The first book in the Rollicking Regency series, 2007

OXFORD, ENGLAND

FEBRUARY, 1814

I can abide neither a liar nor a cheat, but you may be wont to think me such while I here relate my little tale. Were I not your humble narrator, even now I would scarce believe it anything but mere fiction. I take pen in resolute hand to assure you that what I am about to recount is truth, not the least of which involves heartbreak, joy, a Chinese translation of the Gospel According to St. Luke, and, oh yes, a rather large sword.

Perhaps it is best that I start where my journey of a thousand miles began, not with a single step but with the dearest pair of pink silk slippers.

Soft as rose petals they were and embroidered with a bit of curious white design on the toes. They looked quite lovely peeping from beneath my new white muslin dress with a pink ribbon encircling just below… oh dear, let me simply say high above my waist. My modiste assured me the dress was the finest in the county and that during the party no one would be my peer.

I was, after all, preparing for social battle.

“This dress will accomplish the task,” I said, twirling on the stool set in front of the mirror. “You do me proud, Flora.”

My modiste tugged on the hem to allay my motion. She looked up from where she knelt before my stool, mouth full of pins. “I do not know why you asked me to stitch this in such a hurry. If you do not cease your movements, Miss Isabella,” she mumbled, “’twill not be finished in time for the Ransoms’ party tonight. Be still, child.”

“Child?” I laughed. “I have five and twenty years, as well you know, and you have been with me for all of them.”

Flora removed the pins from her mouth to permit an angelic smile. “And now the only child in attendance is when little Lewis visits with Frederica.”