Sophie exchanged a quiet smile with her aunt, then, lips curving irrepressibly, looked out over the crowded room. If she were asked, she would have to admit that it was not only Clarissa, barely seventeen and keyed up to make her come-out, who was prey to a certain excitement. Beneath her composure, that of an experienced young lady of twenty-two years, Sophie was conscious of a lifting of her heart. She was looking forward to her first full Season.

She would have to find a husband, of course. Her mother’s friends, not to speak of her aunt, would accept nothing less. Strangely, the prospect did not alarm her, as it certainly had years ago. She was more than up to snuff-she fully intended to look carefully and choose wisely.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or has Ned finally made his move?”

Lucilla’s question had Sophie following her aunt’s gaze to where Edward Ascombe, Ned to all, the son of a neighbour, was bowing perfunctorily over her cousin’s hand. Sophie saw Clarissa stiffen.

A little above average height, Ned was a relatively serious young man, his father’s pride and joy, at twenty-one already absorbed in caring for the acres that would, one day, be his. He was also determined to have Clarissa Webb to wife. Unfortunately, at the present moment, with Clarissa full of nervy excitement at the prospect of meeting unknown gentlemen up from London for the hunting, Ned was severely handicapped, suffering as he did from the twin disadvantages of being a blameless and worthy suitor and having known Clarissa all her life. Worse, he had already made it plain that his heart was at Clarissa’s tiny feet.

Her sympathy at the ready, Sophie watched as he straightened and, all unwitting, addressed Clarissa.

“A cotillion, if you have one left, Clary.” Ned smiled confidently, no premonition of the shaky ground on which he stood showing in his open countenance.