Prologue

The grandeur of Hawthorne Manor enveloped Lady Eleanor Fairfax as she stepped out of the carriage, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and dread.

She smoothed the delicate fabric of her gown—a gown borrowed from her sister's wardrobe, as she could not afford one of her own—trying to quell the nervous fluttering in her stomach.

Tonight was not just any society ball; it was the event of the season, a lavish affair hosted by the esteemed Duke of Ashford, Daniel Hawthorne. But for Eleanor, it held a significance far greater than mere social status—it was the night she would come face to face with her past, a past she had tried so desperately to forget.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor lifted her son, Oliver, into her arms, his tiny frame nestled against her chest. He was the reason she was here tonight, the reason she had summoned the courage to confront the ghosts of her past. She prayed that Daniel would understand, that he would see the truth in her eyes and offer his assistance without hesitation.

As she made her way up the steps of Hawthorne Manor, the imposing facade looming before her, whispers of speculation followed in her wake. The guests—aristocrats and socialites, all vying for the attention of the elusive Duke of Ashford—turned to stare, their curious gazes lingering on the unexpected arrival.

Eleanor's heart hammered in her chest as she entered the ballroom, the opulent space alive with the sound of laughter and music. She felt a pang of nostalgia as memories of her past encounters with Daniel flooded her mind—the stolen glances across crowded ballrooms, the whispered conversations in secluded alcoves.

But tonight was different. Tonight, she was not just another society belle vying for Daniel's favor. She was a mother, a woman with a secret to reveal and a favor to ask.