🐝˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ CHAPTER ONE:
THE DEBUT.

Three years seemed more than adequate for the Duchess of Edinburgh to prepare her youngest niece for marriage. Yet, it appeared that no amount of time could settle Miss Daisy Allan Dare's — not to be confused with the ostracised Baron Allan; his daughter's affair with a married man was quite the scandal — antics nor angle her chin at the perfect degree before lowering into a curtsy fit for the Queen.

"She is like her mother," Ginny pressed her fingers against her temple. Her husband, Prince George, the Duke of Edinburgh, looked up from the pamphlet held in his hand. The corner of his lips tugged up with amusement. "It is a wonder, truly," The Duchess began pacing, her silk dress, blue like the April sky, swished with each step. "how my dear sister secured a marriage in a week".

Lowering the pamphlet to his lap, Prince George spoke with a teasing smile, "Your sister was a rare beauty".

Halting her quick steps, Ginny turned to face her husband. Her scowl did not hold. One could not be upset over such a comment, the Duchess did not have to squint to find similarities between herself and her late sister, they had been an exact copy of another, in appearance at least — as were the late Viscountess's sons.

"If we must, we shall hold off another year," The Prince suggested with a simple wave of his hand.

Opposed to that idea, Ginny shook her head. They'd held off long enough. Daisy Allan Dare was approaching her twenty-first birthday, much longer and Ginny feared the Ton would deem Daisy an unsuitable wife.

"And let the Ton and not to mention, your aunt," Ginny pointed at her husband with a straight finger, "the Queen, speculate why a lovely young woman is yet not out in society?" The Duchess began pacing again.

George had truly never seen his wife so pale with worry.

"Then allow Daisy another moment to ready herself," George patted the cushioned seat beside him, "And come read this society paper with me".

"I told you to put that down," Ginny sat beside her husband, placing her hands in her lap. "Does it mention us?" She asked.

George, formally Prince George Henry (named after his late mother's dearest brother) opened the pamphlet he'd been caught reading over breakfast.

It was no more than gossip and Ginny much preferred 'The Weekly Ton', as boring as George claimed the newspaper to be.

"Of course not," George handed the pamphlet to his wife. "No paper, however scandalous, is brave enough to print names".

Ginny could not argue, and as her husband said, 'The Season's Rose' may be a scandalous society pamphlet filled with gossip but it was careful to never name the individuals of the Ton. Disarray would simply erupt.

"Don't speak so soon, George".

She allowed her eyes to scan over the printed lettering. The writer was clever, captivating the reader with details of stolen kisses and fleeting touches enough to leave the reader longing for a tad more.

"This is from last year," The Duchess pointed out. The date, printed under the nameplate read July 5 1812.

A hum rumbled in George's throat and with a nod of his head he took the pamphlet from his wife. "Thus far, this season has been dull," George stated. "Maybe our Daisy will sparkle?" George flattened the pamphlet on the small table that stood beside the settee he and he wife perched themselves on.

"Doubtful," Ginny muttered.

"You must give her credit," George rose from his seat. He straightened his navy waistcoat and ran his hand over his thick beard. Ginny, much to the disagreement of the rest of society, loved her husband's beard and the tickle it gave her neck when he kissed her in the seclusion of their home.

"I must?" Ginny asked.

"You ask a lot," George turned to face his wife, standing where the Duchess stood moments ago.

Ginny clasped her hands together in her lap once again. "As does every mama this season," Ginny's chest rose with a sharp inhale of breath, "I am not her mama," George's eyes softened. "I would be a fool to pretend but her mother would have expected perfection, so I must expect perfection".

"All I ask is for you to not be so harsh," George glanced toward Daisy's room at the end of the hallway. A quarter of an hour ago Daisy's maid hurried out, mumbling something about feathers and some moments later rushed back in with a pristine white box, as long as her arm.

Footsteps and hushed chatter echoed up the staircase. The Prince turned his head at the very second Peter and Henry Allan Dare, donning near identical formal attire, rounded the corner of the hallway. "She has turned you soft," Ginny rose to her feet, still speaking to her husband.

The Allan Dare twins were as impatient as their aunt and they were soon to be late if Daisy did not make haste.

"She is not yet done?" Peter asked. He clasped his hands behind his back, he tipped forward on the balls of his feet, his gaze drifting to his elder sister's room. His eyes, however, did not meet the white painted door as they fixed upon the portrait that hung on the wall beside it; his mother and father, sat beside one another, hand in hand and staring back at him with such happiness. The present head of the Allan Dare family, only eighteen, straightened up and bowed his head to his father.

Henry, his nose freckled from his recent days fencing with his uncle and Peter at Barnwell Manor, held himself similarly to his brother. He looked between the Duke and Duchess, a dark brow raising slightly, "Must someone check on her?" Henry asked.

Hidden behind her white door, Daisy Allan Dare stared at herself. Clad in a pure white dress, the neckline low and frilled with matching silk gloves, Daisy felt odd. She, like her late mother, opposed to her aunt, much preferred the darker shades of silk but white was customary as were the large feathers that stuck out of her head, ruining her beautiful and quite perfect updo.

"I look like a goose," Daisy turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at herself in the mirror. "What if the feathers do not agree with me and I sneeze?".

Alexandra, Daisy's maid, plastered a smile on her face. Daisy was usually straightforward, she wore whatever gown Alexandra pulled from her closet and did not complain as her hair was combed. Today... Well, today hadn't been a good day for either Miss nor her maid, Daisy was uncomfortable, therefore Alexandra was one Allan Dare meltdown away from locking herself in the closet.

Picking up the diamond necklace the Duchess had brought to Daisy's room that morning, Alexandra briefly casted her eyes over Daisy. "You look beautiful, Miss".

"I still do not understand, why must I be presented? We had supper with the Queen last week. Surely Her Majesty has not forgotten me already," Daisy hunched her shoulders, trying and failing to make her dress more comfortable as she turned back toward the mirror.

"You are being presented to society, Miss," Alexandra said, though she knew the Duchess had reminded her niece at least once a day since she'd been fitted for her debutante gown.

Alexandra stood behind Daisy, she unclasped the necklace and gently placed it around Daisy's neck, securing it once again.

"You will be the talk of the Ton," Alexandra smiled at Daisy through the mirror.

Daisy touched the sparkling piece of jewellery with the tips of her fingers. It had been her mother's. Mabel had worn it during her debut and not even two days later she confessed to her mother that she was in love; with the late Viscount, of course.

Pushing her shoulders back, Daisy forced a smile onto her lips. Her mother wanted her children to find a love match as she had with their father. Daisy's elder sister, Adele, had been fortunate with her marriage. However, fleeting it may have been. The Ton would miss David Howell's insightful knowledge and kind smile as would his sister-in-law.

"We shall be late," Daisy said.

"We must make haste then," Daisy, unaware of the Duchess's entrance, startled at her aunt's voice and unlike Daisy, Alexandra hid her surprise well.

Looking over Daisy, Ginny took in every detail with her piercing eyes, assessing her niece before the Queen laid her critiquing gaze upon her. Nerves bloomed and fluttered in Daisy's stomach, she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, angling it at an almost perfect degree.

A faint smile, barely noticed by her niece, tugged at Ginny's lips. She laced her hands together and straightened her back. Ginny didn't offer a compliment nor did she voice a complaint as she ushered Daisy out of her bedroom with a wave of her hand.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

The carriage, quiet from the moment Daisy stepped inside, came to a halt in the St James's palace courtyard. George, unable to comment on his niece's appearance without his wife burning a glare into his cheeks, smiled gently at her as Ginny was assisted out of the carriage by a footman.

Daisy smoothed the long white gloves that covered her finger tip to upper arm and adjusted the diamonds that pierced her earlobes, a tight lipped smile that popped the rosy apples of her cheeks failed to hide her apprehension.

Henry cut through the silence, "Try not to embarrass the entire family," A genuine smile appeared on Daisy's face and she swatted his chest with her fan.

"Enough!" Without shouting, the tone of Ginny's voice wiped the smiles from their faces.

The youngest twin apologised and sunk back into the cushioned carriage seats. Any other day, when his aunt wasn't so high strung, Ginny may have let the jest pass.

Daisy took the hand of the footman with a sincere apology to her aunt and stepped out of the carriage. Not a soul, save for the palace guards and awaiting footmen were present in the courtyard. They were late.

It was improper to run and even more improper to be untimely, especially to court, so they, with short-lived protest from the Duchess, who blanched at the suggestion, struck up a quick paced walk as word of their arrival was sent to the Queen's right hand man.

The Duke, noticed by all, slunk into the great hall with his nephews at his heels. He tipped his head and smiled, acknowledging the noble families they squeezed passed. The Queen, boredom causing her to slouch in her throne, had not yet noticed her husband's nephew. Her attention was hardly captured by Miss Cressida Cowper and with a wave of her hand and a look of disappointment that would have had even Prince George feeling shameful, she dismissed Lord Cowper's daughter and sighed a heavy breath.

Daphne Bridgerton, the eldest daughter of the late Viscount Bridgerton was, at the current moment, the only debutante to please Queen Charlotte. She didn't wobble on her feet nor falter at the sight of Her Majesty.

She was exceptional.

A footman, the footman that was to send word of the Duke's arrival, suddenly appeared in the doorway left to the Queen's throne. He, reddened in the face, hurried to Brimsley. They shared a quiet word and Brimsley scanned the families at court, searching for the King's nephew.

The Duke of Edinburgh stood out like a sore thumb, with his thick beard, warm eyes and inviting spirit that had the Ton glancing in his direction. If the Queen wasn't present, many would have shuffled across the great hall to greet the much beloved Princess's son.

The footman at the far end of the court was handed a slip of paper. He scanned the name scrawled in black ink and his brow raised subtly with surprise.

Queen Charlotte, the news of the Duke's arrival finally meeting her ears, straightened up. She had longed for this day, Her Majesty had a list of suitors for Daisy and some were growing impatient with every year that the Royal Duke's niece did not make her debut into society.

The footman, holding the slip of paper, turned to face the Queen. "Miss Daisy Allan Dare, Presented by Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Edinburgh," Her name, booming across the court, had a smile daring to tug at the Queen's lips. The members of the Ton, mamas who'd spent years preparing their daughters for marriage looked at their husbands with worry and suitors — of all ages — craned their necks to see the highly spoken about Allan Dare.