LORDS COULD ALWAYS GET AWAY with being corrupted, but a Lady—a true Lady—had to be the perfect image of virtue. She must be gentle, sociable, of good breeding and stature. A Lady needed to have a good reputation, fair appearance and wealth behind her.

I thought that maybe if I could be everything that was desirable, that somehow, someone would be willing to accept the truth about me. That I'd be a forgivable or pitiable creature and not so much like the sinner I believed myself to be.

Every kind word or attention from my mother made me feel like a demon. I felt as though I were merely an evil spirit inhabiting in place of the real Lady Mercy Avery.

Dark thoughts plagued my mind at night when I would have moments of silence. Had I consumed her soul in the womb? Did I really wish to be born into the Avery family so fervently that somehow my spirit managed to strangle out her life for mine?

"A Lady should not be daydreaming. Daydreaming is for the common-folk, achieving goals is for nobility," my mother reprimanded from her sitting chair.

I stirred from my thoughts.

"I am sorry mother," I said, returning to practice on the pianoforte.

I strained my eyes and willed myself to focus on the notes in-front of me. My pianoforte skills had to be perfect before the dinner. My ability in playing would only add to my value for my potential suitor.

Mother had a critical ear for music, every note that lacked skill or feeling she'd shake her head with disapproval.

"No, no, no! Have you not practiced at all? All I am hearing is noise, not music. Where is the passion in it? I should be feeling, not falling asleep!" She scolded me.

"I am sorry mother," I said again.

My mother wanted nothing short of perfection for my debut. I was her mirror: a bad reflection of me was a bad reflection of her.

"Start from the beginning," Mother told me as she lifted a fan to wave off the summer heat from her red-patched skin. "I want you to play until you feel the bones in your fingers turn stiff. While you play remember to maintain your posture and a pleasant smile. A Lady must make everything look elegant and effortless."

"Yes, mother."

I endured the scrutiny of my mother and played until one of the house maids informed us to get ready for the evenings supper.

Immediately, my mother's demeanor changed. She turned from a reprimanding figure to a shy and awkward girl. My father preferred to be away from the estate more than within it. He always claimed he had too much business to attend to and a few times within the week he would return home for suppers and to sleep at night.

My father's patterns had become this way ever since my Addy was sent away.

I wondered if partly I was to blame for his distance. My face was a constant reminder of Addy.

Another maid closer to my age hurried into the room so quickly that her hair began to break free of her white cap. "My Lady, your sisters' daughter, Lady Gwyneth Barton's carriage was seen in town. She is on her way here."

"Impossible, I have received no letters from my sister stating this!" Mother looked both mortified and frantic. It was bad enough for her to handle creating the perfect setting for supper with father, but to deal with a guest as well usually required three days of preparations.

The maid helplessly kept her head bowed down, too afraid to say anything more.

"Quickly, go ready the guest room and change the linens! Inform the kitchen to prepare supper for four. Send a boy to the market for fresh flowers and if they are closed, offer them twice as much in coins!" She ordered the girl.

I couldn't sit still. My blood was racing with excitement. Cousin Gwyneth was three years my elder. My family considered Gwyneth too radical for a lady, she did things like run in her good shoes and gown. She also been known to enjoy activities often deemed too masculine, such as racing on a horse back until her ribbons came loose.

Secretly, I shared all the same interests as Gwyneth, but I would never be able to reveal any of it. I had to keep all and any negative suspicion off myself.

"How long will she stay this time?" I asked hopefully.

Mother sternly pointed a finger towards me. "Your cousin is thoughtless and impulsive, two highly unattractive qualities in a lady. Do not follow her example or you will find yourself unable to charm a husband."

I kept my tongue still, despite that cousin Gwyneth was engaged to a handsome young Baron who's family was involved in Brazil's gold mining. She'd be married into a family with both title and abundant wealth.

Instead, I reached out to gently touch my mothers shoulder and offer her a kiss on her cheek. "Do not stress so much mother, consider your health."

Her hands patted against my arm a few times. "And should I fall really ill and your father is no longer living, will you take care of me with your husband?"

"Yes, mother." I nudged her carefully. "It would take hounds dragging me by the ankles to keep me from being with you. I will never fail or leave you."

My mother smiled with amusement, and despite the wrinkles that framed her eyes, they still reminded me of a child's eyes. It was as if a part of her was forever innocent.

"I will excuse myself to ready for supper," I said, and then I left the room.

I passed the kitchen where I caught sight of the kitchen help opening the back door for a young gentlemen. His shoes were messy and his sleeves were rolled up like he'd been doing intense labor all day. When my eyes rose to his face I could see it was Oliver Moore. He carried in cases of dishware and carefully handed them to Margret, the cook.

I wasn't supposed to go into the kitchen, but I could not help myself.

"Mister Moore! Good day to you, I did not expect a visit from you." I warmly greeted as I headed towards the back door.

"Lady Mercy." Oliver's eyes rose to see my face and I could see embarrassment wash over him quickly. "Forgive my appearance, I wanted to quietly deliver these to you."

I didn't care how he looked, I had been eager to find out more about him and it was better this way. I ignored the muted protests of a kitchen maid and moved closer to Oliver. "Please, do not even concern yourself with it. Do you usually make deliveries yourself?"

Oliver dusted his hands off against a hand towel and smiled so handsomely at me. "No, my'lady. I simply did not trust anyone to properly carry these. They are very delicate and they can chip with the wrong kind of handling. Sending some delivery lads who do not appreciate the value of what they carry can sometimes have bad results."

I flattened out my lips. Had I really expected some other reason for him being here? "Well, I am sure my mother will appreciate your special attention to care."

"Only your mother?" He asked.

"A debut is really a mothers idea though, isn't it? It's my mother who wants me to be introduced to society and give the illusion that I can chose a husband, when my father has already chosen four suitors that I have no choice, but to chose from."

Oliver shook his head looking deeply disturbed. "It is a bit of a tragedy isn't it? Men are raised to be successors and women are raised to be married. You should be free to become your own person and develop your own desires. It is not this way in America, the women who chose to go there are pioneers of change and difference."

I'd heard many tales about America, the land filled with resources and death in equal measure. I didn't like the unpredictability of that place. "America is filled with war and savages. Just the voyage there is a risk against ones life."

"There will not always be war, the so-called 'savages' are only protecting themselves from invasion, and some things are worth taking risks, don't you think? The freedom to forge a new life on new lands, a life that is yours and yours alone." Oliver's eyebrows lowered with intensity and the passion in his words made my stomach feel strange.

"You speak as if you are someone who has seen this land yourself," I managed to say.

He wore an attractive half-smile. "Do I?"

My lips parted and for a moment I felt like I had no words in me at all.

"You. . .are quite mysterious, Mister Moore," I breathed.

He bowed like a true gentlemen, his posture and stature seemed befitting of a Prince. Even covered in dirty boots and trousers he was gallant. "And now I must take my leave, my Lady."

"Will you come to my debut?" I quickly uttered.

He looked just as surprised as myself with the unexpected invitation. "I am afraid that sort of social scene is out of my ranking."

"Please, I insist." I tried to think of a feasible reason for inviting him besides the simple fact that I wanted to speak with him again. "You can ensure that no one is mishandling any of the dishware you so carefully delivered."

Oliver's features looked just a tiny bit sly and he seemed impressed. "Is it not improper for a Lady to invite a shop assistant to her official debut?"

I smiled, but it wasn't the sort of polite smile a lady was supposed to give; it was more of a challenging one. "You are not the only one who can be mysterious, Mister Moore."

"Then, for you, I will attend," he said quietly.

There was something about the way he said it, something in his eyes, on his lips and in his mannerism. Something that felt forbidden and exciting. A small mutual agreement between the two of us that I knew none would approve of.

Mentally, I convinced myself that this tiny bit of rebellion could be forgiven. This one small action wouldn't tarnish my reputation or my chances with Lord Humphrey Ashford.

I didn't feel like such a sinner anymore. Something new had awakened in me.

Lords could get away with being corrupted, but a great pretender can get away with being anything. . .