I assumed that any other woman, especially any of these three girls, would probably have concentrated on and emphasized how she was seduced. She would be moaning, “Poor me.” Garland would be seen as a criminal, easily a rapist, but I was thinking now that I honestly shared a large part of the blame. In fact, I could see him claiming I had seduced him and not vice versa. Maybe I was straining to find a way to forgive him. Perhaps I was being a fool, but I honestly couldn’t help it. I even imagined his response to the accusations.

“She fooled me, tempted me, brought me to the brink, and for a man balancing himself on that cliff, there was no other way to go.”

What would be my defense if I really wanted a defense? Hadn’t I let him kiss me at the Wexler gala after I had gone into the garden with him unchaperoned, leading him to believe I was more worldly? I did write to him and eagerly await his response. I encouraged him to pursue me, didn’t I? When I was there, I did agree to rush off to Foxworth Hall without telling anyone. I did willingly drink the limoncello. I did sneak back into my great-aunt’s house, and afterward, I told no one anything. I envisioned a jury made up of all my mother’s stiff-faced friends and spinsters scowling at me and pointing their long, bony fingers when they shouted, “Guilty!”

Get over it, Corrine, I told myself. Maybe now you really can claim to be a woman of the world. Isn’t that what you always wanted to be? So it came a little sooner than you anticipated and not exactly how you had dreamed it would come—so what? You’ll never see Garland again. You can live with it. There’ll be other Garlands, won’t there? Maybe none will be as wealthy and none will come accompanied by a Foxworth Hall, but there’s surely someone out there, rich and powerful, who will want you beside him, and now, now you will know exactly what switches to throw and what levers to pull.

Of course, I still would be successful when it came to romance and marriage. How could I doubt it? I envisioned my own gilded horse and carriage, having miles of closets filled with the latest fashions, and having servants at my beck and call. There would be galas and dinner parties and lots of jewelry. Oh yes, there would be diamonds and gold practically dripping off my neck and wrists and covering my fingers. I’d make Lucy Wexler look like a pauper. I could practically hear the music and feel myself doing that waltz again.

“Corrine?” I heard. The voice sounded far off. “Corrine!”

“What?”