Cordelia couldn’t stand the hot, stuffy ballroom any longer. Given the company, it was quite possible she was safer in the gardens without an escort. The fresh air felt wonderful after the crowded indoors. At first she fanned herself near a rosebush laden with dark blossoms—probably the red ones, given their heavy scent.

            She smelled tobacco smoke and edged nearer. It was the same brand Papa used, and she couldn’t help but think better of anyone who preferred it. She took only a few steps, though, then heard a deep voice. What was Mr. Dominic doing out here? He was a much younger friend of Father's, and often argued noisily with her sister Josephine. Cordelia thought he was terribly stuckup, and felt it was a good thing her sister was so good at puncturing his pretensions. She was about to turn back and go inside when she heard another voice.

            “So we’ll meet at dawn. My friend will speak to yours before that.”

            She knew what that meant.

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