Beth was running late. She’d been kept longer than she intended at her last appointment – the woman had wanted her to contact her dead son, a solider and Beth had obligingly asked some questions to make her deception easier but then the woman would not stop talking! Still, she had paid well and made another appointment which was all Beth had needed to hear.
She rushed up the steps of the Hurst’s townhouse, flashing her invitation at the servant waiting at the door and then reminder she self to be sedate and controlled. She let the footman take her cloak and, with a deep breath, walked into the ballroom her head held high as if she had been born into society and not simply conned her way into it.