Go Find Yourself A Prince to Kiss!

Dearest Gentlereader...

Dearest Readers,

The social season is officially underway, and the Ton is already more than abuzz. The Queen has yet to select a diamond, and the contenders for such a noble title are quite magical.

By far the most desirable position to be in, the diamond may just have the chance to wed either of the Dukes Mistral, provided of course, that the diamond is not their relation–one Duchess Dovey.

All three of the siblings preside over their own duchies, making them quite attractive to the marriage-minded women of the Ton. This author cannot help but wonder how the siblings are feeling about this development, knowing that all three are on the market. Let us hope that they can afford all three glamorous weddings with such a short turnaround.

Yours,

Lady Whistledown

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Dearest Readers,

The author's speculation was correct. Duchess Clarissa Dovey has indeed been named the diamond. Those ladies aiming to assume the name Mistral will need to rely on more than just a title to woo either brother.

It is this author's opinion, however, that one may already have. The eagle-eyed lord or lady will have noticed that a particular redhead was dancing with Duke Rafal Mistral. Fitting, of course, as Duke Mistral has openly professed his love for the color red. Redheads, rogue-makers, rosy-cheeked—you may well meet your match in Rafal Mistral.

If, of course, Lady Leonora Lesso does not match him first. Fear not! Duke Rhian Mistral has no such charmer in his midst, as of now, nor does his younger sister, Duchess Clarissa Dovey.

Perhaps it will not be terribly long until the Duchess does. More than a few gentlemen have lined up at her door. Whether it is her or the Dukes beating them away with a stick remains to be seen. The author wishes all eligible bachelors the best of luck.

Yours,

Lady Whistledown

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Dearest Readers,

It seems that Lady Lesso and the family Mistral have gotten rather close as of late, with many a lord and lady observing Duchess Dovey and Lady Lesso promenading around the Wishing Lake. The author wonders if they saw reflections of their future union within. Perhaps Duchess Dovey has a suitor in mind that only Lady Lesso is privy to viewing. Certainly, such a secret would be restricted only to family. Of course, the Wishing Lake is simply a beautiful sight, and no such look may have occurred. If it did–and this author thinks so–then we should expect quite the revelation in time.

For now, however, let us celebrate that the family Mistral is getting along swimmingly with Lady Leonora Lesso. Hopefully, we will see a fruitful friendship between the two women. Perhaps they will be bridesmaids at each other's respective weddings.

The author does regret to inform you that no suitor seems to have caught Duchess Clarissa Dovey's eye. Perhaps Lady Lesso will support her in finding one. She certainly has excellent taste in men.

Yours,

Lady Whistledown

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Rhian sighed. "Clarissa, if you would just give her a chance, I'm sure you'd find her to be charming. And Whistledown has a point–she could help you find a suitor."

Clarissa scowled, blonde curls bouncing as she shook her head, as if they had their own objections to the proposition. Her knuckles went white on the leaflet. "I do not want to marry."

"You must. We have our own lands to care for."

"As do I! We have equal inheritances, and my title is already established."

"The duchies need future dukes and duchesses."

"Then perhaps they can pull someone from the local population when I die. They'd no doubt be better at running the duchy than I could."

"You are the diamond!" Rhian pleaded. She knew he meant well, pleading with her, knowing that it was duty and not desire. She was stubborn, however.

She was about to retort when a maid alerted them to the presence of Lady Lesso. Rhian sighed yet again. "Go with her, Clarissa. At least try to get along with her. Maybe you'll come around."

"I highly doubt it," Clarissa responded. She had a variety of reasons for disliking Leonora Lesso. She was boorish, mannish, brash, unkempt, sharp-tongued, and simply unladylike. She didn't bother with proper etiquette, saying whatever she pleased to whomever she pleased. She openly expressed her distaste for proper clothing and styles, and was almost violent to those who touched her hair. Why Rafal liked her, Clarissa would never understand. She was, in every respect, opposite. She was not assent to the Mistrals or the Doveys. Rather, she was a liability, and that was at best.

"Well, like it or not," Rhian said, stirring his tea. "You're almost certain to be at her wedding, so get used to her."

Clarissa stood and ripped up the leaflet. "Absolutely not."