Edward Whitman could think of at least a hundred things he’d rather do than attend a ball. He’d much rather take one of his fillies for a ride in the park or go target shooting at the archery range or sit in front of the fire with a good book. If absolutely necessary to be in the company of his peers, he’d much rather it be at the theatre where proper etiquette called for silence. He would, in fact, much rather be cleaning up after his horses than attend a ball, and yet, here he was, attending the ball to announce the engagement of Mr Robert Thorne and Mr Dalton Irving.
The evening was ablaze with glitz and glamour. A murmur of excitement. Taffeta dresses and silk cravats. Satin and lace. Music that pulled at invisible strings and stirred dancers back and forth across the dancefloor. A de
