If one knew the right people then one could gain oneself an invite to almost anything. Beth Downing had always ascribed herself to that notion and she had made a much better guest for Mr. Murdoch than his simpering, silly wife. Naturally once through the door she had abandoned the man for better company and currently found herself adrift in a sea of brightly coloured gowns and attractive, if rather stiff, men.
Tonight would be a night for making new clients, arranging books and maybe showing off a small portion of her talents should any secret corners be available. In the purse clutched tight against her side she had bought her tarot cards and rune stones. One never knew when one would be called upon for a demonstration and having props always made these things run much more smoothly.