““The dowager Lady Brentfield is in London? Why hasn’t she been seen this Season? How can I pay my respects?” Oh, would she never learn? She’d sat too long, and her brain had gone numb so that she forgot herself. Daphne could see Sir James, Emily, and Wynn all gazing at her with varying degrees of disappointment. Mr. Harrop was scowling once more. Another word on the subject, and she’d spill Priscilla’s Dreaded Family Secret. “I believe Mother will be looking for me,” she murmured. Then she turn...ed away from their censure and hurried from the room. But she refused to join Ariadne and the others in the orangery. She needed movement, air. She strode down the corridor, muslin snapping at her ankles. Oh, these horrid fashionable skirts! Her riding habits had so much more room to move. For how could she think without moving? Where was that door to the outside? She felt as if the paneled walls were drawing closer, the ceiling lowering. Why couldn’t she just escape? “They continued the interview,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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