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and how swifter the exchange at the toll booths. There was also the usual talk with regards to how many estates had sprung up along the way, as well as how many more coaching inns, pubs, and shops, and so on and so forth until Mira thought she might scream. Screams, however, would not be well received, and she was a young lady on the brink of presentation to the Queen. Surely there was a better way to draw her parents’ attention to the fact that she was near to expired with boredom.
    “Mama, is George to stay with us or will he have Crenshaw House opened for his use?”
    Lady Crenshaw sighed and gripped her hands together more tightly in her lap. “I believe we’ll find that his mother has arrived ahead of us. Surely she will be taking up residence at Crenshaw House and will no doubt insist upon George joining her.”
    Mira watched with fascination as her mother’s hands relaxed with naught but a gentle nudge of her father’s foot against his lady’s slipper. It was if there were some secret language they were speaking. Taking up her fan, she hid her smile behind it before returning her attention once again to her daughter. “George is family and a very nice young man, but I am just as glad he will be staying in his own house. Besides, ’tis easier to always look your best for your beau when he is not underfoot, is it not?”
    Mira was sure she didn’t know, never having had any beaux, underfoot or otherwise. However, that was neither here nor there when one contemplated the enormity of her mother’s implication. “Surely,” she said, turning to her father for support, “I should expect more than George to call on me, should I not?”
    “Of course you should, sweetheart!” her father said, patting her hand. “I have no doubt there shall be dozens of gentleman callers and even more invitations to any manner of social gatherings. Wasn’t it the same for you the year you made your bows, my love?” he added for the benefit of his wife.
    “I would remind you not to make me a figure of fun if you please, sir,” Lady Crenshaw said with a snap of her fan. “You know very well that I didn’t take well, and if it were not for you, I should be firmly on the shelf, even now.”
    Mira laughed at what she could only assume was a jest. To her dismay, she laughed alone. “No!” she cried. “You can’t be serious. Mother, you are so beautiful! How can you not have been the belle of every ball?”
    “She was the belle of every ball I attended,” her father said with an intent gaze for his wife. Hastily, he cleared his throat and said, “Wasn’t it just the other day you were commenting on the dowdy fashions of eighteen-twelve? So, there you have it! I must have been one of the few gentlemen capable of seeing past her abominable bonnets.”
    With a laugh of delight, Lady Crenshaw turned her attention to the view out the window.
    “You said ‘few gentlemen,’ Papa. Surely you weren’t the only suitor who begged for her hand in marriage, wretched bonnets or no,” Mira quizzed.
    “To be sure, I wasn’t! But that must be your mother’s story to tell in her own time.”
    Mira looked to her mother for further enlightenment, but she merely smiled and continued to watch the landscape fly past the carriage window.
    “Am I not to know? How is a young lady to learn from her mother’s triumphs and despairs without the proper information?” Mira demanded.
    “Miranda,” Lady Crenshaw said, leaning forward with a rustling of skirts to take her daughter’s hands in her own. “You are cut from a very specific bolt of cloth, to be sure. Never fear, my dear. Unlike myself who had no mother or father to advise me or lend me countenance, you have one of each to guide you. Besides, there is always George, especially if Harry continues to behave so unbecomingly in the drawing rooms of London. You shall not be long on the Marriage Mart, my girl,” she insisted, giving Mira’s hands a squeeze.
    Mira pulled free from her