One look told Lucinda her cousin was bursting to talk. “I couldn’t say a word in front of Mama,” gushed Althea, her eyes bright with excitement. “She says she won’t tell Papa and I believe her, but she might let something slip.” Lucinda, who was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair, turned and remarked, “You know how foolish you’re being, but we’ve already discussed that, haven’t we?” She smiled at her exuberant cousin. “Let’s just hope we—you—don’t get caught.” “You?” asked Alethea, catching the slip. “I do recall seeing you dance with”—a look of realization crossed her face—“Lord Belington! I saw you dancing with him and then in the garden with him later on. Oh, don’t tell me—” “I am not telling you anything because there’s nothing to tell. Although...” Lucinda could not keep her news to herself. She lowered her voice.
