What is a true lady? A true lady is a woman of refinement and gentle manners. A lady should be quiet in her manners, natural and unassuming in her language, careful to wound no one's feelings, but giving generously and freely from the treasures of her pure mind to her friends. Scorning no one openly, she should feel gentle pity for the unfortunate, the inferior and the ignorant, at the same time carrying herself with an innocence and single-heartedness which disarms ill nature, and wins respect and love from all.

Esme Marie Destler closed the book of etiquette that her friends were all so keen on and tossed it aside in disgust. Giving generously and freely from the treasures of her pure mind? Absolute and utter garbage! As today was her eighteenth birthday, she would soon be introduced into society as a lady of marriageable age, but if she had to follow the rules in that book, she would rather remain unmarried!

She still felt seventeen! The thought of being somebody's wife or God forbid, their mother scared the wits out of Esme. Not that she didn't know how it all worked. She had four older sisters and a sister-in-law and she had browbeaten each of them into telling her a bit more. Of course, the fact that she had found Julienne's stash of romance novels had taught her even more than anything her sisters could have revealed. She knew how all the parts fit together and worked, but what she didn't understand is whyanybody would want to partake in such an awkward activity. Obviously, it was the way to beget children, but those wicked novels seemed to indicate that people acted this way for pleasure. How one would get pleasure out of that, she had no clue.

Only she and Julienne still lived at home with their parents. Julienne was nearly twenty-five and unmarried, which was unthinkable. Their mother had tried several times to introduce Jules to unmarried men, all of whom she had rejected or frightened away with her quick witted tongue. Men were intimidated by Julienne's intelligence, Esme knew. She loved her sister dearly, but Esme suspected that Julienne was not opposed to men in general, she was simply trying to keep them at a safe distance from her heart. As the youngest in the family, Esme had spent her life observing her older siblings' behavior and emotions.

Madeleine was very maternal and firm, while Bella had been the sweet, grounding force that one went to for advice and comfort. Claire had been the fiercely loyal one and Julienne had been the smart one with an acid tongue. Charles, of course, was Dad all over again. He was aggressive and quick tempered and extremely loving.

Charles was a father himself now, after eight years of marriage, he had three children of his own. Ava was his eldest, at seven years old, followed two years later by her sister Eden and two years after that came his son, Knox, who was three years old. Charles and his wife, Emmy, were expecting their fourth and what they claimed would be their final child.

Maddie had two children, Olivia and Walker, who were eight and four, respectively. Bella had her own two children, Edward, who would be seven in May and Nessa, who was almost four. Claire was the only of her three married sisters that did not have one girl yet. She and Gustave had named their first child, the future Viscount de Chagny, Erik Raoul for both of their fathers. The adorable black haired child was six. Their second child Lucien was four, and had inherited the light hair of his father, and gray eyes, which seemed a combination of Gustave's sky blue and Claire's silver green eyes. Claire was also expecting another child toward the middle of the year.

Esme had four nieces and five nephews, and she loved all of them dearly, but she could not imagine mothering any of them. She barely felt like an adult. All of her life, she had been sheltered and babied. While she loved her family dearly, she was slightly resentful that she had never been out into the world as Claire had been by her age…and Julienne had gone to finishing school at sixteen. The truth was, entering Society scared the daylights out of Esme because she didn't know how to act around other people.

The two people she was closest to in the world were a twenty-five year old spinster and a twenty-seven year old half Persian.

Roger.

He'd always been her dearest friend, her fiercest protector and her greatest champion. He was the dark prince of every romance novel reader's fantasy. Tall, with thick, inky hair and skin the color of very light caramel. His eyes were hazel, with flecks of green, brown and gold in them and he had the features of what she would imagine a Greek God to look like. Though he was half Persian, his Irish side had clearly been dominant in his features as he had a straight, fine nose and a chiseled, squared off jaw line. Women practically fell at his feet. Though he would never say so, Esme knew he spent time with women. She didn't mind though. Roger was very handsome, and it was easy to see why ladies fell in love with him at first sight.

Speaking of Roger, he was nearly two hours late for her birthday party and Esme had been forced to open her gifts without the presence of her best friend. The Lady's Etiquette book had been given to her by Julienne as a joke, but it was upsetting her. If she could not act herself in public, then she did not want to be in public. Even more upsetting was the fact that Roger had stood her up on the most important birthday of her life. Now the party was over and Esme had retreated to the solitude of her bedroom. Padding to the window seat, she looked out wistfully at the twilight.

A knock on her door made her nearly fly out of her own skin.

"Come in!" She managed to say, panting. A tall, dark haired figure stepped inside and Esme didn't have to turn her head to know who it was. "You're late." She said, without looking at him. A sigh left him.

"I know. I'm sorry Esme." He said, as she made herself look at him. He was standing with his arm behind his back. "If you'll let me explain, I'll tell you why." Esme turned toward him, sitting with her legs tucked up under her body. He moved to kneel beside the window seat and drew forth something covered in a satin cloth with a bow on it. Meeting his hazel eyes, she carefully removed the covering to reveal a shiny silver box. Gentle as a lamb, he opened the top and a sweet lullaby began to play from it.

"I ordered this specially from Persia." He explained. "I was waiting for it to arrive today, but the train had been delayed."

Esme took it from him and realized there was something else inside it. A slim gold chain with a pendant on the end that looked like a tiny sun. It had a ruby in the center of it. Shaking her head, Esme began to hand it back to him.

"Roger, this is too much…I can't accept-"

"You can." He insisted, grinning up at her. "Here, lift your hair and let me put your necklace on." Obliging him, she lifted the long curling mass of her red hair and let him fasten the clasp at the back of it.

"Why is it a sun, Roger?" She asked, touching the precious pendant around her neck. His hazel eyes flickered with something she did not recognize as his smile grew tight, but did not disappear.

"Your hair is exactly the color of a sunrise." Roger told her thickly and patted her cheek tenderly. "Happy birthday, Esme Marie." She found a smile for him and nodded.

"I'll wear it always." She promised.

And so it begins!!!! Enjoy!