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Jessamine glanced at Megan, wondering what news she might have received from home. Little changed in the village from week to week except the weather.

Lady Bess broke the seal on a note she had received. A moment later she lifted her eyes to Jessamine with a smile. “You two must have made quite an impression at last night’s rout.”

Megan looked up from her letter. “What’s that, ma’am?”

Lady Bess tapped the stationery before her. “I have here an invitation to dine tomorrow evening at the home of none other than Sir Geoffrey Marfleet, baronet, and Lady Marfleet.”

They turned to stare at each other.

Lady Bess read them the invitation. “It’s signed by Lady Marfleet herself. The Marfleets are a very ancient and well-respected family.” She peered at the two of them over her spectacles. “If you have managed to catch her attention, your season is complete.”

“But we never met—” Jessamine began.

“Wait.” Megan’s eyes rounded as she looked at Lady Bess. “Do they have a son?”

Lady Bess nodded, her eyes matching Megan’s in wonder. “They have two, as a matter of fact, though one is married. Wait, let me look them up.”

She rose from the table and brought back her copy of
Debrett’s Peerage and Baronetage
from a small round table, where it held a place of honor for answering any questions that came up in her correspondence or in the society pages of the
Morning Post
.

When she located the entry for the baronet, she read to them: “Marfleet, Geoffrey Alexander James, baronet, of Kendicott Park, Kingsclere, in the county of Hampshire.”

She continued reading as she scrolled down the entry with her forefinger. “Ah, here is the gentleman in question, no doubt: ‘Lancelot Beresford Marfleet, F.R.S., born 5th February, 1788.’ Unmarried, and his brother lists no issue.” She continued perusing the entry. “There is also a younger sister, Alice Delawney Marfleet.”

Lady Bess looked up from the book with satisfaction. “What a stroke of luck to have met the baronet’s son last night, even if he is but the younger son. You are sure he is the one you met?”

Megan laughed. “We are sure of nothing. All we know is Mr. Marfleet requested an introduction to us from Lady Abernathy.”

“He did! Do tell me all.”

With a smile, Megan recounted how Mr. Marfleet had approached them.

“Why I never! You don’t say! To address you without an introduction!” Lady Bess interjected throughout Megan’s story. “That doesn’t sound at all like a Marfleet.” She clucked her tongue. “His mother would be appalled. It just shows he has been among the heathen too long.”

Jessamine’s irritation resurfaced as she remembered Mr. Marfleet’s impudence. She didn’t know why it rankled her so, but the fact remained that he had made her feel childish and petty. How little he understood how she’d hurt.

“He told us he had spent some time in India,” Megan said.

“I know very little about him since he has not been in society lately. But if one of you has caught his attention, your season may be assured.”

Megan eyed Jessamine with wonder. “You made more of an impression than you supposed.”

Jessamine’s fork clattered against her plate. “You are mistaken.
You are the one he spoke with most. I found his company tedious.” She didn’t care if he was a baronet’s son, not that awkward, bespectacled redhead! She picked up her fork and speared a piece of ham.

“No matter, you are both invited, as am I,” Lady Bess announced, picking up the invitation again.

“I’m so glad,” Megan said. “I’d be too intimidated to go with only Jessamine.”

Jessamine chewed slowly, puzzled by the invitation. Mr. Marfleet doubtless had wished to further his acquaintance with Megan, she reasoned, even as she remembered the faintly mocking look in his slate-blue eyes every time he glanced her way behind those steel-rimmed spectacles.

“It’s a fashionable address, Grafton Street, not far from Piccadilly,” Lady Bess said, studying the note.

“Do you know the baronet and his wife?” Jessamine asked. Lady Bess seemed to know everyone, though she didn’t venture much into society anymore.

“Oh yes. Sir Geoffrey is a most charming man, both he and his wife, though quite high in the instep. That’s to be expected, otherwise they’d have all sorts hanging on their coattails. She’s of the Hallowells of Northamptonshire, a very old family in their own right.”

She sat back in her chair, musing, “The eldest son, Sir Harold—for he has the courtesy title of knight until he comes into the baronetcy, you know—was always a dashing young blade, but so was his papa before him.” She chuckled with a reminiscent shake of her head. “Sowing his wild oats, I imagine. Pity Sir Harold and his wife have had no sons.”

She consulted
Debrett’s Peerage
again. “They’ve been married these past ten years with no issue. I am sure the baronet and his wife are anxious to see the younger Marfleet married and setting up a nursery.” Her gaze rested on Jessamine and Megan in turn, her tone thoughtful. “Some girls don’t ‘take,’ but I’m sure that will not be your fate. You are both charming girls.”

With a sigh of satisfaction, Lady Bess picked up another newspaper and began to read the society column. Jessamine only half listened to her comments on various members of the fashionable world, her feelings mixed about attending the Marfleets’ dinner party. A part of her resented the fact that she would be in Mr. Marfleet’s debt if this invitation led to others. Another conceded that she was tired of attending Lady Bess’s card parties. Perhaps at last things were going to change.

“Aren’t you coming?”

She started at Megan’s question. “I beg your pardon?”

“If you’re finished with breakfast, I was wondering if you were ready for our walk. I wanted to share Mama’s letter with you.”

Jessamine brushed the crumbs from her hands and stood. “Forgive me, I was woolgathering.”

Megan smiled archly. Jessamine had to bite her lip to keep from retorting that she was
not
thinking of Mr. Marfleet and his odious invitation to dine.

When they’d changed into walking dresses and pelisses, she and Megan took a hackney to Hyde Park. Used to the country where they took long walks every day, they’d felt stymied at first having to take Lady Bess’s maid Betsy every time they stepped outside. They’d finally persuaded Lady Bess that they did not need the young maid. The poor woman took care of the town house almost single-handedly, with only a cook and scullery maid to see to the kitchen.

Both Megan and Jessamine had further scandalized their hostess when they’d offered to help with housekeeping and kitchen tasks. They were accustomed to doing so at home since neither family kept many servants.

During the first week in London, they had taken their travel guide everywhere, scrutinizing its pages until they’d become confident navigating the streets of Marylebone and Mayfair.

They were let down at Cumberland Gate now. As soon as they
entered the vast parkland, Jessamine inhaled. “No fog, just a whiff of smoke. Why, I almost could believe I’m back in Alston Green.”

They preferred coming to the park before noon when no one was about but nursemaids with their charges. By three in the afternoon the main paths began to fill with carriages and pedestrians. By five o’clock they were choked with traffic.

London was also difficult to get used to with its sooty atmosphere. A gray pall seemed always to hang overhead. The large park was the only place that resembled the countryside.

They slowed their pace, strolling along a tree-lined path to a reservoir.

“It’s a pity so many of the trees are being cut down,” Jessamine said of the large walnut trees forming a row on either side of their path. Some of the venerable trees still stood, others were felled, and some were only a wide stump.

“Lady Bess said it is because they are so old, each storm brings a few down.”

“I do hope they replant them.” Jessamine sighed, discovering she preferred village life to that in the city.

They paused at the circular reservoir placed midway down the avenue of trees. Megan looked skyward. “I spy a patch of blue sky. We haven’t seen that in a week. Pale, but blue nonetheless.”

“What does your mother say?” Jessamine asked after a moment, always yearning yet fearing to glean some news of Rees from Megan’s letters from home.

“She is well. She has recently begun helping your father at the village school, since he lost the schoolmaster last week.” Megan sighed. “It helps to keep her busy. With me gone, she is quite alone, though she never complains.”

Jessamine gave her a sympathetic glance. “I know it was hard for you to leave her. It’s a pity she couldn’t come with us.”

Megan merely nodded. She was looking quite fetching in a poke
bonnet with a wide pink ribbon around the base of its crown. “She wouldn’t leave. She says she prefers her quiet village life.”

Before Jessamine could comment, Megan brightened. “Isn’t it exciting to be invited to a dinner party? Perhaps it will be the beginning of a successful season. You have to admit, up to now it has been sadly flat—to be among so many people and feel you know no one. Poor Lady Bess has done what she could, but she is invited to so few places.”

Jessamine frowned at the dark body of water encircled by an iron railing. “How awful to be only remembered by your friends when you are young and in funds. Now that she is widowed and has lost most of her wealth, she seems to be utterly forgotten.”

“She seems content with her small circle of whist-playing friends.” Megan chuckled. “They enjoy their gossip of people who no longer take them into account, yet they follow their lives as if they were the closest of relations.”

“Busybodies.”

“I think they’re harmless old widows, since they only talk among themselves. Isn’t it interesting Mr. Marfleet’s being the son of a baronet?” Megan said, returning to the topic that interested her most. “And to think he’s a vicar and a missionary! I confess there was a certain air about him, a gravity that marked him as a clergyman.”

Jessamine snorted. “A clergyman would never have addressed a young lady so—and what he said!”

“You never did tell me.” Megan’s gray eyes, so like Rees’s except more lively, danced with mirth.

“He was insufferable. Remarking upon my frown. Who wouldn’t frown at such a tedious event?”

Megan burst into a peal of laughter, but seeing Jessamine’s scowl brought a gloved hand to her mouth. “Forgive me,” she said. “I shouldn’t make sport of you since I was feeling as bored as you. But, admit it, you must have charmed him for him to ask his mother to issue an invitation to a dinner party.”

“I did nothing of the sort. You were the one talking to him most of the time.”

“We shall soon see who has caught his bespectacled eye,” she said with a knowing look. “By the bye, what shall we wear? Your sea-green crepe is lovely. You haven’t yet had an opportunity to wear it.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “For me, I’m thinking about the pink satin with the rosettes along the hem.”

Jessamine nodded. “That one is quite becoming. I don’t think it matters overmuch what we choose to wear, since the gowns we worked so hard over back home will look sadly countrified among the
haut ton
.”

Megan turned worried eyes to her. “Do you really think the Marfleets are so exalted?”

“You heard Lady Bess. They are an old and distinguished family with a country estate.”

“I suppose so, though Mr. Marfleet didn’t sound proud at all. I wonder how many guests will be present. I hope they are not all old and prosy.”

Jessamine, tired of all the conjectures, resumed walking. “We shall see soon enough. Come, let’s go down to Piccadilly. We can return home by Bond Street. Remember Lady Bess’s commission.”

Megan nodded, and they continued their walk. As they approached the gate at Hyde Park Corner, she clutched Jessamine’s arm. “I have an idea.”

Jessamine waited, used to her friend’s spontaneous suggestions.

“Let us locate Grafton Street and get a glimpse of Mr. Marfleet’s residence before the dinner party.”

Jessamine stared at her friend, hardly believing what she heard. “What a preposterous idea.”

“It’s not at all preposterous. We can see what kind of house the baronet lives in. If it’s a simple town house, maybe it will be a simple dinner party. If it’s a grand one, then we know it will be a grand party.”

Jessamine shook her head. “I can tell you right now it will be a grand party—grander than any dinner party either you or I have ever attended.”

“But are you not the least bit curious?”

“Any curiosity I have can be satisfied when we attend their dinner. Come, let’s cross the street while it’s clear.” Taking Megan’s arm, she picked up her pace, hoping her friend would forget her outrageous notion. What if they were caught? She blushed to the roots of her hair, imagining the humiliation if Mr. Marfleet saw them dawdling outside his residence.

When they reached Piccadilly, she said, “I should like to stop in at Hatchard’s and see the latest books. We shan’t have time to be looking for street addresses if we are to shop.”

Megan said no more, and they arrived at the renowned bookstore that was frequented by learned scholars. It still took courage to step across its threshold. It was reputed that Lord Byron patronized the store. They had not caught a glimpse of the notorious poet yet—not that Jessamine would recognize him if she did. But since his marriage, he had been seen little in London. His
Hebrew
Melodies
had made a stir upon its publication the previous month, but at a guinea, it was beyond her and Megan’s means.

At that hour, the bookshop was devoid of all but a few patrons, who lounged by the empty fireplace, perusing the newspapers laid out for them by the owner.

Megan and Jessamine bypassed these in favor of the books arrayed along the shelves. They had never had the luxury of so many recently-published books at their fingertips.

Jessamine deliberately took more time than she needed, peering into every conceivable title to read a portion of the text, hoping Megan would forget her idea of looking up Mr. Marfleet’s address.