery. And I thought that he was incredibly conceited for looking down upon us. I was so excited, you know."

Grace glanced away, her hands resting on a rose. "But then I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine… and I knew it had to be him." She turned to meet her niece's curious eyes. "I'm not going to promise you that you will meet someone tonight, but do not shut yourself to the possibilities that await you."

Victoria was unimpressed. "Father forbids me from even thinking about marriage until I graduate Radcliffe, Aunt Grace." She frowned. "Besides, being in love would just spoil things, wouldn't it?"

Grace lightly touched Victoria's braid, her lips curved upward. "I imagine that your father does not wish to lose his little girl. And I also imagine that your father would not be against your falling in love granted that you did not fall in love with the wrong man. As for spoiling things, I can't imagine how it could."

"It would spoil just everything," Victoria countered quietly. "I wouldn't be the same ever again."

Grace's merry expression faded, her blue eyes serious. She studied Victoria's face and pursed her lips. "No, perhaps not. But then no one is ever able to remain unchanged by living life, Victoria."

Victoria gave a small shrug and a brief smile. She quickened her walking pace a bit, changing the subject. "I do think that I should clean up before tea, Aunt Grace. Please excuse me."

Grace watched Victoria walk calmly but quickly towards the entrance of the house. She sighed, her lips curved; she folded her hands before following her niece into the house.

Victoria twirled around in her dress of white tulle that had been delivered to the house yesterday afternoon. It had been measured, designed, and created two weeks ago by one of the most exclusive, most talented, and most expensive modistes in Boston. Just the price of this one meaningless gown had made Victoria wince. She had thought this purchase to be terribly extravagant and wasteful.

But as she glanced at her golden hair and beautiful gown in the mirror, Victoria decided that for once, the price had not been too ridiculous. Still, she smiled apprehensively, her slight pleasure in the beauty of the gown disappearing. Although she was not a shy person, she hated crowds and parties, especially when she was positive that conversation would be dreadfully boring or nonexistent. She glanced at the clock, praying that time would speed by quickly tonight.

Serena, who was dabbing on rouge, pouted. "You seem very blasé," she remarked, preening before the mirror.

Victoria's smile disappeared as she turned away from the full-length looking glass to look at her cousin. "Perhaps," she allowed.

Serena put away her rouge and dusted her face with the whitest powder she had. "Yes, I look absolutely lovely, don't you think?" She leaned away from the mirror, tilting her chin at an upward angle.

Serena Watson certainly was a beauty: She was tiny and slender with masses of blue-black hair, black eyes, and a rose-leaf complexion. She was well-acquainted with the art of fascinating people, both young and old, especially young men. Her pretty and flirtatious smiles earned her envy from her fellow females and marriage proposals by the dozen from the young men. Among her many gifts,

Serena also possessed an elegant carriage due to the daily ballet and piano lessons she used to take with Victoria. But it was her sheer confidence, her total disregard of the rules that made strangers stand up and notice this tiny creature of vivacity and determination. What Serena Watson wanted, she would get.

Most of the time.

"Do you suppose I'll find any beaux?" Serena asked, not waiting for Victoria's response to her last question. She was a young lady who rarely bothered to wait for anyone.

Victoria suppressed a sigh. She straightened her chin and ever so slightly inclined it. "Of course."

Serena turned in her chair and looked at Victoria critically. "No one has hair that long anymore," she said rudely. She patted the elegant black curls that framed her oval face becomingly. "You should have your hair cut like mine."

Victoria glanced at Serena's shoulder-length hair and forced a smile. "You may look lovely with that style of hairdressing, but I am afraid that I would not, Serena."

Serena laughed gaily and donned on her coat. "You're right, Victoria. I certainly look better than you, Victoria," she said lightly. "But then I always do, don't I?" She waltzed out the door, twirling so that her skirts danced around her slim legs.

Victoria gave one last glance at the mirror, nervously smoothing her skirts. For all her supposed nonchalance, she did not care to be completely ignored tonight, a situation she suspected was not far from being reality considering that Serena was her cousin. Sighing softly, she followed Serena out after a heartbeat.

Victoria silently watched Serena, who was surrounded by hordes of young men. To incite jealousy, Serena constantly shifted her attentions from boy to boy. She would smile charmingly and wickedly, obviously enjoying herself supremely, although the dimwits failed to notice this. Then she would hit the boys lightly and teasingly on the hand in a provocative fashion. If ignored, she would pout in feigned offense to the dismay of the young men.

Victoria shook her head, amazed that the young men around her could not see through Serena's tricks.. But then again, that was Serena, always the one who loved to make young men miserable and who was so confident of herself.

"How dashing you look, William Crester Byons," Serena teased lightly, batting her eyelashes. "Why, there can't be a young man half as delicious-looking as you do this evening."

A malicious light entered William's eyes as he smiled and kissed Serena's gloved hand. "You look enchanting tonight, Serena."

Serena pulled her hand away abruptly as she turned to greet another young man. "Why, Rupert Brooke, you look perfectly handsome!" she squealed loudly enough for the dowagers to hear.

Rupert, who was a rather bashful fellow with red hair, blushed, his ears turning red. "Th -- th-- ank you," he stammered.

Serena laughed defiantly and tucked her hand in another young man's arm. "I promised Clark the first dance, boys. But if you want to dance with me, be sure to write your names down on my dance card." She smiled sweetly. "And if you don't get a chance... well then, I suppose you'll have to wait for the next ball. Ta, darlings." Flashing one more magnificent smile, she whisked away her dancing partner, calculatingly leaving her dance card behind.

The boys began to argue loudly among themselves as they tried to beat each other in writing down their names on Serena's card. Although it seemed as though Serena was paying complete attention to Clark as he spoke and danced with her, she was eyeing the group of boys coyly, feeling extremely proud and powerful. However, only one had captured her eye.

Across the room, Victoria continued watching, half-amused and half-concerned for the beaux, not Serena. She slipped her arm through Sarah Simmons, whispering, "Well, Serena has made her share of conquests tonight," she commented dryly. "And not even an hour has passed yet."

Sarah Simmons glanced at her best friend. She was a petite, blond girl with kind blue eyes and a clear complexion. She had the rare ability to make nothing but kind, tactful remarks. No one could ever hate her: she seemed to possess a perpetual serenity and sweetness no matter how terrible or awkward the situation. She glanced over at Serena in the far corner of the ballroom and laughed. "That's true." She tiptoed and whispered, "By the way, your dress looks lovely. It was well worth the cost, Victoria. I don't see why you were dreading this event."

"And you look lovely in your violet chiffon gown, Sarah," Victoria complimented sincerely, pleased by Sarah's comment. "As for my dreading this event, I would think that my reasons are perfectly understandable," she added gloomily. "When you have a cousin as beautiful and as exciting as Serena, it is a different story. The excitement of it all disappears."

Sarah smiled slightly. "Serena is very beautiful, Victoria, but that does not mean that you lack good looks yourself. In fact, I cannot image why any of those nimwits over there have not noticed you yet," she declared loyally.

Victoria laughed. "Oh Sarah, sometimes you are much too blind and too kind for your own good. You need not be tactful with me, my friend. I know that I am pale and lifeless compared to Serena. Have you ever seen her lose her poise in public, especially when there are young men around?" she asked, arching an eyebrow meaningfully.

Sarah sighed, looking troubled. "I can see your point, Victoria, but don't you ever mean to get married?" she asked, faintly puzzled. "I know that your studies at Radcliffe mean a great deal to you, but still, you won't be in school forever."

Victoria laughed, throwing her head back. "If I meet my ideal, yes, I suppose that I shall get married. But I can't imagine that I will tonight," she replied with a slight grimace. "Not in this group of people."

Sarah sighed gloomily. "Oh well. But you really should keep an open mind, Victoria," she remarked casually.

Victoria's blue-green eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Sarah?"

Sarah sighed dramatically, noting Victoria's expression from under her eyelashes. "Not everyone at this party is as enthralled as Serena is, Victoria. In fact, I probably think that I could name at least one individual who shares your feelings tonight. A male individual," she added significantly.

Victoria was intrigued. "Oh really? Do tell."

Sarah shrugged her shoulders lazily. "All the females in this room are probably simply mad about him. And why shouldn't they?" she asked lightly. "After all, he's considered quite a catch. He's a duke, you know, and quite wealthy too. And not one of those frivolous, do nothing dukes either. He's attending Harvard Medical School. He's been here for some time in Cambridge, I believe."

The hairs on the back of Victoria's neck stood up as she managed an amused smile but her fingers tightened their hold on Sarah's arm. "Really? Who is he?" she asked with a faint sense of uneasiness. Could it… no… the world was too large...

"There he is," Sarah whispered triumphantly. She grabbed Victoria's gloved hand and started pushing herself through the throngs of people in the ballroom. "Come."

Victoria lifted her head, following Sarah's gaze to a lone young man.

Vernon Richard Anderson, the Duke of Rochester and owner of other illustrious titles too numerous to mention, watched his cousin wander aimlessly and charm everyone in his path. Vernon was a handsome fellow, in possession of a noble mien. His blond hair, striking green eyes, exceptional height, and slender but not effeminate frame personified the slim elegance of his times. However, his lucid green-eyed gaze and high-bridged nose provided his face a timeless quality, as if he were created one cut above the ordinary man.

No one could ever say a bad word about Vernon Anderson even if they wanted to, and plenty of individuals did, jealousy being the main motive. He was a completely courteous fellow with impeccable manners borne of excellent tutelage and breeding. Compliments came out of his thin lips with facilitated ease. His smiles, when he did smile, were charming and positively irresistible; Sarah had not been exaggerating when she stated that all the girls in Boston were after him. His aloofness and reserve created an aura of mystery, a sense that he was above reproach, almost perfect but not quite.

Anger rarely inhabited Vernon's soul, or if it did, he never allowed that particular emotion or any other emotion to show. If something did displease him, he would merely raise an eyebrow and smile coldly. Then his voice, which already had a smooth, mellifluous quality to it, would grow even silkier and icier. Some females had even claimed that they had fallen in love with his voice rather than his physical person, which explained why the few girls he did pay compliments to were dazzled out of their wits (if they had any, of course).

Perhaps Vernon was created a cut above. In spite of his tender years and lack of experience in this ridiculous world of giggling, young debutantes and their stern, sugary sweet, ambitious and scheming mothers, somehow he had managed to keep himself apart. He despised the pomp and the tradition of these self-centered and self-important people. But it was the world he chose to live in, and if he did not want to be ostracized, their rules -- at least in public -- were his.

"Vernon Andersen," a light female voice called as she waved a hand.

Vernon turned around with a smooth grace, a champagne glass in his hand. He fixed a faint smile on his face and leaned down to kiss the petite personage. "Hello, Sarah."

Sarah returned the barely existent kiss and smiled up brightly at Vernon. "You're looking quite handsome tonight, Vernon."

"Thank you," Vernon said gravely. "And you are looking lovely tonight yourself, Sarah. This party must agree with you." He turned slightly, facing Sarah's friend. He gave away his champagne glass to one of the circulating waiters, his arms at his sides as he bowed slightly at the waist. "And you are – " he paused significantly, frowning as he studied the face. He had seen this face many times before… but where?

Victoria held out a gloved hand coolly, her face slightly pale. "Hello, Vernon, your grace."

Vernon froze, his eyes widening only for a moment before he promptly recovered himself. He straightened as he took the extended hand. He nodded, smiling slightly, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Hello, Lady Victoria."

Sarah glanced at Victoria's, then Vernon's face, confused. "You two know each other?"

Victoria turned to Sarah and folded her gloved hands in front of her. "Yes. A lifetime ago, perhaps, but we did know each other once upon a time."

Sarah laughed, shaking her head in amazement. "And here I was, planning to introduce you two." She poked Victoria in the ribs. "Really, Victoria, you ought to have told me you knew him."

"You didn't tell me you were going to introduce his grace to me, Sarah," Victoria replied simply.

Vernon smiled pleasantly, although his green eyes hinted at nothing. "We know each other only slightly, Sarah. Our parents are close friends."

"Extremely close friends," Victoria added, forcing a gracious smile. She immediately pulled back her hand, not even realizing that it had still been in Vernon's grip.

But Vernon kept a gloved hand out to Victoria. He jerked his head towards the miniature orchestra. "I do believe that they are meaning to play a waltz. Sarah, you would not mind if I danced with your charming friend?" he asked politely but with a hint of warmth that had not been there previously.

Sarah stepped back and shook her head. "You're welcome to her if you want." She eyed Victoria curiously, who had said nothing.

Vernon turned to Victoria and extended a gloved hand. "Lady Victoria?"

Victoria looked up at Vernon and then at his extended hand. Although there was no mocking challenge in Vernon's eyes, just curiosity, Victoria misinterpreted it as such. She lifted her head high and carefully put her gloved hand over his, "Certainly. It will be an honor."

Victoria glided in step with Vernon, her head purposely bent down. She neither looked at Vernon's face nor did she speak. Vernon decided to start the conversation, his step sure and steady, almost too graceful. "I have not seen you for four years, Victoria," he said quietly.

Victoria made a sound. "Yes. You left England immediately after Amanda was married."

Vernon forced a small smile. "You have grown up during those four years, Victoria."

"Thank you, but you could have not expected me to stay twelve forever. Or did you?" Victoria asked archly with lowered eyelids.

"No, that would hardly be sensible," Vernon admitted. "However, I do believe we've never really spoken to each other, except for that one momentous time."

Victoria smiled brittily. "You were not of my age group. You were busy with Ken and Bert. If you did notice me, it was because I was Ken's and Amanda's younger sister." She paused. "As for that momentous time, I –"

"You were always different from other girls," Vernon interrupted, ignoring Victoria's last remark. He twirled her around on the ballroom floor. "You were never hysterical."

"Hysterics were not my style," Victoria replied, not missing a step and finally raising her eyes to meet Vernon's probing gaze.. "Besides, I was not one of those individuals who looked even more beautiful with tears. But Amanda… she looked beautiful with or without."

Vernon searched Victoria's face. "I was betrothed to your sister. But then I suppose that everyone in our circle knew."

A flicker of pain flashed across Victoria's face; it was imperceptible. "Yes, I knew," was the quiet answer. "It was impossible not to know."

"And then your sister fell in love with Theodore Wilson," Vernon remarked coolly. "She did not love me."

"No, she didn't," Victoria agreed. "But the question is, did you love her?"

A shadow of grief flickered in Vernon's eyes as he smiled slightly. "Yes, in my own way, perhaps."

Victoria looked away for a moment before she carefully lifted the corner of her lips. "Well, that certainly answers everything."

"Everything?" Vernon asked with a raised eyebrow.

But the music had stopped, and Victoria and Vernon stopped gliding. Having been handed the perfect exit, Victoria took it. Immediately pulling her hand away, she bestowed a polite smile on Vernon. "If you will excuse me, your grace," she said in her most formal and cool manner, "I shall take leave of you now." With a brief nod, she quickly pushed herself through the crowds of people.

James Granger Callahan was a well-built man of twenty-five with thick brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a pleasant countenance. All of these physical attributes should have made him seem quite attractive, and he was, in a rather vague, artificial way. However, he did not radiate the quiet dynamism or the firm confidence that Vernon seemed to. Some vital element seemed to be missing from James' character, something that would have made him whole. Being without that, he was a flat, boring character.

Had it been any other evening, any other time, Victoria would have probably been bored out of her wits sitting next to this particular dinner partner. Although he had a pleasing, well-modulated voice, he was no conversationalist. He droned on about the most insipid topics, such as mutual acquaintances and the logistics of his occupation as a stockbroker on Wall Street. But that evening, having met the one person Victoria had never expected to meet in Boston, she was distracted and eagerly searching for anyone who would make her forget, or at least give her a reason to forget.

"So you're from New York City?" Victoria asked with a bright smile. It was already the fifth time that she had asked this particular question.

James nodded patiently, too enchanted with Victoria's smile to notice much of anything else. "Yes, I'm a stockbroker," he explained.

Victoria tilted her head. "How interesting," she commented rather inanely. "Then I suppose you do very well for yourself?" she asked, taking a sip of her water goblet.

James smiled, somewhat amused. "Yes, I do, Lady Brown."

"Ah," Victoria murmured, somewhat distracted. Her eyes had strayed to Vernon. But she quickly returned her attentions to her dinner partner. "I thought stockbrokers were all well-to-do."

James nodded. "Most are, Lady Brown, but not all of them. We have the ability to destroy our fortunes as quickly as we create them," he replied.

Victoria smiled slightly, her lips parted. "Ah, is that so?" she asked lightly, taking another sip of her water goblet. "I did not think of that that way. I always assumed gentlemen who worked on Wall Street were quite successful."

James laughed kindly. "A misconception, I assure you, Lady Brown." He studied Victoria more closely and noted the color of her evening gown. "This is your debut?"

Victoria nodded, vaguely pleased that for once someone had noticed her instead of Serena. She quickly pushed the feelings away. "Yes, it is my debut, Mr. Callahan."

"I would not have guessed that considering your maturity and grace," James remarked sincerely. "You do not behave as most debutantes do."

Victoria was flattered. She arched an eyebrow. "How kind of you to say that, sir."

James took the liberty of patting Victoria's gloved hand, which was on the table next to his. "In fact, if I may be so bold, I do believe that you look exceptionally lovely tonight, Lady Brown."

Victoria laughed, her eyes twinkling with genuine pleasure. "I wonder how you can say such a thing to me. You've never even met me before. I might have looked even lovelier an evening ago," she teased, surprising herself. She never knew that she had the ability to flirt.

James smiled, removing his hand. Victoria felt slightly bereft. "Yes, but you are very lovely, and if I missed the opportunity to view your loveliness another evening, that is my loss, Lady Brown," he replied gallantly. He paused before asking, "If it is possible, may I have the first dance after the dinner dance with you?"

"Aren't you occupied with someone else?" Victoria remarked lightly, pretending to smooth her gloves.

James shook his head. "No. I'm afraid that no one here has quite caught my eye. Except for you, of course, Lady Brown," he added with a smile.

Serena's name nearly slipped through Victoria's mouth; she merely smiled and accepted his hand. "Well, if you put it that way, I would be delighted. Thank you."

Victoria was seated on her bed, her knees tucked under her chin; Serena was brushing her blue-black hair before the mirror, tilting her head at different angles to examine her face.

"Weren't the boys perfectly marvelous?" Serena asked, her slender hands wrapped around her knees.

Victoria's expression was thoughtful. "They were all in love with you," she said wryly.

Serena threw her arms into the air. "All my jellies!" she exclaimed, laughing.

Victoria started braiding her thick hair. "Yes, I suppose they are your jellies."

Serena looked curious. "Was James Callahan dancing with you after dinner? And Vernon Anderson before dinner?"

"Yes," Victoria replied shortly. She pinned up the loose strands of her hair, her slender hands trembling a bit.

Serena sighed, resigned. She glanced at her cousin with askance. "You certainly did not enjoy yourself tonight. You decided to sit out most of the dances. I do believe that you only danced three times, once with that James Callahan, once with Vernon, and the last time with William." She frowned.

"Do you know Vernon well?" Victoria asked curiously.

Serena giggled, her frown vanishing. "Everyone knows Vernon, darling. Why, we all know that he was jilted by Amanda, and that his heart was broken forever afterwards." She threw Victoria a sly glance. "You're not setting your cap on him, are you, Victoria?"

Victoria was startled. "Of course not," she said rather sharply. "I didn't enter society to capture a husband," she retorted haughtily.

Serena did not notice the change in Victoria's voice. "You really shouldn't," she said nonchalantly, brushing her hair again. "I don't think he ever got over Amanda. I'm sure it pains him to see Amanda's son."

"He has never met Amanda's son," Victoria corrected quietly.

Serena shrugged, ignoring Victoria's comment. "James is probably going to be a better catch anyhow. He comes from a rich and powerful American family, the cream of New York society, Victoria." She flashed Victoria a smile. "I don't think Vernon will ever forget Amanda if you ask me."

Victoria looked up slowly. "No, I suppose not," she said quietly and slowly. "No one ever does," she added softly under her breath.