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space enough for all.”
    When her lungs felt about to burst from lack of air, at last the crowd pushed through a set of double doors, and Mary and her sisters spilled out into the expansive, glittering room.
    Dozens of candles burned brightly overhead, ensconced in no less than three sparkling crystal chandeliers. The walls were pleated with blue satin.
    Mary’s mouth parted in surprise. She could not look more than several feet in any direction without seeing a footman liveried in rich saffron silk serving wine from enormous silver trays.
    Anne spun around, surveying their surroundings. Her nose wrinkled. “I do not see Lady Upperton . Where do you suppose she has gone?”
    “Likely trapped in the mob near the door.” Mary stood on the toes of her gleaming silk slippers, but she could not spy Lady Upperton either. “I am certain she will be about in a moment. Do not fret.”
    “I’m not.” Elizabeth glanced around the room, and an excited flush rose into her cheeks. “How long may we stay?”
    “Do you not mean how long must we stay?” Mary quipped.
    “Well, dears, how many ticks of the minute hand we are here all depends on the three of you,” came a small, high voice.
    Mary looked down at her side, where the squeak had come from, and saw that Lady Upperton had suddenly appeared.
    “And,” the short round woman added, “how quickly you make the acquaintance of the Browers and their guests.”
    Mary’s spirit seemed to drain from her body and into the toes of her slippers. She had not wanted to attend the rout this evening. Would have done almost anything to have simply remained at home. But by the time she’d sat down for her evening meal, she’d known that declining the Brower invitation had been quite out of the question.
    True to Lord Lotharian’s word, Lady Upperton had indeed dutifully seen to every possible detail.
    When the sisters had returned from the Old Rakes of Marylebone Club late that afternoon, they had been stunned to find silken gowns with matching slippers, hair brilliants, strands of gleaming pearls, reticules, and shawls lying on each of their tester beds.
    Even a lady’s maid had been dispatched to help them dress and arrange their hair in classic curls atop their heads.
    No, Mary could not have refused Lady Upperton’s generosity without offending the kind old woman, and that she would not do.
    “If you are ready, gels,” their sponsor began, “allow me to launch you into London society.”
    Lady Upperton wasted no time beginning her introductions. Within a clutch of minutes, the Royle sisters were formally introduced to more than a dozen ladies of the ton. Lud , already Mary was more exhausted than she had been the month smallpox had stricken the parish.
    Anne and Elizabeth did not seem likewise affected. Even now, they eagerly followed the short stub of a woman straight into the jaws of a rousing conversation. Mary, however, stepped backward and allowed the crowd to consume her whole. In an instant, she was whisked several feet away.
    In truth, she had no other option but to slip away. Every fiber of her being told her she did not belong there mingling with London ’s crème de la crème.
    She was an uneasy, jumbled nest of nerves, so when she spotted a petite chair beside a japanned folding screen in the corner of the room, she made for it.
    Turning her head, she peered over her shoulder to be sure she would not be observed, then dragged the tiny chair behind the concealing screen and plopped down to weather the rout.
    For several tedious minutes, she sat quite still, eavesdropping on snippets of conversation or staring up at the ornate moldings edging the ceiling.
    By degrees, Mary began to grow very, very bored.
    She leaned back in the petite chair and yawned. Just then, she noticed a row of books sitting atop the mantel only an arm’s length from the edge of the screen.
    La, why hadn’t she noticed them before?
    She stood up and, keeping her body hidden behind the