Harry perched on a straight-backed wooden chair with an embroidered cushion. The boning in her second-hand corset scratched and teased her under the arms and one particularly aggressive corner seemed intent on taking as much skin as it could. I wish I could change into my nightgown. It"s past three in the morning. The late hours kept by fashionable people did not suit Harry particularly well, especially as she was obliged to remain, not only awake, but also dressed, until her cousin"s gown had been safely ensconced in the wardrobe, her jewelry carefully placed in the safe, her shoes brushed, and her stockings sent for cleaning. And that was if Fanny decided to let her work. Tonight, as was no surprise, she wanted to recline on her bed in her chemise and pantalets and regale Harry with a de
