"My name is Lady Whistledown. You do not know me, and you never shall. But if you are currently reading these papers of record, then rest assured: I certainly know you...
Perhaps the underdogs of our season shall be the Queen's mysterious niece and...
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"God, I don't think I can breathe."
The youngest Wilhelm sibling gasped as she paced across the Queen's private drawing room with a dainty hand resting on her forehead.
"There's no need to be nervous. Our aunt isn't going to declare you ineligible in front of the whole ton." A handsome man, barely older than his counterpart dismissed, peering up at her from behind his whiskey glass.
"It's not the nerves, Dorian."
"Then what is it?"
"This stupid corset," she huffed before stealing the whiskey from her brother's hand with a delicate swoop. "We're supposed to be on our best behaviour."
As the young woman placed the drink back next to the half-empty decanter, the sounds of carriages entering the courtyard grabbed her attention. Through the window, she could see the plumes of feathers, silk and lace descending upon the palace and grimaced at the thought of so many people.
Discarding her previous thought, she picked the brown liquid back up and downed it in one gulp. Dorian raised an eyebrow before dragging himself off the chaise lounge and up onto his feet.
"What happened to best behaviour, Alicia?"
She rolled her eyes, ignoring her brother's dig.
"The maids are trying to suffocate me and the desperate mamas out there may claw you to death."
"I fear you may be correct. Every single one of them will believe their daughter is entitled to my fortune through marriage...unfortunately for them I'll be rather occupied with a particular guardsman." Dorian confessed.
