The phantom words “...but not in their bedrooms” practically throbbed from the end of that sentence. If a girl had eyes, half a brain, a father with a decent library, and maybe a loquacious older brother, she was hardly going to remain ignorant of such matters. She’d even been kissed—chastely and swiftly—a time or two. It had not changed her world.
She supposed such a rule was necessary if onewas going to rent rooms to men hailing from the wilds of America, for instance. One never knew what they would get up to. HowhadMr. Cassidy passed the interview? He must have impressed them with hismoral superiority.
Curfew is at 11:00. The door will be securely locked then. You will need to wait until morning to be admitted if you miss curfew.
This one had sent her brother St. John into a panic. “What could you possibly want to do after 11:00?” their father demanded, clearly experiencing amnesia over being young once.
So far he’d managed to be in by curfew. Lillias and her sister had a private wager—two pence—over how long this would last.
If the proprietresses collectively decide that a transgression or series of transgressions warrants your eviction from The Grand Palace on the Thames, you will find your belongings neatly packed and placed near the front door. You will not be refunded the balance of your rent.
She wondered if anyone had ever sufficiently transgressed. Would producing a cheroot in the parlor getherevicted, or her entire family?
Was it worth attempting?
Claire flounced into the room, a happy vision in striped muslin, her face alight with a mischievous secret.
“What are you doing, Lillias? Are you drawing?” She peered at the sketchbook.
“I suppose I was thinking about it.” This wasn’t untrue.
“I wish you would. I love your drawings.”
“That’s very sweet, Clairy.”
“Did you know the king visited here?” Claire announced. “I sat on the very spot on the very same settee. Mrs. Hardy told me all about it.”
“The king has visited a lot of questionable places.”
“He has? Where?”
“Good try, Claire, but if I told you, Father would disown me, because you wouldn’t be able to keep it to yourself.”
“Fair enough. It’s cleaner than our townhouse, this boarding house.”
“Well, isn’t everything at the moment, since father shot a hole in the wall?”
Claire laughed.
Lillias smiled. Making her sister laugh was always a reliable way to make herself feel a little better about everything for a second or two.
“But don’t say that to Mother or you’ll get all the maids replaced, and they’re only now getting used to us,” she added quickly.
“Of course not. Guess what was sent over from the house today, Lillias. I sneaked it out of the stack of mail sent over when Mother wasn’t looking.”
From behind her back, Claire slowly and theatrically produced what was clearly an engraved invitation. She held it out as if her palms were a tray.
Reflexively, absently, Lillias took hold of it.
When she saw what it was she dropped it.
Her hands went cold.
It wasn’t as though it was unexpected. The Landover Ball came about every year, after all. She’d been to three of them, and thoroughly enjoyed herself. All the bloods and the people whowrote gossip for the newspapers had made cakes of themselves over her.
This year it was not so much approaching as hurtling toward her like a cricket ball she couldn’t possibly duck in time.
A fresh wash of dread lapped up over her heart.