Lady Agnes Marlowe protested. “Oh yes, of course I did, Anna.” She gazed down at one of the two nosegays she had been sent this morning from two of last night’s dancing partners and twirled it between her fingers. “But . . . ?” Anna prompted, smiling gently. “But nothing,” Agnes said. “It is lovely to be in town, Anna. ’Tis something I shall always remember with pleasure. I merely remarked to you that I cannot imagine how some people make a life of such frivolity.” Anna sighed. “I want you to find a husband here, Agnes,” she said. “Someone of your own rank. Someone with whom you can be happy. There is no one of any interest at home. Charlotte was fortunate, but there is no one for you.” “No, I know,” Agnes said. “But I am only eighteen. I am not past marriageable age yet.” She flushed and looked anxiously into her sister’s face to see if she had hurt her.
