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lips to Adelle’s ear. “How do you do,” she whispered, then laughed at Adelle’s expression. “It was as brief as that, I promise,” she said. “I think Father regretted his audacity immediately. He swept me away very quickly.”
    â€œThey say Mr. Van Cormandt himself issued the invitation to Mrs. Nash, even though Cora Van Cormandt threatened to shut herself up in her room if he did.”
    â€œWell, I suppose someone must have opened the door and let her out,” Darcy observed. “And I suspect it was Mrs. Van Cormandt herself. She could hardly resist being hostess tonight. The practice of hypocrisy does keep the New York society world turning—we know that so well.”
    â€œDarcy!” Adelle shook her head. “You don’t seem … yourself. Are you quite all right?”
    â€œPerhaps it’s the champagne. But only one glass—nothing scandalous, I assure you.”
    Adelle immediately accepted her flippancy, for it meant she would not have to press her concern. Her eyes continued to rove around the room. “I must say the most interesting figure here is that tall dark man with the pale skin—do you see him? Over there, under the musician’s balcony.”
    Darcy searched over the heads. Just as she found the man, he turned, and their eyes met. Mr. Finn. His eyes didn’t drop, she noted as she quickly looked away.
    â€œI see him,” she said behind her fan.
    â€œHis name is Tavish Finn.”
    Darcy peeked back at him and saw that he was still watching her. It was just as she’d been afraid of; he would hold the previous night over her head. “An Irishman?” she asked, to cover her confusion.
    â€œYes, but they say he is well-born. Look at the way he stands; of course you can see that he must be. But they also say that Mrs. Columbine Nash is the one who procured his invitation.”
    â€œAnd did Mr. Van Cormandt threaten to stay in his room if she did so?” Darcy asked dryly.
    Adelle’s laugh was a short explosion, a laugh Darcy seldom heard outside the privacy of Adelle’s own drawing room—and then only after a glass or two of sherry.
    â€œI wouldn’t want that Mr. Finn around if I were Mr. Van Cormandt,” Adelle agreed. “He’s much handsomer. And there’s something about him … But you know all they say about Mrs. Nash.”
    â€œActually, I don’t,” Darcy said. “I’ve heard of her work for woman’s suffrage, of course.”
    â€œOh, that’s the least of it. Her lecture tours were ten years ago now, I believe. Oh, you were too young, perhaps. It’s very odd. She’s the daughter of an English duke or a lord, or something. Scandalous.” Adelle leaned closer in order to whisper. “She advocated free love.”
    Darcy turned and regarded the angelic Mrs. Nash, who was now moving across the ballroom. She was heading for Tavish Finn, and he was smiling at her approach. It was the smile of a man who enjoyed seeing a woman walk across a ballroom alone and do it well. So few could. Why, a woman at a ball would hardly take a step without the protection of a man’s arm. Darcy certainly never had. Suddenly, she had a fierce and utterly irrational wish: she wanted to walk alone across a ballroom straight to a man like Tavish Finn.
    â€œAnd other things I couldn’t mention,” Adelle went on, her eyes on Columbine Nash as well.
    â€œAh, but I think you will, Adelle,” Darcy said.
    Adelle gave her a quick, assessing look. “This is not talk for a ballroom, Darcy. We are having the most extraordinary conversation.”
    â€œPerhaps I am weary of ordinary conversation at last,” Darcy said. Columbine Nash was smiling flirtatiously up at Tavish and accepting a glass of champagne. “Tell me what else Columbine Nash has spoken out for.”
    â€œOh, the usual things. Anarchy and labor and the rights of