“Why should any of these people”—Pandora cast a quick, wary glance at the crowd in the ballroom—“care what I choose to do?”

“Because you are one of them. A fact that, assuredly, pleases them no more than it does you.” The countess shook her head. “I can’t pretend to understand you, my girl. Your brain has always seemed to me like those fireworks—what are the ones that spin so madly?”

“Catherine wheels.”

“Yes. Whirling and sparking, all light and noise. You make judgments without bothering to find out the particulars. It’s a fine thing to be clever, but too much cleverness usually produces the same result as ignorance. Do you think you can willfully disregard the world’s opinion? Do you expect people to admire you for being different?”

“Of course not.” Pandora fiddled with her empty dance card, fanning it open and closing it repeatedly. “But they might at least try to be accepting.”

“Foolish, cross-grained girl, why should they? Nonconformity is nothing but self-interest in disguise.” Although it was obvious the countess would have liked to deliver a full-blown lecture, she snapped her mouth shut and rose to her feet. “We will continue this discussion later.” Turning away, Lady Berwick headed for a brood of sharp-eyed, vinegar-blooded dowagers at the side of the room.

A metallic sound began in Pandora’s left ear, like a vibrating copper wire, as it sometimes did when she was in distress. To her horror, the stinging pressure of frustrated tears rose behind her eyes. Oh God, that would be the ultimate humiliation: eccentric, clumsy, Pandora-the-wallflower crying in the corner of the ballroom. No, it would not happen. She stood with such haste that her chair nearly toppled backward.

“Pandora,” came an urgent voice from nearby. “I need you to help me.”

Perplexed, she turned just as Dolly, Lady Colwick, reached her.

Dolly, a vivacious, dark-haired girl, was the younger of Lady Berwick’s two daughters. The families had become well acquainted after Lady Berwick had undertaken to teach etiquette and deportment to Pandora and Cassandra. Dolly was pretty and well-liked, and she had been kind to Pandora when other young women had been indifferent or mocking. Last year, during Dolly’s first Season, she had been the toast of London, with a crowd of bachelors collecting around her at every social event. Recently she had married Arthur, Lord Colwick, who, although some twenty years older, had the advantage of a sizeable fortune and a marquessate in his future.

“What’s the matter?” Pandora asked in concern.

“First promise you won’t tell Mama.”

Pandora smiled wryly. “You know I never tell her anything if I can help it. What is the problem?”

“I’ve lost an earring.”

“Oh, bother,” Pandora said sympathetically. “Well, that could happen to anyone. I lose things all the time.”

“No, you don’t understand. Lord Colwick had his mother’s sapphire earrings fetched from the safe for me to wear tonight.” Dolly turned her head to display a heavy sapphire and diamond pendant that dangled from one of her ears. “The problem isn’t just that I lost the other one,” she continued unhappily. “It’s where I lost it. You see, I slipped away from the house for a few minutes with one of my former suitors, Mr. Hayhurst. Lord Colwick would be furious with me if he found out.”

Pandora’s eyes widened. “Why did you do that?”

“Well, Mr. Hayhurst was always my favorite suitor. The poor boy is still heartbroken that I married Lord Colwick, and he insists on pursuing me. So I had to placate him by agreeing to a rendezvous. We went to a summer house beyond the back terraces. I must have lost the earring when we were on the settee.” Her eyes glimmered with tears. “I can’t go back to look for it. I’ve already been absent for too long. And if my husband notices the earring is gone . . . I don’t even want to think about what might happen.”

A moment of expectant silence ensued.

Pandora glanced at the ballroom windows, their panes glittering with coruscating reflected lights. It was dark outside.

Unease slithered down her spine. She didn’t like going anywhere at night, especially alone. But Dolly seemed desperate, and in light of her past kindness, there was no way Pandora could refuse.

“Do you want me to fetch it for you?” she offered reluctantly.

“Would you? You could dash to the summer house, retrieve the earring, and return in a flash. It’s easy to find. Just follow the graveled path across the lawn. Please, please, dear Pandora, I’ll owe you my life.”

“There’s no need to beg,” Pandora said, perturbed and amused. “I’ll do my best to find it. But Dolly, now that you’re married, I don’t think you should rendezvous with Mr. Hayhurst. He can’t be worth the risk.”

Dolly gave her a regretful glance. “I’m fond of Lord Colwick, but I’ll never love him the way I do Mr. Hayhurst.”

“Why didn’t you marry him, then?”

“Mr. Hayhurst is a third son and will never have a title.”

“But if you love him—”

“Don’t be silly, Pandora. Love is for middle-class girls.” Dolly’s gaze chased anxiously around the room. “No one’s looking,” she said. “You could slip out now if you’re quick about it.”

Oh, she was going to be as quick as a March hare. She wouldn’t spend any more time outside at night than absolutely necessary. If only she could recruit Cassandra, always her willing conspirator, to accompany her. But it was better for Cassandra to continue dancing; it would keep Lady Berwick’s attention occupied.