The carriage jumps as it hits a pothole and the passengers in the carriage cling to the sides to keep their seats. The carriage comfortably fits 3 but the extra person makes for very little foot room. The journey to Windthrope castle is not particularly long however the last five minutes have been awkward and unspoken words hung in the air.

Eliza sits next to Cecily with her arms crossed glaring an inch above Harrington's head, who looks haughtily out of the window at the countryside rolling down. James watches the pair with glee while Cecily shuffles in her seat, uncomfortable with the apparent tension. No one speaks as the horse pull them down roads and lanes. Harrington can feel Eliza's glare on his person, but he spares her no look, how can his presence annoy a woman this much? And why did he enjoy aggravating her so? He had to admit she looked stunning when she flew down the stairs and the lie about his sister had sprung quicker than expected.

Eliza feels her stomach press against her corset uncomfortably, the bone of the corset digs into her hip. She ignores the pain and continues to stare daggers at Harrington.

"Are you alright miss?" Cecily asks tentatively, the maid is watching her mistress and notices that her face is slowly turning whiter.

"I am quite well, tis this corset, it nips slightly," Eliza says with a weak smile. She shifts slightly to alleviate the pain and the corset moves up slightly drawing attention to her chest. James opens his mouth, but Harrington tries to kick him but misses and kicks Eliza's shin instead. She bites her lip in pain trying not to reveal how much her shin actually hurts. She narrows her eyes at Harrington who purses his lips, unsure whether to apologise or not. The carriage turns down Aldwich street, meaning Eliza only has to survive for another few minutes before she can escape.

"I am not impressionable!" Eliza announces suddenly to her company, both men turn their attention to her furious face. "I have my own mind and I do not need looking after!" she continues hissing at Harrington. The Duke casts her a disparaging look before returning to gazing at the scenery, James struggles to keep a straight face. The silence continues.

The carriage halts abruptly outside Windthrope Castle and the women are thrown forward into the arms of the shocked men. Eliza finds herself squished against the oaf; her face pressed up against his chest. She had thrown her arms in front to break her fall and they have ended up resting on his thighs.

Fuming with embarrassment Eliza removes her hands and tries to untangle her skirts from Harrington's boots. Cecily is helped back upright with a small smile from James who makes her blush furiously when he offers her his hand to assist her exit.

Harrington is of no help to Eliza; he simply sits while she tries to push herself up to no success. Her hair is tangled in the buttons of his waistcoat and they are preventing her from moving.

"I need some help." She admits begrudgingly after some struggling, Harrington smirks down at the head of black hair, he rather likes her body pressed up against his, she is warm and her smaller frame fits perfectly to his.

"What did you say?" He asks with a complacent smile.

"Help me, you jerk!" Eliza yells into his chest, her hands furiously tugging at the knot.

Taking his time he removes her fingers and unhooks the caught stands of hair until Eliza can pull free. With a wild shake of her hair to settle the curls, she straightens and brushes her dress off.

"Leave me the hell alone or I swear to god." Eliza seethes at Harrington, who simply stares at her condescendingly and replies,

"Trust me I have no need for your company,"

Eliza lets out a short laugh,

"That's the problem, I don't trust you," she says, her hands balled in fists. The duke doesn't reply but tilts his head to the side to assess the angry woman, Eliza becomes very aware she is still kneeling, her face level with his groin.

"Goodnight Lady Turner," Harrington says as he brushes past her and steps down out of the carriage. Eliza lets out a small breath as soon as he leaves and sinks into a sitting position. Why did that man make her heart race so?

"Eliza?" Lady Charlotte pokes her head inside the carriage, "I thought this is your carriage."

"Charlotte," Eliza smiles at her friend. "Where's Cecily?"

"She is in the servants' quarter, I said I'd walk you in." Charlotte says, "Was that Duke Harrington I saw coming out of your carriage?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Eliza grumbles as she jumps down onto the ground, surprisingly nimble in heels.

Charlotte looks at her in the light cast from the torches and her mouth falls open in shock. Eliza gathers her skirts and tries to smooth them out, she catches sight of Charlotte's face and lets out a small chuckle.

"That bad huh?" she says teasingly with a twirl.

"What? No, you look stunning." Charlotte says her eyes glued to the burgundy dress.

"Really?" Eliza asks with a hopeful smile. Her self-consciousness hit her when she stepped out to see Charlotte looking like an angel in a navy dress with a love heart neckline.

"Are you jesting? You look like Duchess." Charlotte says in awe

"Oh, I was going for a Countess," Eliza says pretending to be disappointed. Charlotte looks confused,

"A Duchess is higher than a Countess," she says puzzled

"Oh, oops?" Eliza laughs as she hooks her arm around her friends, and both walk towards the open door.

Men and women whisper and point as the two girls wander through the hall towards the ballroom.

"What are they all looking at?" Eliza whispers

"You." Charlotte murmurs back. The ballroom is awash with golden light and gleaming jewels. From the top of the stair, you can see everyone laughing and chatting with each other. A steward stands to the left and a line of people wait for their arrival to be proclaimed.

A maid hands them both a piece of paper and an ink pen to write their title down, Eliza hastily scribbles her name as does Charlotte. Together they move towards the line.

"Do you think we should just slip through?" Eliza suggests anxiously couples are announced to the room. She twists her hands nervously as they draw closer to the steward. Four away, three away, two away.

"Charlotte I am really not sure..." Eliza begins with panic in her voice. Her wrist is grabbed and Charlotte shoves them both into a nook behind vases of pink and white roses.

"Pull yourself together." Charlotte says, "You are stunning, you stand out, you are drab, you are hidden, you can't have it both ways"

"I know you don't care what people say so why this time does it matter?" Charlotte asks.

"Because people judge me on me not my appearance!" Eliza states. "People hate or like me for me, not my dress or my hair."

"Ah, I see," Charlotte sighs. "Dear, you have always been beautiful, you don't need a dress or fancy hair to prove that."

"Then why...?"

"Do you feel pretty?"

"Sorry?" Eliza stutters.

"Do you feel pretty?" Charlotte repeats.

"I.....I do."

"Then that's why you do it for yourself." Charlotte says, "And you bloody own it."

"Woah Charlotte," Eliza says with a small giggle. "Language."

"We shall not speak of that," Charlotte says warningly, "Come on." Eliza nods, they slip back into line and approach the steward and hand him their name cards.

"You ready?" Charlotte asks as they stand in place. Eliza nods. They link arms and walk down the stairs. Eliza clutches at Charlotte to prevent her legs from turning to jelly or her heel catching on the hem of her dress. On the seventh step, a voice is heard over the polite chatter.

"Lady Charlotte Bennet and Lady Eliza Turner."

Heads turn curiously and then whip back as they process the women walking down together.

"Smile." Charlotte says through a wide smile, "You look murderous." Eliza immediately changes her expression and offers a small smile. They reach the last step and Thomas appears and offers Charlotte his arm,

"My love,"

She accepts it with an adoring smile, and he whisks her on to the dance floor for a waltz. Eliza watches her friend go and feels a genuine smile appear at her friend's fortune. Men crowd around the front, whispering and watching her stand unaccompanied on the last step.

"Lady Turner."

A tall gentleman with a head of bright ginger hair and impressive beard stands in front of her. From his rich clothes and shiny boots, his wealth is clear.

"Hello." She says uncertainty.

"I am Lord Dingwell," He says in a strong Scottish accent which he flourishes with a bow. Eliza grimaces at his exposed neck but she regains her composure when he returns face to face.

"It is nice to meet you." She says with a tight smile.

"And you." He replies, looking her up and down appreciatively. The obvious look over causes Eliza to purse her lips and look around for a friend.

"Would you care for a dance? I wager you dance like an angel." Dingwell waggles his red eyebrows and seizes her hand tugging her on to the floor.

"I am afraid I dance very ill." Eliza protests as she is manhandled. She trips at the speed she is pulled, only finding her stance into the middle of the dancers.

"Naw I don't believe it." Dingwall places his hand on the curve of her hip and pulls her close to his body, she can feel his breath on her neck, it makes her cringe.

"Sir...I don't think." Eliza tries as he throws her around the room, her feet barely keeping in time to his steps and quickly becomes aware of many eyes on her and her partner.

"And spin." Dingwell cries over the music. With a strong force Eliza is twirled to her left and the unexpected move causes her to over spin and almost fall into a crowd of observers. A pair of arms catch her before she creates a mess and she manages to remain upright.

"Thank..." Eliza raises her eyes to see a very angry Harrington, "Oh it's you." The Duke's eyes are burning with rage so heatedly Eliza takes a step backwards.

"Oh, are you alright miss?" Dingwell strides to her side.

"She's fine," Harrington says shortly with a protective arm around her waist. Eliza tries to squirm out of the hold but she remains stuck.

"I asked the lady," Dingwell says over Eliza's head.

"I said she's fine." Harrington dismisses the man with a pointed glare. Raising his hands in defeat Dingwell backs off. Eliza's mouth drops open at the disrespect in Harrington's address. The crowd lose interest when Dingwell backs off and turn to their own conversations.

"That was completely unnecessary and rude...hey!" Eliza is again rushed off her feet as Harrington pulls her through a back door away from the ball, up a flight of stairs, past servants and sidled into a side room.

"What on earth are you doing?" Eliza shouts as soon as the door is closed.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" Harrington yells back.

"I beg your pardon me? How am I in the wrong?" Eliza cries, "You are the one who was so rude to the man and kidnapped me out of a party!"

"You don't even know his name!"

"That is irrelevant!"

"That is the second lord of Dunehelm, a notorious rake and gambler. "

"Oh good, I am so glad I know his name," Eliza says sarcastically.

"He would have ruined you."

"We had one dance!" And it was terrible she adds in her head.

"That's all it takes." Harrington bellows. Eliza slowly sinks into the bed, shaking her head in disgust.

"You think me so naive that I can't handle him." She says quietly looking at the cream carpet. She raises her eyes to his. He makes no move to deny.

"Well let me clear that up" Eliza looks at the Duke with pure hatred, " You men are all the same, I know that I am not fooled by charm or money."

"So waste your lessons and wise words on someone who needs saving. Because I sir, do not."

"I..." Harrington is wordless.

A high-pitched giggle and two sets of footfalls are heard from the corridor and both parties freeze.