Cassandra’s aunt had brought along a friend, and they’d all but ignored Fiona and Cassandra, so purchasing their costumes had been unremarked upon. They’d encountered some difficulty finding gray dresses that fit them properly. As a result, their garments were both a tad too large.

The hack turned onto Piccadilly, where they planned to disembark at Duke Street and walk to the club. Fiona’s insides churned with excitement and anxiety.

After proclaiming themselves ill and stating their plans to remain abed all day, they’d both slipped from their houses and met where Brook Street met Grosvenor Square. Keeping their heads down, they’d hurried to Bond Street and caught a hack, which had been an exciting endeavor on its own. No one could say Fiona wasn’t having an adventure.

The hack came to a stop at the designated location and disembarked. Cassandra paid the driver, then linked arms with Fiona as they started down Duke Street.

“I wish you were coming to the ball on Saturday,” Cassandra said. “What will I do without you there?”

“Dance, make conversation, and generally shine like a diamond?”

Cassandra snorted. “The diamond part is highly debatable. My father is annoyed that no one has paid me a call yet.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” Fiona hadn’t received any either, but she wasn’t surprised.

“The Season is in its infancy. If it were a person, it would still be drooling.”

Fiona laughed. “Is your father annoyed just to be annoying?”

“Precisely.” Cassandra looked at her askance. “I thought Lord Gregory might have called on you by now.”

“Really, why?”

“It seemed you shared a connection. And that you liked him well enough.”

“I did. I do.” Fiona thought back to their promenade and dance. “What constitutes a connection?”

“Sharing things in common, finding things to laugh about, but most importantly a physical…magnetism where you’re drawn together.”

Fiona suddenly thought of the other day when she and Overton had crashed noses. Just before that had happened there’d been something…odd. What Cassandra described was somewhat how Fiona had felt, as if she were being pulled toward him. Additionally, they did laugh together. She found him rather engaging. It was hard not to when he went out of his way to do nice things, such as procure a pianoforte and hire a teacher who was coming to give her a lesson on Friday.

“You’re thinking about Lord Gregory,” Cassandra observed.

She wasn’t at all, but Fiona wouldn’t admit that. And she certainly wouldn’t reveal who she was thinking about.

“Is that the servants’ entrance up ahead?” Fiona asked. Near the corner of Duke Street and Ryder Street, there was a gate to a set of steep, narrow stairs that led down to the lower level of the women’s side of the club.

“Yes.” Cassandra quickened her pace, and Fiona hurried to keep up.

When they arrived at the gate, Cassandra took her arm from Fiona’s and reached for the latch. Fiona tipped her head back to look up at the building. “So this is the Phoenix Club,” she whispered.