LONDON, APRIL 29th, 1872
“Hurry up, we are going to be late!” Marion urges me as she realizes I am still not ready to go. The three of us are gathered in the dressing room, preparing for an unusual ball. Why unusual? Well, it takes place on a Monday for starters. And it is a costume ball. We are supposed to be masked, so no one recognizes us.
I am not sure that I even want to go. Not after Ezra bailed on me again tonight. And certainly not after the meeting with the Count. But I have obligations still. Lady Northcott has demanded that I attend balls, even if I am not looking for suitors.
I find myself sighing and nodding at Marion. “I am sorry, my thoughts were elsewhere. I will be ready in a minute,” I assure her, disappearing behind the decoupage with my dress. It isn’t as
