Once they’d set the scene, the invitations began pouring in. Anastasia, who had yet to make her first “public” appearance, was already in great demand by every hostess in town, thanks to Elizabeth’s gossip-spreading talents. Her first appearance, though, would be at the costume party that Lady Victoria planned for the coming weekend.

Christopher would not be receiving an invite to this. It remained to be seen if he’d show up anyway, to denounce her, just to see what she was up to, or to claim her as his wife. Anything was possible—which was why the ladies were so excited. They could merely set things in motion. They couldn’t predict the outcome.

The activity, the in-depth planning, it all helped Anastasia to get beyond the worst of her grief. And she didn’t just have the loss of her grandmother and “husband for a night” to deal with, but also of the Gypsies, the people she’d grown up with, people she cared about and who cared about her. She’d said good-bye to them all, though she didn’t expect it to be forever. Gypsies never parted for good except in death. They always expected to see old friends and acquaintances again in their travels.

The day of the costume party finally arrived. Anastasia began to feel a certain anticipation, even though she didn’t expect to see Christopher tonight, when he had been excluded from the guest list deliberately. After all, it wouldn’t do to appear obvious in what they were doing. The whole purpose was to intrigue him, to make him regret her loss, to make him want her back, and to make it easy for him to ignore that “it just isn’t done” by showing him just how it was done—by keeping the truth to themselves.

Ironically, the first impression she gave to his rules-rigid society was that of herself, the truth, because the costume she wore was no costume but her own clothes, her gold dancing outfit. To those gathered, avidly waiting to meet her, she appeared costumed as a Gypsy, and they loved it! She was a smashing success.

Although she did insist on beginning this “farce” with the truth, or a semblance of the truth, she still evaded most questions. The “mystery” is all-important, her new friends had reminded her repeatedly as they prepared for this debut. “Keep them guessing, keep them wondering, never reveal the real truth, except in jest.”

Which was easy enough to do. Gypsies were masters of mystery and evasion, after all, an art she had been raised to know, despite the fact that she had rarely ever made use of such talents before now.