*Evangeline*
“I don’t think he’s as bad as all that,” I mutter later as the open carriage rattles over the street, taking Wicky and me to Wicky’s residence.
“Who?” Wicky asks.
I sigh, “Claybourne.”
“Oh, please, I really don’t want to speak of him. We should be discussing the ball we will be hosting at the end of the month. That’s a much more pleasant conversation. Have you managed to acquire an orchestra for us?”
I smile. “Yes, I have. And the invitations should be ready tomorrow. I will pick them up at the stationers, and then we can spend a terribly exciting afternoon addressing them.”
Wicky laughs lightly. It always makes me feel better to hear my friend laugh.
“I don’t like addressing invitations,” I confess.
“No, you don’t. You enjoy arranging for a ball, but the tedious task
