event, partly because she knew that it would catch the copper in her hair and bring it to the light, partly because Poppy had insisted upon it when the two had giggled over fabrics while packing their wardrobes for the trip to London. It was a fine dress that skimmed along Margaret’s milky shoulders and then dipped down just enough to whisper elegance without being considered a shocking neckline. The bodice was fitted, the sleeves hung with tiny tassels that had the appearance of delicate lace, and the skirts fell all the way to the floor with a slight train behind.
“Is that really all you want to do with your hair?” Amanda asked, reaching up to touch the simple affair. “You have such loveliness, you should not feel you need to hide it.”
In reality, Margaret had only pinned up her thick red curls atop her head, so mounded together that she could hardly tell one from the other, and then allowed the lady’s maids to put a few sparkling pins in amongst the copper.
“I am not trying to hide anything,” she said with a smile. “You have your style and I have mine.”
“And never the two shall meet,” Amanda said with a light laugh. She was a difficult woman to offend, and it was one of her most endearing qualities.
When it came time at last to descend the grand staircase, Margaret could hear the music that had been coming upstairs in light strains all evening swelling with more singularity of purpose. The inner hall was trimmed most stylishly, relying heavily on paper lanterns and flower wreaths, and it ended up being only a shadow of the beauty waiting in the grand ballroom.
She smiled with delight and looped her arm into Amanda’s as they walked in together beneath the grand, sparkling chandelier, pausing at the edge of the ballroom to watch the dancers already swirling together like butterflies, the brightness of the room sparkling off the crystal glasses, the pressed uniforms of the servants, and the jewellery of every elegant woman in the room.
Margaret took a deep breath and turned to Amanda. “Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked.
“Of course,” Amanda said brightly. “One can tire of anything. But I will tell you that tonight, seeing this all through your eyes, it is as fresh as the first day I came out into society.”
They made their way around the edge of the ballroom, stopping occasionally to talk to the many people that Amanda knew. Margaret caught sight of her father across the room but knew that he would be uninterested in conversation at present. He was deeply engaged in a discussion with some older men from the House of Lords, and had told her on multiple occasions over the last few days that he wanted her to attend carefully to everything Amanda was to teach her about society. Margaret swallowed her pride and listened.
Amanda had a special smile for the public, even more coiffed and careful than her usual style, and she wore it in a dazzling way as she spun around the room, introducing Margaret at every turn as, “My dear Lady Margaret,” and “You must have heard about Lady Margaret, she is the shining star of Cornwall.”
All the attention made Margaret blush, and she realised after an hour of introductions had passed that she had somewhat underestimated her effect on society. Her father had always talked to her about her responsibility to marry well, and now she began to see why. More than one gentleman she spoke with took her hand with a look of interest in his eye. More than one held her grasp longer than necessary or spoke a little too earnestly about the moonlight and the shining of her hair.
It made her feel dizzy, swept up. She had hardly known any young men, and certainly none that was eligible enough to confess any sort of admiration for her person. She felt distracted by the compliments, as if her cheeks were constantly caught up in a dizzying blush. At one point, she pulled Amanda aside and begged for a chance to catch her breath.
“They are all so flattering,” she said to her friend. “I know that there must be an ulterior motive.”
“Perhaps there is,” Amanda said with a shrug. “But I confess I am more inclined to believe that they all have impeccable taste, and are merely saying what must be said in the presence of such beauty. Besides, you needn’t be coy – you