Smiling, she removed the fabric and handed it back to Maeve. “Nothing important.”

“Hmm. That means a man.” Maeve sat down next to Florence. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Katie leaned toward the mirror to touch up her lip paint. “I bet he’s one of those fancy uptown swells, the kind that ride their big horses in the park.”

“And stare down their noses at everyone,” another girl said as she rolled on her stockings.

“I never cared for fancy uptown swells,” Florence said. “They’re . . . boring. And vain.”

“Well, you could do a lot worse than Mulligan, if that’s who you have your eye on,” Katie said. “He’s as close to a gentleman as we’ve got in these parts.”

“And an absolute beast in the bedroom from what I hear,” another girl said, fanning herself.

“True,” Katie said. “I wish he didn’t have a rule against screwing the dancers. I’d love to ride him hard.”

“My friend Amanda screwed him,” Maeve put in. “Said he tongued her for so long that she had to ice her bits afterward. Sore for days.”

The girls collectively groaned and sighed, a sound of both horror and longing.

“I don’t have my eye on Mr. Mulligan,” Florence said, stroking an ostrich feather headpiece. “He’s just tutoring me.”

“Yeah, I wish he’d tutor me,” Katie said, drily. “At least three or four times a night.”

Everyone laughed, including Florence. “I’m serious,” she said. “Our arrangement is strictly business.”

“Because your heart is already spoken for.” Maeve searched Florence’s expression. “I’ve seen that lost look in your eyes over the past few nights. Who was it?”

“Someone I cared for quite a lot, actually. But he told me I was a distraction he didn’t need.”

“What a rotten bastard,” Katie said as she slipped on a wig of red hair. “You’re better off. Men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“He told me this right after we were, you know, together.”

The room erupted in outrage, feminine sputters and shouts filling the air. Something about the reaction soothed Florence. These were women who understood her, women who didn’t expect her to mind her manners or watch her words. It was refreshing.

Florence loved her sisters, but they had been brought up with the same Greene legacy hanging over their heads. Mamie was the heir, the one to carry on the family name. Justine was the baby, the do-gooder who was kind and sweet. That left Florence as the irresponsible, shocking one. The sister who disappointed everyone.

“Sweetheart, count your stars you escaped a man like that,” Maeve said. “Bed’s not even cold and he’s treating you that way? Only gets worse from there. Take it from me.”