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come-out. We shall take care
of everything as soon as we are settled in London. Do tell me, do you know how
to dance?”
    “Well,” Larissa set her cup on the saucer and held them firm upon
her lap, “we did learn the Scottish Reel and Country dances at the seminary.”
    “The Quadrille?”
    ‘No.
    “The Waltz?”
    “No!” Larissa gasped and placed her hand at her throat. “I have
heard it is the most scandalous of dances. Miss Simmons would never allow such
depravity to corrupt her students.”
    “I’m sure you will have your chance to dance it.” Aunt Ivy’s eyes
sparkled with excitement and she gave a girlish giggle. “Do you speak any
foreign languages?”
    “French and Latin.”
    “Latin? That’s useless. Only dead Romans speak Latin.”
    Larissa momentarily considered the idea of dead Romans speaking
Latin until her aunt interrupted.
    “Do you sew or embroider?” her aunt continued.
    “Yes, I am accomplished in both. Miss Simmons required every
student to be capable of repairing and sewing her own clothes.”
    “Well, we need not go that far. Just that you know how is quite
enough. Your musical abilities?”
    “I am accounted to be fair on the pianoforte.”
    “All right, then. We shall engage a dancing master as soon as we
arrive in Town.”
    Larissa did not feel elated after her dance lesson with Monsieur
Dubois. She felt tired. How long had she been in London now? Two weeks? Or was
it three?
    “I don’t think I will ever get used to these city hours,” Larissa
sighed. If not for her growling stomach to keep her awake, she’d want her bed
instead of the dining room. “Sleeping late, eating late, and attending parties
until the small hours of the morning? Aunt, are such things actually done?”
    “Not only are they done, dear, in the beau monde it is the only
way to live.” Ivy placed her arm around Larissa’s shoulder. “One must be
fashionable to be in favor.” Ivy’s eyebrows rose high over her wide eyes. “And
one always wishes to be in favor.”
    “I suppose you know best, Aunt,” Larissa confessed. She didn’t
have the slightest notion what it took to stay in favor with Society. Larissa
tried to ignore the continual rumbling of her stomach and lifted her book to
pass the time until supper.
    “Homer?” Ivy cried, catching the name on the spine. “Oh, my dear,
you should not be reading that. You do not want to come across as a
bluestocking.”
    “Aunt, one’s interest in books and art does not make one a
bluestocking. Does it?”
    “No. But thinking and having opinions tends to foster such an
impression. One must give an unfettered, vacant impression.” Ivy displayed her
best imitation. “That’s what the gentleman of quality want, not a girl with
ideas bobbing about her head. No, no, no. That would not do at all.”
    “No?” Larissa questioned, still not fully understanding the
details.
    Ivy gave a sigh. “Not that you need concern yourself yet. You
should not feel you must marry this year.”
    “Marry?” Larissa felt a jolt of panic rush through her. “Aunt, I
have only just turned eighteen. Marry? The thought never entered my mind.”
    “Of course, if you find someone you wish to marry … then that
would be another matter entirely. But there are so many things one should know.”
    Larissa remained silent, waiting for her aunt to divulge her
pearls of wisdom.
    “Your words, your tone of voice, how to address your betters. The
use of the fan, shoulders, and eyes.” Ivy wrung her hands in her lap. “So much
to remember. There is so little time.” She looked at Larissa who regarded her
with undivided interest. “Do not worry. I will not disappoint you. You shall be
ready, when the time comes.”
    “I’m not worried, Aunt.”
    Ivy took one of Larissa’s hands and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Oh, my dear, if you only knew.” Her eyes widened. “There are things you must
know when in the company of men. What to say, what to do. What not to do,” her
voice