PROLOGUE

March, 1824

"Will you stop pulling my hair? By the time you're done I would have nothing but my scalp left!" Rhonda Wellington Lloyd yelled at her petite maid trying to tame her wild black curls that have grown way past her mid-back.

It shone beautifully under sunlight and plenty of young, lovesick men have written sonnets about it praising the beauty of its brilliance and colour. Rhonda did not care. So what if her striking hair has caught the attention of the eligible bachelors of the ton? It matters not to her, what matters to her is that her hair has grown far too long and it needs to be cut immediately. It may give her mother and the young men heart palpitations but she could not care less. Her hair is extremely distracting and just gets in the way. If her mother would just let her near a pair of scissors she would cut her hair at chin length. Maybe she could start a new trend.

However, her mother was a smart woman and was aware of her daughter's desire to butcher her gorgeous locks and she prevented anyone from cutting it, to the point where scissors are almost banned from their palatial home.

Rhonda winced as Giselle tugged at her hair again. "Be careful!" she yelped as Giselle stuck another painful pin into her mass of curls which were halfway to being stylishly piled atop her head.

"I'm sorry ma'am but your mother have said that you have to be looking your best when he sees you. Of course, she told me specifically to style it like the night when all of them rich, young lads were clamouring after you during the Summerton's ball. Your hair definitely caused a riot, madam," the maid babbled and Rhonda gave her a haughty stare through the big mirror. It was a beautiful piece of furniture with a gold border attached to an oak dressing-table. Rhonda glared at her reflection and pouted.

Sure, she was beautiful, everybody says so. They praised her in hopes of getting her hand in marriage even when they all know that she is an engaged woman. Still, she didn't like what she saw. Her beautiful face with her wide, brown innocent eyes, creamy complexion and full, pouty lips didn't make her proud, it made her feel quite useless. Just another pretty face, a common lady of the ton to be married off to some duke whose name she could not remember.

"I do not know why everybody is so anxious about his arrival. It's not as if he's God," Rhonda complained as she sensed her maid freeze. Through the mirror, Rhonda could see the wide-eyed Giselle, her mouth hanging in shock. She never guessed Giselle to be overtly religious. Rhonda never intended to blaspheme but the duke, and they haven't even met yet, brought out the worst in her.

"Oh, relax Giselle! It is not you who badmouthed him, it's me. And I have every right to be since I'm forced to marry him," Rhonda reassured Giselle. "Bloody bastard's going to get what's coming to him. Who does he think he is? Taking my freedom away before I have even gotten it. The nerve!"

Giselle nodded quietly, too scared to utter a word. She did not like it when the mistress was in a bad mood. Miss Rhonda clearly has a temper, Giselle did not want to provoke her.

"Th-there, ma'am. I-it's d-d-done," Giselle stammered as she brushed the rest of Rhonda's curls and inspected the final product. The mistress looked absolutely breath-taking with half of her hair twisted to the sides and ended in a bun. A few strands of her hair framed her face adding softness to the look. Rhonda was ready, Giselle thought.

Rhonda observed herself. She really would have looked better with her hair cut short but she has to make do for now. After all, hair should be the least of her concern. She is getting married. Not only that, the man is a complete stranger. Even though her mother insists that they have met before when they were children, she did not know a single thing about her fiancé except for the fact that he is extremely eccentric. And that piece of information was just from the unreliable lips of the ton.

It is inconsequential anyway. Even if she did know her fiancé, it would not quell the feeling of anger raging inside her for life being so decidedly unfair. She loathed her parents for this. Threatening to cut her inheritance off if she does not marry… what was his name again? She simply could not remember. It was puzzling. Rhonda has always been good at remembering names but she just cannot remember his.

"Ma'am, would you like to be putting on your shoes now and your ribbons?" she heard Giselle ask, interrupting her thoughts. Rhonda nodded and sighed. What would her fiancé be like? Would he like her? More importantly, would she like him?

Sadly, Rhonda realised that her dream off falling in love and marrying the man she falls in love with is never coming true if she marries a man that she knows nothing of. The thought made her want to weep… but the thought of losing her inheritance quickly brought her back to her senses. How was she supposed to survive without money? It is simply not possible.

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?

She hadn't heard that voice in a while. She shook her head to get rid of such thoughts.

Rhonda stood up from her plush chair and announced loudly, even though it was only Giselle that was in her boudoir, "Today, I will have to sacrifice all that I have. I am forced into this circumstance and I will take every opportunity thrown my way and use it to my advantage. I will work hard so that I do not fail myself and my upcoming marriage. With your guidance, I seek to be the very best of what I can be. That is all."

With a raised chin and a determined expression, Rhonda marched out of the room without bothering to wear her shoes. Giselle was in the corner, stunned, she was fighting the strongest urge to clap her hands.