It was the book.
The whispers had been tinged with awe, even though some treated them with skepticism, and some even felt ominous dread as they wondered at the miracles such a scandalous book could invoke. Hannah had beenthatineligible. Sarah had been torn between amusement and perhaps a dash of wonder. She had made her way to Hatchards and followed the precise instructions to look behind a particular bookshelf where the book had been hidden. She had felt particularly foolish, but to Sarah’s astonishment, the book had been there.
Cassie had warned her not to remove it, so Sarah had discreetly read several pages. Such hunger had crawled through her when she read the chapter that suggested that ladies who were relegated onto the shelf with little hopes for a good future had nothing to lose by acting in a daring manner and reaching for the dream and hopes in their hearts.
“Are you a wallflower? Those ladies they claim only make up numbers to a ball to give the appearance of a successful crush. Those ladies who are not asked to dance, who are passed over for waltzes and who are never sent flowers the morning after a ball?”
“Yes,” Sarah had whispered when she read that passage, feeling all the pains in her heart of living an unfulfilled life surging to the surface. “That is me.”
With trembling fingers, she had turned the next page and almost fainted when it had read,
“Be a wicked minx freely. What is left for you to lose?”
Clearly gentlemen wanted ladies to be boldly sensual creatures and not the timid, demure, perfect ladies they were raised to be.
“Gentlemen can get bored quickly of perfection.They appreciate ladies who do not hide their intelligence, wit or their sensuality.”
For a wild moment when reading that part of the book, Sarah had determined the author must have been a man, and he had written it as a lark. Who else would dare a lady to walk a path of ruination? A rake! As clearly, no lady should ever take into consideration such advice, for it clearly only spoke to that gentleman’s hope for what he hoped to find in his lady.
Yet as the weeks dwindled down and the days drew closer to her birthday, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of deep longing for an adventure, for something different, before she retired to the country in a few days to be a governess to two perfect little girls.
“I am eight and twenty,” she said, taking a deep breath. “There isnothingto be nervous about.”
The book spoke of improving one’s wardrobe with bold colors and enticing decolletages, especially for older wallflowers. That was outside of Sarah’s budget, so she had dismissed it and had worn a gown that was very out of fashion and at least three years old.
Smoothing down the dress she thought still looked lovely, she walked up the steps and entered the receiving line. The butler took her invitation card, which had been given to Sarah by Cassie, without a flicker across his expression.
To think she had worried the world might guess they had an interloper in their midst. The ladies were daringly and elegantly dressed, their heads tilted as they laughed, confident in their beauty and that for the night they were hidden away from the judgement of society. Exuberant chatter floated on the air, and the champagne flowed freely. The masked ladies twirled with elegant vigor with their partners across the dance floor to the sensual strains of a waltz.
How freeing a mask could be, and the awareness she also wore one made Sarah smile. With a jolt she noted the men remained undisguised, and she supposed it was already perfectly permissible for them to be wicked. Why should they have to hide like ladies who could lose their standing and reputations in society from a censorious arched brow directed at them by someone of power and influence.
Brushing aside those thoughts, she moved with the crowd, her heart tapping a wild rhythm beneath her breastbone. After several minutes, it occurred to Sarah now that she was here, she had no notion of what to do. It startled a laugh from her.
A voice said, “Sarah?”
The shocked incredulity in it had her stiffening, for she had recognized the tone of the honorable Alfred Newcombe. She ignored that call, pushing forward. The man had the temerity to call after her once more, clearly without a care for her reputation or that she might be recognized. As she neared a terrace window, someone grabbed her hand and drew her behind a large potted plant.
“What are you doing here?” Mr. Newcombe demanded, his lips pinching in a line of disapproval. “It is you, is it not, Sarah?”
The honorable Albert Newcombe had all the advantages of birth, a respectable fortune, and connections. After an attachment that spanned five years of Sarah waiting, only three months ago he married another lady. This lady was younger and had beauty, wealth, and connections. The opposite of Sarah after her parents had died and the estate was inherited by a cousin. Seeing Albert reminded her of how silly she had been, and her stomach twisted, her hastily eaten supper threatening to reappear.
A heavy frown of disapproval furrowed his brow. “Will you not answer?”
“What right do you have to question me, Mr. Newcombe?” It made no sense for her to deny her identity; it only astonished her that anyonehadrecognized her. No one ever noticed her within a room.
“It was your laugh,” he said stiffly, as if he sensed her silent question. The man tugged at his perfectly tied polka dot cravat. “It is an unmissable sound.”
She had never been able to tell if he meant those words as a compliment or a rebuke. “Release me at once, sir; you have no right to be holding me in such a propriety manner.”
His expression slackened with the fierceness of her tone.
“What has gotten into you, Sarah? Why are you here and dressed in such a provocative manner? This is not like you.”
She laughed incredulously. “You do not know me Mr. Newcombe, nor do I owe you any explanation.”
“Do you know what men will think seeing you like this? Dressed in this…impropermanner?” His light blue eyes widened. “Surely you do not intend to act in a manner that is so outrageous.”
How had she ever thought she loved this man? “Good evening to you, sir,” she said with icy civility.