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sixteen. She really shouldn’t be out in Society until she is at least seventeen. Any young buck would overlook her virginal white gown, see her mahogany hair and assume she was ripe for the plucking.
    He would have to keep an eye on her the entire night.
    Or maybe he could trust Michael Cunningham to do that for him.
    “Yes, I suppose you are,” Harold said with a bit of sadness in his voice. After another moment, he turned and descended the stairs, Olivia following behind. “I’ll explain the rules in the coach,” he said as they joined her mother and Eloisa in the vestibule.
    “Rules?” Eloisa repeated as she stared at her sister’s gown, apparently satisfied when she realized it wasn’t nearly as nicely embellished as the one she wore. But she couldn’t ignore its simple elegance, especially when paired with the smooth hairstyle and single ribbon. Her own upswept hair was coiffed with several curls and adorned with tiny white flowers, and she wore an ornate pendant on a gold chain. She decided Olivia wouldn’t be outshining her during her come-out. It was bad enough the girl’s hair was brighter than Eloisa’s auburn locks; she didn’t need the rest of Olivia’s ensemble to appear prettier than her own.
    “Yes, rules,” their father said again as he took his wife’s arm and led them to the coach-and-four. “No flirting. No more than two dances with the same boy.” He paused and turned to give Eloisa a direct stare. “No kissing in dark corners. Or behind a potted palm.”
    His oldest daughter gasped, one hand going to her chest. “I wouldn’t dare!” she countered as she stepped up into the coach and took a seat, stunned that her father would think she would. Unless it was with Michael Cunningham , she considered as an afterthought. He could kiss her in any dark corner. Or behind a potted palm. Or out in the open, for that matter.
    “What are the other rules?” Olivia wondered, thinking the first few were obvious. She considered she would probably be spending most of her night sitting with the older ladies or standing in a line of other girls too young to enjoy the dancing. Although she knew a few of the girls from around Crawley, she couldn’t claim any of them as friends.
    She took her place next to Eloisa in the coach, sitting so her back was in the direction of travel. Her father would expect to take the position, but she thought it better her parents sit side-by-side for the trip. And sitting across from him meant she had an advantageous view should he decide to tease her mother with a wandering finger. Or his whole hand.
    She wondered for a moment if other couples of their age indulged in such naughty behavior, thinking that to do it in a dark carriage meant no one else could see.
    If only they knew what she had seen!
    “You can each have one glass of champagne. Just one,” her father replied as he took his place and closed the carriage door. Before Eloisa could sound a protest, he added, “Maybe two, if you behave.”
    Olivia could feel her sister’s smile in the dim light. Eloisa would probably drink far more than two glasses of champagne.
    “Sit up straight. You don’t want your gown wrinkling before you’ve even begun dancing,” her mother said from the other side of the carriage. Olivia turned to look at Eloisa, wondering which one of them her mother addressed.
    “My back is as straight as a rod, mum,” Eloisa answered, her gloved hands folded in her lap.
    Olivia straightened but dared not let go her grip on the bench seat for fear she would be sent sprawling into the small space between her and her father. The coach driver was quite adept at hitting every pothole.
    The thought of her fingers reminded her she wore no gloves. Her only pair was still in her abigail’s possession; the poor girl was quite mortified when she took the wrinkled fabric gloves from Olivia the day before. The day she’d been saved by Michael Cunningham.
    “Olivia, dear, do put on these, won’t