Excerpt

June, 1712

I yawned for the fourth time, drawing a glare from the seamstress. "Miss Lowell," she said with asperity. "You must stand straight and please pay attention. Your aunt wishes this dress to be ready for the Duchess's party tomorrow night, and I cannot finish it if you fall asleep." She rose from the hem she had been working on and watched me with narrowed eyes and stiff posture, her hands clasped before her.

"I am sorry, Miss Benton," I answered, "truly I am, but you have made me closets full of beautiful dresses and I cannot help but think that one more will make no difference." Her expression did not vary, and I sighed. "I will stand straight, I promise, and we shall finish this afternoon."

Mollified somewhat, she nodded. "This particular shade of deep blue looks marvelous on you, Miss Lowell. It compliments your eyes very well, and the rose we'll work on next brings out the blush in your cheeks."

"You said this was the last one, Miss Benton." I tried to keep the note of despair out of my tone as I looked out the window at a beautiful summer day. The only fair day we'd had in weeks and I was in my sitting room trying on yet another dress.

"You do have many dresses, Miss Lowell," Miss Benton agreed, concentrating on her work once again, "but your fashionable gowns are all black and you are no longer in mourning for your mother. Your aunt has asked me to help get you ready for these last parties. The Season is almost over."

I nodded. And high time, I thought. When I'd first come to London I'd loved the Season, enjoying the parties and the flirtations and the endless rounds of socializing. I'd grown profici