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comfortable town house in the parish of Marylebone, London.
    Though her real name was Lady Beasinger, when Jessamine had first met her godmother, the name had been too much for her child’s tongue to pronounce, so her godmother had suggested Lady Bess as a satisfactory substitute, and the diminutive form had stuck.
    As they poured themselves coffee or tea, they responded to Lady Bess’s inquiries of how they’d slept. Jessamine felt tired, her body still not used to town hours. She usually awoke too early after a late night and had difficulty going back to sleep again.
    “What a crush last night!” Lady Bess’s aqua-green eyes twinkled at them across the table. Her graying brown hair curled around her face beneath a sheer lawn cap.
    Thankfully Megan’s enthusiasm for the rout made up for Jessamine’s less vocal murmurings of assent. As they made their way to the sideboard to serve themselves from the hot dishes, Lady Bess read to them from her morning papers.
    “There will be a Queen’s Drawing Room later in the month. What a pity you are not going to be presented.”
    Jessamine glanced at Megan, hoping the remark did not hurt her feelings. While Jessamine as a vicar’s daughter was eligible for court presentation, Megan as a merchant’s daughter was not. Of course Jessamine had no intention of being presented, having neither the funds nor connections to do so, and not wishing to do anything her best friend would be excluded from.
    But Megan seemed not to be bothered as she heaped some eggs onto her plate. When they sat down with their plates, Lady Bess was riffling through the morning post. “A letter for you, my dear,” she said, handing a sealed missive to Megan with a compassionate smile to Jessamine. “Nothing for you today, dear.”
    “I expected none, since I owe my mother a letter.” It was getting more difficult to write home since there was so little to tell. Having jumped at the chance to escape to London, she disliked now having to pretend to her parents that her days were crammed with activities.
    How different from two years ago, when she and her motherhad come with Megan to London for a fortnight. Brimming with all the hopes and expectations of an eighteen-year-old, she had spent the days shopping and sightseeing, awed and thrilled with everything she saw.
    Now she only felt guilt at all her parents had sacrificed to provide for her season. As a vicar in a small village, her father had a modest income. At least she was an only child, she consoled herself, so they didn’t have other offspring to provide for.
    Jessamine glanced at Megan, wondering what news she might have received from home. Little changed in the village from week to week except the weather.
    Lady Bess broke the seal on a note she had received. A moment later she lifted her eyes to Jessamine with a smile. “You two must have made quite an impression at last night’s rout.”
    Megan looked up from her letter. “What’s that, ma’am?”
    Lady Bess tapped the stationery before her. “I have here an invitation to dine tomorrow evening at the home of none other than Sir Geoffrey Marfleet, baronet, and Lady Marfleet.”
    They turned to stare at each other.
    Lady Bess read them the invitation. “It’s signed by Lady Marfleet herself. The Marfleets are a very ancient and well-respected family.” She peered at the two of them over her spectacles. “If you have managed to catch her attention, your season is complete.”
    “But we never met—” Jessamine began.
    “Wait.” Megan’s eyes rounded as she looked at Lady Bess. “Do they have a son?”
    Lady Bess nodded, her eyes matching Megan’s in wonder. “They have two, as a matter of fact, though one is married. Wait, let me look them up.”
    She rose from the table and brought back her copy of Debrett’s Peerage and Baronetage from a small round table, where it held a place of honor for answering any questions that came up in her correspondence or in the society pages of