In the powder room, I surveyed my hair in a mirror, surprised when it looked relatively the same as when I’d left the house. The patch on my cheek was threatening to come loose, however, no doubt as a result of Lord Windham’s unexpected …

I couldn’t bring myself even to think the word, for fear that another tidal wave of emotions might wash over me. The important thing now was to affect an undisturbed demeanor. I would be seeing him again at nine o’clock and ten o’clock, and it wouldn’t do to seem affected in any way.

After Isabella had pinched her cheeks to achieve the desired flush, she tottered over to where I stood and sank down into a nearby chair.

“Are you having a good time?” I asked her as I labored to reattach the stubborn patch on my cheek. It was in the shape of a new moon, one of the shapes currently in vogue.

“Yes, though it is rather vexing to hear the gossipmongers carry on about Vincent.”

This was the first time she’d ever addressed the issue of de Grave’s reputation in my presence.