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It makes you look deathly. I think you should take Mama up on the offer and get a nice spring yellow. You’d look lovely.”
    Olivia made a face and gagged. “Yellow? Be serious, Mary. I am nearly eight and twenty. No spinster should wear bright yellow. It would just be sad.”
    Mary looked at her crossly. “You are not a spinster, Olivia Blakesley. I hate when you say so.”
    Olivia sighed. “I am. And what’s more I don’t mind. I don’t mind gray bombazine, either. I need never worry that I’ll stain it.”
    “That’s because it’s ugly and no one would care if you burnt it. And I doubt Mr. Jenkins thinks you a spinster.”
    “Mr. Jenkins is not exactly in the first flush of youth either, Mary.”
    She laughed. “I don’t think you can say that about men, Livvy. He is more mature.”
    Olivia agreed. He certainly was. And she got the distinct impression he liked her ugly dresses. He certainly talked encouragingly enough about getting her out of them.
    She smiled as she followed Mary down to dinner. Even despite the looming threat of the opera, she could not wait until she could see Nathaniel again. He already had exceeded her greatest expectations.
    She would just have to remember not to mention any more activities that she didn’t want to participate in. He was entirely too good a listener.

Five
     
    T he opera house was filled to the rafters with perfumed ladies and foppish men. Even with her blind fashion eye, she could tell that here is where the ton fawned themselves. Striped pantaloons, cherry red lips, and powdered wigs. The women were even worse. One woman’s hat looked as if it was about to fly away.
    Mary looked at her face and laughed. “Regretting the bombazine now?”
    “No. I was thinking it an improvement over most of the costumes here.”
    Nathaniel bent to whisper in Olivia’s ear. “Have you never been to the opera, Olivia? I should have warned you.”
    “And I should have expected something like this. I knew there was a reason I’d never come before.”
    “Well, I hope the music is to your liking.”
    She kept a purposefully hopeful expression on her face. “They can’t come just for the fashion, can they? I expect to be dazzled by beautiful singing and an emotional story.”
    Nathaniel laughed. “Is that a quote from the Times? If not, I believe your interests lie in the wrong field. You should become a critic. Do you speak German, then?”
    Olivia frowned at him. “German?”
    “This opera is in German.”
    “What, the singing? All of it?” She turned to Rufus. “You forgot to mention that.”
    He folded his pamphlet, laughing at her. “I thought you would guess by the title.”
    “I thought that was a gimmick. You told me it was beautiful and emotional; how was I to guess it was in German?”
    Nathaniel pulled her away gently. “Come, my dear. Let’s find our seats, shall we?”
    “Do you come much, Nathaniel?”
    “I confess, no.”
    Olivia followed him, secretly pleased that he did not regularly attend. And even more pleased that he had gone to the effort to take her. She smiled pleasantly at him. She would try to enjoy this experience knowing she wasn’t likely to be subjected to it again.
    Despite her sister’s assurance, she could not imagine a beautiful melody, only torturous screeching. Thankfully, her mother had wisely chosen other accomplishments for her daughters to exhibit. One’s ears were blissfully left alone by painting.
    The four of them sat and Olivia leaned toward Mary and whispered, “How long is this supposed to last?”
    Mary spoke behind her fan. “At least two hours.”
    Olivia stared at her incredulously. “Of singing? Nothing but singing? In German?”
    “There’s an intermission where you can walk around and look at everyone’s pretty dresses.”
    Olivia glared at her. No wonder she had never come to the opera before. Music and fashion, her two most favorite subjects.
    Less than half an hour after the curtain rose, she glanced at