At twenty-two, Alice stood on the threshold of independence, uncertain yet determined, carrying deep in her heart the knowledge that her life held a special purpose, and that someone, a man who wore a turban, would tell her what that purpose was all about. After all, it had been seven years since he walked into her aunt"s drawing room at Castramont and scared the life out of her. He had told her to shape up. Which she had. She had done it for him and she was driven too, to prove to herself and the world that she was at least half as good as Lydia.
She"d been living near St Albans with her sister and their chaperone for three seasons. It was all gaiety and garden parties, luncheons and balls and she enjoyed herself to a degree. She didn"t have a care or a worry. Everything was taken care o
