At least she didn’t go on to point out that Lily wasn’t exactly in her first season anymore either. She set her bag on a padded chair and moved toward her dressing screen, where tonight’s evening gown was already hanging, ready for her. “Aren’t you the one who was waxing poetical about enjoying the ‘now’ of a courtship?” She paused at the screen, wiggling her shoulders upon remembering the day dress she was currently wearing had buttons down the back.

Her sister obligingly slipped the buttons free. “But if he does share more, as you clearly wish he would, that would change things. The truth of his past will either push you away or draw you closer. But it will, without a doubt, change things.”

A miniature circus sprang to life in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am. I’m wise, you know.” The last button must have been free, because Ivy gave her a little nudge. “You may, in fact, refer to me as O Glorious Sage. Or perhaps—”

“Enough!” Laughing, Lily slithered out of her day dress and reached for the evening gown. It was a few years old, but she’d only worn it a handful of times, so it still looked practically new.

She emerged from the screen a minute later, smoothing the fabric into place. “I still wish we’d had pockets put in this.”

She couldn’t help but grin because she knew Ivy would roll her eyes. “It would have ruined the lines. You can’t always weigh your skirt down with a camera, you know. That’s why you’re carrying a bag.”

One that Ivy had presented her with a proud smile two weeks before. It was sturdy enough to hold her equipment, but it was also made of a beautiful brocade that perfectly complemented her dress. “It is indeed.” She sat at her dressing table and reached for her hairbrush. “All right. I suppose I’m ready for you to call Caroline in to do my hair.”

“I have an idea.” The words were whispered directly into Lily’s ear, still barely audible over the orchestra, even as fingers closed over hers. Her heart skipped, tripped. Zivon, of course—she’d know the voice anywhere.

But somehow the touch, unexpected as it was, felt far different than when he usually took her hand. “Why do you not put the camera down just for a few minutes, and we can dance?”