The journey from their country estate to London for the start of the new social season was always an arduous transition for Addy. She gazed wistfully out the carriage window as the last verdant hills and dales shrank away, replaced by an increasingly urban landscape of industry and brick.

She loved the picturesque solitude of their rural manor home, Hastings Manor. Out in the countryside, unencumbered by the suffocating expectations constantly weighing on her, Addy could simply exist. No strict etiquette governesses or prying eyes judging her every move. Just the boundless fields and woods where she had roamed freely as a girl, her spirit and imagination unleashed.

But soon enough, all that remained were the smoky factory stacks and cramped streets of London's outer sprawl. Addy felt that familiar compression of her world begin to tighten.

George and William jostled each other for a position by the window, eager to take in the more industrial areas of London. Once they reached Mayfair, they would not be allowed outside of it until the season had concluded. This was a rare opportunity to view the other side of the social divide, and the twins were nothing if not curious.

Addy stifled a laugh at their antics. While watching them was entirely entertaining, it would not do to encourage their wrestling.

For the last senight she had avoided her father. They had not held one genuine conversation since the day of Lord Wellingham's visit. But now, watching the impish pair they both held so dear, they were able to share a companionable look. Addy hoped this boded well for the next several months.

The oldest Hastings offspring had decamped for London several days ago. Adelyn had not told them of the offer or the arrangement from Lord Wellingham, still uncertain if she should share this. If her brothers knew what was happening, they would be furious and wreak a havoc on either Lord Wellington or her father. They might even try to pressure some poor aristocratic son into marrying her in order to save her from an aged groom, regardless of suitability. The possibilities of their well-intentioned but misguided schemes were endless.

Or, perhaps even worse, they would be uninterested and ignore her plight.

For these same reasons, she also struggled with the urge to inform Reggie, who had returned to London earlier as well. She was desperate for a confidant, someone she could be sure would keep the information to themselves but provide some sort of advice or, at the minimum, a sympathetic ear. She felt so adrift to be the only with such a heavy secret to carry. The anxiety had settled in her stomach, weighing her down with each step.

Addy nestled further into her seat and returned to watching the twins, enjoying their enthusiasm while she could. Once they reached the townhome she would be too busy preparing her battle strategies to spend as much time with them as they were accustomed. And with her father insisting Lord Wellingham escort her to the first ball of the season, she had much to prepare.

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Aunt Florence pushed her lips together in a disapproving line as she watched her niece descend the staircase wearing a velvet gown in a deep plum color. Although Addy was much older than most of the other ladies participating in the Season, it was still unbecoming for a debutant to wear rich colors, traditionally decking themselves in white or pastels. And such visible energy and enthusiasm! Appalling behavior for a lady, it was truly embarrassing. And her escort, Lord Wellingham, was no better.

"Must you insist on smiling so idiotically?" Florence chided, sending a withering glance where he stood beaming, awaiting Addy at the foot of the stairs.

"Peace, Lady Florence," Wellingham chuckled indulgently. "Surely you would not deprive me of the pleasure of enjoying my intended's blossoming radiance?" One of the few boons that came with age, it seemed, was the impenetrable calm. Aunt Florence had yet to ruffle his feathers even once. Addy had greatly admired his ability to stand firm in her storms.

"Good evening, my lord," Addy greeted with a tight smile. He brought Addy's gloved knuckles to his lips with a flamboyant air. Florence snorted derisively and rapped her palm with her fan.

"Good evening, my dear. You are simply radiant this evening." He pulled her hand through his arm to escort her to the carriage.

"And you are simply splendid, as well, my lord," Addy returned. While his buttons might be straining the strangely green waistcoat, he was clearly polished for the evening in his finest and fairly exuded excited. Addy almost felt bad for her intentions this evening.

Aunt Florence turned away sharply, dark gray skirts swirling as she swept out the front door in a self-righteous huff. Addy allowed Wellingham to escort her out the door after her stuffy chaperone, holding his arm with a mildly entertained but commiserating look. Lord Wellingham assisted Aunt Florence then Adelyn into the carriage and within moments they were on their way.

Horse hooves clipped along the cobbled streets as vendors and merchants made their way home, the night taking over the city. As Addy was less than inclined to create conversation, silence filled their cabin. Apart from the soft snores coming from Wellington's seat, that is. She would not go so far as to call it an amiable ride, but a non-threatening one perhaps.

The first ball of the year was always held by the Doncaster family. The Doncaster residence was an imposing Palladian mansion situated on one of London's most enviable addresses - Grosvenor Square. Immense wrought-iron gates bearing the family crest guarded the grounds. Towering marble statues gazed blindly from velvet lawns bordered by sculpted shrubbery and pathways. The facade of the palace itself was an arresting blend of warm bronze stone and crisp white columns, every window adorned with ornate carvings and would undoubtedly be shimmering with the glow of countless candles this evening. The entry hall alone boasted a marble floor and slender pillars, with multiple classic masterpieces hung between. But it was their ballroom which demanded the ton's attention. A one-of-a-kind room, singular in the construction. You see, the Doncasters were in possession of the only glass-topped ballroom in England.

The ballroom was a vision of enchantment, its ceiling a marvel of sparkling glass that seemed to kiss the heavens. By day, sunbeams danced through the intricate panes, casting prismatic rainbows that twirled across the polished floor. The intricate glasswork was held aloft by ornate ironwork, each detailed curve a testament to the master craftsmanship. As evening fell, the glass transformed into a canvas of stars, the night sky's twinkling ocean visible from the heart of the room. It was here that Addy intended to move the hand of fate for herself.

Suddenly the carriage lurched as it stopped short, throwing Lord Wellingham into the floor. Both women struggled to regain their balance, the world spinning from a cacophony of noise. A horse cried at the front of their carriage, the coachman struggling to control the beast. Men shouted, arguing and cursing each other. The cabin rocked as the driver moved about the top of the conveyance. Aunt Florence appeared close to fainting, her face paling and her breathe coming in quick pants. Addy struggled to help Lord Wellington from his sprawl on the floor. He'd been returned to his seat a short moment before the door was wrenched open from the outside.

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The pistol leveled in their direction was anything but jovial, but Addy felt an almost gleeful theatricality radiating from the cloaked highwayman.

"Your valuables and coin purses!" he called out in a baritone dripping with delicious menace. "And be quick about it, your lotteries are up!"

Addy saw the dim outline of Lord Wellingham tense as the barrel aimed squarely through the carriage door. But before either could react, Lady Florence issued an outraged bark.

"I say, fellows! This is Mayfair, not some low dockside alley!"

The highwayman cocked his head as if relishing the dowager's imperious spirit, the cloth covering the bottom of his face doing nothing to hide the shine in his eyes. When he spoke again, Addy could have sworn she detected an undercurrent of playfulness amid the jeering bravado.

"All the more reason to be quick about it, my lady." His voice carried a crispness that was unexpected from a lower class. "Hand over your coin and jewels, and we will desist bothering you this evening . I would greatly appreciate your cooperation, madam. It is always so…messy… to convince my victims." He held the gun nonchalantly as he held her gaze. His implication was clear, as evidenced by the older woman's unexpected slump against the far wall. "Well, that will save us the trouble of arguing, will it not?"

He turned to face the younger of the ladies. In a situation such as this, the ladies would be expected to panic, possibly screaming or crying. Addy held his gaze, those dark eyes somehow preventing her from looking away. He appeared held by the same pull as she, unwavering despite the predicament.

"Here, take my purse!" Lord Wellington angrily cut in. The highwayman turned to the portly lord with his wit returned.

"Lovely! What a gentleman and scholar! Good show, old man," the rogue taunted as he pocketed the small satchel.

Having fleeced Wellingham, he returned his attention to Addy. "I believe it is your turn, my lady. I must say, those are rather impressive stones you wear tonight."

Adelyn's father had insisted she wear the rubies given to her by Wellingham. While their agreement was to remain a secret from the ton, she was sure he intended she not forget her promise. Each dance, each conversation, each interaction would be tainted with the weight of her earrings swinging or a glimpse of the bracelet catching the light.

Addy touched the necklace in reflex, unintentionally drawing attention to her long neck. The burglar's gaze lingered more than a moment near her hand. A weighted tension hung between them. For several moments, the only sounds were the huffing breaths of the winded horses and the distant murmurs of London's evening rituals continuing on, utterly oblivious.

Her robber tilted his head slightly, considering a thought. "Truly, jewels so splendid are a perfect accompaniment for such a beautiful vision. It breaks my heart to deprive them of yourself. "

The shamelessly sensual timbre of his voice caressed every syllable. Addy felt an unmistakable blush storming her cheeks, against her better sense.

Addy could see Wellington sitting forward, she assumed to confront their attacker. The indignant set of his shoulders spoke of his intentions. Before she could react, make a movement to prevent an irreparable mistake, the thief moved his pistol to hold him at bay without breaking his study of her. While she felt the threat of the situation, felt the fear and desperation expected, there was another sensation creeping in.

Adelyn knew the evening had become perilous, but could not stop the thrill and eagerness pushing to the fore. A man held a gun to her party, why should she revel in this moment? However, each time she looked into his eyes, his irrepressible spirit spoke to hers, drawing her further into the madness.

"You would rob me of my finery, sir?" She ran the tip of her finger along the necklace, feeling the rush of defying her self-preservation instinct. Her pulse quickened, the feathery beat visible along her throat.

Chuckling lowly, he answered. "Indeed I would, though perhaps we could strike a bargain instead." He leaned in conspiratorially, whispering too low for the older Lord Wellingham to hear. "I'll leave the necklace for now, if the lady permits me a kiss."

Adelyn's eyes widened in surprise, shocked at her own excitement from the scandalous offer. His words sent a tingle down her spine, her shiver causing his eyes to darken.

"Well, my lady?" his voice rumbled. "Do we have an accord?"

There was no reason for Addy to be protective of the necklace. Indeed, being rid of it would relieve her of a burden. Lord Wellingham would hold no resentment, and her father could hardly be angry at her for being robbed. She should just place the necklace in his hand and end this.

But, while she knew what she should do, it did not align with what she desired to do. Adelyn desired to live freely, ignoring the rules and convention. To wildly give in to impulse and scandalize the world, especially her father. Propriety had smothered her for years, slowly draining the life from her. Could this be a chance to reignite that flame? To give in to impulse and intrigue, even if only for one night?

Adelyn was too old to be so short-sighted. Kissing a highwayman would be the ruin of her, and mostly likely her family.

"Come now, my lady. We haven't much time." He leaned in further, his words felt on her skin. Addy met his burning eyes, coming to her decision.

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The Doncaster's annual ball was meant to be the premier event of the season, but as the evening wore on, Lady Doncaster's perfectly coiffed curls seemed to droop in dejection.

Lord Doncaster had spared no expense, from the elaborate floral arrangements to the sumptuous food and string quartet. Yet something was dreadfully amiss. The guests milled about awkwardly, the conversation stifled to polite murmurs. Even the dancing seemed to lack its usual vivacious spirit.

"This is an utter failure, Theodore," Lady Doncaster hissed to her husband. "The Wilmonts are already preparing to take their leave. At this rate, we'll be the laughingstock of the ton!"

Lord Doncaster grimaced, mentally reviewing the potential causes. The champagne supplier had mixed up their order, leaving them with an unremarkable vintage. The famous opera singer hired to perform had fallen terribly ill. And the new French chef had clearly been a grievous mistake, if the barely touched platters were any indication.

While he himself did not care for the fickle jabs of the ton and would not even notice should they disparage his Lordship, his wife was different. Lady Doncaster lived for the accolades of her fellow noble ladies, and took great pride in her events. Lord Doncaster cast about the room for a solution, wishing to save his wife's reputation as hostess and secure her happiness for the season. Although they had not married for love, it had crept in slowly after they began their life together. Now he wished for nothing more than her happiness.

Just then, a great commotion erupted from the entry hall. Raised voices and gasps of scandalized shock filtered into the ballroom. Lord and Lady Doncaster exchanged a bewildered glance before hurrying to investigate.

The sight that greeted them was one of utter chaos. A wild-eyed Lady Florence clutched at her heaving bosom, face blotched from evident hysteria. Lord Wellingham bore a curiously resolved expression, though his cravat was quite askew.

And Miss Adelyn Hastings...well, the young lady's bright eyes and flushed cheeks quite stole one's breath away, despite her state of charming disarray.

"Robbery!" Lady Florence wailed. "Highwaymen descended upon us on the road from Mayfair! I don't know how we shall ever recover from this travesty! "

Lady Doncaster's eyes brightened with unrepentant glee. This was precisely the delicious scandal to enliven her dreadful affair!

"Come, come," she cooed, ushering them inside. "You're among family now. Do tell us everything!"

The gaggle of flustered arrivals allowed Lady Doncaster to usher them to the staff waiting to take their coats,. As the story of their harrowing highway robbery began to circulate in hushed tones, Lady Doncaster couldn't suppress a satisfied smile. Her party had just received the jolt of scandal it so desperately needed, and they had not even made it to the ballroom.

When Adelyn slipped off her cloak, a sparkle of light caught Lady Doncaster's eye. There, nestled against the swell of Adelyn's bodice, rested an exquisite ruby necklace.

"Why, Miss Hastings!" Lady Doncaster exclaimed, "That necklace is an absolute vision, however did you manage to keep it from the thieves' clutches?"

A becoming flush stole across Adelyn's cheeks and down her neck as all eyes turned her way. She subconsciously reached up to toy with the jeweled strand, suddenly finding herself quite flustered.

"I...that is..." She cleared her throat delicately. "He must not have seen it properly in the dark, I suppose."

Her gaze skittered away, not meeting the questioning looks. An awkward titter rippled through the cluster of partygoers - a young lady's modesty being so scandalized in such uncivilized circumstances.

Ever the gracious hostess, Lady Doncaster gave a indulgent tut. "Well, you're among civility once more. Why don't we get you all freshened up, hmm? I'm sure you're in desperate need of a reviving drink after such an ordeal."

Sweeping them along, Lady Doncaster couldn't resist throwing a sly wink towards her husband. Thanks to this unnamed thief and Miss Hastings' rubies, this night had now become the most deliciously intriguing event to open the Season.