𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | b. bridgerton

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | at the helm

Dearest Gentle Reader,

What a night!

It seems as though our prayers have finally been answered; this season shall indeed be more exciting than the last. This divine intervention arrives in the striking form of Josephine Howard, the beautiful, freshly-debuted Duchess of Norfolk.

With the Duchess' sudden return to the Ton shrouded in mystery, allow me to set straight what we know of the debutante so far, and separate 'fact' from 'fiction'.

Fresh-off-the-boat from Spain, the Duchess is setting her slippered feet back on English soil - for the first time since her childhood - to dip her toes into the lush waters of London's marriage pool.

Her surprise appearance at the Danbury ball last night has certainly thrown the Ton into a tizzy, and - more importantly - has stoked the keen interests of many suitors, including those mentioned in last week's issue.

Lord Fife made an audacious bid to charm the Duchess, but it seemed that she was more resistant to the "charms" of the wily young lord than some other ladies of the Ton have been. But do not fret, Lord Fife. Your tenacity has not gone unnoticed and, with much hope, your next attempt shall garner a more successful outcome.

A commodity indeed, the Duchess danced with many gentlemen last night, including both Bridgerton brothers and the handsome Lord Trombley. Of course, it is too early to call just yet which stallion will be "coming up roses" before the season has concluded, but there are already a choice few who have fallen before the first hurdle. I do hope Lord Whittard made it home safely after the debacle with the champagne tower.

Nevertheless, Duchess Howard, This Author humbly welcomes you to London and thanks you, for injecting a much-needed boost of intrigue into the season ahead.

Hold onto your bonnets, mamas and young misses, because London's marriage mart has just become much more competitive.

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, February 1816

Jo awoke the morning after the Danbury ball feeling very much as though someone had taken a large rock to her head in her sleep. Even in the cold light of day, she was certain that she could still hear the faint sound of an orchestra playing somewhere.

As soon as it would not have seemed rude of her to do so, Jo had asked her uncle to call for their carriage so they could leave. Samuel and Agatha had both implored her to stay longer to socialise and begin to form alliances with the persisting crowds of ladies - as she would "only succeed in the season at the behest of the noblewomen" - but Jo staunchly refused, longing for her bed and to be free of her stays. Reparations could be done another day.

She hadn't arrived back at Howard House until the early hours of the morning. Feet burning and head spinning, Jo had dragged herself upstairs and collapsed onto her bed before she could even call for a maid to help her wrestle out of her gown. When Alma entered at the crack of dawn, bringing with her two maids pushing a breakfast cart and her unwaveringly sunny disposition, she immediately forced Jo - straight from slumber - out of her dress and into a proper chemise.

Jo couldn't even muster up the willpower to protest, limp like a ragdoll as Alma threaded her arms through the sleeves of her favourite robe; a huge, heavy thing of black velvet that used to be her uncle's, embroidered along the hem in bright, floral bursts in an attempt by Jo to liven up the garment.

She slumped into a chair, picking at a few bits of fruit from the breakfast spread. "Why are we not eating downstairs?"

"I thought you might desire the solace of your chambers a little longer," Alma replied, stirring a dash of milk through her tea. "And I'm desperate to hear about last night. How was it?"