She pretended not to be nervous, but by the time she picked up her reticule she was in a state. Beth stood back and examined her. “That dress is very flattering, and the equal of anything worn by the other ladies that will be there, I’m sure.”

Minerva wore the primrose silk dinner dress that had mysteriously arrived at her house. Upon her writing to Madame Tissot saying there had been a mistake, the modiste had merely written back that her shop did not make mistakes.

Other ladies. Of course there would be some. She had not thought about that, however. Now she wondered how many and who they would be.

Beth pinched her cheeks. “You need a bit of color, that’s all. Get your wits about you now. You are the ladies’ equal too. More than their equal. I doubt a one of them will have done as much as you have in life, or enjoy the freedom you do every day. Who knows, maybe if they learn of your inquiries, we will get clients we can charge very high fees to.”

“Beth, you know just what to say. I will find a way to make sure they do learn of my inquiries. This is a wonderful opportunity, and I intend to do more than eat an incredibly fine meal.”

“Don’t be slighting the eating part. It will probably be the best food you swallow in your entire life. I’ll be wanting all the particulars tomorrow. Every sauce, every savory, every joint—” She sighed. “I can taste it now.”

Minerva went below to wait for the carriage. It would not do to keep a duke waiting. When she heard it in front of her door, she collected herself and stepped out.

Jeremy waited to play footman. So did Elise, to gawk. Her arrival interrupted their conversation and laughter. Jeremy snapped to attention to perform his duties. Elise watched with wide eyes.

She was so distracted by them that she was at the carriage door before she realized how nice a conveyance it was. Not as large as a typical hired coach, it sported green paint and polished brass and the coachman wore a very neat coat and hat. Inside plump cushions in deep red waited.

Jeremy closed the door and peered inside. “You will roll up Park Lane in style.”

Chase had done this. It touched her that he wanted her to feel “equal to those ladies” when she arrived at his cousin’s home. She opened the curtains and peered out at the way the town glowed from streetlamps and windows while they rolled along.

Formality greeted her arrival. Two liveried footmen tended the door and carriages. One handed her down and escorted her inside, delivering her to the butler. He in turn handed her to another footman who brought her up to the drawing room.