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“Give me that!” Elizabeth snatched up the book and looked down.

LIFE IS A MERE REHEARSAL UNTIL YOU MEET THE MAN YOU MARRY. THUS YOU MUST PRACTICE THESE EDICTS AT ALL TIMES, ON EVERY MAN YOU MEET. IT DOES NOT MATTER IF YOU HAVE NO INTENTION OF MARRYING A CERTAIN MAN; HE MUST BE DEALT WITH AS YOU WOULD A MARQUIS. FOR IF YOU SLIP OUT OF THE HABIT OF FOLLOWING MY EDICTS, YOU WILL FORGET WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT WHEN YOU DO MEET A MARRIAGE PROSPECT. HONE YOUR SKILLS. BE READY. YOUR MARQUIS MAY BE RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER.

“Has she gone completely mad?” Elizabeth demanded. “This is not a fairy tale. There are no marquises around the corner. And frankly, I find this all rather insulting.”

“What part?”

“All of it. To listen to this woman say it, I don’t even exist until I find a husband. It’s preposterous. If I’m so unimportant, then what have I been doing these past five years? How have I managed to keep this family together? Not by twiddling my thumbs and hoping some kind gentleman will deign to marry me!”

Susan’s mouth parted in silent surprise. Finally she said, “I don’t think she meant—”

“I know she didn’t—” Elizabeth broke off her words, a little ashamed by the violence of her outburst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—Please forget I said anything.”

“Are you certain?” Susan asked, her voice quiet.

“It’s nothing,” Elizabeth said quickly, turning away and looking out the window. Lucas and Jane were playing in the garden. They’d devised some game involving a piece of blue fabric tied to a stick and were squealing with glee.

Elizabeth swallowed, love and pride brimming within her. She ran her hand through her hair, her fingers stopping in place when she reached the top of her braid. “I’m sorry,” she said to Susan. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“I don’t mind,” Susan said sympathetically. “You’ve been under a great deal of strain. I know that.”

“It’s just that I’m so worried.” Elizabeth moved her hand to her forehead and rubbed. Suddenly she felt so tired and so very old. “What good is practicing my wiles upon Mr. Siddons when there aren’t even any real marriage prospects to be found?”

“Lady Danbury invites visitors all the time,” Susan said in an encouraging voice. “Doesn’t she? And you told me that all her friends are rich and titled.”

“Yes, but she grants me my free days when she entertains. She says she has no need of my company when she has guests in residence.”

“You’ll just have to find a way around that. Concoct some reason why you need to visit. And what about this party at the end of the month? Didn’t you say she always invites you to such functions?”

“It’s to be a masquerade, actually. She informed me yesterday.”

“Even better! We might not know enough to sew you a fashionable ball gown, but we can certainly manage a costume. You don’t need to dress up as anyone fancy.”

Susan moved her hands animatedly as she spoke, and for one odd moment Elizabeth thought she was looking at herself at fourteen—back when she’d thought anything was possible. Before her father had died and left her with mountains of responsibility. Before he had died and taken the innocence of her childhood along with him.

“We look so alike, you and I,” she said in a small whisper.

Susan blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just…” Elizabeth paused and gave her sister a wistful smile. “It’s just that sometimes our similar looks remind me how like you I used to be.”

“And you’re not any longer?”

“No, not really. Sometimes, just for a little bit, though.” She leaned forward impulsively and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Those are my very favorite moments.”

Susan blinked back something that looked suspiciously like tears before assuming her usual businesslike mien. “We need to return to the matter at hand.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I’d quite forgotten what that was.”

“When,” Susan asked with an impatient sigh, “is Lady Danbury next entertaining visitors? Not the masquerade. Just visitors.”

“Oh, that,” Elizabeth said grimly. “She’s expecting people at the end of this week. I believe it is to be a small garden part

y. More of a gathering, really, than a formal party. I wrote out the invitations.”

“How many will be arriving?”

“No more than ten or twelve, I think. It is only for the afternoon. We are close enough to London, after all, that people can make the trip to and from in one day.”

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