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𝐈 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄,𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

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𝐈 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄,
𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄
𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃
𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒.


. . .


OUR BETROTHAL WAS NOT
ONE BROUGHT ON BY INTENSE LOVE.

NO, IT WAS ONE BROUGHT ON BY A
SENSE OF DUTY TO THE ONES WE LOVE MOST.


. . .


SYNOPSIS

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SYNOPSIS.

LADY ELIZABETH LOUISA BEAUMONT WAS FAR TOO FAMILIAR WITH THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD. From the moment she first bore witness to the clear blue and innocent eyes of her younger sister, Beatrice, Elizabeth couldn't explain what her heart was feeling within. Of course, she was all but two when her first sister blessed the planet, so who would expect otherwise? But the feeling only intensified two years later when Ophelia was born, and again, Elizabeth could not understand her thoughts and feelings. But, when her youngest sister, Frederica, was born, well six-year-old Elizabeth finally understood the feelings of her heart. She loved her sisters, she loved them oh-so-very-much and she wanted nothing more than to protect them from the world's cruelties.

So, as they grew older, Elizabeth was present for her sisters' every need, every sorrow-filled cry, and every crushing nightmare. She cared for them more than their own mother, who while being physically present was absent emotionally. So she tended to her sisters when their mother should've. Yet, Elizabeth did not mind, for her sisters were her world and it seemed a small price to pay for their happiness and wellbeing.

The Beaumont family, one of the most influential and envied families of high society, was once knee-deep in riches. Their wealth was spread across plentiful properties scattered across the English countryside alongside their house in Grosvenor Square. Lord Cecil Beaumont the Earl of Abingdon had provided his four daughters with a privileged upbringing. Their hearts' deepest desires never went unnoticed, for whatever they wished had become a reality. From delicate gowns to necks lined with shimmering jewels, a charismatic and cheeky spaniel to piles of literature, they were spoiled. Then, in the spring of 1809, after the death of dear Uncle Henry, the new gowns and the jewels, and everything else in between, became more and more scarce until it became nothing but wistful memories.

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