Free Must Love Breeches by Angela Quarles Page B

sure.”
    Ada clasped her hands. “Oh, I admire her greatly. A mentor to me since youth. She is brilliant at math and always greatly supportive of me.”
    Another female mathematician? Isabelle didn’t remember her, but if that was the case, assumptions about women in this time held by her contemporaries needed to change.
    However, more immediate concerns pushed her. “Ada, can I quiz you now? I’m a historian―”
    “Fascinating!”
    “—and so I know somewhat of your time and the morals and behavioral codes, though I specialize in early American Southern history. I’ve read lots of novels taking place in your mother’s time period, like those I saw downstairs by Jane Austen.”
    “Is she not sublime? She is not altogether popular, but I think her work is such a wonderful depiction of our day-to-day human weaknesses. You have read her novels?”
    “Yes, and you’ll be happy to know in the future she’s very popular. Anyway, can you and I role-play common situations I might find myself in? You could tell me if I act appropriately or not. Visiting Lady Huxton today brought home how ignorant I am. I need to fit in.”
    “Oooh, this sounds delightful. Initially, you shall manage based on your origins—the ton thrive on novelty. However, it will take you only so far. After the initial charm wears off...”
    And so Isabelle created scenarios, and Ada got into it as they readied for the party. She envisioned some Isabelle would never have thought she’d find herself in. Her brain felt too crowded with no way to fully pin each new scenario. “Sorry, Ada, do you have paper and a, uh, a quill? So I can take notes?” They didn’t worry about the lady’s maid, for the fact that Isabelle was not from here and needed instruction was not a secret.
    “Actually, we have a pen nib.” Ada jumped up, left the room, and returned with a pen. Isabelle took notes.
    Many notes.

    Phineas circulated among the guests at Lady Huxton’s ball. Soon, he would head to the card room, his usual solace at these gatherings. He never played too deep, but enough to maintain his rakish façade. He paced the small ballroom’s length. Ladies backed up in the wake of his scowl. The ball was certainly shaping up to be a big squeeze, sure to please Lady Huxton, at least, if not himself.
    Phineas stopped abruptly, disconcerting the guests nearest him. He had been searching the room. For whom? For what reason? Moreover, his gut had tightened, but why? For tonight he enacted no plans, no schemes to forward his project. No reason, therefore, to account for these feelings. Only a social engagement, for a change.
    “There you are, cousin.”
    Phineas turned. Miss Byron stood before him, accompanied by her “American cousin.” He looked upon the latter’s face, and the tension in his stomach eased. A pleasant, warm feeling seeped in.
    Bloody hell. This was his anxiety’s source? Was he a moon-calf? He bowed to both, hoping the action hid his confusion, among other things.
    “Miss Byron, Miss Rochon, a pleasure as always.”
    They dipped a curtsey. Phineas availed himself of the few seconds their eyes were downcast and perused Miss Rochon’s form. Green favored her coloring, for certain. Leagues better than the yellow dress she had worn when he called earlier today. Well-shaped, too, ample curves in the right places. What would it feel like to hold—
    “Just the person we wished to see,” said Miss Byron.
    “Indeed? I am flattered, to be sure.” He smiled at both, but Miss Rochon avoided his eye, which he was grateful for. If she could read the thoughts he had just entertained, she might very well slap him, and that would be inconvenient.
    Marshalling his thoughts and his body’s response, he led them to a small alcove. It was well in sight of the guests for preservation of modesty, and for preservation of privacy, it was ideal.
    “Lord Montagu, have you had any luck in finding my silver case?” Miss Rochon’s warm brown eyes finally