"Not in so many words," Lady Purnam sniffed. "Yet society would certainly think the better of you for it. My advice to you is to observe three months. Oh, don't look so glum! You can go abroad in half mourning."

"But we can't go to b.a.l.l.s," Ava pointed out.

"Certainly not. Who can dance when a dear mother has pa.s.sed?"

"I beg your pardon, your ladyship," Lucy said. "I'm not one to ever disagree with the need for propriety, but I believe they should be allowed in society."

Ava and Phoebe exchanged a wary glance. If anyone was more rigid in following the rules of proper society than Lady Purnam, it was Lucille Pennebacker.

Even Lady Purnam seemed surprised. "I daresay it may be customary to enter society after one yearwhere you hail from, Miss Pennebacker," she said imperiously as she shifted again in her seat. "But Ibelieve I am better suited to judge what is proper here in town."

"Perhaps," Lucy said with a sniff of her own. "But the girl's stepfather will return in April, and I daresayhe won't abide a longer period of mourning. It is well past the time they were married, their poor dearmother's death notwithstanding."

"Oh, Lucy, please-" Ava started.

"I a.s.sure you, Miss Pennebacker," Lady Purnam interrupted, "that when I have had occasion to speak with Lord Downey, he will not force the issue of marriage before the period of mourning has been duly observed."

"Speak to him all you like," Lucy said, and picked up the tea service. "But I believe I know my brother very well. If you will excuse me?"

"By all means," Lady Purnam said, and smiled so thinly that it seemed more like a sneer.

When Lucy had left the room, Lady Purnam shook her head. "She is the most disagreeable woman to ever grace a proper salon! I suppose she is responsible for the hiring of your Mr. Morris, that fool! Do you know that he kept me waiting on the stoop while he announced me?"

"I shall speak to him at once," Ava said.

Lady Purnam sighed and stood up. "You might suggest to Lord Downey that he look after theupholstering of Ca.s.sandra's furniture when he returns. It's in desperate need of repair. Well, then,darlings, I must be off. Shall I have a modiste sent round to measure you for half mourning?"

"That won't be necessary," Phoebe said quickly. "I'll do it."

"Now, Phoebe," Lady Purnam said as she moved as slowly as a barge toward the door, "have a care that you don't do so much needlework that you mark your hands. A gentleman does not care for a lady's hands to show the signs of toil."

"Yes, madam," Phoebe said politely, and she and Ava dipped identical curtsies as Lady Purnam said good day and promised to call again in a week.

"We will look forward to it," Ava lied beautifully.

When the door shut behind the departing battle-ax, Ava groaned with exasperation as Phoebe rushed to the chair in which Lady Purnam had been sitting and picked up the cushion.

"Oh dear G.o.d," she sighed, and pulled a crumpled linen day dress from beneath the cushion.

"What is it?" Ava asked.

"A trial of sorts," Phoebe said wearily. She dropped the gown and walked to the windows overlooking the courtyard, reached behind the long, heavy burgundy drapes, and withdrew a basket that was spilling over with fabric.

In antic.i.p.ation of their coming out of mourning, Phoebe had been taking their late mother's gowns and cutting them down to fit herself or Ava. In some instances, she took two gowns and combined them into one.

"Are those gowns?" Ava asked as Phoebe picked up a green silk she had combined with gold brocade. She quickly took it from Phoebe's hand and held it up to her body. "What on earth will you do with so many? There are more here than we could possibly wear in a Season."

Phoebe shrugged. "I find needlework comforting," she muttered, and turned away.

Ava believed her, but at the same time, she was highly suspicious, for when Lucy or Sally would enter their rooms, Phoebe would quickly shove the gown she was working on under the bed, behind a cushion, or now, it would seem, in a basket behind the drapery.

"All right, let's have it, shall we?" Ava demanded as she turned and looked at the other gowns piled inthe basket. "What on earth are you doing, hiding these gowns?"

"I am not doing anything at all. I am only sewing," Phoebe insisted.

"Yes, darling, I can plainly see that you are sewing. But why are you hiding it?"

Phoebe looked at her sister, chewed her bottom lip a moment, then glanced at the door of the salon. She suddenly rushed across the room and pushed a heavy ottoman against it and fell onto it, as if she were exhausted.

"What are you about?" Ava demanded.

"All right, if you must drag it out of me, I'll tell you." She lifted her chin. "I fancy myself a decent seamstress."

"Phoebe, you are an extraordinarily talented seamstress! Just look at this!' Ava exclaimed, holding the green and gold gown up to her again. "I always rely on you to take the gown from our modiste and alter it to make it more flattering."

"That's just it, Ava. I can do that. I can make my own creations. Therefore, I decided I should make them for purchase."

Ava blanched. "For purchase? Oh dear heart, you can't sell them. Where would they be purchased?"

"On Bond Street."

"Bond Street?" Ava cried. "Are you mad? A trade? A trade, Phoebe? You cannot possibly think toentertain a trade, not after all the work we've done to maintain appearances! If you were to take up atrade, it would relegate us to the very bowels of the ton, for no one will tolerate a loss of fortune and atrade! No," Ava said firmly, shaking her head and throwing up a hand when Phoebe opened her mouthto speak. "Your idea is not without some merit, but it is absolutely insupportable."

And with that, she tossed the gown aside and folded her arms implacably.

"If you are quite finished," Phoebe said with a snort, "you've not yet heard the brilliance of my plan. No one, save you-and Greer, when she returns, naturally-shall know that I have made gowns to be sold."

"Indeed? And just how do you propose to perform this bit of magic?"

"You may laugh if you will," Phoebe said indignantly, "but I know which Bond Street shops would be happy to sell such fine gowns!" She suddenly stood up. "Just imagine it, Ava: Suppose you were to wear my gown and patronize one such shop," she said, sweeping up the green and gold gown Ava had tossed aside and holding it up to her sister. "After many compliments are made-and how can they not be made, for this is beautiful, if I do say so myself-then you might casually mention to the shopkeeper that you happen to know the very reclusive and exclusive French modiste who has made the gown."

Phoebe thrust the gown toward Ava, forcing her to take it, then began to pace, her hands clasped behind her back, her brow furrowed. "There certainly will be gossip of a new modiste in London, a very eccentric modiste, one who refuses to be seen. One who refuses to create gowns for just anyone." She stopped pacing a moment and looked at Ava. "You will make that claim. You will say that had it not been for a very good friend of our dearly departed mother, who convinced the modiste to take pity on you, you would not have such a beautiful gown."

Ava blinked and looked down at the gown she held.

"Ava, don't you see?" Phoebe cried with great excitement. "You shall pretend to be an agent for this reclusive modiste, who is, in truth, I! You know as well as I that there is not a single woman among the Quality who can bear to be left behind when it comes to the latest fashions. They shall all descend on the shop to be measured for gowns!"

"How can you possibly accomplish so many fittings for gowns without being seen?"

"The shopkeeper will take the measurements. The shopkeeper must be our unwitting partner, or it will never work. You must convince her of it."

"I don't know," Ava said uncertainly, but Phoebe gripped her shoulders tightly and shook her lightly.

"Think of it, Ava! With the money we make, we shall continue to purchase our gowns in the finest shops on Bond Street, so that everyone will see us and never suspect we are behind the creation of the gowns!" She smiled brightly, clearly convinced of the brilliance of her plan.

Ava said nothing for a long moment, mulling it over as Phoebe watched her anxiously. There was something to be said for her plan-particularly the part about being able to afford to shop on Bond Street themselves. At last she shook her head and said incredulously, "Blast it all if I can find a single thing wrong with it, Phoebe."

Phoebe squealed with delight. "Just wait until you see the gown I am making. It is exquisite-"

"But how will I wear it out of this house?" Ava exclaimed. "I rather think I'd be remarked upon were I towalk into a Bond Street shop wearing a ball gown.""We must be creative. You will take the gown and don it discreetly in the shop, and simply explain that you are commissioning gowns like this one for when your period of mourning is over.""I don't know...""You must do it! The Season has already started, and the shops will be taking orders for the b.a.l.l.s as we approach warmer weather. If you don't do it within the fortnight, our opportunity shall be lost!"

Ava had no opportunity to respond, for there was a loud and somewhat uneven knock at the door of the salon. In a flurry of satin and silk, she and Phoebe quickly hid the gowns. With Phoebe seated, Ava

moved the ottoman and calmly opened the door to a very large bouquet of roses, behind which Mr.Morris stood."I beg your pardon, mu'um," he said behind the flowers. "Flowers have come.""Mr. Morris! Come in, come in!" Ava said, and helped direct him to a table. The flowers were gorgeous -at least three dozen roses in a large crystal vase, the scent of them divine, the color of them as

brilliantly red as rubies.

Mr. Morris carefully situated the vase on the table, then wiped his sleeve across his forehead before handing Ava a note. "If I may, mu'um...is a footman to stand in the foyer or out of the foyer when he comes calling?"

"If he is awaiting a reply, he is to stand in," Ava said. "Is there a footman awaiting a reply?""Oh no," Mr. Morris said with a firm shake of his head. "I sent him on his way."Ava suppressed a groan. "Very well. And in the future, sir, a lady should never be left to wait on the stoop. Do please bring her in."He nodded very slowly, as if committing her instructions to memory."Thank you, Mr. Morris."He bowed, turned sharply on his heel as the two Mr. Pells had taught him to do, and quit the room.Phoebe jumped up from her chair. "Who sent them?" she exclaimed, delighted. "It is Greer! Oh yes, they must be from Greer."

Ava opened the note, saw the flourish of an M and felt her heart swell. She turned her back to Phoebe

and quickly read the note. She laughed; a smile spread across her face. A deep, brilliant smile. She hadn't been wrong about what she'd felt in his presence. He did esteem her!"Who?" Phoebe demanded.Ava glanced at her sister, held the note coyly to her chest, and leaned over to inhale the scent of the roses. "I do believe they are the most beautiful roses I have ever seen.""Who are they from?" Phoebe demanded again, her hands going to her hips.

"We must decide which gowns you can make ready for me, for I am coming out of mourning next week. "

Phoebe gasped. "Lady Purnam will be beside herself!"

"I don't care," Ava said, smelling the roses again. "You heard what Lucy said. We haven't much time, Phoebe. We have mourned our mother properly for one full year and the Season has already begun. We must reenter society before Lord Downey returns."

"Not before I know who-" Phoebe abruptly s.n.a.t.c.hed the note from Ava's hand. Ava grinned as hersister read the note with widening eyes. When she finished, she whirled around and gaped at Ava, herexpression full of consternation. "Dear G.o.d...Ava, what have you done?"

Ava laughed, s.n.a.t.c.hing the note back. "Nothing...yet," she said, and grabbed Phoebe's hand and sat her down to tell her everything.

By the next morning, they had determined their new course of action.

First, as Ava had no intention of coming out of mourning without the latest fashions, she allowed Phoebe to send her to Bond Street with a blue satin gown embroidered in pale gold and lavender.

Phoebe was right-the shop mistress was awed by the gown, and really, of Ava in that gown. It went exactly as Phoebe had said it would-the shop mistress complimented the gown so profusely that Ava had reason to mention an exclusive modiste who had, unfortunately, suffered a horrible accident that left her disfigured and missing one leg. Phoebe wouldn't like that particular description, but it was the only viable reason Ava could think to explain the modiste's reluctance to come out herself.

At the end of her ridiculous tale, she had an order for three gowns to be fashioned like the blue satin.

And she had a lovely blue satin to wear to the first ball to which she could secure an invitation.

Eight.

D uring the evening of the Duke of Clarence's highly antic.i.p.ated mid-Season grand ball at St. James'sPalace, Lord Stanhope was divested of a considerable sum of cash in a card game while at Brooks, agentlemen's club only a short walk from the ball's main entrance.

Stanhope became enraged by his loss and accused the winner, Sir William of Gosford, of cheating. Sir William took great umbrage to the accusation and lunged across the table at Stanhope. Were it not for Lord Middleton, who fearlessly threw himself into the melee without hesitation, someone might have been seriously injured, if not killed.

But by the time the survivors had made their way to the ball, the crookedness of Middleton's pristine white silk neckcloth and the scratch on his cheek were rumored to be the result of a spat with his lover, Lady Waterstone.

Yet it was not Stanhope's misguided accusation and subsequent fight that explained the dark look inMiddleton's eye or the unyielding set of his jaw-it was that his father had conspired to keep him fromMiranda and in Lady Elizabeth's company.

He'd only come to the ball because of his good acquaintance with the Duke of Clarence and because Miranda had wanted to attend what was considered to be one of the most important social events of the Season. Certainly no expense had been spared for it-hundreds of white lilies in magnificent porcelain vases graced small consoles along the walls. Beeswax candles lit the ten crystal chandeliers that hung over the ballroom, the innumerable sconces along the walls in the pa.s.sageways, and the dozens of candelabra that lit a dozen or more sitting rooms. The ballroom floor had been polished with beeswax to provide the smoothest of dancing surfaces, and music was provided by a ten-piece orchestra set in a balcony above the dance floor.

A dozen palace rooms full of expensive French and Russian furnishings were open to an enormous number of guests-four hundred by some counts, as much as five hundred by others.

And in that crush of people, the Duke of Redford kept a steady stream of gentlemen dancers at Miranda' s side. Perhaps even more annoying, the duke stood up with Miranda himself-she could hardly refuse his request-and had instantly set tongues wagging across the palace.

What was said between the two of them Jared had no idea, for at the conclusion of the dance, his father had escorted Miranda to the opposite side of the ballroom from where he stood and then into an adjoining room.

In the meantime, Lord Robertson had brought Lady Elizabeth round, and there she stood like a silly little girl, her hands clasped before her, her wistful gaze on the dancers. "Which dance pleases you the most, my lord?" she asked Jared after a time of silence.

He looked at her and tried to imagine her as his wife. "I don't care for one more than another."

She lifted her chin-a bit imperiously, he thought. "I am most delighted by the quadrille." How convenient for her-the dancers were setting up for a quadrille at that very moment.

Jared swallowed a sigh of tedium and forced a polite smile. "Would you care to dance, Lady Elizabeth?"

Her face lit up. "I should like that very much, my lord." She was still beaming as he led her to the dance floor so they could a.s.sume their places. He hardly noticed her, however, because he was watching the door through which Miranda and his father had disappeared.

But as the music started, he turned his gaze to Elizabeth and bowed as he'd been trained to do since he was a small boy, then began the steps, taking her hand and crossing over, changing hands and crossing again, stepping forward, stepping back, and turning to his right as Elizabeth turned to her right, which left him to face the woman of the couple that formed the other half of their square.

He smiled with surprise upon seeing Lady Ava before him.