Granderson sort through the morning post and the calling cards received after yet another ball they’d attended the night before. She hoped for some correspondence addressed to her, anything to entertain her. “Why is my nephew’s card here? He isn’t required to inform me when he’ll visit. This must be for you, my dear. And the rest of the cards too.” She handed the engraved cards to Jean. Turning over the one reading Mr. Benjamin Tilbury, Jean studied his brief scrawl that said he’d stop by early. She turned it around and stared at his name, as if it would answer her questions about him. Was this another of his games? He’d danced with her twice the prior evening, very properly and not even requesting the supper dance. Tonight he would escort the three ladies to Vauxhall. She could think of no reason he would need to visit in the morning. She tried to read the letter from her friend in Hambledon, but the words jumbled together no matter how many times she went over them. Blast that man!
