Free One Touch of Magic by Amanda Mccabe Page B

antiquarian.
    She made up her mind.
    “Very well,” she said. “I will wear it.” She stood up, all her fluttering uncertainty gone now. She felt more like her levelheaded self—but a new levelheaded self, one who wore daring gowns. “Now, Mary Ann, be a dear and ring for my maid for me, so she can dress my hair. We will be late, and that would never do.”

    The drive leading up to Ransome Hall was crowded with carriages when they turned into the gates and took their place in line, a vast array of equipages that held a myriad of guests. Sarah would not have thought there could be so many people in the neighborhood; they must have come from as far away as York, and maybe even London.
    She pulled her fur-lined wrap closer about her shoulders, and watched Ransome Hall looming closer. Every window sparkled with welcoming golden light, and the front doors were thrown open to admit the visitors as they were disgorged from their carriages.
    Beside her, Mary Ann craned her neck to take it all in, and clutched at Sarah’s arm in her excitement. Her young eyes sparkled, and she didn’t even seem to notice anymore Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton seated across from them. “Oh, Sarah, isn’t it marvelous! There are so many grand people. Mother would be so jealous if she could see us now.”
    Mrs. Hamilton giggled behind her painted silk fan. “As would my friends in Bath, Miss Bellweather! I cannot wait to write to them and tell them all about my supper with a marquis.”
    Her husband looked away from her, out the opposite window into the night. “You are hardly having supper with him by yourself, my dear. There are dozens of other people here. You needn’t call it your supper with the marquis.”
    Mrs. Hamilton frowned at him. “Of course, I will not be alone with him, Neville! How can you say something so ridiculous? There will be many other people, perhaps even other titled people.” She turned to Sarah with one of her bright, brittle smiles. “Do you think there will be other titled people, Lady Iverson?”
    Sarah made herself smile back. Mrs. Hamilton was not the easiest person to be around, it was true; she giggled, and plucked at her ruffles, and knew nothing about history. But Sarah could not help but feel a bit sorry for her. In the last few days, the strain between the newlywed Hamiltons had been all too obvious, and Sarah feared for their future. She also feared for Mr. Hamilton’s scholarly ability. Ever since their return from their wedding trip, he had been short-tempered and forgetful. More than once he had forgotten to label objects from the bakery he was excavating.
    He had always been intense and serious, but now he seemed intense and—angry.
    Sarah had considered talking to them, but then decided the whole thing was patently none of her business. The Hamiltons would just have to work out their difficulties on their own. But she had resolved to be kinder to Mrs. Hamilton, and she hoped Mary Ann would, too.
    She glanced over at Mary Ann. Her sister watched the Hamiltons with a solemn look on her face, and Sarah couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. Aside from a few glances and sighs, and references to a volume entitled Miss Anderson’s Secret Love, there had been no signs that her old infatuation had returned. Sarah wanted to keep it that way—she had quite enough to worry about without her sister’s romantic sensibilities causing trouble.
    “I am sure there will be some titled people,” she answered Mrs. Hamilton. “At least Lord Dunston, the nearest neighbor to Ransome Hall, and old Lady Eaton. She is never one to miss a rout.”
    Mrs. Hamilton smiled, as if satisfied. “Lady Eaton. I shall be sure to mention her in my letters, as well.”
    There was really nothing Sarah could think of to answer that, and fortunately she did not have to, as their carriage was stopping at the foot of the front steps. With great relief, she took the footman’s hand and stepped out onto the gravel drive.
    She