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still quite small, the girl had had no inkling of just what ripples their match had sent forth into the social world. Unknown to the young Cecily, her stepmama was one of the Fabulous Featherstone sisters, whose arrival in London in the season of 1799 had set the ton on its proverbial ear. Though their origins, as the daughters of an obscure country parson in the wilds of Yorkshire, were hardly impressive, Violet, Rose, and Poppy had something stronger: beauty, grace, and cunning. Before they were in town for more than a week every hostess in the Beau Monde was clamoring to have them in attendance. Brummell declared them to be originals, and the Prince of Wales was rumored to be dangling after all three of them, albeit not with marriage in mind. Thus were the Fabulous Featherstones made.
    When the newly widowed Lord Hurston had married the eldest sister, Violet, St. George’s Hanover Square had been full to bursting with guests. In short order, Rose had married Lord Shelby, famous for his diplomatic endeavors, and Poppy had tamed the wild Earl of Essex. When their daughters had arrived, Cecily had been pleased to have playmates for the family gatherings that are a staple of any large family. By the time they made their own social debuts, the three had become the best of friends.
    Unfortunately, being the daughters of such famed beauties had created expectations in the ton that were unrealistic. And as is often the case with celebrity, by the time the cousins made their debuts, backlash had set in. They were hardly antidotes, but in the time-honored tradition of asinine wags everywhere, one such wit had dubbed the cousins the Ugly Ducklings as a play on the Fabulous Featherstones. Nevermind that the duckling in the fairy tale turned into a swan.Society being what it was, there was little chance for the three young ladies to redeem themselves, much less point out the error.
    Which was all the same to the cousins. Cecily had little interest in social affairs—except when they afforded her an opportunity to discuss her intellectual pursuits. Juliet would just as soon spend her evening practicing on the pianoforte or working on her own compositions—especially given that a childhood injury had left her unable to dance. And Madeline was far too outspoken to make it through an evening’s entertainment without inadvertently offending someone, so she often used her time with the dowagers and wallflowers gathering fodder for the novel she was writing.
    They might not be the most fashionable of young ladies, Cecily reflected, but they were by far the most interesting.
    “So,” Juliet prodded, “tell us all. It is not every day that an Ugly Duckling gets the opportunity to meet a handsome prince. Or duke.”
    Cecily frowned. “Well, he was hardly princelike. When he discovered who I was he practically ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.”
    “That’s hardly fair.” Maddie’s blond brows drew together. “You weren’t even on the expedition where his brother disappeared.”
    “Since when do gentlemen operate based on the concept of fairness?” Juliet bit into a ginger biscuit. “Especially gentlemen with newly inherited dukedoms.”
    “Given that his brother is missing, I cannot hold his coldness against him,” Cecily said with a sigh. “Though I would have thought he would agree to help me since Papa is in such dire straits now.”
    Both of Cecily’s cousins sobered at the mention of Lord Hurston.
    “How is he today?” Juliet asked, reaching out to squeeze Cecily’s hand.
    “The same.” Cecily could not keep the slight tremor from her voice. “He is still unable to speak, and I am convinced that the bleeding and purgatives that Dr. Fairfax prescribed are doing him more harm than good. He is getting weaker and shows no signs of improvement.”
    “Dearest,” Maddie said, “what can we do? How can we help?”
    Cecily sighed. “That is just it. There is nothing to be done. We are simply forced to