“Besides, Evangeline,” said Anna. “You’re to be married Wednesday. To a baronet.”

“I don’t want him!” Evangeline sprang to her feet. “I want you!”

“No,” said Anna. “You want a baronet. Not to live in my messy little flat. Now go on, Evangeline, there’s a good girl.”

Evangeline burst into a fresh spate of tears. “I thought I was the one,” she wept. “After all the other girls—I thought they didn’t mean anything—”

“They didn’t,” Anna said cheerfully. “And neither did you. Do come up, Cordelia, the water’s already boiled.”

Evangeline let out a wail that made Cordelia jump back in fear for her life. She leaped to her feet, her blond curls flying. “I shall not stand for this!” she announced. “I’m coming back in!”

Anna looked alarmed. “Cordelia, please stop her, my landlady hates fusses—”

There was the sound of hoofbeats pounding along the road, growing rapidly louder. A light carriage drawn by two matched grays hurtled up the street; a Junoesque woman in a flared skirt and redingote perched upon the driver’s box seat. She pulled up briskly in front of the house and turned a furious face toward No. 30.

“Evangeline!” she roared. “Get into the carriage this instant!”

The fire went out of Evangeline. “Yes, Mama,” she squeaked, and darted into the carriage.

The plumes on Evangeline’s mother’s hat trembled as she gazed sternly at Anna, perched in her sash window, examining an unlit cigar. “You!” she shouted. “You are a disgrace! Breaking girls’ hearts like that! An absolute disgrace, sir! If it were but a century ago, I should slap a glove in your face, decidedly!”

Anna burst out laughing. The door of the carriage slammed, and the horses broke into a gallop. The carriage wheels squealed as the conveyance rocketed around the corner and was soon out of sight.

Anna glanced down at Cordelia pleasantly. “Do come up,” she said. “I am on the second floor and will leave that door open for you.”

Feeling as if she had been winged by a typhoon, Cordelia made her way up the stairs and into a slightly shabby entryway. A lamp glowed in an alcove halfway up the inside steps. The rug was threadbare and the banister rail so splintered she feared to touch it, and she nearly tripped up the last three shallow steps.