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“You as well.” I sat, and both Shepherd men followed suit.

Nessa’s eyes sparkled. “Are you ready to practice this evening?”

“I’ve come prepared to learn.”

She grinned and stood. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

After exchanging a quick glance with Cam, I left the table on his mother’s arm.

“The first step is having a drink in hand, preferably with a stem. It gives the impression that it’s all lighthearted and celebratory.” She flagged down the server with a tray of champagne flutes and took one for each of us. “The next step is to know your target.”

I laughed. “Are we raising money for good causes, or spying for a secret government assignment?”

“Oh, I would have made an excellent spy.” She clinked my glass with hers, and bubbles fizzed to the top. “I’ve a knack for reading people.”

She absolutely did. From the moment we first met, I’d felt as if Nessa Shepherd had me all figured out.

“Now,” she said, looking over the partygoers. “I thought we’d start with the VanHurens. He’s old money, and she’s much younger, not from around here. She’s been looking to establish a name for herself, get in good with the big names.”

My stomach turned sour at how manipulative it all was. “Oh…”

Nessa smiled, as if she found my naivety endearing. “This is how the game is played, dear.”

“Couldn’t we just ask for donations and point out the good we’d be doing with it?”

Nessa shook her head. “That will get you pennies. Raising real dollars requires a little quid pro quo. All people, no matter whether they are rich or poor, love their egos stroked.”

Turned out Nessa Shepherd was some sort of evil genius do-gooder—using wily social skills and sleight-of-hand verbiage to achieve her goals. She buttered up to Mrs. VanHuren—a woman younger than me—and wheedled away thousands of dollars for tickets to her annual ball raising money for Christmas toys.

She name-dropped and peppered in alluring phrases⁠—

…Why, I just received May Hawthorne’s RSVP this morning…

…all the big families are coming, of course…

…wanted to invite you personally…

Mrs. VanHuren walked away smiling, and Nessa had a new donor for her charity.

I stared, open-mouthed. “That was⁠—”

Nessa gave a devious smile. “I know. Now you try.”

“Al-alright.”

Several couples had taken up dancing, and new servers with trays of fancy hors d’oeuvres spread through the crowd. Nessa’s eyes tracked it all until she landed on a particular man. He had a kind, open face and dark hair trimmed short.

“Oliver Hastings.”

The name rang a bell.

“You were in the same class,” she said. “He had an incident a couple of years ago. Sowing his oats a little too eagerly, and wound up hospitalized. He nearly died, I’m told. Came out of the experience a changed man. He was recently granted access to his trust, and I’m sure he’d be interested in throwing some of that money at good causes.”

I blew out a breath. “Okay.”

“Tell him you’re working with a new foundation and looking to find some donors.” She touched my arm. “Be vague and have fun with it. If he says no, remember, it was just for practice.”

I nodded, and we made our way toward him. I did a fake double-take when I met his eyes. “Oliver?”